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chosopie · 2 months

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Hear me out: Conquer Sukana who killed y/n bethroned and Y/n, a very high ranking princess convinces Sukana who leave her baby brother, Yuji be. Yuji is a 3 year old who often clinging to y/n since Sukana basically stole the throne. Sukana falls for the beautiful y/n

CONQUERER - RYOMEN SUKUNA

“Master, it would be best if you spared them. They have done nothing against you,” Uraume spoke while he stood by Sukuna’s tall figure that loomed over you and your baby brother Yuji’s shaking figure. “Perhaps, you could even keep Lady Y/N L/N. She is known for her intelligence and her way with the sword.”

You stood in front of your little brother, arms spread open to shield his small body. Your face was covered in sweat and the blood of the man you were betrothed to. Now that he was dead, you were going to be queen—the queen of the foreign conquerer. It was unfair, but this was the rule and tradition every nation had mutually agreed upon. It was survival of the strongest. Those who are strong enough shall take what they can.

“Leave my brother alone or I will show you no mercy,” you spat.

“No mercy?” Sukuna laughed. “And what could you possibly do to me? You’re just a tiny and meek girl.”

You pulled out the dagger that was attached to the band on your thigh and pointed it at Sukuna’s upper abdomen. He quickly grabbed your wrist and yanked you to his hard and toned chest.

“Stab me, girl. Let’s see what you’ve got,” he moved his face close enough to yours that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His eyes shamelessly examined your face, slowly trailing down to your exposed flesh. You wore a flowy purple off-shoulder dress that had a large slit that showed your legs. With him towering over you, he could see the top of your breasts your dress failed to cover.

You spat at him, causing him to move back. He scowled and tightly held your face with his large hand. His sharp nails dug onto your supple skin, leaving red streaks all over your cheeks.

“Do the women here have no knowledge of manners? Know your place. I own this nation now. I own you.” He let go of your face and snatched Yuji.

“No! Get away, monster!” Yuji fought back and tried to squeeze his way out of Sukuna’s arms.

“Yuji!” You screamed and stabbed Sukuna on the chest, carving out a big line that went all the way to his stomach.

Sukuna winced and threw Yuji onto the ground. You tried to run to your brother, but Sukuna grabbed you and held you in place.

“Please! Let him go! Just take me instead, you bastard!”

“Is that so?” Sukuna smirked, his hand effortlessly lifting Yuji from the ground and tossing him to you. You catched Yuji and hugged him tight, your left hand on the small of his back and right hand gently caressing his hair. “I shall take you as my wife,” the fierce man said.

Sukuna sat comfortably on his throne, his chin resting on the palm of his hands while he blankly stared at the lavish banquet your people had prepared. There were girls in revealing dresses that danced right in front of him, but his eyes were elsewhere. His gaze was fixed on you, who sat beside him in a beautiful white dress that was elegantly draped on your dainty figure. Your neck and wrists were covered in jewels of all sorts that Sukuna had gifted you prior to your unification.

“Smile a little, my dove. It’s our wedding. You’re more than lucky to have me as your ally. After all, I’m the strongest out there.”

Your eyes refused to meet his piercing gaze. “Ally? I had no choice. You forcefully took me.”

He gently reached for your chin and turned your head towards him. “You gave yourself to me, remember?”

“That’s because I had to protect my brother.”

“And you looked beautiful doing that. You would make a great mother,” he smiled with amusement.

: ̗̀➛ part 2

#rev.writes #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna

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smoochhyuka · 3 months

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Riize as boyfriends

No one can treat you as well as them. <3

○o。content warnings! SFW, gn!reader, idol!riize, mentions of partying and drinking in Eunseoks, mention of (healthy)food and eating in Sungchans, Antons is a tinie tiny bit suggestive, super fluffy general headcanons, briefly edited for spelling and grammar

Shotaro

Classic, romantic, simple. Shotaro will always find a way to make your heart flutter and to make you feel loved and appreciated.

I feel like he'd let you take charge quite often, but not because he is necessarily shy or insecure, but because he is a little bit of a yes-man when it's you. He just loves seeing you happy.

Everyone, including him, has a tight schedule that makes it hard to meet you regularly, so it happens that you won't see him for a few weeks. He will call you daily to check up on you, though, even if it's just for five minutes.

He believes in quality over quantity, so when you do see each other, it's always a full weekend that has been thoroughly planned by yours truly. A spa day at home, a visit to a nice restaurant, a long stroll in the park the next day, followed by a wonderfully, home cooked meal, a lazy but cozy bed-rotting date on the last.

It doesn't matter if you're older or younger than him, he will take care of you regardless. He will always check on you with that cute smile of his. You're hungry? He is already up to bring you a snack. You're tired? Your laptop, tea and your pajamas are already neatly waiting on the nightstand for you.

It's always shits and giggles with Shotaro, of course you'll have a few deeper conversations, especially late at night, but most of the time you keep the conversation light and fun.

He is the perfect movie boyfriend, someone who would wait in the rain in front of your window if you ever happen to get into a serious argument.

Speaking of romantic gestures, he is a sucker for them. It doesn't matter how cliché, how overdone they are, he always manages to make them less cringe and more endearing.

Shotaro is the type to hold a rose in between his teeth, prick himself on the thorns and slow dance with you in the kitchen to a random "best romantic songs" playlist on YouTube.

Matching outfits! But you're not wearing exactly the same clothes, but your aesthetics are matching.

Eunseok

Long build-up kinda romance. You have been unofficially dating for months, dancing around each other, not dating anyone else despite being (technically) single, only kissing when you're both drunk at parties~

He has become quite protective of you over all this time (because he always worried you'll get a boyfriend who isn't him) and carries that habit into the relationship as well, even though he knows you're all his.

Working hard to be your tough and strong boyfriend, always has an arm around your shoulder or waist when you're out together. Always accompanies you when you're going out partying or drinking, if he is somehow unable to he will make sure to pick you up.

But behind that facade is a man who is just! silly.

He always makes you laugh, and almost every time manages to embarrass himself. Trips and falls on air (with a straight face), rips off the zipper of a jacket while you're out shopping and hangs it back (with a straight face).

Will flirt with you as if you weren't dating. "Damn beautiful, you're here often?", Eunseok asks after he returns from the bathroom, offering to buy you a drink at the bar you both decided to go to together this evening.

Eunseok is someone you go on adventures with. You can text him at 3am "Let's go visit *insert random place in driving distance*" and he's like "a'ight", already waiting in his car in front of your apartment.

Someone you can rely on, he will always keep his promises and honestly won't make them if he's not sure if he could keep them.

Being with Eunseok is like dating your best friend (probably because that's what has been going on for all these months...).

Sungchan

Probably the only one who courts you fiercely, asking you for your number immediately, and taking you on a date without wasting any time. The day you two met, he had a hunch you might be the one.

I've seen a few posts where he's described as a little traditional, and I totally see that as well! He is the tough and strong boyfriend Eunseok tries to be. Always tell you, "if someone is messing with you, tell me. They won't anymore after I am done with them."

Prefers to be the big spoon, the one who drives (one hand only), to carry your shopping bags~

Will always let you try things first, even if he bought them for himself. You get the first bite, you get to play his new video game first, you get to smell the perfume first, you sometimes even get to wear his new clothes first ("someone needs to model them for me.")

But he is not conservative! Won't mind washing the dishes or folding laundry, he doesn't like doing it, but he won't let you sit on these chores by yourself either.

If you struggle with eating healthily, he doesn't mind cooking as well. It won't be a skillfully crafted three-course meal, but an upgrade from your usual "junk", as he calls it. He'd also drop by the grocery store occasionally to buy you high protein snacks.

Anything you do is cute to him! Sometimes you question his sanity, though. You'd walk around the apartment in oversized, old clothes (comfort clothes), with a frown on your face, unwashed hair, feeling like a whole gremlin, and he's smiling from ear to ear, pinching your cheeks and teasing you. "SO CUTE", he'd squeal at you in an uncharacteristically high pitch.

You don't need to be a gymrat like him, but he definitely wants you to accompany him from time to time, even if you just walk a little on the treadmill or do a few simple exercises. His main reason for dragging you into the gym is company. You being there is a visual incentive to work harder. He also has a reason to flex his muscle growth AND get a fully body massage by his cutie, who shows nothing less than empathy for his aching body after exercising so delinquently~

Speaking of dragging you places, he's big on quality time. Won't go anywhere (especially if it's boring) without you: a doctor's appointment, the post office, a late night walk to clear his head. Even if you sit in silence the whole time, he's happy you're there with him.

Wonbin

Princess Wonbin. Spoiled, needy and super affectionate.

Lets his charm work overtime to get anything he wants from you. "My back hurts so much from dancing yesterday...," he complains, looking you deeply into your eyes with a frown, expecting you to give him a back rub. You don't catch the hint, though, just pressing a kiss on his cheek. "I don't know what could help to stop this pain...", he now smiles at you, lying his head on your shoulder and looking up at you through his bangs, rubbing circles on your thigh. It worked.

Takes you on casual dates, but not because he is lazy, he genuinely prefers to stay in and snuggle or stroll around the city than to dress up and go to a fancy five-star restaurant.

If you do want to do anything special, though, it's usually something thoughtful, that he has planned for a while. Most of the time being something that has been on your bucket list for quite some time, or something that you both haven't done before (as long as it doesn't test his limits, aka something scary.)

Probably the most balanced relationship with no discernible dynamic or role, you both usually share or switch chores, cuddling positions or other typical relationship stuff.

That being said, there are definitely moments when he wants to take charge, especially if it's something that you would've needed help with anyway, like repairing something in your apartment or carrying something heavy. It's so surprising that it's always exciting for you.

On the other hand, he also expects you to guide him when he needs it the most, when he's feeling down or when he's in an especially needy mood. Doesn't mind if the others call him your girlfriend.

If there is something you particularly like, he will make/buy/get it in excess. You like him in a ponytail? He will never leave his hair open around you again. You like a specific fruit? Your kitchen and his dorm kitchen are overflowing with that particular fruit (the members complaints fall on deaf ears). You hate a specific color? Throws everything away in that color, even if it's not his. He's kind of intense like that.

He lets himself go with you, lets himself be not pretty. He will tell you all his worries, secrets or issues. You're his rock, and you can be damn sure he's yours too.

Sohee

He was a little bit hesitant in pursuing you, but after he overcame that obstacle, he is ready to take over your world!

Don't let that cute face fool you, he knows what he does best and is very confident in his abilities, and it will show in your relationship.

Hates it when you baby him, so only do it when you intentionally want to get him riled up. He isn't actually mad at you, how could he?

He is your biggest cheerleader, if you ever doubt yourself, you can rely on him to get you right back on your feet with newly found confidence.

Sohee has a little bit of a competitive spirit (if he knows he has a chance of winning...) so he'll challenge you quite often to random little games or silly competitions, often making you both laugh at the end of it.

Looooooves to teach you stuff, feels good about himself every time you ask him about something. He's proud and happy that you feel confident and secure with him to learn from him. If it's something you genuinely need help with, instead of it just being a topic you have been a little curious about, he makes sure to sit down with you and be of assistance, he might even do some research of his own so you can complete the task/fill that knowledge gap. He might tease you a little bit for not knowing, but he won't make fun of you.

Speaking of teasing, he is the member who does it the most. He always finds a way to do it, and he is not shy to tease you (lovingly) in front of others. Sometimes it gets so out of hand that you physically need to get him off your back to stop, he's a real prankster.

Dates with him are always fun! You try out new things, or do the standard fun dates like amusement parks, karaoke singing or ice skating. Romantic dates are reserved for special occasions like an anniversary, birthdays or anything that deserves celebration.

Overall Sohee likes to feel needed and likes it if you rely on him. He is already putty in your hand if you let him decide what you wear that day or when you fangirl over him. He has a possessive side to him, that he doesn't show often though (only if you like it <3).

Anton

Surprisingly bold in pursuing you, not straightforward like Sungchan, but more in a tactical, silent killer type of way. You exchange numbers as friends, you go out to eat as friends, you have sleepovers as friends, you kiss... as friends??

EXAMPLE! You step out of the changing room to show him that new outfit you plan on buying, thinking nothing of it, expecting a nod or maybe even a timid "it's good" from him. But he hits you with a "you're seriously so beautiful...", as he's checking you out, in that soft voice of his. (no one believes you)

Dating Anton includes lots of presents, lots of cuddling, lots of fun activities and lots of making out.

He spoils you a lot, buying you presents or crafting little suprises as if it was his job. And it's never a big deal to him! "I thought of you the moment I saw this...", he grins, handing you a 600€ bracelet, as if it was a hand-picked flower.

Everything you do is cute to him pt. 2. He is an admirer, loving the little things about you. When he's asked what he likes about you its always something super specific "I love the way they laugh." or "The way they always see positivity in everything is something I truly appreciate."

Super attentive to you, just wants you to be happy. Making you happy is making him happy (some might even say he's a simp).

Dating for him is super serious and he has already planned your future together in great detail. At the beginning he might be love-bombing a little bit but not because he's trying to manipulate you but because he actually forgets you haven't been married since 2013. :(

Don't keep secrets from him, even if you don't mean any harm. If it's something you seriously can't tell him or something you don't feel comfortable talking about yet, you need to explain in great detail why you can't. He is a little bit sensitive and worries easily.

Anton prefers someone who is maybe a little bit sensitive as well, so you can swoon and take care of each other.

Maybe contrary to popular believe, I think he's super jealous as well! Doesn't like seeing you talk to strangers (especially those who are handsome...) and tends to even get jealous when you spent a disproportionate (!) amount of time with you friends ("Baby, I am your boyfriend, not them...").

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 1 year

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Dark!Aemond Targaryen: Size Difference

Pairing: Dark Aemond Targaryen x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

WARNINGS: Short reader; Non-con; Forced Breeding; Forced Pregnancy.

AN: I got inspired to write this out of nowhere. Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Aemond is absolutely infatuated with the way he towers over you. How the top of your head is barely able to reach his shoulder. How small and powerless you appear next to him.

It fills him with flaming desire and possessiveness to see your small delicate figure next to his robust one. The things he could do to you, if only you were married already.

He never skips the chance to ask your hand for one (or too many) dances, admiring the way his large hand envelopes your smaller one entirely and he can’t stop imagining how one single hand of his could cover your entire breast. The way you have to tilt your head upwards to be able to face him.

The fact that he’s enamored by you isn’t missed by the court. Rumors and gossip of the young and fierce prince having fallen for you. Your parent’s are overjoyed when a marriage proposal comes for you and even though you're not certain about Aemond, you bow your head and accept your duty.

Once you’re officially betrothed, Aemon will be much less careful when it comes to letting you know about his obsession for you. He’s always around you, continuously requesting your presence in the library to spend time together or summoning you for some supper together.

His hand will linger around the small of your back for more time than appropriate as he guides you through the extensive gardens for a morning walk. His hands enveloping your neck as he presents you with a diamond necklace.

If it’s a social event, Aemond will remain fixed by your side, a cold expression on his face as people approach you to speak. He doesn’t allow any man to ask your hand to dance, his eye squinting with annoyance if they dare to talk to you.

Aemond swears that the day of your wedding is the most marvelous day he’s lived. Even though you hold a solemn expression, Aemond still adoringly gazes at you, your delicate figure on the gorgeous white dress making his cock painfully ache for you.

That night, he’ll let out all of the filthy fantasies he’s been dreaming about.

As soon as you get to your private chambers, Aemond is quick to rip you out of the dress, shocking you to say the least. He swallows all of your protests with an intense kiss, easily holding you down on the bed with his hands intertwining your own on each side of your head.

It’s a struggle to fit his wide cock inside your tiny pussy and your wails of pain are more than enough to prove that, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop.

You’re so tight around his cock that Aemond can’t pull away from you. He fucks you with rough thrusts that make the bed quiver, his hips continuously hitting you with immense force, causing shaken wails from you.

He forgets about your pain, focusing on his own pleasure as he keeps thrusting you with long, deep strokes. His face close to your tear stained one, features contorted by pain as your new husband doesn’t seem to stop any time soon.

Aemond is restless, fucking you several times over the course of the night, even though you’re sore and tired. You’re not strong enough to stop him and he won’t cave in. He fills you over and over again until he’s sure you’ve taken his seed, his babe growing inside you.

In the morning, the maids are surprised to find you in a miserable state, dark bags and red eyes with the bed in a complete mess. But the way your inner thighs are covered in Aemond’s cum is more than enough to say everything.

Needless to say that your wedding night won’t be the last, Aemond’s insatiable when it comes to having you. He can easily bend you down, forcing you into any position he wants as you’re no match for him. He peppers you in kisses, muttering sweet words as he fucks you desperately.

Soon, you’re with child and Aemond is more in love with you than ever. It’s a dream for him, seeing you getting so big and fragile with his child growing inside you. That’s something he intends to keep doing for as long as you can give him babes.

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flowerxbunnie · 4 months

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HI LOVE UR WRITING!

please can u do a fic where matt is super horny, so him and y/n have phone sex. and it feels so good, he can’t stop jerking, and ends up over stimming himself. and he’s like begging her for more and shit please omg.

“i’m wearing those silky panties u got me for our anniversary”

“i love the way u sound”

“i wish u were here w me”

“please, baby, please, one more”

“moan for me”

“feels so good”

SORRY I AM A SLUT FOR DIRTY TALK

One More

Matt x Fem reader

Warnings: SMUT, phone sex, sub!matt ish?

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

I pull my blanket up to my chin as I watch three dots dance around on my phone screen. Matt’s response is taking longer than usual, and I know exactly why.

im wearing the silky panties you got me on our anniversary ❣️

I blush as I read over my message again and again, scanning over the teasing photo I sent of my hip clad in black silk straps. I can’t help but imagine what he could be typing, how he could be reacting to my words. My smile drops as the bubble disappears, my message left on read for 6 minutes at this point.

I don’t have much time to be disappointed. My phone vibrates in my hand as his name flashes across my screen and I feel a surge of nerves, my blood pumping fiercely through my veins as my pulse quickens.

“Hello?” I speak lowly as I place my phone against my ear.

“What was that about baby?” Matt’s voice is deep and soft across the line, but still sends a shiver down my spine.

“What are you talking about Matty?” I feign ignorance, biting hard on my lip as my cheeks burn.

“Don’t play dumb,” his voice hardens, “You’re not gonna get me hard and then act like you don’t know how it happened.”

“Oh, did I?” I say with mock confusion. “I just really like these panties and wanted to show you. They remind me of you.” I trail off and put the phone on speaker, pulling on the strap against my hip and letting it hit my skin with an audible slap.

I hear a sharp inhale echo from my speaker followed by shuffling sounds.

“Baby don’t do this to me,” he croaks, “it hurts so bad and if I leave the house Nick and Chris will wake up.”

“Who said you have to leave?” I giggle and wait for his response.

“Can you talk me through it baby? Please, I need it.” His voice is pleading but still hushed.

“Mhmm.. are you wearing anything?” I question as I lean back onto my pillow and lay my phone beside me.

“U-uh.. just sweats.” He answers quickly.

“Touch yourself over them for me.” I say as seductively as I can muster, my own arousal growing and distracting me as I picture what he looks like right now.

“I… already was..” he admits, my cheeks burning hotter as I realize what all the muffled sounds have been.

“So naughty of you, Matthew. Couldn’t even wait a couple minutes hm?”

I hear whispered curses in response and I have to squeeze my thighs together, the throbbing between my legs growing ever so strong as I picture Matt palming himself with his veiny hands in his bed.

“Take everything off Matt. It’ll feel so good without all the layers won’t it?”

“Yeah, fuck. Hang on baby.” I hear more shuffling as his phone is tossed onto his sheets. “Okay done. Fuck, I wish you were here.”

“I am here baby, just not in the same way.” I answer, realizing my hand has made its way to the hemline of my panties, rubbing back and forth subconsciously. “Are you touching yourself Matt?”

I hear a hum in response before he speaks. “Y-yes. Keep talking. Your voice is so fucking sexy.” He sounds strained, his words barely coming out.

I dip my fingers below my panties and gasp lightly as I rub my swollen clit. “I’m t-touching myself too Matty. Fuck, it’s so wet.” I moan lightly as I slip one finger into my entrance.

I hear a groan from across the line followed by deep breathing. “Oh… fuck..” He goes silent after a couple of seconds and the only sound I can hear is him shuffling around in his bed.

“Did you cum?” I question, the pattern sounding awfully familiar.

“I did. Please baby, please keep going. I need more.” I hear wet sounds and I can perfectly picture how his fist is tightly gripping his cock and pumping it with need. “Please one more, I need it so bad.”

I curl my finger and hit my most sensitive spots, closing my eyes as I listen to Matt’s heavy breathing and try to imagine that it’s him pleasuring me.

“Moan for me baby. Don’t hold it back please, fuck, I need it.” He pleads, almost whining.

I stop holding back and allow myself to sink into the pleasure, my free hand slipping my bra down to expose my nipple so I can pinch it like Matt loves to do. My sounds fall from my throat freely and elicit even more from Matt.

“I feel so good Matt, fuck.. I wish it was your fingers inside of me.” I whine as I slip my middle finger in, savoring every sensation that comes along with the fullness.

“You don’t know how bad I wish you were riding me right now.” He groans, the wet pumping sounds speeding up with every passing second. “Your pretty little pussy would feel so good around me, fuck.”

My stomach tightens at the thought of his cock hitting every spot deep inside that would drive me crazy, the thought of his jaw hanging open with his eyes squeezed shut, the thought of his hands gripping my boobs as they bounce in his face.

“Matt I th-think I’m gonna cum.” I breathe out as I slip my fingers out of my entrance and use them to rub fast circles onto my clit.

“Please, baby. Please cum, let me hear you. Fuck, please.” He croaks, sounding louder in the speaker as he moves the phone next to his ear.

I feel my body tense as I climb to my peak before the tension breaks. I moan out Matt’s name as I cum, hearing strings of curses from the other side of the line as I tremble under my own touch.

“F…fuck.” I pant, trying my hardest to catch my breath.

“Fuck, it hurts baby. I need to cum but it’s so fucking sensitive,” he hisses, his voice strained and filled with concentration. “C-can you take a picture for me?”

“What does my Matty wanna see?” I blush at his request, picking my phone up and swiping my camera open.

“You. I don’t care. Just need to see you, please. I need to cum so bad baby. Please.”

I grin to myself, enjoying this desperate side of Matt. I pull my other bra cup down so both my boobs are exposed and hold my phone up, taking a photo of my hand grasped around my left one. I open our texts and send it, watching as the read receipt immediately pops up. He was waiting for it.

“Wanna cum on those pretty tits so bad.” He groans, a rasp growing in his voice. “Fuck, I need them in my mouth.”

I open my camera back up and take in the sight of myself, my hair disheveled from my orgasm and my cheeks flushed. I bite my lip and give the doe eyes to the camera that I know he loves as I snap another photo. He’s still swooning over the first photo as I send the next, and I bite my lip as I wait for his reaction.

“I- you look so… fuck..” his breathing becomes irregular, his groans and whines sounding through my speakers.

“Come on Matt, cum for me. You can do it, I know how bad you need it.” I whisper out.

“Say it again. Fuck, I need to hear you say it again.”

“Cum for me Matt. Let it all go baby.”

The sounds that flood through my speakers are lewd and pornographic. The sound of his hand slipping up and down over his cock as he pumps himself to his second orgasm, my name drawn out as he rides through it and spills his cum onto his stomach.

I smile to myself as I listen to Matt catching his own breath just as I did moments before. We sit in silence for a couple of minutes, no words needed as we relish in the moment.

“That was…” he starts, trailing off with a deep breath.

“I know.” I giggle, finishing his train of thought before he struggles too hard to try and come up with the right words.

“I’m saving those. Fuck, I feel like I could cum again just looking at them.” I hear a few faint sounding pumps before he winces. “Way too fucking sensitive.”

“You need some rest baby. Don’t overdo it.” I laugh, standing up and heading to the bathroom to clean myself up.

“Mmm, why do you have to be right all the time?” He teases in a raspy, tired voice.

“That’s just the way it goes I guess. Now go clean up before you wake up all crusty.” I joke as I turn my shower on to warm up.

“That’s actually disgusting.” He over dramatically gags and I hear a shuffle before I hear a door being opened.

“I love you, Matty.” I giggle, placing my phone on the counter.

“I love you, angel.” he replies before the line disconnects.

a/n i haven’t written in so long omfg the holidays have me FUCKED up. i hope you all enjoy desperate matt 😵‍💫

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doumadono · 5 months

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THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME REQUEST can you do mizu x reader smut but where she calls reader a brat somewhere in the mix that scene jst had me head over heels 😭🙏

Warnings: smut - fingering, 69, rough oral, overstimulation, fem!Reader

Synopsis: you and Mizu enjoy some steamy moments together, having grown deeply fond of each other

OTHER FANDOMS MASTERLIST

Mizu's days were consumed by the relentless pursuit of her quest for vengeance, her every waking moment dedicated to honing her skills as a swordmaster. The path she tread was a solitary one, until a chance encounter changed the course of her journey.

It was on a misty morning in a secluded training ground nestled among ancient cherry blossoms that Mizu first crossed blades with you, a skilled swordswoman with a spirit as fierce as her own.

Your meeting was a clash of steel and determination, the air buzzing with the intensity of their training.

Mizu, her blue eyes gleaming with a mixture of determination and surprise, locked eyes with you after a particularly fierce exchange. "You fight well," Mizu acknowledged, a rare compliment from the stoic warrior.

You, your gaze unwavering, replied with a smirk, "Not bad yourself. But I've seen the fire in your eyes. There's more to your story than the strikes of a sword. Care to share?"

Mizu hesitated, her guard momentarily dropping. The pain of her past flickered in her eyes before she composed herself. "I seek revenge for a great injustice. That's it, nothing more, nothing less. My blade is my only companion on this path."

You nodded understandingly. "Well, it doesn't hurt to have a sparring partner on such a lonely journey. How about we help each other? I can see the weight you carry, and I've got my own demons to face."

From that day forward, your and Mizu's training sessions became a harmonious dance of steel and camaraderie. In the quiet moments between strikes, you shared stories of your pasts, creating a bond that transcended the limits of your swords.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the cherry blossoms, Mizu spoke thoughtfully, "I never thought I'd find a companion on this path. You've made the journey less lonely, Y/N."

You smiled, twirling your sword skillfully, hiding it in a scabbard. "Likewise, Mizu. We're stronger together. And vengeance is a heavy burden; it's easier to carry when you're not alone."

As the weeks passed, Mizu and you journeyed together through diverse landscapes, your paths entwined in a tapestry of shared experiences. What started as a companionship forged in the crucible of training gradually evolved into a deep and genuine fondness for each other.

The road you traveled was not just a physical journey but a shared odyssey of emotions and revelations. In the quiet moments beneath starlit skies and during the challenges you faced side by side, a connection grew, fortified by the understanding that only time and shared trials could foster.

Mizu, with her unwavering spirit, became not just a fellow warrior but a cherished presence in your own journey.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a soft glow over Mizu and you as you sat by a crackling campfire. The dancing flames mirrored the flickering emotions in Mizu's blue eyes as she turned to her companion. "Y/N," Mizu began, her voice steady but with a hint of vulnerability, "we've shared so much, but I've never asked about the demons that haunt you. What burdens do you carry?"

The air grew heavy with the unspoken weight of the past as Mizu waited for you to open up.

The flames flickered, casting shadows on your face as memories resurfaced. "I come from a village that was razed to the ground by marauders. I lost my family, my home. The flames took everything. That's why I picked up the sword, Mizu. I wanted to be strong, to never feel that powerless again."

Mizu listened intently, sensing the weight of your words. She understood well. As you spoke, memories of the burning hut flashed before Mizu's eyes, and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine.

Despite your efforts to maintain composure, a tear traced a silent path down your cheek, glistening in the firelight.

Mizu reached out, gently wiping away the tear with her thumb. "You've carried this burden alone for too long," she whispered. "You're not alone anymore."

Trembling, you nodded, a mixture of gratitude and relief in your eyes.

Mizu pulled you into a comforting embrace, and for a moment, the crackling of the fire was the only sound in the still night as you shared the weight of your sorrows.

You shivered at Mizu's touch. You wanted to lean in and feel Mizu's arms around you oh so badly.

Mizu shook her head. "It's the past, Y/N. And from now on, I'll be protecting you. I'll be by your side."

"You… you'd actually want to be seen with me?" you uttered in astonishment, your gaze fixed on Mizu. "But why? I'm not exactly a sight to behold, and you're so stunning… People might ridicule you for choosing to be with someone like me…"

Mizu chuckled softly, a gentle sound that resonated with warmth. She looked you in the eyes, her ice blue ones stern. "You know," she began, her eyes softening, "I don't see myself as a pretty woman. Beauty is subjective, and in my eyes, you shine in a way that captivates me. Your uniqueness, the way you carry yourself — it's incredibly appealing to me. I see you as someone with a beauty that goes far beyond what meets the eye."

The heat built between your legs. Your nipples strained against the fabric, yearning for connection, as the allure of those soft, ripe lips of hers enticed you. The closeness felt magnetic, and the desire to kiss overwhelmed you. Yet, instead, a deep blush crept across your cheeks, and you looked away, your emotions entangled in a web of confusion.

Mizu gently tilted your face up, leaning in as her lips brushed softly over yours, capturing the taste of salt from recent tears. A soft moan escaped your lips as Mizu drew you closer, fulfilling a secret daydream of yours.

Uncharacteristically eager, Mizu allowed her desires to guide her actions. Her hands explored beneath your attire, caressing your breasts, as the anticipation of pleasure hung thick in the air. With deliberate intent, she undid the ribbon at the back of your garment, letting it slip off your shoulders. Her hungry gaze lingered on your firm, ripe breasts, and Mizu, unable to resist the temptation, lowered her head to eagerly suckle on a taut nipple.

You let out a quiet moan and arched your back and moaned, tangling your fingers in the black tresses that now cascaded over you.

Mizu worshipped your breasts, taking turns licking, sucking and nibbling the nipples in turn, humming quietly as she did.

You pulled back, eyes glowing with passion. "Please, let me taste you, Mizu…"

Mizu grinned playfully and gracefully rose to her feet, treating her new lover to a tantalizing strip tease.

In absolute awe, you observed every move, your body pulsating with desire as she shed her clothes.

Mizu reclined on the futon beside the fireplace, her legs invitingly parted.

Feeling a mix of anticipation and hesitation, you undressed, eventually finding yourself kneeling between Mizu's open legs.

A moan escaped Mizu as she took in the full, lush view of your body. "Oh, Y/N, you are so beautiful," she whispered, the words hanging in the air, deepening the intimacy of the moment.

You spoke not a word. Your touch was the language, as you tenderly caressed Mizu's wetness, delicately parting the folds like the petals of a dew-kissed flower. Your mouth descended upon Mizu's throbbing clit, moving languidly, intoxicated by the explosion of her taste on your eager, flexed tongue.

Mizu responded with fervent writhing and moans, her body arching to bring her wetness even closer to your exploring mouth. With a graceful shift, she positioned herself to reciprocate, her command cutting through the stillness. "Sit on my face," Mizu directed, the bold request hanging in the air, a testament to the unspoken connection that unfolded between you.

Your attention remained solely on savoring her cunt, rendering you momentarily unresponsive to her command. You lapped at her wetness with your tongue, a low moan escaping as her juices cascaded over your taste buds. Sucking on your fingers to heighten the intensity, you skillfully slipped them into her, moving with a swift rhythm that reflected the urgency of your desire.

Her inner walls responded with spasmodic contractions, eagerly clenching around your digits. Mizu huffed with a tinge of frustration and seized a handful of your hair, giving it a gentle tug. "Come on, Y/N, don't be a brat. I asked for something, and I expect you to comply."

Responding with a small kiss to her entrance, you gazed up at her, your lips wet with her jucies, nodding in acknowledgment. Gradually, you positioned yourself, placing both knees on either side of her head, and descended onto her face. Leaning forward, you resumed your passionate exploration of her slick folds with your tongue.

Mizu let out a sultry moan as she felt your lips enveloping her clit yet again, your gentle suction drawing it into the warmth of your mouth. Her gaze wandered to your pussy right in front of her eyes, captivated by the sight of your pouty lips and the glistening juices there. With a bold move, she slid a skilled finger inside you, caressing tenderly, teasingly. Her expert tongue flickered around your clit, leaving you breathless and panting.

In response, you cried out her name, initiating a dance of desire as you pressed two fingers inside Mizu's pussy. Your skilled suction on her clit mirrored the tormenting rhythm of your fingers and occassional rubbing of your thumb against her already swollen clit.

Mizu's tongue glided slowly over your clit, dipping into your slit with a probing and searching motion; its tip constantly hitting your little bundle of nerves.

You moaned in response, enticing her with the movement of your hips, shaking your ass to amplify the friction and intensify the pleasure. "More, Mizu, holy shit!"

You luxuriated in that position for what felt like endless, blissful minutes, indulging in the intimate exchange as you both savored the taste of each other's pussies.

Mizu propped herself up on one elbow, her other hand gently parting the lips of your pussy. With tenderness, she licked you, the tip of her tongue tracing either side of your clit, humming appreciatively at the delightful taste.

Your hands reached up around her ass, pulling her cheeks apart as you wholeheartedly massaged her cunt with your mouth. In the height of pleasure, your actions were instinctual, allowing the waves of ecstasy to roll through you, leaing you moaning like a whore. Your tongue and jaws moved in perfect reaction, each dart of her tongue into you provoking a corresponding spasm of pleasure in your own mouth.

Together, you both writhed in ecstasy, voices merging in a passionate chorus of moans that echoed the intensity of your shared passion.

Releasing your hold on Mizu's ass, you wrapped your arms around her waist, drawing her core closer to your face. Playfully pushing her to the side, both of you shared a moment of giggles, eventually settling on your sides, maintaining the 69 position.

The sensations were nothing short of incredible. Mizu squirmed with delight, her tongue delving deep to partake in your drenched cunny, creating ripples of passion that surged throughout your body.

Unable to contain yourself, you cried out, "M-Mizu!!!" as her quick, skillful licks over your swollen clit sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your entire being, leaving your legs shaking. "I-I, God! T-Too much!!! Oh God, I can't!!!" you whined again, arching your back, trying to grind your pussy against her face for more friction.

She gently spanked your ass a few times. "Shush, you little, horny brat," the black-haired woman grunted lowly. "Let me have my fun with you."

You extended your arm between her legs, skillfully opening her wide, allowing one leg to hover tantalizingly over you. With your other hand deftly maneuvering between the two of you, you spread her pussy open even more.

Her head shifted against your inner thigh, repurposed as a comfortable pillow in the midst of this intimate exchange.

Your face was fully immersed in the warmth of her pussy, while she reciprocated with her face pressed into yours. In a passionate exchange, you both moved and thrust against each other, building up a frenzied rhythm that heightened the intensity of the moment.

Mizu's primal grunts mixed with your fervent whimpers, the symphony of your pleasure rising in frequency and pitch. In the midst of waves and layers of ecstasy, you both reached the climax together, as one. The culmination was so profound, so all-encompassing, as you came intensely, repeatedly, in a cascade of bliss. A deluge of intoxicating girl-cum cascaded over your mouths and faces, seamlessly blending with the ongoing grinding and spasms.

"Oh, you dirty, little brat, you're gonna be a death of me one day," Mizu playfully nibbled on your clit, making you whine pathetically.

Gradually, the sweet and gentle descent from the peak began. Your passion waned, bodies winding down, experiencing little aftershocks of orgasm like sparks in your muscles. Rolling backward, you and Mizu separated, lying prone on your backs, side by side, heads to toes, in a shared moment of tranquil aftermath, breathig heavily.

Soon Mizu, holding you with a newfound protectiveness, traced gentle strokes through your Y/H/C hair and whispered softly, "Did I make you feel good?"

Nestled against Mizu like a contented kitten, you looked up with a happy smile. "Yes… It was perfect."

A tender kiss on your temple followed as Mizu yawned heavily. "I think I fell in love with you… We've shared so much, and being close to you felt so good, so right, as if something just clicked together."

"Indeed," you whispered in agreement, resting your head on Mizu's breasts, eyes slipping closed. The surreal feeling of it all being real overwhelmed you. Sleep embraced you, and this time, there were no dreams; there was no need, as everything you had recently dreamt about was already cradled in your arms.

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 month

Text

Whisper of the Forgotten | pt. 5

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,2k words | warnings: mentions of trauma and violence | masterlist

Your head whips into his direction, eyes wide open, heart racing. His shoulders are squared, shadows slowly dancing around him, his face unreadable, emotionless as he looks at you.

"I wouldn’t know what there is to talk about." You focus your gaze back on the book, trying to ignore him. But he is like a nasty fly, he lingers and then draws closer.

"About us."

"There is no us!" You spit and whirl towards him, getting up quickly. "You destroyed us five centuries ago!"

"Y/N." Azriel reaches for you but you rip your arm away. "Please, let me explain."

"You betrayed me. You left me to die, Azriel." You channel all the energy you have left, straightening your posture, squaring your shoulders. "I don’t want to talk to you, Azriel, ever again. I told you I loved you and a day after you betrayed me. I don’t think there is anything to explain."

You are seething with anger, fire blazing through your veins, your heart aching so fiercely.

"I loved you too.” His voice is hoarse, his chest heaving with a deep inhale.

"You wouldn’t have betrayed me if you really did,” you snap.

Azriel lifts his scarred hands, then drops them and looks desperate. Gone is the strong and powerful warrior, his shoulders droop, his lips quaver. "There was no other choice.” He swallows and a shudder courses through his body. “Please, listen to me. Please, let me explain."

"I don’t want to hear your explanation! I don’t want to hear it!" You are screaming at this point. "I can barely breathe when I am in the same room as you. You make me feel like I am getting suffocated."

Your shouts have been so loud, they alert Gwyn and Nesta who come rushing into the room.

The door swings open and Azriel whips around.

In an instant, Gwyn is at your side, your body vibrating so fiercely with anger and betrayal, she can feel it.

“What is going on?” Nesta asks, her voice kept level, but you can hear the anger and worry within her tone.

You feel how panic starts to rise within you and know that you have to get out. You are so close to breaking. You need to get out.

“I can’t do this,” you breathe and before anyone can stop you you run. Past Gwyn, past Azriel, past Nesta, your heart racing like a horse in the wild.

You rush outside the living room, down to the Library. You need to get away. Away from Azriel. You can’t be near him, the pain over his betrayal breaks once again.

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

“What did you do?” Nesta questions Azriel. Her brows are furrowed, her finger poking into his pectoral.

“I tried to talk to her.” Azriel lowers his gaze.

Nesta bristles and so does Gwyn next to her.

“I don’t know what exactly happened between the two of you, but what I know is that she is deadly scared of you and doesn’t want to be near you,” Gwyn says, frowning at Azriel.

Azriel shakes his head, the void within his heart only growing.

But what she doesn’t know — what no one knows— is that he loved you. And maybe, finally it is time to reveal everything. To Gwyn and Nesta, and later to everyone else.

“We used to be lovers,” Azriel admits in a low voice. And then he opens up, tells the whole story about how you met in Illyria —not in the war camps, but in the Steppes. Your relationship was new and secret, not even Rhys and Cass knew, but somehow Rhysand’s father found out about you and saw you as a threat. And then it happened; he wanted you dead, worrying you could defeat him, overpower him, or get in his way.

Azriel only had two options: your death or the Prison. Obviously he chose the latter. He would have done everything to save your life — even accept his own death.

“Do you understand why I need to talk to her now?” He is impatient, wants to follow after you, but the two Valkyries don’t let him.

Nesta inhales deeply, arms crossed over her chest. She turns to look at Gwyn and then says, “I don’t like the idea of you following her when she is so scared of being alone with you, but I think she needs to know the truth as well.”

It is all Azriel needs to hear. He brushes past Nesta and heads for the door. And then hurries to the Library until he stops at your door (he knows it is your door because he has been here before, followed you the other day but didn’t knock then).

His scarred knuckles rasp against the door, he inhales a deep breath and waits. Then he knocks.

“We need to talk, Y/N.”

He stands in the doorframe, not allowing you to close the door and it angers you. You want him to leave. He broke you. And now he stands here, thinking he can fix all the shattered pieces with a few words of apology.

“What I did was the worst I could do to you, but now that we got another chance I want to use it.”

Azriel is faster than you can react, sliding into the room, now standing right in front of you, so close you‘re breathing the same air.

“We didn’t get another chance, Azriel.” You move closer to him, despite what this does to your body. Despite the anger simmering within your veins, despite the wounds being ripped open once again. One by one, the pain is so strong it nearly makes you whimper.

“Because there is no we.” You spit the last part, jaw clenched, forehead lying in furrows.

It hurts so much, seeing him standing there, acting like what he has done is not the worst that someone could do to a person they allegedly love. He did not only break your heart back then, he broke your soul. And he broke the connection between the two of you.

You had felt it the first time you had laid eyes on him. You had felt it right in this moment – the bond. The mating bond, the probably most powerful connection between two people.

But he had given you no chance to reveal it. You had wanted to wait for the right moment, then you had told him you loved him and the next thing you can remember is getting caught, people – males– hurting you and him hauling you away to the prison.

You hated him in this moment. You have loathed him for that since then. But when you really think about it, you have to admit that hatred has never been the feeling in the foreground. It has always been pain. Hurt. Anger. Betrayal.

You loved him, more than anything in the world, more than your own life and he did something like that to you. Hurt you like that. You could have never been prepared for a feeling like this.

“I did it to protect you,” he whispers. His chin drops to his chest. “I never meant for it to happen that way, but I had to do what I did in order to protect you.”

You ignore him — not able to listen or wanting to listen to him. Your eyes are burning, the back of your mouth aching. You want to hit him, scream at him, but you are left without words. Your body feels exhausted, tired, empty. You want to sleep, and feel nothing.

“Do you have any idea what was done to me in the Prison? What I went through. What I had to go through. What I suffered.” You finally speak up after a long moment of silence. Slowly you lift your gaze to him, wanting to see the look in his eyes.

The former cold is now replaced by regret, remorse, his shoulders are slightly slouched and the corner of his mouth twitches.

Slowly, Azriel shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I can imagine. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” His throat works on a swallow. “I wish I could have protected you from all the pain.”

“You are the one who caused me the pain!” you scream at him, each syllable dripping with betrayal and anger. “You broke me Azriel.”

“I did it to protect you,” he once again says and you want to tear his tongue out for saying this all the time. It is bullshit. He did it to impress the High Lord. He did it to create a good image of himself.

The same thing you try now in order to regain your powers. You have to act good around the High Lord of the Night Court and his IC and once they trust you enough to give you back your powers, leave.

“Y/N–” he starts but you cut him off.

“Do you know what they did when they caught me? When your men caught me and brought me to you?”

You step away from him.

“I didn’t send them.” They weren’t Azriel’s men. They were Rhysand’s father’s men, but you don’t know that, Azriel realises in this moment. The High Lord had sent them back and he tried to be there before them, to save you from them, but he was too late and the damage had already been done.

“I tried to be there before them.” He folds his hands behind his back, his chin lowering the slightest bit.

You hold his gaze, tears burning in your eyes. Your hands move to your neck.

“Don‘t lie to me.” You grind your teeth so hard, your jaw starts to ache. But you hold his gaze, withstand the urge to look away. You won’t give him that. You won’t be weak in front of him.

Azriel swallows again and parts his lips, probably wanting to say another silly lie or apology, or probably trying to convince you he didn’t send them. But you don’t want to hear it. You lift your hand to stop him.

“Don’t lie to me, Azriel,” you say again. “Not after everything you have done to me.”

Your hands drop to the dress you are wearing and slowly you start to unbutton it.

Azriel’s breath catches because he has no idea what is happening. HIs eyes are trained on you, he can’t look away.

You peel away every layer of clothing until you stand bare in front of him. But this is not a sexual act and in his eyes there is no desire, no lust. There is only shock. Horror. Pain.

He is mortified by the look of your body. Your skin is marred, scars adorning every inch of it. The chilly air brushes your skin but you withstand it, having grown so used to it. The cold has slowly become you, you have become cold. Your heart has become cold, empty, dead.

“That’s what they did, Azriel,” you tell him. “That’s how they treated me when they found me.” You let the dress fall to the ground, shivering the slightest bit, you still hold his gaze.

You know what your skin looks like, having brushed your fingers over the marred skin many days, thinking about if you would ever be able to love yourself again.

But you have managed to do so. This is your body, your home, you temple, you would never hate it and the scars are only a testament of how strong you are, what you have survived.

Azriel says nothing for a long moment. He only stares, stomach coiling, chest squeezing.

“That’s what the High Lord’s men did when they caught me. All these scars,” —you brush your sharp nails down your cleavage— “is what the caused me when they tried to catch me, using their knives and swords.”

Your throat works on a swallow.

“And then you arrived.” You move towards him, stepping over your clothes. “And I thought you came to save me, that the nightmare finally has an end, but you hauled me away and put me into the Prison.”

You move closer to him.

“Do you want to see what they did to me?”

He wants to say no, but he can’t. He has to see it. You had to go through it and live with it. The least he can do is see it, knowing it will break him apart, but it is what he deserves.

“Show me.”

You slide your hand around his throat and slowly each sharpened, pointed fingernail digs into the flesh on the back of his neck, until you are inside – inside his mind.

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel

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immoralkombat · 7 months

Text

feeling(s)

Kenshi has been blind for maybe an hour or two.

Johnny looks over at him with sympathy. He's not sure what he could possibly do or say to make things seem any less bleak for him. The man was just trying to get his family's heirloom back and now, after months of training and dedication, one of his five senses is gone permanently through no fault of his own. If Johnny were in Kenshi's position, he's sure he'd be feeling just as desolate, if not more so.

Kung Lao is sitting in the far corner, talking to Baraka. He seems genuinely fascinated by Tarkat as a disease. Were Johnny not in the same situation as them, he would find that particular conversation topic a bit morbid. Right now, it's really all they have to talk about. They've already exhausted all the small talk options you normally go through when first meeting someone. They might as well start talking about the disease that'll eventually kill Baraka.

The salve on the cloth seems to have worked a little, because at least Kenshi isn't moaning in pain every few seconds anymore. Not that it makes things significantly more cheerful, but it does help the atmosphere a bit.

Johnny taps on his knees as he sits, eyes darting between looking at Kung Lao and Kenshi. He's kind of in between where the two have sat themselves, a visual and metaphorical median between the two ways one could possibly react to getting imprisoned by a sorcerer that's almost 100% going to kill you. (To be fair, there isn't much that connects the points of "casually talking about a stranger's terminal illness with them as though you're both standing by the office water cooler talking about whatever hit TV show is airing these days" and "rocking back in forth in the corner about how a different terminally ill stranger took your eyes and you have nothing left in this world." Johnny supposes the best middle point is "looking anxiously between your two co-workers and not saying anything because Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you supposed to say in this situation besides aforementioned terminal illness.")

He really wishes that Kenshi still had his eyes, because every time he looked at Johnny, it always seemed to make everything feel okay.

Johnny thinks for a second and then scoots closer to Kenshi. It's only once he accidentally bumps up against Kenshi's foot and scares the living shit out of everyone in the cell that he realizes he probably should've given an audible cue that he was going to be approaching the newly blind guy.

After Kenshi's done having a mini panic attack over the sudden Hollywood A-lister jumpscare he's gotten, Johnny looks at him and asks, quietly, "Do you want to hold Sento for a bit?"

Kenshi turns to face him and even underneath the newly christened blindfold, Johnny can tell that Kenshi is looking at him with the most surprised and reverent eyes in the universe. The kind of look that you'd get and say "fuck this stupid sword, I'd pay $3 million just to get this guy to look at me like that again."

Kenshi's mouth opens as though he's going to say something, but it shuts again before any words or sounds can come out. He opts to nod in response and Johnny takes the scabbard from off his back, holds it in his hands gently and passes it to Kenshi. Their fingertips graze one another, a way to indicate that the blind man is in the right spot. The touch sends crackles of electricity through Johnny and he wonders if Kenshi feels them too.

It's like the tattoos on Kenshi's hands are swirling around him, colors dancing in front of his eyes. It's more beautiful than any lame fucking Disney movie ever could be.

The yakuza's voice is hoarse as he says "Thanks." It's so small that Johnny can almost see it breaking in the air. He wants to put his hand on Kenshi's and tell him that things will be okay, that he's going to pay for a sight companion, any kind of corrective surgeries he wants, whatever it takes. He wants to tell him that he's still just as strong and fierce and goddamn handsome now as he was before. He wants to kiss him so fucking badly it makes his entire being ache.

He settles for saying "You're welcome," and then sitting next to Kenshi in silence.

He watches the way that he holds Sento in his hands, feels every single nick in the scabbard, every single imperfection. It's the first time in Johnny's life that he's ever wanted to be a sword and, if he keeps hanging out with Kenshi after this, (which he hopes he can), it almost certainly won't be the last.

Johnny wishes that Mileena had taken Kenshi's tear ducts with her after she'd stabbed his eyes out, because the short sad sobs that wrack through his body are almost too much to bear witness to. When he cries, it moves through his entire being. It sends a shockwave from his gut upward, makes him lurch his shoulders forward and hug himself.

"H-Hey, what's wrong?" Johnny asks. He knows it's a stupid fucking question, obviously everyone knows what's wrong, most of all the guy it happened to. But it's all he can think to ask as he watches Kenshi continue to awkwardly jerk alongside his cries.

Kenshi's head turns to face Johnny. From beyond the thin red cloth that covers his eye sockets, Johnny can feel them boring into him.

"Cage, could I touch you? I want to remember what your face looks like."

If Johnny were operating on his full mental capacity, he would probably explode at this question. He would become the fireworks they popped last night at the banquet over their heads as they feasted. He would be attached to one end of a fuse with Li Mei holding the other end, readying herself to spark it and send him to the stratosphere.

"Y-Yeah, of course you can, Ken-doll. Just make sure not to damage the goods - people pay good money for this mug to show up on their big screens."

The smugness in his voice would normally earn him a "tch" or a groan, (or an eye roll), from Kenshi. Hearing him chuckle under his breath makes his heart soar.

He turns his face toward him and waits, but no touch comes. His eyes close, he anticipates the electricity to come back... and instead he hears Kenshi clearing his throat awkwardly.

Johnny opens his eyes and finds that Kenshi's still got his hands on Sento. He tries not to be jealous of the sword again, but as with any other time he's tried not to be jealous of someone or something that has what he wants, he fails miserably.

"Could you get closer, Cage?"

"Not the first time I'm hearing that question, won't be the last. How close you need me, handsome?"

The words come out before he can even process them. Jesus Christ, is he really that much of a disaster that he can just openly call a guy he's been crushing on for at least a month handsome without even thinking about it? He's a fucking mess. His wife left him and now he doesn't know how to act. She was gonna be the only person he'd ever be able to trick into loving him and now she was gone.

"I'm going to turn, and I suggest you do the same. I want to be facing you. You can sit with your legs touching mine if it helps."

Great, now Kenshi has a colorful blindfold that also serves as a perfect swatch for the shade of red Johnny's face turns every time the man says something that's totally fucking normal for two people that are acquainted with one another.

Johnny does as he's told, because if there's one thing he's good at, it's taking directions. (Ignoring literally every single major motion picture he's ever been in, every statement he's ever made to the press after consulting his legal teams and public consultants, and generally living life up until this point.)

His knees knock against Kenshi's and it takes him aback for a second, how giddy and childish the butterflies he feels in his stomach are. Getting to know Kenshi was so simple. He wishes he had just taken a second and been less of a dickwad back when they'd first met, because maybe then it'd be easier for him to grow a pair of cajones and tell Kenshi that he doesn't spend a single night without thinking about how much he wants to trace the tattoos on his hands and arms. Maybe if he had just given Sento over, it'd be easier to admit that the low rumble of Kenshi's voice does something to stir up the pool of heat in his stomach that he thought had been long since gone after getting married to Cristal. Maybe if he hadn't tied Kenshi to one of his kitchen chairs, it'd be easier to ask him if kissing washed-up celebrities was something he'd be interested in doing.

"I'll put my hand out, you lean forward to match it."

Kenshi's palm is extended and it takes every ounce of willpower in Johnny's aching body to not press his lips against it. He leans forward until his cheek is lightly touching the yakuza's hand.

He must be hearing things, because he swears he hears Kenshi's breath hitch when they make contact for the first time. Nah, surely not. Must've been the wind.

If Kenshi's senses are heightened because of the loss of his vision, then Johnny's senses are heightened because of the gain of his touch. He purses his lips together to stop from letting out some sort of obscene sound as he feels Kenshi's hand slowly smooth over his cheek. He thanks whatever fucked up Gods exist other than Liu Kang that he finally got on that moisturizing routine that he learned off of TikTok three months ago.

As Kenshi's hand slowly feels out every angle and curve of Johnny's face, his thoughts rush a mile a minute. He wonders if he should've done a closer shave today - maybe his stubble is gonna be too sharp and it'll hurt Kenshi and leave him with little cuts or rug burn on his pretty perfect wrap-around-my-throat-please hands. He wonders if his nose is too big. He wonders if he maybe should've invested in hair plugs after that one weird SNL dropout made a comment about his weird square hairline back when he guest starred on the Comedy Central roast of Megan Fox. He wonders if his eyes are too small or too large or too close together or too far apart. He wonders if he should smile so Kenshi can feel his dimples.

"Yep, it all feels just like how I remember it. Although the stubble has gotten a little longer."

That is certainly not the answer he was expecting to hear.

His voice is small, barely there, as he chokes out his question. "You remember what I look like?"

Kenshi nods. "I do."

Johnny goes to open his mouth to ask, "Then why did you ask to touch it if you already knew?"

But then Kenshi's fingers are on his lips, tracing them with the reverence he'd have holding Sento, and for a moment, Johnny finally thinks he's better than that stupid fucking sword. His smile has the same curves, the same edges. The only difference is that Kenshi can't accidentally hurt himself this way. (He can, however, accidentally hurt Johnny. But even that would be better than the alternative, he thinks.)

Kenshi's thumb is on his bottom lip, the rest of his hand now holding Johnny's chin. If he tilts it up even one degree, Johnny thinks it'll be over for him, that he'll be kissing Kenshi before he can even think to stop himself. He'd always had poor impulse control - why else would he have spent $3 million on a fucking sword to hang up in his living room?

"These are the same, too. I'm glad you weren't hurt in the fight, Cage."

Johnny feels so fucking overwhelmed. He wants to ask so many things. First of all, what does "these are the same, too" mean? Second, why does he care about the guy who bought his fucking family heirloom and refuses to give it back? Third, why does he insist on calling him Cage like one day he won't end up calling him Johnny and breaking his heart? Fourth, what in the goddamn fuck does he mean about Johnny's fucking lips being the goddamn motherfucking same?!

Johnny decides to play it up like he always does. "Well, 'course. Gotta keep my pretty mouth. It's what makes the big bucks. I wouldn't be the same without it."

Kenshi smirks, and thank Liu Kang's weird god siblings that he's blind right now, because Johnny is beet red, mouth agape, with his eyebrows raised (and he's fairly certain that something else also rises).

"That's true. You would not be the same without that infamous mouth." Kenshi accents the compliment(?) with a playful slap to Johnny's cheek, and then his hand is withdrawn entirely, leaving an empty ghost where he should still be holding Johnny's face in his hands.

He bites back the urge to immediately ask if Kenshi wants to know just how infamous the mouth is, and settles for clearing his throat and moving back to sitting against the wall next to Kenshi.

He looks over at him after he's gotten calmed down. His heart is still jackhammering against his ribs, but as long as Kenshi can't feel his pulse, he doesn't have to know. Kenshi seems to sense Johnny's eyes on him because he turns to face him, red blindfold all that stands between the gaping holes where Kenshi's eyes used to be and Johnny's gaze full of adoration.

The yakuza grabs Sento from his lap and hands it back to Johnny.

"Thank you. I appreciate you letting me hold it. And I appreciate your help in grounding me back to reality."

Johnny nods, taking Sento back and putting it where it so wrongfully deserves to be, strapped against Johnny's sore fucking back.

"No problem. Lemme know whenever you get the urge to feel out what an Adonis looks like, I'm happy to oblige." His comment is a means to an end. He plays up the egoism to ignore the shock that courses through him as Kenshi's fingertips touch his one last time.

He resolves then and there to give Sento back as soon as they escape from here, and they will escape.

This cannot be the last time he feels Kenshi's hands on him.

Baraka whispers, about as well as he can without lips or an inside voice, "Do they not realize how much they yearn for one another?"

Kung Lao shakes his head, putting a hand on Baraka's shoulder and immediately regretting it once he feels a spike tear into his palm. "They've just gotta be stupid about it for a bit longer. They'll figure it out."

"Surely their pining has to cause some sort of agony for you as well, does it not, Earthrealmer?" Baraka looks genuinely confused, or as close to it as he can get from what Kung Lao can tell.

Kung Lao hangs his head, sighing languidly. "Of course it does. But what else am I gonna do about it? Tell them? They're not gonna believe me. Trust me, they've got to figure it out on their own time, or they never will."

And as he sees Johnny's hand inch closer to Kenshi's, finally overlapping the tattoos and interlocking their fingers, Kung Lao thinks that maybe the agony won't last much longer.

#johnshi #johnny cage x kenshi #johnny x kenshi #kenshi x johnny #kenshi x johnny cage #johnny cage #kenshi #kenshi takahashi #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mk1 spoilers #mortal kombat 1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 spoilers #mortal kombat #this was also posted to my ao3 but i'm keeping works limited to registered users only bc. protecting my works and whatnot!#cross posted on ao3 #immoralkombat.exe

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wileys-russo · 7 months

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I was wondering if you could write something with alessia x reader where r plays for an opponent team and they sorta get into it on the pitch because they’re so passionate playing

enemiesII a.russo

the london derby day was always an interesting one, for both fans and players alike. but it was even more challenging for you and your girlfriend, who played for rival teams, destined for that entire day to go from lovers to fierce rivals.

both you and alessia's passion was football, you'd met in the early youth camps for the lionesses and started off as best friends, though as time passed and the two of you grew up, your feelings for one another became a little less friendly.

it took a couple of years of dancing cautiously around these feelings before either one of you made a move, you'd played a singular season with man united on loan from chelsea and with so much time spent together it pushed the two of you to finally confess, laid down together listening to music in the back of your car one night when you were both too nervous to sleep.

since then, your season with manchester united had come and gone and your contract with chelsea was renewed. the season on loan taught you a lot about adapting to a different style of play and pushed you to challenge yourself, especially when playing against your friends and old team mates, making sure you played your very best despite that.

and it paid off. alessia was sad to see you go but understood that ultimately it was the best move for your career to return to your beloved blues, and so you did distance for awhile, spending weekends and free days and the off seasons flickering between london and manchester, alterntating who would do the travel each time.

but now with alessia having transferred to arsenal, you'd both made a decision to move in together, you'd been seeing one another a little over two years and felt it only right that this was the next step.

wanting a fresh start and not for alessia to feel like she was moving in with you rather than the two of you moving out together, you spent weeks prior to the announcement searching for the perfect place to call home.

fast forward and here you both were, wrapped up together in one another's embrace, both purposefully procrastinating needing to get up and start your day, fully knowing the moment your feet hit the carpet your bubble of love would be burst.

"we really need to get up soon love." you mumbled into alessia's shoulder, body vibrating with silent laughter at the audibly annoyed groan which left the blonde beneath you. "if i get up, will you let me score today?" your girlfriend cracked one baby blue eye open with a smirk.

"not a chance baby." you smiled at her attempt, peppering her lips with soft kisses as she pouted up at you in response. "okay. up we get!" you sighed, forcing yourself out of her strong hold and sitting up, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

"come on, if you're quick we can save water." you suggested, standing to your feet and extending a hand, squealing as alessia practically jumped out of bed, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the bathroom.

"from this moment forward my love, sworn enemies." you held out your hand as both you and alessia stood at your cars, dressed in your respective clubs colors, kit bags hanging off your shoulders and keys in hand.

"like i never knew you babe." alessia nodded in agreement, shaking your hand, pausing for a moment before yanking your body into hers, turning around and pressing you against her mercedes with a grin.

"buuut, one more for the road?" the taller girl tapped her lips expectantly as you shook your head. "sorry, don't kiss strangers." you shrugged, hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

"and i don't fraternize with the enemy, but i'm willing to make an exception if you are." the striker smiled charmingly as you paused, tapping your chin to think it over.

you sighed as if her request was an effort, leaning up and connecting your lips for a moment, your hands on her shoulders gently pushing her away as her tongue started to explore your mouth.

"french kissing a woman you don't even know, shame on you russo." you tutted, the blonde smacking your bum as you turned around, flashing you a cheeky grin and slipping into her car.

you flipped her off and blew her a kiss as you sat down in your own, both of you revving your engines before peeling out of the driveway, headed in opposite directions.

"they're pressing in hard, they're gonna be desperate to at least equalise!" you struggled to catch your breath as you were all paused, guro off to the side being assessed for a concussion as she'd taken a nasty headbutt a few moments ago when going up for a header.

"it's gonna get messy girls, watch out for one another and don't let communication die off!" millie warned you, jess and niamh who all nodded, taking a long drink and tossing your bottles back as guro was cleared and the ref blew the whistle for play to resume.

arsenal were down 2-1 and they needed to at least draw this game to keep in the running for top of the table, this match the very last of the weekends WSL fixtures.

and you hadn't been wrong, they were desperate, and tackles became more and more messy as the time wound down, 9 minutes of stoppage time all that remained for them to score.

"y/l/n, get her on the wing!" millie yelled as caitlin crossed it over to lia who tapped it in for alessia, who'd come hurtling down the left side as you sprinted over to intercept her before she reached goal.

you slid in for the tackle right as alessia sent it through for caitlin again, collecting her ankles and entirely taking out her legs, the blondes body thumping to the ground, forehead bouncing off the pitch.

you heard the away section start to scream for a penalty as you tried to get to your feet, but a hand tugging on the back of your jersey sent you flying back to the ground. "are you serious? get off!" you grunted, wrenching away your girlfriends hand as the two of you stood.

"am i serious? you just took out my legs studs up for no reason, are you trying to break my fucking ankle?" alessia shoved you harshly in the chest, face bright red as you heard the ref blow the whistle in warning.

"oh grow up! that was completely legal, you had the ball when i slid in." you shoved her back, not backing down as she glared down at you half a foot taller, the two of you standing chest to chest. "she went in studs up, that should be a card!" alessia yelled at the ref who joined you both and warned you each to calm down.

"are you joking me? that was soft!" you scoffed, shoving her away from you as she tried to stare down intimidatingly, feeling millies hands come to rest on your shoulders.

"oi back up away from her! that should a fucking red." katie appeared beside your girlfriend, pushing you harshly as millie held you back from retaliating.

"are you fucking serious? it was completely legal!" you threw your hands up as you watched the ref reach into her pocket, pulling out a red for the booking.

"hey we'll contest it. just walk away babe, don't make this any worse." millie murmured, moving an arm around your shoulder and starting to walk you away as your team stepped in to argue for you, several of the arsenal girls starting to contest the yellow card given to alessia for the shoving around.

"this is bullshit." you spat as you shrugged off millies arm, head hung low as you stormed off the pitch and into the tunnel, the sound of the chelsea fans booing the refs call following after you as you headed for the change rooms.

you kicked off your boots, throwing them around the room allowing yourself a tantrum before you thought better of it, hurrying to collect your things and shoving them back into your cubby, ducking off for a shower.

you were sat by your locker, showered and dressed in your tracksuit, knees tucked up to your chest as the rest of the team filed in. you'd checked the score on your phone, showing the girls manage to hold down your lead, narrowly scraping by and getting the crucial three points.

niamh and erin took their seats at their own lockers either side of you, niamh patting your back sympathetically and kissing your cheek as you sent her a small smile, a congratulations for their efforts slipping past your lips as emma joined you all.

you tuned out most of her speech, giving a weak nod as she confirmed millies words that the red would be attested in hopes you'd be able to play next week, before the older woman took you aside one on one for a gentle but firm reminder about keeping cool.

"come on stroppy, off we go." millies arm fell over your shoulders once you'd grabbed your things, though she guided you in the wrong direction as you frowned. "mills my cars that way, where are we-" your words stopped as you noticed them.

"are you joking? no way." you huffed, trying to turn around as millies grip on you tightened, as did leahs on alessia as she pushed the younger girl down the hallway.

"now girls, obviously tensions arose and some not so nice words were exchanged. but thats football, and we leave it out on the pitch." leah started, your national captain giving you both a stern look as millie hummed in agreement.

"she got me a red for nothing!" you protested, looking to millie for some sort of support as alessia scoffed. "she studded me!" alessia retaliated, crossing her arms firmly over your chest. "no no no! we leave it, on the pitch." millie warned, grabbing your arms as leah grabbed alessias.

"what are you-" "oh this is just-"

both girls forced your arms to wrap around one another, both you and your girlfriend going limp as they fell back off. "no! hug it out and say you love each other." millie ordered sternly, leah draping alessias arms over your shoulders as yours were forcibly wrapped around her torso by millie.

"im getting annoyed here!" leah warned, tapping her foot impatiently, you and alessias eyes rolling in sync as you hugged one another. "now say you love each other." millie waved and you withheld the urge to lash out at her.

"i hate you." you mumbled into the blondes shoulder, feeling her sharply pinch you for the comment as millie stepped in to hold your arms against one another, still forcing you into the hug.

"say it! or the next national camp i swear to god i will ruin the both of you. im talking hill sprints, push ups, burpees, i'll even make you do a private little beep test." leah warned seriously, pulling her captain rank as you sighed.

"love you, even if you tried to break my fucking ankle." "love you, even if you played it up to the ref."

"no! with sincerity, and a little smooch." millie ordered, leaning against the wall beside leah as you both groaned, though admittedly most of your anger had melted away the tighter your girlfriend clung onto you.

"i love you." alessia unwrapped one of her arms to grab your chin, turning your head and pecking your lips with a roll of her eyes. "i love you too." you leant up to quickly brush your lips with hers in return, both of you looking to your co-captains with raised eyebrows as they waved for you to separate.

"i'll see you at home?" alessia questioned, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, all traces of anger gone from her features. "i'll see you at home." you sighed, leaning in and properly kissing her, ignoring the immature squeals from the two older blondes to your side.

after all the moment you crossed the threshold of your shared home, you were enemies no more.

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt

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zorosdimples · 8 months

Text

WHEREVER YOU ARE

pairing ༄ zoro x gn!reader

warnings ༄ brief descriptions of violence. a little angsty at first but it’s fluff i pinky promise!

word count ༄ 796

notes ༄ i’ve been feeling so deeply about zoro lately—i cried over him a few nights ago. this is embarrassingly soggy; i poured my heart out for him. tagging my dearest ai @gojoest <3

home.

a soft breeze carries the word, a gentle whisper that ruffles zoro’s hair and curls over the shell of his ear, fading once the message rests uncomfortably on his tongue. the sea shimmers under the moon’s loving gaze, the lulling lap of waves the only sound that reaches the starlit deck. he should be chilly in the crisp salt air, but as he glances down at you—wrapped in his protective embrace, head resting against his bare chest and the steady beat of his heart—he realizes that he has never felt warmer.

home is a word that has never meant much to the swordsman.

from an orphanage to the dojo to the furthest reaches of the east blue, zoro was born a wanderer, cursed to roam land and sea with little more than three swords and a fierce dream. hunting humans and exchanging souls for bounties that could barely cover a warm meal, a glass of sake, and a dirty bed—it was a monastic existence, devoid of comfort and pleasure. but that’s the price you pay when you make a deal with the devil. greatness isn’t bestowed upon the righteous; greatness is something you must fight for with steel claws and blood in your maw. may the most vicious creature win.

home is make-believe for a demon. it’s a tale told to frightened children who don’t yet understand the cruelty of the world.

joining luffy did not cure zoro’s restlessness. it did not make him a better man—it only redirected his cruelty. the piles of flesh and bone he left in his wake loomed over him still; he trudged through a sticky stream of ichor in his nightmares. destruction in the name of something is destruction all the same. he could feel the shackles of solitude slipping, but he was (and still is) set in his ways. it’s difficult to unlearn that which you believe yourself to be. a lifetime of isolation bred a bone-deep loneliness that he couldn’t bleed out of his chest or escape when he cracked open his rib cage and welcomed eternal darkness.

home is a luxury a man—a monster—like him does not deserve.

you draw zoro from his thoughts as you shift in his lap to face him, wrapping your legs around his waist, smoothing your palms across the strong planes of his stomach. your delicate caresses dance upwards, an act of reverence as you trace over the story of his life.

puckered scars, rippling striae, dappled moles, smattered freckles; these etchings on his tanned flesh tell of his victories and mistakes and birthrights. when you reach his broad shoulders, one hand darts up to rake through his mint green strands, fingernails grazing his scalp in a way that has him chasing your touch. your other hand tinkles his earrings, the golden chimes playing their hymn as they reflect the glimmering moonlight.

zoro’s lone eye is enraptured with your movements, and when your sweet gaze meets his, you press a featherlight kiss to his unsuspecting lips. “what was that for?” he asks with a rumbling chuckle. his hands—rough, capable of atrocities—unconsciously rub up and down your sides with worshipful tenderness.

“i love you,” you confess airily with a smile, as though those aren’t the most devastating words the swordsman has ever heard.

if zoro wasn’t a selfish man he would weep at your words. he would tell you to find someone better, he would show you the mortal weight of his sins, and he would keep his distance from a soul as radiant and kind as yours. but decades of want have conditioned him to be greedy.

hearing that phrase—though zoro has heard it from your lips hundreds of times—has a grin rivaling the brightness of the moon split his sharp features. cradling his face, you stroke his dimples with your thumbs. his hands settle on your waist and tug you toward him, your bodies pressed together like hands in a prayer. he crooks his head so your mouths are a mere breath apart.

“i love you, too,” he murmurs before claiming your parted lips with his own.

zoro still has little more than three swords and a fierce dream. but he also has three warm meals a day, more glasses of sake than he could ever want, and a clean bed to crawl into at night. he’s no longer an orphan; with the straw hats there is friendship and laughter and adventure. if asked, he will insist that he’s not a good man, that he’s a demon. but he’s fiercely loyal to his family—he will cut down anyone that stands in their way to freedom.

and then there’s you. with you, zoro has a love he has never felt before. as far as he’s concerned?

wherever you are is home.

#i hope you all enjoy bc this was SO self indulgent #and very emotional to write #i’m exposing myself here #crawling back into my hidey hole from whence i came #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro #one piece #roronoa zoro x you #zoro x you #zoro <3 #༄ kae writes

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jedimaesteryoda · 27 days

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One trend I've noticed a lot lately in the speculation of Tyrion meeting Daenerys is how he'll influence her. The argument often is that Tyrion will encourage her more "fire and blood" destructive tendencies when they get to Westeros. However, this view is often one-sided as it's always about how Tyrion will influence Daenerys but never about how Daenerys will influence Tyrion.

"Daenerys, I am thrice your age," Ser Jorah said. "I have seen how false men are. Very few are worthy of trust, and Daario Naharis is not one of them. Even his beard wears false colors." That angered her. "Whilst you have an honest beard, is that what you are telling me? You are the only man I should ever trust?" He stiffened. "I did not say that." "You say it every day. Pyat Pree's a liar, Xaro's a schemer, Belwas a braggart, Arstan an assassin . . . do you think I'm still some virgin girl, that I cannot hear the words behind the words?" "Your Grace—" She bulled over him. "You have been a better friend to me than any I have known, a better brother than Viserys ever was. You are the first of my Queensguard, the commander of my army, my most valued counselor, my good right hand. I honor and respect and cherish you—but I do not desire you, Jorah Mormont, and I am weary of your trying to push every other man in the world away from me, so I must needs rely on you and you alone. It will not serve, and it will not make me love you any better." -ASOS, Daenerys IV

Daenerys is not the sheltered child Aegon was who Tyrion could easily manipulate as shown when she called out Jorah for trying to isolate her from other men. Even Tyrion admitted to Aegon, having never met Daenerys that "she is strong" and "fierce." Daenerys was more worldly at 14 than Aegon is at 16. Even as a small, frightened girl at age 13 in the beginning of the series, she had more street smarts than her adult brother Viserys and has shown to be a prodigy in the series. Tyrion would not be able to manipulate her easily, especially since would initially be wary of him for being a Lannister.

Tyrion at the end of the day would be serving as her subordinate, him being largely dependent on her. Tyrion largely is the way he is because of the toxic family he grew up in. The Lannister vision has no idea of a Good Society, it's just pure self-aggrandizement by any means necessary. As the adage goes, rot always starts at the head. The monarchs Tyrion served as Hand, Joffrey and Cersei, were both cruel, incompetent tyrants with senses of entitlement that outweighed their actual abilities. They also had no concept of the duties of a monarch to their subjects, and instead just abused their power over others, including sexually. The one who actually ran the show for the Lannister regime, Tywin, was a cold, abusive Machiavellian who brutalized the smallfolk and his children, seeing them as pawns in his schemes. Tyrion could be cunning and brutal, because it was both encouraged and necessary for the winner-take-all, dog-eat-dog world of the Lannister court. It was an environment designed to bring out the darker side of his nature.

However, since the beginning we saw hints of the lighter side of his nature such as when he gave emotional support to Jon and designed a special saddle for Bran. He even helped Catelyn when they were attacked by the mountain clans even though she kidnapped him. In A Clash of Kings, we see hints of Tyrion wanting to be something other than the cold Machiavellian like his father when he stands up for Sansa when Joffrey beats her, and he has Morec killed and Slynt sent to the Wall for killing Barra, wanting to "do justice." In A Dance with Dragons, he risks his life to protect Aegon and even in his lowest he looks out for Penny even though she is a complete stranger to him.

Daenerys is a foil to Cersei, whose ruling philosophy is expressed in the statement "Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can't protect themselves?" Daenerys tries to live up to the image of an ideal monarch who protects the weak. She liberates the oppressed from slavery and tries to protect them, even performing acts like tending to those afflicted with the bloody flux herself, marrying someone she doesn't want and putting her plan of going to Westeros on hold to achieve peace. Working as Hand to Queen Daenerys, Tyrion may find himself in a change of pace in a different environment where for once his more positive tendencies are encouraged with his fondness for "cripples, bastards and broken things."

In short, in cutting himself off from his toxic family, Tyrion may actually find a new beginning in service to Daenerys. He's the Machiavellian polymath and court politician she needs, and she's the competent, idealistic monarch he needs.

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #queen daenerys #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #tyrion lannister #house lannister #house targaryen #meereen #queen cersei #cersei

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shores-of-oblivion · 1 month

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Okay I really need to gush about Elster. Sometimes it's hard to relate to video game protagonists and even feel like they're much of a character, but Signalis is a rare case of a protagonist I can and have absolutely fallen in love with. Visually Elster is great, I've always been a fan of android/cyborg women (thanks Android 18), and considering she looks like she stepped out of Blame, she's perfect in that regard.

She clearly has an appreciation for art, there's no way she can't having fallen so in love with an artist, but art is also something that "destabilizes" her, aka: makes her become a person again. There's a reason why Ariane was told not to show her movies or music. (Or rather would have been told if she'd bothered to read the file on LSTR units) Through art and music and being shown love, she was able to become a full person and share a love with Ariane. Maybe I'm just a sappy romantic artist myself, but this is so real to me. It's why I love all the references to other art that the game makes. I have personal experiences with some of those works and they mean a lot to me and have informed who I am as a person.

Elster has loved so fiercely that she is not only haunted by her love for Ariane, but also her love for Alina from her previous life. The memories that resurface from her Gestalts life are memories of Alina and their time on Vineta fighting a war that would ravage the planet. The memories bleed so much into each other that Elster confuses Alina and Ariane for the first half of the game. To me, this is all just another part of the repeating cycles, because not only has Elster been repeating the events of the game over and over, these two people have been dancing with each other throughout multiple lives.

And things probably didn't end well for Alina and Lilith. Both experienced a horrific war. Lilith was used as a basis for the LSTR units, something that includes having yourself erased from society and people's memories and turned into a mass produced slave for an authoritarian regime, and I doubt Alina survived, considering the image of Lilith standing before 6 markers with flowers placed atop one.

This game contains so much horror, of the cosmic, body and authoritarian flavour, but it never stops being about love. Elsters love for Ariane that sees her go through hell an endless amount of times, and Lilith's love for Alina, which was so strong that it persists in her even after she'd been turned into someone else, and is the first thing to resurface when she starts to remember who she was.

#signalis #signalis spoilers #elster #signalis elster

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avocado-writing · 2 months

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hiii your bg3 writing is so *chefs kiss*

I was hoping you'd be able to write the companions' reactions to a bard!tav, giving them a private serenade one night. like they lead them to a clearing away from camp one night and there's a picnic set up and tav sings a song they wrote specifically for their love?

if all the companions is too many, could you please specifically do Halsin, Astarion, Minthara and Wyll?

oh, cute! going to give you a lute, as I think that’s easiest!

Astarion

he makes a comment about how he feels the picnic was a bit unnecessary as he can’t eat it, but you mention you’re his snack later ;)

you sit him down, pour him a glass of wine, and pull out your lute

you ask, suddenly uncharacteristically shy, if you can play him something.

he cocks his head to the side and nods.

your fingers dance across strings, and when you start to sing, he realises it’s a song about him.

you once offered to be his mirror, and tonight you repeat that. your song is about how lovely he is, in every way. how he’s handsome but kinder than he wants to admit. brave. fierce.

its the most sincere celebration of his character he’s ever heard, and by the end of it, he’s left shocked.

“oh…” “did you like it?” chewing your lip, nervous.

“it’s… you’re…” he really doesn’t have the words to convey how you’ve made him feel. so he gently takes your chin in his hand and kisses you.

the kiss gets deeper. the lute is abandoned. so, really, is the picnic. the music the two of you make then is of a different kind.

later, when he has time to come up with a suitable review, he will tell you how much it meant to him. you are his favourite musician, and he has a new favourite song.

Halsin

oh, he’s been around for a long time, but this is the first time someone’s done something like this for him.

he’s just sat in bowled-over silence as you play for him, and it is amazing. an epic ode to his life and kindness, how strong and handsome you think he is.

he comes closer as you sing, sitting right next to you. studying every inch of your face as you perform.

when you’re done, he tells you that it was the loveliest thing he’s ever heard.

“I’ve heard pods of whales singing as they meet up with their lost family… until now, it was the sweetest sound to have graced my ears.”

he gets you to repeat the song and turns into different animals to enjoy it, be it via vibrations or different ways of hearing. either way he wants to be surrounded by your music, and you.

Minthara

absolutely no idea how to respond.

she was brought up in a cutthroat world. this softness is new to her.

she remains quiet for a while as she tries to work out if you’re trying to get anything from her. is this a trick?

”oh, I’m sorry,” you say after a while when she’s just been staring. “did you not like it?”

”no. no, it was… play it again.”

you do, and she really listens to the lyrics. they’re about her beauty. how glad you are to have met her. her strength in battle and soul.

she’s exceptionally moved.

“this is… a priceless gift that you’ve given me. I have no way to repay you.” “I don’t need repayment. it was freely given.”

she kisses you, for she has no way else to thank you. you have moved her more than she thought possible.

Wyll

you play and he listens. his eyes and smile go wide.

absolutely enraptured. claps when you’re done, and cheers your performance. you laugh and bow for him.

he tells you how much you mean to him, what a sweet gift this is. how your love is his most treasured possession.

he reaches into his pocket… and takes out some paper.

“I… I know this is incredible timing but actually… I wrote you something, myself.”

and he starts to read out a poem.

oh, it is lovely. full of flowery verse, and sweet appreciations of you. all the little things which make him love you. you pick up your lute and play along eventually, and he gets into the rhythm too.

the two of you laugh at the fact that you both had the same idea! you’re so alike, so in sync.

he holds you tenderly, kisses you softly.

you end up writing many songs about your Blade. he is your perfect muse.

bonus:

Karlach bursts into tears when she hears it, and scoops you up into a big hug at the end. she’s so emotional. she can’t stop saying she loves you, she loves your song, all of it. lots of wet kisses for you.

Gale is rendered speechless for the first time he can remember. he just stares at you in adoration. he’s never had anyone love him enough to write a song about him before, and he full force of his affection for you hits him in that moment. he is smitten.

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #gale x tav #gale of waterdeep x tav #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #wyll x tav #wyll x reader #wyll ravengard x tav #wyll ravenguard x reader #karlach x tav #karlach x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #minthara x reader #minthara x tav

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myocsfanfictions · 22 days

Text

THE WRATH OF FIRE

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and an outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair was dark but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen, and her wrath was not different from the one that burned inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 8

The rumors surrounding Rhaenyra’s children only got worse when her third child had been born.

Ysilla was now a girl of fifteen. She was very different from the skinny little child that had left Runestone so long ago. People would describe her as elegant, intelligent, and beautiful. She had grown to be graceful, as much as her dragon was. And as Dārysyr, her fierce was known by now. Her dragon had grown large and powerful; his muscles were well-formed, and his wings were strong. Ysilla went flying on Dragonback once a week. She would have liked to do it more, but she had her studies and her duties.

Just a couple of years before, Ysilla had the chance to speak with the Alchemists of King’s Landing, and she had been left very fascinated.

“Vysenia was said to be familiar with dark magic,” she said one day, sitting beneath the Hearth Tree as she observed Aemond practicing combat movements with a stick.

“You want to be Vysenia born again?” He asked, fighting against air.

“Do you think I’d made a fool of myself?” She asked with a little smile as she looked at the boy.

“No,” he answered, turning to her, “I think you are as willed as her. But with the grace of Rhaenys.”

Graceful. Yes. Ysilla had grown up to be very grateful. She knew how to bow, to speak, and to dance. The court was well impressed by her. And from Runestone, her aunt Jeyne was hoping for a good arranging for Ysilla. Not only because she had become very well respected by the people in King’s Landing but also because Queen Alicent seemed to have high expectations from Ysilla. She called her her ward.

“She probably wishes for you to be wed to one of her sons,” that rumor had reached her aunt Jeyne as well. And she seemed pleased by it in her letters. A Royce on the throne.

Ysilla, on the contrary, had no thirst for power. The thought of ambitions and schemes only reminded her of her father and what he had done to be always a step closer to the Iron Throne. But she was not her father.

The lack of personal ambition, though, did not make her blind to politics and schemes. It was because she knew how harmful they could be that she was always vigilant and observant of what happened in court. Fully aware that knowledge and duty were what was required to keep alliances and peace. She had grown up side by side with the Queen, raised by the same people that raised the princes. She knew that the health of the King was faltered, as did the respect some people had for the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms when her children started to grow up to become more similar to the Captain of the Guards than her own husband. Everybody knew, and yet the King did nothing. This had also happened ten years before when her father had killed her mother.

“Are you not coming to the pits?” Aegon asked that morning when they were breaking their fast.

“You heard that right,” she answered, smiling at him before taking a sip of her milk.

“You cannot ditch me like this,” he said, leaning towards her with playful eyes, “I’ve promised you today would have been fun.”

Aegon had grown up, but his search for fun and enjoyment had remained the same. “Helaena wished to dance today. You know how I love her and how I enjoy dancing.”

He cocked his head to a side, “More than riding Dārysyr?” Then his hands moved to touch a strain of her hair, “Did I say how I like your hair today?” Ysilla took his hand to push it away. Aegon had always had a fascination with her hair, and since he had started to grow and notice women, he had begun to voice his compliments on her hair and appearance more often than not.

“I love nothing more than Dārysyr,” she answered, looking at the boy. "And we already flew with him and Sunfyre last week.”

Not so long before, Aegon managed to bend Sunfyre, becoming his dragonrider. Sunfyre was known to be the most beautiful dragon alive, and he really was. He had golden scales and pink shades, and even his flames were golden.

“I wasn’t meant to go fly together,” he said, a mischief light in his eyes.

“What’s with the face?” She asked, making him laugh.

“What face?”

“The one that always brings you trouble,” she answered with a glare. He was planning something. She knew him too well to be mistaken. She didn’t have time to ask because the wooden door opened to let Aemond enter the chamber.

“Good morrow, Aemond,” she greeted him with a smile.

“Ysilla, brother,” he answered shortly. It was how Aemond was, very different from his older brother. He was composed and dutiful. Less impulsive than Aegon was. “Mother is looking for you, Ysilla.” He said, sitting down.

“That’s why you’re not coming. Because of Mother,” Aegon said, making Ysilla turn to him.

“I wasn’t supposed to,” she said, standing up. Her eyes went from one brother to the other. "I’ll see you both when you return from the pit,” then she looked at Aegon.

“Behave.” He blown her a kiss.

“Like always, my sweet.”

“Stop that,” Aemond said, focusing his attention on the plate in front of him. Ysilla ignored Aegon, making her way towards the door. She wondered why the Queen wanted to see her. Ysilla knew she would have been busy with Rhaenyra after the princess’s labor ended and the third of her children would be born. Rhaenyra had been screaming for hours, and Ysilla stopped to observe the corridor that led to her chambers on her way to the Queen. By the screams, she seemed to be suffering very much. That made her anxious. She knew that it was a woman’s duty to give children to her husband. She just hoped the gods had mercy for them and an easy way to bring life to the world.

“Princess,” Ser Cole was guarding the door, bowing his head as she walked closer.

“Good morrow, Ser,” she answered politely. “I hope your day has been good so far.”

The man smiled, “It is, Princess.” His smile would have made her blush just a few years before. But the more she grew up, the less embarrassing it became to share words with men, even handsome men such as Ser Criston.

When Ysilla entered the chamber, the Queen was standing next to the window, and a serving girl was fixing the back of her dress.

“My Queen,” she greeted, bowing. “Have you asked for me?”

“Good morrow, my dear,” Alicent Hightower smiled kindly at her, “Indeed. Helaena is a little... agitated today."

Helaena had stayed the same in those years. She was still the sweetest girl that Ysilla had ever met. Sweet and gentle. But her queer behavior sometimes agitated even herself. Ysilla had seen Helaena in those moments, and she knew that the princess didn't like to be alone when she was feeling like that.

"We'll find something else to do then," Ysilla answered. They could have taken a walk or talked about bugs. Helaena liked bugs. Ysilla would have found something to ease Helaena's mind.

The Queen smiled at her, putting a hand on her arm. "What a blessing you are." Ysilla returned the gesture, bowing her head in gratitude and respect.

At that moment, the door behind them opened to reveal Rhaenyra and Laenor. Ysilla widened her eyes to see her cousin.

"Rhaenyra," the Queen gasped, "You should be resting after your labors."

"I have no doubt that you would prefer that, Your Grace," Rhaenyra answered, trying to keep her trembling voice steady. The pain that she had experienced was well visible on her face, and it was not surprising.

Ysilla had heard Rhaenyra screaming only a few moments before. She knew what happened during labor, and the septa had explained that to her. How could her cousin possibly walk? Or even walking up the stairs?

"You must sit," the Queen said, turning to one of her serving girls, "Talya, fetch a cushion for the Princess.” The girl bowed and turned to attend Rhaenyra.

“There’s no need,” Rhaenyra said. By the Queen insisted.

Ysilla followed Alicent as they walked towards the couple. Rhaenyra had finally accepted sitting down with Laenor's help, but seeing her in pain and holding her newborn baby, Ysilla felt like moving so that she could help her cousin sit. As the girl touched her arm, the Princess turned to look at her. A small smile appeared on her lips, probably still trying to hide her pain. It was well-known how stubborn Rhaenyra was.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“There’s no need,” Ysilla answered, then exchanging a look with the Queen.

Alicent was observing the baby like she had done with Lucerys just a few years before. Ysilla knew what she was thinking: even this child had nothing of Ser Laenor in him.

As Ysilla went back to stand next to the Queen, King Viserys entered the chamber with a huge smile on his face. “What happy news this morning,” he exclaimed.

The years had not been gentle to the King. His body was weaker and more fragile. His skin had gotten paler and his hair thinner. The condition of his left hand had gotten worse. He first lost just three fingers, but it kept getting worse until the Maester decided that it was better to cut off the entire arm. Even so, Ysilla’s uncle tried to maintain a positive attitude, always smiling at everyone.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” said Ser Leanor, taking the child in his arms to present him to the King. Ysilla observed Rhaenyra’s husband’s face as he looked at the baby. He smiled happily and proudly. Could he really be so blind? He had never seemed such a man to Ysilla. It was true, though, that he was not very present as a father.

He is more present than mine, anyway. She thought as she observed the unbothered son of Corlys Velaryon pass the child to the King. But even in his expression, Ysilla could not see surprise or disappointment. She could not understand why both men acted so blindly about the behavior of the future Queen? Why did her actions have no repercussions? Everybody knew, everybody whispered. And yet the King did nothing.

He must truly love her, if he is protecting her like that. Ysilla thought, observing the happiness on Viserys’ face.

“A fine Prince,” he said, his eyes looking at every one of them. Ysilla smiled, lowering her eyes. “Sturdy. You will make a fearsome knight.”

Surely, Ysilla thought. If the rumors were true and his father was Ser Harwin Strong, he surely could have become a terrific fighter as an adult. Breakbone was the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms.

“Does the babe have a name yet?” The Queen asked with curiosity.

Rhaenyra took a breath, “We haven’t spoken-”

“Joffrey.” Ser Leanor interrupted his wife. “He’ll be called Joffrey.”

Ysilla looked between them, hoping that her face did not give away the kind of thought she had in mind. Had they spoken of it or not? Did Rhaenyra agree with such a name?

“An unusual name for a Velaryon.” The Queen was speaking the truth. Velaryon came from Valyria as much as the Targaryens. Their names came from Old Valyria to keep the traditions. But it wasn’t only their costume: in the Seven Kingdoms, all the Noble Houses had names and family names. Ysilla’s name was a Royce name. Her mother, Lady Rhea, had done it on purpose. Ysilla’s father could be a Targaryen, but she had Royce’s blood in her veins as well.

“I do believe he has his father’s nose,” Ysilla would have frowned at the King’s words, but she had to keep her composure, so she decided to look at Rhaenyra and smile at her. The Princess did the same, but there was no truth behind that gesture. They were both aware of what was happening.

The King chuckled, still focused on Joffrey, and soon after, Laenor did the same before clearing his throat.

“If you don’t mind, Your Grace, your daughter has exerted herself heroically and should rest,” Ser Laenor said, ready to help his wife get on her feet.

“Of course,” the King answered. The Queen was soon at his side, taking Joffrey in her hands. Ysilla moved aside when she saw the King walking closer to his daughter, but she didn’t walk very far, curious about what they would have talked about.

“Well done, my girl,” Viserys said with tenderness. Such a tone forced Ysilla to lower her eyes, fully aware that her father would never have such sweetness for her. If she’ll ever see him again. She knew that he was an Essos with his lady wife and their two twin daughters. She wondered how he was fathering them. If he was cold and cruel like he had been to her so long ago. Ten years had passed, and yet she remembered the way he had looked at her as he said that he felt nothing for his firstborn daughter.

“I do hope the labor was easy,” the King said as Ysilla walked towards the Queen, who was giving the baby back to Ser Leanor.

“Do keep trying, Ser Laenor. Sooner or later, you may get one that looks like you.” She had said it so politely, but her intentions were quite clear—she was voicing the thoughts of the entire court. The man looked startled, and when he noticed Ysilla standing there, she didn’t say anything. She only smiled, with no true intention behind it.

Rhaenyra then walked towards her husband before they both left the chamber. Ysilla bowed gracefully as they disappeared behind the heavy wooden door.

“What a happy day,” the King exclaimed full of happiness.

The Queen lowered her eyes from next to him. “Indeed, my love,” she answered.

The whole situation was against everything that politics and duty required. Ysilla could understand why her uncle was protecting his daughter, but her King was making a fool of himself. And whispers could only get louder and louder, not only against Rhaenyra but against the King as well. He was not only Rhaenyra’s father; he was the Protector of the Realm, of the peace of the Realm. How would the realm answer once the King had left that world? What was ahead of them? That uncertainty was heavy in her heart. Politics could be ruthless, and it could reclaim anyone’s life.

“You wanted to dance, I’m sorry,” Helaena was saying as they walked in the corridors of the Red Keep.

“Nonsense, Helaena,” she answered honestly. The events of that morning had left little room for light emotions in her heart. “I don’t feel like dancing today.”

“Running from the back is important,” her cousin said. Ysilla turned to observe her. It didn’t matter how many years they had known each other; Helaena’s strange sentences left Ysilla confused all the time. She knew better than to ask. Helaena didn’t know how to explain the meaning of her words, and the more people asked her to, the more she got agitated. That was one of those days. One where Ysilla stood quiet, listening to all the strange things her cousin felt to say. She loved Helaena, but on those days, the hours went on slowly.

I wish I was at the Dragonpit, she thought. Ysilla wished nothing more than to be with Dārysyr, especially during days that felt so heavy in her heart.

They were back in Helaena’s chamber when the Queen arrived. Ysilla was set next to her cousin, who was very interested in counting the rings of a centipede. They have been there long. And Ysilla decided to take one of the many books that she had in her chamber to keep herself occupied until Helaena was satisfied with her counting. When the Queen entered, Ysilla was ready to stand up and bow, but the woman gestured for her to sit still and keep with her reading.

“This one has sixty rings and two pairs of legs on each, ” Helaena whispered, looking closer at the centipede, “It makes two-hundred-twenty-four.”

“Yes, it is,” the Queen said in a soft tone, even if her expression could not hide her worry. It was difficult to communicate with Helaena when she acted like that. They had to be patient.

“It has eyes,” the girl spoke, looking closely at the creature in her hand.

“Does he?” Ysilla asked, keeping reading her book.

Helaena muttered in agreement, “Though, I don’t believe it can see.” Ysilla looked at her with a confused frown.

“And why is that so, do you think?” Asked the Queen.

“It is beyond our understanding.”

Beyond mine, for sure, Ysilla thought at her cousin’s words. Those were too much of abstract concepts for her mind. She liked history better.

“I suppose you’re right,” the Queen answered. Some things just are.” As she finished speaking, though, the door opened to reveal Aemond. Ysilla put aside her book. Her eyes widened, seeing how dirty his face and clothes were.

“Aemond,” the woman gasped, walking to her son, “What have you done?”

“He did it again.” Ysilla stood up after Helaena’s words. He must have entered the Dragonpit. That place was dangerous for someone without a dragon, and Aemond was the only one of them without one. Dragons bend only to one person, and when they did, they will only listen to their rider. They could become very dangerous for anyone else. But Aemond had always been very fascinated by dragons. The pain in his eyes was always visible when they went to the Dragonpit.

Ysilla could understand him. She had been fascinated, too, before Dārysyr’s egg hatched. Being a Targaryen without a dragon hurt a lot.

“After how many times you’ve been warned,” the Queen reproved him, “Must I have you confined to your chambers?”

“They made me do it!” Aemond argued angrily. Who made him do it? Ysilla moved forward, feeling for her cousin. He truly seemed so upset. What had happened? But the Queen didn’t seem to share Ysilla’s same thoughts.

“As if you needed encouragement,” the woman said, worryingly observing her son to be sure he was not harmed. "Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding.” When she spoke like that, the Queen truly reminded Ysilla of her mother's skepticism about dragons.

“They gave me a pig!” Aemond exclaimed. Ysilla’s eyes widened.

“A what?” The Queen asked in confusion.

“They said they found a dragon for me. But it was a pig!” Aemond answered, trembling with anger.

I’ve promised you today would have been fun. Aegon had said to her that morning. He was behind it. Ysilla could not believe it. He knew how Aemond suffered since he was the only one without a dragon. Even Rhaenyra’s sons had one each, but not Aemond, a son of a King. How could he be so stupid to do that to his own brother?

“You will have a dragon one day,” Alicent said trying to calm her son, “I know it.”

Aemond deserved a dragon. It was saddening to know that his egg hadn’t hatched. He had asked Ysilla many times how she did it as they grew up, but she truly wasn't sure how or why. Dārysyr was just born one day. It had been a very normal day. But Aemond’s didn’t, and it was not fair. Why did the Gods play such games?

Aemond lowered his gaze, “They all laughed.”

And why did the Gods make Aegon to be such an idiot?

_____________________________________________________________

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seoltzuki · 14 days

Text

Ex-Girlfriend

sana x fem reader

angst, suggestive

The penthouse was alive with the hum of chatter and laughter as guests mingled, sipping on champagne and enjoying the panoramic view of the city below. Sana stood by the window, her fingers tracing the delicate patterns etched into the glass, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

She hadn't expected to see you here, not after all this time. Yet, as if fate had other plans, there you were, leaning against the bar with a glass in hand, your eyes scanning the room with an air of detached indifference. Your presence sent a jolt through her, awakening memories she had long buried beneath layers of denial and regret.

Heart pounding in her chest, Sana took a deep breath and wove her way through the crowd, her steps faltering with each passing moment. She wasn't sure what she was hoping to achieve by confronting you, but the ache of your unresolved past gnawed at her like a festering wound, demanding to be acknowledged.

As she approached, she couldn't help but notice the way your gaze lingered on her, a flicker of recognition dancing in the depths of your eyes. For a moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a fragile bubble of anticipation.

"Hey," she said, her voice barely audible above the din of the party.

"Hey," you replied, your voice soft and warm, sending a shiver down her spine.

You stood there for a moment, caught in a silent dance of longing and regret, the echoes of your shared history hanging heavy in the air like a veil of unspoken words.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Sana said finally, her voice steady and unwavering.

You shrugged, a wistful smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Funny how life has a way of bringing people back together, isn't it?" you remarked, your eyes searching hers for some semblance of understanding.

Sana nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from you. Despite everything, the pull between you was as strong as ever, drawing her closer with each passing moment.

Just as the air thickened with anticipation, your phone rang, its intrusive melody piercing the charged atmosphere. Sana's gaze flickered to the screen, her heart quickening at the sight of the name of someone with a heart beside it. A rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins, fueling her determination to test the waters of your longing.

But before she could dwell on it, you silenced the call and returned the phone to your pocket, the moment passing in the blink of an eye. Sana suppressed a smirk, her mind racing with possibilities as she seized the opportunity to press her advantage.

"When your phone rings," she began, her voice dripping with seduction, "do you wish it was me?"

"Sometimes," you admitted, your voice husky with emotion.

A thrill surged through Sana at your confession, her confidence soaring as she reveled in the knowledge of her power over you. Despite the distance that had grown between you, the connection you shared remained as potent as ever, drawing you together in a dance of temptation and desire.

"And when you go out," you said, your voice low and laced with a hint of longing, "do you wish I could see you look so slick?"

Your question caught Sana off guard, a flicker of surprise dancing in her eyes before a smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. It was as if you had peeled back the layers of pretense, exposing the raw, unspoken truths that lingered.

A playful glint sparkled in her gaze as she leaned in closer, her breath mingling with yours in the charged air between you both.

"Every time," she confessed, her voice dripping with temptation, "don't you miss my cute face? You gotta be missing me."

Your heart pounded in your chest as her words ignited a fierce longing within you, despite the rational part of your mind warning against it. The memory of her smile, the curve of her lips, the sparkle in her eyes—it all flooded back, overpowering your senses with a primal desire you couldn't ignore.

"This is too bad," you managed to say, your voice strained with inner turmoil, "I'm your ex-girlfriend."

But even as the words left your lips, your body betrayed you, yearning for her touch, her warmth, her presence. It was a battle between heart and mind, desire and reason, and in that moment, desire threatened to overwhelm every semblance of logic you possessed.

Sana's eyes bore into yours, a mixture of understanding and desire flickering in their depths. She could sense the inner struggle you were facing, the conflict between what you wanted and what you knew was right.

With a tantalizing smile playing on her lips, she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your skin as she traced a delicate path along your arm with her manicured nail. A shiver ran down your spine at her touch, the sensation sending a wave of heat coursing through your veins.

As she reached your jaw, her touch lingered, her thumb grazing lightly over your lips. You couldn't help but lean into her touch, the magnetic pull between you too strong to resist.

"I know," she whispered, her voice soft and tender, "but sometimes what the body wants isn't what the mind says we should have."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning as she closed the distance between you, her lips brushing ever so softly against your skin. A low moan escaped her lips as she felt the heat of your proximity, her own desires ignited by the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you both.

"I lied when I said I was over you," you confessed, your voice low and breathless, as you reached out to take her hand. The admission hung in the air between you, thick with tension and unspoken longing.

Sana's breath hitched at your words, her pulse quickening as she felt the heat of your touch against her skin. With a subtle yet deliberate movement, she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

"I want you," she breathed, her voice dripping with seduction, her words a sultry invitation that sent a rush of heat coursing through your veins. "I need you," she added, her voice a desperate plea, her vulnerability laid bare for you to see.

Her scent enveloped you, intoxicating and irresistible, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. With each inhale, you were consumed by the heady aroma, a potent cocktail of desire that wrapped around you like a velvet cloak.

As her words echoed in your mind, her breath mingled with yours, creating an intimate connection that seemed to transcend time and space. In that moment, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, entangled in a dance of longing and surrender.

Driven by an unspoken hunger, you leaned in closer, drawn inexorably toward her as if under a spell. The heat of her body radiated against yours, fueling the fire that raged between you, until there was nothing left but the primal need to lose yourself in her.

And as the first light of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, Sana found herself under you, the barriers between crumbling beneath the weight of unspoken longing. Bodies moved together, gasps and moans blending with the symphony of the morning.

She knew that some flames were indeed meant to burn forever, even if they left nothing but ashes in their wake. And as she surrendered herself to you, she couldn't help but wonder if you still longed for her as much as she longed for you.

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