#like an overripe peach

[weardes]

[peachesofteal]

Speaking about Ghost/Soap/Darling omegaverse... May I bring the idea of Soap and Ghost being alpha and Darling an omega? But wait, let me sprinkle a little of angsty thoughts about it:

Johnny and Simon get to spend their ruts together. Hell, they share a room, and even on base they get to have privacy and go through them with the help of each other, not only fulfilling their physical needs, which are sated of course, but also emotional. Yeah sure, heats are emotional but ruts are too, and they spend so much time together that almost, if not all of their ruts together have been spent in the company of each other.

But Darling? Imagine Darling having a heat every time she's alone. Simon and Johnny gone on some mission, gone for weeks and sometimes even months. Trying to satisfy herself with whatever smell is left on Simon's hoodie or Johnny's shirt. She tries to brush away the thoughts of loneliness and being left out that arise every time she rests in her nest, every time she has to painfully get through her heats without her mates' company.

Hell, she tries to hide everything every time Johnny and Simon come home, smelling like each other and fresh bite marks on their necks. She really, really tries. But nothing escapes those two, no. They can smell that little, slightly rotten smell on Darling, sensing her discomfort and those bouts of anger flaring up, those hints of desperation hiding in a slightly-rotten fruit smell. It becomes stronger and stronger each time she sees how close they are after they tell her that another rut came while they were on base, and her? At this point she might lie and say she's on suppressants. Again, they at least suspect about it.

But hell, the fact that there are always fresh bite marks on them every time they come home, while hers is is non-existent (Johnny and Simon foolishly believe she doesn't wish to be bitten), is NOT helping at all.

And they realize how drastic, how deep the problem is once their leave coincides with Darling's heat.

Except she hides. She doesn't let them in, because they maybe have never seen her on her heats.

She doesn't trust them to know how to deal with it, how to deal with an omegas' most vulnerable moment when all they've known is how alphas deal with their ruts.

Darling doesn't trust them, not fully, at least.

Djsjjd jfc when you said omegaverse I was 👁️👁️. Peach I hope you're having such a good day and I must thank you once more for giving us such beautiful stories, I hope nothing but good things happen to you from now on:)

— 🫔 Anon

Oh… okay, I see you. This is so good! There’s so much to explore here… 🩵

18+ / dead disco omegaverse au (it needs a name but we’ll get there?) / mature themes

The door swings wide, and Johnny is nearly bowled over by the scent. It’s everywhere in the flat, wafting down the hall to where they both stand at the threshold, overcome with the smell of overripe fruit, something sour and tart hovering at the precipice.

It’s the smell of their omega in distress.

But what surprises them both, is along with the burnt tannins of distress, is another smell. A ripe smell, a bruised stone fruit smell.

The smell of an omega in heat.

But their omega doesn’t have heats. You’re on suppressants.

Still, it’s definitely your scent. There’s no mistaking it.

Simon tenses, hackles rising with a growl. Johnny’s hand finds his chest, placing his palm over the older, bigger alpha’s heart soothingly. They’ve just both come off a rut, poor timing all things considered. Both exhausted, they were looking forward to getting home and falling into bed with you, cuddling you close while they both slept off the stress from the op and the remaining… sensitivities.

“Darling?” Simon calls, keeping his voice soft and easy.

There’s no answer. The flat is silent.

“Love? Are you here?” Johnny tries, pushing through to the bedroom, where he’s half expecting to see you curled up in the bed.

Except, you’re not.

It looks like you may have been, at one point. It’s a pile of blankets and pillows, haphazardly arranged with various shirts and other soft things.

Johnny chokes on a breath. The scent is much, much stronger in here, and Simon’s eyes slide closed as he draws a deep inhale.

“Omega?” He murmurs, and to their relief, there’s a small whimper from the closet.

When he gets the door open, his heart breaks. Simon’s body goes preternaturally still, and they both stare down at you.

You’re drenched in sweat, burrowed in a pile of clothes, eyes wide. You reek, panic and fear, distress and pain burning in their nostrils, along with the overripe scent, the telltale smell of a heat. Worse, when you look up at them, there’s no recognition there. Nothing to show that you know who they are to you, or even where you are. Johnny shoves away his panic over your confusion, this state, to try to coax you forward into his arms.

“Hey, there ye are.” He reaches for you, slowly, and your body presses against the corner, head shaking back and forth. Johnny frowns. “Darling, it’s okay. It’s us, you’re alright.” His hand gets closer, nearly brushing you knee, and then to their absolute shock, you snarl.

Simon is conflicted. He’s confused.

Why did you tell them you’re on suppressants?

They would have done things a lot differently, if that wasn’t the case. They wouldn’t have left you alone, if they had known. His stomach clenches when he thinks about the possibility that this isn’t the first time you’ve been on your own during a heat.

“Darling.” Simon coos. He doesn’t want to reach for you. He doesn’t want to pull you from the closet, this safe spot you’ve built, your nest. He doesn’t want to force you out, like his father would have. Like he always did to his mother. His father would have gripped you so hard it would have hurt you, left bruises on you. He would have terrified you, taken joy from it. “Omegas are weak.” Simon was raised to believe. “The lesser. It’s our job to teach ‘em.”

You snort out a trembling breath from your nose, little groan slipping from your lips and you rub your wrist on your gland. Johnny makes a strangled sound in his throat as it happens, and Simon doesn’t need to ask to know what he’s thinking.

Only omegas who have been abandoned or lost their mates try to self soothe like that, scent themselves like that. It’s an instinct, something that happens to try to prevent them from becoming overheated or harmed by a heat unmanaged.

“No, no no. It’s alright, love, we’re here.” Johnny pleads, hand still tentatively outstretched while you stare at his fingers. Every time your wrist rubs over your gland, they both cringe, and Johnny’s body goes rigid.

“I- don’t-” You stutter. You blink at them slowly, and he can see it all on your face, plain as day. The pain. The confusion. The distress.

Simon crouches, just outside the closet. He starts up a soothing rumble, trying to lure you towards him. You lift your head slowly when you hear it, when you feel the subharmonics, the song that sings to you.

“Come here, baby.” Your brow creases, and you rub your face. You look exhausted, like you haven’t slept in days and he wonders how long you’ve been you like this, how long you’ve been suffering. You don’t smell like pre heat, so you must be on the curve upwards. Guilt burns in his stomach. “It’s alright now.” Johnny moves next to him, shifting into a kneel very slowly while you watch him, hazy gaze fixed on the bite marks on his neck, over his gland.

“You’re safe.” Johnny coaxes, and he keeps his hand towards you, but unmoving, trying to show you that neither of them are a threat.

They both work to emit soothing scents, trying to lull you into their arms. You watch them warily, curiously, eyes opening and closing in slow motion as your instincts battle whatever confusion is happening beneath the surface.

It works. You crawl slowly out from the corner, t shirt sticking to your skin, your arms trembling under your weight.

“Good girl.” Simon murmurs. Neither of them move, afraid to spook you, and then you’re curling up between their bodies, rubbing your wrist against your gland over and over.

You tuck yourself into them, head laying on Simon’s chest and his hand comes slowly to rub your back, getting you used to his touch, easing you into a more relaxed state while Johnny smooths a hand over your shoulder, coasting his wrist closer and closer to your gland, trying to scent you subtly and soothe you, gentle you. You whimper when he makes contact, and they both press a little closer.

“Shhh. You’re okay, darling. We’re here.” Simon bows his head, skimming his nose overtop your scalp, and you shift, hands grabbing for Johnny, trying to pull his body overtop yours, effectively sandwiching yourself as tight as you can between their mass. You whine, and Johnny hums in your ear, soothing you by scenting until you’re letting out little rumbles of your own, soft purrs puffing against Simon’s chest, Johnny’s lips ghosting across your sweat dotted forehead.

[after-witch]

Peaches [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Peaches [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You smell like Peaches. Mahito thinks about it.

Word Count: 860

notes: yandere, discussions of dead bodies in a bit of detail, threats of harm, just a lil mahito something something in honor of tomorrow <3

You smell like peaches. 

He knows this now. But he didn’t always know what the scent that clung to your skin was actually called. It was knowledge duly gained by following his nose one day, having caught a scent on the wind that reminded him of you, although he knew it wasn’t actually you. 

Because the real you--the soul surrounded by flesh and blood--were currently holed up in the office building where you worked, stupid thing that you were, wasting your hours and energy on something entirely useless. 

But that windy breeze smelled like you, and that’s why he followed it on two feet, humming, until he wandered into some kind of open air market where baskets were bursting with all sorts of fruits and vegetables. He smelled them all, licking a few, taking bites when he felt like it, until he found the right one. 

It had yellowish-orange flesh, and it was soft, fuzzy. He took a bite and the juice ran down his chin, but the smell was stronger and that was particularly nice. The sign in front of the basket read: Peaches.

Ah, then.

A peach. 

That’s what you smelled like. 

Your scent was a bit different, though, if he got technical about it. You didn’t smell exactly like this real peach, all fresh fuzz and sticky bright juice. The way you smell is more… rich, low, consistent. Overripe. A peach amplified and concentrated.

Artificial.

That was how humans described such notions, wasn’t it? It must be perfume, or shampoo, or something else that humans rub on themselves to smell different. 

You, evidently, wanted to smell like peaches.

He couldn’t blame you. It was a nice smell, without considering personal taste. Pleasant and fresh. He supposed a lot of humans liked to smell that way. He didn’t mind dampness or decay, the low sweet rot of it was quite pleasant to him. Humans, on the other hand, tried to cover up any stench they could. Sprays for their bathroom, sprays for their skin, sprays for their hair, hastily emptying corpses of everything that made them bloat deliciously and spew out secretions and replacing it with sterile chemicals. 

Not that you were trying to cover up any such odor, corpse-like or not. He’s watched you in the bathroom on most mornings, scrubbing every bit of the human body that liked to produce a smell if left untouched. Your armpits, your back, that awfully special area between your legs. So that there was no trace of your natural scent about you by the time you were done, no chance that someone might walk by you and turn up their nose.

No matter what you smell like, though, your soul remains the same.

Souls have no particular smell, unless they are corrupt enough. Humans are truly pathetic for not knowing this fact. A corrupt soul is a bit like a dead body, he supposes, if he had to compare their scent to something else. Thrumming with rot, like decaying flesh moving with maggots. 

Your soul is not so corrupt. He would’ve gotten a whiff of it, if it was. Oh, but make no mistake: it’s not pure either. He’s seen the way it wavers, the darkened shimmers when you’re standing at a traffic light (sometimes he thinks about shoving someone into traffic, to see what will happen, what you’ll do) or when your boss is berating you for some nonsensical human failures (what might you do, if he snapped your boss’s neck here and now, in front of you?)--the curses that slither their way out of you are dark and low, stodgy little things borne out of feelings you try to stamp down.

That was the beautiful thing about curses. They were humanity, untethered. Just one reason why they were superior. 

That doesn’t mean he can’t want to play with humans, though. He’s never had a toy he wanted to keep around for so long, but there’s something about you. Something that keeps him just far enough away to avoid detection, on the off chance that you could see him. Sometimes he wonders, with the way your eyes dart around on the street, with the way you pause over something he’s moved in your apartment. Do you spot him in a crowd, and see that he’s different? Can you feel his presence, when he’s on the other side of the door, listening to you sing off-key while you shower?

Your soul shimmers then, too. 

He longs to touch it, to root around and see exactly what makes you angry, what makes you hate, what spots of mold might be hiding underneath that peach perfume. 

How long would you smell like peaches, if he dragged you to the damp tunnel where he lives? Would it linger on your skin like a memory? Or would it fade and fade and fade until there was nothing left but the sour, damp water of his sewer? 

Maybe he’ll talk to you tomorrow. Sprawl out on your couch when you come home, and find out if you can see him. 

After all, he can do whatever he wants. That’s what life is all about, isn’t it?

[who-do-i-know-this-man]

It's probably too late in the bracket to change things but it would be interesting to split "I know both characters" and "I know neither"

Here's my review of the fruit "rambutan". Since I found some in my local store recently.

First of course you eat with your eyes and I gotta say they pass that test.

Look at it. It's such a fun shape. And if anyone has ever wanted to eat those little chapstick ball things this has got you covered. The skin part even slides off real satisfying like.

As for the taste and texture, it is very similar to a peeled grape, with a bit of flavor of like a peach syrup. Overall I really enjoyed it.

However it is now time to bring down this little fruit's score. Like half of the volume (not counting the skin) is a big old seed. Or pit. I'm not a biologist. That on it's own isn't a deal breaker but when I ate it, the skin of the seed kept getting pealed off with the fruit flesh, leaving what tasted like a very thin layer of tree bark on my tasty treat. I don't know if mine were just overripe or underripe or something, but I hope that isn't just the rambutan experience cause this detail ruined them for me.

2/10, with the potential to be a 6/10 if the seed can just keep to itself.

[boop-le-snoot]

rickyl x reader blurb for @sinsandsweetness

cw: facesitting, human disaster rick grimes, teasing. 18+

without further ado,

Daryl's groan echoes throughout his room in the basement and bounces off the bare walls. The next noise is identical, but muffled. The fabric of her skirt rustles as he pushes it out of the way, tucking it sloppily into the waistband of her underwear- those, he doesn't bother removing. Just pushes the damp gusset to the side, fingers twitching from the hiss she releases as cool air meets the flushed lips of her cunt.

He doesn't waste precious seconds, just dives in. Nose smushed into the short tuft of her pubic hair, mouth enveloping both of her fat outer lips, nursing the essence off her like he would be sucking at the flesh of an overripe peach. Daryl hates those things - he's from Georgia, for fuck's sake, where everything is fucking peach flavoured - but she is just so sweet, so soft and sticky, he has problems with keeping his mouth off her most days. The meat of her ass plump under his rough palms.

He pushes at it, dragging her inner labia and clit along the seam of his mouth and she keens. The field of view is narrow - he can just about see the folded fabric of her top and the mounds of her heaving breasts, nipples poking through the cotton - but he can imagine. Her head thrown back, her bottom lip between her teeth. They've got the mostest privacy in the apocalypse in his basement but she is still so conscious of the noises she makes.

The noises he makes her make. Daryl flattens his tongue against her hard nub, flicking it with intent and precision. He wants, no, he needs to hear what she has been forced to hold back. His grip on her hips is bruising but it only eggs her on; experimentally, she rolls her hips over his mouth. Once, twice... he isn't sure who makes the low humming noise. Coulda be both of them, feeding off each other's desire.

“Baby, fuck, don't stop,” she pants through shallow breaths, the roll of her hips becoming a purposeful grind.

Daryl feels her skin protest to the drag of his coarse stubble. He'd gotten back from a long run just yesterday, had barely enough energy to rinse off the blood and grime and scarf down whatever stew that she had made with the Grimes' kids before he crashed down, hard. He is fully intent on making up for it, starting now.

Her hips stutter above him as more weight presses down on his chin; sticky cunt juice is pooling deep in his throat. He's drinking her straight from the source, swallowing her cunt with eager, too eager, gulps. If it sticks to the roof of his mouth, he'll suck it off his teeth just fine later. She grinds on him and he growls straight into her cunt, wraps his lips around her clit and sucks. Sweat gathers under his palms and in the spaces between her cunt and legs.

Her face must be flushed. Sweat dripping from her hair, clear droplets running down her face that he would stick out his tongue and lick, like a parched dog, whenever he gets to fuck her. The thought of her snug cunt enveloping his aching cock makes it pitifully twitch and release a dribble of precum into his boxers.

She's close. Daryl knows it because that's just who he is. Attentive, a hunter, a tracker. He tracks her upcoming release through the fluttering of the entrance to her cunt, through the pulsing blood rushing to her clit. The nub is hard in his mouth, he flicks it easily and with abandon. His neglected cock twitches in sympathy.

Suddenly, there is a creak. There are footsteps, wide, unhurried. Daryl knows those footsteps, is deeply familiar with them, and their sudden presence makes him pause. Somewhat stupidly - his nose is brushing her clit with every single inhale as quiet tremors run through her body. Made that much more obvious by how still he'd gotten under her.

“Listen, Dar-” Rick ends his speech as soon as it begins.

She shuffles in place, leaning on the back of the couch. From Rick's position near the entrance, she knows Rick can't see Daryl face-deep in her cunt. Rick can't see anything at all in the near-darkness, just her still-clothed chest and her stiff nipples.

“Where's Daryl?” Rick, while frowning, seems incredulous.

A silent chuff wafts over her cunt; Daryl's exasperation makes out in the form of a muted chuckle.

“Busy,” she replies without thinking, aware of the hoarseness of her own voice.

“Well I need 'em for a thing,” Rick shrugs and looks around again, as if Daryl would suddenly appear from one of the dark corners in the single, wide room. No luck for Rick, though: the object of his inquiry stays still and doesn't even try to hide his smile as he presses his wet mouth into the inside of her thigh.

She frowns. “Is it urgent?”

“Sorta,” Rick begins to eye her with suspicion. The cogs are turning in his head but the picture doesn't seem to be adding up. It is comical to see his eyebrows draw tight over his eyes. “So where is he?”

Before she has the chance to react, Daryl's strong hands make quick work of dragging her down his chest. He sits up, just enough to poke his head from behind the couch, his face shining wet even in the settling twilight. There is a wet spot lower now, too, on his stomach, where he so ungracefully dragged her sensitive cunt.

Rick's eyes bulge.

“Wha?” Daryl makes an attempt to wipe his mouth and unstick some of the unruly bangs from the mess but it just ends up making him look even more fucked. “Wha's so urgent dat ya had ta barge in here like dat?”

“Uh,” Rick replies eloquently, eyes stuck to the sheen on Daryl's face. Unconsciously, the sheriff licks his lips, and immediately looks away. “S'nothin', it can wait,” he finally says, yet makes no moves to leave.

She snorts. Quietly, under her breath, but the two men are just that good. Both are looking at her now, one embarrassed, one incredulous.

“Well then go or join in, I was just about to cum,” she rolls her eyes, letting the annoyance bubble up and pop on the surface. She was close, until someone so rudely interrupted her beeline for pleasure. She didn't push down and get on Daryl's face for nothin', after all.

It's Daryl's turn to snort. He does so as he's laying back down and adjusting his grip on her hips, ready to pull her back in. “Naw, Rick ain't like dat. He's ol-fashioned,” and it's just friendly banter, all bark and no bite in Daryl's voice, but Rick begins to walk before Daryl's even through with it. In his defense, Daryl seems only mildly perplexed.

Mostly, he's amused. And then his expression is obscured by her body as he drags her cunt back up to his face and begins slurping. Noisily. On fucking purpose.

“Oh,” she gasps, at nothing in particular. At the feel of Daryl's wet hot tongue gathering what's left of her arousal. At Rick's red lips tilting into a haughty smirk. At Rick's finger dragging along her lips.

His hands taste of motor oil, metal and gunpowder. She wraps her tongue around, applies gentle suction to the tip of his thumb. The flavour combination is known to her, by Daryl's own hand, but current configuration is vastly unfamiliar. She meets Rick's eyes and grinds down on Daryl's mouth, her weeping cunt doing exactly nada to silence his satisfied groan.

[latelyanobsession]

Ripe

summary enjoying your favorite summertime snack around the wrong company can be a very dangerous thing to do.

warnings cursing, lots of heat, smut, slight food play, oral fixation-ish, praise, semi-public & risky 

word count 1,912

note i will say that inspiration strikes at the oddest of moments

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It was a beautiful summer day as you walked through the gates of the Hawkins Pool. 

Tilting your sunglasses up you scanned the bustling scene for your boyfriend, your ears perking up as a shrill whistle entered the air followed by harsh barking words.

There he was. Berating a pair of twelve-year-old boys for dunking each other in the 5-foot end of the pool.

Pursing your lips around your fingers you mustered a sound capable of hailing a taxi cab. Smiling, you gave him a large wave as he snapped his head in your direction.

Coming over to Billy’s side of the pool you crossed your arms and waited for him to finish his lecture. 

“You wanna die today kid?” the one boy still ashamedly grasping his friend by the collar.

The boy shook his head furiously.

Looming over them menacingly Billy waved them apart, blowing his whistle sharply.

“Didn’t think so.” he scoffed turning to face you.

“Another life saved.” you mused sarcastically.

He smirked, eyes appraising the small sundress on your frame.

“You staying to swim today?” he asked curiously.

You had yet to come to the pool for a swim. Thus far only stopping by to share lunch breaks or say hi on your days off, and he was beginning to worry that you were ducking him.

Allaying his fears, you slyly pulled aside the strap of your dress revealing a thin red bikini strap.

A small groan escaped his lips. 

“Good.”

Pulling the beach bag from your opposite shoulder, you took Billy’s hand as he walked you to a small patch of shade in the grass.

Sitting together, you pulled out a couple brown paper lunch sacks and water bottles. 

Taking his, Billy pulled out a sandwich biting into it immediately.

You giggled, pulling a peach from your lunch bag.

“Wha?” he questioned, ripping off another large portion. 

The sandwich was nearly gone.

“Had I known they worked you this hard, I would have brought you two.” you said tenderly.

He chewed thoughtfully before swallowing, opening the small bag of chips with a pop.

“Would you like mine?” you offered.

He almost looked offended, waving his hands in refusal.

“Billy, if you’re still hungry have mine.” you pulled out your sandwich, putting it in his lap.

“It’s not the end of the world...” you smiled encouragingly.

He swallowed hard. Guilty, childlike eyes of appreciation looking back at you.

“Thanks.” he ripped the tinfoil off and tucked into it with vigor as you turned your attentions to your own lunch.

The peach was soft and ripe, giving way with an audible squelch as you bit into its smooth flesh.

It may have actually been a little overripe as juice flowed from the fruit down your chin. Dripping onto your chest and traveling to rest between your cleavage.

You pulled away with a messy mouthful, closing your lips with a loud slurp.

“This was messier then I thought it would be...” you commented innocently, taking another graphic bite.

Billy was slowly chewing, his ears burning with the first wet sounds falling from your lips.

He was watching you now with rapt attention.

Watching those delicate pink pillows wrap and press themselves against the skin of that sinfully moist food. 

Teeth and tongue scraping for the exquisitely sweet meat it had to offer you.

Your mouth pulling off in a lewd, wet burst. Lips shimmering.

You looked immensely content and it was driving him absolutely insane.

Taking care to suckle the last bits of goodness from the pit, you hummed happily.

“I’m a mess. Lemme go clean off... be back in a sec.” you insisted, sucking a bit of juice from your thumb.

Rising to your feet, you wandered towards the women’s locker rooms, tossing the pit in the trash.

Entering the locker rooms you headed off towards the sinks, when a large hand wrapped itself around your wrist and jerked you inside a nearby changing stall.

About to yell, your eyes widened when you realized who it was.

“Billy?!” you whispered harshly. “You can’t be in here!”

You gruffly pulled the privacy curtain over the entrance, encasing yourselves in the small space.

“Relax...” he murmured with a leer, “the supply closet connects the men’s.”

You weren’t relaxed.

“Why’re you in here?” you inquired, bashfully meeting his eyes.

The corner of his mouth pricked up in sick delight as his broad arms pinned you in on both sides.

Your toes curled in anticipation, resting a palm flat against his bare chest.

You knew that look anywhere. And he knew. 

He knew damn well that he didn’t even have to lay a finger on you, and you would fall right into whatever scheme he was concocting.

He rarely if ever had to ask.

“Here?” you breathed, slightly panicked as the voices of women chattering passed by the curtain and out the door.

He gave a stern nod, his hand lazily lifting one strap of your dress. Drawing it down your shoulder.

Heat was pooling between your legs, a familiar ache overwhelming your core as you chewed your lip. 

“Think you can handle a lil’ challenge princess?” his opposite hand dragging down your other strap, pulling the dress downward and exposing your bright crimson bikini top. 

You looked over at the drape, considering your last momentary thoughts of sanity before locking eyes with him.

Nodding nervously, your head fell back against the stall wall as he instantly attacked you.

Diving, he dipped his face between your breasts, his tongue seeking out the sticky sweet trail of fruit juice that had fallen among them.

A sharp gasp of surprise fell from your mouth, feeling him run his tongue in a thick, flat strip up the length of your sternum approaching your collar bone.

Momentarily pausing at your pulse point, he nipped your skin, testing you.

You bit your lip, holding in a small cry, rolling your hips against him in protest.

“Good girl” he muttered, moving his assault northward.

Craning your neck, pressing yourself flush against the cool metal wall, you attempted to ground yourself. 

His tongue creeping over your chin reaching its final destination.

Biting your lower lip, he pulled you into a hungry kiss. Laving his tongue against your plush lips. Demanding entry, which you willingly obliged.

Slipping your fingers beneath the elastic of his trunks, you ground yourself against him. A low rumble of approval emanating from his throat as his growing arousal pressed up against you.

Deepening the kiss, his hands traveled south roughly grasping your ass, his fingers digging harshly into the skin, making you whimper.

“Have you always owned this set?” he rasped, leaving open mouthed kisses along your jaw and tickling the shell of your ear.

“I bought it two days ago” you squeaked, as a hand cupped your sex.

A deep growl of satisfaction met your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Looks sexy” he commented, hooking a finger in the crotch of your high-leg bottoms and shifting them aside.

An intense thrum of pleasure rumbled in his chest as he lightly dusted his fingers across your folds.

“Ya just make this too easy princess...” dipping his digits lightly at your entrance he withdrew them, to show you. The clear viscous fluid dripping from his fingers.

You looked to the ceiling in silent prayer before returning your gaze to him.

“I can’t help it.” you simpered as he held out his fingers for you.

Taking them into your mouth, you wrapped your tongue around them longingly only to whine lightly as he pulled them from you, replacing his mouth on yours in a searing kiss.

A conceited huff passed his lips, fanning your face. Your hips stuttering as he slipped a single finger inside you.

Idly wagging it, pressing lightly against the spot that could make you scream.

“Ya seem plenty ready to me... What cha’ think princess?” he taunted.

Deep cerulean orbs boring into you for an answer.

Chuffing, a deep blush settled across your cheeks, you were wound tighter than a spring.

“Just... fuck me” you heaved, wrapping your hands around his neck.

A broad smirk broke across his lips as he grabbed your ass, hoisting you up his waist. Pressing you firmly between himself and the wall.

Freeing his erection from his trunks, he lined himself up against your entrance, sinking into your heat.

Your jaw clenched, biting your lip hard to quiet yourself as you wrapped your legs around him.

“Shit princess...” his head lolling at a full tilt, “so fuckin’ tight.” 

You whimpered softly, the light sting of the sudden intrusion making you clench reflexively.

“Always so fuckin’....” he drew back “tight...” thrusting deep.

You choked out an audible moan, your head hitting the wall.

“C’mon now princess... we’re just gettin’ started.” he tutted.

Picking up a steady pace, he claimed your lips. Swallowing down your pathetic whines and pleading cries.

Angling his hips, he drove deeper making your head swim.

“Billy...” you mewled softly, tucking your head against his neck to stifle yourself.

“Somethin’ ta say princess?” he growled with a harsh snap of his hips. The head of his cock hitting your cervix.

You always played this game. The longer it took for you to choke it out, the harder he was going to make it for you.

He rolled his hips, burying himself deep pressing against that nub in a way that could make you cry and wipe your mind blank.

“Speak up...” he taunted, nudging himself up against your sensitivity.

“Ngh...” looking at him through hooded eyes you tried to gain what control you had.

Another abrupt thrust.

Your eyes rolling, you managed what you could.

“Fuck me...” a sharp inhale, “so well...”

He was smiling like the cheshire cat. 

“That so princess?” his pace was gaining steam, your nails grappling against his back for better hold. 

A calloused thumb had found your clit, providing constant pressure in unrelenting circles.

Your back was arching, breath hitching, as your hips started to tremble.

“Billy...” you warned.

“Tell me... say it...” he ground out.

Your walls were beginning to flutter, your climax initiating.

Kissing the juncture of his jaw, your first contraction hit you with a low moan reaching his ear.

“No one... fucks my pussy like you.” and you tumbled into bliss. Resting your head on his shoulder, forgetting completely about the noises you needed to withhold. 

He gave in, pistoning his hips. Making you cry out. Locking you into a final kiss as he fell apart, fist slamming against the wall to steady himself as he filled you.

Still meeting you with lazy thrusts, he looked at you, resting your foreheads together.

You were breathless as he set you down gently, your legs still shaking.

Your eyes were wide and glazed like a doll’s. 

He adored you this way. Fucked speechless and twice as beautiful.

Tucking a hair away from your kiss-bitten lips, he nipped you sweetly.

“You better shower before going in princess.” he stated.

You looked at him confused.

“Pool rules....” he tapped his whistle smugly.

Giving you one last peck, he poked his head out the curtain before casually strolling off.

A half hour later, after you pulled yourself together and took an extremely cold shower.... you came back out to the pool.

In your new suit you self-consciously waded into the shallows, wondering where he was.

A shrill sound startling you. 

Whipping around you saw him smirking over you, before walking away.

[minnaci]

contents: miguel o'hara x gn!reader, suggestive content, horny/seductive!miguel, dirty talk, ogling

a/n: i am objectifying this man and his tits and his ass and his thighs

let it be known that miguel o'hara is a beautiful man. it's an undeniable fact. the multiverse is real, the sky is only blue sometimes, and miguel o'hara is beautiful.

"miguel," you call out to him, eyes tracing over the broad expanse of his back. his muscles flex, rippling under scarred skin. you're entranced by the sight, watching with wide eyes as he finishes taking his shirt off.

"like what you see, mi vida?" he smirks, flashing the barest hint of a fang. "it's all yours."

confidence suits him. it oozes from his presence like juice from an overripe peach. when he's focused on you, and only you, he's sweetly seductive, softly cajoling, and you're helpless to resist his magnetic draw.

"just come here already," you fight back a pout, but by miguel's low chuckle, you know you're unsuccessful in hiding your desperation for him.

"i'm here, baby. come on, spread those pretty legs for me." he climbs into bed with you and guides your thighs around his waist. you let him adjust your position easily. even that gentle touch of his hands stokes the molten heat in your belly, and you let out a low pathetic whine. "yeah, i know. you're a desperate thing, aren't you? i can feel you throbbing."

miguel leans in close, blanketing your body with his heat. his leaking cock pulses more precum into his boxers, and you nearly whine with how badly you want to feel it against your skin. "let me fuck you tonight, yeah? let me use you."

his lips graze the shell of your ear, and you shudder at the sensation of his fangs pricking gently at the sensitive spot.

"i'll make you cum over and over and over, until you can't think," he murmurs, low and deep and dark— a promise. the words drip down your spine, adding kindling to your arousal. "i'll make you a vessel for pleasure and pleasure alone. will you let me?"

"yes, i—" lust makes you a dizzy, silly creature, and you're suddenly overwhelmed with adoration for this beautiful, impossible man. "i'll always let you. i always want you."

the grin he gives you in response is nothing short of feral. "excellent," he purrs. "i promise i'll make it worth your while."

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Two Wrongs Do Make a Right // Past!Sun Wukong x celestial maiden!reader (3.6k words)

A/N: I’ve had this idea in my mind for weeks now and the one thing that’s stopped me from writing it is that thing when you think your writing can’t do your idea justice like your mind could. However, I decided “fuck it” and did it anyway and the result is something I’m kind of proud of.

Summary: A maiden who doesn't want to feed iron pellets to Wukong and starts to help him without Heaven's knowledge.

The walk down to the caves underneath the Five Elements Mountain was a bit treacherous with parts of the path being along sheer drops or thick crevices and carrying the iron pellets and molten copper made you feel even more guilty. The previous attendant refused to carry the “food and drink” down to the imprisoned Sun Wukong and pushed the duty onto you so you accepted. You finally reached the wider path that overlooked the large pillar he was trapped in and walked down the winding path to the wider clearing, locking eyes with the Monkey King who glared at you and carefully approached him.

He couldn’t do anything bad to you but his reputation didn’t help to quell your fear and you took a deep breath. “Oh great a new torturer to add to my punishment. What? Did you want a turn at humiliating me?” he said with a gruff hoarse voice. You walked closer till he was within arms reach and looked down at the metals in your possession and at the King, feeling rage and conflict build in you and dropping them all to the stone below. “No. I’m not here to torture or punish you. Someone pushed this task onto me and this isn’t fair to anyone even you! Hell cooking any living thing in the Trigram Furnace is punishment enough but forcing you to eat iron pellets and drink molten copper is-” You couldn’t finish and threw the steaming copper to the side, kneeling and about to shatter the bowl and small vase.

You looked took a breath sat down beside him, head in your hands, and sighed. “I can’t do this,” you said and sat in silence for a couple of minutes, feeling the tense atmosphere around you and his eyes never leaving you. You twiddled with your hands and finally spoke up. “I’m going to get in trouble if anyone finds out about this. I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you muttered and stood up, facing Sun Wukong and picking up the bowl and vase. “I’m going to get you some actual food and water but I promise I’m coming back,” you said carefully and calmly standing your ground against his icy glare. It didn’t take a genius to see he didn’t believe you and there wasn’t a reason why he should but you decided here and now that you wouldn’t be a bystander.

You walked back to the path to the surface and heard Sun Wukong call out to you before you were out of sight. “Peaches,” he said and you looked back. “What?” he said the same thing and you realized he was talking about the fruit or food you promised you to bring back. “I can’t guarantee they’re going to be peaches of immortality but I’ll do my best,” you said with a small smile and saw his expression brighten just enough to notice. It took you a while to actually find some fruit that wasn’t in a market or un/overripe and after finding some apples and berries you found a small orchard of varied fruit that happened to grow peaches. Grabbing as much as you could in your bowl and pocket on the other side finding the water was easier.

The problem was the vase you had wasn’t that big and even if you filled it to the top someone parched could drink the whole thing in under a minute so you had to use whatever magic you knew to expand the contents of the vase with a sigil. Luckily returning with a small bounty of fruit and around 6 liters of water in the small expanded vase in 2 hours. You carefully retraced your steps and smiled brightly when you could see the Monkey King who met your gaze with a shocked expression of his own. It melted into a happy grin like you’d told him you were giving him eternal happiness which in a way wasn’t entirely false.

This was probably the happiest he’d been since he was first imprisoned due to the low chance of anyone showing the least bit of sympathy or even pity if that. Your smile grew a tad when you saw the small part of his tail that was free swish excitedly. You walked back over to where you could see the now-dried copper. “You came back,” he murmured and you blinked, putting the bowl of fruit down and tilting your head. “Of course, I came back. I promised I would and I did manage to find some ripe peaches after a bit of searching but I think having some water might be preferred first. I did what I could to make this vase able to hold more freshwater but it’s probably not that much.” you said and saw the shock plain on his face. He didn’t think that anyone would actually do this in the 240 years he’d been locked down here and it seemed almost too good to be true.

“Why?” he asked and couldn’t ignore how he salivated just from one look at the water and fruit but he wanted answers first. You lowered the vase just a tad and hummed in thought. “This is inhumane and I’d never wish this even on my worst enemy but I heard you have a bunch of other friends and family back on your mountain. So that tells me that you still care and fight for those you love,” you said and lifted the vase, reaching to cup his face and stopping when he flinched still seemingly in thought about what you said. He eyed your hand and slowly let you cup his face so none of the water dripped down or it all spilled over his face. Instantly you could see the relief on his face as the cold water hit his tongue and he closed his eyes, slowly drinking what you gave him and licking his lips when you pulled the vase away to give him some of the fruit. “Do you miss them?” you asked as you split it in half with the help of a sharp rock and looked at him, taking the pit out and setting it aside.

“Always. I hope they’re alright. It’s my fault if anything happens and I was an idiot to think I could pull that stunt and still lead them safely.” he said solemnly and quietly thanked you for the half of the peach you held up so he could eat it. You remained silent and also hoped they were doing alright. There was a chance you could escape for a day to visit Flower Fruit Mountain but that was ignoring the residents not outright killing a celestial without hearing them out and even if you got Sun Wukong to write something they’d rationally think heaven forced him to write. “Hey, they’re your friends and family, right? You trained them pretty damn well from what I heard and I wonder where they got that determination and strength from,” you said with a bit of hope in your voice and smiled gently.

He looked at you and slowly smiled at your words, quietly laughing before coughing a lot. You quickly got him some water and again gave him the rest of the peach, “Don’t try and strain your voice.” you said and he nodded, looking away before addressing you again. “I know you already know who I am but just call me Wukong,” he said and you could still hear a bit of pride when he said that you already knew who he was. A part of you was grateful they hadn’t broken him and he still had some spirit whether it was there before you came or because of your help you didn’t know. “But I don’t know your name after all you’ve done,” he said and smiled, the free half of his tail swaying and one of his ears twitching.

“I’m Name. It’s nice to meet you, Wukong.” you said and chuckled happily, both of you laughing for now “formally” introducing yourselves. After he finished the rest of the fruit and water you both talked about yourselves and other small talk to lighten the mood before you had to leave. However, before you left you hid the vase and bowl in a crevice in the rock structure opposite to the one Wukong was in. “There so no one finds the expanded vase and bowl so I can use them when I come back,” you said and carefully climbed down, walking back to Wukong with a bittersweet expression and wiping a tiny bit of fruit juice from his cheek. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to do this every time you’re supposed to be fed the cooper and iron or that I’ll be the celestial assigned to this task but whenever I am you can trust I’ll take care of you,” you said and smiled, walking back up towards the surface and waving one last goodbye before returning to the heavenly realm.

Unfortunately, you were right as the previous celestial kept up with his job of giving Wukong his “meals” before getting removed altogether for some reason you didn’t know and you were assigned to that task. The next time you were to deliver his meal you had to hide your happiness and keep your mask up till you were in the safe walls of the caves, tossing the hot copper and iron pills down the nearest ravine you saw. Once you were sure you no one outside could hear you you shouted to the one person you knew could hear you. “Wukong! Wukong! I have good news.” you shouted and ran to the base of the rocky platform, seeing the demon monkey perk up and smile despite looking worse for wear.

“What is it? They finally made a good decision for once?” he said and huffed, very eager to hear what could be considered “good news” from heaven. “The other celestial isn’t coming back. He’s gone and he got fired I think. They weren’t too clear on the details but I’m the one assigned to you now.” you said and smiled full of joy once you got to the point and stopped rambling. Wukong’s expression was the happiest you’d ever seen it and his tail was thumping against the rock trapping it, his eyes scanned your figure and then back at the entrance you usually came down. “This isn’t some cheap trick, is it? You swear?” he asked and prayed it wasn’t another way they found to punish him. You excitedly shook your head and intertwined your hand with his. “I swear,” you said firmly.

You both celebrated for a couple of minutes before you looked over some minor burns he had because the previous attendant “accidentally” missed Wukong’s mouth when giving him the molten copper. Using some of the river water you’d gotten after you left for food and water to ease the pain and hopefully strengthen the healing process. You both went through the usual routine of giving him fruit and water then taking a small brake so you could talk and he wouldn’t get sick from overeating and drinking so fast. The relationship between you both had gotten a lot closer than before and you both cherished the other’s presence. You noticed his fur had become more matted and knotted, tentatively reaching a hand towards the fur on his head and brushing your fingers through it. You didn’t get far and the slight wince he gave told you it was bad.

“Can I?” you asked and gestured to his fur. He snapped out of his trance and realized what you were asking, nodding and relaxing into your hands. “Yeah of course- I mean yes. That would be helpful,” he said and stammered, his face feeling warm and finding himself loving your affection more than he thought he would. You gently untangle the knots in his fur and smile when you feel a small rumbling coming from his chest. “Thank you, sunshine. You seem too good to be true but keep coming back and I’ll think you’ve gotten attached to me. “ he teased and threw you a cheeky grin. You blushed at the new nickname and rolled your eyes playfully at his teasing.

“Why sunshine? And if I am attached then I don’t see why that would be a problem,” you said and laughed, keeping most of your focus on grooming his soft ginger fur and looking back at him for a moment. Wukong looked back at you for a moment in shock before smiling and laughing along with you for a moment. “I guess it’s not a problem since I’ve become attached to you too. It will be a problem if something happens to stop this however and then I might have a century or two added on to my sentence, ” he said before you quickly chastised him and shot him a stern look. “Fine! I’m joking…mostly. I called you sunshine 'cause you were the first small bit of light I saw since I’ve been trapped down here and you’ve become a ray of sunshine that only I get to see.” he admitted and leaned into your hand, his tail swishing happily and making grabbing motions with his hand for another piece of fruit.

You were stunned for a second not thinking of all the time you spent with one another and how much had changed from the first time you interacted to now. Diving into your feelings you felt the same and would risk the same if something or someone stopped this entirely. He noticed you stopped and matched your expression both of you coming to the same realization. “Well, then I’ll keep being your sunshine no matter what tries to shut me out. How does that sound, Wukong?” you said and smiled widely, lifting a berry to his lips for him to eat and curiously waiting for his response. “That sounds like a perfect match. “A match made in heaven huh” I guess this is the one good thing heaven did for me,” he said and ate the berry you offered him. Those three words went unspoken but were understood in the same way by both of them.

You ran your fingers through the now soft and smooth fur on his head, cupping his face and kissing his lips gently. He kissed back and you felt his cheek nuzzle yours after breaking apart. Safe to say both of you stayed together a bit longer than usual before you had to regretfully go. It stayed the same routine, you would mask the true feelings you had about your lover’s situation and him and then spend as much time as you could together while also making sure Wukong stayed fed and hydrated. But one day you didn’t know what had happened or who it was when you came back from gathering the fruits and water you usually get and about to greet Wukong.

The ground shifted from underneath you and another darker-furred monkey demon held you by your throat, growling at you and silently threatening death if you moved an inch. The bowl and vase you were holding fell to the stone below, cracking the bowl apart and shattering the vase with the water spilling around you both. “Macaque! Stop it! They’re not trouble! They’ve done nothing wrong! Leave them out of it!” you heard your lover shout and met his eyes, fear evident in your expression, and hoped you would be able to get out of there alive. Apparently whoever this Macaque person was to Sun Wukong rationally mistrusted you or more likely anyone connected to the heavenly realm.

His grip tightened on your throat and you grabbed his hand helplessly trying to breathe, seeing him look back to Wukong and then to you with a glare and throwing you to the center of the platform. “Sure and I’m supposed to believe this celestial servant hasn’t been torturing you for the last couple of centuries! I’m not an idiot and besides one less prick to deal with.” he spat. You cried out in pain and grasped your throat desperate to get air back in your lungs, attempting to get up and to where you could roughly make out Wukong through the blurriness and ringing noise muffled with voices. You didn’t get far since you assumed Macaque stepped on your back to pin you down, tearing up at the pressure steadily increasing and crying out when you felt something crack.

Somehow you gained a breath and enough strength to make a retort back. “I’d never hurt him or even think of torturing Wukong when he’s already been through pain by others and himself! You know the Jade Emperor ordered the attendants to give him iron pellets and molten copper so why would I have fruit and water? I’ll drink and eat them myself to prove they haven’t been tampered with-” you shouted and cut off by a sharp pain shooting through you for talking that much. “Name! You’ve done nothing wrong there’s no need to prove yourself!” he shouted and could only watch as you were let up by his former friend, walking in pain over to the food and water you always brought and picking up a vase. You kept your eyes on Macaque as you drank the water you had brought and ate a bite of a now-bruised peach, mustering up what strength you had left to glare back at your attacker and swallow the fruit.

You did your best to pick up the fruits that didn’t seem damaged and carefully walked over to the rock pillar encasing Wukong all the while keeping your eyes on Macaque who seemed all too eager to find a reason to kill you. The moment you got within arms reach of Wukong you were pulled toward him and looked over worriedly, resulting in the fruits being dropped but that seemed like the last thing on his mind, and tried to hold back the tears now that the adrenaline was wearing off. You were no doubt covered in bruises and scrapes but you never felt safer now that you were with him, shaking and forcing your mind to focus on what he was saying.

“It’s alright and you’re safe now. Fuck you’re injured now because of me. I was worried I was going to lose you, sunshine.” he whispered and kissed your forehead, brushing his thumb over a cut on your lip and frowning. You kept your hand clasped in his and forced a wobbly smile on your face. “I’m not going to lie this hurts but I wouldn’t break my promise. I did say I would always be here. I missed you.” you said and kissed him gently, looking back towards the fruit and water that was mostly ruined or gone. “The fruit and water I got you are gone though and it’s going to be too suspicious to get a new expanded vase,” you said and frowned since you weren’t well enough to use your magic to recreate that effect on the vase you brought with you. “Hey, you know I’ve survived worse and I’d still be like that if it weren’t for you. Don’t worry about the food or water all I care about is you right now,” he said and briefly looked to the other demon in the cave who looked to be both confused, surprised, and furious at both parties.

You glanced at Macaque and focused back on your lover, still glancing at the spilled food and water. “If you’re so focused on getting more food and water for me then I won’t stop you even though I’d prefer you stay with me especially since you’re injured. Just be safe and at the first sign of danger turn back,” he said and stressed the last part, nuzzling his nose against yours and kissing you gently wary of your cut lip. You nodded and smiled, kissing his palm and gathering the first vase and bowl you brought. Never once let Macaque out of your sight out of fear he might come at you again who was still glaring at you as his tail lashed behind him and you stumbled a couple of times because of the cracked rib you had.

Even when you were out of sight from both of them and gathering what you needed on the surface you looked over your shoulder, carefully treading down the stone path in the cave until you got to where you left both demons and saw Macaque was now leaning against a bolder seemingly a bit eager to kill you and now shifted to tolerating your presence for now. A much different reaction you got from your lover who perked up upon your return and his tail excitedly moving behind him.

“Sunshine!” he called and you relaxed a bit, smiling and offering the water you had first. Switching as you normally did and eating one of the salvaged fruits that you set on the ground but looking over at the other monkey demon watching you both agitated. You felt like you were about to walk up to death once again because of your stupid self. You picked up one of the fruits you brought back and slowly walked over to him, offering him the fruit and putting it down next to him when you saw he wasn’t going to take it. “I don’t know what you think of me and frankly I can’t find myself to care because all I care about is Wukong being alright. I made him a promise to always be a light for him and I won’t anything stop me from keeping it or hurt the person I love.” You said firmly with conviction and backed away as he narrowed his eyes at you. Both of you refused to budge despite your injuries and Sun Wukong couldn’t be prouder of you for being this strong.

[daenerystargaryen06]

I have seen posts about Daenerys antis/Sansa stans discussing and discounting this exact quote from one of Daenerys' chapters in ASOIAF:

"A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . ." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV

I have seen posts of these people saying the blue flower imagery somehow correlates to Sansa. Or some other discount of saying it doesn't relate to Jon, or that somehow the sweetness of the blue flower imagery will somehow lead to Jon going against/killing Daenerys...? I honestly have no idea how that correlates, but anyway...

Let's begin tearing this apart.

The first discussion we will be covering, is a Sansa stan post I saw saying the blue flower correlated to Sansa.. somehow. We have many indications as to how that doesn't fit/work at all.

Daenerys sees the blue flower growing from a chink in a wall of ice. Leading readers to infer/know she is seeing the Wall at this moment. Sansa is in the Vale presently, not at the Wall, and I doubt she will ever go to the Wall with how her book arc is playing out.

Based on my post here, Jon is the son of Lyanna Stark. Both are associated/represented by blue flower imagery.

Jon is the blue flower Daenerys sees growing from the wall of ice. He is currently a member of the Night's Watch, his mother is Lyanna, and both Jon and Lyanna have blue flower representation and correlated imagery to such. He is associated with blue and winter. He is the one Daenerys is seeing in that moment, represented by the blue flower.

Another part of this is the 'sweetness' the blue flower emits. Daenerys actually likes sweetness, and sweet things.

"There was food and water here to sustain them, and enough grass for the horses to regain their strength. How pleasant it would be to wake every day in the same place, to linger among shady gardens, eat figs, and drink cool water, as much as she might desire." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

"With so many still waiting on her pleasure, she did not stop to eat. Instead she dispatched Jhiqui to the kitchens for a platter of flatbread, olives, figs, and cheese. She nibbled whilst she listened, and sipped from a cup of watered wine. The figs were fine, the olives even finer, but the wine left a tart metallic aftertaste in her mouth." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys I

"Her cooks had prepared them a magnificent meal of honeyed lamb, fragrant with crushed mint and served with the small green figs she liked so much. Two of Dany's favorite hostages served the food and kept the cups filled—a doe-eyed little girl called Qezza and a skinny boy named Grazhar." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys IV

"Dany sat amongst the rumpled bedclothes with her arms about her knees, so forlorn that she did not hear when Missandei came creeping in with bread and milk and figs. "Your Grace? Are you unwell? In the black of night this one heard you scream." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII

"That explains the way Belwas is sweating," Dany said. "I believe I will content myself with figs and dates." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys IX

"I've brought you a peach," Ser Jorah said, kneeling. It was so small she could almost hide it in her palm, and overripe too, but when she took the first bite, the flesh was so sweet she almost cried. She ate it slowly, savoring every mouthful, while Ser Jorah told her of the tree it had been plucked from, in a garden near the western wall." -A Clash of Kings - Daenerys I

As seen by the quotes above, Daenerys enjoys eating sweet fruits. She likes sweetness. The blue flower emitting sweetness, though not said in her chapter, likely pleased her. This is not an imagery set against Daenerys, but rather a hint towards Jon likely being someone she will like and find pleasant once they meet. We have other hints towards Jon and Daenerys becoming eventual allies/lovers over enemies as provided by the quotes from me here.

Let's dig into this further, shall we?

I've seen quite a few Jonsa/Sansa stans using this quote and many others to say Jon will fall in love with Sansa. But there is one thing Jon likes, and it does not relate to Sansa in any way, shape, or form:

"Why not? thought Jon. They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her. "I must inform the queen of this agreement," he said. "You are welcome to come meet her, if you can find it in yourself to bend a knee." It would never do to offend Her Grace before he even opened his mouth." -A Dance with Dragons - Jon XI

"Lonely and lovely and lethal, Jon Snow reflected, and I might have had her. Her, and Winterfell, and my lord father's name. Instead he had chosen a black cloak and a wall of ice. Instead he had chosen honor. A bastard's sort of honor." -A Dance with Dragons - Jon III

"A woman of the free folk." How could he explain Ygritte to them? She's warm and smart and funny and she can kiss a man or slit his throat." -A Storm of Swords - Jon VI

Jon has a preference towards women who are strong, determined, and have a warrior-like personality. His interests fall into people such as Ygritte, Val, Arya, and Daenerys. He's always thinking of Arya, and when he had a relationship with Ygritte, he compared her to Arya the most. His preference does not fall in line with the sort of person Sansa is and how she carries herself/acts.

Jon is also associated with moon imagery:

"The white wolf raced through a black wood, beneath a pale cliff as tall as the sky. The moon ran with him, slipping through a tangle of bare branches overhead, across the starry sky." -A Dance with Dragons - Jon I

"Snow," the moon murmured. The wolf made no answer. Snow crunched beneath his paws. The wind sighed through the trees." -A Dance with Dragons - Jon I

"Every man who walks the earth casts a shadow on the world. Some are thin and weak, others long and dark. You should look behind you, Lord Snow. The moon has kissed you and etched your shadow upon the ice twenty feet tall." Jon glanced over his shoulder. The shadow was there, just as she had said, etched in moonlight against the Wall. A girl in grey on a dying horse, he thought. Coming here, to you. Arya. He turned back to the red priestess. Jon could feel her warmth. She has power." -A Dance with Dragons - Jon VI

Who is also associated with moon imagery? Daenerys.

"A trader from Qarth once told me that dragons came from the moon," blond Doreah said as she warmed a towel over the fire. Jhiqui and Irri were of an age with Dany, Dothraki girls taken as slaves when Drogo destroyed their father's khalasar. Doreah was older, almost twenty. Magister Illyrio had found her in a pleasure house in Lys." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys III

"Khal Drogo looked down at her. His face was a copper mask, yet under the long black mustache, drooping beneath the weight of its gold rings, she thought she glimpsed the shadow of a smile. "Is good name, Dan Ares wife, moon of my life," he said." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys V

"Memories walked with her. Clouds seen from above. Horses small as ants thundering through the grass. A silver moon, almost close enough to touch. Rivers running bright and blue below, glimmering in the sun. Will I ever see such sights again? On Drogon's back she felt whole. Up in the sky the woes of this world could not touch her. How could she abandon that?" -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys X

Now, if we really want to go into things and go as crazy as Jonsa stans/Daenerys antis do with contorting text and making it their ship agenda... I could do the same. Mainly with Jon loving Ygritte, who is 'kissed by fire', and that fire relating imagery to Daenerys.

"The wildlings seemed to think Ygritte a great beauty because of her hair; red hair was rare among the free folk, and those who had it were said to be kissed by fire, which was supposed to be lucky." -A Storm of Swords - Jon II

"Jon was coming to know them despite himself: gaunt, quiet Errok and gregarious Grigg the Goat, the boys Quort and Bodger, Hempen Dan the ropemaker. The worst of the lot was Del, a horsefaced youth near Jon's own age, who would talk dreamily of this wildling girl he meant to steal. "She's lucky, like your Ygritte. She's kissed by fire." -A Storm of Swords - Jon V

"You'll see a hundred castles," he promised her. "The battle's done. Maester Aemon will see to you." He touched her hair. "You're kissed by fire, remember? Lucky. It will take more than an arrow to kill you. Aemon will draw it out and patch you up, and we'll get you some milk of the poppy for the pain." -A Storm of Swords - Jon VII

And of course, we all know Daenerys' association with fire:

"The water was scalding hot, but Daenerys did not flinch or cry out. She liked the heat. It made her feel clean. Besides, her brother had often told her that it was never too hot for a Targaryen. "Ours is the house of the dragon," he would say. "The fire is in our blood." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys I

"There was only her and the dragon. Its scales were black as night, wet and slick with blood. Her blood, Dany sensed. Its eyes were pools of molten magma, and when it opened its mouth, the flame came roaring out in a hot jet. She could hear it singing to her. She opened her arms to the fire, embraced it, let it swallow her whole, let it cleanse her and temper her and scour her clean. She could feel her flesh sear and blacken and slough away, could feel her blood boil and turn to steam, and yet there was no pain. She felt strong and new and fierce." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys III

"He was no dragon, Dany thought, curiously calm. Fire cannot kill a dragon." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys V

"After that, for a long time, there was only the pain, the fire within her, and the whisperings of stars." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

"The heat beat at the air with great red wings, driving the Dothraki back, driving off even Mormont, but Dany stood her ground. She was the blood of the dragon, and the fire was in her." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys X

"No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don't you see? Don't you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys X

Even alike to Daenerys, part of the Night's Watch vows Jon took have an association to fire as well:

"Hear my words, and bear witness to my vow," they recited, their voices filling the twilit grove. "Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come." -A Game of Thrones - Jon VI

Or we could even associate some of Val to Daenerys as well:

"When they emerged north of the Wall, through a thick door made of freshly hewn green wood, the wildling princess paused for a moment to gaze out across the snow-covered field where King Stannis had won his battle. Beyond, the haunted forest waited, dark and silent. The light of the half-moon turned Val's honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. "The air tastes sweet." -A Dance with Dragons - Jon VIII

"When she was clean, the slaves helped her from the water and toweled her dry. The girl brushed her hair until it shone like molten silver, while the old woman anointed her with the spiceflower perfume of the Dothraki plains, a dab on each wrist, behind her ears, on the tips of her breasts, and one last one, cool on her lips, down there between her legs." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys I

"And Val's no man," white-bearded Tormund snorted. "You ought to have noticed that by now, lad." -A Storm of Swords - Jon I

"I am no man," she whispered, "so you may lean on me." Drogo put a huge hand on her shoulder. She took some of his weight as they walked toward the great mud temple." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys VII

"Perhaps Jon had ridden with the free folk too long; he could not help but laugh. "Your Grace," he said, "captive or no, if you think you can just give Val to me, I fear you have a deal to learn about wildling women. Whoever weds her had best be prepared to climb in her tower window and carry her off at swordpoint . . ." -A Storm of Swords - Jon XI

"How beautiful, the queen tried to tell herself, but inside her was some foolish little girl who could not help but look about for Daario. If he loved you, he would come and carry you off at swordpoint, as Rhaegar carried off his northern girl, the girl in her insisted, but the queen knew that was folly. Even if her captain was mad enough to attempt it, the Brazen Beasts would cut him down before he got within a hundred yards of her." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII

"Val stood on the platform as still as if she had been carved of salt. She will not weep nor look away. Jon wondered what Ygritte would have done in her place. The women are the strong ones." -A Dance with Dragons - Jon III

"Viserys began to scream the high, wordless scream of the coward facing death. He kicked and twisted, whimpered like a dog and wept like a child, but the Dothraki held him tight between them. Ser Jorah had made his way to Dany's side. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Turn away, my princess, I beg you.".. "No." She folded her arms across the swell of her belly, protectively." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys V

 "Val stood on the tower roof, gazing up at the Wall. Stannis kept her closely penned in rooms above his own, but he did allow her to walk the battlements for exercise. She looks lonely, Jon thought. Lonely, and lovely. Ygritte had been pretty in her own way, with her red hair kissed by fire, but it was her smile that made her face come alive. Val did not need to smile; she would have turned men's heads in any court in the wide world." -A Dance with Dragons - Jon III

"Up here in her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world. Do all gods feel so lonely? Some must, surely." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys VI

"That gave the captain pause. "I am no stranger to Meereen. I could find the city again, aye … but why? There are no slaves to be had in Meereen, no profit to be found there. The silver queen has put an end to that. She has even closed the fighting pits, so a poor sailor cannot even amuse himself as he waits to fill his holds. Tell me, my Westerosi friend, what is there in Meereen that you should want to go there?" The most beautiful woman in the world, thought Quentyn. My bride-to-be, if the gods are good. Sometimes at night he lay awake imagining her face and form, and wondering why such a woman would ever want to marry him, of all the princes in the world. I am Dorne, he told himself. She will want Dorne." -A Dance with Dragons - The Merchant's Man

Not only does Daenerys and Val share similar qualities, Daenerys and Arya also share similarities and parallels. Jon is closest to Arya. She is the one he thinks about the most, and loves. He compares others to Arya. He thinks of her often. Arya is the one he considers 'his heart.'

"Arya drew back from him. "He killed the slave?" That did not sound right. "He should have killed the masters!" -A Feast for Crows - Arya II

"Unsullied!" Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. "Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see." She raised the harpy's fingers in the air . . . and then she flung the scourge aside. "Freedom!" she sang out. "Dracarys! Dracarys!".. "Dracarys!" they shouted back, the sweetest word she'd ever heard. "Dracarys! Dracarys!" And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys III

"The wolf blood." Arya remembered now. "I'll be as strong as Robb. I said I would." She took a deep breath, then lifted the broomstick in both hands and brought it down across her knee. It broke with a loud crack, and she threw the pieces aside. I am a direwolf, and done with wooden teeth. -A Clash of Kings - Arya X

"I am blood of the dragon, she told herself. I am Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone, of the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys II

"She must have slept, though she never remembered closing her eyes. She dreamed a wolf was howling, and the sound was so terrible that it woke her at once. Arya sat up on her pallet with her heart thumping. "Hot Pie, wake up." She scrambled to her feet. "Woth, Gendry, didn't you hear?" She pulled on a boot." -A Clash of Kings - Arya IV

"Yet that night she dreamt of one. Viserys was hitting her, hurting her. She was naked, clumsy with fear. She ran from him, but her body seemed thick and ungainly. He struck her again. She stumbled and fell. "You woke the dragon," he screamed as he kicked her. "You woke the dragon, you woke the dragon." Her thighs were slick with blood. She closed her eyes and whimpered. As if in answer, there was a hideous ripping sound and the crackling of some great fire. When she looked again, Viserys was gone, great columns of flame rose all around, and in the midst of them was the dragon. It turned its great head slowly. When its molten eyes found hers, she woke, shaking and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. She had never been so afraid..." -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys II

"Yes, Arya thought. Yes, it's you who ought to run, you and Lord Tywin and the Mountain and Ser Addam and Ser Amory and stupid Ser Lyonel whoever he is, all of you better run or my brother will kill you, he's a Stark, he's more wolf than man, and so am I." -A Clash of Kings - Arya VIII

"Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I." -A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys II

"She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike." -A Storm of Swords - Arya I

"Ghosts lined the hallway, dressed in the faded raiment of kings. In their hands were swords of pale fire. They had hair of silver and hair of gold and hair of platinum white, and their eyes were opal and amethyst, tourmaline and jade. "Faster," they cried, "faster, faster." She raced, her feet melting the stone wherever they touched. "Faster!" the ghosts cried as one, and she screamed and threw herself forward. A great knife of pain ripped down her back, and she felt her skin tear open and smelled the stench of burning blood and saw the shadow of wings. And Daenerys Targaryen flew. "… wake the dragon …" -A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX

Arya and Daenerys share the same imagery and have various parallels. Both are strong, determined, beautiful, protective, and fall into their blood/house symbolism as a source of strength for themselves. It's not too far to say that Dany will remind Jon of Arya as well when they meet, and will fall for her due to her personality and traits.

This isn't to diss on Sansa's book character or hate on her. But it is the truth that Jon wouldn't find her appealing as a lover and likely would never fall for her. Sansa's strengths are very much different compared to the ideals/attributes that Jon finds/would find attractive in women such as Ygritte, Val, Arya, and Daenerys.

"My skin has turned to porcelain, to ivory, to steel. Her hands moved stiffly, awkwardly, as if they had never let down her hair before. For a moment she wished Shae was there, to help her with the net." -A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

"Joffrey frowned. Sansa felt that she ought to say something. What was it that Septa Mordane used to tell her? A lady's armor is courtesy, that was it. She donned her armor and said, "I'm sorry my lady mother took you captive, my lord." -A Clash of Kings - Sansa I

"Sansa felt dizzy; one instant her head was full of dreams of Loras, and the next they had all been snatched away. Willas? Willas? "I," she said stupidly. Courtesy is a lady's armor. You must not offend them, be careful what you say. "I do not know Ser Willas. I have never had the pleasure, my lady. Is he . . . is he as great a knight as his brothers?" -A Storm of Swords - Sansa I

Sansa's strengths lie in her using courtesy, manners, and pretense as a woman of noble blood to endure her struggles and get through the abuse she had suffered within King's Landing. Within the Vale, her strength lies in her ability to observe, act as Alayne Stone, and maneuver into seducing Harrold Hardyng whilst partaking in the slow poisoning of her younger cousin.

Meanwhile, Daenerys and Arya, along with Val, are a bit more physical in their endeavors:

"There is a reason. A dragon is no slave." And Dany swept the lash down as hard as she could across the slaver's face. Kraznys screamed and staggered back, the blood running red down his cheeks into his perfumed beard. The harpy's fingers had torn his features half to pieces with one slash, but she did not pause to contemplate the ruin. "Drogon," she sang out loudly, sweetly, all her fear forgotten. "Dracarys." -A Storm of Swords - Daenerys III

"She hit him. Hard, right between his little eyes. Screaming, Biter reeled back, and then threw all his weight against his chains. The links slithered and turned and grew taut, and Arya heard the creak of old dry wood as the great iron rings strained against the floorboards of the wagon. Huge pale hands groped for her while veins bulged along Biter's arms, but the bonds held, and finally the man collapsed backward. Blood ran from the weeping sores on his cheeks." -A Clash of Kings - Arya II

"I would hope the truth would please you, Sire. Your men call Val a princess, but to the free folk she is only the sister of their king's dead wife. If you force her to marry a man she does not want, she is like to slit his throat on their wedding night. Even if she accepts her husband, that does not mean the wildlings will follow him, or you. The only man who can bind them to your cause is Mance Rayder." -A Dance with Dragons - Jon I

But Arya and Daenerys are not just physical. They are intelligent, witty, observant, and adapt to their environments/situations for survival. Daenerys takes in the cultures of her people and conforms to them. Arya makes friends and is protective over the people she cares for. Both have had to struggle in their lives. Both have gone without food, home, and family at their sides. Daenerys spent the first half of her life running from place-to-place along Essos as a beggar fearing for her life and enduring her brother's abuse when he became 'mad'. Arya lost her home and family after Ned's death and had to pose as a boy while fearing for her life. These experiences have shaped them for the harsh brutalities of the world while they remain gentle, kind, intelligent, and when fearful they search for strength within themselves to keep going on.

This strength and qualities that they possess is what Jon is mostly attracted to and likes. As shown in his relations/interactions with Ygritte and Val. Jon is also the sort of person Daenerys would like as well. Along with Arya. Daenerys would not openly go out of her way to antagonize neither Jon nor Arya upon meeting them. Daenerys is a gentle, sweet person who also has a fiery strength within her and she has been shown time and time again to be a compromiser, politically savvy, and possesses a sense of humor as well. Arya would likely take a liking to and befriend Daenerys due to the qualities both girls possess and their similarities.

"This time the monsters did not frighten her. They seemed almost old friends. Arya held the candle over her head. With each step she took, the shadows moved against the walls, as if they were turning to watch her pass. "Dragons," she whispered. She slid Needle out from under her cloak. The slender blade seemed very small and the dragons very big, yet somehow Arya felt better with steel in her hand." -A Game of Thrones - Arya IV

Jonsa/Sansa stans twist and contort these texts to fit their agendas, yet I doubt they read the books much or just go off of pointless metas they see their mutuals create. None of this is hard to infer or see based upon reading Daenerys, Arya, and Jon's chapters- yet they see it with a rose-tinted lens towards their favor in making Sansa a 'soft-powered' self-insert for their own benefit to run their delusions and false statements/metas/headacanons.

And when people call them out for it or express their distaste for them/Sansa, they come after them and call them misogynists. Apparently to them, Sansa is the only version of feminism, even though you can find and see clearly that Daenerys and Arya possess/are feminist themselves and are two of the most iconic, deeply-written, and wonderful women of ASOIAF. They had been as well in GoT until the hacks D&D completely miscontrued their characters to their own miogynystic and sexist agendas. But lets be honest here, those two idiots have been f*cking up Daenerys' storyline since season 2.

[naamahdarling]

Distracting ask:

If you could pick just ONE food-thing to always be present and fresh in your fridge, what would you choose? (assume that everything else in it would be random whenever you open the fridge)

Fruit. Random fruit that I like, every day. If I had to pick one,

STRAWBERRIES.

And it's perfect that it would be fresh and presumably ripe. My taste is for fruit is pushing the very edge of overripe so it's at max flavor and sweetness. there's a VERY SHORT window during which they are ideal, and for some fruits they aren't even edible to me before that. Cantaloupe and peaches have very little wiggle room, and if they aren't TRULY ripe, they are flavorless or have an unpleasant texture (peaches should NOT snap like apples). So cantaloupe and peaches would be the runners up, simply because I can go YEARS without a good one. Not exaggerating. I think the last time I had a GOOD peach was in 2021

Maybe I'm just spoiled. There's a big peach orchard in our neck of the woods and I grew up eating some of the best peaches in the country. Not much can compete.

Ughhh I love fruit so much. There's so very little of it I have tried that I dislike, as long as it is genuinely ripe and flavorful. Haven't tried the stinky ones like durian, but I absolutely would if offered fresh.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

how does bucky feel about steve's bottom lip? 👀

related to this

also, you'll like this post

The same way I do, which is violent! 😤

And speaking of violence, Bucky hates it when Steve's gets in fights--it doesn't fucking matter if he's big now and thinks can take it even more than he thought he could when he was a little shit and full of piss and vinegar--but dear God, when somebody punches that punk in his stupid mouth and gives him a fat lip... A fatter lip. Suddenly, all Bucky can hear is static.

It makes his brain short circuit, and his heart beat like mad in his chest, pounding against his ribs with the intention to make a break for it. The way he wants to bite down on that fat lip until Steve whimpers and swoons into him, his big palms flat against his chest, making that soft noise and more, is violent. It eats at him. It's all he can think about. He's fucking locked on.

That mouth.

Bruised like an overripe peach.

Bucky wants, needs, craves to hear those sweet little hurt sounds that turn into breathy gasps when he runs his tongue along Steve's pretty mouth, licks his way into his mouth, and then sucks on his fat lip, grazing it with his teeth when it's already sore. It's downright terrible, how badly he wants it.

It's awful how mean he wants to be to that hot, lush mouth. He just can't get enough of it. The look. The taste. The feel. Those lips and that fat bottom lip, especially. Fucking Christ. The soft, velvet inside of his cheeks. The flexible curl of his wet tongue. The dangerous edge of his teeth. The wet, choking back of his throat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Bucky wants to crawl inside his mouth and live. He wants it so bad he'd tear the world apart for that mouth, reckless and cruel, just to have a taste. He's too sweet. Plush and tempting like a decadent dessert thst begs to be savored, the flavor wrapping up your tongue salaciously, beckoning you into sucking on the spoon with a seductive murmur, curling your tongue around the metal cutlery, eyelashes fluttering back, an involuntary moan escaping your lungs, an experience all too erotic to not be repeated again and again and again at any chance you get. Bucky wants to live in his mouth, curled up and tight and wet, and he wants to devour him whole. Bucky wants him so fucking bad.

Do you feel the violence yet?

[alexanderlightweight]

Hey, hoping you and your loved ones are doing well and that you are regaining your strength and health. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you. This is me sending virtual hugs :)

Thank you!!!!

Anon this made me feel so much better about things recently I really appreciate you!

Also just; you and everyone on tumblr hs been so amazing and nice and understanding. I appreciate all of you, my ao3 has been getting a lot of commands about updates and I’m just… I want to update too! I write every day in my head. Im just typically wiped out after but I’ve stabilized enough in PT that we don’t have to do it as often. So i won’t be a turtle rolled on its back when I got home from it as much.

I got a lot sick due to being around a group of traveling, germ collecting niblings a few months ago. Since i hadn’t recovered from Covid (kept getting small illnesses). What followed was me finally getting into a few appointments I’d been waitlisted for months on. So I’ve been doing some hard core physical therapy and some other stuff to try and get my health back up.

@queensaryn aka Saeth’s fibro got fucked up with Covid and they’ve barely managed to leave the house twice a month (even just to sit in the car while I get groceries) but they’re also improving albeit slowly. We have to be careful with their goals and limits. Basically they have to be treated like an overripe peach or a plum blossom, or baby strawberries.

Very delicate.

The rest of the house recovered faster but they still have some long Covid symptoms like us and it’s been hard for everyone. Months past and sometimes one of us will still get taken by surprise when the lingering affects hit us.

But we’re getting better! Sorry if that seemed pessimistic, it’s been exhausting, but I’m definitely finally getting stronger. It does seem like every time I make two steps forward we find something else wrong and I go 1-3 steps back but after three years of fighting I’m getting help for some old injuries and damage.

Just last night I was plotting out a scene in ‘a craft of adoration’ that I can’t wait to actually type out. So thank you again for the encouragement, it makes me want to push through because I really love writing. And it’s a lot more encouraging then some very backhanded compliments and demands for updates on ao3.

Which tbf, they probs don’t know I’m sick and have been struggling but I’m already fighting so hard to get better that it gets discouraging. So thank you for lifting my spirits!

And thank you to everyone else who has sent me and the House well wishes if they happen to see this. My inbox is a little bursting rn with prompts so I tend to get distracted very easily when I try to look through it.

Sending virtual hugs back and lots of Nightshade cuddles!

I will say that the Abyss and Nightshade have both been incredibly cuddly since I got sick. Nightshade throws a tantrum if anyone in the House so much as sneezes. He is horrified by the thought of any one getting sick again

💜 lumine

[ayzrules-art]

a lil intro for moon-and-seraph's words into potions event this march! definitely check it out if you can; they've put so much work into making such a cute, motivating challenge for us!

WILT AND BLOOM .

GENRE・Fantasy (specifically, second world urban fantasy) WARNINGS・Body horror and plant-related body horror, mild gore, physical/emotional abuse, implied/fade-to-black sexual abuse, violence, torture, nonconsensual experimentation, abductions/kidnapping.

SUMMARY・Sworn to serve the Blooming Court and its fickle blossom-queen, Alejandro has resigned himself to an eternity ensnared in the treachery of fae lords and their patronage contracts—binding agreements drawn in blood, and in the flowers that sprout from his bones each spring. But everything changes when he rescues a girl cursed to die as a star.

First, Alejandro must accept the help of a traitor. Then, the manhunt to bring in a heart-eating Oathbreaker wreaks havoc on the centennial Ascendancy, uprooting all his attempts to save Genevieve. To make matters worse, the embers of an ancient war are flaring back to life: the Blooming Queen and her Withering half-sister have been battling for centuries, the magic of the land sickens with the pollutants of the modern age, and investigating the curse reveals a deadly truth that leads to more questions than answers.

As Genevieve grows weaker, it all comes down to Alejandro to put an end to a battle between the forces of life and death and wilt and bloom—a battle that may just be the end of the world as he knows it.

[aesthetics + court info under the cut]

COLOR PALETTE .

The Blooming Queen’s hair as it is when the story starts: a rotting, brown-sweetened gold, like a bruised persimmon, pale orange undertones mottled with the hues of overripe peach flesh.

All the reds of an autumn forest, but especially the deep, bloody reds that certain trees produce—crimson with a cool tinge to it, a violet-indigo like shadows blooming at twilight.

The dry, wilted brown of fallen leaves; the papery chestnut of dying grass; the goldenrod that adorns fields in sways and swirls until first frost.

Dusk-light that pours like honey, a sighed warmth that pools into all the places where you have gone hollow.

The depthless dark of the Withering Queen’s eyes, like earth black with everything once-bloomed and dying; the burnished gleam of the wilt-prince’s eyes, dark like his mother’s until the light hits right. Then, they’re veined in the softness of mercy.

The orange ember-brilliance of Tselvya’s flames, of Genevieve’s hair, of chrysanthemums and marigolds throwing flamboyant blooms into the slow subside of midsummer sunshine.

THE BLOOMING COURT .

Butterflies and moths and beetles have domain over this land, where the flowers are bright and the berries overripe, sweet and heady and repugnant. The Blooming Queen dotes upon them, and they grow larger than they have any right to be.

The fae sworn to the blossom-queen adorn themselves in red, red jewels and red flowers and red life, carnage bloodied down the tips of sharp teeth and talon-pointed nails. They pluck the eyeballs out of freshly slaughtered game and feast on fruit bruised to the point of bursting, and all the flowers they touch bloom big and bright and radiant, incandescent—almost frighteningly alive.

Death will always be much too slow to come, here where life rots to the very core.

THE WITHERING THRONE .

The wilt-queen rules from a throne of bones and moonflowers, and her flesh is so brittle that she appears to be no more than a dead body propped up in a borrowed imitation of life. A single touch of her finger leaves spiderwebs of pale mold behind, dozens of white moths fluttering about her shoulders and settling atop the crown of fresh roses adorning her hair. As the moon rises and falls and rises again, the moths drop all around her, and the roses lose their bright sweetness, rotting into a slow, violet-brown mass, until the Withering Queen is draped in nothing but corpses.

The wilt-queen offers her white-clad followers all manner of delicacies over the course of their midnight banquets, and she eagerly partakes in the festivities herself, her dainty corpse-mouth red with the hearts of small, dead creatures. She caresses bony fingers—spindly like the stems of wilted flowers—down the edges of dewy blossoms and trapped prey animals before she drains all the life out of them, her face going from dead-eyed translucence to pink and flushed in the space between one exhale and the next. 

Birds and insects and rodents die at the hands of the Withering Throne, laid to rest in the soil, and the Withering Queen feasts. She feasts.

[fluffypotatey]

Monkie Destiny Challenge Day 4

yes i am 3 days late to this prompt but i am here now >:)

so actually this little ficlet will be a part of another installment in my tournament arc, but i am too tired rn to write the second half of this (bc day 4 is a flashback and the 2nd half is day 5). so! have this "sneak peak" of my tournament arc under the narration of Macky <3

prompt: Peaches//Thief

word count: 753

* * * * * * *

“How much do you want to bet the peaches in Heaven taste like?”

The Six Eared Macaque gave his friend, the Monkey King, an incredulous look. Said friend huffed in response. 

“What?”

“Seriously?”

“I’m just asking—”

“About Heaven’s immortal peaches? Casually? I’m not an idiot, Wukong.”

It had only been a couple days after Sun Wukong arrived back from Heaven. He hadn’t given Macaque any real information over what went down or why he arrived in such a rush— cheeks flushed dark red, breath heavy and fast, eyes wild and ravenous, excited, exhilarated— 

Macaque mentally shook the image away. Wukong was his friend. His only friend, actually. He could never really count the Brotherhood as a group he would trust implicitly like Wukong. Feel comfortable around or even know wholeheartedly like Wukong.

Speaking of knowing Wukong wholeheartedly, Macaque recognizes the signs for when his friend is hiding something. He had been ignoring it ever since Wukong came back, assured that the monkey king would tell him, and it looked like today was the day Wukong chose to come clean.

Sun Wukong pouts, bottom lip jutted out exaggeratedly with his eyes blown wide and adorable. He would always complain about how Macaque always ruined his surprises with his need to know everything. Macaque liked to call it his incredible observation skills, Wukong called him a creeper (which absolutely did not hurt his ego that first time at all). 

“J-just answer the question!” The monkey crossed his arms and looked away, cheeks flushed and tail twitching.

Macaque sighed with a smile. It was so hard to stay annoyed when he did that. It wasn’t even on purpose and yet there Wukong was, acting childish and fussy in the cutest way possible. Macaque couldn’t help but cave.

“Alright, okay, um…” He pursed his lips. “They taste like peaches?”

“Mac!” Wukong whined

“Okay, okay! Sorry, couldn’t help it.” 

This time, Macaque actually sat down and thought it over. 

“Well,” he began, “I’m guessing they taste sweeter? Never under or overripe, yeah? And you don’t have to worry about the pit because it's an immortal tree.”

Wukong giggled, tail now wagging to and fro.

“What?” Macaque could feel his face heating up. “What did I say?”

“Nothing! Nothing!” That goofy smile was still on his face. “These are very astute assumptions.”

“Astute? Really, Wukong.”

The giggle was now a full-body laugh. Ugh, and Macaque still couldn’t find it in himself to stay mad. He should be embarrassed, feel like his intelligence was being mocked, but…Wukong would never do something like that on purpose.

Not to him.

“So”— Ah, here it is— “what if I told you, you could test your theory?”

Macaque gave the monkey a blank stare. Wukong stayed firm despite his fidgeting nature and how much he was smiling. Macaque could not believe what his friend was insinuating.

“You don’t mean—”

“SO I HAVE THIS BAG!”

* * *

The peaches were amazing. Better than Macaque ever expected. Sure, they still had the pit at the center and they were still messy enough to annoy him, but they were (and excuse his pun) heavenly. Even if no one told him of their immortal properties, Macaque would have imagined that just from taste alone, these peaches were magic itself.

Delicious magic, if Macaque says so. 

“So?” Wukong waits with barely contained excitement. “Better than your wildest dreams?”

“Oh, I’ve had wild dreams.”

“Mac, come on!” He whines again.

“Sorry, sorry!” He laughs. “You make it too easy.”

Wukong grumbled something about I’ll make you too easy as if Macaque wouldn’t hear him. Which he did, but it was so confusing that he just laughed some more. Of course that simply led to the monkey king whining at Macaque once more, and the cycle repeated.

“Next time I steal peaches, I ain’t giving you nothing!” Wukong said with a huff. “And to think, I offered them out of the kindness of my heart.”

“Next time?” Macaque chuckled. “You honestly think Heaven would even let you in after this?”

“Why not? I’m adorable!”

Macaque didn’t even bother to answer that one, too amused by how Wukong played up his innocence in all this. Sure, he was worried about Heaven’s reaction when they finally realized who stole the peaches and trashed their peach festival, but with Wukong smiling so brightly and acting so nonchalantly, Macaque decided it was better to place this issue on the back burner. For now.

The mortal realm moved a lot faster than Heaven. They had plenty of time.

[tideswept]

trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to read 🎃

From this ask game |

🍷 ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ ɪs…! 🦇

Darkish Amnesia Obikin AU

Anakin wakes up.

There is a man in his room.

He doesn't know the man. (Does he?)

"I'm your husband," says the man, and he has a ring on his left hand. The wide band of gold gleams from a fresh polish.

Anakin has to contort himself to look at his own hand, because he's not free like the man; his arms are bound by cuffs and chains to the sturdy head board.

He has the matching ring.

"Why am I tied up," Anakin asks, strangely unafraid. "Why don't I remember you?"

"You will," promises the man.

--

Anakin wakes up.

There is a man sitting on the edge of the bed.

He doesn't know the man. (Doesn't he?)

"I'm your husband," says the man, and his palm rests on Anakin's ankle, fingers curling around the leather cuff binding Anakin to the foot board.

The man's lip is split down the center like an overripe peach.

"Why am I tied up," Anakin asks, and there's a jangle as he tries to move his arms down, but can't. "Who did that to you?"

"You did," answers the man.

--

Anakin wakes up.

There is a man laying on the bed beside him.

He doesn't know the man. (He should.)

"I'm your husband," says the man. His eyes are soft and tired. His mouth is dark with old bruises.

He looks worn thin, like a smooth stone at the bottom of a river bed.

"Why don't I remember you," Anakin asks, laying his hand on the man's scruffy jaw. "Who forgets their husband?"

"You do," answers the man, and turns his head to kiss the inside of Anakin's sore wrist.

--

Anakin wakes up.

He is alone.

There are leather cuffs and chains dangling from the bed that he's in. His wrists and his ankles ache, the skin red and itchy.

He doesn't know where he is. (He should go.)

The room is silent.

--

Anakin wakes up.

There is a man sleeping with his arms wrapped around his waist, head resting on Anakin's stomach. Holding on tight like a chain.

He doesn't know the man.

He does know a name. "Obi-Wan?"

The man sighs and holds him closer.

The room is silent.

Anakin's thoughts are not.

--

There is a man in the room when Anakin awakes. He has dark bruises under his eyes and a gleaming wedding band on his left hand.

"I keep forgetting you," Anakin tells him. (How many days, how many times--)

"I'll keep reminding you," promises his husband.

His eyes should be blue.

(They're not.)

--

(There is a

man stranger husband}

(sitting standing lying)

There is a man in his room.

His eyes are yellow.

(Anakin is strangely unafraid)

"I'm your husband," says the man. "I am your master."

(emperor sith fallen)

"Do you remember?"

Anakin wishes he didn't.

[tache-noire]

i am a known great and powerful enjoyer of thick bush HOWEVER

i may have been sleeping on bald fat pussy a little bit. and i mean fat fat, squishy pubic mound fat, like an overripe peach. i am mesmerized.