#sickly youth

[unforth]

@esper-aroon has enabled me, so here let me scream at y'all about The Imperial Uncle.

Okay, so I recently read The Imperial Uncle (Huang Shu) by Da Feng Gua Guo from Peach Flower House and I really loved it??? It's first person pov, mlm, about the Emperor's uncle Jing Chengjun, who is mistrusted by everyone simply because of who his parents were and his position, and so he's basically given up on trying to convince people that he's actually a nice, decent person without ulterior motives. He's super trapped by his position, and there's so much he can't say and do, and he's also a hopeless romantic, like, from his own mouth all he really wants is to sleep beside and wake up next to someone who actually gives a shit about him, and even that is basically out of reach in his life. Like, the book starts with his wife (who he has never once had sex with) storming into a meeting he's having and announcing he's a cuckold and she's pregnant.

But also, this poor bastard really thinks he knows what's going on and his very smart. Very unreliable narrator. He's actually kinda a hilarious, impulsive himbo. But the TL:DR is that his loneliness and isolation and the extent to which he's politically trapped routinely lead him to make absolutely terrible decisions.

E. Danglar's translation is absolutely gorgeous, too, and... idk, if you love political plots, melodramatic idiot main characters, a dose of pining, and a slow burn that eventually pays off, come take a look??? (some people think it's a love triangle??? idk, I never really got that vibe, I never felt it was really in doubt which of the two potential dudes he'd end up with, but maybe I only feel that way because I got it right, lmao).

Anyway, I can't stop thinking about how these two idiots end up finally finding each other and getting together, and I have an entire AU in my head (a modern corporate one) and part of another (canon divergent from like a decade before the book starts), and I just want people to love this book as much as I did and scream with me about it.

#unforth rambles #da feng gua guo #the imperial uncle #huang shu #the first au is jing chengjun and li ransi meet and have a fling during a vacation #and then find out that they work for the same company #hijinks ensue #the other is an au that starts with what if jing chengjun's father had actually been accused and convicted of treason #whether he was guilty or not #and his family was sentenced to death #but because jing chengjun is a youth he is instead made into a eunuch and forced into servitude to the imperial family #i know it's a stretch that someone of his stature would be treated that way instead of killed or sold off as a slave #i just don't care #anyway he's given awful jobs at first and they leave him weak and sickly but eventually it because clear he really isn't a threat #and he's allowed to help raise the princes in the next generation including the crown prince #and he also gets to know the other young people around the palace but as a subservient slightly older person #instead of as their elder of higher rank #and then liu tongyi is like okay so everyone thinks you're useless do you want to be a spy for me and help me uncover treason #and he's like FUCK YEAH #and love unfolds from there ofc

[ahauntedcowboy]

i've had plenty of health problems in the past but for some reason having to get on heart medicine days before turning 28 is just...hitting harder....hm.

#eri's health struggles #i dont think its honestly that big of a deal??? #and for the most part i've gotten used to being sickly my whole life #but for some reason this feels like a stark reminder of my loss of youth #and im probably??? gonna have to stay on these for the rest of my life so my heart doesn't get weak... #but brightside this might help me not feel so tired anymore #my heart doctor was like you're running without actually running which is probably why you're exhausted all the time...oof

[baylardian-1]

Karr is probably my BIGGEST FAVE antagonist in Star Trek: Voyager. :) His chemistry with Janeway is MAGICAL to me. 

#we were talking about how likeeeeee #his color palette compared to most of the other hirogen is pretty PALE #likely an implication of his more experienced age but i like to think hes albino maybe :3c #like like like...... #deep dive with me besties #what if he was like a scrawny and really runt-like and sickly youth #and he rose in their little hierarchy based on his wit so hes a little QUIRKY #ALL PREY ARE QUEENS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #UGH I LOVE HIM HES GOT SUCH OLD SOUL VIBES;;; <33333333 he just wants to save his race from extinction besties;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; #RIP KING </3 #My Art #Hirogen #Karr #The Killing Game #Amelia Janeway #Star Trek: Voyager #Threshold #AU #the other ones were kinda just meant to serve as comparative palettes to others of his species #its really hard to differentiate sometimes so i wanted to establish it in my head i guess haha

[antebellumite]

The American Statesman: Or, Illustrations of the Life and Character of Daniel Webster. Designed for the American Youth has so many good ( possibly true ) anecdotes if you just skip the moral lessons…

#daniel webster #the american statesman: or illustrations designed for the american youth #webster getting bullied by his classmates so his teacher puts him at the front of the class #the author keeps describing our guy as ‘puny’ and ergo unfit for agricultural work #webster’s cousin who saw webs first speech and said he was ashamed to see someone so sickly and nonmuscular carry the name webster???? #AND THE CLERK STORY!!! #also im trying to keep track of the amount of times that websters childhood home has almost burned down—i think twice now? #once w ezekiel and once when dam was sleeping? #if i had a nickel…

[mozki]

got powerful probiotic beverage bring me back 2 life!!!!! please!!!!!

#my youth and my sickliness battling it out in my head 24.7 #so nice to have a base here cos people irl just domt get it

[johannestevans]

i've been listening to a lot more fat liberationist stuff recently and like...

so obvs i already had some backing in a lot of the basic theory, stuff like institutional anti-fatness in medicine, fashion, travel, etc, but like

so as a really thin guy who's always found it impossible to gain weight, its been unbelievably emotionally and mentally liberating to hear people talking really casually about the disability that's associated with thinness

so like being really thin, you lack additional joint and bone support - if you fall, you have less padding and less STRUCTURE to protect your bones from breaks and fractures, right?

obvs theres plenty of fat people that do have issues with bones and joints, im not saying thsres not, its just that normally i feel like im the lone person saying "being this thin is bad for me and is part of various health problems i also have"

and idk its just like. my whole life i was such a sickly child lmao

like i couldnt stand for long periods except "long period" would often be like. any period. i didnt understand how my peers were just standing for so long and just weathering that, bc to me it wasnt possible at all - i breathed badly, my joints were fucked etc

and looking back and realising as i get more disabled like the extent to which i was similarly disabled in my youth, and how i lacked the language to verbalise or sometimes even recognise my own pain and struggle

but also like

the treatment of me as so evil and lazy because i wasn't exercising, or because like. a PE teacher would pick me out as an example because i was so thin, and then be furious that i wasn't remotely physically fit, and that i was disabled

i remember multiple times esp from cis female teachers just. frothing rage at my diet and the things i ate, or when i wrinkled my nose at talk about diets, bc i was so thin so i had to be doing The Right Things, and if i was that thin and doing bad things i had to be punished

and its bc a lot of these ppl thought of fatness and being fat as a punishment, a target for abuse that people deserved, and bc i was a young disabled trans guy like. i deserved punishment for my laziness and nonconformity, and it became a lot about my weight

like expressing that i wanted to gain weight, that i was cold all the time, that i had no energy etc, that eating was hard but that i enjoyed food, all of that was met with such fuckin aggression and really sharp policing, esp from PE teachers and esp from women

and obvs all that is to do with the way that diet culture particularly targets women and those perceived as women, and the desire to engage in lateral violence to police others into complying with gender roles etc as they were upholding them

but idk like. fat liberationist politics is imo inherently tied up with disability liberation, because of the way that "health" is weaponised as a symbol of being good or deserving, and how fatness and disability are both used as targets and symbols of evil and punishment

MOST OF ALL for fat & disabled people

but for nondisabled fat people disability is often threatened as punishment - if you don't become less fat, you'll (deserve to) become disabled

and for disabled thin people, if you don't act less disabled, you'll (deserve to) become fat

and its not a punishment to be fat or disabled or sick. its just how some people are. its not BAD to be this way - and what makes things hard for us is not something inherent to the badness of our bodies, but instead the lack of kindness and accommodation anybody is willing to extend to them

#musings

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Dear Diary

Emo!Anakin Skywalker x Femme reader Oneshot

Warnings: CNC, Dom/Sub, predator/prey, rape kink, unprotected PiV, misogyny, derogatory comments, knife, bondage, gagging, blood, whipping, spanking, spitting, slapping, biting, mask kink

Info: never leave your diary unattended, he loves you so much that he’ll do anything for you, don’t question why Anakin is so good at being scary (he’s straight up terrifying)

🕊DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT 🕊 This is DARK

“Hey, you know there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” Anakin’s soft voice floated down to where your head rested in his lap on this sleepy Sunday afternoon.

“Mmm?” You hummed, tilting your head slightly to look up at his face.

You expected to see a soft expression to match the gentle tone of voice, but you were mistaken. His lip had a sneaky little curve to it, like he had a secret that he was dying to share. He reached his long arm over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. Fishing something out and holding it up for you to see.

Your diary. It wasn’t one of his secrets. It was yours.

You squealed in protest and shot up from your resting place much too fast. After being sedentary all day long your brain had a hard time remembering what it needed to do in a high-stakes situation. After the dizzy spell settled slightly you tried and failed to snatch that horrid little book away from him.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

You should’ve known better than to keep a written record of anything, let alone your darkest secrets, with Anakin around. That handsome little shit can’t keep his dirty little paws off of your or your stuff.

“Anakin please!” You pleaded, pouting out your bottom lip.

“Shhh baby.” He laughed, flipping through the pages. “I occasionally read a few pages… just to make sure you’re happy with me of course.”

Right. Of course he would do that.

“Cause sometimes you don’t like to talk about your feelings right?” He chided.

“Yeah.” You grumbled.

“And it seems like my sweet sweet girl had some dirty thoughts since the last time I checked this book.” A sickly saccharine smile materialized on his lips

“Anakin no!” You gasped, hiding your face in embarrassment.

“Bunny, yes!” He teasingly replied.

“Look, right here it is princess. About a month ago. I took you to that new horror movie remember?”

“Yes.” You squeaked.

Anakin nodded, clearing his throat as he ran his finger under the messy scribbles in your diary.

“You said: ‘that scene where he’s chasing her through the woods and caught her? Christ that growl was sinful, but coming from Anakin? I’d be a goner. Knife and all.’”

You blushed fiery red and snatched it from his hands, tossing it to the floor defiantly despite knowing the damage had already been done.

"Anakin that is none of your business!" You pouted.

"But it is now, isn't it?" He whispered, tracing circles on your throat with his thumb.

"It’s okay darlin’ I don’t need that silly little book. I’ve memorized the good parts.” He chuckled as he spotted it on the floor.

“What else did you say? 'I want him rough, maybe even have him wear a mask like in the movie.'” He grinned gripping your cheeks to puff out your lips and give you a playful kiss.

“So I said to myself: ‘Anakin, that sounds like a challenge.’ and you know I love a challenge.”

“Anakin! You weren’t supposed to see that!” You yelped. “That’s embarrassing!”

Anakin chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh no? I think I need to see this fantasy of yours come true."

He released your cheeks and stood up, rummaging through the closet until he found an old hockey mask that he'd worn during his youth.

"Stay here," he commanded before disappearing into the living room.

You sat and stewed in your embarrassment, thinking of all the ways you’d like to squeeze his tiny head until it popped off. How dare he? He read your diary! Ridiculous.

His voice called your name and you were snapped out of your emotional festering.

“C’mon. We got places to be.” Anakin grinned, the car keys in his hand and a small backpack slung over his shoulder.

“What?” You asked in confusion.

He wants to go somewhere now? After he’d just humiliated you in front of your entire collection of stuffed animals?

Anakin nodded, a devilish grin on his face. "We're going on an adventure, Bunny."

Oh. Oh no.

“You’re serious?” You gasped. “like right now?”

He tossed the backpack into the backseat of his Ford pickup truck and opened the passenger door for you, waiting for you to get in. He clicked his tongue like he was calling for a dog, patting your head to scoot you along.

"Come on, baby," he urged, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Where we're going, no one can find us."

You blushed, but obeyed regardless. You trusted him with your life and depending on how this excursion went you might just end up putting that trust to the test.

“W-we don’t have to do this Ani.” You said quietly.

“I mean… I never even- I didn’t think you’d ever find out.”

Anakin's grin faded slightly, his eyes softening as he cupped your face. "Baby, it's okay. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with," he reassured you.

"I want to make this happen for you. Plus, I think this will be fun." He added with a smirk, the sincerity in his voice reflected in the icy blue of his eyes.

He climbed into the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out of your driveway.

“Like you’re sure you wanna do this? Like you actually want to? Not just because you know I wanna try it?” You asked, picking at your fingers as you forced myself to make eye contact.

Anakin met your gaze, his eyes filled with an understanding for your concerns. "I want this as much as you do, Bunny," he promised.

"So let's go have some fun, shall we?" he asked, pulling out onto the highway.

You slipped your hand into his, the drive was only about 30 minutes. Even with the short distance it seemed like you were far, far away from anyone and anything. The afternoon sun was dwindling quickly over the horizon. It made you wonder if Anakin had done alittle research and a lot of planning before enacting this ambush on you.

“Look at me bunny.” Anakin said softly.

“Safe word is red okay? You say red and every thing stops immediately. Understand?”

“Yes.” You nodded giving him a little smile.

“Good.” He agreed with a kiss to your forehead. His eyes bright and sparkling with this new brand of adrenaline. “Here’s the plan.”

“Once we get out of this truck, you’re the pretty little victim and I’m the big scary killer.” He teased, though he held a serious tone behind the playful words.

“Is that okay? I won’t talk like myself, I’m gonna do my best to be mean and scary okay?”

“Yeah that’s okay,” You blushed at the thought.

“I want you to run. I’ll give you a pretty good head start. Don’t look behind you until you hit the tree line okay?” He grinned.

“Okay I can do that.” You giggled, the reality of your situation kicking in as you began to realize Anakin *had* done his research. He really did want to do this just as much as you did.

“I’ve got a mask.” He pulled out the hockey mask from his bag. “A rope, a knife, and a bandanna. Are these things okay? It’s a real knife, it’s one of the kitchen knives.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, biting your lip as you looked at him, already imagining him in character. “yeah that’s all okay.”

“Do you want me to cut you?” He asked, staring you in the eyes.

“M-maybe alittle.” You nodded, your expression turned serious again. “just not where anyone else can see okay?”

“Got it babydoll. I promise.” He said gently.

“Okay.” You smiled, nervous but so so excited.

“I’m gonna put my hair up.” You giggled. Tying your hair up in a ponytail.

Anakin watched you, a mix of excitement and protectiveness in his eyes. "You look so fucking hot," he muttered, his voice low and rough.

"Alright, princess," he said, his voice now deep and menacing. He grabbed the hockey mask, and held it in your direction to point at you.

"Get out of the truck and run as fast as you can. Don't look back until you reach the tree line." He paused, reaching for the knife, sheathing it on his hip. Shoving the rope in his hoodie pocket, the bandanna in his jeans pocket.

"Remember, red means stop. Whatever happens from here on out, I'll make sure you're safe."

You watched him put the mask on, heart pounding in your chest as you unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out of the truck into the cooling dusk air. Anakin got out of the truck on his side, looking over at you and nodding his head.

“Run.” He snarled, his features completely hidden by the mask and distorting his voice a bit more than you’d anticipated.

Your only light source was the setting sun and rising moon as you booked it through the field, keeping your eyes forward as your heart beat quickly. You reached the tree line and finally looked back, seeing Anakin running at a full sprint toward you. The prey instinct in your hindbrain kicked into overdrive and adrenaline flooded like ice through your veins.

You froze for a moment until you heard what could only be described as a psychotic laugh ripped through Anakin’s chest. Finally back to your senses you turned on your toes and started running again, only to be tripped by your own feet.

You steadied yourself quickly and recovered your pace after a sharp squeal left you when your knees hit the ground. Your burst of fear driven speed surprised you, but only fueled Anakin’s laughter. You weren’t sure if he was laughing as himself or as the character he was playing, either way… it was terrifying.

You made the mistake of looking back again and realized how quickly he was gaining on you. He had given you a generous headstart for a good reason. Like he’d anticipated you’d fawn instead of flee.

How did he know that?

Anakin was closing the gap, his breath heavy but not labored as he chased after you. You wondered what his eyes looked like behind that mask. Would they be familiar? Or would they be akin to a cold blooded killer?

You stumbled as you whipped your head back to the path ahead and he lunged forward, wrapping his arm around your chest and tackling you to the ground with a heavy thump.

The mask hid his grin as he pinned you down with his body weight, but you could * feel * it. The satisfaction he felt at catching his trophy was palpable, now… now you weren’t completely certain your Anakin was really there behind that hard plastic mask.

"Caught you bitch." He growled, his voice remained menacing. "You're mine now."

You struggled against him, the sides of your fists not even coming close to making contact with his chest. His grip on you was painful, bruising and just what you wanted.

“N-no!” You whimpered. So incredibly turned on by his aggression.

He was surprisingly great at this role, he was doing everything perfectly as if he’d done it before. A nagging thought tickled your mind, what if? But he gave you no time to consider it.

“No?” He laughed, rolling you underneath him so that your face was pressed into the forest floor. His knee pressing down on your back as he roughly tied your arms together behind your back with a practiced ease.

“No! Please!” He mocked you in a whiny impression of your voice.

“Pathetic.” He hissed.

You fought harder, wriggling and trying to get out of his grasp. His hand gripped your ponytail with enough force to make your scalp sting, yanking your head back.

“Stop fucking moving.” He growled as brought his lips to your ear, then he let go of your hair cruelly letting you face plant into the dirt.

“Ow!” You whined in pain, it actually did hurt. Not bad, just enough to make you see stars and feel heat bloom across your cheek.

“P-please! Stop!”

He laughed, the sound gritty and almost unrecognizable. He used both hands to roughly tug your jeans down your thighs, using the knife to cut your underwear off.

You wriggled and squirmed, panting helplessly as all your movement did was undress you further. Your jeans bunched around your knees, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to whatever he had planned for you.

Anakin's breaths were ragged, his heart pounding in sync with yours as he stood over you. Lightly tapping your hip with the toe of his shoe.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch," He snarled. "You made me work for it."

He took the knife, running it down your side, as he kneeled beside you. Forcibly turning your head to make you look at him. He trailed the knife along the back of your thighs, leaving tiny threads of red behind.

"Now you're gonna pay for your insolence." His voice was harsh and cold with an undeniable lust hidden beneath.

“No! No I’ll do anything I swear!” You cried out. Kicking and fighting against him as best as you could.

You heard him taking off his belt, felt him shoving his jeans down and even the familiar grunt as he pulled out his cock.

“I told you to shut your fucking mouth didn’t I?” He snapped at you.

Gripping his belt tightly in his hands he cracked the leather across your ass hard, causing you to scream out in pain.

“Stupid whore.” He scoffed. “what did I just say? You want it again?”

“N-no! Fuck that hurt!” You yelled.

“God you really are stupid aren’t you?” He laughed, cracking the leather down on your red ass cheeks again.

This time you were able to bite down on your lip and suppress the loud crying moan that tried to escape. You knew the tender flesh of your bottom lip would definitely be an angry red for the next few days as a taste of blood hit your tongue.

“That’s better.” He scoffed.

Pumping his cock a few times behind you before spreading your ass cheeks wide and smacking your hip hard to get you to lift up just a bit.

He set his sights on your incredibly drenched pussy. The view might make a weaker man cum on the spot, but Anakin wasn’t a weak man. He’d made that very clear today.

“Never seen you so fucking wet.” He whispered, in awe of the dripping mess you’d made of your cunt. The momentary break of character that you weren’t supposed to hear reassured you that it was definitely still Anakin under that mask.

Anakin's cock twitched, his eyes locked on your pulsing hole, watching it flutter around nothing. He chuckled and spit on his hand before rubbing it on the head of his cock. Letting out a low groan as he tugged on his balls for good measure.

"You're going to take this like a good little slut," He growled, lining up his thickness with your entrance. "And you're not going to fucking scream."

With a low hiss he thrust into you, your body protesting the sudden intrusion with a jerk. You failed to listen to his command and let out a muffled cry behind closed lips as he sank deep inside your heat.

"Quiet, bitch," he warned, pulling back and thrusting again, setting a rough rhythm. "Or I'll really give you somethin’ to cry about.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you whimpered and moaned and drooled in spite of his warnings. The feeling of being taken so roughly, but knowing you were safe… was intoxicating. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt.

Anakin moved suddenly and you saw a flash of red before he yanked back your head, shoving the bandanna in your mouth to use as a gag.

You coughed and gagged on the dry fabric as he forced it in your mouth. Anakin's thrusts became more frantic, his hips moving in quick, hard strokes. With the gag in place you let yourself be loud, there was no point in staying quiet right? If you were heard it would be * his * fault for not properly securing your gag.

"Dirty little thing aren’t you? Filthy. You like this don’t you!? Huh?" He snarled, slapping your ass hard with his free hand. "Scream for me, you fucking whore. No body can hear you. No body is coming to help you."

You moaned into the gag, body trembling as he pounded into you relentlessly. Each slap of skin against wetness echoed in the still night air, punctuating your defilement.

"C’mon, you can fight harder than that." He growled, grinding against you he placed one hand on your lower back and used it as leverage to hold you in place.

He laughed loudly, clearly enjoying the power trip he was on. He’d never fucked you like this before, he’d been rough yes… but this? This was blinding. Hot, white, blinding pleasure that spilled over into pain.

“So fucking tight.” He groaned. “pitiful little pussy. Bet you were a virgin weren’t you?”

You whimpered, the bandanna in your mouth wet from saliva. Tears dripping down your cheeks from his rough treatment. Your legs shaking violently as he fucked you into the dirt.

And he expected you to speak?

“Answer me.” He demanded, ripping the fabric from your mouth, the suddenness of it being pulled from your throat made you gag violently.

“C’mon. Talk to me. You’ve been dying to fucking talk and now you’ve got nothin’ to say?”

“Y-yes.” You sobbed, unable to form more than a few words. “Virgin.”

“Oh I knew it. Fuckin’ knew it.” He groaned.

Anakin's thrusts grew more furious, his cock sliding in and out of your tight ‘virgin’ pussy with each word grunt and groan that fell from his pretty lips. His hand gripped your hair, pulling your head back when you started squirming out from under him again.

"You think you can get away from me? Think you can run? You’re mine now, bitch." He spat, slapping the side of your face. "I own your little cunt now."

You cried harder from the pain, tears streaming down your dirt streaked face as he continued to pound into you without mercy.

"No one else is gonna touch you. No one else is gonna have you." He growled, his words thick with possession.

“Gonna take you home. Tie you up.” He grunted. “Fuck you whenever I want.”

“No one’s gonna miss you are they?” He laughed, “Just a worthless little nobody aren’t you? Yeah, you are.”

“That’s okay though sweetheart.” He cooed, sweetness laced with venom. “I want you. I want you all to myself, show you that all you’re good for is this.”

He spit, ripping his mask off to bite you hard, leaving clear teeth marks on your shoulder. The mask hit the ground near your head and you stared at it with big wide red-rimmed eyes as a violent orgasm ripped through you. Your cunt spasmed around him, slick leaking out and coating your thighs.

The squelching noises filled you with a new wave of embarrassment and fresh tears wetted your cheeks. You might’ve been done, but Anakin wasn’t. He had no plans of stopping now, this wasn’t over until he said it was.

“Stop! Please oh god.” You whined, scrunching your nose up as your body vibrated from the overstimulation.

“Stop? Oh you don’t mean that.” He moaned. “you just fucking creamed all over my cock.”

“Don’t lie to me. You know you like it.” He snickered, you could hear the grin gracing his lips.

“No! No! Please! I don’t!” You struggled, trying to get out of your bindings, the rope digging further into your wrists. “Please stop!”

“Fuck toys don’t talk.” He growled.

Anakin shifted his weight, now leaning with his forearm across your back, his sharp elbow cutting into the muscle to give himself an extra edge to his brutality. You thought he was comfortable in his position, but you were wrong. This was just a transition period.

His arm slid up your back to wrap your hair around his fist, exposing your neck and pining you in place.

A glint of sliver shined in your peripheral, followed by the cool metal blade of his knife on the soft skin of your throat. He had the flat side pressed firmly beneath your Adam’s apple. Anakin's thrusts grew more frantic, his cock sliding in and out of your tight, weeping pussy as he held the knife.

"One word," he growled, his eyes dark with lust and dominance. "And you’ll wish you were dead."

You whimpered, body shaking as you struggled against my bindings. Your cunt clenched around him, milking his cock with each powerful thrust.

"Make me cum, bitch." He snarled, his breathing labored. "Or I’ll slit your fucking throat right here."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through you. This was sick, you were sick. How could you possibly like this? Being threatened with a knife against your throat? You didn’t know, didn’t understand and maybe didn’t even want to. Maybe the logistics behind the thrill of this was better off unexplored. You decided then and there you would never let yourself explore that nagging little ‘what if’ about Anakin too.

His grip on the knife tightened, his thrusts becoming harder with each passing second. You controlled your breathing as best you could. Trying desperately not to move as another orgasm washed over your tired body. Your entire being vibrating with the intense energy, cunt spasming around his twitching member, leaking and dripping slick all over again.

“That's it," Anakin growled, his hips moving faster and harder, growing sloppy. His breathing ragged as he felt himself nearing the finish line. "C’mon, make me fucking cum and I’ll let you live."

"You're gonna say thank you after I cum. You hear me?" He snarled, biting the nape of your neck roughly like a dog in heat.

His balls tightened up, his cock pulsating inside you. Your pussy tightly enveloping him, feeling every twitch and jerk.

You squeaked as the cool blade dragged across your throat in a way that felt alittle too real, a little to close to being sliced open. Though you breathed a sigh of relief as the knife now pressed into your shoulder blade. The sharp tip popping through your skin.

“Gonna put a little ‘A’ right here. You want that? Answer me!” He asked through clenched teeth, staving off his orgasm in favor of torturing you.

“No! Please it hurts!” You screamed, the pain bringing you so incredibly close to cumming again.

He let out a familiar whine, followed by a choked moan as he carved the first letter of his name into your unblemished shoulder.

“You should’ve kept still. Now it’s crooked.” He scoffed.

You screamed out in pleasure, hiccuping as you tried to catch your breath. Anakin’s cock throbbing inside your abused walls. You whimpered as an overwhelming orgasm took hold of you. Your body convulsing in a way it never had before, with Anakin never slowing his hard albeit mess pace. He laughed as he watched your bound hands clasp themselves together as you held your breath.

The dam broke and you squirted, making a mess of yourself and him. You could feel the hot wet liquid dripping down your legs, hear it sloshing and squelching with each thrust.

Anakin’s laugh cut off into a choked groan, his cock jerking violently inside you as he came. His thrusts becoming wild and erratic, his body shaking with the force of his release.

"Fuck," he growled, collapsing against you as he finished. "You're a fucking mess, aren’t you?"

You sobbed into the dirt, body still trembling from the intense orgasm. Your pussy clenching around his softening cock, milking him for every last drop of cum.

"That’s right. Good girl.” He moaned, slowly pumping in and out of your swollen and well used cunt.

“Atta girl. You’re a good fuck so long as you keep your mouth shut.” Anakin let out a pained whine as he pulled out of you, leaving your pussy gaping and filled with his seed.

He cut the rope from your wrists and hissed when he saw the red marks. He broke character again for the simple fact that he felt terribly about accidentally hurting you. It was one thing to do it purposely, but this was unacceptable, he chided himself for tying you too tightly under his breath. He leaned down to kiss each wrist gently before tapping your ass with his hand.

“Get up. All fours.” He growled. Back to playing your big scary killer.

You sniffled, doing as he said as quickly as you could even though your body felt weak and jittery.

“Fuck.” He groaned spreading your ass cheeks apart, his thumbs keeping your pussy lips spread so that he could see his hard work; the mess he’d made of you.

He dove into your slick, reddened folds. His tongue laving and sucking your clit. He moaned and whined like he was the one getting pleasured. He shoved his tongue into your hot, raw hole and licked his cum out of you, mumbling dirty words with each breath.

"You taste so fucking good." He groaned, his voice muffled. "So wet and fuckin’ messy. I love it."

You whimpered, his tongue darting in and out of your still-throbbing cunt, tasting the evidence of your rough sex.

"You’re gonna be mine forever." He growled, his words slurred with lust. "No one else is ever gonna touch you again."

His fingers found your entrance, teasingly playing with it before sliding inside, stretching you open again. Your body trembled, pussy clenching around him in protest of his reentry. He leaned forward licking the trickles of blood from your shoulder and gathering it in his mouth. He sat back on his heels and then spit the mixture of his cum, his spit and your blood into your pussy, gently shoving it inside with his fingers.

The act was filthy. Disgusting. But so fucking hot, so sexy, so much so that your pussy contracted around his fingers again. Alittle bit of squirt dribbling out as your body shook. Anakin's eyes darkened as he felt you clench around his fingers once again.

"Fuck." He grumbled, hid grip on your hips tightening. "You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?"

You sobbed, body trembling with the impending orgasm or maybe just from the humiliation. Who knows? At this point you couldn’t tell left from right.

"You just want to get used and ruined, don’t you?" He growled, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. "So fucking ready for it. So desperate for a cock like mine to take care of you."

His words sent you over the edge, body shaking as you came yet again. Your pussy fluttering around his fingers, dribbles of liquid leaking down his hand.

“N-no more.” You whimper, begging for a break.

“Oh poor thing.” He laughed. “it just feels so good that it hurts huh?”

“Y-yes.” You cried, sniffling. Your arms weak and wobbly.

“You’ll get used to it.” He said pulling out his fingers and roughly smacking your pussy with his hand.

You screamed, a choked whimpering sob. You were beyond sensitive, you could feel how swollen you were. But even through the pain, a jolt of pure pleasure shot through your core.

“Get up.” He growled, tucking himself back into his jeans, pulling you to your feet by the hair.

He shoved you against a tree and barked out the instruction for you to stay there. He picked up the knife and bandanna, kicking the ruined rope aside and shoving the ripped panties in his pocket. He grabbed his belt and cracked it against your ass hard one last time before putting his belt back on.

“You didn’t say thank you.” He reminded you.

“Say thank you. Ungrateful bitch.”

M’sorry!” You whimpered. “th-thank you. Thank you.”

“That’s better.” He grunted, yanking your jeans back up and leaving them unbuttoned. The fabric wet and sticky from all the abuse.

“Turn around. Can’t leave those gorgeous tits without any attention right?” He chuckled darkly.

He grabbed your chin examining your face when you slowly turned around. His other hand pulling up your shirt.

“Still pretty. Even after all that.” He said softly a small glimpse at your Anakin, not this brutal character he played. But it was gone quicker than you could blink.

"Beautiful." Anakin murmured, his eyes lingering on your tits before he leaned in to lick and kiss each one. "You’re gonna be so pretty covered in bruises, huh?"

Your breath hitched, nipples pebbling as he sucked and licked at them. His hands cupping and squeezing your breasts roughly, leaving red marks on the soft skin.

He bit down and pulled your nipples with his teeth causing you to yelp in pain. Eliciting a dark laugh from him.

“C’mon,” He grumbled. “let’s get going. I’ve got plans for my new whore.”

He grabbed the back of your neck and shoved you forward, making you stumble and almost trip. You stayed silent other than your sniffling and wiping your nose and eyes as you walked on jelly legs.

"Don't think you're done." Anakin growled, his grip on your neck tightening as you walked. "I’ll never be done with you."

His free hand grabbed your ass, squeezing it roughly before letting go. His eyes never leaving the path ahead.

"You owe me. You know that? A lifetime of obedience and gratitude." He laughed, pushing your forward again. “I could’ve killed you and I didn’t. That’s called a life debt baby.”

You nodded, seeing the truck in the field and breathing a sigh of relief knowing you wouldn’t have to walk much further.

“Almost there.” He said plainly.

Once you reached the truck he opened the door and helped you inside gently. Giving you a soft kiss on the cheek.

He walked around to his side and shoved the items along with his hockey mask down inside the bag. Tossing it to the floor board as he climbed in beside you, pulling you against his chest in a comforting, soothing hug. You sighed, leaning into him. His warmth and closeness comforting you.

"Good girl." Anakin whispered into your hair, his voice softening. He kissed the top of your head gently. "You did so good. I love you doll. I love you so so much."

"Hang tight, baby. We’ll get you cleaned up and back home soon enough." He murmured, his hand resting on your thigh reassuringly.

You gripped his shirt, there was something thrilling about his possessiveness, his control over you. “I love you too Ani.” You whispered, voice shaky.

Once the short drive was over he helped you out of his truck, turning around and leaning forward to give you a piggy back ride to the house.

You sighed thankfully and climbed up. Hugging around his neck and inhaling his comforting scent. Nuzzling into his neck as he carried you into your home. Locking the front door behind him. He softly sat you on the couch, giving you a gentle forehead kiss.

Wordlessly he went to the kitchen and got himself and you a glass of water. Placing the cup in your shaking hands, making sure you drank some before he chugged down his.*

“You okay babydoll?” He asked, pulling you into his lap. “that was pretty intense.”

“I-I’m okay.” You nodded. “y-yeah it w-was intense.”

You gave him a soft smile. “It was fun though… I’m just gonna be really, really sore.”

"You’re so fucking precious.” He murmured, nuzzling your neck. "All worn out and sore, but still smiling at me."

"We'll take it slow next time, okay?" He whispered in your ear, kissing your temple softly. "You tell me when you’re ready for sex again baby. I’m not gonna ask until you come to me.”

You nodded, sighing contentedly. Your head resting against his chest as he held you close, breathing slowly returning to normal.

“Are you glad I read your diary now?”

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate

@burnthecheshirewitch@cherrylooney@star611

@tahliac11 @exquisit3corpse @jeldog @arzua10

@bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay

@aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn

@illiethefairy @bunnylovesani @offthethir/wall

@slutforhayden @ausskywalker @angelsadmired

@slut4starwarssmut @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie

@starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @no1klet @lethargic

@allhailbuckybarnes @shadowhuntyi

@bobtheturmpetman29 @mortalheartache

@fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot

@joshfutturmansrighthand @chaoticantihero

@vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee

@sweetcheesecakesblog@rga11 @luvskywxlker

@angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled

@graveyard-stray

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the tag list

#star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars #anakin x you #sw anakin #darth vader #darth vader smut #darth vader x you #darth vader x reader #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfiction #anakin #anakin skywalker x you #star wars x reader #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen

[nrvcntr]

My Lover is Like

hey remember how i said i'd write that fic about tav coming from a noble background and having a riddle that someone has to answer to date her and no one ever gets it right and then years later she tells gale and he knows immediately? anyway here it is

There are certain scents that bring back memories - warm grass on a summer’s day, fresh linens placed on a bed, and of course, the sickly sticky burn of a bottle of plum fizz, shared among friends. Astarion recoiled after he sniffed the open bottle, his nose scrunched in horror.

“You can’t be serious,” He said.

“You’re being dramatic. It isn’t that bad,” You replied.

You had found a crate full of bottles on your last trek and dragged it back to the campsite, anticipating a heroic welcome at your generous haul. It was nearing sunset and it seemed as good of a time as any to see what the contents of the crate were. Upon cracking the crate open, your eyes lit up at the sight of bottles on bottles of plum fizz. This had been the drink that defined your adolescence as a noble in Baldur’s Gate. It immediately brought back memories of revelry, singing songs next to bonfires, and a young Wyll Ravengard throwing up in the street. You pulled out a bottle and handed it to Astarion, who had reacted like a man who never knew the joys of noble debauchery.

“It smells like it could raise something from the dead and then kill it again,” He said, handing the bottle back to you.

“Look, we used to drink this all the time when we were kids. It’s like a rite of passage among children of nobility in Baldur’s Gate.”

Wyll, overhearing the conversation, came over to see what you were so impassioned about. At the sight of the bottle in your hand, he recoiled like someone had just smacked him upside the head.

“No. Get that thing away!” He shouted, shaking his hands.

“Oh, stop it. I remember you used to beg to play fizzy hands when we were younger,” You said.

“Fizzy hands.” Astarion said flatly, “What sort of braindead activity is fizzy hands?”

You raised your brow to Wyll, who explained that “fizzy hands” was the beloved drinking game of your youth, where a small magical seal was applied to two bottles of plum fizz, which an individual would hold. The seal wouldn’t break until both bottles were consumed.

“Fizzy hands leads to fizzy guts, which leads to…a fizzy mess, in the street. You couldn’t pay me to take a sip of that now.” Wyll said.

You looked around the campsite and gestured to Gale, who had been beginning the preparations for dinner so intently that he hadn’t noticed the failing case you were trying to make in favor of plum fizz.

“It’s nice to know that your taste in wine is nearly as bad as your taste in men,” Astarion mused, causing you to shoot him a farcefully menacing look. Your affections for Gale were no secret, and the two of you had shared an intimate moment in the Weave, but you were unsure of your current status, or even whether he really returned your feelings. You had begun to write it off as a passing fancy, something to daydream about during long days of traveling. Though, there was no hiding how much you enjoyed being around the man, your conversations often dragging well into the night after everyone else had fallen asleep. You had never met anyone else who seemed to understand you the way that Gale did, or whose company you enjoyed nearly half as much.

“You’re a man of taste, and you’re knowledgeable about wine. Can you settle a debate for us?” You asked Gale when he walked over.

“A glass of wine sounds delightful this evening. What’s the topic of debate?” He asked.

“Astarion and Wyll may not be as cultured as you and I. Just tell them about the fine properties of this blend,” You said, trying to communicate ‘please, say this tastes good’ in your expression as you poured a glass and handed it over.

Gale swirled the glass and his eyes widened at the scent. To his credit, he took an honest sip and racked his brain for something kind to say about it. “It has notes of…berry. And cinnamon. And…” He couldn’t do it. “Acid. It tastes like it would eat a hole through a table if you spilled some on it. Do the youth of Baldur’s Gate really ingest this willingly?” He asked.

You threw your hands up.

“Poor taste, the lot of you. It cannot be helped.”

After dinner, Astarion sauntered over to you, two glasses of plum fizz in hand.

“A drink together. Sort of a truce,” He said.

You were suspicious, but took the glass in hand. The spicy, bitter, sweet, and confusing concoction ran down your throat and made your stomach feel hot. Astarion’s glass was already empty, and he poured you both another. By the time you realized that Astarion had been pouring his drinks out to get you to continue drinking, you were drunk enough to begin telling stories of your youth in Baldur’s Gate.

“So, after Wyll threw up in the street -”

“Can you please stop talking about that. I have plenty of embarrassing stories I could tell at your expense, you know. Lock.” Wyll said pointedly.

“Lock?” Shadowheart asked.

You covered your face, feeling a burning sensation creep up your cheeks.

“What none of you realize is that our beloved companion here was once the most eligible bachelorette in Baldur’s Gate nobility. Her family was wealthy and she was beautiful, intelligent, and charming…”

“Whatever happened?” You asked, making yourself laugh.

“However, she never took a partner. Singles of all creeds, genders, and races tried, but no one could get through to her. So, she began to be known as ‘the lock of Baldur’s Gate’. And, what opens a lock but a key? And the key to her heart was to answer a riddle,” Wyll explained with a dramatic flourish.

“A riddle? How droll. That’s a little…presumptuous, don’t you think?” Astarion asked. You shrugged.

“Why a riddle?” Karlach asked.

“I didn’t want to end up with someone who was a complete dunce,” You joked. It was a half-truth, since the whole truth would have disrupted the mood of revelry among your companions.

“Well, do we get to hear it?” Shadowheart asked.

You leaned back and looked at the faces of your companions. Wyll shook his head, having heard this question lamented among the singles of Baldur’s Gate throughout his youth.

“What is loving Taglath like?” You asked, the question rolling off of your tongue like a well-rehearsed line.

“What a stupid question!” Astarion huffed, rolling his eyes. He had no idea what the answer could be.

“Oh, do you know the answer, then? Since it’s so stupid,” You said, unable to wipe the smirk off of your face. It always delighted you to stump someone with the riddle, and it delighted you even more to watch them struggle with it.

“What is loving like?” You repeated, prodding Astarion for the answer.

“Darling, loving you is like poison seeping through my veins,” Astarion said, pretending to be a romantic poet, his hand gripping his chest, “- and it kills me to be parted from you,” He added, taking your hand in his icy cold grasp.

“Very sweet, but no,” You responded.

Everyone laughed, getting a little chuckle out of Astarion’s foolishness.

“Oh come on, it’s not like any of you geniuses know the answer,” Astarion said, raising a brow to the group. He looked around at their curious faces and wonders aloud, “Do you?”

“Uh, I don’t remember my childhood. Much less silly poems,” Shadowheart said, but thought about it for a moment. “Is it like a rose? Something beautiful out of the dirt?”

You shook your head.

“Chk. This is a waste of time,” Lae’zel said..

“C’mon, Lae’zel, what do you think loving is like?” Wyll probed, the githyanki rolling her eyes at him.

Lae’zel replied, “Like a well-won battle, your enemies dead at your feet.” There is a pause before she asked, “Did I answer correctly?”

“No,” You replied.

Karlach wiped her hands on her pants, not waiting to be asked. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you ask me, solider,” She said, “But I’ll give it a try. Is it like a cool drink of water on a hot night?”

“That’s sweet, Karlach. It’s own little poem, even. But no,” You said.

“Well what’s the answer?” Astarion huffed, getting frustrated at this little display of ignorance.

“Salamander!” Wyll interjected, snapping his fingers like he cracked the code. This made everyone crack up, to his dismay. “No, because - I mean, uh - well, it’s better than corpses!” He insisted. This only made everyone laugh more.

In this revelry, no one even thought to glance at Gale, who had been watching the scene with a bemused little smile on his face.

There was a lull when the laughter died down, the silence of everyone taking a breath after a hearty laugh.

Through the silence, two words cut through the air like a knife directly to your heart.

“The Sun.”

You gasped (a reaction that, in retrospect, embarrassed you with how dramatic it was). You stared at the speaker, Gale’s dark eyes glinting in the firelight. You felt you must have looked ridiculous, your jaw agape.

In all of the years of telling the riddle, no one had ever known the answer. The key to your heart, you joked. But it had been more serious than you ever let on. As each suitor fumbled through wrong answers, it had only solidified your belief that true love would never be yours. That you would eventually have to settle for someone who couldn’t really understand you.

It was like time stopped, the visions of your companions becoming a blur as Gale came into focus.

Gale, meanwhile, appeared to be blissfully unaware that he had just broken your brain (what was left of it, at least).

“That’s…right. How did you know?” You choked out, hardly above a whisper.

“It’s a very clever riddle. See, most would probably assume that the riddle is about the works of Taglath, whom is renowned as an iconic romantic poet. His works adorn his lover with brilliant metaphors that have captured readers since their inception,” Gale explained to the group, lecturing his never-be students.

“That’s probably why Gef Deldus spent one summer immersed in Taglath’s works,” Wyll recalled, chuckling, “He told everyone that he had solved the riddle. He was convinced you would be his bride by the end of the season. What was his answer?” He asked.

“Love is like a poem,” You replied, still dumbfounded by Gale’s answer.

“The education in Baldur’s Gate leaves much to be desired,” Gale snarked, then continued, “What most people don’t know is that Taglath’s most prominent muse was another poet named Alanis. Unfortunately, most of her work has been lost to history. Almost no complete works remain, and only fragments have been collected for publication. But in her most complete work, she compares her lover to the Sun. It’s a gorgeous poem about loving someone who burns brightly and the fears associated with taking a lover of prominence. Loving despite fear,” He said.

You wondered how it was possible that your body felt like it was on fire but also like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on you. Did none of your companions notice that you were going insane? The realization rocked you like an earthquake.

Gale Dekarios was not a passing fancy, someone to think about kissing when the option presented itself. He was neither a daydream nor a wet dream to pass the time at different hours. He was not the greatest friend you had ever had, the person who you most looked forward to speaking to each morning after you woke and each night before you went to bed. The person who you spoke about nothing and everything with, played games with, or just enjoyed a comfortable silence with. He was not your traveling companion, nor even an ally who had risked his life for you as you had done for him. It was impossible for Gale to be any one of those things because he was all of them all at once and so much more.

Oh, fuck, you realized, your knees ready to give way.

You were in love with him.

The sound of your companions laughing and chattering together mixed together and sounded like ocean waves. If anyone turned to ask you anything you probably would have just stared at them blankly. You attempted to take a step toward Gale and the drinks you had earlier in the night went to your head, sending you tumbling forward and onto the ground.

“Looks like the plum fizz kicked in. ‘Key’, maybe you should take the ‘lock’ to bed,” Shadowheart said to Gale.

You thought that if you closed your eyes, maybe the ground would swallow you up and you would never have to look at Gale again. Instead, you felt him help you to your feet, allowing you to lean against him as he walked you to your tent. You were desperate to know what was going through his mind - did he realize the gravity that he answer had?

“Easy now,” Gale said, helping you down onto your bedroll. He treated you gently, helping you to unlace your boots and get settled in under the blanket. You were sick to your stomach at being doted on by him and kept quiet, trying to focus on anything but the way he looked at you. He left for a moment and came back to bring you some water.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment, then spoke.

“Gale?”

“Yes?”

“After we had that moment in the Weave…you mentioned that we shouldn’t talk about it then, with the orb being unstable and everything going on,” You said, then allowed yourself to lean into your own intoxication, asking what was truly on your mind. “Was that really the reason? Because if you don’t see me that way, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings.” The words poured out of you too quickly for you to worry about sounding insecure. It was a lie, of course, that it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. Being rejected by Gale would be devastating.

Gale looked thoughtful, then recited the end of Alanis’s fragments of her poem about her lover.

“My lover is like the Sun, Brilliant and bright He eclipses me And yet I yearn

My lover is like the Sun Blinding and unyielding When he touches me I burn”

He placed his hand on your cheek, his gaze looking through you and into your soul. The two of you could say so much without a single word.

“Am I the Sun, or are you?” You asked.

Gale had loved the poem when he read it as a boy, and later thought of it often when he was with Mystra, trying to make sense of the reality of having a goddess for a lover. He had often wondered if he would ever have an identity outside of being Mystra’s chosen, or whether he would forever be tied to the Goddess. And if that was the case, why did the idea of it make him burn with jealousy?

However, the poem had taken on new meaning since he met you. He felt like the Sun, a ball of fire ready to explode in his chest at any moment. As badly as he wanted to hold you close, he knew that doing so would destroy you. Still, he wondered, might it be worth it to burn if he could have one moment of knowing what it was like to be yours entirely?

Or rather, were you the Sun? He was certainly transfixed by you, drawn to your brilliance. You, a mortal who dared to be more brilliant and enticing than his Goddess. Would following you lead him down the path to certain doom - or worse, would getting close to you lead you to your own demise? It was that thought that kept him up at night, wondering if he should escape in the night. To save you from himself, or at least get you as far away from the danger as possible.

Gale contemplated your question.

“I’m not sure,” He finally replied.

“I don’t know, either.”

You placed your hand on Gale’s, your gaze fixed on each other, searching for an answer in each other’s eyes. Neither of you could find it.

However, there was one thing that was clear to both of you: whether through flames of salvation or damnation, you would burn for each other.

#gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 brainrot #gale brainrot

[writingwithcolor]

Dark features/people as blessed, white and light people as sick

ladyoftheseastuff asked:

I'm writing a fantasy story where the world is permanently covered in snow & ice. The people share a common culture & are loyal to their city states, but they are not homogeneous in appearance; there will be many, many characters coded as PoC. The main religion centers on the sun, & those with dark features are 'favoured' by the sun god, while pale people or anyone who has white/blonde hair are thought vulnerable to "snow sickness", a disease caused by environmental factors (1/2) & have other rules and customs to gain religious approval. It's dangerous & infectious but not well understood. It affects social standing and opportunities, but it's meant to be tied with ideas of youth, vitality, & fear of aging & sickness: it's not limited to those coded as white. This is a cultural detail and not part of the main conflict, but I want to avoid unintentional allegories/parallels & fetishization. Is this a concept that's too close to crossing any of those lines? (2/2)

This feels less like a means to show dark skinned people in an empowering light and more like a weak attempt at subversion. My primary concern (which you have not specified) is how do the "blessed" class treat the "sickly" so to speak. We have fantasy stories like The Grisha Trilogy and Girls of Paper and Fire, which deal with magical ability/feature-based segregation and conflict.

In both cases there is a sense of entitlement which comes with hailing from the "favoured" class, quite obvious, since there will always be an inherent othering metaphor whenever you create such a division, whether it was meant to be a source of conflict or not.

However, the two mentioned series use the "magical people are blessed, non magical people are to be pitied" arc which is somewhat more subtle than divisions created just on the basis of skin colour.

Disclaimer as I do not have albinism or vitiligo: The latter can be extremely harmful, and not just in a racial context, but in cases of albinism, vitiligo etc.

~Mod Mimi

The pitfalls of subversions

While it is always lovely to see dark features considered in a favorable way, there are some issues you may come across. Such a story could easily end up dressing those you wished to uphold as bad guys in the readers' eyes, even if the story's society and the sun god etc. thinks they're amazing, and white and light people as the victims of dark people, deserving reader sympathy. This may especially be the case based on how these groups get treated in the story.

These sort of subversions lean dangerously into "reverse discrimination" plots which are not overall accurate or favorable allegories for your real, human audience. There being diversity on both sides doesn't necessary fix this issue or remove racial or ethnic implications. On that note, and as Mimi mentioned, being demonized and ostracized particularly for skin and genetic disorders like albinism is already a thing. What does your concept say of them?

I think Dark/Black as good and Light/white as bad is a doable concept. Your concept differs a bit from simply subverting black/white tropes. This is not just Black good guys and night skies being peaceful or neutral. It's not just white/light villains (as opposed to victims) or snow symbolling death or sickness.

White and light people are quite blatantly being declared as sick and unfavored and they may very well be victims in the reader's eye with the dark people being the villainous, unsympathetic bunch. Is this your intention?

More to consider

Such a concept requires thoughtful, careful planning and intentional writing. You should have an understanding of what your story implies to the readers and the real-life takeaways.

I think it's possible to make dark skin the favored skin of the sun god without it meaning white/light people stand in a negative light and are sick or unworthy.

Consider what it is that you like about the concept of your story. Can you keep the essence of whatever it is that excites you about your ideas, without denying a whole group of people favor? If not, how will you go about telling such a tale that is not meant to symbolize a sort of reversal of roles discrimination?

Why does the sun god get to determine what is good?

Are there other gods that might have different strong opinions? Perhaps who is favored varies by time of day, season, region, culture, god?

Can dark skin get its favor without white and light features being deemed unfavorable as a whole?

How big of a deal does this favor have to be? I advise reconsidering it being the point of discrimination to white/light people for all the reasons already described.

No matter the directions you go, please research and get the appropriate beta-readers for feedback on the in-depth concepts and story.

~Mod Colette

#Skin color #color symbolism #symbolism #fantasy #discrimination #reverse racism #and other myths #asks

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Crimson Flames & Blue Desires.

DARK!Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

WARNINGS: this story will contain mature and dark themes, MDNI, DD:DNE.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: dubcon (not towards reader), oral (m. receiving) not by reader, choking, fainting, violence, anxiety.

next ->

masterlist

A/N: please mind the tags, Aemond is an absolute asshole and a dick in this story, just a heads up.

CH 1: Return to King's Landing.

One, two, three, four.

You counted to keep your mind busy, occupied, preventing any thought from entering your mind as the carriage was moving with a constant speed, you peaked through the holes of it, watching as the keep came into view, biting your lips in nervousness.

You dreaded it.

Dreaded coming back to King's Landing, at least, not after what happened back at driftmark during your childhood days. Your breath hitched in your throat as the carriage came to a halt, and it was time to get out.

With shaky legs, you descended the carriage, taking in the view of the keep, a sudden wave of nostalgia washing over you as you took in the surroundings, memories of your younger days flashing by in your like a flickering flame.

Your shared youth with your brothers.

With your family.

With him.

The dread quickly replaced the nostalgia when you thought of him, you let out a sigh, moving along with your siblings, going inside.

The first thing you noticed was how foreign it looked, it almost seemed like a different place, watching all the three headed dragons be replaced by the faith of the seven symbol, it seemed alicent was changing a few things around.

Regardless, you were glad you didn't encounter him.

A day of peace, spent in your brothers chambers as your original chamber was being cleaned.

Not until the petition was announced to be heard, Vaemond had signed a petition against your little brother, questioning his lineage, which is the main reason you have to come to King's Landing in the first place.

There he stood.

All calm and mighty, oozing off an aura you couldn't quite pinpoint, you wished to be anywhere but here right at this moment. He was still handsome, the loss of his eye weighed absolutely nothing on his looks, in fact, he somehow looked even more attractive.

He was paying any attention to you, more focused on Lucerys, as if he was waiting for something, as a predator looked at his prey, waiting to strike.

That was until his eyes finally flickered to you.

You stared at him back, eyebrows furrowed.

The side of his lips twitched, curling into a small smirk that made you lose your mind. You felt as though you were set on fire, lava coursing through your veins as he continued to stare at you, you broke the eye contact focusing on the situation before you, and you noticed from the periphery of your eye on how he huffed a laugh, making his mother turn to look at him in confusion, before he shook his head.

Your grandsire just then entered the room, looking all sickly, no doubt coming to defend his daughter and her name, trying to be a good father, you wouldn't dare say it but you truly did not think that he was a great father to your mother nor others, he had made your mother feel insecure about her gender for many years, let her be plagued by pressure and stress, only to suddenly then owe her support.

You didn't dislike him, of course not, he was your grandsire after all, though you wished he tried to do more than just the bare minimum. You knew that it was useless for Vaemond to try and argue more against your grandsire so you zoned out, until you heard Vaemond yell.

“HER CHILDREN ARE BASTARDS!” and you immediately snapped your head towards his direction, the court gasping as the words left his mouth, everyone looked at your brothers, and not you and you hated it.

Having been the only one to escape the clutches of the bastardised traits, they think you are the legitimate daughter of Laenor, but the bastard blood flows through your veins just as it does in your younger brothers, even worse is that you do not know who your actual father is, unlike jace.

“And she is a whore.” he says the next part quietly, and you watch in anger, holding yourself back from lunging towards him and stabbing him to death, everything seemed to move both quickly and slowly as you felt a figure pass by you quickly and you were only then able to process what had happened.

Daemon had cut Vaemond, leaving his tongue intact but with the other half of his face on the floor, exposing the innermost flesh. You should be disgusted, look away, but you didn't, instead you smirked a little, comforted by the fact that no such thoughts can bloom nor be relayed by his brain. Your eyes flicked up to Aemond and you saw how his gaze was already on you, pupil blown wide as he watched you cruelly smirk at someone's death.

You changed your expression to that of a blank one quickly, before you watched as Viserys, who was standing, fell down on his seat weakly, and Alicent panicked, calling for the maesters, immediately going over to Viserys to help him. Aemond watched in distaste as his mother did that.

And soon you were being escorted to your chambers, the guard allotted in the front opened the door and you entered inside, smiling at the view, it was your old chamber, the reddish pink hues of the room kept the same way, not at all changing.

You went over to stand at the window, gazing out at the ocean in a daze when you reminisced about the moments you spent here, how you used to sneak out of this very room, to play outside, with him.

You wouldn't lie to yourself, you missed him, the uncle who you had spent your childhood with, running around and reading books together in the library of the keep, helping him practise high valyrian, you loved him back then.

What has changed?

Everything.

Everything except the emotions you felt for him.

But you pushed it far, far, far away.

To the depths of your heart, brushing it all under the guise of hatred, disgust for him, only for it to resurface again after all these years, the moment you saw him.

And you would push them down once again, convince yourself that you hate him, that you never found joy in him, that you didn't enjoy the moments spent together with him, that you never even loved him.

You have to force yourself to lie to yourself.

For it was better. Better for you to bask in ignorance than swim in the truth that is poison.

You rested in your chambers for a bit, and watched as the sun went down, the sky that was once blue and bright plunging into a red that bloomed around it, some hues of purple here and there, the white clouds scattering, it was beautiful, to watch the sky, you wished it would stay like this forever, but you knew that it was inevitable that all of this plunges into darkness, only to rise again and repeat.

The knock on your chamber door brought you out of your thoughts as you went and opened the door, seeing a fair maid stand before she nervously announced that dinner would be soon, and that she was appointed to get you ready for the dinner.

You allowed her inside, she put down the bucket of water she was carrying, and you undressed, leaving you in almost nothing but your chemise, you watched as the maid pour lavender oil into the water, before dipping a washcloth in it, wringing it and clean you with it.

The smell of lavender had invaded your senses, your mind calm and relaxed by it, it provided an odd sense of comfort. After the bath, she had dressed you in a black gown, with cuffs that were red to honour your house colours, you left your hair almost entirely loose except for the two braids that were pulled to the back of your head and intertwined.

With each step you took towards the dining hall the more your heartbeat increased, your nerves on the edge, you felt anxious, anxious to see him again. Would he even be there? You wished he wouldn't.

But the gods don't hear your prayers, and you spot him, talking to your eldest uncle, Aegon, you slowly go to the table, noticing how your seat was next to Jace, but also next to Aegon. You did not miss the glare Aegon threw your way, looking up at you in disgust and anger and you looked down, fidgeting with your hands.

Why were you becoming so weak?

This isn't like you.

Where had your fire gone?

Soon the king came and everyone settled down, toasts were given to one another, celebrating the houses and the betrothal of your brothers to your cousins, baela and rhaena.

You watched as Jace talked to baela, and never have you felt so alone in your life, you simply began eating, and then Aegon leaned his hand against your chair, calling out to Jace, completely ignoring your presence. You had zoned out most of their conversation, not interested in it until you felt Aegon rise from his seat and go over to pour himself some more wine.

“But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask.” and that made Jace slam his fists onto the table, startling everyone, he breathed heavily.

That's when everyone heard the sound of a chair sliding and turned their attention to it.

Aemond was standing, hands by his side, twitching to take some action as he eyed Jace, silently warning him, Aegon had the audacity to look confused and sat down once again.

Everyone watched in silence, which was suffocating until Jace picked his wine glass up and toasting, taking a deep breath.

“To prince Aegon, and prince Aemond, we have not seen each other in years, but i have fond memories of our shared youth,” he begins, “and as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies, to your and your family's good health, dear uncles.” he finishes, you hear viserys utter a quick 'good' before Jace sits down.

Aemond's eye follows him in disgust, before he looks away and sits down, and just then helaena gets up, clearly pissed since Aegon pulled something stupid again, so she indirectly makes fun of him while hiding her sadness.

“It isn't so bad, he mostly just ignores you.”

“Except sometimes when he's drunk.” she chuckles awkwardly before sitting down and you feel bad for her.

“Dear niece, you haven't spoken at all today.” Aegon turns his attention to you, which makes Jace stiffen up, ever the protective younger brother he is.

“Oh- uhm, I do not have much to say.” you mumble and he purses his lips before realising you're boring and turning his attention somewhere else. Your eyes filt over to Aemond once again, who already seemed to be staring at you, with the same intense gaze and you look away in fear.

Jace got up and asked helaena for her hand in dance, to which she happily gave and then they both danced, everything seemed to be going well, until Viserys had to be taken back to his chambers since he was weak, and then the pig had arrived.

Your breath hitched in your throat and you looked over to lucerys, hoping he'd not do something stupid but he laughed and Aemond slammed his fist against the table, picking up the wine glass in one smooth movement.

“Final tribute, ” he started and you watched him.

“To the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke and Joffrey, each of them handsome, wise…”

there was a pregnant pause.

“Strong.”

“Aemond.” Alicent tried to butt in.

“Come. Let us raise our cups to these three strong boys.” his attention then falls on you, “And their elder sister, unknown whether she is strong or not.” those words were clearly meant to be menacing, and you glared at him.

“I dare you to say that again.” you hear Jace talk, “Why? Do you not think yourself strong?” he questions and that was enough to anger Jace and he punched him, Aemond just smirked arrogantly before pushing Jace, using only little of his power, you immediately got up from your chair and got inbetween them, holding Jace back before the guards came in and held him back.

Jace glared at you, “Why did you stop me? Of course, protecting your fucking childhood love.” he spits and your mouth drops slightly open and the air becomes silent before your mother butts in, “Jace! That is no way to talk to your sister, go to your chambers! All of you.” she reprimands and all of them obey except you, you turned to look at Aemond whose gaze was already on you, and it felt like the world stopped for a moment.

Your eyes scanned his face, he looked even more beautiful from up close and you felt your heart wrench when you noticed how his intense gaze softened, even though it was for a moment, when he took in your features. You looked away, putting your head down and leaving the hall, rushing back to your chambers.

You slammed the door behind you and leaned against it, breathing heavily before slipping down onto the floor. You couldn't bear to look at him, not after what happened. The way his gaze still held softness for you, masked behind his stoic expression, it made you feel bad, guilty, anxious.

You bit your lip to prevent sobs from slipping out, tears streaming down your face, you did not want to look at his face, a constant reminder of what happened.

What you had done.

You still remember the way you pierced the blade through his skin, the way you just swung it to protect yourself, not knowing what or where it hit, and the next thing you knew was Aemond laying on the ground clutching his eye, you remember throwing the knife down and rushing over to him, crying and apologising, it had haunted you since that day, Lucerys took the blame cause he couldn't bear his sister crying. Aemond had not said anything the entire time he was getting his eye stitched and you couldn't look at what you had done.

The sobs broke out before you could stop it, crying to yourself as you hugged your knees.

“What's the point of crying?” You got startled when you hear the voice of Aemond, coming from inside your room, it seemed he snuck in through the secret passageways.

You hiccuped as you watched his dark figure come to you, the candlelight illuminating his features, he had taken off his eyepatch and you watched as the sapphire glinted, the reflection of the orange light, bouncing off of it.

He leaned down, and you twitched in fear before you felt him roughly grab your throat and force you on your feet, shoving you against the door, the metal hinges digging into your skin as your hands shot up to grab his, clawing at them to release you, but his only tightened his grip more.

“You are repenting now? After all these years? After you took my eye.” he growled, further tightening his grip and you gasped for air, thrashing around in his hold as the blood supply was not reaching your brain. “Did you know how painful it was? Of course you don't.” he releases his grip for a moment, letting you breathe but not letting go completely, hand still on your throat, he pushed your head back on the door, and leaned his forehead against yours, before he took a deep breath and sighed in content as he smelled the familiar lavender on you.

Tears streamed down your face, crying because of everything, your heart beating loudly from being scared, your mind becoming fucked with messy thoughts.

You felt scared, guilty, vulnerable, ashamed, embarrassed, everything at once.

You closed your eyes to calm down as much as you can, that was when you felt something wet slide against your face, trailing up the pathways your tears left before, only then did you open your eyes and realise what was going on.

He was licking up your tears.

Tongue travelling upwards your face to your eye, licking the trail where your tears had travelled, before he pressed a small kiss on it, and doing the same on the other side, he kissed your jaw, completely let go of your neck, before wrapping his arm around your waist and dipping his head, kissing your neck.

You felt too weak.

Too overwhelmed.

The previous attempt at choking you finally caught up, causing your body and limbs to give up and completely shut down.

You fainted in Aemond's arms.

Aemond wasn't surprised, instead he carried you over his shoulder. He placed you on the bed, watched as your chest heaved up and down, he grit his teeth feeling his anger come to him once again, and grabbed your unconscious form's cheeks tightly, digging his nails before opening your mouth and spitting into it, he wished you were awake to feel the humiliation.

He fucking hated you so much.

He hates you so much.

He really does.

If he could kill you, he would.

He wants you to hurt you badly, to scar you, to ruin you, the way you had done to him.

Aemond targaryen hates you.

So much, to the point it makes him love you.

A fucked up love.

It doesn't make sense.

He lets go of your cheeks before storming out of your chambers angrily.

Aemond went to his chambers enraged, the poor maid that seemed to be present there at that moment was unlucky, his face turned into a scowl as he watched her slightly misplace his book before he went up to her and grabbing her by her hair, “Your majes-sty i-” she tries speaking but grips her hair tighter, “Shut up, or I'll cut your throat.” and she listened. 

He wasn't usually the one behaving this way towards women, his brother was. He would usually take his anger out by sword training, because his anger never included sexual frustration. 

And so he watches as the poor maid tries to breathe, reminding him of the way you struggled to breathe earlier, as he violently thrusts into her mouth, her tongue swirling around his shaft as he grips her hair tightly, grunting at the way it feels, he lets out a loud moan. 

Of your name. 

The maid, still on her knees, flinches when he climaxes inside her mouth, pulling her off him before looking at her with disgust, He throws some money at her and tells her to never return to this keep again, which she accepts while sobbing. 

She leaves the room and Aemond lays on the bed thinking about you. 

“Fuck.” he groans rubbing his eye thinking about how you had undone him making him react so violently towards someone that had nothing to do with you.

You wake up on the bed, mind all groggy from what had happened, few hours ago, Aemond in your chambers, choking you, and you fainting in his arms, you sat up suddenly and looked around to see if he was there, to your surprise he wasn't, you looked out and noticed how the sun had yet to rise, leaving you in darkness, nothing but the moon far up in the sky, illuminating your room as the candles were all blown out. 

You winced when you felt a burning sensation on your throat, causing you to touch the area, only for it to hurt more. You sighed, knowing it was caused by his tight grip. You felt nauseous when you remembered what he had done, quickly brushing it off. 

Your feet lead you to the window again, as you gazed outside, the moon shining brightly, the water bouncing it's white light off them, you remembered the story that the moon was the sun's wife, but the moon looked so lonely, alone in the sky, but it wasn't truly alone, there were many, many, many stars surrounding it, keeping it company. 

But it looked so lonely in the night sky, without its sun. 

Yet they can never coexist together at the same time. 

Always engulfing each other, either with light, or darkness. Never appearing together as one in the sky.

For that would be a natural calamity.

You related with the moon, a little bit. 

You were truly alone. 

You can never be together with the person you considered the sun in your life. 

You knew you had your parents, your siblings and everyone, though you loved them, you felt like an outsider, at least Jace had the opportunity to know who his real father was, you one the other hand, did not. 

Maybe it was just your insecurities getting to you, you have always ignored feelings such as this, but ever since you returned to kings landing, it almost feels like everything is falling apart. 

You bring your hands up behind your hair, before undoing the braids, causing the hair to curl slightly before it falls on either side of your face, the night breeze hitting your face gently, wind blowing through your strands, lightly pushing them back. 

You closed your eyes in content, taking a deep breath, one you desperately needed, after what happened. 

You’d have to face him when you have to break fast in the morning.

And It was making you anxious.

#CF&BD #aemond targaryen x reader #crimson flames and blue desires #crimson flames & blue desires #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #dark!aemond targaryen #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!fic #dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond x fem!reader #aemond angst #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #dark!hotd #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #MAE:DARK!CONTENT #tw: dark content #tw: dark themes #tw: violence

[shijiujun]

WHY YOU SHOULD WATCH 莲花楼 MYSTERIOUS LOTUS CASEBOOK

Guess I’m back for another rec, you know I’m there when I get minimum two bromance dudes and historical and OOMPH if you liked The Blood of Youth this might be up your lane!! Slightly similar main character premise but super good, the trope never gets old!!

TL;DR

- Stupid disciple + his (unknowing) shifu - Enemy bros “where is my shixiong’s remains?!” + “defeat me and find out” vibes who have to work together and form their deep friendship and get past misunderstanding and mystery blah blah love it - All-powerful legendary swordsman losing all his powers and becoming a legendary physician - Everything is about dead shixiong we don’t even know how the man looks like - Investigations and jianghu shenanigans, cases!!!  - Uwu puppy dog and good in martial arts disciple and his sickly, ex-legendary and still cool shifu who doesn’t know he’s a shifu LMAO - Yes uwu bromance, especially cuz shifu is DYING and he is WEAK and he gonna spit out blood and faint everywhere as they find cure for him 

-----------

AIRING DEETS

Total episodes: 40

Premiered on: July 23

VIP ends: August 18

Can be watched from iQiyi

Airing schedule: 6 episodes on the first day, 2 episodes everyday after for 6 days, then 8 episodes a week except for the last week, that has 6 episodes with finale

SUMMARY

Ten years ago, Li Xiangyi who was master of Sigu Sect, challenged Di Feisheng, master of the Jinyuan Alliance, to a fight on the seas, where they both end up critically hurt as Li Xiangyi tries to find out where his shixiong’s (Shan Gu Dao) corpse and bones went - his sect was attacked on the same day, and when he returns to the sect, critically injured, he sees some of his deputies blaming him for the attack, and instead of going in, he disappears after that.

Ten years later, Li Xiangyi is now Li Lianhua (Lotus Li LMAO) and he’s an eccentric but skilled doctor who has his eyes on earning money. By chance, he meets Fang Duobing (Fang Many Illness LMAO), a young, aspiring detective who’s super skilled in martial arts, but he’s been unable to enrol in Bai Chuan Yuan (the past Sigu Sect), a sort-of sect that plays an enforcer role in the pugilistic world and helps to solve cases, arrest wrongdoers, and the like. Fang Duobing’s dream is to get in, but as he’s the only son of two powerful people who’ve been refusing to let him be part of Bai Chuan Yuan, he’s failed the test 3 times despite being the most-skilled one there. On his third try, however, he tells the four masters of Bai Chuan Yuan that his shifu is Li Xiangyi, a Li Xiangyi who used to be a part of Bai Chuan Yuan and is still greatly missed by the four masters. They agree to it, but only if FDB solve three cases with arrests.

His first case leads him to meet LXY who’s now known as Li Lianhua, and their meeting doesn’t go off to a great start; FDB is idealistic and a rich, wealthy young master at heart who’s never suffered much hardship, and LLH drugs him after and scolds him for being too trusting of people and being too obvious, going around with two servants. LLH leaves him with parting words, only to meet him again later at the scene of the crime.

They solve cases together from there; LLH is still looking for his shixiong’s body ten years later, and decides to solve cases with FDB as a guise to get closer to the truth, making use of FDB slightly. Later, Di Feisheng recognises him, and the three of them are forced to become allies/friends to uncover a greater conspiracy. The clock is ticking for them as well, as Li Xiangyi was poisoned and injured ten years ago, and was given only ten more years to live. The story begins in the year that he’s meant to die.

*Fang Duobing met Li Xiangyi when he was young and still sickly, and Li Xiangyi encouraged him, and Fang Duobing held onto his every word and suffered a lot to become healthy again and as skilled as he is today, all because Li Xiangyi said those words to him that year ;-;

WHY YOU SHOULD WATCH

(1) Fight scenes are GREAT 

- Water water water

- All female sect?!

(2) Bromance, subtle for now, but greater later I assume - ZENG SHUNXI’S FACE HE SO PUPPY BLURBLUR AND SMILING?! AND CHENG YI SMIRKING?! Like Fang Duobing is just wagging his tail and running after a person he doesn’t know is truly his shifu as he claims LOL

(3) Shifu Li Xiangyi not knowing he was shifu to Fang Duobing

(4) Li Xiangyi being the reason for Fang Duobing to EXIST but Li Xiangyi ain’t around anymore (not) and he sad and Li Xiangyi can’t tell him who he is UWUUUU

(5) Familiar faces hehe if you are a SNGX/The Blood of Youth and SHL fan 

(6) CASES ARE INTERESTING!!!

#mysterious lotus casebook #莲花楼 #lian hua lou #Zeng shunxi #cdrama #cheng yi #li xiangyi #fang duobing #cdrama rec

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

(you) on my arm

Summary: On the eve of Kit’s wedding, she announces that she’s leaving Tir Asleen for good. You’ll do anything to convince her to stay, even if your class difference forbids it.

Pairing: servant!reader x princess!kit tanthalos

Contains: enemies to friends to lovers, mature language and content, smut, oral sex (both receiving), light gagging, medieval roleplay, forbidden intimacy, mutual pining, dom!kit, switch!reader, 18+, MDNI

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Based on the song “(You) On My Arm” by Leith Ross. I’ve had this idea for a while, it feels SO good to get it out! Also, we need more Kit Tanthalos smut, why am I starving here??

Your relationship with the princess of Tir Asleen was… interesting to say the least.

You knew what you were in for when you were hired to work as a castle servant. Kit sort of had a reputation for teasing the “help,” and you saw it a lot with one of the kitchen hands whom she often referred to as “muffin girl.” It’s not that you had a problem with the kitchen hand in question, it was just that she never really spoke up for herself, instead opting to sit back and let it happen. You, on the other hand, were much more fiery and quick-witted.

One day, you passed by Kit in another sword sparr with Jade while you were fetching water from the castle well. You hadn’t had much combat training outside of stick fights in the woods with the other village children in your youth, but even then you could tell that Jade was so much better than Kit. It was comical, really, especially considering how it was well known that the princess always won against combat with the knight.

Their fight took away from your attention long enough for you to lose your footing on a misplaced rock and trip, spilling the buckets of water you were holding all over the slick gravel. You cursed, knowing you’d have to walk all the way back to the well to fetch more.

The commotion caused Kit and Jade to drop their swords momentarily and look in your direction. Kit recognized you from the castle staff and smirked, an insult forming on her lips.

“Feeling thirsty, maid?” She called out. “In the future, I’d appreciate it if the castle’s water supply wasn’t compromised the next time you decide to drool over me and my incredible sword skills.”

Anger bubbled inside you while the cocky princess snickered at her own joke. You turned to see Jade rolling her eyes, which made you feel a bit better. Taking a deep breath, you faced Kit and flashed her a sickly sweet smile.

“Of course, your highness. I’ll make sure to keep your ‘incredible sword skills’ in mind the next time I’m patching a tear in your clothing after a spar with Jade.”

Kit’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening and her face flushing a new shade of crimson. Jade dissolved into a fit of laughter, not used to seeing the princess of Tir Asleen being put in her place. All Kit could do was stand there, embarrassed, and gape at you as you picked up the buckets and turned away to walk back to the well.

After the initial wave of confidence from your interaction had dialed down, you began to realize how easily Kit could get you fired. She was the princess after all, she could have anything she wanted at the snap of her fingers, and she knew that. The next couple nights, you laid awake in the servant chambers, and wondered if tomorrow was the day Kit would complain to Sorsha and have you promptly removed from the castle.

But the day never came. You would pass by Kit in the halls, and while she would always purposely avoid eye contact, she never seemed to harbor any ill intents. About a week or so later, she hit you with another taunting remark, and you fired one back out of instinct. This time, instead of getting embarrassed or angry, Kit simply shot you a side-eyed smile and walked away.

Since that day, your relationship with the princess of Tir Asleen was permanently altered into something Kit had never had with one of the palace hands. She would come at you with a quick remark, and you would respond with a sly taunt, or vice versa. Witty one-liners soon turned into full conversations, and your snarky dynamic began to blossom into a genuine friendship.

You had to admit, Kit had her qualities. Sure she was arrogant, stubborn, hot-headed, and a little selfish, but she was also funny, fearless, free-spirited, and… insanely pretty.

No doubt about it, Kit Tanthalos was hot. You’d never tell her that of course, her ego was inflated enough. Besides, her knowing you were attracted to her would surely give her ample ammo she’d use to tease you.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Kit thought the same about you. You weren’t a princess by any means, but your smooth complexion and gentle features made you a bit of a catch. Class differences aside, was your crush on the next heir to the throne so outrageous?

Stolen glances while passing each other in the hall only furthered your delusions. You swore you could see something in Kit’s eyes that was more than platonic, maybe even some sort of longing. Still, you had no way to be sure, so you opted to keep it to yourself.

Now, you stood in Kit’s room, folding her laundry while she was attending a ball downstairs. You weren’t invited of course, not that you really wanted to go anyway since this was the ball announcing Kit’s engagement to the Prince of Galladoorn. When Kit first told you about her engagement, you felt sick, anger and jealousy flooding your mind. But Kit seemed to just shrug it off, which meant she’s either completely avoiding the situation or has fully accepted her responsibility as heir to the throne.

Knowing Kit, you were pretty confident it was the former.

You scowled at the wedding dress laid out for tomorrow’s festivities. A part of you wanted to kick it under the bed, or take it in for cleaning and “accidentally” lose it. But you knew these actions would have serious consequences, so you stuck with shooting dirty looks to the garment from across the room.

While you were on the floor putting clothes away into Kit’s storage chest, you suddenly heard some commotion outside the door. Your ears perked up, trying to make out the muffled sounds. The voices of Kit and Sorsha were easy to make out, but they sounded angry, as if they were in some kind of fight.

“A petulant child who needs to grow up.”

Sorsha’s voice pierced through the door, followed by Kit’s muffled arguments, and then furious footsteps disappearing down the long corridor. Silence echoed throughout the bedroom before Kit threw open the door and stomped inside, not noticing you mostly hidden behind the foot of her bed.

Not wanting to alarm the princess, you decided to keep your presence unknown, Kit was angry enough as is. She picked up a pillow and punched it, before sitting on her bed and holding her face in her hands. The sound of her quiet sobs reverberated around the bedroom.

At this point, you felt as though you were infringing on the princess’ privacy. You were about 99.9% certain that Kit would never show this level of emotional vulnerability if she knew someone else was in the room. You slowly started to lower the lid to the now fully replenished storage chest, closing it with a dull thud.

Kit jumped at the sudden noise and whipped around, ready to yell at whoever had trespassed. Instead, she saw you standing there sheepishly, and her eyes softened.

“Oh, it’s just you.” She muttered, lowering her head again.

You rang your clammy hands in front of you. “Sorry, I was just putting away your laundry. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

Kit said nothing in response and continued to stare at her lap. The tear stains painted on her cheeks reflected against the room’s soft candlelight, making them impossible not to notice. Your heart lurched, seeing her in this state was killing you. Despite how uncomfortable you felt, your caring nature overtook and you cautiously moved towards Kit.

“Are you alright, Princess?”

Kit let out a shaky breath. “Jade is leaving.”

A thick silence hung in the air as you didn’t want to interrupt. Kit continued. “She’s going to train with the knights of Galladoorn.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, moving to sit next to the princess and lay a gentle hand on her back.

The only sound in the room was your hand scratching against the smooth material of Kit’s ball gown. Kit was sitting next to you, perfectly still on the edge of the bed, with a blank expression on her face. If the situation wasn’t so heavy, you might have found it kind of peaceful.

Suddenly, Kit jumped up, startling you and accidentally knocking your hand back down. “Kit, what are you…”

“I’m leaving.” She announced before grabbing a knapsack from the corner of her room.

You were speechless, unable to process what she said. “Leaving? What do you…”

Kit cut you off by throwing open her wooden storage chest, rapidly throwing clothes over her shoulder. You rolled your eyes in annoyance. “Kit! I just folded those!”

“Well I’ll need clothes wherever I’m going, right?” She shot back, messily stuffing the garments into her knapsack.

She was beginning to scare you, so you tried to reason with her. “Kit, you’ve had a rough night, you’re not thinking clearly…”

“No! No, I’m thinking clearly for the first time in my whole life.” She interrupted.

“If you were thinking clearly, you would know that running away…”

“I’m not running away!” She finally stopped packing and turned to look at you, a somewhat crazed smile on her face. She grabbed your upper arms and pulled you in close, staring at you intently.

“I’m looking for something. It’s not here. It’s out there, somewhere, waiting for me. I have to find it.”

She squeezed your upper arms and let you go, returning to finish packing. You were stunned. Thoughts of what life in the castle would be like without her flooded your mind. You wanted to stop her. You wanted to talk her into staying. You wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, screaming that she was the most selfish person you’d ever met.

Instead, you stood frozen and helpless, watching the princess you grew to care for set to leave. A single tear rolled down your cheek as you managed to barely choke up a few words.

“I wish I’d had a chance to walk with you to parties.”

Kit froze, finally pausing her packing and glancing in your direction. “You mean the balls? Because they’re really not as great as you’d think…”

“I’d wear a dress, and walk in with you on my arm.” The tears started to pour down your face. You avoided eye contact, too ashamed to look at her.

Now Kit was really confused. “So… you want to dress up and go to a ball? Is that what this is about?”

“I don’t care about the stupid balls, Kit!” You exclaimed, now full on sobbing. “I don’t wanna go to a ball! I wanna keep cracking jokes with you in the corridors. I wanna keep stealing glances in the hallways. I wanna get you some pretty little thing and tell you how good it looks on you. I wanna watch you pick out your clothes in the morning and compliment your taste… and then make a snide remark about something. I don’t know what it’d be, but you’d smile and fire something back like you always do. I wanna do all these things with you. I can’t do that if you leave!”

You continued to sob, choking on your tears and struggling to breathe evenly. You felt pathetic, and part of you was ashamed to be confessing all of this to the princess. The other part, however, figured you’d already shared this much, you might as well share everything.

Kit stared at you, wide eyed and shocked. When she told you she was leaving, this was the last reaction she had expected. She took a step towards you. “Hey…”

“I’m in love with you, Kit!” You practically shouted over your shallow breaths. “I didn’t try to be but I am. I know I’m just a servant girl and I’m not a countess or a princess or…”

You were cut off by Kit grabbing your face and pulling you close until your foreheads touched. Your breath hitched and your heart beat faster, but otherwise the closeness seemed to calm you down. It was like the world had stopped, and everything disappeared. You and Kit may as well have been the only two people on earth.

“I don’t need you to get me pretty little things.” Kit started, your name ghosting over her lips. “You are my pretty little thing.”

Kit lifted your chin and crashed her lips against yours. Your body tensed as you were completely taken by surprise, but you soon wrapped your arms around her neck and sighed into the kiss. Her lips were soft, and tasted faintly of falernian wine.

She pulled back to allow you both to catch your breath. You gasped into each other's mouths, the bittersweet smiles you wore offsetting the tear stains that still sat on both of your cheeks.

“Kit, I…”

“Shh it’s ok, pretty girl.” She whispered as she ran her thumbs over your cheeks.

It was at this moment you realized that Kit was still in her ballgown. You knew she had a general distaste towards feminine clothing, instead leaning more towards a masculine look, but you thought it looked nice on her. The silky fabric felt nice against your skin, and you couldn’t help but notice how low her neckline dipped to expose a decent amount of her cleavage.

You pressed your lips to meet hers once again, subtly moaning upon impact. The two of you started inching towards her bed, almost subconsciously as neither of you could tell who started it. Kit bent to lay you down on her duvet and pulled away to meet your eyes.

“Is this ok?” She asked in a low voice.

You nodded, reaching around to pull at the strings on her back that were fastening her dress. She let you, staying perfectly still until you untied the last knot, and then helping you pull it down to a pool around her feet.

Your eyes traveled down Kit’s body, now covered by nothing but a corselette and short braies. She crawled onto the bed to hover over you again, her lips meeting yours once more. Her hands brushed over the side of your torso, before traveling up to lightly squeeze at your breast. You shivered, allowing a whimper to escape from your lips and dissolve into Kit’s mouth.

Kit pulled away from your kiss to latch onto your jaw and gently suck. You gasped, involuntarily bucking your hips against her, causing a smirk to appear on her face. She slowly began to pepper kisses down your neck, to your collarbone, until she reached the only bit of exposed flesh near your bosom that wasn’t covered by your dress. Her big blue eyes stared up at you as she rolled your flesh between her teeth and listened to your whimpers grow desperate by the second.

“Talk to me, honey.” She mumbled, slipping a hand underneath the skirt of your dress and resting it on your thigh. “Tell me what you want.”

“Kit…” you sighed, breathless. She didn’t budge, instead moving to soothe the mark she gave you with her tongue. You groaned, both out of pleasure and because you knew the other servants would almost undoubtedly notice the mark and give you quite the ribbing.

“Use your words, pretty girl.” God, it was like she knew just what to say to make your brain short circuit.

“T-touch me…” you managed to sputter out. “Kit… please.”

An accomplished grin spread across Kit’s features as she lifted the skirt of your dress until there was nothing to cover you but your pantyhose. You gulped, not used to being this exposed, especially in front of the Princess of Tir Asleen. Kit’s fingers wrapped around the band of your pantyhose, looking up at you for approval. You lifted your hips, and she slid them down your legs with ease, tossing them over her shoulder as soon as they reached past your feet.

Kit stared at your naked cunt, your arousal shimmering in the candlelight. She dragged two fingers through your folds before taking them both in her mouth, moaning at your taste. You had to bite your lip to keep from crying out her name, for fear of being heard by any passer-byers.

Upon first taste, Kit knew she needed more of you. She dove into you, encircling your clit with her tongue. There was nothing you could do to stop the primal groan from escaping the back of your throat, causing Kit to pull away and place a gentle hand over your mouth.

“Shh, pretty girl. Gotta be quiet, yeah?”

You gazed at the way your juices dripped down her chin. The sight was so erotic you barely even registered that she was talking to you, focusing solely on how your arousal glistened on her puffy pink lips.

She noticed the skirt of your dress was still bunched around your waist, and lifted up the hem until it was hovering above your lips.

“Open for me.”

You parted your lips, and Kit stuffed the bottom of your dress into your mouth, the linen cloth working to muffle your moans. She smiled at you, taking pleasure in seeing you gagged. “Such a good girl.”

Kit dove back in between your legs, swiping her tongue through your slit while gently holding your legs apart. Your head fell back on the bed while suffocated moans vibrated around the linen cloth. At this point she usually would’ve stopped to ask how you were feeling, but she took your pleasured whines as approval enough and kept going.

Your abdomen began to tighten, a sensation you were all-too-familiar with from a couple late-night solo dalliances. Your whines grew louder, more desperate as your jaw clenched harder on the linen fabric.

“Kith…” you groaned, trying to warn her through the cloth.

She nodded, keeping her head between your legs. “I know honey. Let go for me, yeah? You can do it.”

Her hot breath tickling your cunt while her tongue engulfed your clit only quickened the speed of your release. Your hips sputtered, chasing her greedy tongue and painting her features with your arousal. Kit could tell how close you were, and shot you a smug smile before gently squeezing your inner thighs, forcing your body into overdrive with a minimum amount of effort.

Your orgasm crashed over you like ocean waves on an island shore. The pleasure rippled through your body, forcing your knees to shake and your head to roll. You arched your back and rocked your pussy against Kit’s face, desperately trying to get as much out of your climax as possible.

Her voice echoed around the room and disappeared into the night air. “That’s it. Doing so good. So pretty like this. I knew you could do it. So good for me.”

After a moment or two, your hips slowed and your breathing evened as you came down from your high. A final moan ghosted your lips when Kit ceased her movements, lifting her head up to look at you with arousal still glazed across her mouth and chin. She licked her lips, making sure to get every drop, and helped you take your dress out of your mouth.

You laid on the bed, hair splayed across the duvet as you tried to catch your breath. Kit moved to sit next to you, smiling down at your collapsed state. “Feel better?”

“That was…” you sighed, at a complete loss for words.

You turned your head towards Kit, her lap sitting at your eye level. Even though you were still a little woozy, you could have sworn Kit’s braies had a small wet patch just between her thighs. Wanting to test the waters, you lifted your hand and grazed it over her thigh, watching her eyelids almost droop shut, and an involuntary sigh escape from her parted lips.

In the search for your own pleasure, you had almost forgotten about Kit’s.

A new wave of confidence washed over you, and you sat up to face your princess, a wicked idea popping into your head.

“Your highness… might thou please allow me to return the favor?”

Kit stared at you, confused by the unusual formality of your words until she noticed an amused glimmer flash across your eyes. Immediately understanding and falling in with the roleplay, she grabbed your jaw with one hand and pulled you close.

“Good little maids know how to serve their princess.”

A shiver managed to travel down your body before she kissed you once more, the faint taste of your juices still lingering on her lips. You pulled away and stood her up, untying her corselette and pulling down her braies, tossing them over your shoulder.

Kit was now standing in front of you, every inch of her completely exposed. The dim light from the candles danced across her bare skin as your eyes traveled down her body. You wrapped your arms around her neck and kissed her, trying to get as much of her up against you as possible.

You pushed her to sit on the edge of her bed, leaving frantic kisses down her body until you dropped to your knees in front of her. Her legs spread to give you access, and you wasted no time immersing your face to explore her already soaking wet folds. Kit wasn’t quite as vocal as you were, but her low curses and frantic grabs at your hair let you know you were doing a good job.

Kit’s feverish bucking soon picked up the pace, already so close from watching you get off at the hands of herself. You thought about stopping to tease her while she was in her desperate and needy state, but decided against it. Instead, you attached your lips to her swollen clit, flicking it with your tongue while your hand reached up to pinch one of her erect nipples.

A primal moan escaped from the back of Kit’s throat as her climax hit her all at once. She threw a hand over her mouth, muffled curses filling the bedroom while her hips bucked and sputtered helplessly against your face.

You looked up at her after her breathing evened and she settled down, your big doe eyes making an exaggerated expression of innocence. “Was that alright, your highness?”

Kit smirked, rolling her eyes at your insistence to continue the roleplay. “Yes, maid. Thank you for your service. If I need you again, I shall ring the bell.”

Practically snorting at Kit’s blatant sarcasm, you playfully smacked her leg, making her laugh. She fell back on the bed, motioning for you to lay your head on her chest before she wrapped her arm around you, fingers brushing through your disheveled hair.

A comfortable silence filled the bedroom, the only sounds heard were your hands on Kit’s chest and the faint brushing of her fingers through your hair. As wonderful as this night was, you couldn’t let go of the burning question that still lingered in the air.

“Kit?”

“Yes, pretty girl?”

Your heart melted at the nickname, making you dread the next question even more.

“Are you still going to leave?”

Kit sighed, and let go of you to stand up and get dressed. She stepped over her ballgown still lying in a heap and opted for some more traditional masculine attire. She refused to look at you, refused to answer your question.

“Kit?”

“I have to leave.” She answered bluntly.

You felt your heart sink to your feet, and tears well up in your eyes. You actually thought she’d change her mind, thought that you meant something to her. After everything that just happened, she’s still leaving?

“Oh…”

Kit paused, swallowing before her next words. “Of course, I’ll have to be armed…”

You nodded, still staring at your lap, only half listening and not understanding.

Kit stepped in front of you, and lifted your chin to meet her gaze. “I want you to come with me.”

You froze, breath hitching in surprise, and your eyes widened at the suddenly vulnerable princess in front of you. “W-what?”

“I want you to come with me.” Kit repeated. “There’s something out there for me, I can feel it, but I don’t wanna find it without you. Think about it. On the journey, I can hunt, and you can cook. When we get to wherever we’re going, I don’t have to be a princess anymore, and you don’t have to be a servant. We can just… be. I don’t know exactly where we’re going, but I know wherever we go, I want to have you on my arm.”

You stared up at her, your brain still processing her question. She smiled at you, slightly apprehensive for your answer, and held out her arm for effect.

“I’d be better armed, if you agreed to take it.”

#kit tanthalos #kit tanthalos x reader #kit tanthalos x reader smut #willow #willow 2022 #ruby cruz #ruby cruz x reader #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader smut #hazel callahan #fanfic #songfic #leith ross #lesbian #sapphic #smut #reader smut #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers

[happyhauntt]

la vie en rose — sirius black.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: it's just a regular tuesday in july until an escaped convict appears in your kitchen. oh, and he happens to be your ex.

─── pairing: sirius black x reader.

─── warnings: set in prisoner of azkaban. mentions of death (canon characters.) swearing. there will probably be a part 2 at some point.

─── word count: 1.8k.

     IT IS THE SECOND TUESDAY IN THE MONTH OF JULY, and you have a bad feeling.

     It comes with no warning, not heralded by a black mood or a grey, rainy sky, no creeping sensation lingering like a ghost at your back, causing the hair on your neck to stand on end.

     The sun is shining high in the sky. Residents of the little village huddle together at tables in the beer garden, tucked beneath huge umbrellas charmed to prevent sunburn. The summer holidays started a week ago, so there are no students milling about; only families you have known since birth, grizzled faces and smiling ones, long beards tied back in the heat, witches who have swapped out their usual pointed hats for wide-brimmed ones.

     It is hot and bright, someone has set the communal barbecue to work grilling burgers; there are drinks to be had, someone is calling for a round of firewhiskey shots, and all-in-all, it is the sort of day you dream of when you think of summer at the Three Broomsticks.

     There is no reason at all to have a bad feeling, and yet...

     It came over you like a wave the moment you woke up. Your room had already been almost unbearably warm, light spilling through the crack in the curtains, and a distant, suspicious buzzing that you suspected must be a bug that had come in through the open window in the night, but you'd had no time to dwell on it.

     The feeling had crashed into you, dark and sickly. It had stayed, even through a chilly shower and a round of French toast for breakfast, settling over you like a blanket made of stone. It was heavy, and you hated it.

     You hadn't felt this way in years.

     Aunt Ros had noted it the moment you got into work, sneaking through the back door with a face like thunder. If there is anything anyone knows about you, it is this ━ you have a concerningly happy disposition. In spite of everything you endured in your youth, or perhaps because of it, you’ve been known to flutter about the pub as if you’re living on a cloud, able to draw a smile out of even the grumpiest patron.

     Your past is a bleak stain on your life, and it is something you know you’ll never be able to scrub clean. Nor would you want to. No matter the sins of the people you once loved, or the graves where you’ve laid the remains of your heart, you cannot erase them. It would be such an injustice.

     The world is a shitty enough place, anyway, but that doesn’t mean you have to be.

     Today, though, it seems the world has got its grubby hands all over you, because it feels utterly impossible to shift this mood. Aunt Ros had frowned at you the moment you stepped into the back room. She’d tutted before you’d even had the chance to hang your bag on the hook, squinting over the thick frame of her glasses.

     “Did a gnome manage to get into your greenhouse again, or is somebody dead?”

     You’d huffed at her. “Neither.” You hadn’t had a stray gnome in your greenhouse for two years, and the perimeter spell you’d put on it would fry the little bastards if they dared to try. And as far as you’re aware, nobody is dead. Nobody new, anyway.

     Your heart had twinged a little, the way it always does when you think of your old friends.

     “Haven’t read the paper this morning, yet, then?” Aunt Ros had looked away from you, her voice taking on a peculiarly high pitch. She’d begun to fuss with a stack of unwashed glasses from the night before, drawing out her wand to cast a spell to start the washing-up.

    You’d paused. Alarm bells began to ring in your mind. “What’s happened, Aunt Ros?”

     “Better see for yourself, love.”

     You’d skirted around her and headed into the office. A copy of today’s Daily Prophet had laid open on her desk. The usual mess of paperwork had been shoved aside, and the headline had glared up at you in stark black and white.

     SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN!

     The floor had suddenly felt horribly unsteady beneath your feet. Your hand darted out to grip the edge of the desk, and you’d found yourself thanking every deity you could name that you’d come into the pub through the back door today.

     You’re certain every single one of the patrons huddled in the next room wouldn’t hesitate to stare at you. Or worse, want to talk about it.

     As if you have anything left to say that hasn’t already been said a hundred times over.

     Your ex-fiance’s mugshot graces the front page. It’s a recent one, clearly, and you’d swallow back the bile that rises in your throat at the sight of him.

     “You should go home, love.” Aunt Ros had followed you into the office. “Take the day off.”

     There’d been little point in arguing. Madam Rosmerta’s stubbornness is unrivalled, she’d been the landlady of the Three Broomsticks for at least a decade now, and besides, there’s very little to say. Her gaze had been dark and filled with pity, but an edge of vitriol had crept in when she glanced at Sirius Black’s picture.

     Her feelings about your ex are clear. Exceedingly so. You’re the only one who ever believed his innocence, and everyone knows that.

     So you’d folded up the newspaper and tucked it beneath your arm, retrieved your bag from the hook and retreated through the back door without argument. Now you keep your head down as you weave through Hogsmeade’s narrow streets on the way back to your little cottage. The sun beats down against the back of your neck. You swear you can hear people whispering as you pass by.

     The sight of your garden, with its neat little rows of marigolds and pink roses and tufts of lavender waving in the warm breeze, offers more relief than you thought was possible.

     Flowers have always had that effect on you. Even during the darkest days of the war, even when the aftermath of it had seemed so impossibly bleak, sinking your hands into cool pots of soil had eased your aching soul.

     There’s just something about the life of it all. How, even in the depths of winter, you know that spring will come again. You know the buds will bloom anew. You know that, every year, dead things come back to life.

     Upon reaching the garden gate, with its ever-creaking hinge and rusting iron handle, you cannot help but pause. The front door catches your eye, but for once it isn’t the pretty blue paint you notice, or the bright hanging baskets of geraniums on either side of the door.

     The door is hanging slightly ajar. The paint is chipped around the broken lock, which was certainly not broken when you left for work an hour ago.

     Not again.

     You thought you’d experienced the last of the break-ins years ago. They used to be a regular thing, back when the war first ended. So-called friends of the Potters wielding their righteousness like a blade, even though you’d barely spoken two words to these people at school. Even though not a single one of them could name Lily’s favourite colour, or recalled the name of James’ owl.

     Hypocrites, all of them. Drunk on power and freedom, the freedom that your friends had sacrificed themselves to gain.

     They would break in and curse you, hating you for defending Sirius so staunchly, but how could you not? How could you ever live with yourself if you hadn’t?

     You’d known him. Known Sirius as well as your own mind. Trusted him with your life, your heart, and how could anyone claim he’d done it? How could anyone believe it?

     The aurors had been no help at all. You were an irritation to them, with your constant campaigning for more evidence, for a fair trial, for anything. You were lucky to get them even to file a report about the break-ins, let alone investigate. That’s part of why you had to move, at least in the beginning.

     Living in the shadow of the school hadn’t done you any good, either. All those memories.

     All those ghosts.

     You draw your wand and push the door open, stepping cautiously over the threshold. You’d been a lot softer back then, sweeter than honey and freshly-bruised by the world.

     That sweetness is still inside you. In every smile and chiming laugh, in the way you carry yourself, in the petals pressed against your fingers and the love you hold for the people you’ve lost. It’s still there, undeniably.

     But these days, you’ve got a little more sting, too.

     “If you’re not supposed to be here, I’m going to give you five seconds to leave through the back door!” Your warning carries through the corridors of your seemingly empty house, and as the seconds pass, the tension in your shoulders starts to ease, but then━

     A scuffling noise at the back of the house. Near the kitchen, you think. A clattering sound, as if somebody dropped something.

     You don’t hesitate for a moment longer.

     Wand held tight in your grip, you charge through to the kitchen, a jinx settled on the tip of your tongue as you round the corner, but the sight you find causes your feet to come screeching to a halt in the doorway.

     There’s a man in the middle of your kitchen.

     Now this alone wouldn’t be so alarming, if you had a brother or a boyfriend or if, perhaps, Remus had bothered to reply to any of your letters in the last decade-or-so. but none of those things are true.

     And this man, this man you recognise.

     The years have changed him. He’s more than a decade older than last you saw him, though aged immeasurably by his time in captivity, with dark hair hanging in limp, bedraggled strands just above his shoulders. Ragged prison garb sits loosely on his frame, torn at the edges and smeared with dirt in places.

     There’s a manic look in his eye. Bright and stormy and mad, which is so familiar that your heart stumbles inside your chest the way it did when you were young. He looks just like he did at seventeen and McGonagall would catch them in the kitchens after curfew.

     That boyish innocence paired with the haunted look in his eyes is like a punch to the gut.

     A dish lies in shattered pieces on your kitchen floor, and it takes longer than you’d like for your brain to kick back into gear, but when it does, all you can manage is a peculiar, choked sound.

     There is an escaped convict in your kitchen, after all. Even if he happens to be your ex.

     “Sirius? What the fuck?”

#sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #marauders era fanfic #marauders imagine #sirius black imagine #* chapter update.

[soraphic]

i haven't proofread this one yall be kind:(

the night air was stickily humid,the kind of weather that warranted open windows and skimpy night dresses. the kind that lured a certain spider back into your home,breaking many personal vows to just leave you alone. you had kept the room empty,dark,only dimly lit by the reflective light of the moon casting shadows through the lace curtains you'd left open - an invitation to his presence. it was a way of making him comfortable,even with the colourful chrome shielding his identity,the darkness just made him feel that bit more safe.

your thin sheets had been thrown to the side,only barely tickling your ankles as you watched him. your dark hair strewn over your shoulder,lipstick smudged and the spaghetti straps of your teasingly thin,black nightdress falling over your shoulders.

he breathed deeply,lips parting against the mesh of his suit as you ghosted yours over his. you were used to the retroreflective eyes of his suit,you almost felt as if you could see through them now. like you could see into him,past his physical appearance underneath the mask.

you ran a finger teasingly under the edge of the mask,bunching it around your fingers as you lifted it slightly. his breathing was steady,fingers gripping at your plush hips as you straddled him,giving you unadulterated control over him. you left it to rest just over his nose,revealing his almost paper-thin lips to you,pouted and swollen. you ran a thumb over the dip of his cupids bow,unusually defined. you rubbed gently at the almost lack of stubble decorating his top lip,biting back a smile at how new york city's spider-man was a boyish youth who could barely grow facial hair. your fingers were curled around his jaw,the deep red of your nails mixing with the ghostly pale of his skin,a perfect match to his costume. "what do you look like?" it was almost a whisper,your eyes trained on the big,white of his suit as if you could make contact with him that way.

he breathed deeply,"you know i can't,it wouldn't be--"

"no," you cut him off,leaning to press a wet kiss to the piece of fabric just above his cheekbone,"i don't want you to show me. just tell me."

he was dumbfounded for a moment,wetting his lips as he stared at you. what difference would a description make? after-all,you still wouldn't actually know.

"tell me,spider." you cooed,running your lips along his cheek,"what is it? big,brown eyes?" you moved to press a kiss to the tip of his nose,"a piercing blue?",another kiss to his eyebrow,"green?" you made contact with his eyes,pulling back slightly as if to ask him to answer you.

"brown,the first one."

you hummed at this,continuing to trail your lips toward his ear,wrapping them around the shell over his mask. "my favourite."

your declaration had him almost hopeful. "what about your hair?"

"it's also brown," he started,moving his head to try and chase your lips again,growing bored of you suckling at his clothed ear. "i guess you could say curly."

you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips,just to satiate him for the moment. "just my type,bug."

he let a breathy chuckle pass,one that had your ears pricking and your eyes flicking up to his face,not that you could really see his expression,anyway.

"you got any freaky birthmarks?"

"no." he sounded almost offended at the question.

"scars?"

"not any that you haven't already seen."

you hooked a leg around his waist,teasingly slow as you curled inwards,pulling him toward you. you leaned back on your elbows,making a complete show of the movement and showcasing your accentuated cleavage to him,the straps of your thin nightgown dangerously low.

"easy." he warns,conscious of the blaring city that needed to be patrolled just outside your window.

"what? afraid you might overstay your welcome?" the smirk you wore was sickly,it rattled peter so much he felt like his bones were overheating,pushing any kind of feelings beyond pure,animalistic attraction down before he even had chance to indulge.

"'thought i was always welcome,baby." he said it like a statement,leaning down to slot his body above yours. his right palm was flat beside your head,the dip in the bed causing your body to lay slightly lop-sided,your hip popping just enough to brush perfectly into the palm of his left hand,giving the flesh a soft squeeze.

you dodged his kisses,leaving him to press wet dots to your jawline as he whined beneath you. "don't you have a neighbourhood to be saving?"

"-not when i have a beautiful lady right here who needs my help." he was quick,running a clothed finger through your slick to emphasise his point.

#peter parker blurb #peter parker smut #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman smut #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #marvel mcu #tom holland #tom holland smut #frat!peter #frat!peter parker #𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ #not too sure abt this one

[riizeblr]

omg can you do forced marriage with an age gap w Wonbin, where he is an asshole who works all day and when he gets home he locks himself in his room, he doesn't care that even if you clearly don't love him you are still a nice and innocent wife, you still wait for him all day and when he arrives the dinner is ready and the house is spotless. Your parents taught you from a young age to be a good wife and even though the marriage was arranged and you and Wonbin don't love each other, you are still a good wife. You're always innocently in your teasing little clothes at home, your skirt dancing from side to side and your hips swaying as you rush to open the door for Wonbin when he arrives, you immediately help him take off his coat and ask how his day was, he always answers with monosyllables (if he answers) and just walks upstairs to his room. Wonbin responds with an attitude when you bother him by knocking on the door of his room. Through the door, you tell him that you are going out to the cinema with another man since you and he don't love each other, right? You just have to act like his wife in front of his family! You're tired of doing everything and not getting a single 'Thank you'! Wonbin immediately goes mad and yells through the door that you are not going, he gets even angrier when he opens the door of his room and sees that you are dressed in a pretty dress for another man. Maybe he does like you a little bit, since you are HIS cute little girl... He ended up yelling at you and locking the front door so you don't go out. You are HIS wife and maybe someday he will lose that dumb fear of being hurt so he can love you like a normal person... for now, he will keep acting cold and heartless. Deep inside he is sickly obsessed w you and always fantasies about you and you two finally being happy together ;(

rating: 18+. mdni.

content: forced marriage, age gap

note: not exactly what you asked for

wonbin sees it, the dulling defiance disappearing when you hear the metal lock in place. he sees the glossy sheen in your eyes and the pout that settles on your lips, the drop of your shoulders and the sinking of your chest as you exhale. it draws wonbin’s eyes towards your chest and runs his eyes over the neckline of your dress that lines the swells of your tits. it’s too low, too enticing, too intimate.

it’s wonbin’s turn to exhale, “understand?” frustration laced his words, accompanied by a slight rasp, a result from his sudden outburst moments prior.

your lips part, the anxious marks of your teeth that punctured the flesh along your bottom lip visible to him. wonbin noticed your habit the moment he met you, back when you were radiating with youthful excitement and hope. back when you didn’t know wonbin.

to you, wonbin was supposed to be your savior, for lack of a better word. your freedom. your home life was as bad as wonbin’s had been when he was your age. wonbin would even argue that you had it worse than he did. he knew your parents. their greed and pride leaving a sour taste in his mouth every time he had the misfortune of seeing them.

you, on the other hand, inherited none of that. your light hadn’t dimmed in the slightest over the years. even when you were rushed off with unrelenting holds on your wrists or burned alive with malicious glares, you stayed bright. a perky young thing. smiles and gentle eyes, soft words and even softer voice.

while marriage wasn’t exactly his idea, wonbin wasn’t as angry about it as he thought he’d be. he was sick of his parents’ pestering and if a few signatures on a legal document would get them off his case, wonbin would oblige.

when he found out that it was you, he was taken aback by the lack of complaints and dread that raced through his mind. he would even say he was more uncomfortable than unhappy. in fact, he wasn’t unhappy at all. even that thought alone made him shift.

it was unusual for wonbin to feel that way. but he thought it was inevitable. a cute girl like you would have any man’s heart fluttering. wonbin hated the thought.

wonbin cringes at the thought of you stepping out of the door, cute bag clutched in hand and the skirt of your adorable dress flowing with the wind, another man pulling up to his home to claim his wife. wonbin rolls his jaw. you’re his. you’re wonbin’s and wonbin’s alone.

you look up at him and you close your mouth again, simply nodding. you pause, giving the lock a long look, “I understand.”

wonbin licks his lips, the same discomfort he always seemed to feel around you settling in his chest. he hates it. he hates the instant obedience. the need to please him when he was so cruel to you. he can see you’re upset. your lips may lie but your pretty eyes show it all, something wonbin hadn’t noticed before you had come to live in his home.

wonbin looks you up and down again, the delicate neckline he can look at all day, the flattering silhouette of the dress that draped over you. you’re so tempting. he wants you so much it’s sickening.

despite his discomfort, wonbin knows how lucky he is. such a pretty little wife waiting so eagerly for him, hoping that one day he’ll wander in with loving praise and open arms. he doesn’t, of course, and wonbin truly doesn’t think he ever will, but he lets himself wonder what fantasy you have lingering in your optimistic mind.

what do you want from him? what are you hoping for?

whatever it is wonbin probably wants it, too, but his hardened heart won’t let it happen. wonbin doesn’t think he’ll ever give you what you deserve but he’s too selfish to allow you to find it elsewhere.

perhaps one day he’ll let himself indulge in simple acts of love. ones that border on the line of meaningless and meaningful. he doesn’t think you would deny him by any means. if anything, you’ll be glad he’s giving you anything at all.

he knows you’re craving the exact thing he is. any sort of physical affection and comfort. a bare body against yours, warmth of skin sliding against yours, a wet tongue a little too desperate to mark, cock ready to pierce your untouched cunt. wonbin has let himself think about it too much, cursing himself whenever it did, but it seemed to have the opposite effect as he only began to think about it more.

he found his mind wandering at work, strenuous tasks made tolerable by the image of womanly curves and pretty clothes as you presented the home cooked meals you prepared just for him. your glimmering eyes and supple lips. wonbin’s thoughts never stayed innocent, though. soon enough, you would have his cock shoved inside your mouth, his thumbs smoothing over your puffy cheeks as you drooled all over him, eyes lined with redness and black tinted tears rushing down your face.

wonbin blinks, finding you in the exact same spot, as if you were waiting for his next command. he looks over your shoulder, a lonely plate of steaming food on the table.

he inhales, “good.”

#tw forced marriage #tw age gap #discography ! #feat. wonbin ! #wonbin x reader #wonbin smut #riize x reader #riize smut #riize hard hours #dark riize #dark wonbin #riize #wonbin

[super-clearlysaltybouquet]

The one With The Heat Wave (1/2)

 Part 1/2

Wolfstar x reader      Sirius Black x reader      Remus Lupin x reader      Sirius Black x Remus Lupin      Sirius Black x reader x Remus Lupin 

Established couple (throuple), Hint of possible Poly!marauders x reader to come?

Feel free (after reading) to let me know where you guys would like part 2 to go…

Summary: Reader is very (sexually) frustrated, it’s also far, far too hot out

Warnings: Sexual Content (but no smut…yet)

Some fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

The heat wave started a week ago. And it had been a week since either of your boyfriends had touched you. 

You’re sitting in between them in one of Bins’s history of magic lectures, right at top of the cascading auditorium, both the farthest row away from the ground - and your terribly boring lecturer. Everyone’s breath is coming out in tight puffs and long sighs, and that smell of sweat hangs heavy in the air. 

‘You’d think they’d take pity on us’, Sirius says, aggressively fanning his face. He’s more pink than he should be, and his face is dotted almost entirely in perfectly round baubles of sweat. 

‘Surely this classifies as youth endangerment’, James chimes in from the row below you, and you can almost imagine the steam sizzling up from the top of his head. It’s far too hot, and everyone in the room but the ghost is feeling it. 

‘Didn’t McGonagall say something about a charm on the walls to cool the air down?’, Sirius asks to no one in particular.

‘We’re in bloody Scotland Padfoot, there’s no way she was being serious’, Remus pants, sparing Sirius a glace that somehow manages to be equally sympathetic as it is exasperated. The heat has got everyone on a short fuse. But worst of all neither of the boys have touched you beyond tight chaste kisses, and gentle pats to skin in almost a week. Since this hellfire decided to settle above ground. 

Remus has got his sleeves rolled all the way up. His muscles and vascular veins are more than poking out from his now near-translucent white school shirt. You know some of the Hufflepuff girls two seats over have noticed too, most definitely fanning themselves over more than just the hot air. It’s almost as nauseating. The smell isn’t helping either. The perspiration of the other 30 students in the room pales in comparison to the men right next to you. Their smell, the heavy breathing, and the undoubtedly sticky bodies beside you keep your mind entirely unsettled. Drawing your thoughts helplessly back to nights, and days spent in beds, bathtubs and broom closets. You hear your overworking heartbeat in two places at once, as blood rushes to your head and then all the way back down again.

‘Shhhh quiet, I can’t hear what he’s saying’, you chastise, motioning to Bins, your only hope is distracting yourself long enough to wait out this dry spell.

‘Sweetheart, no one can hear what he’s saying, he’s been mumbling for the last half hour’, Remus says.

‘And even if he wasn’t with the way everyone seems to be breathing like rabid dogs in here that would surely drown him out regardless’, Sirius adds, placing a gentle hand on your exposed thigh. The head rush is instant, like huffing a pack of cigarettes, or being doused in ice cold water. Then Sirius is retracting his hand back to fan his face. Leaving you to contemplate the newfound wetness between your legs. These slivers of contact were all you had to go on over the past week. Light touches, grazes and slip ups here and there. Far too minimal and devastatingly un-satisfying. It made your head spin, and your fingers tingle. You'd put on a brave face, but the waiting game was finally catching up to you.

‘I really don’t feel well’, you say, furrowing your brows together, gripping the wooden chair beneath you tightly. Desperately trying to bring balance to your very out of balance mind and body.

‘You and me both Y/N’, Sirius says under his breath, before turning to take notice of your genuinely sickly state. In an instant he’s fanning you instead, desperately, and with both hands.

Remus turns to look at you, and he isn’t able to hide his concern. 

‘Ohhh, my baby’, he coos, clasping his hands on either cheek to wipe your sweat away. You cross your legs in an instant.

‘Is it all too much for you?’ he continues, and you nod desperately between his hands, gripping onto his wrists to keep them there. It’s strangely counterintuitive. It’s the hottest week the Scottish Highlands have seen, probably ever, and you’re in despair to be touched. When you should really be shrinking away from any skin-to-skin contact. Somehow their attention is your salvation, the eternal cool to the blistering heat. 

Remus leans down to nip at your neck then, stealing a sweet kiss and a quick bite to the skin, soothing it with his tongue. And you fucking moan in your history of magic lecture. You’re reaching delirium, you really can’t be held accountable. Thank Godric, amongst the room full of overheating, whining students it isn’t particularly out of place. But even if someone pulled you up on it, you’re not sure you’d be embarrassed. Sirius’s hand returns to your thigh, gripping much tighter than before, sliding the tips of his fingers ever closer to the hem of your ruffled school skirt. Oh, they've definitely caught on. You start whimpering, practically shaking with need. ‘How about we head back up to the dorm? how does that sound?’, Sirius whispers in your ear, and you nod frantically. Remus is just looking at you, his hands still softly clasping your cheeks. His eyes gone black; pupils widened beyond belief. 

‘Just a reminder, public indecency is a crime’, James quips sharply from the row in front, his body contortioned to look at you from behind him. He sounds more frustrated than he does humorous in his remark, quite out of character for him. You’re not sure how long he’s been watching you three. Lost in your daze. He looks more out of it than he did just a minute ago, and his eyes lock onto yours. His lips are bitten, with sly traces of shredded skin, and he’s most definitely panting, as Sirius put it earlier: “like a rabid dog”. Your two boyfriends glance between each other, subtle knowing smirks gracing their lips.

‘Jealous, Prongs?’, Sirius tests, leaning forward endearingly, so the ends of his longer hair fan over James’s face.

‘Oh fuck off’, James whispers in defeat, and the tinge on his cheeks looks more like embarrassment than a just hot flush - as he turns his head back to face Bins at the front of the hall.

Remus and Sirius keep their eyes on one another for a little while, taking in James’s outburst. Some sort of silent communication takes place between them, and from the way you read them oh so easily you know they’re saying: ‘we’ll talk about that later’. 

Their attention returns to you. ‘How about we head up then, dove?’, Remus says, and you know it’s not really a question. 

‘y-yeah…’, you whimper, moving to stand as Sirius has already hastily packed up all your things on your behalf, slinging your bag over his shoulder. Remus keeps a firm hand around your waist, guiding the three of you out through the back of the lecture hall.

#poly!wolfstar x reader #wolfstar x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x remus lupin #remus lupin x reader