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angelgoeslewd · 1 month

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only between us.

🔮 summary: finishing what you started in skirt with Raphael.

⚠️ warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI, very graphic mentions PIV sex, lots of spicy horny thoughts and scenes, a bit of religious sacrilege, Raphael being both emotionally and sexually constipated, AFAB! Reader.

Raphael has been alive for more than a millennium.

he’s young, compared to Simeon and Michael, but older than humans can ever even imagine. but all these years....

all these decades and he’s never been quite so taken with someone as much as he is with you.

you captivate his worst imagination; you, a little, unassuming human, a pea in the scope of the layers of the universe — you are the one to drag him into the eternal torment of blasphemy. his lustful thoughts, his unangelic desires to touch you, constantly tossing him closer and closer to falling.

prayers, interrupted by You. the constant turning at night in his own sanctuary, bidding his hardened length to leave him, shaky hands eventually succumbing to sin, sweating as he spills over into his hand and getting all worked up again wondering if you would lick it off for him. is it really a sin to think about how he would worship your body? how he would spend hours between your thighs, nipping and licking and sucking, covering his chin in spit and your slick, making you cum on his tongue until you cry, until his locks are taken into your hands and you beg for him to stop. how can it be such, when it feels so good?

he can practically hear your snarky remark the next day, wondering how he could sneak into the Celestial Realm when he behaves like such a demon in bed. he doesn’t retort. gives you a pointed look, then drops it to your shaking thighs, that you can barely brush together, lest the evidence of your coupling distract you once more.

while you and him shared some sort of… connection, one he couldn't possibly attempt to understand, Raphael wasn’t a mind reader. there was no possible way to know how far your feelings for him extended, you never crossed any lines that came with a loving ‘friendship.’ and while he desperately wanted to ruin it, to create something different, something deeper and more meaningful, he couldn’t bring himself to cross that line.

every moment you were by his side was too precious. he didn’t have any earthly belongings, anything he needed was bestowed or earned… but you. you gave your time, your patience, your kindness to him so freely, even when he knew he crossed the lines of pleasantries. he was utterly taken aback that a human could be so giving. as any angel, he was always taught humans took and took until no more could be given, then they would turn and find more to take. that they ruin and destroy as they did to the Fallen Ones. but here you were. handing him a set of new pens that he had off-handedly mentioned he liked the grip on. and suddenly, he wanted to be selfish too.

if he could just have you, platonically or otherwise, it was worth every second of keeping it status quo.

the most torturous part of the whole arraignment, however, is that you don’t even seem to realize the effect you have on him. you sit close to him, far too close, practically on his lap, teasing him with the slight distance, despite all his attempts to get you to actually do so, to play out his most shameful thoughts. you leave your scent on his arm, his shawl, his fucking papers.

he wants to burn them. he wants to bury his face in them and never forget your scent.

he tries so hard not to pay it any mind, but it is as close to home as he gets these days; his mind goes blank when he lifts it to his nose and smells you, vision blinding white in bliss and euphoria, your outline silhouetted every time he closes his eyes.

and those skirts. fucking hell, those short, perversion-inducing skirts. he’d damn them all to hell if he wasn’t currently living there already (physically and metaphorically). every time you wore one, Raphael lost his sense of reality. he’d live in a world of just you, him, and his bed. school and responsibilities be damned. they'd be less fucked than you would be. Raphael would keep you there, you’d have no reason to leave. he could conjure anything you needed with a snap of his fingers. the door to his room mysteriously vanishing from the Purgatory Hall, swallowed up by the void, along with your sweet, sinful moans. only he would hear how you would call for him, your pitiful cries for more of his touch. he would fuck you for every single time your skirt rode up and made him snap a pencil in his hand, your soaked little panties begging for him to push them aside and plunge deep in you. he would tell you to call his name when you came, make you forget about whoever else ever crossed your mind and replace it all with him.

the thought of you being such a little slut for anyone else made him crazy. he wanted to ruin everyone for you. he wanted to push his cum so deep in you that you could never even think of anyone but him doing so. how dare you swish your pleats like that? you even nearly made him break a pen in class once, when he watch you do a little twirl for Leviathan and Beelzebub. ink bubbled from the tip as you strutted back over like you didn’t just flirt with two demons in front of his face, asking with a pout if you could borrow his wrap because you were chilly.

— you, lying on your back on the classroom table, your cunt dripping wet stains onto the white fabric you ‘borrowed’ —

he couldn’t hold your eyes after such a thought. he handed it over to you and left in a hurry for the bathroom.

he would shamefully finish himself there, leaning his head against the peeling paint of the stall, pounding his fist into the metal as he came into his hand, yet again, reminding Raphael of how absolutely fucked he was.

the fact that all these ugly, human emotions came to head simply because of an article of clothing pisses him off. can he not control his mind over such an insignificant little thing?! how is he fit to be Michael’s secondhand!? he could never live up to Celestial realm's expectations if this continued. and it would be found out. he knew it would. they always find out.

he had to train himself. he had to be a better angel for you. you couldn’t have such an impure, deviant partner. he had watched you rebuff such demons, time and time again. and he was acting no better than they were. maybe… maybe if he could expose himself to you in little amounts, those thoughts would leave him… wouldn’t they?

but you. you were all-consuming. a total and complete aphrodisiac to his senses. and you never seem to stop fucking wearing that stupid skirt. did you know what it did to him? were you doing this to test his resolve? his thoughts tainted every time you searched him out wearing that flimsy piece of fabric. Raphael knew he was much stronger than you. he could just rip it off you, hold you up as you bounced on his cock. it didn’t matter where you two were. but whenever he made a decision to make a move, he would get up, meet your innocent, lovely face, and crumble like the walls of Jericho. he couldn’t defile you in such a way. not in this state.

pitifully, his only savior was the gardens. losing himself in something else, something so pure it almost felt like it cleansed him of his sins. or perhaps it just reminded him too much of the Celestial realm, touting its overwhelming, overbearing expectations of perfection and innocence. but it worked. at least it worked.

most of the time.

it seemed today was his absolutely unluckiest day. he was hounded by temptation. of course today was a day you were wearing that damned skirt. the old wives' tale of keeping you awake at night by dreaming about you didn't seem to be true. and of course, last night had to be a night with a dream that was so utterly debauched that Raphael feared the Devildom was eating his angelic nature alive. it seemed like every time he turned, there you were. over his shoulder, trying to “help” him with his assignments, the length of your skirt so short that the bottom just barely reached the top of the desk, even with your frame not being very much taller, making him sweat internally, trying to keep his hands from twitching, from doing something rash and unbecoming, but oh — how desperately he wanted to run his hand up your thigh and see just what your choice of panties were this day.

he wouldn’t necessarily call what he was doing running away or avoiding you. it was simply… just not an adequate environment to work in. that’s it. yes, he just couldn’t get past the fog of thoughts all related to you and what exactly you would do under him, to focus on absolutely anything else. not even his silent prayers were enough to hound them off anymore, and he found himself doing less and less of that and more of what sort of penance to he would pay on his knees to your beautiful— Raphael.

he was just in class with you, and even so, that brief window of opportunity was enough to do him in. he couldn’t stop. his grip on the book clenched, wrinkling precious papers, all because of your hold on him. you, this human who randomly showed up and captured seven demon lords, his former brothers, mind you, and him, in this nefarious web of lust and love and, my god, did he just want it to be over.

he tried to slow his heart beat, looking upwards to the darken sky in desperation to find some sort of relief. was this a test of his own willpower? did Father plan for this to happen? was it just him? was he broken? Raphael was at a loss. How was he ever going to fix this? He couldn’t keep on like this; losing sleep over you, messing up the simplest of assignments because every time he looked down he was reminded of your smooth, sweet legs, peeking out from that skirt.

the crunch of grass is enough to snap him back to reality. he quickly tries to look busy, and exactly not like an angel in utter turmoil, hoping his furrowed brow and tensed shoulders would be enough to drive off whomever came across his little bubble of paradise.

“Raph? There you are.”

Of course. Of fucking course. Smite him now. There was no escaping this eternal hell of sin. The sound of your voice seems to inspire a sort of natural reaction from him, his legs already stretching to get up, book snapped shut and pressed tightly under his shoulder.

“Really? You’re going to try and avoid me again?”

You were always so blunt. Raphael can say without a doubt that he was utterly in love with that, and he felt no shame in admitting that, at least. But now… now it just embarrassed him. He knew, subconsciously, that he wasn’t doing right by you. What kind of friend just avoids another? So many questions he had, and not enough experience to answer them. He supposes that’s why he felt so pushed to run from them. Very much like he would do up above. he can’t even bring himself to turn and look at you when he answers.

“I… I’m not avoiding you.” he cringes. great, now he’s a bad friend AND a liar. What else could go wrong.

“bullshit.” that’s not what he wanted to hear. Raphael slowly turns to face you, he doesn’t want to meet your eyes, but when he finally spins around… they’re right there. you’re search his own for answers, for clues, and he worries for a moment that you might find what he hopes to bury.

“So what do you call leaving every time I come into a room, then?”

“Trying to maintain my dignity,” he breaths out, finding that he’s unable to fib when he’s meeting your beautiful face head on like this. it doesn’t even register in his brain that he’s said it. when it does all click together he’s panicked, wondering how to get out of this, how to leave, how to explain, but your face contorts and twists into something that breaks him further. confusion. hurt. anger. it’s so gorgeously human that if he wasn’t hopeless in love with you that he would spend all day in awe of it.

it’s that thought that finally fits.

the piece he’s been missing, this whole time.

the part of the cog that has his whole body relaxing in utter relief, exhausted with his charade.

he’s been in love with you, this entire time. this lust is just a facade for how much he wants for something he’s not supposed to have. he’s so hopelessly devoted to you that there’s nothing that could come close. he’s never felt this way about the celestial realm, all these years, and all this time he has with you, he’s been doing nothing but thinking about how he can realign himself with them, when it’s obvious that no matter what, he can never think the same after meeting you. no matter what they say about this, about humans. and he’s more than willing to follow this spiral to the end. regardless of what waits at the finish line. there is no other path, no way of redefining or fixing his dedication, for Raphael. because there is only you.

he blinks. you blink. and finally, he’s done running.

he sighs, surrendering himself to the execution of your friendship, and figures he might as well sit down as he ruins everything. the bench is hard and cold under him, and he barely feels it. his fingers shake almost undetectably as he meekly flips through the book that will forever mark the end of this. of you two.

“When… you wear stuff like this,” he admits, shyly, dog-earing a page back and forth, “It makes me feel. A certain way.”

the silence is impregnable. it’s heavy and thick like the celestial realm before rainfall. it’s murky and undecided and so painful that Raphael wonders if being cast out would hurt less than this. he doesn’t look up. he refuses to. he hates to admit that he might actually cry if he does.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that I...” the tips of your shoes tap each other.

why are you apologizing? he wonders. it’s me. i’m the one that’s ruining everything.

you’re shaking, he realizes, you’re shaking and it’s all because of me.

“I’m… just gonna go.” his hand reaches for you before you can even move an inch. he doesn’t know what’s happening, or what will happen, but you’re here now, right? and… and you didn’t outright laugh at him or say no, so that should mean something positive. a newly found courage in him has him shaking his head.

“No, no… you’re already here. And it wasn’t right of me not to tell you. It wasn’t fair. You should know,” he says, which is absolutely true. he was a terrible friend for hiding this from you. he wonders if you hear him when he adds quietly, “And I miss you.” he wants you back. he wants you here, with him, by his side, even if he can’t have you in the way he wants, he wants to be selfish and a little human too.

you take a place next to him on the bench, your skirt splaying around your full thighs like a crown of temptation, the thorns that festered this whole mess. yet… Raphael’s head has never felt clearer. he is mesmerized solely by the fact you still choose to sit so close to him that he can feel the warmth of your skin through his clothes.

“I missed you too. It’s why I was so upset. I thought you were angry at me or I did something wrong-”

“Nothing like that,” he cuts you off before you even slightly doubt his intentions. he wants nothing more than to protect you, don’t you see? his mind will be the downfall of you both. but… it seems by doing so, he prevented nothing but your light. your company. your closeness. in trying to circumvent his prophecy, he ran head first into it. he will do better by you this time.

but still. it does nothing to chill or put an end to the loathsome heat inside of his heart for you. the book is a prop in this play, in this act where you both try and pretend there is nothing that hangs between you two. where Raphael pretends that he isn’t still enchanted by your youness and he tries not to glance too long at the skirt you wear and what could blossom underneath, how much he wants to experience it all. and this play is coming to an end… or, perhaps, to its climax?

“Raphael…?” your saccharine voice is all he needs to be push over the edge. he has enough willpower not to immediately toss the object in his hands (that, and fearing what Satan might do if there’s any damage to it) but shuts it nicely and looks up at you.

your breath catches. he’s close enough to hear it and he can’t imagine what you see, but he hopes it’s good. he hopes you like it. and honestly? he’s done hoping now. he wants to do something.

your breath fans his face, lingering warm tendrils on cheeks that heat them to a rosy pink — or perhaps, he’s blushing. who can tell, when you’re both this close to each other. your whisper is lost to only him and the gardens:

“We don’t have to do—”

“I want to.”

his lips catch yours before you can say anything else, he can faintly feel the book slip out from him, dropping to the dew wet ground as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in. you squeak, but let yourself be trapped against him. he loves the feeling of your arms pressed against his chest, the way your fingers fiddle with the delicate gold ornaments and colored fabrics. he wants to feel them on his skin, he wants to feel your nails dig into him as he brings you to orgasm, he wants the catch of your finger pads on his shoulders when he lifts you up and thrusts his cock into your pussy. he leans into you, and you catch the hint, leaning back into his grasp, letting him slowly lower you until you feel the hard rock under your back, his arm still cradling the small of your back, albeit a bit uncomfortably. it’s the he pulls back, tracing the wet curve of your lips, now dripping with spit, sloppily, gasping for air and he combs over your flushed face.

he’s so utterly fucked.

[Continuation . . . COMING SOON.]

#obey me #angelic songs #🍩 of obey me #obey me smut #obey me raphael #obey me swd #raphael x you #raphael x reader #raphael x mc #bitch went full frodo in this fic

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mockerycrow · 10 months

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okkk since my last ask went so Amazingly well (I have read it at least 7 to 20 times)

could you do reader with like almost constantly cold hands? like not extremely cold hands, but enough that it's noticeable? I'm just imagining reader (you could use the Cinder callsign again or whatever you feel works best) maybe patching up a wound and whoever (x gaz again??? again, whoever you feel like is best) is surprised by the sudden coldness

anyway no pressure to answer this, I can't wait for whatever you write next <33333 (also this is totally me projecting my cold hands if this feels super random)

Sweater Weather (Gaz x GN!Reader)

gaz masterlist - crow’s mega masterlist

So now, let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater.

A/N: YET ANOTHER BANGER PROMPT FROM YOU!!! AND ITS FOR GAZ I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!! I hope you get my song reference hehe. i’m also happy you enjoyed the last fic you requested <3 feel free to send in more requests! This is also lowkey a part 2 to your previous request, but it could be a standalone. Cinder is your callsign.

[WARNINGS: minor descriptions of minor injuries, medical inaccuracies, humor, fluff!]

By this point in time, you and Gaz were two peas in a pod. You were the latest person to join the task force, the last for now, but surely not the least. Everyone had their own set of gear and clothing, their own ways of getting into the right headspaces for missions, and everyone had their own things that they had with them at all times. Price always had his cigars, Ghost always had his mask, Soap always had his sketchbook, and Gaz always had a baseball cap with him. You? You always had gloves on. Not on your person, but always on your hands. The only times the team likely saw you without them is when you were exiting the bathroom, but then again, you were slipping them back on after you had washed your hands.

It perplexed Gaz. He understood everyone else’s reasons and items—Price is admittedly addicted to cigars, Ghost is just.. Ghost, Soap’s sketchbook helps him calm down and document things, his own hat was a comfort for him in the field.. But your gloves made no sense. To be fair, he didn’t notice right away. Many people wear gloves in the field to protect their hands, even on the hottest days, they’ll wear gloves and sweat in them until their fingertips prune from the moisture. You? You always, always wore them inside. On base. In your room… While eating— The point is, you always wore them. No matter the situation. It has him—and likely the others-wondering why exactly you do this. The few times they’ve seen your hands without gloves, none of them were close enough to see if you were, for some reason, hiding scars, perhaps hand tattoos, just something that would make sense.

Gaz ended up sporting himself a nasty split lip after an enemy managed to bash his head into a door frame, a wound that definitely needed stitches. It was the lower lip, off-center to the right with blood dribbling down his chin. Everyone was split up on the mission— You and Gaz were paired together, while Soap and Price were also paired. Ghost was operating alone for some stealth work. He’s sitting down on an old wooden chair in a house you two have held up in for the night. You open your duffel bag by the south wall, which is front of Gaz. You rummage around for the medical kit you began to bring everywhere after you fell through the floor a few months ago. “I don’t think we have too much further to go.” Gaz commented, glancing at the boarded up window to his left. There was a small sliver between the boards, allowing him to see that the sun is setting.

“Stop talking, you’ll agitate your lip.” You scold softly, grabbing the handle of the medical kit and you pull it out of the stuffed duffel bag. You glance over at him to see him quietly—yet playfully—mocking you under his breath. Sometimes you’re convinced he spends too much time with Soap, but then you always remember in the back of your mind, he’s more-so playful around you than anyone else. You walk over and place it on the table next to Gaz, opening the latches and pushing the top open. You look into the box and blink rapidly when you don’t see any disposable gloves. You then pick up packages of gauze, the small plastic container holding the medical thread, you practically rearrange everything and yet, it seems they were not packed. “Fuck.” You curse under your breath. You let out a sigh as Gaz asks you, “Cinder? What’s wrong?”

You tear the velcro off of the wrist part of your glove and slip it off, repeating the process with your other glove. “Whoever packaged this medical kit didn’t add disposable gloves, and my gloves are dirty as hell.” You mumble, even slightly pouting about it. Gaz raises an eyebrow at your attitude, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You grab a bottle of antiseptic and you put your finger up as without looking at him, you already know he’s about to say something snarky. “Open your mouth again and I’ll use this tourniquet on your damn neck.”

Gaz bursts out laughing, causing you to roll your eyes and smile yourself. You pop open and cap and pour the antiseptic onto your hands, the extra liquid splattering against the floor and onto your boots. You set the bottle down and grab a needle and take out some thread. Despite the calm mood between you two, Gaz is still on high alert. You can tell by his posture, the way his eyes flicker towards the boarded up windows, the barricaded door.. On one hand, you wish you could reassure him but you’re also still on high alert, especially after witnessing Gaz get his face bashed. You quietly thread the string through the needles hole, turning to Gaz completely. You grab his jaw to turn his head and this man physically flinches, muttering, “Bloody hell, your hands are cold.”

You laugh as you position his head for the best angle that you need, bringing the needle close to his lips. “Why do you think I’m wearing gloves all the time, Gaz?” Your eyebrows furrow inward slightly as you begin to concentrate, hoping to distract him from the pain of the needle piercing his skin. “Even in the hotter areas our missions were in, my hands would be sweating, yet they were cold.”

Gaz blinks in surprise, completely forgetting about the needle that is about to enter his skin. That’s why you wore gloves all the time? It wasn’t because of a big secret you were hiding? No scars? No tattoos?

You were cold?

Gaz stares at your scrunched face he begins to feel a bit stupid, as he never considered that as a possibility.

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twigg96 · 7 months

Text

Right Here with You

Daryl X Reader

Place: The HIlltop

POV: You

Pronouns: You/ Your/ They/ She/ Her/ Wife

Warnings: Fluffy fluff, Domestic Fluff, Phoenix acting out, Pregnancy, Complications with pregnancy, Birth, anxiety, worry,

Summary: After the Savior's War you find out your unexpectantly pregnant with your third. You and Daryl move through the motions as best you can surviving the best you always do.

Ever since the Saviors War, you and Daryl had found yourselves visiting the Hilltop more and more. Hershel had just turned one. Phoenix liked to visit and help her auntie Maggie and neither of you minded her using all of her energy doing the mundane tasks Maggie assigned her. Beau was fascinated with the youngster and when you both started to visit after his birth would often be found staring down at him with wide curious eyes whispering imaginative stories to the baby. As time went on however, Beau became strangely clingy to you. You wrote it off as just normal jealousy. That since there was a child younger than him he wanted attention from you he had to make sure you gave him equal treatment.

But strangely enough his behavior persisted for months past when you thought it would stop. Even when you had caught a summer flu that had you down for nearly a week, Beau was clinging to you like a life line. Each time anyone tried to pull him away he screamed at the top of his lungs, kicking and screaming until he could scramble back into your embrace.

So you sat on the wrap-around-porch of the Hilltop with Maggie. She had just finished feeding her little one and handed him to you to hold while she went inside for a quick meeting. Bouncing Hershel on your knee you listened to him happily babble nothingness to you, smiling away. "Is that so?" You whispered back once in a while, giggling as he squealed reaching out with chubby fingers to grab at your face. "Am I interruptin'?" Daryl teased, trudging up the stairs, dripping in sweat, completely filthy from whatever work he had been doing around the Hilltop. "Nah. Just listening to his complaints." You teased back, lifting Hershel up for him to take. Daryl smiled taking the baby from you looking at the baby for a moment. "Ah... he don't look like he's got a lot to complain 'bout... 'sept the mashed peas taste like shit." He laughed as the little one giggled waving his arms around energetically as if to agree with him.

Feeling a soft tug at your shirt you sighed and rolled your eyes. Without even looking down you smiled, reaching down to pat your son on the head. "Well, hello there... how can I help you Beau?" You asked. Beau whined, yanking at your clothes, desperately trying to scale your body and climb into your lap. "Hey... no Beau." Daryl chided, shuffling Hershel in his arms. "C'mon you said ya wanted to come with me ta talk to yer aunt Maggie. So let's go." He muttered. Opening your legs a bit so you could hug your son close you sighed into his hair. "Go on now. Go go keep your Daddy company." You whispered, kissing his crown. But instead of pulling away, you felt him lay his head and his little hands rub your tummy. "I'm so excited, Momma." He giggled. You couldn't help but laugh cocking a curious brow. "Excited for what, baby?" You asked meeting Beau's brilliant blue eyes. "I'm excited for the baby in your belly Momma!" He started and instantly you felt your breath catch in your throat and your skin blanch. Meeting your husband's worried glance you could tell this was news to him too. And why wouldn't it be... you weren't pregnant.

Before you could even speak, Beau had kissed your tummy and pulled away running over to Daryl, holding his hand tightly. "Yeah! There is a baby in your belly like when auntie Maggie had her baby. And when you have him it'll be so cute!" He giggled, bouncing up and down, using Daryl's hand like a spring. "Beau..." Daryl mumbled looking nearly just as sick as you felt. "Who told you Momma had a baby in her belly?" He asked. Your little hellion looked up at Daryl and smiled. "No one... I just know." A wave of nausea crashed over you which absolutely did not help the situation. By the look on your husband's face he felt about the same... ever since the whisperers started to become a problem, none of you ever felt completely comfortable. A new baby... thrown into this... it always was dangerous but now of all times. Right after you just got Daryl back... when you still felt so raw? You felt lightheaded and unsure. But then again it was just something your son said... right?

Standing slowly you turned to the door as it creaked open. Maggie stood smiling, Jesus by her side. "Know what?" She asked, stepping forward holding her arms out to take her son from Daryl. "Momma's got a baby in her belly!" Beau yelled before either you or Daryl could react. Both of the Hilltop residents looked completely shocked, looking from Daryl to you back to Daryl. "Well, congratulations..." Jesus said smirking a slight hint of a tease in his voice. Daryl sighed rolling his eyes as he handed Hershel to Maggie, but you for whatever reason couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed, cornered. "We ain't pregnant." You bit out a little too venomously for anyone's liking. Maggie frowned, holding Hershel to her chest. "Well... Judith was my early warning... she told me and..." She went silent looking to the wood of the porch swallowing a lump in her throat. "That's when I first tested ya know." She whispered. Jesus nodded along. "A lot of the children here have predicted pregnancies... if anything you should at least-" But you didn't let him finish, turning on your heel you huffed, holding your middle you stormed down the stairs. "I said I ain't pregnant!"

"Hey!" Daryl's annoyed voice called out to you as you stormed through the fields of the Hilltop. watching as people hulled wood from one place to another. Trailer doors opening and closing as people filed in and out. Hammers working tirelessly at the heavy wooden wall. You only stopped when you felt Daryl's strong fingers wrap around your wrist. "[Y/N]!" He nearly yelled, pulling you to a stop with him. "Hey! God damn it! Stop and talk ta me." He huffed. The world around you felt like it was moving all too quickly but not fast enough. Your chest felt tight and like there wasn't enough air in the world to supply you. Turning to face your husband you shook your head as the first sob rattled you both. "I-I" You got out just as he pulled you close. "Hey..." He whispered into your hair. "Take a deep breath... tell me what's gonin' on in that head of yers." You couldn't help it. You wailed. You made a scene. Clinging to Daryl like a lifeline you let yourself release the tense anxiety that had been drowning you ever since the day Negan took him well over a year ago. And maybe Daryl understood this because he never said a word edgewise. He never tried to move you. He simply let you do what you needed. And as your sobs died down and you were able to formulate sentences you tried your damnedest to make sense. "I- sorry." You started, only to be shushed with a gentle kiss to your temple. "It's alright, don't ever feel sorry baby. Just tell me... what's wrong."

Clutching to his shirt you pulled away looking deep into Daryl's blue eyes. "I just got you back..." You whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. Daryl stayed silent but you could see it written on his face. That shared uncertainty. The fear of losing each other you both experienced. "I'm right here, darlin' girl." He whispered cupping your cheek gently. You nodded, reaching up to mirror him. "I know... I know and I could never be more grateful, Daryl. But..." You closed your eyes feeling the hot tears stream down your cheek only to be swiped away by his calloused thumb. "But, nothin'." He whispered back, taking your wrist in his other hand he turned his head, gently kissing the inside of your palm then your wrist. "I am right here. I'm right here with you. That's all that matters. Ya told me that when I first came home didn't ya?" You nodded staring longingly up at your husband. Daryl smiled kissing your wrist once more before pulling you closer, wrapping your arm around his neck. "Then we'll get through this... no matter what happens. Always do." You blushed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he leaned down to kiss you sweetly. "Love you, Dare..." You whispered into his mouth. Pulling away he smiled. "I love you more than anything... now lets get you tested."

Staring down at the little pink plus sign you felt yourself shaking and turning pale. Daryl held you close to his chest, his chin resting atop your head. "Mrs. Dixon." Dr. Carson prodded, frowning at the pair of you, pulling gloves over his hands. "I'd like to preform an ultrasound if that's alright? To determine how far along you are." Glancing hesitantly to Daryl, he scanned your face. "Up to you, baby. I'll be with you every step of the way no matter what you choose." He murmured, but there was a sadness to his eyes you could see. You had been strong with every child you bore. Phoenix who had been a complete surprise to you both who were both still just teenagers yourselves. Beau who you could say was planned but in reality was just as big a surprise as Phoenix. Turning to the doctor you nodded. "We can do this..." You muttered hesitantly. Dr. Carson smiled ushering you over to the exam table. "Just lift your shirt a little. We can do an internal later if you feel you need one." He said softly, plugging the machines in and getting the jelly out of the cabinet you just knew would be cold as ice. Jumping onto the side of the table you laid down, wincing away from the coldness of the metal.

"Sorry. Wish I could have a better area but..." the OBGYN sighed as he clicked a few buttons on the machine. Daryl stepped to stand beside you taking your hand he squeezed it reassuringly. Holding the wand high Dr. Carson turned the screen so that the three of you could all watch. "Ready?" He asked, not waiting for an answer as he pressed the wand against your tummy. "Sorry if it's cold." He muttered, fully focused on the screen as it came to life in a bright array of whites and greys. You whined, trying to sit as still as you could for the man as he pressed it harder into your full bladder but you couldn't help but pull away slightly. "I know it's uncomfortable..." Dr. Carson whispered, twisting the wand to the right pressing a few buttons and then to the left. "Alright... moment of truth." He said twisting it downward. You had expected to see a sea monkey or a bean like you had when you found out you were pregnant with Phoenix. Maybe even an alien looking ameba. But if you hadn't been laying down, you would have most certainly fallen to your ass when the doctor showed you both a fully formed, kicking, moving baby inside you. "What the-" You squealed. "Well..." The doctor chuckled. "You're most defiantly pregnant."

Daryl's hand slipped from your own as he stagged back, siting in the chair beside the table staring up at the screen in disbelief and shock. "H-How?!" You whined, gesturing to your flat stomach. You hadn't shown... at all. "Are you asking how you got pregnant? Because if you two need the talk after three kids I might need to put you on a makeshift birth control..." Carson joked, smirking as you glared and wound back to smack him. "No... but seriously." He chuckled, handing you a towel to wipe your stomach off with. "You're having a cryptic pregnancy." He said suddenly becoming serious. "You're lucky we caught it now, even though it's as late as it is. Most women who experience them never find out until they go into labor. Especially now it could lead to a very serious and dangerous birth for you and your baby." He said, rolling the machine away. "You could have gone into labor out on a run... or worse in the middle of escaping the walkers or whisperers.” The doctor said watching your face blanch in horror.

“That’s not to mention the other complications this type of pregnancy causes.” He muttered, tossing his gloves in the bin before grabbing a small clear model of a pregnant torso with a little extendable belly. “What normally happens is that the uterus fills with fluid and falls into place in your pelvis here under your other organs pushing the belly out.” Carson said squeezing the little devise to make the uterus enlarge and the belly grow. “You however,” he said covering the belly and pushing the uterus back in. “Have either grown too strong of abdominal muscles and it is holding your uterus inside. Or during the birth of Beau you tore some vital ligaments and it’s keeping your uterus from having the room it needs to grow. Either way, your uterus is moving all your organs up and out of place.” He pointed to the model and how the little jelly organs moved when he pushed the belly in. Carson went silent for a moment placing the model down before sighing. “There is a higher chance of stillbirth, SIDS, and even higher mother mortality with this type of pregnancy. Due to the strange placement of the uterus and chance of preexisting injury it may be harder to push or even cause the child to get stuck on the pelvis and can require a cesarean. You'll both need to consider your options carefully.” He muttered softly refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m very sorry.” Covering your face you tried not to gag or scream. “Fuck… fuck.” You whispered hot tears rolling down your face.

Guilt washed through you as your breath hitched in your throat. Daryl was by your side in a second, you could feel his calloused hand wrapping around your wrist desperate to move it away from your face. "I-I... I smoked. I drank. I was doing heavy lifting." You whispered desperately, letting your husband pry your hand away. "You didn't know." He countered but you could see the fear swirling in his eyes. Carson nodded. "We do our best with the information we have, [Y/N]." He muttered reassuringly. "Just stay away from the stuff from now on til baby comes." He said in the most cartoony doctor voice you had ever heard. "You can lift things in moderation but I want you here so I can keep an eye on you and monitor your birth... and I really don't want you walking or riding home if you can avoid it. The least amount of danger we can put you in the better. If I had to guess your only a few weeks away from having this little one." He said handing you a picture of your ultrasound. "I'll leave you two alone to talk. Just make sure to lock the door when you leave." He said softly, touching your hand.

Watching the doctor walk out of the makeshift clinic you sighed. Laying your head back on the paper like pillow you sniffled. "Do you know what this means?" You whispered to Daryl, meeting his stormy eyes. He stayed silent scanning your face for an answer. "It means we gotta get Carol to make our son cookies." You whispered a sly smile crossing your lips. Daryl chuckled a smile blooming across his own face. "Scoot over, woman." He laughed shooing you over on the exam table. Laying down beside you, Daryl draped his arm around your body holding you close. "Oh, god we're gonna have to get the nursery ready." You whispered, swiping at your tear stained face. "We are." Daryl agreed, nuzzling his head against yours. "Do we still have Beau's old crib or did we give that away?" You asked, gripping your hair. "It's in the attic." Daryl whispered. "We need new cloth diapers I think we burnt Beau's old ones..." You whined. "We did." Daryl hummed, threading his leg through your own.

You seemed to relax slightly holding the little black and white photo up. Your thumb swiped over the baby in the picture. "I wonder if it'll be a girl or a boy?" You whispered. "As long as both of my girls are healthy I don't care." He hummed. "You don't want another boy?" You asked curiously. "Nah... boys fight. Girls don't do that." He muttered curling in on you. "That's a lie and you know it." You giggled. "Phoenix has kicked boys asses before." You giggled as Daryl let out a satisfied hum. "She better always be that way too." He chuckled. You whined playfully. "Phoenix was a big baby, Daryl. Beau was an even bigger baby." You reminisced. Daryl chuckled. "Yeah, they were." He laughed until you bopped him on the back of the head with the ultrasound photo. "You gave me big ass kids Daryl!" You whined, handing him the picture. "Has ta come from yer side." He hummed, sitting up on an elbow. "Merle said I was a month and a half premature." You stared at him silently for a momet as your fingers carded through his hair. He already told you this... several times before. With Beau when you were as big as a beach ball and when Phoenix was small Merle always commented about how much bigger she was at her age than Daryl was being "unseasonable".

"Do you think we can really do this again?" You asked, turning your gaze from the picture to Daryl. Your husband shrugged. "We gotta try right?" He hummed looking up to you. You nodded, scooting closer to him. "Yeah..." You whispered letting your hand fall to your tummy for the first time. Nothing. Not a kick. Not a flutter. Not even a butterfly. It frustrated you. "You ever hear of a cryptic pregnancy before?" You asked. Daryl hummed moving his hand above yours. "No." You sighed, turning your head away. "Don't do that. This isn't your fault." Daryl whispered. "Yes it is, my body is-" You replied, closing your eyes. But Daryl cut you off. "Darlin' girl." He hummed kissing your neck. "You're perfect and I'll make damned sure everything turns out alright. Ya have my word."

Slowly. Steadily a week passed at the Hilltop. And while you still felt totally normal, you felt the heat the eyes made drilling into the back of your head. Already you were starting to go a little stir crazy inside the walls. You never liked to be confined. Dr. Carson let you stand guard up on the wall with the exception that someone stand with you and you didn’t actively put yourself in danger. Daryl left on the second day after you assured him for the umpteenth time that you weren’t about to have the baby without him. He radioed back from the Kingdom when he arrived. But before he could get a word in edge wise he was cut off by Carol. “Who told you two you could have more munchkins!” She screamed over the radio. “I’m so happy for you two!” You giggled. “Thanks Carol.” “So have you thought of any names yet?” Carol asked seemingly both of you as you heard Daryl’s struggle to get his radio back over the waves. “Not yet C. You’ll be one of the first to know when we do.”

“Do ya know what yer havin’ yet?” Maggie asked softly, walking side by side with you, later the same day. She was carrying half of the wood you would normally carry to the drying rack. You hummed, shaking your head. “Nah. Dare and I always liked it to be a surprise with Phoenix and Beau. Figured we’d keep the tradition with this literal surprise.” You giggled placing the wood down on top of the ever growing pile. “How’d ya know it ain’t twins?” Maggie teased. But the mere thought of it made you choke on your own spit and gasp for air. “Jesus, Maggie don’t put that nasty juju on me!” You wailed wiping away the spit from your chin as Maggie laughed so hard she was bent over her legs clenched to keep from peeing herself. But when your next appointment with the doctor came you couldn’t help but to crane your neck to see the monitor. “Looking for something?” Carson asked. “Making sure there’s not two in there.” You muttered to the doctor who only laughed and shook his head.

As the second week dawned Daryl spent most of his time between the Hilltop, on runs looking for baby supplies, and Alexandria. When he came back he told you all about the preparations he was making to your home. “I moved the crib down from the attic and found some diapers in Beau’s old things so we’re good there.” Daryl muttered taking a bite out of the crab apple he picked up from the ground. “We kept those? Ew.” You whispered making your husband laugh. His strong arm wrapped around you as you walked, pulling you close to him. You could feel his large hand rubbing circles on your flat tummy. “Did you remember to feed Dog before you left?” You asked absentmindedly turning your eyes to the changing colors of the leaves. “Like always.” He hummed. “Do you think he’ll be good with the baby?” You whispered, leaning down to pick up one of the leaves. “He’s always been good with Phoenix and Beau. Don’t see why that would change with this one.” Daryl lied. But you shrugged letting it slide. “Wish I could feel ‘er.” Daryl muttered, his mouth full of apple. “Me too.” You deadpanned.

Little did you know that you would both be wishing for the exact opposite in just a few hours time. It started in the middle of the night. You felt what you thought was fluttering. Maybe gas. But soon that gas became painful and you knew this feeling. Reaching behind you in bed you patted your husband awake. “Baby, I think I’m going into labor.” You whispered tiredly. You giggled feeling Daryl’s strong arms pull you closer to him, his stubble tickling your bare shoulder. “It bad yet?” He asked tiredly, his drawl stronger in the dead of the night. You knew from experience Daryl knew when to panic. That he would understand when it was go time or not. But this was early stages of labor. Simply moving his hand from your chest to your stomach to act as hot water bottle you hummed. “Nah not yet.” You felt his hot breath on your neck as he sighed. “Good. Try and get some more sleep.”

Hours passed. The ache that once felt like cramps radiated to your back uncomfortably but not overwhelmingly painful. You paced back and forth in front of the house trying to ignore the way everyone's eyes were on you. "You could be doing anything other than staring." You tried not to hiss glaring at your husband and two children. Daryl cocked a brow, leaning back on the porch stairs. "What d' ya need me to do?" He asked. Phoenix worriedly watched you from her place beside him. Beau on the other hand was all too interested in the little bug crawling on the wood of the stairs to care. If anyone had a camera and could capture a photograph, in the old world the picture would have sold for millions in the old world. "I want you to stop staring at me. Go find something better to do." You growled. Phoenix sighed patting her father on the shoulder before she stood. "Whatever you say..." She huffed. "but you both should consider getting fixed!" She screamed, kicking a metal bucket full of water over as she walked away. You wanted to yell at her. The hormones throwing a rave in your body were telling you to scream and cry. But instead you took a deep breath trying to breath through the next wave of the contraction crashing through you. Daryl stared at the ground in front of him, biting at the skin around his thumb. "She's j'st worried." Daryl murmured, instinctively wrapping his arm around Beau's waist to keep him from tumbling off the porch, reaching for the flying beetle.

Tears slipped down your cheeks when the pain slowly started to get worse. You had managed to make it back inside to your shared bedroom. Kneeling beside the bed you rocked side to side, Daryl right beside you, his hands on your sides acting as heating pads. "On a scale of one to ten where are you?" He whispered. Your low groan stopped you from answering. "Do you need me to get Carson?" He whispered, daring to kiss your collar bone. Shaking your head you let out a sob. "I-I'm not ready." You whispered. "Yes you are." Daryl whispered kissing the shell of your ear. "You have two beautiful kids and your gonna do great with this one." You sobbed again shaking your head. "W-We didn't even pick a name." You whined, groaning as another contraction ripped you in half. "We'll know when we see her. Just like we did with Phoenix and Beau. We'll know." He whispered kissing your cheek. "Now I'm going to get Carson."

You fucking hated this. You hated Carson looking at you down there. You hated that you were in an uncomfortable bed that smelled of old people and moth balls. You hated that you could hear Greggory screaming about staining the linens from outside your door and Maggie doing her best to keep him from barging in. You hated that your fucking god damn knees were being held up behind your head like a fucking pretzel by Daryl and Jesus. But overall it was the pain you hated most. With Phoenix it hurt, sure but you were drugged up for the bottom of the ninth so you didn't feel it after they kicked in. With Beau the pain was more from the ripping when he came too fast for your body to adjust. But with this one... the pain was different and overwhelming. Bearing down just as Carson instructed you pushed with all your strength. Sweat dripped down your face. You tried not to scream or moan. Carson said it was it was a waist of energy. But when it became too much for you to bare you couldn't help it. As the contraction ended you gasped, slumping against the pillows behind you. "Doin' great darlin' girl. Just keep fighting. Don't give up." Daryl breathed, rubbing your thigh, lovingly. Jesus on the other hand looked like he was about ready to be sick. "Y-Yeah..." He managed to get out. "Just... do that."

Before you could manage an answer you could feel another contraction ebbing its way up your spine. "Fuck..." You whimpered. "You're so close to crowning, [Y/N]. Just keep it up." Carson praised, reaching up to help pull you forward and help you to bare down. Holding tight to your thighs you moaned beginning to push with Carson's encouragement. "There you go! There's the head!" Carson yelled, moving his hands down. Jesus paled, turning completely towards the wall. But Daryl... Daryl moved so that he could see his baby being born. His face lit up in a way you had only seen happen two times before. With one more good push you felt it happen. At first there was silence. You were too afraid to breath. You could see Carson moving swiftly below you, grabbing towels and wet cloths. You could see him rubbing the baby's back. "C'mon." he whispered. And suddenly you had a whole new fear as the men holding your legs let them down gently. But when you watched the little baby twitch and heard the sudden inhale followed by the tiny most perfect cry you had ever heard a baby make you couldn't help but sob. Handing you the wriggling bundle Carson smiled. "It's a girl." He whispered. You sobbed, moving the little blanket from her face. "She's beautiful." You whispered watching Daryl cut her cord. "She's so tiny." Daryl replied holding out his finger to his tiniest daughter who instantly grasped it in her hand. "Lilybeth?" You whispered looking to Daryl. "Nah, don't sound right..." He hummed, caressing your daughter's cheek with his thumb. "Lilian?" He offered making you smile. "Perfect. Lilian Beth Dixon." He smiled kissing you then her head. "Now c'mon. let's get you cleaned up, momma."

#the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixion imagine #Lilian Dixon #Phoenix Dixon #Beau Dixon #Daddy Daryl #Daryl being a dad

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anopenbookunderlockandkey · 3 months

Text

The 118 Sauce Chat

Eddie: I definitely make spaghetti sauce extremely wrong but I’m not going to stop

Chim: please elaborate on the wrong way to make spaghetti sauce; it sounds highly entertaining?

Eddie: 1 chop onion and put in a pot

Eddie: Add 1 or 2 cans of diced tomatoes. Whatever makes the ratio of onion look right.

Eddie: Add a ridiculous amount of frozen peas. Peas should make up a notable portion of this sauce.

Eddie: Add frozen corn also if you wanna be real fancy. If I have bacon I’ll ad that too. But I very rarely have bacon.

Eddie: Cook on HIGH

Eddie: While sauce is cooking, grab the nearest bottle of mixed spices that isn't obviously for desserts. Add some. How much? I dunno, enough that you feel like you've added seasoning so it's technically cooking. (For me this is most often a mix called Moroccan, but it could be anything. Buck reorganised my kitchen recently so tonight it was something called Pizza Topping.)

Eddie: If you happen to have green herbs lying around, add those too. Whatever you have on hand that's green

Eddie: Let the sauce boil on HIGH until all the water is gone. Stir occasionally so the saucepan will be easier to clean later. Serve on cooked spaghetti noodles with no cheese

Eddie: Today I added a new step called "while the sauce is cooking, duck out for 15 seconds to text the group chat about spaghetti sauce, then get distracted and forget you are cooking." This adds a novel Extremely Burnt edge to the flavour profile.

Chim: I am not Italian, or of Italian descent by *any* stretch of the imagination.

I am also not one of those "cooking purists", who believes that everything must be done in a specific/ traditional way (unless you are making a cooking video with the title "how to make x" in which case if you don't specify mid video that your way is not traditional god help you).

I am a firm believer in "If it tastes good, then it is correct for you".

Chim: Except in this case

Bobby: This hurts every cooking bone in my body. The latent ancestors in my soul. The judgmental elf in my brain just bit a cyanide capsule

Hen: Why? The spices.

Using a different spice mix every time, based on what is ready at hand just ... hurts

Eddie: *sends SPICE IS SPICE meme*

Ravi: absolutely deranged, Eddie. Food crimes.

Bobby: Hey Eddie, looks like you forgot to mention the part where you obviously sweated the onions, because nobody would make spaghetti sauce that had straight up raw onions boiled in tomato juices.

Bobby: RIGHT????

Bobby: Please Eddie

Eddie: I don’t know what sweating the onions means

Hen: It means. It means you cook em a little in a pan with a bit of oil first

Eddie: A pan? How many dishes do you want me to have to wash here?

Hen: I mean you can also do it in the same pot you're making the spaghetti sauce in! The important thing is the onions get a little cooked before the wet stuff goes in, so they're not so wet and limp and boiled....

Eddie: Honestly this depends entirely on whether I remember to chop an onion first or I find the can opener for the tomatoes first. The ingredients go in in whatever order they go in.

Ravi: Eddie, who hurt you???

Eddie: A pack of wild chefs herded my mother off a cliff

Chim: Theres probably a hit out on you for this

Eddie: What kind of stupid idiot would waste money assassinating someone who's so clearly going to accidentally poison themself for free at some point

Bobby: hi Eddie, big fan of your firefighting, this is the sauce equivalent of the running up a metal ladder in a lightning storm to try to pull up a 6’0” tall man instead of lowering him to the ground

-Athena

Eddie: Athena, that is the meanest review my cooking has ever received

Chim: congratulations you found the worst way to do it! this feels like a spaghetti recipe made by AI before it got really sophisticated

-Maddie

Eddie: this group chat’s hate mail game is insane

Ravi: at this point please just eat every ingredient raw… please

Eddie: Do I look like Tony Abbott to you

Buck: As a former Committer of Food Crimes, I have decided to make this sauce this weekend after I have a chance to go to the store. I will report back.

Eddie: Excellent, I look forward to vindication.

Hen: No one's going to vindicate your boiled onion in cinnamonny tomato juice on noodles, Eddie

Eddie: Not cinnamon. Cinnamon is a dessert spice. You use the nearest non-dessert spice.

Ravi: cinnamon is absolutely not a dessert spice

Eddie: Yes it is! It's for muffins and pancakes and fruit pies!

Chim: Cinnamon powder is absolutely a dessert “spice” and Eddie if your cooking is this bad I can’t imagine your baked abominations

Eddie: I put lemon juice in everything I bake that isn't bread

Written for the only two gremlins (endearment) who find this as entertaining as I do @professionalprocrastinator22 and @gravelyhalversobbing

Inspired by:

#things i decided i could make about 911 #Eddie diaz commits food crimes #Buck is his accomplice #buddie fic #911 fic #911 fanfic #text fic #incorrect 911 quotes #911 abc #911 fox

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hongjoongscafe · 9 months

Note

can you do more ceo jeon and jimin giving what their baby wants ( w/ some squirting ehek )

I went overboard😀 Thank you for requesting, anon💓

Not done yet (it’s the title)

Bitch hours

Pairing: JungkookxreaderxJimin

Warning: spanking, pussy spanking, unprotected sex (not recommended irl if you don't want kids or STDs), name-calling (slut, whore), daddy kink at its highest.

...

“Look at you, baby,” Jungkook rasped. “So wet for daddies.”

You moaned as he rubbed his fingers on your dripping cunt. You were laying naked on top of the conference table, leg pushed back to your chest.

“Our little kitten is so fucking naughty,” Jimin said as he pumped his thick cock, watching Jungkook play with your pussy. “Couldn't even wait until we came back home. Luckily our meeting was over, sweet pea… or else everyone would have seen us fuck our baby girl.”

“Please,” you whimpered. “Please, fuck me!”

“Tsk, look at you so desperate for our cocks,” Jungkook slapped your pussy that made your body jerk. “This little cunt is so fucking dumb. Just want a cock to fill it up.”

“Only daddies’ cocks,” your hips moved up to feel more of Jungkook’s palm.

Jimin smirked and moved closer. “Our baby just wants to get spoiled by daddies, Hm..” he hummed and captured your lips between his. He feverishly kissed her, tongues tangling together. He groped your tit and rolled your sensitive nipple between his fingers.

Jungkook couldn’t wait any longer. He lowered his pants and pumped his lock and thick cock. “Take me, baby. Take me like a good whore you are,” he said as he aligned himself. He rubbed his thumb on your clit to ease the pain as he slipped his big cock in until he was fully in. “Oh, fuck, baby!” He moaned.

“So big daddy!” You cried. Jimin chuckled against your lips and kissed you to help you. He moved down to your neck and sucked your sweet spot.

Jungkook slowly moved and picked up his pace. He held your hips and spanked your ass making you moan loudly. “Such a fucking slut!” He groaned and fucked his cock harder into you. “Look at your cunt dripping down wetting my balls,” he slapped your clit.

“Fuckkkkk!” you screamed as you came on his cock without any warning, squirting your juices on his cock. “Oh my God!”

“You are making such a mess, baby,” Jimin hummed and watched your cunt squirting as he slammed harder into you.

His abs flexed with every movement and a thin layer of sweat was covering his skin, making him look like a sex god. His face twisted in pleasure, mouth fell open. His white open shirt was sticking to his skin. You could imagine how he looked from behind.

“I'm so close, baby,” Jungkook grunted. “Take it!” with a couple of more thrusts, he came inside your cunt. Your back arched as he pulled another orgasm from you.

Jungkook pulled out his cock and saw his cum leaking out of your cum. Jimin bit his lower lip and rubbed his cock over your pussy, and pushed in. He moaned, feeling your pulsing cunt, wet with your and Jungkook's warm cum. “This is so good,” he hissed. “Gonna make you cum for me, too.”

Now, Jungkook took Jimin’s place and kissed you. He bit your lower lip and pushed his tongue down your throat. You grabbed his hair and pulled him deeper into the kiss.

“We fuck you almost every day and yet your cunt is so fucking tight,” Jimin groaned and fastened his pace. C’mon, baby, squirt for Daddy,” he said as he pinched and pulled your clit.

Your mouth fell open into a silent scream and your toes curled as you squirted all over him. He rubbed your clit vigorously, making you squirt like a broken faucet.

“Daddy! Gonna cum!” you screamed and trusted your hips higher to match his pace.

“Cum for us, baby,” Jimin grunted. “Cum as I fuck you on my cock.”

A loud moan echoed as you climaxed along with Jimin. Jungkook caressed your head and littered your face with pecks and Jimin pulled out and rubbed his palm, making your cunt messier.

“You ruined our clothes, baby,” Jimin whispered near your ear as he slowly bit it.

“Hmm, and don't think we are done just yet… Baby,” Jungkook hummed as he wrapped your hand around his rock-hard cock.

.....

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts #bts jungkook smut #jeongguk #jeongguk smut #jimin #bts jimin #bts jimin smut #jiminie #bts park jimin

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toxicbrothel · 4 months

Text

carter dreams of sweet pea.

800 words, carter x f!reader

A/N: 🫣 this is joel's fault for doing stuff in front of him. Unedited. *bites fist* too juicy for main.

WARNINGS: I8+, sexual dream - grinding, tension, masturbation

Carter’s sitting on the old sofa in his underwear, gun in hand on top of his thigh. He’s trying not to listen, but it’s too easy to hear you and Joel, and it sounds like you're having a very nice time. He sighs and adjusts his balls through his boxers briefs. It's late, and the day is catching up with him. He begins to nod off.

—-

💤💤 dream 😴 💤

Your silhouette approaches from the kitchen, wearing only a nighty, nips blazing. When your face comes into view, he sees your gaze land between his legs. He inhales sharply and presses his gun against his hardening bulge, forcing himself to look away. But he can still feel your stare.

He clears his throat. “Where’s Joel.”

“Asleep,” you whisper and lean with your back against the wall.

He looks at you. For the first time, he lets his gaze linger and really takes in your form. You slide down the wall and sit with your knees up. Fuck, you're not wearing underwear. His heart races. He adjusts himself and you smile shyly.

If Joel saw this. . .the thought does nothing to ease the throbbing ache in his lap. He takes a deep breath and palms himself. His voice is deep and breathy. “Whatcha doin’ here, sugar?”

You stand up, then suddenly, you're right in front of him. His head tilts back and he relaxes into the sofa, but his heart is pounding. You look down at his lap, and he rests his hands on the sofa, one of them still gripping the gun, out of the way for a better view. You bite your lip, still looking down. He glances down at himself, then back up at you.

You step closer and run your fingers through his hair and your light touch on his scalp feels like heaven. Then his breath hitches - your hands are on his shoulders and your tits are at eye level, poorly covered by your thin nightie. He shakes his head no, just barely. He’s so hard now, straining against his boxer briefs. “Damnit,” he whispers.

You straddle him, planting your warm crotch right on his hard cock, oh fuck. You sit there for a minute, not moving, not talking. He stretches out his arms on the back of the sofa, still holding the gun in one hand, as though to tell himself he's not doing anything. Then your wetness seeps through his boxer briefs. “Jesus,” he mutters. His hips subtly press up into you. “Fuck.”

He wants to gently get you off his lap, but he can't move his arms. He tried lifting you with his pelvis, but me can't muster his full strength and the swell of his clothed cock against your bare cunt only makes it worse. He can't move at all. You slowly rock your hips. He can feel how much precum he's leaking. He can't move, he can't breathe, he opens his mouth and words don't come out. He glances behind you to the kitchen and hall, and his heart races. You lightly grind on him, and you let out an all too familiar sigh.

He closes his eyes and finally catches his breath. He brings one hand to your face, swiping his thumb across your lips.

“Shhhh,” he whispers. Then he looks at the ceiling and back at you. “This ain't right.”

You look down and your eyes go wide as though you're realizing what you're doing. You rest a hand on his bare chest.

When you get off his lap, his free hand lands on his considerable bulge, pressing down for relief. You watch him with watery eyes.

He sighs. He reaches into his boxer briefs but doesn't pull them down. He massages himself with his massive hand straining the fabric. Joel coughs down the hall and Carter's heart jumps to his throat.

Carter wakes up sweating, hard as hell, with his hand in his underwear, shaft throbbing madly under his palm. Nah, he can't do this.

But he can't not relieve himself at this point. So instead of you and him, he imagines Joel coming in, shoving you against the wall, and urgently tugging his pants down to free his cock before shoving it into you with a long sigh.

It takes Carter less than 30 seconds to cum on his stomach with a breathy shudder, after the briefest intrusive thought about Joel walking in and deciding you can take them both if you want it that bad.

#raider!carter #raider!carter x reader #raider!joel #oc x reader #river of dreams ☠️

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yourjughead · 2 months

Text

Begin Again

Sweet Pea X Reader Oneshot

Synopsis: Sweet Pea is longing to have you be his again after a drunken mistake he made a few years ago.

A/N: Short-ish, fluffy.

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

“Pea, do we have to do this every day?”

“Only until you say yes YNN” the tall Serpent practically towered over you as he leaned across the Whyte Wyrm bar top where you polished glasses.

“SP, give it a break, you're sounding desperate” Fangs smirked at his best friends daily ritual, sliding onto a barstool next to him.

“I'm just looking for another chance is all”

“Pea one of these days I'm gonna roll my eyes so hard at you I'm gonna go blind” you gently patted his shoulder smilingly before moving down the bar to take another Serpents drink order. Jugheads birthday party getting into the full swing of things.

“You've worked so hard to get back to this place SP, are you sure you want to risk losing it all again”

“Fangs, I just know we're supposed to be more but maybe it's time to just call it” Sweet Pea watched your outline drift into the sea of Serpents as you moved from behind the bar with a tray of drinks. You had known one another for over two decades, raised in the shadow of this very bar. Partners in crime with a healthy dose of one-sided outwards pining but mutual feelings. The two of you had dated before, it crashing and burning almost two years ago.

Sweet Pea scanned the room, his gaze landing on Veronica Lodge, laughing with her Riverdale counterparts.

“Ugh I know that look” Fangs followed his glance before taking a swig from his drink.

“What?”

“That's the, let me jump on the next thing that moves and pretend it's yn because that's who I really want but can't have, look”

“Sounds like it needs a rebrand” Sweet Pea chuckled in return before pushing off the bar and strolling over to reacquaint himself with the raven haired girl boss. He squished into the booth alongside the Northsiders and began to work his magic on Veronica as you rejoined Fangs at the bar, apron and drink in hand.

“Finished for the night YNN?”

“Yeah, right on time to watch that trainwreck” you plastered a smile across your face that didn't quite reach your eyes as you took a deep drink from your glass and threw the apron around the other side of the bar.

“I know you want him back and you're scared what happened…will happen again”

“Woah Dr. Fogarty when's the daytime advice show airing?” you laughed as Fangs joined you. Fangs passed his drink from his hand to yours, taking your empty glass. You tore your eyes from the booth and landed them on Archie Andrews, back fresh from active duty. He moved through the crowd heading back to his friends from the bathroom.

“Oh god, not that look”

“What?”

“That's the, let me jump on the next thing that moves and distract myself from the deep unresolved feelings I have towards Sweet Pea, look”

“A rebrand should be considered” he laughed at you and your similarities to Sweet Pea. He considered a career in behavioural psychology as you sprung from your chair with a fresh drink and swanned over to Archie.

The night took a very drunk turn from there, for all parties involved. Dancing and drinking and shameless flirting were heavy themes of the night. You felt Archie's hands trace your hips as you both swayed to the music growing in volume. Throwing your head back laughing at whatever Archie said, his mouth quickly attached to your neck. Your surprise turned to rising pleasure and then very quickly to shock as the red head was suddenly pulled back from you.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself Andrews!” Sweet Pea stepped between the both of you, pushing Archie backwards by the chest.

“Sweet Pea leave it” you tried to pull him by the shoulder back only to have him shrug you off and whip around back to you.

“You're being stupid YN” you scoffed at him as Archie began to give out again. Sweet Pea whirled around, his bare fist meeting the side of Archie's jaw. Fangs launched himself from the bar, Jughead following suit, attempting to separate the two of them as they began to brawl. Your head started to swirl from the alcohol, fed up with the boys in front of you, you separated from them, and out the door.

You made it a little way along the road up from the bar as Sweet Peas drunken gait met you.

“YN, where are you going!?”

“Away from you!” You shouted back, matching his tone. He reached you quickly, catching your wrist and turning you to face him.

“Let go of me!”

“YN when are we going to stop pretending you don't still have feelings for me!” His wild eyes searched yours for answers, wishing to not hear what you said next.

“When are you going to stop pretending you didn't hurt me!” You snatched back your wrist and stomped in the direction of home again.

“YN, that was a mistake, a stupid, drunken mistake, she didn't mean anything to me-”

“-then why'd you do it?” You suddenly turned again, bumping into his chest. The street lights cut through the night as you bite back alcohol induced tears.

“I… I don't have any excuses. I've said I'm sorry but I'll say it again, I'll never stop saying it. I made out with that girl. I did and I have never not regretted it, I'm sorry” you looked into his genuine eyes as they dampened with tears. He caught hold of your shoulders and stepped in closer.

“YN, I am sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I said I'd be happy to have you in my life even just as a friend, that I'd make peace with whatever scraps you'd give me but….I need you. I need you to be mine again and I need you to need me” he gulped at the end of his confession and then leaned in to meet your lips. A flush of memories enveloped both of you, warm and comforting, familiar and pure. You separated again, dismay painting your face but not as much as Sweet Pea’s when the palm of your hand sailed across his face.

“That…That was for drunkenly kissing that girl the first night we went long distance” you then shoved him backwards, tears now streaming down your face as you gritted out “That…that was for once again getting behind the walls I built to keep you away” you grabbed the collar of his shirt then, hauling him back to you again. He went willingly, too dumbfounded to put up a fight. You pulled him down to meet your lips again prior to pushing him back, still holding his collar.

“And that…that was for making me want to try again” he gently lowered down your hands, keeping them in his. You rested your head off his chest, he dropped your hands and draped his arms over you, pulling you in. You both stood there for a long time in the glow of the street lights above you.

“Fangs owes me 100$”

“Why?” you laughed into him, reaching for his hand and pulling him into a walk again, not really sure what direction you were heading in.

“He said I'd never wear you down again, bet 100$ two years ago when we started being friends again”

“You owe me half of that” you smiled.

“I owe you everything

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rodolfoparras · 5 months

Note

Howdy howdy

Just wanted to share a little thought I had since it's getting cold, don't gotta spitball it or anything but wanted to share this

Imagine sticking your hands down ftm Prices pants, maybe in his office or somewhere anyone could walk in. And just fingering his pussy, the heat of his slick cunt warming your hands. Hes whining and so flustered you'd do this out of no where. Till he feels his pussy throb and tries warning you that he has to piss. But you encourage him to, saying it'll help warm your hands. He's so shocked but can't hold back as he moans so beautifully as he pisses himself. The hot liquid warming you hands before you pull them out his pants and dry them off (Washing them too) smiling at his spoiled pants.

- 🪐

Jesus fucking Christ anonie I’d do anything for u thank u sm for this 🧎🏻‍♂️

Let me put a spin on this and its literally off the hand down his pants part bc I’ve been itching to write something like this and maybe one day my pea brain will

So basically I have the firm belief that old man price has a scent kink it’s nothing extreme he just loves the smell of a man having suppressed his sexuality for so long he finds himself going insane at the musky scent he smells when he takes your cock down his throat, the smell of cologne and sweat that engulfs his senses whenever he buries his face in your neck, the way he’ll steal your clothes because they smell of you a man!! smelling of cheap shower gel, aftershave mens deodorant like he fucking loves it so he gets on this very innocent habit of sticking his hand between your thighs when you cuddle at night creepy as it may be he loves the smell that will linger on the palm of his hand when he wakes up loves burying his nose in the scent sometimes it’s enough to make his cock hard and he finds himself jerking of to it but as winter comes he finds the warmth that comes with it very beneficial for his oh so cold hands now having his hand between your legs doesnt come without consequences because while he’s innocent stroking your thighs, you feel your cock swell up and before you know of it you’re sporting a boner and of course he notices even got a small smile creeping up on his face as he lazily wraps his hand around your lenght

Imagine his head buried in your neck as he strokes your length and you’re both breathing heavy,as he thumbs at your tip, body shaking as you inch closer to your release, can even feel the older man grinding his half hard cock up against your thighs and before you know of it you’re cumming all over his hand

#alec answers #🪐 anon

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

Text

Until Next Time - dbf!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: You tease Joel on a hot day with an iced lolly and face the consequences

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Oral (F!receiving); age gap

Notes: This idea has been on my mind for a while

Y/N’s POV

I can’t keep my eyes off of Joel, he’s lounging on one of the lawn chairs and looks so good. He’s laughing at a terrible joke Dad’s just made, head back and exposing the expanse of his neck, beads of sweat rolling down his tanned chest which is currently bare. He’s wearing shorts and his legs are spread, making me want to see if I can see it but that’s too risky with Tommy is smirking at me knowingly so instead I stand quickly.

“Anyone want ice cream?” I asks, eyes flickering between Dad, Joel and Tommy, all three of them turning down my request as they all have beers. So I head back into the house, heading for the freezer to grab an ice lolly as I’m not much of a beer drinker and my soft drinks haven’t been in the ice cooler long enough to be cold enough.

As I open the freezer door I’m greeted by a well needed blast of cold air, sighing in relief as the Texan summer heat is killing me. I reach in and grab one of my favourite ones, cherry and sweet, the bright red colour standing out amongst the other frozen treats. The wrapper crinkles as I rip it open and fuck, so worth it. The cold, sweet flavour of cherry hits my sweet tooth, the cold sending a shiver down my spine. The heat is almost unbearable as I step back outside, moving back to my seat and feeling Joel’s eyes on me. A sudden flush creeping up my neck but it’s so hot my face couldn’t be any redder than it is now, covering the sudden heat pooling between my legs.

I can’t help myself, catching Joel’s gaze and watching his honey eyes darken when I take the lolly as far in my mouth, savouring the cold and sweet flavour against my tongue plus how Joel shifts in his seat. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he’s taking a swig of his beer and his eyes skim down my body before he’s turning his attention back to Dad who hasn’t caught on. My heart races at the thought of Joel wanting me back despite him being almost twenty three years older than me and I’m definitely not imagining it as Tommy’s wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me making me flip him off.

Dad is the most oblivious person ever it seems as he doesn’t even notice me flipping Tommy off, knowing he’d have scolded me for flipping one of his two best friends off. Joel’s catching my gaze again when Tommy strikes up conversation with Dad, moving into a seat closer to him and giving Joel the opportunity to ogle me without any shame. I should be shying away but the hungry look in his eyes has me practically deep throating the lolly. It’s melting quicker than I can eat it, some of the sweetness dribbling down my chin and Joel’s eyes are glued to where my tongue darts out to catch it before it falls to my sports bra.

“It’s a bit hot, I think I’m going to head inside for a few minutes.” I tell them once the ice lolly is gone, eyes lingering on Joel’s, silently asking him to follow me.

“Alright sweet pea, come down soon.” Dad breaks his conversation with Tommy for a moment and I nod before heading back inside, sending Joel one more longing look before I step back into the cooler kitchen. I make my way upstairs, heart beating a little faster at the thought of Joel following me up, laying back on my bed and groaning softly at how nice and cold my sheets are under my heated skin. My mind wanders to the way Joel looked at me, eyes practically undressing me right there which should have grossed me out as he’s twice my age but fuck, it did the exact opposite.

A few more moments pass and I start to think maybe I misread everything, Joel isn’t coming up but suddenly my door is creaking open. Joel’s broad, muscular and sweaty frame is filling my door. He looks really good, mouthwateringly good. His tanned skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat which shows off his muscles and his soft tummy that takes some of that gruff ruggedness to him, his hair is curling in the heat and is starting to speck with silver. I can’t help but watch as he scrubs one of his large, calloused hands over his face and through his beard as he sighs softly before speaking, voice low and husky, “You know your Daddy would kill me if he knew half of the thoughts I have about you sweet girl.”

“Why don’t you show me some of them?” I tease, raising myself to my elbows and flicking my eyes up and down his body, taking note of his thick thighs and how loose his shorts are hanging on his hips, showing off a few curls that lead to places I want to be.

“Fuck, you have such a dirty mouth on you.” He practically growls as he moves closer, shutting my bedroom door, and my heart begins racing at the prospect of Joel. He’s climbing over me, nosing up my stomach, lips ghosting and sending goosebumps in their wake before his lips are finding my neck. My hands are finding his fluffy hair, tangling when his tongue licks up my neck to my jaw before he’s biting almost painfully, “So pretty, but you gotta be quiet sweetheart.” His voice is so lucky, “Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yeah, Joel please.” I’m tugging on his hair, trying to pull him down into a kiss, letting out a frustrated sound when he resists with a smirk on those plump lips, “Please.” It comes out so broken and needy and he hasn’t even touched me yet but there’s a rumble in his chest before he finally kisses me. Our lips meet in a hot, feverish collision, and I feel an almost intense rush of pleasure as our tongues slide against each others. Joel's strong arms cage me in, thumb gently caressing my cheek and adding a strange mixture of desperation and need yet something so loving and soft. I’m pulling him closer to me, wanting to feel his body pressed against mine as we kiss hungrily. It feels like a relief to finally be kissing him after imagining it for so long. His lips are soft and pliant against mine, and I can taste the slight bitterness of beer on his breath, which only adds to the eroticism of the moment.

We kiss for what feels like an eternity, our bodies pressed together in a heated embrace. I run my hands over Joel's broad shoulders and down his back, feeling the warmth of his skin and every single bump and ridge of his spine and all his muscles. He pulls back for a moment, his eyes dark and smouldering, and I can see the desire burning within them.

”God, I've wanted to do that for so long," he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. I can only nod in agreement, unable to find my voice after such an intense moment, “Can I touch you baby?”

“P-please,” I’m nodding almost too enthusiastically, “ Fuck Joel, been imagining of this for months.”

“Months hmm?” He murmurs against my skin as he trails kisses down my stomach, teeth grazing the sensitive skin and only stopping to such bright hickeys into my skin, “I shouldn’t be doing this after that dirty trick with the ice cream.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” I choke out, lifting my hips for him to slide my shorts down my thighs, feeling his groan into my thigh when he realises I went commando underneath. I’ve had boys eat me out but nothing compares to this already, Joel nosing up the insides of my thighs and licking and biting his way closer and closer to where I need him. I’m slamming my hand over my mouth when he kisses my clit before he flattens his tongue and licks a stipe up my folds, my other hand finding his hair and pulling out of surprise. I’m wriggling away in surprise, jolts of pleasure making me cry out into my hand as he is very talented with his tongue. His calloused hands gripping my thighs and holding my legs open, one hand pressing flat against my stomach and keeping my hips in place as he begins to eat me like I’m his last meal.

“Look at you sweet girl, falling apart and I’ve barely even started.” His warm breath over my aching mount has me shifting against his large hands and letting out an embarrassing mewl when he keeps his honey eyes on mine as he puts his mouth back to my clit. That light buzz begins as he presses his tongue into my aching core, nose bumping against my sensitive numb and adding to the pleasure as my back tries to arch into his mouth.

“J-Joel, ‘m not- fuck-“

“That’s it sweet girl, cum for me darlin’.” Joel coos before upping the speed and pressure as he eats me out, moaning when I tug at his hair, his name falling from my lips like a prayer, “Let go, I’ve got you.” My back is arching, hand pulling almost painfully at his hair and I’m panting his name, my thighs clamping shut around Joel’s head as he continues hold my hips in place as I ride out my high. My whole body is shaking, walls clenching around nothing and I think I’m seeing white around the edges barely able to feel anything until my body sags back onto my sheets with a whine of oversensitivity now.

Joel finally pulls away and he looks fucking wrecked, beard and mouth wet and shiny and pupils blown out that the honey colour is barely a ring. He climbs to his feet, checking the watch on his wrist and smirking, leaning over me, voice low and wrecked, “Under five minutes, hmmm.”

“Shhh, shut up.” I weakly smack his arm, gasp dragged from me when one of Joel’s large and fantasy-inducing hands wrap around my throat, rough pads of his fingers pressing into my pulse points and my thighs clamp shut instinctively.

“Watch that pretty mouth or I’ll have to tell your daddy what a dirty girl you are.” His breath is hot against my cheek before his lips are capturing mine in another kiss, this time a slower and sweeter kiss. The atmosphere seems to change around us, Joel’s hand around my neck moving to caress my cheek as his moves his lips against mine. The kiss is soft and slow, a perfect contrast to the heat of the Texas summer. Our lips move together in a dance that feels familiar, even though we've never kissed before. I feel like I could stay here forever, lost in the moment with Joel. Every inch of my body is on fire, and I can't help but pull him closer, wanting more, “Wait a few before you come back down and cover those hickeys,” he mumbles before kissing me once more then he’s heading for the door. He’s stopping in the doorway, eyes sweeping over my spent and sweaty body and whispering, “Until next time.” He’s winking and then he’s gone, leaving me with those three words echoing around my mind.

Until next time? Until next time.

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

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sugawhaaa · 9 months

Text

🌸💕Dating Jiung would include?💕🌸

-fluff☆headcanons

He's the type of boyfriend to get one of those sets of necklaces that click together

If he happens to wake up before you he would (not creepily) admire you as you sleep

Jiung would be your little snuggle bug, he'd constantly want hugs, kisses, cuddles, just your touch

His favorite places to kiss you are:your neck, hips/lower stomach, and above all your forehead

Jiung loves doing the simplest of things with you, brushing your teeth, reading, sleeping, watching movies, it doesn't matter what you or him are doing he just wants to feel your presence

He would call you muffin. IDK BUT ITS SO CUTE

I could also see him calling you princess, my love, baby, and dear. Sweat pea is also potential but like idrk

He'd totally gift you a big plushy bear 😭😭😭

In his contacts your name would be "🌸squishy muffin🌸"

Evening beach trips are so common between you two

He would hold your hand like all the time and anytime your nervous he'd give your hand light squeezes 🤧

He would treat you like an absolute baby when your sick. Getting you everything you need, holding you in his arms when it's "nap time" and he'd even give you your medicine from his hands

He would pinch your cheeks all the time

MOVIES

He'd give you little kisses everywhere all the time. You'd be out for dinner with the members and he'd be giving you little kisses and feeding you mandu

He'd hug you from behind all the time 😭

I can see him accidently touching you inappropriately and instantly being super embarrassed about it after words. His face would get so red so fast 🤭

When waiting in line for amusement park rides or the trains he'd hug you while swaying side to side

🍭Scenario🍭

"Jiung where are we going?" You said as Jiung covered your eyes with his hands.

"You'll see!" He cooed.

You and your boyfriend decided to go for a walk on a short little trail nearby the dorms but for the past 10 minutes he's had his hands over your eyes. "Ok were almost there," he said softly near your ear. "OK keep your eyes closed and I'll hold your hands," he said as turned to walk in front of you. He gently held your hands and guided you along something that felt like wood. After the wood part you found more grass before Jiung told you to open your eyes.

You saw a picnic blanket and a ton of snacks plus a lantern so you could see in the cloudy air. You were simply taken away and nearly cried at the sight. Meanwhile Jiungs ears were bright red and he was super shy. "So?" He chuckled. All you could do was hug him super hard.

"I love you so much," you said as you squeezed him tight.

-smut☆headcanons

{Smut warning}

Ngl I can see Jiung being like 70% bottom. I can just imagine him being whipped for his girlfriend sitting on top of him peppering him in kisses and giving him a handjob...LIKE AJBRJEHW

Jiung would be shy at first EVERYTIME he'd be embarrassed to even admit that he wanted to have sex

But I can see him getting lost in the pleasure and just admitting how good you make him feel

Lingerie would totally be his jam, he probably loves when you tease him with it. Letting him look but not touch.

He loves getting pinned down on his back it's like his biggest turn on

He's the type to praise but not directly to you its kind of my rhetorical (idk how else to explain it sjsjsj)

On the odd time that he's on top he likes to be called daddy. He wouldn't take it as seriously as some ppl do but he'd take it as a slight compliment

As for calling you mommy he might let it slip once or twice

He'd be totally nervous to do anything with you, like even touching your pussy would make him shake in fear

But after he finger fucks you for the first time he might just get addicted to the feeling of you around him

Idk why but I can see him liking it when he makes you feel so good that your drooling. It's like the biggest reward to him

I feel like blind folds might kinda be his Jam ngl

Toys would be fun experimentation for him

His sex stamina is probably really low so it's like cum 4 times in half hour and he's done 😭

🍇scenario🍇

You had Jiung pinned beneath you with his arms above his head, lips parted, and eyes full of lust and yearning for your touch though he would never admit it. You went to go play with one of his stray strands of purple hair as his eyes scanned your entire body with much concentration.

"Your wish is my command," you said in a slightly anticipating voice.

"Fine. I want to feel you around my fingers." He explained as he turned his head away from your eyes. Blush filling his cheeks.

"Oh so you liked that?" You teased. "The way my walls hugged your fingers as you explored every inch of my body~" you cooed as Jiung started moving his thighs an awful lot.

"Stop teasing me already," he huffed as he looked back up at you all red. You then kissed his jawline before saying

"But that's part of the fun~"

Thank you for reading!!!♡♡♡

A/N: thinking about bringing this series back what do yall think??? {Also I got my first piwon album yesterday and I'm so excited but I pulled two intaks and none of my biases 😔}

#p1harmony soul #p1h layouts #p1h icons #p1h jiung #p1harmony jiung #p1harmony smut #p1harmony fluff #p1h x reader #p1h theo #p1harmony

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ad-hawkeye · 3 months

Note

Alternate Selves Dreams Aftermath

Ayn: Buys a toy piano to put in the music room, wanders off to observe and maybe join fencing club for a week until he gets bored, stares into fireplaces for a bit

Alkaid: Yes to 'cold sweat-thank goodness I still have emotions' tag, goes to magic shows involving light tricks, doesn't serve floral tea when Little Painter comes over

Lars: Avoids business trips to places with snow for the better part of a year, visits the old granny who ran a clinic near his hometown more often, has sudden cravings for canned peas

Clarence: Buys and learns how to ride a motorbike, avoids butterflies for at least a few months, includes maple tree planting as part of the next campus beautification project

Hey. Hey You Can't Make Me Emotional Like This. What The Fuck!!

god i'm gonna be thinking about this all day now. i hope you're happy. not to mention this would be incredible fic material??? ghghhhhhh pleaseeee

as someone who has VERY vivid and realistic dreams for a number of reasons, sometimes there are little mundane bits you remember where your brain is just like - did i actually do that? did i think that? and keeping in mind that these are actual alternative lives in clear, complete detail... whew.

so you could have these interesting scenarios.

like, you know how eden alkaid was literally in tears terrified that, after everything, his feelings for mc were possessive and not actual love. imagine feeling those intense emotions in your dreams and waking up like. was that real. feeling slightly off and more cautious when he's around mc.

also lars - his parents keep getting killed off in horrible ways in both godheim and eden. i'm unsure of modern lars' family situation, but either way, that has to be really unsettling. either you dream that your very alive parents are dead, or your dreams are rubbing salt in the wound of your deceased parents.

man i'll stop here. anon i love these so much

#lovebrush chronicles #ayn alwyn #alkaid mcgrath #lars rorschach #clarence clayden #god eden ayn's little toy piano...... dude im gonna lose it PLEASE #mc: why did you buy that #ayn being his tsundere self: Wouldn't You Like To Know #asks #anon

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thecatduet422 · 1 year

Text

Chapter Three: Blood of the Dragon

Dragon King!bakugou katsuki x reader

Taglist: @genderfluid-anime-goth @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @nnubee @reddriot

Rating: Mature

Tags: violence, blood, dragons, its wartime babes so people might get booboos, romance, sexual tension, medieval politics, northern!reader, knight!midoriya

Summary: With the fury of winter on the precipice, and food provisions deathly short, you have no choice but to represent your House and speak with the Dragon King. The only problem is your Houses have been at odds for centuries, and the fearsome Dragon King is not exactly easy to convince... (GoT-inspired AU)

A/N: Also, highly recommend @vampyrsm's forbidden flame series!

Chapters: 3/? (20,590 words)

AO3 LINK

Chapter One Chapter Two

Some translations for this chapter: *Dragons: Kanibaru = Cannibal, Kinba = Gold Tooth, Shiroi Tsubasa = White Wing. *Commands (taken directly from GoT): Dracarys = Dragon fire, Rybas = Focus, Naejot = Forward, Dohaeras = Serve, Umbas = Wait

Chapter Three: Blood of the Dragon (12.4k)

Darkness…

An echoing song…

Can't breathe…

You woke up gasping for air, only to be greeted by the sun shining its inferno through the lazy breeze of the curtains that guarded you. The silk sheets wrapped around you slipped across your skin like water as you entered into the morn, nightmare temporarily forgotten.

How useless, you thought suddenly. What’s the point of a blanket if not to keep you warm?

You roughly kicked the sheets off you, finding them to be a total hindrance. But then as soon as you did it, you felt strange. Almost vulnerable in a way, not unlike when you were on the boat, abandoning your extra layers of clothing.

You’ve been guarding yourself against the outside for as long as you could remember. To meet it head-on, bare skin to sun, it felt like you were heading into battle with nothing but a horse.

And how the southern heat seemed to target you, causing you to sweat constantly . You were always fighting off against the gross feeling as your body struggled to adjust to the new land.

You missed the cold air of the North, the smell of the grass, the sound of your little brother’s laugh. You missed the peace of the whispering woods, the roars of laughter in the Hall, the secluded comfort of the library. You missed home.

And yet, The Dragon King insisted you stay.

“Until we both see fit," he had said.

Well, you saw fit to leave once the agreement was signed. That seemed to be the sensible thing to do. Your business would be done, so why stay?

And what was taking the contract so long? Surely, it must be done by now…

"We're gonna do it right this time… We reform our relationship, and in return, our alliance…"

Reform our relationship…

Something about that itched your mind, like the tune of a song you couldn't quite remember. Like any other trueborn of the North, the history of the Great Blacksmith has been engraved into your head. The tale of him and the Dragon Queen is very much a repeated one, back at home at least. But you imagined it would be popular in the Southlands too…

Does the King mean to…

No. Of course not.

You take a deep breath in, smelling the sweet smoke that was slowly beginning to waft into the room.

“To cover the smell of dragon,” Lady Mina explained to you.

Apparently, the dragon caves weren’t far from the city, and the wind tended to drift the stench over. You smelled it more than a couple of times now; fire, soot, and something else you couldn’t place. The best way you could describe it was wet dog , and yet you knew that wasn’t right. Either way, it wasn’t exactly offensive, not when you’ve spent your entire childhood around livestock. Besides, you thought the incense more than did its job. Whether it was the soft floral scents of jasmine, sweet pea, and lilac or one of the stronger, spicier scents of cinnamon, clove, and frankincense- they all seemed to give you a jolt of energy, giving you the muster to start the day.

And already there was Lady Mina, ready to start with you as she walked across the other side of the room, lighting the perfumed sticks as she went, soft tendrils of smoke marking her path like footsteps.

“Morning, Lady Mina,” you greeted, ignoring your slight unease.

You almost forgot that it was normal, a lady’s maid waking you up, helping you get ready for the day. And as more servant ladies walked in with clean linens, fresh tea, and food, you found your stubbornness winning over.

“You know, I’m perfectly capable of getting ready on my own-”

Lady Mina easily countered with a wave of her hand. “Nonsense! You're our guest . Besides, you brought no maids of your own.”

She shrugged nonchalantly, as if it weren't a problem, but you still found yourself squirming with embarrassment. Was it considered unethical, not bringing any maids with you? It’s not like you had a choice. The outlook of the war forced your lady mother to dismiss them all.

"Knights and guards must be placed over butlers and maids, sweetling. Can’t you see?"

And for a tiny moment, an arrow of sorrow punctured your chest as you remembered your goodbye to Jirou, your lady-in-waiting and best friend. The sad look in her eyes as you told her to pack up her things and go home…

A breakfast tray interrupted your memory, pulling the arrow along with it. As the tray was delicately placed over your lap, you were greeted with a mouthwatering assortment of bread, fruit, and cheese. You dug into all of it without a care as Lady Mina gleefully walked up to an assortment of dresses.

Oh, not again, you thought with an eye roll.

“And I was thinking for today,” she sang, eyeing through the garments, “You can wear… this! ”

She pulled out a lovely silk dress, dyed the color lavender and bare on one shoulder, the otherside held together with a golden dragon pin. You could pick out the outline of the scales and teeth all the way from your place on the bed. Its jaw was open mid-roar, its eyes studded with tiny rubies, its tail snaking down to wrap around the waist.

It was… a lot.

You gulped down the lump of food in your mouth, feeling it plump down into your stomach. “Don’t you think it's a bit too much for me, Mina?"

Mina pouted. “We can replace the broach with one of your own, if you like. But you can't deny it isn't pretty…”

She dangled the dress in front of you, as if the fabric could somehow hypnotize you into saying yes.

You gulped down your guilt, almost wishing you would've fallen for it. But the truth was, your father raised you to ride on horseback, to swing a sword, to hunt alongside your brothers. Usually, you couldn’t be bothered with dresses.

"The thought is appreciated, trully,” you said with a mouthful of bread. You swallowed it down before continuing. “But I have training this morning. I very well can’t fight in, well, that .”

You gestured to the dress as if it were a wild animal with rabies and foam spilling out from the mouth.

Lady Mina huffed, not forgiving you. “All you ever do is train...”

You gave her your best pleading face, trembling lip and the biggest eyes you could make. A trick you’ve pulled since you were a child.

"Ugh, fine ," Lady Mina relented, handing the dress back to a maid. "But the King is hosting a tourney later this week, and I insist on getting you ready for that!"

She wagged a finger at you. "All of the highborns of the South are going to be there. You need to look like a proper lady of your station. Got it?"

“Yes, Lady Mina,” you nodded in fake agreement.

It wouldn't be a lie if you were gone by the time of the tourney, which you hoped to be once this damned contract was signed…

You shoved a final fistful of food into your mouth before getting ready.

And it was true when you said you could get ready on your own. A simple cotton shirt, breeches, and your boots were all you needed. You’ve forgone most of your armor since the boat, finding it all to be utterly unbearable in the Southern heat. You now only bothered with your arm braces and your scabbard.

However, as your eyes traveled over your form in the mirror, they caught onto your chestplate, tucked away in an open chest. It’s cool steel peeked out, the curve of the white fox stealing your attention with a twinkle of light, a reflection of the sun living in the fox’s eye.

Can't breathe-

Air hitched in your throat, and it was then you felt something unpleasantly strange; a cold air that brushed against the back of your shoulders and shivered into your chest.

You pulled out the chestplate and strapped it on.

"Uh, are you sure you want to do that, my lady?" Mina asked you, cautiously. "It's a very hot day, today."

"I'll be fine," you insisted, finding a strong sense of pride in the fox that guarded your heart. With that one, and the necklace you wore underneath it, you felt like you knew who you were.

A northerner, through and through.

But as a show of respect, you did let Lady Mina do your hair. She brushed it back and weaved it into a braid as you worked on fastening your arm braces.

When Lady Mina stepped back, finished, you simply couldn't afford to linger anymore.

“Thanks,” you told her, not bothering to look before leaving, too busy fidgeting with the final clasp.

You heard her scoff all the way from the door, but hopefully, she knew you enough by now to realize you meant no offense. You simply had more important matters for the day.

You walked out, and as always, Ser Midoriya stood patiently by your door, waiting.

“Good morning, m’lady!” he greeted brightly.

“Good morning, ser.” You couldn’t help but feel warmth in your heart when you saw your friend. He reminded you of your littlest brother. Eager, innocent, hopeful.

“Any ravens from home?” you asked as the both of you headed towards the grounds.

“Yes, actually!” Ser Midoriya pulled out a scroll sealed with blood red wax, stamped with the outline of your familiar.

You eagerly ripped it open, eyes meeting your mother’s perfect handwriting.

Dearest Daughter,

I insist that you return home immediately.

Of course.

The savaged prince will cut off your head-

He’s a king.

You’ve surrounded yourself with beasts, sweetling. Can’t you see? It’s only a matter of time before they gobble you up.

You snorted.

Come home, before I lose a daughter as well as a husband.

You huffed. Using your father’s death against you was low, but unfortunately, unsurprising.

“Any news on the little lord?” Ser Midoriya asked.

You skimmed through the rest of the letter, worry pinching your face the farther you went down.

“No. Nothing.”

You crumpled the letter up into a ball and handed it back to Midoriya, who took it with no response, long-used to your mood when receiving a raven from mother.

A couple of courtiers passed by, their gazes straying down to the fox on your chest. You saw them lean into each other in a conniving manner, whispering.

“The Lady of the North...”

You expected the stares. You were probably the first northerner to walk through these halls in decades afterall, and nothing fueled the court more than whispers, rumors, and gossip.

You imagined that you were the main topic of all three today.

But what did surprise you were the glances cast at your knight.

“The green hair? He’s the one that jousted against the King...”

You showed no sign that you heard them, keeping your head forward. But once you passed them, you looked over to your knight. “It seems your reputation is quite bigger than I've been led to believe, ser.”

And as you predicted, Ser Midoriya flinched and stuttered to answer. “I-I told your lord father everything when I arrived at court, m’lady! I swear!”

“Maybe so, but now you must tell me,” you leaned in to talk quieter, in case there were any stray ears. “Without a written agreement, the Dragon King can have second thoughts on the trade. Perhaps he already is , and maybe that's why it's taking so long… You must tell me your tale, ser."

Ser Midoriya just looked at you, confused. "But, m'lady, Kacchan would never do that. He gave you his word."

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline, bewilderment making you louder, " Kacchan? You have a nickname for him?"

“W-Well, we grew up together,” Midoriya explained, face turning red as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. His eyes roamed down, up, to the side, everywhere but at you.

You stopped, grabbing onto Ser Midoriya’s shoulder so he would do the same. When he still refused to look at you, you shook him gently, forcing him to do so.

“There’s no one I trust more than you, ser, can't you see? It’s your opinion that I value the most. Not the Dragon King’s.”

Ser Midoriya stood there, twiddling his thumbs. “It’s just that… it’s embarrassing m’lady. A-And" –he suddenly looked up at you, fists now clenched and eyes sparkling with determination– “I’m not that man anymore. I’m a knight now, and I’m going to be the best in all the lands!”

You gave a small smile at his declaration. Truthfully, it didn’t surprise you. You found that the ones most often looked down on were the ones with the biggest dreams, and Ser Midoriya was probably the most doubted knight in the entire realm. It was easy for the world to do so, with his naturally scrawny frame, panicked attitude, and lack of name.

But you've seen the knight grow. You've seen him be the very first one on the training grounds and the very last one to leave. You've seen how seriously he takes his duty in protecting you, how he treats your family with the utmost respect.

You've seen the boy become the man.

“You forget, ser. I train with you," you reminded him. “If I thought you were an embarrassment, I would have said so.”

You held onto both of his shoulders now, hoping your persistence would be proof of your honesty. "I already believe you capable of anything. There is nothing you need to prove to me, ser."

You released your hold on him, crossing your arms stubbornly.

“Now, tell me.”

Midoriya released a shaky breath, tears brimming in his forest-green eyes, and for a fearful moment you thought the knight would outright weep, but then he shook his head, wiping them away.

“Okay.”

He pulled you away into a corner, where his story could be hidden by stone and shadow.

“As you know, I was working as a stable boy here, in the Southlands. But, I’ve always dreamt of becoming a knight. My favorite story as a boy was always-”

“-Ser Toshinori Yagi, the All Mighty Knight of the Goldlands,” you finished for him.

Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, well. I would run into Kacchan a lot back then but… but often times Kacchan didn’t want me around."

You narrowed your eyes at his hesitancy. You could read inbetween the lines. You knew how cruel men like the Bakugou Katsuki could be.

Midoriya went on. "He was training to be a knight too, you see. He kept talking about us going to war soon-”

“And how would he know that?” you interrupted snootily. “The Old Lord of the South didn’t even suspect war, so how did he ?”

“Kacchan has the blood of the dragon, m’lady,” your knight explained. “He has dragon dreams.”

“Dragon dreams?”

Ser Midoriya nodded.

Your oncoming dislike of the King hindered for a moment as you absorbed the information.

You’ve read about the blood of the dragon. The last known carrier was the Dragon Queen. It was written that she never burned, that her dreams were premonitions, that her shouts could make dragons heel, while her whispers could make them roar.

And, it was written that she was the last who could do so.

"Is this true?" you asked carefully.

Midoriya nodded. “He claimed a dragon when he was five, m'lady.”

Shock flowed through you at the idea.

Five years old…

“Well." With a heavy sigh, you slumped against the wall. "I guess that would prove it.”

You looked up, eyes roaming over the stone of the ceiling as you mused. “I never expected the Dragon King to be a dreamer.”

Midoriya looked down sheepishly, almost as if he were guilty of something. “If you ask about it, he'll deny it, m'lady. Kachaan thinks it makes him look superstitious…"

Is that what happened to you, ser? You made a mention of his dreams, and he beat you for it?

"B-But anyways," –Midoriya shook his head, clearing whatever thought that clouded it– "when the tourney was announced, we all thought that this was it; this was how we can prove ourselves and become knights. Kacchan kept talking about how he would win and be named Commander-”

You snorted. “From one tourney win? Doubtful.”

Midoriya shook his head, correcting you. “By then, Kacchan had a lot of influence, m’lady. He was able to command a dragon, and he was in the Old Lord's favor."

“Really?” you asked, astonished. “So just like that? He won and was named Commander?”

Midoriya nodded, tears brimming once again as he recounted shamefully, “The very first round, Kacchan was put up against me and…” –tears started to fill more as Midoriya choked– “And as soon as I charged, somehow the girth came undone…”

“And you fell off.”

“And I fell off!” Midoriya cried.

His sobs bounced off of the walls as Ser Midoriya could no longer hold it in. He doubled over, completely consumed by his emotions, and you saw curious courtiers start to peek their heads your way.

“There, there, ser.” You patted his back reassuringly. “Your riding skills have improved tremendously since you’ve been with me. Your fighting skills, too.”

“I know that.” Ser Midoriya wiped his tears away. “And even then, I knew I could do better. I stood up and went to mount my horse again.”

“As you should,” you nodded.

“But…” Midoriya hesitated. He looked up at you, and you knew then that you wouldn’t like what he had to say. “But Kacchan wouldn’t allow it, m’lady.”

“What?!” you exclaimed. “ Why? You did nothing wrong.”

"He said I was hopeless, that there was no way I could fight, and if I wasn't fit to represent the Southlands on the battlefield, then I wasn't fit to represent them at all," Midoriya recounted in sorrow. "And the Old Lord listened, m’lady, so I was banished."

“That is-” you choked on your anger, too steamed to finish.

Unfair . Dishonorable . Cowardly. Those were the words that came to mind.

“I don’t like this King,” you decided, making your way back towards the light of the hallway.

Anger and guilt twisted your stomach as you realized, that’s why Ser Midoriya begged you to let him fight the other day. He saw it as his chance to regain his honor, and you didn’t let him. You thought it was your duty to challenge the King yourself, in the name of your House.

You peeked over your shoulder, at Ser Midoriya, who was now dejectedly following behind you.

“There’s a tourney coming up later this week. You can fight then,” you decided.

Ser Midoriya’s face brightened immediately. He reminded you of a child seeing his first fall of snow. “Really, m'lady?! You'll let me?”

Your anger melted at the sight of his excitement. “Why, of course, ser. You will be the sole representative of the North. I swear.”

Midoriya’s face turned serious, his determined nature taking root once more. “Yes, m’lady! I will make you proud.”

You didn’t doubt it, but now you'll have to deal with Mina…

Fresh sun hit your face as you reached the grounds. Along with it, the air, tainted with the smell of sweat, blood, and the putrid stench of dragon caves, their presence out of sight yet far from forgotten. Your gaze traveled from the men moving about- from the knights, squires, and stableboys maneuvering through the chaos of work- to the main sparing area, which sat directly in the sun.

Can't hide your weaknesses when you're basked in light, you thoughtfully observed.

“Are you sure you wish to train today, m’lady?” you heard Midoriya ask. “You’re wrist-”

“It’s fine ,” you assured him, flapping your wrist around to prove it. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Besides, we need to practice.” You walked into the sun and pulled out your sword, it’s thin blade pointing at Ser Midoriya’s chin. “Let’s go .”

Your knight stared in surprise at your showmanship before promptly furrowing his brows, looking back with fiery confidence. “Right!”

He pulled out his own sword, and as sudden as lightning, you two began, your motions turning into a dance you knew very well.

“Keep your guard up!” you told him.

Midoriya listened and moved to correct his stance, but that was when you had him. You knocked his sword away.

“Keep your head as well,” you joked.

Midoriya huffed in amusement, resetting himself for the next round. You followed.

The both of you simultaneously began once more. You danced around your knight mercilessly, fighting him with the same sly brutality you showed the King.

Ser Midoriya was your knight, afterall. If he couldn’t hold a fight against you , then there really was no point to him, was there?

But just like you knew he would, Midoriya kept up, though be it, with a very strained look on his face. You weren't sure if he was afraid of you hitting him or he hitting you . You knew if he actually gave you an injury, Ser Midoriya would never forgive himself-

You felt a solid tap on the chest, sword hitting your armor with a solid tink.

“Yes!” Midoriya cheered.

“Nicely done,” you complimented.

It was what you deserved, with your mind wandering about.

Head in the clouds, ears in the trees, your father used to say.

You both repositioned, swords high and eyes pierced into one another, waiting to see what the next move might be.

Ser Midoriya was smart enough to keep his eye on your hip, where your dagger was hidden. You've been known to pull it out when least expected, surprising your opponent when their attention was focused on your sword. A trick that helped you with Bakugou, but unlike him, Midoriya has sparred with you many times now. He knew your tricks.

You both circled around each other, waiting.

"JUST GO ALREADY!" Somebody screamed, and immediately, everyone in your peripherals stood at attention.

Perhaps out of spite, you broke your stance, refusing to do so.

You could feel the glare of the Dragon King once more, this time from the shadow of the balcony.

You remained tall and glared back.

Just because you were making a trade with the Dragon King didn't mean you had to bow to his every whim. He was the King of the South , and your loyalty was to home. To your people.

To your knight, you thought furiously, Ser Midoriya’s tale taking center place once more.

"Good morning, Your Grace," you greeted curtly.

Bakugou continued to glare, eyes searching for a sign that you'll buckle. However, he seemed to find none, for he turned his head away with a huff.

"Mornin'," he grunted before making his way down the steps. Obnoxiously slow, obnoxiously loud.

He wore a fresh cape today, still sporting the blood red color of his House. His chest was still bare, still proudly exposing the tattoos he earned in battle (and yet shamefully, your cheeks flared as if it were all new).

However, what was new was the chain he wore around his neck, made out of tiny sharp teeth.

The baby teeth of his dragon, perhaps?

When he reached the ground, the King's eyes immediately latched onto your knight, burning with an unmatched fury.

"Deku," he growled. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

You noticed your knight's hands shaking by his sides, and so you interjected.

"He's my knight, and I asked him to help me train," you answered coolly. "What's it to you?"

The King barked out a laugh. " Right . I've seen the worm fight before." He inched closer intimidatingly. "More like you were training him ."

And then a sword appeared between you two.

"I'm a knight of the North now, Kacchan." Ser Midoriya's voice was tight but steady, and you saw Bakugou's eyes flare even more. "I must ask that you keep your distance from m'lady. She's already close enough to hear whatever you have to say."

The King's face twisted into a deadly scowl. "Stop calling me that! I'm a king-"

"But not his," you cut in, your own eyes piercing coldly into the dragon's. Ice to the fire. "Ser Midoriya belongs to the North now. Remember?"

You saw the King's scowl pinch in, just slightly before it turned into a cruel, arrogant smirk.

"Must be where the cowards go."

Anger flared within you, contained only by the hard steel of the fox that protected your chest. In fear that you would snap and ruin the agreement before it was even written, you said nothing.

"You northerners won't last five seconds in the dragon caves," the King went on.

You felt a brow perch up, asking, "Oh? Is that what we're doing today?"

The King's scowl returned. "I told ya' I was gonna show you how we get blackstone, didn't I?"

"We’re going to mine blackstone?" you asked with genuine curiosity, anger gone for now.

But, how ?

"Just come along, will ya'?" The King growled darkly before walking away.

The way he said it cowed you into obedience. You were both curious to see how the southerners attempted to mine, as well as the sudden seriousness that seemed to possess the King.

And in following him, you got to see the true power he welded.

Everywhere the Dragon King went, the people would stop. Women dropped to the floor in curtsies. Men would bend the knee. Knights and guards would stand at attention and salute, any hint of life gone in the presence of their liege.

You expected he liked it that way.

And how the King wouldn’t stop or even nod at his courtiers. Instead, he chose to act as if they didn't exist at all, keeping his head forward as he marched towards the gateway. It wasn’t until you were halfway there when you noticed…

“You don’t have a guard?” you asked curiously.

The King snorted. "Like to see someone try . In my own castle…”

Good point. Only a fool would dare to slay a dragon when they're in the belly of its lair.

The three of you reached the gateway, reintroduced to the sky once more, and the sight in front of you brought a smile to your face.

“Oh good! We’re riding there!”

The first horse you saw was the one in front, a bay gelding with a tail that wouldn't stop flicking. The sootiness of his coat shined against the sunlight, bringing attention towards his strong legs and dark snout, his eyes dark as night. He wore a gold trimmed saddle with blood red padding, all bearing the sigil of a golden dragon breathing flame.

The Dragon King's.

But then you spotted the light-gray mare behind him, her coat reminding you of snow. Not the pure white snow that blessed the North deep within the winter season, but the real snow you used to see every day; the slush that squished under your feet when you walked to the stables. The half-melted snow that cornered the gateway, forming into small mountains you and your brothers used to climb, and then later fall in. The dirty snow your older brother dared you to eat once (and you almost did, until mother saw you and screamed bloody murder).

It was the type of snow hardly anyone ever thought about.

And how the mare's eyes bled into yours, her stature unmoving and calm, her long tail occasionally flicking with the unearthed energy that she was, no doubt, reserving for the ride.

You walked past the King to greet her, making sure to keep to her side, so that her eyes could be on you as you approached carefully.

"Hello, there," you spoke to her in a gentle tone, holding a cautious hand to her nose so she could catch your scent.

She took some sniffs and sighed into your touch, her own sign of welcome. She then nudged her nose into your palm, urging you to pet her.

You let out a giggle at her persistence, finding a light-hearted joy you haven't felt in a very long time.

“I take it you like to ride, my lady?” a voice startled you, bringing you back to your surroundings.

You didn't even notice the man next to you, which was saying something given his solid build and eccentric red hair. Everything about him read strong and warrior , yet he wore a gentle smile with kind eyes to match.

You bashfully answered. “As soon as I learned how to walk, I learned how to ride. The North is full of open land, you see. It’s far more practical to be on horseback than inside a carriage.”

The large man smiled, showing off his sparkling sharp teeth.

“You’ll like Yuki, then. She’s nice, but she sure likes to run.” The man patted the horse's neck affectionately.

Your chest panged with heartbreak once more, as you remembered how you had to give up your own stead for the northern cause.

Another sacrifice for the war.

The man turned towards you, and nodded his head in the form of a bow. “Kirishima Eijirou, if it pleases my lady.”

It was then that you spotted the gold broach holding the man’s cape together. It was a hand, palm open in a show of promise.

“You're the Hand?” you asked, surprised. But then again, perhaps it was unsurprising that someone like Bakugou Katsuki would want someone equally built along his side.

“Indeed, I am!" Kirishima cheerfully replied. "Sorry for not greeting you at the gate. We had a-”

“Oi, Ei!” The King barked. “Quit yapping and get on a damn horse!”

The Dragon King was already on his stead, ready to go.

“Best not to keep His Grace waiting,” you grumbled sarcastically.

Kirishima leaned towards you, whispering as if in conspiracy. “You’ll find that he’s more roar than bite, my lady. I promise.” He tossed you another smile before leaving to head to his own horse.

You felt your brows furrow in confusion.

Somehow, you doubted that.

You mounted Yuki with ease, her steady nature being a welcomed gift after dealing with the fiery tempers of this morning.

And, you were sure, the fiery tempers you still had to deal with.

“M’lady is one of the best riders in the North!” Midoriya excitedly proclaimed, mounting his own horse clumsily. “She raced against all of the lords and knights of the land and beat them all! Even her lord brother.”

The King snarled. “As long as she’s better than you.”

Anger flared inside you, and quite suddenly, you felt the need for a challenge. “Have you ever raced against a northerner before, Your Grace?”

The King scoffed, jutting a thumb towards his chest as he bragged, “I’ve ridden dragons, Lady! I doubt you can beat me.”

You smirked.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” you said smoothly. Then without any warning, you hit your reins, urging your horse to run with a loud “Ya!”

And you left everyone in the dust.

You could hear the shouts of the King behind you. “Oi! This is cheating! Get your ass back here!”

You also heard the cries of your knight. “M’lady, please! You can’t just leave like that!”

You looked back, catching the sorry sight of them struggling to catch up, and your laugh carried you over to the other side of the Bridge. Out of mercy (and also because you genuinely did not know the way), you slowed Yuki down to stop.

The King caught up to you within a second, halting right next to you.

“That doesn’t count!” he scolded, eyes burning angrily into yours.

You rolled eyes and shrugged. “It was a joke, Your Grace. Nothing more…”

He scoffed, melted gaze fading into curiosity. You felt his eyes stray to your posture, how posed you looked on a horse, but then they stopped at your chestplate.

"You wearing that for the whole day?" he asked you calmly.

For some unknown reason, you felt a prickle of nervousness creep up to the back of your neck. "Yes, Your Grace. I was planning on it."

You watched as Bakugou's brow arched up, his face contorting into a look of confusion and disgust.

He thought you were stupid.

But just as quickly as the expression appeared, it fell as you heard him grumble quietly, "Fine. It's your funeral."

Then he rode his horse ahead of you, leading the way, and as you watched his retreating form, you couldn't help but ponder over his sudden cut off from you.

It was almost as if he were disappointed in you.

And then you found yourself questioning your choice, wondering if perhaps it was a stupid idea, wearing a chestplate on a day like this.

You were starting to feel it- the strong band of heat trapped inside the plate. The weight of it was starting to drag you down, and when you looked, you saw that no one else was wearing anything to a similar degree. Even your knight, who wore his whole uniform on the very first day, was now only wearing his pauldrons over a light shirt.

Doubt started to sink in, and your fingers started to play at the clasps holding the plate together.

Can't breathe-

All of the air suddenly escaped from your lungs, like you were punched in the gut, forcing you to take a greedy breath in. The chill that tickled your skin returned, making the sweat that coated your skin turn ice cold. It was like a ghost was passing through you, inflicting you with the feeling of his bloodless fate.

So you decided to keep the chestplate on as you rode alongside your party, more of the King's soldiers following close behind.

Silence filled the time of the journey, as dirt and land started to give away to sand, beach rocks, and tall grass peeking through it. Even though this was in the Southlands, you felt as if Tochiryuu was an island, a place of its own with nothing but the things inside it; the beat of the sun, the white of the sand, and the roar of the ocean that was slowly growing bigger and bigger, its water twinkling like it was made out of stars.

Maybe the sea wasn’t such a sorry sight after all.

And as you turned your head around, marveling at the beauty of the beach. You couldn’t help but think there was a battle here, not that long ago.

“So, tell me about Sunset Beach.”

A wave of tension seemed to pass through the King and his Hand, and for a moment, you thought perhaps you got it wrong.

“This is where you had your big victory, yes?” you asked the King directly.

His crimson eyes seemed to darken into the color of blood as they peeked back at you.

“Aye,” was all he said.

You huffed. "Well, King of Victory. Wouldn't you like to tell me how you earned the name?”

Surely he expected you to ask about it?

But oddly enough, the Dragon King didn’t reply. He just turned away and completely ignored you.

You didn’t understand. You'd imagined an arrogant man like Bakugou Katsuki wouldn't dare miss the opportunity to brag. Was his success exaggerated? Or was the battle more gruesome than how the songs described it to be?

Either way, you got it wrong, and you found yourself looking back at Ser Midoriya for guidance. But, he looked just as puzzled as you, his face scrunched up in deep concern as he met your gaze.

The heat within your chestplate started to curl up and tighten your throat. You suddenly felt panicked at the idea that the King didn’t like you. Personally, you wouldn’t have cared. You didn’t necessarily like him either, but your country was on the line. The King could decide not to follow through on the agreement. You needed to stay in good graces, at least until the bloody contract was signed and you could get the hell out of here.

You decided the best route was to just keep your mouth shut for the rest of the journey, and try to impress later.

“Have you been to the caves yet, my lady?” Kirishima suddenly asked you. He sounded kindly, and he even slowed his horse down so he could be by your side, better to hear you.

So much for keeping your mouth shut.

You swallowed down your reluctance to speak. “Not yet, but I’ve read about them, my lord.”

You eyed the King warily before going on. “The caves live just south of the Arashi Mountains. Not only are they the only known caves that hold blackstone, but they are home to many other gems as well- blood rubies, yellow diamonds. But…” You looked back at Kirishima. “But because of all of that, they're a natural attraction for dragons.”

Kirishima nodded. “That’s right. Dragons love treasure. Many of them end up making their nests in the caves. They're crawling with them.” And then, perhaps fearing that the comment would scare you, the lord backtracked. “B-But not to worry! The King and I have been in the caves many times. Right, Your Grace?!”

The King grumbled under his breath before begrudgingly replying, “Know ‘em like the back of my hand.”

“I trust you,” you told Kirishima, but your eyes did briefly wander over to the Dragon King.

The Arashi Mountains grew bigger. You could now pick out the lines of smoke that punctured various corners, curling up into the sky and beyond it, making the peaks disappear. The stormy-black of the rock seemed to swallow the sun that touched it, painting its entire aura gray. You caught the smaller pieces of rock circling around the base, how jagged and sharp they appeared to be as they covered the pitch-back that was the entrance to the caves.

You then spotted the white tents lined up around it, the small ants of men moving about to the faint sound of metalwork, as more lines of smoke traveled up from the ground, signaling the presence of bonfire.

But then a mighty roar vibrated through the sky. You looked up behind you and saw a tiny black speck flying, growing bigger and bigger until you struggled to see under the brightness of the sun. You felt a rush of wind fan your cheeks and whip through your hair, and the darkness the dragon brought shielded you from the torture as it flew over you. As it passed, you saw the familiar colors; red shimmering into black and green as it headed towards the mountains before you, letting out another roar as the dragon reached its home.

You saw the King smirk with pride.

"Katsuko" he greeted.

"Yours?" you asked.

The King whipped his head towards you, and for a moment you thought he would ignore you again or at least give you another half-ass answer, but pride seemed to take over. He boasted,"Of course. It's only right that the King has the best dragon."

"Is he the biggest?"

Bakugou snorted, hopping off the horse to walk the rest of the way towards the caves. "For his age. He’ll only grow bigger as he gets older, don’t worry."

You weren’t.

Truthfully, you weren’t too keen on the dragons yet. You admitted they were beautiful creatures and that they held a charming sense of power and grace when they flew in the air, beyond any danger or limitation. But you faintly wondered about the consequences of taming such a beast…

You went to unmount as well when a dizzy spell hit you, knees buckling as your feet touched ground. You held onto the saddle to keep yourself steady.

Ser Midoriya raced to your side when he noticed. “M’lady! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, ser,” you gritted determinedly, still feeling light-headed.

“Are… are you sure you need the chestplate, m’lady?” Midoriya asked quietly. “If it’s your safety you're worried about, don’t worry! I’m sure Kacchan knows what he’s doing, and I’m here-”

“I said I’m fine, ser,” you seethed, hating to snap at him, but now the ghostly feeling has increased tenfold, from brushing against your shoulders to now trapping you in a bear hug, whispering in your ear…

Can't breathe…

You squirmed under its warning.

Your eyes peeked open to find Ser Midoriya staring at you in worry.

You gave a short, exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry, but my gut is telling me to keep the plate on and so it stays on. And that’s that.”

Ser Midoria nodded silently in agreement, although the worry was still plain on his face.

You both followed behind the King and His Hand, who were currently being greeted by a familiar face.

“Ah, great! The Dragon Whisperer has arrived.” Kaminari approached, a wide grin on his face as he bowed to the King.

Bakugou grunted in response and simply moved past him, heading towards a large slab of stone set in the middle of the base, sanded down so that it resembled a table. Some men were huddled around it, but quickly stepped aside for him. You had a feeling if they didn’t, the King would’ve just plowed through them anyway.

Lord Kaminari didn’t seem phased however, and instead his gaze landed on you.

“My lady,” he said with another bow. “I hope your ride was pleasant.”

“Better than the carriage,” you muttered grumpily.

It was true. Although the heat was gruesome and it was currently racing through your veins like snake venom, it was still a better journey. Afterall, you had yet to throw up.

A canteen floated right in front of your face. You grabbed at it- delighted to find it was real - and saw that it was your knight that gave it to you, worry still etched onto his face.

You ignored it, and drank out of the canteen heavily, fresh water flowing down your throat and branching through the rest of your body in heavenly relief.

You wanted to pass it back to Ser Midoriya, but he beated you to it by insisting you needed to catch up to the King, who was studying the slab. As you went to do so, you eagerly eyed the men working on the tools- pickaxes, hammers, and spears you quickly noted. You squinted in on them, and was shocked to find they were working with steel. Not blackstone.

Then, how?

You reached the King, approaching on his left. You looked down, curious of the source of his attention, and saw that the slab was carved with many lines, some short and some stretching to the opposite side, all of them connecting like the roots of a tree. At certain points, there were names, some of them faded so that you had to squint to read- Kinba, Shiroi Tsubasa, Kanibaru -and some of them were new, freshly carved- Musouka, Katsuko …

It was a map… and the names must be where the dragons live.

"So, which path are we taking?” you asked.

Bakugou huffed, dragging a finger from the older end, passing through Kanibaru and following the main line all the way down until reaching Katsuko , and then Musouka .

Your heart dropped to the bottom of your stomach.

“We’re going through their nests?” you asked in quiet horror.

“That’s how we find blackstone,” the King shrugged, as if it were no big deal. “The dragons are attracted to it, so they nest where it’s at.”

“And luckily for us, Musouka’s expanding her home!” Kirishima joyfully informed you. “She must be laying eggs soon.”

“‘Means she’ll be even more territorial,” the King grumbled. “We have to be careful bringing Katsuko in there.”

“We’re bringing Katsuko?” you asked.

“‘Need him to melt down the rock,” the King answered before turning towards Kaminari. “Oi! Where’s Musouka now?!”

“On flight, Your Grace. The watchtower last reported her heading east.”

“Then we need to move now,” the King stated, and in the wink of an eye, everyone did, and with such urgency that you found yourself looking in every direction, utterly lost.

“W-Wait! What if she comes back?!” Ser Midoriya cried, looking just as confused as you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you know,” Kaminari winked, handing each of you a torch, top end wrapped in cloth and reeking of alcohol. A heavy pack was suddenly tossed your way, and you peered inside it to find a pickaxe, rope, gloves, and a fresh canteen.

“You’ll also need this. The smell is quite strong down there.” Kaminari then handed each of you a large white cloth.

You gave a good whiff and found that the putrid scent of the mountains, which was once tolerable in the city, was now churning deeply in your stomach.

Oh, you can not throw up again.

You secured the cloth over your nose and mouth, as tightly as you could. Then, you faced the pitch black of the cave’s entrance. No torches lined up against the wall, nor any wagon tracks. The only physical sign that man has been in that cave before was the slab of rock right next you.

Steeling yourself, as much as you could with the heat and the smell, you marched towards the black, but as soon as you met Kirishima at the entrance, you heard something big walking up behind you.

You turned to find none other than Katsuko the Dragon, being way too close to your comfort with the King riding on top of him, looking as smug as ever, even with the cloth over his mouth.

It made you feel more sick than the stench ever could.

You all scrambled to get out of the way as Katsuko continued to march past you.

“Just follow me, northerners, and you’ll be fine,” the Dragon King bragged.

Torches lit, you, Midoriya, and Kirishima silently walked behind Katsuko, who led the way. Wings tucked and body flat, the dragon scurried through the tunnels almost like a lizard, his tail slithering after him.

As rock and dirt crunched under your feet, you observed the walls around you, your torch light capturing the indented black that swallowed you whole, its tiny glimmers shining from your fire. It looked solid. Strong. And yet you knew you could easily take your pickaxe and pick a piece off.

It wasn’t blackstone. Blackstone only shined in sunlight.

Your eyes strayed down to find a white line of rope tied to the sides, a bell attached every few inches. You followed the line all the way until darkness stopped you.

Kaminari.

That’s what he meant. If Musouka comes back, he’ll pull the rope and ring the bells.

You all continue your path silently, letting the distant echoes of the cave consume you. It was somehow calming, the sound of the caves; the small drip of water from somewhere in the dark, the small roar of fire that came from your torches, the small shuffles of your footsteps, even the small sounds of Katsuko as he sniffed and scampered his way ahead.

All of these small sounds being casted out into the vibrant air of the cave, traveling through and meeting into one singular song. It gave you this strange, lulling sense of tranquility, one you were only familiar with through the whispering woods of home.

You hated to interrupt it, but you had questions.

“Why aren’t we using the blackstone tools?”

Everyone stopped to look at you. Even Katsuko.

“What blackstone tools?!” The King barked, the echoes of the cave capturing his voice and making it louder.

And it was such an offensive response that you couldn’t help but stare at him, speaking full of snark. “You know, the ones my family made…"

The Blacksmith's Hammer. The Anvil. The Five Pickaxes. Tools that have been passed down to your family for generations, that is, until the truce was broken.

“Eh?” the King asked. “Why the hell would we have those?!”

All you could do was look blankly ahead, the flare of your annoyance washed away into stupor.

“You… you don’t have them?” you asked quietly, fear and heartbreak creeping in with the thought that your ancestor’s creations may be gone for good.

“No, my lady.” Lord Kirishima shook his head . “At least, not us nor the Old Lord.”

“Do…" Your throat clogged with emotion, forcing you to clear it out and adjust your mask. "Do you think the Dragon Queen did something to them?”

“I wouldn’t know, my lady.” Kirishima shook his head again, sadly .

You let the sharp pain of grief curl up around your throat before stubbornly swallowing it down, ceasing the sting in your eyes along with it.

“That’s why our pickaxes are plain,” you roughed out, continuing your walk. "And why we need Katsuko to melt down the stone."

Dragon fire.

Except for blackstone itself, it's the only thing that can affect it. Without the Blacksmith’s tools, it would be the only option.

"And what do we do if we run into a stray?" you asked nervously.

No one answered.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you took the silence for what it was and moved along.

You let your hand brush along the cave wall, feeling the coarseness scratch along your palm, and you wondered distractedly, how far down were you? Then, how far down did the tunnels go? You haven’t even passed through the first dragon’s nest yet…

The sound of your footsteps began to grow louder, crunchier , and then,

Snap.

Startled, you looked down, absent mindedly thinking you somehow stepped on a twig.

But that couldn’t be right.

And when you brought your torch down to the ground, you saw it- the stick of bone white, coated with ash.

You swallowed down your fear over the sickening realization that, you were getting close.

“Kanibaru. That’s the first nest, yes?”" you asked nervously.

The King rumbled, “Aye.”

“And, do we need to worry about him?”

He let out a snort. “Kanibaru’s been dead for years, lady. We’ll be fine.”

"Not too far now, m’lady," Kirishima assured you.

You looked over towards your knight, who's been oddly silent since entering the caves, his eyes downcasted in deep thought.

“Are you alright, ser?”

Midoriya blinked, startled back to reality by your voice. “Oh! Y-Yes, m’lady. I was just pondering over the name.”

“Kanibaru?”

Ser Midoriya nodded solemnly. “Cannibal.”

Ice cold dread ran through your veins, making you feel cold once again despite the warmth of your armor.

The temperature of the air was fine, but the strong stench of dragon was fully watering your eyes now. You found yourself furiously wiping away your tears with your arm.

“Watch your feet!” the King called behind him.

You immediately looked down, seeing the bones in Kirishima’s torchlight. No longer were they fragments, hidden in the earth, but fully exposed and bigger.

And bigger…

Bones grew and multiplied. While once you were watching your step, now you were actively maneuvering around them- stepping over a ribcage only to narrowly avoid what appeared to be a broken sheep skull.

But then the bones went on, until they formed tiny mountains of their own and it was impossible to ignore the sickening crunches and snaps that formed under your feet, as you had no choice but to fully step on them now.

And then you reached the nest.

Large white pillars sat on both ends, forcing Katsuko to tighten himself so he could crawl under it while Bakugou ducked, the rest of you huddling closer into the center. As you carefully stepped through, you looked up, seeing the roof that was the spine. And once you passed the pillars and the broken off roof, there were a few steps of nothing, and then…

The skull.

It was facing away from you, so you couldn’t quite see it in all its glory yet, but Katsuko could, and he didn't like it. The dragon growled softly at the bone, sniffing at it and nudging it with his nose before his jaw opened slightly, growl growing louder and more rattled.

“Oi, Katsuko,” The Dragon King warned, “Rybas.”

The dragon let out another growl before turning his head and continuing walking.

And when you circled around the great white marble, you caught the side of the jaw, and then, the heavy spears of the teeth. The ones toward the front of the mouth were chipped off and broken, but the ones towards the back were completely intact, and so large- you imagined all it took was one strong bite for any prey to be turned into a slush of meat.

Your eyes traveled up the eye sockets, the one on the right torn and shattered all the way down the cheek.

The final bite that killed it.

When your fascination began to drag you behind, Ser Midoriya grabbed your elbow, nervously urging, “C’mon, m’lady! Best to keep moving.”

Sweat coated the palm holding your torch. You grasped it tighter, suddenly fearful of any small sound that passed through, your peace dampened with the idea that a dragon had no qualms killing one of its own.

But the bones soon disappeared, and the regular pathway of the tunnels returned, turning your thought into nothing but a shadow in your own mind.

Your chestplate grew heavier and heavier the farther you went down, and soon you found yourself being the last one in the group. At least, you would’ve been, if Ser Midoriya didn’t insist on staying by your side, making sure you were keeping up.

And you tried to, you really did, but the weight of the chestplate felt heavier than stone, and every slight breeze that passed through seemed to tickle the back of your neck and crawl down to the bottom of your spine, making you shiver as the haunting came back again and again.

You kept waiting for the bells to ring, or worse, the small rumblings of a beast to poke through.

But besides the sounds of your party passing through, there was nothing, and Katsuko seemed to not be worried at all. In fact, he seemed to be going faster now, eager to reach his own domain.

The pathway began to grow wider. You, Midoriya, and Kirishima now free to walk with a bit of space, nothing but the darkness of the void and the small specks of torchlight warding it off, until Katsuko suddenly took a left turn, leaving you all chasing to follow.

The dragon took a few more steps then abruptly stopped, causing a domino effect for Kirishima, Midoriya, and you.

Katsuko grumbled softly again, flapping his wings slightly as he entered his own home. The white pieces of bone once again resurfaced from the ground, this time, only the remains of sheep scattered along with it.

But glittering light soon caught your eye, and you squinted closely to see the shadows of gold. You brought your torch in front of you, illuminating the hoard of treasure in all of its sparkling glory; not only gold, but diamonds and rubies as well, all hidden safely within the darkness of the caves and further protected by its owner, Katsuko The Dragon himself.

“Don’t you dare touch any of it,” The King commanded, yelling over his shoulder. “This is his , got it?!”

You nodded silently in agreement.

You lingered on the treasure until your eyes traveled up, meeting the giant hole in the wall.

“Is this where you got the blackstone for your throne?” you asked innocently.

“Aye,” the King grumbled.

If they had the Anvil, they would’ve been able to make more tools…

Katsuko suddenly decided that he had enough walking for the day. He marched up to his hoard and started digging into it.

“Katsuko,” the King scolded. “Naejot!”

Katsuko ignored him and continued to dig.

Bakugou huffed, annoyed. “Katsuko, dohaeras. Naejot!”

Katsuko grumbled, before turning it into a growl, and then, a sharp whine. His tail swung out dangerously, whipping left and right, hitting the cave walls.

You backed away nervously, as Ser Midoriya pulled you back even more, behind him.

“Oi,” the Dragon King warned. He started speaking in full sentences, in the language you didn’t understand.

But Katusko cocked his head, listening. Then, with a great huff, he turned around and continued down the path towards Musouka’s domain.

By now, the smell was so strong, your nostrils burned. You tightened the tie on your cloth to no avail, stuck with the stench attacking your nose hairs, and the long journey wasn't just weighing on Katsuko. Everyone was starting to feel fatigued, tension and impatience was starting to build in the air, and you feared that a single sneeze would cause the King to snap at you.

"Getting close…" he grumbled, stretching out his back while Katsuko carried him.

Easy for him to say. He didn't have to walk…

But then, shortly afterward, the King was proven right. You arrived.

Musouka’s home was definitely the biggest you’ve seen so far, with gold and jewels completely blocking the walls with its tall peaks, while bones and carcasses painted the floor, all of it forming into one very large nest of treasure and death.

Katsuko rumbled greedily as heavy steam began to leak out of his nostrils, with his tail slithering sinfully to and fro.

"Katsuko, umbas."

The dragon grumbled, shaking his head at the command, before begrudgingly, sitting himself down, staying.

The Dragon King hopped off his back, heading towards the back wall to move all the gold. Kirishima moved to help him, while you and Ser Midoriya held your torches high so they could see.

They exposed the smooth, black surface of the wall, not a single hint of shimmer reflected anywhere.

You walked up to touch it, feeling the familiar smoot-yet-rough scratch as it grazed your palm.

Blackstone.

“Get your asses back,” the King told everyone, and once again, you felt Ser Midoriya gently guide you back, making you to be the farthest away from the wall.

You peeked over Midoriya’s shoulder, watching Bakugou walk up to Katsuko, standing by his side.

“Katsuko.” The King nodded towards the wall. “Dracarys.”

Katsuko scrunched his neck, growling deeply as a burning ball of flame formed deep in his throat.

Then, the dragon roared with all his might, a great wave of fire shooting out of his mouth and hitting the wall in all its fury.

The whole cave seemed to come to life, suddenly illuminated by the dragon fire as every shadow disappeared, and all the smell of dragon was burned to a crisp, replaced entirely by the smell of fire. The dry heat was hitting your face, burning your cheeks and making your heart pound furiously in your chest, its thump bumping the steel fox in front of it.

Then the roar died, the cave returned to darkness once more, and the wall of blackstone now glowed a fiery red.

“Quick! Put your gloves on and start picking at it!” Kirishima shouted, hurrying to do the very thing himself.

You threw down your bag, and dug in for the gloves, made from a very thick leather and a bit too big for your hands, but you put them on, grabbed your pickaxe, and ran to the wall.

“Careful. Don’t let the stone touch you,” the King warned. “Only grab it by the glove, got it?”

“Aye,” you answered him, moving to take a swing.

You managed to pick a chunk off, much to your delight. You grabbed it carefully with your gloved hand, and ran back to grab your bag- deciding to put the rock in there once it cooled.

You all kept picking at the blackstone, slowly gathering as much as you could in silence. The wall was now chunked to pieces, while the rest of it began to cool, the glow of dragon fire beginning to fade away.

You went to take what was maybe your last swing, and then…

A low, soft rumble echoed quietly down the tunnel.

You froze.

"Stop!" you whisper-cried, panicked.

Everyone halted, and listened.

But there was nothing.

“Calm your nervous ass!” The King yelled at you.

“I heard something,” you insisted.

The King rolled his shoulders back, eyeing the progress on the wall. “Probably a rat. If it’s anything else, Katsuko will let us know.”

Your ax felt numb in your hands. You stood there, petrified. You knew you heard something, but everyone else went back to work, swinging at the stone. Prickled flesh ran up your arms, your shoulders, your neck.

Nothing but silence.

Then a deaf defying screech pierced through the air as a large blue dragon jumped out from a deep crack from within the wall. It launched itself onto Katsuko, and everything went to chaos. The torches went out. The roars and screams of the dragons bombarded the tunnel as they tumbled and rolled over one another, their fight illuminated only by the breaths of fire they were spitting at one another.

You heard Midoriya from afar, but you couldn’t find him.

“My lady! My lady!”

“Midoriya!” you called back, trying to run towards the voice, but then the large thwack of a tail came from somewhere above, forcing you to duck and cover our head as rock rained down. When you felt it stop, you got up and went to keep running, the sounds of the dragon fight still lively behind you.

Before you could even take a step, something hit you strongly in the chest, knocking all the air out of your lungs. Another thwack of a dragon tail. It sent you flying into a wall, its impact strong.

And then, black.

You didn’t know how long you were asleep. All you knew is that you blinked your eyes open, only to find that you still couldn’t see. Everything was black, your chest hurt like hell, and when you took your first breath, a sharp pain shot up from its right side. As you layed there, on the ground, face cloth lost somewhere in the struggle, you pinched your eyes shut and focused on breathing slow and even, hand naturally clutching the place of injury. You could feel the metal of your chestplate, now dented and digging into you.

“Help,” you whimpered, desperately hoping someone could hear you. But you heard no voices, no footsteps, and the sound of the dragon fight was long gone.

How long has it been?

Clenching your teeth, knowing it was going to be a bitch, you shot yourself up, immediately crying out from pain.

But you had to move. So you felt around you, thankfully finding a wall. You leaned against it for support, pulling yourself up, the sharp pain stabbing you from the inside. Sweat poured freely from your body, your forehead utterly slick with it as you just stayed there for a moment, focusing on your breath before you took one step. Two.

“Midoriya,” you tried calling out, the sound of you bouncing down the tunnels, but nothing came back.

What happened to him? To the others? Did they get blocked off from the fight? Crushed by the falling rock? Or did the dragons…?

You swallowed down your agony. You could not dwell over the fate of your poor knight. Not now. Now you had to figure out what to do.

You didn’t know where to go. You couldn’t even see , but you knew you couldn’t stay. Not when a dragon could come by any minute. You remembered, Musouka’s nest was the farthest one on the map. Depending which side you ended up on, you would either be heading towards the exit or heading deeper into the cave, into untrodden territory.

“Fuck,” you groaned, anguished over your predicament.

Sending a quick prayer to the old gods, you began your journey into the darkness, alone. Thankfully, besides your chest and the throbbing bump on your head, you felt fine, so you stumbled your way down, keeping a hand along the wall and your ears open for any sign of life.

You don’t know how long you spent walking, as time seemed endless in the caves. Five minutes could’ve been thirty. Thirty minutes could’ve just been five. The only hint of time you had was the soreness of your feet and the all-over ache of your body.

You wondered what your father would say, if he could see you now. Would he scold you for being stupid? For ever going into a dragon cave to begin with? Would he disown you for ever stepping foot in the Southlands? Perhaps, if things turned more sinister, you would know soon enough.

A sickening crunch halted your thoughts, and you froze, listening.

Let it be a footstep, let it be one of the others .

But then a low growl rumbled through the night, soft and slow, like the creaking of a mill. It crushed your hopes and filled them with terror.

Goosebumps ran up your flesh as your breath quickened. The thrumming pain of your ribs seemed to echo the beat of your heart as you could feel the strong pulse of your blood racing through your veins.

You reached for your sword, but paused.

Only a fool would dare to slay a dragon when they're in the belly of its lair.

And then you could finally see again as the dragon opened its jaw, a dim ball of light starting to brew within it. You could see the outline of its teeth, just as big as the skeleton you saw eons ago. As the fire grew, rumbling deep with the dragon’s throat, more was illuminated for you; the beady eyes staring directly at you, the blue scales glimmering into green.

“You must be Musouka,” was all you were able to say, coming to the conclusion that this was your fate.

The dragon released a sizzling exhale, hot ghastly air steaming out of its nostrils and onto your face and hair. It gave another low rumble, as if agreeing with you.

The rumbling began to crank up, growing louder as the jaw was released more, fire growing brighter as the full, monstrously beautiful face of Musouka was revealed, her fire reflecting in her eyes as she inched closer to you, sharp claws digging through the earth.

Yes, I am Musouka, mother dragon to be, you imagined her saying.

And you are a stranger in my home.

As you closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable, a soft melody seemed to echo from somewhere beyond. You thought it was a part of your imagination, that your mind was simply conjuring up a sweet, distant mirage before you faced a gruesome death.

But then you felt Musouka cock her head to the side, listening as well. The silkened words grew closer, more present.

When you felt her finally looked away, you opened your eyes, and you were glad you did, because you would’ve never believed it if you hadn’t.

Blonde hair peeked from within the soft glow of his own torch flame, crimson eyes reflecting its ferocity as the Dragon King stepped up, bringing Musouka’s attention fully on him.

He didn’t seem scared as he sang his sweet song. He seemed calm, confident, and strong. He stood his ground as Musouka drew near, and it was like his honeyed words only grew more powerful as she did so.

The blood of the dragon…

The fire in the King’s eyes seemed to match Musouka’s completely, the only proof of the invisible string connecting them. The song was so hypnotic, it felt like it would never end. An endless song of beauty that could never be broken, like the bond between a dragon and its rider.

It is magic. It must be, you thought.

But as endless as the song felt, Musouka suddenly turned her head away from the King and from you. She went up to another deep crack within the wall. She folded her wings and flattened herself before scurrying inside the broken rock, sharp tail slithering away and disappearing with her.

You felt the magic disappear, broken for good, and your senses returned to you as you begrudgingly stood up straight, feeling the throb of your knees, shaking.

You were now alone with the King. A heavy silence passed through the both of you as you worked on regaining your nerve.

“Thank you for that.”

The King grunted, as if it were no big deal. “You okay?”

You found yourself nodding, “Yea-Yes. I’m fine. I think I have a broken rib, but that’s the worst of it. Thank you, again.”

His eyes seemed to wonder over you, checking for himself. They simmered over you head-to-toe, making you shiver under its gravity. Then they lingered over your damaged chestplate.

“Here,” he spoke quietly, moving to undo it for you. You grabbed his torch for him, as he worked to undo the clasps, freeing you from the literal weight on your shoulders as the warmth of his proximity brushed your skin.

Feeling your cheeks flared, you stumbled for a distraction. "H-How did you find me?"

"Told ya', didn't I?" He carefully guided the plate over your head, granting your freedom, as he met your curious eyes. "I know these caves like the back of my hand."

Cheeks flared again once he reminded you.

Of course he knew where to go. He was the Dragon King.

“Let’s go,” he said gruffly, stepping away and taking the torch from you and handing back your chestplate in return.

Before you could even ponder over the lost proximity, he grabbed your free hand and started dragging you away.

He led you through the dark, and feeling just utterly helpless and out of your depth, you let him, putting all of your trust and dependency on the Dragon King as he guided you through the caves, occasionally halting to listen, occasionally pulling you left and right on a random notice.

And perhaps because your mind was tired and numb and you finally felt a sense of safety again, but your thoughts began to wander, fading into faint dreams of the stories you grew up with, of the Blacksmith and the Queen. Perhaps the Blacksmith got lost in the caves the first time around and the Dragon Queen had to rescue him, just like this. You imagined that this was how their friendship was formed, with trust being put into one another and the threat of death waking them up from their ignorant and childish feud. Maybe this was how the idea of the Bridge came to be…

Through the rush of being pulled this way and that, and your mind being lost in its fruitless thoughts, the rustling in your ears came forefront. The sound of the whispering trees bending violently in the wind, their words growing louder…

A broken oath…

A dragon only knows greed…

What do they know of honor …

“Head in the clouds and ears in the trees," your father's voice whispered.

You reached fresh air, and you found yourself gasping for it greatly. The muffledness of your mind faded away, making everything clear the more you breathed. You hardly even noticed Ser Midoriya fretting over you, his mouth moving in frantic motions you couldn’t hear nor decipher. You did however see the tear tracks staining his cheeks.

“She’s got a broken rib,” you heard the King say behind you, his voice low and close. “We should take her to the maester.”

A blanket was pulled over your shoulders, and you realized then that, you two weren’t holding hands anymore as the palm that was once in his now felt cool and naked. You tried to make up for the strange feeling of vulnerability by rubbing your palm against the blanket, willing it to go away.

How silly, you thought. Escaping into dreamland and fretting over his touch while he was just saving you.

“Oi! Dunce Face!”

You turned just in time to see the King grab onto Lord Kaminari, holding him up by the collar. “Why the hell didn’t you ring the bells?!”

“I did Your Grace! I was ringing thrm the whole time!” Kaminari screamed, holding his hands up in front of him in mercy. “Something must’ve happened to the rope.”

It occured to you quickly.

“Katsuko," your voice croaked.

Both Kaminari and the King paused to look at you.

You cleared your throat, speaking again. “It must’ve broken off when he swung his tail.”

Realization dawned on the King’s face, as Kaminari slipped away from his grasp, retreating.

"Did… did you at least get any blackstone?" The lord asked hopefully.

You looked towards everyone you went into the caves with.

Midoriya looked down, defeated.

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

And the King… The King looked ready to kill.

You don't know what came over you. Maybe you were coming down from the highs of what happened, maybe you were just overwhelmed with the relief of being alive, or maybe you simply found the irony out of the situation, but you started to laugh; small giggles that bubbled out of your mouth soon became full-on laughter that hurt to do, but broken ribbed be damned. You couldn’t help it and you certainly couldn't stop it.

Everybody stared at you, not sure of what to do or how to read your reaction.

You finally calmed down, wiping a stray tear from your eye. "Well, Your Grace. If you wanted to prove the value of your people's work, you needn’t go to such extremes.”

The King simply looked at you, dumbfounded by your reaction.

You sighed, feeling tired and ready to go to bed.

“I would've believed you, if you simply told me,” you told him quietly, a smile on your face as Ser Midoriya guided you to one of the tents.

“Wait.”

You stopped and looked back, waiting for the King to say what he needed to.

“How’d you know to wear it?” He looked down at the chestplate, which was now in Midoriya’s grasp.

You looked at it briefly for a moment, the fox that was now covered in soot. Unsure of what to say, you looked back up at Midoriya, seeing the look of warning in his eye, his words from before coming into mind.

" If you ask about it, he'll deny it, m'lady. Kachaan thinks it makes him look superstitious…"

You looked back up at the King, and shrugged innocently.

“Just instinct, Your Grace.”

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