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gallusrostromegalus · 8 months

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The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

youtube

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

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#Family Lore #Dogs #It's Halloween babey #friday the 13th #blood mention #I hope that kid had a good night and at least one of his friends believed him #Long post #Video

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saiidahyunie · 1 month

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love foolish

minatozaki sana x f!reader

sum: doing sana’s laundry is a good deed while she’s out working, but you had better ideas for her when she gets home.

cw: smut ; degrading ; cursing ; praise

a/n: i wasn't there when we first saw sana in that baseball jersey years ago, but i'm glad as hell that i was for the second time she wore it again.

sana’s apartment greets you in a hollowed darkness once you insert the key past the knob that you picked up from the mailbox next to the door. intrusive or invading weren’t the right terms to describe your actions, but here you were strolling in sana’s shared space with you anyway.

besides, you preferred her spacious queen bed over the shitty mattress you morphed around back at your dorm. it also occurred that the notion of moving in with her wasn’t brought up to this point, but your clothes and toothbrush already made their home here, so might as well.

when your bags and shoes hit the hardwood floor, steering your way to the couch, you sent her a quick text to let her know that you were waiting for her to get out of work and her batting practice, to which she responds with a simple voice memo of her lovely voice followed by a string of hearts.

you could say that you’re spoiled for sana. she works at what she does on the campus and her job, but her sport side of softball. the scheduling was a challenge to work around, but you and her made it work. it’s a fair trade of cooking, making sure you and her are getting the right amount of love and care, and the biggest plus was that she communicates her feelings with no lie, all truth.

sana gives everything to her endeavors, so the least you can do to help support her is by keeping her home clean, make the delicious food that you know that makes her hum like a little kid, and deal with the laundry.

a quick glance over to her bean bag was a pile of clothes that had a half full basket sitting next to it. her coffee table had one of many hydroflasks, because she tends to forget one or the other if she’s in a rush. not to your surprise, you smile at the thought of her leaving her bright purple one before she left for work earlier today.

the sweet aroma of the apartment was filled with sana's soap and fabric softener, the mix of daisies and lavender filling your nose when you plop down onto the couch. it’s only by instinct - or muscle memory for that matter when you pick up the clothes one at a time to fold them. sana had a set system of organizing which clothes go to which: sweets and pants were the first, then shorts for around the house, the assortment of underwear (panties specifically because you know well that sana doesn’t like to wear bras), shirts, hoodies, the more fancier choices of dress shirts and dress alike, and lastly, her softball jerseys.

sana has a few jerseys for the collegiate team that she plays with, but she also has a few from soccer and basketball teams as well. once finished with folding, you took the different stacks into the bedroom, filing them neatly into the drawers of her dresser. when you got to the jerseys, one slips from your hand and drops to the floor.

dealing with the drawers by closing them, you pick up the unfolded one on the floor, staring at her name printed in big bolded letters. your eyes started to drift around the design of the stripes of red and black, gliding over to the full length mirror that was next to his door, looking at your reflection through the sunlight.

with the formulation of some thoughts, you rub your legs together while trapping your bottom lip with the upper row of your teeth.

this was an easy decision, one that you didn’t have to think twice about when you stripped yourself from your clothes, completely naked with your erect nipples bursting through the fabric’s appearance.

grabbing your phone from the dresser, you start by sitting on the far corner of her bed, snapping a few photos with the unbuttoned jersey covering your boobs. then, you sat down on the floor to take a couple more pictures, spreading your legs wide enough to expose your cunt and parting both sides of the jersey to show your boobs. you then turn around, putting your feet together as a cushion for your ass, snapping a few more clicks while the jersey wrapped around your small figure.

sana’s gonna have so much fun when she loses her shit over these.

—

while that was happening, sana was at her desk, leaning back on her chair once she submitted the last files to jihyo to help prepare for the school’s cultural festival showcase. she then peeks over to the space next to her seeing that nayeon and momo were playing a game of sticks in which momo loses out of frustration, rubbing her head with her hands while nayeon laughed.

days like these tend to go by fast, though sana can’t help but yawn after doing less than what she was working with a few days ago. not a single thing from today was productive enough to keep herself occupied. within the last hour, she’s watched her softball game highlights for probably the fourth time today, about to be the fifth if jihyo doesn’t get back to her soon.

a quick glance of the clock on her monitor only shows that she has a little bit over an hour and a half before she could go to get some batting in and then come home to you. had you been busy, sana would’ve tossed herself out the third floor window just to make today entertaining.

manifestation works in so many weird ways, and by the grace of timing, sana couldn’t keep the smile of your name coming up on her phone.

you: i’m at the apartment! i also did the laundry for you :)

sana: you’re the best beb <3 i was actually gonna take care of the laundry myself when i get back

you: i did a little bit more than that

sana: huh

you: (attachment: 12 images)

sana actually almost fell back when the photos popped up in her texts. her mouth was open at the sight of that first picture before she looked up to see if anyone had seen her act like this. you’re good with antics, almost on par with how sana acts from time to time, but you could never beat her in a competition like this.

on the other end, you smirk after noticing that sana had read the message, imagining how sana would be shaking her head to hide her panic. leaning back against bed and spreading your legs even further apart, you let your hand slide down to your folds, teasing your lips at the thought of sana losing her mind leaving you dripping.

sana tried her best to keep her mind straight, gripping her hand along her thigh to the point where her veins were popping out. she can’t stop imagining bending you over this desk in front of her, or riding her thigh in that damn jersey is filling up her brain.

she’s pissed, and now that she’s fueled by this, sana leans forward to put on her heels, standing up soon after to walk over to the room next door, “if jihyo asks me where i went, tell her i had to take five.” she tells momo and nayeon, both nodding in unison before getting back to their game of rock, paper, scissors.

stomping to the bathroom, sana gets into the nearest unoccupied stall, closing it and undoing her tie that’s under the vest, unbuttoning her dress shirt from the collar and then her pants. sana then reaches for her phone with the free hand, while the other was occupied in between her legs.

sana: you’re fucking crazy if you’re gonna send pics while i’m at work.

you: i already know that you’re saving them, aren’t you?

sana: baby, i’m the only one who gets to see you that way. nobody else.

you: uh oh

you: (attachment: 2 videos)

sana clicks on the video, seeing your fingers spreading your folds apart, glistening against the glow from the windows that beammed inside to give better lighting.

sana was seething, already having you on speed dial while pressing the phone between her ear and shoulder, the call going to voicemail on the first attempt. “this bitch is a whore,” she grumbles out before redialing, and you don’t hesitate to answer the second time.

“hi babe,” you say with a shaky voice.

“drop it,” sana growled, her hand palming her pussy over her underwear at your voice, “you really thought it’d be a good idea to send me fucking nudes while i’m working?”

it was so easy to tell how wet and needy sana was to fuck you up. the way that her voice sounded, you could already assume that she’s trying to deal with the problem as well. so you kept circling your fingers over your clit while your cunt reflexively clenched around the air, “sounds like you’re enjoying it, aren’t you sha?”

sana lowers her panties just a bit, licking her three fingers before rubbing her clit slightly, “so slutty, making me want to do something about it.”

her ear hears the sound of you softly moaning over her harsh words, slipping a finger inside yourself while the moans make their way to sana’s ears again.

“are you touching yourself? you better not be y/n, i swear to god.” she snaps, rubbing herself faster. sana became so angry and horny to the point that she may be skipping some lines in the script. she wanted nothing else but to be her fingers rubbing your clit, sliding, and pounding them in and out of your fuck hole.

“what are you gonna do about it, then?” you sigh, letting an inch of your finger inside yourself again.

“don’t, stop, just—” sana’s tripping up over her demands, “just stop trying to do any of that as punishment for sending me pics while i’m working.”

sana couldn’t help to admit that this was actually hot. even when your bratty behavior was gonna send her up the fucking wall in more than five ways. “i’m warning you, keep that shit up and you’ll see what happens.”

“and what then?” you asked again, licking your lips while smiling.

“you bitch, i swear–”

you cut her off by pushing two fingers into your cunt, gasping.

“are you fucking touching yourself again? you better not be.” sana asks again, growling.

all you did was giggle, then hang up afterwards.

now you pissed sana off.

sana slides her hand out of her panties, fingers moving at hyperspeed in a fit, spamming you with messages about the bratty behavior you just displayed, but stopped to see another photo and video that you sent to her.

the photo first made her fist and jaw clench. her softball jersey was now pulled up over your boobs, nipples out in full while your legs were spread wider, nearly splitting, with your second and third fingers all the way into your pussy.

a brat is what you are.

when sana swipes for the video, it’s so much worse. the sound of you mewling loudly as you rubbed your clit in a clockwise motion, letting them slowly dip between your legs, soaking up the juices seeping out, you were lathering yourself up while some of the remnants dripped over onto the bed sheets and staining them.

sana had cleaned her bed just yesterday, you really were a fucking brat.

after that, sana inserted her fingers into her mouth to get them more slicked, rubbing up her cunt at a faster pace from the thought of your video, her head drops back against the stall, biting down on her collar while texting you with her left hand.

sana: you’re fucking done for

you: oh?

sana: you heard me.

you: what are you gonna do?

sana: you’ll see

sana: keep doing that to yourself and watch what happens.

tossing the phone away, you smiled at the successful task of getting sana aggressively ready, slipping on your white panties back up your legs from the floor.

sana stops herself before she could let the desires get to her head, the relief of cumming won’t be the solution. she swipes through the photos and the couple videos you sent her, watching over and over of how slicked you were. she could stay here for a few more minutes and take care of her problem, but she already was ahead with what’s coming later. so, she made the picture of you with her jersey name on the back as her wallpaper, cropped up to the half where it didn’t expose your ass before getting out of the bathroom.

she still had a way to go though, work wasn’t done yet and sana still had to hit the batting cages. the workday was already going to be productive after hours, but sana had to practice her patience. little did you realize that sana felt like she lost. the fact that you didn’t listen to her? making her more horny? as a matter of fact, you made her so mad while being bratty when she’s busy? once sana has you in her sights, it’s game over. she may have been gentle with you before, but the fire that’s spread was too much to handle.

—

the small crackle of the pan for tonight’s dinner filled up the kitchen while you scoured the cupboards for a few more ingredients to put in the spaghetti and meatballs. you looked over at the analog clock at the corner learning into the living room to see that sana had probably got off to practice, keeping in mind of the delicious meal that she’ll eat when she gets back.

well, that would be the case–

if sana hadn’t skipped her batting session with the team.

she carefully made her way inside, ensuring that no sound was heard from the doorknob or her shoe when she slipped them off. quietly, almost like a serial killer about to finish the job, she creeps her way to the counter to see that your back was turned facing her.

sana made her way to the bedroom. thankfully, the door was open and it only took her a few seconds to slip out of her pants, keeping on her dress shirt with her tie and leaving her lower regions only covered by her underwear. tip-toeing back out towards the kitchen, she could hear you softly hum to the song that was playing from your phone, her eyes caught with the small shake from your hips.

you were lightly head bopping, not giving a care for any outside interruptions. just simply cooking in the most domestic way possible, it was cute.

sana showered you with love. the sight of you doing everything in all the right checkmarks made her forgive you for a slight second. she could just walk up and act like nothing happened, let you off just this once with what you did, but the white panties and one of sana’s oversized shirts pulled her back to reality, and sana bit her lip with what was going to happen.

a small clink of the empty plate hitting granite was soft until you felt a pair of hands touch you from behind. the right hand slithering to your neck while the left hand was caressing your ass. you lean your head back to feel sana’s perfect nose against the side of your face.

your breath stops for a second when sana plants a kiss to the spot behind your ear, her right hand now caressing the other cheek of your ass, fingertips fiddling with the fabric that’s holding your hole captive from sana. she flips you over to the small kitchen island across you two, body against the cold surface when you feel her chest flush with your back, her hot breath in your ear again, “trying to be the good girl by cooking up dinner?”

sana grins against your face when she hears you let out a whine, “sa, why are you back so–”

“skipped the batting session, need some other things to pitch after work.”

her pitch being the punishment that she promised to give you. the slick that was leaking out of you stained your panties, the beat of your heart rapidly increasing while your mind was trying to think of the different combinations of what sana was going to do to you. you also felt her bare leg against your thigh, and she still had her dress shirt and tie, unbuttoned and everything.

sana lets her hand trail down your back, her right hand caressing your ass before looping around to skate your clit with the lightest touch. she clicks her tongue when she feels the first hints of wetness soak her fingertips. to be fair, you got yourself fucking soaked. building up to this was already skipped, and sana was furious.

“what did i say about touching yourself?” she growled, biting lightly down on your neck that made you moan more loudly, “you could’ve had the easy way out if you listened to me.”

it could’ve been so easy, but that wasn’t your style. backing up your ass against her, she shoots her hands to your hips, “don’t do that. you don’t get to fucking move.”

all you had to do was obey, keeping your body to the best of your ability, resisting the urge to rub your thighs together in anticipation for what’s about to happen. sana slides down from your body, eyes drifting to your white lace panties, seeing the damp spot at the center, all for her.

slipping out of your panties was too much of a hassle, even if it was for only a few seconds. she didn’t want to have fun taking her time, tearing away the garment that fills the sound of the kitchen.

“sana!” you exclaimed, trying to get off of the counter, only to feel sana’s large hand right on the part below your neck, pressing your cheek onto the glossy surface again, “those were my favorite pair!”

“too bad, don’t care,” sana coos, rubbing her thumb in circles on one of the balls of your spine, as her other pairs of fingers slid down to your cunt, “that’s what happens when you act like a little bitch while i was gone. i told you not to move, that’s strike two now.”

“f-fuck,” you groan out barely while sana finally gets to work. she circled her fingers fastly over your clit, taking everything in your body to not moan out due to the stimulation. sana liked it when she hears you cry for her, but take that away and you’re doubling down on acting like a brat.

sana also doubled down, she was already aware that you’d probably hold yourself back those lovely sounds she wanted to hear all for getting back at her. it’s unlucky that she knows how your body is in every way, how to get you running, the way her hands and mouth have you chanting at the top of your lungs, begging her to stop for the whole floor to hear.

she slides her hand up your back, wrapping it in your hair before yanking back, pulling you up that made you yelp out in pain, chuckling at the response. “you wanna be like a brat for me, huh? this is all your doing by the way.”

the demeanor starts to lose its effect while sana’s long fingers continue to pepper your clit, mouth filled with all the worse things about how much of a slut you were, a whore, how stupid it was for you to act the way that you did with her today.

“sa,” you whine again, body tensing as sana removed her fingers away from your pussy, the climax swiped away from you. second nature for you, moving your own fingers down to the heat to get yourself off, only for sana to grab your hand away, shoving you back onto the countertop, arms behind your back while you struggled for breath.

“no,” she groaned, moving your hips up more so that your feet are dangling from the hardwood floor. “dumb bitches don’t deserve to cum, not when they don’t listen the first time.”

you struggle, trying to set yourself free against the surface, “sa, please. i’m sorry.”

sana smiles, that devilish one tugging the corners of her lips while her upper and bottom ones just stay still. she finally got to you.

“yeah?” she whispers again, taking her fingers and lining them up to your cunt, “what was that? you’re sorry now?”

nodding, hand clutching to her free wrist. you wanted her big hands to be inside you so bad that you’d be willing to beg for it, apologize for your sins if it meant that you get what you wanted.

sana lets her fingertips in slowly, “i can’t hear you, slut. are you sorry?”

“yes, i’m sorry.” panting, breath shackled under the pressure of sana’s hand on your back. “please, i’m sorry for being a fucking brat.”

you only hear a hum, she’s pondering if your apology was good enough for you to be let off the hook, “i’ll take it, but you’ll still get this treatment for today.” she says, sliding her fingers all the way in, curling just at the first knuckle past the fingernails. this causes you to stutter a string of ‘yeses’ from the feeling of her filling your sorry cunt up.

sana then slides your hips a bit back so that she can wrap her other hand over to your clit, both hands and fingers working simultaneously as the pressure slowly starts to build up right off the bat. you’re letting out louder moans, saliva slipping out trying to get the hair out of your mouth.

“can’t hear you baby,” sana groans, biting her lip. “open up that pretty mouth of yours.”

this only makes you moan even louder, your walls clenching around her two fingers, and she ramps up the pace. you feel the same coil in your stomach building up, sputtering words that were saying that you were close, and sana stops her movements suddenly.

you let your knees hit the cabinets below you, breathing uncontrollably and sana just laughs, “i told you. dumb sluts don’t get to cum.” and your eyes meet hers, dark contrasting with light, sana over you, like it was meant to be.

she continued to edge you, hands moving at the same pace that got you up to your high, reminding you over and over that this was what happens when you fuck around and find out. that release you fantasized about while leaking over her bed sheets being taken away that you wanted so much.

you could feel tears coming out from your eyes, meeting hers again to only see that she’s blown out, lust filled to the brim. sana was losing her mind over you, those pretty eyes that could leave you flustered in any normal scenario, sobs and tears from your face making her grin more at you.

“okay, i think you deserve it.” sana says with a whisper, kissing the small of your back. “cum for me sweetie, cum all over my fingers.”

sana loved teasing and edging you to no avail, the control was thrilling for her. she basked in the sight of ruining you to nothing but mush.

“fuck, yes baby,” sana moans out when you finally clench around her fingers, moving her other fingers on your clit with no shortage of slowing down. she could feel the click seeping out to her fingers, sliding them out to see them soaked in your arousal, licking them clean before she rubs your hips to soothe the ache slightly.

then she flips you over.

hands darting for the underside of your knees, lifting them up above her head before you felt the flat of her tongue get that first lick of your cunt, bucking your hips at the sudden contact and a yelp from your lips. sana groans against your core, fingers pressing hard into your skin enough to leave a noticeable bruise for you to assess later.

you try to prop yourself up while sana’s tongue lashes your puffy folds and leaking walls, her hand were quick to your waist, pressing you down while your hand rakes up her hair, pulling away to bite the inside of your thigh.

“fuck, sana–”

“shh,” she starts, “i’m gonna fuck this attitude out of you now, scream all you want.”

before you could respond, sana’s mouth is back on your lips, hands gripping the divot where your legs and hips meet, tongue moving all the ways that has you complaining for more. it’s even worse when the pace comes back in the form of her fingers, three fingers in fact, stretching you open that has you quivering the bottom row of your teeth.

“baby, baby baby baby, right there, shit–please don’t, fuck!” you whine again, the moans watering down your words when sana’s twisting your insides for her own benefit. sana herself was losing her mind, drunk on the very gift of your sweet nectar that could give her a lifetime to live, eyes up to you with your head leaned back, one hand over your breast clutching the jersey over it.

“please please please–”

sana was so drunk in love with you.

she lowers your legs, wrapping them around her head to close her in. you’re sitting up now, mouth hanging low still as she’s doing everything to make you cum, this might also be enough for her to cum along with you as well. “you’re close, baby?”

“sa, please–yes yes.” you answer, hand curtaining her hair when a foot slips over and hits her in the back on accident. she keeps herself going, fucking you where you’re holding the counter to the point your knuckles turn white. the plate that’s off to the side is shoved off the top, expression frozen when a crash is heard on the floor below. she’s groaning as well, very turned on at the fact that you cum all over her tongue, savoring the second climax when you’re shrieking, shaking, faltering back flat on the counter while sana makes sure to get every last drop.

pulling away with an audible smack, sana pants, running her hands on the side of your waist and hips, softly planting kisses around your swollen lips and cunt, then to your thighs. “fuck…” she then slides her fingers up your lips again, the lingering slick soaking them again, bringing it up to your mouth, sucking and licking your own taste off her. “you look so good like this, love.”

you mouth a ‘thank you’ with a lazy smile.

sana is then quick to tend to your care, swooping you up for a hug, kissing your face before landing on your lips for a longer, dragged out smooch. just when you think you’re done, sana’s eyes are glazed, smiling between your lips for another kiss before landing them around your jaw and collarbone. “you’ve got something to pick up while i get started with eating, okay?”

“sana…” is all you say, and again, she just giggles at you. once she removed herself against you, taking off the tie around her unbuttoned dress shirt and wrapping it around your neck. after she did that, she walked over to the stove to grab a plate, your eyes studying the form of her arms with those rolled up sleeves, the hint of veins on her creamy skin, the straight but still ruffled hair she flips over to the side. it’s dangerously sexy, and you’d fall for it every single time.

“oh, y/n lovely,” sana calls over, humming in response, watching as she unbuttones more of her shirt, exposing her matching set of her black bra and panties when she turns to you, “make sure you don’t lock your jaw now. you’re gonna eat me out while i eat, or after.”

you close your legs to soothe that lingering ache you’ll be asking for again, biting your lip when you see the sway of her hips when she walks over to the dining table.

keeping a note that being a brat to sana might be a good idea to do whenever she’s not home.

#twice imagines #kpop imagines #sana #minatozaki sana #sana x reader #twice x reader #kpop x reader #twice sana #sana twice #gg smut #kpop smut #minatozaki sana x reader

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hyuckmov · 3 months

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hi queen I hope you're doing fine, we miss you on here 😭

can we please get something from rockstar hyuck part 3??? just crumbs please

here's something spicy that i actually wrote when i FIRST started rockstar hyuck wayyy way way back :) as a thank u to u guys for sticking w me i hope u missed just filth LOL

the call connects just after two rings, a sharp crackle of static before you're met with the sound of his soft breathing, loud against the quiet of his surroundings.

"hey," you whisper, breathlessly. you didn't expect him to even pick up, considering how busy he was after shows. there was every chance he was still at the venue, high off the adrenaline that performing always gave him, or that he was at another one of his after-show parties, feeding off the adoration and desire that always surrounded him in a haze.

"hey." you can't tell if he's mocking you, his voice equally breathy. "miss me?"

"yeah." you nibble on your lip, unsure what to say now that he was actually listening. shuffling back onto the pillows laid out on your bed, you sigh. "i'm sorry i couldn't make it to your show." it was the band's first trip to play a few gigs in another city close by, and although you wanted to follow, you just couldn't make the time for it.

the boys, of course, had been endlessly excited – a new city, a new crowd…and of course a whole new slew of girls to show up to their parties.

"it's fine," he murmurs, lightly. "i'll be back soon, anyway."

you hear him shift around, and once again you're reminded of how surprising it is that he's picked up. "are you on the way to the party now?"

"i'm not going to the party tonight, baby." the term of endearment snags your breath, a warmth spreading sweet and slow inside your body. "'m just staying in the hotel."

"really?" you blurt out, hating the way your voice betrays the spark of hope that flickers in your chest.

he laughs, and you can hear the smile in it. "it's good that you called," he says, quietly. there's a pause, as you try to figure out how to interpret his words.

"not going to ask why, baby?"

"why?" you ask, weakly.

"because i've been thinking of you all day." you hear the clink of a wine glass being set down on a table, and then the rustle of sheets. "listened to that voice memo you sent me a week ago after the show…got me so fucking hard i couldn't even show up to the party, baby."

you inhale sharply, thighs pressing instinctively together. "haechan…" you murmur, fear prickling at your skin even though you know no one's listening.

"it got so much worse after i drank," he breathes. "'m so sensitive right now…we've never fucked while drunk right?"

"haechan," you plead, unsure if you want him to stop or continue.

"what's wrong?"

"we're…we're on the phone."

"so?" and now there's a thud, and you're sure he's dropped his phone next to him . you can hear the clink of his belt being unbuckled, the heavy slide of it as he tosses it somewhere off the bed. a rustle of fabric, and then a low groan sounding out, the sound shooting straight to your core.

"haechan!"

"fuck…baby," he pants. "keep saying my name like that."

"hae–" you cut yourself off, biting your lip. fuck.

there's a short pause, your ears filled with the sound of his breathing, as if his body were caging yours in. the memory of it so vivid that you can't help but trail your hands down to the waistband of your shorts, something about the sultry way his voice played in your ears without him actually being there, the ghost of his touch still lingering in the corners of your body –

"- i can hang up, if i'm making you uncomfortable." there's a nervous stutter to his voice, which has lost all cadences of lust. "i'm sorry. i'll see you when i get back, –"

"don't." you don't bother to hide the neediness in your voice, too stung by the idea of him hanging up, of him leaving you to fester in this unbearable heat. "please stay."

you hear him inhale. "would it help if we switched to video call?"

you feel lightheaded, mouth moving without sound.

"baby," he presses. "you have to tell me if i'm making you feel uncomfortable, okay?"

"let's not…let's not switch to video call," you swallow. "yet."

"whatever you want," he agrees, softly. "are you on your bed, sweetheart?"

"yes," you whisper. "j-jaemin's in his room too."

"then we'll have to be quiet, hm?"

#fic: rockstar haechan #haechan smut #asks #anon #heh

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insomniakisses · 1 year

Note

Reader comforting aegon cuz he's just so broken after the treatment he's been through 🤠

A Lovers Comfort

Character: Aegon Targaryen (HOTD)

Warnings/Notes: mentions of parental neglect/abuse, Viserys slander, mild Alicent slander (i love her tho), soft hubby Aegon, your Rhaenyra's daughter (you can chose adopted or not), war doesnt happen, aemond still looses his eye.

When you where first told you where to marry Aegon you were worried to say the least. Having heard many stories from your brothers and mother, not to mention the not so fond memories of him when you were all kids. But it had been years now, surely he had matured into a man? Perhaps he hadn't with the outrage you could see of your mother's face, your whole family's faces.

Yes, your mother had long ago proposed Jace marry Helaena, to solidify the bonds between the greens and blacks. But to her this? This was different. You were her baby, her only girl and she couldn't let them take you from her. Make you bare his children. No she had to stop this.

Which led to now, all of you on dragon back heading to kingslanding. Your mother and Daemon leading on Syrax and Caraxes, while you and your brothers followed. Being greeted by the king and queen upon landing you remained silent as you were all led inside.

There you watched as your mother and Daemon enter the council meetings room along with the king and Alicent, Your brothers being sent to the training grounds and Aemond accompanying his wife, Helaena back to their chambers with a soft nod to you. Leaving you alone with a half drunken Aegon.

"You don't want me." he laughs, deeply amused at the scrunch of you face when he slumps in the seat next to you. "You've never liked me, no one does"

Rolling your eyes you take the wine from his hand, pushing him back in his seat. "Your family likes you Aegon, your mother, surely" your voice is short, seemingly bored of his presence already. Not something he's unused to.

"No.. They don't like me" It comes out soft, and barely audible but you hear him. It makes you turn slightly, staring at him unsure of how to proceed. Your heart aches and you find yourself reaching for his hands, the action makes him look up unshed tears filling his eyes.

"Father does not care for me, us. he spent so long wanting sons and dreamers yet now he finds himself with two songs and a dreamer in my sister and he still views your mother as his only child." You wince at that, sure you had seen it growing up you weren't blind to the kings dismissal of his children or fondness of your mother. you had no idea just how little he cared.

"Your mother must love you though, i've seen her with Aemond she seems rather loving?" Your carful with your words not wanting to offend your prince its his laugh that startles you. "I am no son of hers, she made that clear after aemond lost his eye. He and Helaena are all that she cares for. I'm just her drunken, ungrateful son."

You understand him now, understand his anger, his drinking. He's hurt and lost and crying out for help when no ones bothered to listen. You feel yourself move towards him, unsure why, you pull him into a hug.

He nuzzles his head into your neck and releases a breath he didn't know he was holding, letting his eyes close and his body relax in your hold. "I'll marry you." his head shoots up at your words, confused as to why you would give your life to him. "But, reduce the drinking. You don't have to stop, just drink less okay?"

"Okay." He smiles then, a true genuine smile and you lean down to press a soft kiss to his nose laughing when he scrunches up his face in protest. "Good. I'll hold you to that."

Feeling him hum against you, you move to run your hands through his hair. "Ser Christen, please in form my mother and the rest of the council that the meeting need not proceed as Aegon and I are accepting the terms of our betrothal."

"Of course Princess."

Should this be a series?

#aegon targaryen #king aegon #aegon ii #king aegon ii #aegon x reader #aegon ii fanfic #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon imagines #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon the usurper #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd aegon #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagines #🤠 anon

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lovelykhaleesiii · 8 months

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Respectfully requesting an Aegon fic ♡

A couple weeks ago we were having a conversation about chubby Aegon and I threw this idea at you -

I'd love to read a story where reader is short and super slender, and people have told her that it's unattractive for a lady, that she needs to get thicker to be able to bear children for the king. And when chubby King Aegon sees her for the first time he's like "she's too sweet and precious, I want her as my queen".

Would you be willing to write something like that? Love you ♡

Existence of a Woman.

PAIRING: Chubby!King!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 2,156.

WARNINGS: bullying, mentions of low self-esteem, misogyny, fatphobic comments/references, body contrast/size kink if you squint.

A/N - EZ I love our little convos, seriously you have no idea how happy you make me 🤍 this was an absolute pleasure to write xoxox hope you love it! and same to nonnie, I’ve just meshed the two incredible ideas together!!!

It was sheer anguish, having constantly been surrounded by the disheartening commentary regarding your own body. A body you were born and had grown into with much appreciation everyday for your vital health. A body that had no lesser value than the bodies of other ladies and women alike, and yet, yours was frowned upon relentlessly.

You may not have naturally had the adequate width of child bearing hips, nor the lustrous curves in all the right regions. Your breasts may not have been voluptuous enough, that your mother often worried if you would even be able to produce the Mother’s milk to provide for your own babe.

To make matters even more frustrating, you were in constant comparison and competition with your elder sisters. Their bodies, their curves, their bosom, in contrary to your own, had been approved since their maidenhood had struck. Praised by your own mother, your sisters were ignorant to the constant scrutiny you had endured for so long.

Bickering words from the ladies of the court, from your very own kin, were ruthless enough for bloodshed.

“You are far too slender my dear, and far too small to bear a child to full term. Eat, my dear. Are you certain you eat?”

“You must look promising for your husband, dearest. Or else he may have no desire nor purpose for you much longer… Women like yourself are often tossed aside, becoming a burden to their families.”

“The Gods have blessed your sisters with such elegance and beauty… Mayhaps, your spurt is somewhat delayed. Continue to do your prayers, and the Gods may be merciful.”

It was the endless scrutiny that made it unbearable to exist. You had tried many times to grow oblivious to such comments, yet counting your long, dull days, the voices grew louder and louder, more prominent as you reached a mature age to marry.

“Just as your sisters are, we plan to have you wed before the Winter. Although, be warned your sisters being older will come to priority first. Mayhaps we might be able to spare one year for you to, uh, ripen.”

Nonetheless, when your family had unexpectedly been bestowed a welcoming invitation to King’s Landing to attend a royal celebratory feast in honour of the name-day of their elder, royal son, Prince Aegon the Second, your family humbly yet more so keenly accepted. In a matter of days, your entourage assembled and necessities readied, you were on your way to the city: although this being your second trip, you could barely string a memory to thought, as you were only just a child the first time around.

Now a young woman of age twenty-and-one, despite your sister's enthusiasm, you shared no high hopes of scoring a marriage with any decent man willing to look your way. Far more keen to sight-see the city in all its glory, and with a memory you could reminisce...

"Your Grace, it was an absolute honour receiving your invitation for tis evening's feast. I do hope our Prince has been enjoying himself-"

As your father lavished King Viserys with excessive compliments and many thanks, you could not help but eye each respective Targaryen sat atop the high table. The Dowager Queen, earnestly holding her sickly husband's hand in support, as she bobbed her head in acceptance to your father's words, further down the line, Princess Heleana oblivious to the crowd before her, too enamoured by some black stone or item in her hand, whilst Prince Aemond sat beside her vividly scanning the entire room, looking beyond the foot of the table where you stood. Prince Daeron's seat, you had assumed, empty, the youngest Prince mayhaps amidst the crowds, seeking entertainment and company. Although, it was Aegon who had ultimately caught your attention...

He was no doubt different to Prince Aemond, much larger and plumpier in size, nonetheless, still handsome [he was after all, a Targaryen]. Unlike his younger, menacing looking brother, whose jawline was distinguishable, face chiselled and figure slim and poised: Aegon's features were disguised with a softness, his jaw hidden beneath a subtle layer of fat, his cheeks reddened and full, it did not help that his mouth was constantly occupied with food and wine, as he gorged and guzzled the delicacies before him. As he sat back momentarily, wiping the food residue of his soft-looking lips, a portly belly that appeared rather tight against the restrictive fabric, bloated mayhaps, as the Prince tried to stifle a burp. An electrifying twitch twinged between your inner thighs, as Prince Aegon tenderly patted his distended gut, almost in a prideful manner.

"Aegon, dearest, show your guests the same regard and thank them for making the long trek," Alicent sternly indulged, as she persistently called for her eldest son. Aegon, although reluctantly, devoured his last bite, before heaving himself up with blatant difficulty, walked towards your centre.

"This is Aya, my eldest beauty and very diligent.. This is Sarra, she's got a rather wonderful melody, and isn't she just a sight for sore eyes? And this is Laila, quick witted, she'll keep you on your toes although a belle of the ball. Might I add, all unwedded! Pray the Gods be good, they grace our daughters with a potential hand..."

"And who are you?" Aegon abruptly interrupted, as your mother halted in her speech: her blatantly pathetic attempt to sell her daughter's hands. And although she did not acknowledge you, this had not been the first incident... You had grown accustomed to being invisible. Her cold words burnt into your mind;

"Standing beside your sisters, you might as well not be there... You must understand, dearest, your time will come. Just not now."

A faint, exacerbated breath escaped your lips, as your mouth hung loosely agape. Uncertain if the young Prince was glaring solely at you.

"Uh- th-this one? My youngest... Your Grace."

"Yes, the one who's existence you so obviously ignored," Aegon firmly proclaimed, earning a low, taunting chuckle from his younger brother [who continued ogling the crowd onwards], even drawing Helaena's attention unto him. However, his mother, Queen Alicent, rolled her eyes in defeat, whispering Aegon's name faintly towards him, almost in encouragement for him to settle.

"Apologies your Grace, our youngest is rather quiet and shy, although-" Your mother began to resist speaking, thickly swallowing her words in silence. Her cheeks instinctively flashed red, in exchange to the puzzling, glaring eyes of the royals, bashful against their hushed judgement.

"Th-This is Y/N, my Prince. Our youngest daughter."

"And is she wed?"

The swiftness of how haste Aegon enquired about your marital status, freakishly made your heart flutter, your rather ravenous stomach churning with uneasiness.

"N-No, your Grace..."

"Good-Good."

Aegon had finished sparing your tongue-tied mother further embarrassment, as she was meekly led by a servant to your table. Although, it seemed Aegon was not yet done with you...

An instinctual gut feeling of a pair of prominent eyes burned against your head, and despite your timidity to decipher who, your curiosity overtook... Mayhaps you overestimated your ability to gain someone's attention.

With intense anticipation and raw shock, your wavering attention was met with Aegon's brutal gaze. As his pudgy finger traced over the blunt edges of his goblet, a sly smirk brewed across his ample face, his focus still fixated directly unto you. And although you had initially struggled to reciprocate the same, unnerving attention, you naturally sought comfort busking in his holistic notice.

A few seconds passed, before an unfamiliar servant called upon you, whispering that you follow his lead into the royal gardens, under direct command of Prince Aegon. You had no apparent need to excuse yourself, as your mother now returned to her usual, collective self, flouncy in talk with other keen mothers, of their aspirations to wed their daughters, whom too were far too immersed in spying and gossiping over which young, unwed lords they would sought, you managed to sneak off subtly.

The crisp, chill of the night air was refreshing, inhaling the floral scent looming over the garden, ridden with a diverse range of captivating, flora species. Slowly striding towards a rose, fearful you would frighten the flower shut, your hand lightly grazing over the soft petal. You had never seen such a vividly red colour, vibrant even in the shadow of the night. Your thoughts silenced, easing into a peace unlike anything you had embraced before.

"There you are-" A disruptive, deep voice loomed from behind.

"I've been meaning to catch you... W-Who are you, my sweet Y/N?"

"Y-You honour me, your Grace. I-I hate to disappoint, although I am just a simple-minded, country girl. The youngest, as my mother insisted, I have come to honour your Grace... That is all there is to me."

Aegon took a stride closer towards you, a chubby hand, meaty fingers tightly adorned in golden bands, rested atop his swollen belly, caressing his pudgy flesh clothed beneath.

"No, no you did not listen to me, sweet thing... I said, tell me who you are."

Inhaling a rather gratifying breath, for what felt like the entirety of the night, you spent in the solace company of Prince Aegon. He devoured your every word intently, as he keenly did the prized hog that was relentlessly prepared for his name-day feast.

Although your truth saddened him deeply, Aegon was rather gentle with you, taking a keen interest in your story.

"You need not listen to what they tell you, dearest Y/N... Your beauty is one blessed and favoured, by the Gods themselves. They surely took their time with you... They do say envy is a green-eyed monster... I know, I am merely a stranger to you now, but I speak only the truth... You will come to know this."

Come to know this... His comforting words echoed through your wondrous mind.

In return, it seemed Aegon too, shared a rather eerily, unfortunate fate to that of yours, with his own family. Although he was the eldest, and the son King Viserys had so desperately prayed for, he was cursed to disappoint since his birth. Often reminded and outweighed by his failures, his larger weight did not help his cause. Born a larger babe than the rest of his siblings, he too, naturally had a ravenous appetite than that of his younger brothers. It somehow brought shame to his family, irreparable, Aegon refused to change.

Now having met you, he selfishly felt comforted... He was not alone in being solely judged by his appearance.

"Do not fret, Y/N. Your existence goes beyond that of child-bearing and sufficing a man. A man ignorant to your kindness and affections, is a stupid man indeed."

Whether it was a buried confidence now seeping through, or by some divine push, you gracefully succumbed to the urge that plagued your mind lustfully, since eyeing Aegon's soft lips closely. Your lips crashed against his, the bittersweet taste of red wine lingered over his mouth, as he too embraced the exchange. It was a solid, passionate kiss, your breaths growing denser, before breaking loosely apart, your noses grazing over each other tenderly, foreheads pressed against one another. Taking your hands in his, his thumb stroking over your soft skin, you felt more at ease than you did at home.

"Rest assured, Y/N. I will marry you, I will save you the torment your own family inflicts upon you. You do not need to suffer in silence any more. You will say yes, and prove them wrong, if that is what you desire... I will love you, all of you. I will make up for all the lost years, all the years you did not need to hear such vile things. I will protect you."

Hot tears swelled your eyes, yet not out of anger, nor frustration or agony. For the first time, you felt intense joy. Nodding in solid agreement, you promised Aegon to be a dutiful, loyal wife in return. One that did not care if his waistline grew or shrunk, one that did not judge a person by scales.

"In return, your Grace, my beloved. I will cherish the life you have granted me, and in return, I will do everything I can to return the favour and more... I love you, Aeg. May this name-day be one that you remember with a warm heart."

"This name-day, Y/N, is one I have dreamt of for all my life. Finally, the Gods have blessed me, gevie ābra [beautiful woman], one I will take great care in. If it is not obvious, I am quite full... Do not be frightened, I will not break you."

"Aeg- That is the least of my worries... In fact, I don't mind this-" You cheekily tease, innocently poking at his round gut, provoking a growling chuckle from your betrothed to be.

"If I'm being honest, I find it quite... Invigorating."

"Is that so?"

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel

credit for dividers - @/firefly-graphics

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #TGC #chubby!King!Aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii x fem!reader #aegon ii x y/n #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction

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muddyorbsblr · 5 months

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relinquish the crown: what could be done

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: Season 1, Episode 13; moments after 'plans & protestations'

Summary: Loki and Frigga look for a way to prevent you from being married off to the Prince of Alfheim

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); Prince Damien (yes he's a warning)

Things to be aware of: sad Reader hours; stressed Loki hours

Queen Frigga paced back and forth throughout her workroom, perturbed at the information that Loki had just relayed to her. Royal Child Bearer? The nerve of that insolent inexperienced child of a prince.

She should have nipped this visit at the bud the moment she held the letter from the Royal Court of Alfheim in her hands. Seen the unease with which the palace staff looked upon him whenever she witnessed him crossing paths with one of them. Or now overtly guarded and secretive so many of them had become when she would try to ask them if the visitors were treating them well.

Perhaps she could have even prevented the visit from happening altogether had she spoken to her husband about it rather than entrusted that the future she'd seen of you and Loki being happily married to one another would prevail regardless of hindrances in the form of seedy visiting princes and memory spells. She had no indication to tell her that so many obstacles would have stood in the way of your happiness.

"We must do something, Mother," Loki pleaded, tears filling his eyes even at the mere thought of you leaving Asgard to become that repugnant prince's wife. "I must do something. I cannot simply stand idly by and watch as this insipid excuse for a prince courts her and gains Father's approval. Watch as Y/N's wish to marry for love is taken away from her and she is forced to wed a man that will not treasure her, swear his fealty to her, the way that she deserves. And all in the name of fortifying alliances with the insurgent realm of Alfheim. Even if I do not become her husband and your vision ultimately proves false, all that matters is that she does not enter a marriage where she is used. Unappreciated. Unloved. I cannot bear to see her unloved."

"Let me think, my boy," Frigga said, doing her best to calm her son as his thoughts began to spiral picturing the bleak marriage you would have to the elven prince. And rightfully so, those images were nearly enough to make her send the visiting party home. Invoke her power and authority as Allmother in the name of doing what was best for her granddaughter and for Asgard as a whole. "I have faith that she would be capable of thwarting his attempts in the short term--"

"But what of the long term, Mother?" Loki stood from the armchair he'd slumped into minutes earlier, nearly pacing a hole into the floor from his visible anxiety. "Father seems to be determined to stave off the insurgence that the Royal Family of Alfheim has been rumored to be organizing, and an alliance between our families might just be the compromise he seeks. What if he is willing to disregard Y/N's wishes to accomplish that?"

Frigga resumed her pacing as well, a deep worry taking place in her that the peace she'd seen in her vision of your future was farther off than she'd initially thought. That the contentment and joy meant for you and Loki would serve as the end of the fight of your life. "I will do what I can do postpone any decisions of your Father that would lead to Y/N's hand being forced into this marriage. Meanwhile you, my boy, will do what you can to keep her time occupied. The less time she is around this lecherous disgrace of a prince, the better for her sanity. And yours."

"Postpone," he whined, shaking his head as he were shaking off the short-sighted intention. "We need to stop these efforts entirely--"

"And we will," the queen insisted, pulling her son into her arms. "You give me the next few days, I will find a way for us to stop this fraudulent courtship completely. I swear to you, Loki, on my life. She will not be subjected to a life unloved. She will not be relegated to a stepping stone for this urchin of a prince to ascend to the role of Allfather."

The days following Loki's panicked consultation with his mother were spent on high alert, the god's behavior dangerously leaning toward petulant as he did what he could to prevent you from spending time with the elven prince short of flat out refusing to conclude his time with you. Thankfully you seemed to be more than willing to let the behavior slide as you preferred his company rather than Prince Damien's, and you would even offer up your own thinly veiled excuses if only to lessen your time with the boy of a prince that was all too forgetful of decorum and insisted on touching you with an air of familiarity that he had not earned. And likely never would.

Today was no different, the god sequestering you in the corner of the library that you'd settled into sharing. You were all too gleefully working on the plans for the ball that would culminate the Yule festival, deciding on what would serve as the night's main event.

Meanwhile, his mother Queen Frigga had given him a specific task in their mission to thwart the courtship efforts of the crown prince of Alfheim. He was to look into the customs and traditions that would be expected of a member of the royal family of Asgard if they were to marry. The objective was to make you privy to their intentions once they had found something that could keep you in Asgard, and the three of you could put your minds together into negotiating your way out of the courtship.

Unfortunately all that he could find so far was that the only way to make a clean break from Prince Damien's efforts to marry you was to have it expressly declared by the Allfather that the courtship was concluded and any and all efforts from the Prince would no longer be welcome. And bringing Odin to this decision would take a great deal of convincing. He would have to be offered something much more irresistible than fortifying alliances between Realms and indefinitely hindering the threat of an insurgence.

No one held such ammunition. To Loki's knowledge at least. He could only hope that his mother was more fruitful in her searches.

"Would you be willing to participate in an auction?" you asked, sitting up from your slouched position from earlier while you were penning down your thoughts on various parchments. When you started to clench and unclench your fingers, Loki took your hand in his, massaging your skin in small circles, causing you to let out a satisfied sigh as you relaxed into the cushion. He had to fight back the salacious thoughts that began to infiltrate his mind, thinking of more pleasurable ways to elicit those sounds from you.

"It depends on what exactly would be up for auction, darling," he answered, pressing a fleeting kiss to your knuckles when your hand had fully relaxed in his hold.

"A night's worth of dances." You rested your head on his shoulder, your eyelids drooping when he began to stroke your hair and you fully allowed yourself to take a few breaths and relax. At least until your ever irksome suitor would burst through the doors and announce that it was time for your daily walk around the palace.

And you would have to don your collar piece that the god knew must be warmer than was necessary. All for the sake of shielding your body somehow from Damien's wandering hands.

"If it means keeping you safe from a certain elven Prince with wandering eyes and hands, I would gladly outbid--"

"No no, Loki, you misunderstand," you cut him off with a slight giggle. "The men would be up on the stage, I was asking if you would be willing to auction off your dances for the ball."

"I see," he mused, making a point to turn to a random different page on the book he was reading through to keep you from discovering what he and his mother may be up to. "If it aids in the success of the ball, then…I would be happy to."

His heart beat violently in his chest as you squealed and turned to throw your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you!" You excitedly left his embrace, his arms now feeling hauntingly empty without you in them, and wrote his name down on the parchment. "At least I know I would be having a good bit of fun before I get shackled down and shipped off to Alfheim to do little more than sit still and look pretty," you sighed, placing your pen down on the table before slumping back into the cushion.

"Darling, if you do not wish to marry this prince, you are very much within your rights to refuse his proposal. I see how you are whenever you have to return to his company, you need not endure this attentions if you do not feel that he would be good for you," Loki attempted to console you, taking your hands in his once more, his heart fracturing at how rife with tension they were again.

"I couldn't," you argued, the furrow between your brows making an appearance as your mouth formed into a pout. "Grandfather would force my hand, tell me that this is what's good for the realm as a whole. Spew some drivel about how sometimes great leaders must make personal sacrifices for the good of their people." A tear began to roll down your cheek at the mere thought, trying to blink them away as you refocused your attention instead on the book laid open in front of him. "Loki? Why are you reading up on Asgardian bedding rituals?"

He wanted to slap himself at the section he turned to. "The information might come useful one day," he tried to wave your queries away.

"You intend to court someone?" A playful look entered your eyes before you put your hand to your temples once more, another migraine pounding away at your head.

"Norns no," he hissed almost instinctively. The only one I would ever wish to court is beyond my reach, he lamented internally, replacing your hand with his and trying to soothe you by massaging away at your temples in slow circles. He decided the best course of action was to offer you a sliver of the truth. "I'm looking into royal Asgardian marriage traditions, trying to find a way to keep you from leaving the realm if it ever comes to that."

"I will need to be dragged to the altar kicking and screaming if the Allfather forces my hand. This prince does not love me, Loki. He loves the throne that would be promised him if he were to marry me. I'd like to believe that I am worth more than a throne." The sullen tone your voice had taken on tore at his heart, making him unable to resist the urge to pull you into his arms once more in an attempt to soothe you.

"You are, Little Princess. Any fool that fails to see that does not deserve you." No one in these Realms could ever love you as I do, he thought inwardly. I would have cherished and spoiled you if I were your husband. You would have wanted for nothing.

Before either of you could say another word, the doors to the library flew open, revealing his mother on the other side, an excitement in her expression as her gaze roamed the area before landing on the two of you. A soft smile graced her features finding you resting comfortably in your fated's arms.

"My son, I may have found something. Come with me." She jerked her head in the direction of her workroom before turning her gaze to address you. "Granddaughter, a certain elven prince is bounding his way down the halls to steal you away from your present company." You let out an unrestrained chortle at the face the Queen made after her statement, clearly disapproving of Damien herself. "How goes the planning for the Yule festival?"

"Progressing quite nicely, Grandmother," you responded, removing yourself from Loki's embrace and putting away your parchments, gathering everything into a satchel before standing upright. "The culminating ball will make for quite the night, if everything goes according to plan. We are to have an auction. Proceeds will go into funding for new weapons for soldiers old and new alike."

He stood from his seat, taking out the collar piece from inside your satchel bag and helping you into the garment. Your eyes had a bleakness in them as he framed your face in his hands, placing a light kiss to your forehead. He slipped his dagger into your bag, whispering a rather mischievous offer against your skin. "If he behaves in a way that renders you uncomfortable, you could always use that on him and say it was me if you are questioned. Stay safe, Little Princess. I love you."

You briefly wrapped your arms around him before muttering back, "I love you, too." You took a step back, mustering a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "How do I look?"

"Your smile could convince just about any audience, perhaps in another life you were made for the stage," he quipped, briefly touching his hand to your chin. "You can't quite fool me, however."

"Of course I can't." You scrunched your nose at him. "You know me far too well, Loki." You smoothed your hands over your dress and turned to face the door, squaring your shoulders ever so slightly, as if preparing to assume a warrior's stance. When Loki turned his gaze to the door he could see exactly why; the Prince was already waiting for you a few feet away from the Queen, jaw visibly tense.

And because of the god's enhanced senses from his Jotun blood, he could hear the impudent prince grinding away at his teeth. No doubt brought on from seeing that once again you were spending time with someone that he deemed 'competition' for your hand.

The elven prince offered his arm to you once enough distance had been closed, the muscles in his face tensing even worse when you maintained your stance, leaving his arm empty. He opted instead to place a hand at your lower back, holding on to you a touch too tight that it caused you to visibly tense and flinch when his fingers dug into your side.

Loki hadn't even realized he was about to approach you to offer his aid somehow until he felt his mother grab hold of his elbow with a firm yet gentle hand. "If we wish to help her completely, then we must have faith she can hold her own in this moment. Soon enough she will be free of his advances." She gave him a gentle tug in the opposite direction. "We must go now, my boy. You will have much to think about once I tell you what I have found."

He took one final glance back at you, your fist clenched behind your back as Damien walked you farther and farther away from him, and he attempted to reach out to you with his mind. Hoping you would hear his sentiment. "If he ever hurts you, little princess, you call for me. Call for me and I will be there for you in a heartbeat."

Once they'd made their way to Frigga's workroom, he could no longer hold in his words, blurting out his question with little control over the volume of his voice. Or his frantic tone.

"What have you found, Mother? Tell me how we can save Y/N from--"

"You could marry her instead." His eyes widened to the size of saucers at how she chose to lead with her findings, eyeing his mother with thinly-veiled incredulity. "I have combed through every possible scenario that held even a sliver of a chance to get Odin to repudiate his intention to strengthen the alliance between Asgard and Alfheim, and in my search I chanced upon your reports. From your mission that kept you away from us for nearly a millennium."

"My reports?" he parroted lamely. "But those merely stated that the people of the Nine held less faith in our house's power to rule, what help could that offer us in this predicament?"

"If Odin seeks to arrange a marriage for Y/N that will fortify her claim to the throne, then perhaps the only way is to offer him something that would yield a stronger claim," she offered, walking towards her son when he slumped down into his usual armchair and grasping his hands in hers. "If you use your reports to reason with him that this marriage will be more beneficial to the realm than a union with Prince Damien, we can save her from this sham of a marriage he intends for her."

"Father will not so simply agree to this, Mother," the god argued, his mind already firing off scenario after scenario wherein Odin would reject this proposal outright. He'd fought so ardently to ensure that all generations of the royal family that succeeded him would no longer have to adhere to the archaic traditions, and now here he and his mother were, looking for a way to return them somehow. "For him to agree to a negotiation like this, I would need to offer him something in return."

"And what would you have to offer that could hold a similar value to a quelling of an imminent insurgence, my boy?"

Loki ran through everything he could potentially offer for your hand, searching frantically for something that symbolized a significant enough loss on his part that perhaps it would satisfy the Allfather. Nothing of monetary value would suffice, and he would never wish to make it seem from any potential angle that he was buying your freedom.

He held no title other than God of Mischief; he was no crown prince, he had no clear path to the throne. At least until his impending duel with Thor, assuming that the most unlikely of scenarios would occur and he would win over his larger, stronger warrior of a brother.

And then it hit him.

"My claim to the throne," he sighed, feeling a sliver of hope that perhaps this might actually work. "I could surrender my claim as Odin's heir. Cancel the duel between me and Thor so that we may never have to shed the other's blood on the battlefield." He looked to his mother, a calm smile gracing her features as she let her pride shine through. "You already came to this conclusion, haven't you, Mother?"

She walked over to her desk, signaling for her son to follow so that she may show him the parchments in which she penned down her findings. There were the words, by her own hand. Loki's surrender in exchange for Y/N's hand. "I needed you to come to the decision yourself, my son," she explained to him. "Surrendering your chance at becoming crown prince is something you cannot take back. Something that thwarts any ambition you may have to become Allfather yourself."

"What value would a throne have for me if I won that duel?" he spat out, hot tears stinging his eyes as he picture what his life would be like. "My brother would be dead by my hand, Asgard's people carrying a burning hatred for me for slaying their beloved prince. Y/N would hate me for taking her father away from her. And my heart would forever be burdened with guilt for Thor's death, and the crippling knowledge that the woman I love is living a bleak life married to someone who views her as little more than a plaything he could discard and betray time and time again. She is worth more to me than a chance at the throne."

He felt his resolve strengthening with every passing moment, already crafting the words he would use from the moment he announced his surrender to his negotiations to become your husband. He knew the words to utter and when; this was his domain, his words a weapon he wielded with the same mastery as he did his magic and his daggers.

But there was one simple fact that weighed heavy on his heart. He was about to lay out his heart on the table for everyone to know. Including you.

And you…you didn't return these affections. You never had. And you realizing his true feelings toward you would ruin your image of him forever, tainting every single memory you two shared.

"She would despise me," he choked out, clenching his fists shut as his eyes filled with tears. "She will know how I have loved her since the beginning and she will loathe me."

"But she will be safe," Frigga insisted, reaching for her son's hand again. "She will be safe and she will remain here in Asgard. With a husband that loves her, that will not shackle her to such a base and primitive purpose." She seemed as if she were about to say more, but decided against it, pursing her lips instead. "Remember what I told you before, Loki. You two are fated. Marriage was always in your future, I just…" She let out a deep sigh. "I just never imagined that this was how we would arrive at this point."

Tears began to fall from his eyes, already bracing himself to burden your hatred of him for what he was about to do. The life he was about to choose for you. "If having her hate me for the rest of our days is the price I must pay to keep her safe from a wretch like that Prince Damien, then so be it."

With those words he strode out of the Queen's workroom. And as soon as he left, Queen Frigga scrambled through every grimoire in her possession, looking for a way to lift the spell that veiled your memories herself.

Loki blazed down the halls of the palace, looking for his brother and his father, finally finding them in deep discussion in one of the war rooms. His loud bursting into the room caused both men to jump slightly at the sound.

"Ah, Brother, perfect timing," Thor addressed him, a grim tone in his voice as he motioned for him to take a seat. "Father has decided that it is time for us to discuss the ceremony that shall appoint his heir."

"There's no need for that anymore, Brother." He made his way to the seat across from the blond god, doing his best to remain the picture of calm and collected. In truth he was a mixed bag of emotions, each so strong that he could feel himself being pulled in vastly different directions and if he failed to control himself it would tear him into pieces from the inside out.

"And why is there no longer a need for this discussion, Loki?" Odin prodded, back ramrod straight in anticipation for what might come next.

"Because I relinquish my claim to the throne of Asgard."

A/N: Besties omg omg omg we are heeeeeeeere 😳👀 When I tell you I got literal chills writing that last line holy fuckque things are gonna be changing from here on, we're finally in the events of the 6k word shoulda been a drabble piece that I wrote over a year ago and Reader's attitude toward Loki is about to be hugely different 🥺

Only two more chapters until Season 1 is finished and then we're heading off into the angst-fest that is Season 2 😳

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki odinson x reader #relinquish the crown #muddyorbs writes

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candyskiez · 8 months

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just rewatched nimona. again. just. little quick detail that makes me insane.

its kinda implied that bal hasn't been to the tower in a while. nothing's been cleaned up, everything's a little dirty, he looks like he braced himself before going in. so here's my thoughts on that.

the little picture of the director was scribbled over and had LIAR written on it. I think he had to leave the tower for his mental health because he just. kept spiralling. he'd hardly had any time to process anything. grieving the queen, losing his arm, ambrosius betraying him, having to run for his life, the directors betrayal, ambrosius betrayal (again), realizing the institute fucking sucks and everything was a lie and hey maybe the system is shitty and unfair, everyone STILL not believing him, ambrosius being stupid (AGAIN), the confrontation with nimona, todd beating the shit out of him, nimona almost dying, nimona dying...yeah thats. A lot. in the span of a week. he had no time to process it.

so after nimona dies and the initial shock calms down, suddenly he's out of survival mode and has to process everything that's happened in the past few days. so his mental state is fucking rock bottom. he's around ambrosius who hurt him really, really bad even if he doesn't want to admit it. and i can see the tower getting too much. the memories of almost bleeding out after the disastrous knighting ceremony and the fight with nimona and todd beating him half to death are too much. he can't stand it. he ruins the picture of the director, who he trusted, he looked up to, he wanted to be just like her. who he thought he could make believe him. because he trusted her. he has to leave the tower. he can't handle being stuck in the same place everything fell apart in.

maybe a year, maybe a few years pass. he's in a better mental state. he's healing. it still hurts. it still fucking hurts. but he's come to terms with it. he's accepted what happened. he finally goes back to the tower.

it had some of his worst memories. but it had some of his best, too. his sidekick had brutally stumbled into his life. the party they threw just to celebrate seeing the director get shit talked, all the pictures of the good memories, the board game still on the table. the fairy lights she got to spruce up the place because it was too sad for her. he'd known her for such a short amount of time, but she'd brought so much joy into his life. he straightens up the place, puts the dog and the tower back on the table properly. and he takes down the director. takes down the pictures and the reminders of when he'd been so desperate and terrified and angry. and he replaced it with a picture of his family. and it's cathartic. it hurts, but it's cathartic.

and then he hears the knock on the door and he's so naively excited. he was hoping for nimona, deep down. expected it to be ambrosius coming to check on him.

nimona was there, healing from the cannon. she was just waiting for him to come back home.

this movie man. this fucking MOVIE.

#nimona spoilers #nimona #ballister boldheart

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signed-sapphire · 1 month

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Hey Wish rewriters I’m too lazy to tag everyone right now but I had a funny idea just pretend they have internet

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#the fallen star au #disney wish #wish 2023 #asha x star #star x asha #asha #human star #starsha #princess asha #search history #characters

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yuurei20 · 7 months

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Ace Info Compilation part 8: Basketball and Mimicry

In an early vignette we see Ace having trouble with deciding which club he wants to join, telling Deuce that “…unlike SOME people who are only good at physical stuff, I’ve got my eye on clubs of a more sophisticated nature, so I need to take my time.”

He ends up joining the basketball club, and we get a brief look at Floyd hurling basketballs at him “like a freight train” during his first week.

Riddle reacts with surprise that Ace joined a team activity, saying that his behavior in the dorm gives the impression he would be more interested in individual sports.

We see Ace being diligent during a basketball club practice where he is looking to “land a spot as a first-stringer” despite being a first-year student, and Jamil says he is “a deft hand at basketball.”

Ace struggles to keep Floyd focused during practices, with Jamil attempting to abandon them both. When Floyd starts trying to teach himself to breakdance Jamil takes over, at which point Ace gives up on getting them to play at all.

This exchange is referenced in Book 5 when Ace asks Jamil about teaching himself, Grim, Deuce and the prefect to dance for the VDC.

Ace says that “overly enthusiastic sport stuff” is too much for him and “I know I play sports, but I just don’t ‘get’ the athletic mindset…”

In his dorm vignette we see that Ace has an impressive short-term memory, is adept at mimicking those around him, or both: he learns multiple lines in mole language from Rook in order to coax missing hedgehogs into returning to Heartslabyul.

During Fairy Gala IF Ace heckles Jack so badly that Jack is not able to focus on his performance, leading him to insist that Ace demonstrate a runway walk so that he can mock him right back, in revenge.

Ace surprises and impresses Vil, Jack, Silver and Lila with his runway walk despite having never attempted it before.

When asked how he managed it Ace explains, “I just did what Vil’s been telling you to do,” with Vil observing, “You picked all that up just from listening? What skill.”

Ace says, “Please, it’s not hard. In fact, it boggles my mind that you guys are still having trouble after Vil’s laid things out multiple times.”

(This scene combined with Ace’s interactions with Deuce seem to insinuate that he has very little patience for people who are not able to pick up skills as smoothly and naturally as he himself can.)

Ace explains that he learned slight-of-hand by memorizing his brother’s motions since his brother refused to teach him directly, and Cater compliments him on being able to pick things up on his own and think so quickly on his feet.

Ace explains, “Most things, you can imitate if you see ‘em enough and pay enough attention.”

Riddle takes the opportunity to point out that Ace ought to apply his impressive powers of memorization to memorizing the Queen of Hearts’ Code and the chronologies of magic history and Ace explains, “That’s totally different! I’m not good at rote memorization!”

#twstace #Ace Trappola #acefacts #twstfacts #twisted wonderland

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oda-cipresi · 3 months

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Hello! 👋 Welcome to the LOTR/Hobbit fandom! Since you said you’re taking requests, what would you think of HCs of Aragorn x reader whose has a dragon companion? Either she’s the first one to tame a dragon or she’s from a tribe of dragon riders, whichever you think works best. Happy writing!

Thank you for the request! I'm sorry it took this long to write it and that it's so short, but I had a lot of projects that were due in the past few days/weeks. I also found out that I can't write Aragorn to save my life. I don't want to make him too OOC but I honestly don't know much about his character (oddly enough since I have watched the movies a million times by now and I (finally) started rereading the books after 5-ish years.

Requests are still open but it might take a while for me to write them.

It might not be the best, and there are probably a lot of mistakes since English isn't my first language, so if you see any, please point them out :))

~Ciprese <3

Aragorn x reader with a dragon companion

• When you first met, he was probably shocked mainly because: one, he thought all dragons went extinct after Smaug was defeated, and two, you have a dragon companion. He didn't know which part was more shocking, but eventually, he has come to terms with the fact that you have a dragon as a companion

• I think he would be wary a bit at first because he knows what happened in Erebor and Dale, but once he realises that the dragon is nice as they get he calms eases eventually

•Would refuse to ride it at first. He would barely let you ride it even if you are experienced, but he would eventually drop it and let you do your own thing

•the first time he rode the dragon, he had a death grip on you, but eased into it after a while.

•Dragons are hoarders and possessive of their gold (if my memory is correct)

• Aragorn would get jealous of the dragon.

• The dragon would get jealous of Aragorn.

•Eventually they would come to peace, mainly because Aragorn bribed it with freshly hunted things (idk what the right word is I apologise)

•Soon enough the dragon loves Aragorn more than you, probably. Constantly following him like a shadow (if the space allows it, that is).

•After Sauron was defeated and Aragorn became the king and you a queen, he had a place built just for the dragon so it had a roof over its head and was free to rest whenever it wished to do so.

•If Aragorn had to visit another lord or wanted to visit his friends from the Fellowship, he'd use the dragon to get there, especially if it's on short notice.

•Will bring the dragon big pieces of meat, which you have told him to stop because the dragon is gaining weight. Aragorn apologises and starts doing it in secret.

#lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings x you #aragorn x reader #lord of the rings headcanon #lotr x reader #lord of the rings #lotr #aragorn

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ramp-it-up · 1 year

Text

Altered

Pairing: Mob Boss! Bucky x Boss! Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: This comes directly after Queen of Heaven and is in the called This Thing of Ours AU.

Warnings: As usual 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. Not Beta’d, all errors my own. Reader is a switch (dominant and submissive) , graphic depictions of sex acts, teasing, masturbation, hints of pegging, dom/sub play, oral sex (f recieving) slapping, Switch Bucky, restraints, spit play, edging, anal play, p in v, raw sex (wrap before you tap) use of ‘Puppy’ pet name. This time Bicky turns reader out. More PWP.

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I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Bucky sat in your office dumbfounded. He looked up at you with those blue blue eyes incredulously. The contract you’d drawn up was a joke.

“You can’t be serious?”

“What is the problem, Mr. Barnes?”

You sat back across your desk from him and crossed your legs. Bucky mirrored you on the other side, clearly irritated.

“The terms of this contract. It is not the same one I brought over. It is entirely different, and gives you concessions and earnings not in the original agreement. You’re trying to rob us, Ms. YLN.”

Bucky had called you the next day after his night at Queen of Heaven to set up a meeting only to be greeted by your voicemail. He’d texted and you’d been slow to reply.

Finally, he was sitting across from you, more than a week later. And his patience was wearing thin. You were definitely trying to play him.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you. He took in your hair, your face, your eyes. Then he recognized the shirt that you were wearing.

It was definitely altered, but it was his, the one he’d left at the club that night. The JBB embroidered on the pocket was a dead give away, but he’d been so excited to see you again that he just now noticed, 15 minutes after he entered the room.

“Nice shirt.”

Bucky couldn’t guess what you were playing at, but he wasn’t in the mood for games.

You were waiting for him to notice. You didn’t set the meeting until the tailor was done with his shirt.

You stood up, looked down at yourself and smoothed your fingers down your torso, stopping at your breasts, giving him a clear view of your braless nipples, then smoothed down the rest of the garment.

Bucky licked his lips and shifted in his seat.

“Found this piece at the club. Now I’ve changed it, and it’s mine.”

You looked right at him as you moved around the desk and sat on the edge near him, giving him a flash up your short skirt to the promised land as you crossed your legs again. There was something clothing your pussy, but it was very skimpy, because what he saw was a flash of white and your fat pussy lips.

Bucky stared at your Jimmy Choos and followed your ankle to your leg all the way up. He wanted to part those legs and lick his way to your cunt, but he was resolute.

“Need something to drink, Mr. Barnes?” You cocked your head at him. “Thirsty?”

You were playing with the collar of his shirt and the look in your eye was playful.

But Bucky wasn’t about to be played.

Bucky stood up, took the embroidered pocket of the shirt you were wearing between his fingers, causing you to almost gasp at the proximity.

He wasn’t the only one excited about your meeting today.

“Huh. You’re right. It’s not the same.”

He leaned close to you and you held on to the edge of the desk for dear life. Those blue eyes pierced you to your soul.

“You can have it.”

The menacing sneer made you wetter than the memories of the other night. You wanted him to fuck you up. Damn him.

He buttoned his jacket as he turned to walk away.

You found yourself calling after him.

“What? No negotiation?”

Bucky stopped, grateful for the excuse. He didn’t want to leave you just yet, but you were playing hardball.

He could be hard too. Bucky turned around slowly and gave you the chance to admire him in his tailored suit, broad shouldered, and (now you knew) big dick glory.

Damn.

“Negotiate? You’re busting my balls here.”

He waved his hand toward the contract. As you held back a smart retort.

“No one gets that kind of deal with Valkyrie. We own this town. It’s our terms or nothing.”

The cocky arrogance of Bucky at business did something to you. This energy was the shit.

You stood up and bent over your desk to get the contract. Bucky started to sweat.

“You said I was trying to rob you. But you are trying to strong arm me. I’m not some innocent little small business owner, Mr. Barnes. Three Rivers is a force.”

Bucky walked back toward you, wanting to fall at your feet. But Sam and Steve would have his head if he let this contract go through as written.

The look on your face was lethal and Bucky felt like he might need to be punished for what he was about to say. The thought made him smile.

“We know what Rumlow has been doing to some of your deliveries. We can protect you, Inanna.”

You reached up and slapped him. Hard.

“Do NOT call me that here. Unless I specifically instruct you too.”

The fire in your eyes was irresistible, and Bucky watched them as he relished the pain in his cheek. He was hard as fuck.

Who was he changing into?

“Sit.”

You glared at him. He didn’t move.

“Please.”

The ask was uttered through clenched teeth, and although he tried to play it off, Bucky sat, anticipation running through his veins. He ran his damp palms up and down his pant legs and practiced his impassive stare.

But inside, Bucky felt giddy.

You leaned against the desk, desperate for James Buchanan Barnes. You stared at him, trying to figure it out.

He was certainly handsome, his body hard, his penis… impressive. But you’d had that before.

The fact that he seemed to want the freedom of being topped intrigued you, but that wasn’t new either. What was new was your desire to switch. You wanted him to take you like none other. You’d dabbled before, of course. But you had never felt like this with anyone else.

Bucky was staring at your feet in those heels, imagining them up over his shoulders.

You cleared your throat.

“What would you change, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky dragged his eyes up your form and widened his legs. There was no mistaking his erection. Your mouth began to water.

“Almost everything. We up Valkyrie’s percentage by 50.”

You scoffed and threw your hands up.

“If you think I’m going to give you a controlling interest in my company, you’ve lost your damn mind!”

Bucky smirked, glad to see that he’d gotten you worked up.

If he only knew.

“You stand to multiply your earnings by at least 600%. That’s worth it.”

You leaned forward and stared him in the eye.

“Fuck you and Valkyrie, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky bit back a response. But his eyes gleamed as he stood, buttoned his jacket and turned to walk away again.

This man was driving you insane.

“10 percent.”

Bucky kept waking, but replied.

“40.”

“20 percent.”

“30.”

You groaned. That would give Valkyrie a 40% stake in your company. But he was right, you needed the insurance on deliveries and you would make a lot more money, despite the split.

“Shit. It’s a deal.”

You went to your laptop to amend the paperwork and printed it out.

Bucky strolled back to your desk as you signed, watching your cleavage through the opening in his shirt.

Then, he leaned down and signed, your eyes drawn to the veins in his hands. You almost sighed.

Almost.

Bucky looked up at you as he placed his copy of the contract in his inside jacket pocket.

“Nice doing business with you, Ms. YLN.”

“Call me Inanna.”

Bucky gulped at the sudden change in the air.

“Sit.”

Bucky obeyed and he watched you pull your skirt up to reveal your teeny tiny white thong flanked by your puffy pussy lips and your glistening thighs. You wanted him. He wanted to jump for joy, but he just settled back in the chair, ready for what you had to give him.

“Let me see you stroke it, James.”

He was in shock at what you were asking, but he moved quickly, bringing his cock out and dry stroking it slowly.

You leaned over him and spit on it, giving him lubrication. Bucky stroked faster as you pushed two of your fingers in his mouth and then pulled them out to circle your clit as you perched on the edge of your desk, your thong pulled aside.

He wanted to be that thong so bad.

You watched his hand and the precum glistening at the tip of his swollen penis. You watched his face and heard his sounds and it almost got you there.

Almost.

“I think I like you moaning like a little bitch, James.”

Bucky’s eyes were glazed over and riveted to your fingers. He opened his mouth and moaned louder for you.

“Ohhhh. Inanna…”

“Fuck, James!”

You came watching this desire flare between you. His hand was moving at the speed of light and you could tell he was getting close. So you did what you had to do.

“Stop stroking, James.”

Bucky’s eyes went frantic, but he grunted and did as he was told. Watching and praying as you moved closer to him, unbuttoning his shirt from around your breasts.

“The next time you’re in Queen of Heaven, I will be inside you.”

You took your panties off and held them in front to his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled as you said, “Open.”

You stuffed your panties in his mouth and looked down at him as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“You want that, don’t you Puppy?”

Bucky nodded vigorously, the tension leaving his body as he inhaled and tasted you.

"Now keep your hands behind you James. I shouldn't need to tie you up. "

You winked and straddled Bucky’s hips, your pussy leaking onto his cock, so close, but yet so far.

Bucky felt the heat radiating from where he wanted to be and he desperately hoped that you would bend your knees.

“Or do you want to have your cock inside me, James? Split me open? Make my sloppy cunt even more so?”

You played with your pussy in his face, as he drooled all over your panties.

Bucky’s eyes watered as he moaned. Being inside you was his only goal in life.

You watched his lust blown eyes watch your hand working between your folds. Then his eyes dragged up your body to your breasts. He wanted to devour you, you could tell. This feeling of power was like none other. And you knew it was because of him.

You took your panties from his mouth, then moved your pelvis to his face as he moistend his lips.

“Lick it, James.”

Bucky looked up at you with those blue blue eyes, as if asking permission. You were pleased immensely and you shoved his head forward, and that was when he eagerly went to work with his mouth.

The sound of him licking you while simultaneously feeling his wide, wet, rough tongue delving into you was pure heaven.

“Mmmmmmmmhmmmmm.”

He had your legs trembling and unstable as you clutched your nails into his hair.

“Suck it.”

Immediately, he went to work, pulling your clit just the way you liked it.

“That hot mouth, James. Those lips. Right…. There…. Yessss. Eat it up, Puppy.”

You didn’t care that you were being too vocal, exposing to many of your emotions, he had you caught up. You considered deviating from the plan and taking his cock as you ground your cunt into his face.

“Such a good boy. Such a good little slut for my cunt.”

You pulled his face out of your pussy and stared down at him, eyes dilated, and mouth slack. He was totally fucked out.

“Let me finish you Inanna. Please.”

The way his broken voice made you clench around air.

“Hmmmmm.”

You bent down, legs straight around his and your ass in the air as you looked into his eyes.

Bucky’s fingers itched to grab that ass. He mused how funny it was that he’d been this sexual with you, but not that intimate. He wanted more. You could read him like a book and you surprised yourself with your matching desire for intimacy.

This was new.

Bucky tried to kiss you and you dodged him. His eyes flashed. He wanted those lips.

“You are so delicious, Inanna. Taste yourself.”

“No James. You don’t get these lips.”

You whispered it, your mouth a hair’s breadth away from his.”

And then you stood up, pulling him toward your cunt again.

“But you can have these. Go ahead. Match all of that big talk with action.”

Bucky tried to keep his eyes open and on you as he brought you to the brink, watching your eyes close and your hands move to your breasts, plucking and stretching your pierced nipples as Bucky moaned and lapped you your juices in between sucking the shit out of your clit.

You bit your lip and moaned your way through your orgasm, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how hard he’d made you cum. You didn’t scream like you wanted to.

When you finished cumming, Bucky looked up at you and you knew he 'd take you apart and put you back together if you let him go at that moment.

And so you didn’t.

You couldn’t let him. Bucky knew it, but that didn’t stop him from trying to ask.

“Inanna…”

“No.”

You cut him off, knowing what he wanted. Your eyes were on his cock as you put your hands on his shoulders and leaned over to whisper in his hear. He turned his head so that his lips were near yours, making you want to chase them. But you held your resolve.

“Stay.”

Bucky stayed. But he noticed the hungry look in your eyes as you watched his long thick cock bob. You licked your lips as he pushed his pelvis up, hoping beyond hope for some kind of relief.

You shook your head, trying to clear your head of these silly notions, and when you looked up at him, he saw the need.

You hated how he smirked and you didn’t punish him for it.

You just pulled your skirt down and buttoned up his shirt, moving behind your desk. You picked up your phone.

“Goodbye Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky groaned low in his throat. You were dismissing him and his dick was hard yet again. But he stood with all the dignity he could muster and painfully put himself into his pants again.

He leaned down to retrieve your panties and as he walked away, he smelled them, remembering the taste of your copious cream when he ate you out. He licked his lips then he heard the signal.

“Hello Ralph. I’ve decided on a new color for the trucks. Green. Very Green.”

Bucky strode back to where you were and was behind you in a flash.

As if overpowering an adversary, Bucky took your arm and bent you over your desk, pulling your skirt up back up around your waist. He looked down at the vision which was your lovely ass.

He pulled himself out of his pants again, lining up and playing in your wetness. It felt so good.

You struggled not to wiggle your ass against him like a simp, but you needed him.

“Did you say green?”

“Yes. Sir.”

Bucky plunged inside you with no prep, just as you were praying he’d do. The stretch was glorious. It had been so long since a real cock had been inside you that you almost didn’t know what to do.

“You’re so gotdamn tight Inanna. Fuck!”

Bucky’s cock pumped inside you of its own accord as if it were drilling for oil. He was deep in your guts, almost, but not quite, painfully stretching you out. It felt so good.

But then he pulled right back out. And you whimpered. You actually whimpered!

“Did you like that Inanna?”

You stayed silent, not wanting to admit it, until Bucky slapped your ass, hard. He watched his hand print begin to raise on your behind as you whimpered again.

“I asked you a fucking question. Did you like it.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Bucky grinned at your distress. Then, he knelt on the floor to pull your thighs apart so that he could lick the puckered hole he now had access to. He licked and swirled your ass as you writhed on your desk.

Bucky came up for air to give you some information.

“I should take this ass right here, right now.”

You whimpered and cried at the previews your mind was giving you at that scenario.

“Yes, you should, Sir.”

You whispered it as Bucky stood back up. He grinned at the state he had you in. Then he leaned over you, cock sliding against your leaking core, but not where you needed it.

“I should leave you like this. Mentally begging me to fuck you in whatever hole I choose. Like you left me the other night.”

His menacing whisper caused you to clench. God you loved this feeling.

You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your tongue to keep from begging out loud. You never begged, but this man was testing your limits.

Bucky felt your pussy moving and he cursed.

“Fuck! You felt so good. I’m going to take this cunt that’s weeping for me.”

Bucky leaned back and lined up.

“Your word Inanna?”

“Green!” You choked it out. Your face heated at the fact that you wanted him so much.

Bucky slid back inside you where he was immediately at the precipice.

“Fucckkkkkk!”

He pulled out yet again.

“Please!”

You turned your head and screamed, finally begging as you desperately searched his eyes. He saw the desperation there.

He shifted so that you could see him taking his cock in hand and start to jack it.

“Do you want this? Tell me why I should give you what you want?”

Bucky looked down to see your core clenching around air and he licked his lips to keep from drooling. You didn't know if you answered him yet, but you were beyond caring how if you looked weak. You had to have him.

“Fuck it, what you want is what I need.”

Bucky grabbed the base of his cock and his balls and slipped inside your wet passage. His thumb caressed the rim of your asshole and you began to pound, milking his cock without him even moving. He groaned and started fucking you on him like a toy, his fingers digging into your hip harshly as he moved you back and forth.

“Such a good pussy. I’m going to use it. I don’t care if you cum.”

That was the biggest lie Bucky ever told.

“Shiiiitttt.”

Bucky’s hips were canting faster as he plowed inside you.

“What if I fill you up with my cum. What then? What color would you be then, Inanna?”

"G-green, Sir!”

“Are you MY cum hungry whore?

“Yes...Yes sir!”

“Mmmmmmm. What if I fill you so full that…. Fuck!”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as Bucky pounded you exactly right. Your fluids leaked down your legs as his voice commanded you.

“You better not cum.”

“Mmmmm. Ah! Ohhhh!”

Bucky was in another world, feeling you around him, raw and wet and tight and hot.

“Don’t want you to cum. No….Don’t dream about it, and I’m not almost always on hard every second of every minute since the other night.”

Bucky’s hips lost their rhythm and you grabbed your desk and arched, pushing his thumb deeper inside you.

You exploded around him which caused him to pull out and jack the hot drops of cum on your ass, growling like an animal.

Bucky pushed his spend into your tighter hole with his thumb, fucking you there for a minute as you quivered around air, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“I want this ass, Inanna. Maybe next time.”

You were a whimpering, quivering mess on your desk as you heard Bucky grab a tissue from your desk and wipe his hands, then put himself back together again.

This time he made it to the door, glancing at the gash made in the wall by his knife days ago. You gazed at it too. You decided to keep it, as it was a change that he made to this place.

It would be permanent.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you. Ms. YLN. Until next time.”

#this thing of ours au #ttoo #mob boss! avengers #mob boss! bucky barnes #mob boss! bucky barnes x reader #mob boss! Bucky x Inanna #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut

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arealphrooblem · 1 year

Text

Terms of Surrender Part 6

Synopsis: The queen of a doomed city makes the deal her husband refused to make with the conquering warlord outside her city's gates

Part one Here

Part five here:

CW: violence, mentions of blood

A few weeks passed by. The air started to thicken, the summer heat starting to roll in like a fog. The Queen became intensely grateful that propriety no longer dictated the heavy, cloying dresses befitting her former rank. The linen shifts and simple braid kept her cool enough; some days she didn’t even bother changing out of her nightgown, throwing on her lightest housecoat when the Warlord visited.

Such improper dress did nothing to phase him; he responded in kind, showing up some evenings in flowy linen pants and short sleeved shirts. In fact, the heat did not seem to phase him at all. The sun loved him, darkening his tawny skin until it glowed sepia in the setting rays. His hair shone like a raven’s wing.

In the growing humidity it had started to curl and the Queen found her gaze catching on his fingers when he ran his hand through it, wondering how soft his hair might feel. It was one of many distractions and they left her win-loss record in chess in shambles.

“Does something trouble you?” the Warlord asked as he tipped over her king. “You have played rather abysmally as of late. Each of my victories are becoming more and more embarrassing.”

How can she explain that the sight of his bare forearms as he reaches across the board, the elegant grip of his calloused fingers, the errant curl that sticks out above his right ear, is driving her faintly mad?

“It is the heat,” she said instead. “I don’t see how you remain so unbothered by it.”

He smiled. “This is nothing. It gets much hotter back home.” Then his brow furrowed. “Are you uncomfortable? Is there anything you need?”

“I am the most comfortable prisoner in the world,” she said with a smile and a shake of her head.

“So you say. But I have a feeling you would not tell me if you weren’t.”

The Queen laughed at this. “Are you worried you’re a bad host to a prisoner of war? Everything I have is more than anyone in my position deserves or receives. It’s absurd that you should worry so much for my sake.”

He opened his mouth to retort and then closed it with a pensive look. “You’re right. Yet I seem to worry anyway.”

The warlord’s brow furrowed, as if this thought bothered him. She could only guess at the possible discomfiture at feeling guilty over a necessary imprisonment, the price paid for owning what he took. A potential weakness.

She would not want him to dwell on it, for multiple reasons.

“Do you miss home?” she asked.

He pondered over a rook. “Sometimes. Home is so entwined with my father and his rule that it hasn’t felt like mine. I’ve always been drawn to this place, though, and not just because none of my ancestors managed to successfully capture it before me. It’s a beautiful city, with much to envy. I visited once as a child and could never stop dreaming of it.”

“You came here?” she asked, surprised. “When?”

“I was but a boy — perhaps nine or ten years old. I came with my father and grandfather.”

He is not so much older than her that she wouldn’t remember this. But the past remains vague in her memory. She vaguely recalls such a visit, the peculiarity and anxiety around it, as his country and hers did not often have cordial visits after so much history of war.

“I must have met you but I don’t remember,” she said softly.

The corner of his mouth lifted up. “I didn’t either at first, but I do now. We met only once, at the first dinner. You were very shy and I didn’t speak your language so well then. Your father sent you and your mother away for the rest of my trip. I think we made him nervous.”

The memory began to crystallize in her mind. She could recall a dark-eyed boy in strange clothes sitting across from her.

“Did I . . .help you ask for more water?” she says slowly, trying to grab hold of the memory before it slipped through her fingers again.

“Yes, And a smaller knife.”

She gasped. “I remember that. That was you?”

It changed things, somehow: that he could have been a familiar face that night in his tent. That he recognized her even now. That she knew him before war had changed him.

“Is that why I’m . . . here?” she asked.

“You’re here for a number of reasons,” he replied. “But I can’t . . .discount that memory as a factor. You have not changed much from the kindness that I remember.”

“It was not kindness so much as common decency,” she pointed out, uncomfortable with the flattery.

He gave her another smile, this one tinged with sorrow. “You are not common. Not in my experience.”

More and more often the Warlord brought her matters of state to gather her advice on. He kept the specifics vague; she often did not know who he was dealing with. But she informed him of past decisions her father and husband had made, how they affected commerce and politics, the successes and failures that she could predict. It flattered her that he valued her insight so much; it also gave her hope that such value would become a guarantee to continue living.

Each morning her fears diminished. She found peace and contentment in the quiet monotony of her days. With no husband to monitor, no divided court to appease, no ever-shifting responsibilities, no appearances to keep up, the Queen experienced true happiness for the first time in her life.

Perhaps that was why she failed to notice the new face among her guards that day, or the way he slipped in her rooms after the maid delivering dinner stepped out.

“Come, my lady. We have little time,” he said, stepping close.

The queen blinked, uncomprehending. “What?”

“The Warlord is on his way to join you. We must leave before he gets here.”

He took her wrist and tugs her towards the door to her bedroom. She resisted, planting her feet, her other hand gripping the back of the chair.

“Who are you? Where would you take me?”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “I’ve been sent by a friend of your husband and we are running out of time. Would you stay in this captivity until he executes you? Or would you have your freedom and take your country back?”

Her freedom. She could almost laugh in his face. What freedom could be found in becoming someone else’s pawn for the throne yet again?

The guard did not wait for her to answer. He gripped her roughly and dragged her across the room. She allowed him to take her as far as the door between her room and the Warlord’s before she threw her entire weight backwards, hard enough to send her tumbling to the ground and breaking his grip.

She scrambled to her feet and dashed back towards the sitting room, but the guard was both stronger and faster than her. His hands closed around the back of her dress and yanked her backwards, the neckline choking her. In an instant he had her pinned against the wall, wrists twisted behind her back, knife at her throat. The blade nicked the skin of her neck.

“You have sat in a gilded cage while your peers have suffered and foreign filth taints our home. You may be content with that, but they are not. I am taking you to the resistance by force or by choice, but I am taking you nonetheless.”

His bruising grip did not lessen as he led her through the Warlord’s chambers, out of the servant door and into an empty hallway. The queen debated fighting again, but she knew these halls more than him. It would do better to wait for a better opportunity to slip away.

That hope dashed to pieces when the guard pulled her into a scullery filled with at least six other men. She could run from one man, but not all six.

“Watch her,” the guard warned as he locked the door behind them. “She has sold her kingdom out for a pretty cage. She will run at the first opportunity to return to it.”

The hopeful expressions of the men disintegrated into something ugly and resentful. They surrounded her on all sides as they led her into the back kitchen gardens. By now the late evening sun had slipped behind the castle walls, keeping the gardens in rapidly growing darkness.

With every step her hope of escape died a little more. The list of men who were both honorable and counted among her husband’s friends was short and full of the deceased. The thought of being turned against the one man who had never seen her as a tool made her sick, and the thought of marrying another power hungry fool made her want to draw blood.

“I think you have something of mine.”

The sound of the Warlord’s voice, soft and quiet, stopped everyone in their tracks. The sounds of swords yanked from their scabbards followed quickly after. Out of the shadows the Warlord stepped forward, almost as if they had borne him.

“She was never yours, you filthy, sand-stained mongrel,” growled the guard who took her, shoving her behind him. “And we will not let your heathen ways taint her any further.”

The Warlord’s eyes flickered to hers. Even in the fading light the coldness of his gaze froze her to the spot.

“Do you feel tainted, my lady?” he asked mildly.

She wanted to scream her denial all the way up to God. She wanted to fight and shove her way to him. But the look in his eyes dried up every word before it could escape.

It was a look of death and ruin.

Countless stories of the Warlord’s terrifying, blood thirsty ways circulated viciously during the war. None of it could compare to seeing it in person. Despite the odds, the dying light, the Warlord cut down each man with brutal, excruciating efficiency. And when they all lay on the ground, he stuck his sword through each of their heads through the eye.

It was over in a matter of seconds. The Warlord stared at her, blood in his hair, dripping down his neck, soaking the front of his shirt and none of it his, and terror quite unlike anything she had never known seized her.

“Explain,” he said.

Fear had stolen her words. She couldn’t piece them together, couldn’t stop shaking.

He took a step forward and she stumbled backwards. Blood coated the blade of his sword.

“I will not ask you again,” he said. His voice shook with barely repressed rage.

“I — I didn’t go willingly,” she said hoarsely. “He came in with — with dinner. He said he was with a friend of my h-husband. He took me. I - I didn’t know how to get away.”

Her voice broke on the last word. And the cold fury of his gaze shattered into heartbreak.

“You are a fool for thinking I would believe that,” he said sadly. “But I am a bigger fool for wanting to.”

He did not take her to the dungeons himself. After his men appeared to collect her, he did not spare her another glance.

Part 7 here

Taglist:

@cesspitoflove@aprilraine@talesofurbania1@sarcasticlittlebook @hasel-anne @weaverofbrokenthreads @prismaticpizza @tantive404

#hero x villain #enemies to lovers #fantasci tumblr #writeblr #my writing #terms of surrender

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aquagirl1978 · 6 months

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Hello! For the new years celebration could I please ask for Leonardo + touches #12, Comte + kisses #1 and Jean + hugs #11. Thank you! x

Thank you, anon, for this request (I'm embarrassed to say how long this has been in my inbox, so I hope you're still here with us on Tumblr). I hope to have Comte and Jean finished this month.

The Night We Met - Leonardo da Vinci x Reader

A/N: Part of my New Year, New Celebration event and a very belated entry for Cozytober hosted by @randonauticrap

Pairing: Leonardo da Vinci x Reader

Prompt: reaching for the other in the dark

Song: The Night We Met by Lord Huron

Lyrics: "Take me back to the night we met."

Word Count: 2131 (the longest fic I've written this year)

Tags: fluff with maybe the slightest hint of angst

“Do you remember the night we met?”

It was a silly question, but one you loved to ask. Just to see his reaction.

He peered at you, his golden eyes narrowing like a cat as he laughed his hearty laugh. “Of course, I remember. It was the night I met a beautiful thief who stole my heart.”

Your breath hitched at his words. Even after all these years, he still had a way of stealing your breath away.

He cupped your cheeks in his large hands, pulling your face close to his. He lowered his voice to a deep whisper, the sweet smell of tobacco pungent in the air.

“But tell me again anyway. Take me back. Take me back to the night we met.”

*****

“What’s this?” you asked, staring at the ornate envelope that was resting delicately in the palms of your hands.

“Open it and find out,” your mother suggested.

Your fingers trembled as you carefully lifted the gold wax seal, afraid to break something so pretty, so precious, and unfolded its contents. In your short life, you had never seen such elegant writing nor held such heavy paper. You glanced up at your parents to find their faces alight with smiles.

“The King and Queen are having a ball. And everyone in town is invited! Isn’t this exciting?” your mother exclaimed.

“The King will be introducing his son, the crown prince, to the court at this ball. And rumor has it,” your father added, his eyes twinkling as he winked at you, “I heard he is looking for a bride for his son.”

“Don’t fill her head with such nonsense, dear. No one has seen or heard from the prince in some years as he has been away studying. For all we know, he has already found a bride.”

*****

Your hand shook as you lifted the glass towards your lips; the rose-colored wine was cool as it trickled down your throat. Standing awkwardly with your back against the wall, you watched as pairs took to the ballroom floor. Lively music filled with air as bright colors dazzled, couples dancing in mesmerizing circles around the room.

You welcomed the respite from dancing – it wasn’t that you didn't like to dance, but rather, your previous dance partners each left something to be desired.

The first suitor had two left feet; you lost count of how many times he stepped on your foot in the span of one song. The second suitor sweated profusely; he looked and felt as if he had spent the entire evening near a hot oven. The third suitor either had selective hearing or was lacking short-term memory; for everything you said, his reply was to ask you how you were doing.

“Looks like ya need a drink.”

You turned your face towards the owner of the husky voice. Mouth opened, ready to hurl a snarky comeback, your jaw slackened when you saw the amiable smile on the stranger’s face.

His hand gestured towards the empty glass in your hand, erasing all fears that his intentions were untowards. Sheepishly, you looked down at your drink, or rather what little was left of it, and held the glass out to him.

“Thank you, that would be lovely.” You smiled softly as his fingers touched yours, lingering longer than they should. “Rose wine,” you added, quickly pulling your fingers away when you felt your cheeks flush with warmth.

“I’ll be right back.”

He was true to his word and back by your side in a flash. Mildly curious as to how he got the drinks so fast, you easily pushed those thoughts to the side as he stood next to you, the silence comfortable as you sipped your drinks.

When the music stopped, he turned to you and plucked the glass from your hand.

“Hey, I was still –”

He let out a small laugh and took your hands in his. “May I have this dance?” he asked, his golden gaze fixed on yours.

Who cared that you didn’t even know his name – you’d be a fool to say no to him.

With a smile so dazzling it could light up the night sky, he whisked you onto the dance floor effortlessly, as if he had been born dancing.

“What brought you here tonight?” he asked, your bodies swaying slowly in tune with the music.

“My parents got an invitation. I’m here with them tonight.”

“A family obligation…” he surmised.

“You could call it that. What brought you here?”

“A bit of the same. It was easier to show up than fight over it.”

“You’d rather be somewhere else?”

“I’d rather be anywhere else. I was traveling, studying. And they brought me back here. For this? There is a whole entire world out there with so much more to offer than pointless dances. ”

He stared into your eyes, his words filled with unbridled passion as he spoke. Something stirred deep inside of you.

And it felt good.

You gazed back at him, struck with awe as you continued to dance, not missing a beat. You barely knew this man, but you wanted to. You suddenly wanted to know everything about him. Where was he traveling? What was he studying? Was he a good kisser?

But there was one question you needed to ask first.

“What’s your name? I’m – ”

He let out a huff of laughter upon hearing your question. You swore you saw a hint of sadness clouding his amber eyes, but it was now gone.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” he asked with a wistful smile.

“No, I don’t,” you admitted bashfully, averting your gaze.

“My name is Leonardo da Vinci…”

Your heart stopped and your body became numb. Your eyes returned to his, the same warm pools of honey you gazed into adoringly earlier looking back at you.

“I am…”

“You are the king’s son,” you said before he could.

Your feet felt stuck, like they were glued down to the dance floor; your body stilled, unable to move in light of this discovery.

He continued to gaze at you, his eyes pleading with you. Stay. Don’t leave me.

Your heart pounded in your chest; the large ballroom started to shrink. Your palms began to sweat; you wanted to release your hands from his but you couldn’t.

He wouldn’t let you.

“My family… we are commoners,” you finally said, the floodgates opening and words started to spill from your mouth. “My father is a shoemaker, my mother sews dresses. I will one day join them and make dresses. We are not nobility.”

I don’t belong here, your eyes said silently, your heart shattering into a million pieces.

“I need to go.” You forced the words out before turning around, running away before Leonardo could see the tears streaming down your cheeks.

Your steps quickened as you approached the tall glass door, your breath trapped in your throat as you placed your hand on the doorknob, letting out a giant sigh of relief as the metal twisted in your hand.

*****

Your eyes scanned the grand ballroom, desperately searching for an exit. There! A doorway leading outside.

Pushing the door open just enough to slip through, you finally felt able to breathe in the cool, crisp air. You had no idea where you were – somewhere in the gardens, you guessed. You’d have to find your way back to your parents, but it was worth it to get out of the ballroom.

And far away from him.

Your heart ached thinking of him. Looking up at the sky, the stars shone brightly against the midnight blue blanket as you searched for a shooting star to make a wish upon.

“What am I doing?” you asked yourself. “It’s hopeless.”

With a soft sigh, you continued on your path, your head down as you followed the stones lit by the moon.

That is until you walked straight into something in the dark. A tall, warm something.

“Goodness! I am sorry, so sorry. I wasn’t looking –”

The figure tilted his head towards you and your heart sank. Of all the people who happened to be at the ball, it had to be him.

“Sorry I’m not Prince Charming,” he said, taking a long drag from his cigarillo.

“I should be going, I’m sorry I bothered you.” You lifted your skirt as you brushed past him, eager to hurry away.

“Don’t go.”

He reached for you in the dark, his large hand easily capturing your wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. You turned your head, your gaze meeting his, the same desperation that clung to your heart was written in his eyes.

‘We can’t,” you whispered breathlessly, your heart beating so loud you hoped he couldn’t hear it.

“Why not?”

You made a face, stunned he would even ask after what happened in the ballroom earlier.

‘Yeah, you already told me.” His eyes wavered as he held your gaze. “And what if I don’t care.”

“You should care. One day, you will be king.”

“Amd marry one of those vultures in there? I’d rather die.” He took another pull from his cigarillo, smoke filling their air between you. “My family is a bunch of bloodthirsty vampires, ready to suck the life out of you the first chance they get.”

He dropped his cigarillo to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot.

“You were the first person in forever that saw me. Not a prince. Not the future king. But me.” He took your hands in his, his thumb pressing against the pulse point in your wrist, sending tingles down your spine. He tipped your chin with his thumb before dipping his face towards yours, his lips so close you could feel his hot breath on your skin.

“I won’t let you get away that fast, cara mia,” he whispered before kissing you.

His lips covered yours, his tongue slightly sweet as he probed open your parted lips, invading your warm mouth. His hands, large hands rough and calloused, moved from yours, his palms rubbing up your bare arms. Gripping the curve of your shoulders, he pulled your body to his. Your arms wrapped around his waist, your body melting into his as your hands settled on the small of his back.

You could have stayed there forever, hiding under the dark cover of the sky.

But forever was not tonight for your name was called in the distance.

“My parents!” you exclaimed, pulling away. “They must be looking for me.”

Leonardo looked at you, his golden eyes darkened with the disappointment of a kiss prematurely broken.

“I have to go,” you whispered breathlessly.

He took a step towards you. And then another and another. Until he was a breath away from you. Cupping your cheeks in his palms, he gazed into your eyes until your eyes drifted closed for a moment, your body memorizing how this felt – to be held in his hands like a precious treasure.

And he kissed you again. It was the perfect kiss, like one from a fairy tale, soft and sweet and filled with…

Love?

The kiss was short and brief, lasting only a few seconds. But it felt like forever.

WHen you parted this time, you both gazed into each other’s eyes silently, words insufficient to convey how you felt about the other.

Not wanting to be found together, you ran away from him the second time that night. But unlike the first, this time you desperately hoped you would see Leonardo again.

*****

“And the very next day, I found you,” Leonardo said, finishing the story.

He gazed at you with his warm golden eyes, eyes you could stare into forever.

“That’s only because I told you about my parents. Thankfully, there weren’t too many shoemakers and dressmakers in town,” you said with a small laugh.

“I would have found you.” His eyes sparkled as he spoke. “I made a promise to myself that night I’d find you. Even if I had to turn over every stone in the land, I would have found you.”

Hearing his words of determination tugged on your heartstrings; after all the years you were together, this was the first time you had learned of his promise. Needing to feel his touch, your hands instinctively sought his, your fingers entwining.

Twice you turned your back on him that night, but never again since. You had stood by his side, facing him in your shared journey in life as lovers and partners, and as he became king, and you, his queen.

“I love you, cara mia,” he whispered before kissing you, the sweet taste of tobacco lingering on his lips.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @ikehoe @kpop-and-otome @lucyw260 @queengiuliettafirstlady @kisara-16 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @crypticbibliophile @yarnnerdally @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @wendolrea @randonauticrap @judejazza @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @nightghoul381

And just like every kiss you’ve shared since that fateful night, this kiss felt like one from a fairy tale.

#new year new celebration #cozytober 2023 #ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #leonardo da vinci #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen leonardo #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

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