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onlyswan · 10 months

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summary: in which jungkook’s new lip piercing makes you want to cry, and he can’t live without you.

> established relationship, fluff / word count: 1.4k

> warnings: mention of or*l (f. receiving)

> in which masterlist!

note: heh surprise :D my impulsive, jungkook lover brain couldn’t resist so here’s a little something 🥲

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“why are you looking at me like that?” jungkook nervously asks as the excited beam lighting him up gradually fades. “do you not like it?”

you remain speechless with an unreadable expression written on your face. dumbly staring at the lower right corner of his lips, it is adorned with yet another piercing that makes your boyfriend appear more enchantingly attractive in your eyes — which are, by the way, currently blurry and dazed. your brain is still fuzzy around the edges, short circuiting the longer you observe the silver stud.

it infuriates you, almost, how he still manages to effortlessly drive you crazier for him five years later.

it’s extremely rare for you to fall asleep before 10pm, and to be frank, you hate him for waking you up because you know you won’t be able to go back to sleep until 3am no matter how tired you are. and you’re still not quite certain if you’ve already registered that your consciousness has been rudely pulled back into reality; because then again, you’ve always been obsessed with his lip ring, maybe unhealthily so, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that you’d dream of him surprising you with a new piercing just beside it.

however, there is a particular reason that holds you back from strongly wishing for that to come true.

“but you loved the ring, even the eyebrow ones… did i pick an ugly placement this time?” he wonders out loud with a frown, confused that his surprise didn’t receive the type of reaction he expected.

when he tries hard enough, he can picture them vivid enough to draw from memory… your eyes glittering with awe and adoration each time he presented himself with a new piercing or tattoo. you, showering him with love and praises that erased every ounce of anxiety he had about his life-altering decisions that usually came in the aftermath. what others would call impulsiveness, you named his fearless self-expression.

“ow- ouch- baby! what the hell? what was that for?”

with doe eyes struck by headlights, he gapes at you in surprise as he rubs his poor shoulder that was slapped without warning.

“why did you get it there? we’re not allowed to make out again until it’s healed!” you pettily complain with a drawn-out whine, knees bumping against his thighs as you bounce your crossed legs in bitter vexation.

“oh, shit.”

in real time, you witness the realization comically dawn on jungkook’s face, flabbergasted that in the thick haze of his excitement, he forgot about this excruciating restriction during the extended healing process. in his defense, it’s been forever since he got his first lip piercing.

oh, he’s in so much trouble.

he stares back at you, frozen and unblinking as he slowly speaks with a guilty wince. “ahh, you’re right… i must be out of my mind… i can’t eat you out, too… fuck, how did i survive this back then?”

the genuine innocence lacing his voice only fuels your urge to curl into a ball and cry in frustration. yearning for his touch while he’s not physically present is one thing, but this is much, much worse.

“stop talking.” you glare at him, angry eyebrows contrasting the puffiness of your face caused by sleep.

“you’re so adorable.” the endearing sight elicits a breathy chuckle from him, followed by a small whimper triggered by the pain that spreads on the lower part of his face immediately after. he brushes it off without care, muttering quietly- “come here.”

he carefully guides you to sit on his lap, sinking further into the soft mattress with your weight added on top of him. and for tonight, you allow him to manhandle you as he likes, not having the energy to jokingly pretend to argue with him. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer to him, only realizing how much you’ve missed him now that you’re skin-to-skin.

“don’t be upset, baby. i’m sorry.” he sweetly coaxes you into a better mood. “i will make it up to you after. i promise. i always do, right?”

with drowsy eyes still trained on the new jewelry that shines from the light of the night lamp, you sniffle and pout at him.

“and we can still do this, remember?”

the world becomes still and quiet, and the oxygen gets trapped in your lungs when jungkook holds your face in between his warm hands, crossing the short distance between you. your eyelids slowly flutter shut, lashes kissing your cheeks as his lips softly brush against yours. languid and tender, slightly sticky from your sleeping mask that smells like candy. he ends the blissful moment too soon with a gentle pucker of his lips, leaving you with a simple peck that will haunt your mind for the weeks to come, as if you’re a teenager who just had their first kiss in the middle of the dance floor.

“hmm, see, baby? not bad?” he says quietly, pads of his thumbs tenderly stroking the apple of your cheeks.

jungkook is too persuasive for his own good. the memories of you suffering last time are clouded with the new sweet memory he just orchestrated, and you’re almost convinced that it truly might not be that bad after all.

“but we need to be veeery careful like that for now, understand? so it’ll stop hurting and heal fast.”

and just like that, you’re a little more awake.

“does it hurt a lot? did you bleed a lot?”

hearing him say that he’s in pain made you worriedly react within a split second. his heart melts, and then breaks into two as he gathers all the self-control in his body not to pepper your face with kisses like he usually does.

“the piercer was good and quick, i didn’t feel a thing. but i’m definitely feeling something now.” he shakes his head, uttering the last sentence humorously.

“of course, it hurts now. you won’t stop moving… let me see.” you scold him with a roll of your eyes, slightly turning his head by the back of his ear to have a better view of the swollen flesh around the piercing.

“how is it doing?” he inquires after a few beats, curious and impatient with your silence.

and that’s when he sees that look on your face, the glittering eyes he was anticipating to meet since he finished his appointment the morning before. you grin from ear to ear, scrunching your nose cutely before giggles bubble from your chest. sheepish with your transparent delight, you hide your face in the crook of his neck, tickling him with your every exhale.

“my boyfriend is so cool, and so handsome. i’m so lucky and proud.”

that’s him. that could only be him.

jungkook, despite being elated by the compliments, can only muster a small shy smile. he carresses your hair lovingly, securing his tattooed arm around you as you threaten to slip off from his lap.

“really?”

“hm, i like it. so much…” you hum, planting a chaste kiss to the sensitive spot on his neck. “you’re always putting me through this, making me want to kiss you more all the time. this is so unfair.”

“baby, please. behave for me?” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut as if he’s in unmaginable pain. in his dramatic mind, currently flooded with love chemicals, he is. “if you keep talking like that, i will really end up risking an infection.”

you lift up your head to show him a grimace of disgust. “ew, pull it together. i wouldn’t want to kiss you with that.”

“tsk, you’re such a brat.” he calls you out with a pointed look, lightly smacking your thigh, revealed by your shorts that has further ridden up, before kneading the soft flesh under his large palm to soothe it.

you teasingly stick out your tongue in response, breaking out into laughter. and not so subtly, you squeeze your thighs together, grasping his wrist in a futile attempt to control the frenzied butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“have you cleaned it?”

“not yet.”

“then let’s do it. i’ll help you.” you climb off his lap as you eagerly tug at his arm, planting your feet firmly on the ground. “love, hurry- hurry. i want to see it in better lighting.”

exhausted after an eventful day, jungkook limply flops down, occupying the side of the bed that you’ve kindly warmed up. “you can go ahead. i’ll follow you after five minutes.”

“ugh, no, you won’t. you’ll fall asleep if you keep your eyes closed for another thirty seconds, and then i’ll have to wake you up.”

he pops one eye open, and then another, meeting your affectionate gaze with a silly grin because damn, you know him so well.

“i love you… don’t ever leave me. i think i’d seriously die without you.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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candycandy00 · 23 days

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Office Life (Shigaraki x Reader)

Just Shigaraki awkwardly fantasizing about the cute receptionist who works in the same office building as him. You guys let me know if you like this quick “imagine” format for when I don’t have a full fanfic idea.

Smut. 18+. Violence/Blood (not Reader’s). Gender neutral Reader. Dubcon.

Shigaraki, who never had much interest in sex before, when he was so busy with the League and the war. Sure he jacked off to hentai every now and then, but the thought of having real life sex with a real live person didn’t really enter his brain.

Until now.

Shigaraki, who is fresh out of prison and working a dumb office job as part of his “rehabilitation”. Who is ignored and avoided by most of his coworkers because of his very publicized past.

Shigaraki, who just can’t understand why you’re nice to him, why you smile at him so sweetly, like he’s an actual human being and not a monster. Why you, the cute receptionist from down the hall, keeps coming into the office he works in with five other men, desks all lined up neatly.

Shigaraki, who likes that you look at him and acknowledge him, but sometimes has the irrational urge to show you how terrifying and monstrous he can be, to make you fear him the way everyone else does.

Shigaraki, who sometimes has violent fantasies about you that he will never act upon. Like today when you come into the room to share cookies you baked and brought in to the office. You, having such an obvious crush on him that even a socially inept weirdo like him can tell, blush and smile shyly when he takes a cookie from the box you hold out to him.

Shigaraki, who has no idea what you could possibly like about him, but feels a little smug that the rest of the guys in the office are clearly jealous.

And as you move toward the back of the room handing out cookies, constantly glancing back to see if he’s eating his, as if wanting his approval, Shigaraki’s dark fantasy takes over again.

He imagines standing up from his chair and moving through the room, decaying each man in turn, most of them still holding their dumb fucking cookies, only to reach the back, where you’re cowering in a corner, trembling with fear as blood pools around your feet.

You turn around to look at him, terror in those big wet eyes of yours, and then the pleading starts. He imagines you begging him not to kill you, babbling promises to not tell anyone, confessing your love in some desperate attempt to win his favor. You’re still clutching your frilly pink box of homemade cookies in your shaking hands.

In his fantasy, he has perfect control over his quirk at all times, and with no effort at all he can decay the clothes right off your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable in the room full of bloody chunks. And you drop the cookies in your shock, trying to cover yourself with your hands.

He won’t allow that. He’s wondered what you look like under your clothes for too long. And so he roughly pulls your hands away, getting an eye full, before shoving your back onto the nearest desk, spreading you open and unbuckling his pants.

In this fantasy, you always struggle at first. But after he starts fucking you hard, you begin moaning his name, wrapping your arms around him, looking up at him with teary eyes and blushing cheeks as he rails you.

Shigaraki, who snaps back to reality when you walk by him, the scent of your floral perfume drawing his attention. You look at the uneaten cookie in his hand and a flash of sadness crosses your face. He hurries to take a bite, and tries to give you a smile that isn’t creepy.

You smile back, and he knows for a fact he will never, ever act on his worst impulses with you. Because far more than his desire to show you how much of a villain he can be, he wants you to keep smiling at him.

And someday, maybe he’ll stop being a fucking coward and ask you to go to a movie with him.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #bnha smut #bnha x reader #x reader

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runa-falls · 10 months

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the love bite - steven

pairing: steven grant x reader (what's new)

warnings: biting (lol), physical hurt/comfort, FLUFF, unhinged!reader, sub-ish!steven [I CAN'T HELP IT OK], small reference to the boys' past/their job, a bit suggestive but not explicit!

a/n: blaming @whatthefishh for this thot after the comment on the flowers fic about wanting to bite him i had to write. and @leoluved for encouraging me to write this instead of my wips -- hehe :3

prompt (by me): i wonder how steven would react to the reader just biting him out of love...

w/c: ~800

masterlist

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With Steven, the initial chomp would happen during a normal hangout with each other.

Like you'd both just be chilling, sprawled out on the couch, with the tv droning in the background:

You love these moments with Steven. The unspoken acknowledgment that you are both pretending to watch what's on when really you're just sinking into each other's touch, enjoying each other's company.

Soft, lazy days like this have become increasingly rare as Konshu has Marc sent out on missions in the States every few weeks. You don't blame them. You could never blame them. You just miss them.

Steven is snuggled right behind you, a sweater-clad arm securely wrapped over your shoulder to keep you close to his body. He sighs softly into your hair, wishing to just lay here, legs tangled with yours forever.

He doesn't notice or care that his oversized sleeve bunches at his elbow as he repositions himself behind you, but your eyes instantly catch onto his revealed forearm, tan and strong, but relaxed, resting right above your chest.

Sometimes you forget how strong your boyfriends are, how they can handle you with such care, touches as light as a feather when all they've known in their life is pain.

Steven settles closer to you, face nuzzled against your shoulder, subtly breathing you in with a soft sigh. His warmth soaks into your back, surrounding you with undeniable comfort. You look down at his arm with interest in your eyes, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip.

Suddenly you have this urge, this impulsive thought to just --

Steven chokes out a high-pitched yelp.

"HEY!" He’s barely able to process what happened as he swipes his arm away from your mouth. "W-what was that for?" He stares at you with furrowed brows while his other arm slips out from under you to rub at the fresh bite mark on his arm.

You sit up a little, eyes trained on the indents as his fingers gently swipe over them. Pretty. You didn't bite hard so they're quite faint, but you can still make out your bite pattern.

You bite the inside of your cheek, "I dunno."

It sounded dumb coming out of your mouth, but you really can't explain why you did it. You just needed to. Something about his softness and the pure affection you hold for him compelled you to bite him…and you kind of want to do it again.

Your hand darts out and you try to tug his arm closer, but he struggles against you, no longer trusting his limbs anywhere close to your mouth. He whimpers softly when you tug harder, trying to resist your eager grip.

“What d’you mean ‘I don’t know’?!” His arm is immovable, but you keep pulling at him. “You bit me!”

When he pulls away from your body, attempting to push himself up to a seated position, you huff in frustration and yank him back. He falls back with a squeak and you hold him close, leaning in instead of pulling him in this time.

You brush your lips against his warm skin, hovering right over the last bite and he relaxes a bit, believing you’d soothe the bite with a kiss as an apology. But you don’t.

It’s less aggressive this time around. Less of a bite and more of a nibble.

He tenses at first, instinctively wanting to draw away from you, but as you gently suckle and lick at him, he starts to settle against you, seeing as you mean him no harm.

“I-I still don’t get it.” He peers down at you as you leave soft marks along his arm, “What – Why are you doing this?”

You sigh, “Steven…just let it happen.”

“Um, ok.”

—

Since that initial bite, your lips have made their way around his body, taking time to show every inch of him some love and affection. He’s littered with love bites and phantom kisses, but he still yearns for more.

He shudders as you drag the edge of your teeth against the crook of his neck and eagerly leans into your touch, hungry for physical contact.

No matter how much he mewls and begs for you, you’ve taken it slow, drinking in each bated breath and soft cry.

You breathe a whisper against his skin, “You like this, Steven?”

He doesn’t answer your question.

You place a gentle kiss on his sweet spot, but pull away when he starts to whine for more.

“Please, darling.”

He wants you to bite, but you stay put and watch him writhe for your touch.

Your thumb swipes over a blotch of purple on his shoulder and he shivers at the sensation of pleasurable pain, “Why do you like it so much, sweetheart, hm?”

“I dunno,” He’s delirious, only able to think about you and your touch, “I just – please.”

“Ok, baby…”

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant fluff #moon knight

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lorrainmorgan · 2 months

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Serpents at the Library

🔞❤️‍🔥 NSFW // MDNI 🔞❤️‍🔥

⚠️ Ominis x F! reader⚠️ Spicy content ahead.

“So, my dear, you think you've been good? Tell me just how much you believe you deserve what I can give you.” Ominis purred.

The Library's second floor was mostly deserted, save for a lone figure sitting in the farthest cubicle. Ominis was patiently waiting for your arrival. You had agreed to meet after your last afternoon class, but you were already running late. Suddenly, Ominis perked up at the sound of your footsteps drawing closer.

"Hello Ominis, I'm sorry I was late, Professor Binns couldn't stop talking and the lesson just kept going and… I’m sorry" you sat down next to him.

He continued to read his book with his flickering wand, trying to ignore your existence as much as possible, but couldn't help but notice how close to him you’d sat down, almost touching his arm with yours.

You quickly noticed his annoyance. Trying to easen the things between you two, you pulled out of your bag a bag of Berttie Botts and placed it next to him "You can have as many as you want" .

"Thank you, but I don't want any." Ominis turned the book page with his wand. He didn't want to engage in conversation.

"What have I done to you? Being late for something that was not my fault gives you no right to be rude to me, and you’ve been weird around me lately…why?" You finally spat at him.

The corner of Ominis's mouth twitched upward again. His head tilted to the side and his unseeing eyes glimmered with frustration, drawing you in closer. As he leaned towards you, his hand took hold of yours, sending shivers down your spine rather than offering comfort as intended.

Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and dangerous as he spoke. His words hung in the air like a warning. "I am not being rude, Y/N."

In response, you reached for a bright blue Berttie Bott bean and slowly brought it up to Ominis' lips. He took it obediently, chewing on it quietly.

"Then tell me, why are you so angry? It's not because I was late... is it?"

After a moment of hesitation, Ominis nervously cleared his throat and shifted on his seat. The signs of a blush spread across his face, coloring his ears and cheeks a deep shade of red. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, every word dripping with anger and frustration.

"I'm angry... frustrated by the fact that I overheard Sebastian wanting to take you on a date," he admitted, his eyes flashing with jealousy. "He was finally going to declare his love for you." Turning away, he ran a hand through his hair in frustration before continuing.

"We've known each other since we were kids. We've grown up together, and you've always been so kind to me," Ominis confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "But the truth is, I care about you…" He paused to catch his breath "I wish I didn't have these feelings for you, I wish I had someone else to love. But I-" Suddenly realizing what he had just revealed, Ominis' eyes widened in shock.

Your jaw dropped as you processed his accidental confession.

As soon as the words had escaped his lips, he regretted them. But it was too late to take them back now. "Ever since our childhood days, my feelings for you have grown deeper," he confessed. "I've always imagined kissing you, holding you in my arms and feeling your warmth against mine. I've yearned for more than just friendship with you, but I couldn't act on those desires because of our close bond with Sebastian.”

An electric surge of adrenaline coursed through your body, igniting a desire to kiss Ominis. But you quickly squashed the impulse, reminding yourself that he is holding back and you are a proper lady who must maintain control… Right?

You knew that Ominis was waiting for a sign from you, a green light to act on his own desires. You inched closer to him, until your lips were mere inches apart. As you gazed at the constellation of moles on his cheek, your thoughts raced with the overwhelming urge to press your lips against each one.

Like a magnet to a metal, you rapidly and boldly grabbed Ominis' face in your hands and pulled him towards you. He didn’t resist, he surrendered willingly, eagerly meeting your lips as you both gave into the intense craving that had consumed you both.

The taste of your sweetness burned his tongue . He didn't hesitate any longer, and wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He kissed you deeply, passionately, and with a hunger that had been building inside him for years.

As your tongues intertwined, he felt the heat between you grow stronger. The kiss was intense, and filled with desire and longing. When he broke away from it, he put your bags and other textbooks on the side of the cubicle, blocking the view from possible and unwanted prying eyes.

A grin spread across his lips as he leaned in to kiss you. The kisses grew more intense and demanding, with a roughness that made you almost dizzy.

He held you tight against him, the heat of his body enveloping yours.

Without breaking the kiss, you rose from your seat and straddled Ominis' lap, your legs embracing him. The chair creaked under the weight of two students entwined with each other. It was scandalous, doing this in the middle of the day, in the quiet library where anyone could walk in at any moment. But the danger only heightened the thrill for both of you.

The primal urge to claim you, to mark your body as his own, overtook Ominis. With a slow movement, he slid his hand down under your gray skirt and firmly cupped your ass. A low growl escaped him as he lifted you slightly and placed you on the wooden cubicle desk table in front of him.

Your bodies rubbed together, and pressed against each other while he bit down on your lower lip, gently sucking on it as his hips ground against yours. His erection grew harder with each movement, the intensity almost too much for him to handle.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck as he left a trail of small pink bruises with each kiss.

Ominis took your right hand, guiding it to the center of his pants where the bulge of his arousal strained against the fabric. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered for you to feel him, to feel his size and understand the depth of his desire for you. The heat between your bodies intensified as you explored his length, sending sparks of pleasure through both of you.

“You see what you do to me?” Ominis growled, his now dark blue blind eyes smoldering with desire. "I can barely focus on anything else. I've even skipped classes just to relieve myself because of you."

His hand trailed down your body, finding its way to your nipples which were already stiff and pressing against the fabric of your clothes. A low moan escaped from your lips as he teased and squeezed them between his fingers. Every nerve end tingled with need in your body.

Ominis could feel himself growing harder and harder beneath your touch, the ache in his loins becoming almost unbearable and painful. He couldn't wait any longer. He wanted you right there, in the library, in that small wooden cubicle, in the middle of the day. Nothing else mattered except for fulfilling his desires with you.

With a sense of urgency, you swiftly unzipped his elegant pants and undid the button. Your fingers eagerly searched within his trousers, freeing his hard member from its confines. It stood tall and proud before you, like a monument to desire.

His skin was as smooth as polished marble, flawless and pale, devoid of any hair. In one hand, he held a flickering wand, ready to warn of any intruders, while the other guided your hand up and down his length.

As the rhythm between you grew steady, he reached for the buttons of your shirt. You quickly assisted in removing it, unable to wait any longer. Omnis could feel your desire for him, and he couldn't resist you either. As he pulled off your shirt, followed by your laced bra, he traced his fingertips over the delicate fabric. The texture felt exquisite to his touch.

"Do you always wear such delicate lace bras, Y/N?" Ominis teased as his hands traced over the curves of your perfect breasts, causing them to rise and fall with each agitated breath.

He pressed soft kisses as he unclipped the last piece of clothing covering your upper body. Ominis took his time, lavishing attention on both breasts equally, determined to give them the love and pleasure they deserved. His lips latched onto your hard pink nipples, suckling and nipping at them until he heard your soft moans echoing in his ears.

"Not so loud, my dear. Your neediness is showing itself all of a sudden," Ominis said in a teasing tone.

Your inner thighs pressed against his cock, creating delicious friction that made you moan even louder. Ominis' hand covered your mouth, muffling the sound as he continued to drive you wild with desire.

“Ominis I’ve been good… please” Your words were desperate and incoherent, barely making sense as they spilled out of your mouth.

Ominis joined in your game as soon as you gave him that green light. He pulled your skirt all the way up, exposing your beautiful skin to him.

“So, my dear, you think you've been good? Tell me just how much you believe you deserve what I can give you.” Ominis purred.

Ominis' hands, rough yet gentle, explored the soft skin of your inner thighs with a sense of urgency. His unseeing eyes were locked onto your lips, and you couldn't help but grab him by his necktie and bite his lip in punishment for making you suffer.

"I need you" you pleaded with desperation in your voice. "Please... I deserve it. I'm sorry I was late..." You knew you sounded pathetic, but at this moment, you didn't care. And Ominis loved it - every moan, every plea, every incoherent sentence that fell from your lips.

His hand traveled lower and reached your white, soaked cotton panties. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, and he wanted nothing more than to claim it for himself.

He gently pulled the bottom of your panties aside, exposing the delicate folds of your womanhood. The pale pink flesh glistened with your arousal, beckoning him closer. With his index finger, he traced the outline of your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your parted lips. Then, with a wicked grin, he lowered his head and tasted the sweet nectar that flowed from your entrance, putting one of your legs on his shoulder.

"You taste divine," he purred against your sensitive skin. "But I have a feeling you already know that."

You couldn't deny it as he continued to explore and tease you with his tongue. And when he finally pulled away, leaving you breathless and wanting more, he spoke again while circling your sweet spot.

"I've heard you at night, darling. In your dorm room, alone with your thoughts and desires. I used to think you were pleasuring yourself while thinking of Sebastian, but now I wonder...who were you really thinking of?"

Your heart raced at his words, and before you could answer, he pressed his hard length against your slick entrance. You couldn't help but twitch in anticipation.

“Well, darling?. Who were you thinking of?” He wanted to hear his name falling from your lips, to know that you desired him as much as he desired you.

Your dizzy head could only manage to cry a single word.

“ You.”

Ominis pushed himself inside you, and he felt your walls clamp down around him at his abrupt move. He gently slid in and out, and he heard the moans leaving your chest. He couldn't believe how good you felt, and he couldn't wait to make you scream his name. He kissed you deeply, and he started to move faster. He could feel his balls slapping against your thighs.

Ominis picked up his pace, and he felt your hips moving against him. He could feel the wetness on his cock, and he felt it slide in and out of your body. He kissed you deeply, and he felt your hands grasping onto his back.

You almost felt guilty for how good Ominis' cock felt inside of you. How he moved, how his fingers traced every inch of your back, of your breasts, of your sex.

"O-Ominis, Om-" You cried in his ear, almost reaching your climax. His handjob and the rhythm he had was the perfect equation you need to reach your orgasm.

His movements became more urgent, his body pulsing with pleasure as he neared climax.

Ominis could feel his balls tighten, the sensation intensifying with each thrust. A low growl escaped his lips as he released himself inside of you. He felt his hot liquid pouring out of him. With a satisfied low moan, he pulled out of you, feeling his slick cock drip onto the floor. He knew there would be a mess to clean up later, but at that moment, he didn't care.

Despite everything they had just done, he was still hard and eager for more. Ignoring your need to catch your breath, he plunged back inside of you, causing you to gasp loudly and draw attention from the nearby librarian.

The librarian's voice cut through the hazy fog of pleasure, jolting you out of your intense concentration. But not Ominis’.

“Dears? Is everything okay up there?” Her concerned tone was met with a sharp demand from Ominis.

“Tell her we’re fine.” he commanded, his thrusts not faltering for a second.

You struggled to compose yourself and spoke in a strained whisper, “W-We’re fine Ma’am, thank you.”

“Do you need assistance with anything dear? I can’t hear you very well.” The librarian's footsteps could be heard coming closer to where you were entwined with Ominis.

“Tell her we need bigger tables so I can fuck you in different posit-”

“We’re good ma’am, Thank you!” You finally managed to say loud and clear.

“Shhh. Please do not scream,” she scolded gently. “Very well then, I’ll be at my desk if you need me.” With that, her footsteps receded and the two of you were left alone once again

Without warning, Ominis' hand shot out and wrapped around your neck, his fingers exerting just enough pressure to display his dominance. But despite his forceful hold, he was careful not to cause any harm.

"Have you had enough of me, darling?" He growled in a deep, commanding voice.

"No…" You breathed out, your fingertips tracing the outline of his lips as you balanced his aggression with gentle and loving touches.

Suddenly, he released you and spun you around, lifting one of your legs up onto the desk table. With ease, he slipped back inside of you and your body immediately responded with an arch of pleasure.

His lips trailed down your back as his grip tightened on your hips, guiding the pace of his cock entering and exiting your body. Every thrust sent waves of ecstasy through you, leaving you in a state of pure bliss under his cold hands.

Your body trembled as his strong hand pulled your hair, forcing you to stand up straight and press against his hard chest. He grasped your neck with his other hand, exerting a gentle pressure as he massaged your swollen breast with cold fingers.

You were completely at his mercy, just as you always had been.

As the rhythm of his thrusts intensified, the sound of his balls slapping against your backside echoed through the empty cubicles. His pale hand found its way down to your throbbing clit, where he teased and rubbed it in tight circles. Each time he penetrated you deeper, it felt like he was claiming a piece of you. His powerful grip on your throat only added to the intensity, accompanied by his hoarse moans that filled your ear with your name over and over again.

All of these sensations combined into one overwhelming wave, bringing you both to another explosive orgasm. It was everything you needed in that moment, and you couldn't help but surrender completely to him.

Ominis slowly withdrew from your body, leaving a trail of warmth and satisfaction in his wake. His body pulsed with pleasure as he released his warmth onto your back. Your skin tingled with the lingering sensation of his touch.

As you both caught your breath, Ominis reached for his handkerchief to clean up any traces of your intimacy. With gentle care, he helped you dress and made sure you were comfortable, continually asking if you were okay.

Once you were fully clothed, he led you over to the desk again, sat you down, resting his head in your lap as he gazed up at you with adoration.

“May I have some Bertie Botts now, please darling?”

#ominis smut #hogwarts legacy smut #ominis x reader #ominis x y/n #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy x reader #ominis x mc #absolute filth #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt #slytherin

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justmediocrewriting · 3 months

Note

Hi!! I don't know if your requests are open still, but could you do a luffy x reader fiction where she feels insecure sometimes at the fact that luffy didn't ask her to join the crew. The reader asked first out of desperation or excitement, and now sometimes wonders if she would have even been on the crew if she didn't approach first. And of course Luffy comforts her and makes her feel more secure about it.

Thank you!! 🦭

“Why wouldn’t I?” {m.d.l}

Summary: you’d never been one to second guess yourself — and you remained happy with your decision to ask the captain of the Straw Hats to take you on their seafaring journey — but in the last few days, you’d begun to feel more and more unsure of the decisions you’d made up until this point; namely because of the knowledge that Luffy had asked every other member of the crew to join, except you.

Genre: fluff

Pairing: Luffy x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Requested: ✅

Warnings: brief depictions of insecurity

A/n: thank you so much for your request nonnie! My requests are always open; though getting them out in a timely matter is another thing entirely. You know, when I’d first started this blog, I expected all of my works to be about Sanji, but I’ve been writing for Luffy more and more — and to be honest, I kinda really like it 🤭

{=================================}

The atmosphere in the galley was calm; Sanji had retired for the night, but was confident enough to leave Luffy under your supervision within the room, and you in turn had offered to wash the rest of the dishes for him — the man was clearly exhausted, and if you could take some weight off of him, you were more than happy to.

Luffy was currently devouring some extra lamb legs that Sanji had generously told him he could eat, and the silence in the room was companionable — but the confines of your mind were not. Despite the calmness, your brain was a whirlwind of negative and impulsive thoughts.

It had been roughly three weeks since you’d asked to join the Strawhats, and truthfully, you wondered just how wanted you were.

Your askance was brought upon by sheer excitement; your humble little village never saw much action, seeing as it was tucked away on an island that was small enough to be a pebble. It was both a good and a bad thing — your village was never raided by terrible pirates, but it was definitely a bore, and the quaint little bakery you owned offered services to the same exact faces every day.

That was until they arrived; the infamous Strawhats and their captain. You’d recognized them the minute they’d walked in. Luffy was the easiest to recognize, as you’d seen his face plastered in the news before, bearing an ungodly bounty of thirty million berry. To say you were nervous in his presence was an understatement; given what had been told of the pirate, of his crew and their atrocious actions, you weren’t sure what he’d do, or what his intentions were. You were on the defensive immediately, one hand dropping below the counter to wrap around the barrel of the shotgun in case you needed to draw it.

But Luffy had simply approached the counter and gazed excitedly at the array of sweets displayed behind the glass container; and when he met your eyes with a wide smile and asked for one of every pastry, you felt your heart melt — the rubbery man was just too adorable for his own good, and despite the rumors that had been spread across the seas of his viciousness, you couldn’t help but relax in his presence, his exuberant and innocent aura immediately washing away every bad thing you’d heard about him.

Hundreds of pastries later and many tells of their adventures on the sea, you had come to a conclusion; you would ask to join his crew, to sail the seas with him, and find the legendary treasure, One Piece.

You weren’t sure why, but all of his tales and his excitement bled into you, and your heart began beating rapidly as you were overcome by the urge to experience exactly what he had — you wanted to feel that freedom, that excitement of adventure. At first when you asked, you weren’t sure if he’d even say yes; after all, you were just a small time baker barely scraping by on poor rations, and you had no experience at sea or on a boat whatsoever, and upon first look you didn’t exactly scream pirate.

But then again, neither did a good number of the crew.

You’d set sail with them just the next morning, without so much as bidding goodbye to any of the other villagers — there were plenty of other bakeries within the village, if you weren’t there to sell bread and pastries the inhabitants could get them elsewhere easily. You didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about leaving your village behind, though as time went on, you began to feel guilty about asking to join; not because you regretted your decision, but because you couldn’t help but feel as though you had burdened the crew somehow.

With no real skills to offer, you’d resorted to helping out in any way you could; scrubbing the deck, washing the dishes, helping Sanji with prep, doing laundry, fishing, recording stock, and every other odd job you could fit into your schedule. It had helped to alleviate some of your negativity, but when you’d learned the stories of how Nami, Zoro, Usopp and Sanji joined the crew, it all just flooded back into you — because obviously Luffy had seen something within them that made them worthy to be on his crew, so much so that he practically begged them to join.

So why were you on the crew?

You paused in your rinsing and cast a weary glance at your captain, who was completely oblivious to your inner agony, still digging into the lamb legs like a man starved. Your heart cinched within your chest, and you felt tears stinging at your eyes. Did Luffy even really want you here? Or did he just agree to bring you along because he felt sorry for you? You’d never had a good filter on your mouth, so that inward thought quickly became an outward question.

“Luffy, do you even want me here?” You wanted your voice to sound strong, to convey nonchalance or maybe even anger, but it came out muted and weak — all the insecurity and desperation that you tried so hard to keep shoved down bubbled up to saturate each and every word.

Luffy paused his chewing for only a moment, his brows furrowed ever so slightly, then, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “of course I do, (Y/N). Why wouldn’t I?”

You wanted to laugh, because his answer was just so Luffy, but you held in the sound because you just knew that it would come out choked and wet — the last thing you wanted was for Luffy to see the evidence of just how weak you are. If he didn’t want you to join in the first place, as you were sure was already the case even if his words opposed it, you knew that seeing you in such a state would only make his conviction grow.

You were silent for a long moment, the only noise being the backdrop of waves splashing against the hull of the Merry and the slightly wet smacks of Luffy’s chewing. Biting your lip, you briefly wondered if you should be honest with Luffy; that would be for the best, wouldn’t it? What was it that they say? Rip the bandaid off? With a heavy sigh you parted your lips to speak, but Luffy swallowed his bite loudly and cut you off.

“I mean, you’re a great baker. And you’re kind, compassionate, and you really care for everyone on the crew. You’re always asking if we’re okay, if we need anything, and any time one of us is feeling down, you always do your best to pick us up. You’re thoughtful, too; if you see something you think one of will like or if it reminds you of us, you get it for us. Like that time that you bought me that stuffed monkey from that town, because you said it reminded you of me.”

You were speechless — you weren’t even aware that Luffy had noticed that about you, and the more his words registered, the more your skin heated until you felt as if it would burst into flames. Luffy didn’t seem to have the same issue; he just continued to bite into the lamb leg as if what he’d just said didn’t just discombobulate you at the seams.

After fumbling for a few seconds you finally found your ability to speak. “I-it’s just… you didn’t ask me to join, like you did with everyone else.”

“Because you asked first,” Luffy said without missing a beat, the sunniest of smiles painted on his face, making your heart thump crazily within your chest as it tightened.

Warm smile still plastered on his face, Luffy placed his half eaten lamb leg on the plate with the rest (and some nearly clean bones) and slipped from the stool. Your heart sped up with each step Luffy took towards you, and by the time he was standing in front of you, you felt as if the organ would beat right out of your chest.

“I was going to ask you either way, (Y/N). I knew I wanted you on my crew from the moment I talked to you.”

Luffy’s hand reached out and gently plucked the plate from your grasp, dropping it into the soapy water with a soft thud that made you wince in sympathy for the fine ware. When your hand was empty, Luffy grabbed it in his own, and you swore your heart completely stopped in that instance. You wet your lips and glanced up at him shyly.

“Why? Why did you want me to join?” Your voice was soft, bashful, his words and close proximity making it nearly impossible to think — but his smile was so bright that it easily cut through the fog in your mind.

“Because I really like you! I want to eat your delicious pastries every day. And I want to sail the Grand Line with you, and find the One Piece together.”

You stared at Luffy with wide eyes, cheeks heating rapidly as you processed his words.

“L-Luffy, do you mean y-you—”

“Yes, I like you a lot, (Y/N).” Luffy cut you off, his hand squeezing yours tighter. “And I want you by my side. I’m sorry you ever thought differently. I promise you’ll never feel that way again.”

With those words Luffy pulled you into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around you and pressing you flush against his lean body. Luffy was so warm, so open, so genuine, that you were helpless to do much else other than melt into his embrace.

You didn’t think you could love being on the sea more than you did, but Luffy just made it ten times better, and any and all regret you’d had previously was washed away like a stream to the sea.

#opla #opla x reader #opla luffy x reader

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arabellasleopardcoat · 9 months

Text

Prophecy (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Disobedience has consequences. You learn it the hard way.

Warnings: Finally the chapter that marks this fic as dark. Forced nudity. SA. Groping a person under coercion. Low blood pressure. Cursing. General Daemon being nasty.

A/N: Please keep in mind Daemon is not an objective narrator. I do not support his views. Remember, he has a wrapped perception of reality. And if you find yourself urged to send me nasty asks, or comment awful things, I will remind you that I warned you.

Previous parts here.

It’s not often that Daemon finds himself in such a dilemma. Not often, either, he decides to think before he acts. Violence comes easily to him. The best method of conflict resolution, and one that has certainly brought great benefits to House Targaryen through the ages.

Yet, this matter requires more delicacy. It’s his wife, who he is thinking about. And while Daemon might push you around, perhaps hold you down a little, he is not one for hurting women in such a way. This topic requires silk gloves instead of gauntleted fists.

Daemon likes to think the impulsiveness of youth has already left him, but knows himself too well to not recognize he is lying to himself. While he is no longer a flamboyant young man, the urge to have a fit of rage remains. He has gotten better at controlling it, but the dragon still roars and shifts on his chest, begging to be unchained.

He needs to soothe his nerves. Daemon sends for a Dornish red, if only to numb himself a little. The stronger the best, in his opinion. While some men get belligerent when drunk, Daemon it’s not one of them. Alcohol tends to take the edge off, loosen his tongue and inhibitions, but fails to cloud him with the red mist affronts on his pride do.

Daemon doesn’t want to hurt you. He repeats it to himself, over and over again. Not hurt you, not hurt you, not hurt you, not…. He takes one look at your pitiful form and suddenly, it’s easier.

You make quite the pitiful figure on the floor of your chambers. You have never taken a beating in your life and it shows. Curled on yourself on top of a rug and cradling your injured shoulder as best as you can with bound wrists. The whip didn’t even draw blood, but you acted as if it was the worst injury you had suffered in your short life. Every once in a while, you let out a tiny, frightened sniffle, before looking at him to make sure he has not heard you.

His proud, proud little dragon. Thinking a few tears might make you less. Daemon pretends to be oblivious to your little sobs, just to watch you sigh in relief at the lack of reaction. It’s starting to amuse him, turning into a game. Moving his head just so as you sniffle, or reaching for an object, just to see you freeze.

He quits it before the wine arrives. While he often enjoys putting the fear of the Gods on others, it’s not really enjoyable when it’s you. There is something strange curling in his stomach at your tears, something painfully akin to discomfort.

Daemon dislikes righteous people. Viserys gets enough on his nerves as it is. Pretending to have the moral high ground is for the weak, in his opinion. And the stupid. And the reckless. Stepping between a servant and a whip was certainly recklessly stupid on your part. Daemon would never. Not even for Viserys. Perhaps for Rhaenyra, given that she was a woman and needed protection.

Still, when you were the one doing it, he stopped finding it recklessly stupid and found it a little charming and brave. What a troublesome thought. Distressing, in truth. Is he starting to develop a conscience? Or worse, are you growing on him?

Daemon sneers. He has to put a halt to this. Show you who is really in control.

“Speak your terms, little fool.” He sits down on your bed, looking around the room. There are little comforts, and none he feels like taking away from you.

There are a few books, stacked in piles near the bed. You seem to be in the process of reading them, which surprises Daemon. He had been vaguely aware of your ability to read, unusual for a bastard girl. He had figured Rhea had taught you because while she might have been a bitch, she was a proud one. She was a Royce from Runestone, not a Baratheon fool. She wouldn’t have her heir running around without knowing her letters.

The most surprising part is not that you are trying to read the books, but the fact that you are actually making progress. There are a few parchments tucked in, with some terrible attempts at penmanship on them. As if you were slowly decoding them. To actually try to learn High Valyrian on your own spoke of a dedication he was not aware you possessed.

Throwing the books in your chambers had been more of an ambience choice for Daemon. When he had thought about decorating your living space, putting books on High Valyrian had seemed like the obvious choice. A little dreamer, with her Valyrian clothes and surrounded by her little temple, needed books in High Valyrian. It was only right.

Everything was as it should be. Daemon finally had his Valyrian bride. Besides, it didn't matter if you didn’t know how to read them, when he could do so without any hardship. He had figured that if you were a boring lay, he could always turn to the books for entertainment.

Lay. Hm. Perhaps taking the bed would teach you there were worse fates in this world than being the wife of a Prince. But Daemon could already see in his mind’s eye your pouty face. You would whine, and give him your sad puppy look…. Oh, Seven Hells! What was wrong with him? Was he turning into a soft fool, like Viserys had been for Aemma?

Daemon had had plenty of pouty mistresses in the past. In fact, it was a prerequisite of the position. Any woman he took to bed had to be able to get her way via a few well-placed pouts. They knew he had a weakness for it. None had affected him as you.

Besides, you could have nightmares. Or sleep badly. Which was not right, for a dreamer.

“I… I could tell you another secret.” You look up at him, all big sad eyes. It makes something in him jerk. Something stands at attention with the urge to comfort. Daemon doesn’t like it.

“Is that what the girl’s life is worth to you?” And he was not planning on whipping the girl to death, but you don’t know that. The panic in your eyes doesn’t fill him with as much satisfaction as he hoped. Is this some sort of domesticity trap? No. Daemon needs to crack down on you, hard. This cannot keep going. You have denied him too much. “I could easily get that from you by force.”

“You could get anything from me by force.” Defiance. How cute. You look like an angry kitten, more than a real threat. Your eyes are narrowed at him, and he feels the urge to laugh. “What do you want?”

“I dislike your tone, Wife.” In truth, it’s a good question. What does he want? Daemon barely knows it himself. It used to be Rhaenyra. When he couldn’t have that, he had thought maybe Lady Laena was enough. She was pretty, young and would birth him strong Valyrian children. But while he had planned to marry her, and felt aroused by the prospect of bedding her, he didn’t feel the urge to please her as he did with you. Probably, if Daemon had married her, he would have made her miserable with little care. Like he is making you.

What does he want? What does he want?

“You like baths, do you not?” As if struck by inspiration. He would call it divine, were it not for the fact Daemon knows he was forsaken a long time ago.

“I do? What does it have to do with anything?” You give him a confused look.

Daemon smirks. He is not sure what else from you he wants, but for now, the idea of getting close to your naked, wet body, is enough.

“No.” You mutter.

“Or I could just kill the whore. Your choice, Dreamer. What’s going to be?”

Not an hour later, Daemon sits in a scorching hot bath, naked. You sit between his legs, still dressed in one of your shifts, turned transparent by the water. Unchained, for once.

The glow happiness gives you is unmatched. You look deliriously happy in the hot water, talking so fast he can barely keep along. At first, you had been shy, but when he had leaned back, allowing you more space in the tub, you had blossomed.

You had been humming under your breath, but when he made no move to censor you, you had started talking. The words were low, almost to yourself. As if you had almost forgotten he was there. Daemon made no move to remind you, answering to your ramblings with a few well-placed grunts and noncommittal hums.

“…. And I have really been trying to keep all the grime off my hair, but I really miss sulfates, you know? And conditioner. Oh my god, conditioner! You have no idea how hard it is to detangle my hair.”

“Here.” Daemon passes you a comb, lips twitching. He doesn't want to smile at your antics, but there is something really endearing about it. Even if he barely understands a word you are saying. Is he getting old? Are conditioners something you used to have at the whorehouse? And don’t even get him started on the tunes you were humming earlier. He had never heard them, not even in the most raunchy of ale houses. “When you are done, lean back and be quiet.”

You frown. Your mouth opens and closes, as if you are about to be argumentative. It’s one of his favorite looks on you, to be honest, but it’s starting to become a little annoying. This is not an experience to get you to practice your rusty social skills, but to put you in your place.

No matter how much he enjoys seeing you open up to him, Daemon can’t lose the opportunity to finally get you to submit.

“What was the girl's name?” It's only a simple phrase, but it works like a charm at shutting you up. Your body language shifts in the blink of an eye. Your shoulders curl in, defensive, and you start brushing your hair. The strokes are harsh and punishing.

If you want to do his job for him, Daemon will not stop you.

“You just have to accept your place.” He doesn't mean to say it, but it slips out regardless. It's the truth. If you just stopped fighting and stopped getting huffy about all sorts of things, it would be much easier. He could have you out of these cuffs, by his side. You just had to accept you were his.

Daemon places a hand over your shoulder blades and rubs a circle. The feeling of the wet shift is unbearable. He would much rather be touching your bare skin, but you had started pouting and huffing and mentioning Rhea, then Aemma… The night was already too charged to insist on it.

“My place? My place! The sheer audacity of you!” You jerk away from his touch, trying to get out of the tub. Daemon curls his arm around your waist and tugs back, hard. You are sent back into the tub, upsetting the water that splashes everywhere. Ah. Well, some servant will clean it, later.

Unwilling to lose his advantage, he perches his head on your shoulder. He nuzzles the crook of your shoulder, towards your neck. The scent of your skin is intoxicating, clean, and sweet. He likes that you smell exactly how he wanted you too.

Maybe those Seven Pointed cunts were onto something. Marriage was truly a delight. No whore smelt this sweet for him, not even when he gave them the exact perfumes he wanted them to wear. They lack the sweet smell of innocence that gushes out of your pores.

“Why don't you take this off?” Daemon tugs at the shift, despite your distressed whine. This is punishment, after all. No matter how enjoyable he intends it to be, a little fear will make the lesson stick. He can do anything to you, and it’s time you remember it. “And let me rub some rose oil on your wrists?”

“No.” Your lower lip wobbles. Pouting? Again? It's like it's his name day or something. No one told him it would be so pleasurable, teaching an impudent little chit to behave. Because this is more than just about his pleasure, and both of you know it. This is a power struggle, a way to finally get it to sink into your little head. You are never escaping him.

There is something enjoyable about breaking women, Daemon muses. A certain appeal. Getting them to accept their natural place in the world, getting you to submit… It sounds like the stuff of his fantasies.

It has to be done carefully, so you do not realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Other men, less skilled in the ways of pleasure, might think the ways of getting a woman like you to do their bidding have to be violent. Daemon is too proud for it.

It’s a battle of wills. And Daemon will not lose. He knows he is skilled at seduction. All seduction starts with an unwilling victim; otherwise it is not seduction. Still, when you test his temper, like tonight, he does feel some violent urges. Perhaps bending you over and taking you without mercy would leave you much more agreeable.

“Come on. Looks uncomfortable. Wet cloth clinging to you all over and getting cold.” Daemon coaxes, gently kissing your jaw. He maps the path towards your ear with his tongue, blowing slightly to watch the goosebumps rise on your skin.

Your pretty features scrunch up, in a delicious mix of pleasure, confusion, and betrayal. Maidens. How fun it was teaching them the ways of pleasure. Always so concerned about being proper and meek, of not appearing too wanton. But Daemon knew the truth about you. You were the blood of the dragon, just like him.

You burned for him. Daemon would bet, if he were to slip his hand between your soft thighs, he would find you wet and ready to be taken. Virgins were like that, after all. It only took a few skilled touches and their bodies were ready, even if their minds were not.

He doesn’t want to take you, tonight. Just explore the crevices of your body a little, understand you better. Daemon can be patient. If he riles you up enough for it, he is sure you will come to him thinking it’s on your own terms.

He pulls at your shift, slowly starting to lift it. You don't notice at first, too lost in the confusing feelings his lips are inciting. Daemon keeps his hand on your thigh, slowly gathering the fabric up until his fingertips brush bare skin.

He keeps it up, fingertips drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of your thighs, your hips. You are so soft, skin plump and smooth. Daemon wants to grab you hard, until you bruise. See his hands digging into your thighs, watching the flesh shift under his grip. But he doesn't.

He doesn't because the moment his hand touches your hip bone, you jolt. You buck under him, all wild mare, trying to get him to unhand you.

“At ease, wife.” Daemon whispers in your ear. “I won't hurt you.”

“I don't want…” You start trying to pull the shift down. He bats at your hands, but you squirm too much to let him keep enjoying it. Anger builds up in him, anger and a certain cruelty. Who are you, to deny him what’s his? As your husband, he has a right to your body. He has been much more patient than other men would be in his circumstances.

The urge to get you to roll over and show your belly, so to speak, is too strong to help it. You are starting to remind him of the worst parts of Rhea, and that can’t be allowed to happen. You are meant to be his delicate little dreamer, not some Bronze Bitch.

So, he leans in, to whisper in your ear.

“Mia… Mary… No. Mina.” Daemon takes your earlobe into his mouth, sucking lightly. You go deadly quiet, all fight gone. He gets to take your shift off, and he groans. Better than he had dared to hope.

Your body is soft. All smooth skin, bared for him to see. Your breasts are a worthy pair, and look firm enough. You have hips and a stomach that look like they could stand a pregnancy well. He finds himself growing excited by the prospect of watching your hips and breasts become fuller, once he gets you pregnant with his heir.

Under the excuse of cleaning you, he starts rubbing at your arms, curious about how far you will let him push. He strokes your collarbones, then your chest. Not groping, barely skimming his fingers over your sensitive nipples. Daemon is enchanted by the almost silent sighs you let out, how you fight and surrender to a pleasure that is clearly so new to you.

Daemon kisses your ear, slowly making out with the shell of it. You struggle against him, trying to get away, but your mouth parts in overwhelmed pleasure. It only takes a few more well-placed licks for you to surrender to the pleasure of it all.

His hands stroke your hips. Then, slowly, towards your inner thighs. Slowly, his cock fattens and begins to ache. Daemon pays it no mind. If he were, you may spook and be brought off the trance you are in. You might oppose resistance.

How he longs to roll his hips against yours, to bury himself deep inside your eager little hole. He knows you would suck him right in. And you would be so warm, just short of scorching hot inside. So soft, too. Perhaps, if he was lucky, when the time came, Daemon would get to pin your hands, so you couldn’t muffle any of the delicious moans that would surely escape you.

As for right now, he likes how quiet you are. Too often, whores will moan loudly in his ear, hoping to provoke a reaction. Somehow, it never works. His cock doesn’t react to that as it does to the way you fight to keep your little sighs quiet. Perhaps one day he will teach you to be unashamed, but right now, the quietness speaks of a modesty lowborns lack.

It’s good enough, Daemon decides. He has enough with pressing his hardened member to your lower back, with having you all flustered. The memories will allow him more than a few pleasant tugs at his cock, later on. The face you make as he scratches at your inner thighs will haunt his dreams for many nights to come.

He can’t help but be greedy, though. How far will you let him push? Will you let him look at the real prize? He lathers his hand with a bit of soap, and slips it between your thighs.

You speak then. Shame. He always liked looking at maiden’s cunnys. The anticipation is very enjoyable. Looking at those tiny holes and thinking how he is about to break them, force them to take more than they are ready for. Watching them cry, watching their expressions turn from pain to pleasure.

“Rhaenyra’s firstborn will be called Jacaerys.” You take his hands in yours and interlock your fingers. It’s a subtle thing. A way to derail him without openly denying him. Daemon likes that you are learning fast.

“Jacaerys? That’s not a Targaryen name.” His interest is genuine. Knowing the future fascinates him. It’s not something he has thought about before, more centered on the past of his house and his present. But getting a glimpse of the future is tantalizing. What will happen to him, in ten years, in twenty? To you?

He lifts your hand and checks your pulse, under the pretense of rubbing some oil into your abused wrists. It races beneath your skin, scared little bird that you are. Despite your awful behavior today, Daemon might get you softer cuffs. Or keep you in these, but release you from time to time. Under his careful supervisor, of course.

“Is it not? It sounds similar to that word, the one you use for Caraxes to breathe fire.” Your voice comes out a little shaky, but you are getting better at pretending not to be scared. Or perhaps you are not scared anymore. Whatever it is, it pleases him.

“Dracarys?” Daemon asks, amused. It sounds similar, but it's not spelled the same way at all. He kisses your temple. His smart, pretty girl, slowly getting interested in her heritage.

“That’s the one.”

“I think it’s a Velaryon name. Why would she allow it, though?” Sure, Rhaenyra was married to a Velaryon, but why did she break tradition so? Daemon had thought her a true Targaryen, like him. It made no sense. She was supposed to understand just how precious their blood was, how special. They had a legacy and centuries of tradition to uphold, and his niece would throw it all away? What was next, naming a child something as common as Robert?

“The boy will have dark hair.” You mutter, lazily. Ah, a bastard. How wonderful. One would think that she would be more careful. Muddying their blood was one thing. Another was doing it so and producing dark-haired children no one would ever believe were her husband’s.

“I see.” He rewards you by adding more hot water to the bath. It's not something he would do for anyone. It's servant's work, after all. But you have been a good girl so far, despite earlier transgressions.

This escape attempt of yours was a blessing in disguise, truly. No real damage was done. The servant girls got whipped for less at the Red Keep in his grandfather’s reign. Maybe not now because Viserys was a soft-hearted fool, but he is sure it’s still happening at other castles.

The servants here… It’s clear there had been an oversight on his part. He had been away too much when he was married to the Bronze Bitch, and she had given them too loose of a leash. Women. Unable to enact discipline, no matter how tough they thought themselves to be. No, a firm hand was needed. Or else his little dreamer would suffer from it.

At the addition of more hot water, you sigh and go pliant, relaxing against him. Your head sags against his shoulder, as if you are exhausted. Poor thing, that you were. Daemon should get you into bed. It was closer to sunrise than sundown. The night had been trying, especially for someone with the fragile disposition of a dreamer.

“This is how I knew you were a dragon.” Daemon laughs a little. You have the cutest blissed out expression. Another proof you were a Targaryen by birth, and not only by marriage. At first, he had thought your love for baths was because you were a bit of a clean freak, but now he realizes it’s about the heat.

You mumble something inaudible.

“Jace… He is… Ugh.”

“Your favorite?” Daemon asks, trying to keep the conversation going, despite the slightest pang of jealousy in his chest. It was to be expected, of course. You would prefer the heir to the Iron Throne. Despite all your eccentricities, your outstanding abilities, you were just a girl.

Daemon would make sure to keep this Jacaerys away from you. He was sure you would lose interest in him, anyway. How could a mere boy compare to him? Now, sure, you thought him attractive, but because you were only a girl yourself. You would learn to prefer a man’s company over a boy’s.

The favor of a dreamer was a heady thing. Daemon would not put it past the boy to try to charm you. The Gods knew it would have been something he would have done if he had the chance. Daemon would just have to make sure the bastard was kept away, perhaps whisking you away to some other place when the boy was growing up.

He waits for you to keep the conversation going, worried about the sudden quiet. He calls your name. You stir and make a small grumbling noise. You have fallen asleep, pretty eyes closed. Daemon lets himself relax a few more moments, greedily enjoying the feeling of you in his arms. Something this bastard Jacaerys was never going to get. Just basking in your presence and warmth. Then, he lifts you out of it and dries you as best as he can.

Daemon places you in a clean shift, with a slightly lower cut than you would choose for yourself. Despite him buying you an entire wardrobe, you seem to favor higher cuts, which he cannot understand. You have a gorgeous body but seem unwilling to flaunt it.

As he looks at you, asleep on the bed, looking like a small otherworldly being, he almost regrets it all. He thinks of leaving the room unlocked, of not putting you in cuffs.

Daemon cuffs your wrists and ankles before he leaves.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon smut #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fic #hotd fanfic #hotd #asoif fanfic #asoif/got #divine intuition series

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archfey-edda · 4 months

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Helloooo!! First of all, I LOVE YOUR ART IS AMAZING!!!!. AND NOW... I saw in the tags that we can ask about your OCs of star wars (THAT ARE SUPER COOL, WONDERFUL, EVERYTHING AAAAAA MUST PROTEEEECC) and i was wondering what ideas you habe with them! Like how was their life at the temple, how they meet, how they interact with each other, AND how is their life now after order 66 (are they still at Coruscant or made It off Planet?)

THANK YOU UWU

Aaaa thank you very much. I'm glad you enjoy my scribbles. As for the characters - they're mostly just a pile of stray ideas, since they started as just one-off designs for a drawing and then I got attached. But here are some random facts and ideas:

The initiates, Io and Laira, were alone when O66 happened because they had snuck out together to explore the Temple during the night. Laira tends to be the one to have such impulsive ideas, while Io is the one to execute them at her urging. They're best friends and are rarely found apart.

The guard, Ren, was nearby because he got tasked with tracking down the two wayward kids before they lost out on too much sleep.

The two padawans, Akta and Max, had a rivalry going since childhood, which then promptly gets set aside post O66. However, their Masters were best friends, so the two were forced to spend a lot of time together despite their frenemy routine. The only reason they ended up with each other when O66 went down is because they had gone to settle a debate on who was the better dueller (for the 10th time by this point).

In the situation where Ren survives, it's only because another Temple Guard intervenes and gives him time to run and catch up to the kids. Of course that means that in the future, he keeps wondering if that other guard could have done a better job of protecting them. Post O66 his one goal is to keep the kids alive because he is still a Guard, after all.

They do manage to escape Coruscant the same day and just keep moving until they decide to settle down in some backwater spaceport planet and wait to see what the future brings.

#oc

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astrobolical · 1 year

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Cute as a kitten-

Content Warnings: Suggestive, Satan gets riled up (nothing explicit though), Animalistic behaviour (Purring, growling, protectiveness), biting, as always MDNI.

Reader: Gender Neutral

This took a turn, this was just supposed to be fluff but I have no self control with my second favourite brother, apparently. This has a lot of fluff in the beginning, at least. This was inspired from Satan’s texts about cat behaviours.

I made the banner before I wrote this, the quote is accidentally fitting. Also for Obey Me I’ll use MC rather than Y/N, it just fits better.

There was a calming quiet around you as you lounged on the sofa, the only sounds that met your ears were the crackling of the fireplace as it warmed the room and the occasional turning of a page in Satan’s book from where he sat on the other end of the couch from where you were. In truth, it was rather odd that there was such serenity in the House of Lamentation but for now you didn’t allow yourself to worry over what the brothers’ could be getting into. No, the sight in front of you was far more important.

Your D.D.D. was forgotten in your hand, your eyes instead focused on the blonde who was engrossed in whatever tale he’d picked up. Apart from his furrowed brows when something unanticipated would happen in the story, Satan seemed entirely relaxed. It was a rare sight, indeed, and not one you would trade for anything.

While you by no means disliked his temper, it was an entirely different experience to see him as he was now. You adored that he felt a level of comfort with you that allowed him to lose himself into the words on the page. You couldn’t help the flicker of pride in your chest that this was something very few would witness for such an extended period— that you were someone he held more patience for than anyone else.

You’d been careful not to draw his attention or break this fleeting serenity, knowing that at any moment a flurry of commotion could erupt, chaos bleeding through and cracking this bubble of peace you’d found yourself in. It was bizarre that it hadn’t already happened, but you weren’t about to complain.

However, you were also not infallible. In the back of your mind you could recall messages he’d sent you recently, imagery of cats and their habits that he’d found adorable. A part of you, one not very deep down, wanted to see exactly how Satan would react to you creating such a situation— it was an impulse you’d had a hard time fighting down, though often the chaotic nature of the house helped to curb it. Now, though, it was just the two of you in the quiet of the living room. It was as good a chance as any, and probably the easiest and safest to manage it in. Without his brothers nearby it eliminated the risk of one of them irritating him with their remarks.

So, you began to debate the best way to go about it. Stretching, making little movements to gauge how much of his attention was on you— apart from a small glance your way at the initial stretch, he’d yet to look at you again. When you were satisfied that your fidgeting was of little consequence to him you put your little plan into motion. Admittedly it wasn’t very thought through, but it was a plan regardless.

Quietly you inched your way closer to his end of the couch, though the closer you were to him the more you wondered if this was something he’d find stupid. Sure he’d alluded to it in his text but that didn’t mean he anticipated it in reality, right?

Oh, but the urge just wouldn’t leave you.

Once you were close enough you adjusted on the couch, moving to sit on your knees though before you could get close enough to bunt your head against him those green and yellow eyes turned to you, eyebrow raising at the strange position you’d put yourself into. “MC?” He questioned, though didn’t protest at your sudden close proximity.

When you moved closer again he chuckled, his arm adjusting to allow you to invade his space even more. “If you wanted to read with me you just had to ask. No need to shuffle around like tha—” He paused as your forehead bumped against his cheek, making use of his opened arms to close that gap between you.

There was a small noise of confusion, and then a sharp intake of breath as you continued to rub your head against him in the same manner the cats he loved would.

Unexpectedly, the action was oddly cathartic, a show of affection that was something unique between the two of you. However you were startled from the feeling when you heard his book fall to the floor, jumping slightly and sitting back on your heels to give him his space back. You looked at him tentatively, and were greeted with a sight that warmed your heart more than the calm evening you were sharing could ever have.

In front of you was Satan, covering his mouth with the hand that had dropped the book, his cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink as he stared at you with wide eyes. You felt your own face heat up, and you sheepishly laughed. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

He didn’t allow you to continue your half-hearted apology, the hand that had moved to allow you in grasping the back of your neck and dragging you closer, the other moving to your cheek. “Satan?”

His forehead bumped against your own, his eyes closed as he nuzzled you in return. Unsatisfied with the simple bunt he’d given you, though, he moved closer. Mindful of his own horns he quickly returned the favour with fervour. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, your hand finding his soft blonde hair and running your fingers through. He hummed, using his weight to push you back until you were sitting properly, skillfully managing his way between your legs to continue his ministrations in a way that was more comfortable for both of you.

There was a low rumble from his chest, a noise you recognized as a demon’s purr as he nipped at your jaw. Satan’s purr was a low rumble, a sound you hadn’t heard from him before— and wholly different from the purr you’d heard from one of his brothers once. You dared not comment on the noise, instead moving your hands to gently massage the base of his horns as his tail curled possessively around your shin.

This was the happiest you had seen Satan, and your heart nearly melted at how simple it had been to bring him such joy.

However as your fingers continued their gentle work, sharp teeth soon became more daring, the gentle rubs and nuzzles shifting to curious lips tracing where your jaw met your neck. Teeth grazing as he moved downwards, tail tightening in its hold, a large hand moving to your hip as you finally couldn’t keep yourself up, your back hitting the couch behind you as the Avatar of Wrath loomed over you.

You whimpered as he bit down just over where your pulse point betrayed your accelerating heartbeat, hard enough that you were sure there would certainly be marks there for days to come, yet not hard enough to break your skin. The rumbling from his chest faded as new feelings overtook the demon above you, a growl erupting from Satan’s throat as your grip tightened on his hair.

You bit your lip, your breathing quickening as his fingers dipped beneath the hem of your shirt—

“Certainly there must be better places for this? Or did the two of you want to put on a show?” The sudden voice interrupting the two of you made your entire body freeze and stiffen, and the growl that escaped Satan now was entirely more vicious as his head snapped up to glare at the eldest of the brothers.

The mood shattered, and your senses returned to you, quickly pushing out from under Satan the best you could with his tail still gripping you as tightly as it was, almost unrelenting. You hid your blush from Lucifer the best you could as you let out a squeak of an apology. “Sorry! Um, we were just—”

“It’s fairly obvious what the two of you were getting up to.” Lucifer’s tone was far from light, and it was clear he was displeased at the situation he’d walked into. “Please refrain from using shared areas for… personal fun.”

Surprisingly there was no protest from Satan, whose glare was so ferocious you’d have been terrified if you weren’t as close with him as you were. He was stiff, the only sound escaping him a low, threatening growl.

You turned your head to look at Lucifer, who rolled his eyes. “Oh, I’m so frightened.” He drawled, his words dripping with sarcasm as he smirked at his younger brother. “Take this to somewhere private, or behave yourselves.”

The blonde simply pulled you closer in response, and you realized he was simply unwilling to let Lucifer ‘take’ you. The possessive display made a heat reignite in your belly again, but you tried your best to ignore the feeling— if Lucifer had returned, no doubt the other brothers would filter into the house again soon.

Once Lucifer had left the room, the door closing with a sharp, loud bang Satan’s head fell to your shoulder, his forehead resting there as he sighed heavily. “Damn him.” He murmured, clearly frustrated at being interrupted, especially by Lucifer.

You hummed, carefully maneuvering him to nuzzle your face into his hair.

And then you laughed, and Satan huffed. As you moved back you couldn’t help yourself. “I didn’t think you’d react quite like that.” You admitted, realizing the strange situation that had just transpired.

“How could I not? My human showed me affection in the most adorable, perfect way.” He looked almost proud as he spoke, his eyes mesmerizing as he studied your flustered expression. “It’s a shame… it was just starting to get fun, too.”

You had a feeling you weren’t going to be leaving Satan’s side tonight.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me Satan #Obey me Satan x Reader #Obey Me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x y/n #~Sinners Corner #kinda #~Take time to Relax #this genuinely was supposed to be fluff #just fluff #but no now it’s suggestive #whoops

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eksvaized · 4 months

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[ Previous ┃ Next ] part 9

Simon was fiddling with his balaclava. The fabric was coarse and suffocating. It stuck to his skin, causing a persistent itch that seemed to spread across his face. He had to resist the urge to yank it off. Matt has seen his face, but with a little bit of luck, he might have knocked that image out of his head when he beat him up, and if he keeps his features hidden, Matt might not remember him by the end of all of this.

Matt was awake. His face was smeared with dried blood, his nose was broken, and his clothes were ripped. He was locked in the cell, which was in the damp basement of the old shed. Simon refused to engage in conversation, leaving Matt to stew in his fear. However, Matt was far from docile. He banged on the bars, threw his body against them, and did everything he could to draw Simon’s attention. He even tried to negotiate his release, foolishly hoping that words could somehow set him free.

“What the hell do you want from me?!” At first, Matt was timid and sat in the dark corner, too terrified to even raise his head. But as Simon continued his ominous silence, it gave him the confidence to speak, which eventually led to him yelling and shouting. He lashed out, and his fear turned into anger. “Is it the money you need? I’m loaded... my family is flush with cash!” At this point, he was practically tearing his hair out. “Just let me out and... and I swear to you, I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Fuck, I’ll even pay you. Just name your price and let me go”

Simon bought this property many years ago. However, it had been just as long since he last set foot in this old, weathered shed. He used this place to control his urges when his impulses would drive him astray. Whenever he found himself in a mess of his own making — a situation that seemed impossible to resolve — this shed allowed him to slow down, pause and think, and figure a way out.

Admittedly, most, if not all, people who found themselves in a similar situation as Matt’s, trapped in a cold cell, did not get out of here alive. But Simon wanted to believe that this time, it would end differently. Killing Matt, no matter how much of a scumbag he was, would upset you, and Simon didn’t want to do anything that could cause you pain.

“Shut up!” Simon eventually roared, unable to endure Matt’s incessant whining for a moment longer. He had been trying to unlock Matt’s phone for the past half hour, but he couldn’t figure out the passcode, and he was sick of having to wait every time his guess was incorrect. “How do I unlock your phone?”

Matt hesitated, his cheeks squished between the bars. His eyes darted to the phone in Simon’s hand. But as Simon rose to his feet, Matt immediately took a step back and blurted out a sequence of numbers and random letters. Simon sat back down and entered the password. The phone unlocked.

Simon started looking through the contents of it. His eyes were drawn to a series of notifications that littered the screen. There were two missed calls and five unread messages. None seemed important, except for a text from someone named Carl, who appeared to be furious because Matt hadn’t shown up at work. In an attempt to maintain the illusion of normality, Simon responded. Pretending to be Matt, he explained he needed to take a few days off because he was feeling unwell after a heavy night out.

Simon realised that it was important to preserve the impression that Matt had not disappeared.

Once that was done, he swiftly navigated to the conversation thread between you and Matt. This was, after all, the primary reason he had this phone. Simon wanted to know what it was Matt says to you, what he tells you to make you fall at his feet. Yet, to his surprise, there were merely a handful of text exchanges. Most of them were from Matt, asking if you were free, if you were at home, and if he could come over.

He then clicked on the gallery. It was filled with many pictures of Matt with a different woman by his side each time. Also, there were two or three shots of his dick, which Simon scoffed at (and which made him grow confident, knowing there was no way he could please you with that tiny thing). As he tried to erase those haunted images from his mind, he stumbled upon something that piqued his interest and ignited a flame of anger within him.

Matt has taken multiple pictures of you. In all of them, you were asleep, completely oblivious that a camera was pointed at you. If it had been Simon who had captured these, he would have paused, perhaps even taken the time to admire them. But knowing that Matt had taken these without your consent infuriated him. Simon’s grasp on the phone became so tight, his fingers pressing into the device with such force that he was on the brink of shattering the screen.

Simon was buried so deep in his thoughts that it took a long time for Matt’s muted voice, as he talked to himself, to reach his ears. Simon didn’t raise his head to look at him, but he paused to listen.

“... if I’d known this night was going to end like this... Fuck, I would never... ever have gone to see that bitch and got drunk... I—”

“Don’t call her like that unless you want me to rip out your tongue and feed it to you,” Simon hissed. He should have kept his lips sealed, but he wasn’t going to let that jerk talk about you like that.

“Who? Y/N? She’s a bi—” Matt was about to repeat the same mistake. But before the word could slip past his lips, Simon sprang to his feet and moved closer to the bars that separated them. Simon’s eyes darkened, and he made no effort to hide the raw anger that was seeping out of him. Matt got the memo and shut his mouth; at the same time, everything seemed to connect in his mind, and clarity hit him. Everything began to make sense. “So she’s the reason I’m there?” He spat and began to pace around the cell, his fingers running through his dirty hair. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re just some bitter ex-boyfriend of hers, aren’t you?

Simon maintained a stony silence. He feared that if he opened his mouth, he might say something he would later regret. There was still a chance that Matt might walk out of here alive, so the less he knew about Simon, who was still just a masked stranger to him, the better it was. He tried very hard not to let Matt’s incessant chatter provoke him, but the idiot wasn’t shutting up.

“I don’t care about her... she’s yours! Honestly, I only reached out to her because I was curious. We dated in high school, but she was always such a prude, and I...”

Matt truly believed that he was doing the right thing by giving up you, allowing Simon to have you all to himself, promising he would disappear from your life. His desperate speech was working. But the problem was that Matt didn’t know when to stop talking.

“I only kept coming over because she kept inviting me. She seemed ecstatic to reunite with me... I was initially apprehensive, but after the first time we slept together, I knew I could exploit her.” Matt paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs with air before continuing. “I knew I could text her whenever I wanted to fuck. She never turned me down, and whenever I came over, the night always ended with me in her bed. I let her believe I liked her, that there was a chance we may be something more in the future... all because she was fantastic in bed and made herself easy.”

Simon had reached his breaking point. He could no longer tolerate Matt’s disrespectful comments about you. You weren’t easy, and you weren’t an object that he could use anytime he wanted to show his dick into someone. Your innocence and naivety led you to believe that Matt genuinely liked you. This belief is what kept you going back to him, time and time again. You were too blind to recognise that Matt was taking advantage of you. And you would probably never see it, but that doesn’t matter. Simon will handle this. He won’t stand by and watch you get hurt, nor will he let Matt break your heart. He will make sure that Matt will never touch you again.

Matt was gripping the cold bars, standing perilously close, his knuckles turning white. Simon’s mind went blank, and he closed the gap between them. His calloused hand wrapped around Matt’s throat.

Matt immediately began his desperate struggle, his every muscle strained as he tried to push Simon away. His fingers dug into Simon’s arms, his nails clawing at his skin in an attempt to break free. But Simon, without a single thought in his head, fuelled by rage, remained still; he was stronger and his hold was firm. He kept squeezing and squeezing, preventing the air from filling Matt’s lungs. His eyes, devoid of mercy, fixated on Matt’s face, watching as he began to run out of oxygen and strain to breathe. A minute passed. Matt’s face turned a disturbing shade of blue, his eyes started to water, and the tears rolled down his pallid cheeks.

Simon was so focused on keeping his grip secure, refusing to let go, that he failed to register Matt’s frantic movements. He didn’t notice when Matt’s fingers curled around the fabric of his balaclava. He was oblivious until the very moment when Matt tugged Simon’s mask off. A sudden realisation dawned on Simon, and his eyes grew wide. Now, Matt knew who he was, he had seen Simon’s face, the one thing that Simon was determined to keep hidden. Without realising it, Matt had thrown away his chance of getting out of this cell alive.

Before, Simon intended to kill him out of jealousy, for the way he spoke about you, for the way he treated you... but now, killing him was a necessity, and Simon only stepped away from the cell bars when Matt’s body went limp in his hands.

#PO2 #simon ghost riley #writing #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod #call of duty #ghost #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod x reader #novella

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powdermelonkeg · 3 months

Text

First drawing of Crowdsourced Durge, aka Daggerroot. It's been AWHILE since I last picked up a tablet in proper, but I think this is a decent drawing to start with (also thank you to @too-many-blorbos for helping me with posing)

Details below the cut:

In-game appearance

Crowd-decided details:

I am romancing Gale

This is a Resisting Dark Urge playthrough

They're a middle-aged, nonbinary, deep gnome Way of Shadows monk

On top of their Durge skills (Intimidation/Medicine), they're also proficient in Insight and Stealth

Chaotic Neutral-Good Alignment: Impulsive, acts in the interest of friends only, can be easily persuaded to do the right thing by said friends, but seldom ever the wrong thing. Doesn't care what friends get up to unless it negatively impacts other friends. Strong sense of wanting to rectify past mistakes, but refuses to be told the "correct" way to do so. Thinks stealing from/killing/spiting evil characters is justified because "they deserved it."

Flaws: Blunt/has no filter, contrary for the sake of being contrary, weirdly prejudiced against elves (due to repressed Ketheric spite)

Good Qualities: Loves animals, unfailingly loyal, good at bartering and haggling

Quirks: Takes a trophy from each memorable kill, incredibly horny, will try anything (potions, strange food, licking the spider, Loviatar's blessing) at least once

Memory Loss Side Effects: Thinks everyone else has the Urge but Durge is just bad at controlling it, doesn't know cannibalism isn't normal, doesn't know what sex is

STR 9/DEX 17/CON 12/INT 10/WIS 12/CHA 15

Imposed rule: Short rest after every fight, and long rest when out of short rests

Additional fun facts:

Their name is Daggerroot. They picked their name as they were combing the beach for supplies, recognized a single sprig of it, and the lore around it came to mind: "Known as 'the executioner's garnish', this herb flourishes in blood-fed soil and has flavoured countless final meals." For some reason, the description brought them amusement. Both "Dagger" and "Root" are acceptable nicknames, though most people tend towards the former.

They're the group medic. This is why they're in charge. Because they have such a good medical knowledge due to struck out Dark Urge memories, they've assumed "surgeon" was their profession before being tadpoled. And, I mean, they're not wrong...

There's something just not-quite-right about them, visually. They LOOK a lot like a deep gnome, and to someone who doesn't know deep gnomes well, they are one. But to deep gnomes, they have a very uncanny valley effect to them.

Their dream guardian is identical to them. This is going to do LEAGUES for their trust in this person, with a fair share of existential crises on top of it. "If you're not what's causing the urges...that means I am. I'll listen to whatever you say, because you're clearly my better half."

Monk class backstory:

They killed their foster family as a young child before Sceleritas found them. Because they were out of control then, and now had the eyes of everyone in the Bhaal temple on them, they adopted monastic tendencies (gifted kid + fear)

That deep-seated fear of loss of control still persists in current form Durge (based on the canon origin monologue: "Injured beyond repair, I know nothing besides this: I must resist the Dark Urge, lest is consume my mind.") and leads to sticking with Monk as their class at the start of BG3

Bonus points, they gained admiration from peers in the temple for killing people bare-handed

#why are they barefoot? because they hate shoes #the guardian reveal is going to GUT them #also this ruleset for behavior is going to be fantastic for storycrafting #it is my sincere hope that i have enough spoons to draw dagger more often. and to improve while doing so #there's a hint to their identity in their outfit; i took a tiny bit of liberties #also i gave them bloody plum dye because default does not vibe thank you very much #vitiligo is hard to draw. i need to get better at it. practice makes perfect #bg3 #crowdsourced durge #daggerroot durge #the dark urge #also screw hands #i think the next thing I'll practice is expressions. both for the expressions themselves and to practice getting their face right #my art #real coffee hours #holy shit it's 4 am

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kirbyskisses · 1 year

Text

this post is absolutely going to get flagged with a mature label, and i don’t care because somebody needs to say this.

you all need to learn the difference between impulsive thoughts and intrusive thoughts!!!!

i’m so tired of hearing people use the term incorrectly and saying “let the intrusive thoughts win!”

impulsive thoughts or harmless thoughts that you want to act on. they are strong urges that come to your head very quickly and while they might not necessarily be good choices, no harm comes from them.

impulsive thoughts

“i should cut my hair and dye it neon green.”

“i should write smutty fanfiction about a hot character i like.”

“i should go by 3 scoops of ice cream because i suddenly gotten an urge for ice cream 20 seconds ago.”

intrusive thoughts are harmful. they intrude into your mind, particularly if you’re a neurodivergent person, and are thoughts that you don’t want to have about harmful, traumatic things (ie p*doph*lia, incest, self-harm, SA, etc.) that you would never want to do; they can often disgust you.

intrusive thoughts:

“i’m babysitting and i could hypothetically kidnap this kid.”

“i’m in the kitchen cutting food - i could kill someone i love with this knife.”

“i’m in the train station. i could push somebody onto the tracks or down the stairwell.”

i have had intrusive thoughts so bad that i threw up out of disgust. i know i am not the only one. it makes me so frustrated when people say intrusive when they mean impulsive so now that you know, please correct your vocabulary. please stop saying “let the intrusive thoughts win uwu 🥰” when you’re just talking about drawing sexy fanart.

and for anyone else out there who suffers really bad intrusive thoughts sometimes - they do not make you a bad person; they are out of your control. you recognize that they are bad, you do not act on them, and that means you are a good person.

stay strong.

#vocabulary #mental health #self love #impulse #fanfiction #fanart #x reader #tw sa mention #tw intrusive thoughts #tw violent thoughts

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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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rowaelin // 4.4k // ciwyw masterlist // masterlist

a/n: the next fic update will be some kind of haunted. if you haven't already, please give it a read. it's going to be a fun ride. chapter ten will come a few days after that update <3

Golden hair tickled his nose when he woke. The sweet smell of Aelin’s shampoo had him taking a deep breath, savoring every second of her wrapped in his arms. He remembered tugging her closer to him just as he drifted off, but he was surprised they hadn’t appeared to move an inch while they napped. If anything, they were closer together. Their legs were tangled, one of hers sandwiched between his. An arm was slung over his waist and her face was buried in his chest.

He thought she was still sleeping, but her fingertips started drawing lazy patterns over his back, like she heard the change in his breathing and knew he was awake. Mala burn him, he felt her touch through his whole body. While he was still exhausted, Rowan had never felt so awake.

“Are you okay?” He murmured into her hair, taking a chance and pressing his lips to the top of her head as his hand ran up and down her back.

“I’m nauseous.” Aelin’s reply was a whisper swallowed up by the cotton of his shirt.

“I promise I won’t get mad if you throw up on me. It might even finally make us even,” he teased. A soft chuckle from her lips sank through his shirt, goosebumps blooming over his arms and neck.

“The way you smell…” she hesitated, rubbing her nose against into his torso. Rowan waited, fully prepared to lunge for the shower if it was making things worse for her. “It soothes me.”

Rowan had to swallow a swell of emotion as he whispered, “Then we can stay like this as long as you want.”

His arm slid beneath her head, carefully as to not jostle her too much. Aelin’s only answer was the swirling of her fingers over his back and what he swore was a soft brush of her lips against his chest as she melted into him completely.

~*~

Being wrapped up in Rowan chased her nausea away after another half hour. They didn’t speak unless he was checking in to see how she was doing. Long fingers combed through her hair, pausing to twist at the ends. She was quire sure he braided a few pieces at one point before dismantling them gently. Occasionally she would feel the whisper of a kiss to the top her head. Aelin hadn’t felt so at peace since they had last been tangled together like vineyard vines.

Once her stomach didn’t seem to be revolting against her, she pulled back enough to look at his face and found Rowan’s bright green eyes peering down at her. Concern lay heavy in his eyes, like he was hesitant to let her go. When she offered him a small smile, though, his features immediately softened. However subdued his returning grin was, the twitching of his mouth made it clear he was holding a bigger smile back. It was so cute that the urge to kiss him was damn near overwhelming.

“Better?” He asked just before she could act on that impulse. Tattooed fingers still trickled over her skin, now moving to her upper arms since her back was harder to reach. Aelin nodded and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as he said, “I have a question.”

“I have an answer.” Readjusting where she lay, she moved one hand under her head and dropped her other back over his waist. Their lips were inches apart, and she caught his eyes dipping down to her mouth. Being so close was tempting the both of them, it seemed, but she knew he wouldn’t push that line unless she did first. If he asked, she very well might say yes.

“I think you called me your boyfriend this morning,” he said carefully, like she was running water trying to slip through his fingers at any given moment.

“That’s not a question,” she pointed out, one eyebrow quirking up.

“I…” Rowan’s eyes darted over her face then up to the ceiling while he gathered his thoughts. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

Aelin wasn’t entirely sure how to answer that. The short answer was yes, for the most part. The long answer? That was complicated. There were doubts swimming in her head about being in a relationship. Sometimes she didn’t know if she could ever be all into one ever again. It didn’t mean she didn’t want to be, but after the last one blew up so spectacularly in her face and left her burned and scarred… Opening her heart like that was scary.

“It means… It means that you’re on probation.” Each word was slowly pulled from her mouth. The slight disappointment on his face tugged at every string that led to her heart and forced her to sit up and scrub at her face with her hands.

“I’m sorry if I’m pushing,” Rowan said immediately, sitting up next to her and doing his best to add a few inches between them. The left side of her body was cold without his warmth, and against her better judgment she put her hand on his thigh to keep him from wiggling too far away.

“You’re not. It’s– I–”

“I understand if you need more time and space to work this out,” he told her, letting her weave her fingers through his. Gods, she didn’t have enough words in her vocabulary to fully express how much it wasn’t him, not really.

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet. There are things I want to tell you that I’ve never told another soul. Not Aedion, not Lysandra, definitely not my parents. But there are things that I haven’t fully coped with yet and I need to figure it out first for myself. It isn’t… this sounds so cliche, but it isn’t you. Not entirely. I’m not holding how you reacted against you, Rowan. Especially not after what you told me about Lyria. I just need to figure myself out first.”

“Is it connected to why you didn’t want our relationship to become anything more than something fun?” A tattooed finger traced the tendons and veins on the back of her hand. When she looked at his face, Rowan paused and looked up at her.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I… I was in a really bad relationship. It took me a long time to get out of it. Sometimes I feel like I’ve only really just started coming back into myself. I have thrown myself into work so aggressively since I started the foundation to distract myself. But you… you made me feel awake for the first time in a really long time. I’m not ready to talk about it yet. I know I’ll get there eventually, but it’s so much to unravel. I just… I need you to be patient with me.”

It was a teensy, tiny baby step forward. It was something, though. More than she thought she could offer him to begin with. The truth of the words scared her more than anything else. She did want to talk to him about everything, but that also meant allowing herself to trust him fully.

Part of her brain didn’t want to allow it. Freely trusting had bitten her in the ass with very sharp teeth and shredded her down to nothing. Ever since Aedion showed up, she wondered if Lysandra had been so worried about her spiraling that she sent him to stop it before it got too out of hand. Up until she decided to make the trip to Wendlyn, she had been a shell of her former self. When discussing it with her family, while they fully supported the expansion of Fireheart, they had decided they wouldn’t– or couldn’t– leave her on her own for the several months she would be living out of the country.

On the other hand, they seemed to understand that getting out of Orynth for a little while would be good for her. So many memories, more bad than good, haunted every corner of the city she loved so fiercely. It was agreed that it would be beneficial for her to get away for a little while.

Her parents had hated the idea initially. With her anxiety and depression at an all time high, letting her out of sight for more than a few days or weeks was pushing it. Her dad had come around first, then talked her mom into being okay with it. By the time she was packed and ready to leave, her mental health was on the rise. Just the idea of getting away from Orytnh had already started to lift her spirits. The night before she left she vowed to video call at least once a week, and so far she had stuck to her word.

The night she met Rowan, something changed. Aelin couldn’t put her finger on what it was, exactly, but somewhere between their banter and his determination to make her appreciate soccer, something was thrumming through her veins again. It was like he had shaken her awake, a new clarity settling into her mind. For the first time in years, she felt like herself.

And it scared the absolute shit out of her.

“Hey. Where did you go?” His voice pulled her mind back to the present as his finger hooked under her chin and guided her face to look at him. Rowan’s brows were pulled in tightly together, worry written all over his face as plainly as if he’d vocalized it.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, trying to look away from the intensity in his gaze. He didn’t let her.

“I’m not going anywhere, Aelin. I can be patient. I can and will give you whatever you want, whatever you need. I’ll be here.”

She wasn’t sure when tears had started to slip down her cheeks, but they were damp. Rowan’s face softened as he leaned forward and used his thumbs to wipe the tears from her face one by one. When he leaned forward and pressed the softest kiss against her forehead, then her temple. A desperation to melt into him rose within her like a wave, but anxiety about her past wouldn’t let her give into the temptation.

“One more question,” Rowan said once her tears were dry, pulling back until just their noses were touching. The idle pattern his thumb traced below her ear felt so lovely she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes.

“Hm?”

“If you’re calling me your boyfriend, do I get to call you my girlfriend?” It wasn’t what she was expecting, and she had her suspicions that he was asking partially as a distraction. Either way, a surprised laugh slipped through her lips as she looked up at him.

“You can call it whatever you want to, Ro.”

When he smiled, broad and unrestrained before pressing another sweet, lingering kiss to her temple, a thought clanged through her like a bell. Maybe it was a warning. Maybe it was a celebration. She couldn’t be sure.

What Aelin knew was that she wanted to fall in love with him. And that was the single most terrifying thought she’d ever had in her life.

~*~

A while later, everyone was showered and dressed to go out for dinner. Aelin had emerged from her room in a simple, oversized t-shirt dress, and Rowan was struck once again by how beautiful she was. It wasn’t the first time it had hit him that day, but the little smile she gave him was enough to make his stomach flip almost violently.

Aelin drove, and despite Rowan insisting Aedion sit in the front, he rode in the passenger seat beside her. The drive to the heart of the city was quick, the two cousins arguing over music choices almost up until she parked the car. The way they ribbed each other reminded Rowan so much of Enda and Sellene, and he was absolutely positive that she would perfectly fit into his family with ease.

Though the restaurant was busy for a Monday evening, they didn’t have to wait for a table. Aedion called ahead before they left the apartment and they were quickly ushered back to a table in the back corner. Apparently, this was one of Aelin’s favorite places and she often ordered soup for lunch on days she wasn’t feeling well at work.

“Are you feeling okay?” Rowan asked once they were seated. Ever since the orange juice incident, he was hyper-aware of how sensitive she was to smells. The delicious aroma of pasta and garlic didn’t seem to bother her, though, because she nodded eagerly while opening her menu.

“I’m fucking starving.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve eaten more in the last few days than I’ve ever seen you eat in your entire life,” Aedion joked, and Aelin gave him a flat look.

“Clearly you don’t remember dance competition season very well.” Rowan’s eyebrows went up, eyes snagging on her face again.

“Dance competitions?” He asked.

“I danced competitively until I graduated high school. Rehearsals were intense leading up to it, and even though my instructor was constantly harping about watching my figure,” she paused to roll her eyes, “I ate damn near constantly.”

“She used to eat us all out of house and home,” Aedion agreed, to which Aelin snorted.

“Don’t even start with that shit.” Aelin shook her head as she looked at Rowan, pointing at Aedion with her arm stretched across the table and a finger in his face. She was quick to pull her hand back onto their side of the table when her cousin moved to grab it. “I know you’ll be able to relate to this, but our moms had to double every recipe we ever had for dinner because this asshole would eat enough to feed a family of four in one sitting.”

“My mom did the same thing. If there was ever anything leftover I would wind up eating it later in the night,” Rowan confirmed, and Aelin laughed.

“I feel like you don’t eat quite that much anymore, but you get pretty close. I always wondered why you ate so much after coaching a game. Things made so much more sense when I found out you were a dirty little liar.” Rowan didn’t have time to wonder if it was a genuine jab or not– her brilliant smile told him she was teasing. He shrugged his shoulders as he looked back at the menu, fighting back a grin of his own.

“Go easy on him, Fireheart. He had to make sure you weren’t in it for the money.” Aelin cackled so loudly at Aedion’s little quip that she received a few glares from nearby tables. Despite the joke being wholly at his expense, Rowan chuckled, too. Her hand found his knee under the table and squeezed.

The waitress saved him from the jokes going any further, each of them ordering drinks and Aelin requesting two appetizers to start. Aedion had given her a look like she was proving his earlier statement. She merely sat back, patted her stomach and said, “I’m eating for two.”

~*~

Rowan had just finished his second old-fashioned and while he didn’t feel buzzed in the slightest, he was more relaxed than he had been all week.

Dinner was nothing more than scraps and crumbs on their plates, their glasses empty. Aelin had her chin in her hand while Aedion talked about working on the business side of things for Orynth’s football team. Everything he had to do could be done from anywhere, which was why he had dropped everything to fly out to see Aelin.

They had filled Rowan in on his surprise arrival, and while he felt guilty that she was struggling so much, he was happy they were getting time together. Aelin had reassured him that it wasn’t necessarily about what he said to her, and more about having always been surrounded by family, yet his heart still twinged that he added additional stress. The comforting pat she gave his thigh did little to quell his worries, but the fact that she was touching him in a casual way again was a step forward he couldn’t ignore.

Rowan stole the check from the waitress before either of the other two could even reach for it. He had seen Aelin pull her wallet out of her purse and refused to let her pay for anyone. Maybe it was a subtle way of trying to amend things, maybe it was just how his mother raised him. Maybe it was both and he wanted to prove it didn’t matter.

Rowan handed his card back to the waitress and leaned back in his chair, one arm draping over the back of Aelin’s. He toyed with the ends of her hair until she cleared her throat and nodded at Rowan. With an eyebrow raised, he turned to find a boy, no older than seven, with black hair and wide, brown eyes hesitantly approaching the table. A sketchbook was clutched to his chest and his fingers were wrapped tightly around a pen. The shirt was the same color as Rowan’s home jersey, and he was willing to bet the logo was hiding behind his arms.

A big part of Rowan loved fan interactions, especially with kids. Another part of him was nervous about what Aelin would think. Was it off putting that these things tended to happen to him when he went anywhere besides the Neon Moon? They were just starting to make some sort of progress. He didn’t want this to be what chased her away.

Aelin surprised him, though, by leaning forward so she could address the boy directly as she said, “Hi sweetheart. What’s your name?”

“Finn,” he said, twisting his mouth to the side as he looked down at his sketchbook. A few tables over, a woman around his age watched him carefully. It must be his mother.

“Hi, Finn. My name is Aelin. This is my friend Rowan and my cousin Aedion,” she paused while he nodded, but he said nothing else like he was too nervous to speak. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that you’re a big soccer fan.”

“Football,” Rowan murmured to her, and the boy cracked a wide grin as he nodded. Rowan smiled back at him, unable to resist when he was missing his two front teeth. “Would you like an autograph?”

Again, his head bobbed up and down, flopping his hair into his eyes. Aelin chuckled beside him, sitting back while Rowan took the pen and paper from Finn and scribbled his signature across a blank page.

“If you want get your mom, she could take a picture of you two,” Aelin offered, and the little boy looked out of his mind excited as he weaved through the tables to get his mother.

“I’m so sorry,” Rowan said softly, running his hand up and down her thigh. Aedion watched from across the table, a content smile on his face.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s sweet.” A weight lifted off his chest at her words and he nodded in thanks, giving her knee a light squeeze as Finn and his mom approached.

Since they were ready to leave, Aelin and Aedion excused themselves from the table as to not be in the picture. Within a few moments it was over and done with and he joined the cousins at the front of the restaurant, leading Aelin out with a hand on her back.

“Do you have to go back tonight or can you stay another day?” Aelin asked as they walked toward the car. Aedion walked several steps ahead of them, hands in his pockets and whistling a tune as the sky turned from shades of pink and orange to purple.

“I go back Wednesday. Malakai asked me what was going on, I told him I had some things in my personal life, and he told me to take a couple days if I needed them.” Malakai hadn’t seemed upset about Rowan missing two days of practice. He wouldn’t be playing at this week's game, anyway, and his coach was well aware that he never let himself slip out of shape.

“Then I suppose I should call my mother tomorrow and properly introduce the two of you. Dad, too, if he’s around.” She sighed and patted his shoulder as he pulled open the driver’s side door for her, waiting until she was fully inside to shut the door.

Rowan hadn’t formally met anyone’s parents probably ever, unles the girl he took to senior prom counter. Hopefully he made a good impression.

~*~

He wasn’t sure what woke him up, all he knew was that when he reached across Aelin’s to pull her closer to him, her side was empty and cool. The bedroom was bathed in night, the only light squeezing through the gap beneath the bedroom door. Though the apartment was mostly quiet, Rowan was immediately worried that she had found herself sick.

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, not bothering to grab his shirt before entering the hall. The bathroom door was open, but the room was dark. Out here away from the white noise of the fan on her bedside table, Rowan heard crinkling from the kitchen and followed the sound to investigate.

Aelin stood at the counter facing toward him using nothing more than the dim light above the stove to see. All she wore was a sports bra and the pair of shorts she’d stripped down to for sleeping. A chip bag was in one hand and she was staring down into a bowl, using some sort of silverware to poke at the contents within. He paused and leaned against the door frame, folding his arms over his chest and waiting for her to notice him.

When she lifted the utensil to her mouth, something globbed off from the bottom and either fell back into the bowl or onto the counter, he couldn’t be sure. The look on her face was pure joy as she brought it to her mouth and–

“What the fuck, Rowan!” She squealed, fork clattering onto the counter. The chips in her hand fell to the floor and whatever dark substance she was about to devour splattered on the counter. Her eyes darted nervously toward Aedion’s door, likely worry he would wake up from her shouting, but no sounds came from beyond the hall.

“What are you doing in here, love?” Rowan prowled toward her, noticing the blush that took over her cheeks the closer he got.

“I wanted a snack,” she bristled, bending down to pick the chip bag up off the floor. When she righted herself, he saw it was a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos. Leaning one hip against the counter he stuck his hand in to pull one out.

“What is this?” He pointed toward the bowl with his chip before popping it into his mouth. It could have been the light, but he was pretty sure Aelin was red from head to toe. With her lips glued together it was clear he wouldn’t be getting a direct answer out of her. Rowan leaned down and sniffed, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “Chocolate?”

“Mhm.” She picked up the mess of a blob from the counter, and it was then that he realized what she was doing.

“Are you dipping hot cheetos into chocolate?”

“It’s dark chocolate.” Like that made it any better. His bewildered expression didn’t waver enough for her liking because she frowned at him and pointed toward her room. “If you’re going to judge me, get out of my kitchen.”

“You’re dipping hot cheetos into melted chocolate.”

“Spicy chocolate is a thing!” She cried, smacking at his chest. Rowan’s lips twitched at her defensive nature. Even her fingers had chocolate on them. From this close, he could see the corner of her mouth did, too.

“Where did you even get this idea?” Another cheeto was stolen from the bag in her hand. He hadn’t had these in years.

“Well, I just,” she sighed, brushing her hair from her face exasperatedly. To save her from fighting with her hair, he moved behind her and carefully pulled it into a ponytail. Once it was secured with the hair tie on his wrist, she mumbled a thank you. Aelin looked the part of a five year old getting caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and it was fucking adorable. “I was just laying there and wanted something spicy but then I wanted something sweet. And then I had the brilliant idea of sweet and spicy at the same time and I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“So you–”

“It’s not that weird, okay! I’ve seen and heard other people do worse and it’s so good.” She dipped one half way and held it up, twisting to look at him over shoulder. Rowan shook his head, ready to apologize for not wanting to try it, but Aelin simply shrugged and dropped it into the bowl.

“I’m going to take your word for it,” he teased, rubbing his hands over her shoulders. Aelin leaned back into him, her body warm where their bare skin touched. Her eyes once again focused on using the fork to coat the cheeto in dark chocolate. When she lifted it out, it was a dark little lump. The bowl being nearly empty with half-solid chocolate glued to its walls had him wondering how long she’d been out here doing this. “Why aren’t you just dipping?”

“Because the whole thing has to be covered for the ratio,” she said, like it was the dumbest question she had ever heard. Like it was common sense, and not just a concoction her pregnant brain had made up at three in the morning.

“Right, right.” Rowan agreed like it was obvious. That seemed to satisfy her because she hummed contentedly before putting the little log into her mouth, chewing slowly to savor it.

“Issogood,” she mumbled, half moaning. Aelin moaning while he was half awake was the last thing he needed to hear. It made his body high alert in all the wrong places, and he stepped out from behind her and nodded toward her bedroom.

“Let’s go back to bed. We can clean this up in the morning and then I’ll take you to get all the spicy chocolate you desire.”

“Promise?” She asked, sucking the half-melted goo from her thumb with wide eyes as she looked up at him. Rowan chuckled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I promise.”

@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294 @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @bellasbookboyfriends @icantfindmychashma @swankii-art-teacher

#rowaelin #ciwyw #call it what you want #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #ciwyw9 #ciwyw 9 #throne of glass #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin galathynius #aedion ashryver #rowan whitethorn #writing #my writing

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atonalginger · 3 months

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It's Snippet Sunday! What a fun day! Thanks for the tag @therealgchu, @silurisanguine (on discord), and everyone else who urged folks to share. I will also urge those who see this and have something they've been working on to consider picking a small peek, just a snippet ;)

Anyway this snippet comes from Reclaiming Home, my DocCoe fic that has been slow to get off the ground after that spicy explosion of a first chapter. ...they needed some rest...lol

TW for discussions of past emotional abuse, attempted kidnapping. Placed under a "read more" cut

“It’s fine, Sam,” Jamie chuckled, “it’s not a secret.”

“Then why is he acting like it is?” Cora motioned at her dad.

“It used to hurt to think about it,” Jamie admitted, “but that was a long time ago.”

“So I am being nosy,” Cora frowned.

“No, you’re curious. Being nosy would be snooping and digging where you didn’t belong even after being told to drop it,” Jamie reached out and smoothed a stray curl back into place, “Fox took me away from Dodgewood when he did to save me from our parent’s plans for me.”

“What were the plans,” Cora leaned in.

“To stop me from being independent. My mom found out I’d been working with the history teacher at the school, filling out college apps and applying for financial aid. Neither of my parents wanted me going to college because, to them, that wasn’t meant for me. They were saving for Jasper’s college and were banking on Fox’s time in the militia to pay for his higher education.”

“But why not? You’re a genius!” Cora exclaimed.

Jamie let out a quiet laugh. She said it didn’t hurt anymore but the truth chewed a raw spot on her heart, “because my success would draw attention and they didn’t want that. They didn’t like people remembering I existed because it meant they had to act like they liked me.”

“But…” Cora stopped herself, absorbing what Jamie had said, “what were they going to do?”

“Dad knew a freight pilot from Hopetown who had a son a few years older than me looking for a wife. Wanted to move to Akila hoping to find better work. So my dad offered the guy a job on the farm and he and mom started working on convincing me he was just perfect for me. They hoped to browbeat me into marrying him, getting rooted in Dodgewood, and continue to be their little maid.”

“Oh, their those people,” Cora said quietly.

Her response made Jamie chuckle a little harder, “Yes they are.” “I don’t get it, it’s the 24rd century, people!” Cora threw up her hands.

“For some traditions and personal believes run deeper than any fact could hope to sway,” Jamie looked up to Sam. He was now standing behind Cora, leaned against a locker watching his girls with that worried look he wore so often nowadays. She looked back to Cora, “but Fox learned about their plans from Jasper, who was so excited to see my dreams crushed he couldn’t keep mom and dad’s secret. Baby brother’s animosity for me is what saved me in the end.”

“He wasn’t worried about you like Fox?” Cora asked.

“No, Jasper hated me with a fiery passion. As soon as they could get away with it my parents dumped all parenting responsibilities onto me. ‘Good practice’ they called it, for when I one day had my own.” Jamie looked over to the desk and took a deep breath, “I didn’t let him do every little impulsive thing his potato brain thought up and so he hated me.”

Cora’s hug caught Jamie off guard, causing her to jump slightly as the girls arms wrapped around her. She turned and hugged Cora back, rocking them back and forth slightly. Into her shoulder Cora asked, “so that why you both changed your names and kept lots of details vague in your writing.”

“Partly,” Jamie nodded and gave Cora one more little squeeze before sitting up, “We hadn’t planned it initially. We hoped some distance and time would give us a chance to prove to them it was the right call. Fox was the golden one, he did no wrong in their eyes, so he hoped he’d be able to convince them. But we learned fairly quickly how wrong we were on that front.

“Family came out of the woodwork to let us know what horrible children we were. Luckily by boss at the Rock was able to get security to keep an eye out for me when Fox and your dad were out of town. But even that started to fail and it’s one of the reasons I abruptly left the city. I couldn't risk my move being discovered by our family too soon.”

“What’s they do?” Sam asked, a heat on his words, his blue eyes burning as he looked down, hiding them from his girls.

“My Univeralist Uncle showed up with the potential suitor asking around for me, introducing the guy to others as my fiancé. People who knew me or your dad knew that was bogus but that didn’t stop the talk and then a few days before I left town they accosted me near the Rock. Deputy Monroe, well deputy at the time, he interceded and I was able to slip into the Rock but I knew I couldn’t stay after that.” A low growl rumbled in Sam’s throat. They’d need to talk about it later, when Cora went to bed. About why she never said anything.

“Seems like a lot of work when they could have just let you go,” Cora said as she sat back down. She held onto Jamie’s hand, seeming to want to keep some tether to her.

“It was embarrassing and reputation meant everything to them.” Jamie said with a tired smile, “Us leaving Dodgewood was the talk of the settlement when it happened. It’s a tiny settlement in the ass end of nowhere, it was all people talked about for a weeks. Speculation over why it happened and talk about how dramatic it looked: Fox had come home for a week of leave, was seen talking to Jasper near the spaceport, stormed home, and within an hour we were spotted loading into the militia transport he landed with and were gone. And we never came back. It was juicier than any shows they could download.”

“But couldn’t they see they were hurting you?” Cora asked.

“They didn’t care about my feelings on the matter, sweetheart,” Jamie said softly, “there are people in this world who only care about themselves. Everything they do is in service of making themselves look good to others. The jobs they take, the friends they make, the families they have, all of has the end goal of making people like them and nothing else. Most people won’t pick up on it because they aren’t personally affected by it, they’ll only see the good deeds, the kind words, the selfless charity.

“But that also means nothing can ever go wrong. Nothing can ever look out of place for them, because if it does it will let people see other cracks in their facade.” Jamie gave Cora’s hand a pat, “they wanted me to come back so they could say, ‘look everyone, we’re still a happy family and everything is fine’. As time went on and I completed my degrees, changed my last name, started making a name for myself in the Starfield, they backed off more and more because those that knew I was their daughter praised them for my success, making them look good. And those that didn’t know my family couldn’t judge them anymore.”

“Ew,” Cora scrunched her nose, “they tried to lock you away and then got to brag about your successes?

“Yup,” Jamie nodded, “and agreed, Ew.”

“Why not put them on blast? Tell everyone exactly what they did? Make sure they can’t steal your successes for themselves?” Cora asked.

“I’ve considered it,” Jamie admitted, “and every time I get close to doing it I remember that it won’t fix any of it. They won’t admit their fault. They won’t apologize. What it would do is let them play victim to those around them. Allow them to ‘woe is me, look at how my own daughter speaks of me after all I did for her’. Far better to allow my absence and silence weigh on them. If anyone asks after me and how I’m doing in my daily life they won’t have anything. And from what I’ve heard from the few people I’ve stayed in touch with from Dodgewood, that burns them the most. Sure, they love the praise of being parents of Doc Melody but when people ask questions…”

“That does sound like a better revenge,” Cora admitted.

#starfield #sam coe #starfield fanfiction #fanfic #atonalginger writes #coemancer #snippet sunday #the coemancer crew #DocCoe #Doc Melody #Cora Coe #some of Doc's backstory under the read more

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lovelylinnn · 5 months

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MY FIRST STEDDIE FIC WOOO

Title: make my brain go quiet

includes: fluff and slight angst. hurt/comfort.

eddie’s brain was in no way quiet. and of course steve knew that when he had met him, but he didn’t know the extent of it.

eddie knew in a way that other people’s brains did not work the same way his did. when he watched other people throughout his life, he didn’t even realize just how different he was. he just knew something was.. off.

from how much he talked, to the millions of thoughts running through his head, to the never sitting still; fidgeting, pacing, and late night walks when he couldn’t sleep. never having enough time during tests, struggling with making friends, figuring out how to read.

everything was a struggle. he hated himself. he thought he was stupid. everyone said he was, anyway.

the only person that made him feel better was his uncle wayne, and even then, he still didn’t ever feel smart enough. good enough.

that was, until steve.

they had been dating for a couple years now. eddie still thought about their first date, a month in. it was a movie night at eddie’s trailer, he had made popcorn, set out various chips, and rented the movie.

and then he talked pretty much the whole time.

he just couldn’t help himself. any time something interesting happened he had to make a comment. it was an impulse; an urge.

but steve hadn’t said anything in return.

and after the movie, eddie talked for maybe about 20 minutes about the ending of it. he hated cliffhangers, and of course it ended with one.

“that was complete bullshit! they killed off the main girl and we didn’t even know who the killer was? i mean, cmon!” he exclaimed, beginning to wash the dishes. steve stood next to him and nodded in response.

then eddie’s face fell. he realized it. he had been talking this entire time.

“sorry,” he mumbled, “i’ll shut up now.”

he expected something mean in response. it was always mean, so how could he not? it was always a, “i was hoping so,” or “good,” or “i thought you wouldn’t stop,”

but what steve did in response just melted his heart.

“keep talking, please. i like to hear your voice,” he said quietly in response, a small smile playing on his face, “plus you had a very fair point about the movie.”

eddie smiled brightly, a light pink beginning to dance on his cheeks.

“you’re not annoyed?” he asked. he was still unsure. he didn’t want to get his hopes up. his brain was still screaming at him to shut up.

“i’m being serious, i’m not annoyed at all, ed. i like hearing you speak,”

eddie’s smile got wider. he stayed silent for another couple moments.

“well, okay,”

and that was that.

about a year into the relationship, steve had come across his journal. eddie’s therapist had mentioned something about writing his millions of thoughts down, especially if they’re negative or something.

and eddie didn’t know why, maybe it was the weed, but he let steve read his journal.

eddie was always the talker in the relationship, yes. but steve didn’t really know just how much he thought until he read them. pages and pages of rants, ideas, drawings, anything that had popped up in his mind.

and he thought it was completely endearing.

eddie was honestly expecting something mean in response again as he flipped through the pages. his ears were red, and he was trying to play off his embarrassment as cockiness, but honestly it probably wasn’t working.

“you have a really cool mind, eddie,” he spoke after a few minutes, “some of this is really interesting.”

he blushed deeply and stammered, “th-thanks.”

steve closed the journal and handed it back to him, kissing him on the cheek, “of course.”

and fast forward to now. steve was staying as eddie’s trailer for a couple nights with a slight cold. eddie had always made him feel better. the time was around 4pm, which meant he would be home from school soon.

he sat on the couch by the trailer door reading a book, a blanket on his lap and he sat in silence.

he hated it. he missed eddie’s rambling, or humming. he needed something to fill how quiet it was. it was always way too quiet in his house. his parents were there, but not emotionally. especially not now, when he was an adult and didn’t need to stay there anymore.

eddie was the opposite. and he loved it.

he heard the door unlock, and his heart jumped a little out of excitement. he smiled and sat up, closing the book and waiting.

“hey, eds. glad you’re home,”

eddie looked at him and the other man immediately knew something was wrong.

“what’s up?”

he sighed heavily, rubbing his tired eyes and going over to him on the couch. steve sat back, letting him lay down on him in between his legs. his head sat on his lower chest, arms wrapping around him. steve played with his hair, which was something only he and wayne were allowed to do.

“you okay? what’s wrong?”

“brain’s being too loud today. everything was so bright at school and i hated it,” he said. his eyes closed and his arms wrapped tighter around steve.

“ah, i see. i’m sorry about that, eddie.”

“‘s okay,” he muttered, “i love you.”

“i love you too,” and he spoke again after a few moments, “so, laying on me helps i suppose?”

eddie nodded in his chest, humming an approval.

“yeah. you make my brain go quiet.”

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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