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fragileheartbeats · 6 days

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐄 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀꒰͡ ⠀ ִ 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑒 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑡 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ⠀ׂ ⠀ ͡꒱

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ♡ㅤ𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶ㅤ۫ㅤ𝅄ㅤೀ

— 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘦, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘓𝘦𝘦, 𝘏𝘢𝘭, 𝘓𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦, 𝘒𝘺𝘭𝘦, 𝘙𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘭𝘶𝘴 <3

˚꒰🌼꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐓 ─ 𓇼 . ♡𝆬

Her skin, a canvas where perfection resides, Her hair, a cascade of silken tides. Her eyes, a mirror reflecting boundless depths, A universe of emotions, where love intercepts. Her voice, a symphony that soothes the soul, Its melody enchanting, making his spirit whole. Her laughter, a tinkling bell's sweet refrain, A melody that chases away all pain. He worships her as a deity of love, His heart surrenders, soaring like a dove. Her presence fills him with a sacred light, Guiding his path through life's murky night. With every breath he takes, her image lingers, An ethereal vision that sets his heart aflutter. Her existence a gift, beyond compare, A masterpiece of beauty, forever to share. He gazes at her with eyes filled with awe, Lost in her radiance, his soul in tow. Her smile, a beacon of hope and cheer, Dispelling darkness, casting out fear. In her embrace, he finds solace and peace, A sanctuary where his worries cease. Her touch, a gentle caress that sets him free, Healing wounds with its tender alchemy. He cherishes her laughter, prizes her tears, For in her presence, his world fills with cheers. She is his goddess, his guiding star, The love of his life, forever near and far. Through life's trials, he vows to stand by her side, His unwavering devotion, a constant guide. For in her love, he finds his greatest worth, A treasure he'll protect with all his heart's girth.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐀 ─ 𔒌 . ♡𝆬

In his heart's embrace, a tender soul resides, A confectioner's dream, sweetened with love's tides. His eyes behold a goddess, radiant and bright, Her every smile, a beacon that banishes the night. Like chocolate's rich aroma, his love fills the air, A fragrant symphony that conquers all care. Each glance from her eyes, a sip of pure delight, Melts his being to a state of dreamy flight. Her voice, a cascade of notes that dance in his ear, A sweet serenade that fills him with cheer. Her laughter echoes, as if bells ring with glee, A celestial chorus, etching her image in his memory. Her skin is as smooth as velvet, so soft to the touch, As if crafted from petals, untouched and unsmirched. Her hair cascades like a stream of molten gold, Ensnaring his heart in its shimmering hold. Her lips, a confection of sweetness, tempt his desire, A tantalizing treat that sets his soul afire. In her embrace, he finds solace and relief, His sugary paradise, banishing all grief. He worships the ground she treads upon with grace, Her every step a dance, a mesmerizing chase. Her smile, a beacon that guides him through the darkest night, Illuminating his path with its radiant light. Her mind is a treasure trove, wisdom flows unbound, Her words like honey, healing every wound. Her intellect captivates, her spirit soars, A paragon of beauty, unmatched in all time's doors. With every beat of his heart, his love grows stronger still, A tapestry of emotions, vibrant and true to fill. He's her devoted knight, ready to conquer all, His love for her, an unquenchable, eternal call. He envisions their future, a sugary delight, Filled with laughter, adventures, and love's gentle might. Together, they'll create memories as sweet as chocolate dreams, A lifetime of indulgence, fulfilling all their whims. Oh, sweet chocolatier, forever under her spell, His heart's desire, a goddess who captivates his soul so well. In her presence, he finds joy, contentment, and grace, An eternal love story, written on time's sweet embrace.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐋𝐄𝐄 ─ 𓇢𓆸 . ♡𝆬

Her every movement, a symphony of grace, Her laughter, a melody that fills his space. He watches from afar, his hunger gnawing, Yearning to possess her, her essence craving. But as reverence turns to possession's lust, He succumbs to a sin, a sacrifice unjust. With each morsel he consumes, her flesh so sweet, His love becomes a horror, a ravenous retreat. He whispers words of adoration as he feasts, His teeth sinking deep, a macabre release. Her eyes, once so radiant, now glazed with dread, As he feeds on her essence, leaving her for dead. In the aftermath, a hollow ache remains, A cruel mockery of the love he feigned. He mourns the goddess he created in his mind, His sorrow a bitter echo, his heart confined. Her bones, once pristine, now a grisly reminder, Of the depravity that love can hinder. He caresses them with trembling hands, a mournful plea, Seeking a connection, a memory to decree. The world judges harshly, their voices a condemning cry, But he remains unyielding, his madness soaring high. For in his eyes, she was not just a mere flesh, But a deity he loved beyond his own death. Haunted by her absence, his spirit wilts, Each passing day, his sanity tilts. He wanders the streets, a pariah outcast, Carrying the burden of his horrific repast. In the depths of his despair, a flicker of remorse, A realization that his actions were coarse. But forgiveness eludes him, his soul forever stained, By the love he destroyed, the life he profaned.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐋 ─ ♕ . ♡𝆬

Her touch, a gentle breeze caressing, Awakening dreams, with blessings blessing. Her laughter, music to his ears, Dispelling sorrows, quenching fears. He led her through the throne room's grace, Where tapestries depicted their embrace. A queen, a goddess, his heart's desire, He'd fallen for her with burning fire. Her virtues, pure as driven snow, Her kindness warmed him, made his soul glow. He worshipped her, not as a mortal maid, But as a celestial being, unafraid. He'd bow his head to gaze into her eyes, Seeing heaven's reflection, a paradise. Her hair, a silken waterfall so fine, Cascading gently, entwined like vines. He'd whisper sonnets filled with fervent praise, Exalting her beauty, a celestial maze. Her smile, a radiant dawn's embrace, A sight that stole his breath, a timeless trace. In hallowed halls, he held her close and dear, His love for her unwavering, crystal clear. He sought her pleasure, her utmost joy, Delighting in her presence, without alloy. The courtly whispers echoed through the halls, Of a king's devotion that shattered all walls. He'd consecrate his realm to her name, His love eternal, an unquenchable flame.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ─ ⛥ . ♡𝆬

Her presence, a perfume, sweet and ethereal, A celestial melody, soft and ethereal. Her voice, a symphony, enchanting and pure, A tender whisper that his every desire lures. Her eyes, a universe of dreams unfurled, Where constellations dance and stardust's whirled. Their gaze, a spell that binds him forevermore, A love profound that knows no bounds nor shore. Her touch, a brush of paradise on his skin, As if a seraph's touch had come to kin. It sparks a flame within, a fire that burns bright, An ardent devotion, day and darkest night. He marvels at her wisdom, deep and true, Her spirit, soaring like an eagle's view. Her grace and poise, a celestial art, A masterpiece of nature, a treasure from the start. He sees not flaws, but only radiant light, A goddess descended from celestial heights. His heart, her temple, where he offers his all, A sanctuary of devotion, an eternal thrall. In her embrace, he finds solace and rest, A sanctuary where his weary soul is blessed. Her laughter echoes through his world like a chime, Dispelling shadows, restoring hope sublime. With every glance, his love grows stronger yet, A tapestry woven with threads of pure delight. He sings her praises, a poet's soul unfurled, For she is his goddess, the jewel of his world.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 ─ ♬ . ♡𝆬

In his eyes, she was a goddess fair, Her presence graced his world beyond compare. Like a beacon in the darkest night, Her love ignited a flame so bright. He adored her every move, Her laughter filled his heart with glee. Her touch sent shivers down his spine, A reminder of her beauty, divine. His thoughts were filled with her allure, Each moment spent with her, he cherished pure. Her smile, a balm for weary eyes, Her presence, a solace, a gentle prize. He danced to her every whim, His heart her captive, forever dim. Her desires, his command, Her worship, his sacred brand. He painted her in vibrant hues,Her eyes twinkled like distant dews. Her skin, like velvet, soft and smooth, He loved her with a passion, uncouth. In his shrine, her image stood tall, A symbol of his devotion, his all. He whispered prayers to her at night, Begging for her constant, eternal light. Her every breath was like a song, Her voice carried melodies that danced along. He would listen for hours, transfixed, In her presence, his soul grew rich.

ㅤㅤ ꣸ ﹒𝆋 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 ─ ✉ . ♡𝆬

With each stolen glance, a symphony played, A melody woven from the threads of her gaze. Her ivory skin, a canvas for his desire, A tapestry adorned with embers of fire. Her voice, a celestial choir soaring high, Whispering truths that made his spirit fly. Her presence, a celestial balm, so sweet, A refuge from the storms that raged at his feet. In her eyes, he saw his own reflection, A mirror of his soul's hidden perfection. She held his broken pieces with gentle care, Rekindling a flame that had once burned bright. Her laughter, a sparkling cascade of bliss, Banishing shadows with its ethereal kiss. Her smile, a beacon that guided him through, A radiant sunrise illuminating the true. With trembling hands, he touched her silken hair, Like brushing petals, a touch beyond compare. Her every gesture, a masterpiece unfurled, An endless canvas where his love unfurled. He worshiped her beauty, an eternal vow, A sacred flame that forever would glow. Her body, a temple, a vessel divine, A haven where his soul would forever entwined. Lost in the labyrinth of her embrace, His heart found solace, a tranquil space. She was his muse, his inspiration eternal, His goddess, his guiding star, his celestial eternal.

@ 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 . 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒, 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠.

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srvbryn · 2 months

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i have been in severe luke distress after rereading titans curse. maybe like you could some reassuring luke? bc him and thalia used to have something and now reader and luke are together but not officially and she’s afraid he’s might still like thalia but he doesn’t ?

Luke Castellan. So if you need to be mean (be mean to me)

Luke Castellan X f!reader

Summary: wherein it is impossible to simply forget the past as if it never happened

Warning: none! I'm literally Shakespeare, “I love you”, there's barely any plot because what??, my grammar is veryyy bad

A/n: 😭 Pls I'm running out of ideas and this probably isn't the same as what you request I'm sooo sorry 💔💔

Luke stirred, caught in the vicious grip of a gruesome nightmare, as the night unfolded like a tapestry of sorrow.

Instinctively, you drew him in closer as you tried your hardest to protect him from the sinister figures that prowled in the corners of his disturbed dreams..

"Luke, it's all right. You're safe here," you whispered, your voice a fragile rhythm in the deep silence that enveloped the room.

You felt the tremors going through his body as you held him, they were all evidence of the nightmares that continued to haunt him while he slept.

His eyes revealed a deep-seated agony that defied description in the soft, ethereal glow of the moonlight peeking through the curtains. "The memories of what happened with Thalia follow me everywhere. (Name), She haunts me."

Your voice was like a soft stream trying to wash away the scars of the past, and your heart was aching for him as you continued to murmur words of consolation.

"The past is something we cannot change, but despite everything, we have created something lovely together."

He let out a trembling breath and his voice showed the weakness he rarely showed. "Do you ever think I still have feelings for Thalia?"

Cupping his tear-streaked face, you held his gaze, the depth of your love reflected in your eyes. "Luke, our journey has been marked by pain, but it's also been defined by our healing. I love you for who you are now, not who you were."

The room hung heavy with a somber silence, broken only by the echoes of his sorrow. "I love you too," he admitted, the weight of lingering doubts evident in the sincerity of his confession.

The room seemed to get colder and the shadows darker as you clung to each other in the stillness, showing the scars of the past every second that went by.

You two unintentionally turned into warriors against the approaching darkness in that moving moment; your love was a weak but resolute light trying to mend what the world had broken.

The night lingered, and so did your embrace, a bittersweet refuge against the haunting echoes.

#luke castellan angst #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #charlie bushnell #pjo series #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x you

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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months

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Unspoken Bonds | 1 - B.Barnes

Character: Bucky Barnes x Doctor!Reader

Warning: NSFW; SMUT; PIV sex; fingering; oral sex, rough sex; multiple orgasms; spanking; established relationship; anything else I failed to mention.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , -

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

The sterile atmosphere of the operating room enveloped you as you stood beside the surgical table, ready for the high-stakes procedure.

The room hummed with anticipation as you prepared for the challenging surgery on the pregnant patient with a tumor near her baby.

Nurses passed instruments with practiced precision, and the anesthesiologist monitored both the mother and baby's vital signs.

As the first incision was made, your voice cut through the silence. "Scalpel," you calmly requested, your steady hand extending for the tool. The room buzzed with efficiency as the surgery unfolded, a ballet of expertise choreographed by the young surgeon.

Hours passed, and tension gripped the room. Your focused expression betrayed no sign of fatigue as you navigated the complexities of the delicate operation. Amidst the beeping monitors and hushed whispers, the team communicated seamlessly.

Finally, after seven intense hours, the moment arrived – the successful removal of the tumor.

You sighed in relief, a subtle smile breaking through your composed demeanor. "Sutures," you instructed, bringing the surgery to its triumphant conclusion.

In the recovery room, the patient stirred awake. You approached her bedside, a warmth in her eyes. "You did great. The tumor has been successfully removed, and both you and your baby are safe," you reassured the patient.

The grateful mother's eyes welled with tears as she held her newborn for the first time. "Thank you, Dr. Y/N," she whispered.

You nodded with humility. "It's my job. Just doing what I love," you replied.

In the hospital lounge, hushed whispers followed your departure from the operating room. Colleagues gathered, their voices lowered as they dissected your success with admiration and skepticism.

"Did you see how smoothly she handled that surgery?" one doctor remarked, grudging respect evident in his tone.

A nurse, however, chimed in with a skeptical undertone. "I heard she doesn't collaborate much. Always on her own.”

The conversation continued, weaving through a tapestry of gossip and half-truths. In the corner, the hospital director's grandson, Kyle Anderson, nursing his jealousy, added his commentary. "She's not as good as they say. Grandfather's just protecting her because she's alone."

Others nodded, some exchanging knowing glances. The lone wolf reputation clung to Dr. Y/N, the whispers amplifying your isolation.

The hospital director, Jonathan Anderson, aware of the murmurs, supported the talented surgeon.

In the quiet solitude of the changing room, you peeled off your surgical attire, the lingering scent of antiseptic filling the air. As you reached for your coat, Dr. Mitchell, a colleague, approached with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Y/N! That was quite the surgery today. We should go for a drink to celebrate, what do you say?" he suggested, a genuine attempt to bridge the gap.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed with a message: "Can we meet?"

A momentary softening in your expression hinted at a hidden world beyond the hospital walls.

You politely declined the offer and explained, "I've got other appointments tonight."

Quickly typing a reply to her heartfelt message, "9 p.m. Usual place. Wait for me."

Mitchell, accepting your response. He saw you smiling. He thought the person who texted you must be close to you.

What kind of person can make a lone wolf like you smile like that?

Your leg strides to the parking lot, then enter your sports car.

You rushed to the hotel, eager and nervous. With a quick swipe, the door opened, revealing a softly lit room. There he was, Bucky Barnes.

Wearing nothing but dark grey sweatpants. Smooth, tatted skin exposed. Bucky is lying on the bed reading a book.

As you approached, he greeted you with a smile of confidence and playfulness.

Bucky's playful charm effortlessly swept away the hospital stress and gossip that plagued your mind.

He nuzzled your cheek, “I guess your surgery went well?” He kissed along your cheek, then down your neck. He gently takes off your clothes.

You hummed. Enjoying the kisses from him that made you relax.

In a minute, all your clothes are on the floor. Bucky gently carried you to the bed.

Tonight, you just want to be close to him. Being with him makes you forget everything at the hospital.

“Uh, huh…!”

The air in the spacious room grew heavy with impassioned cries.

With his firm, large hands, the man firmly gripped your breasts, eliciting a heated gasp that escaped your parted lips. His eyes glistened with anticipation, flickering like a candle flame in a breeze as you trembled and clung to the man’s shoulders.

Lowering his head, Bucky sensually licked your swollen nipple with his warm, velvety tongue.

The room was filled with lewd noises as the man suckled on your breasts, causing your arousal to intensify.

The sensation of his thumb’s firm tip pressing against your clitoris overwhelmed you with pleasure.

Then Bucky squeezed your legs into an M-shape and buried his head in your pussy to give your oral sex.

He opens his mouth and tastes your pussy; he uses his flexible tongue. You shuddered in excitement after feeling his mouth and tongue on your pussy, you were too sensitive, and your body was shaking in excitement.

Then you felt his cock enter your hole. He slowly inserted himself inside you. At that completed union, both of you let out low gasps. “Mmm…”

Finally, he filled you up. You've been waiting for this.

As soon as Bucky entered you deeply, he lofted your hips and began to thrust.

You felt as if this intense and comfortable pleasure invaded your entire body and limbs.

Your legs wrapped around his waist to make it easier for him to move in and out.

Your seductive actions made his eyes darker. His penis thrusting more fiercely inside of you.

Bucky frowned slightly and let out a low gasp, "So tight."

When Bucky is ramming his big cock into your pussy, he also spanks your ass.

He spanked your ass cheeks using the palm of his hands. Bucky found out you like to be spanked because he felt your pussy become so tight that clamping his cock so tight.

You were fucked roughly; in this position, both of you are very tightly connected, his strength is very strong, and his cock can penetrate deeper inside you.

You felt so satisfied that you cried.

You cried in delight.

This is what you want. Get fucked that made you forget everything.

When Bucky was about to ejaculate, he pushed his cock inside your tight cunt and ejaculated all his semen into the condom.

After he shot all his semen and calmed down from his orgasm, he came out satisfied.

You orgasmed three times and felt that you were one step away from heaven.

You reached your hands to him and said “Hold me.”

Bucky chuckled and happily gave what you asked. Only Bucky could see you being cute and vulnerable at the same time.

Both of you finally took a break and slept for a while. Then Bucky felt a little movement beside him and saw you sitting on the bed, reading the book he had looked at earlier.

The book was for a big doctor's exam. You were nice enough to share notes and give advice to help Bucky understand the medical stuff.

The relationship between you two is a bit complicated. Simply put, you're like the best doctor, teacher, and supportive figure – a bit like a sugar mommy – all rolled into one for Bucky.

How did you two meet?

For Bucky, you're the answer he's been looking for.

Flashback Start

Bucky met you while working as a hostess at the exclusive club, Elysium Haven, which is only accessible to selected customers with expensive annual fees.

The hostess salary, however, paid well for Bucky, who juggled multiple jobs to cover his college tuition and his sister's surgery.

One day, the manager tasked him with accompanying a new guest recommended by their VVIP patron. Upon entering the private room, Bucky was surprised to see you.

The female customers he encountered typically wore dresses, but you were different – donning scrubs and Crocs shoes, indicating that you were a surgeon.

This detail didn't escape Bucky's notice, especially since he was studying to become one.

Bucky introduced himself, and you simply nodded, appearing quiet.

The older man, whom Bucky knew as the VVIP Dr. Jonathan, laughed. "This girl, if I hadn't dragged her out of the hospital, she would have set a record for working a month without leaving. If she complained, it would reflect badly on the hospital. That's why I brought her here. Hahaha."

Bucky was amazed to hear that. He glanced at you, but you didn't say anything, choosing to sip your wine.

Jonathan sighed heavily, looking at you, who remained silent. He felt a sense of pity towards you. If you weren't born as an orphan without influential family ties, perhaps you wouldn't be bullied at the hospital that he owned.

What made it worse was that his grandson, Kyle, was the one tormenting you. Other young doctors followed Kyle's orders and always left the challenging surgeries for you to handle.

Hoping that you would fail, the hospital aimed to put all the blame on you. However, their actions became a double-edged sword. Due to the numerous surgeries you had to undertake, you emerged as the best surgeon the hospital had ever seen.

Jonathan looked at Bucky and said, “I'll leave her to you,” before exiting the room.

Once Jonathan left, Bucky waited and approached you, asking, “Can you perform a surgery for my sister?”

Your eyebrows raised at the unexpected request.

Bucky went on to explain his sister's case. Doctors had declared her sickness impossible to be treated through surgery.

"Impossible?" That was the word you liked to hear in this line of work. You questioned him, “Do you have her medical records?”

As a diligent medical student, Bucky always had his sister's files. Every day, he spent hours in the library, searching for answers. He grabbed his phone and showed you the file.

You carefully examined the records – photos, X-rays, blood tests – and remained silent for a long time.

Bucky anticipated that you would echo the sentiments of other doctors, deeming the surgery impossible.

However, to his delight, he heard, “The reason why other doctors said they can't do it is that they don't have the equipment and brain like me. It's difficult, and it will take 9 hours.”

Your confidence surprised Bucky; little did he know you were a surgery enthusiast, always seeking challenging cases to stimulate your brain.

Suddenly, Bucky felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over him when you asked, “But how are you going to compensate me? My skills are expensive.”

What Bucky responded with caught you off guard, “I will pay with my body.”

You chuckled, unable to believe you had encountered someone as peculiar as him. Issuing an order, you said, “Stripped.”

Bucky knew he had sold his body and soul at that moment. Standing up, he slowly removed his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his well-toned body and six-pack.

As he was about to unbuckle his belt, you intervened with a firm “Enough.”

Bucky stopped, thinking you didn't like what you saw. He blamed himself for not working out for a month.

You didn't say anything. Instead, you gulped down the wine in one go, letting out a satisfied moan, “Ahh…”

You wiped your lips with your hand. Bucky couldn't help but see your actions through his eyes, making you appear like a vampire.

You stood up and headed out from the private room. However, before leaving, you said, “Bring your sister to Metropolitan General Hospital tomorrow at 9 a.m.”

You gave him a final look, “Remember what you just said.”

After you were gone, Bucky knelt on the floor, feeling the burden lifted from his shoulders.

He knew he had just sold his body, but the price he had to pay was to have his sister healthy again.

You fulfilled your promise, and Bucky brought his sister. You immediately booked surgery within the same week. His sister underwent the surgery and regained her health, now able to run again.

As he anticipated paying the price, you didn't seem interested and never mentioned it. However, he later learned that you had only slept with him to vent your frustrations. You sought his company whenever you were stressed, angry, or frustrated.

Then, to his surprise, you again gave him an allowance higher than any salary from his part-time job. Some people might roll their eyes if they discovered the story between him and you.

But for Bucky, you were an angel who saved him.

Flashback End

Bucky tightened his arm around your waist and sighed.

You asked, “What's wrong?”

Bucky said, “The man who could be your husband is a lucky guy.”

You flicked his forehead, making Bucky scream, ‘ouch,’ then gave you puppy eyes. You chuckled, blew on his forehead, and gently kissed it.

You looked at the ceiling and said, “If I had the courage to talk to another man. I would consider myself lucky to be with you since you're out of my league.”

Bucky's heart almost jumped; it was his first hearing of your confession.

Truth be told, he had started to develop feelings for you, especially after you saved his sister.

He never mentioned it, knowing you were way out of his league. That's why he studied hard to become a doctor, hoping to have the chance to stand beside you.

‘Ring’

A phone rang, and Bucky knew it was your phone.

You never missed a call; as usual, it was an emergency requiring you at the hospital.

You said to the phone, “Give me 30 minutes.”

Bucky knew nothing could hold you back.

You kissed his lips and said, “Thank you for today; go back to sleep. And good luck for today's exam.”

Bucky smiled and said, “Thanks, and be careful.”

After you took a quick shower and left, Bucky found a message on his phone – a significant amount of money had been deposited into his bank account. It was from you.

Bucky sighed heavily, grappling with the overwhelming generosity you consistently showed him.

In his eyes, you were far too good for him, and the weight of your kindness settled on his shoulders as he contemplated the depth of your unwavering support.

Bucky never thought this calm day could turn into a thunderstorm.

When the thunder comes.

Six months later, he found himself staring at you, pale and motionless. Now, your life depended on the rhythmic beeping of the machine beside you.

His once steadfast and vibrant presence now lay fragile and vulnerable. Bucky clenched his fists, a surge of determination coursing through him. He swore to himself that he would find the person responsible for putting you into a coma.

Author Note :

Hey friends,

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zapreportsblog · 8 months

Note

Hi, so, I'd like to request a one shot with Billy and Stu x Reader who looks cute and innocent, she can even trick them into thinking she's a sweet lamb, they are kinda friends? Like, the boys like to hang around her house, since she's almost always alone, and they watch horror movies together and all, Billy being creepy as always and Stu weirdly cute. Anyways, she looks so sweet and innocent, but, in reality, she has some dark thoughts and when a guy from school treats her bad or something like that (I'm think of her bing like a hidden Pearl) she kills him, but no one knows, after that she starts to go into a killing spree and the boys get worried she'll be a victim of this new killer, until they catch her killing, being stained with blood. I'd love if you could write it, so thanks ❤️ (English is not my first language, so sorry for any grammar error)

Oh no this was perfect so even if English isn’t your first language I got what you had in mind

↳ devil in disguise ↲

✭ pairing : billy loomis x reader x stu macher

✭ fandom : scream

✭ summary : billy loomis and stu macher befriend the new girl, there something about the innocence in her that has them wanting to keep her close, but what they don’t know is that underneath all that innocence is a psycho killer watching and building up.

✭ authors note : this will be pretty fucking long let’s be honest but I hope you enjoy :)

Appearances can be deceiving, a truth that resonates throughout the intricate tapestry of human nature. In the complex dance of life, the most innocent of individuals often harbor the potential for both light and darkness, a duality that echoes the very essence of existence.

Beneath the gentle facade of a kind smile, the spark of laughter, or the softness of a touch, lies a spectrum of emotions and desires that can lead down paths both virtuous and treacherous. Each person is a canvas painted with shades of morality, their choices a brushstroke that can create beauty or chaos, depending on the journey they choose to undertake.

The predator lurking within, the shadow of primal instincts, is a reminder that human beings are products of evolution, shaped by eons of survival instincts and genetic predispositions. In the heart of every individual, there exists a part that craves power, control, or fulfillment, a yearning that can manifest as ambition, passion, or even obsession.

Yet, it is important to recognize that the coexistence of light and darkness within us is not inherently sinister. It is a reflection of the human experience, a reminder that every choice is a crossroads, offering the potential for change, growth, and transformation. The predator within can propel us forward, driving us to achieve our goals, protect our loved ones, and forge our destinies.

In a world where appearances often mask the intricacies of the human soul, it becomes crucial to acknowledge the duality that resides within each of us. By embracing both our capacity for kindness and our susceptibility to darker urges, we gain a deeper understanding of ourselves and those around us. The predator lurking within can serve as a cautionary tale, a reminder of the importance of self-awareness, empathy, and the conscious choice to channel our instincts toward the betterment of ourselves and society.

Ultimately, the dichotomy of light and darkness within us mirrors the complexity of the world we inhabit. It is a testament to the richness of the human experience, the endless potential for growth, and the ever-present opportunity to shape our narratives, whether we tread the path of the predator or harness the power of our inner light.

The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting its golden rays over the idyllic small town of Woodsboro. In the heart of the town, the high school's courtyard was a hub of activity, a place where friendships were forged and teenage dramas played out against the backdrop of lockers and laughter.

Stu Macher and Billy Loomis, the quintessential charismatic duo, leaned casually against the fountain. Their respective girlfriends, Tatum Riley and Sidney Prescott, stood nearby, laughter and conversations weaving a tapestry of youthful energy.

"Hey, ladies," Stu greeted with a grin, his bleached-blond hair catching the sunlight.

Billy's dark eyes sparkled as he echoed the sentiment, "Looking good as always."

As the quartet exchanged banter and shared glances, a figure caught their attention. Randy Meeks, known for his encyclopedic knowledge of horror movies and his perpetual enthusiasm, approached with a wide grin that stretched from ear to ear. At his side was a girl who looked almost ethereal—a new face in a town where everyone knew everyone else.

"(Y/N), meet the gang," Randy said with exuberance, presenting the girl to the group.

(Y/N) stood shyly, her presence an aura of innocence and warmth. Her eyes were like open books, wide and filled with curiosity as she took in her surroundings. A white dress, loose yet gracefully hugging her figure, accentuated her delicate beauty. The boys, Billy and Stu, exchanged glances that spoke volumes—here was someone who radiated innocence and gentleness.

"Hey, (Y/N)," Tatum greeted with a friendly smile, extending a welcoming hand.

Sidney's eyes held a soft kindness as she added, "Nice to meet you."

"(Y/N)," Stu's voice was friendly, his grin never faltering.

But it was Billy who couldn't tear his gaze away. In his eyes, (Y/N) appeared as if she could do no wrong—a portrait of purity in a world where darkness often lurked. Her eyes reminded him of Bambi's, wide and open, untouched by the harsh realities of life.

"Hi," (Y/N) responded, her voice soft and sweet, as if her words were a whisper carried by the wind.

As the introductions and pleasantries continued, a sense of intrigue filled the air. The new girl was like a breath of fresh air, and the boys found themselves captivated by her presence. Billy's heart stirred, his curiosity piqued by the enigma that was (Y/N).

As the days stretched into a week, the dynamic between Billy, Stu, and (Y/N) began to evolve. To the casual observer, it seemed like the boys were constantly bothering her, popping up unexpectedly and causing her to jump with exaggerated "scares." (Y/N)'s jumpy nature only seemed to fuel their amusement, and they reveled in the opportunity to tease her.

"(Y/N), you really need to work on your reflexes," Stu teased, a wide grin playing on his lips.

Billy joined in, smirking, "Yeah, seriously, what are you so jumpy about?"

Inside, however, their thoughts took on a darker undertone. Each little expression that flickered across (Y/N)'s face was dissected in their minds, and they toyed with the idea of involving her in their sinister games. But deep down, they couldn't shake the notion that she was different, that her innocence was genuine, and that she deserved more than the fate they had planned for their victims.

One night, as they lounged around in Stu's living room, the topic of their potential victims came up, their voices hushed as they spoke of Ghostface's next target.

"You know, man, I've been thinking," Stu mused, his tone contemplative.

Billy's eyes met Stu's, curiosity gleaming within them. "About what?"

"(Y/N)," Stu replied, his voice surprisingly serious. "I mean, yeah, we've joked about her being our next victim, but... I don't know, there's something different about her."

Billy's brows furrowed in thought, his expression mirroring Stu's. "Yeah, I've been thinking the same thing. Her innocence... it's real, isn't it? I mean, it can't be faked."

Stu nodded, a somberness settling over them. "She's the only one in this school who doesn't put on a facade. I mean, just look at her. She's not trying to impress anyone or play games. She's just... herself."

As the two friends contemplated (Y/N)'s genuine nature, a decision began to crystallize within them. The idea of involving her in their deadly plans felt wrong, as if they were tainting something pure. The darkness within them seemed to clash with the light that (Y/N) exuded.

"Maybe she's the exception," Billy mused. "Maybe she deserves something better than what we had planned."

Stu's gaze was resolute. "I agree. We can't touch her. She's... untouchable."

And so, in the midst of their twisted games and hidden motives, (Y/N) emerged as a beacon of authenticity, a figure they couldn't bring themselves to tarnish. Their dark thoughts and desires were held at bay, overruled by the recognition that some innocence was too pure to be tainted.

As the days continued to unfold, the bond between Billy, Stu, and (Y/N) deepened, shaped by unspoken understanding and the realization that appearances could indeed be deceiving. In the shadows of their minds, they grappled with their own darkness while protecting the fragile light that (Y/N) represented—an innocence they couldn't bring themselves to shatter, even in the midst of their sinister games.

The bond between Billy, Stu, and (Y/N) deepened with every passing day, an unspoken connection that drew them together. As the days grew longer, they found themselves gravitating toward her house, seeking her company whenever they could. They had adopted a role of self-proclaimed bodyguards, protecting her from a danger she didn't even know was real.

"(Y/N), you seriously need to upgrade your horror movie tolerance," Stu laughed one evening, sprawled on the couch as a horror movie played on the TV screen.

"Yeah, seriously," Billy chimed in from the armchair, his eyes fixed on (Y/N) with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

Despite her jumping at some of the movie's more intense scenes, (Y/N) laughed, trying to play it off. "Hey, don't judge me. I'm just not used to all this scary stuff."

Stu grinned, an idea forming in his mind. "You know what would be fun? A horror movie marathon. We'll toughen you up."

Billy's eyes gleamed with a sinister amusement, his gaze lingering on (Y/N) as he added, "Yeah, that's a good idea. Get you ready for the real thing."

Unbeknownst to (Y/N), their intentions were far from innocent. In their twisted minds, they envisioned her as the ultimate victim—the damsel in distress they could play out their darkest fantasies with. Billy's creepy stares and Stu's vivid imagination blended seamlessly with their supposed role as protectors.

As the marathon continued, (Y/N) did her best to keep her composure, laughing off her jumps and enjoying the company of her friends. She glanced at Billy and Stu, both absorbed in the movie, their expressions revealing something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Hey, you guys aren't actually planning to scare me for real, are you?" (Y/N) quipped, a playful glint in her eye.

Billy's lips curled into a charming smile, masking his true thoughts. "Of course not, (Y/N). We're your protectors, remember?"

Stu's grin was genuine, his gaze softening as he added, "Yeah, we're not gonna let anything happen to you."

Despite the odd tension in the room, (Y/N) felt a genuine warmth emanating from them. The camaraderie they shared was precious to her, and their presence was a comfort amidst the backdrop of uncertainty.

As the days turned into weeks, (Y/N)'s interactions with Billy and Stu continued to deepen, their friendship a blend of innocence and darkness that seemed to mirror her own conflicted thoughts. Beneath her sweet exterior, a hidden pearl of darkness lay dormant, waiting for the right catalyst to awaken it.

One day, after school, (Y/N) found herself crossing paths with a guy from school who had treated her with disdain. His words had been sharp, his actions cruel, leaving a lingering bitterness within her. As she walked away, her fists clenched and her thoughts turned dark. Anger simmered beneath her surface, and a newfound resolve began to take hold.

That night, the moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the town. (Y/N) moved with a determination that belied her innocent appearance. Her actions were swift, her thoughts cold and calculated as she carried out a plan that would forever change the course of events.

The next day, news of the guy's death spread like wildfire. Whispers of foul play and shock resonated through the school corridors. Nobody suspected the innocent new girl, the one with wide eyes and a demeanor that seemed incapable of harm.

As the days turned into weeks, the incident faded into the background, but (Y/N)'s newfound darkness lingered within her. She grappled with the conflicting emotions that surged within, a duality that remained hidden from the world.

Billy and Stu watched from the shadows, unaware of (Y/N)'s secret but sensing a shift in her. They continued their roles as her protectors, the twisted bond between them growing stronger. Little did they know, they were not the only ones harboring darkness.

The trio continued to spend time together, their connection both genuine and unsettling. (Y/N)'s thoughts were a storm of conflicting desires, her actions a reflection of the hidden Pearl within her—a darkness that had tasted blood and now hungered for more.

In a town where appearances were often deceiving, (Y/N) navigated the delicate balance between innocence and darkness. The lines between right and wrong blurred as her hidden thoughts and actions remained shrouded in secrecy, while the world continued to see only the sweet, innocent new girl who could do no harm.

As (Y/N)'s dark inclinations grew, so did the trail of bodies left in her wake. The once-hidden pearl of darkness had been fully awoken, and her actions took on a chilling rhythm. Each victim was carefully chosen, their lives extinguished with a methodical precision that sent shivers down her own spine.

Billy and Stu, the twisted duo who had unknowingly played a role in (Y/N)'s descent into darkness, began to notice the change in her demeanor. Their concern grew as they realized that the one they had deemed untouchable was now capable of unspeakable acts. The irony was not lost on them—the protectors were now the ones who feared for her safety.

"(Y/N), are you okay?" Billy's voice held a note of unease as he approached her one afternoon.

She smiled sweetly, her eyes glinting with a hidden intensity. "Of course, Billy. I'm fine."

Stu's eyes were sharp as he added, "You seem... different lately."

(Y/N)'s laughter was almost melodic, a stark contrast to the darkness that seemed to dance within her eyes. "Oh, just exploring new aspects of myself."

As the bodies continued to pile up, news of the new killer on the loose spread throughout the town. Fear and paranoia took hold, and Billy and Stu's concern for (Y/N) grew exponentially. They watched her closely, trying to discern the truth behind her smiles and the shifting shades within her gaze.

One evening, as they gathered at Stu's house, the topic of the killer came up once again. "(Y/N), have you heard about this new killer?" Stu asked, his tone casual.

She feigned innocence, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Oh, I've heard. It's terrible what's happening."

Billy's voice was strained as he pressed, "You haven't seen anything suspicious, have you?"

She met their gaze, her eyes a storm of hidden secrets. "Oh, nothing suspicious. Just a town gripped by fear."

The tension in the room was palpable, a silent recognition passing between them that (Y/N)'s dark thoughts were far more than they could have imagined. In their quest for power and control, they had inadvertently unleashed a force they couldn't fully comprehend.

As the days turned into nights, the town continued to reel from the new killer's actions. While the trail of bodies grew, (Y/N) remained a step ahead, her innocence a perfect mask for her true nature.

Billy and Stu's worry for her safety intensified, their twisted roles as protectors becoming a desperate attempt to shield her from a danger they were unaware she posed herself. In a chilling dance of fate, the lines between predator and prey blurred as (Y/N) navigated her dark path, leaving those around her to grapple with the realization that appearances could indeed be deceiving.

The tension in the air was thick as the night sky hung like a heavy curtain over the town. Billy and Stu's concern for (Y/N) had reached a fever pitch, each body that dropped heightening their anxiety. Their roles as protectors had been twisted beyond recognition, their concern evolving into a fear they dared not admit.

In the midst of their own murderous pursuits, the two boys stumbled upon a sight that shattered their perceptions. Moonlight cast an eerie glow on the scene before them—their sweet, innocent friend standing amidst the remnants of a fresh kill, her hands stained with blood.

Frozen in their tracks, Billy and Stu stared at (Y/N), their breath catching in their throats. A palpable tension hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the darkness that now bound them all together.

Stu was the first to break the silence, his voice a mixture of confusion and desperation. "What... What the hell, (Y/N)?"

(Y/N)'s gaze remained steady, her eyes holding a mix of defiance and something deeper, something that Billy and Stu struggled to grasp.

"Billy, Stu," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that belied her innocent exterior. "I know you've been worried about me. But you don't need to be. I've always known what I am."

Billy's voice trembled as he managed to speak, but it wasn’t from fear. No, it was something else he was feeling his heart pounding in his chest. "What are you talking about, (Y/N)?"

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of (Y/N)'s lips, her eyes glinting with a chilling clarity. "Predators and prey, Billy. It's the natural order of things. Carnivores feed on herbivores. But there are also omnivores—predators that feed on both."

Stu's confusion was etched across his face as he demanded, "What does that have to do with anything?"

(Y/N)'s gaze turned piercing as she took a step forward, her presence exuding an aura of both danger and inevitability. "I'm an omnivore, Stu. A predator that feeds on everyone and everything. It's just the way I am."

The stand-off continued, a twisted tableau of secrets, revelations, and darkness. The boundaries between their roles as predators and protectors had blurred, leaving them all to confront a reality they had never anticipated.

Stu's hand trembled as he reached up and pulled off his Ghostface mask, his expression a mix of vulnerability and confusion. "Why, (Y/N)? Why are you doing this?"

(Y/N)'s smile was haunting, her words carrying the weight of centuries of history. "Because, Stu, it's survival of the fittest. The world is full of predators and prey, and I've chosen to be a predator."

Billy's fingers gently grazed (Y/N)'s cheek, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. His eyes were filled with mischief as he moved her hair to the side, tucking it behind her ear. With a smirk playing on his lips, he leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You enjoy that, don't you?" he said, his words dripping with anticipation. "The thrill of killing."

(Y/N) stared up at him, her Bambi-like eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement. She nodded slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. It was a dark secret she had kept hidden from the world, a part of herself she had never fully embraced until now.

Stu, having observed the exchange, stepped forward after a moment of contemplation. He moved silently, his presence sending shivers down (Y/N)'s spine. As he stood behind her, his body pressed against hers, an unexpected warmth spread through her veins.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. The embrace was both comforting and electrifying, a mix of tenderness and danger. (Y/N) found herself leaning into him, her breath catching as she surrendered to the darkness within.

Together, the trio began to explore the depths of their twisted desires. A newfound bond formed, fueled by their shared secrets and the thrill of the unknown. They reveled in the chaos they created, leaving a trail of darkness in their wake.

As the nights grew longer and their actions more audacious, (Y/N) realized she had found her true family. In Billy and Stu, she had discovered kindred spirits who understood her in ways no one else ever could.

Their connection went beyond the realm of friendship. It was a dark and wicked love, forged in blood and mayhem. They would stand together, united in their pursuit of chaos, forever entangled in each other's embrace.

And so, (Y/N) embraced her dark side fully, relishing in the exhilaration of the hunt, and finding solace in the arms of those who shared her twisted desires.

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laluvlidovezgal · 4 days

Text

CHANCE.

TW! implications of death.

bittersweet! melancholic

t. muichiro x f. reader

graciously requested by @muuumuiiii ! thank you so much for requesting, you sweet lovely lad<3

who would have anticipated it? the mist hashira, of all individuals, displaying a concern that surpassed anyone else's for you—the spirit pillar; a warrior whose technique came at the steep cost of a gradual erosion of your life.

THE MOON; THE BRIGHTEST PEARL SUSPENDED IN OUR VELVET SKY THAT FLOODED THE INKY DARKNESS WITH ITS SILVER GLOW.

a radiant disc it was. casting its ethereal glow upon the shadows of the night, while also heralding the relentless onslaught of a few infamous entities—demons.

a symbol of hope, this pale sentinel embodied a goddess-like presence, standing as a timeless guardian, observing the earth with an unwavering gaze as warriors valiantly battled the monstrous creatures scattered throughout.

above, the luminous orb commanded the vast expanse of stars, illuminating them all. yet, even in this peaceful night, two particular slayers found themselves immersed in the serenity, although one seemed burdened by a more pressing concern, far beyond the tranquility itself.

in a world where such creatures roamed, the perfect harmony would remain elusive.

thus, what purpose did survival serve if death constantly loomed, a persistent visitor at one's very doorstep?

well, the purpose of life is to be happy. or at least, that's what this young man believed.

said boy possessed an acute understanding of this belief, as if it had become ingrained in the very fabric of his being—an awareness that, perhaps, bordered on the excessive.

the sheer ecstasy of savoring every moment of existence, embracing its essence in its entirety, was undeniably a remarkable achievement—a feat that deserved to be celebrated with fervor.

thus, he found himself utterly incapable of comprehending—indeed, he never had—how she could nonchalantly dismiss the imminent cessation of her own existence, as if it were a trifling matter. the weight of her disregard for her own life gnawed at him, like a persistent ache that defied understanding.

..then again, had he been any different?

"—and…now you’re spacing out, again.”

ah, the sound of that melodious voice; both longed for and dreaded, resonated within him and snapped him out of his reverie. even though he had incessantly poured out his thoughts to her since he awakened from his coma, with her faithfully by his side, deep in slumber—despite her own exhaustion—she had remained.

as your words echoed in his ears, he shifted his gaze to meet your own—and oh, those eyes.

he would give anything to forever witness his own reflection in the depths of your eyes.

in a mesmerizing dance, your gazes intertwined; an exquisite tapestry woven with delicate threads of connection.

he couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer magnificence of your irises—their majesty akin to rare crystalline treasures, gleaming beneath the majestic canopy of the nocturnal sky.

as a gentle zephyr whispered sweet nothings, its delicate touch caressed their beings, a tender embrace from the invisible hands of nature. he watched, his eyelids descending to a half-closed state, surrendering to the enchanting symphony of the night.

the breeze, like a playful sprite, felt as if it alone, could carry away his worries and sorrows, dispersing them into the velvety darkness.

yet, amidst this reposeful tranquility, a question lingered in the depths of his soul, an enigma that remained elusive and enigmatic.

it was one of the few riddles that continued to elude his grasp, an enigmatic puzzle that defied comprehension, regardless of whether he had regained his former self or not.

why, he pondered ever so deeply, did your well-being hold such profound significance to him?

why did his heart ache with an inexplicable yearning to protect you, to ensure the radiance within you remained untouched by the shadows of the world? it was as if his very purpose revolved around safeguarding your light, shielding it from the encroaching darkness threatening to dim its brilliance.

no, he never intended to diminish your worth in any way.

on the contrary—he understood, with a profound certainty, that you’re fully capable of caring for yourself alone.

yet, despite his awareness, a veil of mystery draped over his consciousness—that of a delicate wisp of mist teasing the boundaries of his understanding. it remained tantalizingly close, yet perpetually out of his reach, an enigma that eluded his grasp.

similarly elusive was the faint, almost imperceptible yet weighty pang in his heart each time his gaze flickered to your bandages that dressed your wounds.

he struggled to fathom its origins, to decipher the emotions that coursed through him with every glance. was it concern, fear, or something different altogether?

of course, he chastised himself for overreacting. after all, you were healing, weren't you?

...right?

at least, that was the relentless mantra he repeated to himself, like a haunting melody, a lullaby of self-deception.

perhaps it was a lie he constructed, a defense mechanism to shield himself from the harsh reality. deep down, he knew all too well that you were pushing yourself to the brink, sacrificing fragments of your own well-being to save countless others from the clutches of death.

how he yearned to tell you—to implore you—to cease using the very essence that slowly, yet inexorably, eroded your own vitality. the desire to shield you from the self-inflicted harm, consumed him.

yet, who was he to stand in your way?

who was he to dictate how you should pursue your purpose—your solemn vow? who had the right to demand that you discard the only technique you knew, as if acquiring a new skill were a trivial matter?

perhaps, for you, it had maybe once been a tangible option—a plausible alternative.

however, it clashed with the very reason why you chose to persist in wielding the power of spirit breathing, despite its unfortunate and devastating toll on your own being.

it was a conundrum that weighed heavily upon his soul, yet another conflict that tugged at the frayed edges of his limited understanding.

then, abruptly—his consciousness snapped back to reality, like a fragile dream shattered by the gentle sweep of a waving hand.

in that instant, the symphony of your voice, a sweet and melodious tune, graced his senses once more, stirring his spirit from its slumber.

"hello? earth to tokito?"

your words danced in the air, adorned with a delicate blend of amusement and genuine concern—whilst he, silently observed your actions. his gaze lingering for a fleeting moment, as if capturing the essence of your graceful movements.

soon enough, his eyes blinked, like a dormant star awakening to illuminate the night sky, as he finally stirred from his reverie.

with a subtle tilt of his head, he emitted a soft hum—a melodic expression that intertwined intrigue and acknowledgment in response to your beckoning. the notes of his hum danced through the air, a secretive melody that conveyed both his curiosity and the recognition of your presence.

meanwhile, you watched him with an internal sigh of relief.

the young man, whom you had believed to be forever lost in the bewitching realm of his perpetual daydreams, had returned to the realm of the present. the transformation within him, from introspective to effervescent, had you spellbound, never failing to leave you even in but a speck of awe, of these rare moments of clarity that graced his being.

"seems like someone's finally awake."

a faint smile blossoming upon your lips, akin to the first delicate bloom of a spring flower. lowering your hand with graceful grace,

you adjusted yourself to a more comfortable position beside him on the edge of the engawa outside the butterfly manor—a perch where you and him had been leisurely spending time together, without a care in the world, rambling on about. relishing in the comfort in one another’s presence—like a normal pair of souls basking in the way of life.

"you’ve been staring at me for quite a while.”

pausing for a breath, you tilted your head—the radiance of your irises blooming with an enchanting glow, as if the secrets of the universe were hidden within their depths.

"what's wrong?"

in the midst of an enchanting moment, a subtle hint of wounded innocence played across your seductive countenance, evoking a mysterious allure.

"do i look that bad?"

your voice, though as mellow and gentle as always, carried an underlying touch of vulnerability.

in an instant, he reacted, tilting his head with a subtle mixture of surprise and denial.

"what? no."

aa he blinked, his words slipped out absent-mindedly, like a whisper from a dreamer's lips.

"far from it, actually."

he confessed, his sincerity palpable.

with a gaze that held a painter's eye for detail, he saw your flaws not as imperfections, but as intricate brush strokes that added depth to the masterpiece of your being. inexplicably, he adored you, to the point where it practically pained him.

and who could blame him? for you were way more than a mere beauty that could be captured in words. you were a tapestry of emotions, a symphony of sensations that defied description.

to him, you are everything.

your brows raised slightly, captivated by his ever-unpredictable nature. truly, like the wind, he embraced the freedom to wander in any direction he pleased.

reminiscent of an owl, you blinked a plenty amount of times, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of his flattery. it seeped into the recesses of your heart, stirring a delicate blend of bashfulness and gratitude.

"then..."

unintentionally mimicking his gestures, as if dancing in synchrony with his spirit, you then asked, avidly yearning to explore the depths of his thoughts.

"mind sharing what's got you so..distant?"

although it was not deemed uncommon for him, of all individuals, to maintain a silent disposition, you possessed a deeper understanding—having witnessed something greater, something more.

despite the mere span of a few days, you stood as a crucial observer to the sudden shift in his demeanor. having been privy to a bewildering yet endearingly interactive side of the boy since his awakening, it became slightly disconcerting to witness him potentially regress into his characteristic, distant, and dazed state.

the memory of those extraordinary moments lingered, and it was disheartening to question whether they were mere illusions or if they held the promise of something genuine.

as of now, the male in question pressed his lips together, creating a slender line as his gaze wandered away from yours, as though searching for a brief respite from reality.

seeing this, you reassured him. carefully observing these subtle occurrences with your keen irises.

"you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

responding with a weary shake of his head and a sigh escaping his lips, his gaze flickered back to you, and as his eyes connected with yours once more, a subtle softness overcame them.

truly breathtaking were his eyes. they possessed a hue reminiscent of emerald, yet they gleamed like the replesdent glow of the moon above.

however, what truly captured your attention was the way his brows furrowed just as the corner of his lips downturned, for internally—a cascade of emotions crashed upon him all at once. moreover, a despairing layer seemed to coat his eyes, a poignant sorrow that caught you off guard.

"i don't like it."

he stated firmly, his words hanging in the air, leaving you perplexed.

your head tilted slightly further, eyes widening as you regarded him with curiosity and intrigue.

in response, he raised a hand to the area where his heart resided, his gaze lowering and narrowing towards the ground beneath you both.

"this feeling..."

his voice carried a weight of uncertainty, gaze delicately shifted back to meet yours—and in that moment, you could have sworn you saw his frown deepen as the hint of sorrow on his features became even more pronounced.

"and knowing you could..."

he trailed off, unable to bring himself to complete his sentence. yet, the unfinished words were enough for you to grasp the essence of his meaning.

your brows upturned, sensing the profound depth of emotions he struggled to express fully through words. you had a hunch that it might be something like this, but witnessing his reaction with such intensity was, without a doubt, enough to evoke a painful ache in anyone's heart.

the desire to comfort him welled up within you, an overwhelming longing to ease his burdens. yet, you couldn't help but question how you could possibly offer reassurance.

would it be by telling a blatant lie about something that was inevitable?

now, that would be nothing short of cruelty, no?

to suggest that you would overcome it would only exacerbate the pain. moreover, you were uncertain how to approach the situation without inadvertently triggering a devastating chain of events in the unavoidable future.

truth be told, if he were anyone else, you might have dismissed the matter with a casual remark, wouldn't you?

but with him, it was different.

you couldn't bring yourself to say so.

unable to find the right words in that moment, your gaze somberly shifted away from his, fixating on a distant point ahead. yet, in a sudden and unexpected instant, you were taken aback as you felt the weight of something new but vaguely familiar resting upon your shoulder—soft strands of supple hair gently brushing against you. along with it came a delicate warmth, enveloping you in an oddly soothing sensation.

"you don't have to say anything."

he quietly uttered, his honeyed voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and reassurance. he simply needed to release his thoughts into the open, to let them be heard, even if it was just a single sentence.

there had been no intention to pressurize or burden you, but rather a desire to be the one offering reassurance while subtly seeking comfort himself.

in a silent plea to convince himself that he wasn't caught in a dream, he gingerly leaned his head against your shoulder, and though was making sure not to add any more damage to your wounds, he did so without a hint of regret.

your heart skipped a beat, overwhelmed by the depth of his actions. turning your attention back to him, you found solace in this unspoken gesture of support. that tender gesture conveyed a profound understanding, a connection that surpassed the boundaries of words. it was a silent reassurance; of ones comforting presence for the other, especially in the face of uncertainty.

a sentimental smile graced your features as you felt immense gratitude for his selfless deeds. even in this moment, he made sure you were as comfortable as possible, going above and beyond to provide solace. the warmth of his actions filled you with a deep sense of appreciation and reinforced the unmatched bond between you.

"..thank you,"

you whispered in a hushed breath, your voice carrying the weight of profound appreciation.

though the words seemed simple, they held within them an entire universe of gratitude—a universe that bloomed with vivid colors, dreamlike aspirations, and meaningful connections.

with a delicate grace, you lifted your hand and allowed your fingertips to dance upon the canvas of his raven tresses. each strand, like a silken thread, wove a tapestry of sensations beneath your touch.

the texture was soft and supple, akin to the gentle caress of a summer breeze. as your fingers glided through the ebony strands, you embarked on a journey of intricate care, smoothing out the knots that dared to disrupt the harmony.

in this intimate act, time seemed to suspend, creating a space where the world faded away, leaving only the two of you in a transcendent moment. your touch, as mindful as the brushstrokes of an artist, traced a path of tenderness and care. each movement held intention, a pledge to protect and cherish him, ensuring no harm would befall his vulnerable spirit.

It was a silent symphony, where the language of trust and gratitude flowed effortlessly through the whispers of your fingertips.

as you continued this tender ministration, a vibrant tapestry of emotions unfurled within the depths of your heart. gratitude, like a delicate fragrance, mingled with a sense of wonder, weaving a spellbinding combination.

the tenderness you shared painted a tableau, akin to a cherished memory, where hues of warmth, understanding, and appreciation blended harmoniously.

pleased by your touch, a contented hum escaped your companion's lips, his eyes finding solace in the comfortable embrace of closed lids.

a smile, brimming with emotions, blossomed upon his visage, a testament to the profound impact of your presence.

his heart fluttered with a bittersweet ache, caught between the beauty of the present and the uncertainty of the future.

yet, even in the face of daunting odds, a glimmer of hope persisted within him. it discreetly clung to his being, refusing to be extinguished.

it was undeniably a childlike hope, both fragile and resilient; to yearn for the possibility of a miraculous turn of events.

still, muichiro wanted to embrace that chance, to patiently wait for the magic of a future with you.

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odysseylenoirwrites · 4 months

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Only With You (Loki x Black!Reader)

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, manipulation, mentions of stalking, they're both delulu for each other, MDNI.

W/C: 1.9k

Saw this image on tiktok and immediately got the idea for this. I love a good villain. cr: ilikeitbetterinmydreams

Loki x Black Reader

You vanished into thin air. There is no trace of you or any way to identify you. Nothing was removed from your residence—everything was in place, even your phone, wallet, and identification.

Your family prays for your return. They hang up flyers and mourn the loss of you.

But, you're not missing.

You are lost in your own world with the love of your life. The man that would move heaven and earth and other galaxies and realms for you. The most powerful man you've ever met.

You are lost with him.

Being absorbed into a world where no one knows your name, who you are, or anything else about you is the perfect scenario that Loki has created for you.

There is something inherently addictive about being with him. He has changed your view of the world as you know it.

Because he's introduced you to a world that belongs to him, Asgard.

Loki, with his mischievous smile and piercing green eyes, was a force to be reckoned with. He showed you worlds unimaginable, each more breathtaking than the last. The two of you would stroll through ethereal gardens ablaze with vibrant flowers that seemed to possess their own life. You would float hand in hand amidst the swirling nebulae, your laughter echoing across the cosmic tapestry.

"Y/n," Loki speaks to you ever so softly, but his tone holds such masculine energy that always commands your attention.

He stands before you in a cream silk blouse with enough of his bare chest exposed. His pants hug his beautiful thighs, and his boots press against the hardwood floor.

"Yes, Loki?"

Your eyes meet his, and just the touch of his gaze on your skin is enough to make you want him.

The candlelight flickers behind him, creating a cozy, intimate background against his pale skin.

But those eyes are full of dark things that he's done. Something he wouldn't dare utter to you.

Because he's explained to you that you're the only good thing in his life, you're the only thing he's worth living for. So, instead of continuing his reign of darkness, he has decided to devote his time and energy to creating a life with you.

So, when Loki asked you to leave your life behind and create a new one with him in Asgard, you didn't hesitate. Nothing or no one has ever made you this happy.

"Your bath is ready," Loki says, extending his hand to you.

"Thank you, Loki."

You stand up and lock hands with your lover. Your bare feet dance along the floor, and you follow him into the bathroom.

The bathroom is a grandiose space, adorned with marble and gold accents. The air carries a hint of lavender, courtesy of the bath oils Loki has personally selected for your relaxation.

As you step inside, the warm steam fills the room, instantly enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort.

The scent of lavender, eucalyptus, and your favorite bath salts hit your nose before your eyes look at the tub. Your bathtub is lined with pink candles.

Loki undresses you, removes your sweater, and tosses your bra. His hand unbuckles your pants as those blue piercing eyes stare deep into your soul.

After every article of clothing is removed, Loki undresses himself. You marvel at him as he's before you, completely nude.

Loki steps into the bathtub first and gets in after. You lean back against his chest, and his warm arms wrap around you.

Loki gestures for you to step into the ornate bathtub, and you oblige, feeling the soothing water caress your skin like a gentle embrace. As you sink into the depths, he whispers in your ear.

"I want to take care of you, Y/n," he whispers, his voice echoing in the intimate space. "To shower you with love and protect you from any harm."

"I know and I feel safe with you."

"You're not lonely, are you?" Loki asks.

"No, all I need is you."

"It's quite selfless of you to give up everything you knew and love to be with me. I always try to honor you in every way I can because of your dedication."

"I wanted to leave. My life was boring and mundane before meeting you six months ago."

"I know. I watched you... aimlessly admiring you through your window watching you sleep every night for months. I knew that you needed someone to protect you."

"I did... I long for you before I even knew who you were. You complete me. I'm nothing with you."

"You're so loyal and devoted. My brother is coming to visit tomorrow. He's excited to meet you."

"I thought you weren't close to him anymore."

You remember the many conversations has shared with you in that very tub. He's poured out his heart to you about how his brother, Thor, has mistreated him. Loki has expressed how he never fit in with his family, and his brother always made a point to remind him that he's adopted.

Unsurprisingly, you're not quite happy to meet a man who doesn't see how amazing your lover is.

"Things can change."

"Well, I look forward to meeting him, then."

"Now, get on all fours so I can show you how much I appreciate my Angel."

Your heart flutters at the thought of being one with him again. You miss him being inside of you.

"Want me to appreciate you, right?" Loki asks.

"Yes."

Loki watches you get into position and how quickly you obey him. A smirk plays on his lips at how easily it was to put you under his spell.

Sure, his initial intention was to trick you into submitting to him and running off to Asgard with him. But the more he learned about you, the more he developed real feelings for you.

He felt he'd never experienced before, nor was it capable for him to amass.

Your beautiful dark wavy hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and the water swirls around you as you wait for your Loki, your KKing, to take you.

Loki loves seeing you wait patiently for him. A warmth that only you can spark swirls throughout his body and sits in his crotch. His dick twitches for you.

Your life was nothing but chaos before he walked into your life. Loki carefully and cautiously waited for months before even approaching you.

He noted your very particular hobbies, things you liked and disliked. He observed you at work with your friends and family. He wanted to know as much as he could before the first conversation. He needed to understand you completely.

He knew that to win your heart, he had to show you that he genuinely cared about every aspect of your life.

"Angel," Loki speaks.

He runs his hand down your smooth back, and your body jolts to his touch. He runs his hand down your ass, slides from your pussy, and stops at your clit.

"Yes? My King."

The words roll off your tongue, and he runs his hand between your thighs.

You rock your core against his palm. Your eyes are closed, and you're lost in the moment with your love.

"You're soaked."

"I've missed you."

"We made love last night."

"I know... but you make me.. Needy."

You admit. No one has ever made you feel this way.

The euphoric feeling of his finger teasing your clit is sending your body to new heights.

"Cum for your King," Loki growls. It's enough to push you over the edge.

Your body spills over to another realm as you reach your peak. His words, combined with his skillful touch, are all you need to submit to your King.

"I love how obedient you are. Look at me."

You turn around and stare into his icy-blue eyes. You straddle his waist.

"Ride me, beautiful."

You grab his length and slide down onto him. You moan at the feeling of your love being inside of you again. There's something about him that you adore so much. You can't get over how good it feels to have him buried inside of you.

Your bodies rock together, and Loki holds you in place with a grip around your waist. His eyes lock in with yours. The way he admires you should be a sin.

You bask in the moment of being one with Loki, your King. The only man you will ever serve. Your heart races with excitement, and each time he bounces you on his dick, it brings you to a new level of passion.

"You're so pretty, Y/n," Loki compliments you. "Taking my dick like this. You're doing so good."

"Thank you, King."

Your stomach flutters, hearing you compliment him like this. Your skin heats up, and your face grows hot. Loki leans forward, kissing you on your collarbone.

You roll your hips, and he meets your movement. He picks you up, and your legs wrap around his waist. You toss your arms around his shoulders.

Loki pounds into you at a merciless rhythm. His movements are erratic, but you're lost in the moment. He slips his tongue into your mouth, and you deepen the passionate kiss.

"I love being inside of you.. So wet for me." Loki mentions in between kisses.

You moan into his mouth, feeling him thrust deep inside of you. He hits your G-spot with precision, and your legs shake with pleasure.

"Harder, King," you beg.

He smirks, kissing you harder as he increases his pace. His thrusts become more forceful, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You're so beautiful when you beg for me," Loki whispers. "I love seeing you like this, completely at my mercy."

Your heart pounds in your chest as he continues to dominate you, his blue eyes never leaving your face. His hands grip your waist tightly, pulling you closer with each thrust.

"I want to see you cum, Y/n," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me when you're going to cum for me."

The intensity of his words makes your core quiver. "I'm going to cum," you cry out.

The sensations are intense and overwhelming, as if everything that has been building between us finally reaches its peak.

Every cell in your body is alight with excitement and love as Loki thrusts into me with wild abandon. Your screams of passion mix with his growls of desire as he works us both to the brink of ecstasy.

"Cum for me, Y/n," Loki demands, the intensity in his voice making your heart race. You can't hold back any longer. You feel your muscles tighten around him, and you cry out as waves of pleasure wash over me.

Loki slows his movements, his breath ragged. He pulls out of me, leaving me feeling empty and exposed. You look up at him, your heart racing and your body trembling.

"You're mine, Y/n," Loki says, his voice soft but firm. "And you will be for the rest of your life."

You smile up at him, feeling a surge of love and devotion wash over me. You know in that moment that your life has changed for the better. You are no longer the same person you were before Loki came into your life.

"Yes, King," You whisper, your voice shaking with desire and passion.

#loki smut #loki x reader #loki x black!reader #loki x black reader #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic writer #black woman #black!reader

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guinevere-if · 1 year

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Demo: TBA

Guinevere is a text-based interactive fiction that draws inspiration from the rich tapestry of Arthurian Legends.

You will play as Guinevere and witness the journey toward gaining power and the struggles to keep your reign secure in a kingdom filled with political intrigue and external threats.

In the future, I plan to make Guinevere gender-selectable, and also make Arthur the opposite gender of the MC. However, for the time being, I would like to keep the story as it is until I can better determine the direction in which the narrative is heading.

For many years, people believed that dragons were untamable creatures until one man proved them all wrong. Armed with a mighty sword and a formidable dragon by his side, Arthur set out with his army to conquer all of Britain and bring it under his rule. Unfortunately, your kingdom has found itself standing in the way of Arthur's quest for a united Britain.

Choose Guinevere's gender (Soon!)

Customize your MC’s physical appearance.

Make tough and important decisions that affect you and everyone around you.

Four romances that the story heavily focuses on.

Have a dragon by your side and fight Arthur in the skies!

Form a family.

The fate of the realm rests on a knife's edge - it can either flourish under your leadership or crumble to its ultimate demise.

"To achieve the greater good, one must first attain the power to make it a reality."

Arthur Pendragon: King of Camelot and the founder of the Round Table Order.

He is a man of few words, with a cold and aloof demeanor that can make him seem unapproachable. He prefers to keep to himself and often retreats into his own world. Despite his reserved nature, he is a strong leader who inspires loyalty and devotion in those around him.

His golden blonde hair and piercing grey eyes add to his air of regal authority and make him a striking figure. Though he may seem distant at times, he has a deep sense of honor and duty, and will stop at nothing to protect his people and his kingdom.

Will you be able to crack his armor and discover what hides beneath?

"Your ignorance is truly awe-inspiring. I can only hope to one day reach your level of blissful unawareness."

Morgana Le Fay: She is a mysterious and intriguing woman, known for her use of sarcasm to keep others at bay. Her sharp wit and biting comments often serve as a shield, protecting her from anyone getting too close.

Despite her sarcastic demeanor, Morgana is an intelligent and perceptive individual. She has a keen sense of observation and is quick to pick up on the nuances of the people around her. Her green eyes are piercing and seem to see right through anyone who tries to deceive her.

Morgana's inky black hair is often styled in loose waves that frame her pale skin. She has an ethereal beauty that can be both captivating and intimidating. Her presence commands attention, and it's clear that she is not someone to be trifled with.

She's been hurt in the past and is hesitant to let anyone get too close to her. But for those who are willing to take the time to get to know her, Morgana can be a true and loyal friend or even something more.

"When the going gets tough, the tough get going. I don't know what that means, but I, Sir Lancelot du Lac, never back down from a challenge."

Sir Lancelot du Lac: A knight is known for his charm, boldness, and impulsive nature. He has a reputation for being a ladies' man, with many admirers who swoon at his feet. Standing tall with a strong build and chiseled jaw, he is a man who commands attention wherever he goes. His dark brown hair and deep blue eyes add to his allure, making him a true heartthrob among the ladies.

Sir Lancelot is a skilled and dedicated knight who takes his duties seriously. He is fiercely loyal to his king and the Round Table and will stop at nothing to protect the people he cares about. His impulsive nature can sometimes get him into trouble, but his quick thinking and bravery always manage to save the day. His bravery and courage have earned him respect among many.

Before meeting you, he never found duty to be burdensome. Now he feels it weight more pressing every day.

"I hate you with every fiber of my being, but I can't seem to shake the strange pull you have on me."

Hey, just so you know, you could totally have a poly thing with both her and Arthur. Just throwing it out there. 🙈

Argante: Merlin's daughter and Arthur's childhood friend.

Argante is a complex and intriguing woman, born of the union between a fae and a half-human, she possesses unique abilities that she often uses to aid Arthur on his various journeys and battles. Her loyalty to Arthur is unwavering, and she is always ready to lend her formidable powers to his cause.

Despite her fierce loyalty, Argante can be possessive and quick to anger. Her emotions often run high, and she is not one to back down from a challenge. The complete opposite of her father, Merlin.

Argante's appearance is just as striking as her personality. Her snowy white hair and purple eyes create an otherworldly picture, the very air shimmering around her presence adding to the mirage. It's no wonder that many are drawn to her, be it out of fear or admiration.

Argante despises you with a fiery passion that burns deep through her every time she catches a glimpse of your face. In her eyes, you are the thief who stole the man of her dreams - the one she had loved for years.

And yet… there is another side to her that sometimes emerges whenever she catches glimpses of you. This side of her seems to yearn for your attention and affection, creating a peculiar dichotomy that is difficult to comprehend.

If you could somehow break through the wall of anger and resentment that Argante has built, and show her that you are not the enemy, there might be a chance to win her over. You might even be able to establish a relationship with both her and Arthur.

#guinevere #interactive fiction #interactive novel #choice of games #choicescript #dashingdon #hosted games #if: intro #if game #cyoa #masterpost #hg #cog

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prythianpages · 6 months

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Give 'Em Hell | Part One

beron's daughter OC x eventually Azriel

Masterlist

Summary: Beron is celebrating his son's first name day when he learns about a threat to his desired line of succession. His true firstborn.

Warnings: mentions of child loss

A/N: This is the villain origin story of Beron's daughter. I plan for this to be a short series but I also don't really have this planned out well like my other series lol, I'm kind of just going with vibes for this one. After listening to The Buttress's 'Brutus' this came to mind so it will be inspired by Julius Caesar's story and revolve mainly around Saoirse and Eris, who are siblings. Azriel will join later on in the series as the first 2-3 parts will focus on reader and the Vanserras.

In the heart of the Autumn Court’s grand palace, the air hummed with vibrant festivities. It was a day of great joy, a celebration for the name day of the High Lord’s firstborn son and heir. The halls were adorned with tapestries of blazing amber and crimson leaves, their intricate designs catching the radiance of the fiery torches that lined the corridor.

Flickering candles and enchanting crystal orbs dangled from the vaulted ceilings, casting a warm, golden glow upon the gathering below. The joyful chatter of courtiers and nobles mingled with the melodic tunes of minstrels performing lively songs. Excitement surged through the crowd as they anticipated the official naming of the new prince, the air crackling with a promise of a prosperous future for the court and its people.

The grand doors opened and the High Lord of Autumn, Beron Vanserra, was the first to emerge. His wife and Lady of the Autumn Court, Aurelia, followed behind him. In her arm, was the autumn court’s new bundle of joy. A beautiful and healthy baby boy with hair as red as hers and amber eyes as bright and earthly as hers.

As they walked forward, the crowd dispersed, bowing their heads in respect. They curiously sneaked a peak at the boy, filled with anxious excitement to catch a glimpse. Lady Aurelia tightened her hold on her babe protectively. It had been a year since the announcement of his arrival and she had feared losing this babe as she had with her first. Her firstborn had befallen to a strange illness and she sadly did not survive past her first week into the world.

But this time, things were different. The child was born a male and healthy. He was fiercely monitored and protected. The securing of an heir to a High Lord of Prythian was one of great matters.

High Lord Beron sat himself on the throne, his dark brown eyes cold and fierce as Lady Aurelia stood beside him, her amber eyes were timid and wary. They were husband and wife but not equals. Never equals.

“I give thanks to all.” Beron’s voice was deep and powerful, echoing throughout the grand hall. “For gathering to celebrate my first born son. My heir. Eris.”

“Eris,” a murmur swept through the crowd like a breeze, the name mingling with the crackling excitement of the gathered court.

With a graceful motion of his hand, the lively melody swelled, encouraging some to sway and twirl to the music. High Lord Beron gestured for his son and Lady Aurelia hesitantly passed the small child into his arms. He placed Eris on his lap, embracing the young heir, and together they observed the vibrant dance of the Autumn court from his throne.

A cloaked figure approached the throne, bowing his head as he reached the foot of the steps.

“Soothsayer.” High Lord Beron acknowledged with a solemn nod, allowing the figure to rise back up. He never bothered to learn his name, despite the Soothsayer being a part of his court for decades. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I’ve come to enlighten you, my lord.” The Soothsayer replied, his voice possessing an air of icy calm. Lady Aurelia, who remained by her husband’s side, tensed.

High Lord Beron’s brow furrowed, a scowl etched onto his face. He did not believe in prophecies. They were nothing but nonsense to him. But something in him prodded him to entertain the man’s presence. The Soothsayer had, afterall, predicted the accurate arrival of his son.

The Soothsayer’s gaze fixed upon the child on his High Lord’s lap and a smile graced his face. “Eris shall grow to wield unparalleled strength.”

Beron gave a disgruntled hum, finding little amusement in the Soothsayer’s words. The notion that his son would grow strong seemed more a matter of course than a profound prophecy. Eris, as the heir to the Autumn Court, was destined for greatness.

The Soothsayer’s demeanor shifted dramatically. His eyes rolled back, their irises disappearing into a haunting white void as he surrendered to the profundity of the prophecy.

“The Vanserra line will be fruitful and flourishing as Autumn’s greatest harvest, for they are born with the greatest fire in their veins. But it will not last. Not all will thrive as some will die. Two will soon become three until there are finally eight but one will not be true to you and only one shall come to be. It is the one that possesses the phoenix's heart that the Mother will favor. She shall reign, the true firstborn.”

Beron’s eyes widened for a faltering moment before he rose sharply to his feet, handing the child that had begun to grow restless back to his wife. His gaze blazed with fury, taking the Soothsayer’s words as a threat. Tendrils of flame escaped from his finger tips, rushing to wrap around the Soothsayer’s neck to silence him.

But the Soothsayer did not falter, despite the burning ring around his neck.

“She will emerge from the ashes that aim to entomb her, ever lingering near. A course that cannot be averted. Beware… the ides of March.”

Beron’s eyes continued to rage, the fire in them burning ardently, as the fire around the Soothsayer’s neck tightened. It tightened and tightened, suffocating the male and burned through his flesh. He didn’t stop until the Soothsayer’s head dropped to the floor in a sickening thump, his body following along shortly.

Lady Aurelia let out a cry in shock, her hand flying to her son’s head, shielding him from the grotesque scene. The couples that had been dancing and swaying to the music came to an abrupt halt, eyes widening at the dead body before the throne to the Autumn Court but the music continued to play.

High Lord Beron finally peeled his heated gaze from the dead male, eyes darting around the room. “Did I say to stop?”

Not wanting to meet the Soothsayer’s fate, the crowd began to dance again, compelled by fear. Beron then turned to his guards as the Soothsayer’s words repeated themselves in his head and sunk in, bringing forth a familiar ache in his chest. One he had thought he had destroyed years ago.

His mind was consumed by memories from his past as he gave hushed and urgent orders to his most trusted men.

For the rest of the night, the High Lord of the Autumn court maintained a scowl and an air of fierce composure. The flames that danced restlessly from his fingertips betrayed the inner turmoil he harbored. He did not rest, until days later, when his men finally returned.

High Lord Beron was sharing a quiet breakfast with his wife and son when he turned to address his men. “Is it done?”

“Yes, my High Lord.” One of his men replied with a bow. The men behind followed. “Not a single survivor left.”

Beron’s lips curled into a wicked smirk that sent chills up Lady Aurerlia’s spine while little Eris shifted in her lap.

“Good.”

Grief is the price one pays for love. It’s more than missing someone. It’s an overwhelming sensation, one that often takes a piece of you with it, leaving one with a gaping hole in their chest.

It starts with denial, you pretend that the loss is not real until the pain that it carries becomes too much and anger floods in. The “what ifs” and “if only” nearly drown you as you bargain, wanting to postpone the sadness, the confusion. And then it’s peaceful in the deep and quiet depression. The arms of the ocean of grief’s depression carry you in until acceptance comes along like a bittersweet lullaby with a small sliver of hope–a life ring that may pull you out of grief’s cold depths.

But Saoirse’s mother never reached the final stage.

Instead, her mother slowly disappeared into the unrelenting depressing grip of grief. The depths of it were so deep no hand or life ring could reach. All for love.

Saoirse vowed to never fall in love. How could she when it was love that drove her mother so mad she lost her sanity?

Saoirse shuffled through the vast meadow. It was a canvas of autumnal hues, serene and enchanting, resplendent with vibrant flowers. Golden, russet and crimson blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, their petals swirling among the tall, amber grasses. Sunlight dappled through the tree branches, casting a warm golden glow. She picked out the prettiest of the flowers, making sure to grab her mother’s favorites–red chrysanthemums–before carefully wrapping them into a beautiful bouquet held together with a thin cloth and ivory ribbon.

When Saoirse entered the comforts of her small, humble home, she was greeted with the enticing scent of apple and cinnamon and the warmth of the roaring fireplace in the living space. She found her mother sitting in a rocking chair close to the fireplace, facing the window. A blanket had been gently draped over her lap, her fingers fidgeting over the warm fabric.

“Happy birthday, mother.” Saoirse greeted with a faint, fragile smile.

She approached her mother, placing a soft kiss on her forehead and the bouquet of flowers in her lap. Her mother’s shaky fingers clung onto the bouquet but her green eyes were distant.

“You took my heart when you left. Without your sweet kiss, my soul is lost…”

Saoirse’s smile fell and she felt her heart ache. She hated seeing her mother like this.

“She’s been like this all day.” A weathered voice chimed in solemnly.

“My city’s in ruins.”

Saoirse turned, her gaze landing on her sweet grandmother. The woman who had sacrificed everything to run to her daughter’s aid all those years ago. The woman who rose shortly after her high status fell, working hard to provide for her and her daughter. The woman, who when she found out her daughter was pregnant, delicately took care of her, raising Saoirse as if she were her own. Her eyes, usually warm and sweet, were green pools of sympathy as Saoirse’s mother’s voice faded into the background.

“Come on, rise up. Come on, rise up.”

“Dinner’s almost ready.” Her grandmother said, inkling her head toward the kitchen. “I made apple pie for dessert.”

They ate dinner in silence. With the help of her grandmother, Saoirse had guided her mother to the small dining table, just big enough for the three of them. Her mother continued to sing, green eyes still vacant as she was tormented by her memories. She had fallen into another bad episode, where the memories ran through an endless loop in her head. The song falling from her lips was her only solace.

“My city’s in ruins.”

Silver lined Saoirse’s eyes, making her dark brown eyes glisten. Eyes that she unfortunately inherited from her father, if she could even call him that. She was grateful it was the only trait they shared.

Saoirse hated the male that helped bring her to this cruel world with a burning passion. Everything was his fault. Why her sweet grandmother’s hands were calloused, roughened by the hard labor she was forced into. Why her mother was drowning in her depressive, almost vegetative state, refusing to heal from all the damage that had been done. All the damage he had done.

Saoirse had also fallen victim to the torturous depths of grief, mourning the loss of the mother she never got to know. Similar to her mother, she found herself stuck but it was not grief's depression that suffocated her. It was the ardent flames of anger. They ran so deep they flooded her veins, igniting her with a terrifying desire to burn everything to the ground.

“Sersh.”

Saoirse snapped out of her thoughts, eyes finding her grandmother, who glanced down at the table. “Shit, sorry.” She muttered.

“Come on, rise up. Come on, rise up.”

As she drew back her heated hands, a shiver of discomfort ran through her. The scent of singed wood tickled her nostrils and the once pristine table bore the mark of her growing abilities, its surface marred by a thin layer of char. Her grandmother’s soft chuckle met an abrupt halt.

Their heads swiveled to Saoirse’s mother, whose voice had ceased mid-song. With a shared look of concern, both Saoirse and her grandmother called out to her simultaneously.

“Margot?”

“Mother?”

Silence hung in the air after Saoirse’s call to her mother was met with no response. Her mother, Margot, remained wordless. Her emerald eyes widening in sheer disbelief and lips pressed into a taut line. She appeared as though she had seen a ghost.

The silence was suddenly interrupted by a blood-curdling scream. A scream that did not originate from within the house, a scream that elicited a tumult of more anguished sounds, echoing chaos.

Saoirse leaped to her feet in a panicked rush, rushing out the door in urgency. Her eyes scanned the landscape of their small village, her eyes widening with dread at the horrifying sight that unfolded before her.

The village, the place she had called home all her life, was engulfed in an all-consuming blaze, flames licking at everything in sight. More screams sent her heart racing. She didn’t know what to do, where to go, who to help first.

She found her neighbor, who desperately carried a bucket of water, and ran to him. “What is going on?”

“I don’t know.” He answered, his voice frantic. “They say it’s a wildfire from the drought but it started in the granaries. Get your grandmother and mother and run.”

Saoirse nodded as she turned around in haste, making her way back to her home. The flames danced freely in the village, their fierce, unwavering embrace swallowing everything in their path. The once-charming cottages, adorned with vibrant fall flower boxes, now stood cloaked in orange and red. She held her hands up toward the flames, beckoning her powers to ignite. Perhaps, she could manipulate the flames to turn away from the village.

Nothing happened and it was then that a terrifying realization dawned on her. This was no ordinary fire. It was fire sparked from magic. Saoirse willed her legs to run faster as plumes of smoke twisted upward, smudging the sky with a toxic charcoal hue.

The air grew thick with the smoke and somber chorus of crackling flames. Villagers, gripped by fear and despair, dashed frantically. Like her neighbor, they hauled buckets of water in a futile attempt to quell the unrelenting blaze.

She was almost home when she heard a sudden and loud sequence of snapping. A massive tree limb plunged directly in her path, sending her stumbling and crashing into the fallen leaves below. Panic surged as a terrified scream escaped from her lips, watching in horror as the tree she once climbed as a child splintered and fractured. It’s trunk plummeted, crashing over her house with a resounding, earth-shaking roar.

“Nana!” She cried, crawling to her burning house.

The smoke burned her lungs as she rose to her feet. She hurried to the door of her house but there was fire everywhere, keeping her from entering. Her hands extended once more, a desperate attempt to summon her powers. She could feel a trickle of blood run down from her nose at the exertion. Nothing.

With another desperate cry, she kicked at the door, not caring if the flames engulfed her. “Nana!”

She could hear the faint sound of coughing. “Saoirse!”

“Nana,” she almost cried in relief but no matter how much she kicked and threw herself against the door, it would not budge.

“It’s alright, my sweet Sersh.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. No. She refused to accept this.

“No, it’s not! I need to get you two out of there.”

She continued to kick and scratch at the door desperately. Blood trickled from her hands. "Please," she begged. To the Cauldron, to the Mother. Anyone. "Please."

But there was no answer. Only silence. A deathly stillness that enveloped around her, choking her just as the flames threatened to.

Her shoulders slumped and she collapsed against the door. Her vision blurred from all the smoke and tears. The fire’s glowing fingers reached out hungrily as it continued to sear over. More trees collapsed. The once tranquil village was now a chaotic scene of devastation. Saoirse let her eyes close as she gave up. Broken sobs wracked her body.

She wanted the flames to swallow her whole.

Saoirse did not know how much time had passed but the sounds of the roaring fire gradually came to stop. She sharply sucked in a breath, regretting it as it burned her lungs and brought her into a coughing fit. She had curled into herself and was no longer leaning against the door to her home.

When Saoirse finally opened her eyes, she realized it was because there was no longer a door. There was no longer a home. She was met with the devastated landscape of the village. Her home, it now held only desolation.

She was the only living body among the piles of ashes and splintered bones. They covered the ground like a blanket, a silent witness to the fire’s destruction. Her clothes had burnt off, leaving her skin to be tainted by the stains of ash and smoke. Tears were caked onto her face.

Despite the intense heat that had engulfed her entire village and burned through her clothes, she remained unscratched…untouched by the flames that ravaged everything around her ruthlessly.

The flames had flickered in a strange familiarity. This was no wildfire as she had confirmed earlier. This fire had burned and blazed through the village with a purpose. To destroy her.

She knew her existence would not be a welcomed one. It had never been a matter of if but when. This could not be a coincidence, not when the High Lord’s son recently celebrated his first name day and was christened as Autumn’s heir…

Her father had found her. This fire was meant for her, to burn her alive and silence her forever. But she did not burn. The fire inside her blazed brighter than the inferno that had been sent to her.

All she had wanted was to live her life in secrecy and peace with her grandmother and mother at her side but now...

The two people she cared and loved the most were dead, taken from her. She lost everything...because of him.

She felt a heat surge through her body. Her skin, her veins, her bones. A spark of light burst forth from her chest, right where her roaring heart was. There was a tiny, defiant glow there. A stark contrast amid the gray surroundings.

Come on, rise up, the spark beckoned her and then her legs were moving before she could process the command.

She emerged from the ashes, standing tall amidst the lingering smoke. Her mouth held the taste of sorrow, intertwined with the metallic tang of blood. Her once dark brown eyes now burned a vibrant gold, flickering with an inner flame.

From the glowing ember within her chest, wisps of fire snaked out, coiling around her shoulders and forming fiery wings, a vivid and brilliant display of life and rebirth. Each beat of them stirred the ashes around her in a magical whirlwind.

She was a phoenix, a breathtaking manifestation of flame and ash, and she was burning with an insatiable thirst for revenge.

A/N: the song reader's mother was singing was my city of ruins by bruce springsteen. I picked it bc I really liked the lyrics and while it's a worship song, I did find it was fitting to her mother's and beron's story. Adult Eris along with Lucien and the other brothers will make appearances in the next parts.

#acotar imagine #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #oc x azriel #gem #acotar x oc #azriel x oc

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tokkiwrites · 7 months

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ㅡㅡㅡ in which tangerine lets his heart (for the most part) dictate him around.

TW: dark!Tangerine (pls everyone this is not cute hes literally a stalker lol), fem!reader, afab reader, no use of y/n, mention of killing people and knifes, stalking, toxic relationship, use of pet names (love, bunny, sweetheart), unprotected p in v (dont look at me, wrap your weewee), dirty talk (kind of), lmk if i missed anything.

Tangerine had always been a shadow in the dimly lit world of contract killers, a name whispered in hushed tones among those who knew. His reputation was one of cold precision, a man who eliminated his targets with a ruthless efficiency that bordered on artistry. But behind the facade of the heartless assassin, there existed a secret, a gnawing obsession that threatened to consume him.

It began innocently enough, with stolen glances from the window of his spartan apartment across the street. She was just a random girl, a stranger in the vast tapestry of the city, but there was something about her that captivated him. He didn't know her name. Didn't bother to look for it, find more about herㅡㅡ he enjoyed it that way... for a bit.

she had an air of innocence that contrasted sharply with Tangerine's dark world. Maybe that's what has drawn him to her. Every evening, he would watch her from the shadows, the soft glow of her apartment window casting a warm, inviting light into his own life of iniquity. It became a routine.

APRIL 23rd. ㅡ blued my bruise.

As the weeks turned into months, Tangerine's infatuation deepened. He knew he should have focused on his missions, honed his lethal skills, and remained emotionally detached, but he couldn't help himself. He started collecting snippets of her life, learning her routines, her likes and dislikes, and even the name of her perfume that occasionally wafted through his open window. He kept a journal filled with details about her, a chilling testament to his obsession.

His thoughts became a maddening storm of contradictions. On one hand, he longed to approach her, introduce himself, and let her know how deeply he cared. On the other, he knew the darkness that coursed through his veins, the blood on his hands that would surely taint any chance at a normal life. The conflict between his life as Tangerine, the ruthless assassin, and his love for that girl across the street tore at his soul, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed façade he had built over the years.

Tangerine stood at the precipice of a choice that could define the rest of his life. He was trapped between the world of ruthless violence and the alluring promise of love and normalcy.

The girl remained the unspoken focal point of his existence, a beacon of hope in the midst of chaos. Yet, he was acutely aware that his actions had consequences, and his desire to protect her might eventually collide with the ruthless pursuit of his job.

His path was fraught with danger, as he navigated the thin line between his love for the girl and the haunting shadows of his past. Torn between his obsession and his duty as a protectorㅡㅡ as he liked to call it.

AUGUST 17th. pink me with ties.

Tangerine's obsession had become all-encompassing, driving him to meticulously study the girl's life, dissecting every relationship that entered her world. His mind, once focused on the cold precision of his assassinations, had now turned into a labyrinth of paranoia and possessiveness.

mine.

Whenever the girl expressed interest in a potential love interest, Tangerine took it as a personal affront. He couldn't bear the thought of anyone else occupying the space in her heart that he believed was rightfully his. In his mind, eliminating these perceived threats was the only way to maintain his fragile grip on her life.

mine. mine.

As he tracked these individuals, Tangerine started to eliminate them in a chillingly systematic fashion. He rationalized his actions, convincing himself that he was safeguarding the girl from anyone who might harm her or take her away from him. Tangerine saw them as competition, and he couldn't allow any potential rival to exist.

mine. mine. mine.

One by one, they disappeared, leaving behind a trail of confusion and fear. Tangerine's cold efficiency in eliminating these perceived threats left no room for error. The girl, oblivious to the sinister presence hovering around her life, began to notice the gradual erosion of her friends and potential partners.

she is mine.

Each disappearance, each life he extinguished, left a mark on his soul, tarnishing the love he believed he felt for the girl. It was more than thatㅡㅡ he thinks. He knows... He knows she feels it, too.

What had once been a misguided attempt at protecting her had now transformed into a cycle of violence and despair. He found himself plagued by obsession.

In the midst of the chaos and darkness that his obsession had wrought, Tangerine found himself grappling with the profound truth that this was more than just love—it was an all-consuming affliction that had poisoned their lives. He realized that she, too, felt the suffocating presence of his fixation, though she remained unaware of its source.

it's okay, I'm here, love. I'm here for you. You feel it, can't you?

NOVEMBER 1st. black my bones.

there she is. she's so beautiful.

he spotted her with... a man. when will she learn?

A surge of jealousy and anger coursed through him, intensifying the relentless grip of his obsession. His heart pounded, and a sinister determination took hold. He couldn't bear the thought of another man so close to her. She was his. she knew that, didn't she?

He tracked the man, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

"oi, there. mind tellin' me the time?"

"sure, dude. it's uh-- oh! 8pm."

Tangerine steps closer.

"sorry, mate. didn't hear ya, mind tellin me again?"

"yeah, 8pm, manㅡ" shunk.

then a scream. agony, a warm feeling, and for a moment, silence. a loud thud echoed through the dark alleyway as the man's body fell to the ground. he was choking on his own blood, the blade still lodged in his neck.

"i hate doin this mate, but you guysㅡ you guys never learn, getting so close to her... too close."

with a swift motion, he takes the knife out, wiping it lazily onto the brick wall before he throws it in the nearby sewer opening.

" 's fine, though. as long as she's alright, yeah?"

he twists a smile from his lips, strolling onto the main street.

his.

DECEMBER 15th. purple my eyes.

This was finally the day.

He chose a moment when she was alone in a park, her vulnerability a stark contrast to the man she didn't know she had been living under the watchful eye of. As he approached, his cold demeanor had softened somewhat, but a lingering sense of menace clung to him.

"hello, love." Tangerine said, his voice tinged with an eerie charm, a stark contrast to the chilling reality of his actions. "couldn't help but notice you from where i was sittin'. sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, wanted to say how gorgeous you look."

"oh, hi." she replied, bubbly. "thank you. means a lot when I'm quite literally dressed as a trash bag." then she laughed.

her laugh. if he could inject it through his veins, he would.

"name's Tangerine. Yours?"

MARCH 3rd. red my mind

She couldn't help but fall deeper for him. i mean, how could she not? he knew everything she liked, hated. he knew when to leave her alone, when to keep her closeㅡ he was perfect.

the fact he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen was a plus. always dressed to impress, curly hair stiled back, always smelled like she could devour him. and god, that mustache. it was all she ever wanted... and he knew it.

"tan?" she'd been thinking about it. they'd known each other ㅡ well, she knew him for about 3 months, but he came when she needed someone the most. she almost felt dependent on him, like he saved her from something she didn't even know was coming.

"yeah, love?"

"i think...I'm ready toㅡ you know."

she wasn't a virgin. sure as hell felt like one though. she can't remember the last time she had sex. so she knew Tangerine would make this moment special. For her.

"you sure, sweetheart?"

god.

"yes, very sure."

he nods his head before reaching out for her face, rough hands cupping his reddened cheeks. "I'll take such good care of you tonight, bunny." she hums.

leaning into his touch, her whole body turns to goo when Tangerine's hand moves to her lower back and traces the ridge of her spine. "so pretty." she can't help but giggle.

with a few moves, he takes off most of her clothes, some of his too. they were now both left in their underwear, staring at one another as in a silent dance. Tangerine takes a handful of her breasts, guiding her slowly to lie back down on the mattress. The silk covers crinkled around their weight.

he leans down and takes one of her nipples into his mouth, whilst one of his palms slides down to her panties. he smirks once he senses the wet spot etched into them.

"so fuckin' soaked for me, love."

"just f-for you."

he knows.

"barely touched you though. are you that desperate for me to fill that tight cunt of yours? ㅡ hm, c'mon, talk to me, bunny."

she feels so small, so helpless. so pathetic. but she loves every second of it.

"please, need you toㅡ to feel me up...tan, please."

"shh, i got ya." in one swoop, he removes both their underwear, practically ripping them off of her, earning a soft moan from the sprawled out girl under him.

Tangerine lets his fingers pass through her wet folds, gathering all the juices before he shoves two digits deep inside of her. he pumps them slowly, letting the poor girl buck her hips against nothing as she desperately yearned for more.

"so tight, bunny. so tight 'n pretty." he preps kisses over her belly and pussy as those two fingers work her out, making a mess of her.

"p-pleaseㅡ gimme.."

"give ya what, sweetheart?" she whines. he knows what she wantsㅡㅡ needs.

"inside, put it i-insideㅡ"

he scoffs, taking out his fingers and leaving her to squeeze around nothing. they lock eyes and he brings those two fingers to her lips, urging them open. "suck. show me, c'mon."

she does just that. swirling her tongue and suckling on those digits like her life depended on it. "good girl. good fuckin' girl" he praises.

with those sleek fingers he drags them along her body and down to her pulsing clit as the other hand wraps around his shaft, pumping it. her eyes roll back, scooting closer to Tangerine, doing anything to get him inside of her.

"you ready, bunny?"

she was. she was also scared. it's why she tried so hard to not look at the monster in front of her: long, girthy, pulsing ar every breath Tangerine took.

"mhm, hurry ㅡ please."

"needy girl." chuckling, he gathers some of her slick with his tip, teasing at her clit and making her moan desperately. with a few more seconds passing, he finally decides to push inside.

god. it hurts.

so bad.

so good.

"shit, loveㅡ so fuckin' tight and wet for me, huh?"

and he goes at it. likes there's no tomorrow, he rams into her, just like he imagined for the past year he would one day. she's his. his. his to take and ruin and taint and love.

his.

"fuckin' hellㅡㅡ" tangerine chokes back a moan as he steadily grabs at her hips, his tight hold surely leaving marks that'll hold like stains for weeks. he plunges deep into her, leaving no room for air. holding her close, he kisses her all over, listening to the sweet sounds that dripped from her lips like honeyㅡㅡ like poison.

"shit, tanㅡ 'm gonna.."

"it's okay, bunny. let go, go ahead."

bliss. ecstasy. she gasps and hold onto him. it feels like she's falling and floating, plummeting to the ground but flying to the clouds.

they kiss. he was so hungry.

she's his.

"thank you." she smiles up at him.

you red my mind.

⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾‎ 토끼's NOTE : HEY YALL SPECIAL TAN FIC FOR A SPECIAL SOMEONE WINK WINK. this has only 2.1k words SORRAY!!!! grammatical errors cuz its not proofread. ALSO TYSM FOR 100 FOLLOWS YAY I LITERALLY LOVE U ALL SM MUAH!!!!!

#aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron teaylor johnson smut #atj x reader #kinktober #atj oneshot #tangerine #tangerine x you #tangerine smut #aaron taylor johnson smut #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fic

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wingedblooms · 2 months

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Marked by Wyrd

Long ago, life blossomed from an iron Cauldron and created the world. The three sacred sister peaks—a reflection of Wyrd (Mother, Cauldron, Fate) herself—may have risen from the ground at this time. Three interconnected pieces of a whole. Regardless of when they rose, they are marked by Wyrd physically and magically. The watery veins of the land, flowing from peak to peak, even smell of iron. These sacred sisters hold the secrets of the land and their people, just as their creator carries secrets of the universe in her dark womb.

After thousands of years, Wyrd Made another triad of blessed sisters (and the one most connected to nature even rose from the ground like a sacred sister peak). Three interconnected pieces of a whole. There are signs from the very beginning that they, too, are marked by Wyrd.

The sisters were born in their mother’s enormous ironwood bed (connecting them to witches as well as the iron womb of Wyrd).

When their fortune changed and they moved to the stone cottage, their father made sure they were protected by ward-markings…or were those Wyrdmarks? (@ultadverb pointed this out to me and it’s been on my mind since.)

Whorls and swirls? That’s exactly how Aelin describes them, too. Definitely Wyrdmarks.

Two of the sisters wore iron bracelets for added protection, and Elain was given an engagement ring made of iron.

Not a coincidence, it seems, as they were reborn in Wyrd’s iron womb.

Instead of iron bracelets, they now wear iron crowns, which are magical links to Wyrd and maybe even her protective powers, like the swirls and whorls of Wyrdmarks on their cottage.

Regardless of how they were Made, all three sisters are blessed by fate Wyrd and reborn with unique powers, maybe even Immortal Light…

To match Rhysand, who is ✨Starborn✨.

The Night Court’s insignia honors this Immortal Light: a triad of stars glow above Ramiel, the heart of their court and perhaps even the world, each spring. Three interconnected pieces of a whole. A beacon of light and life for those with the vision and powers to see it. Where Wyrd, blossoming life, once rested.

As though fated, Feyre and Elain encounter a tapestry of this insignia near solstice. They both hear the story of the weaver who made Hope after she mastered Void. Feyre and Nesta have faced their own grief and created a more hopeful future for themselves. They have both also used that iridescent, living light to help others. Elain will soon face her own demons, maybe even the Void itself. She will face it and find her own strength: a living, colorful bloom of starlight. And maybe once she blossoms with her own hopeful light, her sisters—chosen bearers of Wyrd like their mountainous counterparts—will be there beside her, glowing like starfire.

The heart of the world resting in the palms of their luminescent hands. Three interconnected pieces of a whole. Together.

#hofas spoilers #three sacred sister peaks #three sisters blessed with immortal light #a match for starborn power #basically the NC insignia #the heart of the world in the palm of their hands #archeron sisters #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #elain archeron #mother cauldron fate #feysand #nessian #elriel

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boobo13cambridge · 4 months

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Skyfall | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé | OC

As she gazed out of the window, her eyes lingered on the sprawling cityscape of Paris below, a tapestry of lights and shadows. With a resolute heart, she made a silent vow to herself - to live fiercely, to be the champion for those silenced in the shadows. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but her resolve was unyielding, a debt of honor to the one who believed in her when doubt cast its long shadow. He had been her mentor, her guardian; he had taken her under his protective wing at a time when skepticism clouded her every step. His unwavering presence had been her fortress, standing valiantly by her side, a solitary defender against a sea of naysayers in those echoing halls of judgment that was the Assas.

A solitary tear, a crystal testament to her inner turmoil, traced a path down her cheek, caressing her skin like a whisper of the past. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply, though the city's air was tinged with the bitter notes of reality, but mostly pollution (and was that piss?). A sudden, sharp cough, rattled her body, breaking the spell of her reverie. A rueful smile touched her lips as she mused on the cinematic trope of the enigmatic lawyer, solitary and contemplative, gazing out over a city - a scene far more inspiring in a James Bond movie than in real life.

With a finger raised towards the dark sky, the young woman whispered a prayer into the night. 'Vae victis,' she breathed, her words a soft caress against the chaos of the world, 'woe to the conquered.' Her whispered incantation rode the winds, a spectral force, stirring an unseen tremor that resonated through the city, a silent herald to those who would stand against her.

Chapter One

August 12th, 2023

Parc des Princes

8:00 p.m.

One hour before kickoff, Laila was seated in the office of President Nasser Al-Khelaifi, wishing he would just get to the point. She had to admit, Kylian Mbappé possessed an almost uncanny ability to send the club's president into bouts of extreme hypertension. The obsession with the young French star seemed borderline obsessive to Laila, almost creepy. She often marveled at how Mbappé managed to maintain his composure and resist the urge to confront the old geezer. From a business standpoint, however, she could grasp why the PSG president was so adamant about retaining the French prodigy; after all, money makes the world go round.

Despite her desires to be anywhere else, fate had different plans. Her late mentor had insisted that she start her so-called mission with the French football club for reasons he didn’t entirely foreclose. It was in these moments, she felt a deep kinship with Harry Potter who also had a mentor who seemed to leave the world with more questions than answers despite the world going to shit. Even from beyond the grave, he seemed to enjoy watching her struggle in this unexpected role. Being a lawyer for PSG was far from what her teenage self had envisioned for her future. But such was life.

“Je ne peux pas croire qu’après tout ce que nous avons fait pour ce connard, il ne veut pas renouveler. Il veut quoi de plus put-” the president grumbled in his accented french.

“Avec le plus grand respect, Mr. le président,” Laila interjected, “vous devez comprendre que les résultats du PSG après le mercato n’étaient pas satisfaisant. Vous lui avez promis un bon mercato, et pourtant, ils ont été éliminés dès les huitièmes de finale en ligue des champions. Et pourquoi? Parce que vous avez mis tout l'accent sur l'acquisition de stars. Sérieusement, qu’est-ce qui vous a traversé l’esprit en voulant avoir Messi, Neymar, et Mbappé dans la même équipe? Et vous pensez vraiment que Messi allait s’essayer si proche de la retraite?”

The words tumbled out of Laila before she could stop them, her frustration with the president's incessant complaints reaching its peak. Sometimes, he acted like a petulant child.

“Et alors, c’est de ma faute ça ?” President Al-Khelaifi retorted defensively.

“Si vous voulez des stars dans votre équipe, Mr. le Président, vous devez avoir un entraîneur capable de gérer leurs égos astronomiques. Messi venait du FC Barcelone, et il était évident le respect qu’il avait pour le PSG. Malheureusement, un coach comme Christophe Galtier ne fait qu'empirer les choses,” Laila countered.

“En tout cas, passons à autre chose. Je veux que tu ailles voir Mbappé et sa famille et que tu essaies de le convaincre. Ils vont être là ce soir pour voir le match.” (As usual, the president didn’t want to discuss anything that put him in a bad light)

“Peut-être que la première chose à faire serait de lui dire qu’il ne sera plus dans le loft?”

“Oui, oui, dis-lui qu’il peut revenir, mais je veux qu’il reste. C’est compris?”

“Sí, señor,” she replied sarcastically, exiting the room swiftly as she noticed President Al-Khelaifi’s eye begin to twitch.

As Laila stepped out of the president's office, she let out a deep sigh and made her way down to the Salon Louvre. Truly, Nasser should’ve been smarter than this but money does have a way of blinding a person. Regardless, she had a job to do and if it meant that she had to play Nasser’s little games, she would do it. Laila knew exactly what the end goal was and she wasn’t going to get distracted.

As she made her way to the Salon Louvre, where Chef Arnault had promised to reserve some of his renowned crème fraîche and caviar deviled eggs for her, she couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement for the match. Parc des Princes always pulsated with infectious energy and passion, which she adored. The stadium itself was incredible, and the Ultras knew how to light up a stadium. Every time she scrolled through Twitter or Instagram, she saw the tifos they made. The huge banners were truly works of art, and she deeply admired and respected the fans for the effort they put into them.

Her thoughts drifted to her three musketeers, her closest friends, and how carefree they had been before life's harsh realities had intruded. She reminisced about that summer night of August 14th, 2021, when they had come to watch PSG vs Racing Club de Strasbourg, the first match after COVID restrictions were lifted. How different things were back then. She yearned to reconnect and mend the fractures time had caused, but deep down, she knew it was perhaps a futile wish. With her eyes brimming with unshed tears, Laila wandered through the hallways leading to the salon, lost in her memories. Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't notice the figure in front of her and walked straight into what felt like a very warm wall.

“Tabarnak-,” she swore, instinctively rubbing her nose.

“Pardon, mademoiselle,” a voice apologized.

Startled, Laila looked up and found herself face to face with the French captain. Flustered, she took a step back, momentarily at a loss for words. Kylian Mbappé stood before her, and she couldn't help but notice how strikingly handsome he was. Dressed casually in a white Dior t-shirt and paired with stylish brown pants, which complemented his athletic build. His confident posture and the easy smile playing on his lips added to his striking appearance. He naturally carried a certain air of charisma that left her with a dry throat and a racing heart.

And God, those dimples...

How was she supposed to argue with this living reincarnation of big dick energy? Much less, convince him that he would be better off staying in a club where it was quite unlikely that he would ever win a Champions League, forget a Ballon d’Or. Her professor was so lucky to be lounging in the afterlife, because when she did find him, she would make him pay for putting her in this situation.

Kylian's gaze met Laila's, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes at her evident surprise. "You okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"Yeah, just... wasn't expecting a human roadblock," Laila joked, trying to mask her nervousness. The corners of his mouth twitched in a smile, those famous dimples making a brief appearance.

"I've been called worse," he chuckled. Kylian's smile took on a knowing edge, his gaze sharp yet playful. "So, Laila Soltani, the lawyer Nasser has brought in to convince me to stay at PSG, eh?"

Laila's eyes widened slightly, her eyebrows arching in surprise."Yes, that's me. How did you know?"

Kylian leaned in slightly, a playful grin spreading across his face. “See, now I’m more inclined to be offended. Athletes can read too, you know?” he teased, nodding towards her badge.

Laila felt her cheeks warm. “Oh, n-no, that’s not... I mean, I wasn’t—” she stammered, her words tumbling over each other in her fluster.

He laughed, a light, easy sound that seemed to echo around them. “I’m just messing around with you. Besides, it’s not every day the president hires someone specifically to deal with me. You must be quite persuasive.”

Laila laughed, a sound more relaxed than she felt. "I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Mbappé. But yes, that's why I’m here, in part. Though, convincing someone of your caliber to stay... that's a tall order. My greatest adversary so far."

Kylian's eyes glinted with amusement. "Greatest adversary, huh? Sounds like you’re ready for battle. Just remember, I'm not so easily swayed."

"Oh, we'll see about that," Laila retorted, her own eyes sparkling with the challenge. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Looking forward to it, Mademoiselle. May the best person win."

With a final chuckle, Kylian turned and strode away, leaving Laila to ponder the intriguing encounter. She shook her head, a smile lingering on her lips, and continued her journey to the salon Louvre. As she entered, she was immediately greeted by the buzz of fans, whose enthusiasm seemed to infect her immediately. The modern design boasted a sleek and refined look, with geometric light fixtures casting a constellation of warm, ambient light across the polished floor.

She found Chef Arnault behind the mini bar, a silver-maned sage in the world of haute cuisine. With the twinkle of seasoned joy in his clear blue eyes, he beckoned Laila over with a broad grin that seemed to know more than it let on.

"Well, well, if it isn't our lawyer," he teased, the light in his eyes matching the mischief in his tone as he took in her flushed appearance. "You look like you've just spent the whole evening sweating in a sauna. Let me guess, Mbappé charm in action?"

Laila rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth turned upward involuntarily. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to those who know," he chuckled, presenting her with a plate of deviled eggs, each a small culinary work of art with creamy filling and a crown of caviar. "Here, I made these just for you. They might just give you the boost you need for the evening to deal with the capitaine."

Laila decided to just brush off Arnault's teasing and, not wanting to wait another second, she tossed back a whole deviled egg. The taste was amazing—so good it almost made her moan right there at the bar.

With a quick thanks to the chef, she slipped through the crowd of fans as she heard Michel Montana's voice encouraging the Ultras to cheer for the team. Their chatter was just noise against the hum in her head as she moved to her seat. It was pretty close to the president's spot, giving her an incredible view of the field.

She dropped into her seat, taking in the low buzz of the stadium and the distant echo of the players getting their game faces on. The excitement was kicking in. This wasn't just another day at the office for Laila; it was like stepping onto a chessboard where every move counted. The match was about to start, and she wasn't just thinking about the football. It was game time on all fronts.

___________________________________________________________

A/N: Hello, my lovelies. I'm back 😘

#kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe smut #kylian imagines #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappé #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe x y/n #kylian mbappe angst

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years

Text

Midnight Blades {2}

Aemond Targaryen x princess!reader (Dark!themes) Summary: Aemond makes an entrance with a proposal and you must choose the lesser of two evils. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, violence, blood play, rough sex, blow job, dub con WC: 3230

A/N: forgot to add there’s some spoilers for Episode 10

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine || Part Ten || Part Eleven || Part Twelve || Part Thirteen || Part Fourteen || Part Fifteen || Part Sixteen || Part Seventeen || Part Eighteen || Part Nineteen || Part Twenty ||

The throne room was abuzz with father’s men talking over one another when you arrived, the herald announcing your entrance and silencing the cacophony for a moment. You strolled right up to the Oaken Throne, its roots forever entombed in the stone while the stump was carved by the finest craftsmen who also built the palace that surrounded it.

“What is the cause for so much excitement, your grace?”

“My darling child, thank the stars you are here.” The King rubbed his forehead to ease the pain that often flared when difficult decisions needed to be made. “News arrived from Westeros, Viserys is dead and his council has crowned Aegon as his successor.”

“That snivelling worm!” Your fingers curled around the pommel of the sword hanging from your hip. “And what of Rhaenyra? Surely she will not take the treachery lying down.”

“You know as well as I do, she does not have the support to take her seat on the Iron Throne.” The King drummed his fingers over the arm of his throne and watched you pace before him.

“The skies must be nearly black with ravens in Westeros.” You stopped pacing to look at the tapestry map of the Known World hung across the wall, narrowing your eyes at the embroidered lettering locating King’s Landing. “Every man and his dog will be out trying to gather support for one side or another.”

The doors to the throne room were thrown open and the heralder looked pale as he announced the new arrival. “Prince Aemond, requesting to seek an audience with the King of Scythe.”

“Speaking of dog,” you muttered at the same time as Aemond stepped into the doorway, pushing past the heralder as he spoke, “Request suggests I will take no for an answer.”

The faded pink scar on your chest burned as he scanned the cavernous room and you noticed his step falter at your sight only because you knew how graceful his feet could carry him. More than once, your hands had found themselves between your legs on the nights spent alone, his name on your lips as you chased down a release that couldn’t come close to matching what he had given you.

“You dare to waltz in here and demand an audience with the King.” It didn’t matter that the king’s guards were stationed between Aemond and your father, you drew Black Heart from her scabbard and crossed the room. “I should have your tongue for the insult.”

The curve of his lips left a perpetual smirk on his smug face but the press of your sword to his chest had it widening by the second. “That would be an enormous waste, princess. I think you would rather like what my tongue can do.”

His words were only for you to hear and you felt them all the way down to your toes that curled in your boots before Ser Negan reached your side and placed a calm hand on your sword arm. “The prince is here as messenger, not warrior. Isn’t that right, Kinslayer?”

Kinslayer. That was a new title or you would have heard of it already, but which of his blood relatives had he killed, you wondered.

Reluctantly, you sheathed Black Heart and took a breath as you regained your composer that had been misinterpreted as anger and not what it truly was, desire. As your sword slid home, you swore it would not be the next addition to the Iron Throne, nor would your fathers.

Aemond finally looked away from you as you turned your back on him, trusting Ser Negan to protect it as you walked back to your father’s side. No one moved until you reached the last step and were securely placed behind three rows of kings guards.

“I come with a proposal,” Aemond spoke to the King, his voice calm and confident despite standing in the heart of his enemy's territory. “To unite our people and end the conflict that has kept us divided.”

The King chuckled and your own laugh echoed his as the rest of the room held its collective breath. “Your family has already usurped one throne. Is your plan to use this union to steal mine too? Or, perhaps you just want my soldiers to die in the war you have waged with your sister?”

Aemond ran his forefinger over his bottom lip and you remembered the feel of them as moved inside you, your corseted dress suddenly too tight to breathe in. He seemed to notice the tell of your dark thoughts and stared at the skirting as if he could see the throb pulsing between your thighs.

“I won’t lie, if the opportunity were presented I might take it for myself,” Aemond said to you before flicking his eye to the King. “But if my dear wife-to-be begged on her knees, I may be inclined to listen to her requests and let her homeland remain untouched.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his bluntness and for confirming that the union would be one of marriage and not trade, not that it made you any more comfortable. There was already an heir to the Oaken Throne but your half brother was travelling the dangerous northern provinces, if something were to happen to him you would be the next in line to the throne. It would be dangerous to have someone with Targaryen blood married to someone so close to the throne.

Your father rose from his throne and drew Dragon Bane from where the ancient sword had rested against the arm. The sword had been forged by dragon fire and could cut through the thick scales that protected the beasts, one of only two blades that remained intact to this day.

“I do not take kindly to threats,” the King stated as he watched the flames from the large hearth reflect in the metal. “Especially ones towards my sweet daughter.”

“I intend to find out just how sweet she is.” The prince laughed as he knew the truth and took a lazy step closer to the guards ready to cut him down and pulled a scroll from his cloak. You caught sight of the dagger that you were intimately familiar with as his cloak fell back into place and licked your dry lips. “I have already taken the liberty to draw up the contract. You will find the terms quite agreeable.”

Quiet as a mouse, your Lady-in-Waiting skirted around the edge of the room until she was at your side. The slip of a girl took your hand and kissed the top of it as she curtsied, passing a note into your palm before disappearing silently into the crowd.

Two dragons overhead.

One order and the city beyond the stone palace would burn.

The King stepped down from the raised platform the throne sat upon and raised his sword, the guards parting at his gesture. “I will tell you exactly what you can do with that scroll, prince, but I assure you it won’t be enjoyable.”

The threat of violence was shimmering in Aemond’s eye and he was excited to hear the threat that would give him cause to damn the city, you couldn’t allow that to happen. “I accept your proposal.” Your father’s eyes flared with fury as he spun around to see blood dripping from your palm, the promise already made. “You will not make an oathbreaker of me will you, your grace?”

Grief washed over your fathers face and he dropped his sword with defeat, cursing your mother for the drop of witch-blood that passed through the female descendants. The cocky grin from Aemond only served to enrage your father more until he screamed for the room to be emptied.

“Not you,” the King ordered when you stepped past him, he caught your elbow and held you there until the last guard closed the heavy wooden door behind him. “What were you thinking! You wish to live with our enemy?”

“I was thinking I don’t want to see our city and our people burn the second the spoiled brat doesn’t get his way.” You slapped the note into his palm and watched his eyes widen at the words. “I have studied the dragon wars, father, two of the beasts could destroy Scythe. I am sworn to protect my people, even if it means sacrificing myself.”

“The Targaryens will expect the support of our soldiers.” Your father shook his head and cupped your face. “He will demand that you live in King’s Landing with him.”

“They don’t know how many soldiers we have. Half are in the north and they cannot expect us to leave our country undefended so we can argue for the national corps to remain stationed here.” You placed your hands over your father’s and patted them reassuringly. “Once word gets across the Narrow Sea that Scythe has allied with King Aegon, Rhaenyra will assume that means our vast army of legend. Perhaps it will be the deterrent needed to avoid war all together.”

“I will pray to the stars to keep you safe.” His fingers traced the blood promise cut across your palm. “That is all any of us can do now.”

“Where is he?” you demanded the second you stepped out of the throne room and found the foyer empty, save for the king's guards.

“Prince Aemond?” Ser Khoal asked with a confused frown. “He said you would know.”

Forcing a smile on your face, you bid farewell and took the shortcuts the maids used until you reached your room without the eyes of the guards seeing.

“You whoremongering, dragon’s turd.”

Aemond chuckled without casting a glance in your direction as he sat in your chair, watching the flames in the hearth. “Is that any way to speak to your soon-to-be husband, my darling?”

You stepped in close between him and the fire so he was forced to tilt his head back to meet your glare. The temptation to deal with the consequences of being an oathbreaker seemed to look pretty good all of a sudden when he licked his lips and smirked. The urge to wrap your fingers around your sword was strong but you transferred the deadly strike to a more forgiving slap across his pale cheek. “Suck a dick, Aemond.”

The blood from your palm smeared across his cheek that was burning red in the shape of your hand and in a heartbeat you found your feet swept from under you and the stone floor rushing to meet you. The jarring of the crash sent an ache through your bones but the gasp of pain was stolen by the fingers that gripped your throat. You tried to buck him off but he was taller and pinned you beneath his body with the ease of his training.

“You know exactly what my sexual preference is, love,” he taunted in your ear as he eased his grip slightly to let you take a wheezing breath in.

“Do I?” you rasped with short intakes of air and smirked as you felt his cock pressed hard between you. “You did…fuck…my ass…”

With a growl he released you to tear the buttons on his tunic and pull it over his head. Lean muscles glowed in the firelight and you ran your fingers along the scar over his heart before raking your nails down. His back arched and his lips parted, enjoying the pain with a feverish shudder that sent a bolt of lightning straight to your core.

“Did you find such pleasures when you left?” you asked as he pulled a short knife from his boot and cut through the material of your dress from hem to collar.

His eye fluttered shut as you freed his cock and ran your thumb over the swollen, leaking head. “No one would dare bleed a prince of Westeros.”

“Such a shame.” You moaned as his lips sealed over your breast and his tongue swirled and sucked your nipple to a stiff peak before moving to your other. The velvet warmth of his tongue and the soft tease of his long hair falling over your body had your hips rolling to see what else you could feel. “One day I will bathe in your blood and know my realm is free from your poisonous family.”

You cried out as he bit your nipple before releasing it and nudging your legs wider to bury himself in your cunt with a hard thrust your body wasn’t prepared for. The stretch of his thickness burned and the mewls from your lips spurred him to move faster until your back was bruised from the stone beneath it.

“I love it when you talk dirty,” he growled against your lips before taking them roughly like he did your body with a clash of teeth and tongue. You wrapped your legs around his hips and gasped as his cock rode over the deepest parts of you, the pressure of impending release building low in your abdomen until it burst and your legs trembled. “We’ll see how quick you are to threaten my blood when it is your child, a Targaryen, who will be born from this union.”

You tore your legs from his hips about to push him from your body but it was too late, his teeth clenched with a deep moan and his back arched as he spilled his seed deep within you. “Fuck you, Aemond.”

“Insatiable little minx.” He chuckled and took a seat back in your chair, his trousers still hanging down his hip and his glistening cock still standing tall. He caught you staring at the hard length of him and wrapped his fist around it, smooth gliding strokes thanks to the mix of your cum coating him. “Suck a dick, princess.”

You could have tossed a shoe at him for throwing your words back at you but the want to hold his most precious anatomy between your teeth and watch him balance on the knife's edge of desire and fear had you kneeling between his parted knees.

The first long lick drew a moan when you reached the sensitive slit at the top and dipped the tip of your tongue inside but the second one drew a groan. His need to have your lips wrapped around his cock was showing but you were not finished teasing him.

“Careful, prince, you’re looking desperate.”

He bared his teeth and grabbed the back of your head as he bucked his hips. His cock filled your mouth and choked off your air until your nose pressed against his skin. Your throat convulsed at the intrusion and he fell back into the chair giving you a moment to breathe before pulling you back down until you gagged. Spit ran down your chin as you moaned around him and the taste of his cum coated your tongue, tears burning in your eyes. It was a mess, raw and primal.

“Fuck,” Aemond murmured through his clenched teeth when your nails dug into his hips and left crescent moons of blood behind. His hand fell away from your head and he watched lazily as his entire cock disappeared into your mouth and your hand slipped between your legs. Your fingers were slick as they circled your slit and gathered the warm cum leaking out to glide over your clit.

The muscles of his body tensed a moment before he moved, grabbing your arms and dragging you up onto his lap so he could see you pleasuring yourself. “Show me.”

You shamelessly teased yourself from his knees until your arousal was running down your thighs and over his leather trousers, his cock twitching at the sight. Needing to be filled more than your fingers could, you climbed higher and impaled yourself on his shaft.

His hands groped your ass, pinching and squeezing it before laying sharp slaps to the skin that drew delighted gasps from your lips as you rode him. His hair tangled in your hands and you tugged at the strands until his chest was heaving with his shaking breaths.

Your thighs burned from the quick pace you set as you chased your release but the growing warmth in your belly told you it wasn’t far away. The bead of sweat rolling down Aemond’s chest told you he was just as close and you dipped your head to taste the drop. It tasted of the sea he had flown across and the smoke of his dragon’s fire, it tasted wild and free.

Leaning back, you cried out at the sharp angle and rolled your hips to hit the spot again. You ran your hands down his legs until you reached his boot and returned with the short knife in your hand, soft trembles starting to rise up your body.

“Give me your hand.” There was no hesitation as he placed his hand on yours, his palm facing up. “Our wedding custom is far different to what you have in the Seven Kingdoms. We have the bloodletting.”

You dragged the blade across his palm and pressed the cut to yours, lacing your fingers together so the blood of your houses melded to one. You weren’t sure whether it was the pain or the union that unleashed the restraint he had held as you rode him but some animalistic part of him rose to the surface.

He locked your joined hands behind your back and held you in place as he fucked up into you, lifting your legs off the chair as he found the deepest wall within you and tried to break through. Heat flooded your body and you cried out as you came, your pussy clenching around him as your moisture soaked his lap. With a dark curse he collapsed against the chair and you shivered with each pulse of his release filling your cunt.

Sated and overstimulated, you fell against him, resting your head in the hollow of his neck until you could feel your limbs again.

“Ser Negan called you Kinslayer.”

“Yes, well I would hardly call the bastard son of my sister kin.” His lip curled at the thought. “Little Luke took a tumble from his dragon, in pieces. Mother was none too pleased but a war with Rhaenrya was inevitable, despite what she thought of her old friend.”

Your head fell back with a laugh as you sat up and Aemond’s hands gripped your hips enough to bruise as he growled, “Glad you can see the amusement in war.”

“Not at all, I am just glad that you will see your end before it is over.” You twirled the strands of his hair around your fingers as you stared into his pale blue eye. “Not even the gods can protect you from a mother’s vengeance. Rhaenyra will burn all of Westeros for what you did.”

You laughed again as he pushed you from his lap and tucked himself back into his damp trousers before standing. His usual smirk had fallen away as he stood at his full height and looked down at you. “And when my sister comes to take her payment, a son for a son, will you laugh then too?”

“You should have done your research, husband,” you murmured as you stroked the scar down his cheek, a smile teasing at your lips. “My mother’s line has never birthed a son.”

Click here for Part Three.

#aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #dark!aemond #dark!reader #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond fanfiction #hotd

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hopelessromwriter · 9 months

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Dancing In The Starlight

Azriel x reader

Warnings: none

The night was alive with a luminescent glow, the sky adorned with a tapestry of stars that seemed to dance and twinkle in celebration of an extraordinary meeting.

Among them, Azriel, the shadowy warrior from the Night Court, found himself drawn to a mysterious figure that had captured his attention like no other.

As the moonlight cast its ethereal glow upon the secluded glade, Azriel spotted a lone figure standing in the center, surrounded by an aura of mystique.

The figure seemed to emanate an enigmatic energy, and Azriel's curiosity piqued, drawing him closer with each step.

It was you, an unassuming mortal, caught in a reverie of stardust and moonbeams.

Azriel observed as you spun gracefully, your laughter ringing through the night like a sweet melody. Your soulful eyes sparkled like the stars above, and Azriel found himself entranced by your every move.

Unable to resist the allure of your presence, Azriel stepped forward, his wings of shadows casting a dark and protective embrace around you. His powerful, silent presence did not startle you, but rather, it seemed to intensify the magic of the moment.

"Who are you?" you whispered softly, a glimmer of recognition in your eyes as if you had been expecting him.

Azriel remained wordless, his gaze searching for the right response in the depths of your soul.

He found that your soul was unlike any he had encountered before, a kaleidoscope of emotions and experiences that stirred something deep within him.

Instead of answering, Azriel extended a hand, offering to share a dance under the celestial canopy.

Without hesitation, you placed your hand in his, and the two of you began to sway in harmony with the night breeze.

Time seemed to stand still as you danced, your heartbeats echoing in rhythm.

The barriers that separated your worlds dissolved, leaving only the connection between your souls.

Each step, each touch, felt like a revelation, as if the universe had conspired to bring you both together.

In the silence of the night, you dared to ask him about the secrets he held, the shadows that clung to him like a cloak.

And in return, Azriel shared fragments of his past, his pain, and the battles he had fought for the Night Court.

Despite the darkness he carried within, you sensed the glimmer of hope and compassion within Azriel, a side of him that few had ever glimpsed. It was a fragile vulnerability he entrusted you with, and you vowed to cherish it as a precious gift.

As the night wore on, the dance became a timeless expression of connection and understanding.

With each twirl and spin, you felt as though you were unraveling the complexities of your own heart, exposing your deepest desires and fears to this captivating fae warrior.

With the first light of dawn peeking over the horizon, the dance came to an end.

You gazed into Azriel's eyes, feeling a bittersweet ache that this enchanted moment would soon become a cherished memory.

"Will we meet again?" you asked, your voice filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

Azriel smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "The stars have a way of guiding us to where we belong," he replied. "If it's meant to be, we'll find each other again."

With that, Azriel disappeared into the shadows, leaving you standing in the glade, your heart a swirling mix of emotions.

As you watched him go, you knew that this fleeting encounter had forever changed the trajectory of your life.

And so, you kept your gaze fixed on the stars, knowing that somewhere out there, a shadowy warrior named Azriel was doing the same.

The memory of your dance in the starlight remained imprinted in both your hearts, a reminder of the rare and extraordinary connection that could transcend the boundaries of worlds and time.

#imagine #drabble #acotar #x reader #night court #fluff #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #velaris #azriel x reader #oneshot

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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months

Text

Silent Heir, Hidden Danger - 5

Character: Lawyer!Bucky x Female Character

Summary: She suddenly inherits a fortune from an unknown father, navigating dark secrets with lawyer Bucky Barnes in a suspenseful journey of deception.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi ❤️❤️❤️

As the shadows of secrecy enveloped Y/N and Bucky in their hidden refuge, the dim light accentuated the growing bond between them. Seated across from each other, the air carried an unspoken understanding, an alliance forged in the crucible of danger.

With a thoughtful gaze, Y/N finally voiced the question that lingered in the quiet moments. "Bucky, I need to understand. Why were you so loyal to Max? What did he do for you?"

Bucky, his expression a mix of contemplation and memories, leaned back against the concealed walls. "I was a stray dog, Y/N. Max found me in the lowest point of my life, hungry and desperate. He gave me a purpose, a sense of belonging."

Y/N, intrigued, urged him to share more. "What do you mean, a stray dog?"

Bucky's eyes held a distant gaze as he recounted his past. "I was living on the streets, scraping by to survive. Max saw something in me, or maybe he just saw a reflection of his own past. He took me in, trained me, made me his guard dog."

A sense of vulnerability crossed Bucky's features as he continued, "He used to say, 'A dog shouldn't bite the person who gives him food.' Max was the one who fed me when I had nothing. Loyalty was the least I could offer in return."

Y/N, absorbing the weight of his revelation, murmured, "So, loyalty to Max became your way of life."

Bucky nodded, the echoes of the past resonating in his words. "In the world he lived in, loyalty meant survival. Max had enemies, and he needed someone he could trust completely. In return, he provided me with a purpose, a family of sorts."

Curiosity lingered in Y/N's eyes as she sought to unravel the mysteries surrounding her father's elusive presence in her life. "Bucky," she inquired, "why did Max never try to meet us, or at least reach out to my mother? It sounds like he cared, so why keep such a distance?"

Bucky, choosing his words carefully, began to unravel the complex tapestry of Max's multiple lives. "Y/N, Max had three wives, each with their own circumstances. The first wife, Mallory, is the scariest of them all. She's from a powerful mafia family herself, and she's paranoid and jealous. Her obsession with Max is both a strength and a threat."

Y/N, eyebrows furrowed, sought further clarification. "Jealous? Obsessed? What do you mean?"

Bucky leaned in, his gaze holding a weight of caution. "Mallory sees Max as her possession. She's deeply in love with him, but that love is possessive and dangerous. If she found out about you and your mother, she would see you both as a threat. Max was protecting you from her influence."

Y/N, absorbing the gravity of Mallory's influence, mused, "So, it wasn't just about Max keeping secrets. It was about protecting us from someone dangerous."

Bucky nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Now, the second wife, Madeline, is a different kind of danger. She's calculating, like a snake in the grass. Madeline knows how to navigate the intricacies of the underworld. If she knew about you, she might see it as an opportunity or a threat, depending on her calculations."

The room seemed to tighten with the invisible threads of danger as Bucky continued, "Then there's the third wife, Marianne. Her situation is similar to your mother's. She doesn't know Max is involved in the mob. She's stuck in a life she doesn't fully understand. Max kept his world compartmentalized to protect them from the harsh realities he faced."

Y/N, grappling with the revelations, murmured, "So, my mother and I were shielded from a world that could have consumed us."

Acknowledging the weight of Max's choices, Bucky responded, "Max believed he was doing what was best for you both. The danger from Mallory alone was enough to warrant such secrecy."

Bucky's gaze flickered to his watch, a tangible reminder of the ticking clock counting down to Max's funeral. "We have 32 hours before the funeral," he stated, the urgency palpable in his voice.

Y/N, her eyes reflecting a mixture of uncertainty and determination, questioned him, "Do you really want to replace Max, Bucky? It seems like a dangerous position to be in."

Bucky, his expression a blend of respect and a hint of a wry smile, replied, "I respect Max's wishes, and besides, there's something else. I love money, Y/N. Money is my anchor in a world that's often unpredictable and unforgiving. Max understood that about me."

As Y/N absorbed his candid admission, she couldn't help but wonder about the intricacies of loyalty and ambition entwined in the unfolding events. "So, you're willing to step into a role that could bring danger and power just for the sake of money?"

Bucky's eyes showed determination as he affirmed, "Max had his reasons for choosing me, and I intend to honor that trust. Plus, in our world, power and danger often come hand in hand. It's a gamble, but one I'm willing to take."

As Y/N contemplated the implications of Bucky potentially becoming the leader, she voiced her concerns, "If you become the leader, can you ensure the safety of my mother and me, Bucky?"

Bucky, with a confident yet reassuring demeanor, replied, "Sure, Y/N. I can make sure all your demons are taken care of. Max's legacy will provide a shield for both of you."

However, before the weight of their conversation could fully settle, the room was violently interrupted by a deafening explosion, the force of it reverberating through the hidden refuge. "BOOM!"

Instinctively, Y/N sought refuge behind Bucky, her eyes wide with shock and fear. The once secure vault door now lay in ruins, the remnants of the protective barrier shattered.

As the dust settled, the silhouette of a figure emerged from the chaos. Bucky, recognizing the intruder, muttered under his breath, "Mason. Should've guessed."

Mason, flanked by a menacing entourage, strode into the room with an air of calculated authority. The outnumbered Bucky, still shielding Y/N, assessed the dire situation unfolding before him.

Mason's voice cut through the tension, a cold smirk playing on his lips, "Well, well, Bucky. Seems like you're not as untouchable as you thought. I knew this hidden fortress would be your refuge."

Bucky, his gaze unwavering, retorted, "What do you want, Mason?"

Mason's eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity as he declared, "I want what's rightfully ours. The inheritance. And, of course, the throne that comes with it."

The room hung heavy with tension as Bucky found himself forcefully restrained on the ground, guns pressed menacingly against his temple.

Y/N, too, was ensnared by Mason's henchmen, her struggles futile against their unyielding grip. Mason, wearing a sinister smirk, approached her, lifting her chin with a cruel grip.

"So, you're the one Father's been hiding? None of your face resembles him," Mason sneered, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Y/N, defiant despite the dire circumstances, retorted, "You won't get away with this. My mother and I have nothing to do with your twisted games."

Mason's response was swift and brutal. With a grit of his teeth, he delivered a resounding slap across Y/N's face, the force of it sending her reeling. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious, as the room echoed with the sickening sound of impact.

Bucky, though physically overpowered, seethed with anger. "She's weaker than you, you son of a bitch," he spat, the venom in his voice cutting through the air.

Mason, seemingly unfazed, shrugged his shoulders with a sinister grin. "That's why this will be quick."

Bucky, undeterred, shot back with a defiant glare, "You think this changes anything? You won't control what Max built."

Mason, reveling in his moment of triumph, gestured to his lackeys. "Tie them up. We'll take them with us."

The air inside the confined space of the car crackled with tension as Bucky, now confined beside Mason, shot him a defiant glare. Y/N, unconscious and vulnerable, was being transported in a separate vehicle, her fate hanging in the balance. Mason, still seething with anger over Bucky's perceived betrayal, couldn't resist taunting him.

"You betrayed us, Bucky. You were family, and you turned your back," Mason hissed through gritted teeth.

Bucky, undeterred, retorted, "Maybe I got tired of being your errand boy. Fetching and carrying for the likes of you."

Mason's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't forget, you could've had it all. You could've joined this family. But you chose this path."

As the convoy of cars navigated the dimly lit streets, tension escalated. Suddenly, the driver of Mason's car furrowed his brow, eyes darting to the rearview mirror. The vehicle behind them swerved erratically, causing concern.

"What the heck?" the driver muttered, trying to maintain control.

Mason, sensing trouble, leaned forward. "What's going on back there?" he barked into the radio, but there was no response.

Bucky seized the opportunity to issue a warning. "If something happens to her, I will make you pay, Mason."

Mason, unimpressed, shot back, "Why? You got a soft spot for her."

Chaos erupted as the second car in the convoy crashed violently, prompting Mason to order a halt. The group descended from the vehicles, with Bucky remaining inside.

As they approached the wreckage to investigate, a sudden gunshot pierced the air, and one of Mason's men fell with a bullet through his forehead.

"What the fuck?" echoed through the tense night air as confusion and panic gripped the scene. The crashed car's door swung open, revealing a transformed Y/N—no longer the weak woman Mason had seen earlier.

Her demeanor had shifted; she exuded a cold, murderous aura, and Mason couldn't shake the feeling of killer intent emanating from her. Her gaze mirrored Max's, sending a chill down Mason's spine.

Mason, still processing the shocking transformation, barked orders to his men, "Shoot her!"

Before the guards could react, they were taken down by precise shots. Bucky, witnessing the chaos unfold through the rearview mirror, couldn't help but exclaim, "What the heck?"

Y/N, seemingly unaffected by the mayhem, punched Mason in the stomach, causing him to crumple to the ground. With an eerie calmness, she lifted him effortlessly and deposited him into the damaged car. Without sparing a glance at Bucky, she took the driver's seat.

"Y/N?" Bucky questioned, but she remained stoic as if inhabited by a different entity. This Y/N differed from the one who fainted from Mason's slap.

In truth, Y/N harbored multiple personalities. The normal Y/N, empathetic and fearful, coexisted with a darker alter ego.

This alternate persona was cold, formidable, and shared the same lethal intent as Max.

Dark Y/N, her demeanor still cold and unwavering, adjusted the rearview mirror with calculated precision before starting the engine.

Still grappling with the surreal situation, Bucky couldn't help but voice his confusion, "What the hell just happened, Y/N? Are you... alright?"

The dark Y/N remained silent, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. It was as if the events that transpired moments ago had no impact on her. Bucky sensed a palpable shift in her energy, a stark departure from the scared woman he had seen mere minutes ago.

Bucky couldn't shake off the chilling feeling that enveloped him. Dark Y/N's side-eye, reminiscent of Max's calculating gaze, sent shivers down his spine.

Dark Y/N finally spoke, her voice void of the warmth that characterized the usual Y/N. "Your old Y/N is asleep. Now, show me the way to the funeral."

The transformation was jarring, leaving Bucky to realize that the woman before him was more complex and enigmatic than he had ever imagined.

As they drove in silence, Bucky grappled with the realization that Y/N, the person he thought he knew, harbored a dormant alter ego capable of such ruthlessness. The atmosphere inside the car was tense, and Bucky couldn't help but wonder about the consequences of this unexpected alliance.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5

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