#A Lustful Badger | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

venusbyline · 21 days ago

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Sickly ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 14, oct.

— pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter-in-law!reader

— type: smut, angst, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: thigh riding

— summary: Motherhood was sickly, sickly enough for a grieving mother to mourn her son's death while kissing her widowed daughter-in-law's lips.

— word count: 3.1k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 14th day, female!reader, Cregan Stark's twin sister!reader, Rhaenyra!mother-in-law, Jacaerys Velaryon's wife!reader, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, thigh riding, nipple licking, lactation kink, fingering, breast worship, overstimulation, crying, disturbing themes, mommy kink, death themes, grief/mourning, mother-son relationship, mother-daughter relationship, praise kink, oral (female receiving) mentioned, vaginal sex mentioned, creampie mentioned, Jacaerys Velaryon's daughter mentioned, labor mentioned, motherhood themes, nightmares, age gap (older woman/younger woman), sexism, implied Targcest (mother/son) BUT NO REALLY, minor Jacaerys Velaryon x reader, implied Rhaenyra Targaryen x Jacaerys Velaryon BUT NO REALLY, mild dark, Joffrey Velaryon lives, canon divergence (the Blacks win the Dance of the Dragons), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads

— crossposting: AO3

Rhaenyra Targaryen had crossed a very dangerous line.

She knew better than anyone that in her mind, there was a fine line between acting recklessly or acting so promiscuously. From a young age, Rhaenyra let herself be carried away by the thoughts that arose in her brain — or by the lust that wet the middle of her legs.

She was never the best example of chastity. The furtive glances at Alicent Hightower when they were still best friends, the tameless desire for her uncle Daemon since she was a teenager, the loss of her virginity with Ser Criston Cole, the secret affair with Ser Harwin Strong, the kisses exchanged with Mysaria. And now... the unforgivable thoughts and actions with her daughter-in-law.

It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. It was sickly. Disgusting. She was mourning Jacaerys. You were in mourning. A mother losing her firstborn son and a girl losing her husband and the father of her newborn baby. Two women suffering for different reasons.

Rhaenyra mourned Jacaerys' death, the panic she felt during his birth still fresh in her mind. She was so afraid of dying the same way as her mother Aemma that she did not even allow any man to enter during the labor. She did not want any man around. No presence of Laenor Velaryon, her husband, or Ser Harwin Strong, her lover and biological father of the baby she was carrying. Not even Viserys, her own father, should enter and give his opinion there.

Rhaenyra remembered everything perfectly. When Harwin fucked her and she discovered she was pregnant almost thirty days later, when Harwin was surprised and at the same time worried about the idea of being a father in secret, when Laenor was happy with the news, when Viserys celebrated that he would have a grandchild — believing the baby was the result of Rhaenyra's marriage to her husband.

Rhaenyra remembered the nausea, the tiredness, the strange feeling of her belly growing to adapt to the baby that was developing inside her. Sometimes she wished she had drunk the Moon Tea to avoid it, and other times she was happy at the thought of giving birth to a beautiful little girl. The princess was sure she was carrying a daughter. Just as she wished Aemma had given her little sisters.

The pain during childbirth and the fear of dying made her wish that if anyone in that body had to die, it would be the unborn baby, not her. Rhaenyra Targaryen was still so young and had a long life ahead of her. If the baby died, she could try to have another in the future. Or perhaps not. Perhaps she should never have children, especially when they were outside of marriage. Either way, Rhaenyra was aware that if she had to prioritize her own life or the life of her child, she would not think twice about saving herself. She would not make the same mistake her father made with her mother.

It was a surprise when the baby was finally born. A boy. She had longed for a daughter throughout her entire pregnancy, trying to hold on to the possibility that having a daughter would be like being able to follow her mother's footsteps, but without that tragic ending.

Her mild disgust at the midwives' enthusiasm that she had a healthy boy soon changed to panic when she noticed the small thinning strands in the baby's hair. Even though he was so tiny in her arms, she could clearly see that he would have dark hair like his biological father, the Targaryen blood not being so strong anymore.

But now, so many years after that desperate night, Rhaenyra cursed herself for three reasons: for having cared so much about Jacaerys' damned hair color, for having despised him for a few days until she got used to the new routine of being a boy's mother and not a girl's mother, and especially because she said at that time that she would not save Jacaerys during labor.

She would do anything to go back in time and never have thought about that. Now, Rhaenyra would do anything to die in every cruel and painful way possible if it was enough to bring her firstborn back.

Rhaenyra and Jacaerys had built a mother-son relationship over the years. It was not automatic like it was with Lucerys, Joffrey, Aegon III and Viserys II. It was not even like the few seconds with her Visenya. She did not love Jacaerys immediately like she did her other children. She did not long for his life. She was a mother for the first time and each particularity of her connection with Jacaerys was created little by little. She learned to love him and she learned to protect him.

Rhaenyra learned almost everything about being a mother. But she never thought she would need to learn to live without her first son.

As for you, there was a painful feeling also rooted in your chest. It was not the same as what the queen felt, it bordered more on concern than guilt. You had nothing to blame yourself for.

When your twin brother, Cregan Stark, used you as a bargaining chip to ensure Rhaenyra's steadfast loyalty to the Northmen, you were not even surprised. That is what you and all the noble ladies were made for. Always used to bargain alliances and produce heirs.

Like brood mares, no woman had the right to say no.

Cregan was a good brother, despite everything. At least he had kept you in Winterfell until a truly necessary and promising betrothal came. Jacaerys Velaryon, the heir to the Iron Throne if Rhaenyra won the Dance of Dragons, would have you as his wife, and in exchange for that, the Blacks would protect the North and provide more resources for the harsh winter. It was a fair exchange and it would ensure that they would not simply ignore the treaty at any time. Lord Stark was a man of his word and demanded the same from Jacaerys' family.

You understood his reasons. It was better to marry someone kind and caring than an old and rude random lord who saw you as just a fertile young woman to produce heirs.

It did not take long for you to love Jacaerys. He was so handsome and affectionate trying to make you feel comfortable in Dragonstone, that you even kissed him a few days before the wedding ceremony, and you were not at all afraid of the consummation of the marriage. It was incredible. Especially when you noticed how shocked Jace was when you closed your legs around his hips, pushing his cock even deeper, allowing him to spill his seed inside your cunt. He did not want you to feel used just to procreate, he did not want it to be a sacrifice.

Jace did not plan on having heirs anytime soon. He wanted you to fuck with him because you liked it, because he gave you pleasure. But never out of duty.

And you enjoyed every second. You never had to fear what would happen to you if his seed did not take fast. Just as you never had to fear how he would react if you gave birth to a girl and not a man heir. Sometimes you even thought he longed more for a daughter. After all, he had lived with brothers his entire life and had never even met his little sister Visenya, who was stillborn. If the baby was a girl, he would name it after his sister. If it were a boy, he would name him after his younger brother Lucerys.

You never had to fear many things when you were married to Jace. However, you always feared for his safety. And, Gods... You were right to do that.

Now, even after Queen Rhaenyra's victory, you feared what would happen to you and your newborn daughter. You were afraid that the Blacks would break the treaty since you were just a widow of a dead heir. You feared what would happen to your people if Rhaenyra went back on her word. You feared what would happen to your daughter Visenya now that her father was dead. Rhaenyra would reign for many years to come, but what would happen to her granddaughter? You were not someone who was greedy, but you did not know if Rhaenyra would name Joffrey as the next heir to the Iron Throne, or if she would let Visenya reign in the future.

If your daughter's succession to the Throne was not considered, you feared that she would hate you or her father's family. If she were named as the legitimate heir, precisely because she was the eldest granddaughter and the result of the marriage of Rhaenyra's murdered firstborn, you feared that Joffrey would hate Visenya and you, as well as his own mother. You feared yet another war between family members. Another Kinslayer, just like Aemond Targaryen.

You feared what Jacaerys' absence would do to your and Visenya's lives in the not-so-distant future.

You and Rhaenyra felt different emotions about Jace's death, but both of you loved him and cried every night missing him.

It was not a surprise when Rhaenyra began to comfort you through your routine nightmares, all that involving the death of your dead husband. Rhaenyra also had nightmares every day. Always about her family's deaths.

She had regained what was rightfully hers, but at what cost?

It was not a surprise to her when you started hugging her while you had crying spells after dreams. It was not a surprise to you when she let you cry on her shoulder. It was not a surprise to her when you begged her to think about your daughter Visenya's future. It was not a surprise to you when she asked for forgiveness for not being enough to protect Jacaerys.

None of this was surprising or unexpected. Not even when the nighttime cuddles intensified. When caressing your hair and hugs were no longer enough. When Rhaenyra began pressing you against her full heavy breasts as you cried. When you started to put your hands under the nightgown Rhaenyra wore and caressed her soft skin.

It was wrong. Very wrong. It was sickly. It was disgusting and repulsive. It was too cruel to the memory of Jacaerys. How would the boy feel if he knew his mother was fucking his own wife?

Neither of you had any way of knowing the answer. Jacaerys was dead, after all. He never returned from the Battle of the Gullet. He and Vermax had been hooked like fishes and engulfed by the waves of the sea — Always wanting so much to have pure blood, to be legitimate... To end up just being a Velaryon rotting inside the ocean. It was ironic and you could not tell if it honored him as a Velaryon or just proved that the Strong blood running through his veins had cursed him, the last moments of his life in the middle of the place where a true Velaryon would belong, but never a bastard.

Rhaenyra hated herself for wanting you. You hated yourself for wanting her. Jacaerys would hate the two of you for this. And yet, both of you could not deal with the grief any other way. You needed each other.

You loved Jacaerys. You loved your late mother, Gilliane Glover, who died so soon after you and Cregan were born. You did not have time to live with her, just as Rhaenyra did not have time to live with her stillborn daughter.

You had lost your husband. Rhaenyra had lost her son. You needed a mother. Rhaenyra needed a daughter.

It was disgusting, very wrong. It was sickly. And you could not stop. You did not want to stop. It was the only way to deal with Jacaerys's grief and keep the boy's memory alive in your minds.

"How was the nightmare tonight?" Rhaenyra asked softly as you sat on her lap, your teary eyes closing. You let her wrap her arm around your waist, your hips bigger after you gave birth to your daughter Visenya.

"About the sea. About pain. About blood... About him." Your voice came out trembling and muffled, your face buried between her breasts, so full and heavy that you could barely breathe, even if you did not make the slightest effort to move away. You wished she still had milk to breastfeed you like your mother had done. She wished she still had milk so she could breastfeed you like she had done with Jacaerys. Like she should have done with her Visenya, if the little baby had not been born dead.

The content of the nightmares that tormented your mind was nothing new. They were always about death, just like Rhaenyra's. And she always wanted to know yours. She always wanted you to tell her what you had dreamed of. But she never shared her own nightmares. And everything was fine. You did not really want to suffer over Rhaenyra's thoughts either. Were you too selfish for not wanting that? Perhaps. And perhaps she was too masochistic, always wanting you to explain every detail that haunted you in the early hours of the morning and disturbed your sleep.

You did not mind telling her. It felt good to share all of this with someone who understood. It was good to seek comfort from a mother.

Rhaenyra moaned when she felt your tongue circle her pink nipple, your teary eyes made you look like a child being soothed by a mother's breast.

She stroked your hair, thanking the Gods that you did not have silver or blonde hair. Thanking the Gods that Alicent did not let her marry Jacaerys to Helaena Targaryen. Thanking the Gods for allowing Jacaerys to annul his betrothal to Baela Velaryon when Lord Cregan Stark demanded that his army's loyalty would only be agreed upon if the prince married his twin sister.

She could never seek that comfort from Helaena. Her sister had always been too pure for her own good. And Helaena was too much like Rhaenyra herself. She could not picture Jacaerys in Helaena's place because of her hair.

Just as she could not seek comfort from Baela. Her stepdaughter had Laena's appearance and the rebellious and tameless personality of her ex-husband Daemon.

Joffrey had the same dark hair as his older brother, but you... You were everything she needed. You had dark hair like Jacaerys and you were a girl like her stillborn daughter. You were everything she wanted currently. A daughter. But also a concubine.

"It feels good?" Rhaenyra questioned when her hands went down to your nipples, sensitive from your lack of breastfeeding. You did not breastfeed Visenya often, preferring that she be fed by a wet nurse. Looking at her reminded you of Jacaerys and that made the moment difficult. Your milk would dry up quickly if you continued looking for Rhaenyra and leaving your daughter aside. You knew you needed to act like a mother, however, you liked to enjoy your time like Rhaenyra's daugther and affair.

You did not judge Rhaenyra for imagining her son licking her breasts when you did that. You knew she had never seen him in a sexual way. It was an innocent nostalgia, even if you were also pressing her other breast while memories of Jacaerys filled her mind. She wanted her eldest son back. You wanted your husband back. She wanted to feel you the same way her son felt you. And you wanted to feel every inch of the woman who gave birth to the man you loved.

You nibbled on her nipple after gasping as Rhaenyra she placed a hand on your mound, squeezing it rough enough to make your breast milk start to flow out. "Good girl..." She growled softly, admiring your embarrassed smile.

Rhaenyra ran her fingers through the milk before bringing it down between your legs, rubbing the liquid into your already wet folds. "N-Nyra..."

"Mother." The Queen corrected while you squirmed under her touch. Your milk was supposed to be to feed Visenya. And here you were, letting your mother-in-law rub it on your clit. It was so disgusting and depraved. Motherhood was a sick thing.

"M-Mother..." You whimpered the way Rhaenyra suggested, even though the word brought a bitter taste to your mouth. Was this how she felt whenever she was eating you out? Did she pictured her son cumming inside your cunt so many times at the beginning of the marriage, filling you with his seed until it flowed, the same way his biological father had done to her in secret? Was this how Rhaenyra felt whenever you rubbed your face between her large breasts? Did she remember how difficult it was to get used to breastfeeding her firstborn? Was this how she felt now with her hand wet with your milk? Why did not she hate you, already knowing you would rather her do that than force you to breastfeed your daughter Visenya, while she did not even have the chance to feed her Visenya?

You wanted to know if she also felt disgusted by it all. You wanted to know if motherhood was really that sick for her too.

You wanted to know a lot of things, and you chose not to ask any of them. Ignorance was bliss. The answers were on both of your faces. The way she moaned as you pushed your fingers hard into her cunt, fucking the tight walls that had once dilated so baby Jacaerys could come into the world. The way your breast milk that was supposed to feed Jacaerys' little daughter had a different use now, soaking your own cunt as you took advantage of the additional liquid to ride harder against Rhaenyra's thick thigh.

You both felt sick and dirty, mentally begging for Jacaerys' forgiveness as you came, moaning each other's name. Your fingers were still inside her and your sensitive and sore clit was still pressed against her soft white skin, your cum and milk running down her thigh, while Rhaenyra kept your face against her chest.

"Thank you, Mother, thank you..." You sobbed, making no move to get off of her or release her walls. You wanted to prolong the feeling of self-loathing, enjoying the overstimulation of having your bud pulsing along with the continuous tremors of your body, just as Rhaenyra was enjoying feeling your trembling hand inside her, the four motionless fingers spreading her cunt like if you were preparing her for labor. Jace's birth or yours, you could not say. Both, perhaps.

"I love you, my dear daughter. My new daughter." Rhaenyra kissed the top of your head, caressing your dark hair. It was true. You were everything that kept Jace's memory alive in her mind. She loved her firstborn and she loved you in a sick way. After all, motherhood was sickly, sickly enough for a grieving mother to mourn her son's death while kissing her widowed daughter-in-law's lips.

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

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ask-modeus · 1 month ago

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💙 A Hot PSA from the King of Lust ❤️‍🔥

Hey there pretty babes, the King of Lust is back from hiatus to give a special announcement!

I’ve been hearing that some of my associates have been dealing with some…touchy anons creeping into their inboxes.

Now, you know the rules. Consent is key to any sort of interaction, so DO NOT and I repeat:

DO NOT TOUCH ANYONE WITHOUT ASKING FIRST!!

And if they say no, that’s that. Don’t keep badgering them for anything more.

NOTHING IS MORE LIMP-DICKED THAN BEING A PUSHY ASSHOLE.

And by the way, if any of you freaks run a Valentino roleplay account - DO NOT INTERACT. In the Lutualverse, that bitch is dead - really fucking dead! You’re just weird - in a bad way!

Break these rules…

AND I WILL BREAK YOU.

Cool? Cool!

Glad we have an understanding! So go back to getting your freak on - respectfully - and enjoy the rest of the upcoming interactions in this kinky little AU. I know I will!

Love,

Ozzie -💙❤️‍🔥

#ask modeus #lutualverse #ars goetia #asmodeus rp #hazbin hotel rp #hazbin rp

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kitashousewife · 2 years ago

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be mine

an: heehee happy valentines day! there is still more to come so don't worry i'm not stopping here

pairings: timeskip!atsumu x fem!reader

warnings: little angst, lots of fluff, lots of pet names, confessions of feelings

the steady drum of volleyballs hitting the hardwood floor distracts atsumu's thoughts for a while. soles squeaking, teammates shouting, and the tune of the coach's whistle bouncing off of the walls. he's finally out of his head.

but, as always, the regular discussions in the locker room pull him right back in.

"how long has it been? three months? and you still haven't asked her out?"

atsumu hums, shutting his locker and giving hinata an exhausted look. "yeah, since before christmas."

"what's the hold-up?" bokuto pats atsumu on the back with wiggling eyebrows. "is little 'tsumie afraid?"

that makes him irritated. he knows he should have made things official weeks ago. the badgering isn't helping, though.

"shut up," he huffs and hides a frown with the hoodie that's pulled over his head. "until ya get a girlfriend kotaro, i don't wanna hear shit."

bokuto whistles. "okay, okay. but seriously, what's the issue?"

atsumu thinks for a second. he's honestly not really sure. he's been meaning to, he just can't find the right time.

but, he's pretty sure that's just an excuse.

"you don't have an excuse miya," sakusa smirks as they walk towards the parking lot. "i agree kotaro, i think he's scared."

"no!" atsumu quips, a little quickly. "i mean, i don't know. i really don't know. i want to, i just...can't."

"is it her? does she want to? are you getting mixed signals?" hinata rests against the hood of his car.

"no, she's always happy to talk to me. she gets excited to see me, buys me dinner, and responds immediately. she's perfect."

"soooo," sakusa raises his eyebrows. atsumu sighs.

"i just don't want to disappoint her."

his stomach flips. he's thought about it for months at this point. he wanted to make you his before the first date was over. but, his past got in the way, clouding his confidence just a touch.

past girls using him for the little money he makes. some girls accusing him of spending too much time at volleyball, and not providing enough attention. others just in it for attention, lusting after the instagram posts and twitter updates with their faces in them.

atsumu wants you to be his, and he doesn't want you to leave.

"atsumu, it's been three months. i think she knows you by now. besides, if she was interested in you for the wrong reasons, wouldn't she have left by now?" bokuto's words help atsumu to relax a little.

"yeah, yer right. god, what do i even do? i feel like a fuckin' high schooler," he whines, throwing his bag into his car.

"you're in luck. valentine's day is tomorrow, which means you have the perfect reason," sakusa slides into his car. "c'mon miya, where's your romantic side?"

atsumu thinks about that the entire drive home. he doesn't know what to do. he considers taking you out to a nice dinner, somewhere fancy and luxurious. but, reservations have probably been booked for months. he thinks about using a card, but that's lame. really, he wants to call you for advice, just like he does with everything, but that won't work.

he throws himself on his bed with a sigh.

maybe he'll never ask.

little does he know, you're in the same boat.

sitting cross-legged in the middle of your bedroom floor, you look like an art project gone wrong. glue sticks, markers, and different shades of pink cardstock litter the ground hiding the failed cards and notes from before. you sigh, putting the finishing touches on what you hope to be the final product.

a small, pink card with a bumble bee and hearts with the words bee mine in shaky cursive underneath. you're still deciding what to fill the inside with.

you don't want to say too much, but you also want to make sure you get your feelings out. it's been almost six weeks, and atsumu still hasn't made things official with you. you see him at least three times a week, he takes you to dinner but never calls them dates. he invites you to parties, event dinners, and even took you to his cousin's wedding last weekend.

what's taking him so long?

as soon as you see the clock on the wall, you groan. atsumu should be here any minute, and you haven't written a word on his card yet. he asked you if he could come over tonight, saying he was dying to see ya. since it's the night before valentines, you decide this may be your only shot. you quickly scribble something down, hearing his footsteps through the thin walls of your apartment. quick hands shove the evidence into a garbage bag before you scurry to wash up.

"honey, i'm home!" atsumu sings as he opens the door. "wait! close yer eyes!"

"why should i listen to someone who just entered my home without permission?" you say, eyes firmly closed from your spot on the couch.

"yet, ya listened anyway huh?" he teases when you flip him off from the couch. "keep em' closed pretty. i'm not ready yet."

your heart beats a little quicker. "o-okay, but i have to tell you something."

"alright sweetheart. just a second," he grunts, tripping over the strings of the five heart balloons that he holds in his left hand. he shuffles over to you at sets down a container of chocolate-covered strawberries (that he had to beg osamu to make), and a dozen roses. you smile when you hear the crinkle of cellophane.

atsumu's stomach is doing flips, but he can't do this anymore.

"okay, you can open." his voice sounds a lot more nervous than he would've liked. when you open them, he can't quite read your face.

"atsumu," you breathe. you aren't sure where to look.

"i know, it's a lot, but listen," he flops down next to you, grabbing your hands in his. "i didn't want to be lame but, i just wanted to tell you."

"okay," you ease him on. he takes a deep breath, before smiling wide.

"i think that ya have got to be the most beautiful girl i have ever seen in my life," he looks at you with hearts in his eyes. "from the moment i met ya, i wanted to make ya mine. i want to be the one ya come home to after a long day, i want to see ya in the stands during my games with my jersey on," his cheeks get a little pink.

"i want ya to be mine. my girlfriend."

"atsumu," you breathe, just like before. this time is a little more shaky, but with a bigger smile. "i want to be yours. i want you to be mine."

he laughs running his hand through his hair. "really?"

you nod, holding his face in your hands.

"really," you smile, pulling him in for a kiss. atsumu doesn't pull away until he absolutely has to, wanting to drown in this moment and keep it forever.

"baby, i don't think ya know how happy i am right now," he really can't stop smiling, no matter how hard he tries. he feels like a weight has been lifted off of his chest, amazed at the instant relief he feels after telling you.

"you didn't have to do all of this!" you pull at the balloons, watching them bounce off of one another.

"yes i did! plus, ya gotta try one of these. my brother made 'em and they're amazin'." you reach down to grab one, but he stops you.

"let me grab one!" you giggle, but he smirks.

"what's in your hand?"

you freeze, forgetting all about the card that rests between your fingertips.

"nothing."

"oh c'mon angel, lemme see!"

you shake your head, but he persists.

"why not!"

"because it's stupid, especially compared to all of this!" you gesture towards the flowers and berries.

"please," he begs, giving you a large pout. you roll your eyes.

"fine, but save the comments for yourself. i worked really hard on it."

atsumu pulls the card from it's envelope slowly before giving a quiet gasp.

"i know, i know, it looks like a preschooler did it. just give it back and-"

"are ya kidding me?" he practically shrieks. "this is goin' straight on my locker. 'gonna tape it right to the front."

"are you serious?"

"mhm," he hums, smirking when he reads the inside of the card.

happy valentine's day atsumu. you're the most handsome man i've ever met, and the funniest too. i hope that you will "bee mine" once and for all.

"what's so funny?"

"nothin', i'm just thinkin' that you might have a crush on me."

you roll your eyes, scooching a little closer to him on the couch. he wraps his arms around you and plants a kiss on top of your head.

"for the record, i have a crush on ya too. a huge one."

#heidslovesickevent #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x reader fluff #atsumu x reader fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu miya

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gamblersdoll · 1 month ago

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𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓!

anzai who’s fallen deep into his love for you has found himself in a lust— but can he control himself?

masturbation ,biting, blood smear, blood drinking, p in v, rut like themes, scratching, a semi shy anzai. not proofread.

he felt so disgusted by himself, how could he think about you in this way? you were more than this— you deserved more to be a simple thought that only gave himself pleasure. you weren’t some girl who was helping him come in his hand.

no, you were more than that, you were a huge crush he had for you ever since you came onto the job. (both of you had already spoke of this, but he still feels like even if you were dating, he’d have the hugest crush on you still ) he bit his lip, a hand stifling his moans and he flicks his wrists faster. oh god, how he wants you so bad. he wishes he could admit how he thinks of you in such an ungodly hour and way— but he cant, knowing how cruel the world can be towards devils.

but he feels so good, its better than him sinking his teeth into you somewhere. he cant, he has to find other ways of pleasure than that.

his hips buck up, a grunt rippling through his throat and he gasps. “oh, god..” he moans softly, his closed eyes squeezing tighter and he whines. “please..” his forearm covers his eyes, his balls lurching a little from the edging he gave himself. he grants himself ecstasy, feeling himself release fat, thick globs of semen ooze from his cockhead.

“where have you been, anzaii?” practically jumping out of your skin when he opens and quickly slams the door. your heart settles down, only realizing its your deviled beloved boyfriend, and sigh. “told you about suddenly coming in.”

“sorry,” he apologized, a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek and he plops onto the side of the bed— your shared bed, next to you. “i just had to handle.. some things.”

“some things?” you ask, clarifying. you watch him nod his head, not even daring to look your direction— nor your face. “like what?” you ask, his face turning crimson and he starts to bounce his knee. “aaanzai?”

“i— uh..” he starts, stammering over every other word and he swallows thick spit. “i.. almost transformed. and i had to handle that.”

“you couldve just asked me for help, you know.” you sigh, going back to your phone and scrolling to try and ignore his words, you hated how he just had to do everything on his own. “cant even let your girlfriend help you with anything.”

he looks at you stunned, and a pang hits his heart. “yeah, i know— its just-“

“its just what, anzai?” you snip at him, eyes snapping to him. “that youre afraid of what’ll happen? youre not sure how i would look at you?” you badger him, you hate doing this to him, but you’re his girlfriend for fuck sakes! and your supposed to help him! “what could it possibly be that i cannot do to help you?”

he only stares at you, throat dry and his knee stops bouncing. he sighs, putting his palms over your hands. “i just—“

you cut him off, pressing your lips to his own and small tears dribble down your face. your smaller hands find their way onto his neck, pulling yourself a little closer onto him. he reciprocates, pulling you closer by your back and he breathes heavy through his nose, cocking his head to the side. “anzai, please, just let me help you— for once in this lifetime.”

he nods, sucking onto your bottom lip and pressing you down into the bed. his groin pressed against your clothed cunny, his groans spilling into your mouth as he feels your heartbeat from between your legs. he pins your hands by entwining his, the sweat mixing into your skin. he pulls up, staring down into your eyes and his eyes are red, yellow and black slits for pupils.

your heart beats faster, your head spins from how the room is starting to become a little stuffy— but you didnt mind, your lips parting open and spreading your legs a little more for him to make himself at home. “anzai..” you softly say, taking his hand and placing it to your dampened shorts. “please..”

he watches intensely, his heart of his own races and he nods. he takes his fingers and laced them around your waistband, pulling your inside shorts down and stills. god, youre wet.. and he has to reevaluate himself before he takes two fingers to lap up your juices— pressing the digits onto his tongue and he moans.

his eyes snap back to your face, pouncing onto you and he pulls your top and bra off, watching your naked movements. he feels.. new, but safe. and he leans forward, sticking his tongue out to flick at your perky nipple. he grabs his belt buckle, undoing the metal and he pulls his aching cock out; pressing his lips to yours again.

you squeak in his mouth, your arms around his neck and legs caging him in and a moan bubbles out when you feel his cock slide against your folds. you open your eyes, seeing his fangs out and glimmering in the light as he keeps his own closed— for now, at least.

“is.. this okay?” he asks, slowly thrusting his undercock against your clit and gathering your juices onto his shaft and some of his balls. “need you now.. more than ever, angel.”

you nod, feeling the stretch of your cunt open up to him as he slips himself in. he wasn’t exactly huge, nor was he average. its been a long time since you got laid, sensually of course. your old flings never had sex with you, just mere fucking.

he pauses at each inch sinking into you, a shaky breath at each inch and biting his lip. he cant help it, feeling your walls spasm onto his length and holding your hands down to keep himself grounded to earth. thats what he loved you for, for keeping him to earth.

“you ready..?” you ask, watching him tremble and your fingers trace his skin. “we can stop here if you—“

“i dont want to stop.” he redirects, kissing your shoulder. “im okay, we can keep going.”

you nod, a soft moan as he moved his hips inside of you, then pulling hisself back— just to push in deeper and deeper each time he got closer to your womb. “anzai..” you softly say, eyes closed and he feels it.

your pulse.

he feels his temperature rise up just a bit, well, it was already risen. he furrows his head into the crook of your neck, kissing and open mouth sucking on your skin. the sounds of his cock plunging into your juicy pussy echoing throughout the walls and his moans into your skin.

“wanted this for so long, so so long..” he whines, his left hand clawing at the fabric and the sound of it tearing alerts you for a second. he moans when you clamp down on his cock, sucking him in deeper than he already was and he jolts a bit. his mind starts to slip, his hand on yours to keep you close..

he grunts, his thrusts becoming more aggressive until you feel his adams apple start to bob a little, and he breathes heavier against your skin— and then you feel it.

he bit you, trying to desperately hide his moans. and yet, his teeth sink deeper into your skin, your flesh pulsating and he eagerly drinks the red liquid that oozes out from two puncture wounds. “a-anzai—“

he pulls you tightly to him, his thrusts starting to become ravaging and he pulls away, lips tinted with a deep red and he stares down at your shoulder. his hand subconsciously moves and presses against your wound, smearing red down to your breasts and a thumb caressing your lips.

“an—“ you try to say, but the devil’s lips press to yours again, it tastes like metal in his mouth. nothing you havent dealt with before, since you sometimes bite the inside of your cheek as a subconscious response or tic. and your moans spill as he continues to knock winds from your body.

“anzai, anzai, anzai!” you squeal, trying desperately to catch your breath and he nods, kissing the lobe of your ear to come undone, to help him get better. the coil in your tummy, thats been so eager and desperate to snap for however long hes been around you— it finally snapped, your walls spasming onto him and he gasps.

the sucking of your walls that pulls him in closer does something to him, his eyes rolling back and he grits his teeth, pulling his hips back in a desperate attempt and fat globs of his come dribble onto the back of your thighs.

both of you, together, lay against the soft mattress and he realizes what he’s done. “oh god,” he starts, pressing his digits to your shoulder. “i.. im sorry—“

“its okay, you didnt take a whole bunch..” you assure him, pressing the wound. “and you stopped when you shouldve, so its all okay. youre building your tolerance, remember?”

he nods, scooting himself closer to you and then taking your hands into his. “did you enjoy yourself?” he asks, his eyes back to having his dark circles and not his transformed state. “did i pressure you?”

“yes and no.” you say, a smile on your face.

“yes and no that you enjoyed yourself?” he asks, a little lost but hes got his heart in the right direction.

“yes i enjoyed myself and no you didn’t pressure me, anzai.” you correct him, kissing his lips. “its okay, i got to help you.”

“.. would you help me like this more often? you dont have to, but if you do then thats also okay—“

“anzai.”

“okay, i get it.”

️ ©️ 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙙𝙤𝙡𝙡 2024

#dvs haunted mansion 🧟‍♀️#yuuki anzai #anzai x black! reader #devils line #anzai yuuki #yuuki anzai x reader #smutober #kinktober

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thevalkyriesshadow · 3 months ago

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I have a naughty Gwynriel fic idea I'm planning for October 😈

Claim Me by TheValkyriesShadow

Priestess Gwyn works as a healer in a small village. One day, a stranger appears - terribly wounded. Gwyn takes him in and cares for him, but slowly begins to realize there may be something more to the stranger she's welcomed into her home. Something more...sinister.

Read a sexy little snippet under the break!

Please note, this snippet contains acts of voyeurism and mentions of breeding kinks.

I've been watching this quaint cottage in the middle of the woods for three days. I was first drawn in by the enticing smells that wafted from it; the rosemary and lavender that hung drying in the windows, a hearty stew cooking on the stove, and something else, something…salacious.

No one came out the first night. Just a figure drifting past the windows, their shadow illuminated by an array of candles inside.

They must be a healer, for the next day many people came to the cottage; an elderly woman, a young boy, a pregnant couple…

I grow ravenous as the smell of the fetus yet born met my senses.

Soon. I tell myself. Soon.

Despite half the village coming and going, whoever lived in the cottage never came out. Until the third day of my watch. I was diligent and patient. I knew what I wanted - what I needed - was in that cottage.

Good things come to those who wait. Very, very good things.

The sun was just setting on another busy day for the healer. Gathering herbs is what brought them, brought her, out from the cottage.

My heart all but stopped. She was perfect. Beautiful. I couldn't stop staring at the way her copper hair glowed like molten metal in the low light. The way her eyes - bright like the twinkling sea water - glowed as she hummed a tune. Her voice as she sang, was like a beacon, drawing me near. Her hips, swaying side to side as she bustled around her garden…

The perfect hips. Sat just wide enough to hold my heir in her womb.

I breathed in deeply, my chest rumbling. That scent. The scent I'd been trying to place…it was her. She had that wonderful, lustful scent that had invaded my senses and mingled with the herbs and food she made.

I stilled. She was standing straight like a rod, like she'd heard something. Heard me. Crouching in the trees. Watching…waiting….

She turned around, perhaps deciding that the low growl she heard was not the rumble from deep in my chest, but something else, a bear or badger…but not me.

Whoever she was, she didn't know I was out here. Had no idea what lurked in the woods surrounding her cottage. If she did…she wouldn't have left her curtains open.

Nor would she be undressing.

My cock, already hard from her scent on the wind, strained against the restricting pants I wore. I watched as she let her light blue dress fall to the floor revealing a white silken slip underneath. Her nipples hardened against the cool, autumn breeze that blew through the trees and into her window. I wanted to taste them. Touch them. Suckle them.

She let one strap fall, then the other and by the gods, good and evil…She was perfect.

Her milky, white skin scattered with rust colored freckles glowed in the dim light. The shadows played with the curves and lines of her body. I was jealous of the natural shadows of the world, feeling her - touching her.

I could. If I wanted to. I could send my shadows out and caress her skin and she wouldn’t know. Would think it is just a string of fabric or a bit of hair.

But - no, this female…this female would know. She’d sense the strange touch of my magic.

I couldn't place why or how I came to this conclusion. It was this new, inherent feeling I had....perhaps it was the way she diligently checked each and every herb she plucked from the garden earlier. Making sure every piece she took was meticulously inspected. Or how she was currently meandering her room, book in hand, and completely naked. She was an enigma to me. Studious, yet free-spirited. Self-aware, yet careless - leaving her curtains open at night when anyone could peer in.

So for now, I hold them back and enjoy her figure from afar.

Soon.

Soon I’d get to feel her pert breasts, her silky hair, and thighs carved of muscle beneath my hands. Soon I’d get to mark her, claim her, fill her…make her scream my name into the night.

Soon.

Soon she would be mine.

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #acotar #gwynriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #this one is gunna be kinky #with a capital K #wip #wip wednesday #writing wip

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mushroommanstan · 2 years ago

Note

Shigaraki is not the most….hygienic man. Can you do Fem! Reader luring him into some shower sex?

Aight so we all know Shigarakis a stanky boi.

Like not just from his room, he is covered in a cloud of musk if he has his ways. He doesn’t bother cleaning or anything after a battle unless you badger him about infections, and he only changes his clothes when they become so smelly they’re practically moist. Yes, this includes underwear.

Just to clarify though, he does still use toilet paper. He’s not that gross.

He also doesn’t normally clean himself up after sex. Especially if he’s in his subby mindset, after making love he passes right out. You better hold him while he does though, if he doesn’t feel your fingers carding through his sweaty hair or hear your soft praises he’ll sulk when he wakes up.

So, normally, it’s up to you to take charge of his personal hygiene. This means washing him with a damp washcloth after sex and picking out dead hero bits out of his hair as he sleeps. But if you want him to take a shower, that’s going to take some creativity.

This man is stubborn af, and finds stuff like bathing to be a waste of time, no matter how much you plead with him. That, and the hot water upsets his dry skin, but he won’t tell you that. No way he’ll admit he’s scared of a little water.

Anyways, if you want him to take a shower with you, you’re gonna have to confront him while he’s already in the bathroom. He’s just taking a piss when you barge in and lock the door. (This man keeps the door unlocked, he has neither shame nor knowledge of social boundaries)

He’ll jerk in surprise at the noise, maybe scold you for interrupting him, but in the end won’t give you much notice. Nothing of his you haven’t seen before anyways

You do, however, gain his attention when you begin undressing. Immediately his cheeks burn bright red, and you haven’t even taken your bra off. When you do, you hear an audible gasp even though he’s seen your breasts many times before.

You continue stripping until you’re naked, and just as he’s about to go feel you up, you get in the shower. With a wink and a suggestive tone, you ask him to strip and join you, and with the lust clouding his mind he accepts.

Nows the tricky part. If Shig realizes your intentions while you’re finally cleaning him, he’s not going to be too happy. Might once again sulk a little bit. So, you’re going to have to be creative.

Lather your hands in soap and begin groping his chest from behind, making a brief pit stop at his armpits. Stay there for too long and he’ll get suspicious, but a few good tweaks to the nipples will shut him right up.

Order that he eats you out in that demanding tone he likes, and while he lowers grab some shampoo and cover your hands in it, so when as you pull on his hair when his tongue enters your sensitive, pink hole, it’s getting washed.

He’ll get so in the zone while eating you out that you can finish up washing the other parts of his head and shoulders that need work, that is if you can do anything but whine and pull his head impossibly close as he gently nibbles on your clit just right. Suffocate him in your pussy as best you can, wriggle his head around so his tongue hits your sweet spots just right, and when you finally climax for the love of god rip his head out of your crotch because he will not stop.

Then, as he gazes up at you with your sweet nectar still dripping down his chin and a wide, dopey smile you love so much, get him back on his feet and insist on returning the favor.

Break out the soap once more, insisting that it makes a good makeshift lube. Lather his cock in bubbles and foam as you praise him for being such a good boy for you. Once it’s clean enough, lick at the tip a little bit if you don’t mind the taste of soap. If you do his legs will shake like a newborn deer and he’ll let out the softest mewls, just barely audible over the sound of rushing water.

Keep going down his shaft and he’ll begin to cry for you, pulling your head into his groin as close as he can just like you did and begging you to keep going. That he’ll be a good boy, your good boy forever if he could just cum down your throat. Make him cum, please, please.

If you decide to tease him, he will start crying, because in vulnerable situations like this he desperately wants, no, needs to feel good.

Then, as you feel his cock twitch against his tongue and his cries reach a crescendo, get the soap once last time and reach around to his tight entrance, gently but firmly rubbing against his clenching hole as the last of the sweat and grime washes away.

Press your finger into him just as he cums and he’ll practically pass out, legs quivering and head arched back from the intensity of his orgasm.

Finally, after you both catch your breath, the shower turned off and Shigaraki just barely managing to stay upright, give him a shoulder to lean on as you guide him to the toilet seat. Dry (and massage) his feet, all the way up to his hair as he snores softly, so tired that he fell asleep as soon as he sat down.

After this, he’ll never complain about showers again. He’ll beg you for a shower, and when you agree he’ll be in there ready to go before you even take your shirt off. Keeping this boy clean is a full time job, but boy is it worth it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ngl I think this might be one of the best smuts I’ve written so far, Tysm for the ask! I hope you don’t mind I made it subby… whoopsies 😘

Anyways, have a good day and a happy holidays!

#my hero academia #shigaraki tenko #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #my hero academia shigaraki #boku no hero academia tomura #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura #sub shigaraki

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ju-nebugg · 4 months ago

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a complete (and ever-evolving) list of the many titles of mr. henley whispers

because Henry Shields is a genius and all of this deserves to be documented

Henley Whispers

aka the Turbulent Wind

aka the Storm Before the Calm

aka Lithe Spirit

aka Lord of the Prance

aka Bowfingerer

aka the Bark Knight

aka Work Hard Fae Hard

aka Coyote Handsome

aka Tree Weird

aka the Gorse Whisperer

aka the Arrow-ma Therapist

aka Aragorn-al Activity

aka Quiver Phoenix

aka Jack of All Trades, Master of All Trades

aka Tree Willy

aka Dave Fern

aka Soft-Core Faun-ography

aka Forest Whitaker

aka Notorious Tree-IG

aka Mr. Yumnus

aka Ranger Danger

aka Lust of Wind

aka Parry Hotter

aka Pollen Farrell

aka The Wood, The Bard and the Smugly

aka the Longest Bard

aka Daft Skunk

aka Brodo Swaggins

aka Dismay in a Ranger

aka Harriet Shrubman

aka Jeffrey Archer

aka Fen Diagram

aka Look Who’s Tolkien

aka Fennel May Care

aka the Grass Samurai

aka Chloro-Phil Spector

aka Woody Allen

aka Thelonius Trunk

aka the Moss Adjuster

aka See No Weevil

aka the Branch Manager

aka the Flower of Hotland

the ✨ rhymes ✨:

human ranger, damage dealer, story weaver, owl deceiver

human ranger, goblin killer, pale ale swiller, dream journal filler

human ranger, rabble rouser, full of heart, devoid of trouser

human ranger, hidden stranger, friend of danger, dark avenger

human ranger, expert juggler, against the chains which bind us struggler

human ranger, loot stringer, shameless swinger, on da funk bringer

human ranger, check bouncer, espresso mispronouncer

human ranger, rule flouter, truth spouter, earthworm doubter

human ranger, poker player, that which others won’t say sayer

human ranger, trendsetter, otter petter, in-joke getter

human ranger, blame dodger, advertising for a lodger

human ranger, cheeky chancer, always-on-the-off-beat dancer

human ranger, truth spinner, under-7s judo winner

human ranger, time waster, different brands of water taster

human ranger, hog roaster, subtle boaster, party ghoster

human ranger, crystal healer, your-layers-like-an-onion peeler

human ranger, hell raiser, into-the-abyss gazer

human ranger, lithe linguist, sensual astrologist

human ranger, bugbear wrestler, established-societal-norm questioner

human ranger, tune hummer, every-known-fear overcomer

human ranger, knowledge gleaner, has the grass that’s always greener

human ranger, deer consumer, vole beguiler, badger groomer

human ranger, havoc wreaker, noted after dinner speaker

human ranger, cattle roper, inter-species interloper

human ranger, prey pouncer, fearless fighter, local counselor

deer stalker, fox glover, the one you’re with lover

black run skier, caged bird freer, the-change-you-want-to-see-in-the-world be-er

human ranger, eldritch blaster, surreptitious podcaster

human ranger, villain injurer, power broker, serial milliner

human ranger, wild reaver, what-a-tangled-web-we-weaver

human ranger, seed sower, flower goer, the-distance goer

human ranger, head turner, butter churner, bridge burner

human ranger, shameless liar, rule defier, hair dyer

human ranger, misbehav-er, always-against-the-grain shaver

human ranger, beast enrager, strong orator, up-upstager

human ranger, owlbear slayer, soothsayer, the-field player

human ranger, quick-quip punner, villain stunner, long-con runner

human ranger, heedless cur, own-job-interview saboteur

human ranger, of-wind guster, no-one truster, goat buster

human ranger, slightly odd, wistful, winsome beetle god

human ranger, well-worn traveler, yarn spinner, peascods gatherer

human ranger, daring dazzler, risk taker, mystery raveler

TRUE FACTS ABOUT HENLEY:

he believes that any bird singing in the forest is doing it specifically for him (and birds don’t sing when he’s not there)

he trims his pubic hair into the word “shazam”

he keeps a dream journal (but if he has a nightmare, he ignores it and makes up something nice)

he writes really bad poetry (short, broken sentences, “rupi kaur style”)

he’s been using Ghoul’s Gruel as anti-aging cream (it doesn’t work)

his spirit animal is himself

he pronounces espresso like “ethpretho”

he has a bad feeling about worms in general

he howls at the moon

he pretends to understand all inside jokes

he’s very concerned about the mortgage repayments on his house

he always dances on the off beat in order to stand out in the club

he’s the reigning champion of the under-7s judo competition in his local area

he can tell the difference between brands of water (and he has very strong opinions about them)

he leaves parties without telling people and then comes back in disguise to talk about the fact that he left

he uses healing crystals

he gazes into the abyss until it gazes back because he wants the attention

he uses “sensual astrology” to try and seduce people

he has every known fear (the exposure therapy backfired)

he shaves (against the grain) with a sword (your hair doesn’t grow in hell. he does it anyway.)

he always has the greenest grass (he steals any grass he sees that’s greener than his own)

he runs a grooming business for badgers (“what does he get in return from the badgers?” “…friends”)

he’s an accomplished after-dinner speaker

he tried to hibernate with badgers and they kicked him out

he majored in drawing in sand with sticks

he’s a bed wetter

he always bets all in when playing poker

he is a leading member of the “pithy council” (it’s just him and a ferret getting together to recite pithy sayings)

he will love the one YOU’RE with (aka sleep with your wife)

when someone asks him a difficult question, he turns and runs

he thinks he’s been leaving episodes of a podcast called “whispers on the air” in various rocks and twigs on their journey, but he doesn’t have the spell for it so he’s just been talking to inanimate objects

he has an unhealthy obsession with hats

he sleeps in a web

he invented a kind of long distance running called long distance fleeing (26 miles = safety)

he burns every bridge he crosses

henley (a natural blonde) dyes his hair blonde (his natural hair color) so people will think he has grays because he’s older and more mature than he really is

he must always be upstaging someone

he has an inexplicable hatred of goats and, similarly, an inexplicable love of sea turtles

he has been acting as the god for a family of beetles (he can give you seed)

#hell or high rollers #hohr #henley whispers #dnd #henry shields #he’s such a mess i love him so much

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paragonrobits · 4 months ago

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so one thing i've thought about before is how in AtLA, bending without any apparent effort, doing it casually or performing noticable feats of bending with very small movements (and in a similar way, doing it with apparent effortlessness) are all feats of the most powerful and skilled characters.

We see this most prominently with Bumi and Aang; Bumi is the first Earthbender we see fighting extensively, so its technically a misleading impression because a lot of what he does is directly contrary to regular Earthbending; he moves a LOT more, for one, and he famously bends with his face. this is notable because other benders, even those approaching his power, make use of powerful movements that are very showy and easy to see. Besides the fact that a lot of Bumi's feats feel like he's taken inspiration from Airbending in terms of technique, he is so powerful and skilled that only Toph approaches him, and she still doesn't do quite as much as he does with tiny movements. (and to be fair, Bumi is a master that's over a hundred years old, while Toph is 12 or 13, and has learned most of her practical skills either in solitude with the badger-moles or fighting in the ring; arguably a lot of her skills in less combat-centered stuff or finer details in Earthbending philosophy are learned more gradually on the road, and we DO see her doing subtle things like pulling metal around herself in a single movement, making her a very noticable example of this phenomenon.)

However, this begs a question; what does this say about Ozai?

He is very explicitly stated to be the most powerful Firebender in the world; he is very much not the wisest, nor does he really seem able to understand the fine details in Firebending or the control required; both Zuko and Azula perform feats he doesn't seem interested in doing at all, or learning, whether from Azula's fine precision allowing her to produce intensely burning blue fires, or Zuko's skill in doing stuff like manipulating existing fire with less effort and same results as producing it himself.

Its hard to get a grasp on his actual skills because we only see him Firebending a few times (one off-screen when he burns Zuko, another when he generates lightning almost instantly in Day of Black Sun) before the finale, where he is incredibly powerful but explicitly has his power amplified, so the best we can judge is comparing him to other Firebenders who do the same thing. Notably, Iroh seems to outclass him in sheer power (blasting through the walls of Ba Sing Se after a short time to power up, whereas Ozai's fleet fire blasts is not exclusively his doing), and while Ozai can use fire thrust to fly in a limited way that other Firebenders are not shown to do normally, Jeong-Jeong outdoes him here as well by hovering with his flames, achieving true flight and likely indicating a superior grasp on energy conservation, given how Ozai just blasts around, and not doing sustained attacks for the most part.

Bending, in AtLA, at its highest power is closely associated with wisdom and enlightenment. Ozai, on the other hand, is powerful but a staggeringly immature man-child whose vicious cruelty and lust for violence is only equaled by his complete incompetence when it comes to basic common sense. He's cruel, regards all non-compliance as insults on him, and regards his family as furniture whenever they're not actively serving his purposes. He is very much NOT wise.

But we also see him performing this same kind of effortless feat by constantly leaving fires burning in his throne room as a show of power. It's possible that this is standard for Fire Lords in general, or at least has become so since Sozin's time. So what does it say about him that he can do this effortlessly?

The first thought that occurs to me is that in his case, he might have achieved a strange kind of inverse enlightenment in being deliberately blind to anything except his own wants and ambitions. He's deliberately unaware of most things that the genuinely wise care about and can't conceive that he might be wrong or even be unsatisfied. This tracks with his ability to generate lightning, in that its required to be calm of mind, and yet both he and Azula show extreme rage when they feel insulted or have their dignity damaged, which doesn't seem consistent with what lightning bending requires according to Iroh. It might be that both Ozai and Azula, in their general lack of introspection, are superficially calm and are able to use lightning this way, but not as effectively as they MIGHT. A superficial, worldly power that seems mighty but ultimately is a sign of them being chained; a metaphor for everything wrong with the Fire Nation.

(Or in other words, he's achieved a poor man's version of enlightenment by being so goddamn childish and oblivious to any kind of actual insight that he's failed to have a mindset that's counter to Firebending despite lacking the wisdom to do that conventionally and he never noticed.)

The other idea is that the effortlessness he shows is also superficial.

Ozai is a very superficial person; he puts a lot of stock on appearances and doesn't think much about anything past that; by all indications, he was never particularly close to Zuko or showed much interest in him (and its quite likely the same applied to Azula, but his praise of her was interpreted as genuine pride when he honestly couldn't care less the second she was no longer making him look better by proxy), he just wasn't motivated to harm them.

Now, consider the possibility that while he is quite powerful, he's putting on a show to make himself look stronger. He makes it LOOK effortless, but he's going to a lot of trouble to put on a show. Now, this may not be likely (we see him doing a whole lot of powerful attacks in Sozin's Comet without much apparent effort, just a vicious glee) but it also tracks with his character to go to this kind of effort and put in a show just so people don't think he looks less than perfect, which also is a nice parallel to how Azula picked up that attitude.

It also nicely contrasts him against Aang, Iroh, the Air Nomad elders, and other genuinely wise characters who get embarrassed, look ridiculous, have pranks played on them, or get stuck in silly situations and they rarely care or even really acknowledge it. Wisdom, in AtLA, is heavily associated with characters who don't care if they look silly, while its characters like Ozai, Zuko and Azula whose violent defensiveness and hostility towards anyone threatening their pride are specifically framed as unwise, and even childish.

In this regard, Ozai mutilating his child over an act of disrespect by proxy lines up very well with that, and him constantly pushing himself to make a threatening image even when it needlessly tires him and doesn't serve any purpose beyond his own ego or frail fear that someone MIGHT not think he is the most badass thing ever.

#atla #ozai #meta #queued

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ark-barkness · 2 months ago

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The rise and fall of Richard from Extracurricular Activities is something that should be studied

As always ⚠️ spoilers ahead so be careful ⚠️

I first started reading this VN back in uuuh 2019? I think? And since it was one of my first VNs I had no idea how routes worked so I naturally started with Coach Grifter's route first. I remember back in the day silently begging for a route for Richard, or at least a scene in Harold's route, he was charismatic, he was hot and he was funny.

After 4 out of the 5 routes were completed Dyne confirmed he was working on Richard's route, we all collectively lost our shit, the hot bisexual rhino we've been lusting for for years was finally getting a route.

Now, at this point this was what we knew about Richard.

He's bisexual

He's homeless, like Eric

He had a thing for Maria and Harold (bi king 👑)

And that was it, not much about him, Dyne took the time to confirm his route would be more chill, drama free and different from the rest...

Now flashforward to today, this is what we know about Richard:

He was once married

He has 2 kids he never talked about before

He destroyed his marriage when he started a poly relationship with a badger and his wife noticed he was more into him than her. This is important for later.

He starts a relationship with Eric and almost immediately Eric has to start playing dad to his daughters.

He gets Eric a job in the same place the badger works for.

It's revealed that after his marriage fell apart he ghosted the badger and now feels guilty.

He rekindles his relationship with the badger and listen to this because it's crazy, HE PROPOSES TO ERIC THAT THEY HAVE A POLY RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM, THE SAME GUY THAT CAUSED HIS MARRIAGE TO FAIL.

I've never been a fan of the couple dynamics in this visual novel, but come on, this is ridiculous 😭

I can't stress how much I dislike Richard's route, it feels like it jumps the shark every other update. The addition of his daughters would've worked if it was pre established, there was no reason to break the canon just to get something where to pull a story from.

Extracurricular Activities will always hold a special place in my heart, since it was one of the first FVNs I read, but after being disappointed with Spencer and Chester's epilogues, the addition of Dwayne and whatever happened to Richard, I have to admit the will to read fade away a bunch of updates ago...

I don't wanna end on a negative note, so here's a pic of this beefcake

Love you Conrad, put some goddamn underwear on, I can see the outline of your dick.

#extracurricular activities #vn spoilers

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sweetiebean00 · 7 months ago

Text

Of Dark Arts

Listen, this one imo is gonna get a wee bit maybe more dark? Then again this is the bit with the Scriptorium. Warnings for implied abuse, implied child abuse, implied a lot of shit - please be safe reading this guys I personally have been writing Ominis perspective in a mix of "I can't see how is things being done" and Toph Beifong xD

Ominis groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he continued down the corridor with his wand guiding him. Talking to Sebastian had been a mistake. That much Ominis is certain of. With a deep breath, he ignored his friend. Ignored the pleading, the bargaining, the ceaseless badgering as he was followed from Potions back to the common room. Pain formed in the back of his neck, trailing up his skull as his mind raced with memories he didn't want to remember. With words, voices, and moments he could never stop reliving. Not even in his dreams.

"For the last time Sebastian, I said no." Ominis whirled on his heel, wand jabbing his friend in the chest. He forced a breath in through his nose, slowly releasing it out his mouth at the cold sensation winding itself along his shoulders. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing good lying along this path."

Sebastian huffed, smacking the wand away. He could hear his friend as he paced, his steps more like stomps. Ominis refused to budge, refused to be moved by pleas. By begs, barters, and guiltless tactics of manipulation and wordplay. Yes, he cared for Anne. Yes, he wanted her back at Hogwarts with them as much as Sebastian did. However, Salazar's Scriptorium wouldn't have anything in it that was good, that would help anyone but Salazar Slytherin himself. Ominis refused to even think about it, to even share what his ancestor had been obsessed with. The Dark Arts were dark for a reason, they were not to be trifled with. They most certainly wouldn't bring anyone any healing, any help.

"What are you two going on about?"

Ominis straightened, cheeks warming as he turned in the direction of the soft voice. Celia. He frowned, hearing her soft barely there steps echoing throughout the empty corridor. He could hear them talking, hear Sebastian swaying her to his side using information that was not his to share. If it was anyone else, Ominis would've yelled. Interrupted in some way, shape, or form. But it wasn't just anyone. It was her.

Celia Clyde.

The one witch he couldn't get off his brain for the life of him. The warm feel of curves pressed into him, her soft skin beneath his. The smell of her even was enough to keep him up at night. His dreams didn't help, hearing her voice calling to him like she did in the Room of Requirements, the press of her against his chest like in the Undercroft.

Only this time there weren't clothes separating them, only this time when she called his name it was a cry. A mixture of pleasure and lust that left a chill down his spine and goosebumps breaking out across his skin. Left him waking with her name on his lips, with her scent in his nose. That heady smell of fruit dancing from the trees, of old books mingling with that thick spicy smell of a candle burning. Left him waking hot and aching, his blood burning and pants tight and constricting as he heaved a breath. Left him casting a silencing charm before his mind was pretending the hand wrapping around him was smaller and unable to hold him properly. Pretending the hand had longer fingers with barely there-calluses as hot air puffed around him as pouty lips parted and-

Ominis took a breath, breaking from his thoughts only for her to be filling his nostrils another time in the last few hours. Only for it to be real and not the vivid imaginations of a sixteen-year old boy. He willed his body to obey, shoving every thought he's ever had of one of his closer friends away as she stood only a few steps away from him.

"Hello Ominis."

Ominis had to stop himself from frowning. Something wasn't right, that old parchment and ink smell was stronger, almost overwhelming the rest of her scent. He could hear a sort of rattle in her chest, like a toy in a wooden box being rolled about. She cleared her throat, and he had to stop himself from pressing his fingers to her throat. From finding her pulse point to feel the heart that beat beneath because... because it shouldn't be beating as fast as it sounds. There was something... off. Her voice was tired, verging on strained.

The joy is real, the cheer and utter delight in her tone is entirely genuine. She's happy to see him, and she had the same light airy notes with Sebastian, only a tad calmer with the other Slytherin. He wanted to smile at the way she read his mood, at the way she came across softer when needed. Instead, it only added to that feeling in that something wasn't quite right, only added to the checklist inside his head of mannerisms he was noticing, of behaviors that didn't sit well when a spotlight was shined on them just right.

"Good afternoon, Celia." He licked his lips, breathing a sigh at the way her breath seemed to hitch. "Don't try and argue for him, it won't work. Nothing good can come from Salazar's Scriptorium, he was a mad man obsessed with blood purity and the dark arts."

The silence lingered this time, but Ominis didn't mind. It gave him time to focus on that rattle in her chest, on the way her breaths were coming out shorter, quicker. A chill ghosted his spine and he shuddered, rolling his shoulders back. He didn't have time to focus on it, to ponder the reasoning of the goosebumps breaking across his skin.

He frowned, lifting a hand to graze his knuckles along her jawline to her forehead. Resting his hand there for a moment, only to let it gently drag back down. She wasn't fevered, and she didn't feel flush. That didn't explain the gnawing in his stomach that said something was about to happen. He didn't like it. Didn't like not knowing, not being prepared for whatever was to come.

"Blood purity?"

Ominis heart stopped at the innocence in that tone, at the curiosity. She didn't know. His brain short circuited, forgetting whatever he was thinking about as her question reverberated through his skull. Oh sweet bloody Merlin, she didn't know. She wasn't lying, was not pretending innocence. There was no hidden smile in her voice, no silent glee that had her bouncing on the balls of her feet. Celia was still, standing in place with her hands dangling at her sides and tangling in her skirt as she cleared her throat. Oh, Godric's heart. Why did it have to be him?

"Some in the wizarding world believe that magic should stay within all magic families." Ominis swallowed thickly, his hand gently trailing down from her face to her neck to feel her pulse beat against his palm.

Celia didn't respond. She didn't move, he wasn't sure she was even breathing. His chest tightened; beneath his hold she was stock stiff. Muscles tense, coiled far too tight. She was a band about to snap, and he frowned at the rattling that grew louder and shakier in her chest with every passing second in silence.

"Celia?" This time it was Sebastian to break the silence, his steps hurried as he crossed the corridor. "Celia? Ominis, what-"

"That's what a mudblood is, someone born to muggles. Someone who isn't born to a wizarding family." She inhaled, only to cough for a moment. Clearing her throat another time, her next words were spoken just above a whisper. "Someone like me."

"Celia, no. That's not-"

Celia didn’t let Ominis finish. Warm, clammy hands grazing featherlight along his wrist. Slowly, she pulled his hand off of her as she stepped back. His frown deepened. If it wasn’t for his keen hearing, he doubts he’d have known she moved at all. In a quick, fluid motion - Ominis had her wrist in his grasp. Tugging her forward once more until her hand was catching on his chest, her fingers splaying out along his school shirt. His heart fluttered beneath her palm, that ancient smell becoming powerful to the point of overwhelming and Celia cleared her throat again.

"Guess no matter the world I stand in, I'm still dirty blood." She huffed a short, bitter laugh that sent a pang through his chest at the low, hollow notes of her voice. "Good to know now what that Ravenclaw boy was spewing."

Ominis froze, his own muscles tensing beyond belief as her words rang like a church bell in his ears. Ravenclaw boy... Duncan Hobhouse. Puffskien Duncien. Ice burned through his veins as anger burned a fire in his chest. Spewing his pureblooded bullshit, was he? Ominis took a deep breath, maybe he should go have a talk with him. Maybe this time he'll let Sebastian stand as look out while he beats it into his thick fucking skull that there's no such thing as pure or dirty blood. Blood is blood, it's all red. All pumping through someone's veins. Though if he hears Duncan called Celia what he thinks he might have... there might be one less person with more blood on the inside then the outside in this world.

"Who." Sebastian growled, and Ominis snapped his head in his direction. He'd been so silent, he forgot he was there. "What Ravenclaw, Celia? What year? Better yet, did he call you anything?"

"Sebastian, no." Celia said, gone were the sweet warming lilts of her voice. Replaced with the lukewarm sentiments of someone who has accepted something. Like hell would Ominis allow that line of thinking. "Relaxed, we were here for a reason, remember? Aside from a lesson in wizarding terms, which if one of you gentlemen would be so kind as to share with me later?"

Silence, nothing but the sound of Sebastian's tapping foot. Ominis let his lips tug into a smirk at the sound of fabric shifting, tugging. He didn't need sight when he knew the familiar sound of a tie being loosen. When he loosened a tie, it typically meant there was a fight coming. One of magical or muggle means, and it usually ended with Ominis springing him from detention with a few words to Black.

"Fuck it, show me him. Now."

She squeaked, her hand fisting in Ominis' search as she jerked back. Ominis didn’t have time to think, instinct flaring as he shifted his grip on wrist to her forearm. He tugged her back, his other arm flying out to swing around her waist. Pulling her closer than she had been before as she braced herself with her hands on his chest. Merlin, if that wasn't a mistake.

He swallowed, his name squealed into his shirt had his cheeks burning. His arms had locked around her back, not allowing any -if at all, struggle. She wiggled against him, shifting about in his hold as her face buried against his chest. Her warm breath dancing along his collarbone, sending shivers down his spine. Like this, he could feel everything.

There wasn’t a part of them that was not pressed together. He could feel the curve of her hip beneath his hand, the warmth of her thin shoulders through her button-up. Feel the soft curves of her breasts firmly against him. This was a very big mistake, he breathed deep and fuck. That was not smart. Not smart at all. He could feel the blood rushing south, and it took every inch of his control to will his body to obey.

It didn't take much effort, when she cleared her throat for the billionth time. Then again. And again. And again, until she couldn't stop, and it turned into coughing. Raspy coughs that sounded like they were scratching and clawing on the way up her chest. Her grip tightened in his shirt, her thin shoulders shaking -correction. Her entire body was shaking with the force of her hacking. Ominis gingerly ran his fingers along her spine, patting her back between her shoulder blades as she heaved for breath.

"Can you please stop dying?"

At Sebastian's whine, Ominis felt one of her hands shifting. Felt one of her long fingers lifted and felt the others curl as she shot Sebastian, a rather crude muggle gesture against his chest. He snorted at the indignant sound that came from his fellow Slytherin's throat, at least now he knew she was at least somewhat okay.

"I'm not so sure you could keep up with me, Celia, I think Ominis might be more your pace."

Ominis scowled, fire dancing along his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He scowled, shooting him the same crude gesture against Celia's back. Sebastian's boisterous laugh filled the hall as Celia jerked away. His hands flexed, and it took everything Ominis had to loosen his grip. To let her slip through his fingers when he wanted nothing more than to pull her closer. To have her back in his arms and protected from the world that seemed to be needlessly cruel against her.

She cleared her throat, the sound bringing clarity to his muddled mind. He wouldn't be sleeping well that night, not with the memory of her warm breath dancing along his skin. Of her heart beating strong, albeit too quickly for his liking in time with that little odd rattle inside her chest.

"Back to the matter at hand," Celia cleared her throat. "Ominis, I understand your worries, your fears. But wouldn't it be better to be able to put that question to rest? To learn the truth on what happened to your Aunt Noctua? I apologize that Sebastian shared with me rather personal things about you without you knowing, but if I were you? I'd like to be able to say for certain what happened to my aunt. To know what happened to the woman I loved so much."

That is not what Ominis wanted her to say, and he hated the way his forever burning curiosity seemed to ignite and rise to the surface like smoke from a fire. He had long since accepted he would never know what happened, long accepted that something awful must have happened to his beloved aunt. Fought with himself on the wandering thoughts that conjured what if's to mind that he didn't want to think about. But was it truly better not knowing? Not knowing whether she died in pain, or in peace? If there was even a chance for her to have survived but been trapped inside his school? How many times had he laid awake at night wondering that...

No. He wouldn't bend. He won't give in. Taking a deep breath to tell her how much he appreciated the effort, the thoughts, that he wouldn't be budging on this. Nothing good would come from Salazar Slytherin's Scriptorium, he was more than sure of it. Only to pause at the gentle wafting of lilac. Of lilac and gooseberries dancing with pine just beneath the curtain of the old books smell that grew stronger with every rattle of her chest, with every clearing of her throat.

Ominis swallowed, his stomach twisting itself further and tighter into knots as that feeling returned. If it ever left. Something wasn't right, something was off and he couldn't put his finger on it. Yet again, he was reminded of her stillness. Of the way she didn't dance about in place, there was an absence of fabric shifting, of tapping shoes as she bounced on the balls of her feet. No bapping of her braid lightly tapping against her back, no twisting of her skirts in her fingers. His chest tightened, the ominous weight settling on his shoulders. Soft, cold fingers grazed the inside of his wrist. Featherlight as they dragged along the back of his knuckles and down his dangling fingertips.

"Please Ominis."

Fuck.

He sighed, he could hear her smile growing. He needed to find a way to ban her from saying those words in that order. Forever. Or until he gets her into his bed, whichever came first really. No, he scolded himself. Bad Ominis. Merlin, he really wouldn't be sleeping tonight if she kept saying things like that. If she kept using that... low, softened plea. How could he ever resist it?

"I... okay." He sighed, lips twitching at the corner of the sound of Sebastian stumbling from where he no doubt fell off the wall he'd been leaning on in surprise. "For Auntie Noctua; I'll do it."

"What? Just like that? You didn’t want to even think about it when I was asking.” Sebastian’s tone was accusatory, Ominis huffs. Arms crossing, he doesn’t want to dignify that remark with a response. “You hadn’t said what I wanted to hear.”

“Or, perhaps if I was over a foot shorter, smelling of flowers, and batting a set of big blue eyes at you.”

Ominis scowled, "Do you want me to change my mind, Sebastian?"

He glared in the direction of Sebastian's snickers, wanting nothing more to take back his word. To not give his friend the satisfaction of any sort of dark magic secrets that would be hiding inside Salazar's hidden study. It would be easy, a very snarky comment to Sebastian and Ominis could be turning on his heel. Wand in hand as he left his friend to sulk outside the Slytherin Common Room. So why didn't he do it already? If he was going to be mocked-

"Shut up, Sebastian." Celia's voice was like honey, faux sweet and luring the innocent fly to the trap. He could almost picture the incredulous look upon his face as the sweetest girl in school told him to be quiet. "Is there anything you can tell us about the entrance, Ominis?"

If she would forever speak to him like that, like warm butter melting on toast. He would do anything she'd ask. He shoved those thoughts aside, knowing exactly what fantasies would be playing tonight inside his head as he adjusted his tie around his neck. She cleared her throat, the rattle getting louder, clearer inside his ears. Maybe he should try and buy them some time, try and convince Sebastian to take her to the Hospital Wing, or maybe get Sebastian back onto a war path. He did loosen his tie already; every student and teacher knows what it means when a Sallow walks about with their tie loose. Anne was just as notorious as Sebastian was for it.

Even as Ominis wondered, he knew the answer for it. He had given his word, and she had sparked the wonder, the morbid curiosity about what happened to his Aunt. He knew she was dead, there's no way around it. Yet, he wonders how. Why. All sorts of questions that buzz through his mind that he doesn't even notice when Celia goes about solving the puzzle. Doesn't hear her ordering Sebastian about, until he hears the sound of stones shifting. Until he hears voices so hushed and hissing. The same words, the same phrases over and over in his ears.

Speak to me.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, goosebumps racing along his skin. His grip on his wand turns white-knuckled, his blood roaring to life just loud enough to drown out those haunting whispers. Snakes. Why did it always have to be snakes? Oh right, because his ancestor was a crazed, tacky fuck with a boner for reptiles. Why wouldn't chasing after the long-lost study of his wacky ancient grandfather involve talking to snakes?

Soft fingertips gently danced along the skin of his wrist, chasing away the goosebumps with a warm touch so gentle he shuddered. Celia hummed a quiet tune. A question in the simplest form, no words, just sound. Just thought and intent swirled together into a singular note that raised and lowered as needed. It was grounding. When her fingers got to his knuckles, he turned his hand around. Capturing hers in a vice-like grip he'd apologize for later. She didn't make a peep, didn't whimper, nor whine when he squeezed. Only squeezed back with those same soft notes that gave him the strength he needed to mutter something in parseltongue, she shuddered where she stood next to him. The flickering spice of a candle washed away as quickly as it raised when the door opened and a cloud of dust rolled out.

They have found the Scriptorium.

The pit in his stomach deepened, stifling air near suffocating. The feeling in his gut deepened once more as he stepped into the passage, his heart hammering in his chest. The door sealed shut behind him, the sound impossibly loud in his ears as Sebastian cursed. Deep breaths, he reminded himself, nose wrinkling as he inhaled dust. His grip tightened on his wand, Celia's hum cutting through Sebastian's rhetorical questions. The smooth slide of shifting metal had his ears perked, almost reminding him of a snake when they coiled to-

Fear gripped his heart in a tight grip, his arm shot forward. Coiling around her waist and tugging her away from what he's sure is a trap. A trick. Sharp, metal fangs dragged down his forearm and Ominis had never been more thankful to be wearing layers. She squeaked, but that only made him hold her tighter. He breathed, she was fine. She's safe. The thing didn't get her.

"What in Merlin's name was that?!" Sebastian exclaimed, at the same time Ominis demanded: "What in Merlin's beard were you thinking!?"

"It's a puzzle! I'm sure of it!" She bounced in his hold, trying to get back to the enchanted lock that had tried to attack her moments ago.

"Are you insane?! It just tried to attack you not moments ago!" Ominis snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand and taking a deep breath. "This was a mistake, we never should've come here."

Celia twisted in his hold, her tiny fists lightly tapping against the limb snug around her waist, against his chest. She cleared her throat, turning to try and pry his fingers off her side one by one. He wouldn't be budging, not on this. Not when she seemed fixated and focused on solving some magical puzzle that would apparently bite should she fail. She huffed, this close he heard the rattle grow, heard her cough turn into a swallow as she cleared her throat. The rattle got stronger and with it, the scent of old books sharpened and grew overwhelming once more.

"Celia-"

"Ominis!" She whined, dragging the letters in his name out as she flopped over his arm. Attempting to crawl out of his hold. He snorted, good luck with that. "Please! Let me just-"

"Celia." He cut off, flexing his arm till she was standing upright once more.

A flicker of spice danced in his nose, and he grazed his other hand up her back. She shivered, the spicy smell starting to weigh in against the parchment and ink scent. His hand followed the length of her spine, to the nape of her neck where he dragged his touch along her throat to angle her chin upwards. To face him.

"Are you hurt?"

“N-no?”

Ominis didn't need his wand to find his way around. He's never actually needed it to find his way around. It is his preferred method to get around places. His senses have been dialed up higher than that of anyone's, his ability to hear, to smell, taste, feel, making up for the sense he had been born without. While having his wand was tremendously helpful, it wasn't how he first learned how to move about the world. He could feel the vibrations in the ground, the walls. Could hear them when someone spoke, the little vibrations that danced in someone's throat, their chest, their belly. He could see ripples in the world, allowing them to give him a silhouette of someone's figure with every vibration that partook their forms.

It's how he had been able to tell when Anne or Sebastian were sneaking up on him, whether his mother was in a good mood. Whether Marvolo was ansty to hurt someone, something. When his father wasn't happy. He could hear it in the quiet hum of their chest with every breath they took, and hear it in the way they stepped.

"Ominis," She whined again, and Merlin, he needed her to stop doing that. "Please?"

He didn't need eyes, didn't need a wand to see the world when seeing it in the way it breathed about him, was beautiful enough. However, his senses were never... this clear before. He swallowed the dryness in his throat, hearing Celia clear her throat as he finally let her slip free of his arms with Sebastian standing to the side to snatch her back if the snake tried to bite again. Because of course the entire passage would be snake related, this was the way to Salazar Slytherin's study after all.

He couldn't not hear the way that rattle in her chest danced throughout her body. The way something vibrated inside her from shoulder to shoulder, from foot to foot, from the tip of her head and to the bottom of her toes. A continuous pulse of something inside her that made her figure clearer than the others. All through the vibrations she was projecting into the floor as her barely-there steps tapped against stone, through the wave of light that pushed and pulled like the Black Lake and her body the shore.

He didn't need his wand to travel the world, though it gave him more of an accurate view of the world. More precise, more accurate for walls. For stairs, and paths that were difficult. It helped him find walls before his skin did, helped him find a path clear of trees before the wind did. Everything was made easier with the use of magic, but Ominis preferred the way he could feel when someone was approaching, the body heat tied to emotions, the way they walked, their very breaths. All very telling ways to give him clues someone or something was approaching, the intent made ever clearer the closer they got.

He heard the clicking, the spinning of stone and metal as the door in front of them opened. He shoved thoughts of this peculiar addition away, focusing instead on how the hair of his arms hadn't stopped standing on end once. How the goosebumps on his skin started to hurt. How cold his hand felt since Celia pulled hers from his when she had caught sight of the snake, the hum of her interest a broken record inside his head as his mind played a dangerous game of what if. What if the snake had gotten her? What would it have done? With this area being tied to Salazar, he honestly wouldn't be surprised if it had made her suffer from some archaic form of dark magic. What if that rattle in her chest is a disease, an illness? What if she is sick and he should've held firm a few more moments? What if he didn't agree to this, what if he had confronted it? What if-

The door slammed shut behind them. The familiar squeak turned into a very short cough. The rattle was growing incessant and he could hear the whispers of the snakes once more, his blood turning to ice as Sebastian and Celia stiffened. He heard Sebastian swallow, and he heard the whispers.

The key to the way forward is the one spell Ominis promised himself to never cast again. Crucio. That's why and how his aunt died, she had gone in alone, and had no one to cast it on, or to cast it on her. He knew this was a mistake! They never should have come here! Never! This will be another notch on his belt of regrets.

"Ominis-?"

"I won't cast it." He said firmly, head shaking as he paced by the door that sealed them in.

She jumped at his tone, and he made a note to apologize for startling her later. His blood was roaring too loudly in his ears, a migraine was forming behind his eyes and his temples pounded. His grip clenched and unclenched on his wand, his other hand fisting at his side.

"You don't understand, Celia, the pain -it's unimaginable, you would do anything for it to stop. My family used it on me, when I refused to cast it on muggles. Used it until I cast it on a muggle... don't ask me this."

Her touch was like ice on his heated skin, her fingers sliding along his wrist. Only to stop halfway down, to go up instead. His elbow was lifted, her touch like a balm on his wounds as she hummed. It wasn't like the higher note of intrigue, the soothing low of assurance. This was a middle, as high as low, and as calm as her natural speaking voice.

"Ominis, you're bleeding." She spoke of it as an observation, as if discussing the weather. Her hands shook on his arm, her fingers clumsy as she wiped at his arm with something soft until pain like fire danced up his arm and he hissed. "The snake got you instead of me... oh Ominis, I'm so sorry."

He didn't have time to speak, to say a word as the pain came to the forefront of his mind. Maybe that was why he wasn't feeling so... confident. She dabbed at the wound, apologizing for every hiss of air he released through his teeth. She fiddled about, pressing something cold and smooth into his free hand with a quick command to drink. He didn't argue, obeying without a second thought and tipping it back to let the liquid slosh down his throat. He grimaced, wiggenweld never tasted the greatest. She hummed, pleased as the skin healed itself and stepped back.

"I- I won't ask you to ever curse someone Ominis. I am sorry, for your pain and for your Aunt."

She turned, gone from his side and back across the room in an instant. The feather-light steps turning firm. With the pings of sound dancing across her figure and across the floor of the hall they were trapped in as she squared herself opposite Sebastian. His hopeful tone trailing off at the look upon her face, if Ominis were to guess. Celia's next words were too fast and hushed for him to catch, a tone their friend didn't hesitate to match. They debated for a moment, words Ominis didn't care to try and hear. Not when he could feel the furious heat coming off her in waves, not when he heard the same scathingly biting tone she used on him that night outside the Undercroft now directed at Sebastian as she tore him a new one for even suggesting Ominis cast the spell.

Celia cleared her throat, huffing haughtily. "You know how to cast it, don't you Sebastian."

It had not been a question, even if worded like one. The growing tension threatened to snap at the tiniest of moves, the silence a sharp piercing ring that Ominis wished would deafen him to the next words he feared would come from her lips, or from Sebastian's. He swallowed, the pit in his stomach threatening to swallow him whole. He really didn't like where this was going…

"Then cast it on me and be done with it." She hissed.

"I don't think you understand what you're asking me to do." Sebastian snarked, running a hand through his curls. "I'll teach you the spell, then you can cast it on me. I can take the pa-"

"Listen," She said sharply, coughing. "I don't have the spell casting experience nor the want to learn spells like this, just cast it on me and be done with it. I can take pain, Sebastian."

Sebastian huffed, whatever comment he was going to say died on his tongue when Celia placed a gentle hand on his forearm. She squeezed it, not to hurt. Waiting until dark eyes met hers, and she smiled. Throwing her arms around his middle, she hugged him tightly. Waiting until his own begrudgingly fell around her to hug her close. Her eyes stung, the wonder of if this was what it was like to have a brother making water form in her eyes. She cleared her throat, shoving the thoughts away and blinking back the tears that formed. She's not cried in years, she won't start now.

"For Anne," She said.

Sebastian sighed, voice defeated. "For Anne."

Ominis knew the moment she said those two little words, Sebastian was snapped back into the reason for why they were here. His logic, his reasoning, everything that hadn't been committed to helping his sister fell out one of his ears as her words rammed through the other. Ominis braced himself for what he was about to hear, wishing he could cover his ears and pretend this was all a dream. Sebastian swallowed thickly, a low spoken apology on his tongue that Celia brushed off like dust on her shoulder. If the room had been tense before, it was suffocating now. Quiet except for the deep breaths Sebastian heaved, quiet except for the now borderline incessant rattle shaking in her chest. She swallowed, and he heard it grow worse.

"Crucio!"

For a moment, everything was still, entirely too quiet as the magic danced over her skin like red lightning. Celia blinked, meeting Sebastian's eyes for a moment before she felt it. The tingle, the itch, the final inkling that something was coming. Only for everything to blend together in a mesh of light and darkness, colors becoming a gray tinted red as pain like never before broke through the dam.

She wouldn't scream, not with Ominis standing but feet away. He made it clear those screams were unforgettable and she refused to add her own to that list. The world fell away beneath her feet, the solid stone flooring coming far too close to her face as she squeezed her eyes shut. Teeth digging into her lip as copper coated her tongue.

She couldn't scream now, not even if she wanted to. Her mind racing as her heart pounded in her chest to get out, her fingers clawed at her shirt, at her tie. She needed to get it out, out, out, out- No! Hands gripped hers in a vice grip, pinning tem flat to her chest as arms curled about her waist and she was moving and Good God, Merlin, please stop it-!

It's not real! The pain is fake, an illusion conceived by her own mind! Her logic failed, falling on her own deaf ears as the pain continued to get stronger on her skin. Feeling entirely too much like when she used the ancient magic she was blessed with. Her skin too tight, her body too small for her insides. Her veins and blood vessels were the wrong size, the wrong shape and she needed to get it out of her! Get it out of her chest before it makes her burst!

But Celia couldn't move her arms, couldn't do more than clench her fists until her nails were digging into her palms until one of her hands was snatched and- No! Please! Don't make her move, don't make her move. Moving was bad, bad, bad. She couldn't move, couldn't scream, and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that it hurt. Not when she could see his hand raising, see specs of blood stain the wine colored shirt worn for lessons. At least she knew now why white was a forbidden color in her wardrobe.

Every breath burned, every blink stinging and Maker, how she wished to scream. To beg for it to stop, to end. But begging did nothing but show weakness. And no Croft is allowed to show a weakness...

The world had long since grown dim, the figures around her turning blurry and hazy into one as she braced herself for the pain that would always be followed if she showed even a minute reaction. She already knows she failed the first test by flinching, by curling into herself. Her limbs were weighted, getting heavier and heavier by the second and Celia thanked her lucky stars that the sweet abyss of nothing was coming for her like a weighted blanket. Even if the dark whispers in her ears were barely heard over the piercing ring of silence, even if she couldn't keep her eyes open to see the cruel, dark smile shining in the night...

"Celia!?"

She doesn’t know who called her name, doesn’t have the strength to find out. Not when she knew she'd wake up, back in that shack. Alone, shivering and covered in her own blood with the expectation to care for her own wounds and return home before breakfast. She just... needed... needed to... rest... rest her eyes... for a... for a second....

@helendeath

#ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #hogwarts oc #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt x reader #swearing #hufflepuff #hufflepuff x slytherin #slytherin #salazar slytherin #hinted child abuse #implied abuse #child abuse #dark magic #of nifflers and magic

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thoughtsandbones · 1 year ago

Text

Between your hands, I open

I saw @tacticalanklebiter3000 do a repost about softdom and my mind went straight to our beloved masked menace, but with a twist..

Content: 18+, P in the V (use a rubber folks), Soft!dom, F!Dom, sex, established situationship/relationship on the DL... profanity.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x South Asian F!Reader ;)

(Although some OC mentioned from my on-going series)

The Anchor was thriving tonight. Laughter and the clinks of glasses hung within the air. The outside beer garden was prospering, buzzes of conversations, then a roaring laughter overruled the conversations.

Soap had just won another drinking game against you, he threw his head back and pointed towards you. You roll your eyes at him and grasp your pint in your hand and drain it of its contents. The sticky heat of the evening started getting to you, from the reflection of your phone screen you could see droplets of sweat on your forehead.

Pressing your empty, yet still cold, glass to your forehead, you feel a little relief from the heat.

Looking up you see Soap badgering Gaz and Price, Peyton laughs at them, not wanting to have a go at a drinking game with him when he asks her. To next to Soap was Ghost, his blue eyes glued to you. Nodding at him, he nods back averting his gaze down to his bourbon.

How could he wear a mask and a hoodie in this heat you think

Staring at your empty glass, and then at your watch you think it's time to go home.

Ghost gazed upon you, parts of your hair stuck to the glistening skin of your chest. It was the first time he'd seen you wear a dress, especially how the pink colour made your tanned skin glow, the mix of sweat, heat and the perfume you wore was his own personal elixir of... he lifted his mask slightly and took a soup of the icy bourbon.

He snaps out of that trail of thought. He couldn't go back to that memory now. Here of all places. He glances back over to you and your eyes flick to meet his. Like magnets. Suddenly, your face changed as you looked at him, holding his gaze; eyes glazed with a sudden lust, biting of the lower lip. His eyes drifted back to your eyes, you flickered your lashes, coated with mascara, the once sharp eyeliner now blurred on your eyelid. The sudden wink you gave him was all he needed to know what awaited him.

"Gonna head home now" You say aloud, placing the glass back down on the table. You get up and leave and say your final goodbyes to everyone as you slip your jacket over your arm.

Grabbing a taxi home, you take out your phone, like it was second nature, you text Mine in 30 mins? you hit send, and seconds later your phone vibrated, a flutter in your chest as you read.

Course :)

Letting yourself in your flat, you rush to the shower, turning it on, the both the heat of the sun and the heat from your loins were scorching your skin. You strip yourself of your dress, underwear and enter the tub, the cold water cooling your brown skin. A sense of slight relief overcomes you.

After finishing the shower, you moisturise, fresh cotton lacy pale lilac underwear and a lilac lacy bra, grabbing your large t shirt and shorts.

There was a heavy knock on the door, you slip the shorts on and make way, opening it, revealing the lieutenant, his blue eyes, dart of your face. You smile and tilt your head

"Hey" slips out

"Hey again" Ghost replies, looking down at you, he was disappointed that the dress you wore was gone. You make way for him to enter.

"It's boilin' out there" He says walking in, taking off his hoodie, revealing his t-shirt, in black of course, patches soaked in sweat.

You walk over to him, lightly placing your hand in his shoulder, trailing your fingers to the skin of his upper arm, sweat coated between the blonde strands of hair.

"Want a cold shower?" You ask, lacing your fingers through his.

Ghost turns around and takes his mask off, revealing a sweaty red, yet clean shaven face, wreathed with various scars, you took little notice to those. His eyes coaxed yours.

"Cold bath?" He asks, widening his blue eyes coming closer to you, grabbing a strand of hair that was damp between his fingers "See you already had one withou' me" He smirks

You smile back "It was too hot out there" You reply, reaching for his hand that held the strand, and guiding him to the bathroom, he walks with no restraint.

Reaching over bath you seal it, and bring down the shower head. Turning the taps on so the cold water fills the tub. Simon strips down before you, and smiles as you check the water and place some bath soap in the tub, he marvelled at the way you instinctively grabbed the lotions of potions that will soothe him.

He then sits in the white porcelain tub, knees bent, his hands swaying in the water as the bubbles accumulate around him, he looks at you as you reach for your shampoo, and sinks his head back into your hands as your lather the shampoo in his hair with the shower head, closing his eyes so his senses can focus on the touch of your fingertips running between his hair, gently, massaging the flesh that forms a barrier to his own skull.

"Let me take care of you" You whisper in his ear, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

Simon hums as your fingers trail down his body, wiping away the built-up dirt and sweat, the cold water surrounding him bringing him comfort on this hot English day with a bamboo loofah.

He never knew someone could treat him with such care and tenderness. Your hands dance around his body, he follows your commands; just like you followed his.

When you ask him to get up, so you can dry him with a big towel you got just for him, he does so, there is no embarrassment or guilt, just comfort and trust for the first time in this exposed position.

You wrap the towel around his waist, he sits on the edge of the bath tub, he pulls you close and nips your neck, you smile as you look down at him, holding him close, arms draped over his broad muscular shoulders.

"Can you do the skin thing on my face" He mumbles, burying his head in your chest. You pull away slightly and lift his chin with your finger, and smile.

"What do you want me to do?" You ask, grinning slightly.

"I want you to put that fancy stuff on my face" He says, cheeks turning red. His arms wrapped around your waist, hands resting on your bum.

Smiling back, you nod and then start the same skincare routine you do on him, cleanse, tone and apply a sheet mask, a new look that makes you giggle.

"Think you should switch to this mask when in the field" You say, he scoffs slightly, and gives a light smack on your arse, the sensation moistening your clothed pudendum.

Once the routine was done, Simon drags you back to the bed, he tries to get you to go on the bed, but you spin round under his arms, and try and push him down. He smirks at the attempt and sits down, leaning back down on the bed, legs planted on the floor, all done willingly for you. He watches as your top and shorts are taken off and climb on top of him. He moans and takes in the sight of you, his hands grazing the edges of your lingerie, the lilac bra enhancing the golden brown skin. His rough hands linger across the flesh of your bum and down your thigh back, dragging his nails deeper into your tissue back up to the waistband of your underwear.

"Tell me what you want Simon" You say kissing his chest, making your way up to his lips, locking eyes.

Your hair is scattered around his face, you were millimetres apart. He wasn't sure what you meant, you were what he wants, he has you right now on top of him. You look deep into his ocean blue eyes, and then down his face, scattered are scars of all kinds, you kiss each one.

"You" He rasps, hoping that'll satisfy.

You move away, sitting up, but planting yourself on his crotch, where nothing but a towel covered him.

"Tell me specifically what you want me to do Simon" You say looking at him, smiling, running your fingers up and down his chest.

"Kiss me" He whispers, closing his eyes, longing for your lips on his mouth again.

You oblige, but you reach down where the towel was held together, untying it, moving down, and start kissing his inner thighs.

Simon groaned, his hands finding your head, now it was his chance to run his fingers through your hair, his nails grazing the scalp. His hardened cock twitches at your touch.

Kissing the flesh covering his pelvic bone, you start nibbling at the skin, leaving small little red marks in your path as you go across his body. Your hands trail the muscles of his torso, and his arms. He shudders beneath you as you run your tongue down the indents of his muscles and scars.

Making your way back to his mouth, you take off your underwear, now too wet, and sit on top of his heavy cock, the flesh and bone grinding against each other. Simon groans in pleasure.

You kiss the skin, the scars, the parts of him he hides. This was your way of telling him he shouldn't be ashamed.

"You're teasin' me" He groans, as he tried to move his hand to his cock to put it in you, but you grab his hand and pull it back near his head. You move up to his face, and grin whilst holding his arm down, you gaze at the tattoos adorned on his lower arm, skulls, bullets, bombs; chaotic remnants of war.

"Good" You say smugly and start kissing his cheeks, and down his neck, using your teeth gently as you bite away at him. Grinding harder against his hard member, lathered in your juices.

Simon groans louder, with his other free hand he gives you another light smack on the arse, you laugh into his chest and then move his nipples, biting down harder this time. In your procession of masticated flesh, the tiny capillaries burst in a deep red colour down Simon's waist and across his abs.

"Sit up for me" You say and Simon does so, you motion to the headboard of the bed. You climb on top, and position yourself, sliding onto his huge cock.

"Ahhhhhh fuck" Simon moans as you go down and up slowly. He watches you, his hands clasping the small of your back. He feels you clench his member, moving up and down slowly. He noticed you were still wearing that pretty lilac bra.

Bet it would look better on the floor he thinks to himself, kissing the skin of your chest. He watches as you moan softly, bouncing gently on him.

"Bite me harder" You say, moving closer to him, your breasts practically touching his cheeks. He removed the bra, freeing the breasts, he grasps them gently in his hands as he suckles on skin near the nipples. You moan deeply. He moves to bite your nipples, and leaves red marks around the flesh of your breasts.

Whilst on top, you change the motion of your hips, from up and down, to round in circles, clockwise and anti-clockwise, Simon moans against your chest and pulls you in tighter. He tries to move up and down into you but you tell him to stop, you're in charge this time.

He slowly let's himself go, your hands cradle his head, he looks up at you and then down to the breasts that begin to bounce as you slightly increase in speed, you kiss his forehead. Fingers running through his damp blonde hair, slicking it back.

Simon bites down on your neck, digging his finger nails into your flesh as your speed up.

"Feel good?" You moan softly

"Course love" Simon says against your skin, and looks up at you. You smile down at him. He turns his head back between your breasts.

He felt the pleasure build up within him, he felt like he was going to burst at the rate your were going. But suddenly, as though you sensed it, you stop. He looks up astonished.

You laugh and smile, kissing his lips, the salty sweat dancing on your tastebuds.

"Lay down for me Simon" You say, and he does so, you still on top, he shimmies down the bed. Sweat clings to his skin. You move your hips, back and forth, engaging your core as you slowly move. Simon rests his hands on your hips, the pleasure building again, he felt his body tremble with lust and desire, he watched as your abs flexed and breasts bounce.

"God you're so handsome" You say, tracing your hands over his body and to hip face, especially his Adonis belts, adorned with two long scars and a gun shot.

Simon scoffs and rolls his eyes, you take note, and slow down to stop, he watches as you lean over and kiss his lips again.

"You. Are. So. Handsome." You again, kissing him between each word. His blue eyes look back into yours, he grips on your hips tighten as he tried to make you start moving again, his hips thrusting into you.

"You're so handsome and cool" You say, smiling. Leaning back you start moving.

"Drivin' me insane here" He says massaging your breasts, tugging at your nipples. You moan aloud. He loves how you take your time, commanding both his and yours pleasure, your words and touch making him feel loved.

Suddenly, he cums, inside you, without warning, he feels an electric ripple go through him as his cock pulsates inside you.

"Finally came? You say kissing his cheeks and lips.

"Yeah" He says gasping, his body vibrating with satisfaction, you stroke his cheek and kiss him. Simon holds you in tight and looks up to you, words struggle to come out as he opens and closes his mouth.

"Simon, you are so amazing and desirable" You say beaming at him. With all his final strength he rolls you over and kisses you deeply as he thrusts his buzzing member deeper within your portal. Slowly coming out of you, he watches as you lay there stroking his arms.

"Let me clean you up love" He says, bring you close to him, you get up with him, legs feeling like jelly, stumbling slightly, Simon steadies you.

"You took out it me and you" He mumbles, kissing your neck, taking you to the bathroom, you laugh lightly. Although his legs, no, his body was tingling, and he wanted nothing more to lay back down, it was his turn to care for you. You finally opened him up.

Simon carried you back to the bed, fresh underwear, no bra under spare t-shirt of his, he laid beside you, wearing his boxers, the bare skin of his chest glowing from the sweat, he grabbed his phone and put some music on. You sit up, look down on him, he brings his hands to your face, grasping at the nape of your neck, pulling you in close.

He kisses you and strokes your lower back as you rest on top. After some time, you had fallen asleep across his chest. Simon ran his fingers through your hair. He felt his eyelids become heavy. Closing his eyes he allowed himself to drift off with you in this moment.

He didn't care if the world ended right now, because the only person he cared for in the entire world was here, resting on his chest. It was with you he finally bloomed.

#simon ghost riley #modern warfare fanfiction #fan fic ideas #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #fluff #softdom #simon ghost riley x reader smut #modern warfare smut #ghost smut

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