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audiwolf86 · 1 year

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Ranked The Offspring Studio Albums (EXPLAINED)

[🟥DISCLAIMER🟥: May contain swearing, critically extreme and harsh opnions and insults, beware!]

[Written Between February,12th and February,16th,2023]

Heyo everyone, it is i, Wolfgang, and today i'll be ranking and commenting on the studio albums made by one of my personal favorite punk rock bands, The Offspring.

The band was formed back in 1984 under the name Manic Subsidal and it had seen multiple lineup changes throughout the years leaving Bryan "Dexter" Holland and Greg K. as the only continuous members, though following Greg's firing in 2018, Holland is currently the only remaining original member from the band. They released about 2 (later, 6) demo tapes prior to the recording sessions of their self-titled debut album which was before they released their second demo tape. Prior to the release of that aforementioned demo and its debut single, "I'll Be Waiting", they changed their name to The Offspring after a B-Movie called The Offspring: They Were Born to Kill.

Since 1989, the band has released 10 studio albums, 5 EPs, 2 Compilation Albums and more than about 30-40 singles. Their well-known classic lineup (until 2003) consisted of Dexter Holland, Kevin "Noodles" Wasserman, Greg K. and Ron Welty. The band has maintained a high profile and has been known for being one of those bands that were capable of reviving the popularity of the punk rock genre during the 1990's (other than being part of the Pop Punk scene during that time) and has made a couple successful songs such as "Self Esteem", "Gone Away", "The Kids Aren't Alright", "Pretty Fly (For A White Guy)", etc. Althrough, beginning in the 2000's, the band began to gradually decline in popularity regarding the lack of effort of producing a couple more studio releases, to the point fillers began to appear, though this would become frequent after they changed their sound beginning with Rise And Fall, Rage And Grace. Despite that, The Offspring is still very popular in the hearts of 1980's, 1990's and 2000's kids and is considered to be one of the best bands from that era.

I've heard of this band around 2015 when my older cousin gave me his Purple Offspring hoodie (which no longer fits on me) but did not listen to any of their songs until last year, in 2022.

Just to let y'all know, this is not the first time i've done this kind of content. The first time i began ranking studio albums dates back to July,2022, when i rated all of the Korn studio albums.

Anyways, let's begin ranking all of them and so, let it roll!

10. Days Go By (2012)

This album is the greatest definition of lack of originality. Sure it has some great tunes but seriously, the sound of this album is something you would hear pretty much on either in a Foo Fighters album or in a Weezer album.

It should be noted that this is the second album under their new material and the first one with Pete Parada as their current drummer (considering he joined an year prior to the release of Rise And Fall, Rage And Grace back in 2007) as well as the last one featuring Greg K. before his firing in 2018.

Days Go By failed at givin' us a plenty amount of great songs and what we got in return is a lot of filler present in most of the album. Besides, i barely enjoyed listening to this shit at all like, seriously. The songs are pretty much generic with no charm from those heard in the previous albums, the intro of "All I Have Left Is You" reminds me of Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean", "OC Guns" is a very bland punk song, "I Wanna Secret Family (With You)" reminds me something i would hear on any Weezer album with filler songs.

Of course, we do get some great songs such as the title track, "Turning Into You" and "Cruising California (Bumpin' In My Trunk)". The only other two songs i enjoyed listening in this album was "Slim Pickens Does the Right Thing And Rides The Bomb To Hell" and their rerecorded version of "Dirty Magic".

Overall, Days Go By is both my least favorite Offspring album and my least favorite album from their new material i had ever listened in my life and it's not that solid nor as decent in comparison to those Post-Grunge albums from the 2000's.

Favorite Songs: Days Go By, Turning Into You, Cruising California (Bumpin' In My Trunk), Dirty Magic, Slim Pickens Does The Right Thing And Rides The Bomb To Hell.

Personal Favorite: Dirty Magic.

9. Let The Bad Times Roll (2021)

We waited 9 motherfucking years and guess what we got in return? Yes, you guessed it, MORE FILLER!

Other than that, the title says it all and this is referring to its mixed reception. Let The Bad Times Roll legit missed the mark and wasted most of its potential tryin' to be decent and it just went wrong like, my fuckin' God.

This album would have been the last one to feature Pete Parada as their drummer as he would be fired on July of that same year for refusing to take the COVID-19 vaccine.

Like its previous album, it also contains a rerecorded version of a great song, this time, it's one of their well known hits and that is "Gone Away".

I believe the band tried to be a little cooler this time but that isn't sayin' much, i say. I appreciate the rerecorded version of "Gone Away" but i still prefer the original version, songs like "The Opioid Diaries" and "Hassan Chop" lacks some creativity with the lyrics and seems a little rushed, "We Never Have Sex Anymore" sorta feels off but still a great song.

Some few redeeming qualities is that the songs in this album are a little decent than those heard in their predecessor and its mixing are almost better. Its cover art is an okay one but anyways, nice try with this album, Holland.

Favorite Songs: This Is Not Utopia, Let The Bad Times Roll, Army Of One, Coming For You, We Never Have Sex Anymore.

Personal Favorite: Let The Bad Times Roll.

8. Splinter (2003)

Okay, i'm feelin' sorta divided here specially due to the fact that this was the last album recorded under their original material. What if i tell you that their longtime drummer, Ron Welty, was fired before the recording sessions of this album. Does this suck? That'll be a yes. For the case of this album, he was temporarily replaced with Josh Freese of Devo and The Vandals which would continue until it's follow-up.

Splinter is nowhere as successful than the previous releases but at least, we do get a few memorable songs to listen such as "Hit That", "Spare Me The Details" and "(Can't Get My) Head Around You". Outside of that, the band did in fact miss some effort while producing this, mainly when it comes to mixing other than its lack of quality.

The sound is pretty messed up with the other tracks in this album and it's absurdly disjointed. Other than that, Splinter failed to be good and in comparison to its predecessor, let's just say, they watered down by themselves.

Aside from that, it should be noted that aside from their Greatest Hits album, Splinter would become their last known release to feature their well known skull logo as it would be omitted from the later releases but would still occasionally appear on some christmas singles, however.

Aside from being one of my favorites, Splinter is also my current least favorite album under their original material. Even if this album turns 20 years, that doesn't mean it really aged well.

Favorite Songs: The Noose, Hit That, Race Against Myself, (Can't Get My) Head Around You, Spare Me The Details, Da Hui.

Personal Favorite: (Can't Get My) Head Around You.

7. The Offspring (1989)

Aah, their self-titled debut album, released during the early years of the band, albeit, after its rebranding as The Offspring. When the album was first released in 1989, it became controversial due to its grotesque cover and so, they didn't bother much to issue an alternate cover as shown above, in fact, you can still find some surviving units either under the original cover (which is very difficult to find nowadays) or under their alternate cover.

The Offspring used to be my least favorite album under their original material until i took another relistening on its tracks while adding on my personal playlist. I was able to learn that this album actually has some underrated tracks but for my surprise, the only song the band has ever performed live is anything other than "Beheaded", the very first song i had ever listened from them. If you're wondering about the other tracks, well, looks like they didn't approve much of this album and it has been their, specially Holland's, least favorite studio release.

At the same time, their early sound isn't strong enough to become solid but had a fine potential of becoming underrated, albeit, not as underrated than those heard in its follow-up, Ignition.

The older pressings had "Kill The President" and their cover of "Hey Joe" which are nowhere to be found in the later reissues of the album nor in music streaming platforms.

The Offspring is in fact a fun album to listen and i do enjoy the political context as shown in some of the tracks, as such, there are some other underrated tracks in that album aside from "Beheaded" such as "Jennifer Lost The War", "Blackball", "Tehran" and "A Thousand Days". Despite not being any sort of hits, they still leave us a smell of nostalgia even through it's not one of my favorite releases.

Favorite Songs: Jennifer Lost The War, Beheaded, Tehran, A Thousand Days, Blackball.

Personal Favorite: Blackball.

6. Ignition (1992)

The album that gave a plenty amount of notoriety for the band, it was at this moment their sound began to gradually improve as years began to pass.

Unfortunately is the fact that Ignition is easily outclassed by their most successful releases such as Smash, Americana and Ixnay On The Hombre. Other from that, we can consider Ignition a great album.

Besides, i've been rarely looping songs from this album but some of those i seem to enjoy the most are "Kick Him When He's Down", "Dirty Magic", "Session", "Hypodermic", a couple others to name a few.

I see Ignition quite superior than their The Offspring and Splinter albums but not stronger enough as the next album i'll be commenting next. Just don't hesitate much and go ahead listening to this great punk rock album.

Favorite Songs: Session, Kick Him When He's Down, Get It Right, Dirty Magic, Hypodermic, Burn It Up, Forever And A Day.

Personal Favorite: Kick Him When He's Down.

5. Rise and Fall, Rage and Grace (2008)

Hear me up, dawg, this has to be the most decent of them. It's the first album of their new material and it still the most decent of them after 15 years in comparison to its follow-ups but did it age well? Sort of.

Right here, we get some great songs such as "Hammerhead", "Half-Truism" and the well known "You're Gonna Go Far, Kid". What divided some longtime fans is specially due to its sound change like, even through they tried to redeem themselves from the mistakes they did with its predecessor, it just feels like this album is what resulted in the band beginning to gradually decline in quality.

The cover in general looks sorta cheap-looking, specially when you judge by its font. Of course, this album got a few filler songs which you might hear when you get to the second half of the album beginning with either "Nothingtown" or "Stuff Is Messed Up", two of the songs i actually like.

While not the strongest release, Rise And Fall, Rage And Grace is still considered to be the most decent studio release under their newly updated material after all. I might consider it the last great album the band would release, to a lesser extent.

Favorite Songs: Half-Truism, You're Gonna Go Far, Kid, Hammerhead, Takes Me Nowhere, Kristy, Are You Doing Okay?, Nothingtown, Stuff Is Messed Up, Let's Hear It For Rock Bottom.

Personal Favorite: Hammerhead.

4. Conspiracy of One (2000)

I'm pretty much goin' to be smashed harder when you hear this: I actually love this album.

Of course, as already mentioned before, when the 2000's came in, it was there the band began to gradually experience a decline in popularity, mainly when the well known classic lineup began to fall apart starting with the firing of Ron Welty before they began the recording sessions of its follow-up, Splinter, by 2003.

Though for the case of this album, it was brief but still had some great effort, i guess. What divided some, specially certain critics, is the fact that this album just felt like it tried to be both a skate punk and a rap metal-like kind of album.

Conspiracy Of One also contains certain songs that are a little similar by its intro or even certain parts of the song and the only possible example i can give is the comparison between the intro of "Vultures" and the intro of "Dirty Magic". They look a little similar, albeit, reworked.

Some redeeming qualities i can give is that they did a great job on this album generating some great songs such as "Original Prankster", "Million Miles Away" and "Want You Bad". The cover is neat looking and i appreciate its street styled font and the 3D-modeled skull logo. Depending on how you're listening, Conspiracy Of One can be considered as both a great album or even an average album by others. You either love or hate it.

Favorite Songs: Original Prankster, Want You Bad, Million Miles Away, Dammit, I Changed Again, Living In Chaos, Special Delivery, One Fine Day, Vultures, Conspiracy Of One.

Personal Favorite: Original Prankster.

3. Americana (1998)

If you're there, peacefully livin' in the 90's and skating around, you might be coming across this critically acclaimed release, right?

Americana is, with no doubt, one of the albums that defined the Skate Punk subgenre pretty well other than having become one damn of a commercial success followed by its distinctive cover art by Frank Kozik.

Of course, we get a lot of memorable songs here, notably "Why Don't You Get A Job?", "The Kids Aren't Alright" and my personal favorite of them, "Pretty Fly (For A White Guy)".

Some might be wondering why i ranked this album in third instead of second, right? Welp, i've seen most critics rank this album as the second best and other than that, i see this album a little more overrated than the following albums i'll be commenting next.

"Walla Walla", "No Brakes" and its final track, "Pay The Man" are some of those songs i consider sorta boring to listen which is why i don't see this album a little more better than its predecessor, the former and the second of which failed to impress me much which is why i don't consider them much of a great song. "The End Of The Line" is just meh. Still, Americana will forever be considered to be one of the best punk rock albums ever released in the 1990's and one of the best-selling records ever made and, of course, a fan-favorite to the hearts of many Offspring and skating fans alike.

Kudos to Holland and Noodles for this great masterpiece.

Favorite Songs: Have You Ever, Staring At The Sun, Pretty Fly (For A White Guy), The Kids Aren't Alright, Feelings, She's Got Issues, Why Don't You Get A Job?, Americana.

Personal Favorite: Pretty Fly (For A White Guy).

2. Ixnay On The Hombre (1997)

This is the kind of album i would love to praise in peace, it may be not better than Americana as some suggests, in my opinion, i see it a little more better than that album.

In general, the cover reminds of something i would see in Gothic Rock or even on 70's Psychedelic Rock albums. Gotta love these guitar and drumming sounds, i mean, it's like the album went completely on steroids combined with some weed, it's basically as if Green Day's Insomniac and Nimrod felt like they didn't execute its punk sound pretty well like they did in the previous album but still earned some great success however.

Ixnay On The Hombre also gave us two great successes such as "All I Want" and "Gone Away". Some other underrated tracks i could find in this album are "Amazed", "Mota", "Don't Pick It Up", "Cool To Hate" and a couple others to name a few. The remainder range from being just below average to bad tracks like, they're just screaming to be a great song.

Of course, i am aware that Hard Rock didn't blend very well with Punk Rock and Skate Punk but still enjoyed it anyway.

Favorite Songs: The Meaning Of Life, Mota, Me & My Old Lady, Cool To Hate, Gone Away, I Choose, All I Want, Don't Pick It Up, Amazed.

Personal Favorite: Amazed.

1. Smash (1994)

Ha, ha, there is no such Offspring album capable of beating this criminally underrated release. It's the best thing you'll ever listen in yer life and will forever be stuck in yer fuckin' ears due to how catchy most of them are!

Smash is one damn of a banger and it aged pretty well after nearly 30 years. Too bad that this was the last thing they released on the well known Epitaph Records before they left probably before or during the production of its follow-up regarding a series of disagreements they did with their former label during that time.

This album has a lot of great songs but the most notable of them are "Self Esteem", "Come Out And Play" and "Gotta Go Away". There's also some other great songs such as their cover of The Didjits' "Killboy Powerhead" for example.

I don't have much other words to describe this album but seriously, Smash is a rocket and it will forever be, if not, the absolute most solid album the band has ever released. I also consider that album my personal favorite release as well.

Favorite Songs: Nitro (Youth Energy), Bad Habit, Gotta Get Away, Genocide, Come Out And Play, Self Esteem, It'll Be A Long Time, Killboy Powerhead, What Happened To You?, So Alone

Personal Favorite: Come Out And Play.

Outro

And i guess that's all for now, The Offspring has been considered to be one of my personal favorite Punk Rock and Skate Punk bands of all time, i've since completed its discography as of December of last year and i'm waitin' for its upcomin' later stuff about them. Too bad they can no longer revive that kind of grace they had back then but still, wish their best in their later work.

Thank you for reading all this and see you on the other side. If you have any other suggestions of bands or artists i could rank their studio albums on, you can comment down below anytime you want.

See ya on the other side and i'm gone away, for now.

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crows-and-cookies · 2 years

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Eddie Munson would love the album "Rise and Fall, Rage and Grace" by The Offspring

#eddie munson #eddie st4 #eddie the freak munson #stranger things eddie #st4 #stranger things #stranger things 4 #the offspring #rise and fall rage and grace #you're gonna go far kid

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red-hot-moon · 6 months

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THE OFFSPRING - STUFF SHIT IS MESSED FUCKED UP (2009)

#Vote for Dex!#the offspring #shit is fucked up #stuff is messed up #rise and fall rage and grace #dexter holland #noodles #greg k #josh freese #ilu dr dex <3 #ilu president dex <3 #it's so disturbing how he can dress up as Tr*mp and still look hot #Gif warning #flashing #flashing gif #Red hot gifs #Punk #Punk rock #2000s

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callmeblake · 10 months

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Rise And Fall, Rage And Grace (15th Anniversary Edition) -

The Offspring (2023)

Live version of You're Gonna Go Far Kid in my release radar so I go look up the album.

Way to make me feel old spotify. I thought it was there because I'd never listened to it through spotify because I own the CD, nope.

Nice not to have to buy it again to listen to just TWO songs though!

#music #the offspring #rise and fall #rage and grace #rise and fall rage and grace #Spotify

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nocturne-daemon · 2 years

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#the offspring #music #rise and fall rage and grace #Spotify

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unicarcass · 4 months

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youtube

#dave.txt #musicposting #part of why our brain latched onto davesprite in the first place was the mental association with this album's cover #obviously there was a lot of 'wow hes just like me fr' but that held hands with rise and fall rage and grace and you kinda get me #also there was the mlp rainbow dash amv that blue latched onto #unsure if this music video counts as #flashing (?)#but just in case. it feels incomplete if we dont post the music video version

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ambreiiigns · 3 months

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i successfully entered my offspring era on purpose but today i seem to also have stumbled into my system of a down era

#to be so clear. i have been listening to these bands for years but like. in a casual way #i don't know why but i decided i wanted to listen to the offspring Better so i've been like making that effort i wanna buy cds bc i've been #listening to americana and rise and fall rage and grace for Days Weeks Maybe while studying #soad was a surprise tho #i mean they have been in my brain more bc my brother's been sorta getting into them but. slay i'm really happy abt this #soad has been a long time coming actually one of my cousins really liked them back in middle school he got me in on it too #do you even care..#oh nay #olivia rodrigo guts is also in the studying playlist which is really funny

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scribendis · 4 months

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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

Aemond Targaryen x female reader (third person perspective) ❖ husband & wife

Warnings: smut, dry humping, p in v sex, semi-public sex, newlyweds being horny, little bit of profanity, breeding kink if you squint really, really hard Rating: 18+ MDNI Word count: ~3,500

Summary: Upon returning to camp from a hunt in the Kingswood, Aemond looks for a way to keep his wife warm on a bitterly cold night.

A/N: Serendipitously conceptualized ages ago but written (very late!) for the first week of the @hotd-bigbang winter word prompts challenge - Fire | Furs | Forest

Dividers by @saradika | AO3 link

The setting sun cast long shadows across the small city of tents that made up the hunting camp in the Kingswood. While the men had spent the day combing the forest for boars, stags, and other game, the women had occupied the main tent. They gorged themselves on cakes and other sweets, all the while indulging in gossip that ranged from the salacious to the downright treasonous.

And, much to the chagrin of the new wife of Prince Aemond Targaryen, they pestered her endlessly about the burgeoning love life of her and her husband. She quickly learned that, to be a woman in the king’s court meant sharing every last, excruciating detail of one’s “wifely duties” so that the others could compare them with their own. So that they could all know whose husbands fucked them the best and complain about their own lackluster experiences.

They questioned her until she was beet-red in the face and one of the older women finally called for an end to her torment. Still, it would taste a lie for her to say that all their titillating conversation about lovemaking had not made her ache desperately for her husband.

But by the time that night finally claimed the sprawling camp, the men had still not returned from the hunt. It signaled to the waiting wives that their husbands would come back without their prize, frustrated and exhausted - and that they would later fall into their beds reeking of wine.

The call of horns and the distant sound of barking hounds was their cue to don their furs and exit the tent to greet the arriving men. The prince’s wife was glad for the fur-lined cloak that her husband had procured for her for just such an occasion as this. She was even more grateful for the garment as she exited the tent only to be met with the sting of the cold night air on her cheek. The women elected to wait for their husbands by the bonfire that raged in the middle of the camp, its light their only source of warmth as frost began to settle on the Kingswood.

It was easy for her to spot her husband among the group of riders, his long silver hair unmistakable in the light of the rising moon. Whatever otherworldly quality his Valyrian features gave him seemed amplified tonight - and it made the sight of him astride a horse even more odd to her. Were her husband any other lord of the realm, his approach on horseback would not have seemed out of place. But Targaryens were no horse riders. Still, Aemond effortlessly commanded the steed beneath him, his mastery reminiscent of the way he would handle a dragon.

As the crowd of riders began to disperse, her eyes remained fixed on her husband. Amid the thundering of horses’ hooves and the raucous laughter of the noble lords, Aemond's attention, too, was solely focused on her. The intensity of his gaze only intensified her excitement, eliciting a gentle flutter in her belly.

With grace and ease, Aemond slipped off of the horse’s back. A waiting servant took his leather riding gloves from him, but Aemond could very well have let them fall to the dirt for as little attention as he paid to anyone but her.

Aemond was always loath to indulge in any public affection, aside from the occasional hand at the small of his wife’s back or a brief touch upon her cheek. Even now that he was reunited with her after such a long day apart, his restraint came in the form of a soft kiss brushed against her temple and nothing more. But the way that his arm wrapped around her and his hand dared to wander much lower than her waist - and the way his eye held hers so intently - told her just how much he had missed her. How much he needed her.

Given Aemond’s usually stoic demeanor, she had never thought that he would be needy, but he had proven to be just that in the few weeks since they had been wed. They had already made love in the depths of the palace library more times than she could count, and discovered countless other hidden places throughout the Keep where his hands had found their way up her skirts and his lips had left marks on her neck. Some mornings, he would forego training altogether to stay in bed with her with his face between her legs or his cock buried inside her.

And he had not heard a single complaint from her yet.

“Ābrazȳrys, your skin is cold to the touch,” Aemond commented, a hint of concern lacing his soft voice. His lips lingered at her temple for a moment longer before he withdrew, taking one of her hands in his. “As are your fingers.” (wife)

She smiled. His own hand was as warm as ever. “I am no dragon like you, dear husband. The cold night air chills me to the bone.”

“And the furs I gave you do not suffice?” he asked, quirking a brow.

She shook her head. “Nor the bonfire.”

Aemond hummed, his displeasure at such an assurance quite clear. He brought her fingers to his lips, blowing warm air on them before kissing them. “Come, jorrāeliarza. I have another idea for how we might offer you some warmth on such a cold night.” (beloved)

Still with an arm drawn around her, he swiftly guided her around the bonfire and, to her surprise, past the royal tent where food, wine, and music awaited them. She glanced over her shoulder questioningly at the entrance to the tent, from which poured an inviting golden light, but Aemond seemed determined on his path.

“Aemond, are we… not going inside?”

A smirk tugged at his lips, and she noticed a mischievous twinkle in his eye as they passed a flickering torch. “I thought I would spare you any further conversation with the ladies of the court.”

“And I thank you for that, dear husband,” she said with a laugh, her words falling from her lips in fleeting clouds of mist that looked like she was breathing smoke. “But I do not think–”

Aemond stopped them in their tracks and turned to her, staying any further words by sweeping in to press his lips firmly against hers. “Lykirī.” (Be calm.)

Once freed from his bruising kiss, she stood, dazed, for a moment before any further thoughts could come to her - something that her husband had certainly noticed given the grin that spread across his lips. She pushed him away playfully with a little scoff and an over-exaggerated look of annoyance that drew a rare chuckle from him.

“I am not one of your Targaryen dragons,” she protested, drawing her furs tighter around herself. “Those… dragon commands won’t work on me.”

Aemond leaned in to meet her at eye level, offering an arm to her that she took. “But it did work, did it not?”

She was still none the wiser about their destination as her husband quickly guided them beyond the boundaries of the camp and toward the treeline. The leaves had taken on stunning hues of red, orange, and yellow, a sight that she had marveled at from within the wheelhouse on their way into the Kingswood that morning. But in the cover of night, that beauty was lost to the pitch-black darkness. Not even the light of the moon could permeate the thick canopy of trees, leaving the forest an endless void.

She did not fear the darkness, only the occasional sound of a twig snapping or the call of some unknown creature. As husband and wife disappeared from the sight of the camp, she found herself clutching onto him more tightly.

“Aemond, where are we going?” she whispered as though speaking at full volume would topple one of the mighty trees.

“Patience, jorrāeliarza.”

“What if there are wolves out here, Aemond–”

“There are no predators in the Kingswood. And, if there were,” Aemond turned to her and took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, brushing the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, “do you think that I would let them harm even a single hair on your head?” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before releasing her. “Do not worry. We can stop here.”

She glanced around, seeing the pleasant glow of the camp in the near distance and nothing but darkness everywhere else. “Here?”

“I thought, perhaps, you would want to be a bit further from camp…” he purred. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see him lean in. One of his hands reached up to pull her furs aside and his lips found her neck, warm and soft as they began to kiss her skin. She felt his hum vibrate against her pulse point, where her heartbeat fluttered wildly. “Given how loud you can be, dōna ābrazȳrys.”

A gasp left her and her head tilted away from his lips, begging silently for more. Tomorrow would call for yet another dress with a high neckline, she thought.

“I’ve… I’ve not heard that one before…” He regularly called her all manner of names in High Valyrian. She often found him muttering to himself in his ancestral tongue. One night, he had even spoken it in his sleep. She knew a small handful of words, but only those few. “What does that mean?”

“Sweet wife,” Aemond breathed against her neck, leaving a bit of warmth behind before his lips captured hers once again. “You taste sweet tonight, too.”

“It must be the… the wine, I think,” she gasped. “Or the lemon cakes…”

But the growing hunger inside him was not for the sweetness of cakes or Arbor gold.

He kissed her more deeply this time, lips coaxing hers apart to taste her tongue for himself. His hands fell to her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh to draw her body against his. And, in doing so, he finally offered her the warmth he had previously promised her - one that not even the hottest bonfire could provide.

As his fingers began to deftly ruck up her skirts, she felt her skin prickle. At the same time, an entirely different kind of heat began to spread through her until it found its familiar place between her legs. Moaning softly into their continued kiss, she dropped her hands to the closure of his trousers, where his obvious arousal strained against the dark fabric.

“Gods, Aemond, you're so hard and I've barely touched you," she breathed against his lips. “Did you miss me?” But she knew the answer, and how pleasing it was to know just how badly she had been missed that day.

His only reply was a grunt that rose in his throat as his hands slipped beneath her smallclothes and all but tore them from her. Despite the rough, calloused spots on his palms and fingers, his warm touch was a balm against the cold night air. In a swift, almost aggressive motion, he lifted her by her arse so that she had no choice but to envelop his hips with her legs. It taunted her, the feeling of his hard cock pressing against her wet entrance. His trousers were a tedious, unwanted barrier between them.

Their passionate embrace only became more heated as Aemond pinned her to the trunk of one of the trees and his body pressed firmly against hers. She squirmed, inadvertently causing friction between her clit and his still-clothed hardness that was too delicious to keep a moan from stuttering past her lips.

“It would seem that you missed me as well, jorrāeliarza,” he rasped with a playful smirk. Teasingly, he rolled his hips against hers to coax another one of those sweet sounds from her. “Come on. Take what you need.”

She needed no further convincing, as great as the ache between her legs had grown. Her grip on the collar of his longcoat tightened and she took over, rocking her hips against his at a slow, but steady, pace. Each gasp and moan that left her lips billowed from them in a smoke-like mist, until she tucked her head into the crook of her husband’s neck and the sounds became muffled against his throat. He smelled of horse and sweat and, if she searched for it, the soap he had used the night before. But he tasted divine as her lips began to pepper open-mouthed kisses against his skin.

Judging by the trembling breaths that she felt against her hair, this teasing was just as pleasurable for her husband as it was for her. His own grip on her arse tightened, as though he was fighting to hold on. Knowing him, he wanted only the satisfaction of spilling himself inside her.

But his own torture would not go on for much longer, as her rutting against him was quickly bringing her to the brink of release. Her pace quickened, desperate as she was to reach it. Finally, the pleasure inside her began to unfurl and its warmth spread through her. From head to toe, it enveloped her completely as though she had been submerged into a hot bath.

It was exactly as Aemond had promised. In the grips of her climax, the frigid air mattered little, if at all.

Gasping for breath as she came down again, she pressed her lips to his and he received her kiss greedily. No doubt he was desperate for his own release after watching her come apart - and how could she refuse him?

“You know,” she began as her hands fell to his trousers once again. Only, this time, her fingers made quick work of the closures. “Earlier, all the women wanted to know how good you are in bed.”

Their gazes locked and, even in the darkness of the forest, she could see the almost animalistic desire in his one good eye. But as desperate as he was to be inside her, he seemed almost equally as intrigued by her words. She freed his cock from the confines of his trousers and took it into her hand. Her simple act of stroking him once was enough to draw a low groan out of him.

“Fucking gossips,” Aemond replied huskily. His lips drew close to hers but did not quite meet them. “Do I wish to know what you told them?”

She grinned. Her fingers guided his cock to her slick entrance but stopped there momentarily. “I told them–” Her words were cut off by a moan as he buried himself inside her quickly and without warning. “Oh, fuck…”

“Oh, fuck?” Aemond repeated teasingly, raising a brow. “Am I so bad at it, jorrāeliarza?” The smug look of satisfaction on his face belied any attempts at fooling her into thinking that he believed that to be her true confession earlier that day.

Too impatient, he began to move his hips against hers - and she met each of his slow, steady thrusts with movements of her own. Misty air surrounded them amid their shared panting, both of them relishing in the sensation of becoming one again after such a long day apart.

She allowed her head to fall back against the tree, where strands of her hair began to tangle in its rough bark. But she hardly noticed or cared at all, especially as her husband’s lips reclaimed her neck and his hot breaths swept along the contours of her jaw.

“Ābrazȳrys.”

She became so lost in the carnal pleasure of his cock sliding in and out of her that Aemond’s voice barely reached her. It did not help at all that his pace began to quicken as the heat between them grew to a simmer. The cry of pleasure that left her mingled with the sounds of the forest, joining the nighttime symphony of hooting owls and the rustling of the crisp underbrush.

“What did you tell them?” Aemond pressed. His own composure was starting to fail him and his words came out strained.

A breathy laugh left her. He always purported to care little about what the members of his father’s court thought of him. But, evidently, that sentiment did not extend to his wife and her opinions.

She placed a hand on his cheek to pull his lips to hers, kissing him deeply as pleasure began to coil inside her anew. “I told them,” she panted, her eyes opening to meet his, “that my husband is not the one riding the largest dragon in the world.”

Whatever Aemond had expected her to say, it clearly was not that. For a moment, his hips stilled and he looked as stunned as the ladies had been when she had uttered those same words that morning. One of them had even spilled a full cup of wine down her pale blue dress as she stared at her like some startled animal.

“My, my…” he purred.

But his look of shock fell away just as quickly. Replacing it was a ferocity that she had never seen from him before. A hunger that her words had awakened inside him which only she could satiate. There were no more soft words of love, or the usual names he called her while making love to her. His fingers dug almost painfully into her hips and he resumed his movements against her.

Aemond quickly built up a brutal pace, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside her that made her toes curl inside her shoes. Any thoughts or complaints about how bitterly cold it was outside had been long forgotten, drunk as she was on the intensity of the pleasure he was fucking into her her. Even her moans began to leave her in choked gasps and broken mewls that, if anyone in the hunting camp heard her, would have sounded no different than the calls of some creature of the forest.

She could feel it, the straining of her muscles and the tightening of her insides. The tremble that overtook her as she hurtled toward the edge along with him. She felt like a handkerchief being squeezed of water, and he would not stop his tightening of her until he had wrung her of every last drop.

Her eyes fluttering, she leaned in to capture Aemond’s lips in a kiss that he did not reciprocate in his own carnal pursuit of release. “Aemond…” “Mm-mm,” he chided, his tone gruffer and far lower than she had ever heard it. “I want to see you.”

One of his hands released its grip on her arse and moved to the nape of her neck to hold her firmly and ensure she could not look away. As he watched her, he groaned deeply in his own fight to hold on until he could get precisely what he wanted.

And it only took three simple words from him to finish her at last.

“Cum for me.”

Like a dam breaking, all the building pleasure that had been twisting inside her released. Coaxed by the continued pounding of his hips against hers, it spread into every extremity as her body shuddered and her cries of ecstasy filled the dense, frosty air. The fluttering of her walls around him soon spelled the end for him, too. With a few more ragged thrusts, he found his release inside her.

His eye squeezed shut. His lips, kiss-swollen, parted. And then, a certain look of peace overtook him.

Although still lost in her own haze of pleasure, she watched him closely - and she decided that he had never looked more beautiful.

They remained in their loving embrace, neither one wanting to pull away from the other just yet. Her, with her legs still encircling his hips, and him, with one hand holding her up and the other at her neck. Aemond pressed his forehead to hers and his thumb began to caress her cheek tenderly.

She hadn’t spoken of these moments to the women of the court that day. About how her husband could fuck her within an inch of her life and, immediately thereafter, treat her with such affection and softness. With such devotion in each caress of his fingers and every soft word he uttered.

Their breathing soon began to slow once again and the world around them finally came back into view. Smiling, she brushed the tip of her nose against his before kissing him so deeply that he hummed in surprise. But he reciprocated earnestly, slowly setting her back down on the ground but never quite letting her go.

“We should return to the camp,” Aemond said as he re-adjusted her furs on her shoulders. “I would not have you catch your death out here in the cold, jorrāeliarza.”

A sweet grin spread across her lips, but something wicked glistened in her eyes. “Oh, but my husband has already given me all the warmth I require.”

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viviseawrites · 9 months

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steve harrington presents as an alpha a month into his senior year of high school, when the weather is just turning crisp for fall. his parents are thrilled—his father keeps talking about the clout it brings to the harrington name and partnerships it might encourage at the office.

steve harrington presents as an alpha, and he knows it’s wrong. he feels it in his bones. when his first rut hits, it's like running into a wall. everything stops. everything hurts. he’s angry about his rut, made angrier by the hormones rushing through him.

he locks himself in his room, tears apart the soft pillows on his bed with too-sharp teeth. he does not deserve soft things, does not deserve gentleness. his rage wanes as the rut comes to an end, and in its wake, he feels empty, like it burned him from the inside out.

nancy says he smells like a forest fire. he sees the way she winces at it, sees how she sometimes raises her upper lip like she means to snarl at him, to rise to a threat. steve never wanted to be a threat.

but when the Upside Down comes back for round two, he puts himself in front of the stupidly brave pups and turns his nail-studded bat against the four-legged demogorgon babies. he plants his feet and knows his scent is billowing around him, aggressive and uncontrolled. and he fights.

after, dustin keeps telling him how cool he was in the junkyard. steve wonders, now. maybe he doesn’t have to be a threat; maybe he can be a protector instead. maybe the rancid, acrid smell of destruction he wears could be a controlled burn. useful. good, even.

he uses it to distract the russians from robin, allows himself to be seen as a more dangerous target and goads them into focusing on him instead. later, in a grimy mall bathroom, robin tells him he reminds her of winter nights spent in front of the hearth with hot chocolate in hand.

it’s warm, she says, smoky but nice and comforting when he’s calm. she says even when he smelled like he wanted to burn the world down in that bunker, she knew she was safe from it, safe because of it. she settles in at his side, all sharp evergreen, and he leans against her.

fire doesn’t have to hurt. alphas don’t have to be violent, untamed, impossible creatures like society claims. and when he comes face to face with eddie munson in a dilapidated boat house, on the wrong end of a broken bottle, he knows he doesn’t have to let his scent flare.

eddie munson smells like rain, like lightning, crisp ozone and petrichor, a storm of an alpha. in appearance, in scent, in attitude, he makes himself larger. but up close, face to face, steve sees his need for shelter, for safety, for peace, and he wants to be that.

against the cold of that encroaching, panicked downpour, steve makes himself a warm light, offers eddie a place to rest. he gives him grace and lifts his chin, bares his throat. surrenders to the deluge.

and when everything is done, after vecna dies and hawkins recovers, eddie approaches him smelling like spring, like new beginnings, soft and gentle and all steve ever wanted.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #vivisea writes #omegaverse #alpha steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #a/b/o #robin buckley and steve harrington are platonic soulmates #that's just how it is #originally a twitter thread

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targaryen-dynasty · 3 months

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YOU‘RE THE ONLY THING I PRAY FOR. (2/3)

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: none

WORDS: 2.4 K

NOTES: y’all are probably fed up with how much I’m posting today but ✨idc✨ lmao. Consider this as a little interlude before it gets steamy in part 3 🤭 tysm @arcielee for betaing this short thing.

Never before have you slept as badly as you did last night. The tea brought by Maester Mellos may have been drunk by you, but it did little to soothe the tormenting guilt you feel. You had retired to bed again afterwards, only to not be able to find any sleep at all.

Rolling from one side to the other, you had pondered over what had happened in the sept, and who could have seen the two of you to report it to your father. There couldn’t have been any witnesses for most septas leave whenever you arrive. Besides, you’ve looked around plenty of times. It’s impossible that anyone has seen you.

But deep down you know it was bound to happen eventually. A princess of the realm could not flaunt around the Grand Sept in the company of her uncle, let alone being claimed and defiled by him so openly without anyone witnessing.

So, it’s not surprising that at first light you’re summoned to the Throne Room.

The heavy doors fall shut behind you with a thud, and your footsteps are the only thing heard as you approach the looming throne. Your father sits atop it, Jaehaerys crown weighing heavy on his silver curls, and watches you with a grimm expression.

“Y-Your Grace,” you stutter, bobbing a small curtsy with your hands tightly clasped in front of you. It’s your father’s harsh voice that has you flinching even before you’re able to meet his eyes.

“Raise your head, child.” It’s a demand, and it’s definitely not your father sitting in front of you right now.

Nodding, you gulped thickly as your father has never before spoken to you in such a manner, with such fury laced within his voice. The quick-tempered part of his emotions has always been reserved to the people of his council, and sometimes even your little sister stands in the crossfire. But not you, never you.

“It has been brought to my attention that you were seen entering the Grand Sept with Daemon. Is that correct?”

Your eyes dart around before they settle on the floor, and you nod once again. Finding your voice seems to be more difficult than expected, failing as you are not even able to meet your fathers gaze.

And the silence appears to stoke your father’s fury, knowing this is too dire a matter to be lenient with you.

“I said is that correct?” he growls, abruptly rising to his feet.

The movement causes you to flinch, and you raise your head. “I–yes, he-he asked if he could join me for my morning prayer,” you stammer, frozen in fear.

Your father huffs, “Of course, he has.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, before he slowly but surely walks down the steps leading from the imposing Iron Throne towards where you stand. “And is that all that has transpired between the two of you, daughter?” The name falls from his lips dripping with so much venom, a shiver runs down your spine.

His stern expression only grows darker and darker, a foreboding edge cuts into them. “Or are there other matters that you two have been up to there?” he asks, looking down at you. “I wish to hear the truth from your mouth, and your mouth only.”

You feel your throat tighten, and your body grows cold just from the intensity that feeds the tension between the two of you. “I-I… I–,” you stammer. You’re caught.

Taking in a deep breath, you clench your hands to fists to stop them from trembling as you think about saying the next words out loud. Your nails dig into your palms, surely leaving crescent shaped marks, but this doesn't make the situation more bearable for you. “We-We kissed,” the words are practically a whisper, “and he did suggest we wed.” Looking away, you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, knowing there’s a rage brooding inside of him.

“What a foolish suggestion,” your father spits out. “Must I remind you that you were to wed Jason Lannister?”

Feeling your breath grow shaky as you try to keep the tears from welling in your eyes, your gaze locks with your father’s. You’re a dutiful girl, and you would have never disobeyed your father. But you allowed your uncle to take things too far, and now you have to bear the consequences.

“No, Your Grace,” your voice is meek, trembling as you shake your head, “I-I am aware I must wed Lord Lannister, a match made by you, and I do not wish to bring shame to the crown.”

But your father hesitates, as if the words he’s about to speak would weigh a thousand tons on yours and his shoulders. “Your lies have proven to me that you do not care for your duty to the crown,” he growls. “And I will not allow your foolish actions to further tarnish our House. You wish to go to the Sept freely and frequently? Then you shall make your way to Oldtown in the morrow to become a Silent Sister, and forsake your past life. You will be removed from the line of succession entirely as a punishment for flouting my authority.”

Frozen in stunned silence, the words do not seem real. The severity of your father’s judgement sinks into the pit of your stomach, and you take a step back as if it would give you back your ability to breathe.

With blurry eyes, you look back at him, trying to find some sort of consolation in his, but you only see sternness and disapproval. “A-Are you serious?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Tears stain your cheeks, and you allow them to. “Surely you must not mean it, father.”

“I am your King!” Viserys snaps, and there’s no fatherly compassion neither in his voice nor the fierce scowl on his face.

For all his reign your father has been nothing if not a weak king, relying on others to ensure the strength of the mighty House Targaryen. And now he decides to make an example out of your misstep, not able to afford another moment of weakness? It must be a cruel joke in favor of the Seven.

“My mind is made up,” your father finally growls, hiding the pit of guilt in his stomach behind the volume of his voice. “This is the price of your actions whether you like it or not. You have brought this on yourself, and I don’t wish to hear any more objections from you. Begone!”

Knowing there was nothing you could do to change his mind, you just nod your head and walk out of the Throne Room, eyes downcast as the tears won’t stop rolling down your cheeks.

You barely register who crosses your path on the way to your chambers for your mind is awash with sadness, rage and fear, and once the heavy door falls shut behind you, it all rises to the surface, claiming you like a storm.

You kick against a nearby stool before you sink to your knees and sob into your hands. Letting out an agonizing scream, you are overtaken by rage. But there’s no will of yours to pack your belongings, not that you’d need them anyways, for a scroll you certainly have not left there lays on your bed, next to a rugged cloak.

You grab the piece of paper, unrolling it and scanning over its contents, taking a few seconds to understand that it’s a map containing the secret passageways your ancestor had commissioned during the construction of Maegor’s Holdfast. ‘Meet me here at the Hour of the Ghosts’ is written below it, the here most certainly hinting at the point that’s hidden beneath a marked cross.

It seems like an incredibly long time to the Hour of the Ghosts, but what other choice than waiting do you have? There’s no way for you to go, not that you even want to go outside to meet anyone. All you want to do is spend the rest of your time in the Red Keep by yourself, sulking about the mess you have brought yourself into.

But as the hour finally strikes, you’re on your feet, silver hair hidden by the hood of the cloak.

The map suggests that there’s a hidden doorway to the right of your bed, and it takes little effort for you to push it open, revealing a staircase that leads you into a tunnel. Though it’s almost casted in complete darkness, you pull the door to your chambers shut behind you and scurry down the stairs, following the map.

The rage is still there on your way to the staircase that leads you out of the keep and into the city, and even in the dim lights of the torches around you, you can make out your uncle’s surprised face as you suddenly charge at him.

If you weren’t so angry, you would have laughed.

“Why have you told him?” you hiss, but are quickly silenced by his large hand covering your mouth. He holds you with your back against his chest, seizing your small frame and stopping you from shoving at his chest.

“I told him nothing,” he sharply hushes into your ear, though you don’t grasp the importance of it. Your life is already ruined, and his whispering won’t make it alright again. “Viserys was informed, but not by me. I assume it was one of the leeches’ puppets. Your father summoned me last night to inform me that my services to the crown were no longer required. He has exiled me.”

You exhale into his palm, turning slightly to look at him with wide eyes. There is a menacing grin on his lips, only broken when he continues. “I am quite certain he has done the same to you, so, you can either stay here and face your punishment, or you can come with me.”

His words settle slowly, and you’re torn between following him, or facing your fate as Silent Sister. You already disgraced your House, what’s one more misstep if it can bring you freedom?

You feel utterly helpless and powerless, for you don’t know if Daemon can be trusted. He hasn’t earned the moniker the Rogue Prince for nothing, and for all you know, he could have informed your father. But would he willingly bring himself into a treacherous position just to wed you? You’re not certain.

Your sigh fanning into the palm of his hand is what prompts him to release your face and allow you to speak again, and the cold air that suddenly fills your lungs with his hand gone has you clearing your throat. Winding in his grasp, you turn around to face him, and as it eventually loosens, you take a step back. There still is anger raging inside of you, but you must play your cards wisely.

The hood of your cloak is pulled back by you, exposing your full face to him. “What other options do I truly have?” you whisper, looking around briefly. “I shall come with you.”

It’s another sigh that rips itself from your chest, knowing the inevitability of your question, and your eyes flicker up to meet his. “When do we leave?”

There is a short moment of silence between you, and, as if you’ve anticipated anything else, Daemon finally replies.

“Now,” he rasps. “We must go, before anyone comes to find and stop us.”

Not giving you a chance to react, his fingers intertwine with yours, clearly sensing your apprehension as he pulls you after him.

“But my clothes. I–”

“Everything is set,” he husks. “I have secured your mount and my own, waiting for us in the Dragonpit. We must do this quickly, no time for lingering. We will be gone by the time anyone realizes.”

Just how quickly he has made all plans and arrangements possible truly amazes you, and you can’t help but feel drawn to his dedication to the matter and the ambition which he displays. You know you’re taking an immense risk in moving with him like that, but you trust him. You have to trust him.

Following him down the stairs, you look back at the Red Keep for a moment, and its sight makes you feel nervous and anxious. You’re about to leave so much of your life behind. At what cost?

It’s the neighing of a horse that catches your attention, and once again, Daemon takes your hand to drag you towards it. A tall, black stallion waits for you, and you squeal the moment your uncle lifts you up as if you weigh no more than a feather, putting you into the saddle.

He settles behind you as the horse canters along the cobblestone, heading towards the Dragonpit at a speed you have rarely ridden before. But by the Seven, never before have you felt so thrilled.

Stopping sharply in front of the outer doors opening to the hillside, he helps you down in the same manner he’s gotten you onto the horse. The gates to the dragonpit are opened, and both your dragons stand up the moment they recognize their riders.

Upon the sight of both beasts, your heart swells and freezes at the same time. You would have missed your dragon dearly in Oldtown, and the thought that you would almost never have ridden it again makes your blood run cold for a moment.

Silverwing is slightly larger than Caraxes, and makes a much more striking figure than your uncle’s mount, but you dare not tell him that.

With a nod towards the dragon keepers guarding your dragons, you approach your beast, hand gliding along her silvery scales. A look at Daemon from over your shoulder tells you that he’s already strapped to the saddle of Caraxes.

“Where are we flying to?” you shout over at him, mounting Silverwing. There is a small bag strapped to her saddle, a thick coat for you to wear draped over it, and you wonder when he’s had the time to prepare all that.

Caraxes is on his way out of the cave, roaring and grumbling, and your she-dragon briefly spreads her wings, before she follows him and crawls out into the open, causing you to almost not hear his reply.

“Pentos!”

Their large wings flap loudly as Caraxes firstly soars into the air with a bellowing roar, closely followed by Silverwing, breaking into the open sky.

The Red Keep grows smaller and smaller in the distance, until you can not make it out anymore. You’re not sure what difficulties might await you in Essos, though you have never been more ready to venture to far away lands.

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fear-is-truth · 2 months

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⬩ 𝑩𝑨𝑫 𝑳𝑰𝑨𝑹 ── kai anderson

𝐓ags ⋮ nsfw ⭒ mdni— f!reader・hate sex ・biting・blood・hair pulling・swearing・ friends enemies with benefits?・unprotected p in v

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

⟡ 𝓙: here’s a lil playlist to make up for the bad writing

ılılı hatefuck—cruel youth ・dog days—ethel cain ・ i hate everything about you—three days grace

“I hate you, you piece of shit,”

“You know, this would be so much better if you’d just shut up,”

Kai retorted through gritted teeth, his voice strained with exertion as he leveraged another sharp thrust into you, the kind that hits something deep inside and steal all the air from your lungs.

He was nothing but a beast; a feral dog that presses your back so hard against the wall that you ache, grips at your thighs and spreads them wide to groan in animalistic pleasure at the sight of you split open by his cock.

Damn him to the fiery pits of hell, you hated Kai Anderson with every fibre of your being. But here you were, fucking him for the third time this week, just the same.

The funny part? It was only Thursday.

“Fuck you,”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you fought back tears, nails digging into his shoulders with enough force to leave marks, to hurt.

Kai retaliated by tangling his fingers in your hair before tugging hard, the sting igniting a sharp pain that shot through your scalp.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit late for that, cupcake?”

The words were punctuated by an extra brutal thrust. A rising moan bubbled in your throat, but you swallowed it back before sinking your teeth into his bare shoulder. Hard.

“Fuck,”

you whispered against his sweat slicked skin, tasting the familiar metallic tang as you realized you had bitten hard enough to draw blood.

“Taste like divinity to you?”

he hissed into your ear, taking advantage of the position to latch onto your neck, kissing your skin and nipping you hard enough to sting, making it feel even better.

“More like delusion,”

A strangled moan tore from your throat when he shifted the angle and began grinding relentlessly against your clit.

“Hmm. You're one to talk,”

Kai pressed his forehead to yours, forcing you to meet his gaze. Dark pupils were blown wide, a slow curl of a grin tilting his lips. The gesture was far from intimate; it only served to intimidate, a reminder of who held the power in making you fall apart.

And yet, you found yourself wanting it—needing it, even. If you were going to shatter, you wanted it to be at his hands.

It was a sickening realization.

He leaned in, pinning you harder against the wall and began fucking you in earnest. You knew how badly he wanted you to break, to scream for him. So you stayed silent.

You clutched his wrist when your orgasm crashed over you, a dry chuckle escaping your lips when you felt him tremble against you.

“Fuck,” he muttered into your hair, hips still rocking shallowly as your combined release dripped down your thighs.

The room was silent, broken only by the sounds of your ragged breathing.

You knew what would follow next. Tonight would unfold as it always did, cycling through the five stages like a worn-out script— resentment, annoyance, self-loathing, regret, and finally, numbness.

In the morning, you'd still despise him, revile his misogynistic ways, and regard him as nothing more than a loathsome creature. And he'd still regard you with equal disdain, seeing you as nothing more than a human fleshlight to be used at his whim.

Tomorrow, you'd still be at each other's throats, bickering over politics, while Winter tried to pry you apart.

You knew all that.

When he lowered you back to the floor and pulled out, you knew. When he tucked himself back into his hoodie and pulled up his jeans, you knew. When you made to brush past him and walk up the basement stairs, you knew that, too.

And it was okay.

It had served its purpose—an outlet for the anger he inspired, the fire he stoked, the rage he ignited inside you. His political views, his allegiances, none of it mattered in those moments. When you walked away, it was just a simple release of anger, accompanied by a rush of endorphins to sweeten the deal. nothing more.

“I hate you,”

This time, you were unsure if the words were meant for him or for your own ears, a feeble attempt to convince yourself.

So when Kai intercepted your attempt to leave by caging you against the wall with his arms, you knew something had changed. Your fingers instinctively reached for the gun in your pocket, but he was faster. His lips met yours, and gone was the usual roughness and scrape of teeth, replaced by only tenderness.

“You’re not that good a liar,”

he murmured against your lips before pulling away. You remained there, dumbstruck, as he pushed off the wall and sauntered up the flight of stairs.

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loveliestlovelygirl · 3 months

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divine temptations | 111

say yes to heaven, say yes to me

fallenangel!anakin x nun!reader | lore 🪽 | playlist

synopsis: anakin, a seraph, has lost himself to his obsession of you. with every moment he can, he watches over you as you attend to your daily duties around the convent. and day by day his desire grows. when your guardian angels fail to protect you, anakin believes he has no choice but to intervene, breaking numerous heavenly laws in the process.

w.c: 2.2k+

highlights: {minors dni} dark content, heavy religious themes and imagery, inspiration taken from catholicism primarily, sexual themes, corruption kink, light sexualization of the reader as a nun, fem!reader & use of she/her pronouns, attempted sexual assault

table of contents | 222

The crux of his obsession began with your voice. Harmonious and pure. Passionate and sweet. The soft vibrato and splendid timbre of your voice could be heard above all the clatter from the realms of Earth. The melodies you sang haunted him from the rise of the sun to the white shadow of the moon. And while he needed not sleep, he found no rest as he smoldered in his selfish desires for you. After he had fulfilled his duties for that day, when he was alone, he remained perched in the Heavens watching over you, drowning in the beauty of your voice, and lusting for your human touch.

His name was Anakin. And day after day he watched you, wishing he could descend to the realm which held your precious life. But that was a boundary that he was forbidden to cross. He was confined to be a guardian of the Heavens, not of Earth. To him, it was a cruel, cruel fate. Watching you from above, lightyears of distance between your realities, was as close to you as he was permitted.

An angel of his status, chosen to protect the thrones of the deity, a seraph, should give no eye to the realms beneath him nor find solace in the voice of human girl. The way that you had captivated him was unnatural and unholy. If anyone found out he entertained himself with you, he might be marked with shame by the highest councils, until he repented publicly. Though he might never obtain such a position as his ever again. As it were, he found himself considering these things, as if shame might be a solution to making contact with you.

He'd prefer to be your guardian angel than a guardian of his own father. He wanted to serve creation rather than its Creator. And that was sin. He could not deny this secret was a source of guilt. And it would not be long before the all-knowing Maker noticed how far from perfection Anakin had fallen.

But he wasn’t afraid of the fall. He wanted to connect with you in a deeper way than this parasocial existence. He wished to be your guardian angel. But you had many. Someone so beloved by the Creator had five guardian angels. And he hated each of them with equal rage.

Hate was dangerous. It was said that hatred lit the path of the fallen. And if it were true, then he had already doomed himself the moment he began desiring you.

He watched you as you prayed in the chapel, kneeling on the bench and making the Sign of the Cross, touching your beautiful skin with your fingertips. Contentment marked your face, and he felt it in your soul. It was only a feeling he had when he listened to your voice pray and sing with such grace and beauty. In your dainty hands, you held the rosary beads and began to say your prayer. Holding the first bead between your fingers, you whispered Our Father to yourself. Day after day you’d repeat the same prayers with equal passion. Your love and faithfulness to the one who gave you life was unmatchable. You had sacrificed much to serve him, cutting off your family and material possessions entirely to live a humble life in the convent. Your prayers never revolved around your desires, only for others. You often prayed for your sisters. Never for yourself. Anakin often wondered if you had any dreams of your own at all. Despite all his abilities, he could not hear your thoughts. He only heard what you said aloud to yourself.

As you worked with your hands in the garden, you often sang psalms of praise when you thought no one was around to listen. You sang softly, the most beautiful melody which would stain his thoughts day and night forever. He would hear you even when you were silent; the barriers of all the heavenly realms echoed with your voice, to his ears never ceasing. But perhaps, it’s only because he desired you so.

His obsession was different than that of men. Though not immune to your divine beauty, his craving for your touch transcended that of sexual pleasure. Sex is something created for humans to enjoy with other humans. His being was never made for intercourse with mankind, and he viewed it as a simple animalistic action. A way to express desire, but to him it was lacking in true passion.

What he felt for you was true desire.

He wanted to consume you.

Corrupt you.

He wanted you to desire him, crave him, lust over him, with every atom of your body and with every piece of your soul. He wanted to see you overturn your religious convictions and worship him instead. He wanted your prayers, your psalms, your whole heart.

Was that too much to ask?

Forbidden was what it was. Sacrilegious even. And enough to get him cast out of the heavenly realms forever.

But the longer he wished for you, the more he thought that it might be worth it. There was nothing he wanted more than you. And only you. He wanted to live out the rest of eternity adored by you. That would be enough.

But you were unaware of his existence. Which awakened rage within him strong enough to tear galaxies apart.

He could see you, but as long as he remained in his dimension, you would never be able to see him or know that he existed. He was forbidden to show you his glory, to share his voice, and to touch your skin. It was never meant to be.

And yet he still found a way to make contact, against all heavenly odds.

You were plucking red apples from the orchard trees close to the road. It wasn’t a common route from the convent to the market, but some used it. Anakin had finally caught a break from the council meetings with the Thrones and Cherubim and sneaked away to see you. He hated that your sisters sent you out alone where you could be harmed.

Your five guardians flitted around you in a circle. He knew that they would do almost everything in their power to keep you safe. Everything except actually physically intervening. For you, there would be no limits in how far Anakin would go to protect you. He would break every earthly and heavenly law.

For you.

And only you.

When you had filled your basket with apples, you climbed down the ladder to rest. You leaned back against the tree and looked up at the sky. If you had eyes to see the other dimensions, you would have been looking right into his eyes. His heart swelled with pride, knowing that you shared a connection, even if you didn’t know it yet.

An older human male was steering a small buggy pulled by two horses. Anakin had been watching him for miles coming down the road. Your guardian angels seemed to be unconcerned about his approach. And they could hear the thoughts of humans, which meant that you were likely safe.

But there was something about that man Anakin didn’t like. Perhaps it was only his proximity to you. He was jealous of anything that was closer to you than he.

You sang to yourself softly, and Anakin drew as near as he were permitted just to listen to your voice.

“You have a lovely voice,” the man said to you. He had gotten off his buggy and walked over the road and a stretch of grass to meet you at the tree.

Anakin held himself back somehow, though if he saw fit, he could scorch the man from the inside out until he returned to dust.

You looked up at this stranger standing over you, and instantly, your eyes widened in fear. Anakin assumed it had been a long time since you’d spoken to a man. It was natural for you to be afraid. You thought you were all alone.

Anakin only watched the interaction transpire.

“Thank you,” you said back, your voice trembling.

“Would you sing a song for me?” the man asked.

“I think… that you should leave. This is private land, sir.”

A sane person would have backed away and said his goodbyes, but he didn’t. And Anakin knew instantly that he should have trusted himself to know this man’s intentions for you. This despicable creature kicked the basket from your lap and grabbed you, holding you by the throat against the tree trunk.

Your guardian angels had failed you. All five of them. Were they not paying attention to his evil thoughts? How had they missed them? They held the power to influence the thoughts of men. They could have convinced him to turn away and leave you alone.

But they didn’t.

They were going to let this man defile you.

Anakin watched them scrambling around, trying when it’s too late to change this man’s heart. But they could do nothing to interfere with free will once man had decided.

And Anakin thought that to be a stupid law. One meant to be broken.

With a singular motion of his index finger, Anakin sent lightning from the clouds, lightning that struck this man and stopped his heart. He was burned and scarred instantly and fell back, turning to ash.

You screeched and cried and sobbed, crumbling to your knees in a shaking mess. He wished he could comfort you, but he had already done enough to ruin himself entirely. But it was worth it to keep you safe. This was as close to you as he had ever gotten. The electricity from his lightning bolt just buzzed your skin. And he felt it. He wanted you to feel him in some way.

Your guardians looked up at him all at once with fire in their eyes. Anakin smiled and gave them a wave. They were angry and picked him up. He could not overpower them when they were together.

They carried him to the high council and dropped him in the center of the chamber. Anakin did not need to explain himself; they already knew what had transpired.

“Need we remind you of the law of free will? The law given to humans by our Creator?” the Throne of Reason, Mace, said. His eyes were full of judgment and understanding at the same time.

Anakin picked himself up and stood, stretching out his layers of feathered wings. “I could not stand by and watch her be harmed.”

Mace closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. “You are in dangerous territory, young one. You know that what you did is one of the greatest of sins. To interfere with man’s will—” Mace pressed his lips together, “in such a physical way. Using the Heavens’ power against mankind. Anakin, you killed a man today.”

This was all such a waste of time. He knew what they were going to say. How they would interpret his actions. But why was no one speaking of that human’s sin. Rape. Raping a young maiden. That wasn’t worthy of a discussion? It wasn’t worthy of being mentioned?

“What about him?” Anakin asked defiantly.

Obi-Wan shot him a warning glare from where he sat. Obi-Wan was a cherub, one that was usually too busy attending to the wishes of the Creator to attend the high council. But Anakin did not doubt that his friend’s presence was needed today.

“The human?” Mace did not appreciate the diversion from Anakin’s sin.

“Yes. He was going to hurt her! And they—” Anakin pointed at your guardian angels, his entire being catching fire from his rage, “they weren’t going to intervene in any real way. They failed to listen. If I could hear the thoughts of men, I would have done something before he laid a hand on her.”

“Your obsession with this human is… concerning. Don’t think we haven’t noticed. Why are your thoughts on the Earth realms? Need I remind you that your duties are the greatest in all of Heaven?” Mace said.

“But they could have done something!”

Disapprovingly, Mace shook his head. “You can’t know that. Only the Creator does. And it is not your place nor mine to judge men. That is for the Principalities to determine. They enact rightful punishment on humanity. You are not to interfere.”

Obi-Wan spoke up, coming to Anakin’s defense. “He is young. Neither you nor I can say that we haven’t made mistakes.”

“It wasn’t just a mistake. He broke the law. He overstepped his boundaries. He killed a man.”

“In his eyes, he was protecting her.”

Mace sighed. “She does not need him for that.”

Anakin stood there for a long time, drowning in their criticisms. His chest felt heavy, and he couldn’t hear himself think. He couldn’t hear you. All that he could do was worry for you. He knew the human mind could not erase trauma. It would remain with them for good. Tears streamed down his face at the thought of your pain which you did not deserve.

“I don’t need to listen to any of you! You have no authority over me!” Anakin announced without shame. Seraphim were of the highest order.

“I was not the one who called this meeting,” Mace said sympathetically. He looked above.

There was only one who held authority over him.

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