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notjustjavierpena · 3 months ago

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Needy

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: LONG AGO, @yxtkiwiyxt tagged me in a post about Pedro in a black tee and jeans that reminded her of her hubby. Then this happened. I hope you can forgive the wait.

Summary: Pregnancy comes with horniness.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Pregnancy and hormones, touch-starved, hot sweaty javi, so many pet names in spanish, praise kink, pregnancy sex, light dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, couch sex, slow and intense riding, piv sex, pussy eating, face-sitting, finger-fucking, multiple orgasms, squirting, handjob, pillow talk

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62563027

Needy

A few months ago, a friend from work had asked you how far along you were in your pregnancy over lunch and snickered knowingly when you said that your second trimester would be ending around now. She had leaned close and whispered in a voice only meant for you that she’d not been able to keep her hands off her husband when she’d entered her third trimester.

You had scoffed with heated cheeks, embarrassed by talking about your sex life with a coworker, and had not been sure what to say to such a statement. However, at 29 weeks pregnant where only sweatpants and dresses feel comfortable, you find yourself grateful that someone took the opportunity to warn you. Why? Because it’s like an itch that you cannot scratch.

You want Javier Peña all the goddamn time, not caring whether you will be the cause of rug burn to his poor manhood. You are a caged animal, stalking around restlessly in your enclosure because the confinement makes you stressed out and horny. There’s no time for decorum, no time to keep it together because it’s so torturous to have hormones raging through you that you have two options: Either you get down and dirty, getting fucked by him, or have a hissy fit that results in sobbing after flinging yourself onto the bed (a thing that often results in Javier doing his duty and pulling up the skirt of your dress with polite surrender).

Thankfully, not all days are that bad. Some days, the prickle of your skin and the ache between your thighs are nothing more than a dull sensation in the very back of your mind, a simmer that has a manageable warmth. It means you can take on the day without being on the verge of tears, suffering greatly if you aren’t touched.

Today, however, is not such a day.

Javier has been out of the house since sunrise, having kissed you goodbye in the morning in a way that has left you wanting more. His reason for leaving you to yourself all day hasn’t been unreasonable, spending his time as an unpaid ranch hand at his father’s farm.

Meanwhile, you have been listening to the tick of the clock on the wall, waiting like a damsel in distress for him to come home and save you from the curse your body has you under. You have tried everything to satisfy the devil in you and you’ve gone as far as to keep your phone locked up in your bedroom so you wouldn’t text him to come back early. After all, Chucho has had a rough time during spring, and this summer has called for an extra field hand, a thing he cannot afford to pay for in his retirement. The way Javier is committed to his family is actually one of the things you love most about him, and also why you had convinced yourself that it was fine to have a day to yourself this morning. However, as the sun dips lower on the horizon, it becomes more evident that Javier can never leave this long again.

Finally, as the evening drags on slowly and the sun starts painting the living room in yellows and oranges, you hear the sound of your husband’s truck pulling into the driveway. Your body responds immediately, your pulse spiking in the anticipation of the moment he walks in the door but there’s impatience in you unlike anything you have experienced before.

You rush to the window to peer out at him and spot him just in time to see him stepping out onto the stone driveway and slamming the old door shut behind him. A thrill goes through you, a longing to be in his arms immediately and it is so profound that you feel your throat tightening with relieved tears at having him here.

You cannot wait the minute it takes for him to walk inside, you decide, and so you rush to the front door and pull it open. You rush outside to greet him, your dress swooshing along your knees as you take quick steps.

The second he sees you, you can feel yourself ready to melt into a puddle. He looks dusty and tired yet still smiles softly as his eyes meet yours. He is just about to greet you when you give him no chance to speak, wrapping your arms around his neck and catching his mouth in a deep, fervent kiss. He rests his hands on your hips and you think you might die if he doesn’t have you right here.

“I missed you so bad,” you confess in a whine and find yourself unable to stop kissing him. You obscenely nip at his bottom lip, brush your tongue against the seam of his mouth, all the while murmuring in a desperate plea, “Don’t you ever leave your horny wife that long again.”

When in need of catching your breath, you make the mistake of burying your face in the crook of his neck. You pant already from how worked up you are, your mouth feeling sensitive and swollen already from your make-out session. His scent is of the outdoors mixed with the sweat from hard labor, and as you pull back slightly to gaze upon your man, you see the damp patch on his black t-shirt around his neck, a testament to how gorgeous he has looked as he worked under the sun all day.

Finally, as he is allowed to take a breath, a low chuckle falls from his mouth. There’s a tinge of desire in his voice as he speaks, “Let’s get you back inside the house, mi amor (my love). I fear what you might do out here.”

“Promise me you’ll fuck me,” you groan against his shoulder, at the mercy of your body and therefore not strong enough to play coy, to tease and make him chase you. You’re all his because his touch is the only remedy for your relentless yearning.

“Te prometo, mamacita (I promise, mamacita),” he promises. He locks up the car, smiling to himself as he sees you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. When he has pulled the handle a few times to make sure the truck is locked, he urges you to go back into the house.

When you start walking, you feel his broad hand rest on the small of your back and the car keys jingling from his thumb. You have to catch a feeble noise in your throat, your palms laying on your swollen belly to keep them busy.

Once inside, Javier throws the car keys into a bowl on the side table next to the door. He marches across the room, boots heavy on the floorboards, and then lets himself fall down into the couch with an exhausted grunt. He reaches up to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands, sighing deeply from the satisfaction.

You follow him around like a puppy would follow its owner, and when he doesn’t make any moves to fulfill your every desire this instant, you take matters into your own hands and show him that you are not playing around when you display your desperation.

You waste no time straddling him, hiking up your dress enough for the only fabric between him and your core to be the cotton of your panties. It’s visible, the way his mouth goes dry, the way your beautiful pregnant body turns him on in a ridiculously short time. When his left hand touches your hip again and his right rests on your belly, rubbing soothingly, he silences every voice in your head.

“Mi niña (my girl),” he coos when he has regained his composure and your whole body buzzes. He has a coy smile on his face, “You’re so beautiful up there.”

“How beautiful?” You ask, reaching between your bodies to undo the zipper on his usual jeans to get his cock out. He doesn’t protest, simply lets you take what you need from him until the edge has been taken off. He knows better than to dismiss your urgency when you have been deprived of his dick for an inhumanely long time. Instead, he reaches to slip a finger into the front of your panties and moves them to the side.

“More beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen in all my years on this Earth.” he charms with immediate success because you drag his jeans and underwear down just enough to be able to sink down on his bare cock and with no concern for his gnawing zipper.

He groans while you gasp, your mouth falling open and your eyes blinking closed at the immediate relief of being stretched out by his generous size. He fits inside of you, large and pulsing against your fluttering walls and you find yourself already moving on top of him.

“Fuck, you’re drenching me,” he murmurs gruffly beneath you, and yes, you are. Your pussy is soaked for him, squelching obscenely each time it takes him to the brim, “Is this all because of how I left you alone all day? How cruel of me. I made this pussy all wet.”

Usually, you would reply with something but you have been so desperate during the last few hours that you find yourself completely fucked out already. You move faster, greedy for release, and Javier says your name to no avail.

Suddenly, his hand slides up your forearm and over your shoulder. It settles right at the base of your skull and it holds onto you firmly until you come back to him. He tilts your head so he can lock eyes with you.

You whimper when his other hand stops your movements on his cock altogether, and it borders on embarrassing when your desperation causes you to tear up, “Please, Javi.”

“You’ve got such a greedy pussy today, mi amor (my love),” he tuts disapprovingly and holds you still. He seems almost like he would be content with just having your warm heat wrapped around him, squeezing him occasionally when you think about what he could be doing.

“I just want you so much, papí,” you moan pathetically and wiggle slightly in his lap. He nods while dragging his nails down your spine, testing you to see if you will behave in the seconds it takes to place his palms on your sides.

“I know,” he says gently while cupping your waist, “Listen to me.”

You are wide-eyed and at your wit’s end. You’ll do anything to have him make you come.

“I’m going to make you come on it,” he says and fucks up into you once, nearly making you fall off his lap from the surprise. He steadies you with his hands sliding across your skin to firmly hold onto your lower back, urging you to start rolling your hips back and forth instead of up and down, “And then I am going to make you sit on my face until you come on that too.”

You swallow thickly, tiny mewls and moans escaping your mouth as you ride him slowly. You thoroughly love it when he directs you, takes care of you, and since getting pregnant, he knows how much you need him to make decisions before you throw a tantrum in your horniness.

“Is this what you wanted?” He taunts without any meanness behind his words, clutching your body in his grip to keep you from falling into another vigorous pace, “To make your pussy feel good, hm? She happy now?”

“Mhm… Very happy,” you nod with a tiny smile, moving slowly in his lap because he isn’t allowing you anything more. He fills you repeatedly with each movement of your hips over his, the head of his cock threatening each time to slip out of you before he guides you to take him all the way again. It feels like heaven, your orgasm building slowly but steadily instead of rapidly. He knows you so well, knows how disappointing it would have been if it was over too soon.

“You’re all I thought about today too,” he murmurs against your mouth when you dip down to kiss him, cupping his face and letting your thumbs caress his cheeks before you go further up to tug at his hair. Your hands are made to slide between the soft tufts, just like your body is made to melt into his arms.

“Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero (I love you, I love you, I love you),” you repeat breathlessly, a little firmer in your pace. His cockhead catches at something just right inside of you and it makes you nearly double over into him.

“Don’t rush it, mamí,” he tells you gently and maneuvers you to tilt your hips ever so slightly, “It’ll come. You’re so close. Fuck, I love you so much.”

You come so intensely from that slight change of angle that your vision blurs. It is deep and overwhelming, everything below your navel pulling at you before going off into squeezes of pure, indescribable ecstasy. Your voice cracks, your moans pitch, and you can hear Javier’s name tumble from your lips while you repeat just how much you’re there.

“I’m coming, fuck, I’m coming,” you groan with furrowed brows, pulling his face into your chest and feeling him kiss on top of the fabric of your dress.

“I know, baby, I know,” he moans while you ride it out, “Fuck, I know you are. You’re taking it so fucking well.”

It takes a few long seconds for your climax to start fading. You rock in his lap until you cannot do it anymore, and then you come to a halt with him still settled deep inside you. He rubs your thighs to soothe and draws back a little to look at you while you pant from exertion.

“Eres perfecta (You’re perfect),” he mumbles with awe, “Did that help, huh?”

You nod with a blissed-out expression, suddenly very aware of how much you were actually in distress because there’s a lightness to your very core. Your cheeks are warm, your heartbeat slowing after having pounded in your chest.

“Let’s take this off,” he coos, helping you out of your dress completely. You haven’t worn a bra today since your breasts are sore and firm with milk, and so he has you in nearly all your glory while you are warming the length of his still-hard dick too.

“That better?” He asks again, kissing the bare skin of your upper chest where you feel like you are burning up from not having undressed earlier. Eagerness comes with a price.

“Sí (Yes),” you mumble and inhale his scent while resting your cheek on top of his head. You swirl your hips to make him growl beneath you, “Your turn.”

“You think I’m done with you?” His voice is smug as he stills you on top of him again before his hand rubs along the curve of your pregnant belly, “You think I’d break my promise and let this pussy be all touch-starved? She needs more.”

“But Javi,” you say with your brain still fuzzy, mind a jungle from how well he touches you.

“Shut your brain down and take off your panties. I want to take care of my pregnant wife,” he orders with a peck to your slightly parted lips. He groans when you drag yourself off his cock, leaving a wet shine on the smooth skin. It slaps against his belly and forms a dark stain on his black t-shirt.

You stand, albeit a little wobbly, in front of the couch and shimmy out of your underwear in the most elegant way possible with a pregnant belly. Then you watch him tug his jeans down his thighs and kick them off. He follows it up by ridding himself of his t-shirt too before rearranging himself on the sofa to make it easy for you both. He chooses to lie flat on his back, stretching his body, overworked from today’s farmwork, with a satisfied grunt while he waits for you to climb onto him.

“Come here, mamacita,” he says when you straddle him carefully. He coaxes you to crawl forward by pushing gently on the back of your thighs. You always worry about smothering him like this, especially when pregnant, but he doesn’t ever complain, actually gets more enthusiastic about it than you.

“¿Así? (Like this?)” You ask shakily when you hover just above his ravenous mouth. His breath ghosts over your cunt, cooling the slick slightly and driving you crazy.

“Así, yes, just like that,” he replies. He reaches up and runs his index finger across your clit before spreading you open for his tongue, your body responding with a sharp intake of air, “You want me to touch you here, baby?”

“Yeah, so badly,” you swallow around nothing and close your eyes, waiting patiently for him to stop his teasing. He is so good at this that the wait is awful.

“Yeah,” he repeats without mocking you, “My gorgeous wife is insatiable.”

Luckily, he doesn’t keep you waiting. His nose nudges you first then his mouth. He kisses your sensitive clit a few times before tensing up his tongue, it feeling silky smooth where you need it the most.

One of his strong hands rests on your swollen belly while the other scratches along the length of your thigh, creating nail marks that he soothes with his rough palm afterward. Simultaneously, his touch makes you relax further and settle more onto his face.

“Use me, honey. I deserve to be used for how cruel I have been,” he hums below you before he stretches his neck and dives in to practically devour your cunt, You rock yourself back and forth with tiny gasps at the heat already tightening in your belly, his nose catching on your clit with every other grind of your hips to build another orgasm steadily.

But despite how much he’d claim that he’s not aching to come, you wouldn’t believe it for a second. With a stretched-out arm behind you and your palm on his thigh to steady you, you lean back slightly so your other hand can reach for his still hard and ready cock. You wrap your fingers around him to earn a gasp against your core, the work of his tongue faltering for just a second.

You stroke him with the same hunger that he is showing you, working him to the edge while both of your moans bounce off the walls even if he is muffled by how enthusiastically he eats your pussy at the same time.

He comes with his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, his body tensing up for a second until it releases with a groan. The sound is so hot that you grind a little harder on his skilled tongue, feeling how he pulses in your hand and coats it in thick stripes of his seed.

He responds almost gratefully. Both hands settle on the small of your back to pull you forward onto your hands and knees. You try not to get come onto the couch, giggling in surprise through a moan of his name. But the laughter dies in your throat when he holds you firmly in place and slips one hand between your thighs again.

He pushes two fingers into you while suckling expertly on your clit. You see stars begin to form on your eyelids, almost wail when he makes a come-hither motion towards your belly.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

“I think… Javi, I’m gonna— Stop, I’ll—“ you cry when your thighs start to shake. He doesn’t relent, apparently knows exactly what he wants and he isn’t shy about it like you are. His fingers work fast, enough for your cunt to drool into his palm.

And with that, you come one more time and the pressure it releases inside of you is so good that it makes you gush all over his chin. Your voice breaks into a high-pitched cry and he holds his fingers against that perfect spot inside of you, keeps them there while your orgasm peaks and you can’t help but apologize for how much you’re wetting his face.

When you think it is over, he drags the digits out slowly and shoves them back in. The pads of his fingers have you hunching over and gasping his name, another gush forcing its way past his fingers. He drinks your come as if he were a man in the desert, desperate and starved.

You take it like a champ, trying not to squash him with how your thighs tighten around his head during the last few shocks of pleasure that he brings out of you, and eventually, you sag enough for him to help you back down into his lap.

You are horrified by the sight of him at first, red-faced and bathed in your slick and come. However then you see the glint in his eyes, the lopsided grin that he gives you as he props himself up on an elbow. He is pussydrunk out of his mind.

“How are you feeling now, mi vida (my life)?” He asks while reaching for his t-shirt with his free hand. He wipes his face with it, his eyes still glazed over with bliss and pride; the combination that only exists in a man who has just made his wife orgasm let alone gush all over him.

“Forget about me,” you laugh breathlessly and use the t-shirt for your messy hand too, “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Very good,” he sits up to face you and lets you take the t-shirt out of his hands. He looks completely at your mercy, “You’re so fucking hot.”

“I bet,” you find a clean side of the garment to wipe at a spot he has missed then playfully swipe at his nose, “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome, mi amor (my love),” he whispers as he comes closer. He takes your wrist in his hand until you drop the t-shirt and then leans in for a long, drawn-out kiss that has your whole body weak. He guides your hand to his face and mirrors it with his own on your cheek. The look he gives you causes you to chew on your bottom lip, “Lo siento por hoy (I’m sorry about today).”

“You don’t have to apologize for your wife being a little crazy because of hormones,” you brush it off - after all, the aftermath always makes you look back on it and feel silly - but he just rests his forehead against yours and nods.

“I know but I should have cleared it with you and with the baby, or at least have taken you with me,” he kisses your forehead and you feel how tired you are now, the sweet gesture grounding you even more than sex ever could.

“As if we could have done anything about my little problem at your dad’s,” you try once again to let it slide. You rest your face in the crook of his neck, content with your naked vulnerability in his presence.

“I would’ve found a way,” he jokes and earns a slap to his chest but then his tone grows serious. He buries his nose in your hair, “Eres todo para mi. Eres mi vida, mi esposa hermosa, la madre de mi hijo (You’re everything to me. You’re my life, my beautiful wife, the mother of my child).”

“Javi,” you look up at him shyly from where your head rests. He smiles down at you but mirrors your tone to tease and says your name.

“Hablo en serio (I’m serious). I would do anything for you, mamá,” he adds, “And for our bebé.”

“Even fetch me - I mean us - a snack?” You grin, glowing with fondness for him but feeling nearly overwhelmed by his words in your state of bliss. He knows how much you love him though, knows it especially by how you look at him right now.

“Especially fetch you a snack,” he wraps his arms around you to hug you tightly, your belly bumping against his, “What does the queen of this household want?”

“A strawberry milkshake?” You suggest hesitantly as if to make the request optional, “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“A strawberry milkshake!” He repeats enthusiastically and makes you laugh, making the way he detangles himself from you easier even if you want him to never leave your side again.

“Who knew that growing a baby came with having a househusband,” you say while he gets up from the couch and helps you to lie down comfortably. He puts a pillow under your knees and one behind your back. The couch’s mess will have to wait.

“It’s the full Javier Peña experience,” he leans down over you for one last kiss before he pushes himself to stand up straight once more. He doesn’t look at you as he continues, has already turned his back. You watch the way his muscles flex as he heads for the kitchen, shirtless and only in his boxers, “And I plan on doing it forever, mi reina (my queen).”

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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nicksolemnlyswears · 4 months ago

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FORGED UNDER FIRE

blurb: when brennan sorrengail died he left more than his family and a dragon behind. he left his best friend. he left his lover. he left his unborn child.

pairing: brennan sorrengail x rider! reader

word count: 1.1k

a/n: first and foremost, this is unedited. second, i've had this in my drafts since i finished reading fourth wing in september. i kinda wanted to make it a fic but lost some steam. i don't think i'll continue this but if i do it will be shorter blurbs/moments rather than the 10k monstrosities i like to write. i figured it wouldn't do anything in my drafts so here you go!

i like the idea of brennan having someone he befriends and takes under his wing while at basgiath war college. there's so much we don't know about him and this is me filling some of the gaps with the wonderful fanfiction.

i hope you enjoy! i honestly love fourth wing so damn much and i can't wait for onyx storm. i even have tickets for rebecca yarros tour in january. so yes, read, enjoy and let me know what you think!

The cold wind drifted around you, ruffling the grass and the branches of the dispersed trees. The sunrise was turning from a beautiful deep blue to a pale pink that bled into orange. The chill bites into your cheeks and nose, reddening them, but you welcomed it. It numbed the pain that continued to tear through your heart.

“You must stop thinking so much about him.” Your dragon Calliss shares through your link. She’s the angry voice in your head reminding you to move forward.

“I thought we agreed I could wallow in my misery this time of year.”

The day that marks his death came and went yet it left you with a whirlwind of emotions. You should’ve moved on long ago, the pain in your chest turned into a soft ache that you remember fondly as you rebuild your life without him. Still, it remains a deep gash that continues to bleed and keeps you up at night, unmoving.

“You have better things to do.” Calliss reminds you. Its inscription day and people from all over the continent will be arriving to drop off their children.

“Mhm. Yeah, sure.”

The red dagger tail huffs behind you. The air coming from her nostrils counteracting the cold breeze. She’s moody because you shut her out instead of letting her help.

The ground lightly shakes and the air stirs as another dragon lands near Calliss. General Sorrengail’s brown dragon, Aimsir. The older woman approaches you and sits down beside you on the damp grass. Despite her reputation she’s been kind to you, patient even. She’s kept you close, tucked under her wing just like he used to.

Your signet allowed Lilith to keep you closer than most. Otherwise, she’d have no choice but to leave you on your own to battle your emotional wounds.

It tends to weigh in your conscious that she only does it because you have the last piece of him. Had it not been the case, would she have cared as much?

At the same time, you’re eternally grateful. Had it not been for Lilith Sorrengail you would definitely be cold and dead. Despite all the bad days, there have been good ones woven in and you wouldn’t trade those for nothing in the world.

“Violet goes today,” Lilith says, looking at you sternly.

“You sure this is what you want to do?” You ask her, keeping your gaze on the mountain and the sunrise.

Lilith has discussed Violet's inscription with you time and time again. It's the one thing she continues to think about since the death of her husband, which is unusual. The woman is confident in her decisions, she's calculating and precise. A wonderful quality for a commander, but it falters when it comes to her children.

“Do you think she won’t be able to make it?”

You sigh and look down at the grass before your eyes shift up to look at her. “She’ll make it. She might've been raised by a scribe but she was also raised by you and Mira and Brennan which means Violet won't go down without a fight. She won’t go down easy. It is my belief dragons respect that.”

Saying his name is difficult. It's heavy on your tongue as you enunciate the syllables. So familiar yet strange at the same time.

Lilith hums in agreement, leaving a period of silence to hang in the air. She’s giving you time to talk, to bring him up. When you don’t she takes matters into her own hands.

“I can’t believe it’s been five years.”

“Only five and it feels like a century,” you scoff, pulling at the grass blades near your crossed feet. Calliss and Aimsir shuffle behind you two, making the ground tremble. It used to scare you as a cadet.

“You should get out there again, try and find something that at least resembles what you had with Brennan,” Lilith dares say.

You gasp in a sharp intake of air at the mention of his name. It’s not a surprise for Lilith to suggest such a thing. After all, it’s been five long years since Brennan left, died. But, does she not feel like she’s betraying her own son by suggesting this?

“She’s right,” Calliss voice purrs in your ear. She’s suggested it more than once, begging you to ‘release the tension you have inside.’ You've tried but the sense of betrayal that follows reopens old wounds.

“Hush, Calliss.”

Calliss growls from behind you, voicing her displeasure at you telling her to quiet. Humans do not tell dragons what to do.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able replicate what I had with Bren. It was forged at Basgiath under the threat of imminent death. I was another person there who needed help desperately and Bren was the perfect person to guide me. He was one of a kind, our circumstances were one of a kind. It might’ve been short lived but it held so much value.” You give Lilith a smile and shake your head, “I have everything I need. I’m making a name for myself, which was what I always wanted. I was married, and I have a child who I love to death.”

Lilith nods offering you one of her rare smiles. She stands, dusting off her clothes from any sticking grass. “Speaking of, we have to make our way back before he wakes and brings the house down.”

You nod and laugh, “Oh, he’s going to throw a fit when Violet goes.”

Your son and Violet are as thick as thieves. They get along well and Violet loves to spoil him. She’s never one to turn down babysitting or entertain him when you need a break. After all, he's what she has left of her brother.

“Maybe Mira will get him to calm down,” Lilith hopes, climbing up Aimsirs leg.

You have one question for Lilith. From the ground, glancing up at her you ask. “How do you do it? It’s been five years and I feel just as heart broken as I did that day.”

Brennan’s father passed away about a year ago. His heart giving out on him. All because of Brennan’s death. You mourned him too, he had always been kind to you and he loved his grandchild. It might’ve been the only reason he held on for so long.

Lilith sighs and takes a moment to form her words. “Your relationship was young and somewhat new, barely 4 years. He was the first person you trusted. You had your whole life ahead of you. My husband and I were together for nearly 30 years. We travelled all around Navarre, had three amazing children, and we watched them grow up. I wish he was here to see what will become of Violet but,” she pauses without finishing her sentence. “My point is you were full of what ifs and places to go. It’s hard to move on from that when you keep trying to make sense of it.”

“I wish I knew I was pregnant before he died so I could’ve told him. Maybe things would’ve been different,” you confess.

“Possibly. I know Brennan would’ve loved him.” With those last words General Sorrengail flies off, leaving you and Calliss alone once more.

“No more moping. We have a job to do,” she says, urging you to get on her back.

“Thank you for being patient with me,” you tell her honestly.

Calliss is opinionated but she wants what’s best for you. She continues to feel all the pain Brennan’s death caused you. All her snide remarks are only meant to encourage you to manage your pain and move forward.

“Beware. It’s running thin today.”

thoughts?

#fanfiction #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing fanfiction #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #violet sorrengail #brennan sorrengail x reader #brennan sorrengail #fanfic

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justagirlswrld · 8 days ago

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Dirty movies

a/n: i don’t watch porn fr but i had a idea. feed back welcomed.

summary: sam promised to get dean your autograph but that didn’t mean fuck you first!

warnings: porn w plot, very inaccurate portrayal of porn sets but for the sake of story☝🏽, 69, real porn titles, i didn’t feel like coming up w originals, protected p in v.

“So, let me get this straight-”, Dean stops cleaning his pistol, opting to lay it on the wobbly motel table, the chrome glinting in the morning sun that peaked from between the hotel curtains. Dean turns toward his brother to make sure he can hear him clearly, “You’re going to the Sunset Studios and you want me to sit here lookin’ like a dumbass?” Sam smirks, shrugging on his jacket before grabbing a small iron knife and putting it in the inside pocket, “Yeah, pretty much.”

This earns a dramatic groan from Dean as he gets up from the rickety, motel chair, following behind Sam as he makes his rounds across the room, watching him stuff items he may need wherever they can fit.

“No way, I’m sitting in this crap room while you step foot on the set of where Night of the Giving Head was filmed.” Dean does nothing to hide the whimsy in his voice as disgust takes over Sam’s features, “Dean, the FBI is after you. Unless you want to sit in a cell all day instead of a hotel room, I suggest you don’t leave.” Sam says, grabbing the Impala keys and making his way to the door.

“Sammy” Dean calls from the bed after flopping on it, grin illuminating his face, “If you see Y/N can you get her autograph?”

When Sam arrives at the Sunrise Studios it’s nicer than he expected (not that he expected much), a small, two story building framed by a handful of palm trees. He watches from the Impala as people bustle in and out the front door, noting that they stop and talk to a secretary through the large glass windows.

Sam plasters a smile on his face as he walks through the automatic doors, the breeze from a fan cools his sweltering skin and he’s greeted by the pleasant smell of citrus. His hazel eyes roam the waiting room on his descent to the front desk, it was also much nicer than he expected.

a woman that looks like she walked off a magazine cover is smiling at him when he approaches, she eyes him from behind oval shaped glasses, taking in his youthful appearance and relaxed clothing.

“Good morning, are you an intern?” Sam doesn’t miss a beat, “Yeah, my name’s Richie Sambora, i’m here to meet with Walton Ortega.” And that want necessarily a lie, Sam did need to meet with Ortega to get more details on the death he’d witnessed, it was essential to the case.

Sam takes in the cluttered state of the secretaries desk, eyes flickering from scattered pens and balled up paper to a framed picture of a pretty girl. The victim. He couldn’t help but connect her face back to the one he saw in the newspaper several hours ago.

The secretaries eyes go wide before she’s out of her seat, “Oh! He’s been waiting on you..,” Her pretty face looks apprehensive and Sam notices the change in emotion. “Are you okay?..” Sam knows he’s pushing it but he can’t help but ask, “You knew Zoe? I went to college with her. I’m sorry for your loss.” Her eyes look from Sam’s then to the picture on her desk. “She was my best friend.” She doesn’t offer more before walking from behind the desk.

“he’s on set, I can take you there.” the click of her pointy heels accompanies Sam as they make their way to the elevator, “I’m sorry to pry but did you get to see Zoe before she died?” Sam asks as she presses the button to call the elevator, he notices her back stiffen as he peers down at her. “…I told you she was my best friend”, she looks up at Sam,“Why?”

The silver doors opens on arrival and Sam follows her inside, “Was she acting weird? like having nightmares or seeing things.” She looks at him in the elevators reflection as she pushes the only number available, the elevator moves quickly to the second floor. “….She said someone was following her, but she was just paranoid.”

When they arrive the secretary ushers Sam to a door at the end of the hall with a manicured hand on his back, she comes to a abrupt stop when they step in front of the door, ruffling his hair before placing a hand on the door to push it open. Sam can’t help but to brace himself, hand going to the inside pocket of his jacket. Too many things that have wanted to kill him have popped out from behind closed doors.

But Sam’s happy (and surprised) to find an elaborately decorated movie set instead of a blood thirsty monster. The small room is set up to look like a young woman’s bed room, down to a king sized bed made up with a frilly, pink comforter and white pillows.

Ortega is in the middle of the set, Sam recognizes him from the apartment footage he’d gotten his hands on yesterday. He’s pacing back and forth in a leather jacket despite the heat with his cell phone pressed to his ear. When he see’s Sam enter he throws his hands up dramatically before clacking the phone shut.

“Finally”, he turns towards the camera crew lounging around before snapping his fingers twice, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The crew moves with urgency as Ortega casually pulls from his cigarette, Sam can’t see his eyes from behind his thick, dark sunglasses but he can feel Ortega’s scrutinizing stare. Sam smiles and goes to introduce himself before Ortega abruptly cuts him off.

“Sorry for the last minute ring but Jason got food poisoning and that is not sexy.” Ortega smiles and clamps a hand on Sam’s broad shoulder, “But you are so this will work.” Sam stutters as his cheeks go rosy, “What? No, I-” Ortega maneuvers a very uncertain Sam to sit on the set’s bed, its surprisingly soft when he sinks onto it.

“I’m just here to talk about the Zoe situation, would we be able to go to your office?” Ortega pushes his shades up then, it causes his short hair to turn into a spiky mess on his head.

“Zoe? My office?” Ortega looks at Sam incredulously, he waves over the brawny security guards lounging in plastic chairs outside the room, “Are you not the intern I ordered?” Ortega fold his arms and Sam sighs internally, looking towards security who was itching for a fight.

“No, I am- its jus-” A voice that reminds Sam of the feeling of velvet against his skin butts in, “O, he’s just nervous. Give him a break.” It was you in all your glory. He hadn’t even noticed you walk in the room.

Sam felt like he was in the presence of a star, which he rightfully was. You had made a name for yourself in the porn industry years ago, now you were something like household name. Not only were you in Dean’s top ten (#2) but you’d also got Sam through some tough times too.

He blushed from his place on the bed, trying to force his mind not to replay the memory of you red faced and moaning while some bald guy held your legs open as he pounded into you, he’d just jerked off to the video yesterday.

He could’nt help but shift his attention away from Ortega to you as you stride into the room like you owned it, a teasing smile on your glossy lips. Sam sucked in a breath as you sat by him on the bed.He couldn’t help but breathe in the smell of your tantalizing perfume, his gaze trailing from your fluffy robe and down to your exposed thighs, before finding their way to your manicured feet. Sam hadn’t realized how much he’d like french tip until he’d seen it on your manicured toes.

“Nervous my ass! You know what you signed up for when you signed the paper work-” Ortega takes a drag of his cigarette, “you’re an intern until we need you and I need you.” You turn your pretty face to look at Sam, you take in his slightly shell shocked expression and his rosie cheeks, “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” Your smile is dazzling as you scoot closer to him, your knee knocking against his.

“You don’t even have to show your face but it’s your decision, you can say no right now.” Oscar yells, spooking everybody in the room, causing them to jump slightly, “Don’t tell him that!” He sounds anguished but you just roll your eyes.

“Don’t listen to him.” You gently move some of Sam’s brown hair from his handsome face, his heart pounds as you take in his features,“…But I hope you say yes, I could have some fun with you.”

Sam’s agreeing before he can stop himself.

He’s able to bargain for 10 minutes in the bathroom (and only showing the neck down if needed) with an ecstatic ‘O’, which he’d requested Sam to call him, “O, as in orgasms,which you need to give Y/N a lot of.” He’s said as Sam speed walked out of the set.

He had 3 minutes left and he’s done nothing but grip the cool, sink and stare at his red face in the mirror. It almost felt like too much, the cameras, you and the fact that anybody could see his performance. He couldn’t fuck this up.

When Sam returned it was only you in the set, expensive camcorder in hand as something Sam. couldn’t place twinkled in your eyes. “You’re back, I was getting lonely.” Sam laughs nervously as he sits returns to his place on the bed, his hands run nervously over his jean covered knees. “Relax.” You say softly as you take his large hand in yours. You look into his hazel eyes, they were framed by lashes that almost looked better than yours. He was too handsome for his own good.

“We’re only gonna do some first person stuff.” You pass the camera to him slowly, he takes it like it’s a ticking bomb. You show him how to work it, making sure he can hold it comfortably. “Please think about the best angles or O will lose it.” Sam eyes you before repeating your sentence back to you with a confused tone. You shrug, “Think about what you’d want to see.”

You walk over to the night stand and take some mouth wash from it, tipping it back and swishing before handing it to Sam who does the same. You spit it into a cup before Sam follows. You smile at him enthusiastically, “Okay, so I say we kiss to get you comfortable. Then I taste you, you taste me-” Sam thinks he might’ve died on a botched hunt and went to heaven, “We fuck, we go home. cool?” Your nonchalant attitude calmed most of Sam’s nerves, his shoulders relax and he’s huffing out a ‘yeah.’

You slip off your robe from your place in front of Sam, for a moment he forgets he’s not at a motel and in front of his computer as he takes in your red and matching bra.

He takes his full bottom lip between his white teeth, you laugh and toy with the waist band of your panties when you notice, “You like it?” Sam nods as you seductively walk over to him. You move between Sam’s open legs and place a hand on his broad chest when you kiss him, his reaction is instantaneous as he grabs your plump ass and moans into your mouth.

You can’t help but smile when Sam’s soft lips find the warming skin of your neck, your hands moving from his chest to feel his hard biceps through his long sleeved shirt. “Let’s get you out of this.” Sam doesn’t protest as you pull the shirt over his head, once it’s off you can’t help but to trace the odd tattoo on his chest, you want to ask about its meaning but Sam’s lips are back in yours before the words can leave.

Your slowly trail your hand from his lean arm to his covered crotch, “Turn the camera on.” The whisper against Sam’s ear tickled but his body is moving without having to be told twice.

The sight of you moving onto the bed with your ass on display almost has Sam moaning. You move gracefully to the farthest side of the bed as he watches you through the camcorder screen, you fold your legs and sit on them as you introduce yourself in a heavy voice. When you change your position to open your legs and rub your clothed cunt with your manicured fingers Sam thinks he might drop the camera.

When Sam’s thick fingers replace yours, you let out a slight moan, watching as the digits rub the dampening gusset of your panties. When he pulls it aside and makes contact with your glistening folds, you take your lip between your teeth. Sam licks his lips as he looks at you through the camcorder screen, he angles it away from your face to get a good shot of him sinking two thick fingers into your heat.

Sam switches between watching your face contort with pleasure and your tight cunt squeezing his fingers as he stretches you open. He scoots back from his place on the bed to record your curled toes, “Feel good?” You moan in response at the sound of Sam’s husky voice, also because he brushed over a spot that had your thighs tensing.

Sam can’t resist adding in a third finger, he moans lightly at the sight of your pussy greedily sucking in his fingers. When his calloused thumb finds your clit you cum around his digits with a moan, holding onto his wrist as continues moving his fingers into your spasming cunt. Sam thinks his dick might burst through his jeans as he watches you fall apart, he moves the camera from your face to his fingers continuing his ministrations as he kisses you like a man possessed.

Sam moves the camera back to your flushed face when pulls his fingers from you. “Take my pants off.” The command is breathless and you quirk an eyebrow as you crawl over to him and free his hard cock, first from his jeans then to his precummed stain boxers.

His thick cock is heavy in your hands as you smile at the camera, “So pretty, baby.” You moan before licking his weeping, pink tip. Sam sucks in a breath before moving his hips away from your moist mouth, he really didn’t want to ruin the moment and cum on your face. “Scoot over.” Sam kicks his shoes off before pulling his bottoms off all the way, he gives you the camera as he lays on the bed, taking it from you once he’s comfortable on his back.

“Sit on my face, I wanna taste you.” Sam says as he thinks about your previous words. You happily oblige, sensually seating yourself above Sam’s mouth, he hands you the camera again so he can palm your ass with both hands. The sight of Sam’s messy, brown hair between your thick thighs has you panting.

You can’t help but turn the camera on him, he’s too occupied with devouring your cunt to notice, his eyes closed in concentration. With your thighs tensing around his head you can’t really see his face, just his tongue working fervently to get you off. “Hold on.” Sam reluctantly lets you go before you’re spinning around, now facing his toned stomach and hard cock.

You turn the camera on yourself, making sure to not get Sam as you lean over to Sam’s large cock. You turn the screen to you and you watch yourself lick Sam as he lowers you to his awaiting tongue.

You both groan, the vibrations from Sam and the way his tongue moves against your puffy folds has you gripping the camera a little too tight. Your mind goes blank and you forget you have a cock in your mouth when he starts sucking on your swollen clit.

When you come back to reality, you audibly gobble his length down your throat, angling the camera so it’s slightly above you and you’re looking up through thick lashes. When Sam’s covered in your spit you take him from your mouth and slap him against your tongue. Sam’s breath hitches when you suck on his balls and you watch as his toes point in every direction.

you sit up and move the camera to show you grinding down on Sam’s tongue with a needy moan. “You’re making me feel sooo good, baby.” You turn the camera before you reach down to grip Sam’s slick cock, your hand looks miniature wrapped around his length. “I don’t know if it’ll fit.” You’re embellishing but it was a big dick.

You lift yourself off Sam, making sure to get a shot of your glistening cunt before returning the camera to Sam. He turns the screen towards himself and watches as you walk to the night stand and grab a light purple, foil packet. “Bare skin.” You both laugh as you crawl on the bed and between Sam’s legs, your heavy eyes looking from the camera to watch your hands roll the condom onto Sam’s rock, hard cock.

“Give me and lay down.” You reach for the camcorder as you instruct Sam to lay on his side. Once he’s comfortable he watches as you take a pillow and prop up the camera, sitting in front of him to block his face. You lay beside Sam, your back pressed against his hard chest and he buries his face in your hair, peeking just enough to watch as he hooks a finger into the waist band of your panties, before pulling the skimpy thing off one leg. You place said leg over Sam’s, looking down to make sure the people had a good view, you shudder at the indecent image you see on the screen.

Sam’s angry tip rubs against your tight opening before Sam’s pushing into you, inch by delicious inch. The stretch has the perfect amount of friction and your toes are curling before he’s bottomed out, Sam’s fingers have found their way to your pert nipples as he waits a moment, adjusting to your gummy walls as you squeeze around him. “Fuck- you’re so tight.” You moan when Sam finally moves his hips, he gives a few tentative strokes before he’s spearing himself in and out of your gushing cunt.

His fingers leave your nipple to hold your lips open as he pushes his cock into you, you call out his name when a free finger finds its way to your clit, Sam’s determined as he draws hard circles on the swollen nub.

“S-shit, you’re gonna make me cum.” Your words are barely eligible but Sam wasn’t listening anyway, too pussy drunk off the feel of you squeezing him accompanied by the squelch of your pussy and sweet moans. He stops rubbing you as he pushes your leg up by the thigh, spreading you wide before pounding into you.

Your mouth drops open to form an O, the feel of Sam’s tongue on your throat and warm fingers on your clit has your cunt spasming. You babble out praises as Sam continues thrusting into you as he chases his own release. Sam’s hip stutter and his hand squeezes the fat of your hip, he’s noisy when he cums, moaning loud in your ear as he fills up the condom deep in your cunt.

He pushes into you once more before pulling out with a groan, rolling onto his back with his eyes closed. He listens to the ruffle of the comforter and hears the beep of the camera as you turn it off. He lets you take the condom off his softening length, he finally opens his eyes when he feels you cleaning him with baby wipes.

“You did so good, Sam” His ears go pink from the praise and he swears he would’ve asked to go another round if he wasn’t so worn out. “Thanks.” Sam says as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and jeans. He watches as you fix your bra and slip on your panties before shrugging on your robe and tying it tight “I’ll let Ortega know we’re finished, he’ll be waiting for you in his office. Thank you so much for filling in.” You kiss Sam on the cheek, “ It’s water in the mini fridge.”

With that you turn to leave but Sam’s sitting up as he remembers his promise to Dean. He calls your name and you turn back to him, he looks sheepish like you didn’t just have his cock down your throat. “Can I have your autograph? It’s for my brother.” He runs a hand through his shaggy hair, “He’s a huge fan.” Sam watches as you pause for a moment before making your way over to the night stand, you slip out of your panties before grabbing a spare sharpie and sign your name on the bit of fabric.

You toss the panties on the smiling boy’s chest before winking at him, you wave good bye before sneaking through the door.

Dean is waiting for Sam at the door when he arrives, “Well, did you get her autograph?” Dean questions expectantly. Sam reaches in his pocket and throws the balled up panties at Dean, he snatches them up in the air, his face goes slack with shock when he realizes what he’s holding.

“Even better.”

#sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester/reader #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction

157 notes · View notes

xetlynn · 5 months ago

Text

jjk imagines- toji fushiguro

Try not to get caught! 18 + edition!!

[jjk] [main page]

🔞⚠️Warning content ahead!! SMUT⚠️🔞

•••Prompt: toji is your dad’s best friend… that’s it.

•••Containing: male receiving oral, slight choking, prone bone, doggystyle, mean toji, and etc.

“Mm, I might just drop out.” You jokingly say to your dad as you sit on the counter. He was currently getting snacks and drinks ready for his best friend that was coming over so they could watch the game together. “You drop out and I disown you for wasting my money.” He mutters, slapping your knee as he walks past.

You gasp, jumping down and following after him. “You would never, you love me too much.” You clutch your chest, he sighs. “Unfortunately, yes. That’s true but you’d look idiotic to drop out halfway through your last year. Plus I’d be embarrassed.” He pouts, causing you to laugh. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not dropping out. I’m just over this semester and it hasn’t even started.” You complain, throwing your head back.

“Only five more months. Put up with it.” Your dad messes up your hair, you shove him away. The doorbell rings to the front door and your dad perks up. “Go get that for me.” He smiles. “Gosh, isn’t he your boyfriend, why am I getting the door?” You tease your father who rolls his eyes. “It’s not just Toji-”

You were already opening the door to reveal two men before you. You grin. “Shiu!” You excitedly say, purposely ignoring Toji to annoy him. Embracing the man you’ve known for more than half your life. Shiu and Toji are your dad’s work buddies. Toji was more recent but had grown incredibly close to your father.

The two of you bicker and mess with each other, it was quite fun to you. Well, you also found him very… very attractive. “Hey, little one!” He hugs you back, holding two beer cases. You take them from his hands and let them come inside. “Oh… hey Fushiguro.” You deadpan, heading further into the livingroom to place the cases down on the coffee table.

“Man, did someone say something?” He responds, looking around the room and you scoff. “Hi, Toji.” You fold your arms over your chest and he pulls you into his chest. “That’s better, you brat.” He squeezes you and you subconsciously feel yourself melt into his touch. Your hands that were on his torso slightly felt him up without realizing it. Toji sure did with a scar adorned smirk plastered on his lips.

“[Name], you gonna join us?” Shiu asks and you push off of the man in front of you. “No, told my friend I would play this game with her.” You purse out your lips a little disappointed with yourself. “Ah, we’ll have to do something before you leave again for college.” He ruffles your hair just like your father did, earning an annoyed squeal to escape past your lips. “Sure.” You smiled.

Toji watches as you scurry out of the room and up the stairs. His eyes capture the way your clothes cling to your body. You’ve always been such a pretty girl. Your dad claps his hands, tugging Toji away from his sinful thoughts. “The game’s gonna start in fifteen minutes. Let’s set our bets.” He announces, all of them plopping down on the couch.

Two hours of playing this stupid video game, you throw your controller on your bed with a loud, agitated huff. “I think I’m going to call it quits, Mizuki.” You frown, leaning on your headboard. “Awe, one more round, please!” She whines in your headphones and you snicker. “You said that last round. I’m getting tired.” You say, unplugging the set so you were now talking on speaker.

“Ugh, you just want to go downstairs and gawk over your dad’s best friend.” She tells you and a smile ghosts your lips. “Maybe I do, is that so bad?” You huff, now onto your stomach with your feet in the air as you talk to Mizuki. “I mean, isn’t he like… old?” She cringes and you let out a small laugh. “He’s younger than my dad. Who cares about age. He’s fine as fuck.” You gush.

“If I ever got the chance I’d ride Toji Fushiguro from sunrise to sunset.” You proudly state. Not hearing your door creak open. Speaking of the devil himself as he was going upstairs to go to the bathroom. You father and Shiu passed out on the couch as the game just ended. But when he heard your little mouth say his name. He just had to listen to what was said. “[Name] you’re nasty.” Mizuki insults you and you shrug your shoulders.

“You have to see him, he’s the definition of dilf. He has a son, he’s in middle school I think? I don’t know. All I know is I want to fuck his dad.” You kick your feet in the air, feeling like a giddy highschooler that’s talking about their crush. But in a much more lewd way. Toji pressed his lips together, leaning against the doorway as he continued eavesdropping. He didn’t know you felt this way… Nor did he complain about it.

“I’m getting off. You’re so weird.” Mizuki chuckles. “Alright, alright. I love you.” You kiss into the phone, hanging up before your friend can respond. You go to get up off your bed and your eyes land on the dark figure in your doorway. Your heart drops to your stomach. “Shit.” You mumble under your breath and Toji walks closer to you. His torso shuttered with his laughs. “You gotta a little crush on me, sweetheart?” He cooes. Your gaze gets hard as you glare at him. “You wish.” You attempt to put up some faux confidence.

“Awe, don’t be embarrassed, it’s natural for a girl to like a strong man.” He flexes his arms, purposely to get a rise out of you. “Pfft, your ego is too big.” You avoid eye contact with him, sitting at the edge of your bed with your hands gently placed in your lap. “You’re always such a brat. Weren’t you just sayin how much you wanted to fuck me?” He reminds you, now hovering over you. His hand going to your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“Don’t act all shy now, brat.” He uses your usual nickname and your thighs clench together. Feeling your arousal. “I wouldn’t mind giving you what you wanted. Gotta keep it a secret though.” He hums, his fingers tracing around your face. “Can you do that?” He questions, his eyes were already dark, dilated to an extreme.

Your face began to flush and you nodded your head. “Your dad and Shiu are sleepin, gonna stay quiet while I fuck you?” He turns your head to the side, as he whispers into your ear before giving your cheek a sloppy kiss. “Mhm.”

“Good girl…” He mutters. “Now strip.” He roughly lets go of you and you slide your pants and underwear off eagerly. Doing the same with your shirt as you bounce up to your knees. He found it amusing how excited you were.

You were polite though with the way you sat there, it was the exact opposite of how you normally act with him around. The teasing tone was gone and he knew he was going to have a time with you. “Listening for once, you that cock driven?” He tilts his head and you grin at him. Not saying a single thing.

“C’mere.” He says as he takes his sweater off, displaying his torso to you now. And if you were turned on before, now you felt like you had Niagara Falls in between your legs. You return back to the edge of the bed and his hands roam down to your naked ass. Giving it a small smack before gripping them to pull you closer to his own body.

“So pretty, glad I befriended your dad.” He mutters as he kisses your lips. You moan into it, indicating agreement with his statement. His calloused hands continue to knead at your plushy ass, his tongue exploring your mouth. Through his grey sweatpants his hard-on pressed up against your tummy. Allowing you to beckon at how large he is.

Nerves bubble up inside you. Your smaller hands go to his waistband, needing to know what you’re getting yourself into. He let you do as you wanted, feeling his pants drop to his knees. His dick springing upwards, lightly slapping against his pelvic area.

You retreat from his mouth, gaping down at Toji’s rather… large member. You whimpered at the sight. “Go on, touch it.” He swayed his hips a little bit. Cocky. Rightfully so too. Hesitantly you do so, your pointer finger swiping over his tip.

Your hands go up and down it, feeling every little to large vein on his dick. He grabs your face just like before. “Suck it, pretty girl.” He orders and you wanted to say something smart back but you were stuck in some weird trance. Sticking your tongue out as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Mhm.” He directs your mouth to his aching, throbbing cock. Feeling his tip get warm just by you.

Your tongue flattens around him, chills down down his spine. Suckling on him as your tongue swirls. His jaw slacks open, his hand going to your hair, twirling it into a makeshift ponytail. Aiding you up and down his cock. “There you go, putting that mouth to good use.” He musters out, acting as if this didn’t feel magical. Like he wasn’t resisting the urge to hunch over and fuck his hips into your mouth as he curses out profanities across the board.

You moan at his words, adding more gratification and pleasure to him. You peek up to him, getting to see what you were doing to him as his brows were furrowed together. His mouth hanging open and his cheeks getting flushed. You take this as a challenge.

The filthy, lewd noises that extract from you as you take him all the way. He feels you breathing through your nose on him and he tugs on your hair, pulling you back. All the saliva and pre-cum in your mouth spills down your chin. He forces you to look up at him. “I gotta fuck you, sweetheart. Think you can take me?” Toji has no care for prepping you. All he was thinking about was ruining that pretty pussy. To mold it around his cock. And any other dick’s that enter inside you will never feel the same. Never match the pleasure he gives you. “Yes, I can.” You breathe out.

But before he can even push you down into position to fuck you he hears the stairs squeak and complain as someone walks up them. His eyes shoot to the crack opened door. In a fast motion he’s putting his pants back on. You catch onto what’s happening and hide under the covers, wiping your chin with your forearm.

Toji throws his shirt back on. “Toji, where the fuck are you?” It was Shiu. He held his breath, trying to figure out how to explain why he’s in here. “He fuckin’ left?” The both of you hear steps going into the bathroom lazily. The door slamming shut behind him. “Mm, fucking old man.” Toji mutters, annoyed.

He glances back over to you. “Looks like they’re waking up. We’ll have to… finish this later.” He winks with a tired expression. You smile, nodding your head. “When?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Have to wait and see, won’t you?” He picks up your clothes and tosses them over your body. “Get dressed and come downstairs.” He motions with his head. He walks out, quietly shutting the door behind him and carefully walking downstairs. Ensuring he doesn’t make any noise.

You sit under the blankets for a moment. Registering what the fuck just happened. Of course Shiu ruined it too.

“Where the hell were you?” Your father’s voice sounds as Toji comes out of the kitchen. Well he makes it look like that’s where he’s coming from. “Had a phone call, went out through the back.” He grunts, going over to the couch and sitting down. Lying straight through his teeth.

“Should’ve woke us up, missed the ending of the damn game.” Your father huffs, taking a swig of his beer. “We won.” Toji simply says, putting a throw pillow over his lap since he was still coming down from his little moment with his best friend’s daughter upstairs.

“How do you fall asleep during a game?” You ask from up the stairs. Toji’s hairs stand on the back of his neck, hearing your voice, not helping his little problem. “I’m gettin old, [Name]. When I’m tired, I sleep.” Shiu voices, almost pouting by you teasing him since normally you were nice with him compared to Toji.

“Yeah yeah, sounds like excuses, old man.” You were bitter. He cock-blocked you. He didn’t know that’s what he did but he did and he was being punished for his actions. “Old man?” Shiu crosses his arms and you giggle, jumping off the last step and joining the other two in the living room. “You said you were getting old yourself, why so sad?” You jut out your bottom lip, throwing yourself on the sofa next to Toji.

“Toji was right, you are a brat.” Shiu sits down across from the two of you, alongside your father. “Thank you.” You lay your head down on the pillow that Toji was using to hide his boner. That you caused.

He lets out a low groan from the sudden weight. It was inaudible to the men in the room but you heard. You heard and smirked. Looking up at him. He was already glaring down at you. “What do you want to watch?” Your father presses on the remote, clicking through movies on the tv. “I don’t care.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Kay, Fast and Furious then.” your dad presses it but you let out a loud sigh.

“You watch this too much.” You complain. “You just said you didn’t care.” Shiu reminds you and you sit up. “I care now. You try watching Fast and Furious on repeat since you were a kid.” You point a finger to the man. “It came out when I was 20 so.” Shiu starts and you let out a laugh.

“You really are so old.” You grimace, and he glares at you. “Your dad is the same age. Toji’s creeping up to it. Why target me?” He bounces up to the edge of the couch. “Hey, still younger than the both of you by a decade.” Toji defends himself. Your dad doesn’t even pay attention to the argument as he presses play on the movie.

“Yeah, a decade younger. God, you're like ancient!” You squeal, his eyes widen at your words. “Ancient? [Last name] get your daughter, ground her or something.” Shiu deadpans.

“[Name], you’re grounded.” Your dad says as his eyes were glued to the large flat-screen before him. “I’m 22, you can’t ground me.” You argue. “I tried.” Your dad says to Shiu who grumbles under his breath.

“Let’s watch the stupid movie.” You sigh, giving up and laying back down. Shiu observes the two of you. A brow raised as he sees Toji subconsciously playing with your hair. Not even shoving you off of him. The two of you are actually watching the movie and not bickering the entire time. It was strange but honestly, did he really even care?

Not really.

As the second movie begins your dad announces that he was going to bed. Shiu took that as a way to leave as well. Saying something about returning to his wife. It now leaves Toji and you on the couch, in the living room alone.

You avoided eye contact with him until Shiu’s car was out of sight and your dad’s door shut. “So, are you leaving then?” You nervously ask, picking at the nail polish on your nails

“Want me to?” He eyes you up and down subtly. “No.” Your horniness was speaking for you, feeling your arousal pool in your cotton panties. His gruff hands go to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. “Those college boys ever make you cum?” He whispers as your faces are centimeters apart. You shake your head. “Don’t think I can.” You tell him, he snorts out a laugh. “Won’t be thinking that for much longer.” He pecks your lips.

And before you know it you're on your stomach. Pants down to your knees, ass in the air. Toji’s spreading your asscheeks apart, you hide your face in the cushions. “So wet, you have a crush on your dad’s best friend? What does that say about you?” He tuts, leaning down and kissing your drenched cunt, taking a small lick with it. You press your lips together, trying not to make a noise as your father was upstairs.

Luckily the movie was still going, giving you guys some room to make a little noise. But you didn’t want to risk it at all. “I asked you a question.” He gives your cunny a little smack and you jolt at the strike. “I-I don’t know.” You whine. He smugly sneers at your answer. He then pulls his pants down in the front, letting his cock free. Springing up, his tip red and angry as it oozes out pre-cum. “Dumb already, so pathetic.” He grabs your hair, lifts up your head and he forcibly plants his lips on the side of yours. You let out a small noise at the rough action.

Toji drags his tip up and down your slick, covering himself with it. Your hole clenches at the sensation. He slowly sheaths himself into you and you can’t help but whimper and moan at the stretch. The stinging was overwhelming. He shushes you but you don’t listen. He let’s go over your hair to dramatically cover your mouth. “Shut up, brat.” He spits, your apology is muffled and slobbery over his own hand.

He finally bottoms out inside you and you pant at the feeling. Your hand reaching back and grabbing onto his shirt. “Wait- wait.” You plead. He doesn’t like being told what to do though.

His hips moving at a ridiculous, malicious pace and his hand grips at your face as he does so. Tears build in your eyes as you're pounded into. And if it wasn’t for the clothes he was wearing your skin would be smacking so loud it would echo throughout the house. “Fucking shit, you’re tight.” He sneers, feeling like your pussy was pushing him out.

“Gonna uncover your mouth, be a good girl and be quiet.” He pats your lips and you nod your head eagerly.

With each thrust your hand was still behind you, trying to get him to slow down. “Tojii.” You cry into the couch. “Too much for you, thought you could take it?” He leans over your body, still humping himself into you.

“N-no.” You puff, your other hand clawing at the cushion. “No? Callin me a liar?” He asks, offended. “No!” You exasperate, your thighs squeezing together, only making it tighter for Toji. He smacks your ass at the notion. Mentally cursing at himself afterwards, as he forgot your father was asleep upstairs.

“That all you can say?” He grabs onto your hips. Using it as leverage to keep a fast pace. Sitting back up straighter. His calves were sat on either side of you. “Sorry- sorry!” You sniffle, stowing away your face once again.

Toji was unfaltering, moving your hips back to meet with his as well.

Your walls were twitching and he could tell you were getting close. Due to his width that stretched you out, hitting all the right spots against your walls. Repeatedly touching that mushy spot as well you were getting close to your release. That tightness in your stomach that you’ve never felt with another person.

You felt euphoric, on a high that you never want to come down from. “Cum-mingh!” You announce and both your hands yank at your hair from the feeling. Not knowing where else to put them. “Mhm, course you are.” He gruntles. Your toes curl and you flex your stomach from the orgasm.

“Ff-uck- mmgnh!” You mewl, your pussy squelching and squirting onto Toji’s clothes. “Makin a mess.” He sighs, not letting up from fucking into you. Chasing his own ejaculation. He lifts your body up, spreading your thighs apart. The new position makes your back hunch up but he shoves it back down into an arch.

“Fuckin hell.” He squeezed his eyes shut, the sight of your ass jiggling and lolling back into him was getting him closer. “Want my cum inside ya? Gonna breed this little pussy?” He purrs, and your eyes widen. “N-no, don’t-” You weren’t on the pill.

“Mm, might do it. Gonna breed you, fill you up reeaall nice. Get you pregnant. How would you explain that to dear daddy?” He chaffs, finding himself to be quite amusing. You even more so as you grow worried, trying to push him off of you. “Just messin’ sweetheart. What kind of man would I be.” He grabs you by your neck, lifting you up so your back is now against the front of his torso.

“Not n-nice.” You pout, looking up at him and he smiles. “Sorry.” He gives you a sloppy kiss, lightly squeezing your throat before pushing your back down. You lean on your elbows as he finally withdraws from your pussy. Jerking off and those thick ropes of cum spurt out on your ass.

He grits his teeth together as he lets out low growls, his dick twitching and convulsing. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” He mumbles. Letting out a big breath of air. His shoulders slumping down. Relief hitting him.

The two of you now sit there in silence. Everything replaying in your heads. Toji stands up. He runs a hand through his hair as he gazes down to you and your fucked out body. It was definitely not one of his finest moments fucking his best friend’s daughter but… he wasn’t going to let his moment pass up. A sexy girl like you.

You looked up to him as he was walking away from you. “Where are you-”

“Don’t worry, getting you a rag to clean that mess.” He points to your ass and your mouth goes into an ‘o’ shape.

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hamliet · 14 days ago

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Sunrise on the Reaping: A Love Story

I finally read Sunrise on the Reaping. I'm a fan.

It's funny because I keep seeing takes that Collins wants to write a story about propaganda and revolutions and tyranny and how tyranny uses love stories as propaganda to distract from the revolution. "She keeps writing it because the masses still don't get it!" Except, this take could not be more wrong.

The love stories are the revolution, baby.

Love Can't Be Killed

Love can't be killed. After all, Haymitch notes in his resolution that he's realized:

The Capitol can never take Lenore Dove from me again. They never really did in the first place.

The resiliency of love is symbolized through Haymitch's improbably survival through the Games. He enters convinced that he won't survive. Never really considers surviving or winning, and Snow confirms that he plans for Haymitch to die. However, Snow's flaw from The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes remains: he believes he can control other people. And to an extent, sure, fair.

But he can't fully control them, not even when they're trapped in an arena with no way out and every attempt to escape thwarted.

(Side note: I've seen some people saying that it's a retcon that Katniss's act with the berries is seen as more rebellious than Haymitch's, because Haymitch is trying to rebel directly but Katniss is not. I actually disagree. The point is that Haymitch outsmarted the Gamemakers by using their own weapons against a fellow tribute. Katniss outsmarted the Gamemakers against themselves, forcing them to be the ones to break their own rules.)

Against the odds, Haymitch still survives. So then Snow decides to punish him by taking out everyone he's ever loved--his mother. Sid. Lenore Dove. And the cruelty is that Haymitch then becomes like Snow, or that's the intent anyways. Pushing away his loved ones, his friends, out of fear that they'll come for them next. Isolating himself for paranoia to consume.

But it doesn't work, because Haymitch still maintains his love for Lenore Dove. Yes, the fear and alcohol dull it for awhile. But it never fully dies. The very friends he pushed away have a daughter whose life he saves, and who then does what he tried and failed to do.

Love wins in these Games. Beetee's love for Ampert can't save his life, but they honor his legacy decades later. Wiress and Mags get tortured, but they too play a role in taking the Games down. The Newcomers' love and loyalty for each other gives comfort to those facing their imminent deaths.

Snow really should have learned that love can't so easily be killed. It's pesky and rascally, like Haymitch. It's resilient.

Hell, Snow is still hung up on Lucy Gray and focused on destroying love because love reminds him of weakness, the weakness he ended TBOSAS by vowing to cut out of his life. Hence, marrying Livia. Destroying all recordings of the 10th Hunger Games... except for one, because he still can't fully let go. I mean, he literally sees Lenore Dove as Lucy Gray 2.0 and bitterly reminisces with Haymitch about her.

“Bet I know a thing or two about your dove.” “Like what?” “Like she’s delightful to look at, swishes around in bright colors, and sings like a mockingjay. You love her. And oh, how she seems to love you. Except sometimes you wonder, because her plans don’t include you at all.”

Except, he's wrong about who Lenore Dove is.

Lenore Dove is Love

A common criticism I've seen of the novel is that Lenore Dove is more of an idea than a character. I don't necessarily disagree with this. However, I think her idea is more meant to be the embodiment of love than a manic pixie dream girl. I mean her name starts with L and ends with -ove. It's not subtle.

(Yes, her name is also an allusion to Edgar Allen Poe's poem "The Raven" and the lost Lenore, and also to the color of dove, which is also a bird that is the opposite of the raven symbolically--standing for peace as opposed to death. This ultimately symbolizes the end of Sunrise on the Reaping, where love first dies but then rises to create a lasting peace.)

From a character perspective, she more mimics Sejanus than Lucy Gray Baird. Lucy Gray was wise in many respects; Lenore Dove is distinctly not. In fact, she's reckless to the point of endangering her loved ones, even if she's morally in the right for trying to comfort a woman who lost her son, morally right to protest the Hunger Games, etc. She still endangers her uncles, her friends, and Haymitch.

However, I'm not saying it was Lenore Dove's fault Haymitch got reaped. Even if she did set off said events, a major point is that the Hunger Games seems inevitable. They would have had their way regardless, even if it didn't affect her and Haymitch's life and loved ones directly. Yet, there is still point and purpose to protesting. Her lack of wisdom wound up hurting her just like Sejanus's did, but that doesn't mean they deserved what happened--or that what they did didn't matter.

Love Works Miracles

Again, forcing Haymitch to push away Asterid, Burdock, Blair, and all his friends works for a time, but not forever. Because Burdock comes back into Haymitch's life via Katniss, a child created through love with Asterid--love Haymitch himself says in the book is never gonna happen.

... he’s got about as much chance with her as a mockingjay with a swan. Town girls don’t marry Seam boys, not unless something really goes haywire.

But Asterid and Burdock's love did happen, and that love Haymitch thought was impossible, combined with Katniss and Peeta's love story, between a town boy and a Seam girl, broke the arena and caused Panem's evil structure to go haywire.

Katniss and Peeta's Romeo and Juliet moment with the berries may not have been the common assumption of "oh I just can't live without you, my other half!" melodrama, but it was a decision two scared kids who grew up experiencing violence made, a decision to choose love over violence. (Which is actually pretty in the spirit of Romeo and Juliet.)

The Dream of a Ridiculous Man

The story opens with quotes from philosopher David Hume, who muses on why humans obey implicitly when they don't have to. Like, honestly, if you think about it, for example, why does money have worth? Why do scraps of paper have worth? Why can't the entire world decide tomorrow that it doesn't, that we should all just give each other what we need and want? Why can't we? Why do we tolerate societal systems that oppress us and lead to cycles of bloodshed and oppression?

Anyways, this idea is one of the main themes of a Dostoyevsky short story called "The Dream of a Ridiculous Man," which is one of my favorites. The main character comes to a similar conclusion as Collins seems to:

It is an old truth, but this is what is new: I cannot go far wrong. For I have seen the truth; I have seen and I know that people can be beautiful and happy without losing the power of living on earth. I will not and cannot believe that evil is the normal condition of mankind... Suppose that this paradise will never come to pass (that I understand), yet I shall go on preaching it. And yet how simple it is: in one day, in one hour everything could be arranged at once! The chief thing is to love others like yourself, that's the chief thing, and that's everything; nothing else is wanted--you will find out at once how to arrange it all.

Even if paradise and peace on earth never comes, it could. If every single person just decided to choose to love each other, to forgive everything, to move on, it could. And we each have the ability to choose love, and even if others do not choose it, at some point revolution will come.

Lenore Dove's dream of a sunrise without the reaping seemed ridiculous to Haymitch, especially when he lost everyone. But as long as he was alive, the ability to choose love remained there for him, and he chose it and fulfilled her dream. Ampert's dream to destroy the arena was fulfilled. Maysilee's to paint her own poster, when her mockingjay pin became the symbol of the rebellion. Wyatt's dream to protect younger kids, because there is no more Hunger Games.

Love seems ridiculous. It's also the only thing we have. And in these times, especially, that's a powerful message.

Anyways because the masses still don't seem to get that the love stories--romantic, platonic, and familial--are integral to and not extraneous of the revolution, both in the Hunger Games universe and frankly out of it as well, I have hope that Collins will yet again be forced to pick up her pen and educate us all with a third prequel with an explicit love story. Likely Finnick and Annie's. I'm not joking either; I think there's a very good chance of this as some key aspects of TBOSAS and SOTR strongly hint at it.

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chrkrose · 1 month ago

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Just wanted to say that I completely agreed with your Sunrise take. It's almost as though you plucked it out of my brain and put it in words.

Its a shame that the Maysilee/Haymitch ship has been struck down so explicitly. I can't see the ship being popular now without fans claiming that we've 'missed the whole point'.

I also agreed with your take about Lenore: to me, she's far too similar to Lucy Gray for me to care about her in her own right and that's a shame.

I'm interested to see if you have any other thoughts since I enjoyed your first post a lot.

More thoughts on SOTR, Maysilee and Maysilee/ Haymitch.

I mean… I have issues with several aspects of Sunrise on the Reaping (SOTR), honestly. Like, the way the book handles its themes is just so on the nose. It lacks the subtlety Suzanne used to have. One of the biggest appeals of the original trilogy was that Katniss wasn’t a chosen one—she wasn’t special, she wasn’t trying to be a rebel, she was just surviving. And now suddenly we’re rewriting that entire foundation to make her destiny feel preordained? Add in all the fan service, which felt so Marvel-level with its cameos and callbacks, and yeah… I struggled with a lot of it.

The Maysilee stuff—and the Maysilee/Haymitch potential—is just one example in a list of things that didn’t work for me, but it’s a great one to highlight what went wrong.

First off, my gripe with Maysilee and Haymitch isn’t even just that they weren’t romantic. Sure, I do think a romantic storyline would’ve added more depth and been more compelling, but what really bugs me is the way people jump to that “not every relationship needs to be romantic!!” discourse like it’s some mic drop moment. And like—yeah, of course not every bond has to be romantic. The series already gives us beautiful platonic relationships, so what are you truly saying here? I always feel like that argument has a bit of a misogynistic edge, like romance automatically weakens a story or a character. That it’s less serious or important just because it’s “girly” or emotional. It’s the reverse of the people who think romance is the only thing that matters—it’s still minimizing, just from another angle.

Personally, I think a romantic connection between Maysilee and Haymitch could have added a lot to the story. Not because romance is inherently better, but because it would’ve allowed us to actually see the relationship develop. Imagine Haymitch having to confront and dismantle his class prejudices toward her. Imagine the layers that would add to his trauma, to his choices, to the person he becomes. That arc would’ve felt way more grounded than suddenly introducing Lenore Dove—a character who feels like a Lucy Gray copy-paste—and expecting us to accept her as the Great Love of Haymitch’s life.

And look, I’m a sucker for a good love story. I would have eaten it up so fast if this was a good one. But it simply wasn’t. There was no tension, no buildup, no spark. Just symbolism on top of symbolism, and a girl who was written to be “quirky” and “different” and important, but never felt real. She was too mythical, too much, too “main girl who haunts the narrative” without earning that weight. At least Lucy Gray had quirks and nuance. Lenore just felt like Suzanne ticking boxes: rebel, covey, singer, poet attached to her name, dead too soon. And I’m sorry, but having Haymitch still pining for his 16-year-old girlfriend decades later, when we barely get to see him reflect on his family or his fellow tributes? At least give space to his mother and brother, to the tributes he bonded with, to all the people he lost along the way.

And that’s what really bothers me. Suzanne always trusted her readers to come to their own conclusions. She showed us dynamics—Katniss and Peeta, Finnick and Katniss, Johanna and Peeta, even Katniss and Gale—and let us interpret. She never had to spell out who these people were to each other. But it seems like she didn’t trust that when it comes to Maysilee and Haymitch, and to Lenore and Haymitch as well. Suddenly we were told what to feel, how to perceive every relationship. And that just doesn’t land for me. It actually undermines the emotional weight because it feels like she didn’t trust the story to stand on its own.

And if the whole idea was to subvert expectations and say “Surprise! Everything you thought you knew about Haymitch’s Games is actually propaganda,” then… I don’t know. That twist didn’t work for me either. It didn’t enhance the themes, it just made me feel, again, like I wasn’t capable enough to reach conclusions on my own. For a book who speaks of propaganda, she sure tried to determine how we would interact with it without room for anything else.

Now, about Maysilee herself—she would’ve worked so much better as the ghost in Haymitch’s narrative. Platonic or romantic, an ambiguous bond between her and Haymitch had more potential than what we got. The Capitol downplaying her role would’ve tied beautifully with Haymitch’s later manipulation of the Katniss/Peeta narrative. She mirrors both of them in ways Lenore doesn’t: she’s a merchant girl like Peeta, she’s got Katniss’ fire, and her pin—her pin—becomes the ultimate symbol of rebellion. She painted the final poster. Not to mention the quiet tragedy of him having to see her twin sister around town for the rest of his life. That’s the kind of subtle, haunting storytelling that would’ve worked.

But instead, they stripped all that from her to give it to Lenore, and in the process, even Katniss’ story gets hurt. Because now, Katniss isn’t just a girl who stumbled into something bigger than herself—now she’s been chosen since the beginning. Which removes one of the most powerful things about her arc: the idea that regular people, caught in the right place at the right time, can change the world.

Lucy Gray worked as a ghost in Snow’s story. Maysilee should’ve been that for Haymitch. But unfortunately, all that depth, all that symbolism, was handed to a character who didn’t earn it and who honestly just didn’t deliver the emotional payoff Suzanne thought she would.

#haymitch abernathy #maysilee donner #haymitch x maysilee #lenore dove #haymitch x lenore dove #sunrise on the reaping #sunrise on the reaping spoilers #sotr #sotr spoilers #thg sotr

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see-arcane · 7 months ago

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As a fan of the book Dracula and Dracula-adjacent media, I am very used to disappointment. I can still clap when the media is impressive while pretending the characters do not have the names they have. After enough trailers and interviews, I see Nosferatu 2024 is now sadly in that category, RIP to Thomas and Ellen Hutter, the un-Harkers set to get the Francis Ford Coppola treatment ala Robert Eggers. But if directors can play dolls and make the Mina/Ellen character do bloodstained kissy kissy with Dracula/Orlok, I can do this:

ACTUALLY SUBVERSIVE IDEAS I’D BE COOL WITH IN NOSFERATU (2024) FROM LEAST TO MOST COOL

Idea I’d Be Least Cool With, But Seems Eggers-shaped:

Ellen goes full Thomasin x Black Phillip, giving into the darkness~ ooh she loves her some Orlok, talk cadaverous to me babey~ And they make out bloody style and devour the puritanical human society because Eggers will pull a del Toro and make 99.99% of the human characters assholes not worth saving from the Horrors. Maybe Thomas and un-Van Helsing are left standing, maybe not. But it’s basically the Eggers MO of Monsters/Myths > Humans, however innocent or evil, extra dark ominous ending.

Idea I’d Be Somewhat Cooler With:

Ellen is 2 goth 4 U Thomas. But she’s also not oblivious to how Orlok is going to drink everyone. Which is bad. So she’ll 1) embrace her own dark inner lust and monstrosity~ while also 2) pulling a Bride of Frankenstein climax (We belong dead.) to see to it that she and Orlok are destroyed by sunrise. Not a ‘She was too pure for this sinful Earth!’ ending, but a ‘She was too gothique and eager to monsterfuck to hang around with you prudes. But fiiine she’ll destroy herself and her beloved Orlok to save you all or whatever. :/’ Which is slightly better than the scenario of un-Van Helsing and/or Thomas executing her and Orlok. So. Sure. Vampiric murder suicide, dying with her True Orlok Love (Orlove) uwu

Idea I’d Actually Be Pretty Cool With:

Eggers says he’s focusing on the sex/death drive and love story of Nosferatu (many asterisks here). If he has the guts for it, he’ll turn it on its expected heel and do the unthinkable—put a magnifying glass on Orlok getting very weird with Thomas. Who he drinks from first. And leaves imprisoned rather than outright killing him.

“But how do you explain him coming at Ellen’s invitation? What about the whole locket scene??”

Well, that’s where the bittersweet bit happens. Heavy on the bitter. Because if Eggers wants to really put his heel down on the horror part of vampirism and Dracula’s original MO, this would be the perfect point to do a bait and switch with Ellen herself. She wants Orlok? Wants him to ravish and drink her and make her one of his undead so they can be vampires together forever and ever?

“You want me. My touch, my gift. This I know. But the question remains,” cue that sharp little rat grin, “why would I ever want you?” Remember; the only one that explicitly craved what Dracula had to offer in the novel and in Nosferatu was the Renfield character. The one who saw the Count as a means to their end, who pined for him and what he could give. Bar the more sexual/amorous elements with Eggers-Ellen, she’s going after the same thing. This, when Classic Dracula is very much about preying on those who are terrified of and/or loathe him—he’s a conqueror, not a suitor. If you want it, he doesn’t want you. So it’s very possible that Ellen’s unwittingly set herself up for not only disappointment, but a potentially violent end.

“Sounds fucked up. But again, where’s the ‘love story’ bit? What’s up with him taking the locket?”

The locket that Thomas had. Of his wife, who he loves. Who he risked death and worse to crawl his way home to. Who, if he’s anything more like the novel Jonathan Harker he was based on, would become aware of Ellen’s condition/Orlokian preference and simply be heartbroken, yet still unable to turn against her. Ever.

Thomas Hutter’s heart belongs to Ellen, breaking or not. Thomas is also the one who Orlok clings to like his own shadow for the entire stay in the castle. The locket is taken not because it’s an image of Ellen <3, but because it’s an image of the competition/distraction for Orlok’s pet real estate agent who he is Very Normal about. And this is all supposing he doesn't just outright destroy the locket in a petty rage, per the vile thing-mirror scene.

The climax comes with Orlok about to off Ellen, only for Thomas to arrive and offer a trade. Him for her. Orlok takes the deal, latching happily onto Thomas and setting himself up for the sunrise trap. It would make sense. It would boot the old Reinforced Hetero rule of ‘he has to be drinking a pure maiden for it to work!!’ It would be genuinely subversive and tragic as a gothic love triangle, perhaps capped with un-Van Helsing arriving too late and finding Ellen grieving over the corpse of Thomas, Orlok having gone to burning dust as he fed.

Which could lean toward a special knife twist ending in itself:

Ellen mourns not just what was lost, but what she threw away, not realizing what she had in Thomas until he died for her. Tragique. ...Unless.

Ellen refuses to let un-Van Helsing ‘desecrate’ Thomas’ corpse with stake and saw. In fact, she kills him outright when he tries. Cut to the next evening, where Ellen sits patient and unblinking at Thomas’ bedside. The sun goes down. Cue some implying beat in which we realize that Ellen’s clocked that she’s been misinterpreting her prophetic dreams all this time. An epiphany that comes to fruition as we see her smile at some sudden change off-screen while facing Thomas’ cadaver on the bed.

The Embodiment of Death she was pining for was never Orlok, but Thomas. Rather, Thomas fully metamorphosed into Nosferatu.

“Come to me,” she whispers. “Hear my call…”

Thomas hears. A claw-tipped hand raises up to hers. The wedding ring on it gleams.

The End. (?)

It won’t happen. I know it won’t happen. But goddamn would I love to be proven wrong.

#why yes I am already writing corrective fanfiction for a movie that isn't even out yet #what about it #(Eggers please please please I am so ready to be delightedly proven wrong PLEASE don't pull a straight Francis on this)#nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #robert eggers #dracula #my writing

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hell-alka · 5 months ago

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What do you think would be spawn vs ascended Astarion's approach to the holidays. Would either be more fall holidays or more winter? If so what would they do during this time and what would their routine be with Sangvia? And how would Sangvia reaction to the holidays as well?

Feel free to be as in depth as little or as much as you would like, just thought this would be a fun ask, :).

Thank you for a interesting question! I needed time to prepare the art, but I finally finished it ^^

This text has been translated from my native language into english with a lot of help from a translator, just a heads up! It really hurts me to lose Astarion's manner of speech because of this...

Spawn Astarion

Astarion remained vulnerable to the sun and a cure for this affliction has not yet been found. He does not entertain great hopes in this regard, so he learns to accept the new reality that the long-awaited freedom has taken the form of night and darkness. It would seem that this is just his path that needs to be overcome, but Sangviya worries about the lack of sun no less. At first, it was just fear for a loved one - anxiety for a vampire who is delayed on a mission until midday, fear that he has fallen into a trap and the sun is slowly creeping up on him, concerns before each sleep "are the curtains and windows securely closed." Sangvia even began to calculate the exact time of sunrises and sunsets to know when to panic, when it is safe for Astarion to go outside and when it is worth looking for shelter. He brushes off her worries every time, although he is touched by her concern. Sanya knows that he will be careful even without her reminders, which of them is a vampire with 200 years of experience? It was not only about danger, but about longing for a warm sun, and Sanya could not help with this. However, her suspiciousness was not in vain! Studying astronomy and the behavior of the sun more and more, Sangvia finds information about two interesting days - the longest and shortest night of the year! And indeed, she remembers how people celebrated something similar when she was a teenager, it's just that back then she was more interested in the alcohol from the fair than the reason why it was brought here.

Summer solstice

Summer Solstice is the shortest night of the year and the longest day! When Sanya first suggested celebrating this holiday to Astarion, it made him a little nervous. For several years he has been trying out life in the shadows, and the proposal to celebrate the longest day seems to him… a mockery?

"I appreciate your efforts darling, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable thinking about it… let alone not being able to spend the day in the sun that this event is dedicated to."

But Sanya just smiled.

"You're hiding from the sun, not from life! I know it's hard… More precisely, I thought it was just the threat that light carries. But then it seemed to me that you're hiding not only from it, but also from what it can give, namely today - fun, celebration, emotions! We can hide from the rays, but this does not mean that we should be deprived of other joys in life. Let's not run away this time, but brazenly have fun, in spite of fate and fear!"

Astarion did not expect anything good from this venture, but he could not resist the optimism of his beloved.

Sangvia prepared and organized this special day for a long time - fenced off the room in the tavern from the light, bought food and drinks, created coziness and warmth by placing candles. But the main thing she planned was a huge list of games and entertainment for the two of them! Astarion was waiting for gambling strip games, reading terrible erotic novels, lanceboard for drinks, questionable songs, an evening of makeup and nails and much more that came to their minds in the process! It was the longest day of the year, dedicated not to the sun, but to the warmth of two special people.

Part 2

#digital art #digital drawing #hell alka #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #dark urge #sangvia

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callsign-muffin · 7 months ago

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Heal Together: Chapter 6

(Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

Sorry this chapter took much longer than usual. I wasn't sure if I wanted to share this on the page but y'all might already know... I'm a nurse. So my schedule is nice because I only work 3 days or nights a week but... sometimes those days/nights knock me on my ass. This week was no exception.

I really appreciate every single person who has liked, reblogged, and commented on my work. It means EVERYTHING to me. I hope you all enjoy this part!

Masterlist + Playlist

Word Count: 2.2k+

You had been flipped to nights this week and your body was suffering from the sudden change to your circadian rhythm. You and Carly walked to the parking garage in exhausted silence together as the sun rose over the hospital. It was a hard night to say the least, you both were assigned to unstable elderly patients that seemed to be circling the drain. It almost felt cruel to keep them from dying peacefully because there was no way they were ever going to get better. The life sustaining care you were forced to give was just prolonging the inevitable. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, Bradley tried to text you when he woke up at 5am for work to ask how your shift was going. You quickly responded that it was crazy and that you couldn’t talk until you got off at 7:30.

Bradley Bradshaw: Please tell me you’re out of there and able to see this incredible sun rise

You: I am, thank God! I love San Diego sunrises

“Who’s that?” Carly peered over at your phone and saw the name, “Oh my god! He’s checking in on you post shift?!”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s his second time checking in on me, he texted me when he got up earlier but I said things were too crazy on the unit to talk.”

“What happened between you two then?” She asked, “You said he didn’t stay the night or anything.”

You knew she was going to ask for more information soon enough. You two were on your feet caring for your patients all night so there was no time to catch up at the nurse’s station. “He didn’t. But we hung out for a while, talked, drank a lot of wine, and he couldn’t drive himself home. So he took an Uber and then took me to brunch when he came to pick up his car.”

“He didn’t kiss you?” She asked.

You shook your head, “Nope, didn’t after brunch either.”

“Huh,” she looked puzzled, “He’s obviously so into you, we could all see it at the bar. And he took you out on a date. And he’s texting you first thing when he wakes up… he obviously likes you. Why hasn’t he kissed you?!?!”

You shrugged, “I mean, maybe he isn’t and he just wants to be friends. I also feel like dating a former patient probably breaks some kind of nursing ethics code.”

It was something that occurred to you after brunch with Bradley the day before, the possibility of this flirtation messing with your professional life.

Carly’s face dropped when the two of you stopped at your car, “Oh my god… I hadn’t even thought of that.”

You shifted your weight uncomfortably, “Yeah… so I’ve gotta ask you and I’d like you to pass it on to Madi and Sam too, not to discuss Saturday or my… friendship with Bradley at work.”

She nodded, “Of course, I’m sorry I even brought it up briefly when we got on the unit last night.”

“It’s okay, no one was around to hear. I’m just not very well liked by the senior nurses and some of the providers. I just don’t want to give them something to talk about, you know?” You explained.

“Absolutely. When is your contract up?” She asked.

“4 weeks, they asked me to extend though.” You rubbed your eyes, desperately trying to stay awake.

“Are you gonna do it? Or is it too early in the morning to talk about this?” She giggled.

You nodded, “Bingo. Let’s leave this as ‘to be continued’.”

“Alright, get home safe.” She waved you off and headed towards her car a few spots away.

Once in your Toyota Corolla and buckled, you blasted loud music and freezing cold AC to keep you awake and alert on your commute home. Once there you peaked at your phone.

Bradley Bradshaw: Now that you’ve enjoyed the sunrise, you gotta get your ass to bed.

You: Yes sir, I’ll be out of commission until 1500 hours.

When you arrived home, you looked at your phone again to see Bradley replied with the saluting emoji. You dragged yourself out of the car and up to your apartment, in front of your door was a plastic takeout bag. The parcel was still warm when you picked it up, it was clearly left there just minutes ago. You blinked through your exhausted blurry vision and saw a note typed in the comments on the receipt… it was from the same place you had brunch with Bradley two days before.

“After working through the night, you deserve a true Californian breakfast and a nap. —Bradshaw”

This may be one of the most thoughtful things anyone had done for you in a while. You were so exhausted, you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you caught a whiff of the parcel. When you entered your apartment, you threw your bag down and went straight to the kitchen. You opened the bag to find a breakfast burrito neatly wrapped in aluminum foil, Bradley’s go to menu item. Maybe it was because of the surprise of it waiting for you at the door or because you were absolutely starving, but that thing tasted better than sex. You started your post night shift ritual with a shower. After brushing your teeth, doing your skin care, and changing into comfy clothes, you drew the black out curtains in your room, turned on the sound machine, and set an alarm for 2pm before popping a melatonin gummy. After many years as a nurse and often flipping between days and nights, you had this sleep ritual down to an absolute science.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Y/N <3: thank you so much for breakfast. That may be one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me.

Rooster’s heart fluttered when the message flashed across his phone around 8AM. The Dagger Squad had just finished running a drill that ended with 200 push ups. That small rush made him forget how his muscles were screaming at him. He went to reply and saw the “do not disturb” icon was on. He was so glad since that meant Y/N was most likely sleeping. So he left a reply for her to wake up to.

Bradley: I’m glad it came just in time! Hope you’re taking the best nap ever :)

“Is that sexy nurse?” Natasha inquired as she peered over his shoulder.

Rooster rolled his eyes, “Phoenix, she has a name… and that’s none of your business.”

“So yes,” she smirked, “you are texting her.”

“I’m replying to her,” he corrected, “she worked all night last night and is on again tonight. So she won’t get it until she wakes up.”

She stood on her tip toes to get a better look at the screen, “You sent her breakfast?!?!”

Bradley was not loving this line of questioning but he knew he had to answer or Phoenix would never lay off, “I sent UberEats for her to come home too.”

“You are down bad, my friend.” She shook her head.

“Am not.” He quipped back.

“ Are too!” She shoved him.

“That’s not fair Phoenix, just cause you’re one of the boys doesn’t mean I’ll stoop low enough to shove a woman.” He groaned.

She chuckled, “You’re just scared to get your shit rocked, Bradshaw.”

Hangman suddenly appeared beside Phoenix, skillfully placing her in a headlock. “Is this little lady giving you trouble, Rooster?”

She squirmed and screamed, “Hangman, I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

“Ya know Phoenix,” he sighed, “Forever the bully.”

Phoenix reached over and Hangman a firm tap in the junk, causing him to jump and release her.

Rooster couldn’t help but smile as the two of them fought like siblings.

“I was asking him about the hot nurse from the other night.” She explained, “He’s texting her and sent breakfast to her place for her to come home to after work.”

Hangman’s face lit up, “Bradley, Bradley, Bradley… I never thought I’d see the day. You’re courtin’ a fine lady.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, “Courting is a strong word. I’m showing her that I’m… kinda interested.”

Hangman and Phoenix gave each other knowing looks.

Natasha nodded, “Uh huh, yeah. Sureeeeee.”

2pm rolled around and Bradley was wrapping up his work day on base.

Y/N <3: Not the best nap ever but pretty damn good. I’m gonna walk on the beach and get some sunshine before it’s back to the dungeon for the night. What are you up to for the rest of the day?

Should he shoot his shot? She wouldn’t keep engaging with him if she wasn’t at least a little interested, right?

Bradley: Joining you for a walk on the beach if you’ll allow it.

Y/N <3: I would love that. What time can you be at my place?

This was good. This was really good. She’s invited him back to her place.

Bradley: I gotta change out of my uniform and stuff, how does 3 sound?

Y/N <3: Perfect, I’ll see you soon :)

Rooster had an extra skip in his step as he packed up his things, grateful for the 6am start allowing his work day to have an early finish. Once in his Bronco, he sped home to change into some casual clothes. He decided to really shake it up and not wear his usual Hawaiian shirt and jeans combo. A UVA t-shirt and some gym shorts seemed a lot more appropriate for a casual beach walk. Bradley really couldn’t believe he was putting that much thought into what he wore for something so casual.

When he walked up to her door he could hear music through it. Whatever Y/N was listening to, she was clearly jamming. When he knocked, she quickly called out, “It’s open!”. He got a better listen to the music once the door was open, it was high energy with a… saxophone? It was kind of lit.

“What is this?” Bradley asked, “It’s awesome!”

“Modern Woman by Bleachers,” she entered the living room wearing a similar outfit to his, a university t-shirt and gym shorts, “Isn’t it great? Kinda gives me Springsteen vibes.”

He paused and listened a little more, “Yes, that’s spot on!”

“Let me just make sure I have my life together for work, so I can just change and leave later.” She said, heading toward the kitchen.

He took another good look at her as she took her lunchbox, water bottle, and an energy drink from the fridge and set it out on the counter. Fresh faced from her nap, hair in a bun, shorts and a t-shirt… he had never seen anything more beautiful.

Y/N paused for a moment and looked over at Rooster, “Is everything okay? Do I have something on my face?”

He shook his head, “Yes, everything’s great… you look great.”

She smiled shyly and continued her task, “Thank you, Bradley… are you ready to head to the beach?”

“Hell yeah,” he asked, “which beach are we headed to?”

“Nothing fancy, just the beach a few blocks away.” She shrugged, “Hope you don’t mind tagging along on my normal, boring jaunt.”

He shook his head, “Y/N, nothing with you could be boring. I’d have fun watching paint dry.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

The two of you walked along the shoreline; the waves ebbed and flowed across the sand and towards your feet. The wind whipped across your face and through your hair, making it dance wildly. Bradley looked so handsome beside you, you couldn’t help but stare and hope that maybe it would be less obvious since you had sunglasses on.

“I should start doing this more, it’s much more pleasant than running.” He chuckled to himself, “It’s so peaceful.”

You giggled, “Drinking bleach is more pleasant than running, in my opinion.”

“You’re not a runner?” He asked.

“Not unless something’s chasing me.” You quipped.

A smirk slowly crept across Bradley’s face. You weren’t exactly sure what was going through his head but you felt the sudden urge to start sprinting. Next thing you knew he was hot on your heels and you couldn’t help but giggle breathlessly, running on sand was so freaking hard! Two strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet with ease.

“BRADSHAW!!!” You cried out through your giggles, leaning your head back on his shoulder behind you.

His face burrowed into your neck, “You say you’re not a runner but you’re pretty speedy.”

You turned your head to look at him, nose to nose, still giggling breathlessly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said simply.

It was like two magnets, your lips crashed into his, there was no force that could stop it. Once you realized what you did, you quickly pulled away, “I’m so sorry.”

He placed you gently back on your feet, “Y/N, the only thing you owe me an apology for is stopping.”

Your stomach fluttered, “Soooo… you wanna do it again?”

“Kiss me, you fool.” He chuckled, grabbing you by the cheeks and stroking them sweetly with his thumb.

You stepped closer so you two were chest to chest and gently brushed your lips against his. With a jolt of pure electricity, you pressed deeper into his kiss. It wasn’t until this moment, when you tasted his lips, that you realized how fucking starving you were.

Tag list:

@sarah-bear706318

@dizzybee03

@that-gay-person-27

@alwayshave-faith

@caitsymichelle13

@thespillingvoid

Please message or comment if you'd like to be added to the tag list!

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n #rooster x you #top gun fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley rooster bradshaw fluff

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dameronswife · 1 year ago

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that trailer once again has me like. oh what if i did an au where voy was from thr era....

#nym speaks #listen like. i could do an au where she was a student at luke's temple. i could! but like i do think a BIG thing about poelya's relationshi #is the fact that volya does represent a peaceful galaxy #and knows that it COULD be for real #and so in a way volya being from a time where was considered the 'high' of the galaxy or like. a universe where things all go /right/#is i think important to what she represents for poe which is a peaceful future #and the ability to find moments of peace in the here and now /with her/ and /in her/#anyway.#poelya #her name means sure sunrise!!! of course she represents hope like that!!#and i think it works best if she grew up with that light and hope being a reality #also because i love playing with the whole. poe believes in the force in a religious way #and falls in love with a jedi. cos i love adding religious themes/imagery to their dynamic #and making the smut very sacrilegious by happenstance lmfaooooooooooooooooooooo

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oros-ash3s · 1 month ago

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── ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Character Bio ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ──

Aster Anderle, the Golden Boy ˙ ✩°˖ ☀️ ⋆｡˚꩜

..✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩..

“Icarus fell.

With the wind in his hair and wax burning his skin, he cried out with unrestrained joy. He was drunk on freedom and high on the open air.

Olympus shivered at the sight: A dying boy with hunger in his eyes and teeth bared to the sky.”

⋆˚࿔ J Bengt, “Icarus Flew” (x)

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🌞 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Basics ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆💫

Name || Aster Anderle

⁀➴༯ Name meaning || Aster is of Greek origin, and is a gender-neutral name that means “star”. It is also a flower, and was very important to Greek and Roman Deities. Anderle is south German and the pet form of the name Andreas.

Nicknames || None

Age || 19-years-old

Birthdate || July 20th (Cancer)

Gender and Pronouns || Demiboy (he/him)

Sexuality || Pansexual

Ethnicity || Czech

Classification || Immortai

Occupation || Belongs to the Seventh Sector of the Division. He is a revered Noroi Hunter and one of the highest ranked inside the Seventh Sector.

Role || Main character, hero

..✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩..

🌞 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Personality ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆💫

Aster, despite his harsh upbringing, is defined by his ability to see good in people.

He has been put in this position of power since he was just a child. Surely anyone else would have cracked from the pressure, turning hardened and cold to the world. Aster has seemed to become more hopeful and caring in place of that, taking care of others and always providing aid to those in need. He is incredibly selfless, offering himself up to anyone who asks, always giving, giving, giving. He’s kind-hearted and heroic, and still manages to stay humourous while facing such horrors every day.

He’s doesn’t take much seriously, preferring jokes over serious topics. He doesn’t know how to be vulnerable with others, and in such, doesn’t allow himself to genuinely become close to others. Despite his happy-go-lucky, cocky persona, there always seems to be a barrier holding him back from connecting with others. It doesn’t help that most are either looking for a transaction from him, or are scared of him. The only person who truly knows Aster in all his messy entirety is his younger brother Ryuji.

And through it all, he is kind.

Despite, despite, despite.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍊⋅ ☆

Aster is Yara’s mentor and best friend. Being the one who rescued from her cursed fate with the Noroi, he has become her self-declared teacher, setting path for the Seventh Sector to help her get the answers she seeks. He has no clue if Ophelia will know what’s wrong with her, but she’s the only one he trusts to figure it out.

The boy has spent his entire life sworn to the Division, and that doesn’t seem to be changing anytime soon. He goes on missions near daily even with Yara now accompanying him, spending all the energy he can handle to vanquish Noroi off the face of the planet.

He only hopes he’ll be able to have a run-in with the Noroi who did this to all of them before his curse takes hold…..

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍊⋅ ☆

Traits || Laid-back, cocky, unserious, silly, observant, friendly

Alignment || Neutral Good

Likes || Messing with the younger recruits, travelling, window shopping, saving people, sleeping, kids, guitar, singing, train rides, the sunrise

Dislikes || Noroi, going out on missions all the time, meetings, the higher-ups, The Magnum Octō

Hobbies || Playing guitar, hiking, collecting, shopping, pranking, cooking

..✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩..

🌞 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Appearance ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆💫

Aster is a sight for sore eyes.

He has well-kempt, luscious auburn hair, a beautiful sunset orange in the sun, which falls around his shoulders in soft waves. His eyes are amber-brown, with flecks of gold and yellow in them, and his skin is well-tanned, freckles speckling nearly every inch of his body. His face is made up of sharp angles without being too angular, and he has long, pretty eyelashes that make his eyes pop.

His build is one to expect from a soldier. He’s lean and tall, with well-defined muscles without being too brutish and jacked. It allows him to be light on his feet yet still hold his own in fights, perfect for his line of work.

His skin is fairly unscarred, surprisingly. It’s not what you’d expect from an Immortus, as he’s almost constantly toeing the line with death. But his skin is mostly unblemished, other than the palms of his hands, which have been marred by dark, sunken-in scars in the shape of diamonds.

Height || 5’11”

Aesthetic || Aster doesn’t have a very prominent aesthetic or style he wears. He dresses for comfort most of the time, with baggy pants and sweatshirts. Though he does prefer clothes that are more on the lighter side, and tighter shirts. Most of his outfits have a variety of patches or layers to them, and he recently has begun wearing more jewellery with Yara around to gift him bracelets.

..✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩..

🌞 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Origins ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆💫

Aster was born in the fourth region inside Seras. Xanthos was a beautiful land, once, with golden skies, a scape that was splashed by rich colours of oranges and reds, and sunny, warm weather. Because of the disruption of Seras’ magic, this section of the planet has since plunged to the extremes, with unforgiving, sweltering weather year-round, and a barren terrain of sand and rock.

Aster has since grown up inside Eposa, a land that was once beautiful, set in the Mediterranean, bordered by the sparkling green tide of the sea and amassed by long rolling green hills and vibrant greenery. Now the place is much more barren, the grassy hills more blackened rock than grass, the sea dark and murky; unforgiving. Yet still, it is the only place Aster has ever had to call home.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍊⋅ ☆

Aster’s life has forever centered around the Division. He was thrust into it before he could even so much as roll over on his own, his memories of anything before it too young to properly fester in his mind. He was made to be a soldier, shaped and molded to serve the Division as they so please.

..✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩..

Where’s the fire, what’s the hurry about? / You better cool it off before you burn it out / You’ve got so much to do / And only so many hours in a day...

“Vienna” by Billy Joel

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🌞 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Relationships ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆💫

Ophelia Dyal, guardian

Ryuji Fukenaga, brother

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍊⋅ ☆

Aster’s family is largely unknown. Having been found by the Division as a newborn baby, the bodies of his guardians dismembered so grotesquely they were unrecognizable. Aster sometimes finds himself wondering about them. Who they were, what life he could’ve had. If they would’ve been proud of him.

Ophelia Dyal is the only parent he’s ever known. She was the one who took responsibility of him when the current leader of the Fourth Sector neglected to do so, hoping to provide him somewhat of a normal life. Even though she wasn’t able to give him the life she had hoped, the boy being pulled into the Division for training at ten-years-old, he’s still very close with her, sending constant letters during his particularly long missions. He loves her to death and doesn’t know what he’d do without her sage words and wise advice.

Ryuji is Aster’s younger brother, who he is even closer with, if that’s possible. The two are somewhat of best friends, lifelong partners who have always been there for each other. They support each other in every way, and talk all the time, even with Aster’s constant missions. Ryuji looks up to Aster immensely, and Aster admires Ryuji’s own strength and resilience. The two are truly inseparable.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍊⋅ ☆

Besides his tight-knit family, Aster doesn’t have many people to call his friends. Because of his high position at the Sector, most are either too scared to approach him or hoping for something from him — instead of a genuine connection. His past struggles with this has made him wary of people at best, and although he puts up a very friendly, easy-going front, he feels very cautious while talking to people, always holding everyone around him at arms’ length.

Odesa was one of his first friends. The girl that Ryuji had abruptly and somewhat uncharacteristically decided to hate with a passion, Aster instantly found her and his brother’s rivalry quite hilarious. Though the girl was a year younger than him, as she hung around him and Ryuji much more, he found himself taking a liking to her. To this day the two are quite close, and he always makes sure to bring her back lavish gifts from his longer missions.

And there’s of course Anya. She helps to patch him up after his missions, being Ophelia’s assistant. She’s saved his life more times than he can count, and for that he’s forever grateful. Although she’s just a kid, he finds himself having fun with her. She always knows how to cheer him up when he’s bored and restless in the infirmary, sneaking him sweets and playing games with him to pass the time. The kid is quite the charmer.

And of course, Yara. His best friend. Although he has had Odesa, she’s always been much more closer to Ryuji than he, and Yara is the first person he’s had to really call his “own”. He finds her funny and easy to be around, the two of them falling into place like a puzzle piece. It’s like she’s the thing he’s been missing all his life, the thing he needed when his same boring routine had begun to feel like an eternal punishment. She’s his favourite person to be around.

Other than those three, Aster doesn’t consider anyone else to be his friend. Sure, he talks to many people, and knows even more. He’s friendly with almost everyone at the Sector. Yet still, he doesn’t actually hold them dear to his heart. They’re no more than colleagues to him, people he is forced to interact with, but not those he would actively choose to be around.

..✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩..

🌞 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ The Seventh Sector ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆💫

Curse || Sol

Aster, although not unusual at the Sector, is one of the Immortai: the undead warriors that dedicate their lives to eradicating the Noroi that ravage their earth. Being cursed as a baby, he had no knowledge of life from the Before, and in such, has been able to hone his abilities to perfection without the pesky grief and horror that follows along the rest.

His curse is one that is seen as more of a blessing by those at the Sector. He has the ability to use and harness light to his will, having the power to burn and "heal" Noroi. This in turn drains his own energy, and takes hold on his physical appearance, rotting away his skin. The rot he is usually able to control, normally only affecting his hands, which is where his Mageia stems from.

But unlike the other hunters at the Sector, Aster stubbornly refuses to use a weapon to lessen the effects of his curse. He uses it to its full strength, which is, in a way, what has allowed him to get so far in life and become one of the most decorated soldiers inside the Seventh Sector. This does make the rot worse, especially when he uses up the allotted amount of Mageia he has before his symptoms begin to worsen.

He's been warned over and over how dangerous doing this is, but he never seems to want to listen.

..✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩..

🌞 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Extra Tidbits ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆💫

Aster was originally offered a place on the Magnum Octō, who are a group of specially-selected hunters from all the regions across the globe, that work directly under the Leader. But for some reason, Aster refused. Despite the Octō's constant pleads for him to join them instead of wasting his talents amongst the Seventh Sector, he still chooses to stay and serve Ophelia. None of them understand it.

He's quite a prankster.

He likes to entertain townsfolk with special performances done with his guitar. After he's dealt with the Noroi threat he'll sometimes stop to play and dance to a song, even roping in other people nearby. (He forces Yara to join in now.)

He is quite scared of Yara's pet raven, who seems to have some sort of silent vendetta against him. The bird seems to always be giving him the side eye, if thats possible.

His favourite food is Jalebi.

He picks and pokes at Ryuji TIRELESSLY. When they were younger he'd constantly make jokes about how in love he was with Odesa, making kissy-lips behind her back whenever she was around. Something that pissed Ryuji off immensely.

He dislikes Kageko and doesn't consider him his brother, despite the ghost's relation to Ryuji.

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is-it-bussin-hannibal · 2 months ago

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Hey! I love the way you portray the domestic life of Orlok and Ellen, now that you have made their child. Do you have any headcanons of what their life would be with their child? Would they have more?

Thanks for answering 💕

thank you!!! 🥺

so i’m just gonna be random here but

Danika has eerie gray eyes.

She has her mother’s hair color but her father’s whole face.

She’s not really a vampire!! she just,,, shares her father’s interests(?) (welcome back, Hannibal Lecter)

She is a powerful creature of darkness, though, just like her parents.

She likes to watch the sunset and the sunrise.

As a baby, when she’s awake during the day, Herr Knock will take her outside.

She does have her own bed/crib but you’ll always find her in her father’s sarcophagus.

She was not expected AT ALL by Ellen and Orlok. Since Ellen’s mother died when she was young and she’s only around men in the castle most of the time, there’s was no one for her to learn from about pregnancies, so she barely noticed she was pregnant until it was visible, and any discomfort, Ellen could just snap it away. (All she knew was of Anna’s, but even so, she was not physically around for her friend’s pregnancy.)

And what i mean by not expected is, nobody really considered it, since Orlok is literally a corpse.

Also, she’s born waaayy down the line, i was thinking the 70’s? but she matures very slowly.

She’s very curious, especially about humans, since they’re mostly isolated in the castle.

Orlok arranged for many people in Ellen’s life to die in the castle, so their spirits can visit.

So little Danika is playing with ghosts most of the time.

She’s a very morbid little girl, doesn’t have much facial expression, both her parents think is very normal, since they were just like that as children. (looking at autism in the eye)

Orlok had a lonely life, when his mother was alive, he had her of course, but the castle was always cold and empty and lifeless. But since Ellen’s arrival and all the chaos that came with, the pets, the people, the magic, he experienced life in the stone walls for the first time. And he makes sure Danika always have that.

You can imagine they’re unquestionably always invited for the Addams family function.

Just like her mother, as she gets older, she likes to wander in the forest. There’s no real danger for her, but if something does happen, one scream and her father will break time and space laws to be there.

I was thinking as well, at some point, before Danika, Ellen finds a boy, a tiny 9-10 years old in the forest, very sensitive to the supernatural, just like her. An orphan, his father is alive but like the rest of the village, he shunned him away, because of his powers. So Ellen takes him to the castle. Raising him, teaching him, opens her heart, i said this before but Ellen really desires a family, and our little boy here reminds her of Anna’s children, of Thomas (who can visit at any time btw) so unconsciously, she wills her body to bring forth a child (let’s go bene gesserit!!!!!) and that’s how Dani is possible. I haven’t really developed anything much for my little guy yet, but his name is Alexandru.

#lilac fang #nosferatu #count orlok #ellen hutter #ellen x orlok #domestic freaks #Danika Draculesti #sorry i can’t shut up op #don’t ask me how is herr knock alive idk #Orlok sees Alexandru and is like ‘oh another pet’#Orlok and Ellen king and queen of collecting strays!!

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femininenachos · 2 months ago

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10 years of Clexa kisses (Yours for the (s)taking edition)

She wants nothing more than to put her hands on Clarke’s body. And the dark, heated look Clarke is giving her only fuels the very vivid ideas in Lexa’s head; about reversing their positions, grinding her hips against tensed muscle, bringing them both to a slow, sensual climax.

But she’s also all too aware that they don’t have the luxury of time right now.

To start something and have it curtailed would be a tragedy, particularly the thorough ravishment Lexa has in mind.

Also, bursting into flames during the act is guaranteed to kill the mood.

So it’s with regret that she says, “Could we possibly take a rain check?”

Clarke’s face cycles through a few emotions, frustration and disappointment being foremost, and Lexa tries not to preen.

“I want to. Believe me, I do,” she says. “It’s just, you have work and sunlight is sort of my Achilles' heel…”

Clarke casts a glance towards the alarm clock on the nightstand. Her eyes go wide and round.

“Oh, shit.” She scrambles up and off the bed to pull the blinds down and the curtains shut tight. Whirls back around, fraught and full of panicked energy. “What are you going to do? I mean, will you have enough time to—”

“There’s a safe house nearby. If I leave shortly, I can make it.”

Her relief is palpable.

Lexa swings her legs around. Stands and massages the crick out of her neck. She notices her coat still in a heap on the floor and picks it up.

“I’ll dispose of this. Do you have a spare trash bag?”

“Yeah, in the kitchen.”

She follows Clarke through the apartment into a galley kitchen. It’s so cramped and narrow that Lexa almost walks into Clarke when she stops to search through a drawer. They’re standing far too close when Clarke turns around, a roll of black plastic in hand. She tears off one bag and gives it to Lexa.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

An uneasy silence hangs in the air between them while they look at each other, neither sure what to say.

Clarke breaks the tension with a hollow chuckle. “You know, I figured you were the type to sneak off before sunrise. Admittedly, for totally different reasons.”

“I wish I could stay, Clarke.”

A nod. Clarke worries her lip as she scans Lexa’s face. What she’s searching for, Lexa can only hazard a guess but she keeps her expression open and sincere.

“I like the way you say my name.”

Apropos of nothing; not at all what Lexa expected to hear.

She’s even less prepared for what happens next: the confidence with which Clarke invades her space, crowding Lexa back against the stove until her rear bumps into the oven door handle.

Whatever qualms Clarke might be having are masked by the determined glint in her eyes as she closes in. Dropping the trash bags, she curls a hand around Lexa’s neck, the other going to Lexa’s hip.

And then Clarke is kissing her; soft, warm lips moving with gentle insistence.

Lexa is slow to react, mouth opening in blind reflex as Clarke leans up, angling in deeper. Lexa’s mind goes blank; fuzzy, white static ringing in her ears and drowning out the rapid thump of Clarke’s heartbeat as their lips cling together and a hot puff of breath hits her cheek.

It only lasts a moment, but Lexa feels a phantom flutter in her chest, a swoop in her stomach, a weakness in the knees. She tingles all over. It would be embarrassing if she wasn’t so inexplicably taken with this woman.

“You feel warm,” Clarke whispers, thumb stroking the side of Lexa’s neck and making her melt.

“The gift of your blood.” Lexa draws back an inch to look at Clarke, becoming solemn and serious. Voice going soft. “Clarke, what you did was—”

She’s cut off by Clarke kissing her again. With the kind of slow, soft hunger that has Lexa contemplating whether they could just barricade Clarke’s bedroom against the light. Potential death seems like an acceptable risk if it means she gets to continue doing this.

“I can think of a couple of ways you could thank me,” Clarke says, breathier. Her hand drops to Lexa’s sternum to push her away, retreating a half step. “But later.”

“Tonight?”

An eyebrow flexes. “My haemoglobin is that good, huh?”

“That’s not all I want to taste.”

Read on AO3

#clexaweek25 #10 years of clexa kisses #vampire au #vampire!au #my fic

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mountainsandmayhem · 1 year ago

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Wings. Fire. Magic. Part Four

18+, Minors Do Not Interact

DragonTrainer!Joel x Female!Reader

Summary: Joel has to follow through on his deal with The King, the two of you share tender moments, and maybe you don't want to go home after all. Dragon divider by @saradika-graphics CW: 18+, p in v sex (wrap it up folks), mean Joel but also tender Joel. Praise (duh, it's Joel), dirty talk, female and male orgasms WC: 6K

Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three

Fuck. I’m dead. So very dead.

The terrifying milky coloured dragon is going to incinerate you. You can see building in his throat as he roars at you. The last one was so loud that you clamped your hands over your ears and started to back away. Your family flashes before your eyes. Your mom is about to celebrate her one thousandth name day, she’d ask for those little mushroom and cheese pastry puffs she loves so much, your dad would make some joke about her being older than him, even though just a fortnight later he’d be celebrating his same name day.

“Eaaasssyyy,” you say shakily to the dragon, your hands are trembling as you move them from your ears, holding them up to try to calm him.

Suddenly you’re being pushed to the side, hitting the ground hard, rolling over yourself a few times. The wind is knocked out of you and you roll onto your back to try to get oxygen, gasping against the invisible hands restricting your lungs. You can see Joel standing in front of the dragon in just his tight black boxers. The sunrise casts flecks of gold around his tight and tanned skin, more tattoos swirl around his back, as well as 3 thick scars from his left shoulder to the middle of his back. They’re not new, but still raised and pinkish in colour.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he says loudly, holding his arms up, palms facing out to the dragon. “Uvri, easy boy.”

The dragon pauses, sniffing slightly at Joel before lowering himself and folding his wings back into his body.

“There you go.” he praises the dragon, still with a tinge of fear on the edge of his voice, “That’s it. Easy.”

The dragon touches his nose to one of Joel’s palms and then peaks behind him at you. “She is our friend. It’s ok.”

You slowly stand up and Uvri side eyes you. “Sorry,” you say to both Joel and the dragon.

Uvri turns back to the eggs, his large scaled body nestling around them. He lets out a content hum and shuts his eyes. Joel grabs your shoulders, eyes raking over you with concern. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, Joel.” You look away from him, your cheeks heat at how you touched yourself to thoughts of him last night while you were tucked into the soft sheets of your bed. And now he’s here in just his boxers holding your face and looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

His hands cup your face gently with his large palms, “Sweetheart, not all dragons are Rem. She doesn’t know she’s a dragon if I’m being honest. You have to be careful out here.”

“Ok. I’m sorry.” His eyes trail down each of your arms, hands not moving from your cheeks and even though you’re completely clothed, it all feels a little too intimate. When he doesn’t see any injuries he seems to start breathing again, his muscular chest expanding as air fills his lungs.

“We need to talk about The King, I have to go back before those eggs hatch.” His hands slide to your shoulders as he continues, “I need you to trust me, and after we see The King I will take you to see your family. We’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”

Your eyes fall to Joel’s strong bare chest, landing on the small hand tattoo over his heart. His hands fall from your shoulders and he smiles awkwardly at you. He’s suddenly aware that he’s practically naked. The animals of the forest around you start to wave up. Birds chirping, chipmunks chattering, the air seems to come alive. The morning sun is finally high enough to peek through the trees and warm your face.

“You should probably get dressed before we talk,” you laugh. You and Joel walk side by side back towards the log cabin and you fight the urge to ask about the small hand tattoo over his heart. “How many dragons do you have?”

“Umm,” he rubs the back of his neck nervously, bicep flexing, “I have five. They live around the woods here.”

“And they just stay?” you ask. Considering you were stealing an egg you know very little, almost nothing actually, about dragons.

“Dragons are loyal. They might leave for food, but they come back each night.”

Joel opens the back door and you head into the kitchen, propping yourself up on one of the stools. The log cabin is somehow more gorgeous in the morning sunlight. Joel’s half naked body putters around the kitchen, he pops open an airtight canister and the smell of coffee beans fills the room. When he turns back to you, you avert your eyes, looking down at the granite island.

“Is being in your underwear an important part of this plan? Or?” You feel your cheeks heating.

“Shit, sorry. My adrenaline is up here,” he raises an arm above his head and you glance over to see all the muscles in his abdomen flexing as he reaches. “Just, stay there. Please.”

Joel disappears down the hallway and you finally understand what humans mean when they say ‘hate to see you go but love to watch you leave’, the tight boxers hug the strong globes of his ass, the soft fabric straining against his muscular thighs. But what really draws your eye are the two dimples in his lower back, just above the waist band. Your mouth waters at the sight of him.

When he returns the coffee is brewed and, since you already scared Joel half to death, you listen and stay on your stool. He pours you a cup of coffee and slides it across the counter to you, along with cream and sugar for you to add. You give him a tight lipped smile.

“Rem and Uvri have five eggs that are going to hatch soon.” He says as he stirs a little bit of cream in his coffee, “I am going to leave tomorrow to take three of those eggs.”

“Is Remmer going to be ok?” You can’t imagine she’ll be happy to have three of her babies taken from her, she’s so sweet and gentle. “You can’t give away your dragons.”

“No, she’s probably going to be very upset with me,” he places his coffee down and opens the fridge, pulling out eggs and bacon. “But remember how I told you dragons are extremely loyal?”

“Yes,” you’re starting to feel that guilt again, being taken care of while your family is struggling and probably worried sick about you.

“You stole that egg, but once it hatched, the dragon would find its way back here.” you hear the tick-tick-whoosh of the stove before he grabs two pans and puts them over the flame. “They’ll always find their way back to their family.”

“Ok,” you say curiously. “So, what about me?”

“You’re staying here.” he says firmly, his back to you as he puts the bacon in the pan, the sound and smell of the fat sizzling causes your stomach to growl.

“No, Joel,” you argue, “ You have to make The King think you hate me more than he does”

He turns to face you, crossing his arms across his chest. “No.”

“Joel, you have to.” You practically beg him, he turns around and cracks eggs in the second pan, avoiding your eyes as best he can. He already knows he has to take you, but he is a stubborn man, and if you start begging or look at him with those big sad eyes he’ll break. “If he knew that I slept in a big plush comfy bed or soaked in a bubble bath. I’m supposed to be your slave.”

Joel shakes his head. “I’m taking him the eggs. You’re staying here. I’m not bringing you back there. I cannot bring you back there.”

You wrap your hands around your coffee cup and bring it to your lips. He cannot bring you back there. You already know that there’s no arguing with him, even when he knows you’re right. Actually, especially when he knows you’re right. He’ll come around, he just needs to do it on his own time.

After breakfast Joel tells you he’s going into the village to get you clothes and boots, and after a stern warning to stay out of the woods, he hops on his horse and off he goes. You spend the afternoon close to the house, wandering outside but staying clear of the woods. Around one side of the house is a large garden, vegetables sprout up every which direction and nothing is labeled. On the other side of the house, just below your bedroom window, is a flagstone patio with a large fire pit, wooden chairs and a bench. Everything outside of the house looks like it belongs there, like the earth put it there itself. You sit on the bench and start making a small fire. You catch Rem watching you from the tree line. You smile at her, but she stays near a peculiar tree; stark, white bark and a large canopy of deep purple leaves. It’s the only leafy tree in the area, the whole property is surrounded by large conifers, how that tree even exists is beyond you.

Once the fire has started, you head into the house to get a bowl to start picking ripe vegetables. The sun is starting to set and you may as well make yourself useful and make dinner. After picking carrots, beets, potatoes, green beans and a handful of fresh herbs, you skip back into the house. You spotted chicken in the fridge this morning, so you take it out and rub it with oil, sprinkling the fresh herbs on top. Next, you chop all the vegetables up. Unlike Joel, who can just reach up and grab the cast iron pans hanging above the island, you have to climb up and stand on the counter to grab them. You take everything outside and start cooking.

Dinner is almost ready when Joel's deep voice floats across the back yard, “Hi.”

“Hi.” You smile sheepishly at him over your shoulder.

“Something smells amazing.” The fire pops and crackles, birds chirping in the woods calling to each other.

You turn back to the fire, stirring the veggies. “I figured I could make myself useful”

“Thank you. You don’t need to do that.”

You pat the bench beside you and Joel comes to sit beside you, knees grazing one another. You both look at the purple tree in front of you.

“Can I -“ you start. Joel saying, “how’s your -“ at the same time.

You both laugh quietly and you say, “you go first.”

“How’s your back?” he asks, you glance over at him and he’s looking at you with that same big eyed concern he had this morning when you stumbled into Uvri.

“I think better.” you roll your shoulders backwards slowly, testing the muscles and checking for pain. Joel notices the slight wince in your face, “I have more movement in my arms but it still feels like I got trampled.”

“I put some muscle relaxing oil in your room with your new clothes.” He says it so casually and your heart flutters as you thank him. Someone doing something for you is still so foreign. Are you that deprived of the goodness of humanity that you let one little act turn you all gooey?

Joel’s knee nudges yours, bringing you back to reality. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to ask about that tree,” your eyes peel away from Joel’s.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, hand coming up subconsciously to his heart. The sadness practically etched across his face.

“The tattoo?” You ask.

“It’s - umm - that’s where my daughter is.” He says, avoiding looking at you and the tree, instead he grabs the metal poker and starts to stir the fiery orange coals. You don’t press him, somehow you know that he’ll talk when he’s ready. “So I think you’re right. You have to come with me.”

You nod, you were right not to push. Joel does everything methodically, he doesn’t jump in. You clear the fear out of your throat, fear that feels like shards of glass and say, “Make him think you hate me.”

“Problem is,” he stands, sliding on a large mitt and grabbing one of the cast iron pans off the fire grill, “I don’t hate you. Not in the slightest.”

Dinner was silent between the two of you and you went to your bedroom early, exhausted from the last few days but full of nervous anticipation for what was to come. You drift off easily, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep. A distant roar causes you to stir, rolling over and pulling the blankets up around your neck. You hear yelling in the distance and it slowly brings you to be fully conscious. Now awake you can hear it more clearly - it’s Joel. He’s yelling. You shoot out of your bed and creep into the hallway, his door is closed, “No, leave her.”

You knock gently, his bed creaking under him as he tosses around his sheets. You open the door a crack, peeking in. His eyes are clamped shut, a pained look on his face. His curls are sweaty and slick to his forehead. He’s twitching and mumbling.

“Joel,” you whisper, walking over to him slowly. He thrashes again, violently this time. “Joel,” you repeat, a little louder as your hand reaches out to him. As soon as your palm touches his shoulder he grabs your wrist, jerking you violently and flipping you onto the bed below him. You’re trapped under his large, muscular and naked form. His eyes are glazed over, rage and anger contorting his features.

“Joel!” You practically yell it this time and when he blinks you slowly start to come into focus. He shakes his head, blinking quickly as his breathing starts to calm.

“Fuck,” he huffs, almost leaping off of you, covering himself with his hands before finding some underwear.

“You were having a nightmare,” you whisper, walking over to him. “Are you ok?”

“Did I hurt you?” He’s back, that soft and caring man that you’re starting to fall for. The moonlight paints the room in a light glow.

“No, I’m fine,” you reach out to touch him and he steps away, “Joel, are you ok?”

Joel wanders back to his bed and starts to straighten out the sheets, “I’m fine.”

“Ok,” you say, uncertainty waving through the word, “I’ll just…” you start to leave as he crawls back into his soft sheets.

He calls your name, when you look back at him he’s on his side, back towards you. “Ya?” you whisper.

His voice is sad and cracks a little as he asks, “Please stay.”

You smile to yourself and pad over to him, gently crawling in behind him. You’re not sure what comes over you or makes you feel so bold, but you press the front of your body to his warm back, one arm bending under your pillow, the other draping across his waist, your face nuzzled between his strong shoulder muscles. He’s tense for a second before he relaxes into you. Neither of you speak, and when his breathing gets relaxed and heavy, you place a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade and fall asleep.

It feels like minutes later when Remmer’s cries have you rushing from Joel’s empty bed to look at the large window. You see him heading towards the house with a small wooden chest, Uvri follows along behind him, saddle and reins already affixed to his large and intimidating body.

You go to your own room and slide on your new leathers and boots and head out to the kitchen to meet Joel. He has a ratty looking cloth dress in one hand, chains and a small collar in the other. You both stare at each other. You don’t need words. You knew exactly what being his slave would mean and what playing that part would look like. You’ve seen plenty of Fae in this uniform, following along behind whatever creature owned them. Joel looks at you with a tender sadness, swallowing hard while you nod at him and head out the back door. Rem lands beside Uvri and nuzzles against you, crying out again.

“It’s ok, Rem.” You say quietly, running your hand down her neck, her scales are warm and smooth, you didn’t realize how soothing petting a dragon could be.

Joel helps you up in Uvri and with a click of his tongue the dragon shoots up into the sky and dread fills your body.

The flight is most quiet. You occasionally point to places that you’ve been to, Joel points to an orange and red canopy of trees and tells you his brother lives there. You need the distraction, and assume he does too, so you ask questions about his brother. You learn his name is Tommy and he’s younger than Joel. He’s married and they have a baby on the way. He also trains dragons, just like their father did before them. Finally you see the mountains come into view and you know that you’re close to The King.

Joel lands Uvri in a clearing near the castle. Your insides clench as Joel slumps against your back. His forehead rests softly on the back of your shoulder, letting out a deep sigh before wrapping his arms around your waist.

You both sit like that for a minute, your hearts pounding in sync with one another’s. “Make this quick for me, Joel.”

He releases you and you follow him, climbing off Uvri. You reach into one of the bags strapped to his saddle and pull out the tattered dress.

“I’m sorry about this.” Joel says softly.

“I know,” you say sadly as you walk behind Uvri to change.

You slip out of the new leathers, even though you’re gutted over not having your wings, getting dressed has been easier. You stare down at the thin bra and panties, squeezing your eyes shut before sliding them off. The scratchy fabric of the plain dress is uncomfortable against your skin. You stuff your clothes in a bag and walk back around to Joel.

He looks at you with big sad eyes, recalling what you said last night while you ate dinner, “The King needs to think that you hate me more than he does. You have to hate me to keep me safe.”

His eyes lower down your body, stopping where the hem of the dress ends at your knees, then his head turns to look at his right hand. Your eyes follow, a thick rusted chain connected to a metal collar grips in his fingers. He walks to you slowly and you lock eyes. He stops just a hair away and you force a hard swallow before taking in a shaky breath, gathering your hair in your hands.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, placing the cold, heavy collar around your throat. The hinges creak menacingly before the loud click of the lock reverberates down your whole body. The weight of it rests on your collarbone and it feels like it’s pressing you down into the earth. Even though this was your idea and you have no reason not to trust Joel, you feel absolutely humiliated. Uvri stares ahead at the castle and you find yourself longing for Remmer.

“Why can’t we take her?” You asked Joel last night.

“She needs to be the one to imprint on the babies if I can’t. She fully trusts me, so the babies will too.”

Within seconds of remounting him, Uvri lands on top of that same tower and your body starts trembling, teeth chattering in your skull. Joel helps you down and then pulls you into his arms. You sink into his body, letting his warmth and comfort wash over you. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m going to make this as fast as possible. Just look at the floor the whole time. Don’t look up. I got you.”

You clear the glass from your throat, “Don’t let go of my chain.”

He hands you the case that contains the three dragon eggs before looping the chain around his hand a few times. You follow down the stairs and hallway, and before the guards open the doors to the main hall you take a shaky breath and look down at the case.

Don’t look up.

“Joel!” The King exclaims as you enter. “You brought your little slave, I see!”

“Probably should have let you kill her,” he says darkly as he pulls you along the long corridor. “Ungrateful little thing. Couldn’t trust her to stay alone.”

Don’t look up.

When you reach the foot of the stairs, a guard grabs the box from your hands roughly. Joel bows, and when you stay standing he gives the chain a hard yank towards the ground. Your knees crash down on the cobblestone floor. In a cruel mocking tone Joel says, “bow to your merciful king. You should be dead.”

You let out a small cry of pain and The King laughs cruelly, “look at my trophy, fairy.”

Don’t look up.

When your eyes stay fixed on the floor he shuffles in his throne and chuffs like a petulant child before yelling, “I’m talking to you!”

Joel tugs on your chain again and you look up at The King through your lashes. Above him, your wings are hanging from the wall, suspended in a swirling, thin black mist.

“When your master brings me the other eggs, I might let you have these back. But I’ve grown quite accustomed to them. They look better here than they did on your useless back.” The King is smiling like he’s at an amusement park, clearly getting nothing but pleasure out of the torture you’re being put through.

Joel crouches beside you, grabbing a handful of your hair and forcefully pulls. You let out a yelp as he brings your face within inches of his. His face is harsh, eyebrows knitted together and jaw clenched. “Thank your King, little whore.” He spits and yanks your head towards The King.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, voice trembling with fear. Joel shoves your head down, you lose your balance and your palms collide with the floor before he pulls you back to a kneeling position by the chain.

Your heart feels like it’s in your stomach. Your beautiful iridescent wings hung up in such a cruel and harsh place. Tears start burning in the back of your eyes, everything about this feels wrong. Joel has slipped into this role too easily. Maybe he’s using you to get to the rest of the remaining Fae.

As Joel and The King discuss when the next eggs will be ready, you fight to keep your tears in. You focus on breathing, blood surging so loudly through your ears that you can’t make out what they’re saving above you.

My wings. My wings. My wings.

Soon, Joel pulls sharply on your chain and barks, “Up.”

You stand and walk weakly behind him.

My wings. My wings. My wings.

Joel leads you back up the stairs, never looking back at you to keep up what you hope is a facade. But he was so goddamn convincing in that room that all the tender moments you’ve had are gone. His face was so harsh, so full of hatred. You don’t remember how it feels to be safe around him anymore. He hoists you up onto Uvri. Joel flicks Uvri’s reins with one hand, his free arm wrapping tightly around your middle. As he takes off, your body slumps back against Joel, the emotional exhaustion starting to take over.

My wings. My wings. My wings.

The dragon flaps his wings fiercely, the wind whipping so hard your eyes start to water, blurring your vision. The air cools the steel around your neck and it nips at your skin. You close your eyes against the cold and all you can see is Joel’s cruel expression, as if it’s been tattooed on your eyelids.

Within minutes you’re landing in the same field you had just days ago. It took Remmer half a day to fly to the castle from here, and that’s when you realize just how powerful Uvri is. The dragon has barely touched down when Joel is pulling you off the dragon and into his arms.

“I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m so sorry.” He whispers into your hair, holding your tense and exhausted body tightly against him. His fingers work quickly to undo the collar. As it falls to the ground, his fingers trace the light bruises already forming at the base of your neck.

Your hands push at his chest and he lets you take a small step back. You stare at the ground and fight against the urge to run. He called you a whore and ungrateful. He made you look at your wings after he told you not to look up. Everything he did in that hall was done with such conviction that you’re tempted to believe it yourself. You could run. You don’t have wings, no one would hunt you now. You could just run, run and hide.

When you finally manage to look at him, he’s nothing like he was with The King. Dark eyes have turned warm, flecks of brown sugar shine throughout his chocolate brown eyes, tears lining his lash line. His jaw is relaxed, lips parted as he looks at your neck. Without warning he drops to his knees and sits back on his heels. He lets out a hiss when he sees the deep purple bruise already wrapping around your knees. His hands come to rest lightly on the side of your thighs.

“Please talk to me,” he chokes, one tear rolling down his cheek.

You swallow down the lump that’s been in your throat since landing on that tower. “My wings,” you whisper sadly.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

You blink a few times at Joel. Each flutter of your lashes morphs your sadness into rage. “Kiss me.”

“What?” His brow furrows slightly, but you don’t miss the uptick of a small smile that appears on his lips at the thought of kissing you.

“I am fucking livid. Kiss me. Kiss me so I know that it’s ok. Kiss me to show me that we will get my wings back and that all of that was just an act back there. Kiss me to distract me from going there and ripping out that vile man's throat.”

He leans forward, warm velvety lips gently press to your right kneecap, then your left. Joel stands, hands coming to tangle in your hair. “It was all an act, I feel horrible. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you say, hands trailing up the strong muscles of Joel’s back, concealed under his leather coat. “This was my destiny, to destroy The King. With you.”

The second the words leave your mouth you and Joel come together in a mess of lips and tongue and teeth. It’s frantic and desperate, both of you saying everything you need to say with this kiss. He swallows your moans with his mouth. Gripping your hair tightly with one hand. The other running down your back, lifting you up by the meaty globe of your ass. Your dress hikes up your hips as you lock your legs around his waist, hands gripping his shoulders as he walks you to the edge of the clear blue river.

You break your kiss to undo his jacket, sliding the leather buckles out of their metal clasps. First the one at his collar bone, then chest and stomach. You press your lips against his again as you slide the zipper down. He’s not wearing a shirt, his strong tanned chest warms your body through your thin dress, your nipples stiffening in anticipation.

Joel lowers your feet to the smooth, colourful rocks of the shore and breaks apart from you. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you watch him drop his jacket to the ground, your hands working on their own to undo the leather tie of his pants. The outline of his cock pressing through the thick fabric.

His hands grab your wrists. “I don’t - I don’t have protection.”

You blink up at him. “Joel, I’m over six hundred years old. I don’t think pregnancy is a worry.”

You stare at each other for a second, sexual tension morphing as he smiles at you and you start to laugh. His hands come to your neck again, fingering the light bruising before his lips press gently where the collar sat. The hurried rush of his lips and hands is replaced by a slow passion.

His lips caress your neck and you close your eyes. Head falling to the side to give him more access. Your hands reach for the growing bulge behind his pants. He moans into your neck at your touch, kisses moving up your neck.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart.” The deep baritone of his voice sends a fresh wave of arousal to your core. You’re not wearing anything under this thin dress, you can almost feel how wet you are on your thighs.

“Need you,” you moan, voice husky with want.

Joel grips the hem of your dress. “Use your words,” he says, his forehead resting against yours. “Need me to what, baby girl.”

“Make me feel good.” You say.

He slips your dress up and over your body, leaving you completely bare to him. He steps back, toeing his boots off and working at his fitted leather pants. He slides them down his hips, his cock springs free, slapping against his hard abdomen. You lick your lips at the sight of him naked before you. Tattoos and scars on display for you, tanned skin glowing under the setting sun.

His hand reaches out for yours, intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you into the water. It’s cool on your skin and eases the pain in your knees, which just makes you crave Joel more. When the water is passed his hips he grabs you again, lifting you into his arms, bodies pressed tightly against each other.

“Make you feel good how?” He asks, kissing your neck and collarbone.

“Please Joel.” you whine.

“Please what, baby girl?”

You grind your hips into his, you can feel his cock sliding underneath you as your clit brushes against his body and you whine.

“Need my cock sweet girl?” You moan out again. “Say what you need.”

“I need…” fuck why is this so hard for you. After years of giving to everyone else and having no one to take care of you it’s nearly impossible to ask for it.

“Please, darlin’. Say whatever you need and I’ll give it. Fingers. Tongue. Whatever you want.”

You grind against him again, the water of the lake making everything slippery. “Want you inside me.”

“Good girl,” his voice is rough with need, “guide it in for us.”

You reach your hand between your bodies and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping his length a few times before lining it up with your entrance. You can feel your walls fluttering already, anxiously waiting to be filled.

“Look at me,” he says.

You lock eyes and slowly sink down onto him, the head of his thick cock filling you. “Oh god - Joel - fuck.”

“Keep goin’ baby,” his eyes glaze over, “wanna be all the way in.”

Your eyes stay locked to his, fingernails digging into his shoulders as you slide him the rest of the way inside you. You feel every inch of him stretching and filling you. The cool water of the slow moving river dances along your skin.

“Fuck you feel so good.” He moans, bringing his lips to yours. Kissing you deeply.

You grind small, slow circles with your hips into him, at this angle he’s hitting that perfect spongy spot, his abdomen rubbing against your clit.

“That’s it, baby.” He praises as you cry out in pleasure. The small movements shouldn’t feel this good, but you’re surrounded by him in the water and as the sun fully sets and the moon and stars start to light up the water, he looks so beautiful. The trees are still, the world quiet and it feels like just the two of you exist. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes, Joel. Mmmm yes.” You can feel your orgasm building, your heart pounds in your chest over the close intimacy. Your body reacts so well to his, your pussy twitching slightly around his cock.

“Relax. Take what you need,” he says, letting you rub against him at your own pace.

“Oh fuck,” that familiar pressure starts to build again and you grip harder onto Joel.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl.” His hands cup your ass under the water, moving with your slow and steady rhythm. His dark eyes drink you in as you writhe against him. Moonlight reflects off the water, dancing around his body like candlelight.

“More, please Joel. More.”

“Ya?” He asks, thrusting up into you when you grind down on him.

“Oh god. Fuck me. Please.”

Joel crashes his lips to yours again as he takes over. Lifting you up and then slamming into you with his hips, hands pushing you down onto him. You moan into his mouth, he’s so deep and stretching you almost to the point of pain.

He repeats this motion a few more times, you call out his name to the forest, completely unashamed of your pleasure echoing back at you.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this. Look down baby, look how well you’re taking me.”

You lean back, watching through the clear moonlit water as Joel slides in and out of you and that heat in your lower belly starts to erupt. You cry out, watching as Joel’s thrusts become slower and sloppier.

“Play with your clit.” he demands through gritted teeth, he’s trying his hardest not to come yet.

You lean back slightly, sliding your hand between your bodies and rub tight circles on your sensitive nub.

“Joel!” it comes out as a high pitched squeal, you’re right on the edge, teetering towards all consuming pleasure.

“I know. I know.” His voice is soothing.

“I’m. Oh fuuuuck. I’m gonna…”

“Cum for me baby. Let me feel it.” Your orgasm washes over you, sparks lighting up your whole body. You curl into Joel, biting his neck gently, muffling the sounds of your screams as your walls clench hard around him. Joel doesn’t stop thrusting up into you, “that’s it. Good job sweetheart.”

You bring both hands to tangle in Joel’s curls, kissing him as you come down from your high. “Cum for me, Joel,” you say between kisses.

He smiles at you proudly. You could ask for what you wanted when you two started. “Where do you want it baby?”

“I wanna watch,” you moan, your pussy becoming overstimulated by his thrusts.

He lifts you off, you reach for his cock as your feet hit the cool round stones on the bottom of the lake. You watch as you stroke him at the same pace he was fucking you.

“Show me Joel,” your free hand cups his balls, massaging them gently. They tighten in your hand before his cock twitches and his milky spend rises up in the water around you.

You look up at his face as he groans your name, his eyes are fixed on you and glazed over with pleasure. This big, strong dragon trainer is like soft clay, coming apart in your hands and you’ve never felt sexier.

“Fuck,” he says bringing you in for a kiss.

“Bring me home,” you whisper after breaking the kiss.

“We’ll go to your family first thing.” He says, kissing your nose.

“No, just take me home.”

Joel smiles warmly. Home. His home, and now your home.

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

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @mermaidgirl30 @lorilane33

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uselessmoonlight · 3 months ago

Text

Stranger part 12

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother.

Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / character sheet / next

Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes, English is not my first language, sorry if it's too much exposition, it's my first fic.

Ónoma literally means name in Greek, at least according to google translate. View this as the y/n of this fic.

“Are you done yet?” Perikles asked, less than amused. Ónoma had been laughing at him for the past, what? 15 minutes? It was way shorter than that, but it felt like ages for the God.

“No, not yet.” It was her turn to tease him. Her laughter would’ve died long ago, but the fact that it bothered him so much kept her going. “Alright, fine, I’m done. Now let’s get you wrapped up, huh?”

She’d added honey to one of her mother’s old ointment recipes to stop his healing wounds from getting infected. She’d left the wounds unwrapped to dry up and form scabs, but it also left them vulnerable. She was going to need new bandages soon.

“You know, I never did find out what caused your wounds.” Peach murmured.

“You never asked, but do you really want to do so now? An answer for an answer, remember?”

“We made that deal an hour ago, of course I remember.” She replied, dumbfounded. What kind of questions did this guy have for her? How bad could they truly be? “Tell me, Perikles, what caused those wounds?” She asked, somewhat smug about finally getting answers.

“My very own trident, wielded by a man who wounded someone I love. I searched for him for 10 years, and when I finally found him, I lost.” All initial smugness was lost on Ónoma, she’d not expected such a raw, honest answer from the man.

“What? Didn’t expect me to answer? A deal is a deal, I’m a man of honour.”

“Making sexual advances on an underage girl? Very honourable.” She remarked sarcastically.

“You’re underage?” The man asked, eyebrow raised.

“Is that the question you want to ask?” She echoed his earlier sentiments. He gave a nod. “Only for another week.” She mumbled.

“What difference does one week make?”

“Was that a rhetorical question, or do you want to get philosophical?” She countered.

At the end of the day, she was able to retreat to her own space, sure, the cement and stuff hadn’t fully dried yet, but as long as she didn’t touch the walls, it’d be fine. Telemachus had even gone as far as to have a bed placed in the room already. Gods bless him.

The rest of the day had gone by with a lot less serious questions and some really nice dinner. The fish traps had been a success, she’d even brought the excess into town. Aside from their little spat earlier, it has been a good day, but it was not a good morning.

Before sunrise some of the towns people had come to get her, Ophelia was giving birth, but it was about a month too early. By the time she got there it was a bloodbath. Irene, Agathe and their mother were crying over the state of Ophelia. Ophelia’s husband was screaming at the healers, and all in all it was an outright mess.

First course of action: get the unnecessary people out of the room. Irene was easy to deal with, she understood her sister needed help and that they were in the way. She helped Ónoma get her mother and sister out, while Ónoma had the luck to deal with her brother-in-law. Theodosius was erratic, the only way she was able to get him outside, was by knocking him out.

It took them countless prayers to Eileithyia, and Apollo, to get through the birth, and it took until sunset for them to stabilize the mother and her beautiful baby boy. Ónoma was the one to deliver the news, as she’d been there for the shortest amount of time. The other healers, mainly consisting of elderly women, had pretty much collapsed when they were done, absolutely exhausted.

Irene flung herself into her arms, Agathe was trying to explain the news to, a probably concussed, Theodosius and their mother, Zosime, ran inside to see her daughter and grandchild.

When Peach got back home, she was once again covered in blood, but this time she was able to take a bath without being afraid of the stranger in her home. Sure, she still didn’t really know the man, but she at least knew him better now.

“Where have you been all day, why are you covered in blood? Again? you know what, I don’t even want to know. I don’t want to know, just barge right on in, in the middle of the night, who cares?” Perikles rambled, but she paid him no mind. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” Peach called through the closed door.

She had put in clean water yesterday, but she couldn’t be bothered to heat it up right now, she just wanted to be clean. And clean she was, by the time she got out her hands were wrinkled, and her skin was rubbed raw. She looked exhausted when she caught a glimpse in the water’s reflection.

Despite the exhaustion, she was tossing and turning all night. She’d tried to eat a peach before going to bed, but she couldn’t, even though she hadn’t eaten all day. Her head was reeling, what was it with Irene’s sisters and giving her trouble. She didn’t blame Ophelia for the circumstances around the birth of her son, not really, but it was interesting.

When the sun started to rise she decided to just get up, without having slept a wink that night. Sleepless nights were becoming a more common occurrence. When Ónoma went into town to get breakfast, she brought some to the new parents, giving the father a somewhat shitty apology for knocking him out. She offered them her help, should when they need it with a newborn on their hands.

When she entered her house, Perikles was awake, but still in bed. “I was gone because the healers needed my assistance, there was a birth that was a month too early, hence the blood, and the first time I’d been defending the queen from… monsters? They were men, but they very well could have been monsters.” She said in one breath, then continued after taking a deep one. “I think that three? Yeah, three answers you owe me.”

“Well good morning to you too.” He smiled at the girl’s rambling. “Say, do you practice archery too? Oh great Apollo 2.0?”

“You want to make it four? Anticlea used to teach me, but she passed a long time ago. I haven’t been able to learn from anyone since. Besides, I’m not devoted to Apollo, if that’s what you’re implying. Please do not compare me to a God, that usually does not end well.”

“Shame, I’m sure he’d love to have you. The perfect devotee.” She blushed at the implication. “I thought you said you weren’t a healer?”

“Five, I’m not, but I do help out when they need it. My mother taught me, but I’m not fully trained.”

“Why didn’t she finish training you?”

“She’s dead. Six.”

Next.

Taglist:

@apollos-dodgeball-target

@barrythestrawberry041

@doodle-with-rhy

@isla-finke-blog

@suckerforblondies

@trashcannotbealive

#epic the musical #epic!poseidon #poseidon #poseidon x reader #telemachus #telemachus x reader #epic odysseus #epic the stranger saga

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