#and yet. that does not free him from SO many horrors. in a way he's punished for it. but it's all he's ever known.

[moe-broey]

FUCK YOUR FATHER FUCK YOUR FATHER FUVK YOUR FATHWR FU--

#final one tonight (and the one i was looking for when i found the other one i was initially looking for) #(in my. fucking. folder.) #this has to be book 1??? i'm certain it is (shot taken revisiting prev books) #still like. this is so fuvked up. like. it's been so long and so it's easy to forget (esp w gustav being canonically dead now) #but like. imagine having a parent who refuses to fucking talk to you in your own fucking house #just cause they disagree w a choice you made. #and like as i say that i know for some people they don't have to imagine. severely fucked up and i'm so sorry. #UGH..... IT'S JUST...... SO UNFATHOMABLY CRUEL. #oh but he's just strict. a stern father figure. dude shut up i'm gonna throw up LMFAOOOOO #also not to be queer about it but oh my god. holy shit. oh my fucking god. jesus fucking christ. FUCK #there are many reasons alfonse fire emblem makes me insane and unwell and this js one of them #to me he's like. def queer but not in a way where it's visible. heavily influenced/defined by his agab and how he was raised due to it. #he has Just Enough things going for him to make it so he has done Everything Right. #and yet. that does not free him from SO many horrors. in a way he's punished for it. but it's all he's ever known. #it's normal. he's normal. everything is normal. this is just how it's supposed to be. #i'm going to chew on his arm. gnaw at his fuvking shoulders. have him sit on my lap and be held. #for once in his fuckinh life. #what thw fuck ever man!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EXPLODE ‼️‼️‼️💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 #fe alfonse

[revenantghost]

Man, I think the best and worst part of Knives’s character is just how compelling he is*

I get it. You get it. We all understand exactly how and why he is the way he is. So many people have put this idea into better words than I could. He witnessed an unspeakable horror at an incredibly young age. He knew he was different, that he was other, and a worry set deeply into his bones that humanity would reject him for being born who he is. 

And he was right. It was so much worse than he could have ever realized. He was born to be an object for humanity to use as they see fit. All he wanted was love and peace for himself and his brother. And after seeing that? What they did so mercilessly to Tesla? Who can blame him for not believing in any future with humanity in it. Who can imagine a future without unbelievable strife and prejudice when you’re outnumbered and are seen as an item to dissect and toy with as you see fit

And yet

And yet

In his fear, in his need to control and correct, the cycle continues. The abused becomes the abuser. He assaults his brother multiple times. He takes away Vash’s autonomy and manipulates his body without his consent. Hell he happily experiments with/tests and uses Vash’s body while unconscious. He says he loves Vash while refusing to hear a word coming out of his mouth. Because, if he has a moment of doubt, any hint of weakness, all of that anger slips away and he becomes that boy again--afraid and weak and alone

In his fear, he takes plants. He strips them of their independence and will, denying them their souls. Again, he uses the bodies of his siblings against their will. He displays their corpses to keep him angry instead of putting them to rest. He kills and breaks apart the body of his sister so that he doesn’t have to die, so that he can be reborn. He willfully denies the thoughts, dreams, and pains of his sisters and instead absorbs them, impregnates them, tries to kill them in the “right” way

In his fear, he drove humanity into hurting his kind more. He forced their hand into injuring and killing more plants than they’d ever dreamed of harming. He’s the one that put Vash into a constant position where he’s gaining mountains of scars. (His brother who, on the opposite end of the spectrum, has let the cycle of abuse continue while using himself as a shield instead of breaking free from the pattern.) He uses and discards the humans near him no matter the kindness and devotion they shows him

The same behavior Knives shows everybody and everything else

He’s awful. Absolutely sick and perverted and so stuck in his own mind that all he does is hurt and hurt and hurt

And yet

I get it. I’ve been traumatized to the point where all I want to do is cause pain in return. To feel that justice can exist and will come to pass, no matter the cost. To be so afraid that anger is the only safe emotion you can cling to. It’s what makes him one of the most compelling antagonists I’ve ever seen. Kudos to Nightow for fucking me up about Knives and his pain more by the day, honestly

*Except for ‘98 Knives lmao, that man is fabulously unhinged and overly dramatic about everything and I love him for it

#Trigun #Trigun Maximum #Trigun Stampede #Tristamp #Trimax #Trigun Meta #My Trigun Meta #Long Post #I did NOT intend for this to be so long #Maybe a quarter of this length at MOST #Ohhhh this didn't show up in the tag I'M VERY ANGY

[ponderingmoonlight]

Being held hostage by Ryomen Sukuna

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: How you ended up in Sukuna's prison instead of getting killed in an instant? You don't know. What you do know however that the king of curse has more to offer than what you ever imagined...

Warnings: no real smut but it's getting heated y'all, Sukuna being a smooth operator, not 100% proofread

enjoy

„Feeling lonely?“

You huff to yourself, wrists desperately fighting against the chains that keep you in place, tired eyes roaming around in order to find him.

Him, Ryomen Sukuna. The monster who kidnapped you and brought you here, chained you to the ceiling while kneeling on the cold ground. Fuck, how did you even allow him to catch you like this? Why didn’t you use your sphere, fight against him, give everything you have?

You furrow your eyebrows, glaring at his stupid grin with nothing but rejection. Because that man in front of you is more than a simple curse, let alone a human being. Not even you, a special grade jujutsu sorcerer, stood a chance against him. Not when you were too focused on saving your student’s lives to realize that you run straight into his open arms.

“I hate that look on your stupid pretty face. It almost looks like…disgust…”, he comments dryly.

With a swift motion, he yanks your chin upward, forces you to stare straight into his red eyes. You hate the way your nerves start tingling by just one look at him, the horror that radiates from those crimson orbs. If he wanted to, he could kill you without blinking, could end your life right here without hesitating. But instead, he decided to chain you into his living room in order to tease you.

“That’s exactly what it is”, you press out, failing miserably in an attempt to escape the sheer force of his fingertips.

“Feisty, I like it. We have a great time ahead of us, (y/n).”

The way he says your name runs shivers down your spine. Fuck, that unpromising look on his face makes you slowly but surely lose your composure. But why…Why are you even here? Why did none other than Ryomen Sukuna decide that you have to stay alive even though he would have been able to kill you without thinking twice? Why are you trapped here instead of six feet under?

“Why am I not dead yet?”

The words escape your mouth faster than you’re able to think. Slowly, he kneels down in front of you, nothing but amusement glimmering in his deadly orbs. Your heart almost beats out of your chest. Why does the air suddenly feel thicker, your lungs refusing their service while all you’re able to do is staring at him? Ryomen Sukuna is your worst enemy, killed countless people, brought nothing but grief your way. But…

You swallow hard. Did he really just get on his knees in front of you?

“I’ve been observing you for quite some time. Even though you’re nothing but a weak human, there’s something I haven’t seen before. Something I want to explore”, he replies with low voice.

Fuck, you hate the way your knees suddenly feel weak, how you squirm under his gaze. Are you out of your goddamn mind? This isn’t Nanami or Gojo. No, this is the king of curses himself. He’ll kill you without blinking when he has enough of you. God, what the hell is wrong with your taste in men anyway? You almost lost your composure when you met Choso back then at Shibuya…

When the man kneeling in front of you killed so many people that you lost count, almost ending your life as well when you were only inches away from getting caught in his sphere.

“No thanks. I have absolutely zero interest in getting explored by you”, you bite back.

Oh, what a filthy little lie. Just the thought of seeing him shirtless drives your imagination wild, sets something free you weren’t even aware of existing. Even though your eyes show nothing but dismissal, your body tells you otherwise.

“We’ll see about that.”

You almost choke on your own salvia when his hands grab your wrist out of the sudden, chest so close to you that you can almost taste the smell of musk and amber radiating from the sheer heat of his body that is only covered by his white robe. If you wanted to, you could rest your head against his broad chest, enjoy the sensation of his body against yours-

Before you’re able to react, your body collapses onto the cold ground, stained wrist set free by none other than Sukuna himself.

“Thanks, asshole”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

Your body feels like pudding, so weak that you can’t lift yourself off the floor as gracefully as you wanted to. How long have you been here already? Way too long as it seems. You glare at him through the messy strands of hair that stick to your face like glue. Just that satisfied grin on his face is enough to fuel your anger all over again.

“You really think you’re a tough one, huh? And that after I saw how you pressed your legs together when I came a little closer.”

“You’re a monster”, you argue.

He roams closer. Like a hunter he circles you, nothing but amusement and something way darker glistening in his eyes.

“You killed my comrades, my friends, innocent people-“

“So what?”, he casually replies.

His hands wrap themselves around your hair before you can stop him. You stare at him in sheer disbelief, head fighting against the sheer force of his fingers unsuccessfully. How on earth did you end up here?

“Your love and affection for others is your true weakness, (y/n). Without your puny thoughts over people who give a damn about you, you’d be unstoppable. Just like me.”

His breath caresses your cheeks, lights a fire that now radiates through your whole body.

“I will stop you”, you breathe out.

“Oh please.”

His hands…You can’t believe your eyes, your instincts, your body. Suddenly you find yourself trapped inside his muscular arms, his face so close to yours that you can feel his hot breath ghosting against your cheek and neck. When was the last time a man touched you? Oh, way too long ago. His toned body pressed against yours reminds you way too painful. But still.

You shake your head ever so slightly, close your eyes against the sensation his touch promises. This isn’t just a random man, not the kind of bad guy like Geto or Choso. No, this is the king of curses himself, a frightful creature absolutely willing to kill you when he had enough of you. You are nothing but a toy to him, something he found useful and will throw away the second you don’t match his expectations. This man is evil, this man is the epitome of cruelty. This man…

Pushes you against the wall, his leg forced between both of yours while all you can think of are his parted lips. This has to be a dream… Or a nightmare?

“Fuck.”

You don’t know, mind clouded by nothing but his sheer presence. What if you just kissed him? Only once to discover how he tastes, to convince yourself that you hate him. Yes, maybe this is all you need to get rid of that ridiculous desire that builds up in your stomach, maybe this will make the pressure between your hips vanish into thin air. A small innocent kiss and you’ll search a way out of this cursed place, an innocent kiss to come back to your senses.

Like in slow motion you stretch out your hand, so ready to touch his cheek. Does he even feel human? What else should he feel like? You just need to stretch your fingertips a little further, your head moving a few more inches towards his lips. His lips, those inviting parted lips…

“I knew you want me.”

But you don’t reach him. The second you open your eyes, you get greeted by that satisfied grin you learned to hate in the matter of hours, his hand keeping your fingers trapped mid-air.

“Don’t worry, I will come back to this eventually. But right now, I have something important to do.”

It happens faster that you’re able to react. Before you even comprehend what is happening, the chains around your wrists come back to life, trap you against the wall like a fool.

“Asshole”, you spit into his face, thick anger rushing through your already heated veins.

Out of instinct you stretch out your hand, ready to hit him with your best shot.

Only to get stopped by him catching your hand mid-air.

Again.

“I’ll see you later, (y/n). Don’t cause trouble as long as I’m gone.”

Tags:  @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru @starlightanyaaa @moodswing101 @unholiiness

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk season 2 #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jujutsu sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #jjk fanworks #jujutsu fanfic

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I wanted to request something with Prince Steve and his soulmate. I feel like we’ve started to see them warm up to each other but maybe we could see reader start to meet Steve’s friends and see that she’s got more people standing behind her? Like maybe Robin and Eddie teasing Steve about something embarrassing in front of her or I know she hasn’t shown up yet but I could totally see Nancy as like a lady in waiting/tutor to teach her all about proper manners but in the process she spills all these stories about Steve growing up?

thank you for requesting ♡ prince steve au fem, 1k

A knock at the door, an impatient huff. "Are you ready yet?" 

"Come in, Steve." 

He wedges into your rooms, a basket in his hands. "Why are you on the floor?" 

"Can't tie my stupid shoes," you complain, dropping your hands down, knee pulled up, too warm for all the fuss. 

Steve nearly drops the basket, he's that enthusiastic to help you out. He kneels by your feet and takes the laces of your shoes into his hands, pulling them tight, his eyebrows pinched tighter. "That okay?" he asks, pausing his loop. 

"Yeah. Thank you." 

"They didn't teach you how to tie your shoes back home? We need outreach immediately." 

You laugh and lay back on the plush rug behind you. "It's the weird eyelets. You royals do everything weird. Like picnicking." 

"So many points. These aren't eyelets, they're lace hooks. You're pretty much as royal as I am, or you will be in a matter of days. And," —he finishes tying your boot, pulling the other toward him with a small laugh— "Robin wanted a picnic. She's not royal. None of your points make any sense." 

"You'll be a wretched husband." 

Steve takes your hands and pulls you up into a sitting position. He doesn't let them go, transferring both into one so he has a hand free to straighten up your cardigan. "And you'll be a cherished wife." 

Steve pulls you onto your feet. Together, you walk through the selenite halls of the palace to the prince's private gardens, where a gazebo the colour of the sky stands shading refreshments from the eager sun. Helping themselves to the hors d'oeuvres are a tall Eddie and a shorter partner in crime, Robin. Nancy lays out in the grass next to who you assume to be her boyfriend, a handsome guy with two books in his hands, still closed. He squints in the sun, waving as you and Steve approach. 

"Hey!" he greets. "You're late."

"Don't get up," Steve jokes, waving back at him and Nancy, who's barely lifted her head. "Not like I'm anyone important." 

"Very, very hard to find you important when you're wearing shorts," Eddie says. 

Steve shrugs. "She likes them." 

You realise belatedly and with horror that you're she. How does he know you like his nice shorts? Either way, his indifference so long as you like them makes you flush, leaving his side in search of a cold drink to drown yourself in.

"Did you bring the bat?" Steve asks Jonathan behind you. 

"Hey, babe," Eddie says, offering you a glass cup set with pressed flowers in the sides, "you okay?" 

"Is that lemonade?" you ask, pointing at one of the small water dispensers. Their glass shells shine with condensation, more ice cubes than liquid inside. It's a cloudy white with blood orange slices cut and garnishing the top, their juice seeping downward slowly. 

"Sure is. Prince Stevie's favourite, as always. Don't know where the sudden love for oranges came from, do you?" 

You've had a love for them since you got here and tried them for the first time. Oranges are expensive, and so the palace kitchen has them in abundance. Steve clearly noticed. "Wouldn't you know?" you ask. "Don't you choose his meals?" 

"As if. I'm a glorified cleaning boy," Eddie says. He scoops a bagel covered in cream cheese and fresh cut salmon from a silver tray and takes a big bite. "Just stick around for the food." 

"They won't let him back into the engineers workshop on account of his bad manners, he'll be a dishwasher forever," Robin says grandly, rounding the table to stand on your other side. 

"Says you, lady's maid." 

Robin was supposed to be a lady's maid. Sick gig, good pay, she had all the grades and none of the decorum, but Steve wouldn't let them get rid of her, and after an intense training program that taught her to wield a titanium blade longer than her arm as an extension of it, she was instated as his personal guard instead. They're all job hoppers —Nancy started as a lady's maid but now apprentices as a royal tutor, and her boyfriend worked for the palace's news room but now works under the sous chef. 

You did anything you could to stay alive, and now your full time job is princess, so. You're not judging. 

"What's Nancy's boyfriends name?" you whisper. "Jon?" 

"Jonathan. I don't think anybody calls him Jon," Robin whispers back. 

"She's lying. His name is Gordon." Eddie glares at Robin. "She's trying to trip you up." 

A smack erupts through the air, chased by Steve's pleased whoop. "Yes! Baby, did you see that?" 

"I'm not trying to trip you up," Robin says, "don't listen." 

"She totally is." 

"Baby?" Steve calls, yards away in the bluegrass, a bat held at his side. "Guys, stop harassing her. Jesus." 

"We're not harassing her, Stevie, slow your roll. This is a common social phenomenon called teasing, maybe you've heard of it? You do it with friends," Eddie says, nudging your arm. 

Friends, you think. Steve's looking at you, waiting for confirmation that you're alright. "I didn't see it, Steve. Do it again!" 

Steve immediately jogs backwards, goading Jonathan into pitching another ball. He has a good arm, the ball soaring just right for Steve to curl back and send it wide across the green grass of the garden. It hits a long banner across the way, smack dab on its painted target as he'd aimed for, falling practically on top of the first. 

It's an impressive arc. You clap your hands together and cheer, though the rules of this game escape you. You think it's supposed to be darts without sharp points, but you're more concerned with the lines of Steve's bicep as he rests the bat on his shoulder, his triumphant sun-kissed smile.

"Did you see that one, baby?" Robin asks. 

"He's so impressive, isn't he?" Eddie adds, grinning. 

Steve throws them the bird, his cheeks pink. 

"That's an example of what not to do in a formal setting," Nancy says, her skirt moving like water as she puts her face in her hand, her elbow on her knee. 

"You're getting good at this tutoring stuff," Jonathan says. 

Steve meanders your way to beg a consolation hug (he puts his arm across your shoulder, muttering about mean friends and their unjust jokes). "They're the worst," he mutters, his hair brushing your ear, goosebumps erupting down your arms. 

"I think they're nice," you say. 

He hums in your ear. "You would. Wretched wife." 

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[manager-dante]

i need to flesh this out once i’ve mulled it over more but i adore how limbus company expands on the incredible world-building of project moon, because it is so goddamn realistic.

from the outset the player is presented with this incredibly bleak world in which corporations have become the state. the poor and the desperate bow their heads and toil at the altar of the free market. worth is measured by talent in exploitation. it’s a social darwinist’s wet dream. i also think the choice to base the cast off of literary figures was amazing, because it highlights very important connections to the past. i haven’t read all the books referenced, but the ones i have (the metamorphosis, don quixote de la mancha, & the odyssey so far) draw an unmistakable through-line from the suffering and exploitation depicted in those books to that which occurs in the city. the most horrifying parts of this game in my opinion aren’t the monsters or the machines — it’s the sheer enormity of human suffering which exists in the economic and political system the city operates under. and that’s the worst part, because in so many ways, the suffering and exploitation portrayed in the city is not a hypothetical fantasy — this is just capitalism working as intended. it’s not confined to the historical context of those books, nor the gritty sci-fi horror of the game.

but not only do we have this incredible setting that’s somehow both brutally realistic and fantastical at the same time, we also get to see how our main cast attempts to survive in that world — and ultimately how none of their attempts to change it succeeded at all.

in my mind, canto i portrays how neither kindness nor cold-heartedness will help you survive — especially through the dynamic between aya and hopkins. gregor has been both. he was a war hero in a meaningless war. after it ended, he was discarded as any tool which had outlived its usefulness would be. he can’t even control his arm from becoming a killing machine. and yet, gregor is still exceptionally personable, even going out of his way to be kind at times. but no matter whether he’s a tool for violence in the hands of war profiteers or simply a man doing his best to protect others, he still couldn’t save yuri — just as he couldn’t save his comrades — and this clearly haunts him. neither the war nor its end changed anything.

canto ii shows between rodya and sonya how both direct action and an “inevitable” revolution fail to quell the suffering of the vulnerable. sonya’s revolution is all bluster and no action. he does nothing to help the people in his community in favor of this grandiose revolution that must happen at the “right moment” — even if it means leaving his neighbors to starve in the meantime. rodya’s inspired yet short-sighted action to remove what she saw as the source of her community’s suffering only led to its destruction: the tax collector was a branch, not the root, of the problem, and killing one person did nothing to stop the system which upheld them.

canto iii is even more clear-cut in the ties between sinclair and kromer: neither violent zealotry nor blissful ignorance will save you in the city. kromer’s cult does not “purify” anything, but sinclair’s courage to stand up to her isn’t enough to beat her either. canto iii still doesn’t end in a victory. dante and the sinners barely survive. it’s only through demian (and k-corp’s) divine intervention that the sinners and kromer don’t destroy each other in the corpse pit.

in the most recent addition, canto iv appears to do the same thing. on one hand, you have the devotion to a principle shown through shrenne, samjo, and donbaek. their causes are different, but their devotion is the same. on the other, there is the cynicism, indifference, and escapism of yi sang and dongrang, both willingly complicit in the machine in different ways. and yet — none of them make any positive difference. whether they resisted or submitted, the machine grinds on around them — the only choices are to become a cog in it or be ground to bits by its gears.

to be clear, i do not think the game is arguing that none of these individual actions matter. even if gregor couldn’t rescue yuri, even if rodya couldn’t protect her neighbors, even if sinclair couldn’t defeat kromer and all that she stood for, even if the league of nine members each failed to realize their ideals — limbus argues that it matters they tried. it matters that they’re still trying. it may never be possible to oust the corporate overlords and make the city a better place, but the love still matters.

#canto four spoilers #canto iv spoilers #canto iv #THIS IS ILL THOUGHT OUT SORRY #bad metaposting moments #i just need it Out my brain or ill Esplode #limbus company

[lis-likes-fics]

Movie Night

Pairings: Robin Buckley Word Count: 1.7k words Kink: Thigh riding Warnings: NSFW, kinktober, thigh riding, swearing, implied oral (f!receiving), relatively vanilla... A/N: I'm late for Kinktober but I'm going to keep posting these until I finish. If I still have prompts left over, I am going to transfer it into a Christmas event and we'll call it. Thanks and enjoy!

A raspy giggle bubbles out of Robin's chest when you pull her closer to your chest. She'd gotten up to bring the plate of cookies from the kitchen and decided she'd just sit in your lap, expecting you to push her off and call her annoying when she blocks your view of the TV. Instead, you wrap your arms around her front and pull her down so her back is flush against your chest, biting her shoulder teasingly.

"What are you, a fucking dog?" she jokes, scooting off your lap after setting the cookies down and making you let go of her.

"Worse," you smile, leaning over to her and wrapping her back up in your arms to pull her back into you. "I'm your girlfriend."

"That is worse," she mumbles, grabbing a cookie and pouting when you take it just as she's about to take a bite. She just grabs another and rolls her eyes when you take a bite of yours and give it back.

You turn your eyes back to the screen, trying to catch back on to the plot and being unable to engage with it again. It was some kind of B-movie horror plot with a lot of fake blood, cliché jokes, bad graphics, terrible jumpscares, and honestly too many sex scenes that have at least one boob flash that has the both of you quieting down.

You and Robin have been together for a few good months, and they've been glorious months. Of course, your relationship is a secret among the world of people who aren't your fucked-up little group of weirdos and freaks, but you're happy. You're more than happy. And you can't be together for as long as you have been and not…experiment.

You and Robin have fucked before.

But you're still very awkward people who can only respond so well to pretty women with pretty boobs on screen. But you digress…

"What's this movie even about?" you ask, setting your chin on her shoulder and looking at her.

She shrugs her free shoulder. "I don't know. Steve gave it to me when I asked what we should watch tonight."

Just as the words come out, both your focus is stolen when the sounds of a girl's over-exaggerated moans reign through the living room after the sequence had cut to yet another sex scene.

When you turn, you're both met with a face full of bouncing boobs as the woman is meant to be riding some dude's lap. You scoff and roll your eyes to hide your fluster, but she just ducks her head and turns to you. It's awkward, watching these poor depictions of romance and sex on screen and being so…new to romance and sex in real life.

Your eyes lock with hers, and she gives you a smile upon seeing your pretty face so close to hers. Her gaze darts to your slightly chapped lips and wants to kiss you so, so much. So she does.

It took a shameful amount of time, for the both of you, but you have finally reached that point that you no longer have to ask the other one for hand-holding and hugs and kisses anymore. Steve and Eddie call you pathetic, and you are. But so are they, so it doesn't matter.

Her lips brush yours, and you pull her in to be rid of the petty shyness with your hand on the back of her neck. She hums against your lips and then pulls away, smiling prettily. "You know he picked this movie on purpose, right?" she mutters. "He's trying to get us to have sex."

You shrug, smiling to yourself as you stare at her lips. "We'll get him a bouquet or something," you say as you bring her close again.

Your curled lips move softly but insistently against her curled lips as you blindly reach for the remote to cease the incessant wailing of the "sex scene" that has honestly just gone way too long. You manage to get it paused as you adjust yourself to straddle Robin's lap. And she's happy to have you as her hands fall to your waist, and she makes sure you can't break away from her.

You hold her face in your hands, squishing her cheeks a bit. She's so pretty, you note in between kisses when you let your eyes open just enough to see the freckles dusting her cheeks and her nose and her forehead, and her face bare of any makeup, which brings out the beauty of her freckles even more.

She squeezes your waist a little tighter, lowering her palms to your waist and bringing you in closer. Her lips strayed from yours to graze the skin for your neck, tentative little nips and suckles at the flesh making you sigh as you bare your throat to give her space to decorate. Her nose nudges the bottom of your chin, and you chuckle lightly. You feel her smile at the vibrations in your throat when you do.

You graze your fingers along your shoulders, down her spine through her clothes as her back arches into you as a result. You swivel your hips down on her, searching for friction as the heat in your flesh rises. You feel her hand curl around your leg, shifting it over her lap so you sit on her thigh. You moan at the friction you find there as you shift your hips again.

Robin’s hand trails up to your ass again, pulling you closer as you continue to grind down on her. Her eyes are glued to you as they trail along your face, one of her hands raising from your hip to trace along the skin of your neck and feel the vibrations from the gentle moans that slip out. She wraps the hand around your neck and pulls you close, kissing your neck again and urging your hips with her free hand into another seductive roll.

You grind yourself a little rougher, your movements becoming more desperate as the wetness begins to seep through your shorts and stain the material of her jeans. She doesn’t seem to care, both her hands gripping your waist in favor of encouraging your eager pursuit against her thigh.

You whimper when she stops you, bringing you up to make you stand on shaky legs as she pulls you close by your waist again to lift your shirt enough to kiss your belly. You pull it over your head, and she pulls your shorts down your legs. You’re reaching for your panties when she just pulls you back down onto her thigh and kisses you again. She devours your mouth, this woman hungry for your desire much different from the girl you spent endless nights next to in front of the old television set watching B movies with.

You moan as the material of her jeans rubs at your clit rhythmically, separated only by the thin material of your cotton panties. Your arms come to rest behind her head, your fingers tangling in her hair as you kiss her with as much attention as you can spare with the way her thigh’s got you so distracted. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down hard on it as the pleasure rises deliciously in your belly. Your arousal is soaking through your clothes, only making your desire for her all the worse as does hers for you.

“God, you’re so wet,” she sighs, watching your pussy run against the fabric of her jeans. "Keep riding my thigh, baby. You're doing amazing."

Her name is a whimper from your throat as she encourages you. The pleasure is rising within you and your legs begin to ache and tremble against your efforts. "Bobbie, I'm gonna cum," you moan. "Shit, it's so good."

Her hold of your waist tightened a little more, her nails digging into your flesh as she attached herself to your lips and your jaw and your neck. She nods, concentrating on your grinding clit a little more. "Get yourself off on my thigh. Come on, baby, you can do it."

You keep rolling your hips, your breath shuddering at every little rub against your clit as the sensitivity heightened more and more. The pleasure crackled within your limbs, like pop rocks on your tongue or those sparklers you light with Robin on the Fourth of July.

And just like that, you press your body against Robin's as you cum, thighs trembling and chest heaving as you gasp a loud moan of her name.

"Oh, God," you huffed. "Fuck, Bobbie."

Robin listens to you with heavy breaths of her own, her kiss-swollen lips parted and her hooded eyes watching your every unfolding. "You look so beautiful, baby," she smiles. You hardly notice the way her hips shift, excited by your arousal while you're gripping her shoulders and resting your forehead on hers.

She watches you come down, rubbing your hands on her shoulders and neck before you're taking her lips on your own. She kisses you gingerly, a smile in the curve of her lips as she holds you tight.

"Oh, God! Please!"

You both turn toward the TV as the screaming of one of the characters you hadn't even realized existed is brutally (and comically) murdered on camera, a knife "stabbing" into her and "carving" her up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

You snicker, turning back to Robin and bursting into laughter upon seeing her face alone. She joins you, resting her head in the crook of your neck as her shoulders bounce with each laugh.

You tilt her chin up to kiss her again, and she chuckles against you. "Better?" she asks, raising a brow.

You nod, "Yeah." Reluctantly, you slip off her thigh and put your hands over your face as you take in the sight of her soaked pant leg. "Fuck, sorry."

She laughs. "I mean, I'm not complaining."

"You're fucking weird," you mutter, moving to your knees in front of her as you crook a finger around the waistband of her jeans.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

You undo the button. "Reciprocating."

"Oh," she stutters but doesn't object. You pull her jeans down her legs and push them apart. Her body blushes and she chuckles gently, giddily, before picking up the remote. "That can wait."

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley smut #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #kinktober

[quadrantadvisor]

Yknow the shitty marvel movie type trope of diffusing all of your emotional scenes with humor? Homestuck does the same thing but with a RADICALLY different vibe. Like exactly the opposite.

Most modern media that does this is trying to distance the author from the text, by inviting the audience to laugh with the author. Oh, isn't this story silly, we're self aware, no need to immerse yourself. It's got this smug yet self depreciating tone, because it feels like the author wants you to like them more than their story.

Whereas when Homestuck does this it is self aggrandising, because it's meant as an explicit ATTACK on the audience. It is a purposeful attempt to draw the reader in and then pull out the rug from under them. It's not meant to break the tension, it's to give you mood whiplash. It shows a certain amount of confidence in the text, because the author truly believes in the text's ability to emotionally affect the audience so that this trick works.

I can definitely empathize with someone who finds this aggravating (that's sort of the point), but to me it's legitimately preferable to the self-aware jokey jokey thing because I don't think it diminishes the impact of the story itself. The narrative still exists as is, with all of its devastating events, and the jokes are a way of twisting that knife in a little bit further.

I would honestly go as far as to say that many of these style of jokes don't lighten the mood at all, but just add an extra element of poignancy or horror to a scene. Something ridiculous happening to the body of a recently deceased character isn't exactly light material, for one example. For another, more specific one, consider Dave's "acrobatic fucking pirouette off the handle".

As a quick refresher, Dave says early on in the story that, rather than flying off the handle, he will do an "acrobatic fucking pirouette". This wording becomes a frequent callback joke from that point on. And then, much later, Dave finds the impaled corpse of the older brother who raised him, and decides on a symbolic gesture he'd like to make. He can't pull the sword out of his brother's chest, because he doesn't feel like he's worthy. He has to make a "clean break", by breaking off the end of the sword to take with him. But it doesn't work, and in the attempt he's flung backwards. And then he's just laying there, on the ground, while his friend points out that he has finally, literally performed his acrobatic pirouette off the handle.

And yeah, that's funny, but to me it's also absolutely devastating? This is a character who's recently been dealing with extreme self worth issues and a crisis of free will, who's clumsily trying to grieve for the very person who caused a lot of those issues in the first place. It makes the entire thing feel weirdly inevitable and that much more horrible for it, like, of course this would happen, his whole LIFE has been a joke to begin with. It doesn't detract from the moment. It invites you, the audience, to sit in that moment with the character and just kind of let it wash over you.

At least that's how I feel about it!

#homestuck #this post is way too long and kinda disjointed and Im sorry #ive been listening to homestuck made this world and it has been leading to a... frankly embarassing amount of rereading of the actual comic #and while I wouldnt necessarily say that this type of humor is something that homestuck is doing right #because I dont think it tonally works in like MOST scenarios #i do think its really interesting and worth examining and I like it #homestuck meta #again sorry to everyone ever

[spacebarbarianweird]

How about a fic of Astarion not liking his bite mark touched but then Tav does it. 💕

Here we go! Hope you will enjoy it!

The Marks on Our Skin

The bite mark is the only place on Astarion's body Tav doesn't touch. Until now.

Tags: fluff, comfort, f!Tav, established relationship, post-game

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion finds solace in the late evening hours when the sky still holds a warm glow, but the sun is almost gone down. It's neither day nor night, a perfect in-between that he eagerly anticipates.

Emerging from his tent, he sprawls out on the grass with a book in hand, watching as the sky slowly darkens, revealing the sparkling tapestry of stars above.

Astarion props a bag beneath his head, and the fingers trace the cover of the book, its surface still bearing the faint marks of dried blood. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he recognizes Tav's scent.

Astarion opens the book and makes a mental note to convince Tav to learn how to read. He sets the book aside and chooses another, its pages also marred by blood, though not Tav's this time. The text is written in the archaic elven dialect, a challenging puzzle that demands his full concentration. Yet, as he delves into the words, the text starts sounding familiar. As if he already read it, many years ago, when his eyes weren't red and sun didn't burn.

Unwanted memories and thoughts creep into his mind, stubborn as vermin, and no matter how hard he tries, he can't divert his focus.

"How's my favorite man doing?" a loud voice yanks him away from the abyss he had started to slip into.

Tav.

She walks unsteadily, like someone who's had enough to drink, not to think clearly but can still stand on two feet.

"I thought you went to search for quests, not for a drink," he says without any hint of accusation. Tav collapses beside him, and he catches a whiff of ale.

"Are you drunk?"

"No. Well, maybe a little." She giggles and nuzzles into his collarbone. "What's four mugs of ale for a warrior like me?"

He chuckles. "Considering your body type, it's quite a lot."

Tav focuses, attempting to devise something clever to say, but gives up. She presses her body closer to him, and Astarion can feel her heart beating.

"It's very inconsiderate of you to get drunk without me," he teases, studying her face. A soft smile graces his lips as he cannot tear his gaze away from her.

"You can drink my blood, and then we can get drunk together," she playfully suggests.

"I'm not going to feed on you until you get sober," he plants as tender kiss on her forehead.

"Alright, alright, next time, I won't go alone," she concedes. "What if someone wants to harm me or hit on me? You'll need to show them to who I belong to."

He chuckles, reminiscing about the first few months of their journey when he cringed at her casual remarks about belonging to him.

"No, you're not mine," he would protest. "You're not my possession, not my spawn, not my … anything. You're an independent person. Please don't say things like that."

Over time, he understood that Tav's words aren't meant to diminish her self-worth. It is simply an innocent joke between two genuinely free individuals in love. It is her way of reassuring him that she isn't going anywhere, even when Astarion questions his own value in her eyes.

As Tav tilts her chin upward, a subtle flinch passes through him, a reminder of the bite mark they have agreed not to touch.

"I like your bite mark," she drunkenly admits.

He pulls away, and her head falls onto the grass. "Tav, what in the sweet hells are you talking about?"

"I love your bite mark," she repeats. "It proves how strong you are. Did you notice it's not just fangs? It's also incisors. The bastard was so hungry and desperate for prey that he almost gnawed a part of your neck. It shows how strong you are that despite all the horrors and pain, you never gave up."

Tav yawns, her eyes half-closed. Astarion is sure it wasn't just four mugs of ale. She probably remembers drinking only four. The rest is the mystery.

His fingers tenderly brush against her cheek as he asks, "Do you truly mean all that?"

Tav's eyes meet his, her response unwavering. "I do."

He rises to his feet, carefully lifting Tav into his arms, and carries her into the tent. He lays her gently on the bedroll. It seems like they aren't going anywhere this night. Anyway, he has some books to finish reading,

Astarion lovingly tucks Tav beneath her blanket, ensuring she is shielded from the chill of the night.

"Little Star"

"Hm?"

"Can I touch your bite mark?"

He hesitates. It is the only part of his body Tav hasn't touched yet.

"Yes."

He doesn't understand why he agrees. But it's already too late to take away the permit.

Sitting up, a silly smile plays on her lips as she wraps her hands around his neck. With an unexpected boldness, she presses her lips against the scar on his neck. He can feel the touch of her tongue, the graze of her own incisors against his skin, almost as if she is trying to drink his blood.

As Tav releases him, she nestles on her bedroll and dozes off peacefully.

Astarion remains in the tent, keeping a watchful eye over Tav. When hunger gets too strong to bear, he ventures into the woods to hunt.

When he returns before the sun rise, his hunger satiated, and his strength renewen, Tav is still asleep.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Tav exclaims when she realizes it is already afternoon. "Now we'll have to wait the whole day before hitting the road again."

"That's alright, darling. I hope you had fun yesterday. I don't remember ever seeing you so wasted."

"I remember fighting someone who said she'd kill every vampire she came across."

"Did you win?"

"I'm sorry! I should be offended by the mere suggestion that I could lose in a tavern brawl!" She crawls closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder, her tone turning more serious. "Did I hurt you yesterday?"

"No," he assures.

"Really? I mean, do you say it because you mean it, not just to spare my feelings? It would make me sick if I crossed your boundaries and made you feel… bad."

"Everything is alright. I mean it."

"Can I do this again?"

He nods. Tav kisses his bite mark. Again and again, and he completely melts in her hands.

Astarion marvels at the simple ministration and how it brings him such bliss. He has little faith in gods or divine rewards, knowing nothing could compensate for what happened to him. And yet…

There is Tav. Tav, for whom he wants to be a better version of himself. Tav who caresses his scars and makes the pain fade. Tav, whose blood is, in a way, divine.

Tav eventually pulls away and invites him to lay his head on her lap. "Will you read to me?" she asks.

"The book with bloody fingertips?" he inquires.

"Yep. What's this book about?"

"It's a collection of fairytales for elven children."

Tav's eyes glisten. "Exactly what I need with my hangover."

Astarion opens the book and begins reading. Tav starts massaging his scalp and occasionally lightly touches the bite mark. Sometimes, when he pauses and looks up, he finds Tav's eyes focused on his face.

Those are simple stories. About heroes, magic, dragons, monsters. Naïve. Stupid. Childish. But Tav likes them. In the same way, she likes a good fight, ale, and nights of passion.

Moreover, he can't help but think Tav is similar to these fairytale heroes. She is the hero who protects him, who makes him better. Who gives him all the hope he needs to survive the day.

And he will do anything to make her happy and safe.

"Tav," he whispers.

"Yes, my heart?" she replies.

"I love you."

Tav kisses his forehead "Well, I will never grow tired of hearing that from you."

---

Tag list

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @aoirohi

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 astarion #tav x astarion #astarion x f!tav #astarion x tav #astarion fics #astarion comfort #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfiction #astarion fic #spacebarbarian fics

[daydreaming-jessi]

“There’ve been many souls that have come and gone from the flock, some are just more memorable than others.”

Decided to doodle some cultists I’ve come up for in fics, had in my actual game, or a cool idea i came up with on the spot. Oh and Sozo and Webber are here too :D This is by no means the entirety of the cult, and there may be future followers that stand out too, but for now enjoy these guys. Feel free to ask about them I guess lmao

I will be putting down my written notes under a cut since they’re so small and scribbly ^^;

Brother Tyr, head priest, he/him: The Lamb's 3rd closest. Very stressed despite doing his job for 200 years. Tries and fails to be a peacekeeper in the cult. Tyr and Nari argue a lot.

Brother Narinder, head mortician, he/him: Don't piss him off. The Lamb's spouse. Best source of info on the crowns and outside world. Can do any job around the temple and will. When the Lamb isn't around.

Sister Merbre, temple organizer, she/her: Helob loves her. The main reason the temple runs when Lamb is gone. Has a surprising realist view. Everyone loves her. Romantic at heart.

Yeon, general worker, she/her: Has to let loose in demon form or else. Together with Julno. Friends with Narinder. Seeking absolution from her past crimes. 'Encouraged' Narinder to court Lamb.

Tyna, assistant mortician, they/them: Cult's head goth. Runs the slam poetry night. Also does piercings and tats.

Nanaon, retired missionary, she/her: One of the Lamb's most faithful. Insists she's not that old and can still work. One of the few mortals to earn the respect of both Deaths.

Firyn, farmer, he/him: A worker. Great with people and plants. Born after the fall of the Old Faith. Leshy's companion. Doesn't know the horrors yet. People tend to underestimate him.

Pura, general worker, she/they: Likes Firyn. Likes to manipulate things to her benefit. Doesn't like Leshy. Doesn't realize what being an ex-bishop means. Genuinely respects the Lamb.

Almer, refinery worker, he/him: Shamura's friend. Easy going. Wants a big family. A good confidant. Gives great hugs.

Grayden, silk sorter, they/them: Shamura's friend. Quiet but a beautiful singer. A shy pushover, but will snap.

Julno, farmer, he/him: Came with the 'coward' trait. Still scared of the Lamb, and Yeon's 'bestie' Narinder. Together with Yeon. Doesn't know her murderous urges.

Poppy, she/her: Best friends with Webber, youngest of the cult. Brave and tenacious Webber, he/them: Best friends with Poppy, youngest of the cult. Gentle and curious.

Dr. Sozonius, researcher, he/him: Amnesiac. Lamb is helping him find home. Extremely well educated about biology. Does not like the spider stalking him, or the mushroom.

Keeper, record keeper, she/him: Face is always obscured. Hates the Dark. Doesn't talk about his past. Has a strange locket that ticks. Always smells of salt.

Joobre, refinery worker/tailor, he/them: Loves working with silk. Has tea with Berith. Likes gold jewelry.

Thorty, bartender, he/him: Fights with Nari a lot. Short temper. Best with the drunks.

Bregrear, smith, he/him: Quiet. Knows his way around weapons. Old hat at this point. Hopes to retire in peace.

Harbre, smith apprentice/missionary, any pronouns: Hot tempered. Looks up to Bregrear. Married to Bathin, chases off suitors neither of them like. Longs to master their craft. Protective.

Anar, miner/lumberjack, he/him: Distrusting. Hard worker. Doesn't exactly trust the Lamb, but willing to give the cult a shot. Starts fights.

Fun-Gui, researcher assistant, they/them: Weirdly obsessed with Sozo. Self proclaims as his assistant. Other mushroomos don't like them. Always goopy and dripping.

Hajal, traitor, she/her: Left the cult. Status unknown.

#jessi doodles #cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #narilamb #the one who waits #cotl follower #cotl sozo #dr sozonius #cotl webber #ds webber #gotta say my personal fav is fun-gui i just love their design so much #this new love has really helped me figure out drawing animals thank god

[multifandomtrashwritings]

Pros & cons of laboratory mishaps (Pt.1)

Dottore x Fem! Reader (NSFW in future)

I've tried to keep reader as vague as possible, but she's bisexual (for the fem segment) and her hair is longer than Dottore's. Also uses a dendro delusion.

A/N: Does anyone whose into Genshin also have an interest in BBC's Merlin? Because the whole premise of this fic is the troupe of 'magically feeling each other's touches' that is common over there griping me by the throat and shouting 'Dottore'. This part is also mainly intro stuff since Tumblr has a word limit... But I'm posting the smaller second bit with this anyways :)

If there was one thing your time at the Fatui had taught you, it was that you could never anticipate what life would throw at you. When you’d first signed up (mostly out of necessity) and were given a shiny new dendro delusion you could’ve never predicted that it would lead to becoming close with the infamous second harbinger. And yet here you were, regularly meeting with either Dottore himself or one of his many segments to have various tests taken to try and work out why your delusion didn’t drain your life force no matter how much you used it. And more importantly, how to replicate this ‘fluke’ you’d experienced. It was once such routine meeting that set off a chain of events so bizarre, you’re sure only those involved would believe, a chain that led to perhaps the most confusing relationship status one could have.

Ever since you’d discovered that your delusion didn’t drain your life force like they did your comrades you’d been transferred from being a generic recruit serving under whoever had menial tasks at any particular time to working pretty much directly under Lord Dottore himself. At first the decision terrified you, you’d heard the other new recruits’ gossip about how they’d prefer to work under any harbinger but Dottore and the horror stories many brought back whenever someone was unlucky enough to be assigned to the rare instance of Dottore needing a recruit’s help, or more accurately Dottore’s assistants requesting extra help. You’d never been lucky (Or unlucky) enough to have experienced such things firsthand, but it’s all that you could think of as you nervously made your way through the basement level of Zapolyarny Palace with your pathetically small duffle bag of belongings.

Despite your concerns your first meeting with the harbinger went quite well, or rather what you’d at first assumed was the harbinger and later learnt was in fact a segment, Beta to be precise. Beta was the most ‘normal’ of the bunch, having the most social awareness and least extreme emotions. For the first week you only ever saw Beta, and whenever there wasn’t a need for any samples from you, you were pretty much free to do what you liked. As long as you kept up your training to continue to monitor how your delusion reacted to increasing strength.

And that was the routine you settled into happily, spending at least half a day everyday training and stopping by the lab pretty much every other day for someone to take some blood or stick some sensors on you and monitor various things. At first you only ever delt with Beta, and that was fine since the rumors could very well be true about the ‘real’ Dottore and you were happy to stay in your bubble with the relatively nice segment. After a few weeks though you were introduced to another segment. This one was more like what you’d feared, Delta’s mood changed as quick as the snow pelted the palaces windows, and the moon-like mask he wore only served to exaggerate his crazed smiles and intense eyes. Still, Delta wasn’t unbearable, and you soon worked out that playing to his ego was a guaranteed way to make any encounter with him almost pleasant.

The next segment you met was on accident, after you went out to the training grounds later in the day than you normally would due to a snowstorm. You were met with a small child with a familiar mop of mint blue hair and distinct glowing earring sitting in the snow making a crude snowman. The young segment couldn’t be any older than 10 years old and watched you train intently. After you’d finished and were sitting on a bench to enjoy the gardens while you caught your breath he approached you slowly, introducing himself as Epsilon and bombarding you with questions about your delusion and fighting style, having heard about your unique situation from the other segments. From then on Epsilon had decided he liked you, and often watched you train, eventually convincing you to become an informal mother figure for him, which you were hesitant to do since who knows what the actual Dottore would think of it, but Epsilon was persuasive, and you never heard anything after he started regularly spending time in your small quarters with you.

After Epsilon you met the last few segments all at once, due to them all being in the lab when you’d gone in for your weekly blood test. There were four segments milling around the lab, doing various things and you took a moment to observe them as you tried to decide who you were supposed to be asking to take your blood. There was a segment dressed in a outfit clearly reminiscent of the Sumeru Akademiya’s scholars robes, who you later learned was Alpha, a similar looking segment with more travelling style gear called Gamma, a tall segment noticeably much older than the rest with a distinct beaked mask over his eyes and a very complicated looking outfit called Omega and the last one made you do a double take, it was a woman (a quite beautiful woman your bisexual heart told you) but still clearly a segment who you learnt was called Xi. Omega had taken your blood that day and mentioned something in passing about ‘Prime’ who you assumed was the real Dottore wanting to meet you himself at some stage. His words made you worried, but not as much as when you first learnt you’d be working under him, after all Omega was supposedly the closest in age to Dottore and he was nice enough, if a bit awkward at actually conversing with you on personal level, and you were sure he wouldn’t be worse than Delta, who over time had come to tolerate you, bestowing you with the very friendly nickname of his ‘favourite test subject’.

The day you met Dottore you’d had no time to mentally or physically prepare yourself, having been expecting to see Beta or Alpha you’d trudged down to the lab in your pyjamas after waking up late due to a headache. Swinging the lab door open without really looking inside you only realized something was different when no one scolded you for wearing your pyjama shirt into the lab, since apparently it was more difficult for them to pull the sleeves up enough to draw blood since it was so thick and had nice long sleeves. Glancing around the lab to see where the segments were only to realize there were none and instead at the desk in the centre of the lab, the one none of the segments ever used was unmistakably the real Dottore. He was leaned over the desk writing something, and his hair was mostly similar to Omega’s just a bit longer and quite messy. He wore a long lab coat, and it was fully buttoned up so you couldn’t make out what he was wearing underneath, but as you approached slowly he looked up and noticed you making you freeze for a second before forcing yourself to continue approaching. As you stopped just in front of his desk he gave you a quick once over, and you cursed yourself for not bothering to change into more presentable clothing, you may have gotten comfortable with the segments but this was the actual harbinger! And your first meeting at that. To your relief though he doesn’t comment nor seem to have any reaction to your clothing choice, just motioning you over to a stool and silently drawing the few vials that was always taken for analysis. Afterwards though he spoke to you for the first time, his voice recognizable as similar to the segments, but also completely unique. “I intend to move on to testing the effects of some potions on yourself and your delusion. I expect you to prepare yourself to make observations round the clock when the time comes.” He says, his voice smooth, but noticeably tired. You nod quickly, not wanting to annoy the harbinger and he dismisses you, letting you hurry out of the lab and continue with your day.

#dottore x reader #dottore x fem!reader #dottore x y/n #genshin x reader #dottore x you #genshin dottore #il dottore #genshin imagines #genshin impact

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This is HEAVILY inspired by the business card scene in American Psycho. (I wrote this back in 2021 for a collab.) [ SYNOPSIS ] Zeke's perceived inadequacy leads him to a situation that only exacerbates his insecurities. [ WORD COUNT ] 3.2k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU (duh), not a big fan of the term "crack fic" but that's basically what this is, Zeke's only a few years older than the rest of the Warriors, sharing nudes without consent, smutty stuff is mentioned, alcohol, marijuana, body horror (Zeke describes scaphism in great detail), Zeke's probably ooc because I basically turned him into Patrick Bateman.

Zeke’s standing in the back of the bar, cornered by his friends. His life is in shambles because you dragged him to a birthday party in the nicest part of the city on the very night he decided to make a major life choice. Tonight was the night he said fuck it and shaved off his beard.

“You look like a baby,” Porco laughs.

“Like an angular baby, like a baby with good cheekbones,” Bertholdt, the birthday boy, mutters to himself.

“Can I touch your face?”

Zeke clenches his jaw and goes to speak only to be interrupted by Reiner's tender touch.

“Wow, that is soft. You got really soft skin. What do you use?”

Zeke smacks Reiner's hand away and uses the sleeve of his flannel to wipe away his residual touch. The meathead’s compliment was sufficient; there was no need to make physical contact.

“Sisley’s Black Rose Skin Infusion Cream.” Zeke sighs, accepting Reiner’s interpersonal failure. “How drunk are you?”

Reiner grins.

“I don’t know but your girlfriend’s the one that’s making them,” Reiner says before dissolving into the crowd.

Zeke questions whether or not Reiner was actually there in the first place. He could have merely been an anxiety induced hallucination.

“I have to… go,” Zeke abruptly blurts out to no one in particular as he pushes himself through his group of friends.

Free from their grasp he kicks himself for being so inarticulate in such a genuine way. Usually his nerves were hidden by a veneer of stoicism, but now he wonders if maybe it was just the beard. 

The bar is packed and Zeke stands on his tippy toes trying to see your little head bobbing around somewhere. So many people look like you from this distance. He takes off his glasses and squints but it does little to assist him. He nearly drops them as he maneuvers them back onto his face. Eventually he hears you cackling close by. He sighs heavily once he spots you behind the bar. You look angelic, a beacon of light in a sea of complete fucking bullshit. You look him in the eyes and smile, relief washing over him.

“Don’t you have to have a license or something to be back there?” he asks you, hiding his anxiety behind a facade of smugness.

You shrug and lean over the bar to kiss his forehead.

“They ain’t kicked me out yet so… I guess not.”

Zeke sits down on a bar stool and holds his head in his hands. He remembers that this is a private party and the likelihood of anyone actually giving a shit is slim to none.

“Reiner called you my girlfriend.”

“Ew, why?”

Zeke peers up from his hands, the rest of his face still obscured. Anything to hide his lack of facial hair.

“Because we showed up together and he probably heard us fucking in the bathroom earlier. Can you hold these for me? I almost dropped them.”

Zeke hands you his glasses and you tuck them away in your purse.You pat his head and ruffle his wavy blonde hair. He relishes in the gentle touch of your hand.

“Reiner’s an idiot. Want a shot?”

“Two. You know what I like.”

You grab a bottle of whiskey and overpour two shots. You pass one to him and go grab the other for yourself. Zeke grabs your wrist and stares up at you.

“They’re both for me.”

You shake your head and pour yourself one. Zeke downs the whiskey, savoring the smokey taste it leaves behind on his tongue. Just as he goes to ask you about how your day was Marcel fucking Galliard taps him on the shoulder.

“Buddy, it’s been too long. How ya been?”

Marcel is hammered and he lifts Zeke off the stool into a bear hug. Zeke feels the whiskey crawl up his throat, the most painful tickle he’s been subjected to.

“Ni—nice to see you. It has been awhile,” he chokes out.

Marcel loosens his grip and takes a seat next to Zeke. He looks impeccable, his hair perfectly quaffed. His skin was practically glowing. How could such a drunk guy look so put together and handsome?

“It has been a fucking while!” Marcel exclaims once more.

Zeke scratches his ear and then subtly waves you off. You slowly walk away backwards from the men, bumping into the actual bartender.

“Colt! Coltie Boy!... Damn, dude, you alright? You look tired.”

Marcel has mistaken Zeke for Colt Grice, one of the other tall blonde guys in their friend group. It seems logical because Colt works at the same middle school as Zeke doing the same exact thing he does, teaching language arts to seventh graders. Though Zeke thinks he’s smarter and more relatable to his students. It certainly doesn’t help that he hasn’t seen Marcel in years, who likely has forgotten what he looks like.

“Well I haven’t been getting much sleep. You know me, burning the midnight oil and all.”

Marcel laughs way too hard at Zeke’s joke which wasn’t even a joke in the first place.

He grabs Zeke’s shoulder and continues. “Great, that’s great. Such a hard worker. So uh, shit what’s her name… That girl you’ve been seeing.”

“Pieck.”

Marcel snaps his fingers and grabs Zeke’s shoulder again.

“Yeah, yeah, how’s Pieck? She’s a keeper. A great girl.”

“She’s good, couldn’t be happier with her. We’re thinking about getting a dog.”

“Wow, that’s—that’s great. You deserve it, man. You’re a good guy. Not like that dork Zach Yeager.”

“His name is Zeke, Marcel.”

“Who cares? You,” Marcel pokes Zeke in the chest, just barely missing his nipple, “you’re a good guy. You got your life together. Fuck Zach, man.”

Zeke nods in agreement.

“He’s a fucking dick, you know? Sure, yeah, I haven’t seen that weirdo in years, but I don’t even have to see him to know he’s—” Marcel pauses to burp into his hand. “excuse me. To know he’s a piece of shit.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever been a fan either.”

“Fucking wears dumb glasses, like dude get a normal pair.”

“I know, right?”

“Grandpas wear those glasses, Coltie. Grand. Pas.”

Just as Zeke feels like he’s going to vomit into his own lap Bertholdt pops up from behind Marcel, eyes full of concern. 

“Hey Marcel, Porco’s out back and he’s not looking too good.”

Bertholdt’s a dirty liar and everyone except Marcel knows it. Porco’s tolerance is god-like, an unwavering cognitive marvel. Marcel sighs and stands up, stumbling out the door to the patio, Bertholdt trailing behind. He hits his forehead on the door frame on his way out.

“Are you gonna be okay?” you quietly ask, eating a maraschino cherry you stole from someone’s drink.

Zeke smiles and shakes his head. 

“It could’ve been wor—”

“Oh shit! What happened? You kinda look like dad!”

Eren is standing in the doorway with a pair of wayfarers on. He definitely stole them from someone; there was no way he’d drop money on Ray Bans. He comes over and hugs Zeke from behind. Zeke appreciates Eren’s affection but it does nothing to soothe verbal assault he received from Marcel.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know that was fucked up,” Eren coos. “But I am right. I can’t help that.”

It doesn’t matter if Eren is right or not. Zeke’s ego is crushed beyond repair. You shoo his brother away and drag Zeke into one of the booths, sitting across the table from him. He frowns.

“Can you sit next to me?”

The alcohol is taking hold of him. He needs attention and affection, but not too much. Anything beyond you sitting beside him, holding him close, is simply unbearable. You switch sides and scoot close to him. 

Zeke notices you staring at him. Your gaze is kind, kinder than a shithead like him deserves. He can’t remember a time in his life where he felt more insecure and unworthy of you. When your soft hand caresses his bare face he is slightly startled. However it’s a welcome gesture.

“I think you look good,” you purr.

He slinks down into his seat, bathing in your praise.

“I’m a little jealous of your jawline too.”

Zeke blushes.

“I look that good, huh?”

“No, you look like shit. I was lying the whole time. You’re the ugliest guy here.”

“Stop you’re going to make me fall in love with y—”

“Colt! The fuck?! What about Pieck, man?!”

You both turn to see a very drunk, very disheveled Marcel being carried out of the bar by Porco and Colt. Colt turns around, looking fresh as daisy, not a single line or wrinkle on his face; his skin smoother than a baby’s ass. He flashes an apologetic grin and lets go of Marcel, walking towards the two of you with utmost confidence. Porco crashes into a table because Marcel might as well be the most cumbersome person on the planet at this moment.

“This is probably the worst time to ask, but do you think I could use your study guides for my class tomorrow? I didn’t have time to throw anything together because Pieck and I were settling into our new apartment.”

Zeke wants to die right then and there. Zeke, who lives in a studio apartment with a chinchilla named Robert. Zeke, who will never own any form of home in his life. Zeke, who’s skincare routine will never make up for years of smoking and sitting in the sun.

“Wow! That’s so cool, Colt!” you pipe up, wrapping an arm around Zeke. He leans into you, desperately trying to disappear. He wants you to make the situation go away, to wrap it up with a little bow and toss it out a window.

“It’s a lot of work getting all that furniture into the penthouse that’s for sure.”

“I can imagine,” you reply eagerly, making up for Zeke’s awkwardness.

Colt just stands there grinning. 

The lull in the conversation is too much for Zeke bear. He realizes he needs to open his mouth and speak.

“Uh, you can use my study guides.”

“Oh thank you! You’re a lifesaver.” Colt turns around to see the nuclear disaster that is the Galliard brothers. “I hate to cut this short, but I have to take care of that,” he laughs. “Let’s do dinner sometime!”

Once Colt is out of earshot Zeke falls to pieces.

“Let’s do an execution sometime, Colt. Just boil me alive, send me to the boats.”

Zeke notices the quizzical look you give him and tosses his head back and groans.

“It’s a form of execution where you trap someone between two boats—row boats not ocean liners.” He knows you all too well, your perception prone to the absurd. “And you force feed them milk and honey, and you cover them with it too. And then you leave them to fester and rot in the sun like in a lake or a river.” He coughs. “Death doesn’t come quickly obviously. Flies lay eggs in your wounds, feasting upon your infected flesh. Mosquitos rise from the putrid water and buzz around you. Your body decays right before your eyes.”

“Uh,” is all you can manage to spit out.

He can’t hide his disappointment, and avoids your gaze.

“I know something that’ll cheer you up.”

“What?” he asks.

“Wanna see some dick pics?”

Zeke’s attention is thoroughly piqued. He clears his throat, trying to mask his blatant curiosity.

“Sure. Whose do you have?”

You smirk. “I got everyone.”

“Do you go around showing these to everyone?”

Zeke panics remembering the series of dick pics he sent you one night after smoking two blunts by himself. So many different angles and his face was definitely in a few of them.

“Oh god no, I don’t show them to anyone.”

He bathes in a sea of relief.

“Okay good. Let me see.”

You pull out your phone and go to your hidden photos. A barrage of dicks show up on the screen all in various states of turgidity.

‘Wait, I want to see mine first.”

“Fine. Weirdo.”

You scroll down to find a picture of Zeke’s hard cock. A solid six inches. Circumcised. A few veins running along the length of it, more on the green side. It’s framed by curly, untrimmed, flaxen pubic hair which suddenly Zeke is weirdly self conscious about. He can’t help but wonder if Colt has untamed pubes.

“Should I wax?”

You look at him like he has three heads.

“What? No. I like them even if they get caught in my teeth occasionally.”

You pinch his cheek and Zeke lets out a little “phew”. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you told him otherwise. The idea of ripping out his body hair terrifies him. Shaving’s bad enough, the resulting emotional anguish a burden he struggles to bear. He might die if he added physical pain into the mix.

“I appreciate the angles,” you say. “It’s artistic. The lighting hits the cum dripping off the tip perfectly.”

Zeke basks in the light of your praise.

“Nice and erect, not floppy and flaccid. It’s one of my favorites.”

He shivers at the thought of sending you a photo of his limp dick. He’s a grower, not a shower, a fact that left him feeling inadequate if he thought too hard about it.

It was seemingly unfounded. You never expressed any displeasure when you’d pull his cock out of his pants and see it in its flaccid state. No hint of judgment when you got down on your knees and sucked him off. Just pure, unadulterated joy.

“Gimme a name.”

“Let’s see the birthday boy.”

You pull up a poorly lit photo of an incredibly erect cock. No veins, very smooth with an even coloring. Zeke notices he’s uncircumcised and tries to convince himself that his dick being circumcised makes him a better person than Bertholdt.

“It’s very long,” you say, zooming in on the dick and scrolling down. “Not super thick though.”

“I’m not impressed.”

Zeke takes pride in his cock being thicker than Bertholdt’s.

“Can I ask why you have a pic of his dick?”

“He was drunk and meant to send it to Annie.”

“And you kept it?”

“Hey, whoa. I did ask.”

Zeke gives you a quizzical look. He is having trouble discerning the situation at hand and it makes him feel like he’s dying. You pat his back.

“I was like, ‘Bertl, can I keep this?’ And he was like, ‘If you feel so compelled.’ And let me tell you... I was compelled.”

“Next one,” Zeke says, glaring at the dick on your phone screen.

“Okay,” you flip through your photos, “Porco.”

You hold up your phone, showing Zeke a still image of Porco furiously masturbating on the bathroom floor.

“D—did he set up a timer on his phone?”

“Yeah, grandpa, welcome to the 21st century. We’re happy to have you.”

“You’re two years younger than me, grandma.”

You stick your tongue out at him and zoom in on Porco’s cock. His cock curves upward quite a bit, veiny but not nearly as veiny as Zeke’s. The tip is a pearlescent pink. Porco managed to catch himself in the middle of his orgasm, cum spurting upward like a geyser.

“What do you think?” you ask him.

“Cum looks a little thin, watery even.”

Zeke wants to tack on that his cum is more robust, but he realizes how pathetic it is to brag about.

“I like it when it’s thicker. Like if someone is going to come on me I wanna feel it splatter on my skin, you know?”

Zeke doesn’t know.

“Yeah I get that,” he lies.

“I appreciate the action of the shot, but it’s too busy. I see a bottle of Acqua di Gio on his bathroom counter. His plunger is in the background. I don’t like that his bathroom rug is orange.”

Zeke could hear you talk shit about Porco’s nudes all day.

“You lookin’ at Porco’s nudes?”

Reiner slides into the other side of the booth. He’s pretty drunk, skin a little pink, but he seems mostly there.

“Has everyone seen them?” Zeke asks in a panic.

“No. I overheard you guys talking,” he chastises. “You guys are really harsh critics.”

“I have standards, Reiner.”

“If people can be film critics, why not dick critics?” Zeke asks, genuinely wanting an answer.

“Hey!” You smack Reiner’s arm. “Can I show Zeke your dick?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t. I’m not an artist, but I’ve been told I have an eye for color,” he brags.

Zeke rolls his eyes. “Hush. Let’s see the dick.”

You pull up Reiner’s dick on your phone. It’s a lower body shot, just his torso and cock in view, it’s standing straight up. His body is framed by his earth toned bedding that makes his skin look divine. He’s statuesque, like a Greek god.

“Check out my cum gutters.”

“Reiner,” you exclaim. “Gross!”

“So Zeke, what do you think?” Reiner asks eagerly.

“Impressive,” Zeke chokes out. “Very nice.”

Zeke’s ready to move on. Reiner’s color coordinating bodybuilder nudes make him want to wear clothes for the rest of his life. He pictures himself dressed in his pajamas, standing in the middle of his shower, arms crossed, looking absolutely miserable.

“Hm, I think that’s all I have. Wait. Oh my god, I forgot I have your brother’s.”

Zeke is conflicted. On one hand he feels protective of Eren and wants to destroy your phone, preserving Eren’s honor. But on the other he wants to rip Eren’s head off for sending you a picture of his dick.

“I have one!” Reiner pipes up.

“Whose?” Zeke and you ask in unison.

“Colt’s.”

You start to shake your head. “No, no more dick pics. We’re done for the night.”

“No,” Zeke says, clenching his jaw. “Let’s see Colt Grice’s cock.”

You toss your head back and stare at the ceiling, preparing yourself for Zeke’s reaction. Reiner winces, realizing his mistake. But still he pulls out his phone.

“Why do you have a picture of his dick?” you ask.

“He needed a creative consultant,” he replies plainly.

Reiner goes through his phone and breathes heavily. He looks up from his phone, his lips a flat line, and he holds up Colt’s dick pic.

It’s a full body shot of Colt. His cock is thick and long, the same look and size as Zeke’s. He grabs Reiner’s phone and stares at Colt’s throbbing erection. It’s taken in his bathroom and unlike Porco's, his counter is organized, only a small bottle of expensive hand soap lurking in the corner. His dick is the perfect shade of pink, the head of his cock picturesque. It’s smooth, but not in a creepy way. It’s like it was sculpted by Rodin, rock hard and tremendous.

“Oh my god. His pubes are so trim,” Zeke mutters. 

His hand shakes and he drops the phone. Reiner grabs it, slips it into his pocket, and looks away from Zeke. The three of you sit in silence, the only sounds coming from the party.

“Is something wrong, Zeke?” you ask. “You’re sweating.”

Zeke doesn’t say anything. There isn’t anything to say. This isn’t something that can be buffed away with pity. The wounds inflicted are too deep. The pain radiating through his being will never cease. There will be no relief from his festering inadequacy. Happiness and hope for the future are rendered foreign concepts.

The man is irreparably damaged.

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeager smut #zeke jaeger smut #aot smut #snk smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #zeke aot smut #.fics #.aot #.zeke #.reiner #.colt #x reader #reader insert

[darklinsblog]

If I Killed Someone For You | Sandman imagine

Summary: An angel comes to set the Dream Lord free from his imprisonment, committing the sin of killing, she loses her wings for the one she loves, though her loved one does not know her.

Pairing: Morpheus x Angel! Reader

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Angst, blood & violence

As angel you were taught to protect all living beings, mostly humans, as they were mostly fragile beings at the mercy of immortals. Angels existed as a source of wisdom, a guidance for humans to be lead into the right path.

You were an angel keeping guard on the Burgess family, but everything seemed to go downhill as Roderick was blindsided by his grief and seek of power.

Many times you tried to set him right, to show him different ways of coping with his loss but he refused your help, he wanted his son back and as a result he had neglected Alex.

Then as the Lord of Dreams was imprisoned you grew more and more frustrated, rules of heaven demanded you to not interfere on their human affairs. Yes, you were supposed to guide them, but you too had the obligation of letting things follow their own course, you could not take the decisions for them.

Yet again, they kept committing atrocities, the next being worse than the last, they were causing Morpheus a great sorrow and they were endangering the world’s equilibrium in keeping him prisoner.

Morpheus’ soul was good, kind, he was made to contain the cosmos, to inspire, to feel the collective and see for their best interest.

It was beyond you how such selfless being, that was literally created to serve humanity was so awfully treated by them. Like a villain to a mistold story.

You saw how he was ripped from his very own identity, from those who he loved, and somewhere along the line you fell for the King of Dreams, even at the distance.

After fifty years you had had enough, you didn’t care if it was against the rules, you couldn’t simply sit an watch this injustice happening any longer.

You would no longer be an accomplice to all this.

So, you went down to the human world and as you stepped into the Burgess mansion an intoxicating anger filled you.

Next thing you knew, you were standing in front of Morpheus prison, the bubble was broken and the Dream Lord looked at you in a mixture of confusion and slight horror.

Your hands were shaking, you looked at your palms covered in blood, looking around even your wings were tinted red, you were mortified trying to understand what had happened here, a disturbing trail of dead bodies and pools of blood right behind you.

What had you done?

This wasn’t you, this wasn’t your nature.

Then a sharp, blinding pain went through your back, more specifically your wings, they were contracting themselves in the most painful way possible.

Unable to contain yourself, blinded by pain you started screaming, the tears felt down your cheeks, as you understood you were being punished for your actions.

Because you hadn’t only fault your oath to protect and serve the Burgess, but you had exterminated them, going against humanity and natural order of things.

For that, you were paying the ultimate sacrifice.

“Stop! You’re hurting her! Stop!” You could hear Morpheus screaming at the top of his lungs, looking right up through the ceiling, advocating for you to the celestial realm.

But it was no use, as finally your wings were ripped from you, and you fell to the floor, feeling weak. The Endless ran to you, picking you up, you were practically limb under him, completely dead weight.

Even then, goosebumps rose along your skin, his touch being softer and kinder than you thought it would be like.

The now free king, analyzing your features, the features of the one who had saved him and payed the price, your eyes were barely open and you were smiling at him weakly.

For the first time since Jessamy’s death, he cried, it was madness seeing as you were a stranger, but this same stranger had selflessly set him free. He wanted to apologize to you, to thank you, he had so many things to say and many more questions to ask you.

“Why would do it? Why did you save me?”

“Love makes all living beings capable of things we never thought before…” you whispered softly, giving into the tiredness.

You loved him?

“I don’t even know your name” you giggled softly

“Y/N”

That was the last thing you said before giving in to the darkness.

The Lord of Dreams felt a presence, when looking up he found his sister Death standing right in front of him, a single tear fell down his cheek as he saw his sister’s sorry expression.

“Death, please don’t take her” he pleaded

“She broke the code, Dream”

“She meant well, angels are not supposed die. Let her have vindication, she can stay in the Dreaming with me”

Death stared at her younger brother deeply, soaking in his words, she had known you for eons, and she believed this to be a true tragedy as well. She didn’t think you deserved such punishment just for doing what in the end was right for humanity.

She sighed, knowing that she couldn’t give you your wings back, nobody could except for the celestial realm, but they rarely ever backed out from decisions like this.

But what she could do now, was giving you second chance, a new life beside the one you loved.

“Take care of her for me, alright Dream?” Morpheus’ eyes shined with hope as he nodded softly

When Death was gone, your eyes opened marking the very beginning of your new life.

Taglist: @emiemiemiii @ladyfairenvale @hungrhay

#Spotify #the sandman comics #sandman imagine #sandman netflix #dream of the endless #morpheus dream #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #tom sturridge x reader #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #tom sturridge #morpheus x you #morpheus sandman #morpheus imagines #lord morpheus #morpheus #sandman shitpost #sandman x you #sandman comics

[farity]

In the Red of Night, part 4

You saw a blur, heard a choked off sound.  And then Aemond had his hand wrapped around the man’s throat and was lifting him off the chair.  Your favorite reading chair.  That you would have to burn in the near future.

“Aemond,” you managed, your voice smaller than usual, and he turned.

His eyes.  They had gone even darker than before it that was possible, and his cheekbones, they looked like the skin had stretched sharply across them, red slashes across the pale skin.

The man made a sound and Aemond dropped him back onto the chair.  “You will never go near her again.”

His voice, usually soft, had a rasp to it that made you think of violence.  

And sex.

You shook your head, disgusted with yourself.  “How the hell are you here?”

The man, despite the circumstances, smiled at you.  “My dad bailed me out.  So I could see you.  I was,” he stopped, looked down at his limp cock, “I was getting ready for you.”

“Does your building have a way out the back?” Aemond asked.

You nodded.  “Stairs across from the lift.”

Without another word, Aemond lifted the man by the throat, and this time walked out your door.  He didn’t seem to be struggling as he carried a full grown man and you didn’t think, you just went after him.

“Stay home,” he said, and when you kept walking, he shook his head and cursed.  

You followed as he walked down, the man’s feet hitting every step as he clawed at Aemond’s hand, trying to free himself.  When you reached the back exit of the building, you watched as Aemond let the man fall to the ground.

“But I love you,” he rasped out, breathing heavily as he tried to reach for you.  “why can’t you see that?”

Aemond closed his eyes and you could see his fists at his sides, tightly closed in an attempt to calm himself down.

“I don’t care if you’ve been fucking this guy,” the man continued, “once you’re mine there will be no one else-”

You heard an animal growl and then, everything happened at once.  You’d never believed people when they said everything was like in slow motion.  Until now.

Aemond turned, and then he and the man were standing against the wall.  It looked for a few seconds like Aemond was talking in the man’s ear, but then-

Oh.

The man went limp and slid ever so slowly down the wall, and Aemond stayed with his back to you, his tall, lean form as still as the man was on the ground.

“Aemond.”

“I would tell you to stay back, but I already know you don’t fucking listen.”

The fear, the shock, the rush of being near Aemond, it all became too much and you burst out laughing.

And then Aemond turned around.

He ran a hand across his mouth but he didn’t wipe away all of it.

There was blood on his face, across his jaw, on the back of his hand.  And when you looked down, there was so much of it on the man’s throat.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, both to try and stop your laughter and in horror at the scene before you, and you felt like you were moving through water.  You looked back at Aemond, who took a step toward you.

“I do not mean you any harm.”

You shook your head, unable to form any words.  There was one in your head.  The only one that could possibly describe him, and yet you could not make it make sense.  

You’d seen the name on his credit card, of course, but the myths said his family was intertwined with dragons, not- not this.  And it was all bullshit, wasn’t it?  Bullshit the family had always encouraged because it served them.  Until it didn’t and now no one knew how many real Targaryens were left out there.  Some people even changed their last names and dyed their hair to pretend to be some distant relative.  Between the Targaryens and the Romanovs, there were always people wanting to be something they weren’t.  

You’d never asked Aemond about it, because a) he was quiet and kept to himself, and b) it was none of your fucking business if he was or wasn’t some long lost Targaryen.

“Are you going to say something?”

Aemond’s voice, the voice you knew from your conversations at your shop, snapped you out of your reverie.

You raised your hand and pointed to your jaw.  “You have some, uh, stuff, on your face.”

He nodded slowly.  “I will be back shortly.  Go back upstairs.”

He disappeared with the man and you did the only thing you could do, because he was already gone.

You went back upstairs.

* * * * * 

When Aemond knocked on her door, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  She had seemed to still be in shock and he sighed, cursing himself for adding to the horrible day she had already endured.  

She opened the door and stepped back to let him in.  "Do you even need an invitation?”

He shook his head.  

She closed the door behind him and locked it and he felt an absurd amount of relief.  “I want to know everything,” she said, and sat on her sofa, her hands folded primly on her lap.

He took the chair across from her.  “How much do you know about the Targaryens?”

She reached out to grab her water bottle and he saw that despite her poised and controlled appearance, her hands were shaking.

“I meant what I said earlier, I mean you no harm.” When her expression didn’t change, he felt a flutter of something.  Worry?  He wasn’t sure.  “I never have.”

She took a sip of water.  “I suppose if you did, I wouldn’t be around to tell the tale,” she said evenly.  “I know about Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives,” she said, raising her eyebrows, then looked at him with wide eyes.  “Are you married to your sister?”

Aemond smiled, unable to help himself.  “No.”

“Are you named after Aemond the Kinslayer?” she asked next, and his heart sank.  

He said nothing, and she continued to look at him, and then smiled in disbelief.  “Didn’t he lose an eye or was that someone else?”

“Yes.”

She licked her lips and took a deep breath.  “Look, if you’re going to give me one word answers we are going to be here all night and I’ve already had a really shitty day, okay?”

He could see it happening.  What did they call it?  The five stages of grief or something?  She had been in shock, then there would be denial, anger, something else.  But she was right, he did owe her more.

“Yes, I did lose an eye when my cousin slashed my face during a fight.”

She said nothing.

“But when a vampire witch decided to turn me, she convinced me by healing my eye first.  Or creating a new one, I am not quite sure as all I remember is pain.”

She was so quiet, he feared she would never speak again, and he leaned forward.  When she jumped back, he immediately raised his hands.

“Please,” he said.  “I will tell you anything you want, but please know you have nothing to fear from me.”

“Are there others like you?  Like the vampire witch?”

“Not many, but yes.  She calls every once in a while.  She’s not happy I won’t go back to her.”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.  “Why aren’t you with her?”

“Because she is . . . “ he thought about it.  “She wants power.  She thought she’d use me to get it.  Now I think it’s more like, no one leaves her, and I did, so she wants me back.  Probably so she can leave me instead.  Or kill me.”

She looked down at her hands.  “What did you do to that guy?”

Her voice was so quiet he was sure he wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for what he was.  “I think you know,” he said.

She stood, suddenly, “I want you to fucking tell me!”  

She was glaring at him, her breathing hard, her lips pressed together, and he wanted, he just wanted to wrap himself around her, to hold her, and he knew it was the last thing she would allow right now.

Aemond stayed where he was, but nodded slowly.  “I drained him of all his blood, then I disposed of his body where he will never be found.  If you will allow me, I will go through your bedroom and remove any evidence, otherwise, I would urge you to do it yourself.  We do not know who might know he was on his way here and-”

The water bottle hit him in the chest, splashing his face.  He didn’t move, and she grabbed a book and threw that next.  There were tears in her eyes and he sat there, watching as she worked herself up.  She was going to start screaming and he could not let her do that, so when she opened her mouth, he rushed to her and covered her mouth, holding her back against him.  

She screamed against his palm, grabbed at his hand to pull it away and screamed again when it didn’t move an inch.  

“I am sorry,” he repeated, holding her so that she wouldn’t hurt herself but she was relentless, kicking back at him and trying to turn in his arms, so he turned her around himself, and before he could stop her, she was pressing her mouth to his.

He grabbed her face to push her away, and instead found himself demanding entrance to her mouth.  She opened for him, so willing and warm, and her fingers were grabbing his sweater, pulling him closer.  She was mad to be courting disaster like this, but the taste of her was like golden honey on his tongue, coating the metallic remnants of blood.  

One moment of sanity made him surface and he pulled away.  She looked dazed, her mouth rosy and swollen, her hands still fisted in his clothes.  “No,” he breathed out.  “You don’t know what you want.”

“I’m not a fucking child,” she snapped and then closed her eyes.  “Fine.  Get out, then.”  she turned and took a step away from him.

Aemond cursed and reached out to grab her and pull her back and when she wrapped her arms around his neck he lifted her up and kissed her, one hand on her ass, the other on the back of her head, and began walking to her bedroom.

He felt her fingers delving into his hair, caressing his face as he continued to kiss her, placing her on her neatly made bed.  He managed to pull back, “tell me you want this, I need to hear the words.”

She let her head fall back, moaning in frustration.  “Really?  I thought I was being pretty obvious,” she panted, but she reached up to brush her fingertips along his jaw.  “I want you.  I’ve wanted you for a long time.” And then she sat up and pulled off her shirt, looking down at her breasts and her plain black bra.  When she looked back up at him, her eyes were wide and he could no longer resist her.

“I want you, too,” he murmured, “I haven’t wanted someone like this in-” he swallowed, and reached for her.

* * * * * 

For a moment, you thought he was going to leave, but then you felt him reach behind you, the clasp of your bra releasing and you shivered as he gently pulled the garment off of you.  You hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and you wished your bra was prettier, your breasts bigger, but then he was taking one nipple in his mouth and you forgot all about your imagined deficiencies because what he was doing with his lips and tongue was making your head swirl.  Again you sank your fingers into his hair, so incredibly soft, his skin so smooth, and arched against him, wanting more. 

He let go of your breast and began pulling down your leggings and underwear, and then you were bare before him.  Before you could start worrying about some other body image bullshit, he was pulling off his sweater and your mouth went dry at the sight of him.  

“It is rude to stare,” he said, and then leaned down to kiss you.

Fine, you thought, if you couldn’t look, then you would touch, and let your hands roam over his shoulders and back, feeling the power in his lean muscles.  You had dreamed of this, and feeling his skin against yours was even better than anything your imagination could come up with.  When he let his weight rest between your spread thighs, you felt him, hard against your belly, and rolled your hips.

Aemond gasped against your mouth, and you smiled before you reached for the button on his jeans.  He let you undo it and then shoved the rest of his clothes off before coming back to you.  “I do not get diseases, and I cannot get you pregnant, but I have thought about all the things I want to do to you,” he said,  “will you let me?”

You looked up at him, “anything,” you murmured, “everything.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I will remind you of that.”  And with that, he slid down and fastened his mouth between your legs.  His hands held your thighs open while you grabbed at the bedspread in desperation.  His tongue circled relentlessly, driving you higher and higher.  It was going to be fast and brutal, and as the lashings of pleasure began tearing through you, you moaned loudly, your legs shaking until you realized he was not stopping, he was not merely working you through your orgasm.  He was working you up to the next one.  

It was that realization that made you come a second time, and when he pushed two fingers inside you, you reached for his hair, unsure if you wanted to push him away or hold him in place.  It was all too much and yet you reached for more, letting Aemond do as he wanted, because whatever it is the he wished to do, you had no plans to stop him.

* * * * * 

Eventually he leaves her, trembling and panting on the bed, and he goes to clean up.  He doesn’t know her well enough to know what she is okay with, so when he comes back, he takes her in his arms and kisses her, feeling her soft and pliant against him.  He wants her so badly, wants to sink into her, and yes, wants to taste her blood as well.  Some other time, he tells himself, when she knows what she is agreeing to, when she is sure and not in shock from a vicious day.

He nudges at her entrance and she gasps, but reaches for him, her eyes still half closed.  When he begins pushing inside her, he needs a moment because she is so hot and swollen from all the stimulation that he nearly comes when he’s barely an inch inside her.  

“Aemond,” she says softly, and he looks down at her, the small smile on her lips, “do you want to drink from me?”

He goes very still.  She blinks a couple of times and he shakes his head, and pushes in further, making her gasp.  

He decides he will not drink from her now, and kisses her before she can offer again.  She feels amazing, and he has to restrain himself from simply burying himself in her in one thrust.  He wants to savor her, every little gasp and the way she bites down on her lower lip.  

“Please, Aemond,” she says, and he loses his restraint, snapping his hips.  She sinks her nails into his back and moves her legs up to wrap around his waist, pulling him in even deeper.  “God, yes,” she whispers, and he wants to tell her there are no gods, there never were, and he pulls back instead, almost until he is completely out of her, before he slams back inside her.  She moans, her face flushed, and he starts snapping his hips, watching her every reaction, letting the noises she makes feed the need inside him.

He can tell she is about to come, her unsteady breathing and the way she rocks her hips to meet him tell him she is almost there, so he reaches between them, his thumb finding her, circling on her slick flesh to drive her over the edge.  She cries out and he feels her clenching around him, her body arching off the bed, and he wants to feel every contraction, every tremor of her legs.  It is a soft graze of her fingers on his hand that undoes him, and he lets himself surrender.

* * * * * 

You awoke at your usual 4am, alone in your bed.

There were sounds coming from the living area and you quickly realized it was Aemond, probably on his phone.  You smiled.  He hadn’t left after all.  After you used the bathroom, you grabbed your robe and wrapped it around yourself before walking to the kitchen.

“Hold off for now, otherwise they’ll keep the price high.  I’ll talk to you later,” he said when he saw you and after clicking off the call, he smiled and stood in time to open his arms to you.  “Good morning.”

“Indeed,” you replied, raising your mouth to his.  He kissed you gently, caressing your cheek.  “I need to get ready for work,” you said, letting him pull you in.

He held you tightly for a moment, then kissed the top of your head.  “I will see you later, then.  I have a meeting so I have to run, but I will be in after.”

“Okay,” you replied.  

“Will you stay with me tonight?  Bring a change of clothes for tomorrow?”

You nodded, smiling, and let him kiss you before he left.

* * * * * 

Bailey was working with you this morning, and you went over the scary happenings of the day before.  “Okay, you are never closing by yourself again,” he said.

“I don’t think any of us should open or close alone again.”

A woman walked in, looking around with a smile on her face.  “This is so charming!” she said, and you couldn’t help but smile back.  “I’ll take a coffee, black, to go.”

“Anything to eat?  Our morning buns are freshly made,” you said.  The bag she carried cost about 10k dollars, you knew.  

“Oh no,” she laughed, “I’ve already eaten today.”  She reached in and pulled out a credit card, handing it to you.

You rang her up while Bailey handed her the coffee cup.  Looking down at the card, you read:

Alys Rivers.

* * * * * 

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[writing-for-me-at-this-point]

𝖔𝖈𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖔𝖗𝖘 | 𝖗𝖞𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖓 𝖘𝖚𝖐𝖚𝖓𝖆 | 𝖎. 𝖈𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊

A.N. welcome to the first installment of my horror series! i hope you enjoy it and look forward to the rest of the month! cant wait to hear yalls feedback and thoughts!

WORD COUNT. 1065 words

WARNINGS. cannibalism, obsessions, obsessive love, mentions of cooked human flesh, yandere themes, non-con, horror

Please remember my blog is 18+ only, and does not cater, nor encourage, minors to interact. Minors are NOT welcome to interact with my works or blogs, as they contain mature content.

[ OCTOBER HORRORS MASTERLIST ]

got any requests? want more horror? wanna see a prompt for a different character? feel free to check out my [ HORROR SENTENCE THEMES ]

i. cleave. ryomen sukuna. jujutsu kaisen.

Cleave (捌はち Hachi?): A slashing attack that adjusts itself depending on the target's toughness and cursed energy level to cut them down in one fell swoop.

Dismantle (解カイ Kai?): Default slashing attack that is normally used for inanimate objects, however it can also be used against cursed spirits and sorcerers to great effectiveness.

一cleave and dismantle, sukuna, powers and abilities, jjk wiki

The King of Curses is not a kind, or empathetic building, finding humanity to be nothing other than a resource he can take and consume as he pleases. He hungers for the flesh of women and children, smites men for the pleasure of his power and the cravings for a mere display, holds an authority of a near-god and yet there are still those who wish to challenge him, foolishly, is to be added.

He picks at his teeth with a bone, broken, small and curved. You can only infer it’s from a larger one, a rib, you gather. Sukuna has overtaken Yuji once again, speaking their vow into existence at the worst time, and he’s lost himself in the glee and pleasures of the human body and what it offers to him.

Bones are scattered around the area as he lounges on a bed, hidden in one of the larger buildings, his cups and plates overfilled by his devout followers from times long gone. The area is dark and lit with lanterns, the air is dry and leaves your mouth watering, the stench of death and charred pork allows the bile to rise.

It was not pork.

You curse to yourself silently, eyes meeting the dual set of your lost friend, and the tears start behind your eyes. His features changed, you noted. The soft angle of his jaw is sharper, thicker, making his face wider than the young man's slimmer look. Large eyes have narrowed, making room for his extra set of eyes, his brows thinned and his cheek bones have lowered.

“Young one, you’ve interrupted my time alone, and leave me wondering what exactly you want from me… would you care to explain yourself?” His tone is musical, he entertains himself as you shake ever so slightly, he is fond of the soul that your body hosts, the long forgotten original he yearns to experience once again.

“Sukuna, the others are coming soon, and your time with Yuji is almost up.” You attempt to remain steady, your finger twitching in anticipation as your heart races, loud and thundering in your ears. Sweat beads at your scalp, above your brow, the heat in your neck and chest cause your anxiety to rise against the chill of your back and legs. Your voice was strong and steady, but your body language spoke otherwise, even as you stood as straight as you could.

“You’ve come to warn me, why is that?” He muses, grinning as he takes in the scent of your fear into account, he was fond of you for many reasons, of the memory you ignited in his head, and the way you act now. Small, soft, and your smell-

The smell of the most delectable meal he could have,

Sukuna was unwanted, an unloved, and unbearable being for the entirety of his human life, only respected and wanted for his power and authority once he had rebuilt himself after his death.

He remembered your face, the foreigner who came such a long way from home, a traveler who wanted to master their power and energy. He remembered your face, your hair, your eyes, your body. Gods, the body he held for so long, the body he gripped at and took many times, the body he admired and cared for, that he broke and rebuilt over and over.

The soul that came with the body was even more tantalizing, he drooled as you spoke and commanded others, watched with captured eyes as you entertained the young ones and the elderly, listened intently to the stories and knowledge from your tales from afar. He wanted everything, he wanted you so much then, so much he wanted to hold you close and press him to his skin. 

He wanted you closer, to crawl inside your skin and lay inside you, to crack your chest open and curl up in the warmth and the wetness inside, to taste the innermost parts of you and merge your being into his. 

His stomach turns at the thought, and he realizes he's okay with making a sacrifice just this once- to give into his urges just this once. He yearns to be with you, again, forever. Until your soul incarnates and your body comes back again.

Again.

You’ll come back again, he can’t allow you to leave, into the arms of another, even if he possesses the body of the boy.

“Because you still have Yuji's body, and I can’t let anything happen to him, to… you.” You answered, his blood pressure rises, adrenaline rushes through his body at that answer, he doesn’t care for the damned brat, he actively ignores that part, he only hears how you care for him.

For him.

Sukuna. 

He’s seen once again, he groans, empties his hands and stands up. Your guard is down and you relax slightly, he grins behind his poker face, and as you go to turn, finished with your discussion, you do not have time to comprehend his words.

“I’ll have you, just this once.” He stares, a hand gesture later, and your body splits at the joints, cut cleanly and thinly. You fall to the floor, and the scent he’s yearned for fills the air, he wants more and sticks his tongue out to lick the air.

His strides are long, confident, yet quick. Almost like a child running to his parents for a treat, a malicious giggle escapes him, and he licks his lips before bending over to pick your head up from the pile of freshly cut flesh. Your eyes have rolled back, gone before you could realize what happened, and his hands are gentle against the warm skin of your cheeks.

“All to myself, yes, this’ll do.” He’s softer now, bringing your head to his, a small kiss to your lips before holding it closely to his chest. He takes a deep breath, eyes dilated, before he calls for his long time friend.

What a delectable meal.

#x reader #reader insert #queen.writing #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #october horrors #horror prompt #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[v3nusxsky]

Hey! idk if ur still taking requests but can I ask for soft Lesso x Reader smut where reader does the deed for the first time since being s**ually abused pleae??? Thanks bestie x

Hey lovely anon! I hope you are well and this fic is what you desired thank you for your support <3

We will go slow 18+

*Authors note| this is a tough one that hits a little closer to home than I actually thought it would. So please if you want feel free to reach out unfortunately this is something that happens to many people*

Trigger warnings~ past sexual assault oral (r receiving) fingering (r receiving) thigh riding (lesso receiving) sweet loving smut

Prompt~ see the ask^^

Being with the Dean of the school for Evil was like nothing you expected or had ever experienced before. It was an unexpected love especially after everything you had been through, you swore off relationships of any kind for a long time that's why you found it so surprising how quickly you allowed Lady Lesso into your heart. You were quite surprised with how respectful she was of your boundaries, naturally being a forward and taunting women she had accidentally scared you once by her advance so changed her tactics to being more softer and relaxed in her approach. This seemed to work wonders and you instantly felt safe enough to confide in the dean.

When you told disclosed the horrors you had faced to the women she was in shock to say the least. Admittedly, you weren't together at that point but you were very close and Lesso knew of her feelings towards you but couldn't understand your reactions to her advances. So you sat down in her office and told her everything. Start to finish about what he did to you. You had to pause at certain points as the memories were too strong for you to deal with, but she was patient with you and offered her hand to you as a form of comfort which you took willingly. Some of the parts of your story had Lesso gasping in shock, she had no idea you had been through so much. She could always appreciate a true act of evil but what you had been subjected to was more than evil, it was down right cruel.

That night you cried holding onto her hand as if it was the last life line you had. And yet she remained with you and would for as long as you truly desired it. All she wished to do was gather you in her arms and hold you but she couldn't risk startling you so she waited for you to come to her. And you did. That was the night you and Lesso decided to give this ago.  And for the past 6 months everything has been utterly perfect. It was hard to believe that Lesso wanted you, out of all the people falling at her feet she choose you. Despite the most you had done together is shared a few kisses and cuddles. Lesso reassured you every opportunity she could that she would wait as long as you needed, and if you never even wanted to ever again then she would respect that. After all what you had been through was brutal so it was unsurprising that you may never wish to be touched again.

That was furthest from the truth though. You desired her touch, her hands and truthfully you wished to give all of your body mind and soul to her. But you hadn't been with another since him and it terrified you that you could potentially respond in the wrong way and she'd blame herself. He had called you "damaged goods" he had broken you beyond repair and no one would ever want you now. And you had truly believed his words until her. She changed everything. The way she held you as if you were glass, the way she whispered reassuring words when you were anxious and the way she told you daily you were beautiful and how much she truly adores you. Everything about her changed that mindset. Which is why you decided tonight you would finally give into your desire.

You and Lesso had retired for the night and were laying in bed, you laying on her chest as she read a book out loud, that you truly had no interest in but her voice was soothing and you enjoyed the intimacy of the situation. You were fidgety which was the first clue that you needed to talk, then it was the way you would flick your eyes up to hers before snapping them back down to the pages hoping to not be caught. Lesso marked her book and placed it to the bedside table before shifting to grab your attention.

"Little one, are you quite alright my love?" She hummed out hoping her tone would soothe whatever was bothering you. Her eyes carefully examining every little detail to ensure she wasn't the cause. "I'm um ready Nora" you mumbled embarrassed now. What had happened had taken all your confidence with it, but this was your Nora and she wouldn't hurt you. You were safe with her. You knew that. She turned to be able to see you properly "are you sure love? You don't have to" she reiterated to you as she had many times before. And you truly knew that this was all in your control. "I know Nora, I want you to help make this a good thing. I trust you Nora with my body, mind, heart and soul." This seemed to reassure the dean and she shifted to sit up. "At any point darling, and I mean this wholeheartedly, say Dove and I'll stop. Instantly and there won't be any anger or sadness on my part. I just want you to feel good darling"

This was like nothing you had ever experienced. But you nodded showing your understanding. And that was when her lips met yours in a sweet slow kiss. It was as if she had forever to worship you. You loved kissing her, it made you feel so many warm fuzzy feelings, and if you were completely honest she was the best kiss you'd ever had. Her kisses soon made their way to your neck and even just behind your ear which she knew you adored. Before removing any of the clothing you had one she asked for consent again, reassuring you that you didn't have to do this. But you wanted, no no need her.

Which is how you ended up stripped bare, lesso stripping down as well to make you feel more comfortable and less exposed before settling between your thighs. Her hands exploring your perfect breasts while her mouth laid kisses to the skin on your stomach and thighs. She could smell your arousal, driving her wild but she was determined to go slow and ensure you enjoyed this. Tonight would be all about you and the pleasure she could bring you. With another check of consent you finally felt her lips at your soaked core. Her hot breath just ticking you. And when her tongue brushed over your clit ever so lightly you couldn't control the moan that stumbled over your lips. Soon enough her licks became stronger and more skilled as she toyed with your aching bundle of nerves. You we're getting desperate now, not above begging for her so you did. And she complied instantly by finally letting her tongue explore your folds. If you thought you were a goner then well when she moaned against your cunt as eager fingers rubbed slow but firm circles on your aching clit, you were definitely in heaven. You came hard on her tongue as she helped you ride your orgasm out and licked up every last drop of her reward enjoying all the pretty sounds that tumbled from your lips.

Moving back up the bed she laid kisses to any bare skin in reach before kissing you thoroughly so your toes curled and you would taste yourself on your tongue. "How was that darling? Are you okay? Would you like to continue?" It was cute how concerned she was despite the fact she had given you simply what could be explained as the best orgasm of your life. Such a kind and thoughtful lover, you couldn't help but want more. Never one to leave you wanting for anything she settled back between your legs silently asking for the go ahead. Once you nodded Lesso allowed her fingers to trial through the slick now coating your thighs before slowly and carefully slipping in a finger. At the action you couldn't help but moan her name, "fuck Nora!"

That was all the encouragement she needed. As she quickly found a steady rhythm watching you in delight as you were riding her finger. You begged for her to add another and she did so watching as your face contorted in pleasure at the full sensation. Then it was the words tumbling from her mouth that shoved you over the edge once more. Praise ever flowing from the older women as you came with her name on your lips. You were her good girl and it was clear to see you enjoyed being told so. Only when you had ridden your high out did you whimper knowing you needed a break now. Lesso took the cue and joined you back in bed.

She noticed your pout and instantly inquired about it, "why are we pouting little one?" You blushed and mumbled "you didn't uh um" you trailed off but lucky for you your lover knew exactly what you were trying to say. "Darling you want me to cum?" She murmured watching your reaction and stroking her finger across your cheek in a comforting gesture. You nodded in a response. "Little one you've done so well tonight you don't have to touch me that could be overwhelming but if you truly desire I could always ride your thigh" she suggested watching as you processed what she had said. Lesso was right maybe too much would freak you out, and offering your thigh meant you'd still be able to kiss her. So you nodded and watched as she moved to straddle your thigh. Her lips finding yours as she rolled her hips slowly letting you get a feel for what was going to happen.

Your little moan is what fuelled her movements to become more needy and frantic as she worked herself to her own high. When she came it was you she cried out for. And all you could do is watch as pleasure ripped through her body. She was absolutely breathtakingly stunning in the day time but with this nothing would ever compare. After lesso was finished she hopped up to gather a warm washcloth and cleaned you up so you wouldn't be sticky before coming back to bed to hold you in her arms. She peppered kisses everywhere she could reach asking repeatedly if you were okay and if she did anything that made you uncomfortable. But all you could do is smile and remind her that everything was perfect before falling asleep in her arms.

Word count ~ 1857

#fanfic #lady lesso #sfgae #leonora lesso #lady lesso x reader #lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #leonora lesso x reader #smuttt #fan fic smut #asks #anon asks #anon request #anon reply #anons welcome

[bellarkeex]

Treacherous [Cardan POV]

My interpretation of Cardan's POV from the night he wrote the Alice in Wonderland note. Jude. Jude. Jude.

☾ warnings: confused yearning cardan, not sure there is any?, mention of drink & powders, not explict smutty dream

☾ read on ao3: here.

☾ wc: 1036

“Oh, Cardan.” Her sighs echo into the shadowed trees around us.

I grip at every piece of skin I can reach. Though she is below me, I am the one drowning in her presence. Blissfully unaware to any semblance of touch except nails digging into my back, the hot shallow breaths on my neck, and her warmth I am repeatedly sinking into. Little bruises had begun to show on her collar bone and if one were to look carefully, more would be found on her inner thighs.

My stomach twisting at every little sound which escapes her mouth, urging myself on in hope to be blessed with more.

My name on her lips, I know this would be my undoing. What would finally drive me into madness. The becoming of a mere beggar, my only wish to hear her say my name. No matter whether whispered and breathless. Hell, in this nightmare, I’d settle for it being screamed in rage.

⋆⁺⋆⋆⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺

It was not always like this.

Many times, she had surrendered to him, the only words the mortal girl dare to utter being pleas. Begging for him to do many improper things to her. Acts which would seem unbefitting to any other respected prince. Yet, he was not that kind of prince, and such acts were expected of him by now.

Oh, Cardan please. She would beg. It is your mercy I am at.

⋆⁺⋆⋆⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺

Another countless consecutive night, I’ve awoke from a fitful sleep. Restful nights have become a luxury I don’t often receive without, what others would call, an obscene amount of drink or powders. But no amount drink nor powders could free me from this torment.

I’m unsure how long I lay breathless among ruined sweat-soaked sheets before I rip them from my body, recoiling from the bed. Relieved to feel the cool of the wood chain press against my back, instead of the stick of linen.

This is entirely absurd and should be the least of my worries. My supposed girlfriend is frolicking around with my apparent best friend, and I cannot even get a simple mortal to leave me in a moment’s peace.

I fail in my attempt to disregard my most recent horror, memories forcing me to recall each moment. I need to forget each one. But I cannot. I remember them all.

Breath fails me just as much as forgetting does, I cannot go on like this. I am entirely restless.

Jude. She's just a blip. Her sad short mortal life merely just a chapter in comparison to my immortal one, I remind myself. She'll be gone before I've even noticed the years have passed. Jude. Gone. Buried beneath the strange mortal soil in which she came from. Gone and everything will be as though my mind was never plagued.

And yet even now after she's vanished, she remains remembered by the land. Her mark clinging onto the earth. The earth clinging onto her. Jude. As though she's supposed to be here.

But she's not.

It is unsettling, unnatural.

My skin itches whenever her & her twins’ blanket is a foot too close to ours, but she's not even here and I feel like I'm on fire. Invisible flame biting at my skin, engulfing my heart and shooting down to my gut. An appallingly disgusting sensation that cannot be properly explained to those unknowing of the feeling.

I fear I may lash out at any moment. A tamed animal resorting back to its feral ways, and she knows.

She knows; because she is the same. Nothing more than a dog trained to not bite the hand that feeds it. But every so often, something must give.

And something has.

Despite my, as of late highly frequent, delirious state there is no mistaking the gradual slip of her façade. Unbridle rage replacing usual strategic indifference. And though that rage is evidently directed at me, I would be unable to say I’m not intrigued. Intrigued by what she could possibly be mad about? Wondering of what sets her soul alight.

It is depraved, treacherous even, and I cannot contain this. I cannot shape this into a calculated void.

The blank papers sprawled before me on the desk seem to perfectly mirror my deteriorating mental state.

I am not sure if out of sheer anger or desperate yearning for relief, I feel I must write. Attempting to free my mind of every thought it holds.

I need it gone. All of it.

Could all be fixed if she was out of my sight?

I finish one page after another, only stopping when ink begins to leak uncontrolled from the battered end of the pen. I vacantly acknowledge the distant cramping of my fingers, slowly regaining focus.

Beyond some daze, I’m aware of what I've written. Aware of what I have wasted my parchment on.

Etched in ink that has smeared along the pages, onto my fingertips and the desk below me, is her. Jude. I can only stare at her name on the paper below me. Her odd, rounded name to match her odd, rounded ears. Jude.

In spite of my overly warm skin and unruly appearance, a strange serenity clouds my previous spiralling thoughts. Calm slips into the air around me.

But I don't welcome the feeling.

I don't wish to understand it. I don't wish to see it.

Before another thought can begin to plague me, I brush the stained bits of paper in to the first book I reach for – slamming it shut so hard a few stray pencils clatter to the ground, chasing a few stay pages of truth that avoided being encased inside the book. I’d have to remember to burn them later.

Only after a minute do I read the cover of the book beneath my hands. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass.

I almost laugh, as though some sick and twisted work of fate had given me the book itself, deciding to place it in my hands personally. The mortal book I got from my sister. The book my sister got from Judes sister.

I refuse to acknowledge it.

And yet, her name lingers on my fingertips as it lingers on the lands – even after she's gone.

☾ there was definitely more than one jude note, our man was feral for her

#cardan greenbriar fanfic #cardan greenbriar pov #cardan greenbriar #the folk of the air #jurdan #tfota #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #cardan x jude #jude x cardan #tcp #twk #qon #htkoelths