#lowkey hate this but oh well :p

[milkbreadtoast]

Sakura Kiss English Lyrics

Was suddenly overcome by nostalgia and in a frenzy wrote my own english lyrics for Sakura Kiss (Ouran HSHC) just now while in the shower MFNSMND it was fun and I'm actually p proud of these... Sharing in case anyone wants to do a cover w these lyrics!!🥹 (pls credit and show me if u do🥺)

I also did a v quick recording (v out of breath😵‍💫) to show how the lyrics match up w the song 🫣 LMAO (i dropped my phone in the beginning KFJSJ)

EDIT: I did a new cover here! A bit less out of breath this time🤧

(raw text under cut)

Sakura Kiss

(milkbreadtoast ver)

KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE (HEY HEY HEY)

I've realized that all this time... you've always been right here with me

But is it hate, or like, or am I going crazy?

If i could look inside my heart

and see my feelings clear as day,

lady or host, it doesn't(/wouldn't) matter either way.

When love comes into our lives,

we dont always know why

but when i look in your eyes...

MAYBE YOU'RE MY LOVE

I want(/need) to see you now

so I can give you a cherry blossom kiss, and if your heartbeat skips then it's love you know!

Tomorrow's far away, let's focus on today

It's just you and me,

and this beautiful spring

is a flower's blooming hour of love!

(HEY HEY) MAYBE YOU'RE MY LOVE!

#ouran high school host club #sakura kiss #ouran hshc #ohshc #english lyrics #english cover #anime cover #lyrics #my lyrics #writing en lyrics for anime songs has actually been a lowkey hobby of mine for yrs lol #im p proud of these tho they work p well w the song and keep the gist of the og jp #and its fun to make the lines rhyme... (esp sneaking in internal rhymes n stuff) #OH BTW i didnt reference any other en cover or ver for this bc i wanted it to be my own ver... #ik there r a lot of other en covers out there (ive only heard the cristina vee ver back in the day #and i remember being unsatisfied w the lyrics bc they didnt match the jp and also didnt make much sense KFJJD sorry #so ive been wanting to write my own for a while... FINALLY SPONTANEOUSLY DID LMAO #o btw i didnt look at/listen to the en dub ver at all JDJSKDJ i hate it so much that i cant stand hearing more than a few secs #ouran #OH BTW (again) I purposely took out 'maiden' from the last line :) #(otome in the jp) #nonbinary moment... #singing #cover

[todayisafridaynight]

I keep seeing those "character without trauma" depictions and they seem like fun but I can't really picture it for most of The Faves... I guess Arakawa would've stayed an actor and Mine would've stayed at his company (or who knows, maybe he would've pursued baseball instead to begin with), but other than that I'm coming up blank...

its hard to imagine traumaless depictions when A Good Portion Of Characteristics are a product of trauma tbf 👁️💋👁️

#snap chats #like even with daigo. sure his trauma might be considerably less severe compared to others #but even still his internalized loneliness and want for an Actual friend is a product of his childhood neglect and surroundings #trauma has a range like that going from things some people might be like 'oh well thats not THAT bad' to like. #walking in on your dad after he was shot 👀💋👀 i mean daigos dad was ALSO shot but at least he didnt have to see it-- #jo might be the hardest to imagine. if thats what you were lowkey alluding to when it came to coming to a blank #at least with mine and arakawa- mine especially- we got to see them Somewhat have a normal life #mine esp like if he just learned to better communicated he wouldnt have a need to join the yakuza right #but with jo we never get even a lick of that #at most he was a construction worker but i mean.. p sure that was more of Needing to do it opposed to naturally going towards it yk #not that construction work is bad of course but we know what im saying its not exactly a lot of people's Top Five occupations #especially at 15 but anyway. im prattlin too long THIS IS WHAT I WAS SAYING DURIN STREAM YESTERDAY LMAO #I BE LIKE 'weh wah my hand hurt i hate typing' and then i type an essay in the tags #literally go outside i hate you <- @me #anyway. i forgot to say in my last bitching post that my mom also nicked my ear so thats fun #so now my ear hurts and theres a skin flap i wanna rip off thats great #ok that was more tmi than usual ima cut it here BYE

[secret-sturniolo]

trouble in paradise - matt sturniolo

-one bed/enemies to lovers trope. CONTAINS SMUT! (1.9k words)

warnings - lowkey asshole!matt, arguing, unprotected p in v (pull out method not recommended), pussy eating, fingering

a/n - will this be my writing comeback?

tillies33ssss

"Y/n, please! We're gonna have so much fun, I promise!"

I was laying in Nick's bed as he desperately tried to convince me to come on this trip. The boys go to Hawaii every year, and this year he wanted me to tag along. Of course I was skeptical. Being stuck on a tropical island for a week with my best friend didn't seem so bad, but when one of his brothers hated me? I wasn't so sure. After a few days of convincing though, I made up my mind. How bad could it be, right?

(time skip - 10pm @ the hotel)

"You're fucking kidding, right?"

While in a particularly good mood, I agreed to room with Matt. At least we would each have our own bed, we didn't even have to talk to each other. Until we scanned the card to unlock our room, revealing the single king bed against the wall.

My heart dropped. "This has to be a sick joke." I say, my eyes wide.

After calling both Nick and Chris and the front desk, it was revealed that there had been a mix up with the reservations. The cherry on top, though? The hotel was fully booked. Not a single extra room was available we could switch to, leaving reality to sink in.

I try to keep a level head, knowing Matt was on edge. I move around the room silently so as not to give him any reason to be angry. I watch as he flops onto the bed.

"Have fun sleeping on the floor." He says, expressionless.

I scoff. "You're not serious, right? There's no way you're making me sleep on the dirty hotel floor."

He relaxes his arms behind his head, closing his eyes. He was clearly ignoring me. I let out a small laugh in disbelief.

"Matt, come on. Now you're just being childish."

He opens his eyes, not moving. "Oh, I'm being childish? You're the one who throws a fit every time something doesn't go your way!" He shoots back at me.

"I didn't come to Hawaii to sleep on the floor!" I say, my frustration growing.

Matt sits up harshly, his eyes boring into mine. "You shouldn't even be here at all!" He yells, his words sharp as a knife.

My jaw drops as I take a step back, surprised by his sudden outburst.

"Why were you even invited on this trip?" he continues. "Seriously, I'd like to know. Because it sure as hell wasn't by me!"

I feel my chest tighten, tears welling in my eyes as he yells. I begin to speak, but he cuts me off.

"Oh, are you gonna cry now?" he taunts. "Grow up."

I clench my jaw, grabbing a room key and my phone as I walk toward the door.

"Let me know when you're done being an asshole." I say before slamming the door behind me.

I wander down the hotel hallways like a labyrinth before finding the elevator. I ride down the the first floor, the lobby was empty as most people were sleeping already. I sign on the wall points to an exit. I follow the path, leading me to a small outdoor spa area. Underwater lights lit up the hot tub, curls of steam rising into the cool night air. I slip off my shoes, sitting on the edge of the tub as my feet dangle into the water.

"What is wrong with me?" I whisper to myself, letting a tear slip from my eye. Was he right, should I really not have come? I think about texting Nick, but I figured he was asleep, tired from the jet-lag. I sit in silence as time slips by, letting my thoughts and doubts spiral.

I open my phone, typing a search into google. The screen displays a list of flights, my eyes scanning down the page. There was one flight tomorrow morning, showing 3 seats left. My finger lowers to tap the purchase button before my phone is swiped out of my hand.

"What?!" I jump, looking up. "Matt? What the fuck are you doing?" I say harshly.

He frowns at my screen. "You're leaving." He says, more of a statement than a question.

I reach for my phone back. "Yeah, I was trying to!" I shoot back, clearly annoyed.

Matt's eyes widen slightly at my serious tone. "You're actually serious?" He still holds my phone away from me.

I stare at him, not trying to hide the hurt on my face. "I thought that's what you wanted."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Look y/n, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

"Then why did you say it if you didn't mean it?"

He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Because I was overwhelmed and tired, and I took it out on whoever happened to be near me."

I sit quietly, not buying his excuse. I hear him sigh as he slips his own shoes off, sitting down next to me.

"Why do you hate me so much?" I blurt out.

I hear him take a deep breath as he tries to collect himself.

"I never hated you, y/n." he pauses. "It's actually kinda the opposite."

I look over at him, confused. "What?"

He kicks the water, sending ripples of small waves into the hot tub.

"You make me feel things I'm scared to feel."

I freeze, wondering if I heard him correctly. "Like what...?" I ask cautiously.

He hesitates for a moment, fidgeting with his fingers. "Like... attraction."

My heart beats faster as I nod slowly, acknowledging his words. My thoughts race, as everything I thought I knew was suddenly changing. He speaks again, nervously.

"It's stupid, I know. I'm just scared that if I let myself feel those things, I'll lose you." He looks down into the water.

I let out a small laugh, grabbing his hand softly as I intertwine our fingers. "I've stuck around this long. I don't think that would change anything."

I watch as he looks down at our hands that rest on his thigh, smiling softly with a small breath of relief.

"I don't want us to hate each other anymore, y/n." He says honestly.

I squeeze his hand. "I don't think we ever did."

A warm blush spreads to his cheeks as he meets my gaze. He leans in closer, pausing briefly to gauge my reaction. I close the gap, our lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss. Our lips seem to fit together like a mold. Matt brings hi hands up to cup my cheek, my own hands resting on his shoulders as we get lost in each other. Desire surges through us before I pull away, my lips slightly parted.

Matt smiles softly, still blushing. " We should probably get out of here, right?" He stands, offering me his hand.

I nod, giggling softly as I take his hand. I let him lead me back through the hotel, up to our room on the third floor. He pulls me into the room, kicking the door shut with his foot. He smiles softly at me before pulling me back in, his lips meeting mine once again, passionate and needy.

His hands wander from my cheeks to my waist, down to my ass, and back up. I sense his desire as I pull away slightly to slide my t-shirt over my head, revealing my simple, black lace bra. His head immediately ducks down, planting wet kisses on my exposed skin. I sigh at the feeling, before urgently tugging at the hem of his own shirt, which was quickly discarded. He tugs down his sweats before walking me backwards to the bed, laying me down gently.

He makes quick work of slipping my shorts down, tossing them away. His eyes rake over my body hungrily.

"God, you're beautiful." He mumbles loud enough for me to hear, causing my cheeks to redden.

He leans over me, his fingers hooked into my underwear. "Can I take these off?" He asks gently.

I nod quickly, desperate for his touch. He pulls them down my legs teasingly slow. I lean up, simultaneously unclasping my bra, leaving me bare before him. His thumb reaches down to rub slow, tentative circles over my clit.

"Matt, please!" I beg, causing him to smirk.

He grabs my legs, sliding my body to the edge of the bed as he brings his mouth down to my core. I feel his hot breath against me as he teasingly kisses my sensitive nub. Using the tip of his tongue, he flicks back and forth, eliciting a soft moan from my lips.

He takes this as a signal to continue, thrusting his tongue into me. He groans as he finally tastes me, sending pleasant vibrations into me. I throw my head back, tangling my fingers in his hair, giving it a tug when it feels especially good.

"Oh, fuck!" I let out a gasp as he suddenly enters a finger into me, thrusting it while he continues to lick my clit.

My legs shake, squeezing against him as my orgasm bubbles in my stomach. I let out a loud moan, a string of curses leaving my mouth as I come undone. Matt continues for a few moments, letting me ride out my high before pulling away, licking his lips with a sly smile. I open my mouth to speak, but his lips are back on mine before I get the chance.

Without breaking the kiss, I feel him reach down to pull his boxers up. I hear a faint slapping sound as his erection hits his stomach. I pull away, looking between us at his dick, dripping pre-cum.

"Do you want this...?" He asks me, seriously.

"More than anything." I reply honestly.

He smiles, sitting back as me pulls my legs once again, letting them rest on his shoulders. I places his hand under my chin.

"Spit."

I give him a confused look, but I quickly oblige as his eyes pierce mine. He uses my spit as a lubricant, slowly stroking his dick as he looks into my eyes.

"Matt..." I urge him.

He nods knowingly, lining himself up with my entrance. He doesn't take his eyes off of mine as he pushes into me, giving me a chance to get used to the stretch. After a few seconds, I give him the okay to move.

His pace starts off slow and sensual, attaching his lips to my neck. Upon my request, he picks up the pace, finding a comfortable rhythm. His forehead rests against mine as he thrusts into me, our lips meeting every once in a while in a quick kiss.

The only sounds leaving our mouths are soft, breathy moans. We didn't need to use words, it was like we could reach each other like a book. Matt changes the angle slightly, causing his tip to hit me in just the right spot.

"Yes, Matt. Right there!" I feel myself getting close once again, my walls squeezing around him.

"Come for me, baby." Matt breathes against my neck.

After a couple more thrusts, my second orgasm comes crashing over me like a wave. Matt isn't far behind me, quickly pulling out and cumming on my stomach with a grunt.

He collapses on top of me, both of us sweaty and tired. After a few minutes, he props himself up on either side of me, smiling down at me in adoration.

"You're incredible." He tells me, causing me to giggle slightly.

"Yeah, we're definitely doing that again."

He kisses me, and in that moment I knew I was right. This was only the beginning.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo angst #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #secret sturniolo

[sunkissed-zegras]

hcs abt paige x reader moving in together after college ? maybe they adopt a pet too omg

- 🪩

𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐌 ─ PB⁵

─ warnings | literally nothing but fluff!!!!!!!!

oh my goddd this is such a cute concept

domestic fluff is literally my fav fucking genre so LETS GOO

after uconn, you guys move into a cute little condo and it's perfect!! (its wherever p gets drafted LOL)

first couple are just the two of you getting adjusted to the new environment and just being together

living together brought you guys so much closer (duh) but like relationship wise as well, you guys got to know each other so much better

you guys realized you just fit together so perfectly, LIKE SO PERFECTLY

you usually cook, paige cleans the dishes, just stuff like that

paige usually wakes up early than you sooo she usually makes breakfast and leaves some in the fridge for you

and paige gets home kinda late too so you make dinner and leave some leftovers in the fridge for her

you guys are hanging out every single weekend, saturdays are hanging out days and then sundays are like date-nights at home

THE GETTING A PET TOGETHER IS SOOO RIGHT!!!!!

paige seems like a dog person but your building doesn't allow them so you settle for an elderly cat

okay now hold on... let me COOK

she absolutely hates the cat at first because it's more drawn to you than her (its her fault tho... she tried playing with it like a dog once and it just hated her after that)

paige will side eye the cat and just ignore it's existence because it hates her but then

you have to leave for a vaca with your girls for a week and leave the cat alone with paige

you were honestly worried for both the cat AND paige cause u weren't sure who would die first

but to your surprise, you came back to them being nicer to each other

paige still insists she hates the cat but slowly she becomes lowkey attached

you know this because one time, she thought it accidentally got out and she FREAKED OUT

turns out it was just hiding under your bed because some friends visited and it was anxious

after that, they become obsessed with each other

you're now the third wheel :( but its okay bc you're glad paige is finally treating the cat like a part of the family

oh and paige is OBSESSED, she posts the cat on her instagram more than she posts you (which is by A LOT, trust me)

she calls it your kid and it just warms your heart

she loves paige just as much tho, she gets separation anxiety when paige is gone and when you facetime her, it can recognize her voice and come up running to see her

she gets her little kitty jerseys and then gets one custom made to say "bueckers" on it

she posts at least 5 pics of it that day HAHAHHAHAHA

anyway, yeah she's a cat mom

idk what else to put for the domestic part but YEAH!

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #wcbb #wcbb x reader #ncaa wbb #ncaaw #wbb x reader #wbb #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic

[palioom]

the chase is better than the catch

summary: after months of playing cat and mouse, Agent Ortega finally catches you when you let your guard down. it makes you admit that you don't quite hate the agent as much as you say you do.

pairing: agent ortega x f!reader word count: 4.7k warnings:18+ content; no use of y/n; lowkey enemies to lovers; finger sucking; lowkey hand/finger kink ngl; rope bondage; fingering; oral (m & f receiving); edging; unprotected p in v; cum eating/cum play

• masterlist •

Special Agent Ortega.

Oh, how she hated hearing that goddamn name.

Hated seeing his annoying, handsome face. With that stupid hat casting most of it into shadows, shielding him from the harsh desert sun.

That fucking dark mustache sitting over his top lip, stretching wide when he shot her a smile. She even hated his cocky smile.

They had crossed paths several times, and she had always managed to evade him so far. Always just a smidge faster than the agent, escaping his leather-clad hands. She loved the chase, loved seeing that twinkle of playful annoyance in his eyes when she escaped him once again.

Maybe she liked it a little too much, her heart beating faster when she heard his name whispered, when she saw his face appear. Sometimes she almost hoped to see him, disappointed when she successfully robbed some people and left on horseback without seeing him.

Well, he had finally gotten her now. 

Slung over the back of his horse, her ankles and wrists tied with rope, secured to the moving animal by even more. 

She had been too slow, too careless. Taking a moment to look out for his face instead of making her exit like she should have.

Because suddenly, his face was right in front of her, flashing her those beautiful teeth with a twinkle in his eyes, holding her arms so tight that his fingertips would leave bruises behind. She could still feel his hands on her arms, warm and rough, calloused from years of work.

Strong like she had expected him to be, the way he had manhandled her excited her just a little too much. 

She had to squeeze her thighs together in hopes of finding some relief, hating the way he had just thrown her prone onto his horse like she weighed nothing. 

But he noticed her squirming, reaching back to give her clothed ass a small smack, laughing at the way she squealed in surprise.

“C’mon, darlin’, stop the squirming.” He said, and she could only imagine the way his cocky smile spread over his face. “One could think you enjoy this a little too much.”

She grunted in response, kicking her bound legs in annoyance. It also helped to play over the fact that she did in fact enjoy this a little too much. There had been a reason she had gotten increasingly more risky over time, unsure if it really was her desperation or stupidity that made her let him catch her.

“Where are you taking me anyways?” She asked, tired from the hot sun burning down on her, happy that it was finally vanishing behind the horizon. Ortega had said as much as not taking her to the nearest cell to let her rot in, at least not in the small town he had caught her in. “I’m tired and thirsty.”

“Told you, you’re much too pretty to rot away in a cell.” Ortega answered, slowing down his horse. They had ridden quite some way, off to wherever he was needed next. “And I do have a proposal for you. Later.”

She was too pretty to put her behind bars, and much too good at what she was doing. He could use someone like her on his little missions, in more ways than one.

Coming to a halt when they had reached an inn at a small settlement, he dismounted the horse, his face appearing in front of her with that big, cocky smile. She really wanted to hate that face of his, but she couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome when this close to her.

“Now look at ya.” He chuckled, grabbing her jaw and pressing his fingers into the soft flesh of her reddened cheeks. She looked even prettier with her face flushed and her hair tousled like that. “Huffin’ and puffin’ with that mean stare of yours but I know there ain’t a place you’d rather be right now.”

It was her turn to laugh, his calloused fingers making her skin burn even hotter as he held her in place.

“There’s plenty of places I’d rather be than here with you.”

He only smiled wider at that, letting go of her jaw to move around the horse, coming to a halt right behind her. His swift hands untied her from the animal before he placed his hands on her hips and yanked her off of it, just as roughly as he had captured her.

Fingers digging into her arms as he pushed her forward and into the inn. It was a shabby little place, but it was better than sleeping outside by a far stretch.

The people stared at them funny when they entered, and even the innkeeper had an odd stare to spare but did not comment on it further. Money was money after all, and as long as this wasn’t about to turn into a murder, he couldn’t care less.

Ortega helped manoeuvre her up the stairs, a long process which wasn’t helped by her constant complaining.

“You know, if you just unbound my feet, this would be so much easier.” She huffed, almost falling over. Her arms hurt, bent behind her at an awkward angle and the rope around her feet started to dig into her skin. “You can’t be that scared of me?”

He hoisted her up the last couple of steps in a less than gentlemanly manner, making her squeal again but finally reach the top of these damned stairs.

“You just want me to untie you so you can take that pretty ass of yours running, sweetheart.” He gave her a pointed look, raising an eyebrow at her before he continued pushing her forward. “Forget it, I finally caught you so I ain’t letting you go again.”

Finally reaching the room, he pushed her down into one of the armchairs standing by the small fireplace. Still not untying her, just looking down at her.

The room was quite small and there was only one bed. She didn’t quite know if she liked that or not.

“You stay here, I’m getting us some food.” He announced, turning around to leave her alone.

Oh, how she hated him. But she couldn’t deny that something about the way he had manhandled her had made her feel much hotter than the sun ever could. Becoming painfully aware of the throbbing need in between her thighs, wanting so bad to hate the man but being unable to.

She didn’t need anyone, no less a man as cocky and arrogant as he was. So why the fuck could her body not stop when he was around?

The thrill had been the game of cat and mouse they had played, always putting her excitement on that alone. Not Ortega himself.

God damnit, she didn’t even know his first name.

It took a while for him to come back, a tray of two bowls of stew and two golden beers in hand. He placed it down on the small table in front of the fireplace before he sat down himself, finally taking that stupid hat of his off. Revealing those dark brown locks, slicked back by sweat.

It almost made him look more handsome, her mind conjuring up images of how sweaty he would look while fucking into her on that small bed over there.

A thought she was shaking away quickly, watching as he took a big gulp of the ale before taking his bowl and a spoon.

“And how am I supposed to eat?” She asked, squirming in her seat, her arms still aching. “I can’t possibly eat with my arms tied behind my back, can I?”

Ortega looked over at her, taking a bite from his spoon. Almost provocatively, like he wanted to annoy her with the fact that he could eat, unlike her.

“I’m not untying you, darlin’.” He said, taking yet another bite with a grin. “And I ain’t lettin’ you handle a spoon either, I know you’re mighty talented.”

She rolled her eyes, leaning back into the chair with a slight wince. What a bastard.

“Great, so I’m starving then? Looking at this stew right here?”

He chuckled, only half annoyed by her whiny voice. Putting his bowl down again, he took another sip of his beer before scooting closer to her, close enough that their knees were touching.

“Quit your whinin’, woman.” He responded, taking her bowl and her spoon.

She immediately knew what he wanted to do, groaning and pulling at her ties. 

Absolutely not.

“You are not feeding me.”

A laugh left him. If she had been anyone but the woman he had tried to catch for the better part of a year now, the one who had mesmerized him from the very first moment he had seen her pretty face, he already would have smacked her. But somehow he enjoyed her back and forth and her whines and grunts.

He wondered if she sounded the same while a cock was buried deep inside of her pussy.

“Look, sweetheart. Either I feed you,” Ortega said, holding up the spoon full of hot stew, “or you go without. Your choice.”

She narrowed her eyes at him for a few moments in an attempt to intimidate him, but seeing that it had no effect made her sigh.

“Fuck you.” She mumbled quietly. This was humiliating, but did she have another choice here? “Alright.”

Leaning forward a little, she awkwardly slurped the stew off of the spoon, avoiding to look at his face. It was good, as good as it could be out here in the middle of the desert, but she’s certainly had worse.

She could see his smirk in the periphery of her vision, and somehow she just knew this whole thing was less about being afraid that she could do something while untied. It was more that he enjoyed this, though she wasn’t entirely sure in which way.

He kept feeding her more, spoon after spoon, all while he could only stare at her pretty lips as she ate. So mesmerized by them, that at some point, he held the spoon just a little too weird, spilling some stew down her chin and onto her white blouse, now a little dirty from the sand of the desert.

“Be careful!” She scolded, glad that the stew wasn’t as hot anymore, licking her bottom lip as he placed the bowl down.

Without much thinking, he swiped a finger over her chin, gathering the soup that had spilled. Slowly moving up to her lips, swiping the rough pad over the soft swell of them. He hadn't expected her tongue to dart out, her eyes meeting his dark ones as she slowly sucked the finger into her mouth. 

Tasting the salt of the soup along with the dirt still lingering in the grooves of the fingerpad, sucking on it and caressing it with her tongue. Ortega’s breath hitched in his throat.

Surely this was a fever dream. He had been out in the sun for too long.

It was the softness of the motion which surprised her, leaning forward to take more into her mouth, down to the second knuckle while he watched. She couldn’t really deny her attraction to him anymore, though she enjoyed the banter between them.

Snapping out of his trance, he added a second finger with a small smirk that quickly spread wide as she greedily sucked that into her mouth with a hum as well.

“See, knew you were enjoyin' yourself a little too much on the back of my horse.” He chuckled quietly, pressing onto her tongue and making her hum again. The way she sucked on them, bobbing her head up and down until they were almost at the back of her throat, it made his dick twitch in his way too tight pants.

Pumping them in and out in time with the motions of her head, watching the saliva pool at the corners of her mouth. She looked so damn pretty with her lips around his fingers, her lids heavy as she looked at him.

He had half a mind to suspect this was nothing more than an attempt to escape, making him drunk on her before she could run, but he chose to enjoy this. 

“You’re so filthy, sweetheart.” Ortega said, massaging her tongue, thrusting in and out of her mouth at a quicker pace. Wishing that was his dick instead of his fingers. “Bet you suck dick that well too, yeah? Or are ya just tryin’ to escape?”

Removing his fingers from her mouth, she barely had the time to whimper in protest before his lips found hers, rough and demanding, the hair of his mustache tickling her skin. Just like she had thought he would be, her arms fighting against the restraints in an attempt to touch him, wanting to run her fingers through his hair and open his shirt and vest.

She could taste the ale on his tongue, moaning quietly as his fingers slipped down and to her belt buckle. Too slippery from her saliva, he struggled to open her pants for a moment, before finally being able to let his hand slip in, swiftly finding her clit and applying pressure.

The sharp gasp that left her lips made her part from him, her hips bucking into his touch, chasing his rough, thick fingers.

“Fuck, oh God.”

He loved hearing her swear, watching her struggle against the restraints while her face contorted in pleasure. Biting her bottom lip, eyes screwed shut.

Fuck, was he happy to have finally caught her.

But he needed more than that, needed more than her weeping cunt rubbing against his fingers, he wanted to taste her. Fuck his tongue deep inside of her, have her gasp and moan for him while he lapped at her.

The fact that she was still all tied up and helpless made all of this even better. Not that he would ever exploit this moment.

Sinking to his knees in the small space between her and the table, he reluctantly removed his hand from her wet heat, taking in her annoyed grunt. Instead he slowly pulled her pants down her legs, revealing the soft curls he had felt, her glistening folds as she tried to part her legs further.

She hoped he would untie her now, annoyed by the rope digging into her ankles but also needing to spread her legs wide open for him. Needing his hot tongue on her aching pussy. Watching in awe how he knelt before her, her pants around her ankles before he lifted her legs and moved in the space between them with a grin. 

Resting them on his broad shoulders, she tried to open them just a little further but found it difficult with how she was bound. She shifted lower, closer to the heat of his mouth, trying to draw him in as she grew impatient.

Ortega only grinned wider, liking how she struggled and opened herself up for him. He wished he could tease her more, but after so many months of chasing her around he just couldn’t wait any longer.

Bowing his head, he groaned as he licked a broad stripe up her folds, enjoying her quiet moan when the tip of his tongue flicked over her clit. He noticed how she desperately tried to open herself even more, the vibrations of his noises as he began sucking on her clit only spurring her on.

“Like that, yes.” She whispered as quietly as she could, her words hitching on her breath. Her hips bucked into his mouth, chasing more friction as he ate her out like a man starved, his arms wrapping around her legs to keep her still and prevent her from sliding off the chair.

Tasting as sweet as he had imagined it so many times, fucking his own fist while thinking about his tongue buried deep inside of her.

When he moved lower, sliding it into her wet and aching hole, she couldn’t stop the loud gasp that left her, her back arching uncomfortably with the way she was tied up still.

He was good. More than that, he knew exactly what he was doing, lapping and slurping at her, the obscene sounds bouncing off the walls around them.

With her crest in sight, so damn near, she closed her eyes, swearing as she got closer and closer.

Teetering right on the edge. 

Then he was gone, her heels digging into his back as his mouth left her. When she opened her eyes she found him grinning up at her, looking like the devil himself. Chin and thick mustache wet with her, his eyes darker than usual.

“Fuck, Ortega-” She panted, greedily drawing air back into her lungs, cutting herself off when his fingers dug into her exposed thighs harder.

“You think I’ll make this easy for you, darlin’?” He asked, still smiling wide. “After you escaped me again and again?”

Her face fell at the realization what he meant. What he planned to do, whining in frustration.

His mouth found her pussy again, mumbling into her while she once again was drawn close to the edge.

“I’ll leave you hanging like you left me hanging all those times you ran away from me.” He said, voice muffled by her dripping pussy. Doubling his efforts, his teeth just lightly grazing over the sensitive bundle of nerves right until she teetered at the edge again.

Gone again.

That whine of protest she let out was music to his ears, only adding to the feast between her legs. He imagined her grabbing at his hair now if he untied her, her arms moving behind her in vain.

“Ortega, please.” She cried, that sweet sensation ebbing away once more, just needing relief. Trying to coax him forward with her legs somehow, wishing he would just take the rope off of her so she could move. “Please, I need it.”

He chuckled, one of his hands leaving her thigh to spread her puffy lips open, revealing the wet mess between them. Dragging his thumb just lightly over her swollen clit, she flinched, a jolt going through her at the ghosting touch.

It only made him laugh, dragging them lower and pushing two fingers inside of her, watching her eyes roll back before she closed them, biting her lip to keep the throaty sounds at bay.

“You sound so pretty when you beg, sweetheart.” How pretty she looked like this, and she hadn’t even had his cock yet. Ortega pumped his fingers in and out of her for a bit before he added his tongue to the mix, once again drawing her to the edge before moving away.

Over and over, getting her right to the brink of it all before he let her fall, hearing her sob and whine and moan, her legs trembling against his cheeks.

“Now you know what it felt like to have you slip away, darlin’.” He groaned, his own cock painfully hard in his pants, needing her tight heat around him. Gripping him like she gripped his fingers, sucking him in deeper. “Did you count? This is how many times you escaped me, you sly thing.”

He was going to kill her with this, she was sure. So sensitive and strung tight, the sounds of his fingers inside of her growing more and more obscene by the minute. She couldn’t do much more than babble his name, drunk off of him, her head in the clouds.

“But I finally got you, and I think you deserve a treat, hermosa.”

Oh God.

That was the only thought inside of her head as her orgasm crashed into her, thighs clamping shut around his head while she shook and covered him in her release. It bordered on pain with how it surged through her, her muscles all over her body spasming from the intense feeling.

But he didn’t let up, only groaning as he lapped up everything she gave him, only pulling back when he felt like he’s had enough, long after she had stilled again.

When he slipped out from between her legs, he found her with her eyes closed, lips slightly parted as she gained her breath once more. Such a wonderful image, and it was all because of him.

Reaching for the rope around her ankles, he swiftly untied her, her eyes flying open at the motion. He tugged down her pants as well after taking her shoes off, discarding them to the side.

It was freeing to finally be rid of them, to be able to move her legs again. But she didn’t have much time to marvel at the freedom of her limbs as he already stood up, giving her a brief but good view of the sizable tent in his pants before he pulled her up and dragged her over to the bed.

Just as gentle as he had been before he had devoured her pussy, pushing her down onto it.

She watched as he opened his belt quickly, making swift work on the button of his pants as well. Her mouth watered at the thought of seeing his dick, eyes fixed on the outline of it straining against his pants.

He found it adorable, the way she hungered after him, practically lunging at it once he had wrestled his clothes out of the way, her lips wrapping around the head.

“Fuck, you’re eager.” He groaned, his hand resting at the back of her head, watching how she bobbed up and down, taking more of him while spit pooled at the corners of her lips. “Can’t believe you kept running away from me.”

Entranced by her, he let her continue for a bit, hearing and feeling her moans around him. So damn eager, clearly enjoying this more than she thought she would.

But he didn’t want to cum in her mouth, as pretty as that thought was. To see her with his cum pooled on her warm tongue. He needed her pretty pussy, reluctantly pulling her off of him by her hair.

Her eyes were glazed over as she looked up at him, spit running down her chin and dripping onto her heaving chest. Like in his dreams sometimes, when he imagined fucking her throat until she cried.

Another time.

Bending down, he swiftly untied her arms, still holding her hair in his grip, guiding her down to lay on the bed. She barely had time to move her hands before he climbed on top of her, kneeling in between her spread thighs and taking both of her hands into one of his big ones, pinning them onto the bed over her head. His grip was strong, his fingers wrapping around both of her wrists as she squirmed below him.

Spreading her legs further, he simply couldn’t wait much longer, taking himself in one hand and lining himself up before sinking into her tight heat. Ortega’s groan mingled with her drawn out whine, her back arching up and into him, humming at the delicious stretch of him.

If she had known he was this well equipped, she certainly would have stopped running from him a while ago. Filling places inside of her that she didn’t know could be filled as he sank in all the way.

“You’re so tame with a cock inside of you, sweetheart.” Ortega groaned, setting a harsh rhythm right from the beginning. Pounding into her while he kept her pinned down, bending his head to kiss along her neck and jaw. He just couldn’t hold back, needing her tight pussy strangling his dick. “Who would’ve known that’s all it took.”

She simply hummed, her eyes rolling to the back of her head before she closed them. Trying to fight against his hand on her wrists but unable to move his heavy wright off of them, wanting to touch and explore his body.

“Feels good, Ortega.” She whined, gasping when he sucked a bruise into her neck. “Oh, fuck-”

He laughed, biting the place he had sucked on gently.

“Somethin' to remind you of who caught you, darlin’.” Ortega groaned, now back on her lips and biting at her lower one. “To remind you whose cock you’re gonna cum all over.”

A powerful thrust accompanied his words, pushing her up higher on the bed, her cry muffled by his mouth. He couldn’t care less what everyone else thought of the wet, slapping noises coming from their room, but he didn’t want to alert anyone with how vocal she was.

He could tell she was close, clenching around him tightly, her body wild beneath his.

“C’mon, pretty girl.” He grunted, moving his knees so he could change the angle of his thrusts, chasing his own high. His hand clamped over her mouth as her noises became louder again, his lips finding the shell of her ear instead. “Show me who owns you and your sweet pussy, hermosa.”

Her body trembled as she came, his name on her tongue muffled by his strong hand, the other still tightly pinning her down. Feeling overly sensitive from her earlier orgasm, his little grunts and groans helping her through it all as he kept fucking into her, close to his own peak.

Just before his own orgasm, the overwhelming urge to paint her body with his cum took over his brain, needing to see the white ropes over her pussy and her belly, needing to see that he finally caught her.

He had half a mind to pull out, groaning deeply as he emptied himself over her, rubbing his dick in between her swollen lips, his cum shooting over her belly just like he had imagined it. Watching as streak after streak covered her, before it trickled down into the hair on her mound.

So beautiful like this and all his. It was him who caught her, who had buried his dick inside of her.

Slowly he took his hand away from her mouth, hearing her heavy breaths, her eyes slowly peering open to look at him. She could feel his cum on her, tilting her head down as well as she could to see the mess.

She couldn’t suppress the moan that left her, the sight of his dick still engulfed by her pussy and her covered in his cum.

“My God, Ortega.” She laughed, watching as he swiped his finger through it and brought it up to her lips. 

He let it vanish between her pretty lips, humming at the way she sucked on it again, her big eyes fixed on his. 

“What a dirty girl you are.”

Pulling his finger out again while he grinned like the devil himself, he rolled off of her, catching his own breath as he laid next to her. He let go of her hands, now sure that she wouldn’t try to escape.

And she was glad, moving her arms after they had been bound into one position for so long. Instead of the ropes on her wrists she could now still feel his hand on them, the thought of how huge his hand was letting her press her legs together.

It didn’t take long for a soft snoring to appear next to her, making her giggle quietly. Surprised it just took some pussy to knock him out like that.

To make him lower his guard.

Oh, what a mistake that was.

When he woke in the early morning, golden sunlight streaming into the room through the dusty curtains, he found himself without his gun and without his horse. Most importantly, he found himself without a body next to his.

All he found was a small piece of paper on the table in front of the fireplace, unable to bite down a chuckle as his eyes flew over the pretty cursive letters.

Hello, cowboy.

You’ll have your horse and your gun when you catch me again, Agent Ortega.

I hope that you are faster to do so this time around.

Instead of her name, she simply left a stain in the shapes of her lips, right at the bottom corner.

Ortega couldn’t wait to catch her again, folding the paper and keeping it safe in the breast pocket of his jacket.

No, he would definitely not be as slow as before.

He would make sure of that.

#agent ortega #the sixth gun #special agent ortega #agent ortega x reader #agent ortega smut #special agent ortega x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fandom #fan fic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Dead Friend Forever: Ep. 5

I want to talk briefly about today’s episode of Dead Friend Forever and how smart I think it is being as we had towards the midpoint of the show. I was worried that 12 episodes was going to be too long for a slasher show, and that still could be the case, however episode 5 and from teh looks of it episode 6 are backstory focused, allowing for some breathing room from the murder and chaos that is currently occuring. 

An I for one think they are being really smart with it. I love how we have spent four episodes knowing very little information about the characters, we know something happened, we have every reason to be suspicious of everyone, but we have spent four episodes being allowed to establish our own impressions and relationships with each character. I have always hated Top (but attribute quite a lot of that towards not liking the actor), I liked Fluked in the first episode, and then he started turning creepy. I love White, Por has seemed like a rich asshole from the beginning, and I have been suspicious of but ultimately been enjoying and lowkey rooting for Tee primarily because of his relationship with White. 

But now I hate him. Oh I hate him so much. I had to sit here for an hour watching all of these boys, but especially Por, Top, and Tee exploit the fuck out of Non. Tee set Non up to make it look like he broke the camera and then preyed on Non’s poverty to rope him in to the money laundering(?) scheme. Which actually….this is probably cause I just listened to the ‘Tens and Chops’ episode of The Conversation and was reminded of the absolute target that was the abandoned opportunity to discuss class disparities…but Dead Friend Forever seems to be taking the consequences of fucking with poor people for your own amusement. 

Por, Top, and Tee exploit Non’s desire to join an in-group, and work him to the bone writing and re-writing, and re-writing, and re-writing, and re-writing the script, probably overusing his medication, getting no sleep, absolutely exhausting himself, and then the second they have what they need out of him, they are back to treating him like shit, leaving Jin to bridge the kindness gap and Fluke to remain quiet. Top breaks the camera, and Tee comes up with the plan to frame Non for it. 

And it’s the thing I found interesting because we haven’t fully figured out why the boys hate Non so much, we can assume it’s just that they found a poor person to pick on, based on the nickname that he has. But Tee seems, to me, to have some additional layer of feeling on top of his general group think. Now, I found it interesting that Por is holding Non responsible for the damage to his camera, and demanding 200,000 bhat from Non an impossibly high sum of money for Non and his family and a stressor so large that Non almost kills himself over it. But Por isn’t actually the person the most directly responsible for causing that level of emotional distress, because Top and Tee set up the situation in the first place so Por wouldn’t find out that Top broke it. 

And Tee goes an additional step further, in his own desperation to maintain a steady cash flow for himself from his uncle, by exploiting the situation he caused with Non to get him to open a bank account that will assist Tee and his family in continuing their illegal business operations. Por is a rich asshole, Top is just an asshole, but Tee? Tee is a calculated asshole. I love what they are setting up with Fluke as well, because he saw Top break the camera, and was told to keep his mouth shut. He knows how unfair this entire situation is, he sees how distressed Non is, you know based on the fact that he literally flicks Top off because he doesn’t agree with what Top and Tee are doing, but he does not speak up. If Non had killed himself that evening, Fluke’s silence would have made him just as much of a contributor to the situation as Tee and Top for setting it up. 

And from my perspective, it looks like they are setting up a potential predatory plotline between the evening tutoring teacher and Non. And if that were to be seen through, it would be Por, whose desire to control every aspect of Non’s life while he worked on the script, who would have some culpability of putting Non in to the situation, considering he paid for Non to attend the classes. I have not gone back yet, but I do plan to do so, to watch Episode 1 with the new information and insight I have in to these characters from today’s episode. But I know @ginnymoonbeam has actually gone back to watch the first episode and found the dynamics between characters so much more distinct with the new information. I love  that. I love that this show is setting up a situation where there is something important to be gained from rewatching the show. I have no idea if this show will stick the landing, I still am not quite sure how they are going to swing 7 more episodes of it, I think the writing could be stronger. BUT so far they have structured their show and especially today’s episode very wisely.

Anyway, props to this show for making me change my min in a single episode because now I am sitting happily aboard the Fuck Them Kids train. Murder that og friend group with an axe. Let Por bleed out from the tree branch. Let Top get possessed. Don't care, they deserve it.

#dead friend forever #dff #dff ep 5 #the writing and some of the acting could certainly be stronger #and I am worried about the sustainability of this show for 12 episodes #but. #I think they have placed their episodes well so far #i look forward to miserable and painful deaths for Top and Tee

[houseofhyde]

Hello there amazing writer 🙋🏻‍♀️! I hope you are feeling well and are finding the fandom pleasant 🤗.

I thought I'd share an idea that's been festering in my head if you'd like to give it a try (but first allow me to commend your sharply pellucid guidelines for requesting, you have seriously inspired me to refine my own 🥂)

I was thinking of something where Daemon has been chasing a noblewoman, interest kindled by her prideful rejection to become his latest muse; then one night she goes to his chamber, dejected and teary, indignantly asking for company. Then something like the beach scene from Drfitmark where he's far gentler than he thought he would be.

Thank you for hearing me out, have a lovely day 💐

but only for tonight.

pairing. daemon targaryen x fem!reader. synopsis. to most, the rogue prince is an untamable beast, with the fury of a thousand men and mind more stubborn than a mule. to you, he's a nuisance in expensive clothing, prone to run away with his tail tucked between his legs each time you reassure him you're still not interested in entertaining his company. till disaster strikes and the only corner of the keep your legs seem to carry you is his chamber doors. warnings. young!daemon (early 20s), enemies to lovers to strangers, kinda softer than usual daemon (he's young and not completely cynical yet), smut (porn with plot, p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, daemon lowkey has a praise kink, dubcon bc daemon is high on life aka the milk of the poppy). word count. 13.1k (this was only meant to be 5k max 🧍‍♂️) hyde's input. thank you so much to @nyctophilic0vitnir for your kind words, your request, and, most importantly, your patience <3 this took me far too long to write and i hope the wait was worth it for you. it pains me to age daemon down (as, personally, i'm a toxic bitch that loves to see daemon be notably older than the reader, since i feel it adds that extra layer of questionable morality to his character and his actions) but it was the only way i felt i could stay true to my personal characterisation of him whilst sticking to the original request. since i view daemon as someone hardened by things in life that only come with age (which, in turn, affects his approach to love/courting), it only felt believable to me that he'd chase after someone in his younger days. obviously not everyone has to agree since, again, this is my personal characterisation of him! i'm rambling so i'll shut up now, enjoy! read on ao3 !

between the blinding shine of the sun and the hateful looks from the ladies seated all around you, you’re shocked to the core that you’ve yet to melt away into nothingness.

the scene is as follows: an arena surrounded by crowds filled with cheering lords and fawning ladies, dressed in their finest of robes and garbs, and with their mouths opened to yell out each time sticks collide or a rider is thrown from his horse; within the arena stand two horses- one so white it offends the eyes and the other blacker than a night’s sky- and, upon their saddles, two men. the first is a man of honour, regal of house and true of heart. he sits like royalty and smiles like a dashing knight, urging his mount towards the stands, no doubt awaiting the gift of the flowered wreath you’d kept yourself awake into the small hours to make. the other man? a fool made of over-the-top armor, a glistening of dark metals and a feathered helmet that, combined with the smug look he sports, has the same effect as simply writing cunt across his forehead.

it is, to your own displeasure, that the second man is who holds his lance out to you first.

“well,” that cocky tone of voice grates you, like the screech of a crying babe, and you fight back the urge to cover your ears, if only by reminding yourself of how his crown-bearing brother is watching from his own seat amongst the crowd. “get on with it.”

“oh, my!” the women in your vicinity swoon, as if the man has just recited a poem of utmost beauty and grace in your direction.

seemingly foolish? most definitely.

but, truly foolish? not one bit, each of them strategic in their behaviour towards the unwed prince, hopeful that someday, should they work hard enough, they’ll be on the receiving end both of his affection and wealth.

you can not mock them- wholeheartedly, at least- for you would be behaving the very same were he any other prince.

“lady cantebury, if you’ll excuse me, i suddenly feel my lunch coming back up.” though you address the woman to the left of you- who, quite frankly, you’ve been ignoring for the better half of the tournament- your words and feigned smile are directed to the man of your ire.

“yes, excuse her, lady cantebitchy,” despite the prince- purposefully, you assume- misspeaking her name, she seems a little too excited that he’s taken notice of her to care. “it takes those northerners a while to adjust to eating something other than half-frozen crops. three moons south and my lady has yet to get used to it.”

“your lady?” you scoff, and quickly scowl, cursing yourself for giving him what he wants: your attention. too late now, you challenge him and lean forward against the railings. “is she with us now, this lady of yours? i should like to pay my respects to her no-doubt deceased sanity.”

“it pains me deeply when you speak so dully of yourself, my lady.” the gaul of this man! to speak such words, to mimic affectionate sentiments and pains in his heart through the clutching of his chest!

and, to make matters worse, to put on this act before the very man you’ve been courting!

the tyrell boy is smiling when your eyes finds his own, but the grip he has on the reigns of the white horse speaks true to the anger that hides beneath the petal-covered surface. you return his smile, and ignore whatever the prince mutters under his breath (something adjacent to greeting that priss of a man, with words more foul and tone heavy on the disgust).

aiming to beckon over the man who should truly receive the gift of your favour, a faint tug on the skirts of your summer’s gown derail your line of thoughts. first, you look to your left, accusing eyes looking upon lady canteburry as if to say she was the one to call for your attention. another tug has your head darting to the right, and there you see her.

the princess is small, in age and height and all else, but she makes up for what she lacks with her overgrown personality and swollen confidence. she’s merely a girl of six, yet she stands as tall as her stature allows, head tilted up to look you in the eye.

“my uncle,” little rhaenyra’s words echo for all to hear, silencing even the most brutishly rude lords as all stand to listen to her sweet voice. “he wants your favour. i think he’s just nervous and forgot to ask for it.”

the last of her words are whispered, loud enough for several women and the prince himself to hear. you shoot him a look as you both scoff over a laugh, him with indiganance and you with disbelief.

blessed be the hearts of children, too pure to know the wrongs of man.

“is that so, princess?” the girl’s nose wrinkles, a sign of her distaste towards hearing you address her by title (“i can not call you ‘nyra in public, sweet child.” you’d told her many a times, hands brushing over her pale hair or accompanying her through strolls in the gardens or helping her escape the boring hours of needle work. “you are a princess, and as one of your ladies it is my duty to address you as such.”)

the girl nods and you spy the way her hair is slowly slipping out of its braid. the actions serves as a reminder, to not just yourself but the gathered crowd of women, of the unfair yet captivating traits of the dragon-riders. fair hair, lilac eyes, unblemished skin.

he wears them differently to the rest of his house.

“listen to the child,” he speaks as if on queue, in tune with your thoughts. “she’s wiser than most her age.”

“unlike you.” you believe yourself to mutter beneath your breath.

the stifled laughter of the queen herself, aemma targaryen, tells you otherwise.

“ao jorrāelagon naejot sagon tolī sȳz, kepus!” you need to be more kind, uncle! another part of the targaryen culture you’ve grown to envy as much as you distaste: their ancestral tongue. which the princess has been improving upon with each passing day since your arrival at the capital, adding yet another person to your list of targaryens who insist on speaking it around you, with no regard to the fact you have no clue of what words they speak. if anything, the prince seems to enjoy it when you storm off, antagonised to the point of despair by his incomprehensible ramblings in his mother tongue. “iā hembar jēda kesan daor tepagon se dohaeragon ao jaelagon naejot gain se riña’s prūmia lēda.” or next time i will not give the help you wish to gain the lady’s heart with.

whatever she says, it’s enough to irritate the prince, if the roll of his eyes are anything go by.

“lykemagon, riña, iā kesan daor nārhēdegon naejot ȳdragon hen aōha bantis zaldrīzes kipagon naejot aōha kepa.” silence, child, or i will not forget to speak of your nightly dragon rides to your father. you may not speak the language, but you’re fluent in context, and so there’s no doubt in your mind that the two are exchanging threats, each wearing that signature look of stubborn challenging you’re more than certain the king grew to despise the moment he realised he’d no longer just face it from his own brother, but his precious daughter too.

when the moment passes, the princess is facing you again, sticky hands plucking upwards to grab onto whatever part of you she can reach and guide you- shove you, if she were stronger than her age allows- closer to the knight in offensive armour.

“uncle, tell the lady what you desire.” the gods were cruel when they chose to favour men over women, tearing away the chance of this poised young girl of ever ruling upon the iron throne, for not even the strongest of men- nor the most foolish, either- would dare to speak to the rogue prince in such a demanding tone.

“to be drowning in whores and wine.” you’re too slow to cover rhaenyra’s ears from the man’s offensive wording.

you suppose she’s heard far worse.

“uncle!”

“fine, fine,” a clearing of a throat, a straightening of a spine and a lunge of a jousting stick in your direction. the horse he sits upon canters a few steps closer and releases the heavy sigh you wish you could. “my lady,” there’s a point to be made with how your eyes drift anywhere but his own as he speaks such blasphemy, a silent scream that you are most definitely, not under any circumstances nor at any point in time, his lady. you’re barely a tolerant of the man! “would you do me the honour of gifting me with your favour, so that i may wear it on the handle of my lance as i shove the other end up this pretty boy’s arse?”

there’s a cacophony of laughter, prompted only after the king himself fails to contain a burst of belly-born rumbles, and then the sweet interjection of ‘nyra once more, voice whiny in a way that reminds you you’ve been cursed with your moonsblood for longer than she’s been alive- even despite your supposed late blossoming!

“kepus! konir sagon daor skorkydoso īlon kȳvanon syt ao epagon zirȳla!” uncle! that is not how we planned for you to ask her!

the prince ignores his niece, eyes spying only upon you and your unimpressed, unmoving, unchanging facial expressions. the frowning lips, the pinched brows, the disdain in your eyes are all marks of something that would- should- send any other man running for the hills, in pursuit of some other lady.

in daemon, it is the pilar of his desire.

“are you going to make me wait all evening?” the teasing smirk and the raise of an eyebrow have become the prince’s signature look around you, from the moment you’d stumbled upon him, hands tangled up the skirts of a serving girl and lips stained in the bloodied red of southern wine. “because i must admit, while i’m not against performing in front of a crowd, i’d rather hoped our first evening together would be a little more intimate than this.”

you bite the insides of your cheek with a force you hope is strong enough to rid you of that grating feeling roused by none other than your greatest enemy: the prince.

by all means, you want to deny him, send him off to pester some other lady for her favour- of which you’re sure he’ll stumble upon an abudance of them who receive him more willingly than you. the crown of pointed thorns and decaying petals and twisted vines is one you’d intended to gift to the rose boy, not the dragon prince.

yet rhaenyra’s little hands and excited smile convinces you to go against your better judgement.

the crowd bursts back to life with cheers and applause as you drop your wreath down the expanse of his lance.

“cherish it, prince daemon,” you call over the crowd, voice drowning out in the masses yet reaching its intended, daemon’s eyes delighting with the attention you give him. “for i just forfeited my chance to be named queen of love and beauty.”

hours later, when the moon sits atop the sky and the king’s guests have had their fair share of feast and drink, you brush off yet another congratulations.

“to our queen of love and beauty!” they cheer, cups to the sky and smiles made of mockery. “our prince sure did pick a fine lady.”

to roll your eyes is your only hope to halt yourselves from chastising the garish men and their claims, a whole rant to throw at them off the cuff of how the only thing their prince has done is place a scarlet letter upon you and slice a dagger through the already fragile relationship you’ve spent your recent days crafting with the stone-faced lady tyrell, who’s spent the past hours staring you down from across the hall and whispering every so often to her husband.

the hand in your own- smaller and distinctly sticky in a way only a child’s hand ever seems to be- tugs and squeezes you along, venturing deeper into the pit of dancing bods, the tuffs of blonde and the poofs of red the only part of the princess you manage to make out as she guides you.

she stops, eventually, when she finds a spot she deems spacious enough and- unbeknownst to you- in the perfect line of view for all that sit the royal table, be they a king, or a queen, or a prince, to witness you both joining in dance, a unique pair among the many couples.

“you know,” the girl ponders alloud, a cheeky grin on her face as her small frame easily twirls beneath your raised arm. “if you married my uncle, you and i would be family.”

“is that so, huh?” she must count her blessings that she remains a child, for were she any older to know better, she’d be tasting the wrath delivered upon any other who’d dare insinuate- much less so boldly propose the idea of- the unification of yourself and the rogue prince. “are you sure you’d be able to handle me as your evil aunt?”

the young girl nods enthusiastically, a silly grin decorating her features and forcing one on to your own down-trodden face, something so infectious in her smile.

when you’d first met the princess, you’d been certain that you’d never warm to her. it wasn’t that she was spoiled or particularly difficult but, rather, you’d never had a child around back home. moving to the capital- under the guise of becoming a lady in waiting to the little princess while truly being an excuse for your father to find you a husband- you’d been unsure what to expect once you arrived. your friendship with the dragon princess was a happy accident.

an accident that’s made adjusting to the capital far easier, sure, but an accident nonetheless.

“uncle!” her recent interest in your courting life and the need to intertwine it with your arch-nemesis’, however, has you rethinking this friendship.

the princess is the one to let go first, ducking out of your hold to crash straight into the prince’s leg, attaching herself onto it like a leech sticks to the skin of a dying man. daemon, seemingly engaged in conversation- with a girl you believe to be part of the lannister house- prior to the appearance of rhaenyra, dismisses the company in favour of his niece, hand clasping itself upon the top of her head and giving several scuffs, messing her hair till it stands in all directions.

and, be it the copious drinks or the immature she-devil who harbours within the depths of your soul, you condemn yourself to approaching the prince.

“stop that!” the words are a hiss as your hands shove away his own and work at smoothing back down the strands of pale blonde. “it took me near an hour to get her to sit still for me while i done her hair, and now you’ve gone and messed my work!”

“then do better next time, perhaps tie it more securely.” never has daemon targaryen had a face so worthy of a slap.

but, as slapping the king’s brother would likely land you straight in a cellar, you settle for something far more childish.

“oh, my bad,” the stretch to reach the top of his head is lessened by the heeled shoes you wear, allowing you to retaliate the treatment he’d given to the princess’ head. “perhaps you should try tying your hair more securely next time!”

it’s a marvellous kind of satisfaction that overcomes you as you gaze upon your masterpiece, the prince now wearing a hardened expression and standing with something akin to a bird’s nest in place of his once perfectly groomed locks.

“i think you’ve been spending too much time with rhaenyra,” he grumbles, attempting to sooth down the mop on his head while trying to maintain an air of collectedness about him as the surrounding guests hide their snickers behind their hands. meanwhile, the princess radiates joy, no fear holding her back from laughing at her uncle. “you’re behaving as if you were her age.”

it’s a struggle to not stick your tongue out, but you fear that would only serve to prove his- likely true- point.

“i’m tired,” rhaenyra, ever the conniving little actress, throws in a fake yawn and stretches her little limbs out as she untangles herself from the prince, staring up at him. the two have always shared a rather queer bond, as though they were cut from the very same cloth, little needing said for them both to understand one another. being aware of this, however, does not make it any easier to accept when they speak of you as though you’re not there. “would you promise to keep my friend company? there’s a lot of strangers at this feast and i don’t want one of them to harm her.”

“i’d say the strangers are the ones who need protecting, princess,” he’s doubled over, moving down to the height of his niece but his focus is all on you and the urge to squirm under his penatrive gaze is stronger than ever. “them northerners can be savages!”

with much protest from you and a shooing motion from the rogue prince, young rhaenyra scurries off towards her septa, eventually leaving the hall intwined with the daughter of her father’s hand, alicent hightower, the pair having been near inseparable since before you’d even arrived in the capital.

you last only four denied dances, three of them which are proposed by the heartbreak prince himself, the only other man bold enough to approach you with your frowning sworn-guard for the night being a lowly lord from the southern isles, kind enough in the eyes yet sporting a few too many wrinkles and grey hairs for you to consider a suitable suitor. and, at last, it becomes time you take your leave, making one last stop before the two royals, once more congratulating the pair on the early stages of the queen’s pregnancy- the first to make it through the initial trimester since the birth of rhaenyra and the sole reason you’ve all gathered, to celebrate the future heir king viserys targaryen claims grows within his wife’s womb- before making your way out into the much quieter, more solitary and notably cooler hallways of the red keep, the noise of the continued festivities drowning out into muffled cheers as the heavy doors slam shut, locking you out.

you breathe easily for what feels like the first time in hours.

ever the fool, daemon seems either incapable of taking a hint or wilfully going to any length to aggravate you, for he matches your steps and follows you out. he’s oblivious to the stare of despair and the roll of your eyes, wishing the man would drop his literal- and figurative- pursuit of you once and for all.

“you’ve been here, what, near four moons?” his voice rising above the stillness of the night captures your attention, widened eyes blossoming with surprise shooting up from facing the ground beneath your feet. “how are you finding your stay? i should hope my brother’s fitted you with comfortable quarters.”

“i, well,” you start, and you mean to finish, you really do. but there’s a loss of connection between your mind and your mouth, one running with a thousand thoughts that fight to reach the forefront and the other parting it’s lips in a broken exhale.

“what, surprised to see i am capable of niceties?” the prince flashes what you imagine most would describe as a charming smile.

“yes. no, actually,” you correct both your words and your posture, unknowingly relaxing that tense feeling that had danced upon the tip of your back and the expanse of your shoulder from the moment you’d found yourself alone with the man walking at your side. “more surprised to see you’re capable of not turning everything into a sexual pass, i suppose.”

“well, you never let me reach the part where i request to see just how comfortable your quarters are.”

that same she-devil who convinced you to mess with his hair perks up her voice once more, seductive whispers encouraging you to cross the space that separates you from the prince and place a hand upon his leather-bound chest, shoving him with less hostility either of you had expected.

“you’re insufferable!” at the very least, you retain the ability to criticise him verbally, though with far more interruptions of failed-to-conceal laughter and less sharpness in your tone.

“i believe it’s pronounced irrefutable.”

“i’m impressed,” you nod along to your own exclamation, vaguely aware of the fact you’ve twisted your feet around till you face the man completely. “that’s a big word for someone with the vocabulary of a foul-mouthed child!”

“if big things impress you, rest assured i’m well endowed.”

“like i said, insufferable!”

when your exacerbated sighs and his teasing chortles fade away into the air of the night, a calm quiet settles over you both, like fog over mountain tops. the rare abscense of the wandering eyes and judgemental snickers and the gossiping whispers exchanged through the courtiers has made way for an unexpected tolerance of the prince’s company, one that leads you astray from your usual disgust and further towards the walking disaster-child that is daemon targaryen.

“come,” it’s a demand, not a request, the talons of your hands digging into the arm of his coat admittedly harder than necessary, a sick depravation found in the firmness of his biceps. you find he gives no protest to the way your arm locks itself around his own. “walk me to my chambers, oh mighty knight!”

“is this your way of accepting my offer to see how comfortable your ch-”

“daemon, so help the seven, if you finish that sentence, it’ll be i who shoves a lance up your arse.”

silence returns like an old friend: with open arms and the promise of a story to be told.

the pair of you traverse through the winding halls of the castle together, arms linked and feet synced- the prince puts a great effort into shortening the length of his steps. to outsiders looking in, you’d almost appear to be nothing more than another couple in the early days of courtship, smiling off to the sides and capable of looking anywhere but each other. the reality that this very man has put your true intended betrothal at risk becomes buried deep beneath the surface of your thoughts, uneager to remind yourself of how you’d last seen the tyrell boy rising from the dirt of the arena, face frowning as the prince called out your name, thanking you for you favour.

“you never answered.” he speaks carefully, voice a gentle timbre as though he’s attempting to coax a wounded fawn out of its hiding place.

“hmm?”

“my question, about your stay. how are you finding it?”

you can not seem to answer him. it isn’t that you don’t want to answer- trust there is another world out there where you easily list off every reason he’s made your time in the capital feel something comparable to torturous and arduous work- but, rather, that you do not have an answer. because not a single person, from your own father all the way to little rhaenyra herself, has dared to ask you before.

no individual has cared to know, yet here the prince stands- walks by your side, more accurately said- and inquires on it.

it jars you so severely you feel the beginnings of an ache in your head.

“oh, well, it’s been... good, i suppose.” both of you share a common disbelief towards the words you speak, yours evident in the way your grip tightens around his arm and his making itself known in a dismissive grunt. “the keep is beautiful, and my chambers are beyond any level of comfort my own house could afford, and the weather is admiteddly nicer. it’s just...”

“lonely,” the man finishes what you started, the hand on his free arm at some point raising itself to rest upon your own. it’s only reflex for your fingers to relax, untense the vice grip you’ve dug into him. “this city is somehow the busiest yet loneliest place in the whole of westeros.”

“don’t get sentimental on me, prince daemon.” to dismiss the mellowness settling in between you with a jovial tone and a pointed look is all you can think to do, far too unprepared to be confronted with the possibility of the rogue prince possessing anything beyond the sheer audacity he displays on the daily. “we would not want someone to overhear and assume you’re soft-hearted.”

the man swallows back a comment of how, while his heart may falter, another of his organs would not fail to remain hardened, and simply gives a noise of agreement. you arrive at yet another flight of stairs, this one so narrow it requires you to walk ahead of the prince, the grasp you have on him never faltering as it slides down the expanse of his arm and reanchors itself on his wrist.

you make it not even a quarter of the way up before your dress proves itself to be a nusance, catching on your feet and sending you crashing forwards, saved from bruising your skin and breaking your bones on the solid stone below by daemon, who effortletsly catches you by the waist.

“i wasn’t aware the king placed you in the highest tower of the keep,” the prince, a known hypochondriac, quips on the amount of stairs  the travels to your chambers entails.

“must be to keep scoundrels like his brother from trying to reach me.” a joke it may be, given you both laugh, but there’s certainly an element of truth behind it.

pray, you will, that you’re never enquired on how often a scoundrel has taken it upon himself to lift the ends of a woman’s dress for no reasons other than aiding her to climb up steps without the fear of her feet catching on the ends of it.

he follows you up closely, closer than he’d been before, and drops the material only after you’ve reached the top. the pair of you move in sync to reform your previous positions, arms intertwining with ease.

“what,” it’s criminal, you think, that it’s taken you all this time to experience how soft the prince’s voice can be once he’s rid it of all that ego and peacoking energy he barks around the courts with. meanwhile, he’s doing everything he can think of to slow your inevitable approach towards your chambers door. “do you have planned tomorrow morning?”

“tomorrow morning?” the question prompts you to look at him. seeing his face closer than it’s ever been before, you see the little details, like the flecks of deep purple that accentuate the lilac eyes, or the small scab on his chin where a shaving knife must have sliced it, or the subtle indent of frown-lines on his forehead that you think a man of his age is far too young to possess. “usually my mornings are spent with the other maidens who reside in the keep, before rhaenyra comes searching for me after she’s broken her fast.”

you don’t mention the way the young girl never fails to bring something tucked beneath her skirts- an apple, a buttered roll, a slice of meat- and forces it upon you, demanding you eat the breakfast you so often forget to take.

“how likely is it that your absence would be noted, say, if you were to go one daybreak not with those wenches?” you wrinkle your nose at the choice of words and he chuckles, mentally notting the distaste you harbour for wenches and reminding himself to use it against you at some point in the future. “my brother says the she-beast they call vhagar laid a clutch.”

“how ominous. haven’t you dragonriders taken enough dragons beneath your wings?” it’s meant to be naught more than a silly comment, a clever play on words to rouse a tired eyeroll from prince daemon. it isn’t, however, supposed to pull a pointed look and a sigh of defeat from the dragonless targaryen. “i’m sorry... i didn’t mean to offend.”

“no, no, it’s fine. just never speak such a stupid pun again.” he juts his arm out, playfully stabbing the point of his elbow into your side and rousing a smile back onto your face, unease slipping out with your next exhale. “it’s for the queen’s babe. my brother demanded i collect the eggs and bring them to-”

“there you are, my love! i’ve been looking for you all evening.”

like a pair of children caught with their hands down a cookie jar, daemon and you jump apart with haste, eyes no longer focused on one another and, instead, on the figure stood at the very end of the hall.

he still wears the armour which he’d been defeated by the prince in.

“laurel!” while your tone may read as elated, it’s filled only with disappointed surprise. “what are- why- what brings you here, at this hour?”

the prince seems to instinctively step closer to you as the tyrell boy begins to approach, leaving his post outside your door. he’s stern, brows furrowed and nothing remains of the man who’d been making you laugh a mere ten paces back.

“i was looking, for you,”

“clearly not hard enough.” you wonder if the tyrell boy catches daemon’s muttered words and, the part of you that agrees with them wishes he did.

you’d been at the feast all evening, with just about every other person of status in the city. if he’d wanted to find you, he’d have been best to make an appearance at the event rather than camping outside your apartments.

“i thought we could take a stroll through the gardens,” the rose speaks as though his idea is not preprostous, inviting a maiden out into the darkened greenery at such a late hour.

passing by the prince, laurel tyrell spares him no attention, as though the man is not even there, and simply makes his way towards the stairway, turning back only when the notion that you stand frozen in your spot kicks in.

“come along, my lady!” my lady. those two words feel tainted from hearing them fall from between the prince’s lips, the tyrell’s voice prickling your skin with it. “i promise i shant keep you late.”

your eyes find the prince.

he nods, once and then a second time.

“go,” he urges verbally, when his actions don’t speak loud enough. “fleabottom’s been calling my name all evening, and i intend to answer it.”

with a twist in your gut and a wretch in your heart, you shuffle your way over to laurel tyrell’s open palm, letting him drag you back down into the night.

this is a decision you come to regret, no later than four sleeps.

because the man's words follow you, no matter how quickly you run through halls and creep up stairwells. they turn every corner you take and pause with every rush of breath you stop to heave into your screaming lungs. you pass doorways and sleeping guards, and they pass them with you too.

this nonsense best prove it's worth once i bed her.

there's anger in the clutches of your hands, clenched into fists of pointed knuckles and skin-digging nails, and sadness caught between the lashes of your eye, drops of liquid heartbreak threatening to stain your skin if you so much as blink.

the halfwit doesn't notice when i focus on her tits instead of her eyes.

the poetic words, the strolls through the gardens, the nights of dancing, the stolen smiles and fleeting looks across crowded rooms, all for nothing.

least she be a maiden. i've heard the feel of breaking one of them in is unmatched.

all for laurel tyrell to be another man who sees only the shape of what you hide beneath your clothing.

you want to hate him, curse him, tell all you meet of his crude words, but, instead, the thought of their reactions leaves you despising yourself, for ever thinking a man could think with more than what sat between his legs.

it is not even an option to contact your father, you lament while climbing yet another winding stairwell, for he’d merely remind you of a woman’s duty, which serves only her house until she takes a husband and, then, serves only him.

if the tyrell boy wishes to bed a maiden, your father’s voice plays in your thoughts as though he were stood before you this very instant, best it be you.

his words, the thoughts and your footsteps all come to a halt at the same time. like reentering your body, or awakening from a nap, you find yourself disorientated, gazing upon a chamber door you register not as your own. no, this door is more akin to the level of gradiose you face each day that you visit the young princess’ room, dragged away by her small hands as she works to avoid yet another one of the classes that she views as a bore.

yet, this is not her door.

sure, it carries similar markings and engraves in the wood, and sports that very same rich colour and shine to it. but something, subtle as it may be, is askew. the princess’ door has silver handles, this one has gold. the princess sleeps in the east wing of this part of the keep and you’re certain you’d marched west, away from the voice of your betrothed. a guard stands by the princess’ door, no one sits outside this one.

bile rises in tune with your hand, staining the back of your throat with anxious thoughts as you hesitantly knock.

you pause and wait.

minutes pass before you’re knocking again, this time with a little more anger behind the way your knuckles hit against the cold oak. it’ll be a wonder if you do not awake to swirls of purple and twists of blue painted across your skin come sunrise.

the tenant of these apartments still does not open their doors.

you hit a little harder, replacing knocks with a forceful, full-handed slap against the door. and then another, and another, and another, and-

your hand meets flesh that prickles with stubble and points with it’s cheekbones.

“what in the seven hells merits such behaviour at this hour?!”

the prince, for the life of him, has barely managed to open his eyes fully, rejecting the bright lights that burn in the hall. behind him is a sea of black, whatever treasures or prisoners he hides within his quarters lost into the darkness. he’s frowning, hair a mess, clothes foregone hours ago, and a distinctly red hand print slowly searing itself into the left side of his face.

the sight brings you more relief than you’d ever thought him capable of.

you’ve always been rational. it’s a badge you wear with honour, basking in the glory anytime one of your siblings met the angrier side of your father that never failed to reprimand them for being less like you, for being incapable of thinking before acting like you, for never weighing consequences until after a deed was done.

till the day you die, you will never find the words to describe what leads you astray from this level-headedness in the small hours of this evening.

you crash into the prince less gracefully than you’d prefer, lips barely meeting the bottom of his and pressing themselves half on his chin as you dive in for a kiss.

a kiss that daemon does not reciprocate.

in fact, he doesn’t even attempt to move, body frozen in place. pulling back to find the sheer unfazed, almost bored look that occupies the features of his face, floods your soul with a horrible, thick, heavy feeling, that stains every part of you it touches. 

you’re ashamed.

and mortified.

and disgusted.

and embarrassed.

and reaching for his lips again.

this time your mouths collide in perfect level, no unwanted chin in the way. wanting- needing something to anchor you down, your hands shoot out to grasp at where a tunic would usually be. instead, you’re met with nothing but the solid, heaving, sweating mass that makes up the prince’s naked chest.

daemon remains stoic.

“i,” you breathe a shaky exhale, a sting nagging away at your reopened eyes as the previous tears reappear. with a nod, and a sniffle, you step back from the man. the nervous tremble in your hands forces you to grab at the fabrics of your skirt, grasping at anything to distract your mind. “that- this was a mistake.”

this entails so much. kissing him, knocking on his door, walking to his chambers, moving to king’s landing, courting with the tyrell boy, letting the prince get in your head and, all over what? a single experience where the two of your were capable of coexisting without tearing one another’s hair out?

it is all one big mistake, the kind that one can’t hope to fix if all they do is turn and run from the danger it exudes.

knowing this won’t stop you from trying, however.

you twist so quick you worry you may snap your spine or strain a muscle, body kicking into action in an attempt to get as far away from the prince as you’d once desired to be from the tyrell boy. not even a full step, do you make it, until an unmovable force clamps down on your arm.

daemon imposes on you this time, leaning down and crashing his lips against yours. his mouth is warm, with lips of honey and hands of stone that grab and pull and tug at the parts of you they blindly reach for.

the prince is not the first man you’ve kissed- nor do you imagine a life where he’ll be the last- but there’s something behind the way his tongue burrows itself into your mouth, his presence so tangible and all consuming.

you pull back, if only to catch your breath, but he follows, taking ownership over your senses.

stumbling backwards and crossing the threshold into the prince’s chambers, darkness takes ahold of you both, bathing you in nothing but the light of a distant moon. you barely register how one of you reaches for the door behind you, only the slamming of it alerting you to the fact it’s been closed. a lightheaded feeling overcomes you, forcing you to pull apart when your lungs scream for air.

“i’m starting to understand,” daemon’s voice is full of rasp, dry and cracking and far too grating on the ears for you to genuinely be finding yourself attracted to it. “why my brother swears by the milk of the poppy.”

a horrible feeling floods your soul, bile burning its way up your throat.

“oh, oh my god,” your hands are at the level of your eyes, pulling at strands of your own hair. “i completely forgot... you- you’re on bedrest, i can, i’ll just leave-”

the prince’s injury had been the talk of the town since it had occurred: a near-deadly run in with a frightened stag amidst a hunting tourney. the horned animal had spooked his horse, throwing the man off its saddle as it reared and ran off, leaving him to face the male deer. the truth of what had entailed, few would ever know, all that was said was that the prince returned to camp dragging the slaughtered animal by it’s horns with a blood staining the clothing surrounding his left shoulder. 

“no, you won’t, heathen!” in rare occasions, daemon would be the only one to pull a smile from you all day. how fortunate that this is one of those occasions, the scowl on his brows contradicting the subtle upward quirk of his thin lips. “you can not dangle a piece of meat before a dragon and then refuse to feed it.”

were you in any state to think rationally, you’d dig more into the fact he’d just referred to you as a piece of meat.

but, then, if you were thinking rationally, you’d never have wound up at his door.

the second kiss is less forceful. no rush enlaced with every touch, no desperation tickling at both your senses, no desire to stray too far from one another.

you find yourself trusting the prince more than you’d like to when he starts to guide you backwards, a gentle pressure on your hips building while his mouth travels over your jaw and reaches the top of your neck. you walk, and stumble, and shuffle wherever the man directs you and, then, you fall.

any frightful scream you would have let out is quickly replaced with a squeal and a giggle of delight, back meeting what you’re confident in naming the softest bed you’ve ever laid upon.

at last, the shine of the moon allows you to see the man hell-bent on attacking you with his mouth.

“what is the meaning of this, hmm?” the condescension in his tone usually grates you. now, it excites you, arouses you, leaves you wondering of what pleasures he could speak with it. “why’re you suddenly at my door, behaving like some wanton whore?”

oh, you think, who knew such crass could prickle your skin with desire?

the shadow of the prince casts down on you, bathing you in an exagirated enlarged image of him, as if the fates wish to remind you of how big a shadow he looms over your own existence. it scares you.

his eyes scare you more.

they’re usually wider, observing every move, full of that mischievous nature the prince is known for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then daemon’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.

you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand that circles a grip around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, silver hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.

the silence pleases him.

“do you know how hard it is to get you alone? always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid feasts i had to attend to finally get some time with you?” daemon pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, sweet girl? or are you lost in that pretty little head of yours?”

“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with a new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want me to say.”

if it’s the wrong or right answer, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced man releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting jasmine that reminds you of how alluring yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.

“then let me show you what i want.”

his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answer to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.

it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm of your lips is a mismatch of beats, where one moment you are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down, down, down your body.

yet it terrifies you how willingly you’ve succumb to daemon’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he has in his possession and currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to repeat his previous seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand suddenly finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.

the moment his fingertips ruck up the fabric that safeguards the last of your modesty and meet the ends of your sleep-gown, you’re wishing you’d never slipped it on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over your near shear dress occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.

like visenya and vhagar at the unstormable vale, daemon parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.

his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s pulsating core.

“have you figured out what i want yet?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual smite-filed, almost spat-out-words tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the man. right now, there’s no trace of sardonic undertones in the thick rasp and there’s no time for an exchange of childish insults while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.

something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you desire, rather than what the stranger incarnate looming over you wants.

“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”

you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.

you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.

you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.

you want-

“you.” is all you manage to breath out.

it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows no longer furrowed and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.

lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. the prince, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he’d stopped you from fleeing at his door.

one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, till a mere inhale is enough to have your chest pressing into him.

the prince’s descent to the floor is graceful, his figure made of solid muscle and unclothed skin lowering till his knees hit the ground and it becomes you who stare down at him, your hands clutching at the silk sheets his bed has been dressed with in an effort to replace the desire to touch him instead.

choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of his eyes on you, or the sheer visual strength depicted in the straining muscles of his thighs, you instead focus on the way his lips have trailed away from yours and are beginning to make their way towards the top of your chest.

his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your flimsy night-dress, successfully manoeuvring the cotton material till it pools around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the night.

with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.

one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.

the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a laugh.

his laughter.

“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your dress with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, fabric digging into the rapidly heating skin. “you laughing?”

“has anyone ever told you how beautiful your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, not unlike the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.

“no, i can’t say they have.” one hand finds it’s way onto his shoulder- the shoulder that does not possess gauze wrapped around it, that is- and grasps it in a vice grip, the fear of melting off the bed and directly onto the concrete floor all too prevalent as you gain enough confidence to let the other hand slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the silver locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”

“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked to drink from your cunt?”

you nearly choke on your own shock.

“i suppose that’s another honourable title for me to wear.” daemon is beginning to give you whiplash, with all this switching between being unusually receptive to your presence and the man that minutes before was making poetic profanities out of the beauty of your bared chest. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting once more to make out your figure in the darkness. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting before you, knees pressing into the ground in a mockery of a bow, some crevice deep within your soul sparks up a fire that burns on the belief that perhaps you’ve been wrong about the prince all along, judging only on what people say and not on how he behaves. then, he reopens his mouth and dampens the flame. “now, do i have to tear you out of your skirts or will you stand up and let me slide it off?”

this time, its your laugh that echoes in the air.

“you think i jest!” he seems to whine his way through his exclaim, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is both influenced by the milk of the poppy that flows through his bloodstream, and is going to drive you insane. “i can not go on another moment like this, you sitting there like something akin to the most mouthwatering summer’s peach, without spending my seed. and, while i’d much prefer to do so inches deep inside you, i’ll settle for a mouth full of cunt.”

“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture the prince’s essence. “okay, okay, i’ll umm... just stand up and-” the shriek of fabric tearing rips through the space between you. “hey!”

“i’d apologise but, well,” daemon’s dazed smile should not be this gentle, not when it is proceeded with his hands returning to your now bare thighs. “you were trying my patience.”

his hold on you is strong- both the grip he has on your legs and the control he harbours over your mind-, and he plays it to his advantage, laying one palm flat over your torso and forcing you backwards, till your back meets the mattress and your eyes find themselves staring up at the images carved into the roof of the wooden bedpost, details indistinguishable in the darkened room.

from the floor, the prince is grabbing and pulling and maneuvering you down the length of the mattress, finding the backs of your knees and bending them, spreading your legs to a width wide enough for his broad shoulders to sit between. 

“need you closer, my tongue’s not that long.” the prince mutters, half to himself, as your arse meets the edge of the bed, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. your hands return to fisting at the sheets beneath you, digging and searching and reaching for a way to keep yourself grounded through the maddening thoughts of the prince and the current position you find yourself in, and ignoring the anxious ridden vipers inside your mind that spit their venom and hiss their tongues in commands that entail you gathering the remaining fabrics of your tattered clothing and running out these chambers, out the keep, out the damned capital, out the clutches of the man on his knees. though, with the way his fingers squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’d make it as far as even a single step. “comfortable?”

“as i’ll ever be.”

“all the ladies in the seven kingdoms that would die to be in your position, and you choose to say that?” he tisks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”

neither of you choose to dwell on those words, next time.

him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your aching bud.

you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch upward momentarily, back arching off the bed and mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.

“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your buzzing centre and up your pubic bone. “you smell sweet as sin, you know? enough to make any man go feral.”

the chance to reply never comes, not when the prince makes his way back down to your pearl and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow more sodden, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- which slips and slides its way down to the crack of your arse, dribbling over your puckered hole- to go to waste.

you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.

the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your womanhood. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head forces itself into the grip you have in his hair while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.

“so pretty,” he slurs over the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”

your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while the prince is simply watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.

your cunt clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.

the rogue prince takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.

“why did you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced peak you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”

“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your pearl is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. daemon hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged bud. “the goal is to make you cum on my tongue, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”

his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your pearl, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your bundle of nerves.

“would you ever stop?” your whining tone is reminiscent of a spoiled babe, crying and fussing over the need to be fed milk from it’s mother’s teat.

“‘tis you who’s becoming insufferable now, my lady.” the prince, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.

his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your centre and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.

in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between daemon’s and your own.

“you can move.” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your pearl and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, sweetling.”

and, really, who are you to deny a prince?

you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you watched the flowered wreath slip down his lance. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.

it takes a few more attempts, and daemon’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and dropping your legs over his shoulders, mouth pressing right up against you with his tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, else all the old gods and the new be damned.

move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time on the spare pillows that line your own bed, in the hours where the moon sits high within the sky and not a creature stirs nearby to witness your self-pleasing sins. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.

the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man below you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.

hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.

the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.

“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “oh, there, right there, daemon! yes, i’m going to-.”

the prince pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his mouth. he’s getting everything he’s imagined since he’d watched you first step foot into the keep, your naked body a mess before him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your breast.

he watches how the white tips of your nails clash with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.

when you peak, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you fidget and kick away from him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.

he licks up every drop of your essence he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he lets you move him, mouth switching to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something similar to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.

“you sound as though you enjoyed yourself.” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, mouth agape as you drag and drop the air through your lungs, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.

“do you ever...” despite your efforts to sit yourself up, against his sheets you remain with limbs melted into puddles jelly and eyes staring wide at the heavens above, a tremble still present in your thighs as you subconsciously feel the patterns his hands dance over them. “shut up?”

“only when my mouth is otherwise occupied.”

silence prevails alongside the ticking of time. some part of you registers the return of your feet to the cold floor and the departure of the man from between your legs. he doesn’t stray far, hands clamping down on your hips, a gentle squeeze or two his own way of searching for your presence, urging your eyes to meet his.

they remain looking upwards.

undeterred, the prince is, bending himself at the waist and resting both hands on either side of your head, holding his own weight up as his face obstructs your view above. life enters you once more, eyes focusing at last on him and his upturned mouth and the remnants of your sexual indiscretions drying into his skin.

“for someone who hates it so much, you sure do know how to stroke my ego.” he must be on a mission, you think, to remind you of why you’ve spent your days avoiding interactions with him instead of tangling yourself within his arms. “i’ve got something much bigger for you to stroke though, once you regain your senses.”

this something bumps against your skin, solid as a rock and spluttering a spit of fluids onto you, warm and sticky. sneaking a quick glance is not enough to fully encapsulate the details that make up this fierce looking appendage, with it’s red-angered tip and its decorative bush of hair and the peak of his stones that sit just past its base, yet it’s all you allow yourself under the scrutiny of his eyes.

“perhaps it’s time you to choose your words more wisely, prince daemon,” your voice is breathy, chest heavy still. you try distract him away from noticing such a feat, hand dancing down the expanse of his bare back till it meets the globe of his arse, nail digging in so deep they’re bound to leave marks, if not draw blood too. “it would be far too easy to punch you in the cock from this position.”

he swallows back a demand for you to speak more about his cock.

clarity bestows itself upon your mind, as your memory serves you a cruel reminder of the words you’d overheard and the voice you’d been running from, dread burning its way up your throat in a sickening twist of guts. the prince must notice the shift in the air, perhaps the way your face has grown a little paler or your pupils dilate as you venture off into the hellscape of your mind, for he’s quick to return you to his hold, heavy body pressing down on you as the prince’s mouth meets yours.

there’s a tangy, sticky sweetness to his kiss, a taste of your self that he gifts you with bitten lips and languid tongue, delving deep into your mouth as if in search of some hidden treasure.

it’s clear now, to the both of you, that your reasons for being here- in his chambers, upon his bed, beneath his body- are nothing if not driven by something deeper, darker, more dangerous than simple ardent lust. months you’d been within reach. months he’d been vocal of his desires towards you. days you’d been betrothed to another man.

but the prince never asks, and so you never answer, letting yourselves indulge in the arts of pleasure and pain.

he pulls on your lip, you pull on his hair. he drags his nails down your body, you dig yours into his rear. he drives you deeper up the bed, you drive him deeper between your legs. he rolls his hips into you, you roll your eyes back into your skull.

“this is a dream. you’re a dream,” perhaps your rational thinking has devolved to naught but hedonistic intentions, for you’re almost certain the mighty rogue has something familiar to wonder intertwined with his breathless voice. the dilation of his pupils, eyes more black than targaryen-lilac, is a mystery you ponder over, wondering if it’s driven more by lust or sedative. “and tomorrow i’ll awake to an empty bed and the reality where you tolerate a rat more than me.”

it’s unclear if he speaks literal of the long-tailed rodent, or if it’s simply a new name for the ever-growing list of things he calls your betrothed.

“do you say that to all the whores you fuck?” your words carry a bite, one your own destructive nature hopes will drive him away from you.

“we don’t speak,” he does the opposite, sinking further into you. you become all too aware of the heat returning to your core when he ruts the length of his cock up your folds, coating himself in a thin layer of your lubricant. “sounding like you, they can never achieve it. they can look like you, from the back, at least.”

believing his words to be a lie feels easier than accepting them as truth. the rogue prince has been nothing if not a menace to the streets of silk since the dawn of his sexual maturity, and there is not an inch of you that can fathom him using these vices as a means to quench the desire for you, seeking out your form in faceless, nameless and, apparently, voiceless cunts.

there’s no great lead up to the breaching of your walls, simply another two rolls of his length along your soaked core and a ghost of a kiss against your forehead before the prince is lining himself up and impaling you with his cock.

you’d been warned all about the ache that would come with the breaking of your maidenhead, traumatised at the young ages of four, five, six and onwards of how, someday, your husband would tear you open and leave you a bloodied mess. and, yet, here you lay, a dull ache burning within you, the feel of a pop and the heavy slap of his stones meeting your skin.

“it hurts, i know,” he hushes you when, at last, a pained whimper breaks the surface of your silence, hips stilled and keeping him buried deep in your walls that fight and squeeze and tighten around the intruder. his face, from the little you see of it past the wall of tears building within your eyes, is scrunched up in discomfort, fighting back the instincts that tell him to pull back and fuck himself into you over and over. “but you’re good, and you’re strong, and you can take it. you know you can, just relax.”

you do as your told, far easier than either of you had expected, and find rhythm in his own heavy breathing, matching each inhale and exhale till the soothing of hands over your thighs relaxes the muscles and you manage to retract the nails that dig deep into his back.

the prince moves only once your legs tangle themselves around his waist, spreading you wider and holding him closer.

from there, a symphony ensues, except where normally one would find the melody of a guitar or the blowing of a flute or the beating of a drum, this one is made of skin slapping, mouth kissing, moan singing. the ache builds and builds till it collapses into a pit of delirious pleasure, the kind that opens your eyes as to why it’s so easy for men and women to succumb to the sins of flesh.

“look at you,” his words are rough while his touch is soft, hand gliding over your breasts once more, pinching and pulling at your aching nipples as he puts strength into gazing down at you, intoxicating himself with the way your bodies join at the hip, his cock disappearing into your walls and reemerging coated in your arousal, glimmering beneath the moonlight. “taking me so fucking well. letting me carve out a home for myself in your cunt, huh? gonna let me stay inside you forever?”

he’s manic, and crazed, and spewing out things that you know should make you cringe and roll over in disgust. but you’re just as far gone, mind no longer vacant in your body as you chase that special feeling only the repeated hammering of his tip against your womb can bring.

“let me cum inside, sweetling,” is it more plea or demand? it’s hard to tell, and hard to care, arms circling round the back of his neck and back arching to press chest to chest. the prince ceases his senseless rambling only to lay kisses down your sweat-covered face, neck, chest, each carrying the weight of his desperation to feel you real and breathing beneath him. “stake my claim over this tight little cunt, leave you dripping from how full i make you.”

waves of pleasure crash over you in tandem, unintelligible groans and gasps all that play through the air as hands clamp down and teeth bite skin. your walls spasm around his cock while it twitches within you, both of your peaks painting your bodies in liquid arousal. warmth fills your cunt and trickles out of you, catching on the dark mass of hair that sits above his appendage, the stark white of his cum sickeningly reminding you to the first time you’d seen snow as a child and arousing the same response from you: a desire to taste it.

he collapses down onto you before you get the chance, however, and the exchange of body heat and shallow breaths lulls you both through your states of ecstasy, slipping into a quiet comfort.

the prince moves slowly, as if not to disturb either of you, and shushes you with kisses when you whine at the loss of him from your cunt, softening cock slapping down against your leg. a few moments pass before he’s moving again, this time with you in tow, dragging at the sheets beneath and working them over you both just as you begin to register how cold the chill in the room is. never mind, the dragon keeps you warm against him, limbs tangling as you make a pillow out of his chest.

“my betrothed.” you take the lead this time in breaking the comfortable cloud of silence which had settled itself above your tired bods. the prince merely grunts, disliking the sound of those two words as much as you dislike the taste of them. “i overheard him conversing with an adviser of his.”

“whatever he said, i’ll cut his tongue out and feed him it.” his vulgar threat drags an airy laugh out of you as he mumbles it into the top of your head.

“my maidenhood, that’s what lead him to offering me his hand.” you laugh again, though there is no trace of humour as it devolves into something of a broken, heart-wrenching sob. “gods, i must be so stupid for thinking a man like him could fall in love with me.”

the silence is unnerving, weighs down on your chest with every breath that ebbs and flows between you both. you’re waiting on it, anxiously anticipating the moment laughter breaks out his ribs and shakes his whole body in amusement at your sheer ridiculous expectations, mocking you for giving away your maidenhood in an act so childish as simply not giving your betrothed the satisfaction of taking it.

marriage is politics, you can picture him saying, love is merely a made up tale to entertain children.

daemon never quite has been one for following expectations.

“i could fall in love with you.”

so it is you who winds up laughing, a repeat of that fractured chuckle that dissipates into something more painful and stings at the cracks in your heart.

“you’re not in love with me, daemon,” it feels obvious to say, yet you’re graced with a disagreeing look upon his face. “you’re obsessed with me, there’s a difference.”

“i beg to differ.”

“you see me as nothing but a lady who doesn’t fall at her feet for you, and it excites you. it’s okay, i understand, but i won’t let you delude yourself nor i into believing its love.”

he has no reply to give, not one that could change your mind.

and so there you lay, naked bod pressed to naked bod, sweat and spit and other bodily fluids becoming the glue that hold you together, with limbs entangled and eyes locked. you see peace in his smile and he watches as sleep slowly whisks you away into its warmth.

little does the prince know your eyes will not meet his own again for many years to come.

not days later, as he stands amongst the crowd of folk bearing witness to the exchanging of vows between the tyrell boy and you, nor several years after, as you return to the great hall of the red keep to see the announcement of prince aegon's birth, your own child stood at your side and grasping your hand, the silver-moon upon her head no match to the straw blonde of your husband.

#daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen oneshot #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon smut

[chiharuhashibira]

Here we go with our Part 5 finally ^^

I am thinking if I'll make a Part 6 of 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮 or no, but it depends on y'all loves and my magic plot bunnies.💓 In this chappy, I want to resolve one of Y/N's concern, sooooo this might all be about that, but I promise it'll be sweeter.

Taglist: @unofficialmuilover @sofilsworld @skeleton-the-gangser @ahashiraswife

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚅

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐗 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐀𝐔)

<𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫>

Content Warnings: Curse words, Slightly Suggestive

"Here's your coffee..."

It has been a few days since you reconciled with Sanemi. It has also been a few days since you agreed to go out with him. Yes, this hot math teacher is now your boyfriend, and you adore him so much.

But despite this, both of you decided to hide it from the school for now. It's not that you're not proud of it. You just don't want the thought of other people invading your privacy. You are the total opposite of Mitsuri and Obanai, as the couple made it clear that they're together. Mostly, it's because Sanemi's friend is just too easy to get jealous of.

Oh well, Sanemi can easily be jealous, but both of you decided to keep it lowkey.

And yet, there are times that Sanemi can't keep his hands to himself. He would sneak kisses on your cheek when you were alone in the faculty room. He would even slip his hands under the table and entwine them with yours when he was sitting with you at lunch. Even if he acts harshly, he'll make sure to send you sweet text messages, which you never thought he'd do. He's too fluffy inside that facade.

Sanemi and you still haven't kissed on the lips. Surprisingly, the man easily gets flustered. Perhaps soon you will feel his lips, but perhaps it will happen if you initiate it.

You'll never know that Giyu is getting the hang of these. With the sudden closeness between you and Sanemi, your best friend knows that something is happening behind the curtains. But knowing your best friend, he's not the type of guy who'll intervene or ask too much, so he just lets you. And yes, Giyu is prepared to punch the hell out of Sanemi if he breaks your heart, despite the fact that he will not admit it. And the man will make sure that his scars double because of it.

You had this little mission in you to make your best friend and your boyfriend on good terms, but it seems like it isn't working. Giyu doesn't fight with Sanemi, but yes, the latter makes sure that the former hates him to the guts. There are times where Giyu will even ask you why Sanemi hates him so much, and even if you know the reason, you don't want to tell him, as your boyfriend might get madder at him.

"Thanks babe." You said this as Sanemi placed the coffee on your table. You were reading a history book while listening to your favourite song. Your boyfriend had decided that he would visit you for the first time, and that made you happy, so you let him. You want his company as much as you want to just cuddle with him, inhaling his minty scent.

Sanemi plopped down in the space beside you and draped his hands across your shoulders. "What are you reading, baby girl? I'm here already, yet you seem to still be busy."

Baby girl.You felt a tingle in your stomach as you heard this come out of Sanemi's mouth. You turned to look at him and placed your book on your lap. "Ooh, so the baby boy wants my attention?" You teased, pinching his cheeks, which made him roll his eyes.

"Stop calling me baby boy, babe. I can definitely put a baby inside of you now if I want to."

"What the heck!"

His words made you blush madly, so then you kicked him with your feet, which made him fall down the couch, laughing like crazy. Again, he is teasing you, which is somewhat amusing, but you are a little taken aback by his words.

"Idiot! I'm just kidding!" He said, massaging his butt as he stood up, still laughing from your reaction.

You were about to throw a pillow at him when, suddenly, your doorbell rang. Who might it be? As far as you know, it is Saturday, and no one has ever visited you before.

Unless it's... "Fuck it's Giyu." You muttered under your breath, which immediately made Sanemi look at you with a sudden annoyance plastered on his face. "The fuck? That asshole visits you?" He groaned and gave you an angry look that caused you to roll your eyes.

"Obviously, he is my best friend."

"Who cares? Just open the door!"

You sighed and walked towards the door. Yes. You know that Sanemi's jealous; that's why he started to throw a fit. Sanemi's somehow childish sometimes, and one of those moments is this one.

Ignoring your fuming boyfriend, you opened the door, and there Giyu stood, handing you a cake. "I bought this from Kamado-kun's bakery. It's your favourite." He says and that made you smile. "Thanks Tomioka-san. Why don't you come in?"

"WHAT IN THE HELL, Y/N?" Sanemi yelled from the living room when he heard you invite Giyu in.

The poor man blinked in surprise. His suspicion was confirmed. He had seen Sanemi's car parked near your house but decided to ignore it. But now it's all clear. "That's Shinazugawa-san's voice, right?" He asked you with his brotherly mode activated. "Uhhh... Tomioka-san—"

"Why are you here, Shinazugawa-san?"

Giyu entered the house, crossing his hands at Sanemi, who was sitting on your couch with a crossed leg.

"Why do you care? Tsk!" Sanemi blurted out, standing and crossing his arms at him as well.

"Uh guys..." You tried to intervene, but the two seemed to be in an intense staring contest. You can't deny that Sanemi looked so hot while glaring at Giyu, but of course, you pushed your thirsty thoughts away and went between them, raising your hands on their faces, which definitely shocked them.

"Hey idiots! Listen, okay? Please? Or I'll both kick you out of my house."

"What's happening then?" The two men asked in unison, and that made you sigh for the nth time.

You turned to look at Giyu, taking Sanemi's hand and holding it tight.

"Tomioka-san, Shinazugawa-san's my boyfriend."

--

"What? You hate me for that?"

Thirty minutes had passed, and the tension had faded. Thankfully. You never expected that in those thirty minutes, you could change the way your boyfriend looks at your best friend.

After you told Giyu that Sanemi was already your boyfriend, all his thoughts were confirmed. Even if he wanted to protect you that much, he also wants you to be happy, and Sanemi makes you happy right now, so he respects that.

Giyu went in front of Sanemi and bowed his head. "Please take care of my little sister. I know that she'll be in good hands when she's with you." He said that, claiming you as his little sister, which made you blush a bit. Sanemi blinked in confusion, telling Giyu to stop bowing to him. The ravenette man's remarks made your boyfriend blush as well.

And there, Giyu smiled at Sanemi for the first time. His kindest smile made all the coldness in Sanemi's heart melt. "Dude, stop grinning; that's spooky!" Your boyfriend said that, which made Giyu and you chuckle.

"Sanemi's just flustered at your cute smile, Tomioka-san."

"He surely is."

The teasing eventually became a conversation that finally led both men into this moment. Sanemi and you sat across from Giyu, with him slicing the cake for the three of you.

"Just to settle this, Tomioka, why on earth do you think you are different from us? I believe you're not fucking better than me."

Sanemi suddenly blurted out, seemingly curious about the reason behind the man's detachment. Giyu looked up at the man and blinked in confusion. "I never thought of that, Shinazugawa-san."

Sanemi gritted his teeth and slammed the table with his hands, which surprised you and Tomioka. "Why? Because you think I'm no good? The fuck, I'm gonna—"

"What? You hate me for that? You thought that I thought I was superior to you?"

Giyu sighed and crossed his arms. You patted Sanemi's back, trying to calm him down. Sanemi leaned back, crossing his legs again. No words came from his lips, and that gave you the chance to look at him. Even though he gets upset easily by things, he is still so adorable.

"I never thought of that. I even think all of you are a hundred times better than me; that's why I tend to say I don't belong there."

"Oh." Sanemi's tensed shoulder relaxed with his breathing. He looked at you, and you just gave him a smile, urging him to listen to Tomioka.

"Even back in high school. I saw how hardworking you are, so I always thought that you deserved to be noticed more. I wanted to be friends with you; I tried, but you hated me that much, so I just dealt with it."

You looked up at Sanemi and held his hand again. "That's why I always wondered why you all avoided Giyu so much. He's a great person. He acted as my brother when I lost my family in a car accident. He and Tsutako-sama took me in, and that's why I'm still in. But yeah, Giyu's not just a great talker, and I've been dealing with that all my life."

That's the first time that Sanemi heard about your family, and sadly, you've already lost them. Your lover looked at you with sadness in his eyes. Sanemi squeezed your hand and pulled you near him, giving you a warm side hug.

He wanted to know more about you, but one step at a time.

"Tomioka, look. I'm sorry, man. I misunderstood you." Sanemi let go of you, stood up, and bowed to your best friend. Tomioka blinked in shock once again but didn't do anything, as he doesn't know how to handle Sanemi at all.

"Shinazugawa-san, let's be friends."

You smiled at Giyu as he made your boyfriend blush, but the math teacher just hummed in agreement as he looked away, hiding his reddened face.

--

That day ended quickly, with Giyu leaving the both of you early and apologising for barging in and interrupting you. And yes, Sanemi was nicer to him. He'll still throw some curses and insults, but not like before.

And you watched them like a proud mother as Sanemi sent Giyu out the door, shaking his hand for the first time.

Sanemi went beside you after that, and both of you just decided to watch a movie together.

But yes, the night came, and you woke up on Sanemi's shoulder. He was staring at you, which made you blush hard.

"Baby, what's the matter?" You said, rubbing your eyes as you tried to compose yourself from the adorable sight in front of you.

"I love you." Sanemi muttered, and in a blink of an eye,you felt a warm but soft sensation on your lips. Realising that Sanemi had kissed you, your heart started to beat faster than before, and you felt like the heat on your body was quickly rising up.

Letting your emotions go, you wrapped your hands around Sanemi's neck, deepening the kiss that made the man chuckle as he slowly ran his tongue on your lips, asking for entrance.

Fuck, he's a great kisser.

You parted your lips a bit, and Sanemi took that as the chance to explore your mouth, your tongues fighting for dominance as his hands slowly wrapped around your waist, pulling you over his lap.

Drunk with passion, Sanemi pulled out for a breath, ironically taking your breath away with how flushed his look is. The man slowly came near you and whispered in your ear.

"How about I really put something inside you now? I think you'll love it, baby girl."

Shivers crawled across your skin as you heard those coming from his lips with his super-sexy voice. Sanemi placed his hands on your face, looking at you with eyes glistening with a mixture of passion and lust.

"What do you think, Y/N, baby?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------

𝒀𝒐𝒖! 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌? 𝒀𝒆𝒔? 𝒀𝒆𝒔? 𝑯𝑨𝑯𝑨!

Oh my gosh~ I want it so much >.< Sanemi, so naughty!

Hope you'll also check my other stories! Send a request if you want me to tailor one, specifically for you fufufu~

Anyways, thank you for reading this chapter~ And good news, more chappies will come hahaha! My plot bunnies are awake soooo hihi ^^

Also, for easier navi, Imma put this here as well:

Thank you so much and see yah on the next part! Love yah!

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

<𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫>

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer imagines #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi #genya shinazugawa #genya #sanemi shinaguzawa #sanemi x y/n #sanemi x fem!reader #sanemi x you #sanemi x kanae #giyu x shinobu #shinobu kocho #rengoku kyojuro #kanroji mitsuri #obanai iguro #uzui tengen #gyomei himejima #demon slayer au #demon slayer modern au #sanemi modern au #sanemi au #sanemi angst #teacher sanemi x teacher reader #teacher sanemi

[heeracha]

## jake’s watch. — p. jay

content/warning(s): e2l, jay x reader, jake being stressed, swearing, tell me when i missed something, lowkey highkey self-indulgent, unproof read

wc: 1.2k

note: kinda inspired by that one ep in friends and seinfield,,, i should stop watching these kinds of sitcoms,, again be proud that its not a hee fic lmao even though this was supposedly for hee hELP LMAO anyway enjoy <3 the pics lowkey contradicted jay here hELP

jake rolls his eyes, sighing as he opens the door of his shared apartment with jay. he goes in, the screams going back and forth from you and jay. jake looks at the two of you glaring at each other, looking like about to jump on the other and have a full on fist fight. jake never understood you two’s relationship. sometimes, he’d walk in with you in jay’s arm crying, other times jay would be screaming curses about how you’re always in the apartment, but jay would later on look for you in hopes to find your comfort.

but now, screaming at each other.

“how is it my fault?! explain—”

“you seriously agreed on this!”

“guys—”

“because you forced me to!”

“you know my ideas are stupid at times—”

“at times?! no! all of your ideas are stupid!”

“guys!” jake shouts, sighing as he momentarily closes his eyes. he looks at you and jay, finger pointing at the two of you. “can you not fight for a minute that i’m here?” jake says and you and jay silently glare at each other. “what are you doing here, y/n?”

“yeah, y/n, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“jay!” jake scolds and jay scowls as you smirk at him.

“sunghoon asked me to drop some stuff for you.” you say, grabbing the paper bag and giving it to jake who takes it, mumbling a thank you. “where have you been?”

“you plan to ruin his day?” jay says.

“no! i plan to ruin your face!” you burst and jake sighs as you and jay started screaming at each other again.

“oh, god,” jake mumbles as he covers his face with his hands. he comes forward, placing his hands on your shoulder and jay’s. “you two, stop.” jake says and you huff, glaring at jay as he clenches his jaw. “act like adults, please! one day you’re best friends, the other you hate each other. can you please fucking decide if you hate each other or what? please.”

“but jake, he—”

“ah! no.” jake dismisses.

“jake, they—”

“no! i don’t care!” jake snaps, sighing. he pushes the two of you down to sit on the couch. “talk to each other, whatever, i don’t care. if you hate each other, fight but not when anyone’s around. if you two are friends, then talk and laugh. if you like each other, go out on a date, make out, whatever!” he says as he goes to his room.

you and jay look at each other, then away from each other.

stupid denial idiots.

after a few moments, jake comes back out with his bag. “i’m gonna go to heeseung hyung’s. he needs help with something. i’ll be back late.” he says and jay hums, raising his hand as a bye. “oh, i need my watch tomorrow, okay?”

“i’ll give it tomorrow.” jay answers and jake hums.

“when i get back, no yelling, no shouting, no fighting. act like adults and resolve your issues.” jake says.

you softly sigh, grabbing a pillow as you feel a tug on the opposite end. you look up, seeing jay grabbing it as well. you let go, pushing it to him. “no, it’s fine.” jay says, pushing it back to you.

“no,” you softly say, pushing it back.

“just take it.” jay says, pushing it.

“i offered it first.” you say, glaring at jay.

“and i said it’s fine!” jay snaps.

and jake groans. “i haven’t left yet!” he says and you frown, pushing the pillow to jay, but he pushes it back again. so you push it to the floor causing jay to scoff. “seriously, you two need therapy.”

mhm, couples therapy.

“i’m going. no fighting, okay?” jake says and you hum. “bye.”

“bye.”

“take care.”

you look down, playing with your fingers as you soon hear the door closing. you turn to jay and he looks at you, noticing your actions. so, he turns to you as well. “so?” you softly ask and jay scoffs.

“don’t tell me you’re going to do what jake said.” jay said and you shrug, looking down. “i’m sorry for raising my voice.”

“me, too.” you say. “your ideas aren’t stupid.”

“i know.” jay says and you sigh, rolling your eyes. 

“why do you always do that?” you say. “when i’m on the verge of changing my mind that you are not an actual asshole, you would go and—”

jay leans in, pressing his lips against yours as you feel his finger under your chin, tilting your head as he kisses you. he pulls back, looking into your eyes and you pout. “you do that.” you softly finish and jay only smiles. you cup his cheeks, pressing your lips against his and he kisses back right away.

at least jake got what he wanted. he came home to a very peaceful apartment. lights off, no screaming, not shouting. jake goes to his bedroom, smiling as he sleeps peacefully. the next day comes, jake gets ready as he prepares himself for an event in his workplace. he comes out of his room in a semi-formal outfit, going to the kitchen as he sees jay sipping coffee while reading the newspaper. 

others go through their phones, but jay goes through the newspaper.

“morning,” jake greets.

“morning,” jay replies as he takes a mug, putting coffee in and giving it to jake who thanks him. 

“i assume you and y/n are okay now?” jake says. “for now, at least.”

jay hums, looking at him. “i think we’ll be okay for a long time.” he says and jake raises his eyebrows in surprise. “so, what’s the event for today?” 

jay and jake got to talking until jake finished his coffee. jake puts it in the sink, but when he sees jay glaring at him, he immediately grabs the sponge to wash it. “i’ll be going now,” jake announces as he dries his hands, jay humming. jake walks to the door, but stops when he remembers about his watch.

“jay, my watch. i want to wear it today.” jake says and jay hums, about to get off of his seat but stops. jake looks at him confused when jay opens his mouth, no words leaving and then looks at jake. “what?”

jay only clears his throat, nodding behind jake. jake turns around, seeing you. “morning,” he says with a smile.

“morning,” you say. “is this your watch?”

jake looks at what you’re holding and jake beams, taking it from you. “yeah, thanks. how did you know?” jake asks, chuckling.

“jay wears vintage-ish watches. the leather kinds, you know?” you say and jake hums, agreeing as he puts the watch on his wrist. he never saw jay wear steel ones, now that he’s thinking about it.

…now that he’s thinking, why the hell are you here on a sunday at 6:47 am? jake looks at you as his smile turns down, studying you and he notices now that you’re wearing jay’s oversized button up that falls on your knees. you press your lips into a thin line, looking at jake as he looks at jay who sips on his coffee, a subtle smile on his lips.

“i hate the two of you.” jake says, shaking his head as he grabs his coat and leaves the apartment. you only giggle as jay smiles widely. you go to him as you hug him from behind.

“good morning,” you greet and jay hums, kissing your cheek.

“good morning, honey.” he says as you look at him for permission to drink on his mug and he nods, putting an arm around you as he continues to read the paper.

oh, jake is going to deal with another thing.

— august 26, 2022. heeracha

#i just feel like jay's a newspaper kind of guy lmao idk why #Hiraya-M #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #jay imagines #jay scenarios #jay reactions #jay fluff #jay x reader

[coleszzzworld]

My yandere college! Yandere jock head canons!

A/n-(yoooo , these are just some random head canons for my yandere jock series ! I just wanted to push something out , and it’s been forever since I wrote for kai lol lowkey this is some character backstory for Kai , happy reading enjoy!❤️)

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️- suggestive content , daddy issues, mentions of murder? (Kind of) just some crazy stuff lol and yandere behavior. Do not read if easily triggered!

•I already said this in the first chapter butttttt kai is definitely a golden retriever boyfriend, he’s just so damn stupid, and he has a bright personality. But when someone fucks with you in anyway … let’s just say he gets scary 😭 , and I don’t mean that in a cringe way , that man will kill for you . And make sure you’ll never find out 🧍🏽‍♀️he could go to 0 to 100 real quick !!!

•Kai loves being around you , no matter what . Oh your going back to your dorm ? Or home (that’s if u don’t live on campus) it doesn’t matter he’ll be behind you , and he’ll lowkey invite himself to stay the night at your place , like this man literally lives at your dorm/house , like I’m not joking his toothbrush, clothes, blankets etc . Is at your place even if you have a roommate or you live with your family , surprisingly your roommate/family love him! And says he’s welcome anytime! , yeah you definitely need space from him. “Y/n!! Let’s watch a movie!”

•I don’t want to be that person but I will be , he definitely has home problems , that boy ain’t got a daddy (just like me fr 🤠) when he was two years old , his dad left . And his mom always works . She’s barely home , and when she is , they don’t really talk , and when they do they always fight about the dumbest things , so basically he ain’t got no dad , and his mom is a workaholic, and he’s a insane psychopath! w for his parents fr !!!🥳 that’s part of the reason he stays with you , he’s alone most of the time , that and he likes to have you close.

•also I will be that person again🙃, when your sleep , and he’s laying on the floor next to your bed (he refused to stay in the guest room , he says your room is more comfortable.) he definitely the type to get hard from just being near you , and he has to release his aching pain some how ….👀 now he’s respectful he’ll make sure he’s quiet (even tho he doesn’t want to be.🤠) and he’s makes sure to clean up after , don’t hate but he’s definitely a whimper 😩 like he bites his lip when he’s coming to his high , his hand going up and down on his length. 😵‍💫 he just thinks about how you would feel on his length and how he would just claim you as his , all he can think about is how tight you would be … “f-fuck , y-y/n I’ll be g-good , just be mines , p-please”

•now let me tell you this , he’s definitely not a virgin, his body count is two , everyone on campus thinks he’s a play boy but naw 😭he has a low body count and he’s loyal to one person and that person is only you. That and all of his team mates and friends are play boys so that’s were the expectations come from fr lol .

•now , he does have siblings(he has 3 other siblings), but he has never met them (well kinda of) ,the first thing he knows about his dad was when he was starting college and football he was meeting everyone and he met a cheerleader , she kinda of looked like his dad , I mean the pictures of his dad he had she looked like him , and she had the same last name as his dad (Kai has his moms last name) curiously he wanted too know more , so he went digging and fount her instagram, he saw photos of her family and sure enough he saw his dad … he definitely stayed away from her when he fount out his dad , left and had a new family, a family with another woman , and new children, a child that HE goes to school with , someone HE shares the flied with basically, he lost it , bro was definitely feeling all types of Emotions , actually as matter fact , when he first fell for you , yk at the football game , the reason why his head was out of the game and the team was losing , was because his dad was their , not for him , hell his dad probably didn’t even recognize that Kai was playing, his dad was their for his daughter. The cheerleader. Kai was feeling anger, sadness, he wanted to go up on those bleachers and beat the hell out of his dad…all that was running through Kai Head was “how dare he leave me , and have a new family. How fucking dare he come here . And act like I don’t exist. How dare he.” But when break time happened and he bumped into you near the concessions stand that’s when he met you .Suddenly he felt wanted, he knew he had to have you.

•now let’s talk about Kai’s mom , like I said she’s a workaholic, she wasn’t married to Kai’s dad when he split , and she works as a nurse, she picks up shifts and works all day / night ,she really didn’t talk about Kai’s dad , while he was growing up , and refused to talk about him , when Kai wanted to get in contact with his dad . She’s a nice lady tho , when she was at home , Kai dragged you to his house to meet her , and surprisingly you and her bonded , then she left for work . Kai looked disappointed but he’s used to it 🙃

•Kai just needs love and attention, bro is , Touch starved too😭 he just needs some love fr , so no matter where y’all are , he will always be holding you hand or holding your waist , or just lean against you , bro just down bad fr 😭

•he’s your best friend, as you put it , but I’m telling you now , that man is trying to be more then friends, like he’s literally insane over you . And even if you don’t like him like that , that’s okay , you’ll never get rid of him!

•this man drives , so your a passenger princess , so when you guys go out , he likes to blast music and put his hand on your thigh , and he says it’s not werid, but you’re like “🤔” he definitely has no chill , like I said he loves holding you . So his hands go to your thighs when he drives you , too school or anywhere else

•I have a feeling that this man listens to indie and rap , I’m talking like gorillaz and Marc demarco , jid , sometimes Kodak and nardo wick when he’s feeling devious 🤭 he also listens to glass animals, anddddd tame impla and Tyler the creator😤

•let’s do say , someone fucks with you , In anyway I mean he fought Cameron Harris for you , he definitely was trying to kill him , and he would if his friends didn’t pull him off Cameron , but let’s say someone disrespect your name or spreads Nasty rumors about you , that man is ready to split whoever skull open for you , like I said he’s bat shit crazy, he literally thinks of you as a god . He thinks your his savior damn near 😵‍💫 like he can’t have no one talking down on your name 🗣️

•overall If I had to rate him on how dangerous he is I would say 8.9/10 like he’s insane and basically he has nothing to lose , he’ll go to war for you any day , if you say to , he will , he just real like that🤭💅🏽.

“Nobody will talk to you like that y/n . I’ll forever love and protect you . You’ll see I’m the one for you! And If not …I’ll make you love me .”

#yandere #yandere jock #yandere blog #yandere x reader #yandere shitpost #yandere headcanons

[ihonestlycanttellyou]

DoL PC: Onyx the Depraved

My main save and menace to society playthrough! >:]

Cut because it got longer than expected. :p

General

Defiant, Vengeful Sadist, Drooling Masochist, Notorious Slut/Whore/Show-off/Scrapper, and Considered a terror; despite all this, still kinda liked in town.

Would be a Notorious Allfather too but the feature's not really there. :p

Beautiful, Lustful, and Asphyxiophilia traits.

Literally thrives on sick depravity, it's his favorite food.

Lives at Bailey's orphanage but never pays him, prefers to just stomp him and his goons once a week.

A bully at school but his looks and attitude make him very popular despite his more... unsavory actions.

Sending Leighton to the pillory is his favorite past time.

Celebrity chef, Bartender, Adult Shop Attendant, Model, and Brothel Star.

Got a parasite once and was never the same. Now a father of many many many slimes.

Was always an incubus but gained the Cow TF at the farm.

Escaped Remy's secret farm after becoming the farmer's prized cattle. At first, he hated his forced hybrid nature but he loves what being made into a bullboy did to his body; he's super buff and produces milk now. Score!

Escaped prison but lowkey misses pushing the other inmates and even the guards around.

His "types": older men, rich women, brats, and horrific otherworldly beings.

Somehow remembers the names of each of his slimes but not his human children.

Relationships

(Love Interests)

He, Robin, and Corrupt Sydney are bestfriends! :]

Knows about Kylar's obsession and bullies him for it, would probably only gain interest after learning about Kylar's "daddy issues". *

Fucks around with Whitney. Onyx likes the three F's: fighting, fucking, and funds; Whitney provides all three.

At first, he started working for Alex purely to spite Remy but started to genuinely like the guy as a friend.

Thinks Avery is a huge brat, wants to collar and fuck him until he stops whining about his weak standing among the other rich bastards in town. He does like getting $2K just for looking good though so he'll keep Avery around.

Has never met the You are being Hunted trio, so no opinion on Eden, Black Wolf, or Great Hawk.

*He'd love the depravity and really play into it.

(People of Interest)

Hates Bailey but would totally hit it at any given chance.

Has an oddly deep respect for Briar despite her literally being diet Bailey, not even he knows why.

Protects Darryl when working as a Bartender in her club but is mostly indifferent to her.

Absolutely fucking terrified of Harper, that dude literally altered his brain chemistry for one and then tried to take him back to the farm after he escaped.

Indifferent towards Laundry and Mickey but appreciates their business.

Oh boy, where to start with Leighton. Well- [CENSORED FOR PUBLIC SAFETY]

Only knows Niki from the studio, likes them by not by much. If he knew they worked on the farm, he'd flip.

Would charge at and trample Remy since he likes bulls so much, it'd be cathartic for Onyx despite him seemingly enjoying being a bullboy.

Credits Sam for his success as a celebrity pastry chef, still mostly indifferent towards her.

First met Wren in prison and thought he was cool, thought he was awesome when he actually went through with sabotaging Remy during Blackjack. All that admiration flew out the window when he had to suck off all of Wren's friends for his clothes back. >:/

Loves Sirris as a teacher and boss, lowkey wants to make another "sex-ed" video with him.

FUCKING HATES MS. RIVER, He is a complete delinquent so she targets him a bit. He thinks it's funny when she passes out from his antics with Whitney though.

Wants Doren biblically, even more so if she's actually a werewolf like the rumors say.

Hates Mr. Winter, bastard left him in that stupid pillory like five times. Intrigued by his interests in medieval punishment though.

Thinks Mason is kinda hot, not his type.

Never met the others.

Lookbook :D

Everyday Look x3, School, Swimming, Formal, Athletic, Sleep, and finally the Brothel fit, babeyyy!

His tattoos: a horned skull on his chest, "Paradise" beneath his pierced bellybutton with an arrow pointing downstairs (okay fine, it's canonically Size Queen but let! me! have! this!), and ofc a cattle brand on his left asscheek.

#Good lord should I even bothering tagging everyone? #degrees of lewdity #dol #dol pc #dol ocs #avery the businessperson #kylar the loner #robin the orphan #alex the farmhand #whitney the bully #sydney the fallen #bailey the caretaker #briar the brothel owner #leighton the headteacher #Babygirl Leighton #remy the farmer #harper the doctor #wren the smuggler #...yeah no that's it. Too many to tag. #dol npcs #done. #Onyx the Depraved #dol pc: onyx

[lakesbian]

What would Alec do with Panacea/Dauphine’s power, anywho? I feel like it wouldn’t end well for anyone

he's actually not one of the worst options for it to go to because he's primarily interested in Chilling and remaining Safely Away From Scrutinizing Public Eye. and he also doesn't have morals developed well enough to have a moral crisis & subsequent explosive mental health break over it. and he also doesn't feel most of his emotions strongly enough to be too impulsive with it. it would make his rare Joker Moment significantly worse, but he wouldn't be like...Worse Than Amy in terms of overall impact on the world. and he's actually more likely to fix what he fucked up than she is, given a week or two to realize "oh wait, i shouldn't have done that, actually."

jean-paul, however, would be a fucking nightmare. jean-paul would be brainwashing people left and fucking right. the heartbroken is his cult fambily now and every body love him and so nice to him all of the time forever and give him hugs and buy him snacks and play video games with him too :) and they all hit dad with rocks for him until he dies :) and then cherie stops being mean to him and gives him fun outfits :) and all his brothers think he's cool and don't call him gay anymore :) and his mom likes him now and cooks him mac and cheese :) and everything is fixed forever :)

y'know, until the system intervenes w/ intent to treat him as a cult leader on par w/ his father & detain him & then tosses him in the birdcage when he inevitably fights back by making any scary capes or cops breaking into his house and home shit themselves to death. so yeah it'd suck for him. but if you just like. dropped the powers on Normal Alec all of a sudden in the middle of his undersider era he'd be p sensible and lowkey about them. oh and he and aisha would do some freak shit. but in a cute way. :). like how dauphine melds her and victor's arms together when he's flying her for the first time. entirely consensual freak shit which she explicitly requests, as in canon, but still absurdly hyperintimate. highschool first ever bestfriendships are just like that. brian and taylor would also hate him being around aisha 10x more and also probably intermittently get paranoid that he Did Something to her so that would suck. it would make his life worse but this would not stop him from yearning for it. like i said he's like a dog begging 4 chocolate wholly unaware it's going to murder him if he ever gets any

#ask #worm spoilers #scarf don't look

[kpopcookie0813]

NCT REACTION TO YOU DOING THE WAP (MAKNAE LINE)

Warning: Kind of smutty....

Xioajun:

HE LOOK SO PRETTY!!!!🙂🙂

I feel like he would also give a stank face cause you think you cute ( And you are queen PERIOD). Yeah he would not like it one bit lol lowkey judging you.

Y/n: Junnie look X: *stops what he is doing to look* X: *gives you the gif look* Y/n: Fuck you to then😑😒

Hendery;

DIS MINE RIGHT HERE!!!!(6/9)🤪🤪

I feel like he would be a flirt. He will give you that look and ask if you wanna take it to the room.

Y/n: *you start doing the dance* H: Hey baby what you- damn🤤 Y/n: *you turn around* what H: *walks up to you grabs you by the waist pulling you close and whispers in your ear* Let's take this to the room.😈😏 Y/n: O-okay😳

Renjun:

INJUNNIE😊😊😊

I feel like he would just stare until you notice that he is staring.

Y/n: *doing the challenge* R: *😶😶* Y/n: *looking over the video making sure you did good* R: *😶😶* Y/n: *you turn around and see him staring* Damn boy take a picture it will last longer *you laugh* R: Good idea Y/n: *rolls eyes playfully and laughs again*

Jeno:

HE GETTIN BIG!?!?!?!?!😳😳😳

He would be like Johnny and tell you to go sit down somewhere cause you not shakin no ass for nobody but him.😂😂

J: Baby what are you doing? *He says coming in your room* Y/n: *stops making video and hides phone* Nothing. J: Why are you hiding your phone? Y/n: I-I'm not. J: Okay well then let me see Y/n: *hands Jeno the phone* J: *sees what you were doing and glares at you* Why were you making this video Y/n: Because my fans asked me to do the challenge. *Laughs nervously* (Your TikTok famous) J: *laughs sarcastically * Don't do it again Y/n: But- J: *glare* Y/n: Fiinne

Haechan:

I feel like his reaction would be like Hendery I'm mean they are like twins.🤩🤩

Y/n: *practicing the dance while singing the lyrics out loud* THATS SOME WET ASS P**** GET A BUCKET AND A M- H: BABY WHY ARE YOU YELL- *sees you twerking*😦😦😦 Y/n: *turns around and sees Haechan* Channie whats wrong H: *comes up to you pulls you to him to where your lips are almost touching and grabs your ass* You just looked really sexy doing that dance and I think I have a problem now because of you. Y/n: *kisses Haechan* He picks you up and y'all got to the room and you know what happens😏.

Jaemin:

HE BEEN LOOKIN A LIL TOO GOOD LATELY!!!!!😏😏😏

Prepare to be up under a needy, clingy, and attention seeking boyfriend all day. After he sees you doing that dance you probably won't be going anywhere for days because he wants you all to himself.

J: Princess where are you? he says looking for you. Y/n: * doing the dance* I'm in the living room. J: *looking on his phone then looks up* Oh I just- shit *sees you hit a perfect split while twerking* Y/n: *finishes then turns around* What?! J: Oh, um Can we cuddle please🥺🥺 Y/n: *you laugh* yes Jae 😊 J: *pulls you on the couch and y'all cuddle all day*

YANGYANG:

Since this boy reminds everyone of annoying orange (He still my baby tho. 7/9),😂😂😂 I think that he will mess up your video to annoy you cause deep down he know he don't want you dancing like that on camera. You would be making the for the 55th time and finally got it right almost being finished and he messes it up.

Y: *walks in the room to see you dancing* Y/n: *messes up again* ugh I hate this shit *tries again after complaining* Y: *starts thinking of a way for sabotage and immediately knows what to do* Y/n: *feels happy cause it's going well* Y: 1 2 3 *jumps in-front you messing the video up* Y/n: YangYang what the fuck🤬 Y: *laughs* aww baby, come on it was a joke *pinches your cheeks* Y/n: *smacks hand* *roll eyes and walks away*

Shotaro:

HE SO CUUTTEE.🥺🥹

He would be flustered and turned on. Gets shy on how to ask for help with his problem that you caused. He might even help if you help on the dance.

Y/n: *practicing the humping part on the ground to get it right* S: Bebe I wanted to know if-😳*sees you trying and gets turned on* Y/n: Baby can you help me please S: Y-yeah sure Y'all might be doing a lil sum sum later to fix his problem *wink wink*

Sungchan:

HE LOOK SO NICE..😫

I don't really know what he would do. Probably stare at you like Renjun did but with lust.

S: *comes in your shared room and sees you dancing and stares* Y/n: Hey giraffe S: *snaps out of trance* Hey shorty *pulls you in his lap as he sits down on your bed* Y/n: I'm not short your just super tall *you say as you wrap your arms around his neck* S: yeah sure *pulls your hips close to his and leans in giving you a kiss and lays down with you in his arms* Use your imagination for the rest.

Chenle:

MY ONE AND ONLY(7/9)🤤🤤🤤

He would be over dramatic. You would know that he is in the room when you hear a dolphin scream. He might overreact but deep down he likes what he sees.

C: *walks in the living room when he sees you grinding* AAAAHH WTF Y/n: *falls on the floor in shock* CHENLE C: I mean it's not my fault you up in here bumping and grinding everywhere. Y/n: YOU DON'T HAVE TO SCREAM THOUGH C: Why you yellin at me😶 Y/n: Sorry it's just you was being to loud. *kiss him and he kisses back and you guys hug and watch tv together*

Jisung:

MY JISUNG PWARK(9/9)😯😯

Boy gon look like a whole red tomato. He gets so flustered over seeing all that ass shake.

Y/n: Sungie can you watch me do this dance to see if it looks good. J: Yeah, sure baby. Y/n: *starts doing the dance and almost finished* J: *watches you finish but is stuck for words* Y/n: So how was it. J: U-uuuhhhh it was amazing Y/n: Really are sure you're not lying, are you? Jisung: No no jagi it was really amazing it just caught me off guard. Y/n: *pulls Jisung to your face with hands on his cheeks and kisses him on the lips* J: *kisses back then after a couple of seconds pulls away* I love you Y/n: I love you too.

I know that Shotaro and Sungchan are in RIIZE now, but they were in the group when I wrote this story so, there gonna be in this and other NCT as a whole stuff from my book on Wattpad then after I add those drafts, they will be only in RIIZE. As well as Lucas he was in my wattpad book for NCT also so, same goes for him but he will be added with soloist section. Also, STAN RIIZE AND XUXI!!!!!

#nct ambw #xiaojun #hendery #renjun #jeno #haechan #jaemin #yangyang #shotaro #sungchan #chenle #jisung

[noco7]

Who are your favorite TD characters and why? :]

Thank you for the ask. And I have 3 main favorites.

So Noah, Cody, and Courtney. NoCoCo. Lol

Let's get into it:

Noah:

When I say Noah is me, I mean he manages to encompass a lot of phases that I had in my own life.

When I was in middleschool, I was the "smart kid." And I was also bad at sports. So Noah's dodgeball elimination is like... uncomfortably familiar to me. I don't think his actions were "stupid" or "bad writing," nah it’s truth in television. As a kid I was TOLD to stay on the bench whenever possible, and let the real athletes perform. So Noah staying on the sidelines... nah that makes sense. He's internalized the message.

#NoahDidNothingWrong

Even his tantrum at the end of the episode is familiar. Although I've never been that bad, there was a moment when I was playing badminton in gym. I lost a match, and I thought to myself "Well, I know more about X then he ever will. So who's the TRUE winner?"

It's so juvenile, lmao. Taking the "everyone has different strengths :)" and making it into “my strength is the Best.” 

Another thing that I like Noah for is for his... "vibes." He's always acting unimpressed, always like 'who cares' turning up his nose at joy. And that's how I acted my first year of college! (I was 17, so only 1 year older than Noah lol). Because I thought it made me cool or something. But it's just overcompensation, really.

And Noah being "smart," but never actually doing anything useful. Yeah... it happens. That was me junior year of college. Everyone is like "oh you were so smart in highschool," "you're the smart one," But you have nothing to show for it.

God, he's relatable. He's a mix of all the things I dislike in myself, including the "laziness" aspect. So by the very act of liking him, by writing stories where he is comforted, understood, told it's okay to be vulnerable - it feels like I'm loving myself.

Oh, and also Noah is funny af? I decided he was my favorite character before I watched Total Drama. I was watching compilation videos of "funniest lines," "most saveage combacks," or "TD being gay for 5 minutes" and Noah was popping off! Noah has some of the best dialogue.  And that appeals to another side of me I dislike - my judgemental side. So like.... 5/5 on the relatability scale.

Also, I think its funny I've not mentioned Noah's role in TD *at all*. Because he doesn't really have one? His job for TDI and WT is for him to comment on other people. That's it. And that’s fine, that’s the side-character life. No complaints.

I know some people say "Noah warned the guys about Alejandro." And like yeah, he did. But I'm pretty sure Owen and Tyler lowkey already knew. And then once Noah is gone, Owen does nothing about Alejandro? He has to be coaxed by Duncan into doing anything. And then Alejandro just flatters and hypnotizes him? And Tyler gets used for the Gwuncan plotline? So his warning does NOTHING for the show? Lmao.

I'm not even mad at this, btw. Because it doesn’t matter to me whether his sacrificed worked or not - I like Noah because I like me, not because he’s important. (Also Noah’s POC background appeals to me because I’m also POC, and I can project my ‘child of immigrants’ upbringing onto him.)

Cody:

Like a few days ago I explained to someone in dms why I liked Cody despite also hating him and thinking he's whats wrong with men in media. So gonna copy and paste my main points:

1) Although a lot of the things he does is bad (follow Gwen around, not take her NO's seriously) they do indicate some positive qualities: He's persistent, he's optimistic, and he's okay with setbacks. These are all good qualities that I do not have, and would make my life a lot better. And don't we all wish we had the confidence of a mediocre white man?

While Cody needs to learn how to STOP, we could all stand to be a little more shameless, and a little more willing to take risks. 

2)There's also smth really sad about him, and I'm not necessarily talking about his parents. There's a scene in TDI, where he asks Gwen out/about her bra. And she hits him in the dick with an oar. Which... fair, lol.

#GwenDidNothingWrong

But Cody's reaction is interesting to me. He apologizes, (deserved.) And then asks *again*.

WTF? That's weird to me. It doesn't just signal entitlement. It signals that he's okay with physical harm - from the person he loves,  all in the mere hope that he'll end up with said person. And that's pretty fucking tragic imo. At least that's how I interpret it. Because I think most guys at that point would be like, "What's WRONG with you i was just COMPLIMENTING you, you should be FLATTERED!"

But Cody just goes with it?

And for futher proof for my interpretation, Cody ends up telling Sierra she's his best friend during WT. Despite everything she did - multiple cases of sexual harassment, drugging, forced marriage, etc...  Cody is still willing to keep her in his life, to keep her close. Because, think about it, she was the only person who consistently tried to help him. The only one who ever gave him any real compliments.

And that's sad. And also interesting.

Why would a guy like Cody, who in canon is presumably canonically cis, white, and straight, be so willing to take abuse in search of love?

Why is he so lonely? Who raised him to chase after affection like this? And what could his tale say about the problems of public society, and the potential dysfunctions of the private family unit?

And that's the beauty of Cody. Noah allows me to talk about myself, but Cody allows me to talk about the world around me. About sexism and entitlement, about classism, about societal expectations around "love," and "family," and how damaging they can be.

A lot of people see Cody as an "average white man," and if so... then the average fucking sucks and I want to talk about it, lol. I understand why others would be tired of it (and also I don’t think it’s women’s job to Make Men Happy btw. A big reason I don’t ship Cody with women.) But as writer, it’s really rewarding to explore his psyche while also providing a possibility for growth, a way out, and a happy ending.

Cody's also rlly adorable, especially in Total Dramarama. Like he's impossible to hate in that show. There's an episode where Cody risks life and limb to be considered cool by his classmates. There's one where he says "Now I have to live in the sewers *again*." I don't say this lightly, but he's the best character there. He's so funny.

Courtney:

Courtney, I got attached to via the actual show. I watched Action before Island... and she's just really cool? Her entrance is cool, and as I said repeatedly, I love evil woman. But beyond "wow girlboss😮," what else do I like about her?

I like her story. Her actual fucking story. Wow. I might be one of the only Courtney stans who likes how Total Drama handled her. Skdjsdk.

So in Island, we see her battle her class-monitor upbringing, and learn to break the rules. This is done through her BF Duncan. And overall, this is pretty standard "good girl meets bad boy and loosens up" faire. It's nothing special. (I watched Island when I was 20. So I had plenty of time to see that same story in YA romances. So... yeah. Like I said, nothing special.)

But in Action? We see her on the warpath. We see her take charge. She had taken charge in Island, but it was kinda innefectual. The joke was that she'd give orders, but things would go wrong. That she would barely be useful herself? But in Action? She takes thing in her OWN hands. She revitalizes Trent's team. She is also bad to Duncan.

And I think this could have worked, if she blamed Duncan for Harold's actions. Because Harold eliminated Courtney BECAUSE of Duncan. So she wouldn't be far-off. And also slide in a moment where her parents hate her new BF, or like. Imagine if Courtney told her parents she lost, because Harold rigged her out, but it wasn't her fault. He hated Duncan. And her parents are like "What did you expect? You date a delinquent and get suprised when trouble appears at your door?"

And so she's mad at Duncan for dragging her into his fight, for drawing her parent's ire.

No wonder she tries to "fix him." She wants to make him fit for approval, and also prove to HERSELF that she's the one with the control. That she can FIX him.

Some people hate how Courtney has no self-awareness and thinks she's a good person all the time. I fucking love it.

Courtney thinks she's HELPING. After all, she wants to be the best. So why shouldn't others? Why would Duncan have problems with a list of instructions? Courtney LOVES instructions. She loves bettering herself.

C.I.T. Counselor-in-Training. She wants to be a COUNSELOR. She wants to help people, she wants to be a Leader. But she's really bad at it! Because of instead of wanting people to accomplish their goals... she kinda wants them to accomplish what she decides their goals should be. She's not a mad scientist, she's a mad therapist.

This is why I think Action is her best season. Because that's when she goes OFF and really shows her worst potential. And I'm into that, because it gives me a lot to discuss - how the drive for success and efficiency can leave people broken. Can kill personal relationships.

I kinda LOVE that every positive relationship Courtney builds she ends up breaking. Duncan. Gwen. Scott. Gwen *again.*

I'd love it too, if she learned her lesson and developed but like. Out of context, it's so fitting. (In my fantasy rewrite of TD, she realizes something is off in WT, gets better in ROTI, and cements her character change in All Stars)

In WT, Courtney doesn't get to do much. She has the love triangle thing, which doesn't do much for her character because she doesn't learn anything from it? But she's still very funny this season. I don't like her thing with Alejandro. I don't mind CourtneyXAlejandro btw. I'd just rather them team up temporarily.

In All Stars, Courtney gets a new BF. Scott. She's mending her relationship with Gwen. It's looking good, maybe Duncan was the real problem all along. And then it collapses.

I read somewhere that TD writers just thought she couldn't be redeemed. Which is funny to me. Maybe All Stars was to show "no matter how kind to her people are, she will always put money first." It would explain alot, and if that's what they're going for, they succeeded. And ... I'm okay with that. I just wish it was more a struggle for her, or that it was better foreshadowed. But I'm not mad at the direction they chose.

So overall, Courtney is character who started out a good girl with a bad boy, turned out WORSE than the bad boy, and kept going. She did everything to *win*, yet never was a finalist. She burned three friendships for cash, yet never got it. That's poetic, honestly. She tries so hard to be a girlboss, but she's a girl-flop at the end of the day. And I like that. I really do.

Tl;dr: Noah's me, Cody's society, and Courtney is the industrial complex. Not really, because Courtney has never been profitable. She's like a failed start-up company.

BONUS: How I view their possible dynamics

I obviously ship Noah and Cody, as a kind of two losers with opposing strengths learn from each other, but also get on each others nerves. If you want to know more about how I view their dynamic, just read my fic.

Courtney and Noah are my "Do it right or don't do it all," duo. I don't care what their relationship is. Like they'd make great twins who hated each other. Science Olympiad rivals or partners. They'd even be a fine couple (if you're not writing them as related, that is EWW).

I like to imagine Courtney writing a long winded plan, handing it to Noah, and he just rips it in two and tells her he's not doing all that. Which is pretty mean tbh. I also like to imagine Courtney stepping on Noah's back while she forces him to do push ups. I imagine Noah and Courtney standing over a desk in class, asking you 'What grade did you get?" with identical smug smiles. I imagine them gossiping over Gwen together, being roommates, dissing each other's man. "You're dating trash you dug out of the gutter." "At least I'm not settling for a fun-sized McDonalds toy."

I imagine them interacting a lot, actually. I want them to be worsties who grow into besties.

Courtney and Cody is like... I'm split. They would make a really good Hallmark movie. Courtney the busy worker, and Cody who loves the Holidays. The story writes itself. But at the same time I love how they dislike each other in canon. Cuz Cody's a gwen stan and Courtney thinks Gwen should DIE. joking. And also because Cody keeps on being annoyingly sexist. Like in the Greece episode, despite having no athletic ability, he's like "let ME do it, *ladies*" and Courtney is NOT having it. So I guess they also have the range.

Maybe they don't get along until someone's like "Let's get the TWO best World Tour singers up on staaage!!!" And both Cody and Courtney stand up.

#total drama #td noah #td cody #td courtney #td askbox #they're like my little gang of losers #but noah pretends he doesn't care about being a loser #cody doesn't even know he's a loser #and courtney is trying to distance herself by any means possible #i have a lot of 2nd gen characters i like #but i haven't watched roti in a while #i remember thinking it was the best written season #but i cant remember why #also my fic is NOT a td rewrite #the td rewrite i have in my mind is so difficult and requires more research #than what im willing to do currently #also whenever noah and courtney interact in total dramarama #i cry tears of joy

[thespacelizard]

for your thirsty drow: rizeth 28, ashenivir 35, zeth'rinn 30, vizeath 69

i will fully admit i reblogged this ask game like a lil cheese under a cardboard box trap for you :p

28 - Are they into body worship?

For receiving, I think he’s pretty neutral on it, but would be happy to do it if it was something Ashenivir really wanted to do. He’d be very into giving it; you know how much he adores Ashenivir all the fucking time, he’d love the chance to bring that into a scene.

I do even have a note for him doing some in arc 5, after Matron Zauvym pulls some bullshit.

35 - Have they tried something adventurous that they ended up disliking?

you mean apart from the debacle of To Know One’s Limits? (well, i guess he did like part of that, he just accidentally ended up triggered. oops). Hmm…not yet, really, I want to say. None of the people he’s hooked up with have ever been that adventurous, especially compared to Rizeth, and he hasn’t done anything with Rizeth that he really dislikes yet (apart from the aforementioned fic debacle).

I mean we could say, based on the two things that are in his active dislikes column, that he did try watersports with someone one time and immediately went ‘actually no thank you’. Because my boy, sometimes regrettably, will try most anything once, especially if a partner is into it.

(the only other thing on his active dislikes column is breeding, and there’s no way he needed to try that one out to know it was a major hard limit)

30 - How bratty are they?

ahhhh, i’m so predictable, but i think i am going to commit and say he’s very bratty. He’s a tease. He’s an annoying little shit. He’s just like his fucking dad, and you can pry my bratty Jarlaxle headcanon from my cold dead bratty hands.

I think Zeth likes teasing and taunting. I don’t think that he’s fully a brat with everyone he hooks up with, it depends on how they click, but if he finds someone who will push and pull with him. He’s doing that bit from that one tumblr post where the guy taunts the most jacked guy in the room then just goes ‘i’m just a little birthday boyyy’ only what actually happens is he gets fucked stupid.

…I think I’ve just realised Zeth’rinn is very into people who are built. Like he’s into Menzova, who's a fucking Darksong Knight and is definitely a Pretty Buff Lady. Oh no, he likes being thrown around.

Well, I guess I wanted asks to make me develop this boy, so. There’s that i guess!!

69 - Do they have anything that they once considered a squick but is now a turn on?

(of course you picked 69 for viz. of course.)

now, I have not fully fleshed this out, but I lowkey have this idea that Viz has some deeply suppressed horny feelings about Being A Girl During Sex. Like he hated it when he was a girl, but I am convinced that now he has a different body, the idea of it is uncomfortably erotic for him.

i really just think that if Pharaun put him in a lil skirt and stocking situation, he would lose his mind. like he’d be fucked up about it, but also. if Pharaun called him a pretty girl the amount of therapy he’d need would instantly double.

#c: ashenivir zauvym #c: rizeth velkon'yss #c: vizaeth thaezyr #c: zeth'rinn baenre #obedience fic blogging #obsession fic blogging #listen viz has the habit of eroticising his issues and i just think that if he did it with his dysphoria we could have a fun lil time! #also this ask game has taught me that Zeth'rinn desperately wants a hot girl to peg him and he's so fucking valid for it #if anyone wants to send me more for this please do it's so much fun

[crush3dmary]

Yu-Gi-Oh! for the fandom meme :3

I got 3 asks saying yugioh so i'll answer them all here LMAO thanks guys!! You know me too well!

send me a fandom and i’ll tell you…

the first character i ever fell in love with:

Ryou Bakura omg. Little cream puff stole my heart. I want to drop a 5 pound weight on him

a character that i used to love/like, but now do not:

Nobody really, I like the whole cast tbh, but I'm not super partial to Atem or Yugi as main characters to be honest :') I like them I just don't feel super invested I like the side characters and villains more

a ship that i used to love/like, but now do not:

Also don't really have one, my ships have been pretty consistent, and when I watched initially back when I was a kid I didn't have any ships lmao

my ultimate favorite character™:

Ryouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu. And Bakura and Malik, but Ryou is my favourite by a long shot. Which is too bad for him really, because I'm going to make him suffer and make sure it's beautiful.

prettiest character:

Malik. I'm going to do terrible things to his (redacted)

my most hated character:

Aknadin fuck that guy

my OTP:

I'd say thiefshipping is my OTP of all OTPs, but I'm a pretty big multishipper when it comes to BakuMali. I also really like tender, angst and deathshipping.

my NOTP:

Idk, Ryou/women since I think he's gay but I don't really have one. I don't have any really strong NOTPs in ygo so far. Usually when I have a notp it's because the fans ruined it for me, and that hasn't happened yet. I'm meh about p*ppyshipping but even that I've read some really good fic for and I will read it if I like the premise enough.

favorite episode:

Marik vs Bakura. Watching thiefshipping bicker like an old married couple gets me every time.

saddest death:

Mahaad. Poor guy. Still stan thief king tho.

favorite season:

Battle city is my fav by a long shot.

least favorite season:

The fillers............ I didn't even watch the one where they're in America and maybe I will one day but I skipped from Battle City to Memory World honestly

character that everyone else in the fandom loves, but i hate:

Again I don't hate any characters except Aknadin and he doesn't exactly have a lot of fans LMAO. I wasn't partial to Kaiba at first but Charles completely turned me around on that and now I adore him.

my ‘you’re piece of trash, but you’re still a fave’ fave:

Bakura. My little wet cat ass fav. I'm going to use him as a chew toy and then throw him into the sea

my ‘beautiful cinnamon roll who deserves better than this’ fave:

Ryou I'm so sorry the series did you so dirty especially the anime you deserved so much better. Also I love Anzu and I feel like she got done dirty too.

my ‘this ship is wrong, nasty, and makes me want to cleanse my soul, but i still love it’ ship:

Not sure I have one to be honest. I mean, all combos of BakuMali are fucked up in their own ways and I'm not about to moralize it but I also don't think they qualify as wrong and nasty by any means.

my ‘they’re kind of cute, and i lowkey ship them, but i’m not too invested’ ship:

Prideshipping. I ship it but not as intensely as my other ships.