#(like a legit drabble)

[fluffylino]

hyunjin does something risky after christmas lunch

-contains mature themes

"shhh be quiet" hyunjin whispered in your ear.

you tried. you really tried to keep your mouth shut. your chest burning with embarassment.

your grandmother had invited the two of you for lunch. hyunjin was more than excited to join in on the family lunch. helping with the food.

he even attempted to cook some butter garlic shrimps for your grandmother.

it had been an hour since yall finished lunch. the two of you walking into your grandma's second bedroom.

you plopped down on the bed, face first. groaning at how nice it felt. hyunjin did the same.

except he chose to fall right on top of you. giggling as you tried to swat him off.

your laugh dying down. realising how heavy he was on your back.

basically pushing you into the mattress. his body covering yours. bulge perfectly slotted between. not to mention, the christmas dress you wore was flowy. and the material was thin.

allowing you to feel him.

all of him.

"should w-"

"doll if you need an extra pillow, help yourself" you shoved him off so hard, he plummeted into the pillows kept at the end. there was no way you could get caught in such a compromising position.

"yesss grandma, we'll sleep for sometime!" you let out in a sing song voice, assuring her that she could nap for a while as well. to which she nodded, smiling brightly when hyunjin thanked her for being so sweet.

and with that she shut the bedroom door. there was an other door as well. one that opened up to the hall. and the one she came in from led to the passage.

so when you turned around. hyunjin had a smirk on his face. he had layed himself across the bed in such a seductive pose, you couldn't resist.

and when you were close enough, he pounced on you. tackling you on the bed. both of you laughing and playing around.

.

you had fallen asleep. for maybe 20 minutes.

woken up to the feeling of wetness between your legs. you sighed out, pressing yourself closer to hyunjin. chest to chest. his arm thrown over your waist. your leg hitched over him. you were closer than ever. his hot breath on your neck. lips leaving slow wet kisses.

you opened your eyes. his nose almost touching yours. eyebrows furrowed.

"you're up" he mumbled, and then you felt something hard nudge against your entrance.

wait, when did your panties come off. well they weren't off completely. just pushed below your knees.

"hyunjin" you whisper yelled. every ounce of sleep leaving you at the realisation.

you couldn't be doing something like this at your grandmother's house.

all your thoughts evaporating. burying your face into his covered chest. fingers fisting his shirt as he pushed in.

completely. not giving you time to register anything.

"aahh" he sighed out, closing his eyes. you were tight. it had been almost three whole weeks since. the two of you being busy. and now that it was christmas, he had got to spend more time with you.

"hyun-nie not h-here" you murmured.

what if she walked in. you knew one of the doors couldn't lock. but you didn't know which one.

was it the first door?

or was it the second door?

"as long as we stay silent, no one will know" he reassured, pulling you against him. his hand hooking under the knee that was over his waist.

using it as a lever to thrust into you.

"missed being i-in you" his voice was soft. his hair tickling you when he kissed you. you moaned into his mouth.

dick filling you up so well, you wanted to cry.

"shouldn't be d-doing...here" he nodded, trying to soothe your anticipation.

"taking me so good" he praised, tongue grazing your bottom lip which he had already chewed up. relishing your lips like it was his candy.

your heart racing at the thought of being interrupted. the thought of being caught. even though his bedsheet covered you.

and he froze.

and you froze.

footsteps right near the door.

it was probably your grandmother walking outside the room. involuntarily you moved your hips, a choked moan leaving his parted lips.

but you were quick to cover his mouth with your hand.

.

"don't you feel dirty having me in you...on this bed" you shook your head. hyunjin, himself was panting softly. rutting into you at a slow pace.

"you started it" you let out, bringing your hand up to cup his face.

so pretty. so elegant. he really was ethereal. a single drop of sweat trickling down his chin.

"sorry doll, you looked so ravishing" he admitted. hand stroking your thigh that was hooked on his hip.

"missed y-you"

he kissed your forehead, moving his head back on the pillow. eyed locked onto yours. that was one thing he loved. eye contact. it made everything more intimate.

"sweet baby are you gonna cum?" he asked, his own chest heaving as much as yours. you nodded.

"i-im cumming..in you" his thrusts growing erratic. filling you up in spurts. triggering your own release as you coated his dick.

.

pulling out carefully. he made sure to keep your dress out of the way.

your heart swelling at how passionate he was being. he got off the bed, crawling to the edge of the bed. you were surprised.

until his mouth made contact with your cunt. back arching as he wasted no time im eating you out. still dripping with a mixture of both of you.

covering your mouth with your hand at the feeling of his tongue in you. overstimulation kicking in. thighs closing around his head. but he didn't mind it.

slurping at your pussy with pure desire.

and he came up. climbing over you. hands on either side of your head. pressing his coated lips against yours.

kissing you. opening his mouth to let you have a taste. so filthy.

yet so unbearably hot.

.

.

.

[konigofmyheart]

christmas prep with könig

gn!reader, fluff with one innuendo/suggestive comment

zimtsterne: little cinnamon star cookies ⭐️

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

setting up for christmas with könig is truly a special experience. it’s always been one of the nicer memories from his childhood. it wasn’t anything grand, but his mother always made sure they had a little magic, be it in the form of a little wooden toy, slightly burnt cookies, or little snowmen that left könig with stinging hands from the freezing snow. that magic is something he’s always held on to, and of course he’d want to share it with you, too.

it starts early. before you even wake up, he’s already made his homemade hot chocolate, and his zimtsterne are freshly out of the oven, cooling on a rack on the counter, and he’s hauled all 13 christmas storage boxes out to the living room. you pad into the kitchen, drowsily and halfheartedly complaining that he started without you. it’s hard to be even pretend annoyed, though, when his eyes are sparkling with excitement like that. plus, “that’s the boring part, liebling, i only want you to have fun!” he insists as he places a loaded mug of hot chocolate (a giant dollop of cream with cinnamon dusting the top floating in your mug) and warm zimtsterne stacked on your favorite holiday plate. he’s easily infecting you with twice the christmas spirit, the way he eagerly goes on and on about all there is to do today: picking up the tree, dressing it up, then decorating the entire house top to bottom so everything sparkles and glows.

the moment you finish your breakfast he’s at the door, almost wiggling like a dog eager for a walk. after you pass inspection (i.e. his excessive bundling where he layers your coat, then gently slides your gloves onto your hands, then wraps your neck and half of your face with your scarf, and thennn fixes your hat onto your head to keep you warm for the arduous five second walk to the car), you’re on your way to the christmas tree farm. you two sing along to christmas classics on the drive, obviously dedicating “all i want for christmas is you” to each other. as you walk up to the lot of trees, you’re still smiling at the way könig always attempts the high note just for your amusement, and he gives your gloved hand a squeeze, hoping you forget his creaky high note as quick as possible.

he swears he doesn’t like the way the old lady who owns the lot gushes over him, saying how “such a big boy must be so helpful, so good to you”. his ears flushing pink tell a different story though, even more so when you agree with the lady before the two of you walk over to the rows of trees, and there’s only a handful that are taller than him. she playfully shouts out a “gosh, if only i was 40 years younger and 10 times luckier… ” and practically cackles at the way he pretends not to hear, stepping behind some trees (that definitely don’t obscure him) as he flushes even further. he’d have convinced you he didn’t like the compliments, were it not for the way he makes even more of a show than usual of loading your tree (the biggest on the lot, naturally) on top of his giant suv. he’s practically puffed up with pride as he helps you into the car, earning even more hoots of praise from the tree lady (“they don’t make them like that anymore! you hold on tight to him now, ya hear?”) and some giggles from you.

now in your driveway, you go in first so as to guide the tip of the tree through the door, with könig doing the heavy lifting. all’s well until the tree gets a bit more than halfway in, the branches so full that they catch on the doorframe, even with it being wrapped up with netting! your worried “hm, I don’t think it’s gonna fit, baby” gets instantly answered with a determined “it’ll fit, schatzi. i’ll make it fit” from könig. now, of course you’re a grown adult and not some immature 14 year old, but come on, you’re only human! you look at each other over the stuck tree, your eyebrows raised meaningfully and a dumb smile tugging at your lips. he really can’t stop himself from flushing yet again, huffing a “don’t say it” as he rams the tree through the doorway, thiiis close to toppling over onto the tree with his momentum. only his quick reflexes saved your tree from becoming a pancake.

this isn’t your first christmas together; you have the process down to a perfect rhythm. you get a head start while he reheats his chocolate, bringing your mugs over to the coffee table to serve as your tree decorating fuel. together you make quick work of the ornaments, tinsel and lights (he handles the upper level while you access the bottom level far better than he could). step ladders become irrelevant as long as he’s around. like always, your favorite ornament and his are right next to each other, front and center. “my star placing the star” he lovingly murmurs against your ear before picking you up so you can place the star at the very tip top of your tree. you laugh at his cheesy line, his fingers totally accidentally tickling your sides as he turns you around against him, his eyes crinkling in that special way reserved just for you. he swallows your giggles with a reverent kiss, and though you’re both covered in pine needles, tinsel scraps, and glitter, your mouths taste of chocolate and warmth and love. <3

[cynicalmusings]

[starry-sophrosyne]

Just.

a WOTC spinoff au where Sophist doesn't get banished but Bertrand still joins the rebellion (as/becomes the leader now, maybe for a diff reason like he got suspected instead of sophist for killing his father or something idk-) and Brent is forced to marry Cherie anyways, while he can only watch/help him prepare for his wedding as his best man (around the same time as WOTC, maybe Brent delayed marrying anyone for a few years due to the unstability of the kingdom after Bertrand left and his dad died)

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i might write somewhat of a full version of this as a drabble but i would need to read up on versions of this writing prompt (i need ideas bc motivation for this drabble idea is lowkey low) but GOD the amount of things that would go UNSAID. In this universe, he gently pushes his friend towards the ballroom again, only without a lingering feeling on both of their lips. Because how could he? Right before he was about to get married, and unaware of his true feelings for him too? No, instead, without realizing it, he tears up:

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"Never thought you'd cry at my wedding." — Brent's eyes widened in shock, a look comprised of genuine surprise and concern on his face just as Sophist realized the tears trembling in his waterline. Trying to play it off, he hoped his dear friend would take it as a moment of emotional vulnerability in opposition of what he currently felt.

"Oh, shut up! Am I not allowed to care about you for once? God, you asshole, of course I do! Why wouldn't I? I'm just.. really glad to see you so happy." — He rambled, ripping his glasses off his face with more emotion than he would've liked. Swiping the glassiness of his eyes onto his cheeks, he tried to force a painful smile, but still. He stiffened as Brent gave him something of a somber smile, heart cracking with every second that ticked by. Reasoning and rationality threatened to be swallowed up by his turbulent emotions, even as he gripped his hands together so hard they shook, because why? Why were they put through this? Was it unlucky fate that disdained them, or maybe.. Maybe it was just him. If that was all, then how could he ever be mad or guilty? He didn't deserve this, but he didn't deserve him either, and if Brent truly didn't feel anything for him at all, then he could never ruin his happiest moment. But even still.

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

Please, he thought, as he bit his lip so hard he thought it'd bleed, don't walk back to me. Don't give me a reason to make a bad decision.

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

"Yeah.." — The room went silent, replaced with wavering smiles and palpable tension. What would he even say at this moment? This was his finality, his never-turning-back.

"Go get em buddy, knock her dead with your dressed up looks!."

"Oh shut up the fuck up." — He laughed once more, but even as he turned around and gripped the door knob, he wanted to stop. Ever fiber of him wanted to turn around, run towards him. Embrace him, kiss him, run away with him; but he couldn't. Not because he didn't want to, but because he simply, couldn't. Too much depended on this marriage. His mother was relying on him, his kingdom was relying on him, Cherie was relying on him. His mother had lost too much, his kingdom had too much to loose, and Cherie was a woman that could bring them the power to end it all; But even still.

Taking a deep breath, he grit and ground his teeth so hard he thought they'd crack. And then, he turned to look back at him once more. And oh, he looked wonderful. His purple brocade vest was embroidered with violet, donning a lacy ruffled cravat as were the cuffs of his sleeves. His pants slim fit and tailored, he looked just like a regular noble, except for his signature mask, which was similarly styled to match his clothing; though his traditional jacket and hat were absconded for the event. Even still, he was perfect, and he wasn't his.

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

His eyes lingered just a bit too long, just enough for his hardened heart to crack as his eyes revealed everything he'd wished to hide, unsafe from his best friend's astute observations.

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

He swore he saw Sophist's expression change, eyes breaking open into a pool of glassy sorrow, but instead, they closed as he offered Brent an encouraging smile. They squinted back open just slightly but teasingly; a playful gaze that taunted him: "Cold feet, gonna chicken out?" He could practically hear his irritating voice, nagging him in an oh so familiar and lovely way. It helped, as he chuckled and his heart settled just a bit, but even still, he takes a deep breath. He's walking away from what, no, who he loves, but.. as long as he can remain by his side..

It's just enough for him to take the leap forward, as he twists the door knob with a conviction; but even as the light shines on his face and the ballroom explodes with noise, his heart cant help but sink.

[honorarybuckley]

tommy is safe and that’s all that matters to buck.

until he hears bobby’s name in that voice. the voice comprised of notes showered in fear and grief. the voice that could only belong to athena.

it’s always bobby.

well. that’s not true. sometimes it’s eddie or chim or himself. it should be him now. but no, he’d promised not to think like that anymore. promised the people who love him most. promised maddie and eddie and tommy and bobby.

besides, wishing won’t save bobby now.

tommy is safe. bobby is dying. and buck exists somewhere between relief and despair.

[trevodequatro]

Inflates you making you big and round

guys this is my new oc qrevo ball don't steal ok

[starkholme]

The funny thing is that no one mentions the fact that DAW likes to be the "see good in all people" sunshine/powerful second wife of a grumpy guy who lost everything/keeps looking for revenge

LIKE NO ONE MENTIONS ????

[lovethroughdelusions]

Writing tip! if you're worried what your writing is too cringe you don't have to share it! You can just write a bunch of indulgent self insert drabbles in our notes app and then reread them in a few months and enjoy them! Don't shame urself into not liking something just because other people might find it cringe. Enjoy it for urself

This tip brought to u by the extreme social anxiety gang

[raitrolling]

Aren't I hurting anyone? Perhaps it's time for me to tear apart For what it is I've been Denote my place within humanity Projecting by my will I've been amassing solid iron claws Ignore the rottenness My recitals will decay in a flash

Happy birthday @cloudbattrolls! my buddy, my pal, my partner in writing hilarious and occasionally deeply cursed crimes

here's your blender gremlin :]

(full view)

[ofloveandwar]

trying to condense the chaos that is o.uat into an about page is actual hell ajkfsdnkja

[the-tomato-patch]

A Thorn By Any Other Name

Summary:

"The air is still. Quiet. Drought clings to the atmosphere; dryness encompasses everything with a thirst that seems impossible to quench. Except one. A hooded shape slinks in the shadows that are cast by the stars. His feet do not make a sound, not even a tiny noise to disturb a soul. The gentle breeze plays across his frame, teasing the cloak like a lover would." In which Scourge is distracted by musings of his Jedi while stalking a temple occupied by the Servants. Takes place when Kira and Scourge are missing.

Pairing:

Jedi Knight x Lord Scourge ( Pre-relationship )

Word Count:

4k+

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51417661

The air is still. Quiet. Drought clings to the atmosphere; dryness encompasses everything with a thirst that seems impossible to quench. Except one. A hooded shape slinks in the shadows that are cast by the stars. His feet do not make a sound, not even a tiny noise to disturb a soul. The gentle breeze plays across his frame, teasing the cloak like a lover would.

Scourge stops moving and dips into the darkness, hiding himself just outside a doorway. His posture is one of patience; nothing but the faintest of his breaths can be heard. nearly inhuman patience, as his form just stands there, poised and ready to strike. Red eyes glint dangerously as a slight breeze pushes at his hood. His blood-red skin seems like a dull brown in this dark exterior. The stone door was large and cumbersome, with a weight of several tons of durasteel. Carved intricately are markings of a dead language that he no longer cares about, the Old Tongue, but finds ironic that he still uses from time to time. To the right side are pillars with a different symbol on each one. Each of those symbols means something important: devotion, grace, or a pure mind. All these things are wrong for the suspected occupant within. For the Emperor and his ancient carcass, his teachings were the antithesis of these true virtues.

His cloak moves with each breeze as if it were alive. Breathing with him His muscles tensed and flexed every few seconds. And then he leaps to an area stationed above the rest, past the ancient dip in the earth, now overseeing the foray below him. Minutes tick away like hours. Each breath becomes an eternity as Scourge waits and hides in his own world, counting breaths, listening for movement, trying to decipher anything and everything, keeping to himself, and pushing the thoughts away.

A chime goes through the temple, each striking a crystal bell, each toll resonating across his person. He hates that sound. A horrid clamor for prayers, tinged with reverence The exact thing he scorns to serve It signaled the start and end of sessions. To him, though, it was a reminder to stay away, out of sight, and unheard. The reverberations play off the nearby walls, making a cacophony of hideous songs. But silence once again claimed its throne, and he watched the servants slink along, making their final rounds.

Kira's reminder hisses silently in his ear, forcing reflection back upon the words she'd said, cautioning him against anything too impulsive while she gathered intel of her own: "You can wait to attack a bunch of priests. I think even you, Grand Lord High Majesty, can handle waiting for me. Promise?" 

He had acquiesced, giving in with a dramatic flourish of his hand and an eye roll to indicate his exasperation. Yet he had made no promises against watching. Plotting. 

Every night goes the same way. Precise, calculated, and stealthy. It was a dark time when the stars gleamed brightly across the sky, offering enough illumination to see shadows and shapes with remarkable clarity. Each being went to bed, none the wiser about the Sith wandering their halls. He knew each entrance and exit. Knew the patrols. And the protocol. This wasn't his first time watching. It is what he does. He watches, waiting for the chance to strike, and as much as he dislikes this particular temple and its inhabitants, he is a faithful man of his word. No attacking. No violence. At least in his head, he agrees to her terms, but she can't see what he dreams of when he rests. When given the chance to rest, that is. He blinks away the restlessness that wrestles with his mind and droops his eyelids.

So tonight, as the familiar chimes start once more, the tune brings to his mind images of screams of agony, blood, and pain, of a past long ago but not forgotten, of fire raining down upon a planet, scorching it dry, and turning sand to glass. The image faded away after a second as he realized he had been distracted, leaving him a moment of being out in the open while servants filed back from their prayers and to their quarters.

Each of their breaths was clouding and lingering on their exhale, clinging to their forms and embracing their willowy frames, all so ungraceful yet strangely beautiful in a disturbing, out-of-balance sort of way. It would've been fitting for them to be wraiths. Spectors, ghosts, and silent screams echoing throughout an endless night with a depth of hatred he couldn't begin to explain.

And now they were gone. Hidden by night's embrace. Even more silent than they'd ever been. And it was time to move again. Scourge readjusted his dark hood, fixing his gaze up a set of stairs before him, trying to count the exact number of steps and commit it to memory. He paused, hearing footfalls.

One. Two. Three. Four. His lips twitched. An uneven step. Unfamiliar. Had something changed? Was a servant patrolling where there shouldn't be? His focus narrowed, shifting his direction to the sound. Cloaked shadows of black with edges framing out and narrowing down a profile that he couldn't determine A figure stopped and lifted its head toward him.

No lightsaber hummed. No lights burned a bright hue. Neither of them moved; they just stood there and waited. Then a long, deep inhale, which sounded strange, echoed around the vicinity of the temple's courtyard, broken up by the light wind that swirled through his cape. The soft light of the stars played off the Sith, who breathed slowly and exhaled calmly, completely unaffected by the potential threat near him. His focus narrowed and the breeze changed, wrapping his form with its touch and accenting every facet of his sharp features and dangerous angles.

This figure was a servant. There was no doubt, for that one had seen him. Or the flicker of something. However, they wouldn't live to tell of the incident. They would only know that this cloaked shape of death was the last visage they saw before snuffing out. A small thrill of something dark curled his insides. Yes, the hunt was back on. Surely one death amongst them all would not go against his promise. No need to worry, Kira. He would act with reason. With skill. Be silent and deadly.

In less than a dozen steps, his body lowered, gaining the stealth and poise that were needed to strike a single deadly blow. The familiar form and habits had kept him alive many times on such a hunt. His bloodlust hummed inside his mind, chanting kill, kill, kill.

Such a primitive song had a harmony to it that he'd never tire of. That melody drove him forward and helped him calculate each moment to take down the threat before him. He had decided against using his saber. Far too recognizable. Even with one flick, the weapon would broadcast its presence across a great distance and attract unwanted attention. It was a mistake that he wouldn't allow, so his fists itched to drive through skin and smash bones to render a body lifeless and listen to their gurgles as life slipped away and the person died before him. Wretched servants and their ilk all deserved the same fate. Dying as the writhing maggots they chose to live as Their false reverence for the man he once called Lord sickens him.

The dagger at his side begged him to use its cold comfort, and so he obliged. In three heartbeats, the kiss and feel of steel punctured flesh, a throat torn asunder into a fountain of blood The last vestiges of the servant's breath hissed as they poured out of the wound and filled the air. As quickly as it'd happened, the deed was completed. And the body was carried and tossed rather haphazardly over the ledge of a cliff. Who would bother with a body found out here anyway? Certainly not the Servants of this forsaken planet, and no one, not even a beast, would dare touch that carcass, not one belonging to the Servants and their wretched cult of worship. Stained with such a festering presence.

The dagger was promptly wiped, and the silver gleam across its ebony surface back in a heartbeat, showing off an edge honed to perfection. His eyes lingered over its familiar shape, noting the worn aurebesh engraving that read 'Thorn'. His thumb traced over the markings, and that all-too-familiar sensation welled within. Scourge missed hearing the familiar hum of another blade at his side, one the opposite of dark. Purple as the bruising twilight, the violet that was always on the cusp of darkness. Rhiasen. His Jedi. A thorn in his side, he had called her once, now dislodged from his side. The pain is constant and aching. And she is the cause. Of missing that annoying presence.

'Not here. Not this place.'

The thoughts fled before they could sink their hooks back into his mind. His hands covered the weapon once more, sliding into its sheath at his hip, the motion seeming second-nature and natural. Perfect. Like breathing, killing, or destruction. As all things should be, And yet that traitorous pang in his chest remained.

His tongue pressed along his upper lip, feeling the warmth of his breath along his mouth as he sighed, adjusting himself and making sure every aspect of his robe was fixed and fit just right. He had seen to his personal duty. He had searched and scoured, listened, and plotted. His lack of sleep showed in the sloppiness of his kill, the carelessness of how it ended up over the edge, and how his mind wandered.

Sleep had been elusive lately, refusing him entrance as his mind betrayed him with flashes of events from before. Forced him into awareness, into memories of better and darker times. Showing off their myriad hues and colors. Mocking him and all that he was... or had been. The occasional flickers of sensations he'd long forgotten crept back in from time to time, too. Yet none were strong or certain. There were just pieces, and he'd no idea why the fragments returned when the rest refused to be recalled. Scourge knew that at times he felt flickers of emotions, quick rushes of something familiar and once considered more important than even a single breath. Those days he had trouble staying focused, when his skin seemed far too warm or a chill crept underneath and plucked at his very spine, urging a response that refused to answer. The entire sensation left a strange hollow feeling and an aching throb. One that was only compounded by the lingering fragments of his mind's betrayal that would not quiet.

Sleep would quell his thoughts and help him clear his focus once more. The near lack of it had left his thoughts muddled and his senses dulled. And this recent string of events did not aid in giving him respite or a moment of ease. It would seem the universe was conspiring against him. Always distracting and maddening. Never allowing a moment of pause or reflection on the true objective that mattered. But since when was this new?

He clenched his teeth and sighed before rubbing a gloved hand over his face, masking the weariness, the irritation he had with his mind, and its wanderings. After a few heartbeats, it was easy to put on that veil once more and slip away, tucking all away into darkness. Back to camp he would go.

He'd been too strict on himself the past few weeks. Scourge had been working for days on end without respite. His mental capacity had degraded for sure, and if he didn't have his normal intelligence and cunning, he was a dead man. At the very least, the dark side had taught him well, honed those skills and his mind, and made him efficient and capable. All things a worthy Sith Lord should be.

Through a great number of shadows, he slunk, making no sound. As still and silent as a death, and as quick. At least his stealth was still adequate, he mused as he felt his consciousness slip into the natural pathways of the world. And he would take this to bed, wrap himself up in the silence of it all, the scent of flowers drifting from a distant field, of stone and metal and ozone, all part of the planet that felt too close and far away at the same time, its inhabitants shrouded in secrets. The sound of his cloak whispering across his arms His footsteps, if heard, would only bring a gentle shift as the noise fell beneath the breeze.

It was at a time like this that he wished for a speeder. So that his nightly trek of miles underfoot could be cut shorter, if not for the sake of his sapping energy reserves but for the sake of efficiency.

Soon, Scourge was back in camp, hidden as it were in a shadowy niche along a massive building's side. One that had been carved from the same type of redstone as all the others nearby. An old village perhaps? Thick roots broke apart, spread like veiny rivers across the walls, and dipped down to the ground. Moss climbed and clung to various sides, along with other thick vegetation and weeds that grew in profusion in patches near the base and along the path leading up. Long blades of grass with rounded leaf shapes peeking between the crevices in the road. There were even some wild flowers popping up with their presumably vibrant petals waving cheerfully, trying desperately to grab what little light they could. Not that there was any in the moment.

All was quiet as Scourge changed from armor to robes. The nocturnal inhabitants sang their melodies as the pale glow of the full moon lit up the sky. One could hear the river from where it lay near camp, running through the sandy valley below only a short mile or two away. Its soft bubbling and steady flow were comforting in the silence. With no enemies closeby or creatures skulking about, and most assuredly no Servants to bother him in the night, this meant peace of mind. But, much like everything else, nothing lasted forever. Nothing good.

Still, Scourge could get a few hours in if he wished. More than normal, but still not ideal. However, when a person felt as weary as he was, their body would dictate things and act accordingly. Tonight was a prime example of that. As he pressed through the night and looked for the perfect spot to tuck into, Scourge sought out the shared rations box. Finding it just outside the area Kira had procured as her own slice of privacy. Everything was neat. Just as she had left it. Just the way he liked. Organized.

Inside, his hand snaked around for a packet of dried tea leaves. Holding it between his fingers and grasping the canister for the tea. Then, off to the left, he walked, stopping by his pack and digging for the other essentials to enjoy his nightly beverage. Force preserve him if he forgot to steep it again. Tea was his one vice. Well, two, given that the tea itself was the vice of needing some relaxation.

Scourge settled himself and all he'd brought with him up to the highest precipice of their camp. An easy walk away and within the shadows he needed, still close enough to the main camp but separate from the noises. There was a rock that jutted out. A piece that looked precarious but felt strong and capable, like him. There was the comfort of that familiarity in its rough edges and cool surface.

Soon his water came to a boil, bubbling pleasantly away in a small pot while the fragrance of his new favorite drink floated about.

Black teas. Always best. Darkest as the starless void he gazed upon nightly and the most complex flavor wise. Or at least to his newfound sense of taste and smell. The only thing that remained constant. It was bold, savory, robust—all the proper descriptions as the ingredients' scents filled the space around him. This was to be a pleasant respite tonight. After this cup, sleep. And nothing would interrupt him. That's what his instincts and the hum in the air told him anyways.

All was so easy, as the liquid grew stronger and more flavorful the longer it brewed. Steeping was too slow tonight, it seemed, not to his usual meticulously exact specifications. It would be rushed, if anything.

From his cushioned seat, Scourge looked up; the sky was awake with thousands of tiny pinpricks of lights. Those of a deeper blue or violet than he was used to, a sort of soft haze, surrounded the galaxy he'd come to know well over the years. There were two moons out. One was almost full, while the other was barely more than a sliver of a curved line, peaking out with its spherical outline. The expanse of the vast darkness of space beyond those light beacons stretching onwards. By the force, the sky held so many colors! With a blue almost lilac, bleeding a rich navy towards the west. The monotony of the days were broken up by these splashes of color. He hadn't seen such colors so regularly in centuries. What a sight it was!

Finally, his preparations were done, leaving the liquid to be finished off by nature alone as he left his creation to steam. Its spiced fragrance bringing back memories of hot beverages by fires long forgotten. To a home he couldn't recall, to an emotion he couldn't place and a fleeting feeling of family it brought eluded him. Nothing good lingered in those memories, he thought bitterly. How pointless it was to chase something that evaded you constantly.

Scourge's shoulders sagged under the weight of such things. Sometimes sleep was hard when all he had was that and a blank memory. No good feelings lingered, only frustration or loneliness. And of course, he had Kira. Ever the most pleasant company, in spite of his constant annoyance at her quips and incessant qualms from her duties as a Jedi. Her optimism grating on the best of days and downright obnoxious the rest. And then there were the occasional one on ones he would have with Revan. When it was the two of them, Revan kept his conversation topics vague and short. Always staring Scourge down and daring him to reply with something more, as if waiting for an admission from him he'd not given. Scourge wasn't stupid or a coward. There were times when the need to tell Revan all of his thoughts and frustrations was maddening, especially in his obsessive mission to find Tenebrae's true body. So much was secretive about this cursed planet. Scourge almost feared he was doomed to repeat this fool's errand of killing the Emperor until the end of time itself!

'No, enough.'

He had wasted far too much time and life already, serving for far too long. He knew in his bones that strides were being made on both fronts, his and Rhiasens. His would pay off, and the road would lead him home. To where he belonged. Because of all that had transpired, Scourge was sure of at least one thing. His destiny would hold true. Death, the greatest equalizer, was his greatest skill and weapon to wield. And one that would help him shape this galaxy into a better version of itself. One free of the Emperor.

He adjusted his sitting position, careful to keep the hot cup of tea far out of the way of his knees. Doing so caused his dagger to shift and press into his thigh. It was a quiet reminder for his senses. A cool weight there, like a promise, a constant companion. And in the recesses of his mind, where the cold bit the hardest and memories of pain were the clearest, and where an ache persisted and loss never forgotten took root, he always felt a small comfort. Soft, fragile, and fleeting, it was there like a small warmth filling that icy void.

If he focused, he could feel the twinge, a fraction of her presence in the force, that which was carried by every living being. And especially by this one. It was such a faint but steady pulse. It was almost like the dripping of a small rivulet of water. Always moving, always seeking. She was out there, somewhere, he knew. On a battlefield as certain as he was, laying waste and reaping lives in defiance of the Emperor. Or was she serving his glorious master as a puppet? Of course, they'd heard stirrings. Kira often relayed what scraps of news she was able to wheedle out even on the fringes of wild space. But that was neither here nor there, as far as this mission was concerned, anyway. Kira and Scourge would find her when the time came. But for now...

He sighed once more and closed his eyes, putting those wretched and disillusioning thoughts away. He'd focus on that presence instead and seek rest, slipping into slumber with that little pulse as the beacon for his anchor. Scourge had a few hours at best. He should make the best use of them. He sipped his tea and felt the soothing warmth slide down his throat and curl into a pool in his stomach. He let his eyes roll shut and just enjoyed the feeling.

And listened. Listening to the noises of the nighttime, to the sounds of the winds brushing against the grain and of distant creatures calling out, echoing throughout the valley. Deep and dark was his slumber with the low melody of the chirps. His dagger found itself clutched tightly in his hands even as he slept. What bliss his tired mind devised. His body relaxed for the first time in so long. And the rest would be what he needed for the coming day.

Then was a strange ripple in the force.

Unexpected and unfamiliar.

And instead of nightmares plaguing his slumber, his dreams were different than normal. Speckled with a flicker of amber, a bemused smirk, and a silent exchange between him and her, Not overly emotional or drawn out, but weighted with feelings he wouldn't otherwise care about but couldn't help but savor. And he welcomed it. Welcomed those little bursts of color she'd inadvertently given him when she'd flash him that smile or the ever-elusive crinkles of her eyes would show, her nose scrunched, and lips would move to form words. Anything she did for him during these strange moments could have filled his chest with those lost sensations of light. Yet they hadn't, because he couldn't. Back then, when he was truly emotionless and numb, it'd only been a dull flicker, hardly brighter than a candle in the middle of a tunnel. More of a thought than an actual feeling or warmth in his heart. He could only discern what the feelings were. A feeling of... something. Yearning, longing? Those fragments would linger and then vanish the second he opened his eyes. Just as abrupt as their appearance had been. And still, the sleep provided comfort. Peace. Dreams of her in repose, the cadence of her voice, and the words spoken softly as snowfall

Scourge came to once more with no residual weariness or need for more sleep in the early hours of the morning, dawn minutes away, and the sun's rays not yet visible on the horizon. He rose, his joints somewhat creaking from lying for so long as he rolled his shoulders back with a groan. The teapot now sat cold, the tea no longer steaming, the liquid more murky than hot black clarity, or the fragrant ovals of petals floating lazily along the top as they should have been. He yawned softly, looking to his hand, which gripped 'thorn'. Still warm.

He let himself have that small moment. If just to feel the sensation and its memory grow, soaring through him, only to taper off and feel light as air. All too soon, it was no more, and he was sitting there once again, alone, in the shadows. All was still serene as his solitude allowed, the only sounds being that of nature waking, the rivers running, and branches rustling.

All was back to normal. And it was time to prepare.

[calamitysshatteredson]

[Okay, finally in response to a half-joking, "Can you write something from FF7 Sephiroth's perspective that's not heartbreaking?"

Definitive, official, concrete answer: no. S-E has confirmed more long-held headcanons and now no one's allowed to be okay.]

All the things they'd hidden from him, all the lies they told, all trying to keep him under their thumb. It worked. It worked for too long. And all that time he could have been gaining power, seeking his true purpose with more intent rather than a photograph, behaving like a lost chocobo chick.

Ah, but it wasn't as if there was nothing to appreciate. He'd gained many advantages in his physical body. Gained knowledge, understanding, the specific ways in which humans thought they might ever win. The abuse, the manipulation, the begging spheres full of energy to serve them, begging deities to save them.

Poisoning their children. Sometimes with hope. Sometimes with purpose.

They thought him evil, didn't they? They thought him a bane, and his mother a calamity. The smallest amongst them would, he supposed. The weakest. And shame that the weakest tried to make themselves the most powerful; but humans did not seem to feel shame. Not for the things they should. He'd crushed the weakest parts of himself and left them behind, as well.

It called, sometimes, he could hear it, sometimes, No don't, Remember me

To worship at the altar of power and control, of cruelty and lies, draining true power in order to try and tame it.

Sephiroth felt the power gathering at his fingertips. The only way to show them how wrong they were was to demonstrate. Alas, he'd had to demonstrate as much to his mother as well. Shouldn't she have known to submit to the will that she had unleashed? He'd realized it almost too late: the challenge was to devour her, too. A test. A power and a will to conquer and own.

Like everything else. Everyone else.

The curious one stood in his way. The curious one and his friends. He'd been friends with--

Z--k

No. Those memories were useless. He'd made his appeal. Offered a place. A choice. Rejected.

So be it. His last kindness, wasted.

[eros-fixx]

tati, get over your stupid and unattainable perfectionistic tendencies so you can start publishing your WIPs!!! 😤😏✌️😬😎🥺🤣👹👺

[leighsartworks216]

Okay I'm opening up my asks again FOR THESE PROMPTS ONLY, for Astarion only (because hyperfixation and I don't think I can switch my brain enough to write anybody else)

Kisses

Showing affections.

goodnight kisses

hand kisses

smiling while kissing

lips barely touching

morning kisses

slow kisses

passionate kisses

kisses on the cheek

first kisses

goodbye kisses

welcome home kisses

kisses on the corner of their mouth

frustrated kisses

kissing each other breathless

soothing kisses

nose kisses

kisses as a promise

short pecks

forehead kisses

French kisses

tearful kisses

kisses on head

calming kisses

“we’ll face this together” kisses

kisses in the rain

life-or-death kisses

kisses for a cover

hard kisses

giggling while kissing

desperate kisses

neck kisses

“stay strong” kisses

hushed conversation in-between kisses

eyelid kisses

gentle stroking of cheeks while kissing

small kisses

kissing it better

fake kisses

jaw kisses

wake-up kisses

thigh kisses

kissing away tears

“we’ll get through this” kisses

public kisses

relieved kisses

kisses for comfort

tummy kisses

kisses to shut them up

slowly kissing down the body

“we’ll see each other again” kisses

kissing each finger

quick kisses

reassuring kisses

sleepy kisses

feather-light kisses

angry kisses

kisses with trembling lips

“forever mine” kisses

secret kisses

kisses with their last dying breath

Hugs|Hand-holding|Touching

[windixie]

˗ˏˋ hey emo boy !´ˎ˗ emo!choso x reader

summary : what's so good about hot topic? I mean it's trending, it's legit in the name, but your style... is the opposite of that, so why visit all the time? it doesn't have to do with the emo boy that works there right?

warnings : filthy drabble full of smut, smut, smut, and maybe uh smut? p in v, creampie, breeding kink (sorry!), choso is a whimpering mess :( fingering, m!receiving, f!receiving. lmk if I missed any!

taglist : @elylyyy @mjsjshhd @officialholyagua @chiunpy @hi-hello-heyo @etsuniiru

if you wish to be added or removed from tag list pls comment <3

emo! choso who just scored a well paying job at a hot topic store in the mall near his college. hes thankful for the job because he is supporting all of his younger siblings and besides, he loves the store himself. but he starts to love it even more when you, the pretty girl, walks in for the third time this week.

emo! choso who asks if you need any help finding something only to get denied by you because you’re so shy and scared of the big muscular man who’s got a shit ton of piercings. you love them all and you especially love his tongue piercing. you wonder how it feels against your needy cunt as you tug at his hair. you can’t help but moan out his name when your needy fingers play with your soaking pussy after finding out his name.

emo! choso quickly develops a small crush on you after you both get more used to each other especially because of your daily visits.

emo! choso who feels guilty from checking you out all the time. it’s not his fault your pretty skirt barely covers that big ass of yours and it’s not his fault he can see your pretty Victoria’s Secret panties you bought from across his store.

emo! choso who is so excited when you invited him over to your house after you both bonded over your favorite book series.

emo! choso who soon finds himself fucking you sweetly and sloppy. “fuck.. fuck.. good fucking girl! baby fuck not gonna last long..!” he kept whining in your ear as he pounded his big fucking cock in you. you were seeing white as you came for the umpteenth time as you clutched onto your wet bedsheets.

emo! choso stills wants more out of you even after eating you out which was embarrassing for you because you squirted so much and all over his face but he didn’t care! he swallowed all of it as if he was dehydrated. “baby please let me cum in you! put a baby in ya yeah? gonna be a good mommy! such a good mommy!” he babbled as his strokes became even sloppier.

your headboard kept slamming hardly against your wall you didn’t even care if you got a noise complaint the next day. how could you care when you were literally getting filled up but the boy you’ve been gushing over for weeks!

emo! choso who actually whimpers! a lot! and hes not afraid to be vocal cuz he knows you love it. “mmf yeah take my cock baby.. no no.. s’ not big! it’ll fit just like every time! yeah such a good baby! oh shit.. ngh oh you’re tight!” he whimpered as big fat tears left your eyes.

emo! choso who has a thing for blood. yeah. period sex. mhm. he loves it so much he’s filthy but he read somewhere that cumming helps the cramps so what else can he do but help his pretty baby?

emo! choso definitely fucks you whenever you wear his band t-shirts. he gets such a painful boner and you always help him by putting it in your mouth. even tho you have a bad gagging reflex

emo! choso loves you so much he’s so happy to see that positive pregnancy test and he immediately starts thinking of names.

[imaginesleeping]

Could I request firefighter!Sevika HCs or a Drabble? She’d be so hot 🥵

sorry the reqs are taking so long! I’m in the middle of my finals rn, so bear with me for like another week or so ❤️‍🩹

I wholeheartedly agree anon and have been thinking about firefighter!sev since @kissingmilfs fic bc omggggg

-

❀ does daily pushups in your bedroom because she found you staring once and now wants to make sure you can see her workout as often as possible

❀ adding onto that, she will for sure tease you and flex her arms cockily

❀ will also be picking you up either bridal style or over her shoulder when she sees fit (which is a lot more than necessary - but you don’t complain)

❀ ADORES coming home to a hot meal. whether you stay at home or work full time, and whether you make dinner every night or once a month, she will NEVER take it for granted

❀ bonus points if you cook food from her culture - she’ll legit fall to her knees

❀ doesn’t take anything for granted actually. being a firefighter she sees a lot of loss, so she feels very privileged for everything she has

❀ makes sure to tell you this + how lucky she is to have found someone like you pretty much daily

❀ I feel like firefighter!sev is just the biggest softie

❀ like “Sevika ‘I Love My Wife’ Arcane” type shit

❀ is the type of romantic to kiss the back of your hand

NSFW

❀ uses her strength to her advantage in bed

❀ even though she’s usually gentle and sweet, she knows how to fuck

❀ like…FUCK

❀ like this woman will have you screaming, legs shaking, can’t walk the next day

❀ but she’s great with aftercare <3

❀ big fan of edging and overstim but cracks easily

❀ for sure has a praise kink and can get off just from pleasing you + encouragement

-

(also currently thinking of your kid running around giggling in sev’s helmet that’s far too big for their head)