#brother hood of steel

[goldfish-afterhours]

Genshin Characters as Fairy Tales

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli, Xiao x Gn!Reader

Type/Genre: Bulleted headcanons, angst/fluff

Warnings: Not all fairy tales have happy endings—major character death

Notes: Man why are fairy tales so sad

Diluc

Cinderella

On the night of your 18th birthday, your father holds a grand masquerade ball, inviting everyone in the kingdom

You, however, had little to no interest in such things. While the party was happening inside, you decided to take a stroll in the gardens

Who knew there would be monsters lurking in the dark that got past the guards?

Before it could devour you, someone sliced its head off with one fell swoop

Standing in front of you was a man with red hair, a black masquerade mask obscuring his eyes

You thanked him and offered him a reward, but he declined. Upon seeing your disappointed expression, he suggested just spending the night talking with him, since he didn’t know anyone at the ball

The two of you sit outside, talking about anything and everything as the night grows later and later

Just as the clock struck twelve, the masked man jumps to his feet, muttering something about how he has to get home

You try to persuade him to stay, or at least tell you his name, but he dashes off so fast you can’t catch up to him

All he left behind was your memory of his soft smile…and a black mask, dropped in the grass

You scour the entire kingdom for him, holding up the mask to every person you meet in hopes you find him, but to no avail

But a crazy idea pops in your head

Deep into the night, you stroll down the main street, unarmed. Just as you expected, a group of hoodlums threaten you, demanding money in exchange for your life

And just as you expected, the man with red hair returns to save you again

For saving your life twice, you insist on giving him a grand reward

You bring him, the son of a deceased and disgraced ex-government official, to the castle, and the two of you live happily ever after <3

“I was afraid you didn’t want to see me again. But putting yourself in danger was much too reckless.”

“That’s how much I wanted to see you again~”

Kaeya

The Little Mermaid

Kaeya, a merman, falls in love with you, a pirate

He’s always swimming beside your ship, listening to you sing with your shipmates of treasure, of good alcohol, of friendship, of love

Gives away his voice to have legs and be with you. He doesn’t want to just listen to your songs—he wants to be the one you sing them to

Cruelly, you fall in love with someone else

His brother, in an attempt to save Kaeya, presents him with a dagger, saying if he is able to kill you then he’ll be able to return to the sea as a merman

But how can Kaeya kill the one he gave up everything for?

How can he even dare imagine hurting the one he loved with his entire being, that he would be willing to walk on glass everyday for?

Throws the dagger into the water. As the sun rises, he watches you, laughing together with your lover, as he melts into seafoam

And as much as it pains him, at least he can see you happy one last time

You don’t see him as he is carried away by the wind

“No matter what…I hope you live happily.”

Childe

Little Red Riding Hood

He’s the Big Bad Wolf, and you’re an herbalist making your deliveries of medicine to your patient in the forest

At first, he’s too nervous to approach you, afraid he would scare you away

But one day, when he sees you shivering from the frosted air, he steels himself enough to offer you his red scarf

The smile you gave him as you wrapped the scarf around yourself was almost enough to heal the years of loneliness from his isolation in the woods

The two of you become friends: Childe shows you all the best spots to pick herbs, and you tell him stories of the outside world

The villagers fear him, a man-eating beast, so he never ventures out of the forest

Childe loves the sound of your voice, and he loved listening to your stories, especially this one story about how the Sun and Moon were lovers in a tragedy, separated in the sky

Protects you from the hostile wild animals in the forest

When the two of you realize you were in love with each other, you made no haste in moving into his cozy cottage

But when the villagers realized their beloved herbalist was in the clutches of the detested wolf, they all swore you had been tricked

They stormed the forest, armed

You come back to your cottage from picking herbs, just in time to see the villagers point a rifle at him

Even with your skills, there is nothing you can do but cradle him in your arms as his blood stains the grass red

“C-Can you finish the rest of the story? I want to know…if the Sun and the Moon ever meet again.”

Zhongli

Sleeping Beauty

In the wild overgrowth once known as the country Liyue, there exists a legend of an almighty god who had fallen into a deep slumber

To save your country, you set out to search for this missing god

The terrain is harsh, overrun with trees and thistles and bushes blocking your every way

But occasionally, you will stumble upon a statue, vines and moss adorning the structure, helping you to believe that perhaps there really was a civilization who lived here in the past

The wild guides you up the cliffs, into a cave where you find a dragon sleeping, his breath slow and shallow

There was something so lonely, so sad about this sleeping dragon, trapped deep in the country of a long-gone civilization, only able to wait for someone to come

You put your hands on the sides of his face, and, as if to reward him for all his years of waiting and to tell him he is no longer alone, you kiss his forehead

The moment you do, his scales scatter away like droplets in a summer rainstorm

You were no longer holding a dragon, but cupping the face of a man

His eyelids fluttered open, revealing amber eyes that glowed like the moon in the darkness of the cave, and you knew you had found your missing god

“Oh…you have found me. How long I’ve been waiting for you.”

Xiao

Beauty and the Beast

With each passing day, Xiao can feel himself transforming more into a monster

The weight of his sins grew heavier and heavier, covering him with ashes and feathers

Soon, there were rumours of a half bird beast flying over the village at night, searching for its next meal

You, an orphan that had been treated as an outcast since birth, was chosen by the villagers to be the sacrifice to quell the beast’s anger and hunger

But after being brought to his decaying castle, Xiao makes it clear he has no interest in eating you

In fact, he gives you free reign in his home, allowing you to go wherever you pleased

At first, he tries to scare you, tries to get you to stay away from him

But when you see him feeding the chipmunks outside, and the songbirds feel safe enough around him to perch on his shoulders, you no longer feel afraid

The two of you slowly warm up to each other. Xiao’s favourite thing to do is listen to you read

When he can’t fall asleep at night from the pain, he asks you to read him stories so he can fall asleep to the sound of your soft voice

You come to realize he’s not a monster but a hurt, scared boy who only wants to wake up from this nightmare he’s been trapped in

The two of you enjoyed your peaceful life together, until one day a hero from your village stormed Xiao’s castle, determined to either save or take vengeance for you

Xiao, who flew over the village every night to make sure no danger came to the villagers, could not bring himself to defend himself from this naive boy

As you hold his still body, you kiss him goodbye

To both you and the hero’s shock, the feathers stabbed into Xiao’s body dispersed, swirling into the sky

The feathers kept flying away until the beast you were holding in your arms became human again

“You’ve awoken me from a terrifying dream. Thank you.”

-

please comment/reblog if you’ve enjoyed! <3

#listen I did not expect it to get this dark #my writing #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin au #genshin headcanons #genshin angst #Diluc #Kaeya #Childe #Xiao #Zhongli #Diluc x reader #Kaeya x reader #Childe x reader #Xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios

[shotmrmiller]

Submitting to his dominance part I

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

TW: mean dominant, rough oral

18+ MDNI

WC: 1.5k

Being Johnny’s best friend had its downsides. Like how he essentially forced you into ‘guy talk’. Yeah, sure, you liked women too. But having to listen to him rant about his conquests was going to make you tear your hair out. You liked women, you did, but this buffoon going on about what he liked to do in bed was too much. He was essentially your brother from another mother. Ew.

An hour into his stories, you tell him that if you have to sit through any more of his freaky sexcapades, you might just murder him. And that’s how he brings up Ghost. You’ve met him several times— being Johnny’s residential pest. He was a big motherfucker who always had his face covered. You always were a sucker for the tall, dark, and mysterious type but he always seemed uninterested in everything— including you.

“Ye think I’m a reprobate, hen, ye should hear ‘bout Ghost! He’s the freaky one! Telling the lasses he’s with to kneel and behave or will spank them ‘til they cry. Ghost is a skyrocket, I tell ya!” And that gets your attention. 

“What?” you blurt out. 

“Yeah, hen! He’s into the whole collar and gags— boorish if ye ask me.” 

You could kiss Johnny. Having more than dabbled in the world of BDSM, you knew you could handle many things— maybe even more than what Ghost offered. You bite back an ecstatic smile as Johnny continues with his story-telling, but you aren’t listening anymore.

Unbeknownst to Johnny, he’s just given you a way into Ghost’s trousers.

━

You lounge on the couch as Ghost and Johnny sit around the island drinking. By the sound of Johnny talking in cursive, he’s more than a little sloshed. Then he slaps his hand on the countertop, the sound startling you, and declares how he’s gonna go take a piss. You roll your eyes. Charming.

He stumbles away and then it’s just you two in the living area. This is your only chance. Steeling your nerves, you make your move. 

“Hey. Ghost.” 

He turns his head to the side a little, a cue that he’s listening. 

“I have a proposition for you.” Then stand up and make your way towards him, casually leaning against the island. Ghost looks completely lax, but his eyes sparkle with slight interest. 

Now or never.

You summon your courage and say, “Johnny spoke of you being dominant in bed. I want you to dominate me.” 

He looked at you with a hooded gaze, before scoffing. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, pet.”

That’s not an outright no. This horse isn’t dead yet, so you’re gonna continue to beat it. 

“Said you like to collar your women. Keep them quiet with a gag. I can crawl on my knees if you ask it of me. I’ll speak when spoken to.” 

Ghost’s shoulders are stiff as he stares around your face as if trying to catch a sign of a prank. He inhales and looks like he’s about to shut you down completely but you talk first.

“My safeword is Pelican. I like to be ordered around, spanked, and tied up. I promise to surrender myself completely. I promise to be a good girl for you.”

Ghost sits there, looking at you in complete silence. Your heart pounds in your ears, your cheeks warming in embarrassment. Maybe he’s not interested. Maybe Johnny had been joking. God, you didn’t even think about it being a bloody joke.

You straighten, getting ready to either run away or curl up and die when two big hands grab onto your hips— keeping you in place.

“You want to be dominated, eh?” and pulls you to stand in between his legs.

“I’m not going to be kind,” and tightens his grip on you, “I’m not going to murmur sweet nothings in your ear. I’m going to use you for my pleasure— like my personal sex toy.” 

One hand moves from your waist to grab your hair in a vicious grip and pulls you down to his eye level, close to his masked face.

“Oh, pet. I’m going to ruin you.”

You swallow hard because you know he is and can’t wait but then the sound of the bathroom door opening brings you back into the present. Ghost lets go of your hair and you jump back, putting space between you. 

As you run your fingers through your hair, Johnny stumbles into the kitchen, tripping over a chair. Positively pissed. You move to catch him, putting his arm over your shoulder, yours around his waist to hold him upright.

“Right, Johnny boy, it’s time for bed.” you chuckle at his drunken mumbles.

After tucking him in, you head back to the kitchen. To Ghost. You watch him put his used glass into the sink before crossing his arms and leaning back. Expectantly. As you’re about to walk to him, he holds his hand up in a stopping gesture. 

“No. You’re gonna be a good girl f’me, remember?” he cocks his head to the side, and with finality in this tone says, “Crawl.”

Oh. Your heart is about to burst out of your chest. It starts now. Your reaction is visceral— dropping to your knees so hard they’ll be bruised tomorrow. Holding eye contact, you slowly drag your body towards him. One hand forward, then a leg. Repeat. 

Reaching his feet, you keep your palms flat on Johnny’s wooden floor and arch your back to look up at Ghost with wide eyes. He looks cool, indifferent. But the bulge in his jeans tells you otherwise. 

You wait for him patiently, continuously holding eye contact and it feels like an hour has passed before he talks. Commands.

“Take my cock out.” 

Your thighs tremble in anticipation, your pussy throbbing at his words. Hands to his waist, you can’t unbuckle his belt fast enough. You hook your fingers into his pants and pull hard enough that you hear a seam unstitch. That earns you a slap across the cheek, hard enough to sting. 

“Careful.” You wish you could say it was a reprimand but the feel of his calloused fingers on the soft skin of your cheeks sends a jolt straight to your cunt. 

Pants down, you stare at his cock. It’s a goddamn sight. Long and so very thick, heavy enough that even erect, it bends downward— foreskin covers half of the head and balls hang low. A masterpiece. 

Another slap to your cheek snaps you out of your adoration. 

“Open your mouth, pet.” 

He tastes of salt and his musk. You could sit here with him in your mouth forever. You go as deep as you can take him and he hisses when you hold him there until you gag and pull back— getting the stringy saliva from the back of your throat onto his cock. Flattening your tongue, you start to bob on his length until he’s properly wet. 

Ghost puts his hand on your head and begins to rock his hips and you start to add a twist with your head on every thrust. Soon, you feel him leaking more salty precum and know he’s close so you start sucking— cheeks sinking in. His thrusts start to get harsher and sloppier and the noises coming from your throat as he fucks it is sinful.

His grip shifts from your head to your hair and you put your hands on his thighs— digging your nails into his skin and he growls out, “That’s it. Come on, pet, you can take it.” 

Then there’s salty blooming on your tongue, cum leaking from the corners of your mouth because there’s simply no more room with his cock in it— dripping down your chin and onto the floor. It’s completely silent apart from Ghost’s stuttering breaths and Johnny’s muffled snoring behind his closed door.

Ghost pulls out his softening length and tucks it away, pulling his jeans back up but leaving the belt unbuckled. He then cups your jaw and makes you watch him watch you swallow his cum.

He gives you a light tap on your reddened cheek from his previous slaps and breathily says, “Atta girl. I didn’t even have to tell you what to do.” 

Your knees throb and your thighs burn but his compliment makes every single ache worth it. Any crumb of praise from him, you’ll take. 

He bends down to your kneeled form before saying, “Next week, I’m gonna pass by your flat. Until then, you do not masturbate, you do not come— And I don’t care what you tell Johnny but make sure he doesn’t visit.” and turns to leave. 

Clearing your throat, you croak out, “But you don’t even have my address.” 

Holding the door open, Ghost shrugs. 

“Don’t have to tell me. I know where you live, pet.”  The noise of the door clicking shut echoed through the apartment. With a groan, you put your arse on the floor and slowly extend your knees— hissing at the sharp pain of your knees finally unbending. Ghost is mean. So mean. How does he expect you to not touch yourself when the cum still drying on your chin has you soaking your knickers?

@thychuvaluswife

A/N: ha ha! hes a lean mean machine! i had way too much fun writing this i need help

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost x reader

[sturnsiolos0]

Private-Matt Sturniolo

You will do anything to get what you want. And what you wanted? Well, that was the man currently dragging you up to his bedroom,a crooked grin lighting up his face as he glances over his shoulder to take in your half-running, half-stumbling form.

A breathless giggle slips past your lips as he begins to slow his pace, and when the two of you draw close to his door, he turns to walk backwards, not even pausing in his steps to tug you close and wind his arms around you. Matt leans down to plant an eager kiss to your lips, and before you can reciprocate, he's spinning you around, still pacing backwards to retrace his steps.

He repeats his actions once more, a firm, promising press of his mouth against yours followed by a sudden turn.

"You wanna tell me why i was dragged up here?" You comment jokingly, peering into the room before glancing back up to Matt, who is smirking down at you, pride and anticipation mingling into what would be an adorable expression if not tinged by the all-encompassing lust blowing his pupils and staining his cheeks.

"Thought we could use some quiet, plus Chris and Nick aren't here." He explains casually, hands slipping down from your waist to cup your ass, and a wicked grin reveals his intentions.

Liquid heat pools within you - It's the push you need for your hands to slip back down to grip at his shirt and yank him into the room, this time you being the one to walk backwards. He follows eagerly, hurrying into the room, and kicks the door closed behind him without a even half a glance.

You break away for a moment, "Quiet, what for?"

"Well, not that I don't enjoy our little midnight quickies in the kitchen or the car, but I thought we could do with somewhere a little more.." He gives pause as he considers the right word, and your heart beats double-time at what was sure to come; sure enough, Matt runs the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, walking you backwards until your knees buckle against the bed, flopping down to stare up into his eyes. "...private."

Matt studies you - lips parted in anticipation, cheeks flushed, eyes hooded as they mirror the lust in his own. A broad palm cups your jaw, fingers splaying across your warm cheek as his thumb takes its time tracing the curve your of bottom lip, before daring to slip into the corner of your awaiting mouth. Your tongue is quick to envelope the digit, sucking gently as you maintain eye contact; Matt swallows, his breath deepening as his pupils dilate like a spill of ink. Pulling back, his thumb slips from your mouth with a wet pop, and you smirk lazily up at him.

"What did you have planned then, Matt?" You breathe, steeling yourself against the temptation of simply grabbing him by the shirt and yanking him down on top of you, especially when he shudders at his name, whispered like something akin to a prayer if only it wasn't with such filthy intonation. Instead, you wait for him to put his own plans in motion.

"Well, I thought we could get naked for a change." He jokes, and your laughter bursts out of you; certainly, the pair of you got up to plenty of mischief together, but never more than a few half-undressed fucks or a heavy make-out session in the kitchen before one of his brothers would interrupt.

He drops down onto the bed beside you, knees bumping into yours as he twists to face your awaiting form, and you watch his every move in anticipation that increases with every passing second. Matt reaches out, curling a long arm around your waist and pulling you closer whilst the other cups the back of your neck, and your hands find purchase on his broad shoulders of their own accord as he closes the short distance. It's a swift kiss that quickly turns heated, his tongue exploring every word your mouth once uttered. The gap between you closes when you shift from the bed and twist to straddle his lap, knees digging into the plush mattress as you grind against his cock, already hard and ready though the layers of clothing separating you.

Matt grunts at the pressure, and you smirk against his mouth, daring to nip at his lower lip; it's enough to catch him by surprise, and you use the opportunity to push him back onto the bed before fidgeting with his shirt to take it off. Your breathing comes fast and heavy, a pace that matches Matt's as his hands disappear behind you to grab your ass, pulling you closer still.

With his shirt finally off, you barely have a moment to admire the exposed skin before he's sitting up once again and removing your shirt to reciprocate the act of removing his; he immediately was latching himself onto the exposed arch of your throat, nibbling and sucking a path down the sensitive flesh and across your chest until coming to a stop at your clothed breasts. Matt wastes no time in unlatching the clasp of your bra to toss away without a thought.

You lift yourself higher onto your knees, stomach pressed tight against his bare chest, and a breathless whimper escapes you when Matt's mouth once again reconnects with your skin, hot lips skimming the underside of your breasts before daring to caress your nipples. Matt's arms coil tight around your waist, pulling you close, and you run your hands through his hair, cradling his head. His tongue laves and swirls until they peak, and he takes the tender bud between his teeth to gently tug, to which you can only whine desperately, your fingers twisting in his hair and yanking in pleasure.

Matt continues his admissions on your breasts, alternating between playful nips, earnest sucking, and adoring kisses, and you fight against your closed eyelids to peer down at him, admiring the sheer devotion and passion written across his face, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Lowering yourself until your ass once again rests against his lap, you almost laugh at the way his neck bows in his pursue of your breasts, until he can't no longer; he pauses only a moment before redirecting his attention once again to your mouth, to which you eagerly respond.

You grind against his lap, feeling his thick cock press against you, and your hands graze down his chest, fingers splayed in appreciation, before reaching your destination and getting to work on undoing the buttons on his pants. Like-minded, Matt loosens his grip to undo the fastenings of yours, before giving a light swat to your ass.

"Up," He grunts, but he's already lifting you to stand you up; your pants slip from your body, and you kick them away, your shoes and socks quick to follow, as Matt does the same with his own remaining clothing, almost falling in his excitement.

Before you can remove your panties, already soaked, Matt is grabbing you by the waist and tugging you close. He's stripped bare, sat on the edge of the bed with his legs splayed, and you can only stare at him, a blend of awe and hunger alight in your eyes at his naked form. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, the material peeling away from your glistening pussy that he can't look away from.

"Fuck, come here," Matt mutters, voice like gravel as he pulls you close. He runs a thick finger through your folds appreciatively, and when he pulls away to inspect it, he nods in approval at your liquid arousal before slipping the digit into his mouth and sucking it clean. "Hmm, you're fucking delicious, love. All of this, just for me?"

"Mm-hmm." You moan, nodding fervently as your fingers once again entwine in his hair, and he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your stomach before guiding you to kneel on his spread lap, shins pressing into the solid muscle of his thighs as your feet catch against his knees. Matt's lips find yours, desperation tingeing the rough movements, and when you shift closer, you jolt with a needy moan when the length of his throbbing cock brushes against your pussy.

"Shit," He hisses through clenched teeth, and one hand leaves your ass to slip between your bodies. Fingers trace your folds, finding your swollen clit to rub a trembling circle around the bundle of nerves before once again slipping back down through your slick folds to tease your entrance. Despite the awkward angle, Matt still manages to slip a thick finger into you, his thumb brushing against your clit with each knuckle that he sinks in; one, two, and three, and he pumps a couple of strokes before withdrawing, only to return with a second finger. Your pussy clenches around the intrusion, his expert digits working you open in preparation, and you can only moan and sigh wantonly against his lips.

You try to return the favour, one hand untangling from his ruffled hair to stroke at his cock, but you only get as far as wrapping your hand around his throbbing length before Matt is withdrawing his fingers and leaving you empty. He can feel your cry of desperation on your lips before you can even utter it, and his fingers, drenched in your arousal, seeks out your own around his cock.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, tonight is all about you." He soothes, and he gently pushes your hand away to pump his cock, your slick mixing with his beading pre-cum as his fingers twist against his tip. Matt leans back to stare down, eyes fixated on your pussy as he runs cock through your dripping folds, the tip nudging at your clit, and you can only grind yourself closer as he continues to tease you; with every half-thrust guided by his hand, the head of his cock would catch your entrance before slipping through your pussy to brush against the throbbing bundle of nerves.

"Matt, Matt, please," You beg, voice needy and breathless as you clutch at his shoulders. "Please, fuck me, Matt, I want you inside of me now."

"Anything for you, love." He murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to your jaw before aligning his dick with your entrance. "Ready?"

You nod earnestly, loose hair flailing about your shoulders as you gaze into Matts's eyes, your own heavy-lidded and glassy with tears of pleasure-fueled desperation. Slowly, achingly so, he pushes in, inch by inch, and your high-pitched moan reverberates through the room as his thick cock stretches you to your limits. Finally, he bottoms out, and through your euphoria, you catch sight of Matt, slack-jawed and panting heavily as he tries to hold still; around him, your pussy twitches and trembles, and your moans are met by strained grunts as his grip tightens on you, palms squeezing your hips and fingertips sinking in to the flesh of your ass.

Your hips shift experimentally, slowly lifting an inch before dropping back down, and you can only offer him a dazed nod before tightening your grip on his shoulders and rising again, the drag of his cock against your fluttering walls alighting each and every nerve within you. It's difficult to ride him in this position when you're so over-stimulated, and Matt is quick to note this; his grip on you adjusts, and he lifts you before dropping you back down, repeating the act until your hips are rolling and he's thrusting up to meet you.

The room is filled with heavy panting and high moans, curses and profanity littering the air like prayers as sweat dampens your overheated skin and kisses become hungry clashes of teeth and tongue. You're distantly aware of your nails biting into Matt's shoulders, and when you drag them down his back, scrambling for purchase, Matt's hips stutter. Suddenly, you're being flipped, your back colliding with the rumpled sheets.

Matt looms over you, hasty hands grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his waist before burying his cock in you once more. You only have a moment to acclimatise before he starts to thrust, face buried in your neck, and the new angle combined with the sheer force as he drills into you makes the tension within snap. Your pussy clenches tight, walls spasming as you climax, and you can only chant his name as your hands clamp down on his biceps.

He continues to thrust throughout your orgasm, throbbing cock dragging against your velvet heat, until he finally shudders, hips faltering and stuttering to a halt as he cums deep within you. Matt collapses against you, softening cock still buried in your pussy, before rolling over with an exhausted grunt and pulling out. Strong arms seek out your shuddering form, still desperately trying to catch your breath, and Matt pulls you over until your head rests against his heaving chest, his pounding heart echoing in your ear.

"Holy shit," You murmur when you finally find your voice. "That was good."

"Only good?" He mumbles around a yawn, prompting you to yawn yourself. "How about we go to the shower and have round two in there?"

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolos #chris sturniolo smut #smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

[getodrools]

GOOD AFTERNOON LAVIII !! hwo are ya :3

i might js make an everyday appearance but HEAR ME OUT !! a year ago or so i made a lil joke saying i want toji to fuck me with his gun but like.. what if he actually did > 0 <

just wanted to share that :333 IM SO HUNGRYYY, im cravin pancakes but im pancakeless :( you could he sleeping so if you are i hope ur sleeping well and dreaming of super cute things :D : D TA TAAAA (that’s a fancy bye)

— pearl anon

໒꒰ྀ ྀིᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ omg gm, i was dreamin’ ! ♡ ‘n i’ve been well, which i hope you've been feeling the same too pearl ! <3 besides the no pancakes disruption ;( ( ! ! but i do hope this feeds ur cravings in some way ??! sob — chocolate pancakes ( >> ) or fruit-based ??

★ ┆ CONFESSIONS .ᐟ ───── TOJI FUSHIGURO ‧

⟣ WARNINGS ‧ MDNI | f! reader | pwp, dub con ( coercion ), gun / fear / and power play, interrogation, degrading, slight praising, squirting, choking / asphyxiation, humiliation, &’ dacryphilia. ᡣ 𐭩 | WC ‧ 1.1K + |

“Tell me where your brother is.” The silencer attached to the sauntering man's gun was cold – at first… The teasing against your ridden hood was no longer enough to set you straight – to spill out any more information he coveted for, solely wreaking a mess out of you; a spill of only silky cum ran down the table he interrogated you on, all shame flowed into a glistening puddle below…

Now the slim, steel barrel between the quaver of your thighs was scolding… “This’ll all end if you just open more than these pretty legs and tell me where my scared little target is. Alright?” And he jams it deep, no hesitation in plugging you up with a loaded gun to the hilt…

Slippery folds spread wide to make room ‘till the invading metal eases in – ramming through your cum-soaked embrace. It hilted in your steaming depths with shocking ease before dragging back with a slight roll; he'd twist at the handle to slide around — left and right, left and right like a q-tip swirling around.

Eyes squeezing tight, “Sir… Please, I told you–” You hiccup, “Told you… I don't know…” You didn't know him, or even knew your brother had a damn hitman chasing him down. Well, it’s a slight explanation as to why he abruptly vanished last week… but you still had no clue of the exact reason!

You didn't know anything!

But you do know, you couldn't risk your brother's life any further. Damnning family loyalty.

The scar lined down the broad man's lips wrinkled stiffly as he frowned, “Where did you see him last goddamnit.” You shake your head, almost a sob falling through feeble lips in response.

Still not good enough. He clicks his tongue.

“Sweetheart,” The mix of gentle words and a pistol shoved up your pussy was… odd, “Before he left, did you at least see him take a scroll?” Raspy voice drawing out slow for you, he tilts his head, “Think real hard f’me, ok?” You barely could muster up words! How in the world could you even remember a stupid piece of paper while a gun is lodged inside you?!

Oh fuck…

Your eyes fill with light, and so does the killers, believing you were about to spew out the truth, “Yeah, yeah, I know that look, tell me.” The only truth spewing out was your cunt reacting vividly to the twisting pole splitting through you.

Another, milky mess splatters at his grey pants and around his gun. Runny with a shimmer – damp and soiled, he soughed as you tremble embarrassingly along the tabletop… Cunt clenching around the working barrel, you cry out; the trepidation, adrenaline, and coerced pleasure from a — truthfully, a hunk of a man was all foreign, shaking a deep rattle in you.

Gasping ‘till the shady room fell silent…

The man's shaggy hair falls with his head, dropping it low with a sigh followed, “It’s just a simple yes or no. Use your words this time, honey.” Patience running eerily low.

Toji had a damn job to do. He was ranked highest in his field of work for a reason. He never cared to show mercy when it came to his money, and that's exactly what his consumers loved. Toji always got the job done one way or the other... Even if working his gun with lethal strokes inside your pussy ‘till you couldn't bare another rumbling high was undoubtedly a way… Anything to get what he needed to get what he wanted.

And before you could reason by catching your breath, your interrogator leans over your feeble body; a stiff leg booted between yours as the other crowded you in on the side. Hovering over you full flush, Toji fills his free hand with your throat, as if he was trying to stifle the very answers out of you.

“I’m giving you one more chance,” Those same words he's said a good handful of times rang through your ears, “Speak up.”

“… I–I…” But the firearm pulling and twisting around your insides was forcing your lips to clamor.

You haven't had room to properly suck in a fresh breath of air in the past three hours…

Verdant eyes scanning your face, so close, you could feel the flutter of his lashes tickle at the stained, wet cheeks that puff out. Welting in tears, you shiver, “I don't… I don't remember…—!” You hear the stiff pistol driving through your silken furrow cock back.

Oh fuck.

“Heh. You really don't now?” Burying all inches of glossy metal inside tight walls, then retracting and slamming down harder, Toji’s grip tightend too, “ ‘Cause I feel like you do. A little birdie told me you even helped him out, huh.” Fuck.

Cum churned with sappy liquids; dragging a translucent milky ring around his suppressor, nothing was going to impede his assignment.

All brisk motions left your gummy insides shivering potently and brain to slosh into a mushy pile… Toji kept at it ‘till you seemed fucked out of your mind. ‘Till you actually couldn't give him any more answers...

<– BACK : PINNED ⊹ ࣪ ˖ NEXT : MORE TOJI –>

#i HAD to write more on ur lil joke !! :p #i might've gotten carried away tho :c sob ♡ #🌐 𝐿𝒜𝒱𝐼𝐼 𝒲𝑅𝐼𝒯𝐸𝒮! #ᝰ toji fushiguro! #tw dub con #tw coercion #tw gun play #tw asphyxiation #tw dacryphilia #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #📮 [ nonnie : pearl ]

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Duke Sabrian, the Trueborn Bastard

The barred windows of the carriage let in only cold mountain air and the endless procession of crucifixes marking the road up to the Duke's castle. You idly wonder if he's picked out which ones he'll nail you and your friends to once you've told him that you've failed.

Though he styles himself the gallant exemplar of everything the noble warrior class could be, Duke Sabrian is in truth the embodiment of all the failings of his social order: brutish, bloody-minded, and blind to any plights beyond his own. More than a decade past Sabrian fought a war against his own sibling to seize control of their duchy and since then has ruled from an isolated mountain fortress fearing reprisals from the people he subjugates.

As long as the Duke rules things will continue to get worse, and it's only a matter of time before the party and those they care about get caught up in it.

Adventure Hooks:

Exhausted after delving their first dungeon the party are shaken down by a group of the duke's men, who are better armed and carry the threat of reprisal should the party draw steel on them. Perhaps it's better to give the toughs what they want and live to fight another day... say after finding out where the guards get drunk so they can trick/charm/beat the location of the stolen treasure out of them.

Countess Ledrick has a problem. Despite being one of the mercenaries who helped win Sabrian his throne she was never formally sworn in as one of the duke's vassals when she took over her lands and is widely regarded as little better than an upjumped brigand. Now a large shipment of tribute heading for the Duke's council has gone missing on the borders of her land, and it's only a matter of time before the blame comes to rest on her. She'll need all the help she can in recovering the lost treasure which just might be the party's ticket to a position in her court.

While out in the market a couple of the party members are approached by a woman in a hood doing her very best to try to seem inconspicuous. Through smiles and whispered pleas she begs them to help her hide from the guards, palming them a small handful of jewels in the attempt. If the party gives her aid she'll eventually introduce herself as Mina, keeping most of her story to herself but letting slip that she stole something precious from Sabrian and that she needs their help getting out of the duchy and into some neighbouring lands. It'd be an arduous journey, made even more arduous when in the next town the party discover posters and criers proclaiming that the duke's wife Minerva has been kidnapped, promising a great reward for her return and a terrible punishment for those who made off with her.

Background: While many born into the nobility feel confined by their station, Sabrian always knew he was made to rule. He was one of those people who excelled at the standards he was expected to meet, for whom the path of life is not only a straight line but part of a larger destiny that gave order to the world.

The problem was that Sabrian was the younger son, and his older sister chafed against noble life as much as he suited it. Sabrina was high minded, well read, and was possessed of several strange notions. The first being that those who own and govern the land owed something to those that lived upon it, the second being that her name was Solace, not Sabrina. The third was that she was not a woman, simply a person. The fourth and perhaps most outrageous was that she they would not be taking a husband, nor even a lover for the purposes of producing heirs and rather than just handing over their claim on the duchy to their well deserved brother like so often happened when the noble family tree refused to branch they would instead be creating some kind of made up of council made up of their vassals the elected mayors from the duchy's largest towns.

Sabrian wasn't having any of it, his sibling had clearly gone mad and was denying both of them (but mostly him) their birthright. After years of arguing, petitioning their mother on her death bed, and an outright threat of banishment from the now ascendant Duke Solace, Sabrian went out, raised himself an army, and went to war with his softhearted kin. The fighting was worse than anyone could have imagined, the people rose in Solace's defence and Sabrian had to resort to brutal tactics to put them down burning villages and farmland in the drought of summer and marching his followers over the ashes towards their next target.

Solace's head was delivered to him in a basket the same day he took the throne, and for the decade since Sabrian can't hold court without remembering the reproachful look in his sibling's dead eyes.

Further Adventures:

Knowing the common people hold no love for him, the duke governs from an ancestral bastion high in the mountains, a cold and lofty perch quite suitable for an unassailable tyrant who thinks himself above all. His remoteness and unwillingness to bother has paradoxically allowed his vassals the ability to govern their lands the way they see fit, which leads to a patchwork of graft, neglect, and personal ambition. In recent years Sabrian has sought to curve this independent streak by putting more and more resources behind his personal guard, who are now commanded by a former bountyhunter famed for her ruthlessness.

Increasing isolation gives the party a chance to rally together a resistance against the duke, but such a coalition might be built on shoddy foundations. A sizeable minority of his underlings feel hard done by him and might turn if given the right encouragement, though they may prove untrustworthy. Solace's old supporters have been ruthlessly hunted and will be mistrustful of newcomers, especially those that fought under the usurper. Minerva's clan are powerful nobles in their own right in a neighboring territory, and once they have their daughter back would be happy to throw their support behind the party's plan to oust the useless tyrant, provided the party are willing to play ball with them.

Sabrian has been unravelling, retreating from public life, executing his servants an courtiers for suspected treason, even keeping his formerly loving wife locked in a tower for the better part of a year. In the ten years since he married Minerva to secure her parent's support for his usurpation he has been unable to father a child, no matter what healers he turns to or what concubines he lays with. The inability to produce an heir was one of his primary reasons for going to war with Solace, and now he is failing in that exact same noble duty. This rather ironic fate was delivered unto him by Litirenn, god of farmland and cultivation, as punishment for burning one of the god's shrines during his rampage through the countryside ( along with the shrinekeeper who was an outspoken proponent of Solace's reforms. The god is going to be watching the party's actions closely if they set themselves in opposition to the duke, giving them a nudge now and again, ensuring the land rises to support them, that kid of thing.

Art 1

Art 2

#villain noble #rebelion #mid level #rescue mission #bandits #mountain villain #villain #encounter town #encounter city #encounter market

[rinbowaman]

ok but imagine demon! heeseung and angel! beomgyu, but heeseung is actually very kind (when he's not inside you 😀) and beomgyu is actually far from innocent

mind goes brrr

Warnings: Demon HS, angel Beomgyu, smut, unprotected smut, oral sex (male receiving), near death experience, Beomgyu is a perv, and HS is both....a softy....and hard dom! total switch.

@0x1dazed - enjoy 😉

"Shoot! I'm going to be late."

Waiting for the signal to change, you await while watching the cluster of vehicles drive pass. The light flashes, signaling that you now have the right of way to walk through the crosswalk. Halfway through, you heard the screams of screeching tires as the smell of burnt rubber suddenly fills the air; your life flashes before your eyes when a red sports car slides in your direction. Having lost control over the vehicle, a female driver with a male passenger by her side, threw their phones up in the air as they tried to react in time to avoid the collision, which would no doubt result in your death. The price to pay for their careless mistake and lack of attention to the road.

Or it would have been, had you been left to brace and take on the impact of the steel frame, the red hood, and the shattered glass. Yet all was well when you found yourself suddenly out of place. Looking around at your surroundings, the area was different. Where were the bustling streets? The neon street signs? The overbearing crowd of people, and the traveling vehicles? Where was the industrial infrastructure? The steel frames of the buildings, and the modern architecture?

Rubbing your temples, your eyes winced shut as you count to ten in your head, only to become reacquainted with the satin grayed room. The silk tapestries reflected a darker mauve hue, while the embroidered thread on the wallpaper was as silver as the metal itself. There were no windows, and no doors that you could see, which compelled you to grow anxious. How are you going to leave? Where do you begin to figure out where exactly you are?

The last image that flashed through your mind was the red coupe flinging its way over to you, with the driver frantically screaming and waving her hands around, looking just as fearful as you. Could it be possible that you......

"You didn't die."

A male voice stuns you out of your thought process and triggers you to turn towards him.

"I-I'm sorry?"

Flashing a dashing smile, he walks over and stands beside you, facing the large oil painting hanging on the wall. "I said, you didn't die." he reiterates softly, glancing a quick side eye before turning back and continues to study the large art piece.

"W....who are you?....Do you know where we are?"

"Yeah, you're in Oecus Altair."

Confused, you shifted your eyes before you stuttered and bid for him to elaborate. "The what?"

"It means The Hall of the Flying Eagle. This is where the old Gods used to collect themselves and hold their councils."

Turning your attention to the painting, you catch yourself following his lead as you take time to admire the fine details of the portrayal of what seemed to be the Gods of Olympus, paying respects to one particular figure that was well known throughout mythology, Zeus.

By the raging strike of lightning balled in his grasp, you figured it had to be the King of Gods himself, raising a fist of glory or victory it seemed like, while his brethren, sisters, and all the demigods encircled his magnificent form and awe towards his awesome power.

"....How did I get here?" You asked the young man, unsure who he was or where he came from, yet you figured he had the answers that could aid your release from this unknown place, and help you return to the city.

"He brought you here....I was told to watch after you until he returns."

"He?"

"My brother."

"B-brother?"

Startling you, a deeper voice emerges from afar, chiming in the conversation. "Yes, that is correct. Younger brother, but not by much."

Presenting himself, the slightly taller male stands before you and flashes a deviously handsome smile. He was dressed fashionably Victorian and reminded you of a prince as he donned a coat of beige, embroidered in gold threaded accents, and a pair of black trousers with knee high boots to match. The frills of the satin white shirt under his royal cloth delicately peeks out from his sleeves, and above the top button on his chest. He  issues a bow, excelling in perfect form and poise, before re-engaging eye contact. 

“Oh, here we go….” the other brother huffs out as he rolls his eyes. “Could you stop with that?” 

The brazen elder walks to his younger brother’s side and rests a bent elbow on his shoulder. “I’m Beomgyu, and this is Heeseung. Now that we’ve introduced ourselves, can you take your dress off? I wanna see what it looks like under there….let me find out.” he issues as he bites his lip. 

Reaching up from behind, the younger of the two, Heeseung, smacks his palm atop Beomgyu’s head and peels him back, flinging him behind towards the wall. “Don’t mind him, he’s a bit of a pervert I’m afraid. Good fellow….just too sordid.”

“Like it’s my fault!” Coming back up to his spot, Beomgyu takes his stance next to Heeseung, policing himself up as he straightens his attire from the toss. He was quite the opposite from his sibling, wearing all black with a dark green coat that also resembled a Victorian flare. He was definitely much more outspoken and haughty, yet something about his personality was seemingly adorable. With Heeseung, he was dashing and smooth in the deliverance of chivalry and his vocabulary. Both men were strange and unlike anyone you’ve ever met before. 

“I’m sorry….I don't mean to be rude but…can you both tell me how I may leave? I have to get back.” Nervously chuckling, you crossed your arms and began to shut yourself away as you bid them to honor your request. 

“Well, there are two ways you can leave here…” Heeseung calmly states as he shifts his gaze over to the side. “One way is to just leave through that door right there…” Pointing beyond where you stood, you turned and found a door lodged into the wall. It was peculiar since just a moment ago, the door wasn’t there. Turning back around, you look at Heeseung with a questioning gaze. “Was…..did you put that there?” you softly asked as you delicately pointed to the door behind you. 

“I didn’t.” He smiles softly as he gently shakes his head. “The door just wasn’t visible until now.” 

Shrugging your shoulders, you asked him to elaborate the other option. “What is the other way of getting out of here?” 

“Well….before we get to that, let me explain what happens if you choose to go through the door…” Heeseung calmly spoke out as he took you by the hand. HIs skin was so smooth and he smelled of lavender, guiding you over to a gray loveseat, made of velvet, he sat you beside him as he cups your hand with both of his, warming them. “Cold?” 

You nodded hesitantly, watch as he softly breathes out and warms the back of your palm. It was only one exhale, and targeted directly to your hand, yet the moment it hit your skin, your entire body felt warm and soothing, almost as if you were sitting by a fire. 

“That’s –...how did you do that?” you inquire as you admire your hand and look around you. Smirking, he rests his elbow on his lap and strokes his chin as he takes in your features. “We’ll get to that here in a minute.” he softly speaks, reaching up with his free hand he gently tucks the strands of your hair behind your ear. 

“Going through the door will take you back to the place from where you came, the problem is-”

“The problem IS that you’ll be taken right back to the very spot where we plucked you out of. In your case, you’d go right back in front of that colliding vehicle and probably die.” Beomgyu boldly confirms as he makes his way over to the loveseat, and rests his boot on the arm closest to you. Leaning his forearms on his thigh, he relaxes in a slightly hunched form while staring deeply into the slight bit of cleavage that is exposed from your subtle neckline. 

Rolling his eyes, Heeseung shook his head faintly as he rubbed his temples. “....you idiot…” 

“What? It's the truth!”

“You don’t have to be so…nevermind.” Heeseung gives up and continues to explain the alternative option of gaining back your freedom, one without you dying. “The other way to leave here, is to please the descendants of the Gods.”

Confused, you looked up, shifting your sights between the two men. “Please?....In what manner?” 

“Like, sexual intercourse is a good one.” Ever as unfiltering, Beomgyu scoff’s out his defining example, causing Heeseung to snap his fingers towards him, gesturing for the young man to quiet himself.

“I’m sorry about him…” Heeseung states as he glares over to his elder brother.

"As ill mannered that came out to be, he isn't’ wrong. That is one way. It’s the most assuring way for you to get back safely. ” Heeseung delicately states as he takes your hand once more, rubbing the back of your palm with his thumb. 

“What?! I can’t do that! I don’t…what is this? Who are you? What does this…please tell me this is all a dream.” You rock your head back and forth as you rub your head. 

“But it’s not! Come on girl, it’s not like you’re a virgin, we know everything about you. We get it, you’re not a whore and you consider yourself a “respectable” woman, but give it up if you want to live.” 

“Beomgyu….”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” 

Comforting you with his embrace, Heeseung hugs you softly as he narrows his gaze over to his brother. 

Descendants of Gods? What or where exactly are you? How could such a place be real where such a demand exist and becomes a mandatory option for a woman to free herself from this….this….

“Come on! It’s not like you’re in prison. What do you say?” Beomgyu bids, tilting his head and yearning for you to answer. 

“O-okay…..fine. Who..who are the descendents?” 

Both men share a gaze and blink before looking back at you. “Uh….it’s us….” Beomgyu states offensively. “We’re the descendents. The last ones in fact.” 

Wide eyed and shocked, you bury your face into both your palms. “.....This can’t be happening….” you mumbled into both hands. 

“Well sis, it is. So what’s it going to be? The door, or us?” 

You shoot out a faint glare at the young man and express with a slight bit of attitude as you come to a breaking point of the man’s vulgar behavior. “Obviously...I don't have much of a choice…at least you’re not leaving me any. But could you be just a little more compassionate? It’s not like I do this sort of thing on the regular.”  

Pulling you back into his chest, Heeseung swoops his hand over your neck and gently strokes your shoulder as he tenderly caresses you. “Don’t mind him. We know you’re not that type of woman, and we wish there was another way but we don’t make the rules. This is something that was established well before our time.”

Sighing, you grew curious and asked about their lineage. “So….who are you two? Where do you both come from?”

“We’re sons of the Archangel Michael, you heard of him yeah? He was also a descendent of the old Gods, and we both are his only heirs.” Beomgyu explains as he stretches his arms, cracking his neck, a pair of lush, silver and white-feathered wings extend from his back and graciously decorates his frame. 

“...I didn’t know angels were so…petulant.” you spoke in humor as you admired the shine of the transparent features, they were beautiful and magnificent.

“Well we are.” Beomgyu responds back in slight annoyance, placing his hands on his hips as he rolls his eyes faintly. “I’m the angel, whereas Heeseung here is-”

Cutting his older brother off, Heeseung’s wings shoot out from his back, gently draping over his shoulders. They were matte black, nearly dark purple and hued out a velvet texture, reflecting a sinful glow that twinkled with each feathered strand. 

“A-are you…?” Too caught up with the beauty of his Godly appearance, your question remained incomplete. Nodding, he smiles softly as he strokes his chin. “Yes beautiful…I’m the son of the Archangel Michael, and my mother was a demoness. Although, out of the two, her bloodline runs strong…it’s like that with all Hellish creatures, so I take after her quite a bit.” 

“And that’s why he resides in the scorching regions of Hell and rules over it.” Beomgyu teases in a cocky manner. 

This was so strange. The two men appeared to be the exact opposite of one another, not only that, but out of the two, Heeseung seemed far more fitting as an angel, whereas Beomgyu gave off the essence of a perverse demon, yet that wasn’t the case. Looking at them, not all was what it seemed. 

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes and sighed out once more. “Okay…so what do I do? So I can leave here in one piece.” 

“Do you know how to use that pretty mouth of yours?” Beomgyu winks out, clearly excited and eager to get things started. 

“Will you stop?” Heeseung glares once more towards his sibling. 

“Come on Heeseung. It’s not like we’re forcing her. Look, why don’t I go first, and then you can take her after?” 

Heeseung shakes his head out of bitter annoyance, before turning back to you. “Will that work for you?” 

Nodding in the affirmative, you looked over to Beomgyu, who raises his brows in excitement upon making eye contact. “..uh…yeah…i guess.” you answered, not entirely sure how you were going to be able to perform. This entire ordeal was making you more and more uncofmortable. 

“Don’t worry. Despite how he may come off, he really doesn’t know how to handle a woman. You’ll be able to hold the reins with this one.” Heeseung smirks out, teasingly winking. 

“Hey!” Beomgyu shouts out from the side. But leaves the conversation where it stands as Heeseung stands, helping you up and gently hands you off to the elder sibling. 

“Be nice to her, Beomgyu.” 

“Oh how rich! Coming from you.” Beomgyu scuffs out in response. 

Shooting his hand around your waist, Beomgyu immediately kisses you deeply as he holds you by your chin. His movements were sudden and a bit rough, you tried to match his stamina but it had been a while since you had done this. Not to mention, you never once experienced intimacy at random, only sharing it with a man you once loved, but offended by your gift when he abandoned your love for a woman who was far less reserved than you. Breaking your heart into two, you mourned and had ever since, made yourself unavailable to all prospects, solely focusing on your career. 

“Kiss me back.” Breaking the kiss for just a moment, Beomgyu gasps out his words before reconnecting the kiss while his hands swarm over your waist and lower back, pulling you closer. His wings softly flutter and suspend up in the air as he shifts both your bodies to a missionary position, with you on top. Laying his head on both his hands, he relaxes as he admires your suddenly nude body. 

“W-where are my clothes??” you gasped out, quickly covering your breasts as you wrap your arms around your chest, looking around and seeing that you were now in a different room, one surrounded by walls that were shrouded in satin curtains. The bed you both laid on was framed with both, a head and footboard that displayed large brass arches. 

“You’re in MY room.” Flexing his arms as he takes the bend in his elbows to a perfect angle as he readjust his head in his palms, he gently breathes out, enjoying the sensation of the cool air hitting his nudeness, while simultaneously feeling the warmth of your skin. 

Gulping, you felt far too nervous and shy as you realized that he was entirely nude underneath you. Flexing his member, it stiffens and taps against your rear end.

“What….stop!” 

“Come oooooon…..would you live a little?” he teases, grinning wide while eyeing your body. “Come here,” he whispers. Grabbing hold of your arms, he gently brings you to lean forward, and kisses you. 

Feeling his member stiffen, it didn’t feel as obscene as before due to the gentleness of his touch. His arms cradled you and his kiss was passionate and tender. Breaking the kiss, he speaks in a near whispering tone, one that was far different from the usual boldness it carried. 

“So....You never answered my question. Do you know how to use that pretty mouth of yours?” he asks, waving a soft smile. He had become different, still sordid but so much more angelic and tender. 

“I…um….if you’re referring to what I think you are….I’ve never done it before.” 

“I know.” he chuckles. “He never showed you…or rather, he never stuck around long enough to experience it with you.” 

Hearing his words cut you deep. He obviously was referring to your first love, the man whom you would have given up anything and everything, yet stranded you broken hearted for another woman. One with superficial assets and a large dowry. 

Shifting your gaze down, trying to avoid crying in front of him, you gulped and fought back the tears that began to sting your eyes. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” He softly remarks. “The man was undeserving of you, don’t let him be your downfall. Besides…I can show you. I don’t mind being your first.” Flashing a toothy grin, he cradles your head with his hands as he fingers his limbs through your hair. 

Kissing you once more, he slowly drags you lower by the hip, shifting you towards his cock. “Grab it.” he whispers out. 

Taking it in your hand, you merge lower until his impressive length rested against your chest, right in between your breasts. 

“Kiss it.” he gently tells you, still laying his head on his palms. Doing as he bids, you kiss the tip, it seemed appropriate considering it appeared swollen. Once you had pressed your lips against his skin, it felt right…so right. Instinctively, your mind and body knew what to do, and you continued to place your soft kisses, surrounding the head, lowering it down the midriff of his shaft, and finishing off by placing them on the base of his groin. 

“Thaaaaat’s it princess. Now put it in your mouth, start off with the tip of it.” he slightly chokes out, enveloped by the wonderful sensation he was feeling as you swallow the head of his member, and began sucking on it. Your tongue rolling all over its surface and the grooves of its form, you started to fit more of him in.

“Wow…you’re a natural. Don’t need me to tell you what to do now, huh?” 

Subtly shaking your head, you continue without pause. Your body just knew how to take over, and you did. You did exactly what your heart and soul told you to do, and he loved every single moment of it. Stroking in his member repeatedly, you take in saliva that droop out of the crevices of your mouth as you stretch as wide as you could to fit his girth. The scene became messy, though in the most sensual and beautiful way possible. Slurping, you pick up the pace and combine the efforts of your hand as you swirled your palm in half rotation near the base, while your mouth took on the rest. 

“Ah…good….good girl…fuck…just like that.” tilting his head back, his mouth remains wide open as he gasps out his groans. The more evident it became that he was enjoying it, the more it motivated you to continue and do more. Popping out the tip from the corner of your mouth, you lightly tap the tip of his bulge against your tongue, moaning as you stuffed him back inside and twirled your tongue along the grooves of veins and muscle that decorated it. 

“Oh shit…” he gasped out, quickly shifting his hands and establishing a grip on the sides of your head as he pinned you down, forcing you to take all of him in. Your gag reflex becomes triggered, yet you hold yourself well by steadying yourself as you taste the saltiness of his essence coating the muscles of your throat. His cock twitches against your tongue, and slowly, he lifts your face up and away, allowing you to relax your jaw. Fully exiting your mouth, he chuckles out and re-establishes his comfy position. 

“You did well. It’s too bad old boy left when he did, he’s missing out.” 

A small smile forms on your face as you hover over his body and crawl towards his face. Kissing him, you were slowly reaching down for it, preparing to take him in once more, when his hand gently grabbed onto yours.

“As much as I want to…angels are not allowed.” with a disappointing look on his face, he gives off a half smirk as he shifts his gaze onto the ground. “It’s a rule…only archangels, one like my father, have the freedom to do so. It’s a status that I have yet to gain, but will someday.” shifting his gaze back up to meet your eyes, he shoots his hands around your waist. “When I do…might come and find you again.” He states before kissing you once more, when suddenly you felt the room spinning and a moment of pure darkness shrouds you. The instant the air clears, you find yourself in another room, one that was much different from Beomgyu’s personal palace. The walls were draped with black satin, matching the black silk of the bedding, which was all framed by brass ornaments that displayed symbolic Gothic theme’s. 

“Did you have fun with Beomgyu?” his voice shoots from behind as he walks up, admiring your nude body as you attempt to cover yourself with the sheets. 

“Um…yeah…learned a thing or two…” you jest as you look up at him. Shocked, you slightly gasped out as you saw a change in Heeseungs demeanor, his face was much more stern. His eyes were fierce, and darkened with a sense of dominance and lust like you have never seen before. Biting down on his lip, he flares off a look of hunger and desire, it was far too intense. You couldn’t help but think that the white and gold coat of his suddenly looked far too light for his countenance. 

Sitting next to you, he raises a hand and gently tucks your hair behind your ear once more. “Scared?” he asks. 

Trying to steady your breath, your chest heaves deeply as you glance over from the side and look at him. His smirk was devious and rather eerie, but still dashing. Softly chuckling, he leans in and aims for your neck. With long strokes of his tongue, and the latching of his lips, he soothes your neck line with the tenderness of his mouth. Your breathing calms down, until he starts to grab on to your waist, pulling you in against him as he kept on with feasting on your throat. 

“H-Heeseung….” you whimpered out. 

“Shhh…enjoy it.” with one final kiss on your smooth skin, he darkly whispers. “I know I will.” 

Your body is suddenly suspended and laid back on the bedding as his weight lays atop you the missionary position. Just like his elder brother, his clothes vanish in a blink of an eye, and you feel the coolness of his skin as he drapes over your body. His wings remain extended out, and flaps vigorously as he traps you in his arms. He was demanding and strong, yet with the way he slightly dipped his hips low and waved them against your groin, you found yourself to be less scared and more focused on his touch. Whimpering out his name, he hushes you tenderly. 

“Shh…pretty girl…I’ll make you feel like a queen.” Kissing you, he gently bites down on your lip. “We’re going to fuck just like demons do.” With one last kiss, he props himself on his knees, and swings your leg over, forcing you to lay on your side. He grabs onto your rear cheek, and slowly, he inserts himself. “It’s been a while, but I promise you I aint rusty.” he teases, pushing the tip of his throbbing cock in. You quickly deduced that despite being the younger of the two, and a demon, Heeseung’s size was supreme. Beomgyu’s length and girth was absolutely nothing to scoff at, in fact, he was perfect. But with Heeseung, you now know that there was going to be pain with pleasure as you felt the tear of your stretch while enveloping his length. Jutting in, he continues to push through the friction of your entry as he finally mashes the base of his groin and testicles against your folds. 

“Oh wow…you feel really nice.” he gasps out, eyeballing you as he raises his eyebrows in surprise. “All the way in princess…you ready?” he cocks out as he bites down the corner of his lip. You weren’t sure if he was genuinely asking, or if he really did care, nonetheless, you hesitantly nod and felt the shoretend sense of relief as he starts to slide out, only to ram himself back in with a vengeance. 

Thrusting violently, he goes in hard and deep, not at all starting off with a slow or gentle pace. Bucking his hips with high energy, he slaps into your rear cheek as he throbs and twitches his cock inside, making sure you get the full effect. 

“Ah! Please! N-not….not too rough! Ugh! You’re breaking me!” 

“Aww…too much baby?” he teases. Leaning in, burying his member deep inside, he shoots out a ball of spit on your cheek, only to lick it back up before whispering in your ear. “You like it…don’t you?” the tone in his voice was dark…too dark. 

“You miss being fucked…dont you? Come on baby, say it. I know you’re dark and nasty….” 

Feeling how deep his cock was reaching, he rotates his hips as he drills himself deeper. Too deep. 

“How badly do you wanna get fucked baby?”

Gaining enough stamina to issue a voice, you caved in. He was right, just because you weren’t spreading yourself thin among the male populace, it didn’t mean that when alone, and at night, your thoughts grew wild and you yearned for someone like him to plunge into you. He was ruthless, dementing, and brutal with his performance….and it was exactly what you needed. 

“Yes…yes….”

“Yes what?” He smirks as he bids you to elaborate.

“Yes….please…please fuck me…oh God….fuck me hard.”

Leaning all of his weight on top, he cradles his arms at the sides of your head and kisses you. The kiss was the only tender nature of his performance, everything else was grim and cruel. “Come here baby, let me give you just what you need.” he whispers out, firmly grabbing hold of your neck and starts back up in thrusting. Each time he thrusted his cock back in, you nearly saw stars. He was going in so hard, so fast, and was animalistic. Digging his fingernails in, he leaves his mark along your neckline while he harshly sucks your breasts. He fucked you, for who knows how long, all you knew and cared about was that he kept going. 

Flipping you over, he raises your hips and smacks your derriere, before placing a dozen kisses on each cheek. “Tell me how badly you want it.” Admitting another slap, he watches your rear end jiggle as your body shakes from the rigorous effects of his harshness. 

“Ugh! I want it…I want it so bad…please…please…do everything to me.” 

Slapping his hand on the back of your neck, he latches a new hold on you as his free hand grips your waist, keeping you still as he slides right back in. Watching your rear end pop against his groin from the hard smacks, he fucks…and fucks….and fucks. He pumps his cock deep, and flexes it while it rests inside. He expands your walls and tears you open more and more, until finally…

“Fuck!!” slapping his hands on your waist, he leans forward and rests his forehead against your back, his mouth gasps open as his lips gently brush against your skin. Pushing out the last drop of his seed, he slowly exits from your cavity, yet remains holding you still to admire the pure white thickness that oozes out of your slit. 

“Beautiful.” he softly remarks. Dropping his weight back down on you, he spoons you from behind and nibbles on your ear. Catching your breath, you commit a half turn to face him. “So….is that it? Will I be able to go home now?”

Keeping his eyes closed, he keeps himself in the state of relaxation as he hugs you. “Mmhmm…soon.” 

Shifting your gaze down, you felt the need to get up and move, yet there was a sliver of your heart that didn’t want this moment to end. Not with Heeseung, or Beomgyu. Resting your head against your elbow, you let out a bittersweet sigh. 

Reaching around, gently tapping the tip of your nose, Heeseung rests the tip of his finger against your lips before mumbling into the smooth silky strands of your hair. 

“If you’re not against the idea…and are over the fool that deserted you….maybe I’ll come visit you….tell you more bedtime stories.” 

You laughed a little, before he continued. “Maybe I’ll show you some magic tricks…and teach you some things that Beomgyu can’t.” 

Sensing the looseness of his demonic presence, you felt that he was coming back to that gentle and kind being that he was when he introduced himself. “We’ll see…maybe…” you softly respond back with, flaring your own teasing sense into your words.

Chuckling, he slowly wraps his arm around your waistline.

“Or maybe…” Licking the helix of your ear, he whispers as he reaffirms his grasp around your neck.

...........

“I just won't let you go home tonight…” 

Enjoyed this piece? Show love and treat your girl to a cup of coffee. ♥️ 

☕ Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/reinbow

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enha heeseung #enha drabbles #enha imagines #enha smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen heeseung #enhypen scenarios #enhypen au #txt #txt beomgyu #beomgyu smut #tomorrow x together #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu hard thoughts

[bruhstories]

perfectly imperfect

summary: otto hightower gathers more allies in support of his nephew after the destruction of the dragonpit. y/n reyne, lady of castamere, offers her hand in marriage to aemond targaryen to secure the safety of her land and people.

pairing: aemond targaryen x reyne!fem!reader (aged up)

warnings & content: canon-divergent, graphic descriptions of violence, aegon makes fun of disabilities, aegon is a dick to women, typical asoiaf shenanigans, unprotected sex, p in v, loss of virginity, fem bodied reader

wc: ~3.7k

a/n: listen, i did not plan on simping for aemond, okay? i was actually planning a daemon fic but i got carried away. also, there are NO spoilers for episode 10. i know it got leaked, i haven't watched it yet.

It seemed as if Aegon had won a trophy in Helaena when compared to Aemond's betrothed. He had complained about his sister-wife when he was a child, complained that she wasn't beautiful enough, that she was strange, with her fascination for insects, particularly spiders. Aegon could not fathom why his wife was drawn to such peculiar practices, but part of him was grateful he ended up marrying Helaena and not Y/N Reyne.

Aemond, on the other hand, made no verbal complaints about his soon-to-be wife. He had always obeyed his mother's rules, and he knew his marriage to the Lady of Castamere was nothing but political — an alliance with a powerful and rich family would only benefit in supporting Aegon's claim to the throne. All he had to do was put an heir in Y/N and secure his Targaryen lineage. He didn't have to love her, but he would respect her.

After the destruction of the Dragon Pit, Otto knew he had to act swiftly, asking lords and ladies all around Westeros for their support. It was Y/N Reyne who offered her own hand in marriage in exchange for the protection of her lands and people, and Otto and Alicent agreed. A small price to pay for the riches of Castamere. With her silver and gold, they could fund soldiers for the impending war between the Blacks and the Greens.

Not long after Aegon's coronation, Y/N Reyne travelled to King's Landing for a quick wedding. There was no time for feasts and parties, there was no time for her to get to know her husband — she wanted her people safe, and Otto wanted supporters.

The Lady of Castamere arrived at the Red Keep on horseback with a promised 200 soldiers, chests of gold, silver and rubies. Greeted by the king himself, Y/N bowed down, offering Aegon a dagger encrusted with small rubies on its silver handle.

"It's not Valyrian steel, your grace, but it was made by my finest blacksmiths." She removed the hood of her cloak, exposing a scar that went from her cheek, down her neck, the rest hidden behind her chest plate.

Aegon scrunched his nose at the sight of her scar, but the look of disgust came after she removed her leather gloves, revealing a missing ring finger on her right hand.

"You'll make a fine wife for my brother." The king sneered, and Alicent smiled. Finally, her son was speaking like a true royal. "Seeing as you're both cripples." Aegon laughed, toying with the dagger in his hand, bored and perhaps drunk.

Y/N pursed her lips. It took a lot of willpower not to bark back at him. She had sworn her loyalty to him, after all.

"I see your grace has a sense of humour." The Lady of Castamere smiled, the scar more visible when her cheeks puffed up.

It made Aegon's stomach churn to see a flawed woman. At least Helaena tried to look feminine, dressed in the finest of silks and wearing the most expensive jewellery, like a true queen. Yet Y/N was boyish, wearing metal plates and leather trousers. In the king's mind, she should've been in a carriage, not on a horse. She should've worn a dress, not an armour. She should've let her hair flow, not wear it in a plait.

The silence in the Red Keep was deafening, until Alicent offered to take Y/N to her chambers and Otto ordered Ser Criston Cole to take the westerlands soldiers to the East Barracks. The Lady of Castamere was taken aback when Alicent had asked her about her wedding dress, as Y/N had not brought one.

"I assumed it would be a quick wedding." She shrugged.

"I understand, but the king would not like it if you came to your own wedding wearing... that." Alicent sighed, exhausted by Aegon's shenanigans. "Come, we'll find something in Helaena's chambers."

All of the queen's dresses were beautiful, most of them silver or gold, but they did not fit Y/N. Her frame was quite athletic, as the scar on her skin was won in battle, and she was much taller, making the dresses look like they were tossed on a fence, not worn by a woman.

"My lady, I am truly sorry-"

"No, it's fine." Alicent chewed on her lower lip, an idea creeping in her mind. Y/N could wear one of Rhaenyra's old dresses, preferably one that wasn't black. In a bitter twist of fate, Rhaenyra's clothes did fit Y/N, and it only made Alicent more conflicted about her friendship, about everything that was happening.

It was overwhelming to see her son's future wife wearing her best friend's clothes. In the dusty golden dress and her hair in a braid, Y/N reminded Alicent of the day she had asked Rhaenyra about her and Daemon, a day that changed the course of everyone's lives. Who knew back then that their friendship would turn into animosity?

"My lady? Is something the matter?" Y/N took Alicent's hand in hers.

"No. No, you look perfect. Please, I have one last request." She smiled, but there was so much sadness hidden behind that smile.

"Of course."

"Untie your hair. Let it flow down your back. Just for tonight. After your wedding you may do with it as you please."

It was a strange request, but Y/N did not dare question it. She untied the bow holding her hair in place, running her fingers through her locks. Satisfied, Alicent hurried her out of Rhaenyra's chamber and into the Throne Room, where the king, the queen, the Hand, the High Septon, and Aemond waited.

That was the first time Y/N met her soon-to-be husband, the patch on his eye making him look both mysterious and menacing. She then understood what Aegon meant by cripple. Y/N bowed in front of the king and queen, taking her place to Aemond's right side. The younger Targaryen showed no emotion whatsoever at her presence, instead took her hands in his, listening to the Septon's prayers.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband." Y/N uttered her vows, noticing the disinterested look on Aegon's face.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife." Aemond did not hesitate snaking his fingers behind Y/N's ear, pulling her into a soft kiss, interrupted only by the king's own drunken chuckles, mixed with hiccups.

"You are now man and wife — one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." The High Septon concluded, followed by dead silence.

Everyone knew what would happen next — consummation. Y/N was clever enough to know that she had to give Aemond an heir, but part of her hoped she would not be with child. She wanted to fight by her husband's side, not stay in the Red Keep or Castamere and raise children. Nevertheless, she was urged by Otto to follow Aemond in his chamber, and she reluctantly did.

To her surprise, her husband gently held her hand on the way up the stairs, and while she has been in battles, lost a finger, and had her face mutilated, the thought of losing her maidenhead made her feel sick. Before her mother died, she had prepared Y/N for the consummation of her marriage — how to seduce her husband, how to please him, what to say, where to touch him. It all seemed easy in theory, but putting it in practice was much, much harder.

There was a lump in her throat that she couldn't swallow, and although she felt cold, beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. Y/N thought she knew fear, but nothing compared to this. It did not help that Aemond did not utter a single word after speaking his vows, and perhaps it was for the best. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel less anxious. When he began to remove his cloak and unbutton his doublet, Y/N froze.

"Wait." She finally spoke, and Aemond did wait. He wasn't necessarily impatient to consummate his marriage, unlike his brother who would fuck anything that had two legs and a pretty face. "Before we proceed, I have to say this."

"Go on." Aemond neatly folded his cloak, placing it on a wooden chair, the half-unbuttoned doublet exposing his chest.

"I'm a fighter, not a mother. I will gladly give you an heir, if that is what you desire, but I want to fight side by side with you, my lord husband." Y/N hurried to where he stood, stripping herself of her ego by pleading with him.

"Why?" There was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The only other person who shared Aemond's passion for violence was Ser Criston Cole. Not even his brother was seduced by violence, let alone a noblewoman.

"You are a dragon." She replied. "I am a lion. We are not meant to be kept as pets. You, out of everyone, must understand the thrill of the battle, especially when you fight for what you believe in." Y/N spotted the wine on the table and poured herself a cup, only to ease her mind — and her body.

"And what do you believe in, then?" Aemond watched her sloppily drink the wine, the red liquid spilling down her chin, down the crook of her neck, staining the dress of the woman he so much hated.

"Violence." The Lady of Castamere slammed the cup on the table, feeling herself a tad more courageous. "Pure, ecstatic violence."

It was quite clear that her mother's seducing techniques would not work on a man like Aemond, and they did not need to work, because Y/N's honesty completely enchanted him. To have someone share his passions was more than he could ask from a wife. Once, he was fascinated by, perhaps enamoured with Helaena, but she was soft, and had he married her and grown to love her, she would've softened him. Y/N, on the other hand, was the spark he needed to ignite the fire flowing in his veins. He was a dragon, after all.

"I do not desire an heir." Aemond admitted. He couldn't see himself a father, partly because his own father seemed to prefer his nephews instead of his sons. The fact that Y/N was not interested in being a mother only solidified his love for battle. "And I do not care if you give me one."

Aemond's words awakened something in Y/N, something she had never felt before. It most certainly wasn't love — she couldn't possibly love a man she had just met. It was something else. Lust.

"So, will you allow me to fight, then?" Her voice went up an octave, excited, like a child receiving a toy.

"Gladly. Tell me," Aemond decided to consummate the marriage by discussing their experiences in battle, "have you killed before?" He poured himself a cup of wine. The young Targaryen wasn't keen on drinking, like his brother, but he enjoyed the occasional cup of Arbor Red. And he enjoyed drinking it over talks of spilled blood.

Y/N nodded, taking a seat at the table, finally feeling relaxed.

"Once." She watched her husband sit on the chair next to her, urging her to tell him how and when, and to not shy away from details. Y/N explained that it truly was an accident. Or, better it started as an accident. "Because father never let me fight, I used to dress like a boy and play with wooden swords. But because I was also a spoiled child, I couldn't fathom losing." She sighed, and Aemond was beginning to pick up on where her story was going.

"You don't seem like a spoiled child." Her husband watched her unwind, taking her shoes off and kicking them away.

"I suppose I never wanted to be one, but I liked the perks that came with it. That day, I was playing with the stable boys, and one of them beat the life out of me. I didn't mind the physical pain, but I felt humiliated." Y/N scoffed. "When I attacked him, he removed the hood from my head and instantly recognised me. I was fortunate enough that the other boys left, but out of fear of father finding out what I was doing, I pushed him so hard he fell and hit his head in the stone wall."

"But it was accidental." Aemond mimicked his wife by taking his boots off. He felt strangely comfortable around Y/N, discussing issues he could never talk about with his family.

"Indeed." She agreed. "But I was afraid he would heal and tell the maesters who did that to him. When I caught a glimpse of a dagger, I picked it up, straddled the boy and stabbed him."

"How many times?" His voice was dangerously low, and although Aemond was leaned back in the chair, his fingernails dug into the wood of the armrests, excited to hear more.

"Enough for him to never recover. There was so much blood." Y/N gingerly touched her face, as if she could still feel the hot crimson liquid trickling down her chin. "Warm blood — on my hands, my clothes, my face. I should've felt guilty, but I didn't." There was no hint of remorse in her voice, and her eyes darted to Aemond's lap. It did not surprise her that he was aroused by her story, the bulge in his leather trousers growing more noticeable every time she spoke about blood.

"Then what happened?"

"I left him there, ran back to the castle, burned the clothes and went to bed." Y/N laughed, not at the poor boy's death, but at how selfish she had been. "I was young and stupid."

"You talk as if you're an old hag." The corners of Aemond's lips turned into a smirk.

"It happened a decade ago."

"Tell me, then, if you had your current wisdom, what would you have done?" He leaned forward, studying his wife.

"I would do it all again." Y/N smiled, the wine taking over her brain. She played into her husband's game by imitating him and leaning closer to his face. "I would perhaps get rid of the body this time." Y/N whispered into Aemond's ear.

He had heard enough — enough to desire her in bed. It could've been the wine, it could've been that he hasn't laid with a woman in a long time, but Aemond grabbed Y/N by the back of her neck, pressing his lips onto hers. She allowed him to slide his tongue between her wine-stained lips, and even dared to pull him closer.

Her fears? Gone.

Her morals? Gone.

Her last shred of dignity? Gone.

Aemond pulled away, earning a soft sigh from his wife, only to pull her up from the chair and push her onto the table, the cups clattering onto the floor.

"You..." He whispered, struggling to pull her dress up. "You were made to be mine." Aemond resorted to tearing the dress apart. He didn't like it, anyway, and he knew it brought sorrow to his mother.

Y/N melted under his touch like steel in dragonfire. She hastily pulled his green shirt over his head, taking a moment to appreciate his looks. It tickled Aemond's ego. He did not give two shits on people's opinion of him, but seeing the lust in her eyes only fuelled his inner fire.

"I-" She pressed her palms against his chest. "I am a maiden." Y/N told him, as if he expected her not to be one.

"I can't promise to be gentle." Aemond kissed her again. "But I can promise you will enjoy it."

That was a foreign concept to her. All the stories she heard from her mother were about pain, and how it was a woman's duty to bed her husband and not take pleasure from it. Only whores enjoy it, her mother would say. A whore she would be, then.

Once both of them were stripped of their clothes and morals, Y/N squeezed her thighs together, partly because she wanted to tease her husband. And Aemond was too far gone to respect his wife. His elbow pushed between her thighs, opening her legs while his hands dug into her hips, pulling her closer to him, like a starving dog.

"It will hurt." Was his attempt to comfort her.

"I know." Y/N nodded, her fingernails digging into his upper arms, bracing for pain. "I'm ready."

With her consent out of the way, Aemond slowly slid the tip of his cock between her already slick folds, stopping when he saw the discomfort on her face.

"Relax." He demanded, but it came from a good place. Being more experienced, Aemond wanted everything but to hurt her. When she nodded again, he pushed further, only to hear his wife scream in agony. "Bite into my shoulder. I don't suppose you want to wake everyone up."

Reluctantly, Y/N obeyed the order, her teeth sinking into his skin, and when he bottomed out, she arched her back in pain, wriggling and writhing under him. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, despite Aemond stopping every movement to allow her to adjust to his size. What was worse was gone, and Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

"By the gods, it hurts so much!" She cried out, gasping when she saw the mark she left on his skin.

"I know. But it will not get any worse than this." Aemond assured her. "Do you trust me?"

"I do." Y/N sobbed, but he was right. The pain slowly dissipated, and her muscles relaxed, no longer feeling on edge. It still hurt, yes, but it did not compare to the sheer pain she had felt moments ago.

When Aemond began rolling his hips, something awakened in the Lady of Castamere. The slight discomfort was still present, but it was quickly replaced by an unknown feeling which Y/N realised was something primal and instinctive — pleasure. Not even the thrills of fighting could compare to the pleasure she felt when Aemond thrusted harder and harder into her sloppy cunt.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He practically growled, surprising himself with his own words. Aemond wasn't the type of man to talk during these intimate moments, and while he enjoyed the occasional visits to brothels with Aegon, his wife was superior to all the whores he'd ever fucked.

Even her gestures were drawing him to her — the way Y/N rolled her eyes back, how she gasped, how she scratched his skin, leaving her mark on his body. Sure, Aegon might be disgusted by her scar and missing finger, but to Aemond, she was perfectly imperfect.

"So g-good!" Her thoughts were fuzzy, her words barely coherent. All Y/N could do was take him all in and revel in the bliss Aemond offered her.

But he wanted more, and when he pulled out, she complained. It bewildered her how much she actually enjoyed herself, to the point she cried out when she couldn't feel his cock stuffing her.

"Turn around." Aemond ordered, but he was already in the process of flipping her over, his hand pressing her face on the table.

Instinctively, Y/N lifted her ass up, like a bitch in heat, her fingernails leaving scratches on the wood.

"Please, put it in." Her cheeks were squished on the hard surface, body hot to the touch. There was no more room for decency and grace when all she wanted was for her husband to fuck her stupid.

"Already worshipping my cock, eh?" His lips pressed a kiss on her shoulder before he released the grip on her neck to lift her leg on the table. But he delivered, and he pushed his cock into her yearning cunt, a string of moans escaping her lips.

Y/N arched her back, not believing it would be possible for her to feel better than before. Oh, how wrong her mother was. She could feel him deeper, and he was anything but gentle and respectful.

The more he thrusted, the more she bucked her hips, using her trembling arms for support. Aemond's chambers echoed with her moans and his grunts, with the sound of skin on skin, and the disgusting wet noises that filled the Street of Silk.

And then it happened — Aemond's pace quickened, his fingers bruising her hips, and Y/N could feel her climax boiling into her core, awaiting release. Her spongy walls clenched around his cock, her head felt lighter and her chest heavier.

"Gods, Aemond, I can't-" She fell flat on the table, the filthiest guttural sounds emanating from her.

"Fuck." He could feel himself closer to his own climax, but he swiftly pulled his cock out, spilling his seed onto her lower back.

The warm liquid made Y/N prop herself on her elbows, curious as to why he did not finish inside of her.

"No heirs tonight." Aemond said, as if hearing her thoughts. "You're not a cow for breeding, you are my wife."

"I could've taken the tea." She spotted a piece of fabric from her wedding dress and took it, attempting to clean herself.

"You could've, but then everyone would find out." He snatched the fabric from her hand and wiped her skin clean. "And what would my grandfather think, then? That you're not a woman of your word, or worse, that you're plotting against the king."

Aemond was right. The maester would surely let the Hand know, and then she would either be imprisoned or killed.

"Very well. No heirs tonight." Y/N took the soiled fabric, tossing it into the fireplace. 

Aemond brought Y/N one of his robes, draping it around her shoulders, his hand resting on the small of her back. Strangely, he felt the urge to hold her close to him, this woman he met and wed on the same day. He felt the need to protect her, despite knowing very well she did not need his protection.

But the only people he ever showed affection were his mother, and occasionally his sister. He did not know how to be a husband. But to show his wife that he trusted her, Aemond quietly took his eye patch off, revealing a sapphire gem in place of his missing eye.

"Disfigured." He uttered, watching his own reflection in the mirror next to the fireplace.

"No, perfect." She smiled, tilting her head so that he could better see her scar. Aemond brought his index finger to her cheek, tracing the scar down her neck, down her collarbone, in-between her breasts.

"One flesh, one heart, one soul." He repeated the Septon's words, and they began to make more sense.

"Now and forever."

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #asoif/got #asoiaf

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Heya

So in my opinion aemond would go off on being king of the realms

Could you write something about aemond and reader sneaking into the throne room and going to tooooooown on that iron throne??

Thx 💜

Ooof, you went straight for the jugular with this request. A power kink? Yes, this makes me feral. I am more than happy to oblige.

Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~550

She has no idea how they ended up this way. One moment she is standing with Aemond in the Great Hall, while he tells her all about how the Iron Throne was forged at the order of Aegon the Conqueror, the first of the Targaryen Kings, and made of one thousand swords that had been surrendered to him in the War of Conquest by the lords who had offered their fealty. The next, she is straddling Aemond’s lap as he sits atop it, her skirts rucked up around her hips and her smallclothes discarded.

Their foreheads rest together, breaths ragged as she fists his hardened cock. He has a firm grip of her hip in one hand, while the thumb of the other swipes relentlessly at her pearl.

“Have you ever imagined yourself fucking a future King?” He asks in a strained whisper, right eye hooded with lust as he looks at her.

“It is not Aegon I am currently sat astride.” She teases with a smirk.

His hold on her hip shifts and the sharp strike to her backside causes her to gasp, a stinging sensation blooming across the soft flesh and a fresh wave of arousal shooting straight to her core.

He moves his hand from the apex of her thighs to grip her throat. “Tis I, the younger brother who studies history and philosophy.”

She whimpers, shifting to place at his hardened length at her centre and teasing it through her sodden folds. Aemond inhales sharply.

“It is I who trains with the sword, who rides the largest dragon in the world.” He almost chokes out, his hold on her neck tightening. “It is I who should be-“

His sentence is cut off by his guttural groan as she sinks down onto him. She looks pleased with herself as she leans in to whisper “King?”

He grabs her hips, thrusting up into her with quick, sharp snaps of his pelvis. The cold steel of the throne scrapes at knees, leaving behind grazes that will surely sting later, however, right now she cannot find it in herself to care. She is too full of him, her mind foggy with lust as he slams into her over and over.

“I am your King. Say it.” He hisses, teeth gritted and pupil blown wide with desire.

She elicits a moan that echoes off of the vaulted ceiling as a particularly harsh thrust batters at the spongy spot deep inside of her.

Another sharp slap to her rump causes her to lurch forward, her head coming to rest in the crook of Aemond’s neck as he continues to drive up into her. “Say it.” He growls.

“Y-you are my King.” She stammers, unsure of how much more she can take of the pace he has set.

Then she feels it, the pulsation of him deep inside of her as he releases with strangled grunt. She allows her body to go lax against him and they remain like that for a moment, the only sounds are their desperate pants to recover.

Aemond repositions her soft, pliable body, seating her upon the throne and kneeling before her.

“What are you doing?” She asks sleepily.

He places one of her legs over his shoulder, leaning in towards her swollen core. “A good King does not leave a task half finished.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond stannies #prince aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #pro aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #hotd aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fan fiction #hotd #hotd smut #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fiction

[bokettochild]

What about Wars and Wind for day 6??

Sure thing, luv!

I hope you enjoy this one!

Wordcount: 8,780

Rating: Teen

Summary: Warriors has a mission from Impa and the princess, one that is "military business" and thus not the responsibility of the Chain of Links. Even so, every time the captain's gone off without a brother, as far as Wind can remember, something goes wrong, so can he really let warriors leave without backup?

-

  It’s hard to miss when Warriors is gearing up for a mission. 

  Thers’s this certain air about the man, a lack of the warmth and ease with which he treats the group. Instead of twinkling eyes and warm smiles, there’s a distance behind bright blue, a guarded way that he holds himself, a certain set to his jaw and stillness to his hands, like he’s steeling himself to walk out into hell yet again and face the flames. Wind had seen it a lot during the war, and while he doesn’t see it often anymore now that the Chain of Links has gathered, he still knows it in the blink of an eye. 

  So, when the group of them land in the captain’s era, once again, and their second night there sees the captain adopting that air, it’s a sure sign, to him at least, that there is some task needing completion. He’s not the only one who sees it either. When Warriors returns from his meeting with the princess, eyes hard and with not even a word of greeting for the rest of them before he moves for his things, most of them look up. 

  “Everything alright?” It's sort of strange that it’s Legend who asks that, sitting up from the couch and his book to stare at the captain, his own shoulders stiffening, ears pricking forwards, but then again, the vet is highly attuned to nearly everything, or so it seems. 

  The captain hums somewhat but doesn’t verbalize an answer. No, instead, a blue streak of light buzzes out from his scarf to do that for him, startling most of them but all too familiar to the sailor and their leader. “Link has a mission tonight and will not be able to stay with you all,” Proxi announces. 

  The rest of them move to get up but the captain turns from where he was gathering his things, one hand raised to the rest of them. “No need to get up. You’re all staying here.” 

  The vet’s brows raise. 

  “This isn’t monster related,” Warriors tells them, belting his sword over one shoulder rather than at his hip as he wears it about the castle. “Just military work.”   

  That seems to be enough for the rest of them, and even though Legend does give the man a brief once over, he follows the lead of the rest in settling back in their places. None of them really go back to what they were doing though, instead watching the captain curiously. Well, except for Wind. 

 “I’m coming with,” he announces, standing up and moving to stand at the captain’s side, his normal place since meeting the man. During the war, he and Mask had been the captain’s shadows, on his tail and watching his back no matter where it took them, even if that meant following him into the most terrible of battles. There were times, of course, where they had orders to attend to issues on other parts of the field, inside the fort or tending something in camp, but the idea of Warriors going out into anything without having one of his two charges aiding him somehow is unthinkable. 

  Not so for the captain it would seem, a heavy hand settling on the sailor’s shoulder as distant eyes fix on him. “No, not this time, kiddo.” 

  “What?” 

  The soldier’s stare is heavy, hand heavier as it claps his shoulder once before lifting, the heavy scarf the other wears being pulled free and set aside in favor of a cloak and hood that the man pulls on, fabric hanging low over his face. “This isn’t a mission you can help with.” 

 “But-” 

  “No, sailor.” Warriors’ voice is hard, but not harsh. “I need you to stay here, can you do that?” 

  The expression on his face must betray frustration, maybe his confusion too; Warriors hardly ever tells him to stay behind, not ever so directly and never without some other order or responsibility: take care of Mask, protect Marin, watch the prisoners, keep lookout. Being left with nothing is new, and he doesn't like it. Warriors must see that, because he drops to kneeling, which honestly feels a little degrading because Wind isn’t that short anymore, but when heavy hands find his shoulders, his focus is fixed on blue eyes, flickering briefly to the faint scars that still crisscross over them.  

  “This isn’t something you can help with, and I wouldn’t feel right dragging you into this.” 

  “What is it?” he demands, not liking the tone or the situation. 

  Warriors just smiles, not a real smile, but a guarded little thing that says he knows what the sailor is up to, and that he won’t be tricked into sharing anything more than he intends to about what his job will be entailing this time. “I need you to stay here and stay out of trouble, can you do that for me?” 

  Staying out of trouble isn’t doing anything though. 

  “Link,” he doesn’t realize his face has dropped until one callused finger is hooking under his chin and lifting it to meet the captain’s stare. The man’s bangs are a mess, and already they’re starting to slip over his eyes. “Promise me you’ll wait here?” Saying no to that earnest look is nearly impossible, not when Warriors has dropped the soldier stance, has dropped the grace and strength and is just staring, hopeful and worried and so, so tired, up at him.  

“Okay.” 

  “Promise?” The stare shifts, guarded, wary, knowing how often he’d be tricked by some wordplay from their little fairy-boy. 

  “Promise,” he agrees, hating the word even as it slips out of him. Still, it earns that thankful little smile as the captain pulls himself up to stand again, reaching briefly to the side for a shield, not his usual one, but a darker colored one like the royal guard uses.  

  “I’ll be back,” he can see the captain’s walls raising, guard slipping up again and sharp eyes going cold as responsibility settles over broad shoulders like a heavy cloak, “probably.” The little smile does nothing for his worry. 

  “I’ll be here,” he sighs, watching and useless as the other moves for the door. 

  A raised hand is the farewell for the rest of them, and well wishes sound from the rest of their brothers, all worried and tense, but equally unable to do anything as the captain bids them a goodnight and then leaves. He hates it. He hates watching the older man leave, heading out to face things he has no clue about. Meanwhile, they will sit here in the castle, in the rooms the princess had appointed for them, comfortable and warm, safely resting in soft beds and enjoying warm meals while the captain is out there, alone. It makes his stomach turn. 

  Despite all that though, the others return to their own matters, speaking softly with each other in worry or letting their books and hobbies distract them. Wind can’t though. Instead, he finds himself watching the door until Time’s hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy but not the same steady, firm grip as the captain uses, draws his eyes up to the man looking down at him. “You alright?” 

  He shrugs it off, heading away to the room he’s sharing with Four and Hyrule. “’m fine.” 

  He doesn’t doubt that they don’t believe him, not anymore than he actually believes those faked smiles and confidence from the captain. 

- 

  He tries to sleep that night, he really does. 

  It was past dinner when the captain had set off, and they’d all already shed their gear and weapons for the day as they’d prepared to wind down, hence why Warriors leaving at such an hour came as that much of a surprise. Warriors works by day, in the open, in the light, guiding his men and leading the way for Hyrule as a whole; their beacon of hope and strength. Matters of the night, of the shadows, fall under Impa’s purview, the Sheikah being the ones to creep about and tend to matters out of the sight of the kingdom, quiet and un-noticed, unheard, unseen. 

  He doesn’t understand why Warriors would have to set out at such a late hour, but it bugs him. Even after Sky has come to check and make sure that they’re all settled for bed, even after Hyrule and Four have both long since dozed off, he’s left lying awake, staring out the window into the dark sky. It’s overcast, although not raining, nor will it rain anytime soon, he thinks. Still, there's no sight of the stars, and the moon drifts in and out from behind the heavy clouds, making shadows flicker and fall, only to spring to life again over the bedspread, the floor, the walls. 

  He knows Warriors is capable. He knows the captain had faced his adventure with all the strength a hero must, and that, unlike himself, the older man was chosen by the Triforce of Courage, hand-picked by the goddesses to wield the Blade of Evil’s Bane. Still, even with that, he feels uneasy, knowing the captain is out there somewhere right now, without any of them to back him up and doing Nayru only knows what. 

  He rolls over. Staring at the dark room makes it worse. 

  When the war was over, Warriors had let both he and ask sleep with him, as none of them felt easy about sleeping alone after everything, and it was no secret that Link didn’t sleep easy if he didn’t have someone to watch his back. The dark circles under his eyes most of the time told anyone who saw that the man hardly slept as was, but having his two charges close, safe, where he only needed to wake up to see them, seemed to help. Mask’s uncannily good hearing made up for their loss of hearing from cannons lasting off beside them, and at the smallest hint of danger, the youngest would be up and hissing at them to wake up too, like a little guard dog. 

  He’d suggested Link get a dog, when it came time for them to leave, but he doesn’t know if anything ever came of that. He hadn’t asked. 

  Regardless, trying to sleep in the big bed, Four beside him and Hyrule curled up at the bottom (where neither of them are likely to touch him), isn’t the same as curling up, safe, in the captain’s strong arms, or even with Mask in his own. It feels wrong, being in the castle without Link, and staring at the fading and returning shadows, the silent room, the grand furniture and thick rug, it sets him ill at ease. 

  Link could be in danger right now, and he’s lying safely in bed, unable to do anything about it. 

  He promised, but his mind flickers back to all the times he hadn’t been at the man’s side. The time a camp doctor had tried to put an end to the war by killing his own patient, leaving Warriors blind for the next week until Lana had been able to heal him. The time the fort on the far side of Hyrule Field had fallen, and the next he’d seen either the captain or Mask, it was with Link clutching ahold of the dust covered youngest hero, shaking and too relieved to speak after the walls had nearly crushed the kid. There was the time he’d charged off ahead, confident he could take on Cia, and the next time either of them had seen him, Link had been listless, wary, and flinched at the slightest of touches. 

   Everyone refused to explain to him what happened, and even now the older man won’t speak of it, not to him at least. He knows it was bad though, because the man he so admired, looked up to, and even saw as a father had never been the same since. 

  There were other times; battles, missions, scouting expeditions. He’s long since learned every scar that traces the other’s skin, so used to helping patch him up, but half of them happened when he wasn't there, couldn’t help. He'd hated it, standing back and watching the captain sew himself back together, no longer willing to risk visiting a doctor or proper medic, and not knowing what had happened, not being told because Link didn't want to burden him. He’d promised himself if he could stop it, he would, but he’d never had the chance. 

  Now though, lying in the dark, the thought hits him that he can. He can go out there, and the captain wouldn't ever have to know. He could creep out and track them down, watch from a distance and, if needed, take out an enemy or two. He could watch their backs, cover their steps, make sure whatever mission has taken the man away from him doesn't return him in yet more shattered pieces. 

  Warriors would never have to know. 

  Mind set, he slips out of bed, shifting a pillow to fill the abandoned place he leaves behind, just in case Four reaches out in his sleep, like he does, seeking another person to cuddle with. He tucks the blankets too, so no draft will sneak beneath, and then he’s padding softly to the chair he’d set his things. He doesn't have a heavy cloak, not like the captain or the others, but the scarf left hanging by the door works as well as one to hide him, and while the color stands out more than the cloak it was traded for, it’s a lot better than the pale blue of his own tunic. 

 Wrapped tight and moving quietly, it doesn't take too much work to sneak past the guards patrolling the halls. He’d only lived in the castle for a short while, but while Link had been tending to papers and reports and meetings, he and Mask had spent their days mapping the little passages and corridors that spiderwebbed through the stone, and he’s able to make it outside without so much as a glance from the staff. Finding the captain is another issue, but he’d paused in the man’s office, picking the lock briefly and turning his attention to the papers left on the man’s desk.  

  Reports of activity amongst a rebel cell that’s established itself in the city had been on the top of the pile. He can’t read all of it, but he understands enough to know that, likely as not, the captain has gone out to meet with planted spies to gather information, as well as potentially intercept a messenger, whom, based off the file, Impa seems rather eager to get ahold of. He doesn’t read much more than that, just scans the papers for any hint of a location, a time, anything at all, before sneaking out and heading down the streets.  

It being a city, Castle Town doesn’t sleep at night. Most honest folk have gone off to bed, but pub regulars are out at their chosen haunts or cast out into the streets, and travelers headed in or out of town, returning patrols of soldiers, and the occasional merchant headed home still populate the streets. Kids sneaking out from their homes, working girls, petty thieves and the occasional sheikah lurk in the shadows, but his size marks him neither threat nor target to them, and he’s left alone as he heads towards the rougher side of town. 

  Pidgeon Row, officially known as the south gate district but nicknamed what it is for the jailbirds that live there, is quiet at this time of night. If anyone is out, they keep their heads down and shuffle between houses and establishments. The exceptions are the occasional drunk, but again, he goes unseen, flitting about on top of roof-tops as he does. 

  Link told him and Mask once, back before things took a turn for the worse, how he and his friends would sneak around this part of town when they were kids. Gassun would whisper about the antics and Bav would shudder while describing the residents back in their day, but Link would be all mischief and grins as he’d share about roof hopping and “spying missions”. The stories were more about what they got up too, but he’d picked up bits and pieces from the three of them about how to navigate the town, how to watch your step and calculate a leap between roofs. They used to argue about technique mid-way through the stories, and he thinks he’d learned more about how to creep about unseen from those tales then he actually did about the captain’s childhood. 

  It’s only those stories that allow him to recognize the captain though, the man’s lanky frame jumping across an alley just to his left, slipping down with all the ease of a cat into the street. If not for the dark cloak he remembers seeing Link don before leaving, or the briefest flash of messy blonde, he wouldn’t know the man, but as he closes in, he sees the faintest flash of blue eyes, and though the manner, stance and general air of the other is nothing like the noble captain he knows, the voice that speaks into the darkness is definitely his. 

 “Oy, pidge, ‘s me.” The heavy accent he only ever hears hints of it fully on display, masking the voice the rest of the world would know, blending the captain in with his surroundings as much as the old clothes and guarded, defensive stance does. 

  Another man slips out of the shadows, far more bulky and less agile looking, but if planted by the sheikah, Wind doesn’t doubt their skill or speed. “Chess,” he greets. 

  “Wheesht!” The captain hisses, glancing around fervently like he’s afraid of something, but to anyone who knows him, it’s clearly an act, one to make him blend in with the other street rats and jailbirds that will be out and about. The captain doesn’t need to look to know if an enemy is there, and he most certainly would not be so obvious about it if he did. “D’ya want all Hyrule hearin’ ya noo? Wut I say ‘boot names?” 

  The other man twitches, put out, or pretending to be, but drops his voice low enough that Wind’s ears can't catch what’s said between them any longer. That doesn’t matter though, because the captain seems pretty intent on it, and definitely notes down anything of importance. From his rooftop, Wind can see them easily, although he doesn’t dare move closer lest they realize he’s there, but their conversation isn’t the only one of its kind happening in this part of town right now. In fact, he can clearly see another a few alleys over, two men trading something between themselves, looking over their shoulders all the while and speaking in hushed tones. As far as the residents are concerned, the captain is just another low life meeting to buy or sell goods, and not likely to draw attention from anyone who wants to keep their head down. Honestly, Wind would be impressed with the act if he didn’t know the captain grew up around here and thus isn’t acting so much as slipping back into old behaviors and habits in order to blend in. 

That said, he’s not sure why the man was so insistent on his staying behind. So far, nothing dangerous seems to have happened, and while there was definitely time between the captain leaving the castle and then arriving here, he seems no worse for wear, or any more strained than he’s pretending to be. Why leave behind his little shadow when Wind is clearly doing a fine job of watching his back and also going unseen? Even by the captain himself? 

Needless to say, he’s a bit miffed, but he keeps his head down all the same.  

Link pays his contact and slips away, not on the roofs this time (thank goodness, because he’s definitely quicker than Wind) but down the streets, side eyeing anyone who moves too close to him as he hurries along. You’d think, not being a known face, they’d stop him, but Wind supposes new faces are normal now, in this district, what with the city still such a mess as they recover after the war. Regardless, the captain is allowed to pass, and Wind slips after him, watching from the roof-tops but hanging back far enough to not set off the man’s warning bells. 

When Link slips into a pub, he lingers for only a moment. 

On one hand, Warriors isn’t known for taking it easy with the alcohol, but on the other, this is a mission, he’s probably not even going to actually drink, and if he does, it will be for cover and cover only, and not anything as strong as he usually would go for. Still, letting the man go into a bar doesn’t sit right with him. 

Following after is his downfall. 

He doesn’t go for the doors, he knows better than that. No one in Castletown lets teens drink, and the only kids allowed in bars are usually the ones whose parents are such regulars that they need help getting home at night. The thought makes him wonder if the barkeep here will recognize the captain as the kid who used to come at closing for his old man, but he dismisses that thought, he has a mission to fulfill after all. Anyways, Warriors lived a bit further out in Tater Town, and if his dad had come to this bar, it wouldn’t have been frequent enough for people here to recognize him or his son. 

Door not being an option, the window is the second-best choice. He slips for the one upstairs, less likely to be seen, but of course, of course, the room is occupied. Worse still, it’s very occupied, and the people in it take one look at him, one look at the scarf he’s all bundled up under, and sharp smiles and even sharper knives appear in an instant. 

Well, shit. 

He immediately moves to drop back out the window again, but one of the men is faster, catching hold of the scarf wrapped around him and somehow, getting the thing enough over his mouth that he can’t even call out for help, can’t make a sound to alert anyone downstairs that something is wrong up here. If anything, the faint groans and shuffling will be disregarded, considering what sort of a bar this is, and not even Link will think to check up here. 

“Isn’t this the hero’s scarf?” One man murmurs to another. Even from downstairs, Legend would have caught that, but Legend’s not here and neither are the others. No one can act as the captain’s ears right now, and Wind’s left only able to flail against large hands that catch hold of him and keep him still while the rest stare at him. 

“Seems like,” another of the men hums, “wrong size though.” 

“’t’s one of his brats,” another figure murmurs, giving Wind a once over. "Why he’s here though...” 

“They don’t never leave his side,” a wary glance from one to another of the men in the room, and the breath in his lungs drains all too quickly at their words. Shit, they’ve put it together, haven’t they? Is Link a good enough as an actor to fool these men? He’s shit when put on the spot, even if he can play into parts of himself that already exist, as proved with the street-rat “act”, but will he be able to blend in enough that out of all the potential blondes downstairs, they won’t realize it’s him? 

One of the other men frowns though. “That’s as may be, but at that age I wasn’t ‘xactly tied to me da’s belt.” Raised brows and curious stares turn on the man who had spoken, and he quickly explains. “He’s what, fourteen? It’s a pub, mates. Seedy side of town where his da won’t look?” 

There’s a snort from the first speaker. “Sneakin’ out, was you?” Dark eyes fix on him, grinning some as he’s given yet another once over. “Yeah, me too at that age.” 

And while it’s well and good that they believe he’s just having his rebellious streak (and a small part of him whispers that they’re not wrong), the fact that they’re holding this tight to him, gagging him on the scarf, means that they don’t have the best of intentions either. No one’s first instinct when seeing a kid is to try and stop them getting away, not unless they have ill intent or something seriously wrong with their minds. The fact that the scarf, and the captain, matter so much to them doesn’t mean anything good either. 

His thoughts flicker back to that report on Link’s desk. Gods, he hopes these men aren’t part of that rebel cell, or he’s screwed. 

- 

It’s official: he’s screwed. 

The men had gagged and bound him, stripping away the scarf quickly in order to do so, and then left him in a corner for a good while. Murmured conversation of “not lettin’ the kid hear” had led to most of them leaving the room, but one or two had stayed, carefully not close enough for him to touch and both with their eyes on him while they traded boring stories and terrible jokes in an effort to smother any noise he did manage to make. That, or maybe to stop him hearing the talking in the next room, but it’s not until the bar downstairs goes quiet that the rest come back in. 

And then it starts.  

Questions, demanding on where Link is, what he’s doing out here, was he alone? The fact that they ungagged him long enough to ask says there's not a chance that anyone not within their group is around anymore, and he doubts the captain lingered any longer than he had to complete his mission. 

Link will be long gone, so he’s at least able to be truthful when he says he has no clue where the man is, even when pressed.  

“He said he’d be working late,” he tells them, trying to wriggle out of the knots at his wrists but finding very quickly that they’re a lot tighter than he’d like. Still, he plays into the alibi they’d practically handed him. “I thought I could just sneak out for a bit.” 

“Really?”  

And while they’d come up with it themselves, they still press and push. The questions about the hero’s whereabouts quickly turn into questions on what Link’s been doing, where he’s been, who he’s met with and all sorts of other things. They don’t take his petulant “I don’t know” as an answer either. It seems he’s not the only one fixed on the idea that Link can’t go about without at least one of the others with him, and the more he denies, denies, denies, the harsher they press, the more they threaten, and at last, a knife driving into his leg sends the point home. 

“You’ll tell, or we’ll be sending your dear dad a real awful message.” 

He’s a bit too busy choking back tears at the pain blossoming in his thigh to even try to answer that. 

Luckily, that’s the only instance involving a knife, and while the pain doesn’t exactly stop, one of the men declaress that “he’s just a kid, stabbing isn’t okay” although they say nothing to the occasionall slap or kick, which honestly, what sort of crap standard is that? Not that it matters, because the throbbing pain and the ever harsher slaps are making focusing rather difficult, and eventually his jaw in genuinely swollen enough that they seem to give up on trying to talk to him at all. Instead, they leave him, laying on the filthy floor and move off downstairs. 

He doesnt care how old he is, how much of an adult he wants people to see him as, Wind can’t help but cry when they’re gone. It hurts! Its so bad and he can’t even do anything except press one leg over the other and hope it kills the circulation and stems off the blood flow. 

Time seems to take forever to tick by, made all the worse by the lack of sunlight even as day definitely breaks. The windows remain unblocked, but the overcast weather from the night before has carried over and there’s not even the faintest hint of sun beams to track the time by as he lies and sobs and gathers himself only to break again later. 

It was late when he trailed the captain to the bar, maybe the wee hours of the morning, but his best bet is that it’s noon before he hears anything again. This time though, it’s shouting, harsh and loud and angry. There’s scuffling and what sounds like a clashing of blades, the thudding of feet darting up the stairs and then the door of the blasted room being flung open. It slams against the wall, rattling nearly hard enough that he thinks it might fall off its hinges then and there, but it doesn’t matter because standing in the door frame is a panting and bloodstained Legend, the captain’s heavy cloak hanging loosely off his shoulders. 

“Wind,” dark eyes fix on him as the twin blades in the vet’s hands are slipped away to Hylia knows where. 

There’s a scream from downstairs, and it makes him wince as booted feet dart to his side, the vet kneeling to inspect him, but Legend doesn’t so much as blink. No, the vet’s eyes are focused on him, and ewen when another set of booted feet pound up the stairs , headed their way, Legend just flicks a wrist to send one of his knives flying towards his persuer. 

The moment the gag is out of his mouth, he’s gasping, sobbing still, just a bit, but mostly just numb as Legend shifts him and starts binding up the stab wound in his leg. “Vet?” he wheezes, not so much deselieving as confused. 

“Better believe it, kid,” the man’s voice is clipped, distracted, motions just this side of frantic as they stop his bleeding and then cut his bonds. He’s missing most of his gear, only in his under-tunic and boots and Wind knows for a fact that the cloak on his shoulders is the captain’s and not the vet’s own. He hates that that means Legend hadn’t even bothered to dress himself before heading here, that more likely than not the other had been pulled out of bed to come directly here, or at least start looking for him. 

How had the others taken waking up and finding him missing? Especially after all of them had witnessed him promising the captain he’d stay behind? Sweet Sages, the sailor winces, they probably think he was kidnapped right out of his bed or some other such thing. Unless they know. Unless they suspect that he would break his promise, as he’d done, and go after the captain anyways, regardless of his word. He's not sure which is worse, them believing him helpless enough to be kidnapped, or them coming to the correct conclusion that he can’t even keep a simple promise. Whatever they think though, none of its clear on the vet’s face as he works, soft, detached words falling from his mouth in what the sailor thinks might be three or four different languages, but all of which sound vaguely assuring. The stream of comforting words doesn’t stop either as the vet finishes his work, violet eyes heavy with lack of sleep turning to at last fix on his face rather than his wound. 

“Any other injuries?” 

He shakes his head. There’s another scream from down below, steel clashing loudly. 

Legend nods, firm, quick, distracted, Long ears keep flicking between him and the stairs, and the vet’s mind clearly isn’t just on him. “We’re gonna get you out, okay? Wars has them busy downstairs.” 

Which means all the noise, the raised voices, the clashing steel, the shouts and cries and sounds of battle are because the captain is busy fighting off the men who’ve been keeping him here, and potentially any others. He doesn’t miss that the vet hadn't mentioned the others either. “We need to help him!” His aw is swollen enough that the words slur, but he thinks the point gets through. 

“We need to get you out of here.” Legend corrects, pulling him upright but supporting him so there’s no pressure put on his injured leg. “He can handle them.”  

“He needs backup-” 

“He needs you to listen to orders, kid.”  

That shuts him up for the moment. Legend looks like a wreck, tense, nervous, and very, very stressed. He knows better than to push that, but even so there’s still a part of him that detests the idea of letting Warriors face off against enemies alone. The vet doesn’t appear to care though, instead pulling him up over his back and moving for the stairs, teeth sawing faintly as he darts down them as quickly as is safe, each step granting Wind better and better a view of the fighting down below.  

It’s a mess. Warriors is caught in the midst of it, sword locked with that of one of the sailor’s captors while several others try and get hits in. There’s blood everywhere, on their clothes, their skin, their faces, and it’s clear as day that skill or no, the captain is outnumbered. 

“Got him!” Legend calls out, stopping briefly at the foot of the steps, panting slightly. 

Blue eyes dart towards them, all fire and fury and harsh, brilliant light, and the captain nods, dropping his lock with the other blade to fall back to the vet’s side, shield lifting to catch a blow here and there from enemies who strike out at either side. 

Faint sparks of magic dance over the room, Legend’s teeth gritting and sawing even louder as Wind feels the hands holding him to the other's back warm with the surge of magic, keeping the enemy at bay if only for a moment as Warriors cuts a path for them through the room. If Legend’s hands were free, Wind has no doubt that blood would be spilling much faster, but they aren’t, and try as he might, the vet won’t let him slip down. 

“We should help him!” he insists, as the outside world greets them, still grey, still overcast, and still not raining. “We should go back!” 

“I will,” the vet hisses, feet flying through the streets and carrying them ever further away for the pub and the sounds of battle, away from Warriors, “just as soon as you’re safe.” 

”He can’t hold that long!” 

“You’re my priority.” And try as he might to object, to fight, to squirm free or demand Legend turn back, shouts turning quickly to desperate sobs, the vet doesn’t so much as falter, just cling tightly to him, holding him in place as he moves through the streets, feet thumping and teeth sawing. 

People dart out of their way, some shouting in anger, others in fear, some others still in horror. There’s no shortage of blood on the vet, nor himself, and despite Legend’s prowess in battle, his skills with wound-care aren’t the best, and Wind is still very much leaking blood all the way from the pub to the castle gates, where Legend hastily hands him off to the men on duty, voice still that sharp, dangerous whip-crack as it hisses orders to the two men standing there. “Take him inside and alert General Impa that Captain Link requires aid.” 

One of the men makes to protest, but the other, one who’s familiar for some reason, nods, gathering Wind’s protesting form up in his arms without sapring him so much as a glance, eyes fixed instead on the vet’s flashing violet ones. “You got it, ma’am.” 

He doesn't even have it in him to laugh at Legend being mistaken for a woman, again- he’s too busy trying not to cry at the thought of the captain still left alone in that pub against men twice as big as he is. Legends doesn’t appear to even notice either, instead whipping back around, stumbling only for a moment and then darting off down the street again, the captain’s cape whipping in the wind kicked up by pegasus boots as the vet shoots out of sight, no doubt headed back to the captain’s side. 

- 

Holly, the infirmary attendant on hand, bustles him into a bed the moment he’s handed off.  

He manages to get ahold of hismelf between the gates and the infirmary, but it doesn’t stop the way worry twists and churns in his stomach enough that it’s a struggle to down the red potion she gives him after cleaning his injuries and checking him over. She tuts and fusses over him like anything al the while, just the same as she has a dozen times before. 

She’s one of the few medics Warriors will consent to being treated by. She’s an old neighbor of his from his childhood and someone with nothing to gain from his death or injury. By extension, she’s their usual caretaker too, his and Mask’s, when they’d ended up needing medical care while at the castle. Unlike others, Warriors can talk with her with ease, and even relaxes somewhat, enough that his accent will slip through to match her own, their voices low as they would discuss treatment, severity of injuries and childcare in general. She’s a nice enough lady, but her determination to assure him, sit with him and keep him calm do nothing but get on his nerves. 

Her attention stops though when heavy feet and rasping breathes sound outside the door, an hour or so later, and the sight of the vet, this time with Warriors’ arm slung over his shoulder, both of them bloody, both of them panting and neither of them processing his presence, steals her attention away. He only gets a glance in the time it takes the woman to haul ass and get the both off into the private room on one side of the infirmary, intended to be kept for nobles or the princess, but usually used quite frequently by one idiot captain, but one glance is almost too much. 

There’s so much blood. 

No one answers his questions as attendants surge into the infirmary and dart behind the shut door. Muffled sounds of pain escape from the other side, and its torture in its own right to be confined to a bed, watching the world buzz around him while white clad medics dart in and out, gathering terrifying looking tools and so, so many bottles and herbs and bandages. Gods, there’s so many bandages! He can hear the captain’s voice raised, panicked, he can hear Legend’s own, so much softer than it was the last he’d heard it; soft but clearly shaken as it soothes and assures, hitching here and again. He can’t catch the words, but that’s almost worse. 

It feels like it’s hours before the ward is quiet again, the medics trickling out, bloody and tired looking. 

Neither Legend nor the captain leave the room. Holly does, but she only spares him a sad look before moving for the door, returning a bit later with water which she offers to him first before slipping back into the captain’s room again. 

The clock on the wall ticks down the minutes, hours, and when at last something happens again, it’s the rest of the Chain making their way through the doors. Their eyes fall on him first, and the relief that floods over their faces as Time gathers him in his arms, as Twilight catches his face in both hands and looks him up and down like Granny would, it’s overwhelming.  

“Thank Hylia you’re okay!” The rancher gasps, pulling him in for a hug. 

“You gave us a real scare,” Four adds, standing far closer than he usually would, eyes trailing over him repeatedly, as though the smithy still isn’t sure he’s actually in one piece.  

Sky’s next to pull him into a brief hug, although, unlike the others, his face is still lined with worry as he pulls back, strained around the mouth and distracted as he adds his own say to that of the rest. “Never disappear like that again, understood?” 

“Understood.” It feels wrong, falling out of his mouth, but there’s nothing else to be said as his eyes trail to the door he’s tried multiple times by now and still can’t get past. 

There’s questions after that, and Hylia above he hates questions so much! He’s not even listening anymore, instead watching as Holly comes into the room again, shaking her head softly as she tuts under her breath, carrying yet another pitcher of water. “Holly!” His voice cuts off that of his brothers and has the medic’s eyes lifting to him, that sad little smile returning once more at the sight of him. It tastes disgustingly like pity. “How is he?” 

She hasn't answered any of the other times save with a soft “can’t be sure” but this time she looks over the heroes gathered before her and just finally sighs, gaze falling and head shaking like it’s been doing all afternoon. “T’ain’t pretty, luv.” 

“Let me see him?” It’s strained, nearly tearful despite his best efforts, but the image of all that blood, on the vet and the captain both, on the medics in and out of the room, and all over the tools Holly and the rest had been cleaning all afternoon- it makes his heart hurt and his stomach churn with unease. 

Unlike the last time, when he’d caught word of Warriors getting stabbed while at the castle, where he’d run here from the inn and been let in without so much as an attempt to stop him, this time the medic pauses, glancing between the closed off room and the sailor boy whose spent all day lurking outside of it. His injuries are basically gone by now, the potion having taken effect no matter how much he’d struggled to keep it down, but leaving just won't sit right with him. Not until he sees Link. 

The woman at last sighs, yet again. “I’ll see if yer mum’s alright wi’ it.” 

No one has even a chance to ask what she means by that, although based off of previous experience they all already know. He’s not sure if the vet’s been being referred to as ‘Kit Taylor’ all day now or not, has no way of knowing, but it really wouldn’t surprise it if they’re rolling with that again. Regardless, he’s sure the vet is who Holly means, and who she must speak too as she slips into the room again. 

The whole group of them wait with bated breath. 

When the door swings open yet again, the answer given is slow and hesitant. “Ten minutes.” 

 He’s up off the bed before she’s even done saying it, the rest of their group at his heels, but Sky by far the fastest, by some trick of magic or another (because there's no way he’s that quick under his own power). 

- 

Entering the little room, they’re greeted with the sight of the captain’s still form laid out across the bed. He’s on his side rather than his back, although there’s blood staining the back of the shirt he’s wearing, and while it doesn't appear to be fresh, it’s clearly the cause of his odd positioning. There's a lot of blood all the same though, and even more splatters over the vet, seated at the bedside in a chair that definitely wasn't there the last time Wind visited this room. They can’t see the captain’s face, but Legend looks like a wreck. Hair a mused mess, eyes bruised from lack of sleep and worry both as he sits, stretched out so that one arm rests between his chin and the mattress, the other hand holding one of the captain’s own tightly. Between the two of them, Wind’s not sure who looks worse, and he’s not even seen the captain’s face yet.  

It takes longer than he’d like for violet eyes to drag up to them too, and if the weight of the world looks like it’s resting on the vet’s shoulders, well, they all get a taste of it as his eyes fall just as heavy on the group of them. 

“Is that the others?” Warriors voice is strained, but it’s his and its alert at least, even if the man hasn't moved at all since they’d entered. 

Legend blinks, breathes a moment like even that is a chore, and then glances down to the captain. “Yeah. Guess they’re tired of waiting on us.” 

“Told you to go rest.” The captain huffs, but Wind can’t miss the way the man’s hand squeezes the vet’s own smaller one (or the fact that both sets of fingers are still stained with blood). 

A scoff makes rosy hair fly just a bit in front of dark eyes. “Yeah, no.” It’s said like they’ve had this conversation a thousand times already. Given how long they've been in here, Wind wouldn't be shocked if it has. Still, Legend’s voice is a good deal less rough than it was this morning, and while it still bleeds stress and strain, there’s an undercurrent of warmth in it that softens the sound against their ears. 

In a sharp contrast, the captain’s voice is all tightly strung and strained when it next sounds. “Is Wind here?” 

The vet’s eyes lift to them again; falling on him, holding his gaze as every emotion drops out of dark depths with a single heavy breath. “Yeah...” 

The captain groans, shifting and lifting one hand. “Help me up.” 

“Holly said to keep still,” the vet sits himself up, pushing Warriors back down in the same motion. The emotions flicker back over his face, worry and stress and pain, but the hand lifted, expectant, doesn’t drop. 

“Either you help me, or I do it by myself.” 

A soft ‘tsk’ sounds, but the hand is taken, clasped tightly as the captain lets Legend take the strain of pulling him somewhat upright, the vet’s other arm wrapping around broad shoulders while, somehow, the smaller man manages to maneuver a pillow or two around to support the other. Wind’s not sure how it’s done though, because his eyes are rather fixed on the captain’s face. Well, what he can see of it. 

It’s like being back in the army camp, sitting in the medical tent for the last time in his life and realizing just how much Hyrule resented the man who’d taken him in. The bandages that wrap around the captain’s eyes are positioned differently then that time, covering more, but there’s no doubt in his mind why they’re there, and what’s hiding beneath. 

He wants to be sick. 

“Tune.”  

Reflexively he tries to meet the stare that ought to be being leveled at him, but there’s only white cloth to meet in its place. His own voice feels small as it answers the steel of the captain’s own. “Yes?” 

“You lied to me.” It’s worse than the stab wound, than the punches he’d taken earlier in the day. The captain’s harsh tone is worse than anything enemies have ever dealt him, and he flinches back under it. “You promised to stay behind, and then you intentionally snuck out.” 

The gazes of the others are on him now, all shocked and surprised, except Legend. No, Legend just looks tired, maybe enough to just keel over then and there, even as he hovers at the captain’s bedside like he’s worried the other is the one that might falter. With how stately Warriors manages to look even while bandaged up and an utter mess, Wind has no clue where that worry is coming from. 

“I’m disappointed.” 

Wind’s pretty sure his heart stops for a minute. 

“I trusted you to obey orders, and you intentionally defied them, risking not only your safety, but mine and that of the rest of our party.” He’s not sure if he should be glad that he can’t see the captain’s eyes or not. The stare he’d be fixed under, if the man still had his vision, is no doubt the same one that’s made men piss themselves in terror. He never thought it would be turned on him, but the anger that bleeds through the captain’s voice betrays the intent, even if his face can do nothing to express it. “What do you have to say for yourself?” 

He feels small. So very small. “I’m sorry.” 

Warriors twitches, shoulders sinking as though new weight has been added to them. “Me too.” His tone hasn’t softened the slightest bit. “I’m sorry I believed you would actually follow orders.” 

Tears prick at his eyes at the words. He’s already cried far too much today, but in comparison, everything that happened earlier feels so trivial and childish beside this. “I’m sorry.” 

“Do you mean to tell that to everyone whose neck you risked by jumping in when I told you not to?” 

“What else do you want me to say?” It’s half sob, half scream, but somehow it’s still so quiet in the echo of the captain’s own harsh tones. 

Silence meets his words, but not a considering one. No, Warriors’ lips are pursed and his shoulders tense, so much so that even when Legend lays a hand on one, a wary look on the vet’s face and no doubt some sort of warning on the man’s lips, the captain doesn’t so much as twitch. “I don’t know. It seems my expectations were miscalculated.” 

“I’m sorry!” It feels like the only thing that he can say anymore. “I didn’t mean for this to happen!” 

“And yet it did.” 

“I was trying to look out for you!” 

The next words are a harsh bark worse than anything Time could dream of. “Well look how that turned out!” 

“Warriors.” Legend’s voice is strained, a warning as dark eyes lift to fix on the trembling sailor. 

The captain hisses a breath, what’s visible of his face contorting in what Wind takes a moment to realize is pain. There’s a breath, the vet’s hands hovering and the captain’s shoulders trembling for a moment before one blood-stained hand lifts as though to rub the bandaged face, only to think twice when it meets soft cloth rather then flesh. “Get out,” it’s strained, but less harsh, just tired. “Just... get out, go back to your room.” 

“You’re sending me to my room? I’m not a child!” 

“Well, you certainly haven't been acting like an adult!” The captain snarls back, only to pause and turn away, hand twitching towards his face a second time and again pausing at contact with the bandages. “Look, I am too angry and in too much pain to be having this conversation,” heavy breaths color the words, shallow little things that shake through the form of the man he’s spent so log looking up to. “We’ll discuss this when I can control myself.” 

He wants to protest, to apologize again, to say anything, but Time’s heavy, too big hand settles on his shoulder, holding him back. “We’ll leave you to rest then.” 

“Is there anything you need?” Sky’s voice is warm, soft, sad, but kind all the same as the man glances from Warriors’ shuddering form to Legend’s drooping one. 

The vet shakes his head, eyes slipping closed in the motion with a little sigh. Wind wonders, looking at him, if Legend has rested at all since hauling his ass out of that pub, or if the man’s been tending the captain at Holly’s side all the while, regardless of the fact that he looks ready to collapse. 

 Sky must see it too, because he frowns some, worry bleeding into his voice. “Get some sleep, you two. We’re just a call away.” 

“Thanks, Sky.” The smile the vet shoots them is as fake as the captain’s had been last night. 

Wind can only stare, helpless as their leader guides him out of the room. He trips over his own feet, but catches the way the vet catches the captain’s hand in one of his own, murmuring something he can’t hear but which has Warriors’ shoulders falling, sinking, a shudder running through the man that looks horrifyingly like a sob. 

He screwed up. 

#asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #linked universe fanfic #lu warriors #lu wind #lu legend #because legend decided to play sidekick #so he's here #easter egg challenge #how many of my old fics did i reference?

[mstrickster]

This was fun. I might continue this later. Idk I am really shaky on writing Damian and Jon I think. Anyways, enjoy! @korallion

“Why must I do this again?” Damian groaned as Jason prepared the warp pad. Dick and Tim were preparing their supplies.

“You are Batman now,” Dick explained, “You need to meet the league.”

“I know the league,” Damian stated bluntly.

“This isn’t dad’s Justice League,” Jason replied, “Stop bitching, Batman doesn’t complain.”

Tim laughed softly, “I guess he does now.”

“Silence, Drake,” Damian glared, “Father has a full description of every member of the league, pleasantries are unneeded.”

“Dami, please,” Dick said as he finished getting dress, “This is what Bruce wants.”

Damian scowled, “Fine, are we ready to go?”

“The pad is calibrated,” Jason informed them stepping back from the computer. He grabbed his helmet and secured it on his head.

“We’re ready,” Dick said. Tim nodded in agreement.

“It shouldn’t be a long meeting,” Tim noted, “Steph, Cass, Harper and Duke are on patrol.”

Damian sighed, “Very well, let us go.”

Dick smiled and slapped Damian on the back. This was the first time Damian was taking on the role of the Bat. It made sense, considering he was the youngest at 21. However, his older brothers still worried about the impact of the title on him. He wished they would stop babying him. He is an adult and unlike the others he had no outside family to hold him back. He just had his immediate family and his pets. Which was honestly fine by Damian, he didn’t see the point in having children or a significant other. That’s why he insisted on taking on his current role when his father had decided it was time to step down. He was best fit for the bat.

Damian watched as each of his brothers stepped onto the warp pad and vanished. Finally, it was Damian’s turn. He pushed back his shoulder and stood tall as he stepped through the portal. In seconds Damian reappeared on the landing pad aboard the Watchtower.  Dick, Jason, and Tim were waiting for him. He checked himself over quickly and nodded to the others. His brothers stepped aside and let him lead them to the meeting area.

“Welcome Batman, welcome Nightwing, Welcome Red Hood, Welcome Red Robin,” The doors greeted as they stepped through. Damian was grateful his title had been successfully updated.

“Welcome all, thank you for joining us,” Wonder Woman addressed the group, “I hope your travel was painless.”

“Thank you,” Dick smiled. He was the most personable out of them, so he usually took the lead in conversations.

“Of course,” She gestured for them to table, “Are introductions needed?”

“No, I am well aware of who everyone is,” Damian gruffed, “We should start the meeting.”

“Well, we are waiting on one more person,” Diana noted, “Superman ran into some aliens I am afraid.”

“I hope we aren’t waiting long then,” Damian scowled taking a seat at the front of the table.

“No, he is on his way now,” Diana replied. As if on cue there was the sound of the transportation pod and shortly after the door whooshed open.

“Welcome Superman,” The computer greeted.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Jon apologized, “Have you been waiting long.”

“No, we- “Dick started.

“Tardiness is sloppy,” Damian cut in.

Jon rose a brow, “I will tell the aliens I have plans next time.”

“TT,” Damian replied.

“Welcome Superman, we have a new member joining us today,” Diana explained, “Batman.”

Damian stood and moved to stand in front of Jon.

“Batman?” Jon said looking him over, “I thought you’d be taller.”

Damian glared under his cowl. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“Superman?” Damian questioned, “For a man of steel, you seem to lack any muscle mass.”

Jon’s expression changed to one of annoyance. “I am plenty powerful.”

“Power is nothing without intelligence.” Damian replied swiftly.

“We should sit,” Dick interrupted, “Start the meeting.”

Damian glared but nodded taking his seat, “Let’s get this over with, Gotham needs me.”

Jon rolled his eyes. This guy almost made him regret accepting the Superman title. Almost.

#batfam #minific #sar writes #jondami #damian wayne #jonathan samuel kent #bat bros #they would not get along right away in any verse #but they grow attached to each other

[withnofreetime]

Hetalia ☆ World Stars (512, main story) (1/2)

5 days later, I finished. And because it was the 10 most hard-work hours of the week I share it.

Translation notes at the end: ‘cuz I took a lot of “creative freedoms(?)”. Warning: I don’t know Italian, German (my sister know) and Chinese.

Next (2/2) T/N:

Page 1. (Warning: Rough translations)

“Distretto Italia”, this one is obvious “Distric Italy”

“Fratellone” is an informal way to say “big brother”, the formal and literal word is “maggiore fratello” but they’re gangsta.

“Pezzi di merda” is “pieces of sh*t”.

Page 2.

“Chūgoku District”, its name of an island in Japan, but it’s also used to refer to China.

The bad quality in the name of China, so I just invented it: “Great Dinasty”, because the Great Wall and nth dynasties.

“Ya dig?” I’m not British and I don’t know anyone who is, so… sorry.

Page 3.

“Parrain”. Wikipedia has a lot of information about the hierarchy in the French Mafia and they said: “Godfather” like the movie but French (?). Apparently “Parrain” is not as important as “Caïd” who is the “Big Boss” but that changes from family to family.

“Король” means “King”, and has nothing to do with “Tsar”, but it’s also related to the monarchy.

Page 4.

“Amici” the plural way of “friend”, hence “friends”.

“Homo Homini Lupus”, again Wikipedia, is a Latin proverb, “Homo/Homini” is “Human”, and “Lupus” is “Wolf”. It can be translated to “Man is wolf to man”. In other words: “Don’t trust (talk) to strangers, because they can be dangerous”, just thinks about “Little Red Riding Hood”.

“Fratelli d’ Italia” is “Italian Brothers”

“Stahl in unserer Seele” is “Steel in our soul”. I couldn’t find any current or old usage of the phrase, but I didn’t look very hard…

“Rising Sun”, again the quality. But in my country, Japan is the “Country of the Rising Sun” and I REALLY like the name, better Japan than Spain :)

“Grand Master”, I think in Japanese is used to name the Master of the family/house.

Page 6.

“Evviva!” Is like a “Hooray!” But it’s a shout of enthusiasm.

“Figlio di puttana” is “son of a b*tch”.

Page 7.

The “ranks”, not sure about that. I know it’s now about them as players tho (Germany was more lost…).

“Chi trova un amico, trova un tesoro”, an Italian proverb, “who finds a friend, finds a treasure”. The Centro Virtual Cervantes said its usage is very common.

“Grazie!”, “Thanks”.

“Cari tesori”, “dear treasures”, let’s pretend that Japan and Germany don’t know Italian.

Page 9.

“Chi la fa, l’aspetti”, depending on the context (and the person) the proverb can be negative or positive, literal tl: “who makes it, waits for it”, like karma but Italy made it positive. It’s very used.

“Caro amico” is “dear friend”.

Page 10.

“Cost” it’s real money lol. And, uh, please notice the wallet with a rose embroidery from China and ignore what France does.

If you notice an error (most likely), please don’t doubt to say it.

#hetalia world stars #hetalia #aph italy #hws italy #hws germany #hws japan #hws america #hws china #hws england #hws france #hws russia #hws canada #but just a head :( #japanese to english #translation

[oftenwantedafton]

Night Shift - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female Reader + Mike Schmidt

Finale

Rating - Explicit

Minor violence, no warning for this chapter

Also available on AO3

You stare open mouthed at the empty steel cabinet before you. Whatever it was that had terrified William so badly is now free.

You gradually become aware of footsteps nearby: loud, metallic, something with tremendous weight making contact with the concrete flooring. You don’t want to know what’s making that sound; you have to see exactly what it is, for Mike’s sake.

It’s more difficult to navigate the maze of corridors without the older man’s guidance. You’re relying more on following the auditory trail of disturbing sounds than visual memory.

The noises are getting louder. You’re getting closer. You’re finally starting to recognize where you are now.

Something towers ahead of you. One of the animatronics? It certainly looks like it. The rabbit, maybe. Except it’s the wrong color. A sort of sickly yellow instead of blue. Part of one ear torn off. Dark openings where pieces of the mascot had been destroyed, exposing the innards that were never meant to be seen by human eyes.

You duck back around the corner before the suited figure sees you. It’s standing outside the security office, observing the interior of the room. Your heart is pounding so loudly it’s a wonder it can’t be heard. You risk another glance. Still standing there, watching. You think you see something silver glinting in one hand. Is it a knife?

The rabbit takes a step forward. You ease into the hallway. It doesn’t seem to notice you. It takes another step and you continue to creep forward, keeping yourself pressed against the wall, tucked into the shadows. The figure has to duck to enter the office and you take the opportunity to close the remaining distance in time to see it lunge towards Mike who’s fallen asleep, head pillowed on his arms.

One swift tug and he’s wide awake, pinned against the wall, the gray hooded sweatshirt beneath the security guard vest bunched in a steel encased hand, heels kicking futilely as he is raised to eye level with the seven foot tall mascot.

You had to help him, but how?

“Sleeping on the job? You really are useless, aren’t you?” The synthetic voice is vaguely masculine. The yellow rabbit pulls your friend away from the wall and then slams him back again, Mike wincing in pain when his head connects with the concrete. “What your ex girlfriend ever saw in you I’ll never know.” He relaxes his grip and the security guard drops to the floor, groaning.

You freeze. How did he know about you?

“How…how do you know…” Mike asks, echoing your thoughts.

“I know everything that happens here. I own this place, after all.”

“You’re the owner?”

“I am. I’ve heard a lot about you, Mike Schmidt.” The contempt is clear even through the modulated voice. “None of it good, I’m afraid. Your former girlfriend on the other hand, quite a different story. Did you know she came to the office right after you had your first little ménage a trois? Desperate for more.”

William had told the owner? After everything you’d done, and he’d promised not to, and…You feel a wave of nausea roll over you at the betrayal.

“Steve’s full of shit if he told you that. She never would have—”

“—But she did. Dressed up and everything. So upset when she got turned down. Then she made plans to meet at the movies. What? Did you think that was a coincidence?” The encased man chuckles as Mike stares at him, open mouthed. “It was all over for the two of you the second Steve Raglan walked into this room that night.”

There’s no way he could know about it unless William had told him. What other intimate details did he reveal? Why would he share that with the owner? It made no sense.

The rabbit’s lit eyes flick towards the Nebraska poster taped to the wall and he rips through it, the image of the forest shredding, the pieces cascading down in a gentle rain of fluttering paper. “Maybe I should have taken you instead of your brother that day at the park. Just put you out of your misery right then and there. You’ve made an absolute mess of your life. Can’t hold down a job. Can’t keep a girl. Your sister will probably thank me for this one day.”

“You…you took Garrett?” Mike gasps, his eyes anguished.

“I wouldn’t say take. He came along pretty willingly. They all did.” He shoves Mike when the fallen man tries to stand, the heavy costumed foot pushing him back down to the floor. “But if it’s any consolation, he died with more dignity than the others. At least he was quiet about it. Didn’t struggle. Just like going to sleep.” The butcher knife—that was exactly what it was, thick and long and viciously sharp—rolls in his palm, the steel encased fingers deftly moving the handle back and forth. Another chuckle emerges from the depths of the suit. He’s enjoying this. Toying with the fallen man. Gloating. Prolonging the moment and savoring it. How long had he been planning this? Why was tonight the one when he’d finally decided to confront him?

Mike struggles to rise again but the rabbit’s foot returns with a vengeance, this time kicking his chest, driving the air loose.

You wince, clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle any sound. There’s no way you were going to be able to confront this guy head on. The element of surprise was about all you had going for you. But what were you going to use as a weapon? What could possibly stand up to this suit, damaged as it was?

“Stop resisting, Mike. You’re fighting a losing battle. Take a page out of your brother’s book and bow out gracefully.”

“Why him? Why take him? He was innocent, he did nothing to you.”

“Of course he didn’t. I never said he did. I don’t need a reason. I’ve never needed a reason.”

No. No, no, no. It couldn’t be him inside of there.

You recall standing before William, the words mirrored.

Do I need a reason? Have I ever needed a reason?

There are things in my past.

You’re going to hate me one day.

Suffice to say I have my reasons to use an alias.

Now you know my best kept secret.

He never told the owner anything. He didn’t have to. He is the owner.

“William.” The name escapes before you can stop it as you enter the doorway.

The yellow rabbit’s head turns towards you sharply. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

You can hear it now, underneath the voice modulator: the cadence of his words, the inflections and nuances. It’s him. Your eyes dart to Mike who’s staring at you wide eyed.

“Why are you here?” The voice is no longer arrogant and cruel. It sounds weak, tired. Dissappointed.

“It’s Mike’s birthday. I was just bringing him…William….”

He reaches for the headpiece, fingers tucking beneath the jaw to lift it free. It falls to the floor with a loud clank.

“What the fuck…” Mike stares at the profile of the figure in front of him. “Raglan?”

William’s hair is plastered wetly to his forehead, the pale eyes that are fever bright softening when they see you. “Sweetheart…I didn’t want you involved in this.”

“William, please listen to me. You have to stop…”

Cold metal fingers dart out and swiftly seize your throat, shoving you back through the doorway and against the wall. He’s not squeezing, just holding you in place. “Oh, honey. I tried so hard to keep you away from this. I tried to give you what you needed. Tried to be what you wanted.”

Your fingers futilely prying at the steel hand trapping you grow still. Twin tracks of tears spill down your cheeks. “You did give me what I needed. You are what I want,” you whisper.

He groans and it’s an echo of the wounded sound he’d made that night when he’d come to pick you up when your car had broken down. Regret. Longing. A life full of so much destruction, a darkness he can’t seem to escape. His mouth crushes yours.

You know you’re supposed to be terrified of him. Repulsed by him. He’d killed Mike’s brother; killed others too from the sound of it.

Still your body melts against him. Moth to flame. You can’t help it. You cannot choose to only love part of him. The ugly darkness is not separate from the good you’ve seen in him. Brought out of him.

You hear the knife clatter to the floor.

You taste William Afton’s surrender.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #william afton #fnaf movie #fnaf fanfic #mike schmidt

[britcision]

Alright I’m on a Dead On Main kick but I’m also permanently in house “Danny Should Adopt Connor For Proper Clone Parenting”

So let’s combine those for crack purposes!

Timelines are fake and so are trees

Jason and Danny are both technically younger than Connor’s supposed to be, and both actually older than Connor is

There’s some fight in Gotham big enough to justify both Superman and Superboy showing up, Red Hood’s willingly working with the bats, mass hysteria

Jason Todd knows more than enough about forcing a working relationship with shitty parents enough to have Suspicions about how Man and Boy are interacting

He knew them before he died and knew it was a bad relationship then, it’s clearly no better

But it’s shooty shooty guns time so we’ll get to that later

Eventually he has to call in the bf because the JL are getting their asses kicked and Danny shows up and joins the fight

Even he can spot the tension and he and Jason exchange Big Gay Looks

But as the fight goes on, Connor’s pinned

In Big Danger, going down, Superman’s closest and doesn’t even glance twice

Just turns away

In comes Danny with the steel chair and if some flying fragments of goon nearly hit Supes, well, pure coincidence

Danny helps Connor to his feet and they get back into it, Connor gets to be in on the big plan which is Get Danny To The Middle

One ghostly wail later, that’s it that’s the fight

Everyone’s wondering what happened, how all the baddies disappeared, Danny gives Connor a pat on the shoulder

“I’m retired kid, and couldn’t have done it without you, so do me a favour and you take this win”

Danny’s gone, Connor’s confused, Jason INSTANTLY backs him up

If Bats is wondering who the unknown fighting alongside them was, well, Superman’s making his biggest constipated faces about congratulating his clone

Jason promises to explain everything if Connor comes by for coffee, Connor has no social life so post debrief they go and pick up enough for 3

Connor’s a little surprised cuz yeah, Jason’s different from when he was Robin, but way less angry and violent than Dick’s led him to believe

Jason explains it’s because of his new bf Danny, the explainer in this case

They get back to Danny in his human form, he’s all gushy and happy to meet Connor cuz whether he went to space or not Connor is technically an alien

Connor gets very quiet about his dna donors

Danny gets Instantly Suspicious and remembers that moment in the fight

Jason rats out the incidents he knows about where Superman’s been a shit

Connor insists we are Not Talking About This It’s Fine

Danny stares him in the face

“Hey wanna meet my clone? Her name’s Danielle, her creator made her try to murder me to replace me. She’s my sister and best friend and I love her dearly and You’re My Clone Now Too.”

Connor, befuddled, is instantly adopted by Dani as well because Clone Sibling, who cares about genetics

Jason tells Connor they’re always like this, but yeah, if he doesn’t wanna put up with Supes’ shit he can go his own way

He doesn’t even have to go full Red Hood style, but they’ll take care of him if he wants to break off on his own

Connor doesn’t believe Supes would ever allow this and would kill Connor the second he showed any hesitance

Danny goes Full Eldritch Horror

Jason:

“Oh hey I don’t think I formally introduced you, Connor this is my boyfriend Danny, the King of the Infinite Realms, you just watched him melt a guy who was kicking Clark’s ass. What were your concerns again?”

And that’s how Connor ends up adopted by his friend’s baby brother and his eldritch boyfriend, complete with happy family jokes

Jason and Danny both call him their baby incessantly and Connor will never admit he kinda loves it, not least for the faces Dick makes

Superman does predictably kick up a stink about Connor not living on base, Batman can’t control Jason but Jason isn’t a world ending threat

Jason smiles extremely sweetly and demonstrates exactly what a world ending threat looks like by texting Danny, who shows up again in full Eldritch Horror

And then Danny texts JAZZ and the Justice League learn the true meaning of fear from a 6’9 redhead therapist who went to the Harley Quinn school of “Sit Down And Shut Up While I Read You For Filth”

Danny pinky swears not to end the world if the JL leave Jason and Connor alone, they can even still be on call for the league and MAYBE so will Danny

If they’re extremely lucky

Constantine assures them this is The Only Way Fucking Hell Superman What Did You Do

The only hiccup in the happily ever after is Dick deciding this makes him Connor’s uncle and being insufferable about it

Danny agrees and it only makes it worse

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dead on main shipping #jason todd/danny fenton #with their adopted son connor kent #he declines being connor todd or connor fenton (although meeting jack fenton raises questions) #superboy #he needs a family dammit #his dads can be younger physically this bitch was 16 at 2 years old #they work out the math from the day he was born #danny insists on celebrating his actual age each birthday #hilarity ensues

[vee-crytraps]

Kiss Me More | Ch 1 | {Groan}

SUMMARY: It’s been twelve long years since you were the sad little girl tugging on the tails of your adoptive father’s coat.

Your brothers take notice. AN: New to posting fics on Tumblr, feel free to read here or over on Ao3 under the username VenusCrytraps. Same bat time, same bat channel.

{Trigger warning/Themes Masterlist}

And yeah, i wanna spend the night with you Yeah, i wanna feel a beating, bleeding heart, don't you? Because i've never really known But i pinky promise you i'm grown And i wanna know what it feels like

You’re deep in your head as you lean forward in your vanity’s mirror, lightly dabbing away the smeared lipstick at the corner of your mouth with your middle finger. You don’t notice the creak of your door as it opens, and the protest of the frame as one of your many adopted siblings leans against it.

You don’t see the range of emotions he cycles through- some visible on his face, and others happening only in his head, behind those stormy green eyes.

“Yeah. I don’t think so.” Jason scoffs to himself after a minute, startling you. The tension drains from your shoulders as you turn around to see him standing there, all geared up in his Red Hood uniform sans the armor and that goofy fucking helmet of his. Your surprise has less to do with the atrophied instincts you’ve barely managed to keep from your two weeks as Robin back in the day, and more to do with the strangeness of Jason serving you his best impression of Dick’s Blue Steel, A.K.A, his ’Concerned Big Brother’ face. Something your oldest brother pulled so often, he could have it patented. It looks totally ridiculous on Jason, a dude you legitimately haven’t seen out of his uniform since he was welcomed back into the family. You think to yourself that he must be doing his rounds, doing his best to repair the dynamics that were lost when he died, and soured when the pit left him more than a little trigger happy.

Still, you remind yourself of Dick’s advice, to reward vulnerability and welcome these moments. Jason was supposedly quite fragile beyond his hulking form.

You sighed. “What can I do for you?”

There was some lingering awkwardness around the fact that he’d briefly dedicated his life to ending your dads, but if Bruce could trust him enough to welcome him anywhere near the Batcave, you supposed you could, too. He was trying his best, after all. You just wish he’d take it elsewhere, for once.

Still, you’ll play along.

“Where the hell are you going?” Dressed like that, was the implication that hung in the air. You’re smart enough to fill in the blank. He’s smart enough to let you.

“Out.” You turn around, unable to help but be a little bit guarded about this particular line of questioning.

God, on all the nights…

Turning your back to him, you casually resume your preening. He doesn’t at all remember you being this stubborn, but he’d died and come back to find you a whole lot older than he remembered.

“Out,” Jason repeated, exhaling heavily as he pushed off the doorframe. Jason was your age, once. He knew all about ‘out’. When he was in your shoes, going to Gotham Academy, making those fancy friends with more money than sense, ‘out’ meant joyriding around, bar hopping with fake ID’s and hooking up with fast, socialite girls wearing skirts not unlike the one you sported as you shifted in your plush vanity seat.

“What’s his name?”

“Are you still here?”

It slips out of you before you can remind yourself of Dick’s instruction to give Jason the room and encouragement he needed to be a part of your life again. As if he were a scared cat, and not a six-foot-something giant with the wrong kind of bodycount.

You try again, but it doesn’t come out any more cordial. “What’s it to you, anyway?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting that. He also wasn’t expecting you to look so…grown up. His gaze flickered over you, over the short skirt and lace trimmed cardigan you were wearing. Over the way you applied that mascara and eyeliner with practiced skill and patience.

You were beautiful. God damn it, Bruce.

Catching his gaze in the mirror, you falter. His unreadable stare pulls the plug on your brat-ittude. A sigh escapes you.

“I’ll be careful, Jay. I promise.” You mumble, capping your eyeliner with finality as you give into this game of house he insisted on playing with you. When your eyes finally flicker up to meet his again, something in them seems…changed. The expression he wears is no longer unreadable. You recognize it, but can’t seem to place it. It’s been a long time since he’s seen you, but it’s been just as long since you were able to get a good look at him, too.

And then it’s there, again. The guilt and shame that coils within you as you notice the way his arms bulge under the brown leather of his jacket, the set of his strong jaw and the pout of his full bottom lip. You want to bash your head against your vanity. Tonight was supposed to be your night to get away from this feeling. To distract yourself with normal boys that weren't off limits. To cure yourself of the way you instantly became distracted whenever your brothers were near.

Adoptive brothers, you remind yourself inwardly. But you know that fact doesn’t make you feel any less fucking gross.

For as much as you appreciated some of the upsides of puberty hitting you like a train, there were some notable downsides, too. Inappropriate attraction to the other gorgeous men that live in this house aside, you’d found yourself concerned with things you had always prided yourself on being above. The way you gravitated towards more flattering clothes and cuter underwear, your proclivity for flavored lipgloss and this…overwhelming desire to feel attractive had you feeling so unlike yourself that it was hard to embrace the change, let alone enjoy it. Sometimes, the process of becoming a woman often felt like you were being beat with a pretty pink nightstick.

It takes you a moment to realize you’ve been quiet for a strange amount of time. And the knowledge that he has too makes you tense in places you didn’t know you could.

“Besides,” You continue, though too much time has passed to really consider it a continuation of your promise. “I’ve got backup.”

Swiveling around in your vanity’s chair, you don a self satisfied smirk as you slip the hem of your skirt up your thigh just a smidge, exposing the knife holstered to your thigh.

Jason’s eyebrows almost hit the ceiling. He wasn’t expecting that of all things. Not the sight of you, gorgeous and young and supposedly retired from this whole vigilante thing having a butterfly knife strapped to your leg. He wasn’t expecting the thrill he was getting just by looking at it, and how much he wanted to see it in use.

What is wrong with me?

He clears his throat to regain his composure.

“Where the hell did you get that?” He asks, his voice rougher than before.

“Where do you think?” You can’t help but laugh, tugging the hem of your skirt back down. Your sharp tongue gets him hot under his collar in a way he is beyond not proud of.

Still, he joins you, letting out a noise that is somewhere between a laugh and a snort. The moment brings about a sense of familiarity, the conversation finding a groove it hasn’t been able to since before he had died.

Clearing his throat again, he has to fight against the heat threatening to rise in his face- unable to do much about the blood rushing south. “Look. I know it’s not my place, just…I’m concerned. About you going outside wearing…” The way he vaguely gestures to your outfit with his hands makes you forget he’s supposed to be some kind of sharpshooter.

“I’m…going on a date.” You finally answer, offering an olive branch. Maybe the truth really will set you free. From this cage of Wayne Manor, from the clear gloss, sensible shoes and frumpy skirts that were good for your optics, whatever the fuck that meant. Jason was in your shoes, once. Under the microscope of society, young and repping the name of an entire family on your back. You hope he can relate, and give you some grace. So you lay it on. Thick.

“Do you like it? It’s pretty much brand new. I never get to wear it, because there is no way dad would ever let me out dressed like this.”

Jason nods slowly.

He likes more than your outfit.

“You’re going on a date.” He turns it over in his mind. It seems his suspicions were correct. “And…Bruce doesn’t even know?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that. As if you told him where you were sneaking off to when you were my age. And don’t you dare say it was different or whatever bullshit you’re about to-“

Jason crosses the room to your still seated form before you can finish, stepping into your personal space and placing a hand under your chin. He lifts it gently, and tries not to absolutely lose it at the way you look up at him from beneath your lashes.

“Where is he taking you?” Jason asks, his voice low and rough.

You do your best to beat back that feeling again. The warmth in your core is persistent, but you’ve had a few years of practice surpassing it. Digging your nails into your palm, you try not to observe how handsome he looks, even now, with that spark of disapproval in his gaze. Focusing hard, you manage not to bite your lip at his tone.

“Drive-in.” The truth slips from you quickly, and quieter than it would have several minutes ago, when you couldn’t smell his cologne. You lean into his touch imperceptibly. “And then there’s a party we might stop by.”

“Drive-in?” Jason repeats, his eyebrows arching. “Like, a literal movie drive-in? Do those places still actually exist?” His fingers tighten, his thumb rubbing against your chin- dangerously close to the fullness of your bottom lip. There’s no way you could miss the way his eyes devour your face. And drop to your lips.

“Uh-huh.” You confirm, dropping your chin ever so little, kissing his thumb. “They’re popular spots. Sitting in your car with your date. Alone, in the dark.”

“God, you’re killing me right now.” His heart pounds as your lips touch his thumb, but makes no move to pull it away. His fingers grip your chin a little tighter. His other hand comes to your neck, the pads of his fingers brushing over it gently. “You’re just begging to be kissed, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” the word escapes you breathlessly. It’s so fucking embarrassing. You can’t help it. That you care so much about your hair, that your showers are extra long and that you’re so horny all the fucking time now because living in his house is like being in the Olympic village- constantly surrounded by beautifully sculpted people. It was beyond difficult, even if you were now counted among them.

Jason doesn’t care that your door is cracked open or if anyone could walk in and see you. He drops one hand off of your chin, and the one tracing your pulse trails back and up into your hair, forgetting himself as he fists the strands and tugs it back.

“God, look at you.”

It’s all he can manage before he’s leaning down, pressing his lips to yours. The discovery of your flavored lipgloss sets off a wave of possessiveness in him when he thinks that some other punk was planning to savor the taste. He wants it to be just for him.

You kiss him back before you can think about it. You’re touch starved and aching, barely thinking straight as he lifts you into his arms with his impossible strength and picks you up as if you weigh less than nothing. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist. Breaking the kiss, your hands find his face, thumbs brushing over the scars on his cheek. “Forgot how strong you are, Jay.”

He lays you across the bed with one swift motion and kneels between your legs as his large hands roam your thighs. You know for a fact that your skin is soft and smooth. Your Everything Shower routine was of the gods.

“You’ve grown up, baby bat.”

His dark eyes bore into you, the old nickname rolling off of his tongue with ease. It no longer brings an irritated flush to your face the way it did when you were still playing with dolls. For a moment, he’s reminded of the fact that he was here to try and step into that role again. To be the brother that keeps you from making the sort of dumb mistakes he had been known for at your age, and not to touch you- but you’re so soft and so sweet. There’s no pity in your eyes, or fear of the monster he used to be. He can't decide if he wants to cherish you or ruin you, but he's greedy enough to try and get away with both.

Manicured fingers twitch to the front tie of your lace cardigan. The edge of the ribbon rests between your forefinger and thumb before you slowly pull, releasing the bow. You reveal your bare, ample chest to him as you agree breathlessly. “Yeah,”

Jason bites his lip at the sight of your chest. A deep sense of satisfaction fills him as you reveal yourself to him, and the hand on your thigh rises slowly, stopping at your hip. He lets out a soft groan as he promptly resumes to think with the wrong head.

Catching his gaze, you drag your nails down his chest, fingers stopping at his belt. Tilting your head, you don’t bother to look as you work on undoing the buckle and pull it free from the loops of his pants. “Jay,” You whisper.

“Don’t call me that.” His voice is low, his gaze still boring into yours. “It makes me…feel a certain type of way.” Tilting his head back a little, he lets out another soft grunt when he feels you working open the front of his pants. His eyes fall shut. He seems to be on the verge of something, no doubt attempting to convince himself to stop before the two of you do something you can’t take back.

“What if I want you to feel that way?” You ask, dipping your hand beneath the open waistband of his pants, your soft fingers brushing against his swelling cock.

“Jesus Christ.” Releasing a deep breath, he looks down at you. His hand travels up to your throat, fingers digging into your skin.

“Please.” You finally just beg him, your bare chest heaving as you attempt not to squirm with the anticipation. “Please, Jay. Please.” How long has it been, since you were touched? Yeah, you were gorgeous, and fairly popular at school, but being involved with the precious daughter of the ‘prince of Gotham’ was often too risky for a lot of the guys at school. With you, they couldn't get away with half of the things they could with some of the other girls you know. And then there’s Jason. Someone she’s known for a good chunk of her life. Someone she trusts, someone she’s mourned, and most importantly- someone who is not afraid of Bruce Wayne.

The dying embers of his resolve are snuffed out the minute you shift your hips, that too short skirt riding up and revealing your absolutely soaked panties. And fuck, has he even touched you yet?

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, sweetheart. I got you.” Jason leans over you, one hand supporting himself by your head as the other drags your underwear to the side. Two of his calloused fingers stroke your slippery folds, covering his hand in your warm slick before he fists his thick cock.

He brings the blunt head of him close to you, stroking your clit before it brushes against your core. “Relax for me, sweetheart. You gotta let me in.” He murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Hold onto me.”

You do. Your fingers dig into his strong shoulders as he finally manages to push into you with a long suffering groan. You’re no virgin, but you’re half his size, and so, he bets, was every other chump you had before him. And from the way your walls quiver and stretch around him? He also bets that list is pretty short.

“ ’S okay, princess,” He breathes, his pupils blown wide. It takes everything in him not to pin you down and absolutely destroy you, but he reminds himself that your desperation does’t equal experience. You can act as fast as you want, you still need time to adjust to him.

“Oooh, fuck.” Jason hisses, his nails digging into the sheets beside you as he somehow manages to bottom out. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You can feel his shoulders tense under your palms, and your soft hands slip down his biceps until you’re holding his forearms. You’re so tight it’s criminal, and he can’t even focus as he begins to thrust into you.

His name sounds magical coming from your lips, and you look so gorgeous beneath him, your eyes screwed shut in pleasure as he fucks you hard and deep and bare. Your cunt is noisy and desperate, sucking him deep into your impossible warmth, covering every inch of him in your slick. His hand finds your throat again, and he can feel the way you squeeze around him in response. He groans complete delight. “You like that? Huh?”

Something akin to a yes escapes you as he begins to fuck you harder, the wood of the antique bed frame creaking in protest as your distant sort-of-stepbrother practically folds you in half, seemingly unable to get deep enough inside of you. Jason is a complete mess above you as you all but melt into your sheets, fingers tangled in the linens as each deep thrust forces a desperate whine from your parted lips.

“Such a perfect little cunt. So warm and fuckin’ wet-“ His free hand greedily palms at your tits as a string of other obscenities that make your clit throb begin to fall from his lips. He finds a spot deep within you that makes your toes curl and your walls tighten, and he grips your hips for leverage as he abuses it relentlessly. The difference between you is such that he barely has to shift his hand from your thigh to have his thumb roll over your clit shortly after you feel him spit on it, the oddity and the sudden stimulation forcing your back to arch.

There’s a part of him that hasn’t yet forgiven Bruce for leaving him to die, and that part greedily soaks up the sight of you coming undone beneath him, your tits bouncing as your back arches off of your bed. You may be barely an adult, but you’re still Bruce Wayne’s little girl, too precious for combat, but not too precious for Jason to spread you open on your pastel linens, under your daddy’s roof. You cream around his cock as your greedy walls threaten to milk him but he refuses to let up, determined to bully another orgasm out of you before he’s through.

“Tell me you want it,” Of course he knows you do. You’re the one who practically scrambled for his belt the minute he got you onto the bed, but it’s not enough to see it. He wants to hear you say it. To beg for him His voice is hoarse. Desperate. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” You manage, barely able to get the words out. “Want you, I want you-“ His nails bite into your thigh and you can hear the blood rushing to your ears.

“Jason,” You look up at him through your lashes, tears of pleasure collecting in the corners of your pretty eyes. He mumbles your name in return, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.

“Get off in me.”

“Fuck!” His orgasm hits him like a train almost instantly, and he grinds into you needily with a disbelieving groan, filling you up. Your eyes nearly roll back as you come undone around him, and you’re not even though your orgasm before he lets out a barely coherent whine that sounds like it could be ‘good girl’ or ‘dirty fucking tease’. Your mind is spinning too much to make sense of anything and you decide take your pick, leaning back into your nest of plush blankets and pillows.

“Shit,” You breathe, exhausted.

“Yeah.” He agrees.

Jason allows himself to roll off of you, the bed creaking with impact as he collapses beside you with an uneven exhale. You close your eyes and try to catch your breath, hearing the shifting of his tactical pants beside you as he tucks his cock away. He casts a sidelong glance at you, swallowing before he can think of something to say. “That…you were okay with that, right?”

It takes a good moment to register the words, and you blink your eyes open. Turning to your side, you meet his gaze. You’re both sweating, and you feel decidedly un-sexy with his cooling cum leaking out of you. “What…what are you asking me?” You frown.

Jason tilts his head towards you. “It’s just…you know. What I was like before you uh…grew up.” His thoughts trail off, and his face creases with a frown as he tries to get through the next few words. “I just. I want to make sure…” A deep breath. Another heartbeat. “I can be rough, is all.” His expression softens, and guilt begins to seep in. You may live under this roof, but you aren’t like him. Not really. You were the soft one. The normal one. And that makes him feel equal amounts of pride and shame when he thinks about what you two have just done.

“Hey,” You recognize that shame, and you decide to put a stop to it before he overflows with it. “I may not spend my nights being tossed around by thugs anymore, but Gotham is rough. Our life is rough.”

Reaching out, you rest a hand over his heart, feeling the heat of him through his shirt. “But…being here…like this- with you? Being roughed up doesn’t have to suck.” Sitting up, you offer him a smile. “In fact, it felt so good I came twice. So. You know.”

Your answer is honest, and he can’t help but chuckle as he moves to sit up with you. His hand moves to caress the side of your face. You lean into his hand, and his gaze softens.

“You’re so different than you used to be.” His words come out in a whisper, and his thumb traces your jawline. “I want to keep you safe from this. But…I like this side of you. I like what I can bring out of you.”

“It’s been a long time, Jay.” You mumbled, closing your eyes. "A really long time."

You open them when you feel the way his lips brush against your forehead. They linger there for a heartbeat.

The moment is cut shot when you can hear the pneumatic hiss of the downstairs grandfather clock as it swings open, no doubt your adoptive dad home from patrol. “Shit. Dad’s home,” You whisper, and Jason grumbles as he leans against the headboard to catch his breath, watching you sit up. “You sure know how to kill the mood.”

“Dude, I just let you unload in me. I am the mood. So like, zip it.” You huff, fixing your underwear. Jason, despite his casually annoyed exterior, is lighter on his feet than you’ve ever seen him as he moves to get off of your bed. He’s sneaking out of here like his life depends on it, but he has the feeling it actually might.

“See you at breakfast, Jay!” You call a little too loudly, snickering at the way he tenses up in fear. He makes sure to flip you off right before he disappears past the doorframe, and you walk over and shut it.

Looking over to your desk, you see the screen of your phone is lit up, flooded with half an hours worth of texts and missed calls.

Guess you missed your date.

I ain't scared of boys, but boy, you're a man And if anybody could, I'm sure you can For a girl this young, naive, and miserable

#v.fic #batfam x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake x you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Sol Invictus

A @strangerthingsreversebigbang fic

Art: @waldosakimbo

Story: @just-my-latest-hyperfixation

Coming 29 March 2024

Eddie spots the boy standing at the edge of the crowd almost immediately.  He probably thinks he’s being sneaky, with the coarse woolen cloak and hood he’s draped himself in, but the truth is that he sticks out like a sore thumb. The fabric is too tightly woven, the material of too high a quality, the clasp holding the thing together too shiny. The hands poking out from the sleeves are too soft, the nails too clean, no callous or blemish in sight. Some rich merchant’s son out for an adventure in the more shady parts of the city, then. Eddie’s mouth curls into a grin.  That’s when the boy turns and disappears into an alley.  Eddie huffs, briefly considers hanging around and sticking to his usual routine, but the temptation is too big to pass on. He spares one last look at his brothers, still in the middle of their routine, then hurries into the alley. They’ll eat well tonight.  He expects it to be a quick thing. Cut the boy’s purse strings with his knife, make a dash for it and disappear back into the chaos. Child’s play.  What he does not expect is finding his wrist locked in a vice grip the moment he reaches for the purse. One blink of an eye later, he is on the dirty ground, the cold steel of a blade pressed to the hollow of his throat. Glaring down at him is the prettiest creature he has seen in his life.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #stranger things reverse big bang #sol invictus

[haenypages]

A Heart Of Steel

Assassin! Lucerys Velaryon x Targaryen! Reader

Summary: Before the incident, Lucerys and the youngest daughter of Viserys & Alicent were secretly dating. Now he has come to seek revenge upon her, thinking she was the cause of his near death.

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: blood, fluff, angst, minor spoilers of Aegon & Aemond in S2 based on the book

Reader's POV

It was all a misunderstanding. I did not expose nor betray Lucerys' location to Aemond. I have no notion of how he ended up alive and the fact that he joined an assassin guild to learn the ways of killing just to take avenge for himself.

I wept for him everyday thinking that he was dead in the hands of my brother, or rather his dragon until this very moment, after nearly one year in which The Dance of the Dragons has entered into an intense stage.

This is definitely not the Lucerys Velaryon I've known. The sweet dragon prince as if straight out of the folk tales was gone. It was the hour of the wolf. I'm heading back to my bedchamber in the Red Keep when I saw a figure in a shadowy corner, another figure that I reckoned a sentinel lying on the bloodstained floor, motionless. Dead.

The hooded figure slowly approached from the shadow and abruptly I gaped in disbelief, not trusting the face I saw under the hood. "Luke." I whispered, knowing him from his scent and form although his gait has changed from stiff to seemingly nonchalant.

I wanted to run to him, embrace him until I saw a glint of iron in one hand and an impassive face. "What are you doing here?" I involuntarily backed a step. Silence. No response. His slow creeping started to turn into a walk. That's when my mind tells me to flee, so I did what it's told.

"I'm going to kill you, dārilaros (princess)!" he said without preamble. He ran after me. "What why- I don't understand!" Panting heavily, trying to find anyone in the hallway for help while trying to further the gap between Luke. "You knew exactly why! You'd told Aemond that I'm at Storm's End."

Luke acquired a throwing knife from the inside of his boots. It whistled past me, making a gash at my arm, blood trickled from it. I resorted to yelling since there was no one I could see, my sprint slowed gradually and he was increasing.

He's closing our gap! I'm about to veer around another corridor until I feel a hand clasping around my wrist firmly and another clamping over my mouth. My screams were muffled. Without thinking, I bit into the hand that covers my mouth, drawing droplets of blood.

The hand let go, the dagger releasing an audible clunk when it hits the stone floor. Lucerys hissed in frustration. The sound has drawn its attention. Voices! Footsteps! Someone is coming this way!

"HEL-" Lucerys pushed me against the wall, causing me a concussion before I could fully utter the words. Stars were forming. My head, shoulders, and back were in agony. The knife was back in his hands and immediately at my throat, drawing a thin line of blood. I struggled feebly in his grip, feeling helpless. "Please Luke, this is a mistake." I looked into his eyes one last time before the world around me went black.

Luke's POV

She slumped into me after she passed out. I carried the unconscious y/n away with me before the night patrol could investigate what had happened. For the present, they had interrupted my attempt at assassination. I searched for her chamber that we had our fun times together in the past. Seven be damned! Stop dwelling on those memories!

Winding through the familiar corridors, I finally found the quarter I am looking for. I unlatched the door with my nimble fingers, hinges creaking. After I was certain that the door was shut securely, I placed her on the bed. Binding her wrists together at one of the bedposts with hempen ropes and gagging her mouth.

I have made the decision of interrogating her when she's awake, giving her a chance. My current self may be ruthless, but there is still a tidbit of kindness in me that has been cultivated by my family, the family that thought I was dead and mourned for me.

I went to her bookshelf straight away, knowing well this is where her mind often wanders into, as well as mine. She was always intrigued by the stories of the dragonlords of Valyria before the Doom.

She once requested that I read to her more frequently from books and scrolls because she enjoys my Valyrian accent, therefore I did mostly each day just to lull her to sleep with my soothing voice. Unfortunately, that is not happening again. She broke my heart.

I skimmed through the pages, missing the smell of papers and inks. Books are barely seen in the assassin guild since weapons were the only thing we would require. After some more skimming, the groaning from the bed eventually distracted my attention. Immediately, I put the book down on the table. Walking towards her, dagger poised.

She slowly opened her eyes, examining the wounds on her throat and arm as she attempted to break free of the binding before her eyes landed upon mine. For a moment she froze like a frightened animal. My tutor taught me not to trust anyone. Told me that expressions could be a farce for sympathy. So I did not fall for that. But her feelings somehow look true to me.

"Good, you're awake. And no screaming." I took the gag off her and then sat down on the bed beside her. Knife dangerously close to her cheeks, then tracing her cheekbones with an air of disinterest as possible. She gulped.

"So tell me, how does Aemond know of my whereabouts? You're the only Green who knew I'm heading for Storm's End trying to make an alliance on my mother's behalf." I intoned, eyebrows furrowed. She began stammering for a second and eventually calmed down a little. "It was Aemond. Before I had the opportunity to take the parchment from the raven, he took it first." I frowned at her, she averted her gaze, looking at her lap and fidgeting with her fingers. "I should have locked the door. I never thought he'd sneak into my room. I'm so sorry." My heart softened without my mind's consent.

I am still hesitating about the things she confessed to me. It was just words. How could I trust mere words? At the mention of Aemond, my uncertainty was briefly replaced by an inevitable rage. I'd heard that he's come back from the raids at the Riverlands to continue his rule as regent. It was said that after the battle of Rook's Rest, following Aegon's disappearance, Aemond was named as regent of the Seven Kingdoms.

"I'll deal with you later when I finish that kinslayer." I announced, walking to the door. At the same time, I unsheathed the sword at my hip, checking the sharpness. I nodded with satisfaction.

"You can't just leave me here being tied up! You can't find Aemond without my guidance anyways." She pleaded. I stopped abruptly, knowing it was true. I needed her guidance to seek Aemond before dawn. I rolled my eyes and went back to her, loosened the ropes to the bedpost, and gripped both of her wrists, pushing her along as a signal to stride in front of me. Then we were out of the chamber.

Reader's POV

Whenever I walked slowly, Lucerys would thrust the tip of his blade into my back. I winced, not believing he would truly do this to me. I did not hesitate to go to the throne room first. Aemond may be sleeping in his bedchamber at this hour, but he's infatuated with the Iron Throne lately. Luke would stay alert and call for a halt to hide whenever he senses someone was around.

I led him down a series of spiral stairs, out of the holdfast, through a bridge, walking by courtyards, and eventually reaching the building in which the throne room was situated. "There's two sentinels in there guarding the hallway, I hope you're ready." I turned to look at him, expecting to see an anxious face. But instead, he looks prepared for the upcoming predicament. The doors were ajar so we sneaked into it.

Before the guards could take out their swords from the scabbards, Luke hurled a throwing knife into one of them. Hitting him in the ribs. The other one rushed to Luke, their blades collided together making sparks. After a few more exchanges, Luke found a chink in his armour and strike hard and fast. The guard collapsed.

"What is all the commotion?" The double doors to the throne room flew open, revealing my uncle Gwayne Hightower and the other kingsguards. How can Lucerys defeat them! He's doomed. "Uncle!" Walking to him but Lucerys pulled me back, placing me right in front of him while the sword he was holding raised to my throat defensively making me his hostage. Swords were drawn out.

"Sheathe the steel or I'll kill her." Luke said. They all gave each other apprehensive glances before taking a few steps back. But not my uncle who stood at the doorway. "Ah, aren't you Rhaenyra's boy? This is hardly an act of reverence for the princess, lad." The two of them stare intensely at each other until Luke breaks the staring contest. "It would please me if I could see the regent." For my sake, my uncle moved from his spot at the doorway and led us into the room with a high ceiling.

Luke's POV

Aemond was sitting upon the throne, legs dangled from one of its arms. A few of the council members were there discussing important matters with him. The discussion stopped when we arrived. My presence seemed to leave Aemond totally dumbstruck. Good.

"Nephew, did the Seven send you back to me? You should put that pointy thing away from my sister by the way." y/n casted me a side eye. Aemond grinned a mirthless grin, there was no true joy in it. "The gods have sent me back for vengeance, uncle." I said with an emotionless mien. "Ah yes, I hope the skills you've been honing were worthy of a vengeance. How can I assist you, my dear nephew?" Obviously teasing about my skills in arms.

"I demand a court of swords. A fight to the death." Everybody in the room tensed. "What." Aemond's face twitched. y/n shifted in my grasp uncomfortably. "You and me. No one else. If I kill you, you'll die. If you kill me, you'll get y/n." Making my point clear. Aemond stood up from his seat and started pacing back and forth, pretending to be considering my request. He stopped his pacing. "Deal." His head snapped to me, giving me a murderous look.

While he slowly walks down from the dais, away from his precious throne, one of the kingsguard escorted y/n away from me. She gave me a tight squeeze of my hand before I let go of her wrists, unsure what it meant. Good luck? Aemond is too good for you? The others walked away from the center, making space for the fight. We came face to face at the center, staring at each other from opposite sides.

"Any last words?" The regent chuckled. "Go to seven hells." I replied. I heard y/n coughed. Within a dozen heartbeats, Aemond's sword came down from above. I blocked the overhead strike that will likely deeply injure me if I didn't deflect it. After a series of attacks, Aemond scowled. Not expecting that I'm still standing. Smiling, a new surge of energy coursed through my body. I fight my way for vengeance.

Reader's POV

I stand in one corner, witnessing the scene unfolding before me. One is my brother. One is my lover. I didn't want to lose either of them. Lucerys seems to be under control, attacking and counterattacking the whole time. He suddenly slipped into Aemond's guard and a thin line formed at my brother's thigh. Blood dripped from it.

Brother looked up from his injured thigh and started bombarding a whirlwind of attacks toward Luke. Anger rose within him. Luke tried to parry all the blows but one had slashed him across his shoulder, causing him to stagger. Aemond continued his furious assaults without giving Luke a moment of respite. I can see the energy that seems to course through him was gradually seeping away.

Before he can regain his previous confidence, Aemond sliced another cut at his sword arm. He swung his sword desperately at Aemond, trying to do some damage to my brother to no avail. His sword arm was injured. He can't fight. He's faltering. I need to do something.

My brother raised his sword, ready to strike diagonally at Luke. For a second, Luke gripped his sword two-handed, trying to heft it. It lifted, but I know that it won't make it in time to deflect the upcoming blow. I am aware of the amount of force Aemond is building up for that specific attack.

Before the sword landed upon Luke, I hurtled myself towards the fighting ground. I heard my uncle yelling. And then the kingsguards and councilors. My back facing Aemond, the blade came down from above and slashed a long cut across my back. I dropped to one knee and yelped.

Three wounds in one night. Given by two people I love. The boys' eyes widened at the sight. The fighting ceased, Aemond was transfixed by the affliction he caused upon me. "Please, I beg both of you to end this feud." I said. Elsewhere I heard my uncle ordering someone to summon a maester.

The once sweet boy came to me, swords trailing behind him. He dropped to the floor beside me, putting his sword down and arms wrapping around me. "Why?" He said, his eyes brimming with tears, but he forced it not to pour out. "Se ra gaoman syt jorrāelagon (The things I do for love)" I beamed weakly.

Then tears fell from his face, dropping into mine. He pressed his forehead against mine. His curly hair prickled me, but I didn't care much about that. I miss his hugs. I can feel the wetness soaking my back. I can get a whiff of the metallic tang of blood. I am exhausted. I fell asleep in the arms of Lucerys Velaryon.

Epilogue (Reader's POV)

I opened my eyes groggily, looking around my bedchamber. Sunlight filtered through the window filling the room with warmth. Luke sat on the bed. I used my elbow to raise myself into a sitting position, he gave me some assistance. I can feel the bandages wrapped around my torso, probably done by the maester.

We stared at each other for a long moment before he smiled. He smiled! Such a wondrous thing! After that, he gave me a gentle peck on the lips, which I did not expect. A faint blush materialized on my cheeks and he indulged in that.

He told me of Arrax's sacrifice, how he was rescued by a fisher family from the shore, his life after he joined the assassin guild, and how he didn't reacquaint himself with his family and watched them from afar whenever he was at Dragonstone. He does love his family. I listened to him intently.

He told me that he would leave me soon, that this is no place for an assassin. "We could fake my death. I want to be with you, away from war and court intrigues. Kill me." I demanded. Lucerys smirked.

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