#I say this earnestly from my side of the world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

controld3vil · 2 months

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i'll hex you, i'll possess you

pairing(s): aegon ii targaryen x wife!reader, aemond "one eye" targaryen x reader (unrequited/one sided)

synopsis: Your husband is gone. He perished in whatever was left of the battle, seared flesh, and dragon’s tar. As unbearable as it was, you fight for his throne against his brother. Believing it is for his for the taking.

notes: mentions of s02ep05, i fr feel so bad for aegon :( also cw: hints of obsessed!aemond (bc he's insane :D)

In quite a haste, you sped past all the onlookers like flies. They were nonexistent in your peripherals, your attention was entirely up ahead to the King’s chambers, the Kingsguards who stood by. Your Grace, they would say before allowing you passage past their protection. You took a glimpse, here in the dressing room for the King. Your King.

“Your Grace!” The seamstress chirped, turning to greet your lovely smile. And your righteous presence everywhere you went. It affected all now that you were the face of King’s Landing. It’s a hefty duty, yes, however, it seemed many subjects were willing, if not encouraged, of your subsequent role as the consoling figure for the realm to look to.

In front of a tall mirror was Aegon, in full Valyrian armor. You’d guessed the armor was passed down through his ancestral line, ancient, and beautiful it was kept. All the plates fit him perfectly with little alterations to adjust. Yet absent of the signature helmet paired with it, his blonde hair lay just above his shoulders, gently.

Ever so kind were your visage toward the King. You could feel the corners of your lips curve warmly at the sight of him. He was handsome and eager to appease the people of his kingdom. Though he may not be the first choice for Throne, you knew he was trying his best to uphold the responsibilities and burden those must bear. You would have to bear it as well if you were Queen.

“Good morrow,” You breathed, flattening the wrinkles of your dress as an excuse to eye at Aegon, openly. There was nothing to hide, simply it was different from his normal attire. In armor, in all of your lifetime, you never had to experience warfare, for better or worse.

“Ah, my lovely wife!” In exclamation, your husband turns to compliment your captivating smile as he gleams contentedly. He takes a few steps down from the small stairway from the miniature podium, while some of his personal Kingsguard can be heard snickering. Which you wholeheartedly ignored as your attention laid straight to your King’s beaming face. “Just who I wanted to see!”

“I must speak with you,” Through your expressed delightfulness, the tone of your voice is quickly replaced with a sour one. And it seemed to have caught the attention of the seamstress and others in the room as they all paused at your subtle notion of privacy. “Alone.” Only when you mention it, it’s as though they were a flock of birds, all fleeing from the chambers at once. A few clatters and suddenly the doors were quietly slammed shut with a whisper of a demand.

However, your husband did not seem fazed at all. He merely shrugged, casually walking to fill a cup or two with wine. Yet a visible glower can be caught right after he steps off the podium and to the table of beverages. Sometimes his reaction to your urgency was comedic. The King was never one to take duties earnestly. It’s one of his eminent flaws that all of the townsfolk and servants knew of. His days by the Silk Roads were but a regular story. But now, he is a changed man, Aegon thinks. They’ve witnessed all of his mistakes and tourneys. He’s young and has never been as interested in duty as his siblings. And now suddenly, he was pulled onto the seat as King. And you would have to sit beside him and watch. As a graceful symbol yet mute on what to say on any matter.

How horrendous was that?

“What troubles you, my sweet?” The sound of liquid plops as all of the noise from the outside world becomes muffled. For the past few days, it has been the most chaotic and tragic period of your life. Not just for you and Aegon, but everyone in King’s Landing. Your son, Jaehaerys, was left for dead at the hands of a murderer and false ruler. Panic was running through the streets of Flea Bottom. People questioned the King’s cruel punishment of the rat catchers though Aegon did not care for their grief.

To you, it was more than sadness. But anger and confusion, all of your pent-up emotions ever since living in King’s Landing have made you become this way. The Capital has changed you. To who you were as a person and figure of nobility. Now you were suddenly the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, yet only moments ago, you were the princess of the firstborn son of the King. You should have expected war to come between siblings over the throne, yet your father persisted that the marriage would’ve led to success. Having lost your child, your son, made the promise to communicate more to Aegon. To somehow seek solace in the empty void of your heart in whatever left the world had.

“You named Ser Criston Cole your Hand…” You mumbled slowly, the last words faded out into thin air. Was he wrong to do so? You did not want to say. For the little you knew about the battle being played at hand, you knew Aegon’s impulsiveness would come to the cost of many. Especially of the Council when they have refused relentlessly his thoughts and suggestions. So perhaps this decision would cause more upbringing for the noblemen to bleat about. “Why?”

A muffled sound and then a snort comes out of his mouth as Aegon proceeds to sip his wine. As if not a care of the world or your concern over the matter. “And why does this concern you?”

He does the courtesy to hand you your cup, as you clasped it eagerly to swallow whatever worry your heart must feel. The Queen Regent, Aegon’s brother, Aemond, and even Criston Cole, all look for you in the guidance you have over their King. You’ve yet to make it clear that you don’t control him like many others would consider to do. You’d think it's heartless to manipulate a man of his feelings, especially your husband.

Eventually, you lay the cup down, trailing your finger around the outer details of the golden goblet. It’s glimmering through the sun, carefully designed with outlines of a dragon and flames that surround the jugular of the base of the cup. It curves and twists under your palm as you proceed to swirl the liquid inside and watch as a mini typhoon is formed.

“Do you believe your decision on making him Hand was just?” You lift your gaze to be met with his bright purple eyes. It always seemed intense and vivid in color whenever his attention was on you. As if you were the only person that mattered in the room. And if not at this moment.

You looked ravishing, decorated in his house colors with pops of gold from the jewelry and headwear. You had no shame in exemplifying wealth because he would give you everything willingly. No matter the cost or debt, every piece of gold, and diamond was meant to be yours. He watches as your golden droplet earrings jingle when you shake your head, contemplating your next words. “Because I do not think that was the wisest decision to be made, husband.”

“And, care to explain why?” Like every little piece of his childhood, Aegon looks at every objective like a game. Though he looked like he was trying to resist your hesitancy for his new Hand, he was staring into space at the glorious jewels that make your figure and face pop out more.

You urged, before meeting the King by the tableside where the pitcher lay. “He is a warrior, not a politician,” You set your goblet aside, to look your husband in the eye more closely. “He does not know the ways of the people, especially those who he surrounds himself with. He was born lowborn, making him more naive than aware of tellings.”

Yes, you make great points, he would say if you did not have that adorable scowl on your face. Aegon would admit, he was getting drunk by the minute. And your presence did not help in his regard to be sober. Regardless, he does take account of your calls, more than most that surround himself with. Everyone at the Council is eager to spout their plans and news, it makes him deaf to the ear when they have nothing to contribute when he suggests something. Nevertheless, you at least are supportive of his thoughts. Despite your constructive nature, he appreciates and craves your attention.

Your King hums, drowsily and that was when you knew his mind was somewhere else. You would admit, you too were becoming tipsy with alcohol. After the morning Council meeting, you rather have your head hung outside with ratcatchers at the mess of the Council. You glance at his attire once more and this time, he catches you. He sees you, the way your doe eyes wander up and down his figure. He rarely has a chance to wear dragon armor like this.

“Distracted, are we?” His breath immediately inches away from yours. And the scent of strong alcohol stings. You’re so accustomed to it, that you’re surprised you would still rebuke the scent of it. Apart from that, the look Aegon gives you makes your heart weak. His smile is sluggish but pulls you in like a serpent in water. It’s alluring and hypnotizing, the way his focus wanders in all of you, and the same for him. You can’t help but wonder if the work of the armor was tricked. And you let your desires plunder when you trace his breastplate armor. Of the harsh outlines it’s supposed to represent dragon scales. It’s majestic and divine, fit for a king.

Almost timidly, your husband giggles at your touch. He separates a stray hair from your cheek, allowing leeway more into your personal space. You can’t feel automatically embarrassed if someone were to barge in. Because anyone could, the seamstress, Kingsguard, or worse, his mother.

“Wear that armor more often and perhaps you’ll receive more than indecent staring,” A mischievous grin forms as again another jingle of your golden jewelry. Gods, you’re enticing and coy. Had he mentioned that? More than once.

The first time you were at Court, it was a spur of surprise. Not only had you arrived with Prince Aemond unannounced, but Aegon encouraged it. You would suspect the disapproving faces of the men, especially coming from the King’s Hand and grandsire. How he ploys and plots with every citizen of King’s Landing to do his bidding. To save the Realm, of course, more to have the most influence in the city. You were aware of what he thinks of you. An obedient and dainty princess. The Queen and wife to the King should have no right to speak of politics.

And yet here you were.

“You do not have a seat in this Council,” Queen Regent, Alicent urges, gazing at her second son with slight apprehension. In doubt, she feels a quick quiver of fear the moment Aemond strides past the Council table. When it came to you, Alicent could only muster a poor glance. The one-eyed prince proceeds towards the map of Westeros that stands beside the King. He strides in confidence, abruptly ignoring every piercing stare bestowed on him. Other than him, you reached towards the seat at the opposing side of your King, hand delicately trailing down the handles of the chair.

“Aemond is my closest blood and our strongest sword. I welcome him,” Aegon lay unfazed at the subtle shocked expressions on everyone’s faces. “As for my wife, I think it should be customary for her to be by my side even in Council. As my father has allowed you to do for him, remember mother?” A playful grin, all-knowing of his lightheartedness, and carelessness of what others thought of his decisions. Surely his mother would be the most understanding, bestowing the same position many years ago when King Viserys was dealt ill and immobile. Shouldn’t the Queen beside her King as should they in every instance?

Alicent is silent in her displeasure. There was no reason to refute the King’s wishes and sometimes made you appreciative of Aegon’s power and status. Being King was a risky position however it offered you more freedom and the ability to speak your mind more often than not. Your husband was the cause of this leverage for the most part. You expected the Queen Dowager to give you any kind of sign of comfort except there was none. Only but a forgotten thought and you were dismissed.

It fills you with dismay, a small black hole for where her approval was meant to be. For the last few days, you’d only wished for Alicent’s consoling eyes.

“We should send troops marching to Harrehal, the Riverlands have the largest force.” Aemond waves his hand over where the location of Riverrun is plastered on the wall. It’s curved in cursive lettering, surrounding soft green fields, most notably of their Southern lands, which was an inhabited place of divided houses and discourse. The largest force, it had many issues of compromises and its lordship. “With them, Rhaenyra’s forces would be left vulnerable on land.”

The accordance of hums coaxed the second son with assurance. A sense of pride if you will, knowing how much more skilled and knowable he was than his brother. But the Hand was quick to question his methods.

“And what of the small Houses of Riverrun? The Brackens and Blackwoods have been fighting each other for centuries. They would never work together as one,” Otto points out and it brings more skepticism and worry to the other Councilmen. Alliances with the Southerners were awkward. They do not know when or where to stop the fight. And it has become extremely bothersome at the time of war. The Bracken and Blackwoods were examples of that. They proceeded with the war more for themselves and would kill hundreds of their men if it meant to end their rivalry before the war even began.

“We should negotiate with smaller Houses beyond the River lands then,” Your lips shudder slightly when the immediate eyes turn to you. Even your husband stares at you in astonishment and curiosity the same. Alicent looks at you warily. And Aemond, all too mysterious, holds a neutral look. “Would it not help Ser Criston Cole secure more of the surrounding Houses towards their larger forces? Gaining allies along the way to Riverrun would only add more to our numbers,”

“And in truth, give us a better advantage to overruling Riverrun altogether?” A devilish grin was on Aegon’s face at your suggestion. Your advice seemed promising and seemed risky but it was the most practical. King’s Landing had more advantage on land than the sea or sky, therefore it was evident in their leverage over the smaller Houses close to Riverrun.

You tilt your head in amusement, all while lowering yourself to sit down. Yes, even though you had no experience in politics or war, you listened. You had ears whenever you managed to walk past one of their meetings. It should be frowned upon but you did not care. You wanted to have more say in protecting your family and House. Most things had been provided for you at an early age. You were a princess with a wealthy father, negotiations were your family’s specialty. You learned early on how to enunciate and please people with the way of your words. And here, you simply voiced what you believed was the safest way to Riverrun. Despite all the demeanors, none of the other Councilmen had anything else to say or disprove of your plans.

“Good! Then it’s settled then,” The king rises, as well as everyone else who feels startled at his shifted demeanor. “Then Ser Criston Cole should prepare some men for the long journey ahead of us by dawn!” It was then you felt some sort of pride that would solidify your position at the Council. As long as you hold a strong mind, should your advice become helpful towards the men, you’d hoped they would see your presence as a blessing.

In some midst of it all or perhaps the end, Aemond is quiet. He’s curious and admires you for everything you strive for. Many people would assume he despises you for taking the initiative to aid his king. But he does not believe in that no, you’re a delicate thing and would never be selfish on greed. Merely he can appreciate your ambitious strides from afar. The way you act around the people, the Council, and his mother makes him believe you were born into the role of Queen. You care for your subjects and think of what’s best for them. You do your best to stay by your king’s side even though he lacks the mind for it.

Perhaps maybe, in some cases, he should’ve had you.

The words struck right out of his head just when everyone was dismissed. While the nobleman rushes out of the council room, he delays his leave momentarily to catch a glimpse of you. You define the example of his House’s wealth, always proud to dress in colors of black and crimson red as if it was your second skin. However you do not forget about your own House colors, you embrace it all together with his own and it makes him wonder what kind of beauty like yourself can be persuaded by the likes of his brother. You were quick-witted, amusing, and altogether undeserving of Aegon’s love.

You do not immediately flee the room as his mother or Ser Criston Cole had done. Instead, you slowly rise from your seat and make your way to your husband, eagerly. Aegon sits comfortably in his golden chair, smug with loving eyes at your figure. He could not help but eye at you openly even with his Kingsguard standing beside him.

“Aemond, may we have the room?” He hears his older brother say. It does not take a blind man to know the following events as the one-eyed prince simply tilts his head in your direction. Before storming out of the room and the slam of the doors. His footsteps clank against the cold cobblestone pavement as he makes his way to his room. But all he could think about was your lively laughter as he disappeared from the scene.

The day after Cole’s troops arrived back at King’s Landing, you felt a string of worry crawling down your spine. As you pace across your bedroom, you fiddle with the ends of your loose hair to solace the anxiety you feel in your stomach. The pit was too unbearable as more men would be escorted out towards Rook’s Rest. After Aegon removed Otto Hightower as Hand, Criston Cole became the primary candidate for the position. You voiced your concerns before but Aegon had yet to change his decisions on your advice.

Now rumors have spread that by the time Cole invades Rook’s Rest, Aemond would be by his side to counter whatever attack Rhaenyra plans to defend her councilman. It would risk losing one dragon, the biggest and largest female beast you’d seen. Doubt fills your mind when you try to shake your worries away. You shook your hands feverishly and swatted away the sweat building up against your palms. You must speak to Aemond. You should warn him of the consequences of this act.

You found the prince outside of the castle. Vhagar resides in a shallow space close to the gateways to the city and is attentively monitored for her whereabouts. Very few dragon keepers watch over the powerful beast for her dangerous nature and size. As a cart, full of sheep was being carried by horses, you looked in awe at the amount of necessity the castle must provide for their dragons now. Surely it would impact the people’s living and cost. It worries you how chaotic and unlawful the palace seemed to behave in times of war. Even though you find yourself wanting to question Aemond’s intentions of helping Cole this way.

Your words settle like a soothing wave in his ears. “Prince Aemond,” And when the one-eyed prince spots you, holding the reins of your horse with a steady hand, he’s not afraid to show his approval of your presence. The colors you wear today are regarded as wealth and beauty. The golden linen stretches along the cloth of obsidian, representative of his House, your House. The gown expands upon your collarbone, allowing the silver necklace you have on to become the ire of his attention. It entices him, brings him into your line of view. Clear cut diamonds you had on your earlobes, they jingle at the slightest movement you make, as you make your way towards him with ease.

“Your Grace,” He prompts, politely. He is a plain canvas for you to paint over, to inspect over. You should not be afraid of his presence because he behaves well under yours. The prince regent eyes you down carefully and you’re vaguely reminded of the day before, the two of you entered the Council room.

“How was your ride with Vhagar?” You tenderly incite, head tilting towards his beast. Vhagar sits lazily with her entire body blended into the environment. Her muddy green scales combine with the grassy interior. The dragon pits were deemed too small for her size. And more so claustrophobic for a creature of her caliber, as a champion of many wars and destruction, Vhagar is rather docile for being the largest dragon.

He hums before easily answering. “The morrow dew is not something to be missed during this time. Vhagar could sense it, and the warm breeze is sure to come sooner for summer,” He crossed his arms behind his back as if analyzing your every breath as you walked in irregular patterns, trailing along where his dragon resides. Your attention was not fully on him. No, not that he wouldn’t mind. But it was ignorant on your part to ignore him so easily. “Now save the rest of this nonsense for supper or shall I ask what were your real intentions for coming here? Though I welcome it,”

You catch onto his coarse tone. Aemond dislikes those who do not take him seriously, like his brother. And you are aware of his estranged heart. You give him a look of consideration. It was the look of someone who had the upper hand. You knew he was becoming impatient with your meddling.

“What are your plans with Criston Cole going to Rook’s Rest?” Your figure fully faces him now as you cup your hands together modestly. Surely the prince of the realm should respect the Queen’s uncertainties when he meets with the King’s Hand behind his back. A sliver of dread falls on the blonde prince as you take a step closer. “Consoling with the Hand without the King’s presence is extremely demeaning, my prince. Surely you have a right reason to go behind his back,”

He takes a step forward, as Aemond’s eye moves back and forth from you. “We have a plan,” He is recursive in his thoughts and manners. Yet under your eyes, he feels utterly weak and broken, as if you have put a spell on him. “It is best if the King does not intervene.”

Shaking your head disapprovingly, you fake disappointment. “Then what do you plan to do?” The longer it went on, the more you could feel his blood rising at the way you glanced and teased at his exploits. “As I, the Queen should know.”

“You need not,” The second son grunts, moving away to leave whatever conversation you were trying to muster with him. You intended to snuff out his plans with Criston Cole and expose them to your King's husband. Your King husband. What would he know of battles and formation? He knew better strategy than him yet you still side with Aegon with his pathetic whims on the townsfolk.

Unsatisfied, you shot a disapproving grin. “I know you intend on attacking Rook’s Rest as a surprise, why else would you go with Cole?” You heard his mudded footsteps stop momentarily as you continued. “My question to it is, what are you trying to prove out of this act of disloyalty?” It flicks a trigger in him. A quick flash of anger, jealousy, and disgust, all coiled into one hole that explodes.

“I intend to prove I am the better fit as heir,” His tone is sharp and alert as he stomps back to you with a violent gaze. His one good remaining eye, unharmed and uncut, shoots daggers at your stern face. A small part of you thinks he is handsome. The way you can rile him within seconds gives you a sense of joy and satisfaction that quenches whatever annoyance you had of him before.

“There is no denying that,” Your lips agape still at how much you were able to pry out of Aemond. However, there was one detail you needed to remind him of. “But you fail to recognize that Aegon still has an heir, Maegor.” With that, you close your mouth to form a thin line as you stand more confidently against the prince’s deadly stare. “And as Queen, I hope you do not try to cross your King’s benevolent trust with your anger.”

It was his turn to remain there motionless. The one-eyed prince repeats your words over and over again. He contemplates them long and hard, glaring at the ground, at where you stood, close to his breath and space. But all of his emotional desires could be examples of an ill temper. You twist and turn his head like a puppeteer to a helpless marionette. And his strings had long sprung and trapped him in an immobile place.

He leaves without a word.

The battle was over. But the war continued. You became increasingly paranoid as no word from Cole’s army of Aegon’s wellbeing. You heard unreliable news. This and that but you wanted the real thing. The truth from a real member who had witnessed the battle at Rook’s Rest. As you twist the ring on your finger, you glance towards the rising crowd in the city. There were so many citizens. They succeeded and followed like colonies of ants.

Your anguish was reassured when the sight of the King’s army appeared. Shouts and screams returned you from your thoughts as hundreds of men walked and rode on horseback. Your lively expression did not last long, only to falter when meant with their solemn faces. What a grim battle it must’ve been.

“All hail King Aegon! Who went against and slain the traitor, Rhaenys, and her dragon, Meleys!” Cole exclaims in a harsh and undeserving undertone. From where you stood, on the high mounts of the castle, you saw the horrors of what they’ve done to the traitors. A severed head of the Red Queen, without her rider. Her flesh was torn and burnt. Charred from the attacks of another dragon, you did not believe Aegon had done so. You had doubts and Criston’s indifferent frown proved your intuition.

Alicent was by the patio where you spied on the citizens of King’s Landing. She observes and feels a familiar dread from the aftermath she has yet to witness for herself. You have taken the position of Queen and in turn, must understand the order of things. Simply because she had a feeling that things did not seem as they were predicted by the townsfolk.

When the wooden carriage of your husband is delivered to your bed chambers, everyone storms aside for the guards to set it on the floor. You arrived shortly after, nails and teeth clenched in fear as your mother-in-law appeared beside you with the same fixation. And somewhere else, your brother-in-law, Aemond carefully watches your scared position. The lid lifts and the soldiers hold onto the emergency bed that protects their King. In a swift motion, they lift and allow the body to hover over your shared bed.

In patience and precision, Maester Orywle walks into the chambers with several other maesters under his wing to begin a procedure and analysis of his injured body. The room is quickly transformed into a medical room, with various tools and gadgets displayed for the maesters disposal. You had little clue what they were doing, worried about your husband’s awakened state.

“How is he?” You stumbled by the foot of the bed, where the other maesters scurry to give off Maester Orwyle a scalpel. Gods, the wounds he had mustered. You felt terrified and rightfully so. This could be the last time you see your husband, alive and breathing. “Is he awake?”

“I’m not sure, Your Grace,” Maester Orwlye replies with adequate patience. Knowing the panic and hysteria you must feel for your king, your husband, he pities in your state. You should not deserve such sorrow. “But I must be given time to work on his fatal wounds. Whether he lives or not will be confirmed afterward.” His unflinching face softens when glances at one of Aegon’s personal Kingsguard to escort you outside. The knight nods and walks forward to excuse himself before coming forward.

“My apologies, Your Grace,”

Yet you did not want to leave. Your palms felt hot and guilt-ridden with the idea of leaving Aegon alone to suffer. You urge, taking a step forward for only Maester Orwyle to hear. “How long can you be sure he will survive?” It’s so hushed with desperation in your voice. But the maester could only respond with a sorrowful shake. It breaks your heart wholly, to know not even the best medical professionals had a clear understanding or answer to their King’s expectancy.

As you feel pathetic tears, ready to fall, the Queen Regent rushes to take hold of your forearm. She drags your pitiful self out of the chambers. The bodies that remained stepped aside for you and Alicent to leave swiftly. A quick flash of silver and black vanishes from your peripherals, but you cannot process anything that is happening anymore.

The syllables of your name ring against your ears as the Queen Regent tries to bring you back to her. “My dear, please focus on me.” Delicate fingers drape a hold of your jaw, firmly. They smooth over the apples of your cheeks, smoothly and soothingly like a gesture a mother would do for their children. “You need to stand strong for Aegon and yourself. Your children, think of Jaehaera and Meagor! Pray to the gods for his health.”

With that, you took a deep breath.

Aemond was avoidant to the whole ordeal. No one besides Criston Cole was there when he found his brother’s scorched body. Alongside his dragon, Sunfrye, it looked as though he was fighting for his last breath. Aemond would’ve taken that chance to send him to eternal sleep if not for Cole’s arrival. A pity for him.

As he watches the scene before him, your grief-stricken features are what caused the most pain. You resembled a tragic painting, so angelic it’s saddening to see you this way. Aemond could’ve done it. He could have killed his brother and taken the glory of killing Meleys. Despite that, he did not and stormed from the scene. Now left in the shadows of what’s to come, he numbly waits for the maester’s work to be done with. The Council meeting will begin shortly. After Aegon’s procedure and Maester Orywle, official confirmation of whether he would live or not would determine whether he would become the true heir or not.

This was what he wanted, yes?

Except, everything was bleak now. All the colors he witnessed were suddenly wiped; now all he saw was black and white. Your tragic face comes into mind, along with your fragile sniffles and tears. Gods, he wanted to comfort your sweet little heart. Yet knowing he was the cause of it, made Aemond strangely more devoted to you. If Aegon does not survive, you are bound to be a widow. Your youngest child, Meagor was still but a babe, unfit and too young to understand what an heir was. Therefore he would be the rightful option if all else failed. He would rule in the King’s stead.

That was what the one-eyed prince considered when he stepped through the doors to begin the Council. The King’s chair was empty as expected, looking lonely and authoritative without its ruler. In the same sense, on the opposite side, you sat soberly with nothing but a blank look. You wore cool-toned colors this morning. It reflected much of what you must be feeling.

Grief, misery, and blame. Even in this poor state, he still considers you attractive and alluring. It’s a shame you looked dejected and lifeless despite all your energy and might to stay awake. Your hair was even braided in a simpler style. Knowing you always had a knack for extraverted taste, Aemond takes in your appearance profoundly. Because perhaps, everyone in the Council can understand the emphasis on the wife of the King. As they eagerly await Maester Orwyle’s results, they all gaze at your seat for any kind of solace.

He takes the chair to your left and sits. While the Grand Maester begins to explain Aegon’s conditions. The longer he spewed, the more you felt your heavy heart fall deeper into your chest. How would the realm react now? Their king suddenly struck and immobile to be by their side. He had defeated Rhaenys in battle however now suffered in a long-inducing coma just as his father did. Who would rule in his absence? It only made sense in your mind but you did not make it become a reality.

“But he is very much alive, Your Grace,” Maester Orywle gives an earnest smile to the Queen Mother as she exhales with the utmost relief. “Though he will need time to recover, I do not think he will ever be the same.”

An unfavorable grunt from Aemond brings attention from you and Cole. “So he is unable to leave his chambers.”

“I’m afraid not,”

“Then we must choose who is to rule in his stead,” Lord Wylde speaks of the obvious, sparing everyone a momentary glance. He clears his throat and rubs his beard, nervously.

“If anyone should come in Aegon’s stead, it is his wife,” Alicent jabs, shooting quick assertiveness when she presses her crossed palms onto the table. Your name leaves her lips as a clear sign of hope. “She was the closest companion to the King and has been since this war started. It is only right for her to continue her husband’s intentions and plans.”

“And what plans did the King have?” A pompous statement coming from her second son, which surprised you as well. Aemond was known for his restrained nature however it seems as days passed, he was slowly losing his grip on his sanity. “I am the closest heir the King has. Would it not be I who rules in his stead?” In the turn of the tides, the room is divided upon their suggestions. You can tell by the wary looks the lords hold with each other. However, you have been grateful for Alicent’s support regardless of the cold shoulder she has given you previously.

“You are not fit, Prince Aemond,” Your fingers slide and take hold of the marble ball in front of you. The weight of the object pleasantly gives you a boost of poise to look him in his one good remaining eye. “The King’s line is still secured for my son, Meagor will become the next heir. But he is young so for the time being, I am naturally the next in line to come to his stead. As his wife and Queen, I should have a say as well.”

It’s what Aegon would’ve wanted.

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ode2rin · 11 months

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there sure is never a dull day in your life ever since you somehow bumped your head somewhere and decided to marry gojo satoru.

he was, without a doubt, the most dramatic man you'd ever known.

“why aren’t you obsessed with me?”

and here he goes again making your marriage life comically interesting from his never-ending theatrics that you can’t help but adore.

he isn’t gojo satoru if he wasn’t dramatic, after all. it was all part of the deal, one you gladly accepted, promising to be by his side in sickness and in health.

“good morning to you, too, baby,” you responded, a smile tugging at your lips. “what’s got you worked up this early?”

leaning against the bathroom door frame, his eyes fixed on you as you diligently performed your morning skincare routine. sunlight streamed through the window, casting a soft, warm glow, making your features radiant as you applied your cleanser. and for a moment of sight, he got too lost in your beauty and almost forgot his plan of interrogation.

but still, he needs to get to the bottom of this. “listen, i’m not looking for an argument, just understanding.”

“okay, then,” you said, still attending to your skincare routine. “let’s hear this seeking of understanding.”

gojo’s gaze remained fixed on you as he considered his words carefully, “why aren't you obsessed with me like how i'm obsessed with you?”

“i’m in love with you.” you replied instantly, without a second in waste. because that’s how it has always been, loving gojo satoru and declaring it to the world was as easy as breathing.

you threw a side glance to your lover only to be met with glassy sky blue eyes looking at you and a pout telling you it wasn’t the right answer to the question.

“but you’re not obsessed with me,” he mumbles. “while i think about you every single minute of the day – in my sleep, in my lunch – i think about you, and i don’t think you think about me at all.”

“and where could this be coming from?”

“i was gone for 13 hours, and you only called me once. once, baby. do you even care about me?”

you attempt to explain, “you were on a mission—”

“i could have an injury,” he interjects, “i could have bumped my head somewhere, had amnesia, and forgotten about you.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the possibilities he laid out just because you only called him once. finishing your skincare with a swift application of lip balm, you make your way to your lover, who is now resting his left temple against the doorjamb while earnestly watching you with the same look in his eyes from when you walked down the aisle.

“i think that’s fairly impossible, though,” you muse. your hands naturally find their way to his neck. “my husband is the strongest.”

strongest in the eyes of sorcerers and curses, perhaps, he is. but here? with you pressed close to him like this? he was nothing of any sort the strongest.

“what your husband right now is not the strongest but an unloved husband who couldn’t get his partner to call him to check on him,” he teases, putting great stress on ‘your’ because he was, in fact, yours.

“aw, must have been hard for him, huh?” you coo, going along with his teasing, “what can i possibly do to make up for it?”

“you can start with a kiss here,” he gestures to his lips, and you gladly oblige with a soft peck.

“too easy. what’s the next step?”

“and i want you to be obsessed with me. call me multiple times a day. text me. email me if you want.”

“okay, done. do you want me to write you a letter as well, like we’re in the '80s?” you sarcastically replied.

“sure, i’d love that,” he says with a chuckle before pulling you close enough to rest your head in the crook of his neck, his jaw resting on your temple as he caresses your back.

you closed your eyes, finding comfort in his warmth, and relishing every soft little kiss planted on your temple, until you felt his head drop onto your shoulder.

“i think about you every second of the day,” he whispers right in your ear.

jokes of being obsessed with you aside, it was truly a confession.

you could be beside gojo, peacefully slumbering, and there would always be that wave of need threading in his chest to be closer to you.

and behind his theatrics, none of his words held any bite of hoax. because after all these years, it still wouldn't sink in to him that there was someone who could take him for a husband.

but you're here – waking up next to him, doing your skincare next to his own set of toiletries, roaming around the house wearing his shirt, gracing the quiet corners of his soul with your laughter.

you're here, and it's everything and more that truly matters.

as you reach to cradle his face in your palms, you feel a squeeze in your chest from how he closes his eyes as if melting in your touch.

“even after all this time? you might get sick of me, my love.” you ask, a smile so evident behind.

“never,” he declares against your lips, a boyish curl of his lips slowly showing. “you, on the other hand, might get sick of me soon. seeing that you couldn't even call me twice after those long hours i wasn't home.”

you playfully roll your eyes at his accusation, of course he wouldn't let it off that easy. “i promise to call you twice and text you as much as i can. how's that sound now?” you hum.

“promise?”

“i promise,” you assure, sealing it with a kiss on the tip of his nose, “and what do you mean, get sick of you? that’s nonsense. i told you right? it’s you for me.”

you for me. oh, how he likes the thought. sheepishly, he whispers in question, “even after all this time?”

“until the end of time, toru.”

until the end of time. oh, heaven and earth, how he loves the thought.

note. i miss him... terribly, i'm afraid. btw, here's a payback for all the angst..

#☁️ my ode to you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru fluff

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vixstarria · 8 months

Text

Seeing stars

Welp, I wrote more porn.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader

18+, smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings, jealous Astarion, soft dom Astarion, dirty talk, fingering, PIV, elf ears and more! Humour, banter and fluff mixed in per usual. Tav failing several insight checks in the process.

I also poke fun at the in-game romance mechanics, and Wyll's Act 2 scene in particular.

This is the last time they have sex before the "I want us to be something real" conversation.

Approx. 2,900 words

AO3

“You won’t believe the ludicrous encounter I just had with Wyll.”

You burst into Astarion’s tent. Well, it was ‘Astarion’s’ tent only notionally at this point. Yours still stood, but it now served solely as storage space for your assorted junk. You had effectively moved in with Astarion, having first coerced him into replacing the wooden plank and bloodstained rags he slept on with some sensible rugs and blankets.

Astarion lounged half-naked on one of the bedrolls, reading something by candlelight.

“Oh?” he looked up at you. “Do tell.”

“First the massage you promised earlier,” you said sinking down onto the floor of the tent and stripping off most of your clothes. “My back is killing me after carrying everyone all day.”

“Oh please...” he rolled his eyes. “I recall you nearly walked into your own cloud of daggers, again, and would have if I hadn’t pulled you away in time. And then you blasted Lae’zel off a cliff. It’s a wonder we haven’t kicked you out yet.” He shook his head. “And if you’re carrying anyone, I’m the one carrying you.”

Still, he sat up as you laid down on your stomach.

“Who do you think you’re fooling with this modesty, darling?” he murmured, noticing that you’d kept your underwear on. “Just lose it now,” he added, as he slid it off, leaving you completely naked, before he settled over you, his fingers commencing work on your shoulders. “So what happened with Wyll?”

“I was making my way back here, and found him... performing some kind of jig by the campfire, pretending like he didn’t know I was there.”

“The ‘Blade of Frontiers’, dancing alone in the middle of camp?” Astarion snickered. “Did you mock him? Please tell me you mocked him.”

“Well... I was going to, but then he asked me to dance with him, very earnestly.”

“That scoundrel...” he mused. “And let me guess - you agreed, didn’t you?”

“Oh trust me, at that point it would have been more awkward not to dance with him, I had to play along.”

Astarion scoffed, with a chuckle.

“Do you always go along with whatever people want from you just because it would be too awkward to say no?”

"I try not to – last time I did, I ended up with a vampire who won’t stop sucking me dry,” you deflected. “I figured there was no harm in indulging him. Besides, I don’t see you dancing with me. It was kind of nice,” you teased.

“I hate dancing,” he said.

“Right,” you said. ��I’m sure you hate dancing just as much as you hate poetry, flowers, art, cats... What else?”

“Children,” he answered. “I also can’t stand children.”

“No, that one I could see being true,” you grinned.

“So anyway, you two dolts pranced around the fire to the sound of crickets, then what?”

“And then he tried to kiss me,” you admitted, with a sigh.

Astarion’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work, slightly harder than before.

“Well look at you, receiving the Duke Ravengard’s heir’s attention. Moving up in the world, hmm?”

“I didn’t let him.”

He laughed.

“Is there even a single person left in camp that hasn’t tried to get into your pants, darling?”

You had to think for a moment.

“Are we counting Volo?”

“Sure.”

“Then just Karlach and Withers.”

“Gods, I fucking love Karlach,” he murmured. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Why? Getting jealous all of a sudden?”

Astarion was silent for a few moments.

“I just don’t understand it,” he said. “You’re with me every night. I’m at your side every day. They see us. They hear us. Still, they don’t take me – or you and me – seriously. Tell me, is there something about me that screams: ‘Please, go ahead and take my lover for yourself. Come on in and snatch her right out from under me, I don’t mind’?”

Perhaps you’d made a bad judgment call when you thought Astarion would find the absurdity of the situation humorous rather than offensive. Still, you had to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at the dramatics he added to the delivery of the last few lines that left his mouth.

“Stop laughing,” he said.

“I’m not laughing,” you laughed.

“I can feel your back muscles twitching in your efforts.”

“Well, they’re aware this all started as a joke. Perhaps they never realised that it’s long stopped being one?” you offered.

Astarion’s hands had been moving lower and lower along your back. They had now reached your ass and continued to rub, stroke and squeeze, as you let out a soft groan.

“That’s not my back, Astarion.”

One of his hands kept squeezing an ass cheek, while the other dipped to stroke you between your legs. He gave a satisfied hum when two of his fingers entered you effortlessly.

“Maybe if they could see how wet I can make you just by rubbing your back they’d reconsider how much of a joke this is,” he said, his voice low. He continued to pump his fingers in and out – you were almost embarrassed by the loud squelching sounds that came out of you. You moaned and tried to lift your hips higher, but your legs were encased between his thighs, pinned down on the bedroll. “Do you think you’d be reacting this way to young Ravengard, darling?”

“Stop it,” you hissed. “You know I don’t want anyone but you.”

“Stop?” he pulled his fingers out, to your dissatisfied whine. You looked back to see him studying your slick on his fingers. “I should go smear this on his face right now... The audacity to try to get his hands on what is not his.” He licked his fingers clean instead. He turned his attention back to you.

“Maybe if you were more vocal about your devotion to me the others wouldn’t make these mistakes.”

His hand returned between your legs, spreading your wetness and slipping lower to tease your clit.

“I could be... encouraged... to be more vocal about it,” you breathed, trying to grind against his hand.

“Yes... I should make you scream my name, so they all know who you belong to.”

His fingers returned inside you, teasing you with shallow strokes.

“You can try,” you taunted him.

Astarion let out an indignant huff and shifted to spread your legs open with his knees, simultaneously placing a hand on your back to firmly hold you down. You expect to feel his cock enter you, but he continued to stroke you with his fingers, turning his hand to curl them downwards.

“Is that a challenge, darling?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You should know better by now than to bet against me,” he said, continuing to flex his fingers inside you.

It started off pleasant enough, but rapidly grew into... more. And more. You weren’t sure what he was doing but whatever it was, it was just about making you see stars.

You sputtered as the new sensation started to take hold of your whole being.

“Ast… what..”

You couldn't manage anything coherent, as his fingers continued to dig into you, gradually picking up speed and pressure. You started to squirm to try to get away despite yourself, but he simply put more weight against the hand on your back, securely pinning you to the bedroll.

“Always getting yourself into situations you're not prepared for…" he murmured. "You're not talking your way out of this one.”

His fingers were relentless. You were worried you really would scream and wake everyone in camp. All you could do was bite down on the pillow, hoping that it would muffle your drawn-out moans.

“Let go, darling... I know you want to.”

It's not so much that you let go – rather, all your decorum was ripped from you, as your muscles convulsed, the orgasm rolling through your entire body. You panted and shuddered, trying to keep quiet, your hands clutching desperately at the covers beneath you, trying to hold on to anything like your life depended on it.

Once the feeling subsided, you came back to your senses to find Astarion hovering over you, kissing the back of your neck and shoulders, grazing them with his fangs, almost but not quite hard enough to draw blood. You felt his erection rubbing against your hip.

“Has anyone fucked you like this before?” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breath ragged from his own arousal. “Tell me.”

“No,” you gasped, trying to catch your own breath.

“I thought so,” he whispered with a smile, kissing your neck before he sat back up.

You turned back to look at him over your shoulder. He watched you with a self-satisfied grin, his fingers returning to stroke you lightly between your legs once more.

“Do you want me to do it again?” he purred.

A part of you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face after what he just put you through. Another, much larger part, wanted nothing more than to submit yourself to whatever he would do to you.

“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Turn around...” he narrowed his eyes mischievously. “I want to see your face this time.”

You flipped around onto your back, under his watchful gaze. His eyes never left yours as he stroked your slit, teasing your engorged clit with his thumb, before his fingers slipped back inside you.

You found yourself mewling in anticipation before he really even started doing anything.

“So eager,” he smirked. “So wanton...”

He curled his fingers again, moving his whole hand to mercilessly claw into a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed inside you.

You tried to relax into and accept this sensation, now that you were familiar with it. A growing pressure kept building at the bottom of your stomach. It was too much. It was entirely too much. You couldn’t take more of it. You couldn’t-

“Let go, I’ve got you...” His whisper sounded so tender in sharp contrast to the depraved way he was handling your body.

You sobbed as what you hoped was cum gushed out of you, your legs quivering.

“Good girl”, Astarion laughed with glee, bending down to place a kiss on your lips, continuing to stroke you lightly, “Your body reacts so perfectly to me... Do you want more?”

“You... I want you...” you groaned, biting his lip.

“If that’s what my good girl wants,” he purred, discarding what was left of his clothes.

You groaned as his cock entered you, rocking your hips against his, trying to find that feeling again.

“So wet and needy for me...” he goaded you. “I’ve completely ruined you for anyone else, haven’t I?”

He held absolutely nothing back as he fucked you, lewd insistent sounds of skin slapping on skin combined with your shared grunts and moans disturbing what was likely otherwise a silent night.

“Anyone awake knows exactly what I’m doing to you right now,” he rasped, voice thick.

Your walls clenched at the thought, making him shudder and sigh as well.

“You like that thought, don’t you..? I know you do,” he continued. “So shameless...”

Despite yourself, you whimpered, clenching again as another orgasm started threatening to overtake you.

“That’s it... Come for me again,” he groaned. “Come for me, my love.”

‘My love’..? Just a figure of speech, you thought. You’d thrown that phrase around, jokingly, but it’s never sounded so... raw. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to keep hearing it.

“Your what?” you gasped.

He didn’t answer. Instead he caught your lips in a deep, devouring kiss, pinning your arms over your head.

Your body gave in and you trembled under him, caught up in waves of pleasure again.

He released your arms and eased his movements once you rode out your high, but kept kissing you, hungrily, unwilling to release your lips from his.

Clearly, no further words of love would follow, you thought to yourself with a tinge of both relief and disappointment, deciding to let it go.

“You’re so good to me,” you managed, breaking your lips from his.

“Aren’t I just?” he groaned, speeding up again to chase his own release.

You kissed your way up his jaw to his ear, pausing to nibble on his earlobe.

You couldn’t see it, but a ditsy, open-mouthed smile started to play on his face.

Astarion gasped with a sharp intake of breath as you continued further, running your tongue over the inside of the shell of his ear.

“Oh sweet hells,” he sighed with pleasure, immediately grinding into your harder.

You smiled as he tilted his head, just about pressing his ear against your lips.

“Do you like that?” you whispered in his ear, running your tongue over it again, lifting your hands to run your fingers through his hair. You knew he did. You just wanted to hear him say it.

“Yes... Don’t stop...” His words sounded like a desperate plea.

You continued to gently nibble on the edge of his ear, soft moans escaping you from his movements.

“That’s it, take what’s yours” you groaned, as his hips crashed into yours harder.

His breathing and movements were becoming more and more frantic.

“Astarion...” you whispered, grazing the shell of his ear with your lips.

He let out an uncharacteristic whimper, all his usual composure slipping from him, as he bucked his hips, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts.

“My sweet...” you breathed against his ear.

He came completely undone, spilling into you with forceful, jagged thrusts, before finally stilling. His whole body seemed to melt into yours as he stayed on top of you, trying to regain his breath.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, not wanting to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to lift himself from you either. Instead he trailed light, tender kisses from your neck up to your lips.

You delicately traced the contours of Astarion’s face with your fingertips, running them from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as he leaned into your caress, gazing into your eyes.

Astarion parted his lips slightly, as though to say something, only to seal them again. He tilted his head to kiss your knuckles as your fingers gradually made their way back up, to run through his hair. Eventually he spoke.

“You would really choose me over the more... blatantly obvious options you have at your disposal here?” he asked quietly.

“Haven’t I made that abundantly clear already..?”

“Well of course you have – no one else is this good,” he said with a tired smirk.

“I’m not talking about the...” you blinked. “You know I’m not with you just for the sex, right..?” you frowned, looking into his eyes.

He looked away, slipping out of you and moving to lie down next to you.

“Is that so?” he said softly.

You found yourself suddenly feeling rattled. Was he simply fishing for compliments again, or had you been utterly oblivious to just how deep his insecurities ran this whole time..?

“You have a wealth of other qualities that I... enjoy and appreciate,” you said, somewhat lamely.

Astarion propped his head up on his hand and raised an eyebrow at you quizzically. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes despite his outward nonchalance.

Oh for fuck’s sake, you thought. I’m not ready for any serious conversations now, especially not with cum running down my thighs.

You turned away to grab something to wipe yourself down with.

“A gentleman would clean up his own mess, by the way. Not one of your strong points. But you do have some virtues that make up for it. For instance... I can leave cheese unattended around you, knowing you won’t eat it.”

Astarion went to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“You’re a treasure trove of useless information,” you continued. “But unlike some of our companions you usually keep it to yourself.” A hint of a smile played on his lips at that.

“Your hand feels nice and cold on my forehead when I have a headache.” You laid back down next to him, mirroring the way he was lying.

“You always smell nice, especially for a dead guy. You never hog the mirror.”

“What about my hair, won’t you mention that?” he smiled.

“No, fuck your hair, it makes mine look awful in comparison.”

He chuckled at that.

“I do rather adore the garnet puppy eyes though,” you murmured. “What else... You make me laugh, and, more importantly, I make you laugh – which is great for my ego,” you continued.

“As long as you understand that I’m usually laughing at you,” he countered.

“Prick... Then there’s the fact you’ve saved my life four times.”

“Seven,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes.

“Five.”

“It’s seven, dear, I counted.”

“Whatever. When it comes to battle, you’re silent but deadly,” you said. “Like a-”

Astarion’s hand covered your mouth.

“Do not finish that thought, darling.”

You grinned from behind his palm.

“I think we can be done with this conversation,” he said.

“Wait, wait, one more...” you laughed. “You’re eccentric, unpredictable, often irrational. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”

You smiled as Astarion groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand.

“Knowing I’ll get to spend another day in your mad company gives me a reason to get up in the morning,” you added, softly.

“Come here, you sweet fool,” he whispered, drawing you against him.

You hugged him tightly. It took so long for him to start initiating these embraces that wouldn’t lead to sex... You relished each one.

Tomorrow, Astarion thought to himself, unbeknown to you. I have to tell her tomorrow.

~~~~~

Follow up bonus scene

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

Next in series - Confession

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@spacebarbarianweird @kittenintheden - hey, I heard you like elf ears

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 smut #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfiction

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melzula · 6 months

Note

zuko confiding in sokka to be his wingman to try to get together with you?

a/n: sokka sharing his back bending skills with zuko we love to see it. also this takes place post-war

summary: Zuko isn’t sure how to tell you he likes you, so he looks to Sokka for guidance

Zuko watches longingly from across the room as you dance with Katara and enjoy the night’s festivities. Your eyes sparkle with joy and your smile is so infectious it has everyone around you beaming. Everyone seems to want your attention, and so he hadn’t been able to speak to you much since the party began, but he desperately wants to be near you.

“You know you look like a total creep when you stand in the corner and stare, right?” Sokka notes, interrupting Zuko’s sulking.

“I’m not staring!” The Fire Lord says defensively, but he knows he’s not fooling anyone.

“Come on, buddy, it’s a party! Lighten up! Go mingle!”

“I don’t want to mingle,” Zuko grumbles indignantly, “I just want to talk to y/n.”

“Then go talk to her!” Sokka encourages as if it’s the most easiest thing in the world. “It’s not like you haven’t talked to her before. She’s our friend!”

“I know that,” the boy bites irritably. Deflating, he sighs, “But it’s different this time.”

“What do you mean?” Sokka says, his demeanor morphing into that of a more serious tone.

“I… I think I have feelings for her.”

“You what?!” Sokka exclaims, earning a few puzzled stares from nearby partygoers. Zuko sends his friend a harsh look and urges him to be quiet.

“I know, I know. What am I thinking? She’s perfect, she’d never go for someone like me,” he admits in quiet defeat. “It’s stupid of me to feel this way.”

“What? No way, that’s not true,” his friend insists encouragingly. “You’re a great guy! You just need to work on your romance game.”

“My what?” Zuko retorts skeptically.

“Your romance game! Look, if you want y/n to like you then you have to work your charm.”

“I don’t have any charm to work.”

“Sure you do, it’s easy! Take it from your old buddy Sokka, the ladies love me. Just follow my advice and by the end of the night y/n will be dying for you to ask her out!”

Zuko is skeptical of his friend’s words and hesitant to take Sokka’s offer of help, but he knows he’s hopeless on his own and there aren’t many other options. With a relenting sigh, Zuko gives his friend an agreeing nod.

“What should I do first?”

“Just follow my lead,” the boy says with a wink before loudly calling you and his sister over. Zuko does his best to mask his embarrassment and puts on his best attempt of a smile as you and Katara saunter over arm-in-arm.

“Hi, guys!” You greet cheerily. “King Kue really knows how to throw a party, doesn’t he?”

“He sure does! Say, that’s a really nice dress,” Sokka compliments before harshly elbowing Zuko’s side. “Don’t you agree, Zuko?”

“Uh, yes, it is,” he stammers nervously, his face immediately turning red. “You look very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a bashful smile. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Not at all,” he says earnestly. “You could never be too much.”

“You know, y/n, Zuko here was just telling me how much he wants to dance,” your friend informs you much to the Fire Lord’s dismay.

“What?! That’s not-“

“Oh, well, would you like to dance with me, Zuko?” You ask with a careful smile, delicately holding your hand out for him to take. His protests immediately die in his throat as he takes in your gentle features, the world almost seeming to come to a halt as he focuses on you before him. Your beauty almost physically pains him, and he wished he knew how to tell you this without coming off like a total creep.

Zuko hesitates before taking your hand, knowing that whatever happens next could alter your friendship forever, but the idea of physical touch is almost too tempting, and so he gently grabs hold of your hand and guides you back to the dance floor.

The musicians play a melody of traditional Earth Kingdom waltzes, and despite knowing nothing about dancing Zuko does his best to match your pace. His hands are suffocatingly warm against your skin, but you never once complain. You say nothing when he steps on your toes repeatedly or gets caught on your dress, and in spite of how awkward you both look compared to the other couples on the floor you seem to be having the most fun out of them all.

“You’re doing wonderful,” you encourage, giggling when he missteps and nearly trips over his own feet.

“I’m awful at this,” he argues exasperatedly. “I’m sorry you got stuck with such a lousy dance partner.”

“I don’t care about how good you can dance. I’m just happy you’re dancing with me,” you admit, looking away bashfully to hide your smile. “I haven’t really been able to speak to you much tonight, so I appreciate being with you now.”

Over your shoulder, Zuko spots Sokka from across the way. The water tribe boy waves his arms frantically and gestures for Zuko to make his move. The Fire Lord simply scowls before swallowing down his nerves and looking back to you.

“Y/n,” he calls faintly, gently guiding your face to look back up at him. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all night, but it’s been hard. You’re so full of life, you draw people in with just your smile, and so I didn’t think I’d get the chance to finally be alone with you and tell you that- well, that I have feelings for you. I want to be the one that makes you smile, the one that dances with you at every party.”

“Zuko,” you murmur softly, taken aback by his confession. He takes your surprise as rejection and looks down with a dejected smile.

“I know, we’re friends. It’s strange of me to think we could be more, but I just needed to tell you.”

“No, that’s not it,” you quickly correct him, “I-I’m just surprised because I didn’t think you felt the same way I did.”

"You mean… you like me back?” Zuko asks in disbelief.

“Of course I do! What’s not to like?” You tease with a smile. “All night I was hoping you’d come up to me, and even though Katara said I should be the one to make the first move I was too scared to try. I’m glad you told me because I feel the same.”

You feel as if your heart could burst when he carefully tilts your chin up to meet your lips in a kiss. Ever since he joined your group you’d wanted nothing more than for him to see you as you saw him, and after months of what you thought was one-sided pining it seems Zuko has felt the same way about you all along. It took some time for things to come out in the open, but now that they are you couldn’t be any happier.

And unbeknownst to either of you, Katara and Sokka share high-fives behind your back in celebration of their successful plan.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

#melzula writes #request #zuko #sokka #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender

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celestialprincesse · 6 months

Text

Just going to leave this here and then sneak away! K bye! 🎀🩰

John Price is a man who runs on instinct. After years in the forces, he has to be. He's learned that the feeling in his gut is almost never wrong, and learning how to trust it is a skill. Right now though? He's wishing that his stomach would stop roiling. He's so anxious he feels like he might actually be sick. Kyle sits earnestly at his side, hunched over in the plastic hospital chair nursing a long gone flat vending machine Coke.

They've been tuning out your screams for a good three hours now.

Something within John breaks with every guttural cry that sounds from under the doorway. He's heard so many countless screams of agony from faceless people. They've been and gone in his head like a passing storm. Yours, he thinks, will stick for a lifetime.

Realistically, he knows that you're safe. Receiving the best care you possibly can, safe within the walls of the modern private hospital his insurance more than covers. He also can't help but remind himself just how complicated giving birth can be - and you're so delicate to him.

He's not actually sure when Kyle got here, having been running on autopilot since your contractions started yesterday. All the boys love you just as much as you do them, and when he'd messaged their shared group with a simple: > On way to hospital now. they'd been so shit scared.

Each one of them had opted to take up shifts staying beside their captain in the hospital, waiting earnestly for if they were at all needed. Johnny had picked up groceries, claiming that he' d best know what to get for a new mum, seeing as he's the only one besides Price who actually has sisters, and a niece of his own. None of them would ever admit that they also wanted to be the first to see little baby Price, and to check in on his wife who'm they'd grown to love so much, but there'd definitely been attempts on all three sides to work out when the baby would approximately pop, so that they could time their stint accordingly.

"Think she's okay in there?" John croaks, lifting his head from his palms, squinting at the fluorescent hall lights with a tired grunt.

Kyle swallows the sip of Coke in his mouth before responding. "She's a trooper. I think if anyone can handle having a baby, it's your missus."

Hours later, your small hospital room falls silent, and John is immediately up on his feet, back ramrod straight, everything alert. And then, a baby cries. It's a little hiccuping whinge at first, but then his baby seems to find their voice, wailing up a storm.

"You should go. See them." Kyle prompts quietly, noticing his captain's reverie as he just stands there staring at the closed door.

Nurses file out one by one, whilst he makes his way in, a dazed sort of look on his face as he sees the swaddles blanket you hold close to your chest, gurgling softly as tiny fat fists reach out to your nose.

The stillness in the room is like time stops entirely, only finally broken by a soft "Hey." as your husband makes his way quietly to your side.

"Hi." You breathe, a soft smile blossoming on your tired face, scooting along in the hospital bed so he can sit beside you.

The reverence on his face as he looks down towards the face of such a small creature is a look only talked about in fairytales. A look that tells you that your baby is the luckiest child in the world to have a dad like John.

"She's a girl." You laugh softly, noticing the look on John's face, the one that says he's holding his tongue.

"Oh, my baby girl." Tears spring to his cerulean eyes as he brushes a gentle finger down the soft slope of her tiny nose.

For a moment, the two - three - of you sit in total stillness, entirely enraptured by the tiny human you currently keep held so closely to your chest. Until there's a quiet, tentative knock on the door.

"Mrs Price? Can we come in?" Kyle's voice comes softly from the other side, but before you can even finish your "Yes" not just Kyle, but also Simon and Johnny are practically barrelling into the room, barely able to contain their intrigue as they lock eyes with the little blanket wrapped parcel they've been waiting nine months to meet.

The minute you invite them to look at the sleeping face of your daughter, they're practically tripping over themselves to see the much anticipated baby Price.

"Looks jus' like her mam." Johnny observes, whilst Simon just stares, and Kyle busies himself with taking a picture of you, John and your baby girl.

"Bought 'er a present, mrs Price." Simon admits a little sheepishly as he pulls a haphazardly wrapped parcel from his coat pocket. A stuffed ghost teddy only just the size of your fist. "To remind 'er that uncle ghost is always looking out for her."

You're practically crying at the thought behind his gift, carefully side-hugging the lieutenant with the arm that's not holding your daughter.

"We're all here for her. And for you. Always. One for one and that."

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atinyslittleworld · 2 months

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Drunkteez

hyungline x f!reader

Genre: humour, explicit, fluff

Warinings: MDNI 18+

Hongjoong

It was a warm summer evening, and the night had turned into a festive blur of laughter and music. Hongjoong and Y/N had spent the evening at a friend's party, where the drinks flowed freely and the mood was jubilant. The couple, deeply in love, found themselves surrounded by friends and good vibes. As the clock ticked past midnight, it was clear that Hongjoong had indulged a bit more than usual.

Stumbling slightly, Hongjoong held onto Y/N’s arm as they made their way back to their apartment. His normally sharp eyes were glazed, and his speech was punctuated by the occasional slur. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his drunken antics. It was endearing to see the usually composed and charismatic Hongjoong in such a vulnerable state.

“Y/N, you’re my...my favorite person in the whole world,” he declared, his voice loud and earnest. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice,” Y/N replied, chuckling as she guided him up the steps to their front door. She fumbled with the keys, trying to get them inside before he could attract any more attention from the neighbors.

Once inside, Y/N helped Hongjoong to the couch. He plopped down heavily, his head leaning back as he stared at the ceiling with a goofy grin.

“Y/N, you know what?” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“What is it, Joongie?” she asked, sitting beside him and brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“I...I’ve been thinking,” he started, pausing dramatically. “You should...you should ride me like a horse during sex.”

Y/N blinked, her eyes widening in surprise before she burst into uncontrollable laughter. Hongjoong’s face was a mixture of pride and confusion, clearly thinking he’d just shared the most brilliant idea.

“You...you want me to what?” Y/N managed to say between fits of laughter.

“Ride me like a horse,” he repeated earnestly, nodding as if this made perfect sense. “I think it would be fun. I could be...your noble steed.”

Y/N doubled over, clutching her sides as tears of laughter streamed down her face. “Oh my god, Hongjoong, you’re too much.”

He looked at her, a slow smile spreading across his face as he watched her laugh. “You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he said softly, his tone suddenly serious.

Y/N’s laughter began to subside, and she looked at him, her heart swelling with love. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she said, wiping her eyes.

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” he replied, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers.

“I do,” she whispered, kissing him gently on the lips. “Even when you’re drunk and say the most absurd things.”

Hongjoong chuckled, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m glad,” he murmured, his eyes drooping as exhaustion from the night’s events began to catch up with him.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Y/N said, helping him to his feet once more.

As they made their way to the bedroom, Hongjoong’s steps grew heavier, and by the time they reached the bed, he was nearly asleep on his feet. Y/N helped him out of his clothes and into bed, pulling the covers over him.

“Goodnight, my noble steed,” she whispered with a smile, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Hongjoong mumbled something incoherent and snuggled into the pillow, a contented smile on his face. Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart full, before slipping into bed beside him.

Seonghwa

The night was calm, with a gentle breeze whispering through the leaves outside the window. Y/N carefully guided a very tipsy Seonghwa through the front door, his arm slung over her shoulders as he swayed with each step. The soft glow of the hallway light illuminated their path as they stumbled into the living room, Seonghwa's drunken giggles echoing in the space.

"Okay, let's get these shoes off," Y/N said, trying to steady him as she gently nudged him onto the couch. He plopped down with a thud, his head falling back against the cushions, eyes half-closed in a blissful, intoxicated daze.

"Y/N," he slurred, a goofy smile spreading across his face as he watched her kneel down to untie his shoes. "You're... you're like, really pretty, you know that?"

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she pulled at the laces. "Thank you, Hwa. You're pretty handsome yourself."

Seonghwa laughed, a loud, uninhibited sound that filled the room. "I know, right? I'm like... a total catch." He leaned forward, trying to help her with the shoes, but ended up just getting in the way. "Wait, I got it... I got it."

"Sure you do," Y/N said, pushing his hands aside gently. She managed to get one shoe off and was working on the other when Seonghwa started blabbering again.

"You know," he said, his tone suddenly serious as if he was about to share a great secret. "One day... I want you to... to choke me during sex."

Y/N froze, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. Seonghwa's face was earnest, his eyes glassy with drunken sincerity. For a moment, there was complete silence, and then Y/N burst into laughter, a sound so contagious that Seonghwa soon joined in, his own laughter mixing with hers.

"Oh my god, Hwa," Y/N managed to say between giggles, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "You really are something else."

Seonghwa grinned, swaying slightly as he leaned back. "I mean it," he said, his voice softening. "You're... you're everything to me, Y/N. And I trust you... with everything. Even the... the weird stuff."

Y/N's laughter subsided, replaced by a warm, affectionate smile. She reached out, cupping his cheek in her hand. "I love you, Seonghwa," she said softly. "Drunk or not, you're my favorite person."

He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing as he sighed contentedly. "I love you too, Y/N. So much."

With a final tug, she got his other shoe off and helped him lie down on the couch, covering him with a blanket. As she turned to leave, Seonghwa's hand caught hers, pulling her back down beside him.

"Stay," he mumbled, his eyes already closing. "Just for a little while."

Y/N smiled, settling down next to him, her fingers intertwined with his. "Always," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "I'll always stay."

Yunho

Yunho stumbled out of the bar, his arm slung lazily around Y/N's shoulders. His steps were wobbly, and his speech was a slurry of barely coherent words. She giggled softly, trying to keep him upright as they made their way to the car.

"Yunho, come on. Let's get you home," Y/N coaxed, her voice gentle and soothing.

Yunho's head lolled to the side, his eyes glazed over but twinkling with mischief. "Y/N, did I ever tell you 'bout the time I fought a kangaroo?" he blurted out, his words blending together in a tipsy ramble.

Y/N stifled a laugh. "No, you didn't. But let's save that story for another time, okay?"

She opened the car door and tried to maneuver Yunho into the passenger seat. He resisted, suddenly planting his feet on the ground and looking at her with a serious expression.

"Y/N," he said, his tone unexpectedly solemn. "One day... one day I wanna have sex in this car. Parked somewhere public. Like... right in the middle of the city. Where anyone could see us."

Y/N stared at him, her eyes wide in surprise. She could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks, but the sheer absurdity of the situation made her burst into laughter. She doubled over, holding her stomach as she laughed uncontrollably.

Yunho looked at her, confused but amused. "What's so funny?" he asked, a goofy grin spreading across his face.

Y/N wiped tears of laughter from her eyes and shook her head. "You're unbelievable, Yunho. Come on, let's get you home before you come up with any more wild ideas."

As she finally managed to get him into the car, Yunho continued to mutter about his outrageous plans, but Y/N couldn't help but smile.

Yeosang

Yeosang stumbled into their shared apartment, one arm draped around Y/N's shoulders as they both giggled uncontrollably. The city lights cast a gentle glow through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, creating a mesmerizing pattern on the walls. Both a little tipsy from their night out, they fumbled in the dark, trying to find the light switch.

"Where is it?" Y/N laughed, her hand grazing the wall but finding nothing but smooth plaster.

"I swear it was right here," Yeosang slurred, his fingers stretching out blindly. They moved together, bumping into furniture and each other, their laughter echoing through the apartment.

Yeosang paused, his hand dropping to his side as he turned to Y/N, his eyes sparkling with mischief and a hint of something deeper. "You know," he began, his voice low and serious despite his drunken state, "one night, I want to... I want to have sex right here."

Y/N blinked at him, her laughter dying down as she tried to process his words. "What?" she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"In front of these windows," Yeosang continued, gesturing vaguely at the large panes of glass that showcased the twinkling cityscape. "With the lights out. Only the lights from the city lighting up the room."

Y/N's eyes widened, and then she burst into laughter, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. "Yeosang!" she exclaimed, swatting his arm playfully. "You’re ridiculous!"

"No, really," he insisted, his expression earnest despite his slurred words. "Just imagine it. It would be... beautiful."

Before Y/N could respond, her hand finally found the elusive light switch. She flipped it on, flooding the room with light. The sudden brightness made them both squint and groan.

"Found it!" Y/N declared triumphantly, her laughter filling the room once more.

Yeosang blinked in the harsh light, a slow smile spreading across his face as he looked at Y/N. "Maybe tonight isn't the night for that," he conceded, pulling her into a warm embrace. "But one day."

Y/N snuggled into his chest, their laughter fading into a comfortable silence. "One day," she agreed, her eyes drifting back to the city lights beyond the windows. "It really would be beautiful."

#ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jeong yunho #kang yeosang

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cowboylu · 2 months

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Pinot Noir

This is my first time writing smut I really don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing lmao but if I stare at this any longer I’ll kms

Warnings- Smut, eating Abby out, drinking and Owen and Mel catching strays ig 🤷‍♀️

⟢

It didn’t start this way. You didn’t mean for it to go this far. Just an offhand comment about her boyfriend and suddenly…

You can’t say you’re complaining though.

You rake in the sight in front of you. Abigail Anderson, shirt unbuttoned, and head tilted back on the couch as she rests her elbows over the cushions. In one hand there’s an almost empty bottle of wine and the other is gripping the pillow. Her legs are spread and her hair is down and she’s rocking her aching clit into your hand and even though you’re sitting on the floor, you can’t help but feel like you’re on top of the world. Also that her boyfriend is an idiot.

⟢

It’s late at night when your roommate comes back from her shift at the bar. Pouring drinks for strangers must have exhausted her somehow because she ignores you where you’re sitting on the couch and storms into her room. You get the feeling it isn’t just her job, though.

“You okay?” You call through the apartment. Always the unceremonious.

You hear a slam from her room and figure if she wants you to leave her alone, she can tell you. You leave your glass of wine on the coffee table and walk to her room, knocking on the door before calling through it.

“Abs? You okay?”

Your relationship has always been rocky. Her intensity freaks you out and your laid back attitude annoys her. there’s arguments about you not taking the trash out on time and her working out too loud too early in the morning. But for the most part, respect and distance makes a large difference in the peacefulness of everything. Sometimes you even manage to get on. However, the teeny tiny crush you may or may not be harbouring doesn’t help.

“I’m fine.” She calls back but there’s another bang, as if she’s dropped something, and you’re unconvinced.

“Okay, that sounds like the opposite of fine. Can I come in?”

Before you can knock again, she swings the door open to reveal her braid undone and her dress shirt unbuttoned to her sternum. You try not to stare but it’s hard and part of you wants to savour it. Never have you seen her in such disarray.

“Abby, what’s wrong?” You ask earnestly as she wipes her tired eyes. “You look like shit.” Good shit. Beautiful shit, even, but shit nonetheless.

“Thanks.” She laughs sarcastically and turns to walk back into her room. She leaves the door open and you don’t encroach, but you do take the opportunity to look around the room you’ve never seen before.

Her bed is made and everything seems normal until you find the source of the loud noises. A broken handle from her closet lies on her bed and a weight lies on the floor, apparently having fallen from the small weight rack she keeps next to her mirror. The woman herself is trying to find a way to open her closet door without the handle. Very much to no avail.

“I just mean you seem stressed.” You try and she turns around from her place on the other side of the room.

“Oh, do I?” She asks sharply and slams her hand against the door when part of the broken handle nips her finger.

“Okay.” You stop her and walk into her room to grab her hand and lead her out of the door and to the couch. You find another glass in the kitchen but when you turn around, she’s already taking a sip from the bottle. You laugh and put the glass away when she looks at you like she’s been caught.

“You have your glass…” She says defensively. As if you even mind.

“I can’t lie, Abby. I would have thought you were classier than this.” You tease, to which she snorts, wipes her mouth and puts the bottle back on the table.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong?” You ask, picking your glass up from the table and plopping down on the couch next to her.

This is unusual because yes, you’ve had moments like these before, it’s never been on the same couch. Or while making conversation. Normally, you drink and read on the couch while she does the same on the armchair across from you. Maybe you’ll sit in silence as something you’ve both wanted to see plays on the television. But neither of you are talkers.

“Ahh, it’s… it doesn’t matter, it’s a long story.” She says dismissively but you can tell that whatever's plaguing her is doing just that. Plaguing her.

“Look,” you start, not one for dancing around, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but your stress is stressing me out and it’s making this wine taste like shit. I wanna listen if you wanna tell me.”

“This wine already tastes like shit.”

“That’s what you took from that?”

She groans and tips her head back on the couch and you have to try as hard as possible not to stare at the way the anatomy of her neck stretches with her.

“School is running me into the ground and my boss is on my ass about shit I can’t even control all the time and I haven’t gotten in the gym in so long and my boyfriend… ugh…” she rambles.

Makes sense, you think. Med school and working as a bartender all while trying to juggle fitness and a boyfriend…can’t be easy. Although you didn’t know about the last one.

“Boyfriend?” You ask shamelessly. “What about him?”

Abby sighs and reaches for the bottle of wine on the coffee table. She takes a generous sip before licking her lips and resting the bottle in between her legs. You have to take a drink of your own wine so as not to audibly moan at the sight.

“He got my best friend pregnant.”

Oh!

“Oh…” You try to think of something encouraging to say but you can’t. “So… he cheated on you with your best friend?”

“Not exactly. It’s complicated, we weren’t exactly together at the time and she-“ Abby stops herself and runs a hand down her face. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“No wonder…” you murmur and take the bottle from between her legs, pouring some into your glass before offering it back to her. “We don’t have to talk. We can watch something terrible or just sit here if you want.”

She nods and shifts on the sofa so she’s leaning back and manspreading. She looks beautiful, you think. Even if she is a bit of a dick. Her hair down and her shirt unbuttoned and she must be so stressed, she doesn’t care about being put together anymore.

You’ve always thought so but never lingered on it for fear of losing this apartment and her (albeit unsteady) friendship. Always thought she was beautiful. Always thought she was something to be admired. You’re just too proud of yourself to admit it.

“I just think it’s fucked up.” She breaks the silence. Apparently she does want to talk about it.

“Yeah?” You drawl lazily, leaning your elbow over the back of the couch.

“Yeah. We weren’t together but that was my best friend, y’know? Then he had the audacity to come back to me and say ‘oh we’ve been together for so long, why waste it?’ Like…dude?” She throws her hands up in the air in front of her and shifts back on the couch so she’s sitting up more.

“And did you take him back?” You ask.

“Yeah.” She admits after a moment of hesitation but apparently you don’t hide the look on your face as well as you think you do. “I know, god. I know. I don’t need a lecture.”

You put your hands up in surrender and laugh softly.

“I didn’t say anything.”

She rolls her eyes and smiles and it’s moments like these where you think you could see yourself falling in love with her. Or at least having a tragic situationship and never getting over it.

“I'm just saying. The sex must have been mind blowing for you to stay after that.” You tease but she lets out a sarcastic laugh and your mouth drops open.

“Are you serious? He does all that and he doesn’t even fuck you good?”

“Don’t be so vulgar about it.” She scrunches up her nose cutely

“There’s no other way to be. If he’s gonna cheat, he should at least be able to make you cum hard enough to forget about it.”

“He never made me cum at all, actually.” She admits.

“Oh dear god.” You say dramatically and stand from the couch. You’re gonna need another bottle of wine if you’re gonna make it out of this alive. “Like ever? He didn’t even try?”

“You’re making me feel really good about myself right now.” Abby says sarcastically as her eyes follow you around the apartment.

“It’s not you, it’s him.” You say, looking down at the bottle of wine that I’m currently struggling to get the cork out of. “And if he never wanted to make a woman like you cum, then…”

Abby’s eyebrow lifts and her head tilts as a little smirk appears on her face.

“A woman like me?” She asks with a curious little smile, sitting back as she watches you pop the cork out of the bottle. “What does that mean?”

“What do you mean, ‘what do you mean’? It means what it means.” You counter, walking back over to the couch as Abby drains the last of the old wine bottle. You sit down and don’t bother filling up your glass, only taking a drink out of the new bottle before passing it to her.

“But what does that mean?” She says, with that cocky smirk that makes you want to drop your pants for her.

“Just that if he didn’t care about making his girl cum, then he’s a piece of shit.” You say before taking the bottle Abby had held out for you.

“You say it like it’s easy.” She scoffs.

“It is easy.” You retort before passing the bottle back to her. “You just have to pay attention.”

“You think you could do it to me?”

⟢

And that's how you got here. Holding Abby’s leg up as you devour her cunt and moaning every time she tugs on your hair.

“Oh fuck…please…” She moans breathlessly. You’re not even sure what she’s begging for.

Loud. Just like you imagined.

“Y’taste so good.” You mumble into her soaked folds but she pushes your head back into her and you laugh softly. The vibration makes her hips buck and you wrap an arm around her thigh to try and hold her down.

“Fuck— fu-ck…shit, m’gonna cum.” She whispers, quickly like she can’t get the words out fast enough.

“Mhm, cum on m’face.” Her hand pushes your head down as she fucks herself on your face and you moan against her pretty cunt.

She whines before she cums, a sound you’ve never imagined she’d make, but you want to hear that sound for the rest of your life. Make her cum so hard that she forgets all about her stupid fucking boyfriend.

Abby rides out her orgasm on your tongue and you look up at her with borderline predatory eyes. She pushes your sweaty hair out of your forehead and tips her head back on the couch.

You push her unbuttoned shirt off her stomach, revealing her waist and her pretty tits as you kiss up her abs and chest.

“Better than your boyfriend?”

“Fuck you.” She laughs before pulling you into a kiss.

#abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby x masc!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x masc reader

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r0b0s-robos · 13 days

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Pretty Boy, a DCA x Reader Oneshot Summary:

The daycare attendants are head over heels for you. Sun especially tries his darndest to gain your attention and favor in any way he can. His daydreams and fantasies meet reality only to be thwarted by someone without any respect for theatre!

This fic is based off this song! -> Naethan Apollo - Pretty Boy [LYRIC VIDEO]

Read the FULL fic/CHECK TAGS on AO3 -> here

Sneak Peek!!

His non-existent heart fluttered as he remembered doing a show with you just the other day. You played the valiant knight who fell for the trapped princess.

“Oh, Princess,” the knight called up the tower. “Your father has trapped you in these walls, but I will take you away from these cold bricks and mortar!”

The princess fawned, swooning over the open window of her tower. “My knight!”

Children laughed at Sun’s high-pitched, shrill voice. Your smile as you sucked in your lips to stop from breaking character made him feel giddy.

“My knight!” the princess exclaimed. “Your words bring me hope! But, how will I escape these walls?”

You cleared your throat, still reeling from his unexpected voice.

“Princess, I will-” you snickered. “I will catch you! Jump into my arms, my love! So that we may run away!” The knight held a hand over his chest as the other gestured to his love.

The princess looked over the ledge, uncertain. “I’m frightened, Sir Knight! These walls are all I’ve ever known. What if the world outside is cruel?” Sun’s smile slacked. “What if I do not survive the fall?”

“Fear not, Princess!” The knight’s booming confidence made the princess cover her mouth in awe. “I will catch you! And should the world be cruel, we will face it together, in love!”

The crowd of children was torn between sounds of disgust and adoration.

The knight spread his arms wide, awaiting the princess’ embrace.

She stood on the ledge.

Sun looked at you, staring intensely. The moment your head turned, he looked away.

“I will catch you.” The knight said earnestly.

The princess nodded. “Whatever you say, dearest knight!” She jumped into the knight’s arms.

Sun held your hand, the only thing separating his segmented fingers from yours was fabric.

The princess clung tightly to the knight, before planting a big kiss on his cheek. “Muah!” she vocalized. “Muah, muah! My hero!” she rejoiced.

The puppets disappeared to the side of the wing. The show ended and you stood from behind the stage. “Okay, kiddos, snack time. Get in a row- Peanut allergies to the left, please!”

You were stepping away before Sun had even stood from his spot. He looked down at the puppets you tucked haphazardly into the lower shelf of the back of the stage. His eyes remained on the princess, noise falling away as he stared into the black, beady eyes and the golden-braided hair that draped over her shoulders.

“Sun!”

He jolted upright. “Coming! So sorry, Sunshine, just tidying up.”

#[r0b0.readingcircle]#fnaf sb #dca community #fnaf dca #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #fnaf sun and moon #sun x reader #moon x reader

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pastryfication · 3 months

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dreams coming true | ollie bearman

pairing: ollie bearman x gn!reader

summary: ollie gets the call that’s he’s going to be a f1 driver and there’s no one he wants to tell faster than you.

warnings: very sappy

you’re sitting at your favorite coffee shop, the one with the cozy corner booth and the best hot chocolate in town, when your phone buzzes with a text from your boyfriend.

got some news. meet me at the park?

your heart skips a beat. ollie has been anxiously awaiting news about his racing career, and you can’t help but feel a surge of anticipation. you quickly gather your things and head to the park, your mind racing with possibilities.

when you arrive, you see ollie pacing near the fountain, his face lit up with a mixture of excitement and nerves. the moment he spots you, his expression softens, and he breaks into a wide grin.

"hey," you call out, walking briskly towards him.

"hey," he responds, wrapping you in a tight hug as soon as you’re within reach. "i’ve got some big news."

"tell me!" you say, pulling back slightly to look at him. his eyes are sparkling, and you can see he’s barely containing his excitement.

"i just found out," he says, taking a deep breath, "that i’m going to be driving with haas in 2025. it’s official now."

for a moment, the world seems to stand still. then, you let out a squeal of delight and throw your arms around him again. "ollie! that’s incredible! i’m so proud of you!"

he laughs, the sound filled with relief and joy, and holds you even tighter. "i can’t believe it’s actually happening," he murmurs into your hair. "all the hard work, all the sacrifices . . . it’s finally paying off."

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands resting on either side of his face as you beam up at him. "you deserve this, ollie. you’ve worked so hard, and i’ve seen how much you’ve put into this dream. it’s finally real."

his grin widens at your words, face subconsciously leaning into your touch before he breaks free, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "i couldn’t have done it without you," he says softly. "you’ve been my rock through everything."

tears of happiness well up in your eyes, and you blink them away quickly. "i’m just so happy for you," you say, your voice thick with emotion as you throw your arms around him for another hug. "this is the beginning of something amazing."

he nods, his own eyes glistening. "and i want you there with me every step of the way," he says earnestly. "i can’t imagine doing this without you."

you smile, feeling a warm glow of love and pride. "i’ll be right there, cheering you on. always."

still buzzing with excitement, the two of you sit on a nearby bench, talking excitedly about the future. ollie tells you about the call he received, the details of the contract, the plans for the upcoming season and the number he plans on taking. 87. you listen, hanging onto every word, your heart swelling with happiness for him.

when there later is a still in your conversation, you lean your head on his shoulder. "this is just the beginning," you promise softly. "i can’t wait to see where this journey takes you."

he kisses the top of your head affectionately, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. "us," he corrects gently. "where this journey takes us."

you smile, feeling a deep sense of contentment. no matter what challenges lie ahead, you know you’ll face them together. and with ollie’s dream now a reality, the future looks brighter than ever.

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yandere-sins · 1 month

Text

Master Negotiator

I got around to playing the new event, and I remembered how much I love Jing Yuan! Good for me! So I wrote this, please enjoy! :D

Characters: Yandere!Jing Yuan x Fem!Reader Fandom: Honkai Starrail Warnings: Yandere, Mentioning of Captivity, Dub-Con touches and intentions, Negotiating with the captor for the sake of wanting something

"Look at the beautiful flower that graces me with her presence."

Lowering the scroll in his hands, Jing Yuan didn't hesitate to hold out his hand towards you, beckoning you closer as you stood there, anguished by the sight. The way this man could lounge casually, with no worries etched into his face while yours was laid in scorn was yet another testament to the power he had over you. One you wanted to dismiss but had run out of options to do so a long time ago.

He had all the time in this world to hold out his hand while yours seemed to trickle away like sand through the gaps in your fingers.

A smile captured his lips as you placed your palm in Jing Yuan's, his grip tightening greedily in the wake of your acceptance of his invite. His pull wasn't strong, it didn't hurt; but in a swift motion, he had placed you at his side on top of the lounge, back braced against his thigh so you may be comfortable sitting while he brought the back of your hand up to his face, pecking a few, devoted kisses.

"Do you enjoy your new wardrobe?" he asked absentmindedly as he watched his hand fall to your thigh, the high slit of the traditional dress he had you dress up in giving him all the range to run his fingertips along you leg. The underside of your thigh tickled as he left a trace of his featherlight touch from his calloused hands behind, and you straightened your posture and cleared your throat, not wanting to give him the wrong idea that you'd enjoy any of it.

Jing Yuan grinned at your reaction, letting you know he decided to misinterpret it anyway.

"I don't care much for it; the color isn't a favorite of mine."

"True," he mumbled, fascinated with the goosebumps erecting beneath his touch. "Because it is mine."

Lips parting in a boyish grin, like a child that had just opened his birthday present, you barely held back from rolling your eyes. Of course, it was; everything was his. His home, his decision, even you. Swatting at the hand caressing your leg, his thumb brushing up and down your skin gently in a gesture you could only call possessive, you uttered a quick, dismissive, "Yeah, right, well."

The hand didn't move, only stopped for a moment, even as you pried your fingers between your leg and his palm, never breaking eye contact with the man who held you captive for his own amusement. "General, we need to have a talk."

"Ooh," Jing Yuan lilted, but without letting go of your leg, he scooted up on the chaise, sitting properly this time instead of lounging. "We're back at General, that must mean my pretty flower wants something."

"Yes," you admitted, bracing yourself for being dismissed right then and there, even though you'd plead your case if necessary. But Jing Yuan remained silent, listening earnestly, boosting your confidence in the process.

"I want—" you started, taking a deep breath, "—a date."

His hand stopped moving. Time seemed to slow to a halt, an overwhelming silence filling the space between you two. "A date?" he finally said. "Why would you ask for that?"

It was an almost justified rebuttal to your demand. You didn't always have good intentions when you asked him to loosen the leash on you a little and let you roam. You had passed on many chances of trust from him in favor of trying to escape his grip on you, and they all ended badly for both of you—just in different ways.

"I heard the servants talk about a new tea shop, and I want to try it out with you."

"Interesting," was all that Jing Yuan had to say. He leaned back into the pillows, some of the tension you hadn't noticed before fleeing from his body. His thumb resumed caressing your thigh, and you let it, focusing on the matter on hand. He was smiling, but it wasn't very sincere this time. It meant he didn't intend to say 'yes'.

"And then? You're going to throw yourself over a railing again? Scream at the poor waiters of the tea shop to help you? Try to frame me as a villain?"

"You are—"

Catching yourself from hissing out how you really thought about him, you raised your hands pacifyingly instead. You were trying to get something from him, and throwing insults at your captor had never given you what you wanted. "Nevermind. I just wanted to spend some time with you since you were gone a lot as of late. It's okay if you don't want to. It was just a question."

Brushing your hands over the front of your dress, you patted your legs once before giving him a stern nod. "Good night."

It was a strategic move, one Jing Yuan appreciated very much. You saw the amused grin spread over his lips as you got up from your seat, his arm across your legs never moving away. You counted down the seconds, three, two, one, and with a squeak that was almost natural considering you were acting, you were scooped back into his arms and onto his lap, neither your back nor your head hitting the wooden backrest. As if he'd ever let you get hurt on his watch.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, hovering his face over ours. One hand was back to caress your thigh, but the other gently brushed along your nose and cheek, ultimately cupping your face. You thought of the countless answers you had devised when you made this plan, the numerous ways you wanted to answer but couldn't.

"A little," you whispered back, bashfully avoiding your eyes. You've gotten so good at playing him, something Jing Yuan had always told you. You were the only person who could do it—from whom he would allow it. He knew it was just a game, but you knew he enjoyed this more than true defiance—screaming, tears. Last time, you broke one of his table legs, and although the feat was impressive, he had been endlessly annoyed by the attitude you had shown.

This was more to his liking.

"So a little will make you go on a date with me, someone you say you hate more than anything in this world. If I were to stay away for, let's say, a year, what would that earn me?"

"Mhm," you hummed out loud, pretending to think about it. Raising three fingers into the limited space between your faces, you couldn't help but grin at your own charade. "Three dates?"

The jerk in the corner of his mouth was all you needed to see. Jing Yuan smiled a lot, no matter how he felt, but the joke seemed to have come across. "Just three?" he exclaimed in false horror, and you giggled before tucking in two fingers with only your pointer remaining upright.

"And one kiss."

"Now, that's a deal," Jing Yuan proclaimed, leaning forward to plant his lips on your temple before falling back. You let out a bated breath as you two watched each other intensely. The playful part of negotiation had settled, and as much as you hated yourself for pretending a role you never felt comfortable in, you were glad it went well. Things had been rough, and you had your fair share of punishments.

However, the root of the problem was something you weren't even sure Jing Yuan was aware of. As a long-life species, one would think he'd be familiar with the frustration and torture of being bored. Still, he didn't recognize the signs in the captive he claimed to love so much. Perhaps because, when you were with him, fights would ensure and arguments echo through the house. If it weren't the sounds of discontent, there were other activities you two would participate in—willingly or not.

It wasn't good for your health, but it wasn't exactly 'boring'.

"You know I can't take you outside."

It hurt to hear the words of the truth he had always defended himself with. "You are a target in the eyes of every enemy I have—and yourself."

"I understand that," you tried to reason, pulling your gaze away in favor of looking at the intricate details of the ceiling. "But this place is slowly killing me, Jing Yuan."

"How so?" he asked, a tinge of worry in his voice. His hand immediately reached for your wrist, checking your pulls in a not-so-subtle need to reassure himself.

"Every day you are gone, I am all by myself. I can't talk to anyone even if I look out the windows into the busy streets for hours, and the servants won't talk to me out of the fear you have instilled in them. You say you want to protect me, but the isolation is killing me more than any enemy of yours could. Every day is the same. The schedule you created for me is boring, so I won't get into trouble, but the monotony makes me yearn for any change, even the kinds you don't want me to think about."

Letting your head fall to the side, you watched the sternness edged into his face, his rules indisputable. But you had one more trick up your sleeve, the 'master stroke,' as he would say.

"You say you love me, but it's you who's killing me. I could never love a man who treats me as if he hates me, no matter what he says. I'll die never knowing if you meant what you said."

Rarely did the General of the Xianzhou Luofu lose his composure. He seldom showed weakness in front of anyone, especially you. If he let himself get dragged down, he knew you'd seize the chance to escape his power over you.

It made seeing the subtle, barely visible shifts in his expression all the more satisfying.

Worry, anger, realization, disgust, and resolution. The widening of his pupils, the baring of teeth, a brief look of surprise, followed by the dropping of his features almost as if in pain. And then, nothingness. Even if he didn't agree today, he'd think about what you said, hopefully for a long time. Perhaps it would cause him to right his way, although that seemed like a stretch. But you had made your point.

Slowly, with a slight groan, you sat up, looking around the room as if to stall time until he gave you his answer. It had all been show, until it got a tad too real for even your own liking. His hand around your wrist tightened, but you ignored the pressure as best as you could while you locked your eyes on the vase full of white flowers.

"Flowers wilt," you eventually concluded. "Even the beautiful ones."

And with that, you got up, Jing Yuan's hand falling from yours with reluctant defeat. You strode towards the exit, making a grand show of the feeble strength you still had by holding your head high despite having delivered the fatal news of your unhappiness and dismissal of his feelings.

"[Name]," he called out to you before you could reach for the door handle. You turned around, holding your head high as you faced him but keeping your expression as exhausted as possible. With Jing Yuan, you'd not fare well opposing him. Giving in had never been an option. But beating him at his own game? That was the way to go.

"Wear the other dress I bought you tomorrow. Prepare well since we'll spend the whole day in the city. I don't want you to be uncomfortable because of your shoes or jacket."

Annoyance seeped off him, from the way he was tapping his fingers on his thigh to the sharp gaze he shot your way. You approached him warily, the mask almost slipping as excitement threatened to burst out of you. This time, you moved quickly to his side, enveloping the hand he held out towards you graciously with both of yours as you planted yourself next to him on the floor.

Jing Yuan didn't need to say how much he liked the image of your thankfulness. The slight blush and appreciative glint in his eye were more than obvious.

"I take it we're going on a date then?"

You needed to hear it, and you needed him to confirm it. A deal was only a deal when he agreed wholeheartedly; these were the rules he had put in place.

"If my flower wants to go out, then she will. It will cost you this much, though."

Holding up three fingers, you jumped to your feet, leaning forward to give his cheek a big ol' smooch. Months ago, this would have been unthinkable—you showing affection towards him. But now you had new goals, new ambitions. And you needed Jing Yuan to be comfortable more than ever, even if it cost some of your dignity.

"One for now," you muttered, allowing the turning of his head until his lips were yours to capture. There was nothing innocent about the kiss. It was no less brutal and breathtaking in the way he demanded it as if it were a slash of his sword. But there lay sincerity and promise in the gesture, a mutual understanding that this win of yours would be on his terms, as well as a very subtle warning not to get ahead of yourself.

But by the time it was over, Jing Yuan moaned softly against your lips, signaling it was the perfect time to stop and tear away, leaving him wanting more. He'd have it if he kept his word. "And two once you took me on our date," you whispered seductively, your breath caressing his face in a way that was driving him wild. You brushed your thumb over his lips, and Jing Yuan let out a small chuckle.

"I've trained you so well," he muttered. The comment should have made you angry, derogatory and dismissive as it was. As if it hadn't been you who put all the effort into pulling this spiel off just so you could go on a date with him. As if it wasn't you who had to hide her disgust and hatred for this man who was ruining your life.

"I look forward to our date," you replied, not playing into what he wanted for the sake of your plan. If you started arguing now, it would have all been for naught. But all the acting, all the holding back finally paid off as Jing Yuan chuckled, averting his eyes and accepting his defeat for the night.

"I'll see you in the morning then, Master Negotiator."

"Likewise, General."

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disasterbuck · 4 months

Note

Oohhh for the prompts I'd love to see Buddie with the sidewalk rule 👀🥰

I'm so glad you chose the sidewalk rule because I had an idea for that one right after I reblogged the prompt post 😂

I hope you like it!! 💕

the sidewalk rule

established Buddie | 645 words

Buck was chatting away, his hands waving this way and that, and Eddie had a smile on his face as he walked beside him. They'd decided to walk down to the coffee shop on the corner of Buck's street together, to treat themselves after their long shift before Eddie had to leave to pick Chris up from school.

As he talked, Buck walked backwards in front of Eddie for a few steps before ending up on his other side.

"—and then it was introduced to England in like, the late 1700s," Buck was saying. How he'd gotten started on the history of dominoes, Eddie didn't know, but he definitely wasn't complaining. He could happily listen to Buck talk for hours about anything. "And it was all over the world by 1889! And although it originated in China, it's now way more popular in France and Belgium."

"And the Buckley-Diaz household," Eddie chimed in with a wink, referring to the set of dominoes Buck and Chris had been playing with for the past three weeks and making Buck blush.

While he was briefly distracted, Eddie gently took hold of Buck's wrist and guided him to the other side so that he was back on Eddie's left and Eddie was walking beside the road.

Buck frowned, then just continued talking about dominoes. But a few steps later, he cut across Eddie's path with a little spin so that he was back on Eddie's right.

With a scowl, Eddie stepped behind him and to the side, forcing Buck left. A giggle left Buck's lips and he ducked in to kiss Eddie quickly, distracting him, before taking the spot on the right again.

"Would you stop?" Eddie exclaimed, coming to a halt.

"Stop what?" Buck asked innocently, a bright grin on his face.

"You know what," Eddie said with a sigh. "Stop swapping sides!"

"Why?" Buck asked, a cheeky twinkle in his eyes.

"Because…" Eddie trailed off, feeling his face grow warm with embarrassment. A particularly fast car sped past and he automatically reached out to grab Buck's arm, pulling him further away from the road.

"I didn't know you knew the sidewalk rule," Buck teased.

"The what?" Eddie asked, baffled.

"The sidewalk rule," Buck repeated, as if saying it again would bring any further insight. Thankfully, seeing Eddie's face, he went on – "It's the idea that your boyfriend should walk on the side closest to the road to keep you safe from any hazards."

"I have never heard of that in my life," Eddie said, mouth twisting slightly in disgust. "It sounds misogynistic. And besides, we're both the boyfriend in this relationship."

"Sure," Buck said easily, giving a one-shoulder shrug. "But then, why exactly don't you want me walking on this side?"

Eddie slid his hand down to Buck's, twisting their fingers together. He didn't want to tell Buck the truth; he didn't want Buck's bright and happy mood to be brought down. But…

"Because of Shannon," he said softly. "Because she… I know it doesn't make sense. We're in way more dangerous situations every day. And she wasn't on a sidewalk but on a crossing, so it was different—"

"Hey." Buck stepped right up into his space, cupping his face with his hands. "It's okay. It makes sense to me. If you want me to walk on the other side, I will."

"I do," Eddie admitted.

"Then I will," Buck said. Closing the distance between them, Buck kissed him softly and earnestly.

When they parted, Eddie was surprised to find that Buck had somehow turned them during the kiss without him noticing. He was once again standing between Buck and the road.

"Come on," Buck said, taking Eddie's hand in his and pulling him along the path.

Content, Eddie gently squeezed Buck's hand and listened as he went back to discussing the history of dominoes.

Tags:

@dluoser @taketheplanspinitsideways @loudenthusiastic @wallywise @mxrcjqckspnchqsc

@i-am-married-to-my-fandom @therosesaredying @stillfuckingtired @classtrialguru @speggle

@awesome-igi @natnuszsstuff @olliesrants @crazyfangirlallert @delirium1995

@brah3280 @meanceclosetohell @anythingeverythingallofthetime @izzysbeans @jesuiscenseedormir

@darkrose6578 @veronae-buddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @loveyouanyway @inell

@spicyrottingbrains @gnoeltop @idealuk @donationwayne @lemotmo

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed 💕

#buddie #buddie fic #buddie ficlet #buck x eddie #evan buckley/eddie diaz #buddie 911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie boyfriends #usermoonsharky #as soon as I saw the prompt I just pictured buck and eddie fighting over who gets to stand beside the road #but then I started writing it and was like #hold up!!!#eddie would NOT know about this rule!#AND he'll think it's stupid #disaster writes

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aimfor-theheart · 5 months

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Why is it that dc such as r@pe, sa, and incest is totally okay to write about and romanticize but y’all draw the line at racism, fat phobia, and homophobia *talking about the writings creators make, not personal beliefs*? Whats the difference between these things? All of them are hurtful and affect people in real life, so why is everybody on here choosing and picking one and not the other? Do writers on here think that they are not comparable or that one is okay to romanticize and the other is going way too far?

Im just genuinely curious as I have seen this topic be brought up again and again, which has made me realize this and Id like to see it from someone else's pov.

hi! there is a lot to answer and unpack here and i have every intention of doing so underneath the cut. forgive me if this gets long, but you’ve asked me 4 very massive questions that i think warrant detail, nuance, and thought. there is a lot i’d like to say here.

that being said, mind the content warnings and protect yourself.

cw: mentions of rape, incest, racism, homophobia, fat phobia, discourse in general

firstly, i am going to choose to give you the benefit of the doubt in assuming you are actually curious in hearing another side and you are not simply looking to stir a pot or pick a fight with beliefs you have no intention of changing or having an open discussion on. your accusatory tone in the first half indicates otherwise and kindly, i am not an idiot. but i want to earnestly talk to you about this and again, will think better of you than you perhaps have indicated you think of me.

secondly, you do not have to censor words like rape in my inbox. that sort of censorship has become wildly popular because of tik tok and other money-hungry social media that also desperately want to silence people. do you know why you have to censor words like that on tik tok? or words like genocide? suicide? racism? 1. so that they can make money and market and push their squeaky clean algorithms but 2. and perhaps worse, so they can silence victims. if social media platforms and capitalism and the systems of powers had it their way, you would never utter these words again—whether to call someone out for justice or to have an open discussion like this one. i encourage you greatly to think critically about this and how you choose to use censorship and why.

now, to your questions.

to preface, i am interpreting this ask as being anti-dark content in fiction as you state that ALL these subjects harm people in real life. or at least, you are being critical of all dark content in fiction and the way writers engage with them, effectively ‘picking and choosing’ which are deemed acceptable and which aren’t, when they are all hurtful. i apologize if that wasn’t your intention/what you believe, but regardless, i’ll endeavor to answer you.

i personally have drawn no lines about dark content nor spoken about any of these topics specifically really, which indicates to me you have a different narrative and/or are coming from more inflammatory arguments that are always circling fandom lately. in the post i most recently reblogged, i spoke mostly of violence. which, of course, all of those things can be. but i didn’t name one of those topics in particular.

regardless, i don’t believe in the censorship of any dark content in art, but rather advocate strongly for critical analysis on a case-by-case basis. in general, i encourage thinking critically about every aspect of the world around you.

i do not believe that rape, incest, and sa are okay to write about or create art about but racism, homophobia, and fat phobia are not. i believe all of those topics are ones that can, should, and will be explored in the safety of art. all to varying degrees of success, earnestness, impact, and intent. you’re right that these are real things, that can hurt people, and the fictional work about them can have impact on our society that is tangible but the actual art or fiction created is not real. and again, this is all to varying degrees on a case-by-case basis.

art and fiction also historically and massively do discuss these dark content topics and have actively swayed the public’s opinion on matters, whether for better or for worse. throwing away all dark content in art and fiction because it is ‘harmful’ is deeply, deeply dangerous and reductive. a lot of art that engages with dark content actually makes very succinct points about it—i think of vladimir nabokov’s lolita or octavia butler’s bloodchild or speak by laurie halse anderson.

this is where we must exorcise critical thinking. some pieces of work will handle dark content poorly—white saviors making art on racism. men making art about a woman’s experiences that (as you are so interested in) romanticize her pain. etc. etc. and some art will handle it’s dark content incredibly and be transformative, perhaps even revolutionary in how we talk, perceive, or acknowledge systems of oppression, violence, and dark content in this world. some dark content in fiction will have damaging beliefs and effects on society, some will not—we must also look at scope for this, at the writer perhaps, the historical moment, their audience etc.

(for example, there is a significant difference in a main stream male writer, writing of a woman’s experience with rape in a published book in a way that makes it sound romanticized, sold to thousands and thousands of general public vs. a woman using fanfic to explore rape, take control of it, or whatever in a fanfic for a small online community where there are warnings on it. indicating she is aware of its potential damage in a way her male counterpart is not…)

but i still believe in dark contents’ existence in art. of course there is differences between all of these topics you brought up, but i don’t think their differences matter in this answer. i believe in their right to be explored in art. i am talking broadly of media/art here, which i think is the more relevant conversation, but i think you are actually more interested in a much smaller scale of people. ie. fandom. ie. mostly marginalized people in small communities online writing and creating dark content.

people will choose and pick which ones they’d like to create art over and which ones they don’t, which ones they read and which ones they don’t. there’s no ‘hard line’ drawn anywhere. and i can’t control it and neither can you. perhaps you think violence is okay to be explored in fanfic, but racism isn’t. someone else will have different preferences. i do not believe in its censorship.

now, let’s move onto your interest in romanticization and what i think you are more pointing to, which is fandom. you are specifically referring to people in fandom who write about rape, incest, etc. and ‘romanticize’ it—ie. they write about it in a way that is a fantasy. it is perhaps supposed to be horny or sexy. so let’s talk about it.

i must remind you that these topics you’ve brought up (rape, incest, sa) being written are fiction and it is (most often) done by someone marginalized who has either experienced this or is in threat of experiencing this under a patriarchy. i assure you, they are aware of its harm. hence the copious warnings in fandom spaces.

if i can be candid, sometimes i think that people forget how systems of oppression work when discussing fandom and whether dark content being created should be allowed or not.

for example, i sometimes think people who are anti-dark content in fandom believe that a woman or afab person writing a fictional fanfic about rape or sexual violence then influences people to go out and rape people or that women actually like it. when the reality, in fandom spaces, is that rape and sexual violence happen frequently under the patriarchy and then these women in fandom write fictional fanfic in response to cope, explore, take control of, etc. etc.

to insinuate that women or afab people (which fandom mostly is) exploring dark content safely in fiction then causes their own oppression and harm or trauma is rather victim-blame-y to me. fandom exploring dark content does not cause these things to happen in our society….these actions (rape, incest, sa) happen in our society or systems of power and fandom reacts to them in their art by exploring it in dark content. do you understand what i’m trying to say?

it’s not a matter of what is ‘okay’ to romanticize and what isn’t. i do not think the romanticization that fandom does with dark content (ie. my kidnapper actually loves me! or this sexual act that i did not consent to…maybe feels good) is not actually romanticizing but coping because of the systems of power that i described above. and this can be coping with anything—shame of sexuality, shame of fantasies, trauma, fear, etc. etc.

as i said in my tags in that post i reblogged and as plato said, dark content in art is a safe place to explore what would otherwise be harmful and dangerous in real life. it is cathartic. potentially even, a purging.

and even if it isn’t all that—maybe it just is trashy fantasy. it is still playing pretend. it is still fiction and in fandom spaces, it is still most likely being created by a marginalized person. and again, even if it isn’t, we don’t get to censor it. we can be critical of it or wary or whatever, but to censor it, is a slippery, slippery slope. do deem some topics as “acceptable” and others as “unacceptable” is dangerous.

just like kids play pretend where they ‘fight’ or ‘kill’ or ‘kidnap’ or ‘shoot’ each other in games of cops and robbers or heroes and villains, they are safely exploring adventure, dark content, fantasy, tragedy, and higher emotions. adults can do the same in fiction and with adult topics like sex.

and at the end of the day, we don’t get to demand the credentials to do so either. we don’t get to censor them or control them and nor should we be allowed to. i cannot stress enough that i encourage you to be critical of censorship or the absolute disgust in dark content and at those (again—often marginalized people) who engage with it in fandom. i believe it is deeply puritanical, conservative, and dangerous.

you don’t have to like dark content or consume it at all and fandom makes it easy not to with all the warnings and tags, but you cannot control others or police them. nor should you want to.

and at the end of the day, i have some questions for you. you don’t have to respond to this, perhaps they’re just things to think about. what is the end goal here? what is the point in harassing, shaming, attacking, criticizing, or interrogating people in fandom spaces who create or support dark content? do you believe that if it is purged from fandom, it will be purged from our society? if you want it purged from society—shouldn’t you start there rather than in the inbox of marginalized writers in fandom? people in fandom did not create rape, incest, and sa nor do they in their exploration of fiction…they are merely reacting to a world that did create it.

i hope at no point i came off as rude to you, as was not my intention. i intended to stand up for myself and respectfully state my opinions and thoughts on this matter. i’m sorry it got long, but also i don’t believe in being brief on such complex matters. i am a writer who engages critically with the world around me and sometimes, things cannot be made into short, snappy answers. sometimes, we must unpack.

genuinely wishing you well.

#i cannot guarantee that i’ll have the time patience or energy to answer every ask like the one above in such detail #going forward #but i do support open discussions and i wanted to be kind to this anon #these are just my 2 cents on all of this #cw: rape #cw: incest #cw: racism #cw: fat phobia #cw: homophobia #discourse

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scyllas-revenge · 10 months

Note

Just read your “leap of faith” fic for Legolas and I have say I absolutely adore your writing style! Would it be possible for you to do a drabble or some rough ideas on what he would act like in the morning after waking up?

Thank you so much!! Honestly, that wasn't a fic I really planned to write more of, but your ask got my extremely rusty brain back to writing, so thank you! I'm not sure I succeeded at the style I was going for here, but it was fun to give it a try. I hope you like it!

(and @heilith I remember you requested to be tagged in my next Legolas content, so here you go!)

Leap of Faith, Part 2

aka even more Only One Bed shenanigans

Legolas/reader (gender-neutral)

Word count: 1100

Rating: G

Read part 1 here!

Legolas wakes to the sound of his name, but does not hurry to open his eyes. Your voice is a thing of beauty, as it always is, and he sighs a soft smile at the sound, willing the outside world away.

Soon his name is on your lips again, a bit more insistently this time. He shakes his head faintly. Not yet. Mortal sleep is a new experience for him, and he would indulge in it a few moments more.

Now your hand presses against his shoulder. Regretfully, Legolas allows himself to be jostled into real wakefulness at last, where he finds you lying beside him, soft morning light streaming in through the inn’s faded curtains.

Your body is still curled toward him under the blankets.

Concern pinches at your brow as you study him. You have never seen him sleep with his eyes closed—is he unwell? But then, perhaps elves never feel unwell. The wry laugh in your words does not fully disguise the sudden pain behind your eyes—perhaps you are reminded, as he so often is, of the immeasurable gulf between you, mortal and immortal, human and elf.

But you were never one to dwell overmuch on such heavy matters—you rest a hand against his forehead, half-teasing, as though to check for fever. Burning up, you inform him, your solemn pronouncement betrayed by the grin playing on your lips. Alas, he is quite unwell indeed! You fear his days are numbered. He had best get his affairs in order.

Legolas does not return your laugh. He will feel unwell in truth, he knows, the moment he must rise from this bed and carry on his journey with you, pretending he did not hear you whisper his name in your sleep, pretending he did not succumb to mortal dreams by your side. But he must give you an answer, and such a confession will not do.

He was curious, he admits at last. It is no lie—not even a half-truth, for he is burning with curiosity, has burned ever since he met you. It is a weak answer, but it seems to satisfy you, and you smile at him more earnestly.

Your hand still rests on his forehead, as though you’d quite forgotten to remove it.

Have you shifted nearer to him? He does not think so. Yet the distance between you now seems unbearably small, intimate, your legs half-entwined under the blankets, his hair touching yours on your pillow. Nearly a lover’s embrace.

It is improper, Legolas thinks to himself, the instinct to scramble back rising in his throat. His curiosity has always warred with nervousness around you, the desire to at once surge forward and retreat often keeping him at a standstill entirely. But you speak again, and his eyes are drawn to the movement of your lips, so hypnotizing that you are forced to repeat yourself twice before he understands.

Has his curiosity been satisfied, then? Now that he has had a taste of mortal sleep? Your eyes crinkle with laughter, the sound dancing soft and intimate between you. Mortal sleep is quite dull, after all, and you fear he must be disappointed. You shake your head ruefully, your hand leaving his forehead only to brush, agonizingly, against his cheek as you draw away—

“No.” Legolas's hand grasps your retreating wrist before you are aware of it.

His voice is still soft, the half-hushed restraint of early morning that you, like all mortals, seem to favor, but you cannot fail to sense the change in it, a flame igniting the word, low and rasping and hungry.

You lay frozen for a moment, your lungs scarcely drawing breath. But an answering flame sparks behind your eyes, and you raise your brow at him. “No...you are not disappointed? Or no, you are not satisfied?”

Softly you return your hand to Legolas’s face, your fingers trailing tentatively over his cheekbone, his jaw, the shell of his ear, shaped so unlike your own. His heart soars at your touch, and he laughs softly for sheer joy. “How could you disappoint me?" His hand falls to your waist, drawing you nearer. "In the waking world and in sleep, there is delight to me in all you do.”

“I am glad.” Heat blooms on your cheeks, but your fingers continue to play over his face, his neck, his hair, and your smile now is a thing of fire. You lean in closer than ever, and he wishes it might burn him. “And how could I satisfy you?”

Oh, there can be no doubt, now, that you feel as he does. The little bedroom seems suddenly to be made of gold, the morning sun sinking into his skin as though this is the first sunrise ever to grace Middle-Earth, the world born anew before him. Yet for all his elation Legolas knows not how to answer—he wants too much, far more than he can ask of you, and he fears his curiosity will never be satisfied.

Smiling all the wider for his silence, you take pity on him, tapping a playful finger against his chest as though in thought. “Perhaps I might tell you what I dreamed of last night. Will that do?”

Your touch burns over his collarbone, his neck, his jaw, until your thumb sweeps softly over his lower lip. He swallows hard. He sees your sleeping face again, branded into his memory, your lashes fluttering, lips parting as you murmur his name. No, he thinks. It is not enough. “Perhaps you might show me instead.”

There is a heat beyond fire in your smile now, a heat to rival the rising sun. You know as well as he that this alone will not satisfy either of you, that this will begin something new and terrifying, a leap of faith far greater than the one he had taken last night in lying down beside you and closing his eyes. Yet he does not mean to retreat, and nor, it seems, do you.

“Hmm. It will do, for a start.”

Legolas is still chuckling fondly at your answer when you press his name against his lips, tangling your fingers in his hair. As you pull his body flush against yours, sighing as he parts your lips to taste the joy and trust and desire on your tongue, his fears and doubts vanish like summer fog, for he knows you have faith in each other utterly.

He knows that when you take this leap together, you will fly.

#legolas #legolas x reader #lotr fanfic #only one bed #i should have been getting work done today and instead i horked this up #is it too tacky. it feels too tacky #whatever i stand by it #tacky is my middle name #scylla tacky revenge

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tuiccim · 5 months

Text

Lost in the Dark (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Dark content! Somnophilia, Non/DubCon, and other dark elements. This fic contains dark themes and may include potentially triggering topics. You are solely responsible for your media consumption.

Summary: Bucky comes home after a mission and can’t wait to be with you.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression. You had been through each of these stages of grief multiple times in varying orders. Facing away from Bucky on the edge of the bed, you went over the last few months in your head. Nothing you did fazed him. He remained steadfast, calm, and loving. There was only one stage left, acceptance. Your last resort was to accept your fate and try to gain his trust. Maybe you could escape before Stockholm Syndrome took hold. If you could convince him to trust you maybe there would come a moment when you could slip away.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you turn over in the bed and cuddle up to his side. His arm instantly went around you. Laying your head on his shoulder, your hand resting on his chest, you forced yourself to relax.

"Are you cold?" Bucky whispers. You can feel the tension in him at your unexpected touch.

"No, I'm just..." you were about to say you just wanted to be near him but it was a lie and he'd know. So, you told him the truth, at least in part, "I'm trying, Bucky. This is hard. It's not what I thought my life would be."

"I know, doll. I just can't lose you. I need to know you're here and safe," Bucky says as he kisses the top of your head.

"I understand," you whisper. You didn't, you didn't at all. You had been his from the first time he'd asked you out. You were head over heels for him, then. That life, that world seemed like a distant dream. The longer you were with him, the more you felt disconnected. You supposed that's what wore people in your situation down, what made them succumb to acceptance of this reality. Tears leaked from your eyes despite fighting to hold them in. You just wanted to go home.

"It's okay, doll. Don't cry. I'm gonna keep you safe," Bucky says as he gently wipes away a tear.

"Was I not safe before?" Your voice is strained.

"No one around me is safe. I'm sorry I put you in danger but I love you. I had to be with you and so now I have to protect you. I'm sorry I was so selfish. I need you. I love you so much, doll. I'll make you happy, I will. You just have to trust me. Can you try? Just try for me, doll?" Bucky says earnestly.

You pause for a moment, thinking through your next move, "I'll try if you'll make me one promise. I need you to promise not to drug me again. I don't like it. It scares me."

Bucky thinks for a moment before tipping your chin up to look him in the eyes, "I promise.”

“Really?” You look into his eyes searchingly.

“I promise, doll,” he whispers earnestly.

As you look at him, you remember the man you had fallen for before all of this. His beautiful blue eyes seem to beg for you to believe him. Slowly, you inch your face closer to his. He holds his breath as he studies you, hope blooming in his chest. He fought the urge to pull you to him, letting you take the lead was important in this moment. Not daring to move a muscle, he watches enraptured as you bring you close the distance. Your eyes glance down at his mouth and then your lips press to his. You give him one small kiss before pulling back to look in his eyes again.

Bucky stares back at you, lips slightly parted, eyes full of awe, hoping, praying you’d kiss him again. It had been so long since you had kissed him back, since you’d even looked him in the eyes. He was desperate for your touch.

You were just desperate. So you kissed him again, this time twining your tongue with his. He still gave you the lead, his participation passive, and so you rolled on top of him. Bucky’s hands flexed, wanting to reach out for you, but he gripped the sheets under him to stop himself. His heart was beating hard and he felt light-headed. His cock was incredibly hard just from being gifted your touch. He wanted to roll you under him and bury it in your sweet heat but he stayed still, allowing you to be in control.

When he felt your feather-light touch on his cock, he shuddered. He couldn’t believe this was real. Had you finally come back to him? Did you finally understand that he was just trying to keep you safe? His mind didn’t have long to consider these questions as you straddled him. Positioning his cock at your entrance, you slowly sink down on him. It was the first time in months that you had felt some modicum of enjoyment during sex, that you were choosing it of your own free will. You feel him trembling beneath you and you break your kiss to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, please don’t stop.” His voice sounds almost panicked.

“Don’t stop this?” You tease, sitting up and flexing your hips.

“Don’t, don’t stop,” he whimpers with his head thrown back.

Bucky is in absolute ecstasy. His cock twitches inside of you with each movement you make. His metal arm whirs as he clenches and unclenches his fists, nearly ripping the sheets. You realize what he’s doing. He’s giving you the power in this. It tugs at your heart a little. He really does care for you. Haltingly, you whisper, “B-Bucky, you can touch me.”

You expected him to grab you, to take over and do with you as he pleased as he had always done. Instead, he looks up at you with love and a hint of apprehension. Slowly, he sits up, staring into your eyes and gently puts his arms around your waist. He presses your bodies together softly and buries his face in your neck. You wrap your arms around him in response and make slow circles with your hips. You stay like that for a long time, just holding each other and enjoying the gentle movement of your bodies. You begin to tremble and clench around his cock as you come, milking him of his orgasm. Still, you stayed wrapped in each other.

“I thought I’d never feel you like this again, doll,” Bucky whispers against your skin. “I love you so much. I’ll never let you go, I promise. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you murmur in his ear. You stare at the chain that still connects you to the bed. The next step was convincing him to let you off your leash. To do that, you’d tell him anything, even that you love him.

Part 4?

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