#but perhaps he wanted to do it and needed the push?

[beenbaanbuun]

the ghost - opposites attract universe

in front of the fire stands a broad shouldered man dressed in furs, staring down at your rug as if it means just as much to him as it does you. you don’t recognise him as a friend of your lovers, although it’s possible that you just haven’t met this one yet. you wrack your brain for names they might have mentioned, but each one that pops up in your mind is someone you’ve met before. that means that this man is a stranger.

you want to call out to him, ask him what the fuck he was doing in your home. perhaps you’d grab yeosang’s attention at the same time; the werewolf may be just a few steps behind you, but he is surprisingly unaware of his surroundings. maybe he’d leap into action, chase the intruder out of the house. but then you blink and the man is gone, completely vanished like he’s some sort of…

ghost…

“did you just see that?” you ask yeosang, the werewolf slowly coming to a stop behind you with a strip of jerky hanging lazily between his lips. he really hasn’t been paying attention to much other than the way your hair shines prettily under the dim candles that light the home, so it’s safe to say that he has no idea what it is you’re talking about. he gives you a questioning hum as he rips the jerky with his teeth.

“see what?” his voice is muffled by the meat that he insists on chewing as he speaks. the sound of his lips smacking sends an unsatisfying shiver down your spine, and your mouth tugs into a frown.

“so i guess the answers no?” you scoff, crossing your arms in irritation, “some guard dog you are; i don’t think you’d be able to spot an intruder if he came up to you and gave you a handshake!”

yeosang doesn’t respond to your insult, merely rolling his eyes before tugging you over to jongho, the rug, to cuddle. always so dramatic, he thinks to himself as he flops onto the floor and gestures for you to join him. you do, lying straight on his chest in a way that seems to force all the air out of his lungs. normally, he’d pin you for that, holding you to the floor until you’re promising him to be more gentle through your honestly insulting giggles. though, he finds that with the lack of air in his lungs, it’s rather difficult to flip the two of you over. next time, he concludes before wrapping his tail protectively around your thigh.

a few hours later, you find yourself in the greenhouse with seonghwa, watching the graceful man tend to his plants as he hums out a pretty tune. yeosang is long gone, deciding to take some alone time after listening to you ramble about your most recent interest, book binding, for as long as he could stand to. he gave you some fake excuse of needing to ask hongjoong about something, but you aren’t quite dumb enough to believe that. especially when you watched him walk in the opposite direction of the office you knew your daddy was in.

still, you don’t really mind having your time away from your friend. it gives you the opportunity to spend time with your lovers without the grumpy mutt offering his snarky comments every few sentences.

“hey, seonghwa?” you say, voice lilting with curiosity as you push yourself up to sit on his work bench. there’s a grimace on his face as he watches your thighs press down against the dirt covered wood, the compost and debris no doubt rubbing into the material of your denim shorts. its fine, he tells himself; it’ll come out with a little manpower… hopefully.

“what is it, lamb?” seonghwa hums as he tugs his cotton gardening gloves from his hands and lays them perfectly straight on the table. his fingertips are painted with a deep shake of purple today, done by hongjoong’s fair hands just the night before. as he lays a hand on your exposed thigh, you can’t help but think that the colour looks pretty against your skin.

“do you think ghosts are real?”

the question takes seonghwa by surprise, you can see by the way his eyes go wide and his blinks slow for just a moment or two. he lets out an inquisitive hum, lips pursing slightly as he tries to think of an answer.

“well, i know they’re real,” seonghwa purrs as he gently spreads your thighs, stepping between them so he can look you in the eyes. he’s pretty from this close up—not that he isn’t always pretty—with his wide eyes twinkling and pink lips so beautifully plush. you so badly want to steal a kiss from him, but you also want to know the answer to your question. you hold back for now; there’ll be plenty of time for kissing later. “why are you asking?”

you almost tell him, but just before the words fall from your lips, you hold back. perhaps telling one of your lovers that you saw a man in their living room would be cause for concern. whilst you’re almost entirely convinced that he was a ghost, the only proof you have is that one moment he was there and the next he wasn’t. it’s very plausible that he was just really good at hiding, or maybe he was just a figment of your imagination. if either of those turn out to be the case, seonghwa will worry. you don’t want that, so you keep your theory to yourself.

“i’m just curious, hwa,” you offer him a smile, but you can tell he sees through it. he gives you a low hum, a single eyebrow cocking an question. the fake smile remains on your face, so he lets it go, understanding that he’s not going to get the truth out of you so easily.

“well, what do you want to know, my darling lamb?” he asks, using a long finger to hook some hair behind your ear, “you never know, i might just have the answers, hm?” the same hand settles on your cheek, palm cupping your face like you’re the most precious thing on earth.

you pause for a moment. what do you want to know about ghosts? you’d come to seonghwa with just the one question in mind; did they exist? he’d answered that one with ease and now you’re stuck on where to go next. realistically, you should probably focus on trying to find out whether the man in the living room was one or not; how on earth are you supposed to do that without revealing the truth?

seonghwa chuckles as he watches your expression contort onto one of concentration. it’s adorable, the way that your worry lines look between your brows. the way you tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, the white enamel now lined with the pretty pink gloss you reapplied not too long ago. if he didn’t think you looked entirely too cute like that, perhaps he’d tell you about it so you could wipe it away. for now, though, he’s happy to sit and bask in your sweetness.

“what’s so difficult about thinking up a question?” seonghwa leans forward to place a kiss to the tip of your nose when he finds that he can no longer hold himself back. the grin on his face as he pulls away is wide. “i can think of a million off the top of my head.”

you me face relaxes as he teases you. a deadpan glare is thrown in his direction, but it does nothing to faze him. he’s still watching you like you hold the world in your hands.

“like what?” you retaliate, mock annoyance laced through your tone.

“like,” he pauses for a second, pouting as he sorts through the wide array of cryptid knowledge that’s stored itself in his brain. you can practically see the lightbulb pop up above his head a few seconds later as he lands on something. “how do ghosts come into existence?”

“someone dies?” you shrug, and seonghwa lets out a chuckle.

“yes, but it’s so much more than that, lamb,” he smiles. there’s a hint of amusement in his face with the way the corners of his lips tilt up, but you ignore it in favour of looking into his adoring eyes. they’re mostly pupil, and the way the light bounces off of them causes them to shine like a hunk of whitby jet. you suck in a deep breath as you try to calm your racing heart. it almost aches with how much you love him. “if you died right now, there would have to be some sort of physical remains tying you to the real world; a lock of hair, or a splatter of blood.”

or the skin of an onikuma…

oh…

“jongho,” you mutter under your breath, suddenly feeling your chest grow tight at the realisation.

“your rug?” seonghwa tilts his head, “what about it?”

you gulp down the lump in your throat, letting it sit in your stomach as an uneasy ball of emotions instead. you don’t have the time nor energy to sift through them or unpack each of them individually. you’re so close to reaching the bottom of the mystery you’d stumbled upon; you won’t let feelings fuck it up now.

“he’s a demon,” you say, looking into seonghwa’s eyes for confirmation. he nods, “and hongjoong said demons have human forms too?”

“sometimes,” seonghwa concludes, “the onikuma… it’s probable that he disguised himself as a villager from time to time. it would’ve helped him scope his hunting ground better.”

jongho probably had a human form. that ball of emotions—is that excitement?—grows bigger.

“and if you were to kill a onikuma and, i don’t know, keep its hide as a trophy, would he come back as a ghost? do demons even have souls? do you even need a soul to be a ghost? what exactly is a soul?”

a hand slips over your racing mouth, effectively cutting your rambles short, shutting you up. seonghwa relaxedly sighs at the moment of peace.

“not even i understand the ins and outs of everything, my silly little lamb,” he snickers, a teasing smirk playing on his lips, “but i do think i understand what you’re trying to ask in your odd, roundabout way.” he pauses to slowly pull his hand away from your lips. his actions say that he trusts you to remain silent, the pace he’s going at tells you that he’s prepared to put his hand right back where it was if you start rambling again. it pleases him to see your lips sealed in a thin, annoyed line. he hums in amusement, “you know, your precious onikuma will probably come back if you call for him; ghosts like to know that the living still have a need for them.”

“you think?” you ask. seonghwa presses another short kiss to your lips, barely giving you time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away again.

“i know,” he murmurs, “now, go and talk to your bear; leave me to work in peace!”

——————————————

that’s how you end up back in the living room, cross legged on jongho’s back like you have been so many times before. the fire crackles behind you, filling the otherwise silent room with the comforting sound of burning wood. you take a deep breath through your nose, pushing it out through your mouth as you try and expel the anxiety that’s muddled itself with the excitement in your stomach.

“jongho?” you say, speaking the name given to him by you; his real name remained a mystery to you. there’s a cold blast of air behind you, and your neck twists at a whiplash pace, eyes landing on the fireplace. there’s nothing there but the white-hot logs and the flames dancing back and forth across them. it must’ve been a gust of wind down the chimney or something. nothing to frighten you at all.

you huff out a breath of relief before letting your head twist slowly back around…

“is that me?” a voice says as your eyes make contact with a pair of pupils that sit a little too close to be comfortable. you scramble back, a little squeak coming from your lips as you move away from the figure that has appeared in front of you. you come to a step just a foot or two away, chest heaving at the sudden fright the man had given you. if it weren’t for the mop of fuzzy brown hair that resembled the fur on your favourite rug a little too closely to be coincidence perhaps you’d have screamed for help. “jongho, i mean… is that my name?”

he tilts his head like a confused animal, tugging at the brown fur hide that rests upon his shoulders as if the action brings him some sort of comfort. and as you look into his eyes, you realise that he probably needs it. they’re wet, glittering with unshed tears of confusion and stress. he keeps blinking them away, but they come back almost instantly. it’s no surprise to you when the first one rolls down his cheek. he wastes no time in wiping it away.

“does that upset you?” you ask, cautiously, “that i’ve given you a name?”

he shakes his head vigorously.

“i’ve never had a name before,” he clarifies; the thought makes your chest ache. to be given a name is to be loved and this poor creature has none. no names, and therefore no love. you think for a moment about how long he’s lived with no love, but it only makes it hurt more. he was slain hundreds of years ago, and he was probably alive for hundreds more. your eyes begin to burn so you push that thought deep down inside of you. “jongho is a nice one to have as my first.”

your heart breaks for the creature. you’d have to have a talk with hongjoong later; how cruel of him to let his resident ghost go uncared for for so long.

“it is,” you try not to take notice of how strained your voice sounds, “and its yours; you’re jongho, if you’d like be.

the man nods, although the tension in his body doesn’t seem to seep away just yet. his shoulders are still hunched up by his ears, and his fingers still twirl the fur he’s wearing mindlessly. you find yourself grateful that it’s just you and him; you can’t bear to think how nervous he’d be if there was a werewolf looming over your shoulder.

“and… who are you?” he asks shyly, and you take a moment to think. within a few seconds, you settle on an answer and smile to yourself.

“a friend,” you reply.

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #yeosang x reader #matz x reader #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #opposites attract universe #poly ateez #poly ateez x reader

[pseudowho]

Domestic Bliss: Nanami Kento (feat. Grey/Post-Shibuya!Nanami) #3, Laundry

18+, MDNI

"I'll hang that out," Kento had reproached, pulling the laundry basket from your hands. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. "You promised me iced tea."

He had been out there for half an hour, you thought, stirring a sweating glass jug of amber tea. Jewelled ice and fruit swirled within. Ambling, probably, somewhere beyond the white sheets and cicada-buzz heat of summer. You felt a bead of sweat run down the small of your back beneath your cornflower sundress.

You walked onto the whitewashed porch, setting the jug and two glasses down by your swinging chair. You tried to spot your husband between the parallel lines of laundry, billowing like a ship's sails beneath the beating sun. Perhaps he was somewhere in the overgrowth, ethereal in long wildflowers and meadowsweet? You missed him already-- beautiful man, where are you?

Halfway down the sun-bleached steps, your heart gripped in your throat-- Kento's eye patch, discarded on the grass by the empty basket.

"Kento!" Your voice raised, panicking, all flesh-memory of near-loss, "Kento!" Your feet carried you, bare and running, flinging through white curtains and cotton fluff. Feeling another cry rise from your chest, you stopped between the two lines of laundry; Kento lay on his back in the grass, between them...asleep. His scarred face was soft and boyish with sleep, in the shade.

"Oh," you whispered, kneeling over him, straddling his belly, and smoothing your hand over his scars, "...god, you really are. Beautiful." You felt so serene, watching him rest, so at peace and free of pain. He had reeled you in.

Kento's hand shot up to grasp yours, and he laughed at your squeak; "Got you."

A white sheet caught on his leg as he flipped you onto your back, and settled over you both, hiding you in a dappled pocket-universe of your own. Kento knelt over you, trapping you to the grass and daisies, a hungry glimmer in his remaining eye.

"I was waiting for you," he hummed into your skin, his mouth hot, tasting the sweat off your neck. You sighed into his kiss, your back arching up. His hands explored you with a slow urgency, pulling down the front of your sundress and kneading your breasts, grazing your nipples until they formed sweet peaks.

"...I thought..." you breathed, lost in his mouth travelling down your breasts, and his hands pushing your sundress up to your belly, "...thought...you wanted iced-tea..."

"I do," he whispered, his lips now working at your pussy over the thin cotton of your underwear. He shivered to hear you cry out into the cool, not-quite-dry sheet, "I just think...it needs a little extra something, first." You mewled, your fingers tangling into Kento's hair, to feel his tongue dip inside you.

Only the fat lazy bumblebees and the meadowsweet knew how Kento made love to you in the garden, that day.

#jjk #kento nanami #jjk nanami #pseudowho #Greynami by pseudowho #kento nanami x you #nanami kento #kento nanami x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento smut #nanami headcanons #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami smut #nanami #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you

[eraenaa]

Desperate Requirement

Slytherin Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Hogwarts AU)

Synopsis: It’s hard being horny at Hogwarts. Luckily, you and Aemond always found a way to relieve your needs.

Warnings: Barely any plot; just smut, Mature, 18+, Oral Sex (F & M receiving), Fingering, Handjob, P in V sex, Semi-Public Relations, Shower Sex, Very Horny Aemond, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2,660

A/N: I really wanted to do Aemond in Hogwarts because when I first watched HOTD, I was just recovering from my Draco Malfoy phase.

“Aemond,” You called, voice distracted and heavily laced with pleasure as his lips were on your neck and his cold hands were hiking up the hem of your skirt higher and higher. “We… we can’t do this here,” You called, your hands tangling in his hair, not at all making any move to push him away and hinder where your actions were leading. You were pushed up against the door of one of the many broom closets in the castle. Aemond pulled you in there as you were on your way to your next class. His actions made you completely forget about the spell in charms you stayed up to study the night before. “The professor is still in a meeting… they’ll be late. Why not capitalize on the opportunity?” He said against your skin, his hand going to your waist to pull you closer to him.

Your eyes fluttered to a close as lips returned to suck on your sensitive skin, making certain to leave a mark. Already amused, he thought about which way you would once again hide them. Will you cover them with those pastes you smuggled from the muggle world? Or perhaps will you, once again, constantly wear your house scarf even though the weather or setting did not reacquire it. Maybe you’ll surprise him and be bold enough to show all the marks Aemond intended to give you to mark his territory. 

You sighed as his hands tried to unbutton your shirt; when his cold touch grazed the warm skin of your chest, your sensibilities returned. “I—I can’t be intimate with you here,” You whispered and pushed Aemond away. “Why not? Just earlier today, you were straddling me in my bed so I would not leave,” Aemond mused, recalling the scene that initially made him yearn for you so harshly at this hour of the day. “Well, that was in the privacy of your room! Anyone can walk in here and catch us! A student, a house elf— Merlin forbid, a professor!” You said and tried to push Aemond away but he would not have it. “Please, darling, just…” Aemond whispered, and you tried not to grow soft at the slight tone of begging in his voice. “Aemond,” you sighed as he took hold of your wrist and guided it downwards, making you feel the need in him. 

You moaned quietly as you felt his hard length, proving that he needed you so greatly.  You could no longer restrain yourself as you palmed his length through his trousers, hisses coming from his lips as you pleasured him through the fabric of his uniform. Cold hands found their way to your breasts, kneading the mounds and making you bite your lip as wetness gathered at your cunt. “Aemond… oh, Aemond,” You sighed, tilting your head back as one of his cold hands trailed downward and cupped your heat. His fingers rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves as you continued to palm his throbbing length. Your breathing mixed as your stifled moans and sighs echoed through the broom closet, the both of you reaching your peaks even though your skin had not actually touched. Aemond panted harshly as he spilled himself in his uniform, the spot where his seed gathered turning a darker shade. 

“Scourgify,” you took your wand from your robe and uttered the enchantment. Aemond gave you a lazy smile as his sapphire-colored eye was still hazy from his release. You breathed out a sigh as his lips found yours once more, his tongue teasing your bottom lip and seeking entrance, but you could not be distracted anymore. “We have to go,” You pushed him away and turned to open the door, peeking out your head to make certain that no passerby would see the both of you emerging from the utility room. The both of you reached charms class at the nick of time. Your cheeks flushed, and your neck was covered by your wool scarf even though it was unseasonably warm. Aemond sat beside you, demeanor more lax and a satisfied smirk on his thin lips, and his hand resting on your upper thigh throughout the whole of the lesson. Effectively distracting you from the professor’s lecture. 

You watched Aemond through the whole of his quidditch practice. You savored the way how focused he was trying to catch the snitch. Not missing the stunts he did to impress you nor the suggestive looks he’ll give when he passes you. By the end of their practice, your lip was between your teeth, and your legs were tightly crossed to relieve the need that had gathered in the past two hours of watching him fly around the quidditch pitch. 

You quickly made your way down from the pitch minutes before they dismounted their brooms. You sneaked your way into the locker rooms to wait for Aemond. He was the captain of the Slytherin team, and one of the benefits of that was he had his own private shower stall and dressing room to change in. You bit your lip as you stood in the shower stall, hearing the distant sound of footsteps and chatter from the team. Your breathing hitched as Aemond’s voice was drawing closer, him lecturing one of his teammates about the game, clearly aggravated and frustrated. It would seem this endeavor would serve him beneficially. You bit your cheeks as Aemond’s words died on his tongue as he saw you standing stark naked in his shower stall, waiting for him. 

He waved off his teammate and did not waste a second before wrapping his arms around you and placing his lips against yours. Your heart stuttered as you realized his tense and rugged figure turned putty in your arms, the frustrations you felt oozing from him miraculously disappearing. You sighed as you two were enveloped in the hot water, your lips never parting even though it was a bit of a struggle to breathe. You gasped in shock as Aemond hoisted you on his waist, pushing you against the tiled wall and aligning his length in your entrance. “You wouldn’t let me fuck you in the privacy of the closet, but you would happily let me have my way with you here? In the men’s bathroom, with my teammates just in the distance? How lewd had you become?” Aemond mused as you very slowly sank down on his cock, him making sure to catch every little reaction you would make as your cunt was once again filled by him. 

You whimpered and moaned as you were fully filled by him, Aemond hissing as the tip of his cock rested perfectly in the spongey spot of your cunt. The spot that made your eyes roll back in your head and your back arch. “You have to be quiet, my darling… wouldn’t want to be caught now, would you?” Aemond hummed, his hands gripping your bottom, and his hips thrust to meet yours, your moans spewing quietly into the side of his neck as you buried your face there. “Aemond, what’s taking you so long?” His brother Aegon screamed from the locker room. “Give me a minute!” Aemond yelled but his tone was laced with concentration that made his other teammates suspicious. “Is he having a fucking wank?” You heard one of his teammates ask, and Aemond buried his cock deep inside, his lips continuing his torment on the side of your neck. 

“Aemond… oh, I’m… fuck, I’m coming,” You moaned, dazed by the pleasure he gave. Aemond bit his lip as he moved one of his hands to cover your mouth, already knowing that you were ready to scream when you reached your peak. It truly was flattering for him to hear you scream out in pleasure; his name would always be uttered as you came, but he could not let the two of you be found in such a state. You panted against his hand, dazed eyes watching him tilt his head back as he came deep inside you, quiet groans leaving his lips. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” Aemond sighed and kissed your lips, then your cheeks, as you slowly unwrapped your legs around his waist. The two of you were sweaty from the endeavor, but luckily, the shower was just there. 

“Stop it.” You gritted lowly as Aemond’s hand trailed upward your skirt. You were attending your Defense against the Dark Arts class, but Aemond was determined to distract you from the important lesson. “I need you,” he whispered in your ear as the professor was turned away from the class; you quietly whimpered as he nipped your ear after he whispered the words. “Pay attention; the O.W.Ls are near.” You whispered even though his small action caused you to need as well. Aemond grunted and returned his attention to the lecture, but now you, too, were distracted as well, need pooling between your legs as his hand never left your thigh, only inching higher and higher. 

You bit your lip and raised your hand, excusing yourself to go to the lavatory. “Meet me in the second-floor prefect’s washroom,” You whispered to Aemond after, a sly smirk adorning his lips as you left. You waited impatiently for Aemond to appear, and when he did, you grabbed him by the necktie to smash your lips together. “Hurry, they’ll get suspicious,” You muttered as you two were squished together in a stall. Your fingers tried to undo his trousers, but you frowned as he nudged your hands away, and he instead sank to his knees. “Aemond, what ar—“ You could not finish your thought as he hiked up your skirt and pushed your undergarments to the side so his lips could meet your cunt. 

Moans quickly spewed from your lips, no matter how hard you tried to stifle them. You looked down to see Aemond grinning up at you, his fingers pushing themselves into you. “So fucking wet… you could never resist me, now can you, my darling?” He hummed, then sucked on your bundle of nerves, making you moan louder. “Aemond!” You cried as he curled his fingers, the sound of your wetness and moans echoing through the empty lavatory. “Fuck, you’re so good…” You uttered as you felt your core tighten with the same need for release. His name once again spewed from your lips as you came on lips. You hummed in satisfaction as his lips met yours, tasting your essence on his tongue. 

“You look gorgeous, my darling,” Aemond smiled as he spun you around. The great hall was decorated for the occasion. The Yule Ball was probably your favorite event at Hogwarts. “You look quite handsome yourself,” You smiled as you gazed up at him. You rested your head on his shoulder as you two swayed to the slow tune of the dance, his hand firmly on your waist. You sighed in contentment as you were in the arms of the boy you had loved since your first day in Hogwarts. “Do you want to get out of here?” You asked quietly as the dance floor became more crowded. Aemond was quick to agree and took hold of your hand to escort you out of the great hall, finding an empty carriage so the two of you could enjoy each other’s company in privacy. 

Your lips danced their familiar dance as Aemond’s hold on your waist was threading upwards and nearing the valley of your breast. Your hands moved to rest upon his thigh, but you gasped in shock and embarrassment as the carriage door flew open, a professor catching the both of you. “Ten points each will be deducted from your house. Now go back to the hall,” they sternly said, and you and Aemond hurriedly disembarked the carriage, your cheeks flaming red in embarrassment. 

You returned to the castle, turning to Aemond wide-eyed as he tried his hardest to stifle his laughs. “Don’t laugh! That was mortifying!” You said, but Aemond shook his head and cupped your heated cheeks. “You looked so adorable,” He laughed and gave your lips a kiss. You breathed in deeply as your heart stuttered at the way he looked at you with adoration. “Where do we go now? The rooms are locked, even our dorms,” You sighed as you two stood in an empty hallway. “Here?” Aemond suggested, but you scrunched up your brows at his ludicrous suggestion. You chewed on your cheeks as the need for Aemond was evermore present. “The astronomy tower?” He asked as you rested your head on his chest, your gaze downward, seeing that he, too, needed you badly. “No, it’s too cold,” You sighed and his arms wrapped around your frame. 

All of a sudden, you hear the sound of light debris falling to the ground. Aemond frowned and took out his wand, preparing for an attack. Your brows furrowed as the empty wall in the hallway started to transform. The blank bricks reveal chiseled carvings and, ultimately, a door opened for the both of you. Your lips gaped, and you turned to Aemond, “Did… did we just summon the room of requirement?” You asked in disbelief. Aemond pulled you into the summoned room that housed a bed and fireplace. You were still in shock that you two had found the room that you thought was a hoax, but shock could not be properly comprehended as his lips were on yours again. Your bodies trailed over to the bed as your articles of clothing were tossed to the floor. You sat by the edge of the bed, gazing up at Aemond whose lips were parted as your hand was wrapped around his length. 

You hear him his as your lips wrap around the tip of his length, your eyes still locked on his as you take in his length deeper into your mouth. “Fuck, darling, you look so pretty with your lips around my cock,” Aemond hummed and cupped your cheek, which was hollowed as you sucked his length. You gagged as the tip of him hit the back of your throat, his loudly groaning at the sensation. You continued on, tears spilling at the side of your eyes, “Such a good girl taking my cock,” Aemond praised as he abruptly pulled out of your cock. He, without warning, turned you around and let your stomach hit the soft mattress, your bum in the air as he squeezed them harshly. 

You let out a loud moan as he plunged his length deep inside you, the wetness you had gathered making lewd noises that accompanied your moans and the crackling fire. “You like that? You like it when I fuck you from behind, don’t you, my darling?” Aemond grunted, his hands gathering your hair and lightly pulling it. The pain adds to your pleasure, and it translates to your walls clenching tightly around him. You could only moan as Aemond’s cold hand reached downwards, and his slender fingers started to draw circles upon your nubbin, your moans growing louder. Begging him for release as your knees dug into the soft, feathered bed and your hands fisted the sheets. 

Aemond felt his release coming as well. He momentarily stopped his thrust to turn you around, wanting to see your pretty face as you came undone and as he filled your cunt with his seed. You feel his weight atop you and his lips against yours. “Aemond… Aemond!” You cried as you came hard on his cock. Your lips moved to his shoulders, and your teeth bit down on his flesh, making him groan in pained pleasure, urging him to spill himself inside you a bit earlier than he had wished. 

Aemond collapsed atop your bare body, sweaty limbs intertwined. “Aemond?” You called, trying to catch your breath. “Yes, my darling?” He asked, “I still need you,” You said and heard him chuckle, moving to kiss your lips and moved to oblige your needs once more. 

#aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond modern au #prince aemond #aemond x niece!reader #prince aemond x reader #prince aemond fic #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond x you #hotd fandom #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #draco malfoy #slytherin #wizarding world #yule ball #hogwarts houses

[musingsofanaroace]

Coming Out as AroAce-Things People Say

Here's a list of things people have said to me when I came out as AroAce to them.

It's just a phase.

I can fix you.

Doctor House cured someone who thought they were asexual. Perhaps you just need to see a doctor.

Maybe you just haven't met the right person yet.

Don't worry, you're still young. When you get older, you'll change your mind. (Note: I was twenty-five!)

You just made up this sexual orientation because you want to feel special.

You'll be alone forever.

I'm sure you'll find someone. Don't give up hope!

What do you mean you don't feel sexual and romantic attraction? Everyone does. Maybe there's something wrong with you that a doctor can fix.

Does that mean you want to become a nun?

That's not a real thing. Surely, you're making that up.

How sad. You're so pretty! Is there a cure?

I'll pray for you. I'm sure Jesus can set you on the path of righteousness and make you whole once more. My church meets on Saturdays. Do you want to go with me? The pastor is the kindest soul you could ever meet. I'm sure he could help you.

Oh, you're just scared to date someone. You know, I have a friend who's really nice. Do you want his number?

Are you sure you're not just a lesbian?

What's that? It sounds like the name of a stripper club.

Perhaps if you wore makeup and grew out your hair, you could get a boyfriend. No problem.

How interesting! I never heard of such a thing before. Huh...You learn something new everyday.

That makes sense.

AroAce? What's that? Is it contagious?

That's cool. Do you AroAce people have your own flag? (Blank stare from me.) Sorry, I just really love flags. (I show him the flag.) Wow! It reminds me of the beach.

A isn't for ally? Are you sure? I read on a forum a while back that the A stood for ally. Maybe you got your facts mixed up.

Don't be silly. There's no such thing as an AroAce. Stop making things up!

sister's boyfriend: You're f-- delusional! AroAce isn't a thing. You just can't accept the fact that no one wants to date a psychotic b--. You don't stand a f-- chance of getting a boyfriend until you get some psychiatric help first. (Note: Fortunate for him, I kept my cool and didn't push him down the stairs.)

Well, that's all I remember/have written down. Until next time, take care and stay curious.

#lgbtqia #aroace #aromantic #asexual #aphobia

[shares-a-vest]

Just a Shirt (Read on ao3)

wc: 1.9k | Rated: T | cw: Mild descriptions of Steve's s4 injuries (mostly the scar on his neck), Hospital mention, Brief mention of nightmares

Tags: Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Post s4 Fix-it (Everyone Lives), Hellfire, Fluff and Angst (Happy Ending), Love Confessions, Injury, Cuddling

Eddie makes Steve a customised Hellfire shirt, just for him. Based off this ficlet/headcanon. But the BIGGEST thank you goes to @tangerinesteve (formally babydollbaron) for their incredible tags below. They gave me the biggest and softest brainworms. I hope I did your wonderful ideas justice!

“Here-p,” Eddie mumbles, pushing a too-neatly folded shirt into Steve’s hands.

“Uh, thanks,” his boyfriend hums, quirking a brow in confusion.

Eddie shrugs the whole thing off for good measure because it’s just a shirt – that’s all it is.

... But not really.

Like, at all.

He looks away, avoiding Steve’s gaze. While their relationship isn’t too new for gifts, it might be too fresh for a t-shirt that screams, ‘You are part of me and I can see that you are in pain and I think I can fix it. Nay, I need to make you comfortable’.

Yeah… it’s perhaps a little too premature for something that says all that.

So Eddie looks at the floor, his beige sock blending into the similarly-coloured carpet that lines Steve’s bedroom. His foot really only looks like an actual foot and not a patch of carpet thanks to the hole in his sock that is currently exposing his pinky toe.

It’s just a shirt, he desperately reminds himself as he catches Steve unfurling it out of the corner of his eye.

It’s just a shirt.

A customised Hellfire shirt he made especially for Steve.

One that is two sizes too big, made of the softest cotton and led to an emptying of his wallet to obtain. A Hellfire shirt that has short sleeves and a loose, scooped neck Eddie fashioned himself after borrowing a sewing book from the library. A neckline he sewed on Mrs Pemberton’s machine after crossing the trailer park and answering a slew of questions from an all too inquisitive Max Mayfield.

It’s a Hellfire shirt in its logo only – despite what his friends might think. Or the fuss all his pea-brained lost little sheepie buddies kicked up along the way.

They have been a total nightmare these past few weeks, scheming and plotting and sabotaging like a little hoard of gremlins. But Eddie supposes he can really only blame himself.

He should have never said anything, never asked Gareth for the original master copy of the Hellfire logo he knows his best friend keeps filed away in secret on the rare occasions they let in new members. Or to get new t-shirts printed in instances of spilled beverage-based stain emergencies. But then Gareth of course squealed to Jeff, who teased Eddie mercilessly before blabbing to Freak, who, well… Freaked about the possibility of a jock joining Hellfire.

The shock. The horror! Oh, the humanity!

And then came what was nothing short of a campaign via Dustin, Mike and Will, all collectively working to not only prevent Eddie from something he wasn’t even going to do in the first place but to also create a drama so seismic that rumours got around the whole of Hawkins that one Eddie Munson would no longer be running his little ‘demonic’ social club.

Or at least that’s what Wayne said Ernie at the plant had told him that his son had said.

The only thing is, Eddie feels more than a little sorry for Lucas Sinclair, a kid now sulking around, utterly crestfallen that his favourite Laundry Basket Friend isn’t also secretly a full-blown nerd.

It’s just that Eddie wanted to give Steve a nice, soft, comfy shirt he had hoped he would look at just like he is right now.

Besides, Steve had admitted that he liked the Hellfire logo months back when they first started dating. Told Eddie it was, “So creative, man”, after expressing some mild disappointment that he hadn’t shown up for their first date wearing it.

He smiles at the memory, Steve’s eyes lighting up as soon as he hopped into the Beemer, far too eager to head off to Benny’s Diner that he hadn’t even bothered to let Steve chivalrously walk up to the front stoop of the new and improved Casa de Munson.

“Eddie…” Steve says, his voice just above a whisper and sounding just as soft as the too-important shirt in his grip.

“Don’t worry,” he snorts, “I’m not making you join or anything it’s just… You said you haven’t been sleeping well…”

He gestures with his hand, searching for the right words. Better words that won’t sound so monumental and weighted as Steve’s eyes trail right along the shirt’s scooped neckline.

The hem is probably a little flimsy, but hopefully, Steve won’t fucking claw at it like the old Tigers gym shirt he almost tore in two a few weeks back after bolting upright in a sweat after a nightmare. That is what did it – really set Eddie on his mission. Seeing Steve’s sniffles turn to tears and how he tried to hide them away, shrugging Eddie off before rushing to the ensuite bathroom.

He had come back a few minutes later, eyes red as he hugged his arms across himself, appearing small and frightened but acting cold as ice.

“Yeah…” Steve nods before mouthing what appears to be the word, “soft”, as he balls the fabric between his fingers.

“Hell, I know you haven’t been sleeping,” Eddie continues to ramble, “Just… tossing and turning. Also your… Y’know…”

He gestures to his own neck, referring to the still-reddened scar around Steve’s. One that Eddie knows leaves his throat scratchy and hoarse at the slightest provocation. A mark that nosey townspeople gawk at when Steve is at work, leaving him all embarrassed and well, not like Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington at all.

And Steve hadn’t even told Eddie about that part. Nope. He found out from Robin, who swung by the mechanic one afternoon, inconsolable about her best friend spending their shift at Family Video hidden away in Keith Anderson’s stinky loser palace of an office.

“Mhmm,” Steve nods, pursing his lips.

Eddie knows he isn’t mad – it’s just something his boyfriend doesn’t talk about. That he doesn’t like talking about.

He needn’t ramble anymore, really – fill the silence between them or attempt to explain himself because, in a flash, Steve slips off his tight-fitting navy polo and replaces it with his new Hellfire shirt.

And Eddie can’t help but beam at a job well done.

It hangs nicely. Loose enough to sleep in, but not billowing so much to swallow that physique entirely. The neckline sits just where he had hoped too, much lower than the regular Hellfire shirts, scooped below Steve’s collar bones so that even if it stretches in his sleep, it couldn’t possibly pull and tug at his scar.

It’s perfect.

Exactly what he wanted to give Steve, who looks down at the devilish, very metal logo – a sight that is sure to scare off his snooty parents for good if they ever see it.

Before he knows it, Steve lunges for him and Eddie feels his cheeks squish against his boyfriend’s hands as he is kissed.

And kissed.

And kissed some more.

Kisses that last for long enough and grow softer with every peck that Eddie soon feels his legs buckling and he forgets altogether what they are even doing up here, in Steve’s bedroom, in the middle of the day on a warm summer afternoon.

It’s just the he –

“ – I love you,” Steve smiles when he comes up for air and – 

His eyes blow wide in an instant.

And Eddie is sure his own do too – maybe even pop right out of his goddamn skull with an audible gasp in there somewhere as well as they both fully realise what has just been said.

Steve loves him?

Just the same as he loves Steve. So much that he is blurting it out now, in the middle of his bedroom on a warm, mid-summer afternoon – perhaps months too early when they are probably, most likely still in the honeymoon phase.

All because of one perfect t-shirt.

Steve’s brow pinches together and his jaw goes slack as he looks away.

“I…” he trails off, drumming his fingers on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Stevie...” he tuts, smiling back at him.

He steps closer still, closing any remaining space between them as he loops his arms around his partner’s middle and squeezes him tight.

Eddie backs them a step back, then another. Then another until he is at a safe enough distance to rock Steve back and collapse onto the bed.

They fall with a conjoined, “Hmphf” – one that knocks the wind out of Eddie’s already breathless lungs and has Steve momentarily distracted away from whatever inner turmoil he had going on a moment ago. As he lands on top of his boyfriend, Eddie gets a feel of the shirt, now warmed by Steve’s permanently hot body temperature. A feeling that makes it seem even softer.

Like it is already worn in and loved.

He wants to ball a handful of it up in his fist and never let go.

But Eddie forces himself to sit upright, settling down in a straddled position to hover over Steve’s clothed form. He smiles down at the sight beneath him, his giddiness short-lived and quickly fading as a big, brown and now glistening set of panicked eyes return.

“Stevie,” he whispers, running his hand up Steve’s torso.

He ghosts his fingers with a featherlight touch over the printed logo, an illustration he had first scribbled on the back of his math book in his junior year.

Eddie leans forward and takes Steve’s hands, clasping them tight and one by one, he brings them to rest above his head where his super-soft signature swoop is sticking every which way, mussed by the bedspread.

He can’t help but chuckle a little at the sight – momentarily giving into the greedy feeling he gets when he thinks about how this Steve is the one he gets all to himself.

But Steve frowns, those expressive brows looking positively pained now as if only one thing could possibly soften them.

“I love you too,” Eddie says, freeing a hand to delicately pluck at Steve’s loosened neckline, “Obviously.”

“You do?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods as a visible relief washes through Steve’s eyes, leaving his brows to soften up so much he wonders if his boyfriend might now cry.

And before he can say or do anything more, Steve bolts upright, once again leaving Eddie feeling winded and more than a lot flushed this time as he wraps his arms around him and buries his face in his neck, snuffling close like the world’s cuddliest puppy.

They stay like this for a long while, simply breathing in sync as they hold each other. And soon Steve begins to sink, his body going lax as his head slips down onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“I really wanna sleep,” he hums as tears seep through Eddie’s own plain black t-shirt.

“You wanna try now?” Eddie offers, pulling back enough to give an encouraging little smile.

Steve nods, refusing to let him go as they lower down together as one, his eyes fluttering shut when his head meets the bedspread.

“Wanna get all cozy under the covers?” Eddie continues, nudging at the bedding.

He really doesn’t want to move too much more – not when Steve looks like this.

Relaxed.

Loved.

Comfortable and wrapped up in a softness Eddie would like to keep him cocooned in forever.

But as he always does, Steve moves for them and rolls to the side. He snuggles in close, burrowing his head between the crook of Eddie’s neck and the mattress all protected and safe. Eddie palms around for the blanket and haphazardly wraps what sliver of it is free around them, shielding his partner a little more for good measure.

It’s good like this.

Calm. Warm.

Soft.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #healing steddie #stranger things s4 #lily writes a fic #fluff and angst #cw injury #steddie fanfiction

[doodlejoltik]

the unwinnable game

[~2.7k words. Read it here or on Ao3]

Zugzwang (from German 'compulsion to move'; pronounced [ˈtsuːktsvaŋ]) is a situation found in chess and other turn-based games wherein one player is put at a disadvantage because of their obligation to make a move.

Centuries after their battle atop Mt Coronet, Rei confronts Volo in a nondescript forest, somewhere on Pasio. But the answers he's seeking aren't so easily given.

aka. a continuation of that one dialogue cliffhanger in the Mysterious Stones chapter because I'm extremely normal about these two

///

“There's something you'd like to say, isn't there… Rei?”

Volo turns around and Rei musters up the bravest expression he can.

Now that he's here, he doesn't know what to say first; all his planned questions bounce around his head, clamouring for dominance. Why are you here? How? Since when? You have a Togepi and a Togekiss? Why a tournament? What do you know about the mysterious stones?

Were we ever really friends?

That is, it takes an embarrassingly long time for Rei to respond. In the end, what he says isn’t a question at all. “That Togepi in the ruins was yours.”

Volo only shrugs. He's got a languid smile on his face. “It might've been. She likes running around.”

Internally, Rei is relieved. So he hasn't been seeing things. But he doesn't let it show on his face, and crosses his arms. “Why’d you hide from everyone for months, and only show yourself now?”

“Now, I wouldn't call it hiding,” Volo replies, waving his finger. “This is a big island, and I've made a good few acquaintances here on Pasio already! Perhaps our paths simply didn't cross.”

With the number of times Rei has visited the ruins for mysterious stone research, the odds of that are vanishingly unlikely. “But why didn't you even try? It's not like I've been keeping a low profile.” Of course, the reason is probably something like I tried to end the world and it would be awkward. And that's what Rei needs Volo to say.

The Arc Phone sits heavily in his belt satchel, recording every word.

“Oh, I was just preoccupied. The ruins here are simply fascinating! Even though they're replicas, teasing apart all the ancient cultures used in their construction is such a fruitful area of study. You know me.”

Yeah, I know you. “Find anything interesting about Arceus?” Rei snarks.

“Not particularly!” Volo shakes his head, looking disappointed. Then he perks up, and continues, “Now, Dialga and Giratina however…”

“Oh?” Rei seethes quietly. Of course he had been watching. Why hadn't Giratina said anything?

“It’s curious, isn’t it, how they have seen fit to partner themselves with new wielders?” Volo smiles. “And Palkia too, I’ve heard.”

“It is interesting,” Rei forces out, adjusting his scarf. He recalls Volo's last parting line about Arceus, all those months ago. “Nice to know that they've bonded willingly with people in this time,” he says pointedly.

Ignoring Rei's tone, Volo continues, “That man, Cyrus, who controls Palkia. What a character, wouldn't you say?”

Rei has a lot of thoughts about the Sinnohans’ decision to allow Cyrus - a man who has literally tried to remake the world and not disavowed said goal - to keep the embodiment of Space with him. He'd thought Adaman and Irida had to be joking, at first. What would the Captain think if she saw what her descendant had turned the Galaxy Team into…

“I suppose you see yourself in him.” Rei says flatly.

It's only the two of them here, in the middle of a forest, in the dead of night, so Volo should have no reason to be evasive. And yet -

“Hardly,” Volo laughs off. “Intellectual curiosity, nothing more.”

This is going nowhere. Does Volo seriously think he can fool him again? Probably not - every remark is undoubtedly purposeful, but with just enough plausible deniability to appear innocent. So maybe he just wants to mess with him. Great.

A different strategy, maybe. He’ll surely make a mistake at some point if Rei keeps pushing. “This… tournament that you proposed,” Rei says. “I suppose you're participating?”

“Naturally!” Volo says cheerfully. “Battles on Pasio are done in teams, are they not? Perhaps you'd like to-”

“No.” Rei glares at him. Oh, now, that was going too far. Going to shut that line of conversation immediately.

“So hostile,” Volo sighs. “A united Hisuian contingent would've been a sight to see. Well, the clan leaders should be more receptive, at least.”

“Not if I can help it,” Rei says, crossing his arms. He’s well aware of how childish it sounds, but the thought of his friends falling for Volo’s innocent merchant act, again, is too horrible to consider. Mentally, he rapidly revises his priorities - he has to meet with Adaman and Irida as soon as possible and explain everything. Tomorrow, ideally. Does he have the energy for that? It’s something like one in the morning, right now. He's dead on his feet. But he’ll make it happen. He has to, before Volo does.

But what if he’s already too late? When had Rei last spoken to them? The dance competition, that wasn’t that long ago, right? At least a week, maybe more, his mind supplies. He'd just been so busy… and surely they would have told him if they'd met Volo.

This little anxious spiral must be evident on Rei’s face somehow, because Volo chuckles, stepping closer. “The world doesn't revolve around you, Rei. Not here.”

“You don’t get to act all high and mighty,” Rei snaps. “Not when you’re pulling everyone along on your own strings. I suppose you think you make the world go ‘round.”

But Volo has a point, no matter how much he hates to admit it. Rei’s been assuming he was someone significant to this whole saga. The appearance of the mysterious stones coincided with his and Akari’s arrival to Pasio, after all, so was he really wrong for thinking that?

And Arceus spoke to him first. That had to mean something.

“On the contrary, I simply meant that we’re all on equal ground,” Volo says. For the first time, goes unspoken.

“I’ll still beat you,” Rei vows. He’d done it before, he could do it again. No matter if he was still favoured by Arceus or not. “Because my bonds with my Pokemon, and my friends, are real. And you don’t know what that feels like.” Though intended to be a sharp jab at Volo, instead, a deep bitterness colours those final words.

Volo’s expression twists into something briefly unreadable before it settles into a polite half-smile. “You’re quick to assume the worst of me.”

“Quick?” Rei barks out a harsh laugh. “No, it was exactly the opposite.” He’d been strung along so thoroughly, accepting every strange behaviour as simply one of Volo’s little oddities. Only up at the Celestica Ruins did those allowances start to crumble – and by then, it was too late.

Volo’s look at Rei is one of intrigue. The way Rei's seen him examining ancient ruins, like he's something Volo wants to observe, or study.

And Rei has had it. Enough dancing around the subject, trying to draw it out of Volo; clearly it’s never going to happen. “Is this all just a game to you? You tried to destroy the world! You want me to think you care about anyone?”

Volo raises an eyebrow. “That's a bold claim. Surely if that had happened, it would've ended up in the history books, somewhere.”

Well – okay. The only person who knew what happened was the Professor, sort of. And Cogita. Arceus knows how she found out. But Professor Laventon didn't know half of it, even, Rei had just incoherently vented everything emotional and hurting at him, swore him to secrecy, and then hoped that he'd never have to unpack that again.

Clearly Arceus had other designs.

“We were friends.” Rei’s voice cracks a bit, there; he hates how true it is. “I thought we were friends. But you were going to kill me for standing in your way!”

Volo frowns. “Now, why would I do that?” He takes a few paces towards Rei and smiles, purposefully, grin stretching tight across his face. “I wouldn't want to lose my favourite customer, after all!”

Stumbling backwards to regain the distance, Rei exclaims, “I’ve bought maybe one thing from you. Stop calling me that!”

“Recipient of free samples, semantics,” Volo shrugs, entirely unaffected, and Rei wars with the competing urges to punch him or bolt into the treeline.

“Play dumb all you want,” Rei hisses, “but you’ve already shown your hand. I could tell them everything. You won’t be able to fool anyone ever again.” Least of all me.

Volo tilts his head with a smirk. “Well then, why are you here?” he asks, calling Rei’s bluff.

And though he can’t know that the Arc Phone is listening in Rei’s satchel, Rei realises that his motivations must be laughably transparent. Maybe Volo thinks Akari, or Cynthia, is watching the whole thing from the treeline. The specifics of it don’t matter, really. Rei’s been outplayed from the very beginning.

Volo makes a little movement with his hand. There's a sudden rustle of movement behind Rei, and he whips around, hand on Decidueye's Pokeball -

But it's just Volo's Togepi, who warbles in alarm and quickly toddles past him.

“What would people rather believe in?” Volo says lightly. “The accusations of a boy who jumps at shadows?” He bends down to pick up Togepi. “Or in the innocence of their friend?”

In Volo's arms, Togepi lets out an adorable squeak.

Over the Pokeball on his belt, Rei’s hand is trembling with misfired adrenaline. He carefully drops his hand to his side and raises his head up high. “Cynthia trusts me. I’ve been here for months, and we’ve worked together on the mysterious stones since they were first found.”

“And so?” Volo shrugs. “A working relationship is hardly worth much. I thought you would've known better, with what Kamado did…”

Rei flinches.

The worst part about it all was that no matter what ulterior motives Volo might have had, back then, when he’d been thrown out into the wild with barely a few days’ worth of supplies – Volo had been there for him when nobody else was.

Volo had seen Rei fall apart and put himself back together with forced cheer. And so, he knew exactly where the cracks were, where to strike with his words to disassemble Rei all over again.

Of course Rei knows Cynthia is responsible, and smart, and has been nothing but friendly to him – but he doesn't really know her, does he? And Volo is her ancestor. Which is pretty obvious, honestly. She’d probably like him immediately.

Just like everyone else did. Including Rei.

“Besides, you're not the only one who's been making friends in high places,” Volo adds smoothly. “I’ve heard that Bettie’s word is quite well regarded.”

So now that Rei had wised up to Volo's true nature, he'd gone and found himself new people to use. “You’ve always been like this, then,” Rei huffs. None of it had been real; their entire ‘friendship’ had been predicated on Rei's usefulness. “They deserve to know the truth about you.”

“Truth? Or your own opinion?” Volo scoffs. “You think so highly of yourself, Rei, but you're not the beloved Hero of Hisui here. No…” he smiles. “You're entirely ordinary. Do remember, it was everyone in that stadium who heard Arceus' voice.”

Admittedly, that stings. He'd thought - maybe - that Arceus was finally telling him why He'd brought Rei here. What he was supposed to do in this strange new land. But he'd failed, unable to clearly hear Arceus’ voice.

Rei spares a thought for the Arc Phone, once a vessel for divine inspiration, now reduced to recording mortals’ petty feuds. His messages to Arceus have been left on read for months. He's probably allowed to be a bit petty, at this point.

Volo continues, “Imagine! Any one of us could become Arceus’ champion.” Togepi makes a little noise. “Yes, even you,” he says indulgently, lifting her up to face him, and she goes cross-eyed following his waving finger.

It's horribly cute, the sort of thing Rei would've been charmed by before. And it's clear Volo is no longer taking Rei seriously at all.

What starts out as a wavering thought suddenly asserts itself with startling clarity. “I don't need anything from you,” Rei realises. He'd told himself he was here for evidence, something concrete he could hold against Volo, and that was true. But beyond that, he'd been after something entirely more personal.

He can walk away.

“I don't need anything from you,” he repeats, with force this time.

Volo turns his attention away from Togepi, and this of all things is what finally seems to make him genuinely confused. “Leaving so soon, Rei?”

Rei doesn't elaborate. He turns on his heel to stalk through the forest back to civilisation. Now, because if he says anything more he doesn't know if he'll ever bring himself to stop. Because he's asking for something he'll never get.

Volo's saying something. He doesn't care to catch all the words, though some of it filters through - “challenge”, “tournament”, and “rivals” among them. The general shape of the message is clear. They'll meet again; Rei's powerless to stop that. But as best he can, he'll shake off whatever lingering grip Volo still has on him.

He doesn't stop walking as the trodden earth turns to paved cobbles under his feet, and he makes it all the way up his building's winding stairs to the little studio apartment that he's been given. Home, for now. Collapsing onto the lone armchair, he takes the Arc Phone out of his satchel and turns off the recording. Thank Arceus for divinely bestowed infinite storage, he supposes.

Rei knows that if he were to listen to it, there'd be nothing of use. Only hidden barbs and Rei’s own ugly, wounded anger. It feels fitting to delete it, to banish the whole encounter to memory, and perhaps eventually, less than that.

He doesn't, and instead tucks it away in a folder several layers deep.

Maybe Professor Laventon wrote about the whole disaster in his private diaries. Rei knows he has them, bless the man. He'd once stumbled into the Professor's office late at night, after an exhausting, terrifying escape from an Alpha, ready to tell Laventon off for sending him there – and startled the Professor fiercely, who quickly shut the manuscript he was writing with a blush. So even if Rei had sworn him to secrecy, he might have confided in the written word.

That's something he can set Cynthia on digging up, then. Even just the suggestion that Laventon, the First Pokemon Professor, had such personal writings, would probably send her into an unstoppable research frenzy. That much about her, at least, he knows. If it still existed in this era, Cynthia would almost certainly find it.

And maybe he doesn't need evidence. Not for the people who matter, anyway.

Akari’s only a few doors away, their apartments close neighbours just like back in Jubilife Village. If he wanted, he could wander over there once the sun rose, have her fantastic tamago rice, and tell her everything.

Is he ready to take that step into thin air? To trust that he'll be believed, in something that's infinitely more convoluted and improbable than the simple plea – “I don't know why the sky is red, it's not my fault, I only ever did what you told me to” –

Well. Volo might've been the last one to break his trust, but he was in no way the first.

Can he make good on those words that he’d levelled so confidently against Volo? That his bonds with his friends are real?

Akari had never doubted. And Adaman and Irida had gone against Kamado's will, risking the standing of their people, just to help him. He would be doing them a disservice if he didn't at least try.

And in this dangerous game, it might be the only winning move.

Even as he makes this decision, he feels the pull of sleep. It's offensively late, or early, in the morning now, depending on perspective, and all of this is Tomorrow Rei’s problem.

There's no energy left to even stumble to bed. Rei falls asleep right there in the lumpy armchair, hand loosely gripped around the Arc Phone, Adaman and Irida’s Poryphone numbers on the screen, ready and waiting.

And, though Rei will certainly wake up sore with a crick in his neck come the morning…

For the first time in a long while, his dreams are not restless.

#trainer rei #rei pokemon #volo #volo pokemon #pokemas #pokemon #rei #fanfiction #// tikposting #// fanfic #so. pokemas has been gripping me so hard the past couple of months #that it's even tempted me into writing fic again after three years #yes i know this is about to be rendered non canon in just a few days when the next chapter drops #but i had to get it all out beforehand because gosh there's so much story potential #(btw if you've watched the datamined version please avoid spoilers I'm waiting for official in game release. thank you!!!!) #rei tries to play the game volo's way and fails miserably: the fic #he's out here trying to set up a trap not realising it's extremely obvious #when he does realise it's ten moves into the actual game and he's in the middle of a trap himself. fun #rei pov is very fun he has many many thoughts about things #thanks for reading!! #// tikart

[kateis-cakeis]

You know, something something Arthur desperately wanted to see the good in magic at any opportunity he was given.

When Gwen was first accused, when he first met Morgause, when he wanted to save Uther using magic, when he saved the woman from being burnt in that small village, when he was given a choice by the Disir, when he was determined to save Gwen from Morgana's dark magic...

(Honourable mentions include when he saved Mordred and argued with Uther about the Druids being peaceful (they are magic adjacent after all) - and well, given the second honourable mention being his remorse for the raid on the Druid camp when he was young, it's understandable that it comes from some sort of trauma. And of course, the result of that remorse was the promise that he would do everything to prevent it ever happening again, and that he would treat the Druids with respect. Hell, even with Kara he was respectful, even though she committed actual literal treason in the form of an attempted assassination of Camelot's king)

Of course, at every opportunity, Arthur's view that there is good in magic, that not all sorcerers are evil, that perhaps his father was wrong, or that his father had lied, ends up being proven wrong, at least in his eyes.

Time and time again Arthur is shown to consider magic as a more neutral force, like almost as if he's desperate for it to be true. It isn't even necessarily his fault that the opinions about magic and sorcerers that Uther taught him becomes reinforced once again.

The fact that he can even think critically about magic at all is a miracle alone. Like this man who has only ever known sorcerers to use magic for evil purposes, to destroy Camelot, attempt to assassinate him, attempt to assassinate his father, to harm those he cares about - and yet he still he still falls back on, what if magic can be good, what if we're wrong, what if, what if, what if--

And it's only when magic itself reveals himself to Arthur that he can finally see that yes, magic can be good.

Because if Merlin is good, if Merlin is the same person even with magic, then magic is neutral, and sorcerers aren't inherently evil.

Arthur was always going to accept magic, that's the thing, that's hardcoded into his character, he just needed the right push, and that push was always going to be Merlin.

Because as Arthur dies in Merlin's arms, blanketed by magic itself, he accepts that even with all of Merlin's magic, his life cannot be saved, magic cannot save him.

But he accepts it, and accepts Merlin, and he dies having brought about all that Merlin ever dreamt of, truly dreamt of, that Arthur would see him for him, and accept him and his magic. And more than that, what Arthur truly ends up doing is embracing it.

Arthur for whatever reason, perhaps because he was born of magic, perhaps because his soulmate is magic itself, perhaps because he has a heart of gold, wanted to see the good in magic at any given opportunity that presented itself, even though with all that Uther taught him, he never should have seen it that way.

It's just, it's so fascinating, and it's so heartbreaking that when he finally knew, he died. But he'll return, and I'm sure then he can build something better with Merlin, really bring magic back to a time that needs it :)

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #i tried so hard to make this into a short post #but essay mode activated and i tried to stop it i swear :P #i try not to make every post about Arthur a straight up character study but i fail every time #just be glad this post is this short #i had to stop myself about halfway through from going to far into analysis mode #anyway i was thinking about writing this while trying to sleep last night #and i just had to get it down i love Arthur so much and i feel like he deserves more credit for thinking so critically despite there being #no evidence or reason for him to ever do that with magic #i love him the man fascinates me #and I really just wanna wrap him in a blanket - especially as like idk once he returns and finally gets to process all that he did #believing in his father's lies

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 27th of April, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 27th of April, 2024

How is King Charles's health? Is he as well as the articles are making out?

Interpretation: The King wants to get back to work. His body is not so keen on the idea.

Card One: The Knight of Wands

Knights are action cards, so straight away this tells me that the King wants to get back to work. The Knight of Wands represents someone who wants to get things done, they have important tasks they want to complete. This is someone who is enthusiastically manifesting an idea into the world.

However, the Knight of Wands can be rebellious, and they can be an 'act first, think later' person, which suggests to me that the King may be letting his impatience to get back to work so he can push through his idea overrule the need to go slower for the sake of his long term recovery. Maybe. Perhaps. We'll see what the other cards say.

Card Two: The Queen of Swords in reverse

This is not a good energy, and not one that I wanted to see here. In the reverse, the Queen of Swords is a cold, calculating, bitter, deceitful energy. It can also be someone who is overly emotional and is making decisions based on emotion, not on logic. It is this second meaning that is coming through strongly from this card. King Charles is making his decision to go back to work based on his emotions and not on logic (i.e. the doctor's report). He thinks he is ready to go back but I would not be surprised if he finds it far more exhausting than he anticipated when he does return to his face to face visits. He is being ruled by his desire to complete some tasks or do something that is important to him, as per the Knight of Wands, instead of what he should logically do, which appears to be stay home and rest some more (the opposite of his emotion based decision to return to work).

Card Three: The Emperor in reverse

Another not-good card. The Emperor represents the King in his role as King, and in the reverse, with respect to this question, it tells me that King Charles is not well enough to return to work (even though he is going to do it anyway). The Emperor card is reversed, so King Charles's health is reversed, which means it is not good and he needs more rest/time/treatment before he stresses his recovering body by doing things like returning to face to face engagements.

In a general sense, the Emperor in reverse represents some one who is stubborn, a bit reckless, and who wants to be in control. The stubborn energy is coming through here - King Charles wants to get back to work so he will return to work and he won't take heed of any advice to the contrary.

I am really not happy about this card. I am getting very strong energy that The King needs to stay home and not stress himself so his body can recover, and that is the opposite of going back to face to face duties.

Underlying Energy: The Five of Pentacles, reversed

This card represents coming back in after being exiled, which would be The King returning to work after his time away. From a health perspective, this card has mixed meanings. It can mean that the body is beginning to recover from an illness, or it can mean that the illness is worsening and someone is abusing their body. I think both meanings are true here. I think that The King has reached a turning point in his illness and has started to feel a lot better, but I also think that his continued recovery depends on him continuing to stay at home and rest, and that by returning to work he is stressing his body when it is not returned to full health and that might result in a worsening of his illness or a slowing or even reversal of his recovery.

Extra Card: The Magician

I asked if we should believe the media reports of The King's health and the card I drew was the Magician. The Magician is the card of manifesting and of PR spin. This card tells me that the media articles on The King's health are not accurate, they are being spun ti make him appear better/more recovered than he is in fact.

Conclusion:

The King wants to get back to work. That energy came through this reading very clearly. He has some project/s or plan/s that he wants to implement or finish and he wants to get back to work so he can push them through. His decision to return to face to face activities is emotional, not logical, and is likely to have been made with The King not fully considering his doctor's advice (he may be only hearing what he wants to hear - I am sure we have all dealt with patients like that).

The cards say that his health is not good, he is not recovered, he has made a good beginning and/or reached a point where he is starting to feel better, but he needs more rest before his body will be able to cope with the workload of face to face work. The King is being stubborn and insisting on returning to work anyway. So, all we can do is wait and see how that goes.

There is a warning not to believe the media reports of the King's health - they are being spun to make his health appear better than what it is in reality.

I am quite worried about The King's health. I don't think he is going to die, or anything like that, but I do think his return to face to face work is premature and it will rebound on him, leading to a delayed recovery or more health issues later on. I would be much happier if he took another few weeks or month off before returning to his full workload.

[astarionfreak]

👀 18, Astarion x Gale 👀👀👀👀

Ahhhhh!!! Perfect suggestion 🧛🧙

18. "I'm not going to beg." "Oh, but you will."

Snippet for the smut ask game. | Previous answers here

Gale sat comfortably in a large, padded chair on the balcony. He sipped from an expensive glass of wine and flipped through the pages of his latest purchase — a book regarding lost secrets of the Underdark.

Astarion leaned agains the railing, enjoying the view of the night sky. The moon hung heavy on the horizon. It wasn’t the sun. But, when he glanced over at Gale, he was reminded that perhaps this life wasn’t so bad after all.

Gale looked up from his book and met Astarion’s eyes. “You’re staring again.”

“Yes.” Astarion pushed himself away from the railing and stepped closer to Gale.

“It’s distracting.” Gale shifted in the chair.

Astarion smiled and swiftly closed the distance between them. “I imagine it is, yes.”

“Well, stop it.” Gale looked back at the book, but his eyes weren’t moving. He wasn’t actually reading anything anymore.

Astarion took the opportunity to snatch the book out of Gale’s hands and snapped it shut. “Pay attention to me.”

Gale rolled his eyes. “I swear, sometimes you’re worse than Tara.”

“Only sometimes?” Astarion pouted. He placed a hand on each arm of the chair, effectively caging Gale beneath him.

“That isn’t the compliment you seem to believe it to be, Astarion.” Gale’s heartbeat quickened. He blushed.

Astarion had him right where he wanted him. “If you’re going to insult me, Gale. At least do it properly.”

“Very well. When you . . . finish . . . you make the most atrocious face.”

Astarion barked out a laugh. “You’re joking.” He studied Gale’s expression. Shit. He wasn’t joking. “I do not! Do I?”

“Yes, it’s sort of like . . .” Gale scrunched up his face in the most unattractive way.

“Hideous. I certainly do not look like that when I’m in the throes of passion. I would know.”

Gale nodded. “It’s the complete truth, unfortunately. I can show you, if you wish.”

“And how would you go about that? It’s not like I can just look in a mirror while I fuck you. Although . . .”

Gale managed to turn an even darker red. He cleared his throat nervously. “Let’s table that conversation for another night. I only meant I could conjure a duplicate.”

“Oh.” Astarion leaned back, releasing his grip on the arms of the chair. “I don’t . . . I haven’t seen this face in two hundred years. I didn’t think . . .”

Gale took Astarion’s hand in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Foolish of me to offer something so sobering when we were only joking. You need not make a decision tonight, of course. The offer is there whenever you’d like. If you’d like.”

Astarion nodded, eyes locking back onto Gale's. “Thank you, darling. I’ll give it some thought.”

“I did have an unrelated question,” Gale said. “I’m not sure if now is the best time.”

“Ask away.” Astarion pulled his hand out of Gale’s and waved it dismissively.

“Why haven’t you asked to drink my blood?”

Astarion tilted his head. “Why haven’t you offered?”

“I was waiting for you to ask,” Gale said.

“There’s your answer. I was waiting for you to offer.” Astarion’s eyes flicked to Gale’s neck, the steady pulse that hummed just beneath his skin. His scent had changed since the orb was removed. He was certainly more alluring. But Astarion hadn’t pressed him on the matter. Their relationship was tenuous enough at times. “But, since you brought it up. Would you like me to bite you, Gale?”

Gale shrugged. “I suppose I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little curious about the experience. I have read some truly fascinating — ”

Astarion leaned forward, hushing Gale with a kiss. Gale sighed into Astarion’s mouth, quickly relaxing as their lips glided smoothly against each other.

“Tell me later about what you’ve read, darling. For now, just do me a favor and get in the damn bed.” Astarion’s lips brushed against Gale’s as he spoke, he could feel Gale smiling against his mouth.

“Your wish is my command,” Gale whispered.

Within moments they were both in the bed they shared. Gale on his back, Astarion stretched out on top of him. Most of their clothes had been discarded on the way to the bedroom.

Astarion nestled his face into the curve of Gale’s neck, lips ghosting across his soft skin. He teased the tender flesh with his fangs, but did not yet sink them in.

“You want this as much as I do,” Astarion whispered.

Gale sighed softly. “What is it that gives you that impression?”

“Your heartbeat quickens when my teeth are on your skin. I can smell your desire. And, well, feel it.” Astarion slipped a hand between Gale’s legs, palming his half-hard length over the fabric of his underwear.

Gale choked back a moan. “It’s true. There is something — exciting about surrendering myself to you in that way.”

“As if I don’t already have you wrapped around my fingers,” Astarion teased.

Gale laughed and tilted his head, giving Astarion more access to his neck. “I allow you to believe that. You’re the one —”

Astarion reached beneath Gale’s underwear, curled his fingers around his cock, and squeezed gently. “What was that? I couldn’t hear anything after you started whimpering.”

“Astarion,” Gale gasped. “I thought we were here so you could feed.”

“Oh, we’ll get to that, darling. Don’t worry. I just want to hear you beg so sweetly before I sink my teeth into your pretty little neck,” Astarion purred.

“Bite me if you wish. I’m not going to beg,” Gale said.

Astarion began to slowly stroke Gale’s cock. “Oh, but you will.”

#af.op #baldur's gate 3 #astarion bg3 #gale bg3 #asked #answered #smut ask game #bloodweave

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Like a Doll? (doll!reader x Vox)

CW: Rape/Non-con, abuse, SA, mind control, manipulation, nsfw, smut, Vox being an asshole (he’s in hell for a reason), AU typical events

Note: Vox is manipulative, possessive, jealous, impulsive, controlling, and harsh in this AU. He can be extremely violent towards reader, and is consistently abusing them either way. He is not a good person! If anyone is sensitive to or may have a negative reaction from these topics, I recommend clicking away now.

Tell me if you all want more stuff like this, or just some smut in general! Also, good luck. This is… uh, quite the read. Also let me know if I need to add any other warnings!

"Hello there, darling," Vox said, walking up to me. I was sitting at his desk, mainly focused on my work. He noted how I sat across from him, in his office, writing on my clipboard. He felt irritated, since he wasn't receiving as much attention as he'd like. He pushed the feeling aside for now. "Busy day?"

"Yeah, something like that," I said, with a small yawn. I didn't really look up at him, I was trying to finish my work. It was clear I was bored, and a bit tired. "Just the usual. How have you been, my dear?"

Vox watched me work without taking his eyes off of me. He was feeling frustrated by my lack of attention and my indifference to him. Apparently. He decided to change his approach, just this once, and try a new tactic.

I didn't really notice how long it was asking him to respond, nor his frustration with me. I was his personal assistant, and as such, I was trying to do my work and make his job easier for him.

"I've been doing quite well, actually," Vox responded, his tone suddenly shifting from irritated to soft and almost cooing. He walked over to me, kneeling down in front of my chair. "How about you, though? Are you feeling a bit..."

"A bit...?" I asked, waiting for him to finish. He'd caught some of my attention now. probably not as much as he'd like, though.

"Like a doll?" Vox asked smugly. That was the first indicator as to where this would be going. The first hint as to what he'd do if he didn't get what he wanted. The word 'doll' had an impact on every one of his assistants, but even more so on me, since I was his personal assistant and significant other. The power that word held alone wasn't much, but if it were a apart of a specific phrase...

"Like a doll?" I asked, with a small smile. My first reaction was a twinge of panic, but that quickly faded. He hadn't used the trigger phrase yet, so I was still okay, still in control.

"A bit neglected?" Vox purred, leaning in close to nuzzle against my leg. His hand slid up my thigh, fingers trailing along the inside of my exposed stocking. "Perhaps I could be more... attentive?"

I laughed softly at his playful attitude. "I'm fine, that's not a big deal," I said, nonchalant.

"Oh, but it is a big deal," Vox purred, leaning in closer still. His hand slid up my thigh more insistently now, fingers tracing along the bare skin beneath my skirt. He was setting this up slowly, preparing to use the trigger phrase at the right moment. "You know how much I love you, right?"

"Y-yeah," I said with a nod. I blushed a bit and smiled. I gave him a quick, small kiss. It wouldn't be enough. He always wanted more. The action was a sign of how easily I gave into his moods, of how easily I gave into him. "I love you too, darling."

"Darling," he repeated, his tone dripping with affection. He leaned in even closer now, his lips brushing against my neck as he spoke. "Do you think you could be a doll for me tonight?"

"Yeah," I said, softer. I relaxed, almost immediately. He'd used the phrase, now I had to oblige. I didn't have a choice. I probably would've gone along with it either way, but now I had to. Now I wouldn't be able to resist doing as he said. "Of course," I said, my eyes glazing over slightly. I was always still aware whenever he used that trigger phrase on me, even if I wasn't in control.

"That's my girl," Vox purred, his lips brushing against my ear. "Now, why don't you be a doll and undress for me? Slowly." He nuzzled against my neck, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips.

I did as I was told, despite the fact we were still in his office, still at work. Usually, I would protest, or insist on doing this somewhere else. Right now? I didn't have that luxury. I was his doll, doing whatever he asked. I unbuttoned my shirt slowly, undressed slowly, for him.

His hands were gentle as he undid the buttons of his slacks, but there was a sense of urgency in his movements that belied the innocence of his touch. "I want you to do something for me, my little doll.

"V-Vox..." I said hesitantly. He had ordered me to undress, he hadn't ordered me not to speak. I could still talk to him, I just couldn't object to anything directly unless he let me. Saying his name like that, combined with the blush on my face, signaling embarrassment, indicated that it was a plea. The closest thing to one I could manage right now, at least. I was asking him to stop, the best I could.

He finally got his pants off, and looked at me with a wide predatory smile, "I want you to be a doll and please me." He said, letting his words sink in for a moment before continuing. "Use your mouth."

“Okay,” I said with a nod. I repositioned myself slightly, to make it easier. Like a compliant a little toy. I was a tad worried about how it’d turn out. We’d never done it before, mostly due to how uncomfortable the thought of it made me. Right now, I was literally incapable of going against my orders, or even thinking about going against them. I had to do it, whether I wanted to or not. I really didn’t want to.

He moved closer, his eyes locked with mine as he gently slipped his throbbing erection past my lips, taking careful not to force it too far at once, mindful of my gag reflex and the situation. "That's it, my little doll.”

I played around the head, getting a taste of him. Getting used to it, for a moment. If I’d been in my right mind, I’d have resisted, or bitten him. If I’d been in control, I’d be openly displaying my discomfort. But I wasn’t. I was helpless under his control, forced to suck his dick.

Vox moaned softly as he felt my warm, wet mouth around him. He gently pushed further in, taking advantage of my openness and lack of resistance. His hands gripped my hair tightly, guiding me up and down his length. "That's it...”

He then thrusted fully down my throat without warning. I would’ve gagged, but somehow resisted. A good little doll. I should’ve screamed or wretched at the pain. I couldn’t, though. He’d used that stupid trigger phrase and now I was all his.

My mind and body reacted differently. Internally, in the back of my mind, I was screaming. The fog in my head covered that up, though. It hurt, but I couldn’t let that show. I was supposed to be a doll and make him happy, I needed to be a doll and please him. So, I did. I moaned around him, trying to ignore the overwhelming sensation, trying to ignore how he was cutting off my air. I sucked harder.

"My god, you're so good at this," he hissed, his hips jerking wildly as he tried to maintain control. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of having such a perfect little doll all to himself. "You're so obedient...”

He began moving my head along with his hips. It was suffocating, I could barely breathe as he used me. I moaned again, pushing those feelings aside. He’d told me to make him happy, he told me to please him. So I did.

"Yes," he gasped, his eyes rolling back with pleasure. His hand left my hair to grab mine, guiding it along with him, using both of our hands to control the rhythm of what he was doing. “Feel how hard you're making me?”

I moaned around him, automatically trying to say yes, like a good doll. I choked for a moment, then moaned as I throbbed. I recovered, moaning again and continuing. I could feel him about to climax. If I’d been in my right mind, I’d have prayed he’d pull out before cumming. Right now, I wasn’t. I was focused on pleasing him, and nothing else. Not a single other thought.

"That's it, baby," he panted, his hand clutching my head tightly. His hips jerked violently as he shot his load down my throat, choking me momentarily. "Swallow every drop for me."

It took everything I had not to cough it up. My vision blurred as I obliged, swallowing. It was so hard to breathe.

Vox smirked, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. "You're such a good doll," he whispered as he pulled out of my mouth, his dick still throbbing. "I knew you could please me perfectly."

I immediately hunched over, coughing. I gagged and stopped myself from vomiting. I gasped for air, desperately. He’d pushed me to my limits there, but we both knew he wasn’t done yet. He never was.

"That's right," Vox whispered in my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. "You remember who's in charge here. Now, why don't you be a doll and climb onto the desk? Be a doll and spread those legs for me."

"Vox.. Vox please," I said quietly. I wanted to say 'stop' but I couldn't, so it lingered in the air between us. I did what he told me to, despite myself. I felt dread building up in me. I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this. It wasn't the first time, but it never got better.

"Please, I don't..." I couldn't finish the sentence. Part of the rules. I couldn't directly object or protest to anything he asked of me. I couldn't say I didn't want it, I couldn't go against his wishes in any way when he used the phrase 'be a doll'. "Vox," I said desperately, his name alone a plea for him to stop. I was on the desk, I'd done as I was told. I wasn't in control of my actions. I hated it. I hated it when he used me like this.

Vox took a deep inhale, his eyes locked on mine as he stroked his thumb over your lips lightly. "You know, doll," he began, his voice soft and tender when it came to me. "You are aware that this is all just for fun, aren't you?"

I shook my head no. It was fun for him, but not for me. Tears stung the edges of my eyes, threatening to fall over. I hated this.

"Look at me, doll," he commanded, and when our eyes met, he brushed the tears away from my cheek with the back of his hand. "You are mine, remember?"

"Yes," I said quietly, my voice shaky.

He smirked at your response, his gaze turning predatory once more. "Then be a doll and behave like it. Be a doll for me, now."

I relaxed more, a sense of calm washing over me. My eyes glazed over and my thoughts became foggy. I was his. No protest, no panic. I was his and now I'd behave like it. I was still completely exposed to him, sitting on his desk with my legs spread open.

I almost wasn't myself anymore. I was his, and I'd bend to his every whim. I was his, and I didn't matter, my feelings didn't matter. I was his, I belonged to him, he was everything, pleasing him was everything, doing what he said was everything. I was his, and he was everything. He was all that mattered.

"Good girl," Vox purred, appreciating the change in my demeanor. He took his phone out, recording me as he stepped closer, his hard cock pressing against my exposed cunt. "Remember, you want this as much as I do, don't you, doll?"

"Yes, Vox," I said softly, making no move to resist. Blush crept into my cheeks at being called a good girl. It didn't matter whether I was in my right mind or not, being called that... "I love you," I said, ignoring the camera. In any other instance I'd be afraid, angry, panicked, but now? He'd told me to behave like I was his, like I was his doll, so I was. I had to.

Vox flashed a wicked grin at my words, his thumb gently stroking my slit as he towered over me. The camera kept rolling, capturing every desperate plea for love and obedience falling from my lips.

"I love you," I said again, slightly breathless. My body was reacting to his touch— something I would've hated if I was thinking properly. But I wasn't. I didn't care about the camera, I didn't care he was using me, I was just his doll to play with. A doll didn't have feelings like that. A doll just focused on being a good toy. "Please, Vox... please, I want you..."

Vox smirked down at me, pleased with my obedience. "You really are a good girl," he purred, his fingers finding their way inside my folds to tease at my sensitive nerves. "Now, remember what I told you about showing me how much you want it?"

"Mmnn.... yes, Vox," I moaned, my pussy beginning to throb at his touch. I gripped the edge of the desk hard, heat rising to my cheeks as I moaned again. "Please, Vox, please..." I begged, my voice a bit airy. "I need you, I want you... I’m nothing without you.... please, Vox, I want you so bad.... please, please..."

Vox leaned in, his mouth brushing against my ear as he whispered hotly, "You're so fucking pretty when you beg." His fingers slid easily into me, stretching and filling me with his touch. "You're getting so wet for me..."

"Ohhh.... Vox please," I moaned, the words falling out of my mouth. Things I never would've usually said coming out against my will. My thoughts were foggy, I could hardly think. "Mmnn," I moaned, pressing myself up against him. I begged and moaned for more, for him. "Please fuck me, darling, please. You're all I need, you're all I want, please, please. I want you, I want you..."

"Oh my dear, you have no idea how much I've wanted this," he muttered against my ear, his grip steady as he pushed inside me slowly, eliciting another moan of pleasure from me. "You truly belong to me, don't you?"

"Yes, Vox... Ohhh," I moaned, arching my back and moving my hips for a better fit. "Please, I'm yours, I belong to you, please," I said, overwhelming pleasure filling my senses. I made small noises, whines and whimpers, and continued to moan for him. "Ohh... ohhh... fuck! Oh god," I groaned, my pussy throbbing. "Ohhh, more... more, please.. please... I belong to you... please... I'm all yours..."

Vox smiled down at me, smug that he'd gotten me to be so submissive so easily, with just the use of the single tigger phrase. His grip on my hips tightened as he began to thrust into me, his cock sliding easily in and out as I arched my back and moaned his name.

"Vox..." I moaned, gripping the edge of the desk tighter, my nails digging into the wood. I was nearing my peak, again. I moaned louder. He'd set aside his phone, but he had cameras in his office, in this room, recording everything from every angle. He always did. I'd be crying right about now, if I could. I'd be screaming, frustrated, angry. But I was his doll. for now, and he wasn't going to allow that. So, I played the role he wanted. I moaned his name again.

Vox growled softly, his fingers digging into my hips as he took me roughly, throwing my head back with every thrust. "That's it, my pet. Show me how much you need me." His voice was low and commanding, his gaze locked onto mine.

"Ah, ah... ohhh, Vox," I moaned, my lips quivering. my hands twitched and I gripped the desk hard, dragging my nails across it, leaving more marks. I moaned again and gasped, feeling myself reach my peak.

Vox's thrusts slowed as he felt me release, his cock twitching and pulsing inside me as he finally came as well, filling me up with his seed. "My beautiful doll," he whispered, leaning down to capture my lips in a slow, deep kiss.

I moaned one more time, then sighed, taking in the blissful feeling spreading through me.

"You did well, my dear. Exactly as I wanted," he purred, leaning down to kiss my neck softly. "Come, let's tidy up and clean ourselves. Then maybe we could cuddle and watch TV for a bit?"

"Yeah," I said with a nod. I looked at him, meeting his eyes again. Mine were still glazed over, and now that we'd officially finished, I'd returned to the quiet doll I was, since he'd used the trigger phrase. He hadn't given the word to allow me to return to normal again. I was very much unlike myself because of it.

"Perfect," he said with a grin. He snapped his fingers and all the cameras turned off, done recording. He was pleased with himself, and how he'd be able to use that footage in the further to keep me in line. Not that it was likely that it'd ever be necessary. "Hm," Vox said, his gaze becoming thoughtful. He paused for a moment and ran his fingers through my hair, examining my expression. It felt off to him, empty.

I didn't lean into his touch like I normally would. I didn't nuzzle up against him. I didn't speak. I was still a little doll, with a small, perfect soft smile fixed on my face. Unnatural. He was used to having me- the real me, the one in her right mind- with him afterwards, after this.

Vox frowned slightly, his fingers trailing lightly over my cheek. "What's wrong, darling?" He asked softly, tilting his head to the side. He couldn't quite place what it was about me that seemed off, but he could feel it nonetheless.

"Nothing," I said lightly. Unnatural for me. Usually I'd be flirty after we fucked, or gentle, or clingy. Right now, I was none of those things. I was his doll, not myself. That alone was vaguely unsettling for him, in this moment. It wasn't so wrong to him when he made me like this to fuck me without my consent, but for me to be like this afterwards? It felt odd. He didn't like it.

"I'm just your doll. I belong to you," I said, reciting what he said when using the trigger phrase to get me like this.

"Ah," Vox's eyes narrowed slightly, studying me for a moment. His gaze softened as he continued to gently caress my cheek. "That's my good girl." When I didn't react, it hit him. His eyes widened and he chuckled, looking over at me again. "So that's the problem, hm? I can't believe I forgot," he said, laughing again. He looked at me with a warm smile and cupped my face gently. "Be a doll and return to normal, my love."

I closed my eyes and the smile dropped from my face. I leaned against him as I came back into my own. My hand twitched and I shifted slightly, trying to get used to being in control again. My mind was racing as the fog cleared from my head, emotions barreling into me as I tried to process what had just happened.

Vox watched as I returned to my normal self, his smile widening. He could feel the shift in energy as I leaned against him, trying to adjust to being in control again. His hands gently moved down my back, comfortingly massaging as he spoke softly. "There we go, doll." He said, as if he hadn't just overridden my free will to fuck me. As if he hadn't just raped me and recorded the entire thing.

I tensed and held him tightly. Despite everything, he was my only source of comfort right now. This wasn't the first time this had happened. This probably would happen again. I buried my head against his chest, still completely exposed, slightly dazed. I cried.

Vox wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as he could feel my tears soaking into his shirt. He didn't mind the slight discomfort it caused him; after all, he had pushed me to my limits once again. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my head.

I cried harder, sobs raking through my body. I clung to him, seeking reassurance and protection. I stayed with him, despite it all.

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #vox x fem reader #Vox x fem!reader #Vox x doll!reader #vox is in hell for a reason #smut #sorry guys #be a doll

[neet-elite]

↳ EVENT 06. M!Kylar (Incest)

Pairing: Big Brother M!Kylar / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,509 Warnings: incest, bath sex, yandere, creampie, cockwarming, stockholm syndrome, riding, breeding Prompt(s): 07 — incest Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: i dunno what inspired me to take a softer approach to this request, but i've been enjoying writing the really loving requests... so i hope that this is still enjoyable !! i also think kylar suits this prompt the most, so it was super fun to explore!!! tysm!

After a long, exhausting, and humiliating day of school (or as Kylar likes to affectionately call it, imprisonment), there is simply nothing better to cap the awful experience off than to indulge in some alone time with his favourite little sister. His only little sister, the light of his life, the sole joy he experiences in this shitty world and his shitty life. To say that he relies on you for all of his comfort and happiness would be an understatement— he saps it. Leeching off of you from the moment he enters home, calling out for your attention before the front door is even closed. And the fact that you're none the wiser only encourages him to use you some more, forever pushing you to your limits to hopefully break you in as his own.

And tonight is no special exception. Away from prying eyes, in the safety of four thin walls, he begs for your affections once again. Dragging you into his room to spend the night together, just like always. And it's comforting to know that even after all the bullshit bullying he has to endure during the day, he can always count on his precious little sister to make it all worthwhile. God, he'd go through near death beatings daily if it meant he got to wrap his arms around you at the end of it all, nice and snug and soft, pretty little sister in his arms for him to coddle and coo at. Because he loves you so much, he's willing to endure whatever it takes to keep you out of harms way; so much so that he willingly puts himself into dangerous situations just to make sure you don't need to leave your shared home for any reason.

The world doesn't deserve your kindness. The town is unworthy of your cuteness, undeserving of your sweetness. Or; perhaps he's just being a selfish big brother, right? Keeping you all to himself, locked away in his tower for self serving reasons.

Like to be the only one to hear your barely audible little whimpers, how soft and pretty you sound right now, especially when his knuckles brush against your wet cheek and you shiver into him. Fuck, feels so good, doesn't it? He knows he does, playfully biting down on his bottom lip— unchecked confidence flowing through him now that he's only with you. It's funny, actually, how no one outside these four walls would assume just how cocky he can get, reserving that side of himself just for you. It's only fair, he thinks. He gets to see sides of you that no one else does, and in return, you receive authority over every aspect of your life, all in an effort to keep you safe. An innocent enough want, though he's well aware of just how degenerate he can get. How far he can twist relative honesty.

It's the least he could do for you, considering all you've got to do is exist and he's happy. Do you even know the things he goes through for you? How much trouble it is to actually keep you healthy and secure? It's like keeping a pet, only more rewarding when you take hold of his hand, little fingers locking with his own before dipping them back under the water together.

So cute! You're so fucking cute it pains him, heart hurting at the way your silky skin rubs against his own, tits pressed snugly to his chest, secured only by the warm water surrounding him. The skin on skin contact just gets to him— it's one of his favourite ways to spend time with you. Naked, bare, ignoring the moral implications of playing with his baby sister in such a disgusting way; he plays with you in far worse ways anyway. But the connection coursing through him, from your fingertips to his own, is unmatched. Causes his cock to tremble inside of you, his eyes instinctively rolling and then squeezing shut at the tight fit inside of your cunt.

It's bath time! he'd ordered you once home, pants already tenting from the way you excitedly started running the water at the mere mention of some valued bath time with big brother.

C'mere, sit on my lap he'd encouraged you once getting in the too hot water, but a little burning isn't gonna stop him from hanging out with his baby sister, now is it?

Wanna sit on it? he'd asked you once feeling you squirming around, wiggling your baby sister butt on his fat cock like routine. It's not the first time he's impaled your angel cunt in the water, and it certainly won't be the last. A regular enough occurrence at this rate that he knows cock is what you're after when he mentions bathing— not that he's any better, looking forward to getting you wet in the bath just so he can shove his dirty big brother cock inside of you again and again— routine.

It's only natural, he thinks. Given that you're disallowed from seeing anyone else, let alone any other suitors, that you'd want to explore things like sex and orgasms with your big brother. Which is luckily all according to his plan, to seclude you enough to make you think that it's your choice to date him. Greedy cock twitching inside your pretty little hole as you idly rub a thumb up and down his held hand, allowing him to slide down the tub just a little to reposition his cock at a better angle inside of you. If he keeps you all to himself like this, leaving you no other choice but to date and fuck and kiss and marry your big brother, then he can die happy.

"What did you do today?" He mundanely asks, but it's more of a grunt than anything else. Winded by the unfairly tight squeeze of your cunt, wrapped sooooo nicely around him, God, he'd kill for that cunt, yknow?

You take a second to answer, clearly preoccupied with not shifting around too much as he feels you tense up on his cock at the sound of his voice. Pretty baby, big brother will always protect you, okay?

"The usual," you yawn, and he has half a mind to pull out of your pretty pussy to instead stuff your open maw full with cock. "Mostly waited for you to get home, Ky."

Oh, how the affectionate nickname you've taken to calling him goes straight through him, fat beads of precum staining your insides all gloopy as a proclamation of love. His pretty little stockholm sister, are you even away of the things you do to him? How the banality of it all, taking a simple bath with you, is the lewdest part. Cock pulsing against your squishy insides while your tits ride against his chest, primal need dictating him to let go of your hand in favour of placing both hands on the small of your back. A little pressure added there to really make you feel the weight of your words, and by extension, the weight of his cock.

Your reaction is immediate, a sharp little squeak that he wants to force out of you again and again— but there is joy to be had in taking things slow, too. Like how when he lifts a hand up to your soaked hair to pet at, he's privy to the view of your wet cat like stare back at him, pretty pout and all. He leans down, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips as a reward for being so cute for him. "Don't you get bored of waiting for me every day? Aren't you doing something else?" He tests you, resting his chin at the top of your head to force you into listening to how hard his heart beats for you; in time with how fast his cock pulses with need.

"I— No... Seeing big brother again is my favourite thing!" You protest, and it's difficult to remain in his calm, cool, and collected big brother composure when you're whining so prettily for him like that, a little moan at the end from the way he rolls his hips against your own in the face of your absolute devotion.

Perfect, he thinks. You're already his, so he can do whatever he wants to you, right?

And while having you cockwarm him is one of his favourite pastimes, he'd be lying if he said he could do it all night. Much to his disappointment, though he tries every single bath time to do just that, your high pitched gasps and sweet little sighs coax him into movement without fail. A gentle back and forth to begin with, moving you up and down his cock with ease more so than moving himself— you can always count on big brother, okay?

And yet, domesticity calls to him. Begs to keep the slow pace, to let you hump him mindlessly once he's kickstarted your movement. You're a good girl, you know to keep moving, yeah? A simple up and down while he twirls your wet hair, gently cupping the back of your head with one hand, the other finding home on your ass to pinch and tug on your cheek. There's not a thought to be had in that dumb little sister brain of yours, is there? And there better not be, given how hard he works to make sure that there isn't. Rock hard cock stroking your insides gently, at your own pace, a satisfied hum escaping him when you huff and puff up and down his length.

"Good answer— ah—" he rewards you with a rushed moan, wrapping his body even tighter around you to get as close as possible to his little sister, wanting more than anything to melt into you, become so connected through the leaking precum dirtying your insides that all you can think about is him— because all he can think about is you, it's only fair! Even if you've proven yourself thus far to surround your world with him, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to get enough of you. Convinced by your devotion to thrust his cock up just a little, enough to knock you off balance and further into his greedy hold. "Waiting for big brothers cock?" He urges you to continue, to fuck his perverted length faster, fuck yourself stupid on big brother, okay baby?

You let out a muffled mhm!, moaned directly against his chest, heat rising to his cheeks from how cute you can be when doing something so immoral. You actually enjoy fucking big brother? Gross, he sneers internally. Only, the fact that you take part and also relish in something as vulgar as this tugs on his heart. Has his mind reeling with affections for you, grabbing a greedy fistful of your ass to aid in your bounces up and down.

Water splashes around him, the pace of your tiny humps quickening the harsher he grabs you. To the point that he has to use both hands on your pretty body, literally picking you up and letting you drop back down on his cock with insatiable need.

"Fuck, I can't— you're too good at this." he half laughs, sinking further into the water so as to allow you enough room to properly straddle him, every bounce you make on his fat cock leaving him more than a little breathless as he struggles to keep up with your thirst. Chest tight with the sight of you indulging yourself to his cock, using him just as much as he uses you on a daily basis. Oh how he loves it, to be at the receiving end of your adoration, your warm cunt sucking him further in with ever fuck, prompting his hips to hump upwards out of sheer desperation to match your sibling fucking energy.

Greedy as he is though, his hands settle possessively on your hips. Aiding in your movements in a selfish manner, forcing you to grind your puffy clit against him every time you slam your ass back down against his lap.

More than anything he strives to make you happy. Everything, literally everything he does is for you. Guided by your smile, aided by your laughter. He loves you so much, didn't you know? It's why he's helping you fuck yourself dumb on his cock, thoughtlessly thrusting in tandem with your humps, moaning out for you just as much as you sob his name. Over and over, his favourite song.

And like the good big brother he is, he knows when you're close. Takes over the job of fucking when you grow too weak to continue, despite the water splishing over his face. He'd drown if it meant you got to cum, honestly.

Rather than state the obvious, he focuses solely on helping you get there. Cooing and tutting and staring at your scrunched up pretty expression. He'll have to give you so many kisses afterwards for allowing him the privilege to see that cute face later on. Helping you grind your hips down on him in a way that his groin rubs your clit just the way you like, preferring to keep you seated there as your nails dig into his chest for slippery stability, taking to fucking his cock as deep as possible from your stationary seated position. He's barely moving, relying on the twitches and throbs of his cock inside for stimulation. But fuck— baby sister cunt feels so good, how your insides squirm around and suck his cock off so well, pretty whines spilling for him in abundance.

He stares at your face, only so that he can watch you fall apart on his big cock. Because the cut off sob you let out, followed by a gasp of his name before your moth falls open in a silent beg is so cute, fuck, he can't stop himself from cumming too. Not when your hole wraps tighter than ever around his intrusion, bullying his way inside your cunt to shoot his load as deep as possible, aiming to breed his baby sister bitch as payment for sticking by him when no one else would. Promising a future you've yet to learn about simply because you're too cute to hold back, painting your insides sticky white to mix with the bath water when he inevitably pushes some out with deep thrusts.

Gushy little cunt, still spasming around his length when he's done filling you up. It's a good thing you're in the bath with him after all, quietly cooing to you in soft privacy to get up, let him clean you while you're here. There's no one here to tell you how wrong it is for him to not only breed your cute hole, but to also clean it up afterwards with his fingers sneakily entering to scissor around a little.

And he hopes to keep you this way. Dumb, obedient, and oblivious. It's when his favourite little sister is at her cutest.

#500 event! #kylar the loner #kylar smut #dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #dol fanfic #degrees of lewdity fanfic

[cannibalovers]

jack coming back, showing pics of the crime scene to will AND molly, pressuring him to come back and molly telling him that she would be satisfied knowing he did the right thing and that he should go and Will actually going made me actually shed a tear.

#at the scene where he started to act as dolarhyde and kill the family #specifically during shooting the kids #THAT made me lose it #i get justice #everybody wants justice #especially if it means saving families #but jack tell me why are u coming back to an agent that u wouldn't even give the title of an agent to cuz he was too unstable for the field #and got mentally destroyed by this job and so he quit and doesn't wanna come fucking back #after 3 years of trying to rebuild his life and regain normality and happiness (at least what he thought would give him happiness). #all thrown out the fucking window #GO HIRE MORE PEOPLE THAT U WILL GIVE MORE RESPECT TO INSTEAD FFS #THERES A LOT OF PASSIONATE PPL THAT WILL HELP SOLVE THE CRIMES #WILL ISNT THE ONLY PERSON IN THE WORLD #MARIAM FOR EXAMPLE EXISTS HOW COME HE LEFT HER ALONE or at least thats what was implied #anyway<3 #as much as will wasn't truly happy so technically it was for the good to yk return to hannibal someone he felt truly understood by #and complete with #still. seeing him give up that carefully crafted (although full of lies) life that he thought would make him happy was SO heartbreaking #but perhaps he wanted to do it and needed the push? #ok rant over #nbc hannibal #will graham #text post #my post

[maaxverstappen]

all max wants to do is race and spend time with his loved ones, the way this angers people is actually quite comical

#twitter (and here tbh) losing their shit over him not caring about a times magazine like #max has made it Very clear many a time that he /jusy/ wants to race and that he’ll stop when it’s no longer fun #so how come you’re so surprised that that is exactly what he’s doing? why do you feel the need to push your expectations onto someone that #doesn’t want them? #perhaps that’s a you problem #me personally; i find it admirable that he has such a strong moral compass in terms of what he wants to do and what his ambitions are #max doesn’t give a single shit about what you think of him yet his name is still forever in your mouth #think about that one :) #max #max verstappen #formula 1 #m talks

[dutybcrne]

Thinkings thinkings of Fatui!Kaeya have been reawakened in reviewing Arle's teasers/animations

#☆ ┆ ( .ooc. ); #//Whether it's Dad!Pierro or not; I do love the idea of him being left in the care of the Fatui/House of Hearth #//Tho timelines considered; he prolly would be in Pierro's personal care while Arle goes through her Traumatic Matricide Experience #//Doubt the man would want to leave him out of his sight; Khaenri'ahn/Alberich ties considered #//Or maybe he was raised/trained to fight under Signora. Or even for Columbina (her namesake's ties to Pierro's; considered) #//Tho also do LOVE the idea of Kae and Taru growin up together in the Fatui ranks and being the disastrous + shy boi duo #//Tho Kae'd prolly have less to hide/fear with them when it comes to his heritage. The strictness he'd be raised with though... #//Eh; Taru could bring him out of his shell even still jdbgfkf. If anyone can; he deffo could. His little wintry sunshine #//So maybe he'd grow into his peacock self a little more naturally; even if perhaps still out of necessity/for ease of his missions #//Less of a facade to hide his grief/missing pieces tho; more like the way Taru is charming & goofy to lower people's guards #//Still has his little habit of testing people deffo is Much worse and much more sadistic when it comes down to it #//Particularly towards fellow Fatui who disrespect him or their comrades; or just someone he ends up disliking in general #//Does 'test' new comrades; but is more willing to step in & help them if need be. Wants UTMOST trust; determination & loyalty in his men #//So will only ever take those who push to complete the mission at all costs; even themselves/willingly ask him for help when they need it #//Dislikes those who run; & LOATHES cowards who abandon comrades to save themselves; he WILL deliberately make sure they don't make it back #//Still employs his intel gathering methods as normal verse; but has preying mantis tendencies when it comes down to it nbcfjgf #//ESP if they try to take advantage of/blackmail him in some way. Or worse; those who betray him. He is meticulous & VERY ruthless abt it #//His signature is decapitation & an unmelting (Abyssal energy-laced) ice shard through the heart; around which he'd carve a stylized one #//If those informants keep being useful to him; they are safe; and treated so lovingly by him; spoiled rotten with gifts & favors aplenty #//Once they lose their usefulness...well; regrettably he cannot leave any loose ends. These become frozen as statues for him to keep #//'Precious mementos of lovers & conspirators'; he'd call them. He'd keep them in his private home in Snezhnaya #v; glacialis pavonis (fatui!kaeya) #//If he had to have a Harbinger title/name (maybe bumped up for when Scara erases himself); he'd prolly be l'Innamorato #//Fitting of his methods (is also the remaining role of Commedia dell'arte lololol). He is saccharine sweet; pretty & deadly as a belladonn #//Deffo would have tango-based motifs rather than waltz; would favor frost-laced roses. Might even leave those with his victims too #//Can you tell I listened to Rondo Across Countless Kalpas as I wrote this up jhbfjgkfhf #hc; kaeya #//I mean yeah lol. I have so many more thinkings abt this verse aaAAAA #//Am torn if I want his to use a Cryo Delusion; or have him with Cryo Vision and an Anemo Delusion. Do like that for Cryo Swirls #//Then his rage/scorn could be likened to a Blizzard. Do like that image. Deffo favors his Abyssal powers more tho; maybe THAT'd be better

[candied-cae]

"Izzy's appearances in 2x03 with Stede were some of the only times I could stand him." - Allow me to further explain

I want to preface this with "I know." I know I was not an Izzy Enjoyer during Season 1 and I know I wasn't really looking forward to a redemption arc for his character because I was worried it wouldn't be taken seriously enough, since this show is a comedy. And, so far, I feel like I was right. His forgiveness feels rushed to me, and Stede's adverse reactions to him are the only times where it felt like this was in fact Izzy Hands from season 1 and not a guy with the same name and face but with a clean record and softer disposition.

The instances where Stede is put in Izzy's proximity are the only ones that really make sense coming out of Season 1. As far as we see, a few months has passed and pretty much everyone on The Revenge has forgiven Izzy for the simple reason that they can tell Ed is taking a little extra of his anger out on him. We see no apologies made, we see no kind gestures, we see no really complex stuff about him realizing he fucked up.

They skip right to his breaking down and the rest of the crew picking up the pieces behind Ed's back, even though for most of them Izzy was their torturer at least twice before all on his own.

So it felt weird and jarring that he seemed completely washed free of his "sins" of the last season, especially since it happened right there in the first episode. I wish the production team put more time in making Izzy "earn" the kindness the crew affords him, but I digress. The interactions Stede has with Izzy feel the most right (to me) and I adore how much character work we can pull from them.

(In agonizing detail by going over every word of dialogue and expression exchanged between them, you've been warned.)

The first time they address each other, goes as follows:

"Bonnet. Good to see you." "Piss off, Izzy. I don't wanna hear from you."

With Izzy approaching Stede without reason and speaking first. He limps on over and opens up with something polite almost. But when it comes from Izzy Hands - the man who personally insulted Stede, insulted all his favorite activities, insulted his crew, challenge him to duel and skewered him through the side, went on to call on Calico Jack and the Royal English Navy to take down The Revenge, who stole his crew and ship after he'd been arrested, and Stede's clearly got suspicions that Ed's behavior was influenced by him - that greeting is a slap in the face.

It's that kind of fake sweet pretend-we're-friends-for-the-sake-of-social-graces thing that Stede left behind on the mainland.

So he just tells him to leave. That he doesn't care what he has to say if it isn't information, and even if it was, Stede doesn't trust what Izzy shares.

And Izzy's a little caught off guard by that reaction. We see him sort of sway and look to the side. He looks rejected, which he is. And it's the first time all season that someone hasn't really let him have a fresh start (except for Ed). It's the first time anyone's tried to hold him accountable for the litany of things he'd done to the crew in the last season. Events that seem to have taken place only weeks/months before.

The second time Izzy speaks up, he does so to tease:

"What about my painting? Why was it all stabbed up?" "That was me." *sighs*

Izzy puts on a smile and leans his head back a bit. He's try to act proud and sort of snarky, since Stede isn't playing with him like they did previously. So, he tried to goad him into saying something. Into getting snippy or bitchy in return. He's trying to push Stede into giving him something to work with.

Because if people talk to him, and they play his games, and they soften up, that's how (it seems) he's been able to win them over and get into folk's good graces.

But Stede doesn't give. He doesn't want to play Izzy's mind games. He doesn't want to volley a few insults back in forth until it's fun. He doesn't want to give Izzy any of his time or attention or energy, because Izzy doesn't deserve any of it to him.

Stede walks away, and we see Izzy's expression freeze and fall. He's stuck and confused, because he thought that was a good move. He thought that one was going to get a reaction. And maybe that's how he's always gotten people to talk to him, by pushing them into a retaliation, but it doesn't work.

What's the quote? About how hate isn't the opposite of love, indifference is? Stede is being indifferent to Izzy's presence, and that's doing more to Izzy's feelings than if he outright hated him.

The third time they interact, Izzy's followed Stede into the captain's quarters and jokes:

"Don't cry, Bonnet. We just redecorated." "I don't mind, actually. I think the knives really help bring the place together."

Again, he's tried to push Stede's buttons. Playing on already used jokes that Stede's too posh and soft to, say, appreciate something like a dozen knives thrown/stabbed into the walls and ceiling of his cabin.

He's teasing, on the edge of calling Stede a cry baby, either just to see if it'll work him up, or if that's the only way he knew how to start their discussion. But again, Stede isn't playing with him. He brushes past the implied insult and moves to something more like "I don't care" in response.

Instead, turning his attention back to the subject of Edward Teach. Because he knows the crew were all dodging the question and he knows Izzy would have to know what happened to Ed.

During that same conversation they pivot to more serious matters:

"What'd you do with him? I know he wouldn't have left by choice." "I know you think you understand him-" "He was either going to watch the world burn or die trying. So which was it?" "Alright, Bonnet. Have it your own way. He went mad. He tortured the crew. He took my fuckin' leg 'cause I dared to mention your fuckin' name. He was a wild dog, and we dealt with him like one." "You sent him to doggy heaven." "No, I could never do that. We deserted him on a beach. Left nature to do the rest. More than he would've done for us. You and me did this to him. And we cannot let this crew suffer any more for our mistakes." "Why would they suffer?" "If your captain senses mutiny, she'll kill us all. That's pirate code."

The most notable expressions during this conversation are Stede's who almost seems to wince when Izzy says Ed retaliated against him over mentioning Stede's name, his defeat when he believes Ed was killed in mutiny, and his concern about making sure his crew will be spared.

These are feelings that are barely about Izzy, and mostly about the fact that Stede is taking on a lot more blame than he's saying. He feels a lot of the responsibility for what's happened (further exemplified by him cracking to tell Zheng Yi Sao that he should've told Ed how he felt and avoided all of it). And this is the first time Izzy really gets anything out of him from all his poking and prodding he does in the episode.

And though Stede is convinced that Ed was simply marooned and it's its own kind of tragedy and means there was somewhere to go to try and get him back, Stede worries about saving his crew first. He pleads with Zheng Yi Sao and even wins her over until Auntie finds Ed's "body."

After that revelation, Izzy's in The Red Flag's brig and only says:

"Go on, Bonnet. Give me your worst."

And Stede says nothing. He looks at him. He hears what he has to say. But he doesn't do anything. Nothing except having to physically push himself off the bars to walk away.

And again, we can tell there's blame he's assigned to himself for it.

It's a little bit his fault that Ed's "dead." It's a little bit his fault the rest of his crew is going to be executed. It's a little bit his fault, and it's a little bit Izzy's. He knows so, because Izzy said it to him himself. "You and Me did this to him." And Izzy huffs, gives him permission to fly off the handle. To pour his rage and grief all over Izzy, to retaliate with words or with blades.

Izzy would take it. Whatever Stede was going to give him, he was going to take it. Just like he was trying to make him mad earlier, Izzy was still grappling for something. For acknowledgment. For something in his last moments before an entire career of piracy ended at The Pirate Queen's behest.

But Stede gives him nothing.

And that hurts worse. That brings tears to his eyes. That settles in the quiet idea of "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed" that cuts so much deeper.

And the last time Izzy tries for anything, he tries being grateful:

"I just wanted to thank you for-"

But Stede still doesn't listen. Doesn't even let him finish thanking him.

Even though he went as far as to save Izzy's life along with the rest of the crew (he could've struck him down or declared he was unwelcome to join them back on The Revenge if he really wanted to), he still hadn't earned acknowledgment. Hadn't deserved pity or anything else. He doesn't even deserve to stand next to Stede and fluff his ego, as far as Stede seems concerned.

Stede hasn't forgiven Izzy. And maybe it's because he feels there's nothing to forgive, it's mostly Stede's own fault- maybe it's because he blames him too much and will never let it go- maybe he's too hurt to feel anything but tired and sad once the immediate danger has passed... Izzy doesn't know.

What he does know, is that he has tried everything to get reactions out of Stede. Everything except apologizing. So, I'm personally hoping for an apology in the upcoming episodes. For some vulnerability and truth and embarrassment. Because these are the beats of a redemption. These are the plot points of turning your life around, and people either don't believe it's genuine at first or don't care.

This is the "cost" of Izzy's actions in Season 1. And it's something they haven't given us from anyone else yet. I'd also really like Ed to make some kind of address of the fact ("You wanted Blackbeard as dark and demanding as he could possibly get, I gave that to you"). Because that's how a redemption arc works best. The guy who fucked up has to put in an effort expressly to be forgiven.

To me, it's not enough that his life sucked for a couple months and he didn't get exactly what he wanted (aka, he didn't realize he didn't actually want it like that) and he lost a leg. He's going to keep pirating on one foot, but to receive a position on The Revenge happily shared, there needs to be something more.

More OFMD

#Cae Has Lots of Feelings About Our Flag Means Death #Okay - this analysis took all my fucking brain power holy shit #But SEE! #I told everyone I had a reason for adoring their interactions and it's not because I'm a Steddyhands shipper (I'm not) #I do not like Izzy yet. He hasn't won me over by just crying. #I need there to be that visceral understanding between everyone. #I need him to do something more to feel it. #But I know people love him and that's a big part of why he got redeemed so fast initially. #I'm sure some could argue they wouldn't have wanted to waste screen time on Izzy being miserable enough to start acting better on his own. #But I'm simply not in that camp. I wanted to see him hit that rock bottom and learn it's no way to live like that. #And I wanted him to do some of that realization on his own! The crew can support him once they see he knows he fucked up. #Once they see regret for Calico Jack - the English - his time as Captain - for pushing Blackbeard to be that bad. #That is when there's something to build off of. #And it is my personal opinion that skipping that bit was a mistake. #And perhaps it was even planned for and scripted and filmed and had to be cut for time. I don't know. But I wish we got to see that part. #Our Flag Means Death #OFMD #Our Flag Means Death Season 2 Spoilers #Our Flag Means Death Spoilers #OFMD Spoilers #OFMDS2 #OFMD s2 spoilers #Izzy Hands #Israel Hands #Stede Bonnet #The Gentleman Pirate #Edward Teach #Blackbeard #Izzy Hands Character Analysis #Izzy Critical

[primofate]

[Genshin Impact] Sitting on his lap

Note: Watch me disappear for a long time again after this update.

Warnings: some are a bit suggestive, still safe for work though. established relationship with Genshin man, please excuse and tell me if there are pronoun slips

Premise: You just felt like sitting on his lap, nothing much to it...or so you think.

Characters: Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, gn!reader

Alhaitham

Continues reading his book unfazed, one arm automatically coming securely round your waist. He shuts his book after a few seconds more and passes you an upward glance.

"Need something?"

You only hum in response with a shake of your head, indicating that you had only wanted to be close to him. He sits straighter, chest pressing closer to your back. You feel the warmth of his lips press on the left side of your neck, his head tilted to gain access to it.

There's a deep inhale as he takes in your scent and a relaxed exhale that follows. You hear him whisper, voice almost a tone lower and a rare expression of affection passes his lips.

"You're intoxicating, do you know that?"

Ayato

Chuckles as you plop yourself on his lap. He had been doing some paperwork, but he pushes those aside as he wraps both arms around your middle, moving closer as his head rests on your shoulder.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The usual mischievous lilt in his voice doesn't disappear, he's amused that you've taken the initiative to come look for him, even though you knew he was in the middle of something. Before you could even reply, he beats you to it, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

"Am I right to assume that you, perhaps, missed me?"

"...and what if I did?" you counter with a smile of your own. Head turning sideways to look at him. He grins, one of his hands unravelling from your middle to travel up your face, landing on your cheek, pulling you closer to meet his soft lips.

The kiss starts off gentle, just yours on his. It starts to turn hungrier, still soft, but now it feels like hot lava is churning in your belly at the increasing intensity. He pulls away for a moment only to whisper "Then I'll have to do something about that,"

Baizhu

Looks up from his medicinal notes, taking a few seconds to gaze at your back.

The first thing you feel are his hands resting atop your shoulders, then his thumbs pressing small circles near the base of your neck. You let out a pleasurable moan, relaxing in his hold. Then, as if realizing what you'd done, your hand darts atop your mouth to hide a small laugh.

You could hear Baizhu chuckling alongside with you.

"No need to hold back, darling," his thumbs continue to press circles, now downwards along your spine, continuing his massage.

"Mmmmm..." you try to stifle the next moan coming, "This could so easily be misinterpreted by anyone passing by outside," the two of you share a short laugh yet again.

"Either way, all I'm doing is giving you some love, darling,"

Cyno

He blinks as he feels you sit on him. He was always uncomfortable with the initial position, and so what he usually did was pull you and your legs up, positioning you sideways over his lap, legs somewhat dangling over the armchair. One strong arm wrapped around your back, steadying you and allowing you to lean towards him, tucking your head under his chin.

"Is something the matter?"

You shake your head and offer a simple reply. "Nothing at all, I just wanted to be close to you,"

Your honesty always managed to tug at the edge of his lips the slightest bit. In opportunities like this Cyno didn't say much, instead he liked to savour your warmth melding with his, liked to feel your breathing in sync with his.

He silently presses a kiss atop your head before closing his eyes, and staying that way for a moment longer.

Diluc

Instead of you melting into his embrace it's Diluc who melts around you. The moment you sit on his lap his arms encircle you around your shoulders and pulls you flush against him, your back to his front.

From his position, he nuzzles into your neck and sighs, his hot breath tickling your skin. He closes his eyes and shields himself from the world for a moment, basking in the safety and love emanating from you.

"Hard day?" You ask him and he mumbles something into your neck, incoherent. He repeats it as he pulls away a slight inch.

"Not more than usual," he squeezes you around the shoulders as he says so. "and you?"

You reach a hand up to sift through his hair, he sighs at the feeling and nearly melts into a puddle. "Nothing out of the ordinary," you return his sentiment.

You play with his hair as he holds you close, and in that moment there really isn't much for him to say, though his heart bursts with emotion and fondness towards you.

"Stay with me, Y/N," he makes this request from time to time, and though the two of you have already sworn yourselves to each other, perhaps he needed to say it once in a while in order to hear the answer from you.

"I'll always be here, Diluc,"

Itto

The oni is rather cluless in certain aspects of life, but when you sit on his lap he's guaranteed to be flustered. You prop yourself on his thighs, hands positioned on his legs to keep you from falling in case he made any sudden movements.

"Y-Y-Y/N?!"

"Hm?" You innocently ask, tipping your head back to playfully look at his reddening cheeks. "...Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" you ask, a laugh threatening to escape your lips because of the look on his face.

"I-Well-*ahem* Sure I am!" He puts on a brave face, but he looks like he's also sweating bullets. His hands are stiffly by his side, and he's hesitant to touch you anywhere.

You decide to comfortably lean back and Itto could not think of anything except how warm and soft you were compared to him. He had to get it together, this happened every time you sat on his lap, and it was becoming uncool for him to keep blushing when you did so. He promised himself that he would "man up".

...He still had the same reaction the next time you did it.

Kaeya

Kaeya reacts as if this was an every day thing, in fact this was always a good opportunity to flirt with you.

"Found your favourite spot have you?" Kaeya twists around to peer at you, grin plastered on his face, hand finding your thigh.

"It was tempting, you were just sitting there and it looked like a good place to rest," You returned his grin and felt his chest rumble with laughter.

"You're always welcome, snowflake," his hand squeezes your thigh, eye seemingly glinting with mischief. He shifts around on his seat, making space in between his legs and pulling you right between them, arms tight around your waist, front pressing against your back. "But you'll have to pay a small fee for this exclusive seat, I'm afraid,"

He tilts his head down to gaze at you expectantly, seemingly leaning closer. You smile, tilting your head up for you lips to meet. Kaeya doesn't half ass his kisses. It turns passionate in a split second and his hands are starting to wander up and down your thigh.

"Tsk, tsk," you let out as you part, your noses still connected, gazes steady on each other. "Are you sure it's just a kiss you want, sir?"

He chuckles, "Love, when have we ever stopped at just a kiss?"

Lyney

"Hm?" Lyney chides with a smile as he feels you become comfortable on his lap. He laughs when he realizes that you were not planning on leaving anytime soon. "Hello there my rose," His arms wrap around your waist, and his head rests on your back, snuggling into the warmth of it. He looks almost like a cat purring and rubbing onto their favourite scratching post.

It tickles you the slightest bit, so you bristle with soft laughter. "Lyney!" You warn, and he returns your sunny laugh with a chuckle, but doesn't let go.

"What's wrong, love?" He feigns innocence but now has resorted to placing butterfly kisses up and down your spine, taking a moment to lightly nip at the back of your neck before kissing back down again in a line.

By now you know he's doing it on purpose, so you twist around on his lap, and give him a half-hearted glare. "If you wanted kisses all you had to do was ask,"

Lyney finally pulls back and smirks, that same smirk that shows up when he's at the climax of a magic trick, about to reveal the grandest part. He leans back on the chair he's sitting on, placing both arms on the rests before lifting a hand up, wrists flicking upwards in a motion to beckon you over. "Well come now," the same hand tilts your chin gently towards his direction as he whispers, tongue briefly grazing over his lips, "Let me show you a real magic trick,"

Neuvillette

Neuvillette embraces you in and it almost feels like you're floating on a cloud, weightlessly relaxing in the air. His clothes help to cushion you, but at the same time Neuvillette himself is as warm as a fireplace and comfy as a sea of feathers. It feels safe in the arms of the Chief Justice, as if no harm will come to you. Sometimes you forget that you're in the presence of such an important man.

You almost always end up sliding down the slightest bit, the back of your head resting on his chest, his arm secured around your stomach. "Would you like to retire for the day?" he asks, and this is his code to ask you if you would like for him to stop working and walk back home with you.

"No, don't mind me," you whisper, burrowing further into him. You hear him sigh contentedly. With you, Neuvillette is lovestruck. Whatever is within his power, he would do it for you. He takes your hand and briefly presses his lips on the back of it. "Alright," and just like that he brings the paperwork back into his hands. Reading his notes and documents--highly confidential, by the way. Something that you shouldn't be reading--but he trusts you more than he trusts himself and that was dangerous, for someone like him.

If there ever came a day where you broke his trust, Neuvillette would most likely never trust another soul again. You alone was his deity of truth.

Scaramouche...Ruthless Prince Scaramouche?

"Whadd'you think you're doing?" his eye twitches as you jump on his lap. You glance backwards at him before turning away once again. "Getting comfy," you reply nonchalantly.

"Getting com--" the rest of the words were mumbled, you didn't catch the whole thing but it did sound like he said a very garbled and muffled "my ass" at the end of it. You ignore him and happily stay, humming as you read a book while you're at it.

Scaramouche glares at your back, taking a deep, long breath. For a moment he contemplated on just letting you do it, but the other part of him wanted to just push you off and let your butt painfully land on the ground.

As you were peacefully reading, you suddenly feel his forehead bump your back, though he wasn't holding nor hugging you at all. He stayed like that for a bit, as if he was praying to some God he believed--or didn't believe--in. After a moment he grumbles something more, but now has a firm arm around your waist.

He repositions, opening his legs a bit more to give you more space to rest in between them and then leaning forward to lazily loll his head on your shoulder, looking at the book you were reading. "...What trash are you reading now?" but his tone of voice had levelled off to calm, nearly peaceful.

"...101 ways to annoy your husband," you secretly grin when you hear him scoff. His hand finds its way to the spine of the book you're reading and easily grabs and flings it off to the side.

"You do that plenty, you don't need more ideas," his hold on you gets a little tighter, as if he wasn't going to let you go anytime soon. "Y'know what I've been reading lately...?" you feel his lips against your neck in a chaste kiss but in the next moment you feel a slight nip that sends electricity down your whole being.

"Hm?" You ask absentmindedly, the question doesn't completely register in your mind, what with his hand edging closer to the hem of your shirt, brushing against the bare skin of your waist. He breathes the next words into your ear huskily, his hand sliding upwards, and you feel a shiver making its way to your shoulders.

"101 ways to make you scream,"

#genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #genshin headcanons #ayato x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette fluff #lyney fluff #lyney x reader #itto fluff #itto x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaeya x reader #baizhu x reader #cyno x reader