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flowerwrites06 · 1 year

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neon smoke — knj

NEON SMOKE | Kim Namjoon | Oneshot | Requested by Anon.

Original Request: Hiii! I have been a fan of yours since break my mind's eye ❤️ Can I request for Namjoon x female reader. I loooove reading angst so make it as much angsty you want for a deranged woman like me :) I am not sure about the exact idea but you can make it either mafia au or e2l. Thank you ❤️ Plot: Namjoon carries out a dangerous love affair. Pairing: Drug Dealer!Namjoon x Mafia Princess!OC (Name: Minnie) Genre: Mafia Type: Oneshot Rating: 18+ Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: violence (guns, blood & gore), minor character death, mentions of drugs, organised crime, sexual content (rough, anal, choking, unprotected, fingering). Author’s Note: not quite the deranged level imo but I hope you enjoyed this! I've posted this while dead tired and sleep drunk atm, it's been a hell of a week so let me know if there are any major posting issues in the fic I've missed. Other than that, thank you for reading!

Requests are open until Oct 1st! Send yours ideas in!

The den closed when midnight swelled. A dingy green painted the rooms and any pungent smell that was ignored during the day fumed thickly in Namjoon’s nose. He found the silence haunting without the workers in the underground or the runners scuttering across the plastic carpet floors. Except there was a peace to it and the familiarity that the silence won’t last too long.

He heard Minnie’s footsteps echo through the door before she knocked four times. Kwan, his right hand man, usually ate dinner during this time and Namjoon made sure it was that way. Except he thought it was some girl Namjoon took an interest to and not the sister of Don Leon, his own boss.

Minnie opened the door when Namjoon responded. He saw the shine of her black heels before she appeared into the room. She wore a pretty red silk dress, delicate pearls around her neck, dark hair thick and curled with a black coat over her shoulders. Her lips, red like blood, smiled as she closed the door behind her. “I saw you hired a new girl. She almost kicked me out.”

Iseul was Namjoon’s new runner. Namjoon forgot to mention that he had a visitor every night, but he wasn’t too afraid of Minnie handling her own.

“Did she recognise you?” Namjoon asked.

“Clearly not, she was very protective of you.” Minnie smirked, stepping closer and leaning herself at the edge of his desk. She shrugged off her coat at the heat of the room compared to the night outside. The red dress had pinstripe sleeves, one of them shyly trailing off her shoulder before she fixed it.

“I didn’t get the chance to explain it to her,” Namjoon said, keeping his eyes on the computer as he had been for hours. Entering data and ensuring every sell was called for. “Your brother has been working us hard.”

“He wants to impress the buyers in China.” Minnie shrugged. “I told him rushing it was going to be a detriment but you know him.”

Namjoon hummed. “At least he’s not asking us to cut the pure stuff.” That was usually when problems began and he had enough scars to know they were never pretty results.

Minnie stayed silent for a moment. “I wouldn’t hold my breath. He’s done impulsive things before.”

As soon as Minnie and Leon’s father passed away, Leon made it his mission to overproduce his supplies so he could get more American and Chinese allies. Except all that forced scheduling made it difficult to keep strong ties with the Japanese and Korean allies. If Leon kept going this way, they would risk war with their age-old allies. Yet Minnie knew all this. Namjoon heard their fights before and Leon’s stubbornness that needed to be crushed for days before it showed cracks.

Namjoon rested back on the chair, as it squeaked in response. “So more runners and dealers.”

“Pretty ones.” Minnie gave a teasing smirk.

Despite the risk that came with seeing Minnie, Namjoon found strange comfort in it. At first, guilt choked him after laying with her, slick with sweat and the smell of sex around them in the hotel room. But then it became habitual and only a few months later, Namjoon looked forward to her visits even if it didn’t always end the same.

“Do you have a problem with Iseul?” Namjoon asked, mainly as a jest to keep her smiling.

Minnie lifted her shoulders, moving off the table and stepping towards Namjoon. Her thigh gently brushed against the back of his fingers. “No. No problem.” She snuck onto his lap, long nails tracing the side of his neck. “Just checking.”

His hand traced up her thigh, grazing just softly on her skin so it raised gooseflesh. “I mean she is pretty now that you’ve mentioned it.” A smirk curled at his lips.

Minnie pouted. “Then I suppose you don’t need me to warm your lap.” She tried to lift off him but his grip tightened, nails digging through her clothes until she gasped lightly.

“Keep that ass right here,” Namjoon said, nose brushing against her jawline.

Minnie giggled, tracing one of her nails down his neck and chest as he felt a tingle down his spine.

Namjoon bit into the skin of her neck until she let out a small whimper. The tip of his nose trailed up to her chin before she took her bottom lip between his teeth. Sinking in until it hurt before letting go, watching how it turned crimson.

A whimper left her lips, eyes blown out in lust as her face twisted to something that no one would ever see outside this door.

Minnie chuckled, cupping his cheek and kissing him. Her lips hot and raw from his bite as her hips swayed, feeling him harden under her thighs. “Excited all of a sudden?” she asked.

“You were late today,” Namjoon said, tracing his fingers up the length of her spine until she shivered.

Minnie hummed as she straddled him. Her warm core perfectly placed atop his taut cock. Arms wrapped around his shoulders while his hands instinctively cupped her ass, squeezing and pushing her to grind against him. “You missed me?” It was a whisper, sweet and teasing.

Namjoon didn’t notice but his lips stretched into smile, full of affection and perhaps a terrifying pinch of worship. He hooked her panties to the side, taking a sneaky touch between her cheeks and feeling something cold with the shape of a gem. “Seems you were more prepared than me.” He held onto the buttplug, gently moving it as she moaned into his mouth.

“You know you like it,” she said.

“I do.” Namjoon brushed his fingers through her thick curls, the soft scent of roses enticing to move closer and consume himself with it. He lifted to his feet, carrying her with him as she let out a small giggle.

Namjoon lay her down on the chair and pushed it to recline. Minnie spread her legs, hanging them over the arms so she give him the best view. A hungry smile graced her features as she watched his fingers rub over her throbbing clit. He pushed his middle finger into her slick entrance, making her feel full.

Minnie threw her head back, relishing in the gentle waves of pleasure. Her thick curls bunched beautifully at her shoulders as the thin straps of her dress hugged her arm.

His fingers glistened as he spread her arousal all over her cunt. Namjoon’s other hand gripped her neck, squeezing just enough to make her breath hitch. He pushed two fingers into her, pistoning mercilessly into her.

Minnie let out a choked scream as the edges of her climax closed in.

Namjoon loosened his grip on her neck so she let out a deep, heaving breath. Minnie held onto her thighs, watching him maintain his aggressive pace. Her vision blurred as her entire body melted into the pleasure he gave her, nothing but whimpered sounds leaving her lips.

Namjoon pulled his fingers out with a light squelch, rubbing her clit again with his thumb.

Minnie lifted her legs to her chest. Namjoon pulled out the buttplug, keeping his fingers inside her to keep her stretched as he put it away. He pushed into her entrance, tight and maddening. Minnie let out a whimper, smiling as he buried himself entirely.

He pushed his fingers inside her cunt, making her feel full and her mind cleared of nothing else but the pleasure that surged through her.

“Touch yourself, princess,” Namjoon spoke in a slight growl.

Minnie did as he asked and rubbed her clit, her wall clenching at the jolt of ecstasy from her sensitivity.

Namjoon pressed his forehead against hers, her legs over his shoulders. “Feel good?”

Minnie whimpered in response, trying to make words but it only came out in unintelligible sounds.

Namjoon chuckled breathlessly, pounding into her ass, moving the chair so it pressed against a wall. He grew relentless as his orgasm rushed to the edge. Hearing her reciprocate so deliciously to every one of his movements sent stars in his eyes. Heat rushed to his tip and his entire body, legs jerking and jolting as he filled his seed into her.

The chair creaked under the pressure, melding with the sounds of Minnie’s whimper and the scream under her breath. A laugh passed her lips as Namjoon caught his breath. “I should be late more often.” She grinned.

Two days had passed with a better mood. The days still filled with endless schedule clutter but at the very least he was able to get a handle on it without a headache. Minnie had to visit every second or third day instead of the usual which put a slight downer on his mood but during the visits she did come in, she made up for the lack of time.

It was only a month later where things rot.

The doors burst open to Kwan in the darkest hour of the night. His clothes soaked in blood as he shuffled to safety. Eyes hooded as he tried to open his mouth to say something but only stumbled.

“What happened?” Namjoon asked.

Kwan let out a shaky sigh, holding onto his shoulder to keep himself up. “Korean gang members. They were sent to ambush the warehouses.”

Namjoon called for Seokjin in as he lifted Kwan onto the table, helping him lay down as his blood left a trail from the entrance to his own feet.

Kwan kept heaving, groaning as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Do you know why?” He asked in a gentle tone, not wanting to pressure him but he needed to know. His den or warehouses were never attacked. Not since Leon started yanking at his strings.

Kwan groaned again in response as Seokjin walked into the front entrance. Without a word, he laid his out tools and began taking pieces of the bullet out of his wound.

“They didn’t get their full supply. Leon. . .” Kwan kept speaking but it only ended in a cough, blood at the edge of his lips. “Sorry, boss.”

“Give him time to breathe, Joon,” Seokjin said. His brows were far too scrunched for Namjoon’s comfort.

The bleeding wasn’t stopping and Namjoon could practically hear the heartbeat resounding in the room.

Namjoon touched Kwan’s shoulder. Part of him wanted to speak more, in the hope that Kwan would come up with a joke or something to reassure him that he was going to be fine. But he knew this wasn’t that kind of business. “Alright. Get him better.”

Iseul stood at the archway leading up to the private rooms, tears filling her eyes as she watched Kwan get patched up.

Namjoon patted her arm. “He’ll be okay.” He said to her but mostly to himself.

Fate didn’t give them that kind of luck, however.

Namjoon and Iseul sat near the kitchens, silently at first but Iseul’s shaking fingers and body legs got her to speak.

“That woman probably attracted them to us,” Iseul said with poison lacing her voice. “She’s too close to Leon and they must’ve known she’s coming to us.” Her reddened eyes kept a gaze on the floor.

Namjoon rested back on his chair, the chair squeaking back as he watched one of the den members clean up the floors. “This was bound to happen. Leon was snagging his connections too much.”

“But they came to us,” Iseul said. “We don’t get into the spotlight. We’re not even the biggest den. It’s her. I’m telling you, it’s her.” She built a wall over her words, ensuring that Namjoon didn’t push through and try to convince her.

Before Namjoon could respond, Seokjin stood with a solemn expression before walking towards them, stammering. “There was a bullet shard that pierced his heart.” His throat bobbed up and down.

Iseul’s breathing grew ragged as they both watched Kwan’s still body. Sobs left her body as she rushed to Kwan.

“This can’t go on, Namjoon,” Seokjin said in a lower voice. Namjoon wasn’t sure whether he meant the affair with Minnie or the situation with Leon but knowing Seokjin, he knew he meant both. “We thought having Minnie was going to keep us safe and our business going. Now this.”

It sounded wrong the way he spoke those words. Namjoon knew he only pursued Minnie for reasons aside from the den. The fact that they were safe this whole time was just a coincidence. But he never predicted that it would now cause more harm than good. Namjoon’s breath turned ragged.

Seokjin was right. This has to end.

Minnie came to his room today after four days of not speaking to him. No smile on her face. “I heard about an ambush.” Her tone was so soft and loving. “Was your den involved?”

Namjoon had been drinking to calm himself down but it didn’t seem to help. It probably made it worse. “Yeah, it was involved. Kwan’s dead.”

Minnie walked to him and touched his shoulder. It was so warm and genuine but part of him was still determined. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve tried to send contact to Leon but he’s not answering,” he said. “Where have you been for the last few days?” Namjoon looked up at her, eyes burning from how tipsy he had become.

“Leon kept inviting me to his meetings,” Minnie explained. “He’s trying to marry the daughter of a Chinese Don.”

Frustration nipped at him. While his dens were suffering, Leon was off to marry a foreign ally with no care. “His own local allies are turning against him.” His words turned sharp and cutting.

Minnie stammered, reaching out to touch his hand. “I’m trying to talk to him.”

He pulled his hand away, standing up to his feet. “Well, you’re not fucking trying hard enough, are you?” Namjoon seethed, his heart aching as Minnie stepped back.

“What Leon’s doing is stupid but these things take time.” Minnie shook her head.

“So you’ll wait until innocent people die before you start actually doing things?” Namjoon walked over to her, towering over her. “You’re no better than your fucking brother.”

Minnie’s expression hardened, not stepping back anymore. “When you work in a place like this, death is a risk you’re taking. Don’t place the blame on me.”

“The blame is on you because you should’ve kept us safe,” Namjoon said. “You come waltzing in here, I expect you to ensure we’re not at risk for attack. Otherwise, don’t fucking come back here.” He wanted her to be angry. He wanted her to cry and scratch at him for only wanting this affair for his own benefit.

Minnie’s face quickly turned to steel, posture straightening as she intertwined her fingers together. “I’ll inform Leon about the casualties and see what he can do for changes,” she said. “You want me to relay anything else?”

Namjoon swallowed the lump in his throat. “No.”

Minnie hummed. “Alright.” She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving a suffocating ache in Namjoon’s chest.

A month had passed. No attacks. Iseul had convinced herself that it was Minnie’s fault but Seokjin calmly explained that there was something else going on since all the Korean gangsters were staying quiet. When it was this much silence in the underground, a big event was about to happen.

As much as Namjoon hated it, Seokjin was right. News came a month and a half later on a piece of paper, handwritten.

Helmina Cordon and Jung Hoseok are engaged to marry on the 27th of November. No weaponry or negotiations permitted in the reception.

Namjoon’s body burned, fingers squeezing the delicate paper as if perhaps he was just dreaming. He was thankful that only Seokjin was in the room so he let his hands shake before curling his fingers into fists.

“With the Min family connected to the Jung family, the Korean gangs aren’t going to touch us,” Seokjin said, trying to make some light out a situation that suffocated Namjoon. “This is good. We wanted this. Jung Hoseok is a precise drug lord, him with Minnie’s organisation and influence will help us get back on track.”

“Right,” Namjoon said, partially focusing on his words.

Seokjin took a breath to say something but sighed in slight defeat. He patted his shoulder and left him to his cluttered lonesome.

This had to happen. What did Namjoon even expect? That Minnie was going to be with him forever with no consequences whatsoever? Of course, she had been holding back marriage proposals. That was the quickest, simplest way to solve most alliance problems. All Namjoon had to do was take it for granted, as if their relationship was immune. When in reality, it was hanging on the balance of how much Minnie trusted him and how much he trusted her.

Now it was gone. And he was cordially invited to watch it all rip away from him.

Seokjin accompanied Namjoon to the wedding reception. The ceremony had been private to the two families but the reception was open to whoever was significant enough in the underworld. Despite Iseul’s assumptions, Namjoon’s den had some traction with Cordon family especially with Minnie’s connection to them.

Namjoon pushed that thought down quickly, not wanting to be reminded of how much of his success was also attributed to her.

They entered the event hall, glittering chandeliers reflecting against the freshly polished marble floors. Tables scattered all throughout covered in white linen and a pianist spread delicate notes through the halls.

He didn’t want to but his eyes did look for her in the front tables. And much to his own misery, he saw Minnie.

She wore a pretty white silk dress, transparent lace gloves, her hair curled beautifully and her lips painted in deep red. While Don Leon sat on the right, ordering another round of drinks. He had the same thick curly hair, cut to his ear and a small build but silvery and convivial demeanour. A man on Minnie’s left was whispering in her ear, making her smile. Jung Hoseok, clad in a deep blue suit and a dahlia in his breast pocket.

Namjoon hated that he could tell Minnie’s smile was calculated and not real. He hoped and prayed that she looked genuinely happy but this was a business transaction. And she smiled just like it was business so they looked the part.

“Just say hello, stay at your table and pass the time,” Seokjin said as if reading his subconscious instincts to walk right up to her and tell her to stop.

As they padded closer to the main table, Seokjin gave a brief bow to Leon and Namjoon followed a minute later.

“It’s good to see you again, Kim,” Leon said, that same silvery tone. This has been his fault. If Leon had just kept the schedules reasonable then none of this would’ve happened. Yet it was Minnie who Namjoon put the blame upon and it was Minnie who took it. “I was hoping this occasion might lift your spirits a little.”

His chest squeezed but he lowered his head again. “I appreciate it, sir.” Namjoon’s eyes flickered to Minnie who kept a neutral expression on her face. He forced a small smile and gave a bow. “Congratulations on the engagement.”

Minnie smiled, still not a hint of joy in her eyes that merely glimmered from the chandelier light. “Thank you.”

Seokjin patted his back as they walked back to their table and Namjoon was ready to drown into a bottle.

Minnie needed to excuse herself. She tried to count the minutes before Namjoon walked away. Struggled past an hour or two of smiling until her cheeks screamed for her to stop lying so much. Eventually after the third hour, Minnie rushed off to the powder room. It was a large expanse with floor to wall mirrors, crushed velvet chairs with the colour of violet and the same pretty white marble floors that led up to the actual restrooms.

She stayed near the mirrors, staring at herself. Minnie had flowed along the path this past month, hoping her numbness would turn to resilience as she agreed to this economic marriage. But today, seeing Namjoon’s face melted her and it made her face the gruelling reality of what she was about to do permanently.

Minnie didn’t have to wait long to ruminate when Namjoon stumbled straight into the powder room. “This is the women’s room.”

Namjoon parted his lips in confusion before closing it. “No one else here, it’s fine.” He rested against the edge of the counter, next to her. He left enough moments of silence to make her uncomfortable.

To make her think and regret what she was doing which only made her angry. “What do you want?”

“How long has this been going on?” he slurred.

“We had a meeting two weeks ago.” Minnie kept her gaze in the mirror. “Having this alliance will help us gain trust with the Korean syndicates. Leon still gets to do what he wants with the foreign allies while I handle the locals.”

Namjoon hummed, not facing her either. “It’s a good deal.”

“It is.”

“Don’t take it,” he said and the entire room turned cold.

Minnie paused in her actions, her body freezing under the sudden request. Both in a yearning satisfaction of hearing Namjoon sound desperate but the anger of how filmy he considered their relationship. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” Namjoon shook his head.

Minnie sighed in frustration, trying to walk past him but Namjoon grabbed her arm. “Stop.”

“We’ll figure out a different way to deal with the Korean syndicates,” Namjoon said, leaning forward, his nose brushed against hers. The scent of whiskey hot in his breath.

“The alliance is already made.” Minnie tightened herself like steel, looking at the end of the room instead of him. “It’ll make things worse if I back down.”

“Then we’ll deal with it.” Desperation seeped in his tone. “It wasn’t your fault, okay? I’m sorry I ever implied that.” Namjoon rubbed both her arms, making her feel so comforted and loved yet so much more angry.

“It is my fault.” Her teeth gritted. “I took advantage of what I could do.”

“You were with me because we both wanted to.” Namjoon held her chin, soft and affectionate. “Both of us.”

Minnie’s chin quivered as the chills of the room melted into her chest, tears burning in her eyes. “Don’t do that now.” No more steel cut through her voice. Even if she desperately wanted to. “Please.”

Namjoon rested his forehead against hers. “You mean a lot to me.”

The whisper sent her into a frenzy. “Please.”

Namjoon pulled her chin closer, kissing her. Tongue pushed through her teeth as he pressed her against the edge of the counter.

Tears finally spilled down her cheeks as she felt the warm, sweet kiss on her lips. Every inch of Minnie wanted to keep going, to let him take her here. Even as Namjoon kissed down her neck, hot and wet, Minnie only relished in it.

Then sense kicked in.

She was engaged now.

“Stop, stop.” She pushed him off and Namjoon did as she asked, though brows furrowed and breath heavy. Minnie leaned against the counter, trying to catch her own breath. “Don’t do that. Not now, not anymore.”

Namjoon stammered, sighing in frustration as he roughly raked his fingers through his hair. “I said a stupid thing, are you really gonna upend your whole life just to spite me?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Yes. You think I wasn’t taking a risk being with you?” Minnie asked.

“I know you were, I was just angry.”

Just angry. The alliances and things she had paused were crushed by Namjoon because of a burst of anger. It sounded pathetic yet that was the reality. Which was why Minnie had to keep that distance and let the thread between them tighten. “Well, this is not the fucking business for word slips. Your word is my trust in you.” Minnie poked at his chest. “Your word slips, I make changes.”

Namjoon let out a shaky sigh, his eyes now glossed. A rare sight which nearly broke Minnie for a brief, weak moment. “Then run with me.”

Minnie grimaced. “What?”

“Run with me. Leon isn’t going to give you the chair and you’ll be stuck being that douchebag’s little wife.” Namjoon gestured outside. “Just run with me.”

She shook her head in disbelief. Minnie knew he was drunk and angry but a part of her felt a painful ring of truth. Was this how Namjoon viewed her this whole time? Perhaps in this course of making a business transaction, she was making a good decision in distancing from Namjoon. “You really have no faith or respect in me, do you?” she asked.

Namjoon’s chest rose and fell. “That’s not what I meant, Minnie, please.”

“No. I’m done making things work for you,” Minnie said, a look of disgust on her face. “Run on your own.” She turned on her heel and walked back into the arms of her future husband.

The thread between them snapped.

masterlist

#namjoon #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts smut #bts angst #bts mafia au #namjoon mafia au #bts #namjoon x oc #bts x oc

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neos-schlond-poofa · 7 months

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MY MCD HEADCANONS FOR THE 9TH ANNIVERSARY

i need to post SOMETHING to celebrate the best minecraft series ever but i dont want to do something too big because next year is TEN YEARS I AM OLD so heres my hcs and most are. just canon in my rewrite WHICH I REALLY NEED TO ORGANIZE ONE DAY. someone should make like a google doc layout template thing for us its a hard world theres so much stuff that needs to be rewritten. anywho.

LORD APHMAU

NOT the reincarnation of Irene. Or literally just Irene.

Instead I based her off of my friend's old theory from 5th grade (as a tribute, also my friend isn't dead it's not like an in memoriam tribute but its a tribute to an amazing idea) that she was a fallen angel. But. She isn't at the same time?

Instead, she's one of Irene's daughters. Kind of. ITS HARD TO EXPLAIN AND I DONT WANNA GO ALL INTO THE LORE HERE BUT THERES "SISTERS" OF HERS TOO AND VYLAD STILL SUMMONED HER.

She doesn't have those markings from rebirth; I like them in fanart, but realistically? Why would some random girl have that? Instead, she has weird scars on her body.

Knows the basics of writing and reading... but REALLY struggles with them still. She literally just spawned on this world. She doesn't know everything.

But her natural tendency to help people is in her blood. Like. Irene's whole purpose of these "daughters" of her were to try to fix her legacy in a way. She still struggles with a lot of things though, and all those changes to the village LIKE WHERE SHE JUST BUILT HUGE THINGS obviously don't happen.

She also didn't have good combat skills until she trained with Garroth. Then Zenix. Then EVERYONE. Her combat skills are a huge melting pot of every single person she's fought against or fought with. Of course, she prefers to just use her sword.

SUPER socially awkward but doesn't even realize it. After all, she doesn't have many things to base her social interactions off of; she just got here. But, she does have manners at least.

Can't cook. AT ALL. This is actually a headcanon based off the WORST FANFIC I EVER READ (I lied it was amazing but I was so shocked by the ending like it's the best fic ever but... it SCARRED me PLEASE read it).

About like. 24 years old.

Bisexual and genderfluid and polyamorous.

Endgame is ultimately Garrancemau, but she DOES have a relationship with Katelyn and Zoey during the series. Those will be expanded upon later.

Never has a romantic relationship with Aaron. Also will be expanded upon later.

Can't tell her lefts from rights (just like me) without using her hands.

Once she found out about her relation to Irene, she just felt TERRIBLE. Like. This super cool Goddess EVERYONE loves was basically her mother and she has to live up to that.

BUT OH IT GETS WORSE WHEN SHE FINDS OUT IRENE IS A TERRIBLE PERSON. Now, she has to struggle with telling the world or not, she has to exist knowing she was just created to be a solution to the problems someone who doesn't even care much about her caused.

Has mild generalized anxiety and ADHD. And. Naturally gets a lot of trauma over the series.

Knows how Joan of Arc felt.

GARROTH RO'MEAVE

Kind of an idiot in a way. Like. SUPER INTELLIGENT. But never thought about changing his first name when hiding in Phoenix Drop... he just always ignored people's questions about his last name.

In his defense, Garroth became a fairly popular first name after his birth. It's like when the royals have children and the names they give them become more popular.

Azura helped him escape to Phoenix Drop; they met when he was allowed to go to knight college or whatever its called I FORGOT GUYS!! And he was not in the same class as Laurance... but there any good knight is literally put on the list of Jury of Nine canidates. Like. It's not that hard to be considered. But to be picked? They do like the biggest background checks EVER and secretly watch you to see your strengths.

Naturally a very father-like figure to those significantly younger than him as a result of caring for his brothers and protecting them from his father. I made a whole post about it before. I'd tag it but I. Don't feel like it.

LEVIN'S FATHER!! DILFROTH IS CANON GUYS. But he doesn't know he's the father until after the timeskip.

He doesn't just wear his helmet to hide his appearance from others; he can't stand his appearance. He's a splitting image of his father, the man he truly hates. He hides all the mirrors in his living quarters, he can't stand it. Aphmau is the one that truly starts helping him love himself.

Although. After the whole incident featuring a betrayal, portal, and missing 15 years, he feels scared that he is turning out evil just like his father. He hates it. It haunts him everyday.

Also. HE WASN'T AWARE OF WHAT HE WAS DOING.

Firstly, I just need to say, I head canon Garroth to have depression. And I spoke about this a bit before, but seeing the two people he loved the most seemingly hide a relationship behind his back, instead of being open and honest with him just hurt. He fell into a depressive episode, like it was terrible. AND ZANE BEING ZANE used that to manipulate Garroth, having Lillian use magicks and potions or whatever to mind control him. He only broke out of it once Lillian died AND LAURANCE USED THE POWER OF LOVE!

He never truly figures out everything that happens until after he escapes from the Irene Dimension.

Speaking of which, he is SUPER injured after he escaped from there. I. Um. Actually don't know the specific injuries I'm giving him but all I know is he becomes a cane user. So like. Obviously something with his back but I need to like really get the logistics down that's just how my mind works with these things.

In love with Aphmau AND Laurance. He's so silly.

Bisexual masculine non-binary he/they autistic king that also suffers from depression, PTSD, and survivor's guilt.

Like most people believe, he has a dad bod. Like obviously he's muscular, but he's also chubby.

Can't cut his own hair since he doesn't look in the mirror. When he first revealed his face to Aphmau, she helped him out with his beard and hair (and almost braided his hair).

Around 26 years old.

A good singer, but only sang for Laurance while he was recovering. It's their small little thing.

LAURANCE ZVHAL

Okay so firstly, I'm not putting any Shadow Knight headcanons. That's too much.

However, as a result of being a Shadow Knight, he has poor temperature regulation. Like. He's very naturally warm, so he overheats a lot, but in the cold, it's the opposite. He's FREEZING and has to layer up a lot.

Has two gay dads. Which... is canon?? WHY DOES NO ONE TALK ABOUT THIS. He has Hayden and Joh. They are his gay dads and they raised him. And Cadenza.

Rarely can have a nice, peaceful sleep due to night terrors. He's haunted by the memories of the Nether, and the only times when those thoughts are subdued are when he's sleeping close to Aphmau or Garroth.

Actually the father of Alina. Because it's not Aaron (ew). And he never knows about this. Because he SACRIFICES himself to save Garroth and Aphmau because he loves them, and he doesn't want either of them to hurt or for himself to hurt them due to the calling.

Just to clarify, he and Aphmau did not intend for this by the way. They just had a silly night where they drank a little bit! And then woke up like a rom-com or something and where like "Oh. My. God." LIKE IT SEEMS TO BE SILLY but then it isn't.

Only knows how to crochet a single type of bear plush. Like. NOTHING ELSE.

He had to wash his orange hair like every single day. If he didn't it literally became so greasy and so crusty. And Zoey ended up having to do that while she watched over him. She was so close to just chopping it all off for him.

Garroth was his closest company while he was blind. He often asked Garroth to describe him what he saw in the village.

Once he got cured, he only partially regained his eyesight. He struggles to see a lot, and gets headaches easily. When he goes into Shadow Knight form though, his eyesight gets a lot better; but once he gets out of that form, he experiences so much pain, and his sight goes downhill for a while.

Can braid hair.

Likes to prank his friends a lot through really elaborate scares. SUPER happy once Malachi and Levin started getting involved.

Pansexual and polyamorous and 25 years old.

Sneezes like. Really cutely. Like he has one of those sneezes.

KATELYN

LITERALLY THE MOST MUSCULAR CHARACTER IN THE ENTIRE SHOW. AND TALL.

Her true love was Jeffory. Nothing will ever change that.

When she dated Aphmau, her own grief over Jeffory held back the relationship from blossoming into something more. This applies to all her other relationships as well.

Her anger issues are just simply treated better here. Like. That's all I have to say about that.

Helped care for Aphmau the most (along with Zoey) after Garroth was freed from the Irene Dimension because of how depressed she was over everything. She became really close with Lilith Garnet during this.

Never gets drunk. It's kind of insane. She is wild at taverns and just. Never gets drunk. Her power at that is balanced out with her terrible seasickness.

Doesn't get the appeal of coffee. She hates it, like it tastes so bad to her. She's a tea girlie.

28 years old. But people never guess her age right, like ever. She's eternally youthful despite not having a single skin routine.

Okay this is actually a headcanon and it's based off of a friend I do have in real life. So like yeah I guess in modern times Katelyn is a One Directioner but I guarantee she would be a Deftones fan or something.

okay i planned to do more characters but i literally forgot all mcd characters and my hcs :( SO MAYBE JUST SUGGEST CHARACTERS AND ILL SAY THEM CAUSE THEYRE JUST NOT COMING TO MIND RN also im tired

ANYWAYS HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE SHOW THAT FOREVER CHANGED MY LIFE. without you minecraft diaries, i wouldve never become the insufferable person i am today <3

#minecraft diaries aphmau #minecraft diaries #mcd #mcd aphmau #mcd headcanons #rambling #GUYS PLEASE SUGGEST CHARACTERS I KNOW I CAN DO MORE!!

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pink-strawberry-kissess · 1 year

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HCs for Aeon's first time together? Like when & where did it happen? What did Leon/Ada discover about each other intimately...

i think canonically it's off screen during re5 during that night

but for headcanons (this is not fleshed out at all, and i'm just thinking)

i like the idea of another interaction during some sort of mission

maybe Leon needing to save someone else but is surprised when ada is there again, he's expecting her to grab something from him but since she's still guilty about re4 she refrains from doing so in front of him.

ada saves him (of course) from something, and gives him some sort of information that he needed to get the mission over it

"that greeting you would've wanted" would be mentioned here again

leon needs to be somewhat dying and ada saves him, and he's still unsure and afraid. but is placed in another position where he has to trust her (which he does ofc)

because ada did what she needed to do behind closed doors, he's also placed in a position to speculate about what she did

she doesn't tell him, they leave on somewhat okay terms

at this point they have their contacts (somehow)

and since they "continue living with their lives off screen during re5"

i can imagine one or the other stumbling into each other, off mission and one thing leading to another

they would have their romantic dinner, night at a hotel

leon would expect her to stay, and is heartbroken + but angry when she leaves without a word

they've explored each other intimately but only in a physical way

this would lead to damnation and how they're characterized there

between damnation - re6, something would've switched and more feelings were explored

leon wanting more, ada being afraid

leon wanting to give more, and ada not wanting to receive it

she would actively try to push him away but wouldn't be able to stop herself from pursuing him physically.

this could follow the route to re6

they're in some sort of mutual trust, but their jobs keep them apart

UMMGHHHHHHHHHHHH okay

in terms of"What did Leon/Ada discover about each other intimately..."

i think leon has nightmares, ada feels bad and doesn't like seeing how empathic that he can be. that he still suffers so much

this would be something ada would learn after falling asleep with him, and finding him tossing and turning in the night

that being said, she doesn't want to fix him, but she wants him to to want to fix himself

ada is very controlling of her own emotions, and therefore the sex would feel very emotionless in a sense, that she refuses to be vulnerable with him for large moments of time.

he would see glimpses of her, the real her, and he keeps chasing this from her

honestly i kinda think that whenever they [redacted] there's moments of clarity where they're completely free and vulnerable with each other. like SO MANY KISSES. and SO GRABBY. just eating each other up and wanting that moment to continue on for as long as possible

they take their time mapping out their each other's bodies, remembering everything they like

leon's scars, what he likes, that he's extremely touch starved and melts at ada's touch

that ada is extremely afraid of physical affection and i also kinda headcanon that she was maybe abused as a child (not sexually though) and is sometimes skittish or at least very aware of what's going on

i think leon picks up on it and is VERY gentle with her for a while, especially once they explore each other more sexually and have expressed their boundaries.

(headcanon) ada picks up on the fact that leon becomes hard of hearing on his right ear, and she always tries to stay near that side so that she can watch out for him but also so that he can hear her better.

i like to think that ada surprises leon with matching sets of lingerie (which always get torn off at some point, but he's very careful not to rip anything lol, except for like post damnation where they have rougher sex)

i forgot to mention but they also both suffer from insomnia. leon much more as ada has trained herself to at least get some hours of sleep- but also that leads stop my other headcanon that ada instead of suffering from nightmares, that her stresses resort to night terrors instead, which are MUCH WORSE.

there's a night where she's suffering from one and leon's never seen it before and just does not know what to do. he wants to comfort her immediately but is pushed away from her when she wakes. (if you don't know the differences between a nightmare and night terrors just look it up)

she also wants to run away as they don't happen that often and can be triggered by stress or a change of lifestyle or location, so she's also thrown off by it and doesn't want to impose her problems onto leon

he wants her to stay so badly and has to gently coax her back into the bedroom and back into bed.

okay back to sexy stuff

i think that ada's a bit ticklish, and leon tries to engage with that during sex sometimes, he just likes hearing her laugh. and that slight bit of embarrassment she has when she's switching between laughing and moaning because he's railing her

again i don't like talking about birth control methods in fics (they feel like they halt the story) use it irl

but i like the idea of them maaaaaaybe using condoms in the beginning but then i also headcanon that leon maybe had a reversible vasectomy at some point after re4 (coincidentally after seeing ada was alive lol sdkfjbsjfks)

but i love the idea of them together when they [redacted] and leon knowing that he [redacted] inside of her, especially since that's the most intimate thing she's doing with anyone.

this leads into the whole like "love me like that night," "make love to me like i'm your wife" "want me to make you into a real daddy?" AHSAJGHGHJAJJJGHGHHHHHHHH

leon blows his load way too fast these nights but he can go a second time

ada's more into the messy sex, especially later on, and loves being on top so she can watch him watching her. his hand grabbing onto her so she can fall onto his cock faster

help

(this will be updated occasionally)

#ask heart #heart answers #sarndonic #leon s kennedy #ada wong #leon kennedy #aeon #leon x ada #leon kennedy x ada wong #resident evil #leon s kennedy x ada wong

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voidsdamned · 3 months

Text

Wicked Natures - The Ghoul/OC (Female Character) Chapter Eight

Summary: Bounty hunters are frequent customers at Mulholland's Saloon, and Rue's taken quite a shine to one gunslinger in particular: a cantankerous, old Ghoul in a tattered duster. Witness her unabashedly lust after him in all his irradiated glory (as we are all currently doing), as well as navigate the precarious relationship she unfortunately has with local law enforcement.

Minors, do not interact.

Content Warnings: just porn, some sweetness, biting, blood, swearing, dirty talk, light bondage, cock-warming, oral, self-stimulation, and overstimulation.

Enjoy.

Chapter Eight: Mighty Fine

It’s deeply shameful on Rue’s part, but somewhere between lipstick getting and leaving Mulholland’s, she forgot the Ghoul was coming over. So, her surprise and delight –the happy, little gasp– are truly honest when she opens her front door to find him posted on her couch, casually reclined with legs wonderfully spread. She just barely remembers to shut and lock her door because her first instinct is to run at him and straddle. But no. She keeps her cool –for the moment– greeting him with a beaming smile and a, “Hey you,” as she hangs up her bag. Then she goes to light the small lamp on the kitchen table, as the night is a little too dark. She won’t be able to properly see the lovely, rough edges of his face without it.

The room flickers with muted light; Rue blows out the match she used. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seein’ ya in here. Makes me want to do a lil’ dance. I know that’s goofy, but… it’s just nice.” She goes to him, sitting herself neatly upon his lap and sighs a soft, pleased sound when a hand greets her waist and the other travels up, between, her thighs. “How do ya manage to get in anyway?”

“I’ve had plenty of time to learn to pick a lock.” The hand at her waist trails up. Down. The one between her legs squeezes at the meat of her thighs. His eyes lazily run up her, fixing on her breasts before finding her lips. Her eyes. It’s such an intense perusal, intimate yet lazy in its way. “You get what I want?”

Rue just wants to reach for him, to cup his radiation-warped cheek in her hands. Brush fingertips against scar tissue and hollows. But she’s gathered he doesn’t like to be touched, so she keeps her hands to herself no matter how horribly the desire to caress and love seizes her. She busies herself by reaching down the front of her blouse to retrieve the lipstick stashed in her bra.

“’Course I did.” She taps it to her lips. “Hope it’s the shade ya have in mind.”

Another firm squeeze that has shivers going up her spine, and the way his fingers on her waist tap and press into her… fuck. She’s already so screwed, in a pent-up, devastating way. Her mouth goes dry when he purrs, “Put it on for me.”

Rue needs a mirror. There’s one in the bathroom, but she doesn’t want to get up. She doesn’t want those hands to leave her, to interrupt the resplendent touch. “I want to,” she murmurs, “but I love the way you’re touchin’ me right now. …Will ya do it just like this again when I get back?”

The bounty hunter’s hands still for a heartbeat. The gaze that shifts between her lips and breasts finds her eyes again. He looks a bit annoyed. “Why ya gotta get up?”

“I’ll make a mess without a mirror.”

“But I wanna watch ya put it on.”

“Ooh.” Rue likes that. “I think I got a hand mirror in my dresser….”

“Fetch,” he orders, hands slowly falling away. “Your seat’ll still be here when ya get back.”

Rue reluctantly stands, her only consolation the way he squeezes her ass before she walks away. Otherwise, she feels cold without his hands on her. Longing. She’s quick about going through her dresser until she finds the metal-framed, squared-away hand mirror. Immediately, without closing the drawers, she goes back to her Ghoul and reclaims her seat. Those hands come back, and Rue wants to melt when she feels his touch ever more acutely without the leather of his gloves muffling sensations.

She swears softly, eyes fluttering shut, “Ya made it better somehow.”

He tells her to, “Hush and put that lipstick on.”

Rue complies, all warm and fluttering inside as she pops the lid off the stick. She holds the mirror steady, and her hands have a surgeon’s precision, a fluidity, as she swipes the ruby red on her upper lip. The bottom. She rubs them together, letting them come apart with an audible pop that has his hands curling into her softness (and she’s quite certain she feels him stiffening beneath her). She represses the quiver and turns her head this way and that, inspecting and touching up just a little bit.

She’s made to stop, a rough hand grabbing her chin and making her look to the Ghoul before he’s turning her face further to the right. “Who did this?” His finger taps on a spot on her cheek she didn’t realize had gone so tender.

She winces; his hold eases but doesn’t release.

“Umm… Adel? I think.” Rue almost goes to gnawing at her lip but remembers she just applied lipstick. She sets it and the mirror on the couch cushion. “It’s… when I get real mad, I get foggy, and I know she made me mad.”

The Ghoul makes a “tsk” sound, hand dropping. “Think I’ll shoot her.”

Rue pulls in a surprised, delighted breath. “You’d kill her for me?”

Whiskey eyes roll. “It’s for me, honey. I’m the only one that gets to mark ya up.”

He’s going to make her blush. “I feel so special.”

Another roll of the eyes. “How’d she even piss you off? I been tryin’ since I met ya, but now I know it just turns you on.”

Rue tries –and fails– not to cackle at that. But it’s short-lived, clamped down on with a smile that goes brighter when she notes the handsome half-smile hanging on his own lips. “I can’t get mad at such a handsome face –a weakness of mine.”

A third, highly-exaggerated roll of the eyes. “Full. Of. Shit.”

“I’m gonna start chargin’ ya a cap a piece for those.” Rue leans in towards the Ghoul, kissing gently at the mouth that still holds a crooked smile. “I think I’ll convince ya one day –that I mean it. If I had it my way, you’re the only one who’d be touchin’ me ever.”

Her lips find his neck, pressing another soft kiss there. His mouth is against her ear, nipping, drawl gruff and slow, “Get on your knees.”

Rue, scattered and tingling after such a small bite, whimpers and grapples for her focus. Keeps herself from ripping off the clothes Lara so kindly allowed her to borrow. She obeys, slipping off his lap and into the space between his leg. She tries to touch his glorious thighs, but he stops her with a “tsk” (maybe she should start charging him for those, too), his hands capturing hers and binding them before she can blink.

She wants to touch him badly but knows they aren’t there yet. And that’s okay. She’s patient. She’ll make sure he never wants another’s hands on him once he finally lets her loose.

But for now, the knot is as tight as it normally is, and Rue is left to watch with a watering mouth as the Ghoul undoes his belt buckle languidly, unhurried. As he pushes fabric aside, letting his ghoulish member spring free at full, proud attention.

Rue’s breathing is shallow, ragged, as she watches him stroke slow and steady. She could do that for him. She could make him feel so good if he would only let her.

“You look like you’re starvin’, darlin,” he murmurs, the hand not stroking his cock tips her chin up.

She meets his gaze only to leisurely lick at her lips. “Y’know I wanna eat ya up.” And Rue can’t help but notice the way his cock twitches at her saying so. “I’d have you for every meal.”

The hand at her chin pulls her closer. The curl of his lips is dangerous, hungry. “Eat up, sweet.”

Rue doesn’t need anything more than the invitation. She is starving, her whole body craving the Ghoul and only her mouth so lucky to receive him (for the moment). And she’s going to give him what he desires, his fantasy. He might gag her a dozen times, but she’s going to leave that ruby-red ring around the base of his cock. It is her sole mission.

She works steadily towards her goal, taking more and more of him into her mouth, his swears and deep intakes of breath, the purred, “Oh, honey, that’s it,” offering her so much good encouragement. She’ll take him all the way. Even when she’s gagging and tears dampen her eyes, leaving wet tracks down her cheeks. Even when she’s forgetting to breathe. Even when he makes her so stupidly, dizzily horny when his hand grasps her pony-tail and uses it to guide her further and further down on him as his hips rut upwards.

An upward drive of his hips times up just right with a downward dip of her head, and Rue’s nose brushes against rough skin. It feels like victory (even though her throat feels raw and abused, and she’s pretty sure she’s all red-eyed and sniffly). She holds him right there, lapping at his length with her tongue and swallowing around him. His grunt and gasp are musical praise. The minute buck of his hips so very gratifying. The fucking groan he gives. How that fist in her hair tightens and tugs as he comes down her throat.

Rue is warm, hot, burning. She’s soaked for the second time this night, head swimming as she slowly licks and sucks her way off his pulsing cock.

“You can’t be doin’ that,” his voice is so breathy, gasping. Growling. But he doesn’t remove her. “Too sweet, too sore. Fuck.”

She comes off him with a pop, smile such a satisfied thing. “But isn’t that so good?” She dips forward, kissing his cum-leaking tip, licking lazy and slow. His whole body shakes, and his head falls back, grip in her hair falling away. “Ya make me feel that all the time. …How’s that red look?”

Rue can see it plainly, brilliantly, from her vantage, and the red coiling ‘round him brings her a surge of pride. The Ghoul’s head raises; his eyes drop. That crooked, lovely smirk quirks ruined lips. “Mighty fine.”

She tuts. “C’mon now. I did good work.”

“Ya did,” he agrees. “And as a reward, I’ll let ya make me cum again.”

Rue laughs. “What an honour.”

Still grinning at her, the Ghoul beckons for her to stand. “Get them clothes off.”

Rue pops to her feet and holds her bound hands out. “Can’t get the top off with tied-up hands, and I don’t think ya wanna wait the hour it takes me to get outta these.”

She supposes it’s easier for him to cut them than untie them, as he suddenly has a knife in hand (and, fuck, is it hot how quick he is with it) and cuts the ropes. Rue wants to be just as quick with ditching her clothes, but something about the way the Ghoul watches her has her wanting to go slow. Maybe not make a show out of it, but some anticipation is nice. He seems to like this look on her, and she should let him enjoy it.

She bends to take off her boots despite being fully able to just kick them off. And when she goes to take off the trousers, she’s slow with the three buttons fastening them closed. She shimmies her way out of them, letting them slip down her legs and pool around her feet before lightly stepping from them. Firm, insistent fingers find her as she pulls the top over her head, dragging across the fabric of her underthings. Dipping in between.

Rue wishes she could feel that forever: that glancing, first touch. The immediate delight. The spark of fire. She wishes she could begin and end everyday with him petting her.

A deep chuckle rattles out of the Ghoul, his fingers slipping passed the thin barrier of her underwear. She shivers. “You’ve soaked these.”

Rue knows it and has no shame. The shirt joins the trousers on the floor. “It’s you, sweet. All you.”

The Ghoul wets his lips with his tongue, fingers petting and prodding. Plunging. Rue’s breath goes tight, out of her. Her legs shake, and she desperately needs something to cling to, but she keeps herself upright. Keeps on with her task, reminding herself to breathe as she slowly unhooks her bra and lets it slip off her shoulders. The Ghoul’s unpreoccupied hand immediately cups her right breast, fondling slow and firm. Rue can’t help the needy sounds from escaping despite how ardently she tries to keep it together.

“D-Do ya want me to keep the ribbon on?” she manages to ask, biting back a moan when he rolls her nipple between thumb and pointer finger. She's a finger curl away from straddling him, from driving her body against his. Riding him until the sun comes up.

“Naw.” The Ghoul’s hands slip away; Rue wants to cry. “I got an idea for it.” He stands, hand reaching for the ribbon in her hair and pulling it free. He falls back onto the couch and takes her hands, using the blue length of silky fabric to bind her hands back together. Then his hands go to inch her drawers down.

His mouth gets so dangerously close to her lower, she can feel his breath fanning over her mound, between her legs. And suddenly those delightfully abrasive lips are against her thigh. His mouth opens, a hot wet, lick trailing. Punctuated by a rough bite that has Rue squeaking, panting, and a, “Fuck-goddamn-shit-fuck-damn-fuck-fuck-fuck,” hissing through her lips.

His laughter is wicked and his grin wolfish when he retracts his mouth. There’s a redness to his lips, a wound left in the wake of him. It’s small. He just broke the skin. But it smarts, and Rue’s trembling, all her nerves alight. Her brain is fuzzy and foggy and dumb with desire. She wants another one of those. She wants his mouth on her cunt.

But he’s giving orders as her panties hit the floor. “I wantcha on my lap, facin’ away from me. Once you’re sittin’, you’re not to move.”

Rue nods, eager to comply and easily slipping into the position he wants. She straddles him in the reverse, her knees planted on either side of his thighs. One of his hands grabs her by the waist, and a brief glance down shows her that the other holds his cock, pumping it slow as she sinks down bit-by-bit.

It’s a delicious sensation, filling and stretching and honey-sweet. Rue moans and pants with each inch gained, trembling and near-lightheaded when she finally settles upon his lap. He fills her to the brim. Warms her core. Drives her crazy. She feels just about drunk.

And then both of those strong, large, rough hands are on her waist, petting. Squeezing. Wiggling her until she somehow sinks just a little lower. It’s white-hot. Everything. It’s a struggle to keep still, and ultimately, she fails to. She’s completely aquiver, and she can feel the way she squeezes around him. But she can’t help that –surely, he realizes she can’t help that.

“Quit that shiverin’,” he growls, fingers digging in. “Still, darlin’. Real still.”

“It’s so hard. You feel so good.” Rue squeezes her eyes shut. She holds her breath, willing herself to stillness. To relax and loosen despite being taught as fence wire. “Fuck, ya feel good.” Her eyes part a sliver, not that she can see him. “How long on the clock?”

“Three minutes, but it starts over if ya move.”

Rue makes a “psh” sound. “Just three? That’s easy.”

The Ghoul hums, a curious sound. “Is it?” His hands go back to rubbing, dragging. Dipping down to press at a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves.

That’s it for her –all it takes to have her shuddering and hips bucking weakly.

His voice is a breathy growl. His grip tight, forcing her hips to cease. “I set the bar so low ‘cause you’re the wriggliest lay I’ve ever had. I’m not sure ya can even make it a minute. Already havin’ to start over.”

“I-I’m sensitive,” Rue’s indignant explanation wavers, legs shaking when his teeth find her shoulder and bite down. “And that’s not fair.”

“’Course it is.” His tongue drags across the spot he bit. “Game’s gotta have a bit of challenge to it.”

Rue gnaws her lips gently. Shit, if he noticed that he probably started the count over…. How in the hell does she know what counts or not? “Does me talkin’ start the count over? My lips are movin’. And my chest moves when I breathe.”

“It’s more along the lines of cunt squeezin’ or your body quiverin’,” he murmurs before biting her again in a new spot, fingers rubbing a deliberate circle within the same instant. “Mostly ‘cause I like to hear the nasty shit that slips outta them pretty lips.”

She can’t hold herself still –can’t even hope to. She thought she was tougher than this, but her easily excitable body is fully betraying her. She breathes out slow, trying to steady herself. “We… hm… we actually might be here for a while.”

“I ain’t got nothin’ better to do,” the Ghoul says factually, piteously. “I got all the time in the world.”

“All your doin’ is sittin’ there, though,” she mumbles, paying close attention to her breathing –to everything else aside from the substantial cock threatening her sanity. “I’m absolutely full of ya, and when I start thinkin’ ‘bout ya, I get in a bad way, and my body moves whether I say it can or not. And I can’t not be thinkin’ ‘bout ya when you’re fuckin’ hollowin’ me out.”

The Ghoul groans, a sound that doesn’t quite leave his throat, and Rue feels his cock twitch inside her. It has her seeing stars –feeling their warmth, all liquid and melty. It’s wonderful, but it’s horrible, because she doesn’t know that she can win this game. That she can sit here all night, feeling him but not feeling him. The way his scarred-up cock strokes against her insides as he fucks her silly. The maddening tempo, roughness, of each thrust.... Just thinking about it has Rue drawn taught, body clenching around the Ghoul despite her. And what does that get her? Another pulse, another flash of stars. Another shiver and moan.

Her head hangs, a pitiful, “Your dick keeps twitchin’,” whining out of her.

The bounty hunter chuckles, the vibrations of it soaking into her back. “Awe, that’s the sorriest I’ve ever heard ya.” The fingers resting against her nerves twitch, press; she pants, trying not to jerk or wiggle. She fails. “Back to one, sweetheart.”

“One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleve-.”

“Nuh-uh.” He fucking pinches, and she almost comes off his lap, only held in place by his iron grip. “That feels like cheatin’ to me.”

Rue, doing her best not to move a single, goddamn muscle, gives a desperate laugh. “And what you’re doin’ ain’t?”

“Ain’t no rules for me, pumpkin.” Again, he’s so factual. Obviously, there aren’t any rules for him. She’s so silly for thinking that. “I get to play with ya however I want, and you just get to take it.”

Rue stamps down on her shiver. “That’s hot.” She pulls in the deepest, most determined of breaths. Her brow and jaw setting in a look of seriousness she knows must be comically out of place on her. “…Y’know what I’m gonna have to do, right?”

He sounds amused. “What’s that?”

The answer is yap, but it is a very specific kind of yapping she does. It’s a solid three minutes of filth, of her explaining in graphic –perhaps nonsensical– detail what his dick feels like inside her: the stretch, the heat, the fantastic sense of fullness. The ridges. The goddamn, fucking ridges. When he finally fucks her, it’s going to feel like lightning bolts. How is she supposed to keep her composure? How does he keep his composure? She has to feel good, too, doesn’t she? She knows she’s soft. Warm and sweet. Tight and wet. She knows she’s wet. She can feel it. Every time his fingers so much as twitch, she thinks she must go to dripping. Does he remember biting her thigh? She does. She’s thinking about that a lot, and how she really would like one on her other thigh to match. And if he’s going to have his mouth down there… well, his tongue slipping into the folds of her, pressing into her center, is a nice thought. His hands do magic, but fuck, she needs to know what his tongue can do. Can’t he show her one day?

And all the while, the Ghoul’s hold tightens. His cock throbs. He lavishes her neck and shoulders with brutal affection. Hand fondling breasts or fingers intermittently torturing her in the best kind of way. But Rue holds still. She focuses on the way her words sound and how they feel on her tongue. How out of breath she is. She pretends the Ghoul isn’t there even though he so painfully is.

“That’s three minutes,” Rue murmurs, mid-way through telling him the night he up-and-dusted on her she still got off to him. “That has to be three minutes.”

“Well passed it,” the statement is a growl against her neck. “But I wantcha to finish your story.”

Rue’s eyes roll, from the timber of his voice and his foot-dragging. “It’s just ‘bout me touchin’ myself.”

“Show me how ya did it.”

“Ooh.” Heat flares through Rue. “Want me to turn around or…?”

“I want it just like this, sweetheart.” The hand which teases her lower slips away, coming back with that hand mirror she’d set aside. “This is such a good angle.”

He’s quick at finding the right angle: that illicit view of her so snug on his cock, dripping like she knew she was. Her eyes go half-lidded. Her breathing so shallow. Her lips and throat so dry when she says, “We look so pretty put together.”

All he does is bite her on the spot where neck and shoulder run together, demanding, “Show me.”

The tone and bite have Rue shivering, her bound hands hurrying to do as instructed as she breathes out an obedient, “Yessir.”

Rue knows what she likes, exactly how to move her fingers. The pressure. The tempo. How her hips like to rock minutely, and it does feel like lightning bolts race through her at just that bit of motion. The shifting pressure of the Ghoul’s cock and the way he throbs. She’s aching and tender, and honestly, not very far off from everything the Ghoul has done to her –and keeps doing to her, moaning at the sight of her pleasuring herself and petting wherever he can with his free hand).

And watching herself… it’s ridiculously arousing. Lewd. The way her fingers work in the slick mess of her. The motion of her hips. The Ghoul’s cock, spearing through her.

Rue’s head falls back with a low moan. She’s so close to something grand, a taught wire ready to snap.

“Come for me,” the Ghoul coaxes. “I wanna feel them walls tight around me.”

Rue does, whole body shivering as the coil wound tight within her snaps. Bright white and glaring, sharp and beautiful. She needs something to squeeze, to bury her teeth into, to-.

The Ghoul is moving, the mirror dropping (she thinks she hears a crack through the buzzing in her ears), and he’s holding her tight, taking her down. They fall to their sides, one hand taking the place of her own and the other grasping at her knee, pulling it to her chest. His arm hooks under her thigh, holding it in place.

He pulls back and strokes deep, fingers rubbing in harsh circles on a sensitive bundle of nerves. Rue’s cry is sharp, torn out of her. Because that is lighting, crackles and sparks and racing heat. Every bit of her body prickling and bright as he fucks her through her orgasm and into overstimulation.

“That’s it. Lemme hear ya. Ya always take it so good,” his voice is as ragged as Rue feels. “That cunt of yours grips like a vice, like you’re suckin’ me all over again…. Beggin’ me to fill ya up. Fuck ya stupid. Is that what you want, Rue? Ya wanna be fucked-out and drippin’?”

Rue moans, not sure she can string together anything resembling a sentence, not even a simple, "Fuck yes," when he's fucking her so savagely. Touching her so remorselessly. Using her goddamn name like that. Everything that comes out of her is a pant, cry, or moan. A reedy, high, pathetic sound. She nods helplessly, sucking his fingers when he orders her to and taking all of him like the good girl she is. Writhing as his dick pulses, as his hips snap unsteadily but still so deep-reaching. So shattering. And so, so warm when he spills within her, deep and plenty. It has Rue melting, soaring. Buzzing and hazy as his teeth scrape against well-loved flesh.

The grip on her leg falls away, and she can’t keep the shaky thing upright. She can barely keep herself in the present. Her brain and body are running away from her. But the hand on her hip is warm and rough and lovely. Rue’s focus snags on it, the weight of it. Like it’s settled, and he’s not about to pull away. She doesn’t want him to. He’s so sound and warm against her, and Rue basks in it for a long, few minutes until her breathing steadies and her body stops thrumming.

“Which one of us do ya think talks dirtier?” she asks, voice so soft. So satisfied. She grins when easy laughter rumbles through her like distant thunder. “I think it’s me.”

“Might be,” he admits. “You got a… way of describin’ things. Never had someone compare my dick to lightnin’ before.”

“It’s a real flatterin’ compliment if you’re worried.”

He scoffs, his breath tickling at her neck and raising goosebumps. “Ain’t worried ‘bout nothin’. Not with the way you cry out and beg for me.”

Rue sighs, a forlorn sound. “If only you’d give me a name to beg to….”

“Nah.” The Ghoul moves, slowly pulling himself out of her. Rue shivers with the motion of it, like she’s receiving muted shocks of electricity. But then she’s empty. Missing the way he fills her already and the hand that was once so warm against her hip. It’s still close, but it’s more concerned with undoing the weakly-knotted ribbon she could probably get out of herself in about five minutes. “You can just call me ‘lightnin’.”

Rue laughs, rubbing at her wrists as they come free, and then turning to face the Ghoul. His eyes are half-lidded, regarding her curiously with a barely-there quirk at the corner of his mouth. His hat fell off at some point, allowing her to see more of the scar tissue that seems to comprise his entirety.

For a moment, she has to fight the desire to reach up and pet him, to run her fingers from temple to jaw.

She stamps on the desire with a tempting, “But wouldn’t it sound so sweet to hear me say it? All breathy and wantin’. Askin’ ya, by name, to fuck me. To fill me.”

The tip of the gunslinger’s tongue sweeps across his lips, wetting them. He tells her to, “Quit that.”

“Make me.”

With a roll of his eyes, the Ghoul promptly pushes her off the couch.

#the ghoul #cooper howard #fallout #fallout the series #fallout 2024 #fallout tv series

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anne-phibia-fan · 8 months

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AAAA FIRST ACTUAL ART POST SCREEEEE

IT TOOK THE WHOLE DAY YESTERDAY BUT IT WAS WORTH IT

AND I ACTUALLY WAS INTO DOING THIS ONE ABSBJAJHSHE

YIPPIEEEEEEE

Oof I forgot to color her eyelashes eyebrows and scar

O well

Idc if the black kills my deep dark colored line coloring style I don't feel like fixing it T-T

#the owl house #toh luz #toh fanart #for the future #screenshot redraws #my art <3 #perspective can eat me alive 🤩😍#TOH screenshot redraw

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gingerel · 2 years

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three am | aerti | ff7

Posted as Warm on AO3.

There’s a scar on Tifa’s hip, normally hidden beneath the waistband of her skirt but visible to Aerith for the first time now. Bizarrely illuminated from the little light sneaking in through the hastily closed curtains so that Aerith can do little but stare at it, even though there are a number of other interesting things before her.

She was probably there when Tifa was injured in the first place, but Aerith doesn’t remember. There is always so much happening, all at once; new people, new places — the undeniable discomfort of aiming to hurt, not heal. Tifa’s a better fighter, but Aerith can tell she doesn’t like it any more than she does. Good at raising her fists in defence of her friends, sure, but it’s not Tifa’s natural recourse for fixing things.

“Are you cold?” Tifa asks, looking over her shoulder.

She’s stripped off most of her layers, in just her crop-top and the little black shorts she wears under her skirt. They bought fresh clothes when they arrived in town, but Aerith forgot to pick up anything to sleep in — she pouted, playfully complained and Cloud dragged a t-shirt from a bag and tossed it quite literally into her face without saying a single word.

As charming as ever.

Tifa looks completely relaxed, laying belly down on their shared bed, flipping through the pages of a book she found stuffed into the nightstand of their motel room. She’s more exposed, yet Aerith is the one with goosebumps prickling at her exposed arms and legs.

Aerith shakes her head and Tifa’s mouth curls with a soft smile. She shuts the book, shoves at it until it slips off the bed with a dull thud then rolls onto her side with enough ease to make Aerith’s breath short. Tifa raises one of her arms, inviting Aerith in.

Like an idiot, she ignores the invitation, something in her unsure, too tentative to risk it. Instead, Aerith simply takes Tifa’s outstretched hand, cups it with both her own and holds on as tight as she dares.

“Aren’t you cold?” Aerith asks, though she can tell Tifa isn’t, knows she wouldn’t be lying about as she is if she was trying to preserve heat. Not when she knows she already has Aerith, that there’s no need to seduce and beguile because all the work was already done almost the first moment Tifa smiled in her direction.

She does know that, right? She must know that.

“Nothing compared to a Nibel winter,” Tifa promises, with another of those smiles.

“Is it snowy?” Aerith asks. She’s so … sheltered. Knows so little of the world, really, even though everyone that’s come into her life has tried to teach her things, one way or another. Ill intent or good.

“Can be, in winter with the mountain so close” Tifa says softly. “But not all the time.”

“Is that why Cloud never wears sleeves?” Aerith teases and a beautiful, inelegant snort tumbles from Tifa’s mouth. Aerith wishes she could chase it with her own, feel it against hers, taste the edge of it with her tongue.

She can, maybe. She thinks she can.

“I bet it helps,” Tifa laughs. “You are cold.”

Not a question.

But Aerith feels warm, almost flushed. Just the sight of Tifa on the bed, her bed, clenching her belly, making every muscle in her body feel tight, braced for what Aerith knows not. Tifa looks warm, skin warm and soft over hard muscles, cascade of loose hair over her shoulder and onto the pillow beside her.

Aerith never thought herself particularly frail. Sure, Zack was a head and then some taller than her, could pick her up with just one hand and squash monsters with his sword in the other, but he never made her feel like this. Tifa’s hands are no larger than hers, she’s not really any taller. But when Tifa catches her arm if Aerith trips or hooks her own around Aerith’s waist, she feels minuscule. Like thin paper stretched over a frame of brittle wood.

Aerith doesn’t hate it.

Not even a little bit.

Thinks she wouldn’t even mind if Tifa did shatter her into pieces. Not if Tifa is willing to keep just one fragment of Aerith’s scattered remains with her for the rest of time.

Aerith squeezes Tifa’s hand and it’s tugged a little, her bed partner trying to drag her close. This time Aerith goes to her, lets herself be pulled onto her side, sighs softly when Tifa hooks her ankle around one of Aerith’s and pulls it between her own.

Maybe Aerith was cold before, because it’s blisteringly hot this close to Tifa, hands parting so Tifa can set hers at Aerith’s waist, the skin of Tifa’s stomach scorching when the backs of Aerith’s fingers brush against it, her own hands settling awkwardly on the bed between them.

There’s thin cotton keeping Tifa from her skin and Aerith hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. Wishes she’d tossed the offensive garment right back in Cloud’s face, that she was brave enough to strip down to her underwear like Tifa, to make it easy for this to go where she so desperately hopes it will.

“It’s late,” Aerith finds herself saying, frowning at the words even though she’s responsible for putting them into the world.

“You don’t seem tired,” Tifa says softly, stroking her hand from Aerith’s hip to the top of her ribs, dangerously close to the soft curve of Aerith’s body where she is bare beneath the cotton. Back down it goes, teasing Aerith though she doubts that’s Tifa’s true intent.

“I’m not,” Aerith confirms.

Last time three in the morning rolled around Aerith was drooping against Tifa’s shoulder, hunkered down on the outskirts of town, waiting for Cloud and Barret to return. They insisted on checking it out before the girls followed, Tifa staying alert and focused even though nothing and nobody was going to make it past Red pacing in front of their hiding spot.

“What should we do then?”

Tifa isn’t even trying for coy, her smile genuine and soft. Aerith feels suddenly shy though. Not like she’s never done this before, not like she doesn’t know Tifa thinks she’s beautiful. It just feels like this will mean something, a lot, everything and she doesn’t know how to process that.

So, she nestles close, until her nose brushes against Tifa’s and her skin burns hot over her cheeks. Aerith braves inching her hands forward, so she’s pressing into Tifa’s surprisingly soft belly and fingers suddenly clench at her own waist.

“Aerith,” Tifa whispers.

When she tilts her head, Tifa finds her mouth, lips soft and plush, gentle but eager against her own. The bed shifts and Aerith expects to be rolled over, to be pinned under the firmness of Tifa’s body. Instead, it’s Tifa that rolls back, drags Aerith over on top of her so she sprawls a little inelegantly, laughing straight into Tifa’s lungs.

The mattress is worn, creaks a little when Aerith pushes her palms against it to get enough leverage to balance in a position more like she’s pictured in her fantasies. They smile at each other, Tifa’s eyes impossibly dark in the low light of the room. Her hands pass down Aerith’s back again, all the way down to her bare thighs, inching the return journey achingly slow, slipping under the thin cotton t-shirt to pass over lace clad hips and settle at the dip of her waist.

Tifa’s so warm.

“Okay?” Tifa breathes.

Aerith nods, too energetically, almost feeling silly for it in the quiet stillness of the room. Tifa just smiles more broadly, tugs at Aerith’s waist until she collapses forward, supine over Tifa’s body. It’s ludicrously comfortable. Natural. Perfect.

“Okay then,” Tifa says. And kisses Aerith again.

#ffvii #ff7r #aerti #aerith x tifa #aerith gainsborough #tifa lockhart #fluff #it took me eight days to write this #i would normally make something like this in one sitting #so i'm not better #but i'm getting there #ff7

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i-can-even-burn-salad · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @winterandwords to uh... talk about a WIP I guess? :D

I'll pass on this tag toooo... @starlit-hopes-and-dreams (as always <3) but I'm not sure who else, so if you feel like talking about a WIP, consider this an open tag.

Oh boy, which to pick. There are currently only 2 projects where the P in WIP actually stands for "progress" (for the others it stands for "procrastination".)

I think I'm gonna pick Till Death. It is the one I am currently obsessed with, and the only one I am writing, not editing.

Here's the blurb:

Finnian is a wandering healer down on his luck. When one of his patients dies, the village turns against him, beating him half to death and leaving him for thirst and scavengers to finish what they started.

Eilis lives deep in the forest, hiding from the world. When she finds him, impaled on a tree and barely alive, she can‘t leave him to his fate, even if it means upending the peaceful life she has built for herself.

As Finnian slowly recovers, days filled with quiet companionship make the prospect of him staying less daunting than either of them had expected. But he carries too many scars, and Eilis too many secrets, threatening to destroy their fragile relationship as the shadows of the past draw closer. When everything falls apart, will they save each other, or will the price be too high?

You see, in April I finished the last chapter of all my ongoing stories, which left me in a very weird mood. For 1,5 years I always had something to work on, and suddenly, there was nothing started. Sure, I had a few outlines, but nothing really called to me, with the added problem that for those, I have to figure out bullshit like politics. I needed something new. New chars I didn't know yet, a fresh story - and 🌟violence🌟 :)

I've been talking about wanting more gore with happy end, but sadly, existing OCs are so fragile, I can't even break all their bones without them dying 🙄 So it was time to fuck up another healer.

For a few weeks, I threw concepts against a wall like cooked spaghetti, grabbed whatever stuck, and then I just started. It's the first time in a year that I actually write a story without posting as I go. I can leave a little note "this sounds weird, fix later" or remember "shit, I forgot this injury" or change a name halfway in. I know. That's how a draft is supposed to work 😅

I'm at over 60k words, and it's looking good. There's a few 'first times' for me, a lot of things I love and a lot of things I am excited about. I have a rough outline of events still to happen that leaves me enough freedom to go wild. And wild I go; half of the scenes are gratuitous pain and suffering, and there will be more - but it's also a story of love and finding a place to belong. Which brings me to the next point:

I'm tired. Tired of feeling like I don't belong anywhere. Of having no genre and being "just whump" because it fits nowhere else. Of being "not enough whump" while still finding myself on every squick list.

So this one's written for a target audience of some very close friends - a target audience for which I don't have to write CWs at the top of each chapter, a target audience who doesn't grow bored at the first calm moment, a target audience who will call me a bitch while asking for more pain.

I love you, pocket friends 💜

Here's the start of the book (unedited, rip):

Finnian hated dealing with sick people.

Considering the fact that he earned his money with healing, that was rather unfortunate. If he didn’t want to starve to death, he had to grit his teeth and ignore the stench of sweat and blood while taking care of coughs and aches and fever.

Sometimes, he wished he had learned something else after it had become clear that this wasn’t the right profession for him. Then he wouldn’t be sitting here, explaining to a grown ass woman that when he had told her to keep the wound clean, that included keeping the bandages away from dirty water. And that yes, it fucking hurt, because now it was infected, and if she didn’t plan on losing a finger or two, she’d better keep her hand dry and clean this time. And that perhaps, just perhaps, that was a bit more important than cleaning the windows.

Unfortunately, he had not learned anything else, so he left the house half an hour later with barely enough coins in his pocket to make up for the supplies he had used. Most roots and herbs he could gather himself, but bandages and tinctures didn’t grow on trees.

#salad-tag #WIP Wednesday #wip: till death #not in the best place lately can you tell #it's too warm i am ~stressed~#and between staff changes and uh general focus on this site #it's all just very discouraging

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finn-m-corvex · 1 year

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Jaya Week 2023 Day 1: Hobby

IT (was) JAYA WEEK! Going to be honest with you, folks, I completely forgot this was a thing until I saw the post for it literally the day before it started (today, the 31st for me) so now I'm on a mission to speed write the other six days.

I hope you guys like this one! Small something to help me get back into writing small things. I'll be posting these on ao3 too!

Words: 1.7k

[REUPLOAD!]

It hadn’t started as anything important, really. Nothing more than a hobby for them.

She could still remember the day that Jay had walked her around the bowels of the Bounty for the first time since he had built the engines, showing her the innards of the mechanations. Jay had the biggest smile on his face as he pointed out the various gears and wires, happily explaining what they did with a speed that lightning would’ve envied. His hands were articulating wildly, very nearly hitting her in the face every few minutes and she was amazed he hadn’t hit the walls with how cramped the area was.

Even then, all she could think about was how good he looked in his black tank top, his muscles on full display paired with the boyish face that she had somehow fallen so hard for.

Until he finally stopped talking to take a closer look at one of the cooling systems, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” she had asked, coming up behind him and trying to see for herself.

Jay sighed, reaching for the worn blue toolbox that he had left in the corner. “One of the pipes is coming loose. We’re going to have to get a new one somewhere, but I should just be able to tighten it until then.”

She watched as he grabbed a wrench covered almost top to bottom in rust, and part of her wondered if it was really in the best condition to be used. Jay chuckled when she asked him about it, and held it up for her to see. “My pa always says that the most worn tools are the most reliable. The more worn they are the better, because if they’ve lasted you this long, why wouldn’t they get you a little farther?”

It hadn’t made any sense to her at the time. Instead of asking Jay and trying to understand it, Nya had pressed on. “Can you show me how?”

“What?”

“Can you show me how to fix it?” Nya clarified, and for some reason she felt nervous about asking him. Jay looked at her, surprised, and she was worried that he would say no when a delighted smile spread across his face.

“Of course! Come on, I’ll teach you everything I know,” he said, and she was smitten with the way he continued babbling to himself when she stepped up next to him. Most of what he had been saying didn’t make a lick of sense, but eventually she started picking up what he was putting down. Reaching to take the wrench from him, their hands brushed, and she shivered when Jay’s touch lingered for a bit longer. His thumb rubbed small circles on the inner part of her wrist, nail tracing along the veins visible through her skin.

Jay didn’t move his hand until she had finished tightening the bolt, but even then it was only to wrap his hand around hers. She was surprised by how warm it was, almost like the lightning buzzing under his skin was heating it, and she smiled at the small lightning scars already snaking up his hand.

Pulling back, Nya was hardly startled when she felt his other arm settle around her waist. “Did I do it right?”

What did startle her was Jay’s dopey grin, dripping with so much love and affection that it made her heart squeeze in her chest. His gorgeous blue eyes were looking directly into her own muddy brown, and Nya was close enough to see the light dusting of makeup covering the smattering of freckles that she knew to be there.

She wanted nothing more than to tell Jay that he didn’t need the makeup, and that they all would’ve loved to see the constellation of stars splashed across his face, but she knew he wouldn’t hear it.

He leaned in, and Nya smiled when he gave her a side hug. “You’re so amazing,” he praised, and she hadn’t felt so special since the day Kai had told her that she was finally big enough to start helping in the forge.

The two of them had spent the rest of the day with each other down there, Nya working steadily on all of the engines while Jay happily talked her through it and through literally every other interest he had ever experienced in his life, but it was still one of Nya’s fondest memories.

The first time she had looked back on the memory, the two of them had been staying in Dr. Julien’s old lighthouse, on the run from Nadakhan.

Leaning against the open window and watching the horizon, Nya had turned around to see Jay messing with some of the gadgets on the room’s only table. They had only been there for a few hours, his gi still crumpled from his time aboard the Misfortune’s Keep.

Almost as if he sensed her gaze, Jay turned around, and Nya’s heart ached at the sight of him; his normally bright blue eyes were dulled with pain that he could barely keep concealed, a long and thick line running right across the one on the left. It was a miracle that he could still see out of it, really, but Nya knew that his vision had been compromised immensely.

She took special care to stay on the right side of his line of sight, cupping his cheek once she was close enough to do so. He leaned into her touch with a shudder, and Nya cringed at the way bruises travelled down his neck, coating his torso in ugly shades of black and blue under the gi.

It was so hard to see him hurting, to know that every breath he took felt like inhaling shards of glass and that his vision would never be cleared whenever he blinked. “Are you okay?”

Jay gave a soft wheeze, his naturally curly hair falling forward and framing his face in a way that he wouldn’t normally allow. “I’ll be fine, Nya. I promise. Just give me a couple days, alright?”

The more worn they are the better, because if they’ve lasted you this long, why wouldn’t they get you a little farther?

No matter how much he had been worn down, how much of his outer paint chipped away and his surface seemingly rusted beyond the point of usage, Jay had always managed to come through for them, for her. Nya guessed that Jay’s pa had been right yet again.

Which all led to this moment, years after the lighthouse, even longer since she had been walked through the first mechanical marvel that had given flight to the Bounty. They were holed up in the monastery’s workshop, a place deep underground so as to not disturb the inhabitants above. It was younger her’s dream, fully stocked with every part she could imagine and loaded with as much metal as they could ever need in as good of a quality as they came. Of course, they still kept a pile of junk from the Walkers’ scrapyard, partly to keep them in business, but mostly because it was Jay’s preferred materials when it came to his projects.

Her Yin was standing at a workbench only a short distance away, working away on a circuit board with his favorite zip-up hoodie on. He turned around, the hoodie falling off of his shoulder and exposing the scars from the Misfortune’s Keep mixed with the figures from his lightning powers.

Somehow, he always knew when she was looking at him.

“Everything okay?” he asked, noticing that she had stopped working on her own project. Weariness was set deep in her bones; it was well past for them to have gone to bed, but Nya knew that Jay would be up for as long as she would be. Insomnia was second-nature to them at this point.

She held her chin in her hand, elbow on the table as she stared at him with half-lidded eyes. How had she gotten so lucky?

Nya shut her eyes when she felt Jay’s arms wrap around her from behind, resting his cheek on top of her head. He was warm, just like all those years ago, and she craved that feeling despite wearing her own fairly thick hoodie.

“Just thinking,” she said, choosing to grasp his forearm when his hand came to rest on her shoulder. Jay hummed, rubbing his thumb along the small sliver of skin exposed by her waist.

“That’s a terrible thing,” he quipped, and Nya chuckled in response. She leaned up to give him a quick peck on the cheek, and he looked at her with surprise. Nya was a little surprised herself; she wasn’t normally one for such straightforward affection.

His blue eyes, soft and as loving as they could be, suddenly narrowed in suspicion. “Did I forget an anniversary?”

Maybe it was a little mean, but all Nya could do was laugh. She giggled some more when she saw Jay’s pouting face underlined with worry that she was quick to kiss away. “No, honey, you didn’t forget an anniversary. I’m just remembering the time you were showing me around the Bounty for the first time.”

It took a second before his face cleared of the confusion. “Why were you thinking about that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just wondering how all of this,” she gestured to the workbench piled high with parts, “became more than a hobby, you know?”

“Why wouldn’t it still be a hobby?” Jay asked genuinely. “I mean, you still enjoy it, and that’s enough for it to be a hobby for me.”

Technically, he was right, but it didn’t really help Nya to feel better. “We haven’t really built something fun in a long time, though. Most of what we’ve been making is for missions and the team; kinda sucks the joy right out of it.”

Jay gave her a mischievous smile that made the hair raise on the back of her neck. “Then tomorrow we’ll just have to do something fun. Zane and Pixal can take care of the mechs for a little while. I was just thinking about building us a new toaster with lasers.”

“Lasers?” and Nya could barely get that out before Jay’s lips brushed against her own, and a small spark burned through her body. She didn’t waste a beat, burying her hand into his curly hair when he deepened the kiss.

They never made it back to bed that night.

#ninjago #ninjago jay #ninjago nya #ninjago jaya #jayaweek2023 #finn's writing #jaya week 2023 day 1: hobby

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violetjedisylveon · 1 year

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Shadowpeach Family AU rambles cause I'm in college now and can't draw as much.

The first thing Shadowpeach did after Chao-Xing hatched, aside from gushing over their adorable little cub, was make her unkillable. I'd say immortal but she still ages like a fairly normal celestial monkey for a while.

So Chao-Xing is mortal for like 1 day before that gets fixed and Shadowpeach doesn't have to live in fear of her dying, cause she can't now.

Happy immortal monkey family time!

Obviously Wukong and Macaque make a big deal about Chao-Xing's birth and everyone on Flower Fruit Mountain gets to see the new baby, they are extremely proud parents.

Ma is in this AU btw, she's albino and everyone's granny, always able to babysit for anyone.

Once Chao-Xing is old and strong enough to handle the journey, the monkeys go visit some of their buds in the celestial realm and show them their baby, and maybe get some more immortality stuff while they're there.

Chao-Xing is about a year and a half old and has learned that her clones can be used to trick people.

Nezha is the first person they go to, he and Wukong are bros here, and very eagerly show off the baby.

Chao-Xing gets left alone for two seconds, makes a clone to take her place and promptly crawls off to go explore the new bright cloud place she found herself in.

She gave several deities heart attacks because the last time a monkey was wondering around unsupervised, it was Sun Wukong and he was up to no good.

Chao-Xing doesn't intentionally cause any trouble, she's just exploring and climbing stuff she probably shouldn't.

She's a curious little monkey, what do you expect?

She wandered around a bit and stumbled into wherever Erlang Shen lives.

Luckily, he wasn't home, but his dog(Xiàotiān quǎn) was.

At this point in her life, Chao-Xing doesn't know about all the stuff that went down, she's too young to have wondered about it yet.

She just doesn't question why some of the immortal monkeys(ones with their names erased from the books of living and dead) have burn scars or old bald patches or cloudy eyes ect, and her ability to hear the past hasn't come in yet, so she doesn't know what Erlang did to Flower Fruit Mountain.

So she crawled into his house, saw a massive(to her) dog and her thought was "big puppy".

Cue very confused celestial doggo and a baby monkey cuddling him.

Wukong, Macaque and Nezha do eventually find her and are all very glad that she didn't cause the level of chaos her parents did. A bit confused that she's cuddling with Xiàotiān and why Xiàotiān is letting her cuddle, but mostly happy with the outcome.

After this Nezha makes them put Chao-Xing in one of those leash backpacks when they visit heaven.

I forgot to add this before posting: Chao-Xing and Xiàotiān are buds, cause Chao-Xing is a cute lil monkey and she gives Xiàotiān all the snacks

Shadowpeach Family AU Masterpost

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m4gp13 · 1 year

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Hang on I know I made those OC posts a while ago but I just remembered this other guy who I think pre-dated Old Man Martha and was basically just a precursor to him.

I'm sure it was mentioned in some of the books that the Titan Army employed human mercenaries to pad out their ranks and provide them with skills and equipment they lacked and I think it was implied that because of the mist they didn't really know what was going on which made me think about how they perceived the war, how they interacted (if at all) with the demigods in the army and if some of them did have experience with the mythological world and knew what was actually happening. That was how I ended up with an OC so old I forgot his name or if he ever had one!

Name, as he shall be called in the meantime, was an ex-marine who used his expertise to teach self-defence classes to kids and he had this one student who was about eight-ish years old when he started attending his class way back in the late eighties. Name liked the kid well enough but while training him, fell in love with the kid's mother, a single woman who had a fling with some guy that ditched her after a couple of nights together. After a while Name and the woman got married but there was trouble in paradise because the mystery guy who knocked the mother up was Zeus, who didn't even know his affair caused an oath-breaking baby to be released into the world.

A few years after Name and the mother got married, the kid's demigod powers started showing which got the attention of Zeus and some of the other gods. Hera was obviously furious that Zeus cheated on her even under oath and demanded that, since he broke the oath, he had to fix his mistake. If it was just Hera being mad about an affair Zeus wouldn't have been too intimidated but it wasn't just Hera, it was pretty much the whole Olympian council and it wasn't just an affair, it was the fact that broke an oath on the Styx. It was the first time since the oath was made that it was broken so everyone took it a lot more seriously which is why Zeus reacted as drastically as he did by zapping the kid and his mother with lightning, killing them both as well as permanently scarring Name, who happened to be standing too close at the time.

Name was obviously traumatised by the sudden death of his wife and child and grew furious when he did some digging into the demigod world (that he was starting to become acquainted with as the child's powers started showing) and found out the reason they died. When Kronos Army popped up on his radar and he found out they were all about tearing down the Olympians, especially Zeus, he was very quick to offer his services even though he was an ageing and mentally unstable man at that time. Most of the human mercenaries were kept separate from the demigods and avoided them on their own accord but Name had experience with them as well as a major soft spot because they reminded him of his lost son. The demigods mostly saw him as this eccentric old man with a lightning scar but he was fun and he was the closest thing a lot of them had to a positive paternal influence in their lives so they liked him.

He was quite protective over the young demigods and was always trying to keep a close eye on them during missions or battles that most other human mercenaries wouldn't have been expected to be present at. For the human mercenaries, they were approached by the army and only do what they are explicitly asked and go where they are explicitly told to go but Name was a special case. He approached the army and made it clear from the get-go that he knew about the mythological stuff so where the other humans were kept away from the demigods, Name was given slightly more free-roam and he used that to keep an eye on the young demigods. I remember killing him off during the battle of Manhattan and I think I was torn between him being the only human on the Princess Andromeda when it blew up because everyone knew about the explosion and he wanted to be present so he could help evacuate the ship if they couldn't intercept the bomb in time or he was hanging around at the end of the Williamsburg bridge to oversee the demigod reinforcements because everyone knew what a threat Percy Jackson was and when the bridge started crumbling, he ran towards it to try and help (possibly dragging Ethan's unconscious body off???) but got crushed/fell in the water in the process.

#pjo #percy jackson #ethan nakamura #the titan army #oc #pjo oc #yeah he's an eccentric old man with a tragic backstory #so you can sort of see the hints of Old Man Martha in him #Q

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ninacytosis · 8 months

Text

For the time lost

Summary: Zuko wants to erase every reminder of his past mistakes, and Katara will take him on a journey to, quite literally, heal both of their scarrings.

Contains: Angst, Fluff, Katara has burns scars from Aang's first attempts to firebend, Katara tries to get over her resentment towards the FN, Zuko doesn't hate Azula.

Dear reader: I hope you enjoy it! <3 Let me know if you want me to continue posting

Find chapter one here and chapter three here.

┊┊┊┊☆┊*🌙*┊☆┊┊┊┊

Chapter Two

Katara thought about her students while folding clothes. A decent amount of people decided to move to the Southern Water Tribe after the war ended, and she knew a lot of families took this as a chance to start over. For now, she was in charge of nurturing the minds of the young benders that arrived. Even though she loved this new job, it was time for her to take a break.

“Hey, what’s with the sunglasses?” her dad asked, taking them off the nightstand and putting them on. “I know it’s summer but we’re still in the South Pole, kid”

Katara smiled. “I’m just packing them for tomorrow”.

His dad offered to help her, but she was almost done when he arrived, so she thought of two plans for her trip instead. Plan A, she would eat at the first rotisserie that appeared on her way to Zuko’s fancy royal mansion/palace/casa. Then, she would go to his house and even though she insisted on staying in a hotel nearby, she would eventually agree to stay. She would get a Fire Nation royalty-style spa day, Zuko’s treat (it’s important to clarify that, at least half of this plan was stolen on Toph’s visits to the Fire Nation. Though it is quite obvious). After all of that, she would ask him (preferably during a beach day) why he is visiting the North Tribe so much. And right before leaving, she would spend a day at Iroh’s shop.

However, it seemed like she had to go with plan B. Sure, it wasn’t a bad plan B, but it definitely involved fewer massages and face masks than the original, and Katara was just a girl who wanted a little self-care. Can anyone blame her?

“I like what you’ve done to the place” Katara stared at the wooden panels on the wall. She was too shy to confess her feelings about fire hazards, she didn’t even know if it was offensive for him.

“I tried to make it a bit retro, you know?” Iroh explained. “Everything is changing so fast, I’m afraid the world forgets its roots. But I guess that’s not a big preoccupation for younger folks”.

The words of Iroh resonated in her head on most occasions, especially since she was aware that he was Azulon’s firstborn. Even if he had spent more than a decade fixing his past actions, it was still weird for her to share the same table as a guy he had resented from the moment she gained consciousness. It’s hard to get used to this new era, and it’s probably the reason she barely went to the Fire Nation, even if it meant fewer hangouts with Zuko. In the last months, Aang helped her a lot to channel her antipathy into different, less draining emotions. Today’s emotion is: curiosity.

“I think I know why you are here, Katara” he offered her a cup.

“Well, we both needed a vacation”, she said. ”Zuko’s told me how busy these last weeks have been for him… plus I missed swimming without the risk of dying of hypothermia”.

“Then you’re certainly going to love the beaches down on Chaisee’s island” Iroh gave her a warm laugh. “Oh, the times I had there when I was your age!”

Katara took a sip on the cup and smiled.

“But be careful, Zuko’s skin might be sensitive after last week”, Katara cautiously nodded, “as a water bender yourself, you know how the healing procedures work”.

Healing procedures? Katara nodded again. Could Iroh tell she was nervous?

“Yeah…. I totally forgot. It’s such a sensitive procedure!” she said, having no idea about this healing thing. “And I wouldn’t want to hurt a Fire Lord, they have a history of heated arguments don’t they?” Apparently, it was impossible for Katara to shut her mouth. “Anyways, promise I won’t interfere in the treatment. Don’t know how I forgot, Zuko told me all about it on my way here… I mean, on a letter of course. He wasn’t on the ship. I guess you know that” shut up shut up shut up.

Iroh widened his eyes and made a frown that immediately told Katara that her attempts to sound unbothered and casual failed, as usual.

“Did I say something I shouldn’t?” Iroh covered his mouth his hand.

Katara tried to comfort him. “Well, he technically told me about his trips to the North Tribe, so it was a matter of time until I figured out what was going on”, honestly, she never even considered the idea of him wanting to get rid of his scar. He hadn't mentioned since he was sixteen. “I have a few questions now, though”

“Maybe you should ask him directly, I’m sure you’re going to notice the change once he arrives. A healing process is slow, and you know Zuko: he wants everything fast”, Iroh sighed, “but in his last letter he told me that this healing session was quite intense”.

He poured the water into two cups.

“The thing is,” he cleared his voice, “Zuko doesn’t understand that there are some parts of a wound that can only be healed by him.”

#zutara #ftl #atla #zuko x katara #zutara fanfic #zutara fanfiction #hope you like it!#pls be gentle this is my first fanfic in english

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