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rinhaler · 29 days

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I Guess I Can't State My Feelings Too Soon

Your big brother is jealous and he hates himself for it :(

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ step brother!taiju shiba x f!reader

Genre: porn! (minimal plot) Notes: my first tokyorev fic since i moved blogs wheeee did NOT think it would be taiju but i cannot stop thinking about that man Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, stepcest!, jealousy ♡, possessiveness, co-dependency, virgin!reader, male masturbation ♡, sex toys ♡, porn consumption, panty theft ♡, unhealthy relationship, power dynamics. Words: 3.5k

He often wonders if you realise how ungrateful you come across, sometimes. Not only ungrateful, but disrespectful to boot.

Do you know how hard your big brother works? You’ll say you do, if he were to ask. But he’s sure you have no idea. He shielded you from the horrors of his world as you were thrust upon him out of nowhere. His new, beautiful step-sister who’s eyes would spill tears around raised voices. What choice did he have? You’d never understand or be able to comprehend his way of life or the world he had built for himself and his family.

As your other siblings grew up and drifted away, Taiju kept you dependent on him. He made it so you had to rely on him for everything. He’s putting you through fashion school while subsidizing your very existence. He keeps you fed and clothed all in the comfort of his beautiful penthouse.

You want for nothing.

And he’s never made you feel inadequate for your obvious dependency.

He doesn’t use it as a weapon or hold it against you. He just adores you, wholly. His beautiful little sister, the sweet little darling who needs her big brother to do everything for her. It motivates him, truthfully. When things feel hard, mundane, tedious, he reminds himself who he’s doing it for.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Takashi.” you smile, giddily, waving like a schoolgirl with a crush as you watch him leave.

He waves, too. A wide grin on his face as his eyes scrunch up with joy. It soon fades, though, as he finds himself accidentally walking right into your brother’s chest. Taiju’s expression harrows, though you don’t register it as you focus on the way Takashi smiles at you before excusing himself.

You’re ungrateful, and disrespectful.

His neck and jaw jerk as he tears off his tie. He’s visibly irritated, but you’re too naïve to realise. You greet him, excitedly, though you’re soon left feeling dejected when he opts to ignore you instead.

“Get me some wine from the cellar.” he demands. Without a please or even a glance in your direction, you know something is wrong. You’ve never been one to deny him, however, slinking away to the lounge to retrieve an aged red from the wall-built cellar.

He looks at you when you return, sliding the bottle to him across the marble countertop of the kitchen island separating you. It’s a brief look, that makes your heart throb with hurt. He’s mad at you, but you don’t know why. Soft yellow eyes that only offer gentle glances are showing you a side to your brother you didn’t know existed.

His pupils are almost slitted like a wild animal, eyes you’ve never seen before where your brother is concerned. He sighs, watching the cogs clank in your brain as you try and analyse who this man is before you.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t think he’s capable of staying angry with you.

“Would you like a drink, little sister?” he questions. It stops you from thinking, momentarily.

It’s a first. He’s never let you drink before, let alone his prized cellar wine. You take a seat on the bar stool regardless, nodding excitedly at the prospect of having your first real drink with your favourite brother. He twists off the lid and slides the glass he’d gotten for himself over to you.

Your heart rate quickens as his eyes, those same, predatory eyes, remain fixated on you as he pours. The wine spills like blood, sloshing into your glass until it’s halfway full. And somehow, without even watching what he’s doing, he managed to not spill a drop.

He takes off his blazer and sets it down on the counter. You watch him as he rolls up his sleeves and turns away from you to fetch another glass for himself. His muscles flex and you see his exposed, veiny arms sheen with sweat as he reaches up to grab the nearest glass.

“Pour it for me.” he tells you, setting it down as he turns to face you again. His eyes seem tired, now, but still unfamiliar to you. And so you find yourself nodding, doing exactly what your big brother has asked as your hairline begins to form beads of sweat.

You don’t look at him, not even briefly, as you start to pour. You’re slow and patient, but you feel him staring at you all the while. And it’s menacing. Even with patience and focus, you spill a drop onto the pristine marble.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him.

You move to find something to wipe it up with, but he stops you before you can even jump down from the stool. He presses his thick thumb into the cherry red liquid, seemingly absorbing it all before he raises it to his lips. You watch keenly as your brother’s tongue juts seductively from his lips before he meticulously licks over the pad of his thumb to taste it.

He clears his throat and leans across countertop.

You feel so small.

“Was that your boyfriend?” he wonders, eyes glued to you as he speaks with a low, gravelly tone. He sips soon after, making mental notes of your responses as you process his words.

“U-Um, no, Taiju,” you shake your head. You feel blistering heat in your face as you think about your classmate, and the intimate thoughts you’ve had about him for weeks now, all while your brother’s attention is entirely fixed on you. “We’re in the same class! He came to drop off some books he thought might help me.”

It’s a confession that is entirely the truth. He isn’t your boyfriend and you’re sure he never will be. Not unless he makes the first move, that is. You’re far too shy to even suggest that your feelings for him a more intense than they should be for simple classmates. Taiju nods, finally looking away from you as he takes another drink.

“Finish up and go to bed.” he commands.

You nod, too nervous to argue. You’ve never seen him like this or even heard him be so curt with you. It won’t bother you to go to bed, not one bit. Hopefully tomorrow he’ll be back to his usual, loving self.

He leaves you alone as he strides towards his study, finally giving you the chance to breathe. You knock back the remainder of your wine and pick up your book bag and school supplies, your pace hastening as you get closer to your room.

“Oi.” Taiju speaks, voice booming through the hallway before you can open the door to your bedroom. He leans against the doorframe to his office, arms folded as his eyes squint at you. “If you want to have people over, clear it with me first.” he demands.

“Oh,” you sigh, and it’s riddled with relief as you realise that is what the problem has been all along. He’s upset you’ve invited a stranger into his home without asking. It’s understandable, and you’re soon smiling again as you look at him. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.” you admit, regretting it almost instantly as it soon feels irrelevant to have said.

“I don’t want boys I don’t know here alone with my little sister.” he tells you.

He approaches, and your anxiety soars once again as you sense a looming threat in the air and the shortening distance between the two of you. He smirks as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, your breath hitching at the contact while he forces you to look into his saffron gaze.

“You are very dear to me,” he confesses, “If anyone were to take advantage of you… well. You’re going to do as I ask next time, aren’t you? We won’t have to worry about that.”

“Of course… I’m so sorry, I should have—”

“You should.” he snarls. “But I forgive you. Go to bed, now.”

You nod, feeling slightly more upbeat after hearing he’s accepted your apology. He stops you from retreating to your room, though. His large, heavy hand encasing your forearm in a tight grip whilst his thumb still caresses your chin. It drifts, though, pulling the fat of your lower lip before he pulls it away. He taps his own lip twice, his expression still unamused as he looks at you.

“A goodnight kiss, princess,” he orders. You nod, it’s not out of the ordinary to kiss him goodnight. You stand on your tip toes before leaning in to peck his lips. They’re soft, and fit against yours beautifully as both of your eyes close during the contact. It’s chaste, to the point, and yet you’ve never felt an intensity during a kiss from him like you have just now.

His eyes are gentle, again. And the smile he offers is earnest. He kisses your cheek before you go, whispering in your ear sensually enough for a chill to traverse down your spine.

“Good girl.”

He opens the door to your room, remaining in place until you go inside. He shuts it after you get inside, leaning his back against the nearest wall as his head thuds against it. The cold metal of his rings cools down his flushed face, though he finds himself breathless.

Not from the act of a simple kiss, it’s the shame. Feelings for you, his sweet little sister, bubbling to the surface despite trying to repress them for so many years. He’s jealous and he’s ashamed of himself for letting things go this far. But you are his.

His sister.

His responsibility.

His property.

“Jesus Christ—”

He catches himself. He kicks away from the wall and rakes his fingers through tousled hair as he decides to distract himself with work in his office.

It’s taken blood and sweat to reach what he’s achieved. From being a sixteen year old menace to society, he’s now a highly respectable businessman with a chain of restaurants under his belt. Among other, less legal sources of income, of course.

It’s all for you.

As he looks through business expenses and documents from his lawyers, all he can think of is you.

It’s all been for you.

It’s always been for you.

He pushes his hair out of his face, noticing how it’s starting to cling to his forehead as he sweats profusely. Thoughts of you plaguing his every thought. His cock begins to throb in his slacks. His eyes drift from the papers scattered across his desk to his computer monitor. And then, slowly, they sink to the locked top drawer of his desk.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He ignores the drawer, instead, deciding to ignore his responsibilities as he types Pornhub in the search engine. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he speaks, exasperated as the homepage is flooded with an assortment of trending step sibling videos.

His heart pounds as he scrolls for a while, but eventually finds the willpower to click away, opting to find something else. He’s a simple man with simple taste. He’s always been into rougher stuff, deciding something along those lines will be best to quickly rub one out and clear his mind so he can focus on what he actually needs to be getting on with.

He clicks on a video, immediately cringing at the corny plot and dialogue as he unbuttons his shirt and rids himself of his belt. He’s panting as he pulls out his cock. If he’s been honest, his cock has been leaking since you fetched his wine so obediently.

He hisses when he realises he’s thinking about you again.

And soon enough he’s willing himself to concentrate on the girl in the video getting fucked within an inch of her life. It’s loud, rough, aggressive. Just how he likes. He tugs desperately, a vein popping in his forehead as he eagerly tries to get off to what he’s seeing.

It’s your fault.

He’s wondering if you’d ever be into fucking like this. He’s sure you’re a virgin, so he’d have to be careful with you at first.

“Fucking stop,” he whines.

He wants to cum to her, the girl in the video. It’s a lie, though. He wants to cum to you. He wants to hear how gorgeous you’d sound if he were the one to defile you for your very first time. Your own step brother, infiltrating your walls and making you cum around his cock.

“Shit,” he keeps trying to concentrate on her. His eyes soon wandering to the locked drawer again. He glances one final time at the video, grunting as he continues to fuck his fist until ultimately giving up.

He searches something new. Something he’s never beat one off to before. Softcore virgin. He grimaces as his finger hovers above the enter key, he knows he won’t be able to finish otherwise, but part of him thinks it’s not too late to turn back. His eyes widen slightly, taken aback by the sheer amount of results that are step-sibling videos. He considers it, again. He really does, but as he continues to scroll, he starts to take an interest in the masturbation videos.

The soft, feminine moans immediately make his cock jump. It’s perfect, it’s so sickeningly perfect because he can pretend it’s you. And if he’s this far gone, he feels no need to deprive himself anymore. He lifts up his keyboard, sliding the locked drawer key from a hidden compartment underneath. His hands are practically shaking as he tries to slide it into the slot. He quickly turns, breathing heavily as he almost rips the drawer from its place as he opens it.

He scoffs as his hand flies to a clear fleshlight, yanking it out and setting it down on his desk before he retrieves what he’s really been avoiding this whole time.

You’ve never had to do laundry, and he doesn’t do it either. He hires staff to come through the week to do tedious things like cleaning the apartment and washing dirty clothes. It’s been about a fortnight since he saw an opportunity laid bare before him.

You were at school, a fact now he’s growing to despise as he imagines you flirting with Takashi Mitsuya during your classes. But he was working from home, too irritated to handle business dealings in person on that particular Thursday. And he happened to see a maid emerge from your room with a laundry basket, a frilly pink thong atop a pile of outfits you’d worn through the week to college.

He wrestled with himself, he did.

But it wasn’t too difficult to distract the maid for long enough to pocket them for himself.

The video continues to play, his cock gushing as he stares down at your panties. He’s too far gone. He’s too aroused and his mind is muddied as he thinks about everything going on in his life and yours. You’re too honest to lie, Mitsuya isn’t your boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he’ll never be.

He snatches the thong and strokes his cock with it in hand. His eyes roll back, a broken moan leaving his lips as he continues to pleasure himself. He stops abruptly, though, as the woman in the video he’s watching stops teasing her clit. She shows off a dildo, slowly rubbing it through her wet folds until she eventually begins to push it inside of herself.

She’s cute, but she isn’t you.

If he closes his eyes, however, she is. He looks to his fleshlight, deeming this the closest he’ll get to fucking you no matter how desperately he yearns for it. He carefully guides his tip into the plastic pussy, moaning a little louder than intended as he bottoms out.

He bites his lip as he recalls the woman in the store squeezing her thighs together as she helped him pick the toy out. It makes him laugh, briefly, as he recalls how forward she had been. He fucked her in the changing rooms as she insisted she’d need to see what he was packing so that she could help him pick the perfect model.

She sent him away with the biggest size.

Your pussy won’t feel like this, though. He’s certain you won’t be so generous and accommodating. Your tight little virgin cunt will fight against him, but he’ll make it fit.

“Jesus, fuck—” he groans, admitting defeat for the final time as he brings your panties to his face and almost suffocates himself with the material.

His chest swells as he inhales, before it deflates with shuddering breaths as he savours the scent of your used unmentionables. He picks up the pace with his toy in tandem with the woman in the video. His moans are boisterous and uncaring, he’s lost the ability to feel shame as he imagines you bouncing on his cock crying his name and trying to become accustomed to his length.

He needs it more than air.

He needs it more than he needs to fucking breathe.

“Shit, ah—” he grunts, he bites his lip as he continues to pound into the fucktoy in his grip. He grunts stridently as he spurts into the fleshlight. He watches through heavy, lidded eyes at the clear plastic, watching how his balls tighten and deposit his creamy load into the faux pussy. “Fuck, Taiju.” he sighs, but laughs as he slowly begins to stroke himself with the toy. He hisses, feeling sensitive from his release as he milks himself of every last drop he can drain.

He exhales breathlessly once he’s done. His chest rising and falling as he allows his body to melt into his leather chair. He looks around the room, and he looks at himself. The crushing reality of what he’s just done weighs down on him. He’s spent, but finds enough energy to put your panties back in the drawer, locking it promptly.

The fleshlight, on the other hand, he leaves out after making space for it on his desk. He winces as it rolls and his sperm begins to drip out onto the glossy, chestnut tabletop. The comedown from is euphoria is like reaching a new low. He can’t even bear to look at the scene of his filthy indiscretion any longer.

But as he’s about to stand, the door swings open.

“Taiju?” you pout.

He scrambles to hide his exposed lower half under his desk and dump some of the papers littering his desk over the sticky fleshlight. He can’t hide the grimace on his face as the corner of one of his documents begin dampen from his cum.

“O-Oh, sorry, I forgot to knock… I should have knocked.”

“Yes, you should.” He says, gruffly, “What is it?”

You’re quiet, allowing your sock covered foot to glide across the wood flooring as you awkwardly look down at them. It’s not like you’re scared to talk to your brother, but you know he doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s in here. And you don’t want to embarrass him.

“Answer.” his order startles you, his voice almost thunderous as he commands your attention. Your eyes fill with water, but you bat the tears away as you speak.

“I thought I heard you yelling. Or… in pain.” you tell him, voice below a whisper as you confess you’ve been unintentionally listening. “I thought you might have hurt yourself.”

Pink dusts over his face, you can even see it from only the light of the monitor. He looks around, suspiciously, though you don’t notice or comment on it.

“Why were you listening to me? Can’t you sleep?” he wonders. “… Don’t worry. I’m fine.” he assures you.

“I was worried. A-About earlier. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me… I promise I haven’t got a boyfriend and I’ll never bring anyone here without permission again.”

He smirks at that, all of his teeth bared and you still don’t understand what kind of sick depraved man your big brother really is. Maybe you aren’t as ungrateful or disrespectful as he thought; it was wrong of him to even assume that when you’ve been nothing but a doll the whole time he’s known you.

You poor thing.

You’ve been fretting over your brother’s wellbeing and state of mind since he sent you to bed so long ago. He’s been on your mind this whole time. You’re more like your big brother than you even realise, he thinks.

You’re so timid.

So obedient.

So good.

“You must be so tired, princess…” he coos, and you nod dumbly. He tuts, feeling sorry for your innocent nature and naivety, but sweet little you thinks he’s sympathetic to your exhaustion. “Do you want me to help you sleep? Shall I play with your hair like I used to when we were younger?”

“Really?” you ask, eyes lighting up at the proposition.

“Of course,” he nods, grinning wildly. “What are big brothers for?”

#🦋 — luxe writes #taiju smut #taiju x reader #taiju shiba x reader #taiju shiba smut #shiba taiju smut #taiju shiba #shiba taiju #taiju shiba x you #taiju shiba x y/n #tokyorev x fem!reader #tw jealousy #tw possessiveness #tw codependency #tw stepcest

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blueberrypancakesworld · 16 days

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The Farewell before the war

Aegon x aunt!reader

warning : targaryen incest, no use of Y/n, mentioning/implied war and death, kiss, mentioned sex, minor hurt/comfort, some fluff, age gap (Aegon 20s and reader early 40s)

Summary : The war was about to begin and the dance of the dragons would begin as soon as both sides mounted their dragons and both sides raised their swords. The farewell they knew was one that would last forever...a farewell that broke the queer custom of family.

Info : So with season 2 coming up my own sanity and the trauma we all will be getting I have written this as a little something. Have fun reading ;)

ps : He looks so good in the gif

masterlist

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Screams were the last to echo through the castle as the mood was still as exuberant as it could be. Aegon, crowned king after the death of his father, was the man the young king could say he was glad the Targaryen king had died...finally died.

The only thing he got from his father besides looks was ungratefulness, disgust and hopelessness. His father had never believed in him, never liked him, maybe there was a moment in his life when Aegon was still a helpless little baby that his father was proud of, proud to finally have a son, but that was almost two decades ago and it didn't matter anymore.

Not only did he now have the crown of Maegor on his head. The light-coloured hair that he really hated, which he had kept short a few years ago and was slowly beginning to see as a weapon.

Slowly beginning to see himself as a weapon. His people adored him, his mother was happy, Heleana his beloved sister wife for the first time did not flee reality but enjoyed her role as king with their children.

A fact that took guilt from his heart...even if he never wanted to marry her, at least there was this sense of responsibility towards himself, her and their soon to be three children.

His younger brother Aemond no longer simply saw him as that, he recognised him as the rightful dragon he could command and it seemed the respect between them was slowly building as he sat on the throne.

Wearing the colour green of his mother, the green he learned to love the green of his family and the gold of his father, the gold of his other side the gold of his aunt the youngest and only sister of the former king Viserys. The black one created among the golden dragons a firewyrm a dragon born without wings.

Her actual twin, Prince Aegon, died less than a year later. Daemon and Viserys have always secretly blamed her for the death of their mother because she caused the complications. Of course, only a woman could do this. But it was his aunt that the new and young king had adored for years.

She never saw him for what he was. A mistake a challenge for anyone. No, he was ,,My perfect dragon" as she had always called him ever since he could remember. Whether it was accompanying him to his chamber and looking after him when he was drunk on wine or milk of the poppy.

She was always there for him with open arms, encouraging him when it came to important fishing adventures, taking care of his injuries at the hands of the king, the queen or his own grandfather. She was also the one who gave him something he had wanted from her for a long time.

Something he knew he would eventually have to share with his wife, but the mere thought of his own sister... no, it disgusted him, which is why the then prince came to his aunt in the chambers. Perhaps it was the wine, her evening dress that lay so light and airy on her body, the colour gold that caught his eye.

She never wore red or black, preferring gold instead. It was a few years ago that he could finally have her, he didn't care that she was older than his own mother. It didn't matter that they had the same blood, it didn't matter that they were princess and prince.

It didn't matter that when he kissed her, tasting the sweet fruit, he was almost trembling with rejection. Her gentle hands laid on his as she tried to push him away for a moment but he wouldn't let her. He deserved love and appreciation too, his teary peasant eyes looking up at her violet ones.

It was those eyes they both couldn't get away from as she let her own nephew touch her again. He remembered his insecurity but was always reassured by her voice.

The wine that influenced his senses was taken away by her. The pain from the last blow faded as she kissed his cheek. Her warm, soft body beneath his, his hands touching hers came together and they held each other.

He felt safe, he was worth loving and she could give her love to someone. His lips on her body, kissing every part of her, watching her move beneath him. Surprised by his own almost clumsy noises when she soothed him with kisses.

He wasn't used to being treated so…gently and lovingly. She really showed him what it meant to be loved and not just a fuck with a whore. It was the night that not only he learnt what it meant to be a dragon it was the night he promised her that one day she would no longer be a firewyrm.

,,You will become a dragon one day, Princess...I promise," he had said to her as he lay beside her, but there was a determination in his gaze that seemed to burn like fire between them then. When he took her hand in a tender, almost alien gesture, her fingers kissed his while she stroked his light-coloured, tousled hair.

His eyes met hers again, ,,You are so beautiful " he had murmured, almost amused at how easily he could make his aunt blush. ,,Aegon...you perfect naive dragon," she had replied and pulled him close, but he had sensed that she was trembling.

At the time he had thought it was from the act, but now he knew she had been crying silently. She had cried for him because she knew that the gods would punish him more severely than her. But now it had been years and had anything changed?

He had children with his own sisters, more princes and a princess, his three little dragons, his own flesh and blood that he guarded. His mother, the Queen Dowager, seemed to be suffering even more than usual after the aftermath that had taken over the entire court.

Aemond, his own brother, had killed their common nephew Lcerys Velaryon. ,,Our sister's second bastard is dead," he had muttered as he withdrew from the small council, a smile trying to steal onto his lips but unable to do so.

He couldn't not in the knowledge that the fire inside him was telling him it wasn't over yet. Oh how right he was to be as the banners were lowered to their respective sides and the weapons were forged. So it was his duty to go into battle, not on the throne but on his dragoness Sunfyre.

But it was during this time when he was training with his brother and sworn sword criston that her golden dress became less and less visible. A sadness emanated from her when he saw her, his own naive anticipation only seemed to fuel her fear.

But no matter what he tried, no smile would appear on her lips until the day he stood alone in the dragon pit and the golden sun had not yet fully risen. His eyes were fixed with fascination on his dragon, the most beautiful dragon that ever existed, a pride he was only too happy to show.

He heard someone come to him as Sunfyre gave an almost cheerful hiss and moved his head in the direction of the entrance. ,,A golden morning for two beautiful naive perfect dragons" he heard her voice after days if not weeks and stopped in front of his dragon as he just watched her.

She no longer wore the gold, on the contrary it was his own colour reflected in his eyes. A dress with armour elements in green and gold that Targaryen had turned green.

A warrior, a dragon rider without a dragon, a diplomat who would be dispatched with a sword if she had to. ,,Naive? The fire on the war we will win," he said faster than he thought and heard her cagey laugh, which was underlined by a roar from Sunfyre. Perhaps there was once a possibility of a connection between the two of them, but these were years away.

His princess aunt approached him and placed her hand on the dragon's muzzle, the warmth seeming to soothe them both before she placed her hand on her king's cheek. ,,You know the distribution of troops, the numbers...the dragons and yet Aegon you maintain the notion of victory...a future of fire" she began, looking back at the dragon who also watched her, the beast though as old as its rider seemed to know what it would mean once they flew away from Kingslanding.

It would mean a war in which the green were outnumbered, a war of force and violence, a war in which once again she could do nothing without a dragon of her own.

A thought that Aegon slowly seemed to understand as he placed his hand on hers, his armour rattling slightly but still maintaining his slight, almost cheeky grin. ,,A war yes, but I promised you a dragon...a dragon of iron you shall have" he said, seeing with pleasure her confusion as he took her hand and led her lightly to the entrance of the dragon pit.

Despite everything, he held her tightly, held her firmly, held her as a king should, held the woman he loved, held the thing that had given him what he had always needed. Love.

She could feel the gold of the morning sun shining on them both as his hand gently wrapped around her hip, a grin on his face as he pointed to the castle, directly to the site of the throne room. ,,A dragon of iron that you will rule in my absence... and my death if it comes," he said so lightly that she thought for a moment he had lost his mind, but no, when she turned to him she saw that he meant it.

That for a moment he didn't seem naive was not beside him. He truly seemed like a king who kept promises, like someone who also recognised and believed in her. ,,You promised," she whispered, feeling a weight lift from her, the tension, the fear, the lies that were in the face of her own brothers' hatred.

She was something, she was a dragon of iron...the true king had promised her and kept his promise. ,,Oh my dear Aegon," she said and only seconds later felt his lips on hers again, his hands holding her close then as now.

His scent of leather, metal and fire met her sweet smell of smoke. ,,A farewell to the true queen who will be now," he replied, pulling her a little tighter against him.

A kiss goodbye, a kiss with a promise of a goodbye as the sun rose over the city and Aegon with Sunfyre, Aemond set upon Vhagar and the troops.

A farewell they knew would be one of the last as she sat on the throne that was gold and green and the princess received her promise in the midst of a war of fire and blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

#hotd #hotd 2 #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #king aegon #aegon x reader #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #male x female #character x reader

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dearest-and-nearest · 6 months

Text

"I could kill you."

The voice still didn't want to obey her. It scratched her throat and chest, was too low and hoarse. Red stared at the man who knew her and whom she didn't.

Gortash shrugged nonchalantly:

"I don't doubt you, nor do I doubt your ability to control your urges."

"You should."

This was all wrong. This "dinner," his behavior, his words. Red tried to rummage through her mangled brain, but only came across faceless shadows. One of them resembled Gortash, but remained a shadow.

"How can you be so sure?" Red rubbed her throat dark with veins. She knew the others were afraid of her. Almost everyone took their eyes away from her face, flinched at the low rattle of her voice, expected to be about to draw their weapons.

And only Gortash alone was calm despite everything

He sipped his wine, looking down at his glass:

" I've known you for ten years, Red. You can control yourself."

Red snorted. Well, compared to Orin. 'No more than that.

"You don't believe me. Well."

Finishing his drink, he quickly rose to his feet. Red watched him approach suspiciously, expecting anything but the tyrant kneeling before her. A chair rattled, pushing back as she jumped up. Gortash watched it with his usual smirk. It didn't even take remembering to be sure: it was the way he grinned all the time. Red roared:

"Decided to play games, eh?"

She looked around anxiously, expecting an ambush. Gortash, on the other hand, was watching her, too calm to not make her nervous. Her tail twitched at her feet.

Gortash said quietly:

"You won't kill me, Red, because I know you. You're not a crazy beast like Orin, you control yourself. The only one left to make sure of that is yourself."

She froze, staring at him. Her breathing quickened, her instincts sharpened. As if mesmerized, Red reached for his throat. Claws touched the swarthy skin. It seemed as if Urge was about to take over, spinning her head habitually, leaving nothing but blood… But nothing. Her body was with her, and no familiar desires blossomed in her chest.

Red breathed out, running her fingertips along his neck upward, to his chin. Gortash's skin was rough and warm, with scars invisible to the eye but noticeable to the touch. The stubble pricked her fingers. Red took his chin gently, lifting it and peering into the black eyes.

Gortash nodded:

"I told you so."

His fingers encircled hers, the cold metal of his claws scratching her skin lightly. Gortash brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Almost weightlessly, but still causing her to exhale in surprise.

If it had been anyone else in his place, and the room would have drowned in blood, but everything was still the same.

He stood up, confident enough to keep her interested.

"I know you, and far better than any of your 'companions'."

"I could have killed you."

"Actually, you couldn't. You're standing very close to one of traps and all it would take is my desire to activate it." Gortash said it casually, as if he was talking about the weather. Red snorted. What else would you expect. No one would put their life in her hands, especially someone who loved that life so much.

Still not letting go of her hand, Gortash said:

"You are magnificent, especially now, returning what was rightfully given to you. And that's why I'll be around to help you do it."

"By almost killing me?"

"You're alive and well. I see no reason to be displeased." With a cheeky smirk, he kissed her knuckles again, and reluctantly let go after all. Red glanced out the window. If she was going to go back to camp, she should have gone now. But was she going to do it today?

"You promised to tell me about me. About the past."

He laughed, sitting down on the edge of the table like a boy:

"You've really changed! You used to complain about me talking instead of doing. But I'm true to my word. What do you want to know?"

Red looked at him again, without any hostility. And then she tried to grin at least.

#bg3 gortash #dark urge x gortash #enver gortash #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 oc #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 gif #lord gortash #gortash x durge #bg3 glassred #glassred #durge x gortash

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xbellaxcarolinax · 8 months

Note

Hi, congratulations on 2K! 🥳

Can I ask for HCs for Marc Spector in a Zombie Apocalypse AU? 👀

Marc Spector x f!reader

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of blood, weapons such as guns and blades, implied reader is younger, BUT OF AGE OKAY? Smut, p in v, nothing too crazy.

Thank you for participating babe <3 No mention of Steven or Jake in this one! I’m sorry :( Also, this isn’t very good Again, I’m sorry! But I did have fun, so there’s that!

NSFW (Idk how that happened, it wasn’t the original intention lmfao)

MDNI

Marc was built for the times

Didn’t mean he enjoyed it

His time in the Marines proved useful, his instincts sharp and always ready for a fight, his skills with a gun and blade invaluable

Comes home with blood on his hands almost every night

Lost count of the lives he’s taken, both human and zombie (didn’t matter anymore)

A lone wolf—survived the outbreak all on his own

That was the good thing about lacking loved ones, he had no one to worry about but himself

And he wanted to keep it that way

Or so he thought until you stumbled into his chaotic life

It was an accident, really

You broke in through the window of his flat in the dead of night, your old chucks squeaking against the worn-out wooden floor

He had a blade to your neck within seconds, the sharpened edge pressed firmly against your delicate skin

“Who the fuck are you? How’d you get up here?” He spat, grabbing your frayed t-shirt caught in his fist by the neckline

How you managed to climb the fire escape up six flights without making a sound was beyond him

“Wait, wait, wait, I’m sorry, I thought this place was abandoned and I needed to get away.” You pleaded, your eyes wide and your hands curling around his wrist in an attempt to loosen his hold.

Marc grunted, shoving you to the side.

“Get out.”

“Sure, can that wait till morning?”

“No.” The last thing he needed was a liability.

“Please,” you begged, “they’re everywhere tonight. Just-just let me leave in the morning, they hate sunlight, you should know this. I promise I’ll be gone.”

He could’ve said no, should’ve. Something about your eyes stopped him. You were a young thing to him, a pretty girl with pretty eyes that spoke volumes

You’ve suffered just as he had

“I want you gone by sunrise, got it?” He bristled, pointing his blade at you, “And I better not catch you here again.”

“Got it.”

But when did things ever go as planned?

You were back again and again and again.

You traded food and in return, he provided you with simple weapons he’d put together—a tiny blade, an old wine opener, a shitty pistol.

That led to you crashing over his flat.

That was two years ago, and now, you were stuck to Marc like glue

But you weren’t useless. You were extremely stealthy, a good trapper, always bringing food home for dinner. Sometimes it wasn’t much—a simple trout or a small squirrel to fill your bellies till the next time you fetched a meal, but it was enough

Marc never said it, but he was glad you had stumbled into his flat those years ago

Too stubborn to admit you were a welcomed companion

Even more stubborn to admit he was falling for you

But that didn’t matter. The world was fucked and there wasn’t any time for that

One day you’d gone out to check your squirrel traps at the park (really, it was a forest now) not far from the flat.

Marc accompanied you as usual, seeing as he was the protector.

He’d gotten distracted. Found a Zippo lighter tossed carelessly over the grass. Still had oil in it.

It’d been so quick he almost missed it. Some guy had you pressed up against a tree, his thick hand wrapped around your throat as he lifted you up with ease.

Marc saw red.

Immediately grabbed his gun from the back pocket of his worn denim, aimed, and fired.

He never missed a shot.

The only thing he could really recall from that day was the fear in your eyes, the red splattered over your pretty face.

“Could’ve been worse,” you chuckled shakily, wiping your face free of blood, “could’ve been a nightcrawler, right?”

Marc didn’t laugh

He shoved the dead man away from you, grabbing you in a tight hug

You hugged him back, burying your face in his chest, your body trembling like a leaf in his arms

God, he was falling for you and there was definitely no time for it

But you made the time

One night you kissed him, soft and sweet, unlike anything he’d felt in a long time

You were pressed up against him, savoring his warmth in the chill of the flat

He returned it eagerly, unaware of how touch-starved he’d been, his fingers pawing at every part of you he could

Marc fucked you that night, nice and slow on his old bed, his dark curls drenched in sweat despite the cold

“You feel so good.” He whispered in your ear as you whimpered, coating his length in your juices.

“M-Marc, feel s-so full,” you moaned as you held him close, his thrusts growing sloppier the closer he got

You came, gushing over him with a silent cry. He followed not long after, pulling out from your pulsating cunt and spilling over the bare skin of your abdomen

He surged forward to kiss you, tongue tangling with yours as your fingers weaved through his sweat-slick hair

Your eyes, always so pretty, pulled at his heartstrings, just as they did the first time he met you

And he was never gonna let you go

#caro's 2k #moon knight #marc spector #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #marc spector imagine #moon knight fanfic #mutuals 💟

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thestalwartheart · 1 month

Note

May I ask for 00q and a 💛 please

Hello my friend! Thank you for the prompt. This was such a lovely one to fill.

You can read the fill below or on AO3. 💛

After a weapons test goes wrong in Q Branch, Bond spends a moment dancing with regret.

relief.

One minute and seventeen seconds.

James Bond has lived through a lot. He’s lived through seconds that felt like years and years that felt like fleeting moments. He’s seen people suffer. He’s seen plenty of people die; killed some of them for duty, and loved others to their death.

So, a minute should be nothing. He’s held his breath for longer.

“Q.” With the hand that isn’t holding his jacket to the wound at Q’s head, he cradles Q’s chin. Blood slicks the path of his fingers, then sticks.

“Medical team are two minutes away,” says someone. Not Tanner. Not anyone useful.

“Tell them to hurry up. They can take the bloody stairs if they have to.”

Two minutes. Christ, Bond's only been here on the floor for one.

He strokes his thumb over Q’s mouth. His lips are blood red now, stained from Bond’s messy hands. They’re a grotesque mockery of their usual cherry red, that colour for which Bond has never found an equal.

“Come on, Q. Wake up.”

There’s a pulse at Q's neck. That’s positive. Breath, too. Even better. All good signs. None of them do much to quell the frightful adrenaline in Bond’s bones. It’s been there since he saw Q land badly after his fall. No, not a fall. The body-flattening shock from the blast which—

“What the hell happened to proper safety regulations?” Bond barks. The techs around him flinch, but he doesn’t spare them another thought.

Under his thumb, Q’s lips are moving.

“Since when were you an expert on health and safety, 007?” A warm puff of laughter comes from his lips, and Bond doesn’t waste another second.

The kiss tastes like blood and cordite, and Bond’s own blood rushes to his ears. His pulse is on his tongue.

This wasn’t how it was meant to go, not with Q. He was meant to take Q out to dinner, wine and dine him, and see him in a proper suit. There didn’t seem a man in the world more in need of sweeping off his feet than Q, and Bond had intended to rise to the occasion. But as always, as always, the universe sought to remind him there just wasn’t enough bloody time for all the things in the world he wanted. There was only time for this. This kiss. This moment, holding Q's bloodied face in his hands on the debris-littered, dusty floor of Q Branch.

Q hums into his mouth, then winces.

Bond pulls back. “All right?”

“Mm. If I’d have known on our last field mission together that this was all it would take…”

Bond remembers his and Q’s last mission well. It was three weeks ago now, though it may as well be a lifetime. They’d spent days under the bright, arid haze of Rome’s summer sun, where Bond had, for once in his life, turned down a blatant invitation to sleep with someone with no strings attached. Because Q wasn’t just anyone. And Bond was, frankly, finished with starting things under a hail of bullets that were only doomed to fail.

Regret settles under his skin now. He wishes he’d given into the delicate warmth of Q’s hand on his knee. They could have kissed at sunset with the Colosseum to their backs. He could have watched Q drink his fill of Chianti under the stars. Everyone believes Paris is the city of love, but Bond has always preferred Rome. Vesper once joked it was the memory of all those strapping Roman soldiers.

Gently, Bond strokes his fingers through the dusty, greasy, sweaty mess of Q’s hair. Unbelievably, it still looks intentionally styled. “Don’t. I didn’t want—you deserved more.”

“Oh,” croaks Q. “To hell with what we deserve.”

With a weak fist, Q grabs Bond’s blazer and brings him down for another kiss. And this time, Bond doesn’t wonder about the paths not taken. He sighs and kisses Q back. Q will live a long life if Bond has anything to say about it, but if they only have a minute left together, then Bond knows how he wants to spend it:

With love rather than regret.

#00q #james bond #00q fic #my fic

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marshmellowrio · 2 months

Text

Flight of the Night | Chapter 3

Word count: 1031

“I asked Rhys if I could take you to dinner with Lyssa, just us girls, and he said you wouldn’t want to. But honestly – would you rather spend time with those two ancient bores, or us?” Mor grips my chin and brings my face next to hers, both of our faces the picture perfect image of innocence.

“For someone who is the same age as me,” Rhys drawls and Mor lets go of my face, “you seem to forget-”

“Everyone wants to talk-talk-talk,” Mor says, giving Cassian a warning glare as he opens his mouth and I snort. “Can’t we eat-eat-eat, and then talk?”

Azriel chuckles from across the table and starts digging into his food. Giving the cue to the rest of us to start eating as well, Mor clinks her glass against Feyre’s. “Don’t let these busybodies boss you around.”

She’s one to talk, I think. Cassian beats me to saying it, “Pot. Kettle. Black.” He frowns at Amren’s plate while I shove another bite into my mouth. “I always forget how bizarre that is.” He takes her plate and dumps half of its contents on his own before passing the rest to Azriel, whose hand is awaiting.

“Cassian.” I scold at the same time Azriel excuses to Amren.

“I keep telling him to ask before he does that.”

Amren gestures absentmindedly towards me, “If you two haven’t been able to train him after all these centuries, boy, I don’t think you’ll make any progress now.”

Cassian doesn’t even look up from his, now again, full plate. I take a sip from my glass of water.

“You don’t---eat?” Feyre questions the ancient being across from her.

“Not this sort of food.”

I smile when Mor cringes next to me. “Cauldron boil me,” she says, taking another gulp from her wine. “Can we not?”

Rhys chuckles, “Remind me to have family dinners more often.”

I roll my eyes and lean back in my seat so I can look at him behind Mor and Feyre as I say, “Last time you said something along the lines of, never again, remember?” I grin as he grimaces.

My plate is almost empty when I hear Azriel start talking and look up to see him holding out his siphons for Feyre to see. “They’re called Siphons. They concentrate and focus our power in battle.”

I look down at my own hands, seeing the two emerald Siphons glittering in the light.

“The power of stronger Illyrians tends toward ‘incinerate now, ask questions later.’ They have little magical gifts beyond that---the killing power.” Rhys clarifies. At times I rather liked the incinerate now, ask questions later part, it kept me alive long enough.

“The gift of a violent, warmongering people,” Amren adds. I furrow my eyebrows at her, seeing Cassian give Azriel a sharp look as he nods.

Rhys goes on, “The Illyrians bred the power to give them advantage in battle, yes. The Siphons filter that raw power and allow Cassian, Azriel and Lyssa to transform it into something more subtle and varied---into shields and weapons, arrows and spears. Imagine the difference between hurling a bucket of paint against the wall and using a brush.” Nice metaphor. “The Siphons allow for the magic to be nimble, precise on the battlefield---when it’s natural state lends itself toward something far messier and unrefined, and potentially dangerous when you’re fighting in tight quarters.”

Cassian flexes his fingers, while staring at his red siphons. “Doesn’t hurt that they also look damn good.”

“Especially in the bedroom.” I counter as Cassian grins at me. Azriel closes his eyes and Mor sucks in a breath beside me.

“Illyrians.” Amren mutters.

Cassian bares his teeth and takes a drink of his wine. I continue eating as Feyre starts fumbling for words, “How did you—I mean, how do you and Lord Cassian—” Cassian spews out his wine across the table, Mor leaping up and me coughing as a piece of food gets lodged in my throat.

I cough harshly as my throat clears, tears having formed in the corners of my eyes, I take my glass and drown the liquid inside. Cassian howling with laughter across the table.

“Cassian,” Rhys drawls, “is not a lord. Though I’m sure he appreciates you thinking he is.” He surveys all of us. “While we’re on the subject, neither is Azriel. Nor Amren. Mor and Lyssa, believe it or not, are the only pure-blooded, titled people in this room.” The muscles in my entire body tighten at his words. “I’m half-Illyrian. As good as a bastard where the thoroughbred High Fae are concerned.”

“So you—you four aren’t High Fae?” Feyre says to us, catching my gaze for a second.

Cassian settles down enough to answer her. “Illyrians are certainly not High Fae. And glad of it.” He hooks his hair behind an ear—showing the round edge. “And we’re not lesser faeries, though some try to call us that. We’re just—Illyrians. Considered expendable aerial cavalry for the Night Court at the best of times, mindless soldier grunts at the worst.”

“Which is most of the time,” Azriel clarifies to her.

“I didn’t see you Under the Mountain.”

I still.

“Because none of us were.” Mor, she speaks up, daring to break the silence that had fallen.

Rhys’s cold voice explains. “Amarantha didn’t know they existed. And when someone tried to tell het, they usually found themselves without the mind to do so.”

“You truly kept this city, and all these people hidden from her for fifty years.” The wonder in her voice almost makes me snarl.

This city was safe, yes, protected. Not all had had that pleasure. My heart beat harshly in my chest, I hadn’t forgiven him, not yet.

Amren says, “We will continue to keep this city and these people from our enemies for a great many more.”

I grit my teeth, this dinner is proving to be more loaded than I expected.

Mor turns slightly away from me, towards Feyre, to explain, “ There is not one person in this city who is unaware of what went on outside these border. Or of the cost.”

A/N: Let me know how you liked it and if you wanted to be added to the taglist!

Taglist: @inloveallthetime @mybestfriendmademe

#acotar #acotar imagine #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acotar fic #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #azriel #cassian #rhysand #flight of the night

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ibrithir-was-here · 4 months

Note

After the last Blood of My Blood update, I can’t help thinking of what this has set in motion on Jonathan’s side. Mr. Holiest Love. Mr. Loyalty Unto Blasphemy. Mr. Almost Mauled His Own Son on Reflex.

This is going to sit with him and fester. Just as his human self bent against the grain of expectation by his peers, his undead self will bend against the impulse of the Vampire simply because he Wants to Undo the Sin of Frightening His Son. A desire at odds with blunt id, but Jonathan has always been singleminded, alive or otherwise. If he Wants to work against impulse, then he will succeed. (With a strain.)

Which I could see coming to a head with Mina near the bloody haze of the climax. Mina, Dracula’s other ransom, his wine-press turned usurper. Mina, acclimated to vampirism for twenty long years. Mina, sharper than fangs or steel at her most wrathful—and wrath she has in spades. So much that I wonder whether her forestalled vengeance on Dracula might overpower other imperatives, however briefly.

Something happens.

Something gets in her way.

Something touches Her Jonathan.

Something that makes her strike out blindly at… Who?

Arthur or Jack?

Lu?

Quincey, trying to shield them all?

(And, surprise surprise, almost failing because his Mama cannot see him through the red veil of Hate.)

(Wrath.)

(Stopping me stopping us raised a weapon to him to my Jonathan mine mine how dare they dare you wasting time He is getting away again fools and jackals dead dogs don’t bite don’t delay call down thunder and the storm and—)

And Jonathan tackles her. The bolt misses, barely. Hell as they wrestle, hiss, bay; until Jonathan gets her hands in his and locks her eyes in his stare. His plea.

“Look through me, Wilhelmina. See what I see. What our boy sees. Please. Look.”

She does. Suddenly, there she is with the closest thing to a reflection she’s had in twenty years.

But all she can see is Him, wearing her face all over again.

It’s enough to crack a fissure in the Vampire of her just as Quincey’s tears left a wound in Jonathan.

The Harkers are not human. They never will be again. But the revulsion of finding similarity with Dracula to the point of endangering those they love—

(Yes, I too can love.)

—might just veer them back from the Pit.

tl;dr: I am very normal about this AU

Oh goooooooooooosh

THIS

I honestly just have no words but YES

#please know im screaming so much inside #asks #blood of my blood #other people's awesome writing #mina harker #jonathan harker #quincey harker #dracula #holiest love #both romantic and paternal

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baldursgrave69 · 3 months

Text

The Finer Things

Some Durgetash fluff/angst based on this post

Summary: Enver Gortash invites Agnes (the Dark Urge) to a banquet, as his guest. No one had bothered to show Bhaal’s chosen the finer things; dancing, good wine. She never thought she needed any of these things. They were frivolous wastes of time. But she couldn’t help wanting to indulge in these things with him.

Pairing: gortash x fem!durge (named)

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: fluff/angst

While writing this I was listening to: As Long As You're Mine from Wicked

Find me on Ao3 here

Agnes tugged at the tight fitting red dress that clung to her body, she wasn’t used to wearing such constricting clothing. Her daily activities did not often allow her to dress so… skimpy. Somehow Enver had convinced her to join him at a patriar banquet, as his guest. Usually he brought her along as a bodyguard of sorts. He could mostly handle himself, but he knew she enjoyed protecting him.

Agnes watched the Banieite from across the room as he adjusted his black robes ima floor length mirror, combing his fingers through his dark hair. As he turned to her, a smile flashed across his face, his eyes darting across her body.

“You look nice,” he hummed, taking in every inch of her.

He rarely saw her in anything other than her leather armor and cloak, tattered and stained with blood. Frankly she would look good in anything, but seeing her like this drove him wild. Such a pretty appearance for such a lethal weapon.

She didn’t see the appeal in fashion as he did. He felt that being put together opened more doors, she was more fond of flashing a blade to do so. He found that often her approach was more efficient, though toying with people was more enjoyable.

“Are you sure?” she asked, feeling insecure.

She wasn’t used to feeling this uncomfortable in her own body. She knew her body very well. How to manipulate it to cause the most destruction. People often looked at her because of her rank, her looming presence, not because she looked nice or even remotely approachable. Most people averted their eyes when she looked at them, but Enver’s lingered, ghosting across every inch of her.

Agnes was not one for flair like Enver. She never wore jewelry, always had her long black hair tied back, and wore practical boots. She was one for efficiency. Though she did like the effect wearing this dress had on her confidant. The way his eyes trailed up and down her body, taking in every curve. It made her feel powerful. She knew he would do anything she asked, with enough convincing. Enver walked over to Agnes, placing a hand on her hip and turning her to look at him.

“Yes, though maybe you could wear your hair down for once,” he purred, twirling her long black braid in his fingers as he looked at her. Agnes pulled back from him, crossing her arms.

“Now that might be a bit too far,” she hissed, her piercing stare boring into him. Enver chuckled, raising his hands in defeat.

“I do have one request, then,” He flashed his eyes at the two blades affixed to her sides.

“For just one night, maybe we can keep the murders to a minimum.”

Agnes huffed, reaching for her beloved weapons, knowing she couldn’t bring them with her. She set them down on the nightstand next to his bed, flashing a condescending smile in his direction. Her hands felt empty without the two blades at the ready, she felt more exposed without them than she did in the tight dress.

“Thank you, pet.”

Enver got off on the influence he had over his favorite assassin. To convince the Chosen of Bhaal to leave her weapons behind for him was a thrill he never knew he needed to feel.

"I hate when you call me that,” she lied, biting her lip and trying to hide the smirk breaking through. If anyone else referred to her with such a name, Agnes would gut them like a fish. But Enver made her feel things she never thought she would get to feel.

Agnes rarely went anywhere without those two blades affixed to her side, she hesitantly walked away from the nightstand and towards Enver.

“You’re lucky I-” Agnes didn’t dare finish that sentence, she didn’t want to give him any more of an ego boost than he already had.

“You what, pet?” he laughed, flashing a devilish grin in her direction.

Agnes rolled her eyes. “Just that. You’re lucky.” Agnes gestured towards the dress she begrudgingly put on.

“I truly am,” Enver knew she was right. He had never met anyone like her before.

She was cunning and far more intelligent than anyone he had met, she was lethal in so many ways. She took her place as Bhaal’s Chosen seriously, murdering in His name. The followers of Bhaal worshiped her as their Chosen. She was destined for great things in her father’s name. And yet, here she was in the bedroom of Bane’s Chosen.

“Shall we?” he asked, extending an arm to Agnes. Agnes rolled her eyes and trudged toward him, locking her arm with his.

“There had better be good wine,” she huffed, straightening her posture to match his.

“I'll ensure you’re… appropriately compensated for your time,” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Agnes watched from afar with a glass of wine in her hand as Enver Gortash mingled with people at the party. He was so good at making people like him, flashing a charismatic smile here, laughing at a terrible joke there. She envied that quality of his.

Agnes was good with her words, she could manipulate, intimidate, and deceive her way through any situation. But people very rarely liked her. They feared her, sure. But no one would ever wish to be in her presence willingly. No one but him, anyway. He respected her, he listened to her. Her regular company of Bhaalists doted on her, scattering around trying to ensure everything was perfect for her. They worshiped her. But Enver saw her as an equal. Something she had never experienced.

She wished she could pretend to care about the drivel these people spouted to appease them, but it all felt like a waste of time. ‘Networking’ is what he called it, but she figured it was just an excuse for him to show off. There were more pressing matters in their lives than placating a few patriars, but he insisted that this was important. And if it was important to him, then it was important to her.

As she watched Enver speaking to a group of women, a man staggered in her direction, the smell of liquor radiating off of him.

“Ah, you,” he mumbled, nearly falling over onto her. “You’re here with Gortash, eh?” Agnes dodged his handshake, nearly spilling her wine.

“I guess so,” Agnes was hoping to avoid any such conversations about her relationship with Enver.

“I always thought you were just his little lapdog, it seems he’s trying to make an honest woman out of you,” the man spat at her, laughing between drunken hiccups. Agnes felt her blood boiling at this man's assessment of her relationship with Gortash. How dare this lowlife spit such disgusting words at her, the daughter of Bhaal. Didn’t he know who he was messing with?

As her rage continued to build, she felt herself instinctively reach for the dagger that wasn’t there. Cursing to herself, she felt the anger rising, her fingers twitching with anticipation. Enver insisted on no murders, he didn’t say anything about maiming someone.

As she mulled over in her mind all of the ways she could make this man pay for what he’d said, she felt a presence behind her. Enver laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it ever so gently, as if to say “Not here”. Agnes shrugged his hand off of her, stomping on the drunken man's foot as she walked by. She dumped her wine into a potted plant, placed the glass chalice on a random shelf, and found her way to the rooftop.

“Bold,” Enver lowly whispered to the drunken man. He could tell the man instantly regretted ever walking up to Agnes. Most men brave enough to walk up to her did.

“She’s something else,” the man scoffed, trying to steady himself on his feet before walking back towards the bar.

Enver smiled to himself, she really was something else. She very well could’ve killed this man right here in front of everyone. It was in her nature, her right as the Chosen of Bhaal to do so. But she didn’t. Because he had asked her not to. He felt powerful, he had this Bhaalspawn wrapped around his finger.

She would do most anything he asked of her. She had killed plenty of people at his request, people who had slighted him, or looked at him funny. She wouldn’t hesitate to strike down anyone in his way, he’d watched her go to extreme lengths to show him her devotion to him.

This power over her would be most useful, if she didn’t have the same power over him. He was helpless when it came to her. He wanted to fulfill her every request, to be whatever or whoever she wanted him to be. Enver couldn’t help himself around her, her approval was more important than breathing.

Agnes looked out over the city, pulling her hair out of her usual tight ponytail. She raked her hands through her long hair as she mulled over what that disgusting excuse for a man had said. He had called her Enver’s ‘lap dog’. Is this what people thought when they saw her? They should feel fear and dread gazing upon her. She was the physical embodiment of murder. If her father knew about this, about what people thought of her, he would be furious. She wasn’t even supposed to be hanging around the Baneite outside of business. But she couldn’t help herself. He made her feel ways in which no amount of killing or worshiping ever did. He made her feel alive. She knew she couldn’t indulge in this dalliance forever. Eventually, she would kill him.

Enver climbed the stairs to the rooftop. He knew he would find her up here, she loved watching the city as it slept. He kept his distance for a moment, watching her as she gazed upon the city, her shoes off and hair down.

He felt a pang in his heart while looking at her. Their relationship was destined for tragedy. As the Chosen of opposing gods, surely only one of them would come out of this. He secretly hoped it would be her. Sure he wanted to live, he wanted to continue ruling with the Black Hand of Bane, to bring the city of Baulder’s Gate into his grasp. To finally be the tyrant he had been striving to be. But if he kept mingling with the Bhaalspawn, he knew he would find himself on the wrong side of her blade one of these days. And he knew she would win.

“How did I know you’d be up here,” Enver smiled, walking towards Agnes. She didn’t turn to face him, but rather addressed him as if she knew he had been there the whole time.

“Does everyone just see me as your little puppy? Some lapdog that you order around,” she asked. Enver walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and placing his chin on her shoulder.

“Would it be so bad if they did?” he purred, nuzzling his face into her neck, taking in her scent. A light metallic smell nearly perfectly covered by notes of bergamot and vanilla distracted him. Before he knew it, she had grabbed his right arm, twisting it behind his back and bringing him to his knees before her.

“I am no one's dog,” she barked, twisting his arm harder, causing him to cry out. “Especially not yours, Baneite.”

She had him in such a vulnerable spot. One thrust of a dagger and she would be able to feel his warm blood flow through her fingers. She became distracted by the ache in her head as she imagined killing Enver Gortash. Agnes released her grip on his arm, pushing him away from her to avoid hurting him.

“You’re right,” Enver smiled up at her. She scoffed in his direction, turning to face the city below.

“Why did you bring me here, Enver,” she sighed. He rose to his feet, walking up to her and placing his hand next to hers so that their pinky fingers intertwined.

“Truthfully,” he sighed, looking over at her. “I don’t know. Maybe to watch you squirm, make you uncomfortable. To show you off. Because I shouldn’t have, but I wanted to.” Enver had plenty of reasons for wanting to bring her with him tonight, none of which seemed very important now. He just wanted to be with her.

Agnes turned towards him, leaning against the balcony’s ledge. She studied him, trying to map every part of his face, taking in his near black eyes, the dark circles under them, and the scar on his chin that she had given him the first time he kissed her. She knew this wouldn’t last forever and she didn’t want to forget a single detail.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Enver’s face curled into a frown. He knew what she was doing. He hated when she looked at him like this, like it might be the last time. “I don’t want to think about all of that right now. Your father, the brain, none of it. I just want to be here.” Enver moved in towards her, placing a hand on her neck, rubbing his thumb against her cheek.

Agnes nuzzled against his hand, silently agreeing to have this moment for the two of them. They stood, pressed against each other for a moment, before Enver pulled away, a smirk crossing his face. Agnes cocked her head to the side as he stretched out a hand, slightly bowing.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, eyes glinting in Agnes’ direction. Agnes laughed, she had never danced before. Let alone had someone ask her to. Enver gently grabbed her hand, pulling her close.

“Enver, I can’t dance.” Agnes averted her gaze, almost embarrassed at her lack of experience.

“Then allow me to guide you,” Enver placed a hand on the small of her back, interlacing the fingers on his other hand with hers. She looked up at him, nervous she would fumble or look like a fool. He flashed a warm smile at her, picking her up effortlessly and spinning her around. She giggled, throwing her head back as he spun her.

The pair slowly danced in circles to the music of the night. Enver teaching the bhaalspawn a simple two step dance. Agnes rested her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. Time felt infinite in this moment as they spent it in each other's arms, savoring every second.

The Urges in Agnes began to rise, her knife hand aching to cause destruction. Visions of blood and gore swam in her head, the image of Enver eviscerated in front of her, her hands soaked in his blood played in her mind. She tried fighting it for as long as she could, but as day began to break, she untangled herself from Enver’s arms.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, holding on to her hand. She broke free of his grasp, walking over to grab her shoes.

“I need to leave. I don’t want to hurt you.” Enver knew that the Urges were calling upon her. He let out a frustrated sigh as she watched her gather herself. She had no choice but to give in to them, somewhere else, lest she hurt him.

“I’ll see you tonight?” he asked, hopeful she would return to him.

“We’ll see,” she muttered, collecting herself. Enver nodded, adjusting the collar on his robes.

“Thank you.” she whispered, kissing his cheek as she walked away from him.

“For what?” he asked, turning around. She was gone.

As she walked through the sewers back to the temple, Agnes kept replaying the night with Enver Gortash in her mind. He had been so gentle, so kind. She rarely experienced such tender touch. If it wasn’t for the murderous Urges calling upon her, she never would’ve left his side. Walking into her chambers, Agnes passed by a cracked mirror. She stole a glance at herself, her long hair still down, draped over her shoulders. She was still in the red dress Enver had given her, however it was now torn and tattered from dredging through the sewers. A pity.

In a moment of weakness, she straightened up in the mirror, mimicking the movements Enver had taught her when they had danced. No one had bothered to show Bhaal’s chosen the finer things; dancing, good wine, and how to mingle with people. She never thought she needed any of these things. They were frivolous wastes of time, her time and expertise were better suited elsewhere. But she couldn’t help wanting to indulge in these things with him.

She imagined a life with him where she didn’t have to be what she was. Somewhere they could just be; no god’s at their throats, no evil plans. Maybe they would have a little house, a cat? Before resigning herself to sleep, she continued to practice dancing in the mirror. She wanted to be better next time she got the chance to dance with Enver Gortash. Little did she know, that chance would never come.

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dilucsflame33 · 1 year

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Darkest Desires 🔥

137. "You like that, don't ya?"

139. "Dang, that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble."

140. "If you're good, I'll let you play with my sias."

143. "You're wearing too much."

144. "You know what I want."

Welcome back, everyone! This is a special request from the Queen herself ;) @turtle-babe83

She requested Kink or Treat: Bloody Mary, Raphael style! She gave me the masters choice, so I have delivered. I hope you love this, Hon! Hopefully I didn't go overboard. 😅

🔞 Warning 🔞 NFSW 18+

Use of weapon, bondage, tentacle play, dacryphilia, overstimulation, body worship, praise kink, double penetration, Daddy kink, and feral Raphael.

"I-Is that all you've got, big guy?"

Raphael can't help but laugh as he hears your stutter, moans and whimpers come out of your lips as black mist like tentacles took hold of your body and used you for its own pleasure.

Goodness, you look so delectable.

Raphael took hold of your cheeks in his hand; your cheeks squished and lips turned into a pout, his eyes gleamed with pride knowing he was the one who gave you such bliss. A chuckle left him.

"Dang," he says as he watched as you orgasmed for the third time that night. "That mouth of yours is gonna get yourself in trouble."

He leaned in as he watched tears of pleasure run down your cheeks, making the turtle groan. "I wanna see you break, princess, and I'm not stopping until I say so."

Raph groaned as he woke up from his coma. His emerald eyes scanned the place as his eyes widened. He was sitting on the ground, chained to a metal pole as he looked down. At least his weapons are still there.

Where was he? He was with the others, then he was knocked unconscious.

The flooring and the roof are made out of wood; the shelving has really spooky intricacies that make it look like you're in some Resident Evil video game. Jars and other containers are filling the shelves and some with century old books. Some books look like they have seen better days. In the middle of the room was a black cauldron. Judging by the smoke illuminated from inside, someone must have recently been here. There was a window that was close to the door, the moon shining full in the night sky.

When he turned to his right he jumped when a black crow was sitting next to him, staring into his soul and making the brute feel uneasy.

Raph inclined his head as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Okay, Raphael, this is the plan. You're strong enough to break these chains. If you could break a concrete boulder, you can break through metal and iron. He thought to himself as he readied for breaking the chains.

"I wouldn't try that, if I were you."

Raph jerked out of his thoughts as a woman came into view from behind him. The woman was gorgeous. Dark, raven hair was in beautiful curls as she pulled her hood back. Her celestial blue eyes shine through the darkness as her red velvet dress swayed with her movements. Her heels clanked against the hardwood floor as she picked up a lantern from the table that was behind him to his left.

His green eyes held furrying rage as he stared down at the woman, who placed the lantern on top of the pedestal in front of the cauldron. "Who are you? And what do you want from me?"

"Oh, feisty. I always love men like you. I bet your soul is tasty as you look." The woman smiled wickedly. Her red lipstick makes her all the more gorgeous, yet eerie. Her voice is silky smooth and aged like fine wine.

Raph felt uncomfortable with her sentence. The only woman he preferred was Y/N. "Sorry, lady, but I'm not interested." Was his reply as he adjusted his posture. "And I don't appreciate you chaining me up either. So, we can either do this the easy way. Or, my vote, the hard way."

The woman laughed as her palm clutched her chest. "Oh, darling, you crack me up. The name is Olivia. Try to break those chains, I dare you."

Raph huffed as he yanked his arms, but the chains didn't break. Nor the metal pole that was attached to the wooden ceiling. His eyes widened in panic.

"Fascinating, is it not? Just a simple spell to keep the bonds and pole intact while you struggle for your life." She smiled as she went to the shelves, her finger pointing through the book titles. Her smile widened when she pulled one as she looked through the contents. "Perfect."

Raph watched her as his stomach felt queasy, his breathing rapid. It was like that time when he jumped off the plane a year ago. Panic and fear filled his being. What was she going to do to him? She was literally human!

Olivia hums as she reads whatever was in the book, turning page after page until her eyes widened with mischief.

"Tell me, Raphael, do you believe in demons?"

"I mean, I'm a walking-talking turtle. What else should I need to know?" Raph glared as his fist clenched.

"Oh, you will learn a lot more when you've become one yourself, my dear Raphael."

Then black smoke started to form from within the cauldron, making the turtle try to go backwards but couldn't when his shell hit the metal pole. He's trapped and can't do anything about it. He couldn't stand it. He doesn't like being held down, much less by a crazy witch who's gonna turn him into a demon.

Olivia started chanting a ritual as more of the black mist started to cover his being. He hissed as the burning sensation trickled from his legs to his thighs. Then his abdomen and his chest. When the mist fully covered him his body felt hot, almost like he needed to jump into some cold water. Soon his breathing picked up and growls came out of his throat as his hips jerked, his lower regions becoming all the more painful. Just when he let out growls and churrs, the lantern that was on the pedestal broke into pieces. Glass and metal scattered on to the floor as the woman had a shocked looking face. "My word!"

"W-What have you done to me?" His voice was rough and husky as his emerald eyes glowed from within the darkness.

"Just turned you into a demon. If you want to get technical, an incubus." She smirked as she closed the book. "Now, I feel like there's someone in your life. Someone who can fulfill all your fantasies. So, why not go ahead and take advantage of the new powers I have gifted to you?"

With that she snapped her fingers and the chains broke off from his wrists; the sound of metal hitting the floor and Raph reached for her, but Olivia waved her hand as he was flown from the room and out of the abandoned warehouse.

Olivia laughed as she watched him leave.

"Have fun, Raphael."

Y/N was sound asleep when she heard a noise from her room. Jerked awake, she looked around. There was nothing out of the ordinary and she sighed, shaking her head as she laid back onto her pillow.

Few minutes passed and she was about to go back to dreamland, until she felt hand touch her ankle and she jerked awake again. Turning on the lamp from her bedside table, there was nothing there yet she could feel eyes on her. Like someone was watching her.

Getting up from her bed she opened her bedroom door, looked around, and saw nothing. She waltzed towards her window, looked outside and saw nothing. Making sure she locked both the door and window.

She got into bed, turned off the light and covered herself. Whatever it was, it's gone now. Or she hoped it was.

Her phone rang and she groaned, turning onto her side and grabbed her phone. It was Leo. She answered it with a tired, "Hello?"

"Y/N, I apologize for waking you up but we have a problem." Leo's voice was serious, almost panicked as he spoke. "We can't find Raphael and it's been over an hour since we've last separated."

That woke her up as she sat up from her bed, back against the headboard. She checked her clock and it was after one in the morning. "What happened?"

"I don't know. We were doing our nightly rounds and we got separated. I thought he was with us, then when I turned around he was gone. Like he just disappeared out of thin air!"

"What's bad was I saw him next to me!" Mikey's voice came through the phone, probably having her on speaker. "But his expression doesn't look right, man! It's so creepy. Like his eyes weren't green, almost hollowed out and doesn't have eyes!"

"And his skin was darker than usual," Donnie commented. "It was like our brains were manipulated into seeing something that wasn't entirely there! Like a projection."

Y/N started to get weirded out. Not only did her beloved boyfriend disappear but also the guys were experiencing something out of the norm. Even if they are mutants, whatever they are seeing was something paranormal all together.

"And this only happened tonight, right?" She asked, the others affirmed with 'yes'. The woman rubbed her eyes as she could have sworn she saw something from the corner of her eye. "Okay. Retrace your steps: go to the place where you thought Raph looked normal and try to find anything that was left behind. Whoever took Raph has to be another mutant, right?"

"Hold on, Y/N, what kind of address did you give us?"

"Huh?" The woman was confused. She didn't mention any type of address and she was about to speak when Leo interrupted.

"I don't know what kind of address you gave us, but hopefully it'll give us some leads. We'll update you if we find anything." With that, Leo hung up.

Y/N was gonna call them back when her phone was thrown across the room, making the woman gasp as she climbed to the middle of her bed. She could hear the floors creak as she stared into the darkness but couldn't make out anything.

Then green emerald eyes glowed as she gasped inaudibly. His tall, broad stature was completely black as their eyes met. Y/N wanted to speak but nothing would come out, completely terrified as the figure's eyes stared her down.

"Y/N." His voice spoke, and it made your heart jump, felt like it's coming out of your throat. "Don't be afraid. It's me."

With a gulp of confidence - and saliva - she slowly eased off from the bed and walked towards the figure, still feeling uneasy. The woman never believed in the paranormal, yet she never believed in mutated turtles until she met one. Or never thought she will fall in love with one either.

Standing in front of the light where the window casted, she stood in front of the figure. Taking slow deep breaths, she said, "W-Who are you? And why are you in my house?"

The figure stepped back and raised its hands in surrender. "Woah, there, tiger. I'm not allowed to come see ya?" His voice teased, she could have sworn she saw him smirking.

Y/N eyes widened as she looked at the figure more carefully, taking in his words. This couldn't be who she thought it was, right? Testing out her theory she reached up to his hand and taking hold of it. Calluses ran inside of his palm as she trailed her eyes towards his bulky biceps and looked into his eyes once again. The green is more vibrant but there's no doubt on who this person was.

"Raphael?" She whispered as her eyes focused in the darkness and more of his figure became apparent. He looks just the same as ever, but his skin was darker than usual. It could be the lighting, but his eyes don't usually glow in the dark like this. "What's happened to you? Why aren't you with your brothers?"

Raphael snickered as he stood one foot to the other. "It's a long story, babe. But, right now," He smirked as he leaned in towards you, his lips barely brushing up against yours. "I want to have a taste of you."

With that she gasped as black mist like tentacles started to form and slowly eased towards her. "W-What is this?"

"A witch did this to me." He gruffed as he crossed his arms, making his arms and shoulders more broad. "Turned me into an incubus and now I want to have every single ounce of you, baby. Every cry, scream, moan and whimper you make will be mine. Every inch of your body belongs to me. I wanna hear you scream out my name when you come on my cock. To feel your insides squeeze me and fill you to the brim." His eyes sparked when he saw your breathing pick up speed. "How does that sound, babe?"

Oh. Good. Heavens.

Never in her life had she heard her boyfriend talk this much filth. He has talked dirty to her before, but this went above and beyond. She let out a whimper as she was affected by his words and the tentacles slowly wrapped around her legs. Only wearing pajama top and shorts she screeched as she was suddenly yanked above the floor, arms above her head and legs spread. Raphael growled deep within his throat as he took in this delicious sight.

"You like that, don't ya?" His voice became an octave deeper as he trailed his finger tips from her ankles to her calves. "To be manhandled by a mutant turtle-"

"Who's also my boyfriend, so you better watch what you say." Y/N snapped. She can't stand it when he downgrades himself. Raphael's perfect in every way. Yes, he has flaws but so does everyone on this earth. "You know I can't stand it when you downgrade yourself, Raphie."

His eyes widened but soon softened. "I don't deserve you, baby doll. I-I'm a hothead, stubborn and a freak! How can a beautiful woman date someone like me?"

"Raphael, look at me," It took a while but he did. Emerald eyes stared at her and she smiled gently. "I don't want anyone else, baby. Nobody can love me like you can, or touch me like you. And nobody will ever understand me like you can. You're always there for me when I need you. I choose you because I love all of you, Raphael. Flaws and all, and you love me just the same. We're in this together and I'm not leaving. I will tell you again and again if I had to. I love you, Raphael."

The red clad turtle bit his lip as tears welled up in his eyes. Yes he's loved by his brothers and father, but something feels different knowing there's someone else besides family who has confessed their love to you.

"You may be hot headed, but you're my big softy. My big teddy bear when I need to cuddle and cry on." He chuckled as memories came to his mind. He's definitely a teddy bear, the only time he will ever admit it was in private. He would never hear the end of it when his brothers were around.

He leaned towards her and kissed her forehead, cheeks, nose. Anywhere on her face he would kiss, making the woman squeal in delight. "I love you more, babe. So much more than you will ever know." He's not good with words but he's a man of action and Raphael's a man on a mission. "But I do have something to tell ya though."

When Y/N tilted her head to the side, the man chuckled. "You're wearing too much."

A gasp escaped her as Raphael used his sias and cut off her clothes without a scratch on her. Her scent more apparent, he inhaled as a deep groan rumbled from within his chest. "Gods, you smell good."

"Raphie, please."

"Call me Daddy."

Oh, goodness gracious. That was hot!

A moan rumbled from her throat as the tentacles slowly made its way towards her breasts and tweaked them. She tried to close her legs but couldn't as the mist held them in their place. Raph smirked as one tentacle slithered towards her sex and rubbed her clit, the other teasing her entrance.

"This is definitely a sight to see." And with that he leaned against the wall, enjoying the show as his baby doll was being used. He shifted his legs as he felt uncomfortable in his pants. Gosh how he wants to rip them off, but not right now.

He wants to see Y/N quivering in ecstasy.

"If you're good, I'll let you play with my sias." He chuckled as he twirled his weapon in his hand. "Or, better yet, I'll let ya play with cock."

Y/N moaned out as the tentacle sunk deep within her. Two playing with her nipples, one teasing her clit and the other slowly yet torturously going in and out from her sex. And it's not his size. She wanted him badly. "D-Daddy, please. I need you!"

"If you're still talking, my friends aren't doin' ya right. Pick up the pace boys." Raph commanded as your screams echoed throughout the bedroom. Wet sounds emitted from your core and you can't help but to clench as your orgasm was coming closer with every thrust.

"That's it, baby. You're doing so good for Daddy." He praised as he bit his lip as he watched you reach your climax. "You can handle another, right?"

He didn't give her enough time to reply when she felt another tentacle reach her back end, it's slick enough as it teased her rim.

"Come on, baby. Give me another." After he said that, she came again. Just being overstimulated like this was driving her mad. "That's my girl."

Oh, how she whimpered from the praise.

"What do you want, princess?" Raph asked as he pushed himself from the wall and walked towards her trembling body. She wailed in ecstasy as a tentacle slowly pryes it's way inside her anal canal. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and both of her holes had been filled.

"Y-You know what I want." She spoke once again and Raph 'tsked'. With that look, she knew that he wasn't done with her.

"You can still speak," He gruffed as he took off his pants. His throbbing cock now free from confinement, taking grasp in his hand and stroking it. Groans left his throat as he touched himself. "Pull her mouth towards me."

With that, the tentacles maneuvered her as she was now faced with his throbbing pendage.

"Let's see how it feels with all three of your holes being used, hm?"

The pleasure was non-stop. She lost count on how many times she came, but all she knew was that she's been filled to the brim from her sex as Raphael pounded into her like a feral animal. He came in her throat, on her stomach, back and now he's claimed her womb with his essence twice.

She could feel his seed exited from within her and spilled to the floor below them. All she could do was scream and wail, and she was about to lose her voice.

Whenever he tells her to speak and she replies with words, he wasn't having it. Raphael was making sure she cannot speak properly. He wants to do his job right.

The tentacles still working on her breasts and her anal canal, but Raph owned her sex. Claiming it his property.

"You're taking my cock so good, baby doll. Just look at you. Eyes rollin' and everything." He groaned as he continuously thrust into every spot from within her. "Tell me, baby. Who do you belong to?"

All she could do was moan out and he smirked. "That's my good girl. Gosh, I love you so much!"

With that, she came for the final time as he roared from his orgasm. More of his essence spilled from within her and fell to the floor, but none of them cared. They both relinquish the feeling of their bodies joined together at this moment.

With that, he finally pulled away from her as the tentacles slowly left the woman's body and Raphael held her in his arms. "You did so well, baby. I love you so much."

Y/N groaned as she tried to feel her arms but couldn't as her body was made out of jelly. Raphael officially screwed her brains out. When she looked up, his eyes no longer glowing in the darkness and his skin not the darker shade.

He's back to normal.

"Come on, princess. Let's get ya to the bath." Raph carried his woman to the bathroom and started filling up the tub. Water the perfect temperature, he gently placed her down inside. He added some bubbles for her enjoyment. "Let me grab ya some water, okay?"

All she could do was nod tiredly as she watched him walk out of the bathroom. The water was so warm and she could fall asleep.

When Raph came back with water, his eyes melted as he saw her sleeping form. Her head resting on the side as little snores emitted from her lips. He placed the glasses down and rubbed her head, placing a kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight, baby. I'll be here when you wake up."

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🔞 REBLOGS ONLY, NO REPOST 🔞

#dilucsflame33 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt bayverse raphael #bayverse raphael smut #raphael x reader #raphael x reader smut

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two-white-butterflies · 2 years

Text

dragon rider pt. 2

Description: Daemon finds out about Otto's reaction and decides to weaponize his anger towards a certain father-in-law. In which, Daemon calls Otto "Dad"

part 1

There was no doubt that The Hightower Sisters were ambitious and beautiful. Alicent was broody and coy, but her older sister Y/N was scheming and resentful – she began hate for her father, when the late Lady Hightower died.

Now her anger doubled after his humiliation. "He slapped you?" Daemon questioned as he tried to soothe his lover's aching face. "I apologize if you had to see me like this," she apologizes as she stares into his purple eyes.

She wanted sickness upon her father, but she knew that his father did not deserve Daemon's anger. The Rogue Prince was easy to anger, but slow to forgive (if he ever does.) "You apologize for something you have no control of," he comforts as he places a kiss on her delicate cheeks.

"Still – it's a disgrace, the servants saw us – no doubt that your reputation is ruined." she states as he wraps his arms around her. "You can't ruin what is already ruined, Lady Hightower." he jokes as he places another kiss on her neck.

He buries his face on her neck – inhaling her expensive perfume. "My anger does not waver, what do you want me to do about him?" he asks as if he was expecting Ser Otto's head.

Y/N frowns as she pushes him down on her bed. "I just want to pretend it never happened. I'm too ashamed" she whispers as she lays her head in his chest. He hums in understanding, although his heart yearns for revenge.

He wanted to harm Ser Otto – maim him in ways that no man could recover from. "You shouldn't be ashamed, it should be your father – that cunt." he curses at the man while she bites back a chuckle.

"But we got what we wanted, right? We'll get married and everyone will forget about it." she tries to reason with him, as he shakes his head in disagreement. "They disgrace my lady," he spat and she presses a kiss on his cheeks.

"He's going to be your good father, my dragon. You should try to be civil with him." she replies as she stands up and presses another kiss on his forehead.

Daemon smirks – father, that was right.

Y/N groans and he looks at her confusingly, "You're wearing that 'up to no good' face once more. I can only hope that the dark sister doesn't clash with anyone's neck." she mutters while he stands up, a brand new idea popping in the back of his head.

"Daemon, stay out of trouble." she yells behind him as he began to march towards his brand new conquest.

---

Viserys was a fool for wanting peace between Otto and Daemon – not realizing that his brother has used him as a trampoline for his revenge. "It is such a pleasure to have you, brother." Viserys smiles as Daemon sat proudly beside his brother.

"It is a pleasure to be invited," Daemon replies in mock sincerity as he stared straight at Y/N's father. At first, he wanted to bash Otto's skull – but now he realizes that he could do that without using his fists.

"I wanted a way for both of you to talk about Lady Y/N and Daemon's engagement privately." Viserys explains as Otto hums, wearing a facade of gratefulness – when deep inside he wanted to kill his daughter for being so foolish.

The servant places wine on all of their cups and Otto clears his throat. "Me and my daughters were delighted with the engagement, especially Queen Alicent – it seems like they will be family again." Otto tries to act ecstatic while Daemon smirks.

"The delight is all ours, father." he managed to slip out as Otto's face began to change into a red tint of disgust. The King was unfazed however – it seemed like he didn't quite care for his brother's tomfoolery but was instead happy that he'd finally tie the knot.

"Pardon?" Ser Otto questioned while Viserys noticed the tension growing between the both of them. "I suppose we all heard what he said. It's quite alright Daemon, and you should get used to it Ser Otto – he is to be your good son." he comes to his brother's defense as Daemon smiles back at Otto – his smile mirroring one of those children who'd won an argument.

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#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x hightower #hightower

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villain-byteniwoha · 13 days

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ships i like and why i ship them: a small, affectionate rant before bed

zhongchi: probably the first ship i ever interacted with. i may have started playing genshin for them. I specifically remember reading modern, non canon au fics on ao3 when i was still low AR and did not have liyue unlocked yet just to enjoy content of them without spoiling the story too much. those were good times

love the betrayal, the reciprocated manipulations, their individual bloody pasts and their juxtaposing love for humanity/family. the marriage chopsticks. god, the amount of threads I've read explaining those... and ofc you can't forget the official art with them by the harbor with the gingko leaves falling cinematically. i think that's the art that drew me to them lol

there's also something so deliciously tragic about a near-immortal being who's fated to succumb to erosion in due time, falling in love with a mortal man who's always within death's cold embrace. not to mention the subtext of their themes and principles. geo and hydro, stability and turbulence, land and sea, they crystallize when they meet in the middle, etc etc

kaeluc: another pairing I enjoyed the absolute shit out of, way back when I wasn't even playing the game yet. I remember learning about them while I was deep in my mxtx phase, specifically tgcf, and I'm pretty sure I dipped my toes in after I learned that they used to be sworn brothers. keywords here being used to. hook, line, and sinker. before I knew it, I was also reading fanfics about them, but only modern, non canon au ones because genshin terms made no sense to me and i didn't want spoilers. then I played the game. and then—we get Kaeya for free. I mained the shit out of that man for months.

and then. I fully entered the fandom, only to be immediately slapped in the face with the mistranslation issue.

and I get it, honestly, if you like ragbros good for you, I'm happy for you, but me personally, I will scorn hyv until the day I fucking die because had they not messed this up? kaeluc would've have been so powerful. KAELUC WOULD HAVE BEEN SO FUCKING POWERFUL

how could they not be? they're childhood friends but they're also forbidden romance coded, and rivals/enemies coded, but they're also soulmates. they don't just know each other, they're two halves of a whole, they know each other.

and the themes, don't even get me started on their themes. fire and ice, red and blue... paimon's line about them being similar (i.e. kaeya's a shady mf who fights in the day/diluc's a bright fire in the night) is one of the most romantic lines ever. they're sun and moon but only because they complete each other. also, lamp grass and calla lily? that's them as flowers, but they're the other person's ascension material like hello???????? fucking wild.

and ofc this kaeluc section can't end without me mentioning arundolyn and rostam. for those who don't know or have read/heard of those names but never really dug deep into it, arundolyn and rostam were knights of favonius around the same time as the cataclysm, and you can read about them in artifact sets such as brave heart, defender's will; and partially from the elegy bow

the reason they're here is because there are too many damn parallels between them and kaeluc to just be a coincidence.

arundolyn was a claymore user (see: ferrous shadow), he was the "lion of light,"; he was naturally gifted in strength but still trained hard and would later become the grand master of the knights; he'd push rostam to drink wine and tell him to have a little fun; he gives up his title and weapon after rostam dies

on the flip side, rostam was the swordsman who created the art of favonius bladework (see: favonius sword), his title was, "wolf pup,"; when he and arundolyn played as children, he was the stand-in for the champion knight of aristocracy; he "ruled the shadows," by protecting mond with ways the knights did not approve; rostam dies in an expedition to expunge the evils poured forth from the cataclysm...

I'll let you connect the dots there. I just also wanna point out, as a final note, that in the favonius sword's description, it says, "the childhood friend and spiritual counterpart of Arundolyn, the Lion of Light, whose name was Rostam, the Wolf Pup." ok. yeah. moving on

xiaoven: i very quickly realized after reading the genshin webtoon that venti was gonna be one of, if not my most favorite character. and i was curious as to who the people wanted to pair him with. keep in mind, this was around 2.0~2.2 I believe, so when I searched them up, the only canon backing I could find was the music scene

and boy, was that scene enough because holy shit, the brain rot these two gave me??? of a god who embodies freedom, and the last remaining yaksha chained to his duty????? they were so thematically opposed and beautiful, it wasn't hard to fall in love with them

by the time 3.0 came rolling in, I've already stopped playing, but that didn't mean i wasn't aware of how we were well fed by canon. from the trailer to venti full on attending the lantern rite and sitting down with the liyue gang; it was one of those interactions that transcended everything

and of course, OF COURSE, they also canonically addressed the fact that venti's music soothes xiao's soul. that's intimate. that's deep. that's so fucking romantic and nice and beautiful in the most tragic way...

also, we can't forget the depictions of god and servant here. the holy themes, the worship. the promise of immortality and foreverness, but also the threat of it. i just think xiao doomed with karmic debt and venti vowed to divine erosion is such a soulmate connection, and I'm also delusional

that's all for now but there's so much more...

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rkivepetals · 3 months

Text

The secret history

chapter ten.

Series master list

Main master list

Of all the creatures that move upon the earth, nothing is bred as weaker as the man.

Jungkook X fem!reader ft.all bts members

Genre: dark/gothic academia, slow romance, forced marriage, mystery, thriller (??) found family and Greek mythology.

Wc: 7k

Mentions of smoking, religion, bird-eating, a lot of blood, demons, wine, snakes, Greeks, monsters, knifes/weapons etc. (let me know if I should add more)

"Jesus Christ, what a monstrous evening," I say as I feel jungkook gulp. "He's chained." Jungkook muttered lowly in my ear, "Oh, is he?" My vision blurred, I felt tears and the last thing I knew was blood running down my mouth from my nose. It dropped on the floor as the monster growled so loud that my hair flew back, I lost balance, completely depending on jungkook now. "Are you okay? Why are you bleeding?"

He whispered while panting, sweat forming on his skin as I stared into his large eyes, "I.." I threw up and realised I had thrown up blood. "Y/n?! What is happening?! Jesus!" He held my face and removed my glasses, he was an even more blurry mess as tears ran down my face, the monster growled at us, I gulped the remaining blood that was irking my throat, made a fist of myself as jungkook repeatedly wiped the blood with panic drowning him six feet deep.

"I will find you." I mutter with such a vile, angry, force pushing me to the ground. I stared at the monster's eyes, which were on the verge of breaking its chains, and before I even knew it, I was on the ground with a thud, and I had fainted. Or might've just died.

To my horror, I opened my eyes and I saw the clean, white, pale familiar hospital ceilings. That means it is bad. Very bad, if you end up in the hospital. I hope I'm at least not paralysed, I wasn't. I removed the oxygen mask and looked onto my side. Jungkook was sleeping, head on the bed I was on, hands sprawled, fingers loosely tangled around mine. My stomach churned.

I looked out of the window, full moon, no rain. It was dark, probably midnight. I looked back at jungkook, his face was hidden from me, I didn't see his eyes. I looked at our hands, remembering all the incidents that happened, I felt sick to my stomach. But I frowned when I noticed stains on his palm, I took his warm palm into mine. Red, deep, stains like tattoos.

Unfortunately, I had woken him up. He looked at me, drowsy. As usual, I become conscious of how I look. His eyes turned wide awake, sparkles in his orbs as he immediately hugged me. My fingers twitch when I hear his heartbeat, "I was so worried." I heard him whisper, stunned to my core I blinked and shoved him away.

"Stay away from me." My stomach churned, of what, I don't know. Was it hunger or the way he looked at me? "You were—" "What are those stains on your hand? Is it my blood?" I asked, he looked at his palms and then at me, nodding. "Even your face is stained of your blood. Which is, really bizarre." He said as I touched my mouth, though I smelled antiseptic and nothing else. I gulped, "It's been eight days."

I looked at him, "I was in a coma?" He nods, "kind of. You bled so much but there wasn't anything wrong with you." He sat on the same stool he was sleeping on. "It was hell. That day was the worst day of my life." He remarked as I sighed, "What time is it? And why are you here?" I asked, he stood silent for a moment. "It's two past. I..." he contemplated looking at me, nervously rubbing his stained hands, "Ah! Your friends and I took turns to be here with you, it's day eight, my second night in the hospital."

Lie. His face tells he's sleeping here for the past week. "Can you get me some water?" He nods and gives me a bottle of plastic filled with water. I drank it desperately, and as soon as I pulled my lips away from the bottle, he exhaled. "You want something to eat?" I sighed, "It's two am, what will you get me anyway." He slightly chuckled, "I have a chocolate bar if you want."

He takes out a chocolate wrapped in a white colourful wrapper, the kind which kids prefer. He offered it to me, I looked at his face. His lips stretched into a thin smile, big eyes blinking. My stomach growled I took it with a snatch as he stared at me, I hurriedly opened the wrapper and ate it like my life depended upon it. Which was, perhaps true.

But the worst part of it was that I hated chocolates. I despised them with all my will, my heart burned and it stung my rib cage. I was fuming, "you okay?" My heart pained when I looked at jungkook, who was yet again worried for me. It feels terrible to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world. That's how he looked at me.

He passed me a tissue, "I'm going to sleep." I blink and lay down, feeling a sudden pain shoot up in the left part of my chest. Jungkook laid out the blanket upon me, "Go home." I say, the sudden guilt consuming me so deeply that I see my grave somewhere in a parallel universe. "No, I'll stay here. You sleep." So I closed my eyes and slept.

Well, I tried. I couldn't sleep, I shifted here and there. Jungkook was quietly roaming around, he saw the moon for a bit, smoked, tried reading a book, and even played with his phone as well. He was wide awake, sleepless, just like me. Unfortunately, he noticed me staring at him. "Not sleepy?"

He spoke that from the back of his throat, messing his hair, silky hair shall I add. "No, I was just about to sleep." I lied, though, I sat without my will. "Why did you open the window?" I asked, chilly air coming through it. "It was nice, you wanna go and see the view?" It's the easiness, the light of his voice so delicate and sweet yet bitter like a cheap coffee.

Coffee, the colour of his eyes. Though it looked slightly blue right now when I looked into them. So pure, so opal and innocent. Not a single soul would tell he's a liar, that lying is his way of dodging, ignoring, coping mechanism for god knows about what. "No, I'm fine," I must admit, I tried to relocate the attractiveness of his voice.

And I failed when he slightly chuckled, like a Prince Charming of some interesting nation, hair kissing the sides of his jaw, lips so red. Like a hero of some history movie yet he has that modern touch to his figure, too bad I was the villain. I was not the heroine, nor was I the princess or queen, I was there to ruin his nation and kill the motives of the hero. Which in fact, does kill the hero in itself.

"Oh, c'mon." He smiles dreamily, I was wrong. Kira did see something in him. I looked at his palm out to hold mine, I gulped and gave in. Hated it but still did it, I was doing all the wrong things even though I knew what was right. I wasn't naive, I knew I was leading him onto something more than just tolerable partners in crime. But I can't help it, he's irresistible. And I won't ever tell it to his face.

We stood by the small window, the moon shone brightly, and I smelled his same Bvlgari perfume in the air, taking over my own which was purely just antiseptic. My arms slightly brushed his, "do you have a cigarette?" I ask, he shuffled and then stopped. "You are not smoking today." I nod, though, after a couple of minutes, he pulls out a cigarette stick.

"I only have one." I looked at him, I do remember the night we shared a cigarette. I didn't fail to notice the twist in his kind smile turning to an arrogant one, the glint and mischief in his eyes and just him in general. I smiled, probably for the first time in a month to him, "Keep that to yourself. Maybe I should just not smoke."

He hummed, "right." He lit it and smoked, I wasn't that tempted tonight to just share, more like I abstained not to. "Are you not scared of me?" I ask as he shakes his head, "I'm not. You're my friend." I blinked and looked at him, "we are not friends." He looked at my face, "we're not?" I gulped when I noticed a glimpse of sadness or that he was just equally great at lying with his eyes.

"You know nothing about me." I inhaled as he waited for me to speak further, "I'm not a good person." "How are you not?" "Don't ask me that. Do you not remember? I made your life hell, because of me, kira left." He blew out smoke and rubbed the head of the stick, "Hmm. I hate you," I know he does not mean it, but I'm glad he spoke that despite not meaning it, "Good, I hate you too."

"Of all the creatures that move upon the earth, nothing is bred as weaker as the man." I gulped after saying that. "You..." jimin blinked at me, in awe. "You read that?" I nod, "I did." I say, "How did you even survive after all this? Jesus Christ." Jin shook his head, "I thought I wouldn't. But I did, and I'm sure it has a purpose." I say as namjoon raises his brows, "Your survival is a purpose?"

I nod, "by who?" He asked as I sighed. "That monster? What about it?" I asked as He frowned, "What monster?" I scoffed, "What'd you mean? Jungkook didn't tell you?" They shook their heads, "no he didn't tell us about any monsters. Snakes, Greeks, you bleeding. That's it." Yoongi said as I felt a hole in my stomach deepening, he was not with us.

I took my phone and ran out of the abandoned building, he was on the other end of the street, headphones on. I gulped and walked to him, "you lied to my friends." I say as he removes his wired earphones and blinks, "What are you talking about?" I squint my eyes, "why didn't you tell them about the monster?!" He scoffed, "What monster? That corpse your friends ripped to shreds?"

My frown flattens, my stomach boiling. "Don't you play games, Jungkook. Please." He shook his head, "seriously. What monster are you talking about? Genuinely asking." I bite my lips and stare at our shoes on the ground. Was that possible that only I remembered about the monster and not Jungkook? But Jungkook can be lying too, why would he lie though?

"Fine. There was no monster. You're right." I cut short and walked back, I stopped when I pressed my foot on the other street. "You're allowed," I say loudly as he smiles but I do not wait for him. I walk quickly to my friends, "there was a monster. But Jungkook doesn't remember about it. Trust me." Hoseok exhaled, "I trust you."

And the rest of us agreed with him. Thankfully Jungkook didn't hear anything, "so what's next?" He spoke as if it was a matter of who's the next government or what should we have for dinner. I sigh, "I'm going to try and research. That's it." I slip a note in Taehyung's pockets, "really? You told all those Greeks were..gods...and my ancestors—" "leave it. I was out of my mind."

I shut it as I pick up my bag and muffler, aiming to go home. "Are you not going to meet your mother? She missed you." I stopped dead in my tracks and looked back at Jungkook, "what mother?" I asked, the left side of his lip slightly curved. "Your mother?" I exhaled, "What mother? My mother?" I sighed, "You mean Mrs. Lane?"

He hums, knowing damn well he's pissing me off. "I told him." I looked at Jin, "What?! Why would you tell him that?! Why would you..." I scoffed, "Cut her some slack, jeon. She's just out of coma." Jin warned, "Fine fine. I was just teasing you. Your real mother called, him." I looked at taehyung as he smiled awkwardly.

"What did she say? Is she okay?" He smiled warmly, "She asked why you didn't visit her. Are you fine or what, I told her that you went into an accident and she said she'd come to see you. Though, she didn't." I blinked, why would she not come and see me? "Y/n?" I looked up at yoongi.

He cleared his throat, "are you going to meet your mother tonight?" I clicked my tongue, "I won't. She doesn't deserve me." Namjoon exhaled, "She's your mother." Jimin cooed at me, I scoffed at him. "Only giving birth to an accidental child does not make you a mother. You've to raise her, not keep her in lies the whole time." Yoongi exhaled, "since you're not. Let's have dinner at my house."

Namjoon broke into bewildered chuckles as I raised my brow at him, "Are you...sure?" Hobi asked, judgementally. "Yeah." Jin scoffed, "I swear, I will not be even filling my wine glass, aight yoon? I'm not going to cook." Yoongi hummed, "Uh-huh, you don't have to. I will take care." He glanced at Jungkook, "and he's allowed."

Jungkook blinked like an unwanted child, I slightly felt bad for him. "I am...still not believing my ears honestly." Taehyung furiously checked his ears. "Stop overreacting." Yoongi rolled his eyes, "when I don't invite you, you complain. And when I do, you complain too?" I sat on the chair beside Jungkook and folded my hands, "no one's complaining."

Yoongi, ahead of me, creaked a nasty smile. "Since you're being too generous today, yoongi. Find me a good tea cafe, that serves good tea, in this area." He scoffed and got up, "I'm not your servant." As he started to walk out, he "die." I curse, "actually," his boots slipped and danced against the rusty ground. "I'm experimenting with something and I've figured out a new way to kill a pigeon and eat it."

I squinted my eyes and scoffed, "You will rot in hell, yoon."

He clicked his tongue, "I know.”

I rolled my eyes as he walked completely out of our sight.

"I wonder if yoongi is even gonna serve us some food and just his philosophical opinions about gay men." Namjoon shrugged as I snorted, "Jesus, Joon. Shut it."

I open my phone to check the time and weather. 3:10 in the afternoon, nine degrees. I exhaled, "You want some bread? As an afternoon snack?" I looked at my side to Jungkook who suddenly spoke. "What?" I asked, he looked at me and then at my friends. "Well, I can give you a treat."

Namjoon chuckled at the starry-eyed jungkook, "I'd rather like you to pay our library bills, jeon. It's much better." Taehyung chuckles, "I'd rather want some bread though. With coffee." Jimin shook his head, "You need to pay your library fee, you're on the verge of getting banned." I frown, "how much is it?"

"Three hundred pounds or some shit. I dunno." Jimin said

"What?! Three hundred pounds? Are you even returning the books?" I asked,

"I am! But still, I can't...most of the time." tae pouts,

"He most probably has half a library at his apartment. I mean half an apartment at his library." Hobi joked,

"He's like, borrowing ten books every day," Jin said who was going through his book

"How do you even read it? And how do they...let you borrow ten books?" Jungkook asked,

"He's in touch with eighteen libraries. I'm afraid the librarians are gonna report him to the police or something." Namjoon shook his head,

"Jesus, Taehyung get a hold of yourself. Get a vacation!" I say as he shrugs,

"You wanna come to Italy this holiday? It's pretty fun there." He approached,

"Uh..." I didn't know how to deny, "not really."

"I would go with you." Jungkook smiled,

"Really?! Thank you, man! You are the sweetest."

Jimin cleared his throat, "Coffee and bread is it, jeon?" Jin asked, turning a page. Jungkook hums, "sure. Let's go." He checked his watch and stood up. I exhaled, "I want a hot chocolate." Taehyung packed up the first and fastest. I just hope he sees the note. Everyone was already out but I was checking some messages on my phone about the ongoing payments I've to take and cases I'm denying, talking business with jimin.

"C'mon, y/n! We're not gonna wait for losers no more!" Jungkook teased with his borrow raised, I didn't know why. But that made me smile to myself. "Let's go, I need caffeine," I say to jimin as he puts down his sprawled legs and follows me.

"You want a croissant or plain bread?" Jungkook asked, looking through the menu, "I'm fine. Just get me a chai." I said as he looked at me, lips slightly pouty. "Why? You should eat some bread. I'll get us croissants." I slightly scrunch my face when he walks away and probably places an order for about a hundred pounds. "You didn't have to buy so many things tae."

I say as he shrugs, "he's giving a treat. Let him." I nodded and looked outside and into the backyard of the cafe. It had a special outdoor sitting but didn't offer for so many people. Mostly couples sat on dates there, which I despise. But through the ugly experience of watching people cry, beg and eat out each other's faces, I saw someone I probably shouldn't have.

Kira stared at me and then at jungkook who was talking cash or card. Her blue eyes shone like diamonds. I scoffed, "I'll be back in a minute." I whisper to namjoon as he stares at me walking toward her. "Hello there." She didn't smile. which honestly, I expected her to. "What do you want?"

She was rude. I sigh, "I wanted to apologise." I say,

"For what?" She put her huge cup of latte aside, "for stealing my boyfriend?!"

"Hmm. I didn't steal him. You can have him if you want."

She stared at jungkook, I saw the tears in her eyes come to the brim, almost running down her pale cheeks. Kira was gorgeous.

"It seems like he has come to an adoration of you and your friends. Probably even love you more than ever." She physically trembled while saying it, that's how bitter it was for her.

I sighed, "No he doesn't. He does not love me in fact, he hates me. He said that to me last night." She gulped, "what do you want, y/n? Why are you doing this?" Finally, a tear ran down, ruining her mascara and liner. I sighed, "Kira. We're all looking for demons, who play well with our own. So Don't try to be so innocent, you left him. Didn't you? I didn't tell you that, nor did he." She sniffed, "And? How am I supposed to be with a man who has a legally, wedded, wife? Whom he sleeps with behind closed doors?"

She was right. But this case was different, I am not chasing Jungkook or his wealth. I'm chasing something he could never offer and I wouldn't even want him to. I might as well divorce him in the upcoming months, it's not a huge deal to me. But maybe it was to him and Kira. I sigh, "I'm sorry. I am not after jungkook or his wealth. I am not interested in him, I said that before too. I don't know what's happening between you and him, and I don't want to know.”

Lie, I did want to know what was happening or if it even happened. "So, trust him." She wiped her tears hastily, spilt her remaining coffee, and cursed seventeen times before finally answering back to me. "Would you help me earn him back, y/n? Would you?" Jesus Christ, what the fuck.

I shrugged, "Nope."

She Inhaled, "then keep him." Her lips trembled.

"What?" I was pissed.

"He might love you or not I do not care. You love him or not I do not care. But please, please don't come at me and talk. Keep him all you want, but don't try to rationalise things. It's different now, it's so different." Her feelings are valid, but these cheesy dialogues weren't the thing I signed up for.

"Okay. I won't. Have a great day." I say and leave, not wanting to bother her more which I've done already.

Before I could even make it to my table, Kira dashed out while bumping and stumbling. Fixing her short green skirt, and red hair and trying not to stumble in her shiny glittery heels. Jungkook didn't fail to notice her, and then he noticed me. "You..." he dragged, as usual. "Um, she's fine. Said not to bother. I guess I'm done apologising."

He chased after her. And Jesus did it hurt in my left chest like some rope knitting too tight. "Y/n? Come, your tea is getting cold." Hobi held my hand and dragged me with him, gladly. I sat down and sipped my chai repeatedly, and soon enough was it over. "Can I have one more?"

I asked the cleaner who was cleaning the tables, "Sure. Chai?" I nod, he bought me another cup of tea as I stare at the untouched croissant. Why would I go and talk to Kira? I knew they probably would get back together again and I've gone to tolerate all their ugly reality of clingy couples but still, why would I? Why did I feel so guilty when I've done this before? I gulped and took my chai and sipped it clean.

"I'm leaving." I say and take my coat, "Really? You're not having the croissant?" Jin asked, "No." I excused myself but dragged my feet back again to the table, and to taehyung who was dipping his bread in his hot chocolate. "Tae, please check your bag and reply to me," I said and furiously walked out, looking for the bus to take me near the mansion which was far.

A sudden cold breeze ran through me, London was so cold. So cold that my bones started freezing, I stood on the sidewalk and put on my coat, tapping my feet anxiously. "Y/n! Y/n, wait!" Now my bones were on the verge of falling off. Jungkook ran towards me and soon stood right ahead of me. "Where are you going?"

He panted, "home." I answered, colder than usual. He gulped and wiped his sweat, he was freezing. "Why didn't you...wait for me?" I shook my head, "why would I?" It was coming up, the swelling in the chest but yet my stomach contorted in the most horrendous way possible. As if I'm about to throw up all my chai on him.

"Right. Why would you..." he rubbed his hands together and scratched his nape. My bus came, though I stared at Jungkook. None of us spoke anything, "Hey. It's the first snow." He smiled as I felt a sting on my nose, a snowflake landed right on the tip of it. He chuckled, I tried to remove it but he held my wrist. "Don't do it, it's cute."

I inhaled the freezing air and looked to my right side, to the road where cars passed by, people who were walking to stop and experience the first glorious snow of the year. "Do you know that myth? If you experience the first snow with someone—" "you're soulmates."

I caught in the end, "Do you believe in it?" I glanced at him, soft, brown, doe eyes so eager. Why does he have to be so childlike? "No. It's shit." I said and looked down at our shoes, "I'm going home." I say, "Don't go alone, it's not safe." I bit my lower lip, "I'm talking about Yoongi's house." His frown flattens, no I wasn't.

"Oh. Sure, it's close, right?" He asked,

"You should go now. I don't want you clinging around me all the time." I harshly said and walked away from him, not bearing his sight no more. I hate jungkook.

"You do?" Yoongi asked, checking the oven when I told him that. "Yeah, I do." His cat ran across the hallways. "It doesn't seem like it." He murmured and tasted the steak. "Why?" I asked, stopping the whisker and adding baking soda. "Because you talk about him a lot. You didn't talk about that skee-" "Enough."

I say and add the essence. "Hmm." He hummed and glanced at me, "You're doing a great job." I don't say anything and increase the speed. "Why are you suddenly throwing dinner parties?" I asked, I heard him exhale as he chopped something on the board. "I don't know. I just felt selfish to never give my friends anything, besides. I missed you and us together. I wanted to have a night-long conversation about our lives."

That made me chuckle, no matter how tough yoongi was, he was as soft as the whipped cream I made. "Alright. I'll give it to you." I heard him chuckle too as we made food in silence for our friends. "It should be done in a few," I say, pushing the cake inside the oven and smiling lightly to myself. "Ow!"

Yoongi yelped as he furiously tried to not burn the pasta sauce. "Yoongi."

"Yeah?" He said,

"You're out of sugar."

He lowered the flame and looked at me, frowning like a grandma. "How the hell did you finish my one-month stock of sugar in one day?"

I shrugged, "a kilogram of sugar just isn't enough for everything, and that's your one month of stock?"

"Hmm! It is! I rarely take sugar In a while. Do you need more?" He exhaled,

"I do."

"Ah! I can't!" He rushed to the fridge for another tin of canned tomatoes. "Well. I fucked up, I need more canned tomatoes. And rosemary." He leaned onto his giant empty fridge,

"And?"

He smiled, "You've to run an errand for me, y/n."

I sigh, "Jesus Christ, why would I..." I murmured to myself, "Give me the money."

"Oh! Sure! Take my card." I swear I've never seen him smile that much. "Buy yourself something too."

"I won't." I took his card,

"Oh, c'mon take it as a Christmas present."

"I don't do Christmas."

"I do." He shrugged, digging in some cupboard for something.

"You're an atheist." I slightly frowned at my remark and heard him laugh.

I took my coat and replaced his warm-in-home slippers with my boots and exited his house, stood in the front yard and just admired the light snow. I can't believe it's the holidays already, I did not wish to admit but I miss my home. Where I've had to attend the physically choking Christmas dinners and Thanksgiving parties of big names.

Originally I saw Jungkook at a Thanksgiving dinner in itself. Last year, 28th of December, big doe sparkly eyes, lots of people. I asked my mom about him, and she told me, 'he's a son of your father's old colleague. Do you like him?' Not a single bone in my body would've guessed her abandoning me on New Year's Eve. I slightly chuckled and walked through the quiet streets to the supermarket near it.

My mom promised me a secured On Jungkook if I left her and never came back. It was a deal. I rub my nose and clutch my coat tighter. I could already feel a cold coming through, I pushed open the door and walked to the back section. Taking a pack of refined castor sugar and then moving to the last aisle to pick up rosemary. It was already the holiday season in stores, advent calendars, red wrapping, golden stars, and Christmas decorations.

"Just this?" The cashier was a black woman doing something on her computer I nodded as she sighed with a kind smile and took my card. "Thank you for shopping." I took the paper bag and exited the store. But my feet dragged me right back onto the same cashier, "uh..." she awkwardly smiles.

"Do you have cigarettes?" She blinked at me,

"We do. Do you want a packet?"

I coughed suddenly while nodding, "Yeah. How much?"

"Oh, two pounds." I frowned,

"Two pounds?" I question the unreasonable price

"It's the holidays." I shuffle through my wallet, "not using the card?" She asked,

"No." As I give her and take the packet of cigarettes, finally leaving.

I slowly felt my nose freeze and my steps echo in the empty alleyway sort of streets. Dark, creepy, and mysterious, which most of the time I prefer. I heard a sound which made me stop for a second, a sound more like a camera shutter. Or someone taking a picture on an Android cell phone. I exhaled and kept walking, slowly transforming my peaceful steps into hurried ones without making it seem like I was running for my life.

I shift the heavy paper bag in my arms and shuffled through my coat pockets, shit. I forgot to get my usual pocket knife or pepper spray. I kept walking, hearing footsteps behind me as my hands sweated with anxiety. Good god, I was so scared. "Hey." I stop dead in my tracks and turn around, a bunch of teenagers look alikes smile at me.

I gulped and stared at every one of them. They were particularly not thirteen-year-olds but they weren't also men, they somewhat looked like 18-19-year-olds dressed all in disgusting clothes and blowing smoke on my face. Some even reeked cocaine and druggie, neon bright colours or black clothes with wannabe thugs slogans.

"What?" I blinked and tried to fix my glasses.

"Wanna go hang out with us, girly?"

"Jesus Christ what the fuck." I said and was about to turn around to leave when one of them pulled me which made the sugar spill all over. I gasped, "How dare you?!" I picked up the bag and tried to clean the mess but the same guy clenched my neck and pulled my hair.

"We fucking want an ID bitch, you comin' wit us or we drag you lil pussy up to the club?!" It physically hurt me, the way he pulled my hair. I yelped at first, trying to even look for a stone or something but before I could even stand up, he was pulled onto the ground ahead of me, I blinked. Then the other one put down on the ground.

I glanced up to see Jungkook frowning at the teens, they were three in total. Two gone, one more. Unfortunately, he had a knife, sharp as ever. I felt a slight tug on my hair as Jungkook took my sharp pointed claw clip and defended himself from the inexperienced knife master. "Who the fuck are you?!"

Jungkook's long fingers swirled around got ahold of the black knife and pointed it at the teenager's neck. "One more, kid?" The guy visibly gulped took his mates off the ground and ran away. I was still, on the cold ground, legs sprawled, castor sugar everywhere. Jungkook tugged the knife in his pocket and looked at me, His hair was open, the moonlit aura becoming clear.

"Are you okay?" He asked, looking into my eyes that wore glasses. He gave me his hand as I sighed and took it, standing up from the ground and feeling my legs numb. I stumble but he catches me, "careful!" I held his shoulder and tried to maintain my balance, "are you okay? Let me see, will ya?"

He removed my glasses and took a closer look until we both Just stood stunned and awed at each other. and then, as usual, a reality check hit me in the head and I'd snatch my glasses from him. "I'm fine! They were kids!" I say looking everywhere but at him, "They looked powerful. Why would you go out alone on such a cold night for sugar? Are you crazy?" His voice was as soft as Jane's jet-black hair.

I stare at his mouth, slightly frowning. "Y/n?!" I flinched my eyes away from his own. "Get up!" He gave me his hand as I reached out and stumbled almost thrice while getting up. I grunt in pain when I physically feel my blood go still, "can you walk?" He asked, head under my arms, "I can." Just when I thought it was over, a fresh wave of embarrassment drowned and sunk me into the deepest pit of hell.

All my friends stood there, giggling, clearing their throats, making faces. "How..." Jungkook pants, dragging me to them, he looked at them. "What?" He asked, "How come these motherfuckers didn't come ahead to save me?" I murmured to myself, "I told them. They said you're fine, been there, done that. I don't even know. Tae did want to come ahead but namjoon stopped him." I looked at Jungkook and kicked my legs on the ground.

"I'm fine now. Thank you." I get rid of his touch and hold and glance back at the castor sugar spilt on the ground. "You're welcome. Don't go out like that again." I ignored his advice and walked further closer to my friends, "If you didn't want to help, why wait and watch?" I raise my brows, and three of them awkwardly clear their throats.

Fixed glasses, raised brows. "He's a martial artist, right?" Jimin asked, "Yeah, and?" He shrugged, his outrageous femininity choking my nerves into a painful, irritating headache. "We just wanted to see his moves." I exhaled, "And what if he wasn't?" Namjoon scoffed, "You said he was."

"I also said he was a philosopher but he wasn't. What if he wasn't also a martial artist and I would've—" "y/n." Jin stopped my unnecessary, anxious blabbering as my breath echoed. "He's just behind you, and he saved you. Multiple times." Hobi warned me to mind my language, in my ear. I would usually get a bit of a butterflies tickling but this time my pit dropped to my core.

I looked behind me, shuddering in the coldest of my ears as Jungkook stared at me and my friends. No facial expressions whatsoever. Not even a sassy one, to defend himself. He just stared, my heart slightly shifted thinking about what he must felt like being an outsider and I just made things worse. My voice caught up in my throat, I couldn't even open my mouth to say something to him.

"I.." I let out a croaky voice, cheeks flushed, red nose, eyes slightly glossy due to the breeze as he stared at my face. "I should go home," I say and press my lips together, quickening my steps away from everyone and downright out of society. I spotted a bus stop and thought of just going home and burying my head deep underground.

Nine fifty-five, he stopped for dinner. I repeatedly check the time while going through my classic Greeks and books related to the gods and their wars in my library. "Why would he stop for dinner when I'm here? Huh." I scoffed, turning the page and fixing my glasses. I grabbed an apple to eat which was fine for me, I hope they enjoyed the treats I made.

I wasn't jealous they didn't call me back, because they knew I wouldn't come. I sigh and shift on the couch. The mansion's library was excruciatingly haunting, yet it had a deep sense of comfort and wonder to it. I shift again, like laying cold face down on my stomach and I can Inhale the dust from the couch. I tried reading again, though I groaned like a child not liking it.

Tired, I blew off the candle, stuffed my book on the edge of some shelf and decided to leave. I was walking barefoot in the hallways with wooden floors. "Y/n!" Mrs. Jeon's voice echoes as I glance down the aisle. "Yes?" She smiled and walked up to me with a bunch of strawberries. "How are you, my dear? And where is he?"

I smiled and took the Berry, removing the leaves of it. "He's with my friends. Having dinner probably." I muttered and suck the berry. "Oh, why didn't you have dinner with either of them?" I shrugged, "I..don't know." I exhaled as she hummed, "You want to have a girl's night?" She offered and I kindly declined with some excuse for my headache.

"Oh, at least have something for dinner, my child." I smiled, "I ate an apple. I'll be good with these berries." She hums, "Alright I guess. I thought we'd have fun." I clicked my tongue, "I'm feeling tired." Something stirred in my stomach, like an unsettling ick catching my throat. Maybe I should just be in the room instead of roaming.

I gulped when Mr. Jeon came running to us, "y/n!" We stopped walking, "what are you doing here?!" He harshly grabbed his wife's arms and dragged her, giving me a look that the stir in my stomach turned into a contort. I sighed and looked beside me, already past that door. I walked two steps back on the wooden floor and opened the room, stepping inside.

Only a candle lit in the corner, I walked further and sighed, turning the lights on. The room is so much like jungkook, that it's hard to rationalise my presence if you don't squint your eyes. I plop on the fluffy mattress, turning my face on the left side and scooting further. Removing my glasses and throwing them somewhere, I place my head on his pillow. I flutter my lashes, slightly burying my head more.

I sighed, turning again and watching the ceilings. slightly tilting my head, I carefully examine the small god-like creatures mounded up. I hear the door unlocked I immediately sit up, lips curving into a smile as I see his face. "You're here." He looked at me, slowly fluttering his long lashes and staring at my face. My smile lingered, and then it dropped.

I seriously didn't think I'd be hearing Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake Act 20 violin drop in the utter silence of two who perhaps actually don't understand each other. "I mean-" I rolled my eyes, "you're here!" I let out again as if displeased with his presence. He opened his mouth but just exhaled. "You...yoongi sent you some food."

He hiccuped. He was drunk. I smelled it. I glance at the paper bag and then at him, "You drank?" He fell on the bed with a bounce. Squishing the paper bag under him. I sighed and got up from the bed, going inside the bathroom. To my surprise, he held my hand. I stopped, turned around and saw him squinting, "Hey."

He shuffled something in his pants, trying to find something. Cheeks red, sniffing from time to time, dreamy eyes so dilated, unfocused and lips twisting and smiling at every inconvenience. What he pulled out was beyond my surprise, the packet of cigarettes I'd purchased earlier. "You'd have forgotten that, but I picked up."

He smiled like a kid and sat on the bed, fingers slipping out of my wrist as I sat beside him, hips colliding. He pouted and shuffled in it, "Oh. There's only one." He showed me the only cigarette stick in the packet and looked at me. I can smell the cigarettes and the type of alcohol they choose to be drunk over. "What do we do now?"

He questioned, playing with in between his fingers. Looking into my eyes, my lips slightly curl in a soft smile. "I'll take it," I whisper and snatch the stick, he gazes at his empty fingers and then at me. Puppy-eyed, "Are you not going to share it with me? Like I did?" He said.

"Hmm-uh." I shook my head as he exhaled. "Y/n, do you think I should take a shower? Do I stink? But it's so cold, I don't want to take a shower." He placed his head on my shoulder, arms touching mine. "You should take a warm shower." I softly said, stomach churning. "Hmm, maybe I should."

He whispered though he didn't move. Stayed there, stuck to me like glue. My chest swelled again, the familiar urge to grab his face and kiss his mouth back into my core. I started imagining if there was any possibility of me and Jungkook being together, touched, stained and of each other. "Y/n?"

He whispered, chin on my shoulder, looking at my side profile face. I glanced at him, feeling his breath tickling my neck, nose slightly brushing that made thorns creep up on my toes and face. "Did you eat?" I blinked and looked at him, I nodded. He smiled, stretched, bright, complimenting his cheeks, "good." He inhaled, "I'm going to pee."

He whispered in my ear and got off the bed, stumbling inside the dressing area while Removing his clothes in the midst. I exhaled and plopped on the mattress again, gazing at the cigarette between my fingers. I got up and took my nearest book, placing it in between pages with a soft smile.

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