#because the broken realm is a reminder of who he is

[evilminji]

Okay, you know how bird don't ACTUALLY look the way we think they do?

They are far more colorful? But only to the eyes of other birds?

And it has to do with how light reflects off them and how their eyes are shaped etc etc.?

Well..... humans can see the most shades of green, right? But! We sure as shit can't see UltaViolet and InfraRed? Or shades BEYOND those. Ectoplasmic colors. Magical ones. Third eye, need to see with your SOUL type ones.

Danny? Could very well still have lil baby "kitten's eyes who haven't open yet" syndrome.

He thinks the Zone is Green and his hair is white.

But it's not.

His hair is Starlight colored. Frost. His suit is specifically "the void between stars" colored. Which looks... different? Then black? No, no, guys. How can you guys not see it? It looks REALLY different! How did he not NOTICE before?! They're not ever CLOSE to the same shade! It's like calling salmon and hot pink the same. You know... if you were to compare an actual fish and some irradiated, violently glowing version of "hot pink".

......guys?

His gloves are.... guys, these ares stars. Pressed so close together there's no gap. His body is the night sky, all rearranged. He's wearing SPACE, guys.

*continues to stare at his gloves for the next five hours*

Now... why is this relevant? Because! Danny slowly, as all humans do, adjusts! It's like finally having glasses after years of blurry vision. He... forgets, what it was like, not NOT See Zone Colors. Not completely, mind you, but enough he has to be reminded.

And the Zone? A Realm of the Dead. Specifically, the great catch-all and highway of the Dead. They get EVERYBODY. Misfits and vagabonds. Those who don't quite fit. Funky lil dudes. And of course, assholes, but everybody has those! See, Zone colors?

Are DIFFERENT.

They're all of um!

It's like looking at the technicolor, stobe light, multi galaxies in one, Sun. Tingly(tm)!!! You get used to it. What helps? Is that as garish as the Zone is? The painting and grand tapestry of it all? Keeps changing. Like weather. If it's too much for you, you can stay inside your Lair until the current Color changes. Until the designs shift. Vibe changes.

There are even glasses for that! "Temperate" areas for people to set up, that get headaches or are just... kinda killjoys. Too each their own. Though the stormy areas? Those guys are freaks. Watch out for those guys. They're the kind who stare directly are stars until their eyes burn out.

Where was I? Oh yeah! Danny!

No longer a wee baby, smol baby, twig-o!

Sad. We miss it.

But he did get used to Seeing The Colors. Got a handle on his powers. And! Finally worked with his parents on how to safely turn the portal OFF. There was much booing. Cries of "kill joy" and "booo! You suck!". But? Like? Dude DID have the right to protect his home. Go to college. What can you do?

Problem with THAT is? Baby grew into his "built like a brick shit house of constantly running off to literally tackle the Supernatural excellence" Fenton genetics. He Tall. Muscles! And he PUMPING out "somethings fucked up with me" Vibes!

Add in his DEEPLY Sus off hand comments. Weird ability to tell when someone has or is about to die. Basic immunity to the cold. Fuckin EYE GLOW?

Ha ha... *Horror movie screams from his college dorm mates*

Clearly a demon!

He gets kicked out. Well... not kicked out. He's a model student and broken no rules. They'd never survive the lawsuit. But... he's? STRONGLY INCOURAGED to finish his education elsewhere. Repeatedly. By like... 15 colleges.

Sam is not just livid, she's actively foaming at the mouth.

Breathe, Sam! Remember what your doctor said! Your mortal body can't handle that kinda Vengance spiral! Think of your blood pressure! Breathe!!! (Were not for the laws of this land... and the weak, fleshy constraints of her mortal form!)

Thankfully? Tucker's been interning, remotely of course, with Wayne Industries. He asked his manager where he could find some of those scholarship forms. (Since Gotham University is just a touch out of Danny's price range.) Manager wanted to know why. And oh! Oh holy shit. Apparently? Danny is the hot new office gossip.

People in the main office are OUTRAGED. Danny's "too spooky"?! Too FUCKIN SPOOKY!? Are you KIDDING THEM? Even juicier, a Meta kid from some wacky ghost hunters turned scientists. From a line of Supernatural hunters. Wants to be a aeronautics engineer.

Ooooooh how SPOOKY! Better watch out! He'll design an ENGINE at yooooou!

Fuckin casuals. Non-Gothamites are WEAK. "Too scary" their collective asses. Yeah, maybe the kid SHOULD come too Gotham. He can be the weird kid. Mildly unsettling or something. His powers won't be SHIT in Gotham. Just remind him to buy a gas mask.

So! Danny gets his Scholarship! Merrily packs his bags for darker, Gothic hellscape hills. Unaware... that Constantine has been following reports of a "demon" that he's? 80% sure is a Banshee but MIGHT be a winter spirt with a shtick? For the past 13 colleges. He's getting closer. And this sucker is a strong one.

Not "this is going to cause me serious, life imperilling danger" strong. But more? "Man, that cat is HUUUUUGE". Could he still get mauled a lil? Yeah. Scratched to all hell and back? Probably! But DIE? Unlikely.

He just needs to know why the FUCK this spirit his hanging around colleges.

Which is made harder... by the fact that what HE sees? And what OTHER people see? When they look at this guy? Separate things. Yeah, he'd LOVE to give you guys a description! IF HE HAD ONE.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @lolottes

#dc x dp prompt #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #minji's writing

[pillowspace]

Celestial Sundown AU Eclipse

I designed the fella that's been rattling around my brain for the past week. I am gently holding him out to you, please treat him with love and care

He is made up of the sun and moon gods Sunna and Meno, not Day and Night. Yeah, my AU gets TWO sets of Daycare Attendants, look at me go

--- readmore ---

Sun and Moon are the gods of day and night, but they're only called Sun and Moon in certain cultures, one of those being your own. Technically, though it holds great importance to their roles, they are not, in title, the actual gods of the sun and the moon. Eclipse is a fusion between the sun god and the moon god, Sunna and Meno.

Meno was mistakenly created very weak, and was sure to pass away in many, many years. When they created the sun god, Sunna was made to be twice as strong, so that when Meno inevitably ceased to be, Sunna would still be able to use the day to push the night away and continue the sun and moon's cycle after its counterpart was gone. This was agreed upon, and understood.

They ended up loving each other very deeply over the years, though. And so when the moon's life finally came to an end, the sun refused and used all of the doubled power it was created with to fuse the moon's life to its own. Sunna turned the two of them into a horrible, painful abomination of all eyes just to keep his loved one alive. The other gods attempted to destroy this form multiple times, but Sunna would always piece their form back together again until they stopped trying. Eclipse was instead locked away until he woke back up, hence the broken chains.

Their dynamic has since then grown strained within their shared body, Meno insistent that they just rest already and to stop messing with the natural order of things. We prepared for this, you knew this would happen. Why would you do this to us now? And Sunna adamant that Meno is GOING to survive, no matter what. They often argue, frustrated in their poorly-made existence, but they still love each other more than anything, and will frequently remind each other that they do and always will.

Sunna is often more in control of the body than Meno is, but Meno still unconsciously affects the body's behaviours and mannerisms. Eclipse can still be referred to as one person, because Sunna and Meno can slip into the background and merge their personalities into one. Sunna's extreme will to survive combined with Meno's lack of mortal fear can make Eclipse... a tad feral, if you will.

Sun and Moon (also known as Day and Night) were created because of this, and were somewhat based off of Sunna and Meno in creation. The day and night cycle came to a halt without the sun and moon gods, and so Day and Night were created to put things back in working order.

You meet Eclipse while searching the Celestial Realm for Sun, temporarily mistaking Eclipse for him instead.

Guy who makes you think of Golden Antlers by Glass Animals and Evelyn Evelyn.

#pillowspace art #celestial sundown au #fnaf eclipse #eclipse fnaf #dca au #fnaf au #fnaf daycare attendant #the daycare attendant #sundrop #moondrop #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #dca fandom #cw scopophobia #[csd art tag]

[kraviolis]

i told y’all. i told y’all i was gonna go crazy over this post made by @gummy-goat-galaxy​

full disclosure i drew literally all of this before looking into the details of the AU so this is 70% my interpretation of his original post but i need to explain my thought process so. here’s the post explaining the details of the actual AU!!! and below is what my brain made up on the spot

ok so belos finds tiny child luz and is like “fuck everyone. this is mine now” and treats her like a goddamn princess. to him, she is a Gift From God to remind him to stay on his Righteous Path. an innocent little girl who is just so bubbly and always tries to see the good in everything, including him. she is a reminder of how Pure and Good humanity is, and seeing as though she’s the literal only human he’s had any contact with besides caleb in 400 fucking years, he is never letting the demon realm corrupt her like it did to him.

she’s basically his Lamb and he the Shepherd, and because he’s so desperate to keep her “““pure”““ he strictly keeps her within the castle and even then not all of the castle is available to her. he keeps her contact with witches to an absolute bare minimum.

he entrusts her protection specifically to hunter, despite the fact he’s only 2 years older. his reasoning is “caleb did a pretty good job raising me so this’ll be fine probably.” when belos himself cannot keep an eye on her, it’s hunter’s job. luz and hunter end up being raised in a sorta similar situation to catra & adora from she-ra but they are actually siblings and not just best friends.

(if u havent seen she-ra, basically its their abusive caretaker creating a golden child + scapegoat dynamic, where one kid can do absolutely no wrong (which doesnt mean they cant still be abused/manipulated!!) while the other kid is blamed for literally everything that goes wrong. the caretaker also regularly pits them against each other to encourage competition & keep the all power in the caretaker’s hands.)

similar to catra & adora, the whole competition thing doesnt really work. luz is just too damn kind and too damn good for hunter to ever resent her, and she’s all he really has. because hunter is the scapegoat, he grows wise to belos’s manipulations WAY sooner. it’s easier to figure out when you’re being mistreated when you literally watch ur guardian treating ur sibling so much better than how they treat u.

unfortunately, because luz cannot help but see the good in absolutely everyone and can be empathetic to a fault, she doesnt realize belos’s game until she ends up sneaking out of the castle. she actually really loves belos and is thankful for him taking her in for a long time. she calls him uncle like hunter, despite belos nudging her towards seeing him as a father bcus he sees her as a pseudo-daughter. (but luz remembers her dad, and has no desire to replace him with someone else no matter how much she cares for belos)

belos does love & adore luz, he would do almost anything to keep her happy and “innocent” and “pure”, but not to the extent that he could still end up redeemed. he still manipulates & subtly emotionally abuses her to keep her in line, but it’s only when she sneaks out and meets eda the owl lady does she start getting clued into this. and once luz learns what belos has done to hunter it’s all fucking over.

hunter loves luz. she is his sister and always will be. but while he’s stuck to belos because of his duties as golden guard, she sees how green the grass is on the other side and doesn’t even hesitate to hop over there. watching her slowly grow more and more distant while she keeps sneaking out to visit with her new friends (eda, king, willow, gus, amity, etc.) is one of the most painful things hunter has had to deal with.

he feels betrayed at first, as if luz is replacing him with other people who arent broken like he is, and when luz actually leaves for good- belos lies to the public and says she was kidnapped- hunter is the one who leads the hunt to find her and bring her back home safely. when they confront each other, luz tries to do her whole dramatic speech about how wrong belos is and how he’s been lying their whole lives, but hunter already knows. the only reason he stayed was for luz, but she couldnt even stay from him? it fuckin hurts man.

they end up on opposite sides for a minute. hunter gains no satisfaction from trying to ruin this new life she’s found for herself but goddamnit, he has a job to do. he cant just defect. and then he defects after watching belos try to kill luz because she’s let herself become corrupted by the witches.

thats about all my brain got for this so far. TL;DR basically just listen to the “first time in forever” and “mother knows best reprise” and “broken crown” by mumford & sons and thats pretty much the gist of it.

#the owl house #hunter toh #hunter #luz noceda #the golden guard #emperor belos #philip wittebane #hunter noceda #toh #toh au #the owl house au #ahhhh i dont wanna use the tag for the original creator's au bcus my interpretation isnt technically her au. but i also dont wanna seem like #im stealing her au or something #but i want a dedicated tag for this au including expansions on my initial thoughts #wahhhh #mine #2023 #also she got no shoes bcus her vibe is sorta like. rose quartz/lapis lazuli from SU and neither of them wear shoes #well lapis does now but #you get it

[blues824]

I've got a black butler request(if your still taking any) :

Black butler characters(your choice) with riddle rosehearts like s/o relationships (if it's not to much)

Lords and Butlers, y’all. Gender-neutral reader.

Ciel Phantomhive

You were a renowned practicing doctor, as well as a noble in your own right. Honestly, no one was able to tell that you came from somewhere else unless they saw how odd your manor was. You had knowledge of the different types of tea, you were aware of proper etiquette, and you were often employed by the Queen.

That’s how you met Ciel. It was at a ball hosted by Her Majesty, and the young Phantomhive Lord noticed how you indulged yourself in the strawberry tarts. He walked over and introduced himself, and you both hit it off right away. 

You both were often shamed for your short stature, you were both doubted in your positions because of your young age, and everyone tried to take advantage of you. He had invited you to the Phantomhive Manor the following morning, and he found himself eager and excited throughout the night.

As your meetings became more frequent, Ciel was doubting if he could remain betrothed to Elizabeth because his heart now belonged to you. You just understood him in a way that no one else ever could. You understood how he had so much work because you did as well, you whipped his household into shape with your strictness, and you understood the pressure of working under the Queen.

Eventually, you both began courting. Lizzie saw how happy you made him, so she gave the two of you her blessing and she broke off the engagement. There were no harsh feelings, and the entire staff had to admit that having you around was a blessing. Laundry was done properly, food was cooked the right way, no china was ever broken, the garden was in pristine condition, and everyone was super healthy.

You’ve even cured Ciel’s asthma, which he is grateful for. He still uses his cane out of habit, and also because it could also be used as a weapon. Sebastian is grateful, since it doesn’t put such a strain on his master’s endurance and durability.

You both help each other with certain cases, since you both were often employed as a team. Oftentimes, you have to gently remind him that not getting sleep isn’t beneficial for your investigation, and it’s one of the only times where he sees you as soft and kind. Other times, you are scolding Mey-rin, Finny, and Bard for their incompetence.

Sebastian Michaelis

He has heard about you because your reputation precedes you as the best doctor in the world. However, he was aware that you used a magic that wasn’t of this dimension, but rather a more fantastical and whimsical magic imbued in your patients’ tea.

You were formally introduced to each other when you and Ciel were assigned by the Queen to work on a case together. Your short stature was quite amusing to him because he had to bend over to place a kiss upon the back of your hand.

Sebastian only teases, but he never doubts your knowledge in the medical field. After all, people who were just on their deathbed feel as though they were as fresh as a daisy after being treated by you. He could tell that your intentions were pure, unlike everyone else in the realm of nobility.

As the two of you got closer, he found himself wondering if you could ever manage to love him, even if he told you that he was a demon who was going to devour Ciel’s soul once the contract was complete and both sides were met. He had told you, and you didn’t have a very negative reaction besides having a few questions. This gave him a feeling he hadn’t felt in a while: hope.

Eventually, he asked if you would agree to enter into a courtship with him, and his undead heart was pounding as you accepted. Nothing much changed besides the fact that you became a frequent visitor at the Phantomhive Manor. Only the residents knew that you were in a relationship with Sebastian. Everyone else thought that you were busy working on a case with Ciel.

You often helped out with the chores. You and your beloved demon split the tasks: he would help Bard in the kitchen, you would help Mey-rin with cleaning, and the both of you would help Finny in the garden. It took a huge load of stress, and you both took turns serving the master’s tea since you both were very good at it.

The first time he experienced your short temper was when another guest came and started indirectly insulting you and Ciel because ‘you were both too young for the power that either of you held’. You walked up to the old man and slapped him, questioning his audacity. Sebastian was very amused, and the guy was properly dealt with later.

Alois Trancy

He has heard of you through the whispers on the streets whenever he went on errands with Claude. You had built your reputation yourself, with your own hands. No one viewed you in a negative light because you were a doctor. It wasn’t considered new money if you were saving lives.

You actually met at a ball that was being hosted by the Queen for the nobility that was currently in England. He thought you were absolutely adorable as you stuffed your mouth with sweet strawberry tarts. Before you could get another one, he reached out and grabbed it so as to grab your attention.

It was through that one conversation that he got to learn so much about you. He learned about how you decided to help the advancement of medical technology since you came from a realm that was a bit more modern. Every patient you saw was cured, so that’s how you got into a good place among everyone.

Just a few weeks later, Alois decided to act on an impulse and ask you to begin a courtship with him, and he was in a state of pure bliss when he received the letter that you accepted his request. His attitude had improved, and he wasn’t as susceptible to lashing out.

Once you had gone over to visit and check up on him, he was attached to you at the hip. You couldn’t go anywhere within the manor without him. He insisted upon being at your side at every waking moment, claiming that it was ‘for you to make sure that he was healthy and alright’. In reality, he just loved you very much.

If you tried to help out with chores, Alois would be very upset since nobility wasn’t supposed to do anything as lowly and filthy as that. Instead, you should be hanging out with him and giving him all of your love and affection! He acts like a jealous puppy who has the power of a very powerful demon backing him up.

I feel like you don’t get into horrible fights, but he does sometimes get on your nerves and becomes insufferable at times. This causes a yelling match between the two of you, which ends up in you making your way back to your house, and him sulking in the corner because he already misses you.

Claude Faustus

He has also heard of you through the whispers in the streets, and he was quite intrigued. From what he has gathered, you are young but exceedingly intelligent, paired with known for having a short temper that goes unrivaled by even the Queen herself.

You both met at one of the Queen’s balls. Alois thought you were interesting because you had a lot of strawberry tarts on your plate, so he dragged Claude behind him as he made his way to introduce himself to you. The young Trancy lord got bored after a few minutes and walked away, but his butler was all too immersed in the conversation.

He learned that you came from a different world entirely, and here is where you decided to start up your medical practice because you were familiar with a healing type of magic, and you had knowledge of the medicinal practices that the Victorian era could use at the moment. The first patient you had ever treated was another noble, who was dying before you treated them. They decided to fund your cause, and that’s how you were there now.

Claude was facing a dilemma. He tried to convince himself that you meant nothing to him and that you were just another human, but you lived within his mind as well as his cold, undead heart. You had recently visited the Phantomhive Manor, and as you told him about the fun time you had with Ciel and Sebastian, he couldn’t help the feeling of envy crawling into his skin.

A few days later, he asked if you would accept his request to court you. He was surprised when you accepted, since he wasn’t the most loveable (demon) person. He was very happy, don’t get him wrong. Alois seemed angry that you managed to snag his butler’s attention but he wasn’t.

I feel like you both made a very interesting couple. You both are very serious and down-to-earth, leaving no room to think of the future. You’re busy being a doctor and he’s busy being the butler of Alois. So, you decide to ask for permission to set up your base of operations in the Trancy Manor which could end up increasing the wealth of the family name, so Alois allowed it. This way, you were able to spend more time with Claude.

The first time he experienced your anger was when Alois slapped Hannah for almost no reason. You saw this as unfair since she was following every rule, so you used magic to freeze the young Trancy master from causing anymore trouble. Claude was amused, but he kept it to himself.

#black butler x reader #black butler #ciel #ciel phantomhive #ciel x reader #ciel phantomhive x reader #black butler ciel #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis #sebastian #sebastian x reader #black butler sebastian #alois #alois trancy x reader #alois trancy #alois x reader #black butler alois #claude faustus x reader #claude faustus #black butler claude #claude #claude x reader

[kingdumkum]

WHAT ARE YOU THE GOD OF, AGAIN?

feat: Lucifer ( 1182 ) ∻ Mammon ( 1748 ) ∻ Leviathan ( 1315 ) synopsis: turns out, fallen angels can have more than one sin. cw : afab!reader | overstimulation (f!receiving), squirting (if you squint); servicedom!Lucifer, oral (f!receiving), some sacrilegious connotations (heavy in Lucifer's, but they're literally a fallen angels though so that should probably go without saying) | implied nsfw; confessions; pretty tame, actually, it’s mostly just heavy-petting and fluff and i swear i *tried* to make it slutty but we’re in our ~feels~ with Mams today | oral (m!receiving); soft!Levi (but *not* sub!Levi); kinda bimbo!reader; kinda collaring but ~stylish~ a/n: check the bottom for links to the other brothers+undateables on this theme, coming soon to a theater near you

∻ Lucifer ↠ p r i d e ⤲ g r e e d

As the avatar of pride, LUCIFER knows a thing or two about confidence. After all, to be proud is to feel deep pleasure at one’s achievements, and you’d be hard-pressed to name a single thing Lucifer ever wanted that he hasn’t achieved.

But there is nothing–nothing–in heaven or hell or any realm between that gives him more pride than you.

Your sweet laugh, your infectious smile, the way your eyes close when you’re so fucked you nearly forget how to breathe… every piece of you makes him feel alive in ways he never thought possible; a startling truth he’s reminded of every time you say his name. A hard truth he can no longer pretend to loathe when he’s between your legs, coaxing out your third orgasm of the day, your hands knotted in his dark hair and voice weakly repeating his name like a prayer.

Lu-ci-fer.

Each syllable slow and broken, but there–there, for him, because of him. Not Mammon, or Diavolo, or that other wretched human–him.

It’s the only prayer he’d ever grant. God may have made you, but Lucifer has claimed *you, and he will spend every day for the rest of eternity proving that. You are *his, and not in the way Mammon is his to torture or he is Diavolo’s to command or Satan is the very flesh from his bone; no, you are his because you chose him.

Who wouldn’t be proud of that? Who wouldn’t want to spend their days on their knees, worshiping every crevice of your perfect body, pulling every sinfully hedonistic sound and look and quiver from you–you, the one who changed everything without even trying. Who would ever be so stupid as to think they could have had enough of you?

You could have anyone in the devildom at your altar, but you choose him to be your disciple. And he reminds you why for the third time that night, dragging his gloved fingers slowly in and out of your drenched cunt, his sharp nose rubbing against your clit as your legs shake on either side of his head. “Just like that, my love,” he murmurs into your fluttering core. “Keep saying my name. Be a good girl and give me another, and I’ll let you cum on my cock next.”

You struggle to catch your breath, barely able to keep your chest upright enough to try and lock eyes. Lucifer’s dark gaze meets yours, a smirk tugging on his lips when you start to tremble from a brief puff of hot air against your sensitive clit. You’re not sure if you’re trying to pull him closer or push him away when your fingers dig into his scalp but damn it all, the only thing your body is capable of doing is moaning each syllable of his name like it’ll be the last thing you ever say.

“P–please, Lu–Luci–I just want–you–”

He slaps your clit, but it’s the way he chuckles at how your body spasms that sends shivers down your spine. “Is this not enough?” His face hovers over your folds, thumbs gently spreading you apart. “Aren’t my fingers and tongue good enough for you?”

He asks as if he wouldn’t spend the rest of your life between your legs; as if the mere act of giving you pleasure hasn’t made a mess of his own pants once or twice already; as if he weren’t the one watching you with pleading eyes, a look of barely-veiled desperation begging you to let him keep worshiping you.

Your lower lip trembles, and your initial protest of, “s’not the same–” is drowned out by an obscene moan as Lucifer plunges his tongue inside you completely. A thumb continues to rub at your clit, and faster than you thought possible, your thighs are clenching the demon’s face. If he’d been a normal man, he wouldn’t have had the strength to keep your hips pinned with one hand *and *a steady pressure on your clit with the other, while simultaneously pulling away enough so your liquids completely cover his lower chin and blissed-out smile–but Lucifer is not a normal man.

He is a demon, and demons take what they want… and he wants you. Now, and tomorrow, and for the rest of his existence. To be on his hands and knees, servicing you, pleasing you–

Never has he felt like this before. Never has he felt so helpless, so weak, so–human.

It’d make him furious, if it wasn’t for the fact that you hoarsely whisper his name, kiss-swollen lips sounding holier than any saint. If it wasn’t for the way your hand finds his, fits in his, holds his so gently, as if you’re afraid he might be the one to break, not that he’d broken you.

“Good girl.” Lucifer stands and kisses your sweat-slick forehead. Humans, *he thinks in equal parts disgust and reverence. *So… fragile.

Your eyes flutter in exhaustion but stubborn refusal at missing a single second with your lover; drenched in sweat, breathing as if you’d just run a marathon. Weak, and fragile, and human, and–he needs you. He needs you, now, and tomorrow, and forever, but if he didn’t get you right this second, there would be hell to pay.

So despite knowing your body can’t handle much more, he unzips his pants, gently stroking your inner thigh to try and relax you for what’s to come. “I knew you could do it, my love. Do you want your reward?”

Eyes still closed, you nod instantly. Hands already lifting from the bed and reaching for him, weakly trying to sit up so you can provide him even just a fraction of the pleasure he’d been providing you. “Ah!” Lucifer slaps your hand away, gently stroking his leaking cock as he settles between your legs once more. “Use your words. Do you want your reward?”

“Yes,” you breathe, settling back on your forearms and forcing your body to awaken as you watch your lover with giddy anticipation. “Lucifer, please, please, I want–I want you inside me–”

With a growl, Lucifer bends over you, catching a leg and hitching it over his hip. The mewl of desperation you let out when he hesitates nearly makes him cum on the spot.

“You’re a desperate little thing tonight, aren’t you?” he coos mockingly, gently stroking your face before he grips your jaw between his thumb and forefinger. Your hand catches his wrist, increasing pressure to match his, until you’re writhing beneath him–made all the worse by the heat you can feel from his cock, but not him. “That’s alright, my love. I’ll give you what you want. Just one more, alright? I have work to do.”

It won’t be the last. You know it, he knows it, probably even God knows it–but that doesn’t matter. Not when you feel like heaven, not when you pull him close and tell him over and over and over that *you need more, you need him,**Lucifer please–*

Maybe his father was right. Maybe not all humans are bad–maybe some of them are worth serving, after all.

∻ Mammon ↠ g r e e d ⤲ s l o t h

If anyone were asked who the greediest one in all of the Devildom was, it would unanimously be considered MAMMON. It is his sin, after all; he is the physical embodiment of excessive desire, and just as Beel’s appetite for food knows no bounds, Mammon’s cravings for material things is equally limitless.

So why is it you who can’t get enough?

You’d gone to Mammon’s room earlier with the copy of notes he’d asked for. It started out innocent enough; you knocked, he let you in, then he begged you to stay and help him study. It was like every other day, from the way he sat so close to you on the couch that his thigh was flesh against yours and how he managed to barter correct answers for kisses, and today, like every other day, you found yourself settled comfortably in his lap, arms lopped around his neck as you read off questions from the last multiple choice quiz he’d failed.

The only difference seemed to be in how Mammon was getting an unusually large number of questions right.

“If I didn’t know better,” you laugh breathlessly as Mammon trails his lips up the hollow of your neck, “I’d say you’ve been studying.”

“‘Course I’ve been studying,” he murmurs, hot air tickling the sensitive skin below your jaw, “whaddya call this?”

“Fun,” you tease, pulling back to cradle the white-haired demon’s face. “And I believe you’re the one who said studying could never be fun–”

“Stand corrected,” Mammon huffs, immediately diving forward to capture your lips once more. His hands roam down to your hips, where he squeezes the flesh gently. Feeling emboldened, you rock your hips, then giggle when Mammon’s forced to pull back from your kiss with a groan so low, it rattles your bones. “Studyin’ is fun. S’long as it’s with you, though.”

You laugh and lightly kiss his lips. “Good answer.”

Once, twice, then on the third, one of Mammon’s hands darts up to your head and holds you in place. His lips, so soft against yours, so sweet on yours, move slowly. Gently, he parts yours with his, and as his fingers start to twine in your hair, he dips his tongue in.

This kiss is like no other the two of you have shared… and you’ve shared a lot. The quick, chaste ones when you first began this arrangement; the teasing, smirking ones he’d steal when he got an answer right you’d expected to be wrong; the open, messy ones that were almost more moan and spit than actual lips and air and inevitably led to someone’s shirt being ripped off; the gentle, caring ones on exposed shoulders or foreheads at the end of your “study” sessions that, somehow, so slowly you didn’t even notice, became more intimate than the way he filled you perfectly.

But this… this kiss was somehow all the old yet something new, all at once. It was deep, and not just in the way he sucks on your tongue but how he pulls you in to him, fingertips pressing into your skin as if he couldn’t get close enough–not that you mind, as you wrap a hand around the back of his head and try to bridge the very atoms of space between you. His lips move slowly, his air warm but fresh as he doesn’t even pull away to breathe; instead letting you be the one to give him life. His palms, large and slender on your frame, slowly travel over your body, from the base of your spine to cradling your cheek, and then he pauses. He pulls back. He rests his forehead against yours, wipes a thumb across your cheek, and breathily laughs. “You’re so–beautiful, ya know that? Prettiest treasure I’ve ever seen.”

And how are you supposed to respond to that? To being flattered by the Avatar of Greed, who’s notorious for never being satisfied; to being kissed like you mean something to him, to your first, to who you hope to be yours forever–to the growing dread in your heart that one day, likely soon, the Avatar of Greed will want more than you can give, and he’ll leave you.

And yet–every time you try to speed things up, try to hastily slacken his tie or unbutton your shirt and try to remind him why he should stay, stay now and stay forever, his hands catch yours. “Not yet,” he whispers, and when you whine in protest, he merely starts to kiss you like that again.

Like you’re what he cherishes most in the world. Not his gold, his clothes, or his car–but you. And you always would be.

“Mammon,” you breathe into his lips, “please.”

“Not… yet,” he answers. His hands trail along your sides, lightly bunching your shirt before letting the material fall as he cradles your face. You catch his wrists and pull back from his kiss with a pout.

“Why not? Don’t you want me?”

Mammon has the audacity to laugh. “Are ya serious? Can’t you tell?” He snaps his hips up, chuckling at the harsh intake of air you suck in when his cock, straining hard against the zipped fabric of his uniform, slides against your clit. “‘Course I want ya, silly girl. I want ya s’bad, makes me stupid.”

You roll your eyes and shove at his chest, only for Mammon to catch your wrists, keeping you pinned against him. “Evidently not, since we’ve spent all this time studying.”

Mammon shakes his head, his smile soft and contagious as he leans towards you. “Ya know what they say, precious… practice makes perfect.”

His lips silence whatever snappy retort you don’t have time to conjure, and instead, you lose yourself in him. In the way his lips move in tandem with yours; the way his hand presses between your shoulder blades, arching your back into his chest; the way his eyelashes flicker against your cheek every so often; and the low way he whispers your name when you try gyrating your hips against his.

“Ya tryin’ to be the end of me or somethin’?” he drawls in exasperation, resting both palms on your hips to still your movements. He rests his forehead against yours, staunchly avoiding your gaze as he keeps you still.

“I’m tryin’ to get laid,” you drawl back, dragging your fingers down Mammon’s wide shoulders to rest on his abs–just the way you know he likes. “I thought–that’s what you wanted?” Mammon tenses, and you pull away. Your hands come up to grab his chin, forcing him to look at you. His cheeks are flushed, and despite not protesting at the way you move his body, his eyes refuse to meet yours. “Mammon? Isn’t… that why you invited me? To fuck?”

He holds out for precisely 1.4 seconds, before his eyes flick to yours and he loses all composure. “Yeah,” he admits, and he doesn’t know whether to be encouraged or heartbroken at the way you seem to be able to breathe again. “But–”

He pauses. He watches your eyes widen, he feels the air catch in your throat, and then he watches your neck remain still. One heartbeat; two heartbeats; three heartbeats–

“Jus’... wanna take my time with ya today, s’all.”

There’s something more desperate about the way he sucks on your neck now, something that has you squirming and moaning and pulling his head back before just the feeling of his lips on your skin makes you unravel.

“What’s so special about today?”

Mammon shakes his hair free of your grasp and latches onto your neck again. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close. “Nothin’. Somethin’. Dunno, jus’... jus’ realized somethin’. S’nothin’.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing…” you tease, rather enjoying this secretive side of him. “Doesn’t feel like nothing, either.” With a pointed roll of your hips, Mammon lets out a groan, and he bites your neck in retaliation. Just a little nip; not enough to break skin, but enough to bruise. Enough to leave a mark that won’t fade for a few days, at the very least.

The first mark he’s ever left.

“Mammon!” you scold, but it lacks bite; especially when the white-haired demon meets your gaze while licking a soft stripe along the already-bruising skin before pressing a gentle kiss on the most tender spot.

“Like it when ya say my name,” he responds, pressing kisses all the way up to your lips. “Like it better when ya moan it.”

So you do; over and over and over, even though he does nothing besides kiss you. Occasionally, he’ll bounce his leg; and occasionally, he’ll let his hands roam to cover your breasts, teasing your painfully erect nipples briefly before trailing back to your hips; but that’s all.

“I think I like whatever it is you’ve realized,” you say when the two of you finally break apart. Your breath is heavy in the air, chest heaving as fingers trail up and down Mammon’s still-clothed chest.

Mammon smiles. “You don’t even know what it is.”

You hum in agreement, then laugh. “Don’t have to. Not if it means you’ll keep kissing me like that.”

Meeting Mammon’s gaze makes your heart do funny things. Both rapidly beating and seizing at once, shrinking four sizes but growing so large it might burst; making you feel so full, so complete that it just slips out before you can even think to catch it.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Time freezes. The weight of the world hits like an ice bath, and it’s all you can do to close your eyes. Your fingers knot in Mammon’s shirt, and you try to memorize the way the fabric feels; the softness from his detergent, the heat emanating from his chest beneath, the steady pulsing of his heartbeat, the rough callouses of his fingers as they wrap around your wrists–

“Hate to one-up ya, precious, but I know I’m in love with ya,” he says, and time comes crashing down. “S’what I realized today, and s’why I wanna take my time with ya tonight, and s’why I’m gonna spend every day by yer side, doin’ whatever ya want, s’long as you let me–”

The rest of his confession is cut off by your lips, but for once, Mammon doesn’t mind being interrupted. Not if it means he can take his time with you tonight and prove to you that an eternity of him by your side is something to be certain of.

∻ Leviathan ↠ e n v y ⤲ p r i d e

LEVIATHAN thought he knew what pride was. He thought it was the feeling he gets when he finds a rare Ruri-chan doll that they stopped manufacturing decades ago and he has the highest bid, or maybe when he beats a tournament he spent all weekend holed up in his room competing in, or maybe even accurately translating the hidden chapters of TSL that appeared after seven years of radio silence.

But none of that comes close to the way he feels right now; to the way his heart threatens to burst in his chest as you softly lick the underside of his heavily erect cock, tits threatening to burst over the top of your maid uniform, remnants of his last orgasm still glimmering on your breasts.

“What’s wrong, Leviachan?” you ask, sweetly popping off his cock and lazily flicking your wrist. “You look flustered.”

Levi lets out a pitiful whine and sinks lower in his gaming chair. A hand reaches out to knot in your roots, guiding your mouth back to where he desperately needs you. “Don’t-don’t tease,” he tries commanding, but the way his voice cracks gives him away. “This is–this was your idea, remember?”

And it was; it always is. Because even though it makes Leviathan’s heart so full to see you on your knees for him, it never happened because of him. You decided when the best time to suck him off is; and like your perfect plaything, Leviathan always let you. He could never say no to you, his pride and joy. His favorite collectible; the only one of your kind.

It irritates him, a little. The fact that you hold this much power over him. The fact that you can show up in a trench-coat while he’s in the middle of beating his latest video game (a puzzle game, one that requires complete concentration or you have to restart from scratch), and with a simple unknotting of a belt and ring of a bell, have him wrapped around your finger.

If it wasn’t the maid outfit you wore beneath your coat, it was the fluffy handcuffs you attached to his wrists before sinking to your knees that rendered him speechless; and if it wasn’t the way you sunk to your knees, nuzzling your cheek against his thigh and batted your pretty eyelashes as you begged your Leviachan to help you feel good that broke him, it was seeing the dainty choker spelling out his name in silver letters along your throat.

His release had splattered over your chest before he could even process what he was looking at, and by the time his mind caught up to his body, you were already suckling at his flushed cockhead once more.

Leviathan’s wrists yank weakly against the handcuffs as his hand travels from your scalp to where the lowlight of his gaming console illuminates the silver letters dangling against your throat. His heart stalls as he hooks his index finger around the chain, and a throaty giggle slips out your lips as he yanks you forward with just his finger.

No, he wasn’t imagining it when he came; that really is his name, adorning your body, for all the Devildom to see.

“Mine?”

With a smile, you nod. A smaller hand wraps around Leviathan’s slender wrist, and your press a kiss to the pulsepoint just within. “M’all yours, Leviathan. Figured the others should know, too.”

The handcuffs were just for show–or if they weren’t, they are now, because Leviathan snaps them with ease. He stands roughly, stumbling slightly as his pants catch around his ankles. His grip on your neck never falters as he raises you with him, then tugs you backwards on top of him as he collapses on the floor.

“Need you,” he mutters through feverish kisses, plastered messily all over your face and neck. His hands fumble with your get-up, and although you laugh when he rips the material clean off your body, your whine of, “Levi, that was expensive–” causes him to nip your ear.

“I’ll buy you another.”

He doesn’t even both removing your skirt–if that’s what that sliver of material could be called, anyway. It barely hides your ass, pooling atop your thighs in the place he wishes his hands to go. With the fluffy handcuffs, now broken, still decorating each write like cotton candy bracelets, Leviathan lifts the pads of his fingers to your mouth. Obediently, your lips part and you lick them slowly, tongue wrapping around each digit like it had just been lapping at his cock.

Leviathan whines. He flips you on your back, hovering over you as your own hands messily unbutton his shirt, lips meeting in a sticky conglomeration of spit and desperate pleas to feel each other. His spit-slicked fingers are gentle compared to the ferocity with which he kisses you, stroking between your folds before dipping in, catching your release and spreading it along your clit.

“All for me… r-right, baby?” Leviathan pants as he pistons one finger in and out of your gummy walls. “All dressed–dressed up for me, all wet–all wet for me–”

“Yes,” you mewl, “for–for you, Levi–only for you!”

That’s all it takes for Leviathan to lose the last of his composure. He slides into you without warning, filling you to the brim. The breath is knocked loose from your lungs, and the way Leviathan is quick to cover your lips with his, swallowing any further moans or whimpers of his name.

He pulls back when he feels your walls fluttering around him. Your heels dig into the small of his back, pressing his hips even deeper into you–as if that was possible. As if Levi hadn’t taken advantage of every single second to be buried as deep as possible within you.

Tenderly, Levi brushes some of your sweat-slicked hair out of your face, and even more careful, he presses a kiss to the hollow of your throat, right above where his name sits pretty. “You look so pretty… is this because—because of me, b-babe? You look all pretty—because I—make you f-feel this way?”

You nod desperately, carding your fingers through his silky purple locks. “All–all ‘cause of–of you, Levi–”

That’s all it takes to push him over the edge, and with him–you. You come undone around him, meekly burying your moans into the taut muscle of his bicep as the world briefly fades to white.

Levi is filled with that feeling again; the one that makes his chest seem too small. The one that causes all sounds but your staggered breathing to fall away, and all sights but the one of your flushed cheeks and lovesick smile and fluttering lashes disappear to darkness, and all feeling but the sensation of you snuggling into his chest feel as foreign as the human world.

He may be a shut-in, he reasons as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck. He may be an otaku, and awkward, and you might be able to do a hell of a lot better than him–but he did this. He makes you do bold things, like wear a maid outfit under your coat all day just to tease him, or bring handcuffs you know can’t hold him just to see if he’ll listen, or make the absolute prettiest sounds he’s ever heard in his life. He makes you feel better than you’ve ever felt, and that makes him feel good.

Really good.

Good enough to start pressing light kisses up your neck, teeth catching on your new silver chain, hand gently trailing along your side. “D-don’t forget that,” he says through grit teeth. You link your fingers with his, slowly parting your legs to reallow him entrance. “I make you feel good, right? Me. Don’t–don’t ever forget that.”

“Never,” you promise–and just like that, the heart Levi didn’t think could get any fuller grows two sizes.

| Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor | Barbatos, Diavolo, Simeon, Solomon |

#obey me smut #obey me brothers smut #lucifer smut #mammon smut #leviathan smut #lucifer obey me smut #mammon obey me smut #leviathan obey me smut #obey me x reader #lucifer #leviathan #mammon #kasey's adventure book! #makings of greatness #kingdum of om #cw:domestic! #cw:worship!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

"Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall, Who's the Fairest of Them All?"

This set of headcanons was the most difficult for me to write for of the 7 dorms. I think it’s because I don’t immediately associate Pomefiore with any group activities, unlike most of the others.

Note: Rollo does not canonically dislike apples, I just decided to run with it to go along with the whole joke of him being Catholic... and how apples are representative of "the first sin" in much of pop culture.

A Big Pomefiore Welcome to Rollo!

Four dormitory visits in, and Rollo's dreading the next. He expects it to be every bit as exhausting as the first four were, whether physically or mentally. But no, he won't let his spirit be broken, won't let these NRC students under his skin!! Rollo trudges onward.

Pomefiore boasts a pleasant atmosphere right as he enters their realm. It is filled with soft birdsong and lush greenery, sunshine coming down upon his face. He shields his eyes and squints at the rustic castle towering ahead. it's grand, imposing, and filled with rich history. So far, so good.

At this point, Rollo expects someone to jump out of the bushes to annoy him, but the entire walk to the entrance is uneventful. Something is very wrong here, he thinks, slowly rapping on the doors. Does a jump scare await him beyond it? Rollo braces himself when the doors creak open and push out.

“Bienvenu, Roi du Mouchoir!!” an irritatingly familiar voice calls out to him. Rook rushes at Rollo at a frightening speed, nearly crushing the man's bones in a hug he's too slow to avoid. An arm coiling around him like a snake, a hand on the small of his back, Rook happily welcomes Rollo inside.

The huntsman talks. Incessantly. He talks about how happy he is to be reunited with him, he talks about the beautiful weather, he talks about the wonderful reception Pomefiore has painstakingly planned to welcome his arrival. He just about never stops talking, never wipes that big, dumb smile off of his face. It’s plainly unsettling.

Rollo utters a sharp “Tais-toi!”, which finally silences Rook (but only for about all of 5 seconds). His eyes crease, and something about his expression reminds Rollo of a hungry fox. “Ah, I see that your fiery fervor has yet to dim. Harboring such unyielding ideals… Fufufu, that tenacious spirit of yours makes you a wonderful fit in the realm of the Beautiful Queen.”

“Tch. You keep speaking in that overly familiar tone of voice,” Rollo snips as he and Rook come to a new set of doors, “acting as though we’re on amicable terms, ushering me into your fold. Make no mistake, I do NOT plan on becoming intimate with…”

The doors open into an opulent lounge decorated for a fancy reception. Streamers are suspended from the ceiling, confetti dusting open seats, vases of flowers topping ever counter, petals spilling in a luxurious waterfall from one table. Sitting upon elegant purple cloths are plates of hors d'oeuvres and flutes with sparkling liquids.

Students in robes with billowing sleeves are scattered around a throne where a beautiful man sits. Nervously standing at the seated queen’s side is a shorter boy with fluffy lilac hair and large eyes. Their gazes momentarily meet, and there’s a flicker of recognition in both of them. It’s Epel Felmier from the masquerade.

Rook approaches, sweeping his feathered hat off and bowing. “Je suis revenu.” There’s a nod from the beautiful man—the dorm’s ruler, Rollo believes—as he raises a hand to the onlookers. “Thank you for escorting our guest to the venue, Rook. Now then, let the festivities begin.” The Pomefiore students clap politely for him as soft orchestral music begins to play, as if by magic.

“Well then, my friend—” (“We are NOT friends,” Rollo sharply corrects Rook.) “—please enjoy yourself! As sorrowful as it is to part ways, cruel Fate dictates it must be so. Worry not, our paths will surely cross again! Until then, I leave you with this token to remember me by.” Rook produces a rose from his sleeve and slips it into Rollo’s hat, then prances off to his dorm leader.

Rollo removed the the rose crushes it in his palm like a stress ball. He lets the crumpled flower fall to his feet, mingling with the petals already on the polished floor.

“Erm, Rook-senpai… Is it okay to really let him walk around the party without supervision?” Epel asks as his upperclassman draws near. “Won’t he… um, you know??” (To this, Rook chuckles. “Non, we needn’t worry. Acting so boldly in broad daylight is not to his style.“)

Rollo tries to minimize his presence, finding some quiet corner to stand in until the reception ends. Unfortunately for him, Pomefiore students keep walking up to chat. He’s on edge, expecting them to be combative or nosy—but no, he finds that they’re a more insidious kind of evil… the underhanded, subtler sort.

Many of the mob students compliment his outfit. However just as many of them raise their eyebrows when they see him up close. They coo about how Rollo’s complexion looks so haggard and how he has such dark circles under his eyes. (A few of them also remark that his haircut is “a choice”.)

Some mob students start giving him (uncalled for) beauty tips and product recommendations. Retinol creams, vitamin C serums, sleeping masks—all manner of lotions and potions to supposedly “fix” his dark circles and sickly look.

Rollo takes their words as gracefully as he can, but inside his annoyance steadily accumulates. (How shallow and frivolous their interests are!! And how dare they try to impose their vain standards onto him?!)

The conversation soon takes a turn into history, a subject which he finds much more enjoyable. He hears of the Beautiful Queen and passes on stories of the Righteous Judge—equal parts give and take.

Rollo learns that their dorm leader, Vil, is skilled in the laboratory. Potions, poisons… he can brew them all. “He even tends to our plants and harvests them to create his own cosmetics,” a mob student excitedly tells Rollo. “That’s our Vil-sama!”

“What a coincidence. I, too, partake in gardening as a hobby.” Rollo chooses his words very carefully, but still a smirk finds its way onto his face. He can’t help but sneer a little at these hapless fools (who misinterpret the look as an awkward attempt at a smile). “Fufufu, yes… I do so love flowers of a crimson color in particular. Lotuses have a charm to them as well. The red ones are reminiscent of fire.”

Every time Rollo has to take an aside to cover his (frequent) grimaces with his handkerchief, the Pomefiore mobs remark on how thoughtful and graceful it is for him to do such a thing. They start talking about how they, too, should invest in their own handkerchiefs—what colors and designs should they consider? “… Any will do,” Rollo grumbles.

When he thinks about it, a lot of the Pomefiore mobs’ admiration for Vil reminds him of his own peers back at NBC. They stare at him with sparkling eyes full of adoration, praising him for every achievement, falling over themselves to be at his beck and call. Hmph, how foolish.

A feeling of unease never fully leaves Rollo as he converses with others. He feels as though he’s still being watched by Rook—yet when he glances over to check on the huntsman, he seems preoccupied whispering into Vil’s ear or laughing a something Epel said. As soon as Rollo looks away, that eerie sensation returns.

When the mob students finally retreat into their own smaller circles and cliques, Rollo decides to have a light snack to regain all that energy he just expended entertaining nosy idiots. He’s pleased to find foods that remind him of home: charcuterie boards, cheeses, grapes, breads—

An awkward cough sounds from behind him. “W-Would you like some juice, sir?” It’s Epel, shyly offering a glass to him. (From a distance, Rook nods encouragingly and gives him two thumbs up. Vil sighs, swirling around liquid in a goblet of his own.)

“You were sent personally,” Rollo remarks. (Epel was; Vil had prodded him to go so he could observe how he handled himself in a strained social situation.) “Why?” (“You um… seemed thirsty?”)

“It’s not poisoned, is it?” Rollo asks suspiciously, cautiously accepting the glass. (“N-Nossir! It ain’t! I swear it on mah life!!” Epel insists.) He peers inside and finds golden juice. “This must be apple. Do you have an alternative? Perhaps grape.”

“E-Eh?” Epel seems surprised (and mildly offended) by the request. “You prefer grapes to apples?” ("I do. Apples may keep for a long time relative to other fruits, but I find the texture of them to be quite mealy and difficult to get down.")

"Mealy?!" Epel's outburst draws the attention of everyone in the room (including Vil, who does not look pleased). The first year mutters an apology before returning to Rollo. "I'm sure there's some kind of apple you must like...? There's many new breeds out now because of advances in MMOs."

"Magically modified organisms?" Rollo sneers at the idea. "What makes you think I would want to ingest produce that has been touched by magic? The concept itself is abhorrent. Apples were simply meant to be the lesser fruit."

"LESSER FRUIT?!" Epel's even louder (and more appalled) this time. “You oughta take that back ‘fore I…!” Vil frowns and rises from his throne. Epel pales and instantly shuts up as his dorm leader sashays toward them.

"My, I do hope our Epel isn't imposing on you," Vil drawls, glaring at the first year. Epel's prepared to be chewed out--but miraculously, he's spared with the wave of Vil's hand. (He scrambles off with Rook, leaving Rollo to Vil.) "As you can plainly see, there’s still much work to be done in terms of his manners and temperament. Some potatoes take more time and effort to whip into shape than others, I'm afraid."

“Of course. I completely understand.” Rollo’s reply is terse and stiff as he regards Vil—a famous face he recalls seeing in various works, posted about almost religiously online. An idol for the masses, is his immediate thought, flaunting about like a primping peacock. Pushing products and an excessive lifestyle for others to ogle and covet. Encouraging sin.

Epel gives Rollo a dirty look when he’s sure Vil isn’t looking. “No way can anyone hate apples and be a good person!! His heart is pure black, Rook-senpai!!" Epel clutches onto the robes of his upperclassman. "He definitely still can’t be trusted!!”

“I don't believe I've had the chance to formally introduce myself." Vil slowly swirls around the carbonated apple juice in his own goblet. "Vil Schoenheit—a pleasure. I’ve heard so many stories about you.” None of them good, Rollo suspects.

With a glance around the room, Vil sighs. He gestures to the garden that awaits beyond a window. “It’s getting to be a bit stuffy in here. Would you care to take this outside?”

Rollo seizes the opportunity to escape from the suffocating space and prying eyes. He enters the night, finding comfort in the darkness and silence. For a moment, he almost forgets that Vil is with him—until he hears the distinctive clacking of a sharp nail against glass.

“I hope Pomefiore’s hospitality has met your standards,” Vil says nonchalantly. “Rook tells me you’re very particular.” And truthfully? Rollo confesses to him that it’s been the least abrasive of the dorms he has visited thus far. Vil makes a face. “… I had my expectations set low for some of the others, but I can’t fathom what horrors you’ve experienced at the their hands.“

“You have some sense in you.” What a shame it is that you are a mage. Rollo doesn’t speak his true thoughts out loud, but Vil seems to sense the animosity radiating off of him.

He gives a snooty laugh. “You must think little of me. As an A-list actor, I can see easily through your facade. Let’s drop the pretenses, hmm? I’d like to speak with the real Rollo Flamme.” At the invitation, Rollo scowls. Vil smirks right back. “That’s more like it.”

“… What is it that you want? There must be a reason why you’ve gone out of your way to isolate us from the rest of them.”

“A queen can be curious,” Vil explains in a dismissive manner. He sweeps a golden lock behind one ear, treating the scene no different from another set. The moonlight on him as he delivers a soliloquy. “… It goes without saying that I do not approve of your methods. However, there is something to be said of your doggedness. That, at least, deserved to be lauded.”

“You’re congratulating me.” Rollo says it as a statement of disbelief.

“In a way, yes.” Vil’s laugh is low and cruel. “The more you want something, the harder is it to obtain. It’s never quite so simple. You’re promised the world as a child, and then you grow up and realize the world doesn’t owe you a happy ending no matter how hard you bite and hiss and claw for it. I know of that frustration well myself.”

Vil wants the truth? He’ll get the truth. Rollo lets the vitriol slip into his voice, turning it pointed and poisonous. “I’m appalled that you would even imply that we are similar. Do not compare me with the likes of you…!”

“Am I wrong? Please, enlighten me.” There’s a newfound satisfaction in Vil’s expression. He knows he has not won, but that he has gotten under Rollo’s skin. “It’s difficult to put on a smile and act as though all is well, isn’t it? That’s the burden we bear. The roles we are expected to play.” Vil smiles a bit. “Perhaps in another life, I would have welcomed you as a student of my dormitory.”

“If a second life exists, I would want a life of normalcy—not to be jailed in your gilded cage of a castle,” Rollo spits out. “I would wish to be free of this burning curse. I would have him back.” I could be happy again in that fairer world.

Vil nods and solemnly lifts his glass. “… To your wish upon a star—and your efforts to realize it.” Rollo finds himself mimicking the motion, compelled by a feeling he doesn’t recognize. Is it a pledge to never give up, even if the world is against him? Is it a part of him acknowledging Vil’s harsh truth? He doesn’t know.

They toast and raise the cups to their lips. Somehow, the apple juice tastes bittersweet on both of their tongues.

With that, Vil turns away. Heels clicking rhythmically, he follows the warm lights spilling out from Pomefiore back inside. He will return to the reception, mingle with his subjects. Maybe scold Epel as he had initially intended to, or tell Rook off for coming onto their guest too strongly.

Rollo is alone in the night.

… Or so he thinks, until a hand comes upon his shoulder.

“Roi du Mouchoir,” Rook says softly, emerging from the shadows as though he were born among them, “Let us make haste back to the reception. You’re the guest of honor—it wouldn’t do to have you running off on us! Ah, but if you do… I would be more than happy to chase you down to the ends of Twisted Wonderland to retrieve you.”

“Wha…?! Where did you come from?!” Rollo jerks away from him with a yelp, which doesn’t seem to bother Rook at all. He keeps smiling that crude, large smile of his and claps. “Très bien, you’re still brimming with vitality for the rest of the evening! Come now, let us return!”

His patience snaps.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep far away from me!!”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Vil Schoenheit #Epel Felmier #Pomefiore #Rook Hunt #Rollo Flamme #disney twisted wonderland #Rollo at the Writing Desk

[doppel-doodles]

Since everyone is making their own little version of the characters I thought I would join the fun for my Fallen crown Au! These were supposed to be quick little sketches just to get some ideas down but they still took me the whole day:'D will probably change as I draw them but I wanted at least something down on for the time being and I do like how most turned out!

Single versions plus some info and ramblings about each under cut for those interested:

My lamb was mainly based on both, yes the actual player character but also the vibes of my own plathrough which were very "oh god who let this child be in charge?-" while I'll still mostly just call them Lamb I figured they should still have a proper name so I went with my friends @/tamaruaart suggestion as it suits them rather nicely! And most note worthy detail is honestly just the fact that they carry something from each bishops realm on their person now, I like to think they treat those items like little trophies:>

Narinder is probably my weakest I feel like, he definitely needs something to give him some extra "ompf!". I basically made his undertaker fit a sorta reverse or at least loosely inspired by his white robes in game. I imagine he is very boney or a straight up skeleton underneath so he covers it all up beneath heavy fabrics, but because I lack subtly I still covered him in bones regardless-

And yea I kept the veil cause 1. It's a look and 2. It coviently covers up his now sewn shut third eye.

There wasn't much reason behind making him an undertaker, I simply thought it suited him, when your the former god of death you aren't exactly squeamish around corpses. Lastly the dark blues are there to contrast the other followers warm tones, as they kinda seen him as an outcast which is just fine for narinder he isnt exactly thrilled to be here.

I'll put Leshy and Heket together as they were sorta designed as a set.Since they are both youngest among the bishops I sorta latched onto the headcanon that they get along pretty well and just stick together after getting into the cult so they just share a lot of their duties. So I gave them some matching elements like the puffy shorts but also stuff that contrasts like Leshy having looser clothing and Hekets being more tight. Or Heket getting working gloves with a little belt to hold tools plus a hat for the sun, meanwhile Leshy will happily dig through the dirt bare clawed in the sun for hours-

I debated on giving Heket an apron but honestly I think she would only wear one while cooking or tending the farm plots there is no reason for her to wear it casually, the gloves though stay for I reason I utterly love because its PETTY-

Literally the only reason she keeps them on almost constantly is because when the lamb asks she can be like "ew, I'm not touching you with my bare hands." Yes, my humour is broken moving on-

I also gave Leshy a cane just so he actually has something to feel around with when he is areas he isn't too familiar with so he isn't running into crap- on that note, Heket can speak a bit but not exactly loud or for a very long time without seriously hurting her throat, once I properly learn it I definitely wanna draw her using sign language.

Lastly bodies, Leshy was based off a previous drawing I made of him in bishop form, I simply made it less monsterous but he is in charge of chaos so he had to remain a creature- Heket is more straight forward, she is a frog and she is large and in charge.

There was one reason why I made Shamura a tailor and that was the mental image of them sewing the bishops clothes when they were younger and dressing them up all cute.

I went for more pink colors mainly because I thought it better suited the purple and would make their red eyes pop! Honestly I really love their colors they remind me of a Berry! I've drawn shamura before but honestly the only things that stuck were the colors,face and then also the hand markings I did tweak their eyes a bit I wanted something more stern feeling.

For clothing I kept everything nice and loose, while they are the tailor I also love the idea that in their spare time they either teach the youths in the cult or are like the champion of the fighting pit because war is also their domain and they can be- so I wanted them dressed pretty comfy to deal with whatever may come! But still keep everything pretty mature and mildly fancy maybe in the future I'll do some fancy gold and silver embroidery to the pants because of that.

As for body type I wanted them to be pretty thin but unlike Narinder who is twink material under his cloak they have a bit more bulk on top to show that they can choose violence if they so wish-

I adore me some pathetic but still serving men, honestly except for the cross on his belt I completely ignored the fact I made him a medic- If he needs to treat something gross he can throw something over to protect his clothes but just like Heket there is no reason for him to wear that while not working.

Otherwise my main goal was simply to make Kalamar look pretty and fancy. I debated on either short or long bottoms until I realized I'd have to figure out his tentacle situation, then realized I don't hate myself THAT MUCH so bro got put into a floor length gown, work smarter not harder kids.

If I have an excuse to give a character a shawl I will take it so fast.

His body type I mainly wanted to flesh out the roster so I tried making him very squishy and huggable looking, I debated on thinner so he looked more dangly and stretchy but that made him kinda to similar to Narinders build for my liking.

#doppel rambles #doppel draws #cotl bishops #cotl shamura #cotl kallamar #cotl leshy #cotl heket #cotl narinder #cotl lamb #cotl au #cotl #cotl fanart #cult of the lamb heket #cult of the lamb leshy #cult of the lamb fanart #cult of the lamb shamura #cult of the lamb narinder #cult of the lamb kallamar #cult of the lamb #fallen crown au

[written-in-flowers]

After Tonight...(AemondxReader)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x plussize!reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, childhood friends to lovers,

Word Count: 4k 

Warnings! :oral sex (m and f receiving/giving), fingering, gagging, slight choking, creampie, roleplay(?), multiple orgasms. 

Summary: After a false compliment reignites tensions, you confront your husband about his actions. He confronts you about something else.

A/N: finally, a fic of my own design! Lol, it’s really just smut tbh. Hope you guys like it, and feedback’s always appreciated <3 

****

“How could you say something like that? In front of those people? Are you mad?” 

You rounded on him the moment you sent your servants away. Aemond stood on the other side of the room, pouring himself a cup of wine and taking a drink. You wanted to smack it from his hand. You took in your husband’s cool and collected demeanor from across the room. Long silver hair tossed back over his shoulders, a glint of amusement in his single pale blue eye made you even more upset. 

“Is this amusing to you?” you asked, glaring at him. “Do you find it amusing that you’ve broken any form of peace we might’ve had with-”

“-Oh, what peace, Y/N? Those people have no desire for peace with us,” he said, continuing to drink and not looking at you. “Did you see their faces?” he asked in a chuckle, malice glinting in his eye. “Hilarious.”

“It was not hilarious,” you retorted. “Your father asked for all of us to sup together and make amends. It’s the only way to stop all this infighting and squabbling. Rhaenyra will be queen someday whether you like it or not. Your father named her heir to the throne. I think it’d be best if we started meding bonds with her instead of burning them, before she decides-”

“-My father named her heir before he had Aegon,” he replied coolly, standing by the table, firm and still with his feet apart. “He didn’t think he'd remarry until he married my mother. He had no choice. The realm forced his hand, so he named her his heir. Then he had Aegon, and Aegon should’ve become his rightful heir. Her and her Strong boys have taken that from us.”

‘Strong boys’. The two words that ignited the kindling fires beneath the table. You scoffed, shaking your head, “Do not pretend as if that is what made you act, Aemond,” you snorted. “All because the boy laughed in your direction?” you saw his pointed avoidance of your gaze. “Luke wasn’t laughing at you, Aemond. He was laughing at the pig.”

“No, he was laughing at you.” You heard the growl in your husband’s voice. “That little bitch Rhaena muttered something to him, looked at you, and laughed. I won’t tolerate it.” 

You should’ve expected as much. Many boys at court poked fun at you for your size. You’d always had your wide hips, thick thighs, fatty arms and stomach since you were small. Your mother thought sending you to court might curb your appetite, but anxiousness made you eat more. You’ve tried. You honestly had, if not for yourself then for Aemond. Tough, strong, intimidating warriors like him should have pretty, slim wives who light up rooms with their smiles and are the envy of everyone at court. He never cared what other people said; you tried feeling the same, yet the creeping sensation that you simply weren’t enough came. Prince Aemond Targaryen could have his pick of any woman in Westeros, but, instead he married you. The girl Aegon, Jace and little Luke made jokes about behind her back. You pushed aside these feelings, poured your own wine and forced yourself to swallow it. 

“The jests of a boy mean nothing to me.” You hesitated, brief flashes of memories coming to you. 

You recalled the roasted pig the servants placed in front of you both. Yes, how witty. So witty. You rolled your eyes. It reminded you of the Pink Dread they’d presented Aemond with in their youth. A large pig they’d gotten from the pen with dragons wings tied to its sides, Aemond told you about it during a walk you took together. He’d initially had trouble taming a dragon to bond with. All the Targaryens ride dragons, and your husband suffered teasing and bullying for not having his own. You supposed the Pink Dread coupled with being betrothed to you caused double the damage. 

A sinking feeling came through your chest as the realization came. How must it feel for you? Jace and Luke only laughed whenever Aegon made snide comments about you. They’d done worse to Aemond. They’d blinded him. You couldn’t imagine the pain it must’ve brought him seeing them again after so many years. Instant guilt filled your stomach, taking up any room your wine might’ve filled. 

“I’m sorry, my love,” you said, looking into your cup. “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. After all the cruel jokes and then what happened with your eye…” you shook your head, “I’m being so selfish.”

You felt his eyes on you as you looked away from him. People often stared at Aemond when he walked into rooms. They saw him as a sort of monster, to be feared and never approached. So, he played into that. He became a fierce warrior and battle tactician. You knew he overheard the men in the training yard: “Aemond would’ve made a great fighter, but that eye’s gonna work against him”. He hated the stares. He hated the whispers. You worried that dinner would set him off, but you’d insisted you both attend. You’d seen him grinding his teeth, and staring daggers into the two boys in front of him. Gentle squeezes of his hand, and reassurances did nothing to calm your husband’s simmering anger. He never forgave easily, and he never forgot a slight whether real or imagined. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you to go to dinner,” you said. “I knew it’d be difficult for you, but it’s the last supper we might ever have with your father, and I knew it’d make him happy to have you there. I should’ve suggested we leave or use one of the children as a reason to-”

“-I’m not upset we went. I’m glad. You have nothing to apologize for, Wife.” 

‘Wife’. The word still held sway over you six years and two children later. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” he told you, softness and love behind his words. You heard him step over to you, stopping until he was inches away from you. “This dress…” you felt warm hands start at your hips and slide up your sides, kneading at the rolls there, “Did you mean to tempt me with it?”

A slight warmth came to your cheeks. You’d worn a dress of dark blue-green silk with gold embroidered birds, flowers and vines along the seams. You admitted it was a bit lower cut than you’d originally intended. Your bosom pushed against the neckline, but you managed to not let it spill over. Sitting on his good eye’s side, he would’ve seen you perfectly. You’d tied up your hair with the silver comb Aemond gifted you for your nameday. It matched the sapphire he wore in place of his missing eye. He said he liked it when your jewels matched his. Had you worn it hoping it’d stir desire in your husband? Yes. Always. You hoped in vain it might distract him from any rash actions he might make. 

“You know how much I love this gown,” you said innocently. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Or,” he brushed his lips against your ear, “You wanted me to rip it from you and ravage you as I do whenever you wear it…”

You giggled, but simply stayed in his arms as he began kissing at your neck. Nimble fingers deftly untied your dress. “You better hope your father doesn’t hear what you said tonight,” you said, knowing he wasn’t really listening, “He’ll be so upset.”

“I only paid them a compliment,” he replied, pushing your sleeves down your arms. “It’s not my fault if they think they’re not strong.”

“That is not what you meant, and you know it,” you accused. 

“It is no secret what they are,” he said. “You’ve seen them.”

Yes, you have seen them. Jacaryes and Luceryes should’ve had the dark skin of their Velaryon father or the coloring of their silver-haired Targaryen mother. Instead, the two princes had brown hair and dark eyes; much like that of Harwin Strong, the former commander of the city watch. The sworn sword and champion of Princess Rhaenyra. But, nobody dared to say it out loud; it was an act of treason. For your husband to say it, even laced in a false compliment, soured things quickly. You had no real love for their family, but you’d promised your mother-in-law you’d keep things civil. You congratulated Rhaena and Baela on their betrothals to Jace and Luke. You asked Jace how his Valryian lessons were coming along, and asked Baela about going on at Driftmark. You wanted to be friends with them, putting aside the bitter memories of your youth. 

Once your dress fell at your feet, Aemond worked on the lacings of your undergarments. The thin layer of cloth kept Aemond’s hands from your delicate skin. You could feel every digit caressing your body, molding it and pressing on points he knew made you gasp. You turned to face him, staring into his face and seeing the lust in his eyes. Carefully, you cupped his cheek. Your thumb grazed over the scar peeking out from his eyepatch. He only wore it when at court, to not disturb the other ladies who might be more squeamish. It never bothered you. You lifted his eyepatch off. He flinched for a brief moment, but a gentle touch of your hand calmed him. In the eye socket where a pale blue eye should be, was a dark sapphire. The jeweler who’d made it rounded it to resemble an eye, but Aemond asked for it to remain its natural color. 

“I remember thinking you’d die,” you huffed a laugh. “The wound was so terrible and bled so much.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” he said. “I got Vhagar in return.” He paused, “I got you.”

Heat came around your neck and cheeks again, bringing on a smile. You remember the moment vividly. The morning after his injury he'd come to your quarters at Driftmark. Unannounced, uninvited, the prince stood in your chambers, pale and silver with determination on his face. Claiming his own dragon brought out a fire in him that never went out. You recalled studying him there. You’d gotten wounds of your own, little scratches and cuts, but nothing compared to his pain. The stark contrast of the stitched wound on his ivory skin was more shocking in the morning light. You somewhat liked the effect. 

‘My prince, you should be resting.’

‘There is something I wanted to tell you, my lady, before we depart home.’

‘What is it?’

“An absurd thing for a twelve-year-old boy to say,” you said softly, unbuckling his belt from his waist. You unbuttoned his doublet and lifted it off him. “‘I have my dragon’,” you quoted, “‘Now, I want my wife.’ I believe that is what you said.”

“And I got you,” he said, pecking your lips. “I told my mother I would never want another girl. No girl would do for me what you did that night.”

“Blatantly lie to the king about what happened in the tunnel?” 

“No…defend me.”

You did recall tearing Rhaena off Aemond as she and the others began hitting him. The both of you tussled around on the ground, pulling at each other’s hair and scratching each other’s faces. You’d never fought before, but your weight and size certainly worked in your favor. Her sister eventually joined the fray, pulling you off to punch at you, but the three of you stopped once Jace pulled out his blade. 

“I never thought I’d have anyone on my side,” he said, “But you were there. You always are. You tore at them. You hit them. You made them pay, in what little way you could. Then you told my father they attacked us. You defended me.”

“And I’d do it again, if I had to.”

Sliding his hand on the nape of your neck, he brought you to his lips. The taste of the vintage wine lingered on both your tongues, sweetening the already heated kiss. You untied the fastenings of his clothes, removing them piece by piece until nothing separated you. His hard body stoked a fire inside you. You ran your hands down his chest to his stomach, finally landing just above his cock. A low rumble from his chest beckoned you to keep going as he pressed himself to you. Warm, with the faint smell of violets lingering on his skin from his clothes, you fell further into your bliss as his hands slipped down your waist to your backside. Plump and soft, his hands kneaded them so that you whimpered against his lips. 

“I liked it,” you said between kisses, running your hand over his member and feeling it twitch on your palm. 

“Liked what?” he asked. He brought one hand up to your breast, palming it and squeezing gently. 

You broke your lips from his, licking his bottom lip, “Watching you mock them. I liked seeing their eyes flicker with fear when you stood up, staring them down with that hard look of yours.” You grabbed his shaft just to hear him grunt, “Being the strong, clever, slightly intimidating man you’ve become. I’ll admit,” you slowly began pumping him, watching his head roll back, “It aroused me for a moment.”

“I know,” he smirked, eyes still closed. “I know it isn’t by chance that you end up in the training yard some mornings.”

“I quite enjoy watching you fight. I always have. I love my strong,” you pecked at his neck, “Handsome,” you pecked the other side, “Clever husband who fucks me like a whore and treats me like a queen.”

“Which would you like tonight?” he suddenly grabbed your hair and yanked it, “A whore or a queen?”

“You’re a smart man,” you brought him over to the bed and straddled a corner, “You figure it out.”

His cock at level with you, you carefully lifted it to your mouth and slid your tongue underneath. Aemond did not respond with anything except a soft sigh. You kept your eyes on him as you licked him from base to tip, and then back down. Veins pump blood into his member, which pulsates against the flat of your tongue each time you traced over them. Blond hair curtaining his face, the shade darkened his features leaving his sapphire eye standing out more. You didn’t focus on it. You focused on the pink, bulbous tip that gradually turned red when you swirl your tongue around it. By the time you slid him into your mouth, moaning softly, Aemond’s hands already grasped your hair. He did not force you down immediately; he let you start the pace, enjoying your lips sucking his throbbing cock. Hands grasping his muscled thighs, you kept yourself steady while you slid him towards your throat. 

You only ever told one person where you learned the intimate art of love making. It was considered unbecoming and inappropriate for a noble lady to wander into a brothel disguised as a street urchin to watch the women there pleasure their customers. You never let yourself be touched, yet you’d observed at a hefty price. Aemond nearly choked on his wine when you revealed it to him on your wedding night. Yet, he quickly got over his shock when you laid him back and let you show him what you learned. You never fully mastered taking it to the back of your throat like some women did, but Aemond never pressed you. He stood there and let you practice on him sometimes after training or dinner. He gave a low groan when his tip pressed there, the groan mixing with your soft choking each time you did it. You massaged your thumbs into his inner thighs, close to his ballsack; his hips pushed into your face slightly at the new sensation. The longer you went on, the needier your husband became. Soon, he fisted your hair to keep you still so he stuck himself further into your throat. You let him guide you along his considerable length, your own sex beginning to ache for his touch. He saw you start to slip your hand between your thighs before he snatched it by the wrist. Without a word, he took both your wrists and held them at his sides to bring you forward. 

“The only person,” he grunted, “Who touches your cunt is me.”

His words made your clit throb again. You slowly grind your hips into the bed, which he seemed to allow so you could whimper around his cock. You imagined him throwing you onto the bed, forcing your legs apart and taking you however he wanted. The strength and formidable aura he oozed at the dinner table came back to you. How he’d stared coldly at Jace when he stood up at the table, angry with Aegon for his crude comments to Baela. How he sparred with Ser Cole earlier in the day, moving quick and precise in each maneuver. You wished to feel him everywhere. You wanted to feel the hard muscles and lines of his body; feel his heart beating faster while you rode him. You tried saying his name with your mouth full, a thing you knew he enjoyed. He laughed when he heard your muffled words. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, laughing in his tone, “What was that?” You pleaded his name again, rocking your hips more and more for some form of friction. “Is there something you need?”

He slid himself far enough that his tip laid on your tongue still, and you said, “Your tongue, my prince. Your tongue,” you licked the underside, “Your fingers, your cock. Please, Your Grace.” 

“Hm, I don’t know,” he said, releasing your hands and taking hold of himself. You stuck out your tongue for him to rub overt, tapping his tip there before you sucked on it. “I quite like it this way. You look so pretty drooling and begging me for more…like a filthy whore who can’t seem,” he plunged back into your mouth, “To get enough.”

You moaned with him this time, continuing to rub yourself on the corner of the bed as he kept a slow pace. The light brushes of the soft sheets against your aching sex felt torturous. The right spot refused to be touched, so the same teasing feeling came each time. Eventually, seeing streams of drool and precum follow, Aemond withdrew from you fully and pushed you onto your back. 

“Which part did you aim to please, slut?” he asked, the slur dripping from his lips with seduction. He trailed two long fingers down your belly to the top of your mound. You flinched feeling them trail circles down to the crevasse of your folds. “Was it here?” he traced them lightly over the slit of your cunt, dipping his finger only to graze over the hood of your clit. “Perhaps underneath then?” he brushed it back up underneath the hard nub, making you tremble. He chuckled darkly at your response and continued doing it with his thumb. You gripped the sheets under you as his thumb then slid over your clit, “But what about right here? It seems to please you the most.”

“Do not act as if you don’t know…A-Aemond…” you breathed, the slow movements driving you crazy. 

“I only wish to educate myself on what pleases my whore the most,” he began making soft trails of kisses down your inner thighs, “Well enough that she’ll never want another.” 

The wetness that leaked from you made his thumb’s movements slicker. He did careful circles around your sex, sometimes sliding towards your entrance before coming back up. He knew exactly what made your toes curl, and had you longing for him. A drastic difference from your wedding night. You brought one of his hands to your breasts for him to fondle while Aemond buried his face between your thighs. He worked his tongue in languid laps against your open folds while his fingers pinched your nipple hard. The slight tingle of pain made you raise your hips to his tongue again. 

You yelped in surprise when he slid both fingers inside your cunt, dragging them along the walls in a soft, delicate pace. He kept licking your sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue while he focused on the fingers inside you. The sensations coupled together were too much to bear. 

"Aemond…Aemond…" you muttered his name, the tension inside you building tighter and tighter. 

"I know," he mumbled, kissing up your thighs, his thumb replacing his tongue's movements. "Let go for me."

Your body immediately obeyed. His fingers kept the same gentle speed as your walls squeezed them. You reached down to grab his wrist, keeping it in place for more. Smirking, Aemond let his fingers wiggle against the most sensitive of spots. You saw stars when you closed your eyes. Your body might've burst into a thousand and one pieces with every shuddering wave. 

He didn't give you a single second. Pushing you further up the bed, Aemond forced your legs further apart and slipped into you. Hands pinning down your wrists, his lips found yours as he started rocking into you. Your juices still on his lips and tongue, you licked them clean. You pussy throbbed from being stimulated again, but you could not let go. You didn't want him to stop. You'd needed him all night. 

"Such a good whore," he jeered, starting to slam his hips into yours, "Laying here like a good girl and letting me take it how I want."

"Only for you, Your Grace. Only…for…"

He knelt up, and you saw the sheer size of him. Long limbed, you gazed on the pale sculpted figure above you. Silver hair falling around him, dark sapphire glinting, he was otherworldly. You never thought you'd have a man like him. Women like you did not get what they wanted, it was plain and simple. Women like you took what they got and adapted, because otherwise, you ended up an old maid. You didn't want that. You began bouncing against him so your breasts moved, and his eyes immediately fell on them. Letting go of your hands, he bent down and grasped them. Sparks of pleasure coursed back through you as he kissed and bit all over them. You didn't think you could handle it a second time. It didn't stop when his thumb found your clit again, and he moved it in time with his thrusts. The oversensitive spot tingled throughout your body; his touch felt ten times more apparent than before. 

"Your Grace," you mumbled, your thoughts forcing themselves together, "I think I might…I…"

At this, he angled you upwards and kept short strokes. The tip of his cock touched right on it again, your eyes rolling back to the strong sensation inside you. It felt like a knot being tightened and tightened until finally it snapped, and you were rutting up against him like an animal. Your second orgasm hit you hard, a strong force that made you lose control. You felt long fingers rest against your throat, not squeezing but simply holding you there. This new restraint, and the struggle of oxygen it brought, strengthened your climax instead of softening it. Your screams came slightly gurgled, but nobody else needed to hear. Your moans were for Aemond’s ears only. 

Unable to withhold himself any longer, Aemond took a few more pumps before he came. The hot cum filling you brought on a blissful satisfaction. His held tilted back, eyes closed shut and lips parted, your husband resembled a sculpture. A beautiful one. You ran your nails down his chest to his stomach to feel his tense muscles spasm in every squeeze. He kept thrusting until he'd drained every drop into you. Would you feel soreness in your muscles tomorrow? Yes. Would you regret it? Not at all. 

He fell onto his side next to you, blond hairs stuck to his forehead from sweat and a hazy sleepiness in his eyes. You tried your best to regain your breath and strength to even move. You turned your head to see him; you looked over his profile for every detail you can point out. Nobody ever made you feel so safe; so secure and comfortable in your own skin. You rolled onto your side and draped your arm and leg over half of him. He welcomed the cuddle and let you rest your head on his arm, so his hand fell near your hair, where he played with the ends of it idly. Neither you spoke as you basked in each other’s warmth; only smiling and sharing a soft kiss before a voice broke out into the room. 

"Well, it's good to see my brother knows how to pleasure a woman."

“Aegon!”

“Aegon, you twat!”

With wicked quickness, Aemond grabbed the nearest object and flung it at his brother, who stood a few feet from your bed. The blond boy laughed as he dodged it. Seeing his brother’s flustered face and you scrambling to cover yourself with sheets, Aegon cackled. 

“Mother sent me to come get you,” Aegon said through his laughter, “But, um, I’ll tell her you and Lady Y/N are indisposed right now.”

“You prick, Aegon! Don’t you know how to knock?!” You launched a pillow at him, which hit the man square in the face. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt!” he laughed, cheeks red as he walked backwards. “You two seemed to be having a good time!”

“Get out!” you and Aemond yelled in unison. 

You watched him leave. You both continued to hear him laughing even after he shut the doors. Aemond flung back onto the pillows in a sigh and you rested next to him. 

“Seven Hells,” you cursed, “He’s never going to shut up about it now.”

“Well, if he does, I can just casually remind him in front of a group of people how I once found him in a brothel tied to a pole blindfolded with a woman and a sheep in the room.”

“I’m sorry, but you found him doing what?” you asked in pure disgust. 

“Yes,” he nodded, “He claims that the sheep just happened to be there, but I don’t think anyone would believe him.” 

The both of you met each other’s gaze and then laughed. You curled back up to him again, his warmth keeping the chill from coming over you, and rested on him. You felt his seed stick between your legs. You hoped. You prayed that, maybe, a child would quicken there. You worried about what tonight’s events might rekindle, and the fallout from that dinner. It was nothing; a snide remark that can be forgiven if done at the right time. Perhaps Alicent will smooth things over, and the king will never hear of it. He is so old and very ill. You hated thinking Viserys died knowing his last effort to mend his family was broken so carelessly. 

“You worry too much,” Aemond’s voice broke through your sleepiness. “Don’t let it bother your pretty head anymore.”

“You don’t worry enough,” you replied, shutting your eyes and letting him pull the sheets over you both. 

“I do worry. I worry about you,” you felt his lips peck the top of your head. “Now, sleep.” 

And so you did in your husband’s arms, the place you were meant to be. 

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond smut #aemond fluff #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd s1 #hotd drabbles #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd imagines

[fanficsat12am]

Can you pls do what the demon brother's (maybe even the side characters)would do if mc wiped of their kiss?????

AN: OF COURSE!! Here's your request luv <33 Hope you like itttt :>

how the brothers react to you wiping their kiss off prank I Lucifer & Mammon

📜 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃!! 📜 Leviathan, Satan & Asmodeus Beelzebub & Belphegor

Lucifer

He’s a very busy man and finds every moment with you to be very special. Because of his schedule, he’d give you little pecks on your cheek or the top of your hand when you pass by him in the hallways of RAD.

Coffees in bed, watching a movie, and snuggling underneath a comfy blanket are some of his favorite memories with you.

When you wiped off his kiss, he was genuinely hurt. He’ll pretend to have not noticed it at all, but he definitely did. He won't be getting any work done, head busy theorizing on what he might have done to upset you. Maybe you were getting tired of being in a relationship with a workaholic? Was he not giving you enough attention? You must have known about his constricted time schedule before agreeing to be with him right?

At the end of the day he decides to just talk to you about it like an adult. He believes that communication is a key to a good relationship and to respect whatever you want to do after this.

“My Love, I know it must be hard being in a relationship that feels like you’re the only one in it. But please know that there is not a second where I find myself not thinking about you”

Feeling bad for the demon, you finally tell him that it was just a prank and he is visibly upset. He immediately thinks this was the work of one of his brothers and goes around the house asking who was in on it, threatening the perpetrator and screaming that he’s not afraid to feed whoever they are to Cerberus.

Once you catch up to him and explain that it was just your idea, he starts to sulk. You end up having to pepper the demon with kisses for days as payment. He’ll still be a little shaken up and decided to take some time off work to spend a day with you.

Mammon

Though he acts like you’re just an annoying human, this guy is absolutely smitten with you. He would travel the three realms and back just to see you.

He gets all blushy when you give him little pecks when in school. He takes a lot of pride being your first, always reminding his brothers of it like a broken record. He hates to admit it, but he absolutely loves kissing you in front of others when he’s jealous, further solidifying that you’re his.

So when you decide to wipe his kiss in front of his brothers, he’s absolutely taken aback–jaw almost hitting the floor. He starts getting all huffy and puffy, going into a full blown fit.

“What the hell, human? Ya think you’re too good for The Great Mammon’s kiss ha. If you didn’t want it ya could’ve just said so”

Crosses his arms with a pout and starts to leave the room. You chase after him, trying to explain to him while blurting out apologies. Only when you both reach his room does he turn back to look at you with tears brimming his golden irises. You’ve gotta understand, this boy loves you. Your little prank made him think you didn’t feel the same way anymore.

You end up cuddling him all night, whispering words of comfort into his ear till he’s fast asleep. You make a mental note to yourself to never try this again on him.

Ready yourself, cause you’re about to show the demon how much you love him. You take him on a shopping spree as an apology gift, start to spend even more time with him, and pepper him with kisses all day long.

#obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #lucifer fluff #mammon fluff #lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #obey me #obey me imagines #obey me angst #shall we date lucifer #shall we date mammon

[theaceofarrows]

Buckle up, this is going to be a long post⬇

Thinking about the unbridled chaos that would have been Hunter if he had gone to public school with Luz during they're time in the human realm

Would it have made sense for him to suddenly go to school, him the guy whose only previous experience with public education is an undercover afternoon at Hexside, a completely different realm where he didn't even attend class? No, it wouldn't have made any sense whatsoever.

But just imagine it. That you're a student at Luz's school and one day the weird girl who let loose a bunch of snakes in the school shows up with her "cousin from Sweden". This mysterious 16 year old dude with a facial scar who is an absolute beast in gym class whose got even the P.E. teacher speechless.

This guy who has a glare that makes even the seniors shudder and think twice about saying anything about the Noceda girl, and the one time the bully didn't take a hint and keep his mouth shut, and actually tired to take a swing at the guy, doesn't land a single hit because the Swedish dude breaks out some kind of Spider-Man moves and back flips out of the way and the bully ends up punching the locker instead and breaks his hand, and Swedish dude just goes "you would have broken your hand anyway with the way you were making a fist" whilst causally flicking a speck of dust of his shoulder.

He always spends his lunch period outside, and a cardinal shows up everyday without fail to join him. He's either having what appears to be an intense one sided conversation with said cardinal, or the bird is casually nesting in his hair while he reads a book and eats his lunch.

It turns out that all the teachers love him. The home ec teacher is so impressed with his sewing that she doesn't even mind that he nearly blew up the oven while they were making cookies. The math teacher loves him because he's apparently also a math whizz who can do college level problems. The P.E teacher is trying to recruit him for at least three different sports teams. The drama teacher loves him because He's a natural at acting and doing improv. He's always the first one to class, takes the most notes, he's super respectful to the teachers, reminds the teachers about homework, does extra assignment work for fun. This dude who is wicked smart and sarcastic, and witty almost all the time, and then raises his hand in history class and asks "What's a Spain?" With the most sincere expression.

Just imagine that

#the owl house #hunter noceda #hunter deamonne #toh hunter #luz noceda #toh luz #luz and hunter are siblings #we were robbed #this would have been so funny #i'll never be over him #hunter my beloved #bonus points if you got that reference

[red-raven-reading]

So, I've been thinking about Rings of Power.

It's shit - don't get me wrong - but I can't get over an idea of how it conceptually could have been better: replace Galadriel with Celebrian as the main character.

That way, Celebrian's journey could have been about exploring the realms outside of her parents' watch. Galadriel, being the terrifying queen she is, who has seen literally every single member of her family except her parents brutally murdered, is immediately all for imprisoning her in the highest tree Thingol style. Only Celeborn, her less powerful but much loved and respected husband, reminds her that that didn't work for Lúthien and Celebrian would lose all respect for them.

So, Galadriel arranges for Celebrian to visit her cousin Celebrimbor because it's closest, and she's always gotten on with him.

In Eregion, Celebrian meets her cousin and his 'friend' Annatar but is just excited to explore away from her mother. She's eager, excitable, and determined to show that she's more than her mother's daughter. This is why she is so supportive of Celebrimbor making the rings as she can't imagine negative consequences and only sees the magic and artistry involved.

Because of her sheltered upbringing, Celebrian also doesn't see that Celebrimbor/Annatar are really toxic and that Celebrimbor is clearly being abused. Emotionally/mentally/physically. Do you think Galadriel would let that shit stand in her kingdom? Absolutely not! So, Celebrian just can't comprehend such a thing.

Elrond arrives as well - maybe about mithril? - and the two have a sweet romance, but Elrond is more aware of the darkness in the world. It's him who smells something fishy about Annatar, but Celebrian refuses to see it at first because she trusts her friends. Maybe they argue, and he returns to Lindon and Gil-galad with it still between them?

Her trust is broken when Sauron reveals himself, and Celebrian inspires Celebrimbor to make the three rings to show the strength of the elves is not gone yet.

Celebrian has to mature from sheltered Disney Princess to deal with the situation she helped create. Galadriel was an established leader, queen, advisor, and badass by the second age, so it makes it hard to see greenlighting the rings without thinking about consequences or trusting Annatar blindly. Celebrian, on the other hand, would be naïve and powerful enough for her to make such costly mistakes. Also, processing abusive relationships, reunion with Elrond after finding out the truth, the guilt of your actions being warped into something evil, and all that fun stuff!

... Idk, just an idea that I keep coming back to.

#silmarillion #rings of power #lord of the rings #celebrian #celebrimbor #annatar #elrond #galadriel

[blues824]

I read that angels and demons have true forms, and theoretically, everyone in obey me might have a true form. And going with mc being descended from Lilith who was an Angel, maybe they are resistant to the whole “see nonhumans true form makes you lose your sanity” thing, I kind of want to see this scenario: Simeon and Luke: “Be not afraid.” MC: 😐”…I think I just wet myself”

I am combining these two into one! Basing it off of this picture. This is platonic.

Lucifer

You had pointed out his wings and shattered halo, along with the horns and fangs at a time where he wasn’t showing his demon form at all. Not just that, but he never had fangs or a halo in the form you’ve seen. You tell him that you have always been able to see their true forms.

He has reason to suspect that it came from your descension from Lilith. It grew to a very concerning point when you even said that you could see his former angel form, the one with the eyes and wings. No human has ever seen that and lived… are you sure you are human?

Mammon

He let out a shriek when you said that he looked kind of creepy with all the eyeballs and wings and broken halo. He hasn’t seen that form in millenia! You had to be joking somehow, but there was no way you would have been able to see that form of him.

He immediately went to tell Lucifer, and when he saw the concerned look on his older brother’s face, he knew that it was serious. You were already different because of your connection with Lilith, but now you’re saying that you can handle seeing their true forms as angels and demons.

Leviathan

He definitely did not like it when you asked him about his fallen angel form, especially when you asked about details that there was no possible way you could ask about unless you could actually see it… oh no.

Once you had left, he texted the House of Lamentation group chat (the one that excluded you) about what just happened. The chat immediately blew up with curiosity and concern, along with a bunch of questions that no one had the answer to.

Satan

You had pointed out his true demon form, and even commented on how he looked like a typical demon that was portrayed in medieval paintings. His neck turned so fast you would have been afraid it would snap if he were human.

He reported the incident to Lucifer and Diavolo, and the latter reasoned that it could be because of your connection to Lilith. You were a mystery, one that Satan didn’t truly know if he would want to solve. After all, you just reminded him of the thing he could never truly escape: Wrath.

Asmodeus

He was doing your makeup when you asked if his true angel form felt uncomfortable. He didn’t know what you were talking about until you elaborated. You told him how you were able to see his broken halo and the wings and eyes that littered his body.

Asmo quickly changed the subject, but he didn’t forget about it. He texted the HoL group chat about it, asking Lucifer specifically if he knew what was going on. After all, no one has seen their true forms in millennia.

Beelzebub

When you asked about his true angel form, but with the messed up halo and tears falling down from the many eyes, he was definitely freaked out. You usually don’t see him so stunned, so you were concerned.

Beel quickly told Lucifer, who reasoned that it might be because you are related to Lilith. The typical human would go mad if they saw their true forms, so your angelic roots might have made you immune to them.

 

Belphegor

He hasn’t seen his angelic form in thousands of years. When you point it out to him, he’s hit with nostalgia of playing with Beel and Lilith in the Celestial Realm. It’s all bittersweet memories that he can never experience again.

It made him wonder if you could see everyone else’s form, and you confirmed that it was the only thing you could see rather than their typical demon forms. He told Lucifer about it, and they deduced it to your relation to Lilith.

Simeon

He was scared when you said that his wings and many eyes looked beautiful. He cared about you too much to allow you to go insane, but he let out a sigh of relief when he realized that you seemed alright.

He thinks that it could be because of your connection to Lilith, which makes the most sense. Angels were immune to other angels, and that was the explanation that seemed to ring true in this case.

Luke

You weren’t prepared for the scream he let out when you told him that his angel form was beautiful and majestic. You did not cover your ears in time. Luke was squeezing you so tight, begging you not to go insane.

He was almost in tears with fear, until Simeon told him that since you were related to Lilith, you were completely okay. Now the young angel let out tears of joy and relief. You thought it was adorable how much he cared about you.

#obey me #obey me x reader #obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me shall we date x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #mammon #obey me levi x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me leviathan #leviathan #leviathan x reader #obey me levi #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan #satan x reader #satan #asmo #asmo x reader #asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #obey me asmo #obey me asmo x reader #obey me asmodeus

[amour393]

see after scrolling through the beloved jay walker tag I'm now thinking of the bad!skybound ending where nadakhan wins and everything is terrible, in which

Instead of the whole "I wish this never happened" shtick, jay wishes for nya to be healed. he can't risk losing her

Naturally, though nya is healed, nadakhan twists it so it doesn't lift the delaara curse

Nadakhan takes over and fixes up djinnjago to be his palace and stuff, fixing the ninja as his centerpieces

I feel like he wouldn't kill jay though

At first, he wants to

Wants delaara to kill him

Wants him to watch as it's nya's hands, but not her eyes that finally end him

But then he decides against it

Jay has caused so much trouble for him, caused the destruction of his realm, the betrayal of his crew- death would be far too merciful, he decides

I think he would reinstate jay to his status when he was prisoner aboard the misfortune's keep, except I think nadakhan would make him serve delaara

At first jay isn't too extremely opposed, at least initially

At least he still gets to be around nya, he figures

Maybe he can save her, remind her of who she really is

he soon learns it's far worse being around her when its not her, when shes nothing but a shell, than it ever could be without her

Delaara is cruel- I mean, she likes nadakhan, she has to be, and she knows how to hurt jay

The third time he tries to save nya, to remind her of who she is, she plays along, and when he finds out it was all fake, losing that hope hurts worse than he ever thought it could

Jay only tried to escape once, and when he failed, nadkhan brought Ed and Edna before jay and turned them into statues

Guys that was not in the original plan this just gets more and more depressing

one day there was a rescue mission launched to save jay

It's a combination of the elemental masters, old friends and allies-

It fails miserably, and nadakhan turns them into statues before Jay's eyes

Jay likes to pride himself on optimism, but that's the day he lost the last of his hope

He stopped hoping people would save him- he couldn't take seeing anyone else he knew frozen before his eyes

Eventually he starts to think he deserves it all

It's his fault anyway, right? He made the first wishes. He kept the secrets. He couldn't save nya then and he certainly can't now

So eventually Jay's resigned. This is his life until nadakhan and delaara get bored of him and finally put him out of his misery

Ok ok so I have this headcanon/theory that delaara possessing nya is exactly that- a possession. It looks exactly like when bansha briefly possesses misako in grave danger- and I feel like it's the same thing

One day jay trips (because he's exhausted and overworked and broken) and he spills water all over delaara

It's not enough to fully break the curse, but it's enough that the green eyes flicker and when jay looks at delaara it's nya who looks back, her eyes warm and brown and scared, he's never seen her this terrified

She manages to unlock his chains and choke out a gasping "run, jay, please run, I cant- I can't- jay, help-"

Not to make this feel like a fic but GUYS I CAN FEEL IT I CAN FEEL THE-

She hissed, recoiling at the water, Jay already gasping his apology, daring to glance up at her-

But it's not Delaara. It's not. He knows those eyes, he does, FSM, he thought he'd never see them again but-

"Jay," she shudders out, Nya shudders out, falling to her knees and wrestling Delaara's keys into the vengestone locks. "Jay, run, please, I-" she gasped, fingers curling in against the wooden floor. "I can't- she's too strong, Jay, I can't-"

Running is the last thing on his mind, as he rushes forward and he grasps her hands and tears burn his eyes and her lifts her head but she pushes him away because "I can't stop her, Jay, get away from me, you need to go, please run, RUN-"

He falls back and Nadakhan appears as Delaara wrestles back into control

Anyway anyway ANYWAY WHAT IM SAYING is that now he can't leave. He can't even try. Nya is in there somewhere and he can't leave her. He can't

The scarse times that Jay gets water are now only when he's far away from delaara

And this is all a prison for nya too because she's locked in her own head, watching as Jay- sweet, dorky, anxious wreck with a sharp tongue and a heart bigger than she's ever seen Jay- is forced to live in absolute misery, as he's hurt, as he's cut off from his power, as he watches his loved ones fade and fall one by one, as he looks up at her with so much hurt

They're sixteen. Sixteen

Anyway. I don't know how this ends its too sad to think about. Yeah

Give jay a hug

Sorry?

#ninjago #skybound #ninjago au #skybound au #jay walker #ninjago jay #jay ninjago #nya smith #jaya #ninjago nya #nya ninjago #ns6 #warning! sadness ahead #at least this made me sad #give jay a hug

[windslar]

OC Deep Dive Questionnaire Tag

A set of 20 questions to get to know your oc! I was tagged by @matchalovertrait and @simmenycricket. thank you so much! since we're days away from starting his generation, i'm going to be doing this with Reuben in mind.

What uncommon/common fear do they have? Contrary to popular belief, Reuben is not scared of death and is actually quite fascinated by it. He is fearful though of his own mind and how it's wired to undervalue his own life and reality. He's so hyper-aware of how life is so fleeting and arbitrary that it's pushed him toward understanding the concept of mortality (and exploring the possibility that immortality might be out there in some other supernatural realm). So, to answer the question without getting too deep into it, Reuben's big fear is his own brain.

Do they have any pet peeves? People who say "no offense" because they almost always mean full offense.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? His phone, a record player, a dusty old book.

What do they notice first in a person? Reuben notices body language and eye contact first. He is very intuitive and can glean how comfortable people are in a situation, and he usually finds the least comfortable looking person and tries to keep them company.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance? Emotional pain? 8/10. Physical pain? he may be a rancher's son, but he's a baby -- 4/10.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? Under pressure, Reuben goes into flight and retreat and hide out in his room mode. But recent events involving an ex-boyfriend who shall not be named have made him more resilient. He's got a little more fight in him now than he did as a teenager.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person? He grew up mostly raised by his mom, but his dad has always been present in his life. He'd say he's close to both of them. While he was in high school, his parents had a surprise pregnancy so he has a much, much younger brother.

What animal represents them best? A cat for the introspection and for being deeply perceptive. Or a humpback whale -- for the introversion and the appreciation for music.

What is a smell that they dislike? Reuben doesn't really like floral scents like lilies or carnations because they remind him too much of childhood memories of accompanying his mom to the funeral home.

Have they broken any bones? One time, he climbed the windmill at their ranch and he fell and broke his arm. And no broken bones, but he did get a nasty bruise on his behind after he fell off Maple.

How would a stranger likely describe them? Some would say softboi; others would say babygirl.

Are they a night owl or a morning bird? Night owl, which is exactly why he needs to get out of the ranch and its squealing-goat wake up calls.

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love? Growing up with a professional chef as his mom opened Reuben's palate to a lot of good food. He's always been an easy eater, but a flavor he hates is liver. He can't stand the texture! As for a flavor he loves, it's garlic!

Do they have any hobbies? Playing the piano and reading vampire tomes and fantasy novels. He also swam in high school although he was no star athlete like his mom was.

Boom, surprise birthday party!How do they react to surprises? He would be so appreciative to the person who threw the party (either his mom or his best friend, Winona). He would probably hate being the centre of attention though. But he'll put on a brave face and try his best to make sure everyone is having a good time.

Do they like to wear jewelry? Yes, and I think more now that he's gotten older. He likes to layer silver necklaces. He's also thinking of getting some piercings... and perhaps some ink? Who knows.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting? Legible but messy. A little bit like his handwriting stopped improving in the 3rd grade.

What are two emotions they feel the most? Existential sadness and teenage angst.

Do they have a favorite fabric? Comfy, breathable cotton. Brushed plaid shirts. A vintage leather jacket.

What kind of accent do they have? Chestnut Ridge is in the southwest and people from that area typically don't have a strong southern accent like those from Willow Creek. That being said, compared to almost everywhere else, people from C.R. have a slight twang and a touch of that southern drawl. Reuben will probably say he doesn't have an accent, but someone from the city will definitely say he does.

I tag @wrixie, @dustbon, @natolesims, @druidberries, and @stefsimz. Please feel free to ignore 😊

#tjolc extras #oc tags #oc tag game

[yeliuxi]

I enjoy a good Priest trope subversion, but I don't think predestined love is a trope that was subverted in Qi Ye. Or, at least, not in such a clear-cut way.

It's true that Jing Qi falls out of love with Helian Yi by the seventh lifetime, and does not pursue the predestined love that Bai Wuchang allegedly gave him a chance to reclaim. It's also true that Jing Qi eventually chooses to pursue Wuxi instead, and goes with him back to Nanjiang. And it's also true that Priest used a lot of Buddhist themes in her work, and was stressing that nothing is permanent, not even an alleged soulmate and fated bond.

But I think we can also assume that the first three lifetimes at the very beginning of the novel are talking about Jing Qi and Wuxi. And I think it's these lifetimes that suggest a real, fulfilled, unsubverted predestined love.

The first three lifetimes (as translated by Chichi, because their translation is 200 times better than mine would have been):

The first lifetime, a stone appeared, turning into the burial mound of a hero, feelings unable to be broken. The second lifetime, a boulder split, ferrying a predestined love across the Bridge, a pair of mandarin ducks flying off together. The third lifetime, a jadeite burned, vowing to abide by an invaluable oath, eternally following each other in life and death.

The first life, a hero dies, but his love persists through death. The second life, someone (the lover of the hero, presumably) does something to follow someone else (the hero, presumably) in death. Their predestined love is unfulfilled, so they reunite in the Netherworld at the Naihe Bridge. They reincarnate, and find each other again in another life, where their predestined love is fulfilled.

It's never actually stated how this lover follows the hero in death, but I assume it was not entirely mundane, as where before a stone is a memorial, becomes a standing reminder of death, this boulder is broken, and that is what ferries their love across the Bridge. Actually, this might just represent taking a different path of reincarnation (reincarnating in a higher realm, and becoming a being of the Netherworld).

When the Netherjudge shows up in the first chapter, he comments that Bai Wuchang was not originally a person of the Netherworld. Bai Wuchang was inhabiting a "temporary" form, waiting for someone, but he forgot who. A hero died, and a lover died, but one continued reincarnation in the mortal realm, while the other is stuck in the Netherworld, becoming Bai Wuchang. Assuming Jing Qi is the hero and Bai Wuchang is the lover, Bai Wuchang followed Jing Qi to the Netherworld, but is unable to fulfill his predestiny while reincarnated in a higher realm, and this is why his form in the Netherworld is temporary and "stifled."

The Netherjudge states that Bai Wuchang has been waiting around for a a predestiend person for a while, and that he should go now. From Chichi's translation:

“This cycle’s Bai Wuchang was not originally a person of the underworld, and had been doing nothing more than borrowing a temporary frame in wait for his destined person,” he explained upon noticing Hu Jia standing there dumbly. “Now, he ought to go.”

It's likely that whatever means Bai Wuchang used to reunite with his loved one in the Netherworld cost him his memories, or was just a consequence of reincarnation in a higher realm (like how people will not remember most of their previous lives when reincarnating as living beings). But Hu Jia keeps all of his memories (remembers learning about Helian Yi in lessons, and tales of dotting the dragon's eyes), and he is a ghost messenger also of the Netherworld. So, I don't really have any good explanation other than a reach. Regardless, Jing Qi reincarnates, but Wuxi is unable to reincarnate with him, despite originally being a mortal.

Hu Jia comments that Jing Qi has suffered such ill fates, despite not doing many wicked things in his lives with Helian Yi. Bai Wuchang gives the excuse that it's difficult to calculate karma, but this might actually be because Jing Qi was not able to fulfill his destiny with Bai Wuchang, because he was the only one who reincarnated. Instead, he became destined with Helian Yi due to a karmic misallocation. His hair even turns white before the age of 33 in his first life, which also could also be a sign of imbalance or misallocation.

After Bai Wuchang sacrifices his cultivation, he reincarnates as Wuxi. And who is Wuxi infatuated with (who was Bai Wuchang waiting for, who does Bai Wuchang grow increasingly obsessed with, who was his predestined one)? Jing Qi.

But Jing Qi doesn't have memories of lives prior to Helian Yi. This could just be explained by Jing Qi drinking Meng Po's soup like a normal person, but it's been stated before that the soup doesn't work very well on him (because he's special). Bai Wuchang notes that Jing Qi's hun souls are still in the mortal realm, and not in the Netherworld with him. The hun souls are responsible for higher functions, like consciousness/awareness/intelligence. If Jing Qi is missing his hun souls, then this can explain his confused state at the beginning of the novel, and his lack of memory.

But, well, even if I'm grasping at sraws, I will also just present to you this passage (also from Chichi's translation):

Therefore, at first light, Jing Qi was wrapped in a pocket-sized version of Court dress, which had three layers inside and three layers out, then floated into the palace with his eyes half-open, about to meet the one predestined to be tangled up with him for his entire lifetime.

Wuxi and Jing Qi are a predestined love, though they were not the predestined love that Jing Qi was led to believe he was meant to fulfill

#this is mostly just me reaching. so if you have anything that contradicts or whatever you're probably right #qi ye #lord seventh #danny💫

[sailorshadzter]

finding happiness.

inspired by a prompt list

She stands in the center of the broken room, stained-glass window shards littering the floor at her feet. 

For many reasons, she’s never expected to return to this place, to ever stand in this room again- even if it no longer looked like the room she once knew. It is different, utterly destroyed, the blue sky open above her from where the roof caved in. Gone was the Iron Throne, melted to a puddle that she can see when she turns the other way, but she chooses to continue forward. That throne meant nothing to her now. 

Where the beautiful windows once stood, there is nothing but wide open space, the remnants of the town the only sight she can see from where she can stand. From below she can hear the voices crying, those calling out to find the loved ones they were still missing, the sound of it all breaking her heart. The wind whips past, reminding her of that time in the moon door, but somehow there’s no fear of falling. Not anymore. 

“Sansa?” 

She turns at the familiar voice, a wane smile curving on her lips at the sight of the man standing there. He shaved his face clean once more, his dark curls clean and secured at the back of his head in a knot; this was the man she recalls from every dark night, the man who erased all of her fears, the man who saved her in more ways than just one. “I wondered where you had gone off to,” he continues, closing the gap between them, though he longs to draw her just a little further from the broken edge of the room. They’ve spent the last few days here in King’s Landing, the hours long and hollow, the aftermath of this war far worse than all of the rest. Like her, he hears the cries from down below and it sickens him to his very core. 

“I wanted to see things for myself,” she admits, softly, casting her blue eyes around the room, the ghosts within all reaching for her at once. She shivers and when she feels the touch to her hand, it is not a ghost at all, but it is Jon. “Tyrion says the rebuilding will begin at once,” she goes on after she’s let out a long breath. Jon nods, but does not release her hand; that makes her happy. “That’s what they deserve,” softer still, turning ever so slightly so she might look again out past the broken panes of stained-glass, to where down below they hear the wailing of a child. Jon’s first ruling had been to ensure the rebuilding of King’s Landing at once, all the while providing shelter for the commonfolk through the buildings that remained standing, as well as tents provided by the many Houses of Westeros. It would take time, but soon enough the people of King’s Landing would have homes to return to. 

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, grief darkening his eyes. He’s not forgotten what it’s taken to get here. His one wish was that things could have been different, that the people of King’s Landing did not have to suffer the consequences of a war that meant nothing to them. In the end, Daenerys and Cersei both had to be stopped, it was true, and he feels no remorse for the blood he spilt in this very room… But the innocents of the realm, they did not deserve to suffer because of a power struggle. He can only hope that from his reign he can please them and ensure they know he will not be the King they are used to having. He can only hope to give them hope once more, just as he’s given it to her. 

He smiles then, taking in the sight of her, the warm feel of her hand in his bringing him comfort. She’s lovely in her black gown, her furs left behind, but still yet every in a Northern Queen, every inch a Stark. It was a long time coming, but King’s Landing would finally have their beautiful Stark Queen, but she would walk on the arm of a Northern born Targaryen King, rather than the once golden prince of Lannister blood. “What is it?” She asks, coming closer, noticing his stare. 

Jon can’t help but to draw her in, his other arm sneaking around her waist. No longer would they ever have to hide the affection they felt for each other, instead, he could love her openly, he could love her loudly, he could love her proudly, as he’s always wanted to do. “I was just admiring your beauty,” he admits with a grin and she’s blushing crimson beneath his gaze, a soft laugh tumbling free from her rosy lips. Pulling his hand from hers, he cannot help but to touch the curve of her cheek, her skin like silk beneath his palm, his thumb tenderly stroking her smiling lips. The road to this place, to this moment was a long, arduous one, the path carved by grief and love, war and hope. But in the end, they’d found their way. 

When he leans in to kiss her, she’s already waiting, knowing that from this moment on, they would only find happiness.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #i wrote this #my writing