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#crust trousers
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tab chain + tabs im gonna add to it (theres abt 220 tabs on the chain, i have way more in my collection but wrong shape) and also a small overvjee of my crust trousers. love the trousers they r covered jn mud and smell like smoke <3
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ghostnamedmem · 4 months
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Gsishs i got a bag (pretty good condition too i think it'll hold up well) out of a charity shop for FIVE POUNDS??? ASJDJD and now i finally have the right place to sew my gum disease patch on
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luidilovins · 2 months
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1930s news about a trans woman: Well I'll be curfuffled young Corlotta Jhonson has transformed herself from a dandy into a dame and what a Bombshell she's become. And How!
1930s news about trans men: Wanted dead or alive this young lady who started wearing trousers, the tomboy terror known only as The Crust is wanted for snorting the President's personal stash of opium and has slain nearly every senate member in a pistol duel.
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konigsblog · 1 month
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rapist-simon would definitely keep his victim's panties as a souvenir :3
oh, for sure he would. :( it's a memory he cherishes and keeps close to himself, his dick hardening at the thought plaguing his mind once again.
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TW: RAPE, NON-CON, RAPIST-SIMON RILEY, DARK FICTION, INTOXICATION, KIDNAPPING. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. MDNI 18+
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rapist-simon riley knew it was cruel, violent, and brutal for him to bend you over like this and take you however he enjoyed, but he couldn't help himself. you reeked of booze and marijuana, not a thought inside your head as you passed out drunk in an alleyway. such an irresponsible, silly mistake that would leave you tied to simon.
each thrust feels like agony for your limp body, while simon's cock throbs and weeps inside of your slicken cunt. each pulse around his dick and with each stroke causes a whimper to flow from your bloodied lips and a guttural growl to emit from deep in his sturdy chest. simon stinks of sweat, with his clothes sticking to his skin as he finally loses himself, his euphoria rushing through him and causing him to release his hot, milky arousal inside of your clenching hole.
the sight of your raw pussy was delicious; it was glistening, creamy, and sensitive. he ran his fingertip over your slit, collecting your pearly cum on his fingers, your body shuddering and trembling as you're finally awoken. although you're too fucked-out stupid to realise and comprehend what exactly is happening. you feel him rip your panties off of your body, his hot cum crusted on the fabric, stuffed into his trouser pocket before you're lifted and gagged in the backseat of his car, ready to become a sex doll for simon, who selfishly takes your for his own pleasure and satisfaction.
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pastel0rchid · 2 months
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A Gift From the Gods (3)
Hiccup x F!Reader
Word Count: 1.5K
Warnings: Description of wounds
A/N: Hello everyone, I'm sorry if this chapter seems a bit rushed at the end! I was just so excited to write it! I hope ya'll enjoy, until next time <3
Previous Chapter .~.~. Next Chapter
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Your gaze remains locked on Hiccup as he carefully unwraps the soiled bandage on your upper arm. The dried blood crusted around the edges of the still-open cut glinted in the light, adding to the grotesque sight of the inflamed skin. While Hiccup grabs a small bowl filled with an orange paste, your gaze snaps towards the group of five still watching you. Astrid’s steely gaze met yours with her arms crossed over her chest.
Still confined by the itchy rope, your wings twitch, begging to be freed so you can fly away from this terrifying situation. Your mind can’t help but wander back to your parents and how you had lost them at such a young age. Would you soon join them? Are these people just luring you in by pretending to be nice to you and lowering your guard before they attack?
Your eyes glance down towards your body, the atmosphere finally calm enough to where you can notice the change in clothes. What was once just scraps of cloth from what you were able to find or steal from nearby villages, was now a green tunic that was just a tad too big and brown trousers that slightly hung off your hips. The green tunic seemed to have been cut open just above the base of your wings.
Your gaze swings back to Hiccup when he begins to apply that orange paste, the slimy and grainy texture causes a shiver of discomfort to travel up your spine. While keeping his gaze on the wound, Hiccup talks in a soft tone as if you were a frightened animal, keeping his voice low but enough to where you can hear it. It was almost as if he could sense your worries.
“I had some extra cloth lying around. It took a bit of convincing with Astrid, but she’s the one who dressed you if that’s what’s troubling you.”
His eyes glance up to yours as he wraps a fresh bandage around your upper arm, tucking in the end so it won’t come undone. The bandage was tight so it wouldn’t fall off, but not enough to cut off the blood supply. Scanning his face, you suddenly notice a small scar on his chin and can’t help but wonder what had happened to cause it. With a small smile on his lips, he looks into your eyes as he begins to talk.
“Now, I’m sure some introductions are in order. I’m Hiccup. That’s Astrid.” He gestures to the blonde who had hit you over the head with the blunt end of her axe, huffing with a roll of her eyes. You could sense her feelings of distrust towards you. The feeling was mutual.
“That’s Fishlegs.” The one who asked you a myriad of questions raises his hand in a wave, his eyes holding curiosity as if he can’t wait to continue his questioning.
“The twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut.” The two similar-looking ones who kept trying to touch your wings just looked at you with mischievous smiles on their lips.
“And that’s-.”
“Snotlout. The one and only, baby.” The one that was smirking at you earlier gives you a cocky wink. Your hackles raise slightly at it, a disgusted feeling bubbling in your gut at the offending gesture. Hiccup rolls his eyes at Snotlout while Astrid just scoffs and harshly punches his arm, the others acting as if this is a normal occurrence.
Everybody looks back at you expectantly and you realize that they were waiting for you to say your name. You stare back at them quietly. You hadn’t spoken to other humans in so long. The only conversations you’ve had in the past few years were when you came across dragons on your island… and they were obviously one-sided. One of the twins, Tuffnut, leans over toward the others and ‘whispers’. It wasn’t very good as you could hear every word being said.
“I don’t think she can understand us.”
Before the group can turn to Tuffnut with judging looks, you say your name softly. Your voice is slightly hoarse from not using it, having to clear your throat after saying that one word. Their eyes snap over to you as if they can’t believe that you can speak their language. You could hear Hiccup as he decides to test out your name. The way it rolls off his tongue causes your wings to twitch ever so slightly, not for freedom though.
You liked how your name sounded coming from him, and you hated that. The unfamiliar sensation of someone else saying your name after years of solitude sent a shiver down your spine.
Now that you’ve proven that you can understand them and speak, the group begins their questioning once again. Their voices overlapping pop the bubble of calm that you were slowly getting accustomed to. You were bombarded with Astrid’s accusatory tone, Fishleg’s multitude of questions, the twins asking how destructive you could be, and Snotlout’s flirting words.
Your anxiety begins to rise again along with your heart rate, your senses being overloaded too quickly once again. Your wings shift slightly behind you as you test out the rope that confined them. Between your earlier thrashing and pulling, it had somehow loosened. It was almost as if Hiccup could sense what you were thinking just by the small sparkle in your eyes.
Getting between the group and you, he holds out his hands toward them, telling his fellow dragon riders to calm down and continue to give you space. Your body twists and turns slightly as you begin to try and spread your wings, slowly stretching the rope with each tug. The ropes finally snap under the pressure of your wings spreading open, and a sense of euphoria explodes in your chest as you finally realize that freedom is in your grasp.
Astrid’s hand quickly moves to the axe strapped to her hip, but you were too quick for her and the others to try and grab you. Giving a powerful flap of your wings while placing your hands on Hiccup’s shoulders, you use the momentum to fly over the group and towards the door. You see him stumble in the corner of your eye.
“Grab her!”
“Wait, don’t!”
You use your body to slam through the closed door, a grunt escaping you as you can already feel the bruise beginning to form on your arm. Thankfully it was the arm that wasn’t cut that took the brunt of the door.
Maneuvering yourself to land on all fours, you look back to find the group staring at you with wide eyes before they quickly jump into action to try and stop you from escaping. Your eyes meet Hiccup’s and you freeze. He had been so kind to you. It was something you hadn’t experienced in a long time. His gentle touch while bandaging your wound hadn’t been felt ever since your parents' passing.
You couldn’t stay though, you couldn’t risk it.
You could see the group squeezing through the door, Astrid having unsheathed her axe as she managed to get ahead of them. Your eyes meet hers as she gets closer, her axe raised as anger flames in her gaze, but hidden was a need to protect her friends. You felt a small inkling of respect for the blonde, you knew what it was like to need to protect something. To go as far as she would for her friends.
Before you could turn away, to break her gaze on the group and escape, something large suddenly rams into you. A yelp leaves your lips as you land on your stomach, your wings spread out and something heavy lying on you, its head nudging your back as it begins sniffing at the base of your wings. The group had froze in their attempt to chase you, all of them staring in bewilderment at the sight in front of them.
Hiccup follows them out of the hut, looking at the scene with a small chuckle. Toothless, who had chased you through the forest earlier that day thinking that you were a threat, was now sniffing at your wings with happy chuffs. He bounces happily beside you as he looks over at Hiccup, the dragon flapping his wings slightly before nudging your own with his snout. It was almost as if he was trying to show Hiccup that they were the same.
Moving yourself into a sitting position with a soft huff and relaxing your wings, you watch Toothless as he continues to circle around you with an occasional nudge to your back. The other dragons, who had been stationed around the hut, seemed to watch the interaction curiously as they too began to make their way closer to you.
As you observe the dragons, you can’t help but slowly lose your want to escape. Your need for freedom from this situation. You knew and understood dragons, you’ve lived around them and interacted with them for multiple years of your life. If this group of dragons trusted their riders, maybe staying here wouldn’t be so bad.
Maybe you could come to trust them too.
Taglist: @spiderlily-w1tch-blog
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miss-dollette · 7 months
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Vladimir Makarov x Reader - 18+
TW: rape + murder + victim blaming + Makarov (need I say any more?)
I fully believe Makarov is not capable of true love. I believe he's a psychopath with no regard for human life, and he only sees lovers as possessions.
Note: Just because I write about Rape, doesn't mean I believe it's moral. This is dedicated to @bloodyrussianraven P.S: Sorry if it's a little short, I came up with this quickly.
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Tomorrow is Saturday, and it's been three long months since Vladimir disappeared to God knows where. That's just how he was - he never cared to give her a heads-up about his departure, and sometimes she'd wake up to a frigid, desolate bed and an even icier void in her chest.
But today was entirely new, in the worst way possible. While her life still had its share of troubles, nothing could match the agony coursing through her body. The memory of her violation rolling over and over in her mind.
Her forehead remained streaked with dried, crusted blood, her neck bore the telltale bruises of his violent grip, and her face still burned from its rough contact with the carpet.
As she reminisced, her memory painted a vivid scene of being thrust into her apartment from behind, her face brutally colliding with the coat hanger, staining her white coat with warm crimson trickles.
Fingernails scratched her waist as her pants and underwear were snatched down to her knees, and her insides burned when he pushed his penis into her unwilling womb.
Pinned down and vulnerable, she found herself at the mercy of his predatory intentions, trapped in a horrifying ordeal.
The fact that he didn't attempt to kiss her was a small relief. She knew she'd snap out of her shocked trance and resort to extreme measures if he dared, even if it meant biting off his lips.
It was as if all her will to resist had drained away, and she lay there in disarray, attempting to blink away the blood clouding her vision.
Her cognitive functions shut down, and she stared at the broken eggs on the carpet. She wasn't sure how to react at that moment.
After he finished, hastily zipping up his trousers before bolting from the apartment, even pushing past her startled neighbor, she remained sprawled at the heart of the crime scene, her hand tenderly tracing her battered face as she struggled to regain her composure.
Disgusting sperm ran down her leg.
The groceries were strewn across the front door, their contents scattered on the floor. She remained seated at the kitchen table, gazing out the window as cars passed by, children engaged in snowball fights, and the sun dipped below the horizon. Her appetite for dinner had vanished.
A shadowy figure crossed the street and entered her apartment building, his measured stride betraying his identity. She silently wished he'd returned sooner, knowing he could have protected her. He could've.
The front door clattered against the fallen groceries, and she heard his steps muffle as he examined the telltale signs of the struggle - her blood-stained carpet, the chaos of the groceries, and her beanie abandoned on the floor. She was certain he knew this wasn't her typical mess.
Turning her head towards him as he entered the dining room, she watched as he lowered his gun, the barrel aimed in her direction.
"What happened?" He inquired with a tone that lacked emotion, a dangerous sign she knew all too well.
"I was walking home… i didn't see him," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "He hurt me." As she spoke, tears finally streamed down her cheeks, the realization hitting her that she hadn't shed a tear until now.
Vladimir moved swiftly, covering the distance in long strides, until he occupied the chair opposite her. In a rough and unforgiving manner, he seized her chin, his different colored eyes dissecting her battered forehead and blood-soaked countenance.
"Tell me what he looked like," he demanded, his tone blunt and sharp.
"I don't know," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It happened too fast, and I couldn't—"
"I told you to stop being so mindless, wandering around like an idiot. Now look at you." He interrupted her sentence, causing her to shrink further into her seat, his calloused fingers digging into her chin.
"Vladimir..." she began, but her words faltered, a sense of futility enveloping her.
They spent that night together, with her recalling the day before the attack. He meticulously questioned her, forcing her to repeat various details numerous times, where she'd been, who she talked to that day until she squeezed out details that managed to escape her until that moment.
When he came to visit her, she would dutifully stand over the stove, preparing their meals (usually consisting of meat), and then share the food with him before he laid her down on the bed, and pushed himself inside her.
It appeared that he had lost his appetite for both food and that carnal desire that was attached to him when he visited her.
At nearly midnight, he dismissed her, and she left him alone in the dimly lit dining room. She found solace in the bathtub, immersing herself in the lukewarm water, which gradually turned a disconcerting shade of red. The stinging sensation from the cut on her forehead intensified.
Her entire body ached, and without the concealing cloak of clothing, she was confronted with her bruised flesh in its full spectrum of colors: purple, yellow, green, and angry red.
In an attempt to cleanse herself of the ordeal, she vigorously brushed her teeth until her gums bled, then meticulously dressed, yet the feeling of being tainted lingered. Despite scrubbing her skin raw, she couldn't shake the sensation that an oily darkness clung to her.
She reclined on her bed without much regard for comfort, her gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling. Her eyes, glazed over with a haunting emptiness, stared into the void above.
She eventually closed her eyes and surrendered to sleep's embrace.
When she awoke, Vladimir's absence was glaringly apparent. His side of the bed remained cold, a stark reminder of his cold nature. His clothes from the previous day lay in disarray on the floor, and a lone sleeve dangled from an open drawer where he stored his belongings.
Once more, she vigorously scrubbed her skin raw in the morning, as if attempting to rid herself of the memories etched into her flesh.
It had been three long weeks since she last saw Vladimir, and it had also been three weeks since she was raped by that stranger. In that span of twenty-one days, she moved through the town with a distant, glazed-over expression, avoiding any meaningful eye contact with men and speaking in hushed tones. It seemed as though her very soul had been snatched away, leaving behind only a hollow shell of the person she once was.
She fixated her gaze upon her worn boots, every step they took echoing loudly on the icy concrete beneath, determined to drown out the relentless cacophony of traffic and the incessant chatter of the people bustling around her.
In the early morning's embrace, the first light of dawn meticulously brushed the streets with a vibrant palette, painting them in exquisite hues of pink, purple, and a myriad of other melodramatic colors.
Her stomach emitted another mournful growl, a reminder of her empty mornings – just like the one before, and the one preceding it. She struggled to recollect the last time she had savored a meal.
Engulfed in her contemplations, she collided unceremoniously with a stranger's back. With a gentle "Pardon" escaping her lips, she reluctantly tore her focus away from her ruminations. A gathering of nearly a hundred people held collective fixation on something in the road.
She wondered if there had been a car accident that morning.
Compelled to forge a path through the throng, her heart raced wildly in her chest. As she finally emerged from the crowd, her heart plummeted into the depths of her being, her eyes locked on a man whose face suddenly seemed so familiar. He was suspended between two lampposts in the middle of the road, a grotesque marionette covered head to toe in a gruesome tapestry of blood and bruises.
His wrists, where wires had mercilessly bitten into his flesh, oozed crimson rivulets that painted his arms and body in a grotesque shade of red, an agonizing tableau of suffering before her very eyes.
She was forcibly reminded, once more, of the chilling reasons Vladimir struck terror into the hearts of the masses, understanding why his name blared across newspapers in stark letters, detailing the monstrous carnage he'd ruthlessly orchestrated, all in the relentless pursuit of collective fear, and a motivation that'd been explained to her, but never understood.
The lifeless form of her attacker hung eerily above the street, expertly suspended by wires, resembling a grotesque work of art that defied the boundaries of the macabre.
With her mouth parched and her chest feeling like an empty void, she turned away, her mind haunted by the scene before her. The sheer reality of the experience weighed heavily on her, leaving her unable to carry out even the simplest of daily tasks. Resolute, she made the decision to set aside the day's chores. Today, she knew she needed to retreat to her bed, seeking refuge from the relentless torment of her thoughts.
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sadist1224 · 3 months
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There is no limit to my desire Mafia!141 AU
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Mafia!141 AU, in which you wake up tied to a chair, in the middle of some warehouse with chains and hooks suspended from the ceiling. You're not panicking, no. You've been held hostage enough times to understand the complexity of your situation.
First of all, you try to determine your physical condition, noting that the old wound on your hip is aching, and there is an unpleasant crust on your cheek and cheekbone, most likely from blood.
Now you remember what happened. Yes, you were being chased. You were knocked to the ground and hit on the head. But it seems that you also managed to land several blows on the attacker.
After that, you begin to look around the space around you, noting that it is quite dark and damp here. Out of the corner of your ear you can hear a noise like water. Given the size of the hangar, the dampness and the noise of the water, you realize that you are somewhere near the shipyard.
Very far from the bar. Foreign territory. Mafia. Of course, 141 and Los Vaqueros are not the only gangs in your city. It is large enough for several groupings. Oh, if only you were still a police officer…
You pull your hands out, realizing that they are tied with ropes, tight enough to be able to break free. After a while, the sound of footsteps attracts you. This is a group of people, and not a small one.
A lamp turns on with a loud click above you, but it is high enough for a moderately dim light. I can see you now. You still can't tell the kidnappers apart, even though you're pretty sure they're right in front of you.
"You don't seem scared." - says one of them. From the small shadows, you assume there are five of them.
"Should I?" - you answer calmly, looking at the dark man in front of you. So far, you can clearly see only leather shoes and perfectly pressed trousers in dark gray.
The man in front of you is grinning.
"Koenig, turn on the light, please." - he says the same thing, and a second later several more lamps light up.
You don't have to squint. The light is still dim enough. But now you can definitely see them all. Five men in front of you, in suits that cost several times more than your salary. Three of them have masks over their faces. The person who communicated with you stands openly, the sleeves of his shirt are casually rolled up to the elbows, and the vest fits tightly around the waist.
And all five of them, bastards, are so attractive.
But if before that, it seemed to you that the men in front of you were tall, then the person who approached them from behind was almost a head taller than all of them. An obscure black cloth covered his face, leaving only his blue eyes visible. He looked at you incredulously, with a squint. You think he doesn't like you.
"And why do you need me?" - you decide to break the silence. Anyway, all six of them are examining you like an antique toy on a Christmas tree.
The Cortaks who kidnapped you in order to get to know you! To get acquainted! Your jaw almost fell to the floor, and their leader just laughed at your shocked expression!
He introduced himself as Axel, and he was incredibly curious about why 141 and Los Vaqueros were hanging around in a no-man's-land.
Axel, who is not at all embarrassed by your swearing in their direction, but only orders you to untie the hands of a man named Nobody. He apologizes for the damage he caused you, saying that their goal was only to grab you, not hurt you, but you turned out to be more glib than they imagined.
Axel introduces you to Horangi, Hutch, Nobody, Kruger and Koenig himself, who caught you.
Koenig, who can't handle your withering look at him and turns away in embarrassment.
He didn't want to hit you! Especially in the face! But seeing what you're capable of at the bar, he realized it wasn't going to be easy. A job is a job. But, God, that bruise on your face and the split cheekbone. He feels bad enough as it is. And then there's you with your look full of anger.
Damn, he'd like to meet you. In a normal way, like ordinary people, but now it seems you won't let him in.
Axel offers to take you to your neighborhood, where they could drop you off, but you just snort, refusing. You're not going with the bandits who kidnapped you! Even if they just wanted to get to know each other! You tell them something caustic in the likeness: "If you really wanted to get to know each other, you could just ask them out, gentlemen, damn it!", which amuses Axel again.
The man walks you to the exit, staying close to you. You don't even let him call a taxi and walk to the nearest bus stop.
That's it! And you're good! Axel knew how tense his team was when 141 suddenly began to get active in the no-man's-land, and what was his surprise when people informed him about a certain barmaid who pointed a gun at the face of the Soap! Oh, damn, he wanted to meet you. And his boys, too. A civilian who challenged one of the most dangerous factions in the city! Yes, anyone will be interested in it! Therefore, Cortak needs to act quickly, maybe get you on their side, make you their spy?
Kruger and No One who at first did not believe in your steadfast fearless nature, considering you another "girl from the alley" who dared to show her teeth. They were sure that if they scared you, you would immediately curl up and cry. Imagine their surprise when you didn't live up to expectations?
Hutch was just curious, as was his commander. He didn't have expectations, but you definitely made him laugh.
And the Horangs? This guy realized in the bar that you're not an easy thing. Of course, he saw the impression you made on his great friend. And he also understood how difficult it would be for Koenig now. As soon as his reaction to you is noticed by others, he will not be able to avoid jokes and ridicule, especially from Kruger. these two will get rid of the word altogether. But Horangi will try to help his socially anxious friend in any way he can.
Koenig, who wants to fall into the ground. The giant didn't dare look at you before he left, and something told him that you definitely weren't looking in his direction. Oh, he's going to have to figure out how to apologize. And be sure, it will happen soon.
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oncewhenalongtimeago · 3 months
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(SbITILYP request) I wonder what hiccup thinks about his dad burning holes into the back of the girl he has a crush on's head. Maybe Hiccup would try to apologize for it afterwards. + the almost-kissing-her thing
Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 21
Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader
Words: 2,700
Hiccup gets better at this romance thing.
Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Dragons: Defenders of Berk, Fright of Passage, post episode, Hiccup’s POV
<Previous - Next>
The incident with the Flightmare took up a lot of time and energy and after how quickly you’d fled once Thornado had landed back on Berk, he hadn’t seen you much at all, much less had time to talk to you.
He shifted on the short wooden bench, the unsanded grit of its surface and the uneven length of its legs causing it to feel odd and off balance as he shifted over it.
Hiccup glanced past the metal framing holding up an empty, crusted pot over the fire, whose heat was licking at his calves beneath his trousers and flickering against the majority of his torso.
He clutched a small, oblong glass shape as he glared forwards, cool against his skin through the fabric of his tunic, hidden away by his vest, securely stored in a secret pocket he’d sewed in for specifically this purpose.
The bioluminescent algae seemed to have been lost, for the most part.
The others had been a bit shifty around him, in a way that was more shifty than malicious. He had the sinking suspicion that they might’ve caught on to his little crush.
The heavy beating of boot and peg against old wooden floors. It was really ironic that the Chiefs; hut was the only one that hadn’t been burned on the regular. His Dad was very attentive towards his house.
His Dad’s face was set and shoulders hunched, a remnant from earlier when he had been awkwardly tending to his own meal.
Hiccup’s own face was slightly sour. He was still mad at his Dad for… everything.
Both Hiccup and Stoick ignored the sound of clattering dishes in the background.
Stoick grumbled as Hiccup’s expression turned just a bit scowlier, sitting in his large wooden chair which sometimes seemed yet as if it couldn’t hold every bit of him, across the fire pit from Hiccup, who had a bowl in his lap and was sitting in quite the hunched manner, “You like the… Delivery girl.”
“You know her?” Hiccup asked nervously, pulling at his tunic collar.
Stoick shifted, his brown fur cloak spilling over the arms of his chair.
“He has the lass come up here and clean around sometimes!” Gobber said, rifling around in one of the chests lining the wall, the horns of his helmet clattering against mounted shields and other sharp weapons and he turned carelessly, arms wide,
“What?!” Hiccup asked, voice pitch nearly at a screech.
He was scared immediately that you’d seen smoke things you shouldn't've. What had you seen?
Hiccup took a moment to pause and bring his voice down, maybe a bit deeper than it needed to be, even as his heart rate picked up.
“If you want ‘er, Ye need tae sweep her off her feet!” Gobber clapped Hiccup hard on the place shoulder met back, causing Hiccup to stumble forward as the big man swept his other arm outwards.
He grimaced.
He’d already been doing a good amount of sweeping. He doubted anyone would take well to being accosted in the way Gobber described. What did Gobber know about women, anyways?
He should put on his red tunic, though.
Hiccup was very attracted to that idea.
Oh, Gods, he really hoped you hadn’t seen too much.
“...Hey,” Hiccup said, looking at you, as always, basket in hand. A woven one this time, made of long grasses that brushed and scraped along the sides of your skirt.
He was sort of impressed with himself, and the fact that he hadn’t fumbled over anything at all yet.
You weren’t looking him in the eye at all, which meant he had definitely totally completely messed up.
“Hi,” You responded, voice pitched so he could tell you were nearly squeaking.
It only took a few days. That might have been to the effect of all the stuff he’d dumped in it, too.
The Flightmare left tracks, and from what little he could salvage- the spare scale, which was nearly translucent upon detachment, and some slime he picked up from some of the more plant-like dragons, he ended up being able to speed up the growth 
He’d… Nabbed some of Fishlegs’ notes for that. He wouldn’t mind. Hopefully.
Hiccup had lent him Toothless for the day, after all, albeit with more grump than was probably appropriate. 
The dragon seemed alright with it, too, ready to show off his tail, a sparking nadder blue, his replacement after the red one had been ripped back on Fireworm island.
Hiccup palmed the vial in his pocket, “I, ah…”
As an apology, he’d found someone willing to bring in some rose bushes. It took a lot, but it was worth it. For you, that was. He got some others in on it, though of course he never told them why. They didn’t have the bushes yet, but soon.
For the person you were, to him, even if you didn’t get it yet.
And he’d done something else, too.
He was going to try surprising you with it. Or not. 
He was worried he might scare you off.
“Sorry,” He started, “About my Dad. He’s just-Well, he’s…”
You shrugged balefully, “I get it? I’m not-...”
“Right,” Hiccup nodded, “Yeah, okay.”
It was silent for a few long moments.
You were both standing by the bridge out into the forest, the clear ends around it lined by trees, freshly planted.
At this point, the two of you had to have been experts in deciphering stutters and half-spoken words.
He could kill a large dragon and win over Astrid, but he couldn’t talk to you at all. He didn’t have the courage. Or, maybe it wasn’t about courage.
Hiccup wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t shy. 
He did stupid things all the time.
There was just something about you, or maybe something about him, that kept most things from coming out right. That made him just a little bit nervous. 
“I-well, I wanted to say sorry. Would you be fine following me for a bit?”
You paused for a second
“Just… Come on,” He said, somewhat hesitantly. He was sure by then his face was blotchy with flush, “It’s in the woods. Is that…?”
You nodded.
Hiccup held in a sigh of relief, “Alright. Well, then…”
Back in the village, it looked like a few vikings had taken to terraforming Berk, though you had no idea why. 
You weren’t sure where Toothless was. Probably… Off, 
Maybe they were inspired, you had no clue. Something about bushes or brushes or something and house paint.
You nearly tripped over a particularly large, gnarled root as you moved past Hiccup, holding aside a branch with leaves, half expecting to get murdered, or something. That’s what he brought you out into the woods for, right?
This was a particularly dark part of the forest, packed with leaves and moss in a way no spot on Berk had been before the Red Death had been defeated, with all the dragons burning most of everything down. 
It had already been darkening by the time Hiccup had asked you to follow, and though Hiccup had long since ceased to weird you out at all, the thoughts came unbidden.
You took a few steps forwards, shuffling slightly, looking around at the world, washed over with a blue filter, and at the vines crawling up the trees, before you paused, taking notice of a light, bright and gentle and nearly not there glowing against mottled bark.
You looked down, and then your eyes widened slightly.
You weren’t sure how you missed it, but below, there was a pool.
You stared down at it, glowing and dark under the canopy of the leaves above.
“So, what do you think?”
You heard Hiccup asked from behind you, his own boot and prosthetic shuffling against packed, fallen leaves and damp mulch.
Your face felt hot in a tingling, bright way as you stared down into the slowly moving water.
Was this all from the Flightmare?
It was something you might’ve seen in the news in the foreseen future, the same type of glow you’d see lurking inside a glow stick.
“Oh,” You said. You’d heard about it and you were sure all of the glowing algae had been washed out to sea. 
“I was hoping you’d like it,” Hiccup said hesitantly, “Do you?”
Your heart felt like it was on fire too, in the way that it only could when butterflies and bugs and other flighty, flippant nerve things were preening around in your organs.
Maybe Hiccup did like you, after all.
“Wow,” You stumbled forwards a few more feet until you were overlooking a small dirt ledge which had to be at least a yard tall, held together by roots and sticks and other dead plants. 
It overlooked the rest of the pond by a little bit, overseeing edges kept aloft in quite a similar fashion, like one of those deep, neverending kinds of pools made of a beautiful blue with no bottom, toeing the line between dangerous and beautiful that most people would only ever lay eyes on in photos. 
In this moment, perhaps heightened by the mood and atmosphere, everything felt a bit softer. You were sure the light of the pool was glittering back through your eyes, chest light and full of wonder and awe.
You said nothing yet, awkwardly turning so that your back hit the sturdy trunk of a large tree, sliding down slowly and displacing moss until you were sitting down against the uneven, steep packed, large roots of a tree, moss tickling your back through your shirt.
You felt like you might slide down into it if you loosened your legs just a bit from where they kept you steady, braced against moss and dirt. 
Small flecks of dirt tumbled down into the pool under them, hitting ferns and the occasional fungus, mushrooms that looked as if they’d just bud, hinting at a similar glow to the bright light of the pool as toes of your boots played a risky game with the dirt ledge over the pond.
“So... A good apology, all things considered?” He prompted. 
You nearly forgot about Hiccup, still standing by the streeline, which was, admittedly, also very close by the water. 
You brought your knees up to your chin, which you rested on top of your elbows, your cheeks feeling warm as you smiled into them, not in the hot way they had been just a moment before, but with a soft feeling that came from deep in your chest, feeling a lot like a crackling fire in the heart or the smell of a warm cup of cocoa, fluffy white marshmallows floating along the top.
You didn’t look over, but the hairs of your neck, which were standing, and a tickling in the corner of your still focused eye told you Hiccup was watching you. 
You wondered what his expression looked like. Was it fond, or goofy, or blank?
Did he feel anything at all at the sight? 
Had he really done this all for you?
The water rippled and the algae grew brighter as it did. There was a light dusting of blue foam across the surface and if you looked ever so slightly you could spot the occasional speck of something swimming around in the water, though you were sure it was too small to be a fish.
A sea monkey? A bug? A glowing speck?
You were certain it was not safe to swim in, but it was unbelievably gorgeous, framed by dipping and swaying ferns in the near complete darkness.
“Yeah,” You said mumbling into your elbow, noticing in your periphery as Hiccup moved forwards to stand by your side, “Yeah, I think so.”
You felt the hesitant dusting of a few fingers against your shoulder before they disappeared, twitching away and displacing the air by your ears, the feel of them there and gone causing all the hairs along your arm and neck to stand on end.
You found yourself tilting your head away from the touch, hiding the bashful flush of your face as Hiccup spoke again, “I also… I got you something else, too.”
You delicately took what was offered by a careful hand and held up the vial, smooth, clean and cool between your fingertips, a liquid inside glowing in a similar fashion to the pool in front of you and the mystical blue-washed world around.
Hiccup definitely wasn’t the type of guy to be able to keep something so clean- everything he had -books, blankets, papers, the occasional crafter compass for trade- they were all smudged by soot or the oil of skin and at the very least slightly folded in corners.
Against all odds, though, there it was. He must’ve taken great care with it.
You looked up at him.
You were sure you’d imagined it, because things like that didn’t happen in reality, and definitely not on the faces turned cartoon and whimsy to real and solid and in full, real life, completely discernable human graphic definition, but that glowing, sparkly feeling you were certain he clouds see plain as day- you felt fresh, believing for just a moment you could see it in his eyes too.
Hiccup’s head was in the clouds, his cheeks buzzing in a pleasant way, traveling up to his ears in a way that almost made him want to rub them, warm and heady and tingling in a way that was slightly ticklish.
His shoulder brushed against yours, your pinky fingers brushing together, slightly hooked, mimicking earlier when his fingers teased your palm in the imitation of a hold as the two of you walked back from the woods.
“Is it fine if we…” Your fingers came together again, the two of you turning to each other once the sound of boots and peg against wood turned into the softer, more muffled sound of weights padding against dirt.
Hiccup didn’t know he had it in him, but it was less an action made by choice and more led by an automatic zone, a feeling for what came next brought on by feeling and comfortability influenced by the ambiance, though that wasn’t to say he himself felt casual about it at all. 
Your hands were slightly shaky.
His heart was rocketing the whole time, blood pumping and beating in his eardrums.
“Separate?” Hiccup finished as you glanced off towards the darkened village, resisting the urge to shiver as a cool breeze blew by, fit to match the now dark sky, coming in from the side of him that faced the woods. 
On the other, closer to his back he noticed a very faint yellow light, warm and emanating from where he suspected the stairs to the hall lay, within which the larger half of Berk was most likely pulling together their nightly meal.
“You’ll be… fine?” He asked, breath nearly stuttering as the two of you tilted his head forwards, your foreheads so close they were nearly touching, “You can still- You can have my coat, still.”
“It’s okay,” You said, the focus of your eyes flickering from down by your hands to his face, before your hands separated.
“Thanks,” You said simply, before turning and walking forwards a few feet, a cool breeze causing your skirt to wave.
You glanced back as you left, unsure as if you were subconsciously asking if it was okay for you to leave.
Hiccup thought his legs might give out.
The night breeze was extra cold on Hiccup’s hands and back as he watched you go, though the warm, glowing feeling in his chest remained, moving down into the village, disappearing into the dark maze of alleys and open halls.
He was a night owl, as most of Berk tended to be after years of nightly raids. 
He wouldn’t be sleeping. 
He could work on blueprints for the sewage system. That was a whole project in and of itself. But with the tunnels below the village and all the dragon power they had in Berk, it might’ve just been doable. 
But as he stared out into the still quiet of the empty village, he realized he’d probably just be thinking about you instead.
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taste-thewaste · 6 days
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wip Wednesday 5.8.24 ❤️
Hi friends! Hope your week is going well! Thanks so much for the tags @onthewaytosomewhere @duchessdepolignaca03 @tailsbeth-writes @priincebutt @luainthewild and stealing the open tag from @eusuntgratie bc I want her to read this lmao.
Today I come to you with more of tummy fic 3.0, the smuttiest bit yet. y’all are basically reading this in bits as it gets written, but I’m really loving it so here we go. I’m throwing it under a cut bc it is a little ~filthy~
“You wanted to look like the upper-crust Brit that you are, not the pudgy little expat you’ve become.” Alex’s eyes are smoldering, a fire of arousal and control lighting them up. Henry is rutting himself against his boyfriend, and the words Alex is saying are lodging into his very center. He can’t do anything but grind against Alex, tangling his fingers into those curls he loves so much, low moans falling from his lips.
“But you couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Alex asks, and then Henry interrupts.
“Alex, oh, fuck,” Henry gasps, and he lets out a low scream, tugs on Alex’s hair as he comes, hard, in his trousers. Alex’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happening, and he grips Henry’s hips steadily, helps him through it. Henry’s body shudders for a few moments and then he stills, breathing heavily.
There’s a silent beat between them, and Henry feels his cheeks flood with a different kind of heat. The reality of what happened, what he did, courses through his body and he’s filled with hot, sticky embarrassment.
Tagging @england-would-fall @henrysfox @bigassbowlingballhead @lfg1986-2 @agostobuwan @piratefalls @bitbybitwrites @captainjunglegym @doublecheekedkinard @billyharris @blueeyedgrlwrites
(New friends, do you write? If so, tag you’re it! @ad-astra13 @mylucayathoughts @insecuregodcomplex) and open tag!!
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pininghermit · 9 months
Note
This is a long ask but I got inspired 🌟
(This takes place after symphony of the night, where Alucard met reader fighting in the castle and he chooses to not go back to his eternal rest because s/o's sass stole his heart)
Alucard who treats his butch female darling like a princess, like tying her shoes,kissing the back of her hand, tending to her every need and fetching her coat and what not without ever needing to be asked.
Alucard who finds himself wanting to spend all his time with his s/o, wanting to brush there teeth together, cook together...
Alucard who's fiercely protective, even though his s/o can defend themselves just fine but he can't risk losing her, whether it be in death or someone stealing her away.
Whenever s/o is in a room, People needn't look to hard to find Alucard, her personal guard dog.
People don't understand how s/o can have someone who was so cold and aloof wrapped around her finger, truth be told, she doesn't either. What with how when they first met she had told him off for his attitude,(someone likes a gal who takes no sh*t and could kick his ass (0w0))
Sorry for such a delayed response! I suck I know :( but I hope you enjoy it (if you still linger here)
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Ohohoho Alucard being whipped for his OP wife *sips tea in pleasure*
He knows you can kick ass. You could be an MMA fighter but you are his precious soft person and how dare anyone even look weird at you.
Annon you are so right with description that I cannot stop thinking about this. Just the gentleness of his every action *i'm soft*.
He will pull a Hua Cheng and not let you step on bloodied/dirty ground. Princess carry you from the mess that very much originated from your actions.
Perfectly peeled apples, crust less sandwiches to challenging people to duel for your honor, this boi is whipped.
In a life where you have been a strong daughter, a brave sister, an enduring captain of guard, only Alucard sees you devoid of the narratives that people have attached to you.
And in the world that sings songs of your valor, you can't help but be swayed by the Dhampir who sees you his beloved. Just you.
Maybe if it were your family, your mentor, or anyone else you would have steeled your heart and avoided the warmth of comfort but with Adrian...you don't. You allow yourself to mellow under his care. To be spoiled with his actions.
"Here all set," you watch Adrian kneel infront of you. The warmth of knitted wool surrounds your kneecap. "Now you won't feel chill even during the hardiest of patrols," your beloved smiles as his hands readjust your pants.
The chill of forest had never bothered you. Crouching for hours as you tracked targets had been a regular task that you did not think twice before taking on. To everyone including you, it was an integral part of your duty.
But Adrian...he knew you better than yourself. The slight stiffness of your knee had been a fleeting annoyance you got rid off with regular warmups.
Yet, it did not escape his notice. Only when you prepared to leave for another patrol did your beloved lead you to a well loved chaise and gently pulled up your trouser.
"Wha-" you wanted to ask him. Bit could not complete your sentence before he took a knitted warmer and wrapped it around your scarred knee.
The warmth of Adrian's touch enveloped your knee. "I scented it with cloves so it would reduce inflammation in case cold triggers pain." Holding his hands in yours, you lean in resting your forehead on his.
Maybe you did not need looking after. You certainly can do without it but you want it when it comes from Adrian. You treasure it. All your beloved's pampering makes you more than a captain or a legend. "Thank you," you whisper it feels blasphemous to be any louder in the moment.
Your hands cup his face and you memorize him with the sincerity of pious morning prayers. Every moment spent without him would pass on the merit of your memories.
Your lips meet his in a kiss. Gratitude, love, and yearning you pour it all in that one parting kiss.
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does anyone wanna see what ive added to my patch shorts so far (startted them yesterday)
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a-mon · 11 months
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Sketch for my crust trousers
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Hopefully I will be able to get materials tomorrow
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octuscle · 3 months
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Business Trip (Day two)
Shit, it's after 10:00 when I wake up in my hotel room. Naked on the bed. My, or rather Liam's, clothes strewn across the floor. My bed crusted with cum. Filled condoms on the floor. Shit, my head is going to explode. What the fuck happened last night. And where's my mobile phone?
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I call my client from the landline phone in the hotel room. I call in sick. Terrible migraine. Of course I'll be back in the morning. Yes, of course I'm staying until Friday under the circumstances and not leaving on Thursday as planned. Yes, I'm inconsolable. The chambermaid knocks. I open the door and hang the "Do not disturb" sign on the door. Naked. And I go back to bed.
At 6.00 pm I'm freshly showered and in my spare suit at Liam's snack bar. His clothes are in a laundry bag from the hotel. The only thing I'm still wearing of Liam's are his worn-out trainers. I didn't pack a change of shoes for a four-day appointment.The snack bar is busy. He grins at me and asks me to either wait or come back in an hour. However, it would be totally sick if I could help him in the kitchen. He can't keep up with washing the dishes. I grin and say that I mustn't ruin my last suit. He laughs and asks what happened to my clothes from yesterday. I hold up the bag. Come on, what are you waiting for, get changed and then I'll quickly show you how the dishwasher works, he calls out to me. My jeans are still damp from my urine. And only now do I realise that I didn't pick up my T-shirt from yesterday but Liam's vest from the floor. Shit, I'd like to know what else happened yesterday. Liam comes into the kitchen, hands me two long rubber gloves, a hairnet and gives me a quick briefing on the industrial dishwasher. He gives me a deep French kiss and hurries back to the cookery counter. Damn, the urine in my jeans is now joined by more precum.
The mountain of dirty dishes is slowly getting smaller. I'm sweating like a pig in the heat of the scullery. But I'm starting to find my way round. Liam calls out to me to clear and wipe the tables. I don't even think anymore, I act. The small dining room in the snack bar is packed with guests. It stinks of sweat, beer and frying fat. I walk around between the guests with the plastic basket from the dishwasher and collect glasses, bottles and plates. Suddenly I feel a strong grip on my crotch. A greasy bloke, long-distance lorry driver type, looks at me lustfully. "Oh, not just a fuck-whore, but also a dishwashing slave," he says. He slips me five pounds and says that he still owes me that for the hot blowjob. I have no idea what the truck driver was talking about. But I take the five pounds. Liam shouts that he needs fresh plates. I grab the basket of dirty dishes and hurry towards the scullery.
When I get there, I slip on some grease on the floor and the basket tips over and spills all over me. Now I'm covered in the food left behind by the people. The grease drips off me. Everyone is laughing and shouting 'take your filthy clothes off, boy' and I'm standing in the middle of the café covered in slime. I have no choice but to take my clothes off. But as I do so, I remember that I'm still wearing Liam's dirty, cum-stained jock…. Liam snaps at me that I'm really useless. He tells me to go to the social room at the back. There are clothes hanging there that I can wear. The clothes look like the rubber gear of an abattoir worker. There were big black boots, some waterproof trousers and a thick rubber apron. No top to wear underneath though. I stand there wearing only Liam's dirty jockstrap and slowly get into the outfit. It feels very strange to be dressed like this in a cafe. I have the strange feeling that I'm being watched…. I didn't notice the camera in the room. There's no time for that. After Liam gets really angry, I hurry to clean up the mess of my mishap and then get on with the dirty dishes in the kitchen. Sweat is pouring down my forehead and all over my body.
I swear the heating has been turned up because it's like an oven in here now. Dirty plates are piling up and I am struggling to keep up with the workload. Liam laughs and says if I don't get my shit sorted he'll have to discipline me later. He's smiling when he says it, but there's something in his tone that makes me think he's deadly serious. When I'm more or less finished with the dishes, I go back to the dining room to clear the tables. The clock tells me it's now 22:00. I've been slaving away for four hours. Only two guests are left. The sign on the door had been changed to 'closed' and the two remaining guests were both elderly men. They looked at me expectantly as I came in from the kitchen. "We've been waiting for you, son," one of them said. Then they both got up from their chairs…
Liam is cleaning the counter. "I told you that you deserved to be chastised," he says. "When you made that mess, you got the two guests' shoes dirty. You should apologize." I say I'm sorry and collect the last of the dirty glasses. "Shit, Boi! That's not an apology. It won't get your boots clean either." I ask for a rag. One of the two guests grins and says, "What do you need it for? He sits down and puts one of the boots on another chair. "You've got a healthy tongue, Boi. Let's go!" I'm wearing rubber clothes, I'm sweaty, I'm wearing a hairnet… And the two old guys look really hot. I get down on my knees. I'm a slut. And sluts lick other guys' boots clean. While I lick the boots of one guest, the other one wanks. Occasionally I get distracted from my job for a moment and lick his cock. I have a colossal boner in my butcher's pants. Sweat and precum have made my or Liam's jockstrap soaking wet. I'm almost done with the second boot when the other guy grabs my chin and turns it towards his cock. I don't react fast enough to swallow. And his full load of cum smacks me in the face. Liam takes photos.
It's just after midnight when Liam and I step out of the snack bar. Liam has stuffed my suit into a plastic bag. He lights a cigarette. I ask him if I can have one too. I haven't had a single cigarette all day. He hands me tobacco and a leaf. I look at him questioningly? "Roll your own, saves money." And he gives me 20 pounds. "Your wages for tonight." The two old guys gave him 200 pounds each for licking their boots.
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darkestspring · 1 year
Note
No, when Rheanyra and everyone leaves Dragonstone. Jaces twin remains with Baela, but Baela eventually leaves to after a raven came from her sister.
So when Aegon arrives its just his darling niece, the one he had always dreamed of having.
Wearing the conquerors crown, Aegon fucks Jaces twin on the painted table. Claiming she is his spoils of war, how he plans on never letting her go.
it was just his luck, aegon convinced himself, that you, who had always craved, were the only one there.
You had always been so kind to him. Always seeking him out when it seemed like he was sad in your eyes, telling him that it was okay, that he would always be good enough, giving him things that made him happy.
You, sweet, kind, lovely, caring you. How he had wanted you fro himself but no. He married his weird sister and you. You were left unwed. What a perfect thing. He would marry you for love. You'd be his Rhaenys.
"Uncle." You fearfully greeted him, gripping onto the painted table as he marched forward.
With the conquerer's crown on his head, he'd make you his.
"You were meant to be mine, if only it weren't for my wretched mother." He mused, his gloved hand gripping your arm and bring you clsoe to him.
You gasped as you stumbled into his chest in one swift motion. "Uncle, you cannot be here, you cannot do this!"
"I can. I am the King. I can take as many wives as I want, fuck anyone I want. I am the law. You've always been mine, it's time I act on it. You're here alone. No one is coming for you." He cooed at you, pushing you onto the painted table and he pushed your dress up.
He took off the glove off of his free hand using his teeth and pressed his warm fingers to you clothed cunt. "Oh, look at that. You're already wet." He laughed, his face lighting up with delight. "You wanted me too, didn't you?"
"Uncle, please stop this!"
He turned you around, pushing you down onto the table as he pulled down your undergarments. "How precious." He cooed as he pressed his fingers to your throbbing clit resulting in a muffled moan as you pressed your hands over your mouth.
after taking off his other glove, he quickly unlaced his trousers. "I've dreamed of this for years, you know. It was such a trouble to find a whore who looked enough like you. But they were never the same but you're here!" He laughed, joy clear on his face. "I don't have to imagine anymore."
He pressed his hardened cock against your entrance and you whimpered, eyes shutting.
"Hey. Beg me for it." He whispered into your ear before biting down on your shoulder until he drew blood.
"P-Please." You sobbed, tears trailing down your face. "Please.... fuck me. I need it so badly. I'll-I'll die without it."
"That's a good girl." He hummed before inserting his cock inside you slowly as you clenched around him. "Oh yeah. Shit." He cursed.
You felt better than he had ever imagine. Tight, hot, wet. Nothing would have compared to this, you were made for him, truly divine.
"My Rhaenys." He whispered to you, kissing your shoulder as he stilled to let you adjust. "My desire."
He wanted to let you get used to it but he got too impatient and his hands gripped your waist as he started thrusting, the table moving with every thrust.
Shaky gasps left your mouth with every thrust and it was driving him crazy. "Don't worry about anything else. I'll take care of everything, my desire."
By time, one of the habitants of dragonstone returned, you weren't their anymore. On the cum crusted table laid a note.
Thank for leaving the Princess behind. Don't worry, her virtue is mine and I already have plans of making her my wife. Next time you see her, dear sister, your daughter will be round with my child.
-King Aegon II
rumors reached king's landing that rhaenyra shattered everything in her vicinity reading that note. Her only daughter, stolen from her.
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konigsblog · 8 months
Note
Whatcha think of poor, innocent reader being stuck around perv!König and perv!Ghost. A virgin and oblivious to any sexual advances or perverted intentions, you're just stuck wondering why your Lieutenant and the temporary ally from KorTac - König - are so handsy, grunting out confusing mixtures of praises and demeaning words with their deep and sinful voice. And when you lose a few pairs of panties? You ask around but Ghost and König are adamant that they were probably mixed up with someone else's laundry or simply lost, but you were sure you saw a blue lace peek out of their pockets.
If you've already written this then you can ignore this! And as always, take care of yourself!
i love this idea !! corruption kink always gets me.. mfmfmfmdnagahafag :( 🫨 .. this is such a good idea, i can't ignore it !!
// warnings for slight somnophillia, and perverted behaviour ... 🐙
perv!könig and perv!ghost with their innocent!reader..
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141 and kortac had been working together, and during that time, you'd gotten to know ‘könig’; the six-foot ten, huge man. it's no surprise simon and könig got along, both preferring silence, and both having their eyes on you :( only if you knew the reason they wouldn't let you come into their rooms when they were together wasn't because they didn't like you, but because they were showing eachother photos they'd take of you whilst asleep.
your beautiful, soft tits and your glistening cunt, swollen and dripping, a video of simon fingering you. you'd be so pissed — or maybe confused and humilated, not understanding, being nïave and too innocent to understand their perverted advances... your sloppy cunt after taking a shower, könig walking by with his phone recording, getting a good clip of your precious cunny!!!
and you, not understanding why your lace panties had went missing, asked about it. you're too stupid to realise that someone might've stolen it for their own pleasure, believing könig when he said that it probably got lost in the washing and to forget about it. but, you didn't understand why a pretty light blue material was tucked further into his pocket when you asked about it, walking away with a gleeful, pretty smile, having no idea of what they were doing to you.
you're too dumb to realise their perverted intentions, and they love that about you. whenever you're showering, they always take the two showers beside you. coincidence? perhaps, but when a hand gropes your ass from behind, and it's simon, you're confused and thinking you're imagining it. he wouldn't do that, would he? you're just a private, he's a lieutenant, surely not... right?
simon always seems to be there when you're getting slapped and groped, feeling him grind against you while reaching for something else. not aware of the grin behind his mask when you apologise for being in his way. you're too nïave, they all say it, yet you don't believe you are.. taking a look at you panty draw to find nothing but an expensive pair of lingerie you accidentally packed in a rush, a substance crusted on it and simon's eyes all over you when he peaked into your trousers while you were bent over...
maybe they'll have to ruin you, make you a stupid, babbling thing for them. shared by two burly men who always chuckle when you talk about your panties going missing, desperate to corrupt your mind and have you rubbing your swollen pussy on their thighs, face and big cocks!!!
...
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theflirtmeister · 1 month
Note
Gideon/Harrow, free use!
Ao3 link!
Harrow called it “a favour after the Reverend Daughter’s terrible behaviour towards her Cavalier”, and Gideon called it “free use, and fucking hot”. She couldn’t believe that Harrow of all people had suggested it, and in fact, had no idea how Harrow had even come up with the idea in the first place. Either Harrow was getting information whispered in her ear by a very horny skeleton, or Harrow was a filthy slut.
Her beloved nun was sitting at her desk when Gideon stomped into the bedroom, sweaty and exhausted after training. She knew that she stank to high heaven, and there was blood crusting underneath her nails from where she’d socked Crux in the face, and he’d almost taken off her arm for it. She was horny too, an aching between her legs that would normally be quelled with either a cold shower, or a frantic humping of the pillow.
“Griddle, must you make so much noise?” Harrow snapped, using her own blood as ink. A letter to Palamedes, Gideon thought, some sort of test where he had to figure out the secret necromancer message hidden in the flimsy.
“Yes,” Gideon said. “I’m big.”
She sat down on the edge of the desk and deliberately stretched her arms above her head, showing off her muscles. Harrow raised one eyebrow, and scribbled something intelligible on the letter in front of her.
“Can I… cash in my favour?” Gideon asked carefully.
Harrow paused in her writing, but didn’t look up. “Now?”
“I mean… Yeah?” Gideon said. “That’s the deal, right? I can use you whenever?”
The tips of Harrow’s ears went pink, which was hot. “That is the deal.” She considered, and set down her pen. “What do you want?”
Gideon considered. “I want to swap seats.” She said. “Me on the chair. You on my lap.”
“Okay,” Harrow conceded, which was surprising. She pushed herself away from the desk, and stood upright, a little dribble of blood spilling from her mouth from where she’d stabbed her cheek. “Sit then.”
Gideon hopped off and sat down heavily on the chair, which creaked underneath her weight. Then she pulled Harrow onto her lap, who squeaked at being manhandled, and then quickly recovered. Harrow was bony as anything, and Gideon winced as an elbow caught her in the chest.
“God Nonagesimus.” She said. “Do you look where you’re putting those sticks?”
“Shut up Griddle,” Harrow said, wriggling her bony bottom. “Happy now?”
Gideon adjusted Harrow so that she was sitting on Gideon’s big thigh, and then took Harrow’s left hand in her own. The skin was thin, close to the bone, and Gideon couldn’t help but bring it to her mouth for a kiss.
“Pathetic,” Harrow said lovingly.
“You can go off some people you know,” Gideon grumbled, and then brought Harrow’s hand between her legs. “I’m gonna-“
“I get the jist.” Harrow snapped, leaning back against Gideon’s chest, and curling her hand so that Gideon could rut against it. “I’m not as big of a fool as you take me for.”
“You, a fool?” Gideon nipped Harrow’s earlobe. “Never.”
“Oaf,” Harrow said, and Gideon ground her cunt against her. “Oh-“
“Yeah, keep insulting me.” Gideon said, “It’s the only thing that gets me going.”
“You are such a prat, Griddle,” Harrow said, rubbing herself against Gideon’s big thigh.
It felt fucking good, and Gideon groaned, increasing her humping of Harrow’s hand. It wasn’t the softest thing that Gideon had ever used, but it was Harrow, and Gideon loved everything about Harrow. She buried her face in Harrow’s neck as she thrust against her, the seam of her trousers catching her clit exactly how she liked it.  
“I can feel how wet you are,” Harrow murmured, “I can smell how wet you are.”
“Fuck,” Gideon groaned, dragging her cunt against Harrow’s hand. “That’s hot.”
She pressed a kiss to Harrow’s neck, which soon turned into a bite as the pleasure grew through her body. Her toes were curling, and she could feel the pressure of Harrow on her thigh, her own body trembling. In her deepest fantasies, she had always imagined herself under Harrow’s desk, face buried in Harrow’s pretty little cunt as she worked.
“Stop thinking so hard Griddle,” Harrow said, like she knew Gideon’s deepest thoughts. “Just… focus.”
“I’m focusing on your hand,” Gideon said, hips stuttering. “And how good you feel.”
“How do I feel?” Harrow asked, a sweetness to her voice that betrayed the vinegar underneath.
“Incredible,” Gideon said. “Amazing. Stupendous.”
“Idiot,” Harrow said, and Gideon used her other hand to pull Harrow close, frantically humping her until she felt her orgasm wash over her, pleasure from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. She groaned low in her throat, mouthing at Harrow’s neck, and fucked herself through the afterglow, a pounding in her chest.
“Fuck,” She could barely speak. “You make a good toy.”
“Terrible,” Harrow said, wriggling her hand out of Gideon’s grasp. “You’ve made me damp.”
“Oh yeah?” Gideon panted. “Tell me more baby.”
“Idiot,” Harrow said, and took hold of Gideon’s big hands, placing them on her tiny tits. “I’m going to use you now.”
“Not the deal,” Gideon said, not complaining in the slightest. “I can’t believe you’d betray me like this Nonagesimus.”
“Do you ever shut up?” Harrow asked and began to bounce herself on Gideon’s thigh. “Make me cum.”
“Yes, my Crepuscular Queen,” Gideon said, and squeezed her perfect tits.
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