#on my knees please oh lord let her absolutely destroy me

[ohallthecrushes]

"What about love?"

A/N: ok, this is what I've been working on lately. There may be part two, I have the whole story in my head, but I'm not sure yet how to write it down. Let me know if you want a continuation. I appreciate every comment and suggestion.

Summary: Both, Morpheus and Reader fear rejection and they worry that what they feel to each other could change the dynamic of their friendship. Morpheus is quite guarded when it comes to falling in love and Reader is afraid that by allowing her feelings to grow and acting on them may somehow destroy what she already has with Morpheus. They need help from someone like Matthew to realize how foolish they both are and how they should finally go for it and be together. In essence, idiots in love. xd

"I will not elaborate on that." You shook your head refusing to talk about your feelings for Morpheus. "We're friends that's all."

"Friends?" Matthew ruffled up his feathers in disbelief. "What friends have eyes on each other like that?"

"Like what?" You raised your brow and looked up at Matthew. He was hopping on a lower tree branch on your right side like he was unable to stand still, due to how impatient he felt...

"Like you are looking at the most delicious cake you've been longing to eat after a long time of starvation, but for some unspecific reason you won't."

You chuckled. "So you're saying there's a sexual tension between us?"

"Yes! But not only that..." He raised his wings slightly annoyed by how foolish you and Morpheus acted, not willing to admit to your feelings towards each other. "There are feelings there. Deep ones." His voice softened a bit. "All those romantic dates you've had, all those soft gazing at each other, sweet whispers, nervous flirting..."

You sighed as you adjusted your position, leaning back against the tree. You pulled your knees closer to your chest, thinking about what Matthew had already said, thinking about your joyful times spent with Dream lord.

"... It's all there in everything you do when you're two together." He flew down and landed on grass next to you. "Love." He added as if it wasn't obvious already.

Love. You let that sink in.

A very strong, very overwhelming, very perilous feeling.

You closed your eyes for a moment, Morpheus face and his starry eyes gazing at you appeared in your mind like a picture framed.

But love is also a very beautiful, very pleasing and absolutely treasured thing worth feeling.

Matthew was right. There was a potential for love between you and Dream lord. And if you were being honest with yourself, if you could only let go of your fear of rejection and insecurities, maybe you were able to embrace what your heart was holding for Morpheus.

You opened your eyes and looked at the raven. Matthew was observing you, knowing that his pep talk finally managed to make you consider taking some action. There was still some work to do, especially on Morpheus behalf, but seed had been already planted.

"I have to admit..." You said. "Your gentle nudging seems to be working." Your lips curled up into a soft smile. "I have some feelings for Morpheus, but..."

"Oh, there's always a but." Matthew sighed to himself.

"... I don't know if this is a good idea to let him know, I'm not sure if Morpheus is... ready to take our relationship to a deeper level."

You pondered as you leaned your head back, not realising that Matthew had already spread his wings to fly away. When you looked at him he was at a far distance, and before you could stop him, he came off the ground.

"Matthew!" You called after him. "You're not going to-"

"Worry not, Y/N! Morpheus won't find out about our talk! I'm just gonna encourage him in a subtle way to acknowledge his feelings and to talk to you about them!" Matthew made an exciting rattle sound and flew away to the palace to play Cupid.

Oh no you thought. Matthew and his subtle way to make things happen.

Matthew perched on a nearby bookshelf, looking thoughtfully at Morpheus as he stood by the window, gazing into the night sky. The raven knew he had to tread carefully, for Morpheus was not one to easily share his emotions.

"Speak freely Matthew. What's on your mind?"

"Ah, you know..." Matthew began, pretending to be nonchalant, "I couldn't help but notice how Dreaming has been beaming lately with glee, warmth, fresh spring hair... Love..."

Morpheus raised an eyebrow, not giving away anything.

"And I think it has something to do with Y/N being here..." Matthew continued. "She seems to enjoy spending time with you, seeking your company more often. And I dare to say, you seek for her companion too."

Morpheus shifted slightly. "Her presence has a quite delightful impact on my realm, yes." He stated, trying to remain composed. He didn't know where Matthew was going with it, but definitely something mattered.

"And it's more than that, sir." Matthew paused, implying that you had a strong impact on Lord of dreams himself.

Matthew considered his next words. "But I also notice... Well, actually it's not only me who has noticed that, that you both, ah... are unaware of each other's feelings."

Morpheus turned his head to him and Matthew shifted slightly under the intense gaze of Dream lord.

"As much as I usually welcome your insights and wise counsel, it is not your position to interfere with what me and lady Y/N have." Morpheus said in a soft but firm voice, politely reprimanding his raven.

"I know, forgive me my boldness, sir." Matthew lowered his head in a respectful way.

There was a long pause between them as Morpheus turned his head back to the window pondering on something. He remembered that he and Matthew had already had a similar conversation like this a few weeks ago. It started all with Matthew sharing tales of past loves and the consequences of hesitating, of not considering what two lovers might regret if they continued to hold back.

It's then when Matthew had said:

"Lady Y/N is rather fond of you, and she has a heart of gold, she does."

Morpheus had glanced at Matthew, his expression softening ever so slightly. "She is a remarkable woman," he'd admitted.

"Indeed, she is," Matthew had agreed. "And I think she deserves to know how you truly feel about her."

The Dream Lord had averted his gaze, but Matthew could tell he was considering the raven's words. "I do not wish to burden her with my emotions," Morpheus said quietly.

"Ah, but emotions are not burdens, my lord," Matthew had said wisely. "They are the very essence of life. And Y/N is no stranger to the complexities of feelings. You may find that she's quite perceptive when it comes to matters of the heart."

And that was how the conversation had ended as Morpheus didn't respond and just took his leave saying something about important work to do in the Dreaming.

Having this memory in mind, Morpheus sighed, his defenses weakening. "Perhaps you are right, Matthew" he admitted with a soft distance voice. "But I..."

Matthew hopped closer, a comforting presence. He was listening closely, though he didn't like another but that he heard today. When his lord hesitated to finish his sentence, Matthew decided to respond because he already knew what this but was about.

"Y/N cares for you deeply, and I believe she would welcome your affections."

Morpheus was about to respond when Matthew's beak slipped, and he couldn't stop the next words that spilled out. "She cares for you more than you know, my lord. In fact, she's quite smitten with you."

Morpheus froze, a mixture of surprise and curiosity crossing his features. "Smitten, you say?" he inquired, unable to hide his interest.

"Oh, yes!" Matthew said, trying to recover from his little slip-up. "It's evident in the way she looks at you, the way she lights up when you're near. It's quite enchanting to see."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Morpheus's lips. "Enchanting, you say?"

Matthew nodded, now unable to conceal his excitement. "Absolutely, my lord! She adores you, and I dare say she wouldn't mind knowing how you feel about her."

Morpheus took a moment to process the revelation, his mind racing with possibilities. "Perhaps... I should tell her," he murmured.

Matthew couldn't contain his joy and relief. "I think that would be a marvelous idea, my lord!" he exclaimed. "Love is a rare and beautiful gift. Don't let it slip away."

The Dream Lord gave a slight nod, his heart warming to the idea. "Thank you, Matthew," he said sincerely. "Your counsel has been invaluable."

Matthew beamed with pride. "You're welcome, my lord."

And with newfound determination, Morpheus left the room, leaving Matthew to bask in his success. The raven knew he had played a small part in bringing the two souls together, and he couldn't be happier for them.

#sandman fanfiction #sandman x reader #the sandman #morpheus #morpheus x reader

[caroldanversenthusiast]

KING VALKYRIE 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

#on my knees please oh lord let her absolutely destroy me #ahenskdofleleoe #IM SO GAY #tessa thompson #valkyrie #thor #thor love and thunder #king valkyrie #lol #lgbt #wlw #sapphic #women #lgbtq #marvel #mcu #bisexual #taika waititi

[wandaromanova]

I Told You

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

(18+ Only) Warnings: mommy kink, oral-sex on strap on (nat receiving), face-fucking, spitting kink, praise kink, degradation, spanking, choking, hair-pulling, dub-con (?), tummy-bulge kink, overstimulation, cum-filled strap on

A/N: hello! this is a second part to Mile High Club! it’s thot hours, so i hope you whores enjoy this one. happy reading <3

anon requested: My good lord. I need a Part II to Mile High Club, where Nat is absolutely destroying R with her strap🥵🥵

Mile High Club | I Told You

Summary: Natasha is a woman of her word.

Word Count: 1.8K

| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

You hit the floor with a loud thud as Natasha shoved you into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. 

You stayed on your knees, knowing all too well that your punishment would worsen if you moved an inch. 

You watched as Natasha slowly tore her clothes off, purposely taking a little longer than usual, to see if you’d disobey her, but to her surprise, you didn’t.

Even as she walked over to the closet and pulled out your favorite strap-on, attaching the harness to her waist, you didn’t budge. 

Natasha was impressed, but she wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of knowing that. 

The redhead stalked over to you, where you still kneeled in front of the bed. You let out a squeal when she harshly gripped your hair, pulling your face towards the toy. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Suck.” 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You didn’t have to be told twice as you gripped the base of the cock, running your tongue around the tip teasingly, but a grunt from Natasha and a needy thrust of her hips, put a stop to your teasing. 

Nat shoved the entire length into your mouth in one swift motion, smiling at the sound of your gags as the strap hit the back of your throat, tears springing to your eyes quickly. 

“You better get to work and make mommy cum before I really give you something to cry about and fuck you with no preparation.” 

You focused on breathing through your nose, nodding against her cock before pulling your mouth completely off of the strap, slamming back onto the strap. 

Each time the strap hit the back of your throat, the base of the cock would rub against Nat’s clit, providing her pleasure as well. 

Her moans encouraged you to keep going. You didn’t want to disappoint your mommy. So, you took a deep breath through your nose and took the entire length into your mouth, and held it there for a few seconds. 

Natasha looked down and groaned at the sight of you on your knees, droll trailing down your mouth and chin, your beautiful gags filling the silence of the room. 

You pulled back halfway and repeatedly slammed down onto her cock, sucking as hard as you could. Even though you knew Nat couldn’t feel it, what you did know was that she went crazy over the sounds, and you were right. 

The redhead gripped both sides of your head and began to pound the strap into your mouth, fucking your face as fast as she could. 

“Fuck, baby. Mommy’s gonna cum for you. You’re so good with your mouth. Gonna fill that slutty mouth with my cum.” 

Natasha muttered out and with a few more thrusts, she came with a silent moan. You felt the fake cum fill your mouth and hastily swallowed everything. 

You looked up and watched as your girlfriend’s head flew back and her eyes fluttered shut, the hands on your head were shaking as she was overcome with bliss. 

When the Russian relaxed, she yanked you off of her cock, reveling in the coughs that followed after the action.

She smirked in satisfaction. The thought of your throat being sore tomorrow from her cock had Natasha eager to fuck you, and that’s exactly what she planned on doing. 

“You look so pretty like this, honey. Covered in spit, cum, and tears like a dumb whore. Open.”

You opened your mouth at Natasha’s command. She gripped your jaw and spit into your mouth, wiping away a few drops of cum that you failed to swallow.

“Swallow, strip, and get on all fours. Face down and ass up, baby.” 

You immediately swallowed and stood up. You tore your clothing off at lightning speed before practically jumping onto the bed in excitement. Natasha let out a dark chuckle as you did so.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too excited, slut. I’m gonna destroy this sweet pussy.” 

You closed your eyes and shuttered as Natasha teasingly rubbed the strap against your slit. 

“Please, mommy. Please fuck me with your cock.” You begged, but you quickly learned that was a bad move, when Natasha’s hand landed a hard smack against your ass. 

She spanked you a few more times, her blows getting harder as she continued. By the time she was finished, you were shuddering and crying as she rubbed the red skin. 

“Whores don’t get to beg. You take what mommy gives you and deal with it. Understood?” 

You nodded against the bed, your face buried into the mattress. You made sure to mumble a ‘yes mommy’ to avoid more spanks. 

Suddenly, all the air was knocked out of your lungs when Natasha slammed the cock deep into your entrance. 

Her hands gripped your waist tightly as she set off with a brutal pace. The sounds of skin slapping and your whorish moans resounded throughout the bedroom. 

“Fuck, baby. No matter how many times I stretch out this pussy with my big cock, you’re still so tight. Such a cockwhore.” 

Natasha grunted out as she continued her relentless thrusting. You were practically bouncing on her dick from the force of her thrusts. 

“Your cockwhore, mommy.” You turned your head to the side, your cheek pressed against the plush mattress, as you tried to catch your breath. 

Natasha gripped the base of your neck and yanked you up, your back flush against her chest. Her grip was tight as she rutted into you. 

“My cockwhore? That’s right, you’re my little slut, nothing but a hole for mommy to fuck. Isn’t that right, princess?” 

You were panting, feeling lightheaded from the slight restriction she provided to your airways. 

“Yes! Yes, mommy. All my holes are yours to fuck. Only yours.” 

You were completely overtaken by the pleasure. She continued to ram the strap into your pussy and the squelching sounds turned you on even more.

“Cum on mommy’s cock, whore. Let everyone know that I’m the only one who can make you feel this good.” 

Natasha’s other hand reached around to rub tight circles onto your clit, the speed of her thrusts increasing until you came around her cock with a loud scream of her name, ‘mommy,’ and some other words the redhead couldn’t understand. 

You breathed heavily as Natasha let go of your throat. You didn’t even have the strength to catch yourself. You just let your upper body fall onto the bed as Natasha gripped your hips again, keeping your lower half up for her dick. 

Natasha continued pounding into you. She was sweating from the effort it took, but she didn’t care. She’d continue to fuck you, even if it was the last thing she’d ever do. 

She admired the way your ass would bounce against her pelvis each time she bottomed out. She loved the redness of your skin, her handprints clearly visible from her slaps. 

One of her hands slid up your spine, absolutely loving the way your back was arched, taking every inch of the cock desperately. 

You winced as her fingernails dug into the skin of your back, scratching down your back. That was definitely going to leave behind some marks, not that you cared anyway. 

You loved when Natasha would leave marks on your body. It was as if she was claiming you. She wanted everyone to know that she owned you and that was a huge turn-on. 

“Your pussy is so desperate for mommy. I wish you could see how beautiful my cock looks inside of you, moya lyubov (my love).” 

You whined when Natasha slapped your ass each time she thrust into you. The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure. So, your squeals turned into moans. 

It didn’t take long for you to fall over the edge again. You let out an animalistic scream as you came. Your entire body froze and you swear you stopped breathing for a second as you succumbed to the pleasure. 

Natasha’s thrusts slowed and you let out a sigh of relief. You thought she was done, but oh, you were so fucking wrong. 

The redhead picked you up and flipped you onto your back, her cock still inside of you. She began to fuck you once more, and you looked up at her pleadingly.

“Mommy, I- I can’t take anymore. Please stop.” You begged your girlfriend, but she didn’t listen. She continued to thrust into you roughly, one of her hands coming up and wrapping around your throat. 

“You can and you will. Didn’t you say you were mommy’s cockwhore? And you’re begging me to stop fucking you? You’re pathetic.”

Natasha’s thrusts slowed, but they were still rough as she pounded into you. She was hitting all of your sweet spots with precision, her other hand finding its way to your hip.

You were extremely sensitive at this point. Each thrust had you twitching and wincing slightly. It had become too much, but you wanted to please her so bad, so you gave in. 

Natasha’s eyes lit up when she saw the bulge of her dick prodding through your stomach. She loved how deeply she could fuck you; it was exhilarating. 

“Mommy’s cock is so deep inside your pussy, honey.” The redhead growled out as the hand on your hip traveled up your body. She moaned as she felt the bulge of her dick in your stomach. It drove her wild and she was desperate to have you cumming against her again.

“Mommy’s gonna fill your pussy up with her cum. Gonna make you my little cumdump.” 

Natasha grunted as her hand reached down and rubbed your clit quickly. Your eyes shut open, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the sheets tightly. You were biting your lips so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if you drew blood. 

“Come on, honey. Coat mommy’s cock with your cum.” Natasha leaned down, still thrusting into you as she whispered filthily into your ear. 

Your vision blurred as you came. You were so exhausted that you couldn’t bring yourself to scream as you hit euphoria. Your back rose off of the mattress, your neck straining from the angle. 

The feeling of warm cum filling you up had you shuttering below the redhead. Natasha kept thrusting into you, pushing more of the cum deep inside of your pussy. 

You whined when Natasha pulled the strap out of your cunt, the sound of your wetness filling the room. The redhead threw the strap to some spot in the room, reminding herself to clean it later. 

You stared up at your girlfriend through glossy eyes as she hovered over you. Natasha licked some of the drool that had escaped your lips with the tip of her tongue and moaned. 

She stared down at you with a cocky smirk. You were completely fucked out, your body drenched in sweat as your hair clung to your forehead. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I told you I’d fuck you till you begged me to stop.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff smut #black widow x reader #black widow #request done

[ponyam]

Hello! I really like your writing and I find it very enjoyable to read. I was wondering if you could please do one where Zhongli and reader go on a beach day with their friends and reader is a bit nervous to wear a swimsuit but Zhongli hypes them up. (NSFW and/or SFW) which ever one your conferable with :)

yay!! thank you so much, i'm glad you enjoy my word vomit <3

image

prompt: zhongli + an s/o [gender neutral] who is insecure about wearing a swimsuit

cw: suggestive content! implied sex, mentions of body insecurities, slight possessiveness

The bustling noises of Liyue Harbor rising to greet the day stirred you awake from your slumber. Seagull cries and sounds of the rushing tide welcomed you back into the world as your eyes were greeted by the brightness of a warm sunrise. Strong arms decorated in black and gold markings held you securely in place as your lover drew soft and gentle breaths into the nape of your neck.

In your groggy state you turned around to look at him, taking his face in the palm of your hand as his amber eyes—reflecting the aura of the sun—fluttered open to greet you. The soft smile that adorned his features and the lovestruck glint in his eyes reminded you of how absolutely ethereal your partner was. He returned the gesture by placing his hand on top of yours and pressing a small kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“Good morning.”

Lord, his morning voice was something else.

“You look like you slept well,” you teased.

He chuckled, his smile widening.

“I did, actually.”

Closing the distance, Zhongli moved to place a brief kiss to your lips before pulling away to look at you adoringly.

“Think we should get up?”

“Yes, I suppose we should,” he sighed. “Celestia forbid we keep Childe waiting.”

You hummed in agreement as you reluctantly moved to free yourself from the bed sheets, and unfortunately, Zhongli’s arms.

---

After breakfast, you had excused yourself to change into some recently-purchased swim wear that seemed quite promising at first glance. But as you turned to look in the mirror, you began to doubt your better judgement. The piece looked lovely, but the figure that it held together seemed to be lacking. Not to mention it exposed quite a bit of skin, which wasn’t a bad thing necessarily, but it did make you feel more vulnerable to others' eyes.

It’ll have to do, you thought.

As you were fidgeting and trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t that big of a deal, Zhongli stepped quietly into the room as he had just finished preparing the food for the day’s beach trip; a result of a friendly competition between Childe and Klee over who could catch more fish. You and Zhongli were meant to be Childe’s witnesses when he “destroyed that little arsonist at her own game.”

Your lover had decided that while Childe was occupied with defending his pride, he would take you to see a few of his favorite scenic spots along Liyue’s coastline, and was going to ask for your opinion on the matter, but decided to hold in his question when he noticed the troubled expression you wore while examining yourself in the mirror.

“Is there something wrong, my love?”

“Oh! Zhongli, does this look okay on me?” you asked, turning around and stepping back to give him a full view. “I like the style, but I’m not sure if it really suits me…”

Zhongli placed his hands on your shoulders and looked you up and down, even if he already knew what his answer would be.

“Nonsense, it compliments you very well. In fact…”

Suddenly, he spun you around while his arms snuck around your waist from behind. His face was so close to yours that you could feel his slight stubble rubbing up against you.

“You look practically delectable like this. I might just have to cancel our plans so I can have you all to myself.”

You let out a soft sigh as Zhongli began trailing feather-light kisses from your cheek down to your neck and shoulder, before retracing the same path he created with his lips. He pulled away all too soon however, leaving you weak in the knees while he moved to grab your things.

“Unfortunately, changing plans was not explicitly stated in our contract, so for now you needn’t worry about being unable to walk.”

You watched him with wide eyes and a flushed face at the nonchalance of his words as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear.

“We will continue this when we return.”

Zhongli then pressed a loving kiss to your cheek before pulling away and flashing you with a smile that left you impossibly even more dazed at his actions. Before you could blink, your lover was already a foot out the door with all of your luggage in hand, leaving you to scramble to pull yourself together and follow after him.

#zhongli x reader #zhongli hcs #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #rex lapis x reader #morax genshin impact #zhongli smut #zhongli fluff #zhongli x gender neutral reader #comfort fic #genshin fic

[amerrierworld]

Babysitter (pt 9)

Thor (Ragnarok) - fanfiction

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 

Summary: A Loki interlude.

Characters: Hela, Loki

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: Idk, swearing?

Loki was incredibly annoyed at the current situation. 

He’d woken up on a random, clunky spaceship with a pounding head and a bruised neck. He remembered the world going blank and being quite certain that he’d been dead until, frustratingly so, his lungs gasped for the most painful breath he’d ever taken. 

A janky pirate ship had snatched him from floating in space amongst the debris, stripped him of his armour -no doubt to sell or melt down into other knick knacks- and left him in the back amongst the cargo. They’d presumed he was dead, so when he had woken up, they had a bit of a shock. 

Not a word was comprehensible, Loki couldn't understand whatever gibberish language they spoke, so he ignored them and shuffled to their food supply. That got him a whack on his back from a whip and a kick to the back of the knees. 

Trying to take back his armour also earned him a few bruises. They didn’t seem very dangerous, but quite a nuisance. 

Amongst the cargo he found familiar debris that struck an icy chord inside Loki. There were piles of Asgardian clothing- ripped and filthy, but Asgardian nonetheless. Bags with very few belongings, and metal scraps of the ship they had been on. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the remainder of the ship of refugees was probably lost. When the pirates began to beat him again for rummaging through their stuff, a rusty old pipe amongst the stolen goods helped quiet them down immensely. 

With his kidnappers knocked out, Loki scarfed down what measly rations they had and set course for Earth at light speed -well, the closest speed they got to light speed which was more like a quick paced jog. 

He tied up the crew and tossed them in the back, and lounged in the cockpit as the ship traveled on autopilot, picking scraps of food from between his teeth. 

Communications on this ship were absolute garbage, he concluded. There was barely any signal and he couldn’t figure out where the closest planet was. So, he took a nap, ate some more food, and tried not to think too much about the harrowing experience of Thanos choking him to death.

Hours later, they entered a very familiar atmosphere. Loki let the ship crash-land, grabbed a bag of few supplies and hopped out just before they hit the ground. 

He marched on through the thicket of trees where they landed. Angry shouts that were no doubt curse words echoed from the smoking ship as he left them behind and tried to gather his bearings. 

An old cabin was the first building he saw. With a rusty dagger at the ready, he inspected the home around the back, looking for a vehicle he could take, something to get him moving faster than his legs, when suddenly a high pitched shriek nearly shattered his eardrums.

A young girl, no older than six, was staring at him with big brown eyes. Rain boots covered in mud, an aged stuffy in her hands. Loki put his finger to his lips, dreading that he was going to have to kill the girl before she gave him away or screamed bloody murder. 

“Daddy! There’s an Avenger in the yard!” she sped off towards a shed, where there was a light on inside. Loki’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Whatever outcome he was expecting, this was by far the worst. 

“I’m not- fuck.”

He shoved the dagger away and out of sight and stomped towards the shed, fuming with annoyance. He was about to go off at the man for letting his daughter talk to random strangers and how he certainly was not an Avenger, but the man in question had a large saw in hand and about 200 pounds of muscle to carry, so he snapped his mouth shut. 

“Oh, hello there,” he said, his daughter bouncing about the workshop. “What brings one of you all the way out here?”

“And where exactly is out here?” Loki asked.

“Canada! What, you superheroes never been to Canada before? Always hanging around New York, eh? Are you taking a trip or something?”

“No. I, uh, crash-landed here.”

“From space?” the girl piped up, gawking.

“Yes, from space,” Loki said through gritted teeth. “Fighting angry aliens.”

“I told you, Daddy! He’s a hero!”

“I bet you’re trying to find your way to America, then? Lord knows why, there’s all kinds of weird things happening around town nowadays.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the world’s gone! Poof! Just like that, some alien business I bet.”

“Are you going to save us from them?” his daughter asked again. Loki sighed.

“I’ll try my best. Now, can you please show me how to get to New York as fast as possible?”

The lumberjack’s husband took Loki and his daughter in his jeep and drove a merry long way to the nearest airport. On the way, the little girl asked him all sorts of questions about the Avengers, that he could only half-answer.

“Is it true Thor is super powerful?”

“Well. He's not that powerful. He just uses a hammer. Anyone with a hammer can use it as a weapon and suddenly be considered powerful.”

“I wish I had a super powerful hammer. Then my brothers would stop teasing me so much.”

“Hey,” her second father softly scolded.

“They’re mean!”

“Sibling feuds? I know the feeling,” Loki muttered.

“Do you have siblings, Mr. Avenger?”

“Sure do,” he smiled wryly. “Absolute bullies.”

“Me too!”

“Hey now, let our guest settle down a bit,” her dad said. “She gets a little excited around new people, so sorry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“The local airport’s just up here. It’ll take you to Detroit, and then you gotta get a connection flight to New York.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, genuinely.

“Why are you going to New York, Mr. Avenger?”

“To find my siblings,” Loki sighed. “At least, one of them should still be there.”

“But they’re mean to you?”

“Yeah,” Loki pondered as the car came to a stop. “But they’re family. I suppose.”

-

A few cunning lies and disguises later, Loki was suddenly landing in New York, amidst chaos. It had been a few days since he’d woken up, and apparently a few days since what they call the ‘Blip’. Humans clearly don’t like having their realities altered. 

Your home was abandoned. Alfred didn't even greet Loki at the door, and no amount of pulling and prying opened it for him. The lights were off, and he feared the worst.

It wasn’t until he was in the streets and overhead muttering about some crazy goth lady terrorizing a nearby street that Loki thought he had finally found something.  

He marched down the street until, to his surprise, he found Hela sitting hunched on the side walk, scowling and daring anyone to come close to her. She looked incredibly tired and disheveled, but her eyes were clear and angry, and recognized her idiot brother immediately. 

“What the hell brought you back here?” Hela snarled. 

“A toddler’s wisdom, if you’ll believe it,” Loki said, ignoring her glare as he sat down next to her. 

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Hela grumbled. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Since when did you become Mother? I don't need your help.”

“Really?” Loki picked up a filthy scoop from a pile of three ice cream tubs that were fully devoured. He dangled it from his fingertips for a moment, pulling a face. “I think you do.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Glad to see you too, sister.”

Silence. Hela really did look like shit, Loki noted. Her hair was mussed, and there were rips and broken pieces in her armour, reminiscent of the time they’d met. She had to be weak not to bother fixing it with her powers, or was just too preoccupied to even think to fix it. 

“Where’s Y/N?” Loki asked. 

“Beats me.”

“Did you kill her?”

Hela’s eyes snapped to his, a sudden fire in them. “How dare you say that?”

“Well, her home is abandoned and no one answered the door, and you’re here  cowering like a criminal. One makes conclusions.”

Something changed in her expression, and she turned her body to face him. “Abandoned?”

Loki frowned, “yes. Didn't you know?”

“No- I.. I’ve been here, the last time I saw her...” 

Hela jumped to her feet, nearly kicking Loki in the process. “That bastard, he took her, didn’t he? Him and his awful, forsaken pieces of shit he calls friends.”

“Who?”

“Our darling brother,” she spat. “He came in and- and threatened me, and then took her from me.”

She paced in front of him, green fire trailing behind her heels, hot with anger. She had expected you to come find her, take her back to your home, make her feel safe. But when you never came she had assumed you had abandoned her. Now, knowing Thor had taken you instead, filled her with rage.

“Where does your little posse hang out, hm? Some supposed secret lair? A great big castle in the sky?”

Loki blinked at her, at her sudden outbursts, at the scared glances from passerbys, and didn’t know what to say.

“Fine then, I’ll get her myself,” she growled, turning away from him. 

Loki nearly let her walk away, let her walk into whatever doom she was getting  herself into, but with a groan and a mad realization, he knew she was the only one he could rely on right now.

“Wait,” he said, reluctantly, hurrying after her and grabbing her arm. “You can’t just go running off. Tell me what happened.”

Hela spat at his feet. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“You care about her, don't you? Y/N? Why else would you want to ‘rescue’ her from our brother?”

“Be silent,” she hissed.

“No, no, I’m right, aren’t I? You care for her, but you messed up, and now you have no one on your side. That’s why you left, and that’s why Thor had to take her.”

Hela yanked her arm away before Loki could see her face, but he knew what she felt; remorse, and loss. 

“Tell me.”

And so, reluctantly, knowing she had no other choice, Hela sat him down, this time on an actual park bench rather than the ground. She told him what had happened, how her mistrust had turned to affection for you, and how Thanos had destroyed everything in the end, and how the Avengers had fought her out of fear.

“I know the feeling,” Loki agreed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching an elderly lady feed a bunch of pigeons as if nothing drastic had happened to the world the past few days. 

“And now I don't know where she is, and she probably hates me, but who am I to blame her for that?”

“If I know anything about Y/N, is that she cares about everyone, but it takes a lot more to win her love. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just afraid. I mean, you did after all break her window and run off into nowhere.”

Hela stayed quiet, made an annoyed sound in her throat, and looked away.

“I’m starving, how did you get all that ice-cream? Why not an actual meal? Or were you just eating your feelings?”

“Y/N doesn’t like it when I kill people, so it was either massacre the street or steal their dairy products,” Hela bristled. 

“Fair enough.”

“Now what, hm? You come out here, seemingly from the dead, chastise me for messing up, and now judge my diet? What do you really want, Loki?”

“Not sure, to be perfectly honest,” Loki said. “I thought I was dead, and then I wasn’t. Frankly, my priorities are shifting.”

“And what is your current priority?”

“Getting you back to Y/N so you stop moping around and fix this.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

Loki grinned, standing up. His armour shimmered and regained its full glamour; horned helmet and deep green cloak. 

“Taking notes from me, are we?” Hela grumbled. Loki glared at her.

“I was wearing this look long before you got here. Now, get up, we’re going to infiltrate the Avengers and give you your romantic happily-ever-after so you stop being such a pain in everyone’s neck.”

“You think we’ll just be able to get in? You really are as mad as Father was.”

“I’ve broken into quite a few places over the years, I’ll have you know. I’m the God of Mischief after all.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Hela stood, her own armour strengthening again. 

“Shut it.”

A/N: Loki is not dead! I know he’s technically alive in an alternate universe or whatever.. but I wanted the Odin Trio to be together sooooo here we are. Let me know what you think!!

taglist: @midnight-lestrange​​ @cheerfullyvenomous​ @germansarechill​@gaylorrds @amii-nyc​ @waitingfortheendtocome​ @novakitten0901​@marvels-writings​ 

#hela #hela x reader #hela/reader #hela x you #hela odinsdottir #thor #thor ragnarok #thor ragnarok fanfiction #loki #loki odinsin #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #cate blanchett #tom hiddleston #best siblings amirite #wlw #lgbt #merry writes

[strangeradventuresofp]

scarred (young!zuko x reader)

part two

When you were five years old, you had been ordered to be friends with -or rather a servant to- Princess Azula of the Fire Nation. The point was that you would be her loyal confidante while she grew up and, if she wanted to keep you, throughout her reign as Fire Lord. She was two years younger than you, making you the same age as her older brother, Prince Zuko. You had always enjoyed Zuko’s company much more than his sister’s. He was gentle, kind and caring, exactly like how his mother was. He was truly lovely, and you hoped to be able to tell him how you felt about him one day. You really liked him. Azula, however, was exactly like her father, cruel and bigoted. They shared this fantasy that the Fire Nation were a superior people. They had slaughtered all of the air nomads during the Hundred Year War and the absence of the avatar, and you knew they were planning to do the same to the rest of the world. They were vile, but you were glad they hadn’t poisoned Zuko, and you were hoping they never did. 

It was early morning, and you had just finished tending to Azula’s morning requirements, so you decided you would go to sit by the nearby pond. Zuko had taken you there not long ago, whilst reminiscing about his mother. When you arrived, you were surprised to see Zuko already there.

“Hey.” You smiled, taking a seat beside him.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” He smiled back at you. Your heart melted just looking at him. You moved slightly closer to him, blushing. He put his arm around you and smiled, pulling you into his side gently. Your blush deepened and you grinned up at him.

“You seem awfully happy today, Zuko.”

“My father is finally letting me sit in on a war council meeting." You smiled widely, hugging him.

“Zuko, I’m so happy for you! I know how much you’ve wanted this. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly, I’m a little nervous. But mainly excited!” 

“I’m excited for you, too!” Your smile flattened. “What’s the meeting about?”

“I don’t know, yet. But it won’t be anything bad, Y/N.”

“If you’re sure.” You gulped, and your heart started to race. “Zuko?”

“Y/N?”

“I.. Well, I just wanted to tell you-”

“Zuzu, Father told me to come get you. Something about a meeting starting?” Azula stated from behind. She always had to interrupt whenever you were going to tell him how you felt. It was as if she had a sixth sense that allowed her to know.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I have to go!” Zuko ran off in a hurry and you looked back at Azula, who was smirking knowingly at you. You sighed.

~~~

“Y/N! Come here, I need you to tie my hair.” You rushed over and she sighed contently. “It’s a special occasion, so make it better than what you usually do, which isn’t very hard.”

“Why is it a special occasion? What’s happening?”

“Oh, just a celebration.”

“A celebration for what?”

An evil smirk found its way to her lips. “My father just barbecued my brother.”

“I... I don’t follow.”

“My father challenged little Zuzu to an Agni Kai because he spoke out of turn in the war meeting. It was truly pathetic. He begged and pleaded and refused to fight, so my father blew half of his face off. And banished him. He may only return once he has found the avatar.”

“But, the avatar hasn’t been seen for over a hundred years. How is he supposed to find- Oh.”

“Oh, and the banishment is effective immediately.”

“What? Why didn’t you start with that?” You cried out and bolted. Your feet thundered on the solid ground as you rushed to find the boy you loved. Asking around, you figured out that he was already at the docks, preparing a ship to take him away. You sprinted as fast as you could to see him, stood next to his uncle, with a bandage covering his eye. 

“Oh my gosh, Zuko, your eye.” You reached your hand up to touch his face before your wrist was encased in Zuko’s hand. “Ah!” You pulled away as fast as you could, his grip causing bruises to arise on your pale skin. You expected him to apologize, but he did nothing of the sort.

“What.. What happened, Zuko?”

“That’s none of your concern. My father has sent me on a mission. I’m leaving, I’m going to find the avatar.”

“The avatar hasn’t been around for-”

“A hundred years? Well, I’m going to find him. And when I do, I’ll return home. Not a moment before.” You frowned. He was so different to the boy he was this morning. His eyes were dull, as if nothing was there anymore. His father broke him down. He broke his bright eyes into dim embers. 

“You don’t have to do this Zuko.”

“Yes, I do. You don’t understand.”

“Let me come with you.”

“No! It’s too dangerous, Y/N. And I don’t need anyone holding me back.”

Gulping, your eyes turned misty. “Let me come with you. We can have a life together. We can have an apartment and a garden. We can do anything you want, just please... Let me come with you!” Tears streamed down your reddened face. This is not how you imagined confessing your feelings to the boy you loved.

“I have to capture the avatar.” He looked at your broken eyes before looking away and walking onto the ship.

"Zuko, please!" As you sobbed, you saw him stop and almost look back, making you hopeful. However, your hope was quickly destroyed as he continued to walk onto the ship. You felt someone touch your shoulder compassionately.

“I will take good care of him, I promise.” Looking up, you saw it was Iroh, Zuko's uncle. You smiled weakly at the old man’s words, barely even whispering a ‘thank you’ before he followed Zuko onto the war ship.

The sight of the ship continued to make you cry. You could no longer silence your sobs as it pulled away from the harbor, and you fell to your knees, breathing unsteadily. Zuko heard your cries and began to weep himself, looking out to the horizon, refusing to look back, uttering the same words as you unknowingly.

“I love you, Prince Zuko.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

my masterlist (requests open!)

A/N : lots of dialogue in this sorry lol this actually made me so sad to write because i absolutely love zuko with all my heart but anyways i hope u enjoy it and i hope ur feeling good and having a great day ily thanks for reading xo p

#avatar #aang #avatar the last airbender #avatar the legend of korra #avatar the rise of kyoshi #the legend of korra #legend of korra #the last airbender #prince zuko #zuko #zuko x reader #poor zuko #fire lord zuko #fire lord ozai #fire lord azula #atla azula #atla #azula #sokka #sokka x reader #azula x reader #prince zuko x reader #katara #katara x zuko #katara x jet #earth kingdom #ba sing se #fire nation #air nomads #air nation

[obeyme-darling]

In Control

[Diavolo x Shy!Fem!MC x Lucifer]

Part 2 of [Proposition]

Summary: Lucifer now has you and Diavolo back in his room, and he is completely in control of the entire situation.

Warnings: 18+!! Unprotected sex, slight choking, threesomes, oral sex (female receiving), Lucifer being a bossy bitch. (I’m truly trying to learn what things to tag again, if you would like to/need to, please ask me to tag something, I definitely can!!)

Words: 2,600+

A/N: I LOVE LUCIFER!! I really thought I was a Diavolo bitch but i want Lucifer to top me :) Also! I used a prompt from [this list] here! (Highkey wanna make this a series! Just MC, Dia, and Luci all living their best lvies together sdjghsgs) ~Admin Doe

Getting to Lucifer's room was going to be a feat in itself. You had to clean up enough to get dressed.and then try to nonchalantly make your way to his room, with Diavolo in tow, and somehow make it not look suspicious at all.

Lucifer had left before the two of you, as to not make it look too weird. All three of you walking to his room might have looked horrible for everyone involved. Diavolo had not minded, he hadn’t seemed to have thought about how obvious it would be to the other students if you, the human, were just out and about with both Lucifer and Diavolo, heading to his room of all places.

“That was so hot,” Diavolo kissed you on your forehead and helped you get dressed.

“So,” You bit the inside of your lip as you tried to straighten your shirt out before tucking it in, “you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Absolutely, my dear,” Diavolo pulled you towards him and opened his office door, walking out with you under his arm. If anyone was unsure as to what your stance was with the Prince, they now knew for sure. “You and Lucifer, my absolute two favorite people- other than Barbatos, but I don’t think I wanna fuck him- what more could I ask for?”

You relaxed under his touch and huddled as close as you could to him, your hands in your pockets and your head leaning on his shoulder. Once you reached the house you felt your stomach twisting, you knew whatever was about to happen was going to be better than you had ever dreamt of.

You wrapped one of your arms around Diavolo’s waist and hugged him close. You were trying to make sure this wasn’t a dream. It was really real.

Lucifer’s room was in sight, you were so fucking close. No one was in sight surprisingly. Lucifer’s brothers absolutely adored you, so you had no intention of seeing any of them, not while on this mission.

“Hey, MC~”

“Oh fuck.”

Asmodeus called for you. You wanted to grab Diavolo’s hand and run for Lucifer’s room. Instead, Diavolo turned the both of you around and smiled at the other demon.

“What are you doing?!” He was eager to see you, “Especially with Diavolo~”

Your face was beginning to heat up again. Your ears burned and your eyes were wide, a baby doe stuck in the middle of the road, a car coming for you full speed ahead. Asmodeus let out this amused chuckle as Diavolo pulled you closer in hopes of calming you down.

“We needed to see Lucifer.”

You wanted to throttle the Prince. You sucked in air through your nose and closed your eyes momentarily, before composing yourself and looking at Asmodeus with as much confidence you could muster.

“We have important business to take care of.”

Asmodeus let out another laugh, softer, quieter; as if he was trying to be considerate of your feelings. He didn’t believe you, but he didn’t say anything. Yet.

“Since you’re so busy, I’ll let you go. For now.” Asmodeus walked by you and stopped, to whisper in your ear, “After you get done fucking them, please come meet me in my room.” He winked at you.

‘Well fuck, he knows.’ You pouted. Diavolo snorted, obviously hearing what the other demon had whispered to you. Diavolo turned you back around and you watched Asmo walk away, very clearly smug about what he had just done.

“What was that about?”

You pressed your palm to your forehead, “He’s been asking me about us since we started uh, dating.”

“Asking what?”

You reached Lucifer’s room and gently knocked on the door, “He wants to- He ‘needs’ to know how big your dick is.”

Diavolo’s eyes went wide and he blinked in surprise. He immediately grew curious. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing! I tried to avoid all conversations about it, now I’m sort of just fucked!”

Lucifer opened the door, wearing more casual clothes. No shirt, baggy sweatpants, dick print visible and all. For a moment you started to thank the lord, but figured that would be wildly inappropriate. You were practically pulled into the room, Diavolo walking in behind you and shutting the door, locking it for extra measure.

“Did one of my brothers see you?”

“Yea, Asmo saw me. He, um, kinad figured out-”

“Hm, I wondered what made him realize, your wrinkled shirt,” he untucked it, as he spoke, “the disheveled hair,” he moved closer to you, his lips pressing against your earlobe, “the cum that had dripped down your thighs.”

You balled your fists, ‘I’m about to beat this bitch up.’ Your legs tensed and your left knee pressed against your right thigh, your legs closing tight. You and Diavolo had cleaned you up as best as possible! There had been nothing left on your skin, and yet, here Lucifer was, mocking your desperate, needy ass.

He bit down on your earlobe before pulling back and examining you. Your pout and furrowed brows, your balled fists, how tense your legs were. “Struck a nerve, did I?”

“Fuck you!”

The words slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself. You had only ever spoken that way to Mammon, or Asmodeus. But now here you were, covering your mouth and looking at Lucifer in horror. You just thought you were some baby deer earlier. You were in that position again, but had no one to pull you from the road. And Lucifer was about to run your ass over.

“On the bed.”

You nodded, not even caring to apologize. You thought that maybe if you didn’t apologize the punishment would be more... Fun.

“Take off your underwear, hike up your skirt.”

You sat on the edge of the bed and did as you were told. Lucifer looked to Diavolo, who was eagerly waiting for his turn to fuck you up. It was crazy to think about; Diavolo could boss Lucifer around, but there he stood, awaiting instruction from the demon. Lucifer motioned for Diavolo to approach you and so he did.

“Tongue fuck her.”

Diavolo grinned wider than you had ever seen. He absolutely adored eating you out, as much as he loved getting a bowjob, which he loved a lot. Diavolo parted your legs, with such care and handled you as if you were some beautiful glass ornament, breakable at the slightest slip up.

You looked over at Lucifer, keeping an eye on what he was doing. He sat in a chair, legs crossed and hands folded. He seemed to be absolutely in love with the fact he was the one in complete control.

Diavolo’s tongue pressed to your inner thigh, his large hands holding your outer thighs and keeping you steady. He kissed up your thigh, and once he reached your pussy, he dove in completely.

“Still so wet,” His voice was muffled as his tongue licked stripes up your pussy. His tongue swirled around your clit and you balled Lucifer’s sheets in your hands. You moaned loudly and bucked into Diavolo’s mouth.

Diavolo was skilled, very skilled with his tongue. He always left you a mess after he was finished with you. In that moment though, it was pure fucking bliss, more so than usual. You were so sensitive from already being destroyed by Lucifer. You sucked in air and arched your back, eyes screwed shut from the euphoria.

“Diavolo-”

Lucifer paused, letting Diavolo bring you to the edge. And then he spoke.

“Don’t let her cum.”

Diavolo licked a stripe up your pussy and pulled back. Your eyes snapped open and you looked at Lucifer in anger. He was still just sitting there, not even looking like he was thinking about touching himself.

“What?”

“Only good girls get to cum.”

Diavolo looked at you, a smirk creeping onto his face. He had an idea. You were scared. Diavolo agreed with Lucifer, and held you steady. You wiggled slightly under his grasp, thinking about just finishing really quickly yourself.

Diavolo dipped back down to your cunt and began to slowly torture you with his tongue. Waves of euphoria hit again and you hoped that Lucifer would be so kind as to let you orgasm. Your breathing hitched and you were almost gulping for air.

That happened two more times. Lucifer would order Diavolo to stop, and the prince would quit immediately. But he was getting more smug each time. ‘Okay, I’m about to beat two btiches up.’ “Please!” You begged, breathless. “I’ll be the so well behaved, please let me-”

“Stop, Diavolo.”

This time, Diavolo did not stop. His tongue pressed into you and his thumb circled around your clit. You arched into his mouth and quickly grabbed a pillow to scream into. Diavolo did not stop lapping you up. You were a shaking mess and you were pulling at Lucifer’s comforter.

“Diavolo...” Lucifer stood up. “That is not what I asked you to do...”

“Oh, damn, sorry.” Diavolo shrugged. “I thought her begging was pretty hot, couldn’t leave my baby girl hanging like that.”

Butterflies filled your stomach. He was truly one of your favorite people ever. Lucifer did not share that same thought though.

“Okay, MC,” Lucifer looked at you, sprawled out on the bed, shirt ruffled, skirt pulled up, and pussy out., “I think some rest would be the best for you right now. I’m going to take care of this brat.”

You lied on the bed, eyes half lidded and breathing ragged. You blew out air and watched the ceiling fan momentarily. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until you were sprawled out on Lucifer’s comfy bed. You shut your eyes and began to doze off. You were in and out, until you heard a small whimper from Diavolo.

Your eyes snapped open and you looked over near the other side of Lucifer’s room. Diavolo was bent over Lucifer’s desk, panting, while Lucifer held his throat and pounded into him. You noticed the loud, undeniable sound of flesh slapping against each other and sucked in air.

‘Fuck, I must have really hit my head hard...’ You rubbed your eyes. Diavolo was jerking himself off as Lucifer easily took him from behind. Lucifer was thoroughly enjoying this position of power, and his pride was very much so turning you on. You quickly pulled your skirt off and kicked it across the room. Your hands moved to your pussy and you began touching yourself. You were still so sensitive from everything you had already handled and you let out a whimper as you pressed against your clit.

“Fuck.” Diavolo spoke through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna-”

“Cum.” Lucifer’s voice was low and very, very sexy.

Diavolo came in his own hand, and you watched in excitement as Lucifer’s grip tightened on Diavolo’s throat and your hips rolled into your own hand. You were a mess, causing Lucifer to turn and look at you, still fucking Diaovlo.

Lucifer’s pace quickened before he came. His eyes locked onto yours and he was grunting as he choked Diavolo. He pulled out from Diavolo and wrapped his hand around his cock,finishing in his own hand as well.

Your movements were slower than you would have liked, but you were worn out from everything. You watched as Lucifer turned towards you, and the way his red eyes bored into yours caused you to quickly begin to reach your climax. You had not realized how much someone watching you turned you on.

You let out a loud cry and your mouth fell open. You continued rolling into your own hands as you orgasmed.

“Didn’t I tell you to rest?”

You didn't answer. You couldn’t. You just nodded at him. He walked towards the bed and your stomach turned with excitement. Lucifer ‘tsk’d you and crawled up behind you on the bed, resting on his knees. He pulled you in between his legs and you gulped.

“We’ve had our fun, why not let Diavolo fuck you? Would you like that?”

Lucifer bit your neck and you whined. You nodded and looked towards Diavolo. He was still composing himself it seemed, but he looked ready to go another round.

“You have too much stamina.”

“Are you too tired? We can stop.” Diavolo looked you over with concern.

“Oh, no, no,” you shook your head, “this is very enjoyable.”

Diavolo perked up. You noticed he was hard, again, already. Your pussy throbbed for him. He walked towards the bed and Lucifer kept you in one spot. He really couldn’t let go of that control. You liked that. Seeing Diavolo so submissive and even ignoring what Lucifer had ordered, it was thrilling.

Lucifer grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, and then pulled your legs wide ass open. You were suddenly feeling more vulnerable than you had ever felt before. Realization hit that you were at the whim of two very powerful demons and heat began to pool into your stomach.

“Keep your legs open, or you’ll be punished.”

You nodded and watched as Diavolo began to position himself over you. “I’ve been waiting for this all day...”

Diavolo pushed into you, stretching you open. You let out a whine as he gave an experimental thrust. Diavolo had fucked you a handful of times already, but each time he made sure you were ready for him. He knew he was better than humans in the dick department, and did not want to hurt you in any way.

Your legs tensed and almost closed. Lucifer was there to keep them pried open though. His tongue clicked at you and your hands grabbed the sheets beside you, “MC, do I need to make myself more clear?’

You shook your head. Diavolo, still acting as if Lucifer was not even around, began to thrust harder into you. Everything in you wanted to wrap your legs around Diavolo and hold him as close to you as possible, but there was no way you were breaking out of Lucifer’s grip. You were definitely going to bruise.

Your head rolled back and hit Lucifer’s chest. Lucifer bent down and pressed his lips against your shoulder, biting and sucking on the skin. You were being reduced to a crying, moaning mess and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Taking my cock so well,” Diavolo moaned, “Such a good girl.”

The praise sent you over the edge. You let out a scream, cumming as Diavolo thrusted in and out of you. Diavolo didn’t stop though. One he came, he kept thrusting. You let out a cry as one of  Lucifer’s hands traveled to your pussy and began to stimulate your clit.

Diavolo pulled out and looked at the cum dripping from your pussy and down your thighs. As he was admiring his work, Lucifer was doing his best to overstimulate you. Tears pricked your eyes and your hips kept rolling into Lucifer’s touch.

“Fuck,” You whimpered, “Lucifer please-”

Another orgasm hit, and tears rolled down your cheeks. Your back arched and moans fell from your lips.

‘You really are a good girl,” Lucifer pulled his fingers from your pussy and placed them in your mouth. You began to suck on his fingers, instinctively, and felt your body relaxing into his.

“Damn,” Diavolo was sprawled out beside you and Lucifer, “baby, I’m so glad you brought this up.”

Lucifer lied you down and rested beside you, leaving you in the middle of the two. You looked up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thinking about everything that had just happened.

“Are you alright, MC?” Lucifer asked, his tone way different than usual, he sounded caring and concerned.

“Peachy~” You sighed out. “Um, hey?”

“Yes?” Diavolo and Lucifer spoke at the same time.

“Can we do this again sometime?”

#obey me! shall we date? #obey me imagine #obey me smut #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #lucifer x mc #diavolo x mc #diavolo x mc x lucifer #admin doe #LUCIFER PLEASE TOP ME CHALLENGE

[elai-okonma]

Chapter 12: Now That You Have Me; What Game Do You Wanna Play Next?

IT’S BEEN SO LONG! I’ve been busy with school, but I didn’t forget about all my lovelies! @obeymekookie here is the newest chapter, hun <3

Warnings: torture, sexual scenarios, etc. 

Word count: 1,574

Devildom

  “Satan, we’re so happy to see you! But…we need to tell you something.”

Satan looks between his brothers, and then over to Diavolo. He could tell by the stern look on his face, that it was serious. He proceeds with caution:

  “Ok....”

Lucifer steps up to his brother and proceeds to tell him what they witnessed, and what it could possibly mean for the Devildom. 

  “I know you don’t have experience with war and I’m fully prepared to teach you what there is to know about it, but we still don’t know if there is a war or if it will involve us, yet.” 

  Satan ponders his brother’s words. He was born after the Celestial War, so obviously he wasn’t involved in that, but he has read about it and many other human wars. He couldn’t really believe what he was hearing, MC had just passed away only a month ago, and now there might be another Celestial War?? It was just a little too much.  

  “I was born from war...So I would rather not get involved, but if it comes down to it I will fight alongside my brothers. And you, Lord Diavolo.”

  Now it was time to formulate a plan. You couldn’t be too careful when strategizing for war and Diavolo knew that the sooner they were all prepared, the better. 

  “We need to get back to the Devildom, I still have matters to attend to, and I need to prepare a plan for the rest of the citizens.”

  The Demon Lord makes haste and quickly leaves, with Barbatos right behind him. With Lucifer and the rest of the brothers still at MC’s house, they take a moment of silence for her before also returning back. It hurt too much to linger there, and they didn’t know how Satan had been doing it. 

___________________________________

Celestial Realm

 “ ...when I’m done with you, you’ll have forgotten all about my Fallen brothers.”

  As soon as Gabriel finishes those words, he smashes his lips into yours. It's a hard kiss filled with hate, but you knew that pushing the Archangel to this point wasn’t going to get you a passionate kiss. He snakes his tongue out across your lips, and you open up, deepening the kiss. I wonder what Mammon would think about me kissing an Angel?? The thought mixed with the excitement of it all made you giggle. Something you should not have done.

  Gabriel grabs you by your hair and breaks the kiss, “what’s so funny, MC??”

  “I was just wondering how I got to this point.” you lie, not telling him you were really thinking about your Demons.

  “You’re lying.” 

  He says it in such a low tone that you were sure if you were human you wouldn’t have heard it. In fact, you were completely sure that the only reason you did hear it was because you were an Angel. There was no way that human ears could have registered that low of a voice. And it turned you on.

  A mewl escapes your throat as you look the Archangel in his eyes. His face lights up at the sound, as he moves one hand up your shirt. You throw your head back as his cold hand makes its way up your hot skin, the contrasting temperatures sending goosebumps up your body. He takes notice of this and forces you into another kiss. 

  If it weren’t for the nails in your palms, you would’ve gripped the chains to try to ground yourself. How hasn’t he poked himself on my crown of thorns yet?? With the way he was making out with you, it was almost impossible not to. Unless he is. Too many questions kept popping in and out of your head, but were quickly being replaced with lewd thoughts. 

  His hand moves from your torso to your back, the other hand still wrapped in your hair. He pulls your body in close, so you’re flush against him, and you can feel just how hard he is for you. It makes you want to wrap your legs around his hips, but your ankles were still shackled to the ground. 

    You let out another whine as you try to clench your legs together. You feel a sudden burst of air, Gabriel letting his Angel form appear. You do the same, and Gabriel takes his hand out of your hair to touch your wings. 

  The gasp that leaves you is one of pure ecstasy, you didn’t know what it was like to have wings before you became an Angel, so you didn’t know what it felt like to have them touched in such a sensual way. I wonder what it would feel like if he touched my halo. You moan into Gabriel's mouth and he moans back into yours, but all of his touching and kissing was starting to border on over stimulation, your arousal beginning to drip down your thighs. 

  “Gabriel, please…”

  It was all you had to say before you felt his hand leave the small of your back and move its way down in between your legs. 

  As soon as his fingers touch you, you jolt, wings shuttering a little. 

  “You’re filthy, MC. Getting so wet even though you were being tortured. You need to be cleansed of your filth.”

  “Shut up, Gabriel.” you say in between moans. 

  “Oh, that mouth of yours. What shall we do about that??”

  For the first time since you got to this room, you felt your restraints loosen, as you drop to your knees. You wince at your knees hitting the ground that hard, but there was no time to gather any thoughts as Gabriel presses his dick to your lips. You gladly take him into your mouth. You hear his breath hitch, as you massage your tongue up the underside of his shaft. 

  “Fuck, MC…”

  Looking up to the Archangel, you see him watching you with those chrome eyes, a domineering smile on his face. Wrong type of smile to have, Gabriel. As soon as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back your eyes darken. As you pull your mouth off of him with a pop, you grab the nail sticking out of your hand with your teeth, and pull it out, in one swift motion. As you turn your head to do the other hand, his eyes shoot open.

   Your eyes never leave his face as you turn your hands to grab the chains attached to your metal cuffs. You see the look of panic in his eyes and makes you let out a small growl. 

  Whipping the heavy chains at him you manage to wrap up both his wrists, yanking him into a headbutt. As he reels backwards you flap your wings, hoping to break the chains still keeping you connected to the floor. When that doesn’t work, you harden your wings in the last hopes that dropping back down on them will be enough to break them, and to your surprise, it does! 

  With your feet free, you fly over to Gabriel, who is now bloody from getting headbutted with your crown, and pin him down to the ground. Wings flapping wildly behind him, he tries to wipe the blood from his eyes. 

  As you stay seated on top of him, you let out a seductive laugh, causing the Archangel to freeze beneath you when he hears it. 

  “Aww, are you scared, Gabriel?? What happened to all that shit you were talking?? You let your guard down, which was your first mistake. Your second mistake was letting me down from my confinement. And your third mistake-” you lean down to his ear and whisper- “was thinking that I was going to be submissive to you.”

  Chrome eyes go wide as all those words leave your mouth and you love how vulnerable he looks at that moment. You continue:

  “I’m going to absolutely destroy you, Gabriel. I can’t wait to hear what kind of sounds you can make.”

_________________________________________________

Devildom 

  Upon the brothers return to the house of Lamentation, they sit down in Lucifer’s study to start formulating a plan. Solomon had stayed behind to do some research on battle tactics. He informs the brothers of what he thought would be the best way to go about a war with the Celestial realm. Satan listens intently, as do the other brothers. 

  “-Of course these are all just hypothetical, Asmo have you heard back from Simeon yet??”

   “No word from him, he hasn’t even read my texts yet.”

  Lucifer huffs and runs his hand through his hair as he says: “we don’t have time for this. We can’t afford to wait around all day and night, we need to know what’s going on now.”

  “Well, what do you want me to do, Lucifer?? I can’t make Simeon text back…” Asmodeus quips.

  “It was foolish to count on others to get answers. Especially Simeon, if there really were a war happening, he wouldn’t be on our side anyway. Did you all forget that he’s an Angel?? His loyalties aren’t with us, Lord Diavolo, or with the Devildom.”

  The eldest brother takes a wavered breath, and his brothers look at him concerned. 

  “What are you thinking, Lucifer??” asks Satan. 

  Luci’s brows furrow as he starts, “There’s only one way we’re going to get a definitive answer…” He crosses his arms and looks around the room, reading everyone’s facial expressions, “...I’m going to ask Father, myself.” 

#obey me shall we date #obey me! #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #Obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo

[mistakenvilliany]

Episode 7

This and episode 6 are a the first of several times where I just went on a binge in my first watch (probably watched like 8 in a row?). BUT you kinda have to them together, and I was already so invested that I said "what is time anyway?" Anyway, details below! These get long, and they only promise to get longer, just remember, I did warn you.

• Lan Yi's been in Cold Pond Cave long enough that her girlfriend raised kids, who've had kids. She's so pleased but also sad. She's probably done the "what is time" thing too. I hope those bunnies have been half as entertaining as this show

• And she somehow knows of Baoshan Sanren's seclusion? But didn't seek her out for shame? She's trapped in the cave, this makes total sense. No, no it doesn't. I have questions! How is this done? Who is capable? It's one freaking line, and I'm already wondering on the implications

• Lan Yi: "nope, didn't bring you here, I guess someone else is fucking around with the other Yin Iron pieces, sorry" Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian (teenagers): "We will fix this! We are completely qualified!"

• Here's where you can really tell that this plot point got shoehorned in, the Yin Iron is the "spirit of heaven and earth, which can't be eradicated" and yet later after the defeat of Wen Rohan, those pieces are suddenly gone. "Nothing to see here folks! We destroyed/suppressed them more successfully than our ancestors even though we know less about them!"

• I love that we hear Wei Wuxian shouting before he and Lan Wangji fall through a cliff face. What was WWX doing that made LWJ mad this time? Winding that ribbon closer? That's my guess anyway.

• "We've been gone how long?!? Oh what a long story to tell, it would be so boring! Of course, here are some minor distracting details - it was cold! Well! Let's all head back shall we?" I feel like everyone should know that Wei Wuxian is lying here, or at least leaving something out. Wen Qing gets that something is missing, but the person that should absolutely know better, Jiang Cheng, just decides - brother re-aquired, return to sister.

• I have to laugh so hard at this - we're in a private lesson essentially that bad things are happening because of this piece of "universe" and our probable enemy has one too. WWX response is that "we use that one to find all the others!" And LWJ thinks that it's a GOOD IDEA! These are just over eager children.

• Jiang Cheng is such a petulant little brother! "Now you're close with Lan Wangji, stay here I don't care" I'm not really sure how close they actually are in age, but Jiang Cheng really knows how to be the baby. As a certified youngest sibling myself I can attest that it is his God given right to be dramatic.

• My baby! Don't worry, wwx isn't rejecting you, he just doesn't think he could follow all the rules, and he really really can't. It will be okay.

• Xue Yang is so happy to get permission to murder people. I get it, I too would like to smite my enemies. My only concern is - dude why are you waiting for the okay to do so? He doesn't actually do what Wen Rohan wants him to anyway, so ?? Kid's got issues.

• Oh Wen Chao, what to do with you? Wen Rohan who is the current Cheif Cultivator, and currently acquiring more power through dubious means of Yin Iron, has a separate chamber to put you in rather than face you to speak to you, and your response is "I'll do what I want, there will be no consequences to that" such arrogance, I am so happy you die.

• WWX so happy: "you smiled" LWJ's immediate reaction (internally): uh oh, I smiled and he he saw! Now I must kill him it's the only reasonable response

• I feel bad for Nie Huaisang's lantern getting burned, they are finally doing something that he's good at and he doesn't get to show it off. Also - "it cost so much, you'll never be able to replace it" is amazing! Jiang clan obviously has money, but WWX must always be running out.

• Then Nie Huaisang's wish is to finally pass, please please let me pass! Such a slacker wish. Kid, I love you, but just study.

• Upon hearing the succinct wish of Wei Wuxian's only ambitions in life, Lan Wangji can't help it - falls in love even more. And his immediate reaction is of course "and I will do this Yin Iron quest by myself to see that WWX has a world where he can live his dreams"

• The fight between Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian must have gone on for awhile and obviously Jin Zixuan got the worse end of it, my baby is a powerful cultivator and probably also fights a bit dirty. I can't say that I blame him for it, with the nature of dynastic marriages it had to be a huge insult to the Jiangs that Jin Zixuan publicly declared he didn't want to marry (my beloved treasure) Jiang Yanli.

• My baby was really initiating conversation!! I'm so proud of you! Okay, so Wei Wuxian isn't actually crying or anything, but! No baby! Don't storm off! Shoot.

• And we learn for 100% positive that the only way that Wei Wuxian knows how to interact with things he finds cute is to poke at it. LWJ could have learned something if he just stuck around. (And oh lord! I have to leave the comments of on his knees alone, there's way too much there)

• Jin Guangshan walks in - yuck

• Jiang Fengmian - "Wei Wuxian is at fault, so I take responsibility" Jin Guangshan - "no, no, my son is at fault, so I take responsibility" Lan Qiren - "Don't worry I have already punished them appropriately"

• Again we have a dynastic marriage problem, Jiang Fengmian isn't really a great politician here, he doesn't want his daughter with someone who won't respect here but his response should have been something else to tie the clans closer together, not as good as marriage, but really the assurance of "how could it?" is not reassuring

• I am not exactly clear on what upsets Jiang Cheng. His sister will be sad? The political situation is not good for them? His mother will be angry? Running to spill to WWX is a certified little sibling move. And then Wei Wuxian runs off to check on Jiang Yanli, and finds her basically setting down all her hopes and dreams for the life she was going to have.

• Lans meeting with Jiang Fengmian: Don't mind us! Just a very visible silencing ward, nothing is the matter, don't pay any attention. We're definitely not discussing taboo Yin Iron topics or speculating on the Wen involvement, nope just having tea.

• LQR just gets finished telling Jiang Fengmian to be stricter with WWX, and then he just shakes his head at WWX's and JC's antics later. He barely even tries to stop them

• I love how it is severely implied that Wei Wuxian went and saved the rabbits and now doesn't know what to do. It's the establishment of a pattern for my baby. And it's only then that he figures out that LWJ is leaving him behind! Baby, honey - you just gave him a head start.

#the untamed rewatch 2k21 #the untamed is inevitable #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #lan wangji falls in love and hates every second of it #jiang yanli #my treasure #jiang cheng #lan qiren #lan xichen #jin zixuan #ribbon bonding and lantern building = love

[ambertea]

the photograph

Ten struggles to move past Rose after Doomsday. (Hurt, no comfort.)

(Read on AO3)

The TARDIS door swung shut, and his head weighed heavily against the wood.

The past week had been a blur of activity. Searching for something he knew was impossible – a way to crack through to a parallel universe without destroying two worlds at once. When he had finally given up on that, he’d spent his time in a desperate rush to try and talk to her, at the very least, to give her the goodbye he’d denied so many others.

After that had come Donna and the Racnoss, and he had been almost relieved to have a reason to push her out of his head. He hadn’t had to face the burning sickness in his gut, or the deep, heavy longing weighing down on him like a boulder.

Now—finally—it was time to grieve. But he couldn’t.

Seeing her crying in front of him so openly – hearing her I love you – and being unable to return either had been an all-consuming pain, a slap to the face, a kick to the gut. Somewhere along the way, though, the feeling had simmered, leaving him with only all-consuming exhaustion.

After Gallifrey had gone, something precious had been ripped from his brain. It was like losing his hearing – or perhaps more than that, as though his ears still worked but the rest of the world had grown utterly silent. Now, aching as he did, he thought he might have a matching wound across his chest.

Sighing, he turned and walked up the ramp, flicking some buttons on the console panel. The TARDIS was unnaturally still, her own grief gentle but devastating. He looked around and paused.

What was he supposed to do now?

For lifetimes, he had spent the time in between adventures in the library, blonde hair tickling his nose. He could just keep going – look for another planet, another time – but something about that felt disrespectful. He owed her his pain, at least. Really, he’d never given her anything else.

Purple was blurring in the corner of his eyes, and he groaned and stared towards it. Her shirt. Wandering over, he held it gently in his hand and tried not to think of the last time he’d seen her in it.

“What do you think?” She asked, spinning into the room. He froze.

She still had on the same shirt as yesterday, held tightly by a dungaree dress. Long boots slithered up to her knees, clinging to her ankles and exaggerating the length of her legs. Three buttons – one more than Cassandra! – had been pulled apart across her chest, cleavage peaking over the denim. If she so much as very slightly leaned forwards, he may well have an aneurysm.

“Bit…blue.”

She frowned, looking down at herself. “It’s my favourite colour.”

“Favourite colour? Humans are ridiculous.”

She laughed and then quickly ran away, her boots thundering across the grating. His hearts calmed down, just a little, but then she was back, her massive red rucksack clutched in her arms.

“You help me choose, then.” She said, unzipping the bag and rummaging through. He leaned back on the console and snorted.

“Rose. I am a 900-year-old Time Lord. I am not here to help you with your fashion.”

“Alright, so I’ll just stick with what I’m wearing.”

He gulped.

“S’pose I can help. If you really want.”

She rolled her eyes and threw a few tops across the floor, and he stepped closer to inspect them properly. The majority of them he had seen before, each one a different memory of a time he’d been left tongue-tied.

“What’s that one?” He asked, pointing towards a magenta top he had never seen before. She held it up to herself and frowned down, eying the crown painted over the chest. He nodded approvingly, positive that this, at least, would cover…. everything that needed covering.

“I think mum got it for me at Primark…” she looked at it doubtfully. “You like it?”

“Love it. Now hurry up, we’ve got places to be.”

She giggled, her fingers fiddling with the top of dungarees until the buttons popped open.

“What are you doing?” He choked.

She grinned. “Changing my top.”

He nodded quickly, his hand brushing through and then gripping at his hair.

“Yep, right, course. I’ll just, uh—” he spun away from her teasing smile.

His eyes fixed upon the TARDIS wall, and he tried his very best not to think about her with her top off.

“Alright, safe now.”

He turned back and groaned internally. How did she do this?

Bounding up the console, he flipped some buttons and switches at random, looking down at them mindlessly.

“What do you think of this? Will it do?”

Absolutely not.

“In the late 1970s? You'd be better off in a bin bag…”

He was standing outside her room.

The top was clutched in his hands, his arm tight and tense. It couldn’t stay in the console room forever. He may as well hang a banner over the struts, paint big black words declaring that she was gone. It had to be hidden away, along with the rest of her, and then could close the door on the happiest chapter of his life for good.

But first, he needed to open the door. Which was proving difficult.

His hand reached forward and hovered in the air. The doorknob glared out at him, shiny and menacing. He had faced down Daleks, Cybermen—the Devil himself. He could do this. With a grunt, he pushed the door open.

His legs stepped forwards as if separate from his brain – kicking away the clothes scattered across the floor. Rose’s room had always been an absolute state, but homely in a way no other room in the TARDIS had ever managed. Her life was scattered across the photographs hanging on the walls, precious ornaments she had collected strewn carelessly across her desk.

His shoulders tensed and then slumped. He could feel her.

She was here in this room, her presence dawdling in a way he had never fully understood or believed in. Her spirit lingered over her dirty makeup brushes, raced through her stack of grimy teacups, settled along her unmade bed. She may as well have been standing in this very room, just out of his eye line.

Trembling, he collapsed onto her covers and bowed his head in silent prayer.

He yearned for his earlier dullness. Whatever this was—this swirling vortex of misery and self-loathing—was clutching at his lungs, squeezing at his throat. Tears dripped down onto the duvet, and he wiped them away, sniffing.

A gleam of light dazzled in the corner of his eye, and he turned towards her bedside table. A metal-framed photograph of the two of them. He reached out, cradling it in his hands, and gazed down at their flushed, happy faces.

“Rose, we can’t take a selfie in the 50s.”

She pouted, juggling her phone between her hands. “They won’t even know what we’re doing!”

“Humans have been taking selfies since they were barely more than apes.”

“But not on a phone!” She exclaimed. “They’ll just think we’re…leaning close.”

He snorted. “That’s scandalous enough.”

Rolling her eyes, she put her phone back in her jacket pocket. He leaned against the wall and watched the street, trying to keep his face fixed in a pleasant smile.

The image of her, faceless, was still vivid in his brain. To see her without her usual vibrant expressions had been harrowing, like losing her whilst she stood right in front of him. For a second, he didn’t think he would ever smile again.

“You alright?” She said, shoving into his shoulder with a bit too much force. Her heels toppled, and she began to fall, and he quickly grabbed her before her face collided with the pavement.

“Those things,” he accused, pointing at her shoes “are dangerous.”

“And a bit painful.” She grimaced. “Pretty though, don’t you think?”

In truth, he’d barely glanced over her shoes, but nodded all the same. He still couldn’t get over her looking like this—it reminded him of the first time he’d seen her dressed up, a lifetime ago. He had been awed then, and he was awed now.

“Not great for running, though.”

“Nah, but we’re done for the day, aren’t we? We saved the day and all that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We saved the day, did we?”

“I was definitely an important part of it.”

He hummed, crossing his arms. “Seemed to me like you were just standing about.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t do everything, can I? Spotted the TV thing before you. Anyway, we’re a team. We do things together.”

“So did we save the day when we met, then?”

“Oh, no,” she laughed. “That was definitely me.”

He drank in her joy thirstily, letting her calm strength wash over him until he felt a bit lighter. The tables were being cleared away, and a few merry couples had taken to slow dancing across the road. He glanced at Rose and saw her eying them wistfully.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I guess we can take that selfie.”

She squealed, her phone instantly out of her pocket, and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him closer. Her cheek was pressed up against his, soft and warm. He grabbed her waist and pulled her tight against himself, grinning along right with her.

She looked down happily at her phone, angling it so he could peer along with her. He looked absolutely besotted. But then, so did she.

“Would you do me the honour, Dame Rose,” he asked, bowing towards her and offering his hand “of this dance?”

“Sir Doctor, I believe I will.”

He hadn’t intended to return. The first time had been an allowable weakness, a natural stage of the grieving process. Going back felt wrong somehow, even inappropriate. He had never shared her room during her time with him, so what right did he have to it now?

But there was another woman on the ship, and if there was anything Rose had taken issue to, it was that. Especially with the way Martha had looked at him—no, that wouldn’t have pleased her at all.

He poked his head around the door, feeling oddly like he was intruding on the empty room. Stalking over to the bed, he picked up the photo of her on her bedside table. His fingers traced over the lines of his face, trying to call back the feeling of her skin.

He desperately wanted to know how she was doing, where she has. One part of him hoped she would forget him altogether—a bigger part begged her not to.

“I got a new suit.” He told her, nodding down to himself. “Blue.”

A knock rapped upon the door and he shot up, dropping the photograph. He cracked the door open slightly to see Martha looking at him curiously.

“Sorry—just wondering where the kitchen is?”

“There,” he nodded behind her, quickly instructing the TARDIS to shuffle the rooms. “Goodnight.”

“Is this your room?” She asked, and he ignored her, shutting the door behind him.

He hurried back over to the bed, inspecting the frame for any damage, but it was unharmed. Sighing in relief, he put it back carefully, and laid down, staring at it.

“It’s okay. It’s just one trip.” He whispered to her, feeling a bit silly but needing to say it all the same. “And I told her your name, just like you wanted to me to.”

She smiled back, frozen and wordless.

“Mickey all settled in?”

She collapsed onto the sofa and sighed, her eyes inspecting his face. He steeled himself. He had been waiting for this – for her to explode over Sarah-Jane and Mickey and his harsh words outside of the chip shop. It was why he had hidden away in the library, behind dense shelves of books. But as always, Rose had found him as if by instinct.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re--what?” he spluttered.

She kept her eyes on the carpet, hands twisting anxiously around in her lap.

“I shouldn’t have said—what I said, earlier. I was just being stupid.”

“Not stupid.”

“Okay, naïve, then. I just thought me and you were…” she glanced up, eying him carefully. “I don’t know, special.”

“Special.” He echoed, letting it bounce around his brain.

“And it just made me panic. And think about what happens when I die.”

“Well, that’s a way off yet.”

“Yeah, but it’s just like—who’s going to remember me?”

He frowned. “What?”

“I don’t really have friends on Earth anymore.” She said, turning to him and keeping her voice quiet. “There’s not even any records of my life from the past few years. I’ve got mum, but after that—” she fidgeted, casting her eyes down at her hands “I dunno. My whole life might as well have not happened. No one will remember it.”

“I didn’t forget Sarah-Jane.”

“You might as well have. How often do you think about her? Really?”

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

“And now you’ve invited Mickey, which is fine—” she paused, taking a deep breath. “But it feels like even your memories of me aren’t going to be just me now. You’re going to look back and remember Rose-and-Mickey.”

“Instead of just you.” He said slowly.

“Well, yeah. And I know it’s selfish—”

“Not selfish.”

“—self-centered, then. But I kinda hoped you’d remember me.”

She fell back, as though winded from her own words, and he looked at her thoughtfully. Rose’s mortality was a subject he rarely allowed himself to consider, but when he did, he was usually focused on its effect on him. He had always assumed she was too young to think about it with any real unease. He offered out his arm and she quickly snuggled into him, face buried in his suit.

“When you…go,” he said slowly, the words painful on his tongue. “I’ll tell people. Promise. The whole universe will get sick of hearing about you.”

She snorted gently into his chest.

“I’ll write books, even. Poetry. Make some art.”

“More art,” her muffled voice reminded him, and he smiled.

“Some more art. A whole museum full of Rose.”

He pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around her back, and kissed the top of her head.

“I’ll remember you. How could I ever forget?”

“They’re back,” he said as he walked through the door. “They survived.”

He undressed quickly, his clothes piling on top of hers. He bounced onto the bed, gazing at her, lying on his front.

“Cult of Skaro.” He told her, brushing dust from the bedstand. “Dalek Sec turned human. Just like the Dalek you touched,” he sighed, looking down. “I tried to save him. I knew you’d want me to.”

Rose looked back at him.

“No, I’m all right. Well—” he hesitated. “A bit angry, maybe. Four of them managed to stick together. Why couldn’t we?”

He rolled over; eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I know. We got rid of millions of them. Stopped them killing everyone, that made it worth it.” His eyes twitched over to her, and then quickly away. “I guess.”

“I don’t think you have Daleks, over in that universe. Shouldn’t do, anyway, although really who knows where they manage to get to? But even if there is one over there, you should be able to sort them out. Right in the eyestalk, remember? Only weakness.

“Although knowing you, you’d have them charmed before it got to that. Offered them tea or something. Given it a hug. God, Rose—I hope you’re being careful over there. Joining Torchwood is great, but risking your life is less fun when it’s just you. You probably know that by now, you trouble magnet. But I couldn’t bare if it if–” he paused, aching. “Although, I suppose I wouldn’t know anyway.”

He pulled the pink covers up to his face, brushing them against his cheek. They smelt less of Rose now, after a week of his visits—he thought the TARDIS had probably washed them at some point, although he’d specifically asked her not to. Still, they were a comfort.

“When I first saw them,” he breathed. “I thought they’d come from the void. And I was horrified, of course. But not entirely. I thought, maybe—” he buried himself deeper in the covers, “but I guess not.”

“How did it feel?” She asked, her hand clutching his tightly. “Being a picture?”

“Sketchy.”

She looked at him sternly, ignoring his wide grin. He pulled her towards the cake table, but she tugged him back, her fingers digging slightly into his wrist.

“I’m serious.”

He gazed at her, wondering whether she truly wanted the answer. No, probably not. But her eyes were pleading with him, and she had just saved the day. Her wish, as always, was his command.

“Flat—no, I’m serious,” he said quickly, halting her open mouth. “Couldn’t really move. Couldn’t feel the TARDIS. Just stood there and…existed. It was terrible.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she tugged him a little closer.

“Those kids—”

“—are not okay, no matter how well they look now. It was like being trapped in my own brain. It was hard to work out what was real and what wasn’t. Even now—”

He stopped himself quickly, biting at the inside of his lips. She placed her hands loosely around his neck and kissed him gently on the cheek.

“Feels real to me.”

He laughed. “Can’t taste pencil?”

“Well,” she said, pulling him closer still. “Let me double check.”

“Rose,” he breathed, stumbling through the door. “Rose—Rose—”

He staggered across the room, arms out and craving for her.

“Rose—I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He had left her. Again. A whole year under the Master’s brutal torture, but the worst pain of all had been staying away from her for so long. He clutched at her, his eyes devouring her face, the cold metal cutting into his skin.

“I couldn’t—I didn’t believe it—he was alive, Rose, and he was—” he struggled through his shallow breaths, trying desperately to articulate, to make her understand that he hadn’t chosen to stay away. “Rose, I was trapped. I spent every second thinking of you.”

She was looking at him, unmoved by his rambling pleas. He pressed his head against her, eyes squeezed shut, begging for her to understand.

“I wouldn’t leave you on purpose, you know I wouldn’t—I couldn’t—”

His eyes were streaming, but it felt so good to hold her close to him again. She was angry, she always was when they were separated, but she was here, and it was slowly relaxing him.

“I wasn’t the last. He was just hidden. I never thought—I was so alone,” he paused, smiling down at her. “Yes, I know. Apart from you, I meant. Does that even need saying?”

He ran his hand down his face. “No, I’ll be okay. I just needed to spend some time with you.”

He hugged her tighly, burying his face into her shoulder.

“How long did you wait?”

“5 and a half hours.” She gasped out, and he grimaced.

She was giddy with joy, and he realised suddenly just how frightened she must have been. What had he expected her to do, stuck on this space station? Wander around and hope one day he’d turn up?

“I’m sorry.” He said, pulling away. She looked down, but he pressed a finger against her chin, forcing it upwards. “Really.”

“It’s fine.”

He shook his head and stepped a little closer.

“I should’ve never left you. I never will again.”

He kissed her sweetly, and she stayed utterly still for a second before kissing him back enthusiastically.

They pulled apart and beamed at each other, their hands naturally gravitating together.

“We never did this,” she said, settling her head on his shoulder.

“What?”

“This,” she said, nodding at their clasped hands. “Us.”

He brushed the hair away from her eyes and then traced his fingertips over her lips. He had always loved these lips, loved the look, the touch—

“You never kissed me.”

He pulled his hand back and stared at her, confused. She shuffled out of his embrace, her sympathetic gaze grating at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. He had always been physically affectionate to her, every light touch a happy expression of love.

“You never told me that, either. Not once.”

He shifted in his chair, looking away.

“Why are you saying this?”

“Because I’m not sure you know.”

Martha left, and he thought maybe it was for the best. He had honestly liked Martha, found her intelligent and self-confident. But he knew she made Rose feel insecure, which was the last thing he wanted.

He spent his days curling up in her bed, chatting through their memories and finding joy in her smile. The universe had taken enough of his life. From now on, he would spend it with her.

“Doctor,” Rose said, settling heavily on the bed, “I’m worried.”

“About what?” He asked quickly, scooting up to her and taking her hand. She looked down at it with a frown.

“You’ve not eaten in a week. Not slept in months.”

He smiled. She was adorable. “You’re worried about me?”

She groaned, laying back. He mirrored her, studying her face.

“When was the last time you left the TARDIS?” She asked, and he frowned.

He’d forgotten he was on the TARDIS. He saw so little of it now.

“Are you getting restless? Because we don’t have to stay here. Maybe the library? You’ve always loved it.”

Her head towards him, and he was confused by the intensity he saw in his eyes. Maybe she was growing tired of his presence, sick of his constant rambles. He reached for his hair, nervous, and was surprised to find it down to his shoulders.

She reached towards him, and he stole her into his arms, trying to rub some warmth into her cold body.

“What about past the library?”

He frowned. “The console room?”

She groaned and rolled into his chest. He rubbed her back, trying to comfort her.

“What about the garden? We could plant strawberries for the summertime. Strawberries and ice cream for lunch, every day. Like a children’s book.”

“Why don’t you go outside, to plant strawberries?”

He pushed her away from him, bewildered, staring up at her with furrowed eyebrows. “Outside?”

“Grass. Sky. Stars.”

He let her fall beside him and stood up, angry.

“We can’t go outside. You know that.”

He glared at the wall opposite, his hands curling into fists. She brought this up so often these days, a constant argument that he never seemed to fully win.

“You need to,” she whispered behind him. “You need to go outside.”

He spun around. “I need to? By myself?”

She was very still on the bed, her eyes staring upwards blankly.

“Yes. God, Doctor, this isn’t you. When have you ever stayed still this long?”

He frowned at her. “But—we’re happy. Me and you, in the TARDIS. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

She gazed up at him, looking pained. “Do you really think I would have wanted this?”

“Of course!” He shouted. “This is exactly what you wanted. Just me and you, no one else. Domestics. Love. All of that.”

“Love?” She whispered. “Is this love?”

He staggered back. He had always loved her, never faltering and never hesitating.

“What else could this be,” He asked, feeling tears rage in his eyes “but love?”

“Pain.” She whispered.

He fell back against the wall, sliding down until he was draped on top of the carpet.

“Pain?” He echoed, feeling an ache against his chest. “I pain you?”

“No,” she said from the bed. “No, never. But what about you?”

“Me?”

“How do you feel?”

He paused and took stock. Quite hungry, actually – and tired, which was unusual.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

She stayed motionless, and he stood up slowly, shaking the sudden fatigue from his limbs. She gazed up at him sadly.

“You need to move on. Get past me. Find someone else.”

“Someone else?”

He paced up and down the room, treading on both of their clothes.

“Snap out of it.”

He froze and turned slowly.

“Rose,” he muttered, “don’t.”

“I love you, Doctor.”

He stumbled slightly, exhaustion overtaking him. He sat down on the bed and froze. Slowly, he stood up and turned.

Her face was shattered across the bed.

“Rose,” he gasped out, his hearts racing. “No.”

“I love you,” she cried. He knew this—had always known this—but even now, saying his goodbyes, a flood of joy coursed through his blood.

He reached out to her and pulled her lips towards his. Her hands immediately went to the top of his head, grabbing at his head, moulding his body on hers. He clung to her back desperately, cursing their bodies for stopping them from moving even closer.

She pulled back, gasping for breath. He ran his tongue around his lips, tasting makeup and saltwater.

“I love you too.” He whispered into her ear.

He was on the floor, shards of glass scattered across his body. He brushed them off, slowly sitting up.

“Rose?”

The room was silent.

#i have been working on this for 2 days and i'm still not fully happy with it lol #but if i don't post now and just move on i never will #fics

[jackoshadows]

To give one example of how D&D wrote show Sansa by taking from the other Starks:

In the Books:

“The Night’s Watch takes no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon reminded them when some semblance of quiet had returned. “It is not for us to oppose the Bastard of Bolton, to avenge Stannis Baratheon, to defend his widow and his daughter. This creature who makes cloaks from the skins of women has sworn to cut my heart out, and I mean to make him answer for those words … but I will not ask my brothers to forswear their vows. The Night’s Watch will make for Hardhome. I ride to Winterfell alone, unless …” Jon paused. “… is there any man here who will come stand with me?”

The roar was all he could have hoped for, the tumult so loud that the two old shields tumbled from the walls. Soren Shieldbreaker was on his feet, the Wanderer as well. Toregg the Tall, Brogg, Harle the Huntsman and Harle the Handsome both, Ygon Oldfather, Blind Doss, even the Great Walrus. I have my swords, thought Jon Snow, and we are coming for you, Bastard. - Jon, ADwD

In the show:

Sansa: There's only one place we can go.  Home. Jon: Should we tell the Boltons to pack up and leave? Sansa: We'll take it back from them. Jon:I don't have an army. Sansa: How many wildlings did you save? Jon: They didn't come here to serve me. Sansa: They owe you their lives.  You think they'll be safe here if Roose Bolton remains Warden of the North?  Winterfell is our home. It's ours and Arya's and Bran's and Rickon's.  Wherever they are, it belongs to our family. We have to fight for it. Jon: I'm tired of fighting.  It's all I've done since I left home. I've killed brothers of the Night's Watch. I've killed wildlings. I've killed men that I admire. I hanged a boy younger than Bran. I fought and I lost. Sansa: If we don't take back the North, we'll never be safe. I want you to help me. But I'll do it myself if I have to.

Mopey Jon Snow needs Sansa to tell him that he can use the Wildlings and has to push him to go attack the Boltons. And oh, if Jon will not fight, Sansa will do it herself because she’s just that awesome.

In the books, Jon rallies the Wildlings to attack the Boltons with a bad-ass speech that is cheered so loudly that shields fall down! Imagine how awesome it would have been to see that on the show? But D&D have never given Jon these awe-inspiring moments like they did for Dany and Sansa. Which makes sense considering D&D think they are these ground breaking feminists writing about female empowerment  – only their writing of female empowerment is patriarchal, primitive and sexist and their symbol of female empowerment on the show is a terribly written Sansa Stark who they can only push to the top by taking away from other more interesting characters in the book.

Jon rallying the Wildlings is also a reminder that book Jon is not the one-dimensional ‘honorable’ character he was reduced to on the show. By openly announcing that the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch was going to attack the Warden of the North with an army of marauding wildlings, he broke several rules and oaths and destroyed the neutrality of an 8000 year old institution. He was already walking a thin line by actively helping Stannis and sending Mance to rescue Arya. By advocating a direct attack he crossed that line so much the line was basically a dot to him (As Joey said!)

This is why it’s hilarious to book fans when Sansa/Jonsa stans use the show to extrapolate and predict what the book endings for the Starks and other characters will be. Show Sansa is a patchwork of book Jeyne, Theon, Jon, Arya, Stannis, Rickon and Bran’s plots and characterization and the only reason she was even in the North in the first place is because D&D wanted their fave to be at the center of what they considered to be an interesting book plot.

That’s what so obnoxious about all these posts from Sansa stans on the Jon, Arya and Bran tags fake crying about their character assassination on the show. The Jon, Arya and Bran character assassination happened on the show so that D&D could push their idiotic queen Sansa narrative! Not to prop up Dany or Tyrion or the Lannisters or anyone. So please, spare us your fake crocodile tears about the writing for Jon, Arya and Bran. If D&D actually adapted book Jon, Arya and Bran to the show, Sansa would not even be in the North and this lot would be crying about how D&D were being mean to poor ol’ Sansa. And we wouldn’t hear a peep about Northern independence.

Not to mention, the Sansa stan idea of D&D’s character assassination of Jon and Arya is basically that Jon did not worship and love Sansa, do her bidding and sexually manipulate Dany and that Arya did not stay in WF and become Sansa’s queensguard, executioner and personal assistant.  They constantly whine on the Jon tags about how Jon is an idiot for bending the knee/loving Dany without acknowledging how absolutely moronic and childishly bratty Sansa has been over the last 3 seasons.

Ultimately when Sansa stans use the show’s writing to make a case for Queen Sansa in the books, they are more or less making a case for why Jeyne Poole is going to become Queen of the North in the books. I mean, let’s be honest, Queen Sansa in the show makes as much sense as Queen Jeyne Poole. That’s why their ‘metas’ are so delightfully nonsensical.

#Jon Snow #anti Sansa stans #anti GOT #anti D&D #asoiaf #Arya Stark

[pseudofaux]

Tracassin {Comte/MC}

Nothing scandalous, but the desire is heavyyyyyyy. Kinda angsty. Please enjoy if that sounds like your thing! This gripped me in one of those creative MUST DO MAKE WORDS WRITE LONGING fevers. It’s been awhile, so I was happy to let it happen!

“Is it... Marcel?” she murmurs, back to the game they have been playing for weeks, always with much more space between them.

Rumpelstiltskin, Tracassin, she had suggested in the garden on one of her first happy days in the mansion, if you will not tell me your name, then let me guess! He had agreed, so eager to indulge her and feeling some relief that the game put him in the villain’s place. He could be her entertainer and friend, and of course he would protect her. But he could not orbit her like a lover would. They’d smiled companionably over their cups from the fine set of Limoges, the brilliant white space in the pattern reminding him of her unpointed teeth. He had been confident she would never guess his name. And he had thought it such a neatly-arranged way for her to pass the time, close but not too close.

She is being shockingly bold, but moreover needy, she is needy over his body there in the chair in the hourglass room, and she has said her need is for him, good Lord—

“Comte,” she whisper-whines, plump lips moving softer than her word over his cheek, his jaw. He would have sworn before this moment that he knew what it was to suffer, in life and in lust. Of course she would be the one to show him better. She has revealed so many of life’s joys to him already, clarified tastes like lemon juice in jellies and lifted cloche after cloche off the delights of Paris he may never have found without her. How could she do anything but make his despair a sharper, deeper cut? What will be left if all his rules bleed out of him through the split she is making in his heart? That is the true and most dangerous question.

Because it is so dangerous, he will resist her, he will gently extricate himself from the chair and he will get up and usher her out or leave the room himself. He will... he will remember his plan as soon as she moves her mouth from his jaw, the very second she stops sowing a soft line of kisses there, so precise that the gardeners of the Grand Trianon would weep to see the elegant devastation she is working against him. He has not felt flush on his own skin in such a long time but it is there now: inelegant, blotchy, lurid. A mockery of mortality. It makes him nervous in a way that is juvenile, as he remembers the first time he ever courted, the fumbling declarations, the warmth of love in youth, tender and unwise. Her face interposes itself between memories of learning to dance and kiss. He wants to groan but worries if he makes a single sound, he will break more than his own silence.

“Is it... Marcel?” she murmurs, back to the game they have been playing for weeks, always with much more space between them.

Rumpelstiltskin, Tracassin, she had suggested in the garden on one of her first happy days in the mansion, if you will not tell me your name, then let me guess! He had agreed, so eager to indulge her and feeling some relief that the game put him in the villain’s place. He could be her entertainer and friend, and of course he would protect her. But he could not orbit her like a lover would. They’d smiled companionably over their cups from the fine set of Limoges, the brilliant white space in the pattern reminding him of her unpointed teeth. He had been confident she would never guess his name. And he had thought it such a neatly-arranged way for her to pass the time, close but not too close.

She is quite close now, the expanse of her skirts allowing the knee she has put on his chair to cage him in. The wingback could hide them from the world, if they were really lovers. Her body leaning to his, the sweet honesty of her seduction, these things have stunned him.

She pauses for his response, but before he can use the time to gather himself and move, she moving herself, shifting over his lap and making another guess. “No, not Marcel. Adrien?” She exhales a little laugh. The sound blooms from her throat, below the blood place. He can smell it, precious as butter and salt, and he is grateful he has never needed to see Lear’s folly to know the value of these things. Le comte de Saint Germain knows what makes a table and a feast, and though he will not have it, he knows exactly what he wants spread out before him on the lacquered rosewood surface where the mansion takes its meals.

There is a kindness to her hum, a milky sweetness, when she lifts away from his skin. Only far enough away for the lonely beast in his heart to yelp pathetically for her return, please, anything, go far away or come closer and truly ruin me and it is all silenced with her words. “I don’t think that’s a yes,” she says. “But you are not giving me any real answers at all...” And she returns to kiss his jaw again, her bold but ever-gentle hand cupping the other side of his face. He is surrounded by the feminine pressure of her, but he cannot surrender and he absolutely cannot allow his thoughts to list toward any consideration of feminine pressure.

He feels her arms under his hands, the slight supple muscle of her upper arms tense from contact that has surprised them both, and he is grateful his body is faster than his mind. Her name is a warning on his breath, but it is so heavy with his own need he must yet again keep himself from groaning. If he heard her say his name with as much passion, nothing would keep him from her.

“No more guessing tonight, ma chèrie beauté,” he begs her as he pushes her away. “You must rest.”

She is looking at him with an assessing sort of fire in her eyes, but still she is kind. She has kept her hand on his cheek even as he moved her to stand on the floor in front of the chair.

“Will you tell me?” she asks with transparent, honest hope. If timeless ones had her grace, their lives would not be ones of melancholy.

“I would not take away your game,” he says. Her gaze becomes reproachful.

“It is our game,” she whispers, and she moves to lean in again, has even closed her eyes. But his hands hold her. The hurt in her face wounds him. He wishes it only wounded him. He is not good enough to receive her, let alone reject her-- that is why he must lean on the crutch of this farce and play at disinterest. He releases her arms to pat them and the second time manages to make it more of a quick touch than a caress.

“Shall I call Sebastian to take you to your room?”

He hates himself. For a moment she looks like she hates him, too.

“Non,” she says with emphasis, suddenly French to her toes, and it is a new torture not to smile at her. He tries to focus on not moving forward as she finally draws her hand away, fingertips sliding over the muscle in his jaw that jumps to maintain contact with her. He wonders if even she has limits to her grace, if she is doing this on purpose to twist the knife in his heart.

It is there as a plug, that yelping animal whines, craving her understanding as much as her self. It is there to keep you safe.

She does not look at him as she walks away, but at the door she turns. She is reproachful and a little prim, but no longer angry. “In my time, women take lovers,” she tells him. “If you do not want me for one, it is courtesy to tell me so.”

“I have told you I do not want you for a lover,” he says immediately, and the syllables are so wooden and lame he can see every way her face transforms from pique to victory.

“Goodnight, Monsieur,” she says softly. The door traveler is gracious in her laurels.

He bids her the same, and asks her to forgive him for remaining seated. She only nods, sparing him further ruin. When the door clicks closed, he counts her slippered footsteps as they soften to silence in the hallway of his home. At twenty, he allows his hands to destroy the rests of his chair, splintering the fine frame underneath leather and stuffing.

Rouge and Blanc are both in reach, and both completely unappealing. He shakes the dust from his palms and undoes one cuff. Cleanly, he rolls the sleeve to his forearm, cream against his skin. He thinks of going to find Leonardo for company instead of being so maudlin, but decides against it. Melancholy men find one another eventually, and he’s convinced the other man loves her, too. They all do, damn them. For tonight, he’ll keep his hurt and his blood and his regard for her to himself. He has a terrible sense of dread that these things will see sunlight long before he would like.

She did not touch his sleeve, but her scent is unmistakable over his own, perhaps haunting the air around him. Butter, salt, lemon, lilacs, life. He sucks it in through his nose as he pierces the vulnerable skin inside his arm. The adoration for her is too strong to even imagine biting her and he can taste his own blood so it would be useless to try, but the smell of her stays with him as he punishes and soothes himself. She is the golden light of summer, unavoidable as midday sun. If hers could be the only sunlight to see how weak he is for her, he might dare to reveal himself. She will burn him if he is not careful, and oh, she makes it so hard to be careful. But without her in the room he is cold, and desires her warmth like a winter beggar, even more than when she was there.

#ikevamp comte #ikevam comte #ikevamp fanfic #ikevam fanfic #twisting that knife in my heart too ya big beautiful desire-denier #hi sometimes I DO make words

[cheemerthelizard]

The Quest for the Stone (Kars body swap)

Kars body swap for the villain body swap saga! Enjoy!

“Halen,” Kars told his subordinate, “I think you need to use your ultimate technique.”

“I understand, Lord Kars,” Halen, a pillarman who had hid himself from the battle raging on for reasons unknown, got down on one knee and sighed heavily. “It was an honor serving you.”

Meanwhile, you stood alone, fighting off Kars’s vampires with your Hamon skills while Jojo fought Wamuu and Lisa Lisa cheered him on. When the vampires noticed the pillarman approaching you, they spread apart to give him room.

“What?” you asked, sending Hamon through your arms to intimidate him. “You want to take me on? I can beat you in a second!” The high from fighting was starting to pump you up and give you a little too much confidence.

“I’m counting on it,” Halen answered with a smirk.

“Then I’ll go ahead and finish off another pillarman, if you don’t mind,” you laughed. You sent a deadly amount of Hamon through Halen’s body as he stood still and took it.

“Lord Kars, please accept my sacrifice and defeat the last of the Hamon users for good!” Halen cried out, spreading his arms into the sky. Suddenly, a bright light enveloped you, blinding you for a second. Then, when you looked back, Halen had disappeared.

“Looks like that ‘sacrifice’ of his didn’t do any good,” you chuckled. But the voice that said those words wasn’t yours. It almost sounded like…

No. You looked down, realizing you had no clothes, other than a cloth-like thing around your hips. Your hair, all kept back in a hood except for one strand.

You promptly sat up and surveyed the horizon, where your body was just waking up and dusting itself off.

“Ah, good, it worked,” Kars said to himself. Then, in the lowest voice he could muster, made a menacing laugh. “It seems I can use Hamon, as well. Now, I must act quickly, this temporary form won’t last too long.”

He stole your body! Kars stole your body and put you in his! What was he planning to do in your body, anyway? Whatever it was, Lisa Lisa wouldn’t know what just happened, meaning Kars could do practically anything. He could politely ask to hold the Red Stone of Aja, and have it in his hands! Or worse, use your Hamon to kill off your mentor and leave either you or Jojo to fight him. You had to act just as fast as Kars did, or you were all dead.

“Lisa Lisa!” you exclaimed, running over to her. “I hit a pillarman, and then a bright light flashed, and then I woke up in Kars’s body. Lisa Lisa, it’s (Y/N), don’t trust my body! Kars is in that body!”

However, instead of listening to you, Lisa Lisa struck your side with Hamon. It felt like someone slapped a really bad sunburn really hard, but if that sunburn was strong enough to instantly give you cancer and the slap was given by Superman. It made you scream in agony.

“Don’t try and fool me, Kars!” Lisa Lisa retorted. “(Y/N) told me all about your little scheme.”

What? Scheme? Oh, no! Kars had already lied to Lisa Lisa about what happened! What did he say?

“Look, whatever he said, it’s not true, you have to believe me!” you begged. “I’m (Y/N)!”

More Hamon was sent through your body, making you wither in pain.

“(Y/N) told me that you’d try and make me think you two swapped bodies,” Lisa Lisa glared. “Good thing she told me beforehand, or I would’ve fallen for this trick. You won’t fool me, Kars.”

Hold on, where was the Red Stone? It should be in Lisa Lisa’s hands. Why was Kars running away?

Suddenly, the dots connected in your head. “Lisa Lisa, I have to go, I’ll see you later!”

“Kars, you can’t just-” But you were already gone before she could finish.

“Get back here, Kars!” you shouted. “I know you have the stone!”

“Come and take it!” Kars shouted back.

Oh, you ran. You ran faster than ever before, thanks to Kars’s superhuman abilities. You ran so fast, you caught up with him in ten seconds flat, knocking him to the ground and placing a foot on his back to immobilize him.

“Just give me the stone, and I’ll let you go,” you scowled. “You made a promise with Lisa Lisa, and I intend on making sure you keep it.”

“Just try to pry it out of my cold, dead hands,” Kars smirked. You took him up on the challenge, and reached down to his hand and started moving his fingers out of the way to get the stone. Suddenly, a bright light started to envelop it, making it glow brilliantly.

“What the…?” you muttered. Then, eyes wide, you moved your hand out of the way just in time as a burst of Hamon shot from the cross in the middle. Of course, that didn’t stop the burning sensation in your foot, making you flinch back and let go of Kars.

“Did you seriously forget that you’re not immune to Hamon?” he chuckled, letting the power that was previously yours flow through his body.

“Why, you…” you growled.

Wait a minute. What were you doing chasing Kars? So long as you stayed far away from your body, when time was up and you were you again, you could return the stone to Lisa Lisa.

“Oh, by the way, catch!” Before you had time to react, Kars tossed the stone right into your palm and ran off.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” you yelled, hurling the stone back towards your body, and accidentally throwing it so hard that you ended up knocking Kars out after it hit the back of his head. This was either bad or good. Bad if time was almost up, but good if it wasn’t. Either way, you were running. Running away from your unconscious body, away from Lisa Lisa charging towards you, away from Jojo, who was now hot on your trail, too. You were running, running, running…

And then, all of the sudden, you were slowly opening your eyes, pushing yourself up from the ground.

“You’re back!” Jojo exclaimed, helping you up. “How’s your head?”

“It’s fine,” you grunted. Ah, yes. There was your voice. It seemed like your figure felt right, too. You were back in your own body. “What happened after our bodies returned to normal?”

“Well, Kars immediately turned back to get the stone that you threw,” Jojo told you. “Said something about how you were a clever one. Where did you even get the idea of throwing it so hard it would make him pass out?”

“Just my quick thinking and skill,” you shrugged, not mentioning that the power of that throw was completely unintentional.

“Anyway, when we saw him running back, Lisa Lisa grabbed the stone before he could, and threatened to destroy it. After that, he had to give her a fair fight. I was instructed to look after you, since you were still unconscious.”

You nodded, still a bit disassociated. “How long has Lisa Lisa been fighting?”

“Oh, only a couple of minutes.”

Good. You didn’t miss too much. “Well, I don’t want to miss any more than I already have, so shut up and watch the show.”

Jojo laughed. “Fine.”

You had absolute faith in Lisa Lisa. After all, she was the one who trained you, and you had just survived becoming a pillarman.

What could possibly go wrong?

#kars #kars x reader #battle tendency #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #fanfiction #my fanfiction

[ashes-and-ashes]

Every Whispered Plea

tw for torture and blood

Sirius thought he knew fear.

He’s barely 20 and yet he’s seen the world go to shit around him, pieces cracking and falling and shattering into jagged pieces. He’s seen Remus transforming, James unconscious and bloody, the broken fragments of Peter’s leg. He’s seen too many friends kill and too many friends die and God he thought he knew what fear was.

It was acidic, the way fear ate at your bones, burned it’s way into your lungs, thousands of grains of salt in an open wound. He had learnt to live with the fear, learnt to keep breathing even as it stung because what else was he supposed to do? This was war, and he knew he wouldn’t survive it but he would go down fighting.

It helped, almost, the mental preparation, the expectation that he would die. He used to think about it, about what it would feel like. He knew it would be agonizing - the searing slash of curses against his skin, his body slowly being taken apart not by Remus’ hands but with Bellatrix’s knife. He knew perfectly well what to expect, swallowed down the fear and kept fighting.

But he’s never known true terror, not like this, the kind that made his heart stop beating. Time stretched - seconds into days, into weeks, into years and Sirius forgets to breathe.

The sound he makes isn’t human, choked and raw and demonic. There’s nothing, nothing that can prepare him for this feeling, of absolute animalistic terror as he stares at Remus, on his knees in the dirt, Walburga’s wand at his throat and God he’s drowning, drowning in the waves of panic crashing over him -

Sirius opens his mouth - to do what he doesn’t know, scream for James, scream for Remus, scream for someone, anyone on the godforsaken battlefield. With a rasping breath, he swallows, hard. “J - “

Faster then he can blink, Walburga flicks her wand. Remus doubles over, coughing - there’s blood coming out of his mouth, staning his hands and his fingernails, soaking into the dusty ground. Walburga watches with detached interest before leveling a cool stare at Sirius.

“Where’s your brother?”

“You bitch,” Sirius hisses. “You absolute - “

Remus doubles over again; Sirius can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s gritting his teeth, trying desperately not to make a sound. He clenches his fists, every inch of him burning up like a pyre, the desire to kill his mother so fucking strong -

Walburga just tilts her head. “You could,” she says. “But he’ll be gone too.” She taps Remus on the head lightly with her hand; Remus cringes away, one hand clamped to his side.

“Let him go.”

“Or what?” Walburga asks sweetly. Sirius can see her grip tighten on Remus, fingers yanking at the hair. “I must say - your Order isn’t very organized, is it? Far too predictable.”

“I said let him go.”

Remus meets his gaze. His face is pale, the blood so stark against it. His lips are cracked and swollen - Sirius recognizes the circular cuts made from Walburga’s rings. Remus just closes his eyes, lips moving in a soundless whisper. Please.

Sirius wrenches his gaze away. He remembers last night, before the battle, those brief and desperate final moments alone. Lying on the bed afterwards, pressed up against each other, Sirius’ whisper burried in Remus’ hair.

“She’ll be here tomorrow.”

Remus nodded, squeezed Sirius’ hand so tight he felt the bones grate together. “I know.”

Sirius had looked down, pressing his face against Remus’ neck, lips tracing patterns on his skin. “If she gets me...she won’t take me. Not immediately. She’ll gloat.”

Understanding dawned on Remus’ face. “No.”

“Please,” Sirius had whispered. “I can’t let her take me - “

“No.”

“They’ll torture me. For days. Or maybe months, I don’t know. They’ll break my bones and Crucio me, over and over again. I’d rather die then - then - “

“I can’t,” Remus breathed. “Not you.”

“Please,” Sirius said. “Please.”

He opens his eyes now, staring at Remus, his heart pounding so hard he thought he’d be sick. Walburga’s eyes were locked on his, her face smug and God he wanted to rip them out, wanted to destroy her bit by bit.

“Poor you,” she says, a wide smile stretching across her face. The tip of her wand glows bright red, like the cigarettes that him and Remus used to share back in Hogwarts, cherry embers and grey ash. Remus’ face tightens, and Sirius knows he remembers too.

All those hidden moments, rooftop kisses, counted stars. Standing at the edge of the roof, wind blowing in his hair, Remus grasping his hand beside him. Every inhale and every exhale and every curl of smoke floating into the air and he was going to lose it all.

Sirius flinches, hard as Walburga presses the wand deep into Remus’ cheek. The smell of searing flesh reaches him and Sirius want to vomit, wants to scream. He remembers that same wand digging into his skin, his back and arms and legs, the all-consuming agony that burned through him.

“Stop,” he says, but Walburga just laughs. She presses deeper, the wand flaring brighter and Sirius screams “Stop it - “

Remus’ eyes are still steady, his mouth still gritted even as Walburga burned through his flesh. There was nothing on his face - no rage or sadness or regret, just pain and that silent, desperate plea. Please.

“I - “ Sirius begins, then swears. He turns, to face his mother, his heart pounding so hard he can hear it. “Take me.”

Remus lurches forward, eyes wild. “No.”

Sirius ignores him, feeling sick to his stomach even as he forces the words out. “Take me - I’m the one you hate, I’m the blood traitor. Do whatever you want to me just let him go.”

“No,” Remus says then groans - Sirius didn’t see the slash until it was too late, deep red against Remus’ back.

“Fuck,” Sirius swears, his mind racing, so desperate that he felt sick. “Please, take me, I’ll do anything - “

“How odd,” Walburga says, so softly that Sirius can barely hear her over the roaring in his head. “That was always your problem, Sirius. You care too much.”

“Mother - “ Sirius starts, then cuts himself off as he hears something snap. Remus’ face goes white as he curls over his hand, broken bone and torn skin. “Please - “

“No,” Walburga says simply. She runs a hand over Remus’ face; Remus flinches as she curls her nails into the burn on his cheek. “Put it this way, Sirius. What better way to torture you then to hurt the werewolf?”

“You bitch,” Sirius says savagely. “If you hurt him - there is no one on this earth that will save you - “

Walburga simply shrugs, opening up another gash in Remus’ face. “Whoops.”

Sirius raises his wand. “In - “

“Crucio.”

There’s the jet of scarlet and then Remus was shaking, tremors going up and down his body. Sirius curses, his vision blurring as he remembers the pain, burning and searing, bones splitting apart and flesh tearing. Remus curls up, legs pressed to his chest, eyes closed as he waited out the agony, teeth gritted.

“Stop it,” Sirius yells. “Stop - “

Remus shakes his head. There’s a savage smile on his face, all fire and agony. “You think that’s bad?” he hisses. “I went through that every month.”

Walburga shrugs. “Grayback is looking forward to it.”

The colour drains from Remus’ face. “Oh God.”

“He’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“Fuck him,” Remus spits. “Fuck him and fuck you and fuck your precious dark lord - “

“Remus shut up,” Sirius says desperately. “Mother - “

“No.” Walburga says simply. She tightens her grip on Remus’ hair; his eyes meet Sirius’. Please.

“I can’t!” Sirius croaks. Remus closes his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, throat too ravaged to speak any louder. “It’s okay. Run.”

“I can’t leave you.”

Walburga throws her head back and laughs, her knuckles white where she yanked at Remus’ hair. Remus winces, his head slamming back to expose his throat.

Just last night they were together. Just last night Sirius was pressed against him, his lips on Remus’ neck, feet tangled together.

The years blurred together. He was 11, watching Remus get onto the train, the first person he’d ever seen with the same scars that he had. He was 12, holding Remus’ hand as he sobbed, pleaded to stay at Hogwarts. He was 13, teaching Remus how to fly, clouds like feathers against his skin. He was 14, falling in love and yet not realizing it, dying inside and yet not knowing.

He was 15, on the roof like they always were, the air freezing on his skin. Remus, a beacon of warmth by his side and it was too easy to lean over, press his lips to Remus’, kiss him like the world was ending. It was how he always kissed Remus, even 5 years later because it was. The world was ending, falling into thousands of jagged pieces that tore Sirius up in the inside, blood replacing tears.

“I wish we had more time,” Sirius whispers. Remus holds his gaze. “I wish we...”

Remus cracks a small smile, heartbroken and beautiful. “Tell Lily I wanted to see the baby.”

“Fool,” Walburga hisses. “He won’t do it. You’re too self-sacrificing, Sirius. I call your bluff.”

Remus shakes his head, just slightly. “Tell James thank you. For sticking by my side. Tell Peter that he’s braver then I ever was, and that he’s a true marauder and always will be. Tell Dumbledore that I’ll always be grateful he let me in.”

Walburga rolls her eyes. “Good lord the dramatics. He won’t kill you, Lupin, but you’ll wish he did when I’m done with you.”

“I love you,” Sirius chokes out, and in the words are an eternity of memories. Every breakfast together and every dinner, every Qudditch match that Remus ever watched Sirius play. All the full moons pressed up at each other’s sides, all the silent nights lying in the bed. Every smile that Remus ever made, his quiet chuckles and melodic laughs and Sirius thought his heart was breaking apart.

He had so many firsts with Remus and it was only fitting that he would be Sirius’ last.

Remus mouth quirks up, beautiful and radiant even through all the blood and Sirius flinches as he closes his eyes.

“I love you,” he says. “I love you Sirius.”

“Oh please,” Walburga says. “You won’t - “

Sirius watches Remus close his eyes. “I love you too,” he says, and then the world goes green.

#wolfstar #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar au #wolfstar fanfiction #remus lupin #sirius black #remus lupin angst #sirius black angst #remus lupin fanfic #sirius black fanfic #remus lupin au #sirius black au #remus lupin fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #walburga black #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfic #tw: blood #tw: torture #tw: abuse

[swtorramblings]

Arcann’s Absolution

Arcann healing Vaylin by @fleeting-sanity​, thank you for the potato and his sister. Joint commission by myself and @lord-sutherland​. Drabble by me.

Arcann stepped out onto the platform, empty now except for the dead. It had been badly damaged during the battle, mostly during his sister’s final display of power. The Alliance had no time to repair it during the current crisis. He was alone.

He stepped up to Torian, dead because of them. Last of his people. More worthy of life then himself or his siblings, but there was nothing he could do to reverse his sacrifice. All he could do was make certain he did better.

If he had that chance.

He stepped to his sister’s body, left where she fell in the emergency. He knelt down and closed her eyes, took her hand, and wept. She’d always been in so much pain, and he had added to it. Since her return, they had hurt each other so much, and now, it might be too late.

He had felt his mother’s emotions, seething between that icy calm. He understood how much pain and guilt she suffered for this “victory”. He was sure she would either suffer for it the rest of her life, or she would do something rash. 

And soon. Neither outcome were acceptable, so here he was.

When he was ready, he lifted her up, propped her on one knee. He knew his chances were slim, that his connection to his sister was never as strong as hers to Senya, or his to Thexan. He still had to try. If he failed, he hoped his mother would understand. He wouldn’t let her suffer, or let his sister pay this price. Not when he hadn’t.

He focused, feeling his own life energies bathe her in light, closing her wounds, reaching out to reunite spirit with body. He had said she might have been obliterated, even thought for a time that at least she was no longer in pain. Deep down, he did not believe it, and realized now that it was not a worthy thought. Death was a necessity, but it was no mercy.

Her eyes fluttered, and she breathed, but she was still not whole, and he would not last much longer. Suddenly, that hated voice. “Son, what are you doing?”

He looked up, but kept his focus, and said through gritted teeth, “I told you, you have no son. You have no children. And I will save her from what you have done.”

“I did not do this. The Outlander did.”

Shifting blame again. As always. The great manipulator. Arcann ignored him and continued his efforts.

“Oh, Son, you don’t have the strength. You disappoint me again, sacrificing your life for an animal that will destroy everything you care for, even if you succeed.”

Arcann smiled, then, even as dark spots began to obscure his vision. “So, there is a chance.”

“What?”

“You’re here, trying to stop me, so it must be right. And you are scared.” His mouth was dry, perspiration dripping down his face, but he persisted.

“I fear nothing. But soon, you will be dead, and even if you succeed, she will be free.”

Arcann now heard his own voice, but he had not spoken. “Yes, Father, she will.”

New strength flooded through him. The voice spoke again. “As shall all my family, free of you, once and for all.”

Suddenly, the spirit of Valkorion wavered, and he cried out, and there was their sister’s spirit, shocked for a moment, first by being here at all, then by what her brothers were doing for her. Swiftly, she became a stream of light, of dark, of pure energy. He felt her pass through him, as she joined her brothers’ life force rejuvenating her body.

In the next moments, everything was a blur. He saw the faint trace of a smile, heard again his voice saying, “Please take better care of each other this time.”

He saw Valkorion’s scowl. He could feel that most of her power was still held by the monster, that she would still be weak.

And he knew that he would not hold it for long.

He lifted his sister and smiled down at her before taking her to safety.

=============================

He’d kept it a secret. No one commented on it. Perhaps Odessen had hidden  it, perhaps they had been distracted. 

Or, those who had noticed approved.

He had spoken to her, briefly. He knew she was still not well, and probably never would be. Now, though, she trusted him. She knew he would not hurt her, would protect her. And she had heard their brother, too, and promised to try to honor his request.

Senya did ask him about his weakness. He simply told her that he had the strength to do his duty. She accepted it.

Vaylin appeared in the final conflict, first a slave one last time to Valkorion, then a willing ally against him. Arcann did not fully understand this, but was still happy to side with her apparition. Perhaps some part of her was still here, in spite of his efforts. Perhaps, she was one more of Valkorion’s lies, which ultimately backfired.

Or, perhaps, she had joined the fight, from light years away. Nothing surprised him any longer about her power.

Their foe defeated, Senya stepped up to say goodbye to her daughter, something she hadn’t gotten the chance to after her death. As she reached out, Vaylin actually smiled, and Senya stepped back in shock and turned to Arcann. She knew.

Later, they smiled to each other as they put the Outlander on the throne, but for reasons of their own.

#Arcann #Vaylin #Senya Tirall #@fleeting-sanity #art #Tirall Tuesday #just in time