#I don't just write my own sometimes i read too which i also enjoy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cheezeybread · 7 months ago

Note

Hello! i do have a request headcannons with the housewardens with g/n reader who is very physical affection, yet they are also very smart on academics. They also loves to take a notes during a lessons so imagine they saw reader who writes a lot that definitely until a whole paragraf (even worse if they ran out of the paper or books, they can be write until the table)

I hope you like the idea if you can't you can ignore it, and i'm sorry for the bad grammar, have a good day! (⌒∇⌒)ノ"

Will do! You have a good day, too! :D

𝙂𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙪𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮-𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨

𝐅𝐭: 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞, 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚, 𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐥, 𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐦, 𝐕𝐢𝐥, 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬, 𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚

No, this is not proof-read, I'm lazy, sorry TwT

.・。.・゜��・.・✫・゜・。.

𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

Oh my goodness, you show him physical affection AND you're studious despite not having any magic to practice on in class? He's so in love it's crazy

He finds it very admirable how you pour your heart and soul into the technical aspects of class...which only serves to make Grim look worse in his eyes (I mean, the little Direbeast is your magic-half and he doesn't even pull his own weight! Grim is single-handedly dropping your grades down with every magical assignment)

Anytime there's a group assignment, you bet your bottom dollar that Riddle's going to convince the teacher to make the two of you partners! You both pull your own weight in the task and always manage to get the highest grades on projects! Plus, he enjoys spending class with you

Although he's not exactly the best with physical affection (words of affirmation are more his own love language because of his STUPID MOM-), he does his best to reciprocate, albeit somewhat awkwardly.

Expect some hand-holding from him in public, because that's all he can work himself up to do, PDA-wise. In class, though, he's more prone to absentmindedly touching you. Hand-holding, for sure, or maybe just resting a hand on your side, nudging you with his elbow to see what sort of notes you're writing down. His attention in class is split between the teacher and you, a fair 50/50

But sometimes it leans more towards 40/60 when you squeeze his hand affectionately.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑

A big cat at heart (and physically, lol), Leona's a bit iffy with the physical affection. It mainly depends on the mood you catch him in.

If he's in a particularly gracious mood, he'll allow the physical contact and even give some back, preferring to wrap an arm around you or rest his head on your shoulder

If he's in one of his leave-me-alone kitty phases, he'll allow the touch, of course, but he might be a little less prone to give you any in return. But he'll never say no to you if you want to show him your own way of love

Because of Ruggie, you're now his un-official tutor! I mean, you are his partner, so you might as well help him learn some stuff with all the time you spend around each other, right?

Pretty much how the tutoring sessions go: *y/n, opening their notebook for a class, preparing to read to Leona since he missed that day's lesson* Leona: Wtf y/n: What? Leona: Why do you have so many notes for just one lesson? y/n: Oh, this isn't all of them, actually. Leona:....Why does it say 'Page 1 out of 32'.

Whether he likes it or not, he's gonna learn something from those notes of yours!

Of course, when he does come to class, his attention is always on you throughout the entire lesson.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎

You're actually his soulmate, he's convinced.

Physical affection? Poor little guy needs all he can get! It helps assure him that 1) You don't find him absolutely repulsive, and 2) That you like him! He's the sort where if you don't give him a kiss upon first seeing him, he'll spiral into a "omg they hate my guts and want me to die now" mindset. Poor fella.

During any lessons the two of you have together, he's found that since you have the better notes out of the two of them, he can look over yours and add to his notes. So expect him to ask to borrow your notebooks after every single class. Or maybe he'll just forgo writing his own notes and copy yours entirely, hm? Nah, he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing-

This man is clingy af

He's always got a hand on you in some way, shape, or form, and always, always finds a way to touch you in passing. Your hanging out with him in the Mostro Lounge? He's leaning up against you, legs crossed. You two are out walking? Arm around your waist. In class? He's got his ankle hooked around yours.

Expect him to constantly ask you if what he's doing is alright or not. He's not well-versed in the relationship-styles of humans, and he knows that merfolk can come off a bit...too much. So he figures that it's better safe than sorry!

He's also totally going to ask you to read over any contracts that he drafts up, asking if you can find any loopholes written in the fine print or not. A second pair of eyes helps out more often than he'd like to admit!

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐋-𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐌

FINALLY, someone on his level of affection!

PDA? Hell yeah!

Always touching, always hugging, and he gives zero regards to who might be looking when he gives you a lil smooch!

"Oh, yn, you took notes today? You always do, you're such a good student! Can you come back to Scarabia with me and help me out with my classwork? Jamil is busy, and I really want to get better so I can beat him fair and square!" :D

Of course, whenever you go over to help him study, or just to review notes, it ends up in a cuddle-fest.

Are you complaining? You better not!

Every time there's an option to pick partners, you'd best believe he's picking you! Even if somehow he doesn't end up being your partner, he'll congratulate the person who is, telling them how nice and kind you are, and how smart, too!

The world doesn't deserve Kalim, fr fr

But you sure do!

And he'll make sure that you know how much you mean to him, whether it's by an ungodly amount of gifts, compliments to make you all flustered, or even just insisting on hanging around you 24/7!

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓

Due to his own preoccupation with his looks and such, Vil unfortunately misses some parts of lessons. He'll pull out a small mirror to double-check if his eyeliner is smudged, and bam! Suddenly the teacher is onto the next subject.

Not to worry, though, because he has you!

With a bat of his eyelashes and a few small kisses on the back of your hands, he can convince you to show him your prized notes (of course, you'd be more than willing to give them to him with just a please, but you quite like the effort he puts into it)

In return for you re-reading your notes to him out loud, he'll fidget with your appearance, or simply caress the back of your hands

You two are working in the courtyard? He's running a hand through your hair, braiding it if it's long enough. You're in his dorm reading? He's painting your nails. You're in the library? He's running a hand up and down your arm.

He's more into the low-key physical affection out in public, but who's to say he won't openly kiss you if someone starts trying to hit on you? Or maybe he just feels like a bit of PDA is deserved after all your hard works! Who can tell with that guy!

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃

Definitely one to gift you with custom-made notebooks.

It started with him watching as you tried to make your handwriting smaller, attempting to fit your last notes onto the veeeeery last page in your journal.

When he got back to his room, Idia found some basic journals that he never got around to using, and he puts stickers on them, quotes, any and everything he thinks that you'd like. It's a sloppy mess, since arts and crafts isn't his strong suit, but it's handmade!

Eventually, though, he'll get frustrated with making the notebooks, and he'll just make some piece of technology that prints spoken words onto a notebook for you, so you don't have to have an aching wrist from writing so much.

God love him, he's trying, A for effort.

On the side of affection, though...he's still getting used to it. If you do ANYTHING in public, he's going to turn into an absolute mess and get all flustered. It's especially bad in class. You accidentally brush your hand up against his and he gives a shriek in response, slamming his head on the table in embarrassment and asking to leave

In private, he's still liable to get flustered, but if you assure him constantly that he's fine, he'll eventually settle down...eventually.

He's determined to get better at physical affection for you, so he's definitely trying...just give him a little bit, and he'll come around.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀

This is just normal human behavior, is it not?

Most definitely, though, he finds it refreshing to have someone at the school who doesn't fear him and treats him like an equal (although who's to say that there isn't a mutual worshiping going on between the two of you?)

Since you are the Prefect of the Ramshackle Dorm, you are required to attend the Housewarden meetings! On the occasions that Malleus is unreachable and unfindable, you take it upon yourself to write down the notes of the meeting, nearly word-for-word of what transpired. Later on, you'll hunt down Malleus and give him the notes, which in turn you'll receive a kiss as a thank-you.

He truly does appreciate you, in every way, shape, and form. Just so ya know ;)

He'll find old journals around the Diasomnia dorm (either journals that Lilia has and never used, or just ones that were bought for dorm use), and he'll give them to you, seeing as how you make the most use out of them!

And by gosh, these journals are gorgeous! They're rugged and antique-looking, leatherbound, and some of them even have an ancient design burned into the cover. It almost makes you sad to use them, but Malleus is overjoyed when he sees you writing down notes or anything in one of them

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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crystalflygeo · 8 months ago

Text

Last of her kind Emperor!Alpha!Zhongli + Omega!Dragoness!Reader

cw/tags: Your usual mentions of slavery and sexual themes, A/B/O dynamics and heat mentions. Also allusions to depression and mentions of death.

notes: Aahahaha this took forever..... allow me top explain: first of all my new job is killing me and second of all I'm going through a hard period where I don't really like anything I write anymore. This work in particularly I kept struggling with the pacing, the dialogues, the way I wanted feelings to come across or scenes to flow it's just hhhnnnggg. I told a couple of friends that I set the bar so high with the first part I feel like nothing else I write will be that good. Then the second part was "ok" but cut off in a cliffhanger and has been there for SO LONG that now I feel this will be underwhelming after all the buildup//hit

I hope it's not. I hope it's good.

Anyway this part is in Zhongli's pov and contains flashbacks which will be fully in italics! Enjoy! and thanks for caring so much about this story ;w; ILU all <3

<- Part 2.

Your instincts mess up with your head.

Your crying and anxiety have simmered to a cold numbness.

Hours blur together, time loses meaning.

The doctor comes by sometimes. The maids bring you food. But everything feels… off, distant.

This doesn’t feel… like your usual heats.

You curl up and sob, a choked soft noise.

You don’t feel hot, but rather cold. Limbs weak. Dizzy.

Your heart aches.

You’re so tired.

And so sleepy…

Zhongli puts down the seal stamp and deflates back into his chair with a sigh, he must have read the same line at least five times already. He cannot concentrate at all. It’s not even been three days and each hour, each minute, feels eternal.

He’s already gotten so used to your presence, so smitten with you and your little quirks, your rare smiles, the way your ears and tail flicker, your pretty eyes…

And he remembers those same eyes begging for him, teary. Your pitiful cry. Your distressed scent.

Guilt eats at him. As well as something else…

He’s been restless, barely slept. Your scent is a siren’s song on the blankets, tart and fresh and tantalizing, but you are not with him. Anxious energy flows in his veins. This emotion, this thing that is like regret and sorrow and fear all tangled together, cleaves him through. His instincts are screaming at him, rattling inside a cage of his own making. His mate, his precious Omega is in heat, you’re scared and lonely and need him. Zhongli has to suppress a growl and feel the shudder of his scales at the fact that he’s not with you. In your nest. Taking care of you.

It’s agonizing.

"How is she?"

The same question, over and over, at any chance he gets.

"She refuses to eat, your majesty." Xiao tells him, and he can feel the concern in the younger Alpha’s voice. “According to the maids she only took a few bites of the ajilenak nuts, the rest of the food was left untouched.”

…

"She's um... she's always sleeping when I go check up on her." Ganyu explains a little crestfallen. She too is worried. “A-at least I think she’s in no pain… she was clinging to one of your hanfus.”

…

"You should go see her, Zhongli." Ping states, a rare serious expression on her usual gentle factions. “Baizhu says she’s going through the worst case of separation sickness he’s ever seen. Is that really what you want your poor Yin to go through?”

He lets out a frustrated rumble.

“Of course not. But it’s for the best, I don’t want to… take advantage of her, or force her to anything.” Zhongli frowns, trying to focus on the papers in front of him again, in an attempt to ignore her piercing gaze.

“Is it really any of that if she wants her mate?” Ping retorts. “She was begging you.”

I know.

He growls this time, and shakes his head at his memory of you. It haunts him.

“She doesn’t know what she wants.”

“So, you’re deciding for her then? Is that it? Honestly, are you listening to yourse-”

“She’s been conditioned to serve.” He cuts her off, voice grave and somber. “Trained to be submissive and please. She likes me simply because I’m kind to her, she wants me because she thinks it’s her obligation as my mate. I feel the pull of the bond too, the need, the yearning. But I also know she is afraid of Alphas and she thinks… she thinks she has to obey me. That she owes me something or that own her.” His eyes narrow. “I didn’t need to bond her. I shouldn’t have bonded her. I just… wanted her to be free and instead I chained her to me. And now she’s in heat…”

And it drives him insane.

“Listen to me, we’ve both spent time with her, enough to know she’s opening up and learning to voice her feelings…” Ping reasons gently. “It’s a slow process, don’t hurt her this way. At the very least… go see her.”

“I lost control once with just one kiss from her. I will not do it again. I will not harm her any further.”

The elderly woman keeps silent for a few moments. Zhongli sighs and rests his forehead in his palm in defeat.

And then Ganyu approaches, a little tense, a stack of papers in her hands.

“Your majesty, the Qixing are starting to arrive, council meeting will begin soon.”

“Very well. Thank you Ganyu.” He stands up and nods at her, then turns to Ping and his demeanor softens a little. “You know I just want to correct my mistakes, and give her the life she deserves. At least a fraction of it, of happiness.”

It wasn’t supposed to go this way… Zhongli sighed as he walked up to the room where the “reunion” with the sumerian would take place. It was long overdue seeing as he had spent the night by your side, refusing to leave after you had cried and begged so desperately…

After he had bonded you.

He had initially taken the eremite’s claims with a grain of salt, but naturally he had to make sure. The last dragonblood had supposedly died decades ago, so how…?

And yet when he saw you for the first time in that room, he knew.

You were real, you were beautiful. Suddenly he felt a million things at once: He wanted to get to know you, stay close to you, protect you. Old draconic instinct vibrating excitedly on his soul. You smelled vaguely familiar, your tail was gorgeous, your ears adorable. What if you didn’t like him though? What if he harmed you? Scared you? Suddenly he was nervous, nervous of ruining this, nervous in a way he hadn’t been in so long, like when he’d been young and Liyue had been at war and he had lost everything to fire and smoke and dust and he had to make difficult decisions and-

He had always calculated his moves. No room for risks. Too much at stake.

But you, you disarmed him. Completely.

You, with your polite gentleness despite the obvious cracks beneath the surface.

You, with your beautiful looks and enormous potential, even if you didn’t see it yourself.

You, with that look of yearning and hope, with your soft lips and sweet moans, with your warm body fitting perfectly against his.

For once, he allowed himself to make a decision with his heart, not logic, not politics. Just instincts.

And he claimed you…

…

He enters the room. A couple Millelith soldiers stationed by the door, Xiao standing by his side loyally as he sits at his place of honor as the emperor. Your ‘master’, an Alpha eremite named Zaheer, kneels respectfully a little below.

“I see you liked her, your majesty” He offers a sly smirk. “Did she satisfy you properly? She’s been trained on her gag reflexes to-”

Zhongli -Morax- resists the urge to growl. “We are not here to discuss that.”

“Ah, of course, business!”

Business.

“Since she’s such an exotic and well-trained slave I suppose we could agree on…”

“Do you think of me an idiot, Zaheer?” Morax’s eyes narrow.

“P-Pardon me?”

“She is a pureblood xiānshòu. I want to know exactly how she ended up being enslaved by you and your people.”

Cold and calculating golden eyes stare down at the eremite.

“W-What… she’s desert-born!” Zaheer retorts back angrily “She was born at a heat house. Maybe she has traits from your people because one of them decided to get a cheap fuck while traveling.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Morax asks unfazed “Liyue has records of the last of her kind disappearing and presumably being murdered when a village near Sumeru borders was razed to the ground. Do you have a disclosure?”

Zaheer stands up and growls, clearly an Alpha not used to having to bow his head and accept things not going his way.

Clearly an Alpha used to intimidating and attacking others.

Xiao wields his spear and changes his stance to an offensive one. The Millelith guards also tense.

Zaheer gets even more irritated, feeling like a caged animal. Backed into a corner. “Emperor or not” He starts through gritted teeth. “If you’re not going to pay me then I’ll take my merchandise back and do business elsewhere where I’m not being accused of ridiculous claims.”

“You’re right that I won’t be doing any business with you, but we’ll see how ridiculous those claims truly are. Zaheer, by my word as the emperor you will now remain detained in Liyue.” Morax sentences.

The eremite’s red eyes widen in shock and rage and the desert-dweller shoots up to attack Morax, getting easily overpowered and neutralized by Xiao’s quick moves. In seconds his weapon drops to the floor as the Yaksha general points his spear at the unconscious man. The Millelith quickly retrieve him and the blade before Morax simply nods at them.

Months. It had been months since then and he had to begrudgingly release the man as no accusation connected him to anything. They were essentially out of leads. There did appear to be documentation of your birth at a desert village but Zhongli would be hard pressed to believe the half-assed story you’ve been told…

And since you are pureblood, then both of your parents, and most importantly your dam, was also a dragonblood. That’s at the very least one Liyue citizen enslaved in a foreign nation.

He would get to the bottom of this.

For now, however, he had to cast those worries aside.

The Seven members of the council sit around the large table, the Liyue Qixing, leaders of all the commerce and trade sectors of the nation.

Zhongli takes his place at the head of the table. Ganyu does so as well by the sideline.

“Very well, what’s our first topic today?”

“Did Master just… leave?”

There was silence at the table, Zhongli and Ping sit frozen and you get just a bit nervous.

It’d been a few days since you started your new life, and though Zhongli was sure you were warming up to it he knew you still had a long way to go. It was probably still a little surreal for you… such a big change from everything you knew.

The tension on his shoulders quickly drops again. He continues eating. “Yes.” He says simply. Ping follows his lead, saying nothing.

The faster you forget about that eremite, the better.

“Hm…” You continue eating as well. Your expression is a little conflicted…

You inhale.

“Was he… happy… that I finally found a mate?”

Zhongli turns to you sharply and tenses again like a cat bristling. He holds back his tongue so as to not say something he’d regret. Why do you still care about that despicable man’s opinion? Why do you still seek his approval? Did you really think he cared about you? Zhongli desperately wants to make you understand how that slave-owner only saw you as an object, how he fed you lies, how his mistreatment is inexcusable…

But he can only imagine how deep your scars run, and how that toxic mindset has settled and accompanied you for years. He cannot judge you for caring about someone who doesn’t deserve it.

“Why do you ask, dear?” Ping asks instead.

“I don’t know…” You mumble, poking at the congee with your spoon. “I always wanted to make him proud.”

Proud.

Him?

“I think what matters most is how you feel.” Zhongli says, his hand reaching out for yours invitingly and you place your fingers on his palm, getting a soft reassuring squeeze. “You don’t need to rely on how others view you or think about you.”

You seem thoughtful for a second, your ears flickering back insecure but then standing up alert again. “I am happy” You admit. “Very happy. I have the best mate in the world.” You smile brightly.

Zhongli’s heart does a flip.

“With the excessive rains in the northern villages, there have been many floods and a lot of crops have been severely damaged or lost. Our previous contingency plan is in action already and donations are being sent to help the affected families. However, we must prepare for a decline in the harvest of certain grains and vegetables this season, as well as an increase in prices for a few months due to the shift in demand and supply.” Keqing explains expertly, the young alpha’s expression is serious and solemn.

“It’s an opportunity to strengthen commerce with Mondstadt and Sumeru.” Ningguang chimes in, leaning back on her chair, arms crossed. “The value of jade and other crystals is on the rise as well.”

“Not to mention, we’ll be employing several architects from the Akademiya to help with the rebuilding.” Keqing adds, turning to Ganyu, who nods.

“Greater lord Rukkhadevata and lesser Lord Kusanali have agreed on a certain exchange program with Liyue. I started drafting up some proposals already if you’d like to see.” The blue-haired secretary passes along some documents.

Ningguang’s eyes skim along the page. “It’s almost like our new Sumeru-born empress was a sign.” She smirks. “By the way, where is she?” She turns to Zhongli, curious about her fellow Omega.

“She’s rather indisposed at the moment.” The emperor replies dryly, not wanting to delve much onto the touchy subject. “Ganyu this looks good, however we need to think about-”

There is a knock that quickly surprises everyone. Who could interrupt a council meeting and why?

Baizhu peeks in with Changsheng curled around his neck, a frown on his usually gentle features. “Your majesty, a word. It’s an emergency.”

All the members at the table stare silently as Zhongli stands and follows the doctor.

Ganyu has a bad feeling…

“We have no time, follow me.” The green-haired doctor walks briskly along the wooden corridors, he looks… frustrated, dejected.

“What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t want to panic. He never panics. But something inside him does. It’s obvious that this has to do with you.

“I apologize, your majesty. I thought it was just a case of separation sickness but… the empress is showing signs of widow’s wasting.”

Zhongli stops.

His heart skips a beat. His skin prickles with dread.

“She’s… dying?”

Baizhu shakes his head. “It hasn’t reached that point yet, but… she’s deteriorating.”

The guilt is back. The fear.

“Given what happened, I’m pretty certain the shock of your rejection was the trigger. Still, it is highly unusual for a Yin to suffer from widow’s wasting without their partner actually dying, even more so for it to settle so quickly. Her reaction is akin to someone who had never left their mate’s side for years.” Baizhu explains.

You trusted him.

And he turned his back on you.

What have I done?

“In any casssse, it’ssss not too late.” Changsheng’s little voice pipes in. Baizhu keeps leading the way and Zhongli follows, though he obviously knows the entire palace like the palm of his hand, at the moment his thoughts are scattered and far far away.

“She needs her mate’s reassurance. I have done what I can with medicine but this is a bonded pair matter.” Finally, he stops at a juncture and turns to Zhongli. “Please, your majesty, only you can save her. I will tell Ganyu, Xiao and Ping of the situation, and if you need anything, just ask.”

Zhongli nods, mute.

The snake narrows her eyes. “Don’t leave her sssside.”

“Changsheng.” Baizhu shushes.

She is right to chastise him. He deserves that and more.

“I won’t.” Zhongli nods and heads down the hall.

Widow’s wasting.

The words echo in his head. He’s seen the damage it can do. How a broken bond, the loss of the most important person, can destroy someone inside. Did you really care that much about him? Did he really hurt you that badly?

“Please…”

He didn’t mean to.

“I have the best mate in the world.”

He feels like a monster.

“I want to stay with you. Sleep together. Like mates.”

He needs to see you. He needs to make sure you’re ok…

He stands in front of the nest room. The same one where he first met you.

Opening the doors only slightly to slip inside, Zhongli's eyes widen and a hand flies to cover his nose and mouth when a strong smell shakes him to his very core.

The room he expected to be completely saturated with intense heat pheromones… instead bears the acrid scent of despair.

This isn’t the lustful call to breed and have children that made an omega vulnerable and pliant. No. It is a desperate cry from a heartbroken omega for their mate to come back, to stay with them, to love and protect them. It is grief.

You are suffering because of him.

To think all this time… he was afraid he'd make you uncomfortable. That he’d scare you, hurt you, ruin the bond you’ve carefully built. Instead, he is overcome by an all-consuming terror. Every part of him screaming at his mate's weak essence.

And there you are, his precious treasure, his sweet dragoness.

You lay curling in on yourself letting out small muffled sobs.

“Y/n…”

No reaction.

“Darling, my dear dragoness…” He rushes up to you immediately, grabs your hand and pets your hair. You look so weak, your skin is feverish, how has it only been three days? It feels like a lifetime…

You shift a little and your eyes blink open, staring at him dazed, red and puffy and your expression defeated. You let out a pitiful whine and more of that bitter sad scent is released.

“No my dear, don’t cry, I’m here. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Zhongli coos as he curls up to you, frantically starting to scent and nip at your neck and shoulders affectionately. His horns manifest and his tail follows through, lashing about a little restless. The bond… feels wrong, broken. He should be able to intimately feel you this close and yet…

He tries to reposition you a little so you can lie on top of him, rest on his chest. It’s concerning how easily he can do so, you’re like a ragdoll in his arms, unresponsive and unmoving. His hands cup your face, thumbs rubbing at the traces of tears in your cheeks. You let out a frustrated whimper. “Shhhh shh it’s okay. I’m so sorry.”

Even if he says it a million times, it won’t feel enough.

Zhongli nuzzles at your neck and proceeds to do something he hasn’t done since he was practically a teen. He purrs. It’s a little rusty, comes off more as a grumbling but it seems to work as he feels you relax just slightly in his arms.

“I’m right here” Zhongli’s deep voice assures you, tugging you closer, mouthing at the soft skin along your collarbone. “I’m not going anywhere and I’m all yours, I promise, I promise. I won’t leave you alone, not ever.” He soothes.

He lowers a bit of your clothes at the shoulder and grazes his fangs along your faded mark, you tense and let out a long shaky breath.

“Everything will be ok.” He kisses the spot. “I’m sorry.”

And then he sinks his fangs in to reestablish the claim.

You cry out in pain and squirm, clawing at his clothes, but he holds you, his hand rubbing circles at your back, his tail intertwining with yours.

...

.....

...

At first nothing changes, but after a few moments… a low strained purr bubbles up from within you again.

774 notes · View notes

svndaysaweek · 10 months ago

Text

Overture (Prequel to Enlightenment) — {Feat. Karina}

8.7k words

A/N: You don’t know how old this draft is… I still remember that anon who sent a few asks about this series, and I really hope that they read this! This one is the longest I’ve ever written. Might not be the best piece, but I’m so proud of myself that I did my best. Thank you @dnd-writes for editing and giving me awesome advices. Enjoy!

*Prequel to “Enlightenment”

******

“Doesn’t matter how the two met. It’s about how they’re together ‘til now.”

******

It’s the first day in your new high school. It’s already March but the breeze is yet to blow winter away, strongly acclaiming its presence with the icy wind you face as soon as you come out of the main building of your school to go to the cafeteria. You haven’t made any friends to have lunch with yet, so you change your mind to just head to the smoking spot–behind the auditorium which is already an alien building itself–and kill some time smoking. You turn your way to the smoking spot inside the huge tide of students heading to the cafeteria. Freezing air makes you pace up to the spot.

After passing a few corners where even the wind has been disturbed to travel through, you find a drum can with fire in it making a peaceful crackling sound.

And a girl standing right by it as if wanting to get burnt. “Are you the new one?” Her voice is sharp enough to make it sound wary, yet quite chirpy to end up hitting you as rather coquettish.

“I don’t… I don't really know you,” Your steps towards her contradict your words. “Me neither.” At the fire you light your own cigarette. Your eyes scan her body from the ground to meet hers doing the same to you. The yellow name tag catches your eyes. Her name is Yu Jimin, third grade. And where the name tag is what makes your attention gather up too–perfect size, matches her wavy figure and sassy face, calmly heaves when she’s inhaling in the smoke.

“My name’s not that hard to read,” That’s when you realize that Yu Jimin, this unusual girl, will be an attraction with challenges. It’s all in her grin, in her turbid eyes that never leave yours–to be honest, it’s yours that never leaves hers; they won’t let the leash on your eyes loosen, until she wants to.

You suck it in, and breathe out a mouthful of smoke in the cold air. You look at her again and she's been watching you thoroughly, from head to toe, examining your body, shape, façade and all things she finds nice to look at, regardless of you mirroring her like once isn’t really enough.

She’s got such a nice, sculpted body, hidden under the school uniform but even more premo like that; concave and convex, it just hugs her curves impeccably. Narrow waist and wide, tight hips causing the skirt to struggle not to be torn apart. What’s more is her face, at the height of your chest, looking almost unrealistic, inhumanly beautiful, especially with a shallow grin like right now.

You are automatically making steps toward Jimin and she’s not backing up. You turn your head right to let out the smoke and then return to the ongoing gaze between you two.

“Don’t I look cold?” Jimin steps backwards, from the fire and from you. It makes you just automatically look at her legs, so slick and teem with femininity. You keep following what she tells you to do, what the hormones tell you to do.

“What do you want me to say?” It should be delivered as a counterattack to the dominance Jimin has shown you, but it, unfortunately, ends up sounding as if you were really confused. And Jimin almost bursts into laughter which she manages to hold in.

“So, third grade? What class are you in?”

“Two. You?” You drop the used cigarette and step on it to put it out. “Four. I’ll drop by sometime, handsome.”

Then she leaves the spot just like that. You are so interested in the girl Yoo Jimin. Given that she’s pretty like that, smokes around, she’s nothing like the normal students, obviously. And you can tell Jimin also found you special. Yeah, you know people don’t get to see a man like you quite often. You also know you don’t get to see a girl so appetizing like her often. It’s third year in highschool. You’re no amateur to let a girl play you around, rather, you’ve learned to control those feisty, hungry girls, but ugh, to be honest you don’t know what’s going on.

******

She never comes to see you until the end of school. Nor do you, because you thought you could wait–precisely, you thought you had to wait. You definitely want to take the upper hand in this new relationship so you just head home, yet with a bit of disappointment. But you don’t let anyone know. Maybe she’s just playing you out. That’s unacceptable for you. You calmly wait for the bus deep in thought. Maybe find someone else tomorrow. I don’t know.

“Hey, going somewhere?”

Fuck. It’s her. Jimin.

You think of complaining, but swallow it back and answer. “Home. You?” Jimin shrugs with nonchalance. “I don’t know. Your place, maybe? Do you live alone?” She lunges in suddenly, and you could just let her be as spunky as she can be. “I do. Why do you want to know that?” You throw a question, feigning calmness, and Jimin just smirks back.

“Don’t ask me.”

You’re on the bus. You let Jimin take the window side and sit next to her. You stuff your ears with some random songs and lock your eyes to the screen in your palm to leave the absorbing girl next to you out of your world even for a second.

“What made you move to my school?” Suddenly one of your earphones is between her fingers, your arm in hers to squish her breast slightly which feels so intentional. This bold little chick keeps surprising you in unforeseeable ways. Besides, you can read that she’s definitely testing you. Seems a little bit like an upside-down situation, for you to be the object, and oh, don’t you say you don’t find this rather fun.

“Well, there was an accident. You don’t need to know any further.” Her questions don’t seem to end, however. An eye roll might silence her—

“You can tell me. It’s alri-“

“You’d better shut the fuck up, Jimin.” Your fingers hold her chin up, facing you, merely a breath away as your noses tickle each other. And what gets you a moment later is her eyes, round and glowy, that could easily see through your brain, trying to suffocate you in the vivid yet gooey gaze. And there she plants her words straight into your brain; I’m a little impressed, but try harder.

A sudden squeak of the brake informs you to get off. You step out of the bus and Jimin quietly follows. Then you start walking at a rather slow pace. The sound of another pair of footsteps is the only clue of her existence for you.

“You made me wait.” You break the silence as you near your house. You don’t bother turning back to be an audience for her commanding attitude, but her cockiness nonetheless makes it to your ears.

“Well, I might have just forgotten. My bad.” You unlock the door, let Jimin in and close it. Right after the thud you pin her arms over her head with one hand, eliciting a sharp yelp from her.

“You made me fucking wait, Jimin. You’ll have to pay for it.” Your face is just a few inches from hers again. Your straining voice is mixed with her breath, hot, and your burning gaze never leaves hers, to return the blow that she had on your mind; you don’t know me yet.

“You should feel lucky.”

“Why?”

“I’m interested in you.” Jimin’s words, however, don’t sound tense or weak despite your visible dominance. Rather, it’s an impudent confidence that defies the dynamic knotted between your eyes. Jimin herself visualizes it with an even wider smile, dense with deliberate harm to your ego.

“Mmm…!” You dive into Jimin’s lips while your other hand suddenly wraps around her neck hard. Keeping the chokehold still, your hand once holding her wrists tears her school shirt open, letting the buttons randomly fly to the floor. With her hands free, they dangle on your arms. Her demure hand tries to push you back from her neck, but her tongue is flapping inside your mouth, already allured by the intenseness. Your other hand hesitates about before swiftly undoing her bra and Jimin drops it on the floor. You squeeze the godly pair of flesh and soon pull back from the kiss.

“Shit, you like it rough, huh?” Jimin giggles, with a killing lip bite, and discards her buttonless shirt. There you feel something kick your heart, to see a girl enjoying your selfishness and harshness for the first time. A thought that this girl might be the one for you passes through your mind like a hit-and-run truck.

You turn yourselves around and make Jimin walk backwards to your bedroom with your guide. Jimin doesn't wait to unbutton your shirt on your way, and the corners of her lips soon get pulled down by the lust exponentially charging up. You try to look calm but you’re no different–can’t help it in front of this amazing figure of Jimin, skin-to-skin just for you.

Entering the bedroom you push Jimin onto the bed. Her under lip experiences another intense bite as you lay her down and climb over her body, face to face just like a few minutes ago. With one hand supporting your weight, you take the other to her irresistible breasts and fondle them. Jimin hooks her arms and magnetizes your lips to hers for a delirious lip lock once again. Your hand slides down her torso to the button of her uniform skirt and undoes it then takes it off of her fatal legs and throws it to the floor.

“Next time you won’t wear these, okay?” It’s a demand but also a command, with your fingers on the wet spot on her panties. Her hands find themselves wandering on your toned chest, much in admiration. She nods quickly and unbuckles your pants.

“Needy,” Her hastiness makes you grin, and your words only make Jimin’s excitement grow.

“Yes. I am.” This is what makes you wanna accept the challenge; she’s talking things like that all too fresh, like you have to feel thankful for it. You take your pants off with your underwear to be fully naked. You help Jimin get rid of the annoying cloth being dampened by her pussy off her legs and throw it to the pile of clothes on the floor. With the anticipation for the next step Jimin’s breath paces up, running thin like her patience.

“You’re fucking big…” Jimin marvels at the way your cock tickles her belly button and her tummy. You slap her bare stomach a few times with your cock, spit on it and spread the slickness across with slow strokes.

“I said you’ll have to pay for it, Jimin,” You rub your cock on her wetness, gaining more lubrication, and slap your cock on her folds to see her reaction.

“Ah, please make me…Make me-OH FUCK…!” You push into the hilt with a swift thrust. The tightness draws a groan straight from your throat, and your right hand rises to her neck and chokes her hard again.

“You tell me who’s lucky. You think it’s still me?” Straight to the point that has been bothering you ever since it was spoken. You love to make things clear—dirty—who’s the one to stand and who’s the one to kneel. And if she ever intended to get under your skin, well, she pushed the wrong button.

Jimin’s eyes slam shut, unlike her agape mouth through which you can see her tongue has lost its way, dragged here and there by the hand of her senses, overthrown by what you’re doing. You keep thrusting in and out at such a pace, every time making sure your balls hit her ass, filling her tight hole up ecstatically with no vacancy.

“Hah, god…! It’s me, I’m the lucky one! I’m so fucking lucky to have your big cock inside me!”

“Good. See, your act doesn’t last a day.”

Her lips tremble, as if about to cry, as if all the fucking around was just a pretense and she actually has to be under you. She bites the lower one but can’t hold the shiver down.

You move your hand from Jimin’s neck to her face, grabbing her cheeks in one grip. You bring her face close to yours, both shaking to the orgasmic rhythm but never losing eye contact. Then you slap her cheeks, out of nowhere, just enough for the sound to be pleasurable but not too painful. Jimin starts to drool when you do that several times more, with loud, long moans gradually turning into screams.

“Oh, fuck, yes…! FUCK YES…!” Done with the hitting, you push in your fingers to Jimin’s unsilent mouth to get a better hold of her body. A teardrop leaves her glossy eyes and rolls down to where her ear is. A perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, both of which makes you two forget about tomorrow.

“I’m cumming, Jesus! I-I… Fucking cummi-“ Jimin’s back viciously arches so upward that you almost slip out. Her arms don’t seem to settle for a while before they dig into your back to work as anchors, her body vulnerable in the midst of a destructive swirl of pleasure. But that’s none of your concern as you make the haze in her head threaten her consciousness.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” You wait for Jimin to come down but that’s so silly of you to do so; your ravageous ramming cock never lets her. All of a sudden you pull out, causing Jimin to shake immensely, and flip her on all fours. Her sex is glistening and the other hole is too, both of them slick with her juices and constricting irregularly.

When Jimin feels your cock rub on her pussy she collapses onto the mattress, only her ass up and her face down, exhausted on the bed, faced to the right. But whenever your cock teases her other hole Jimin shudders, toes curl and her fists try to tear your sheets at the sensation of her asshole getting stimulated.

“Agh, fuck…” You don’t warn Jimin when you insert the head of your cock inside her tight ass. This time even you can’t handle the pleasure of its tremendous tightness as you shut your eyes and groan loudly.

“Holy fuck, Jimin, this is so tight,” You tell her when you’re halfway in. Her body stays still, but her hands ball up and her toes curl until they all become pale. Every inch deeper inside her ass is the moment for you to admire the transcendental tightness you’ve never experienced from those other girls you have been through. Maybe you’re lucky too, to have found this perfect body with nothing to lament on.

“Oh, please, that’s deep! Fuck my ass deep just like-oh my fucking god!” Your reaction is quick—it’s more of a reflection though—doing more than what Jimin asked even before she finishes her words, beginning the mindless assfuck with such a carefree pace. You bring her powerless head up with your hand wrapped around her neck, tight, choking her again. The tighter you grip, the tighter her ass gets. You catch a glimpse of the crooked corner of her lips, which only fuels your inner engines to work even harder.

It’s just your thing; when you see a smile, you have to break it. You destroy it, and you sincerely cherish it when it’s gone.

As you reach your maximum speed Jimin’s distorted smile subsides and an even more euphoric look spreads. Mouth open wide, drooling down her chin and onto your hand on her throat, eyes open but white. As if she muted herself, Jimin doesn’t even breathe—not only because of your grip, but also the orgasm building up as fast as how you ram her ass. You grin at the sight of Jimin drowning in the sensations her own nerves convey; you create. It kills you how small her body is, when you can witness a simple—yet ruthless—piston to her crotch can dye her whole skin red, travel electrically to everywhere in no time, shrinking every minimal muscle. You release her, she falls down limp on the bed and screams at the anal orgasm hitting her, threatening her consciousness.

“Ahh! Fuck, fuck…!” You’re nowhere far from your own end, either. Your breath shallows down at the crazy tightness of Jimin’s orgasming ass.

“Jimin, I’m cumming…!” You do. You reach as deep inside her anal cavern as you can and unload your cum, mind blowing pleasure coursing through every corner of your body. You shoot, and shoot, and shoot. Jimin clenches her hole for your cum to be deposited inside her with a lazy hum, in harmony with your groan seeping out of your gritted teeth.

It takes a few minutes for your breaths to find the normal speed. “No one’s fucked my ass this amazing,”

It surely was enough to bring amazement, undoubtedly the best you’ve had so far. You sit up and rearrange her hair for her.

“Did I pay for it?“ Jimin’s already got that bright smile back, and after such an extreme sex your barriers collapse in front of her, as you smile back at her.

“Very much.”

“Can you get my phone? It’s in my skirt.” You head to the pile of discarded clothes and do it for Jimin, who’s sitting on the bed with her head resting on the headboard. You toss it on the bed.

Jimin looks into her phone right away, scrolls down mindlessly and looks at you, who’s naked and standing next to the bed.

“Take a shower first, baby.”

Baby, she said.

Your eyes dart to hers immediately. Your face stays placid but you know Jimin knows you’re not at all used to it. You never really allow any strings attached with the ones you fuck; it’s a rather body-to-body entanglement than something emotional. But you’re surprised at how that word fits comfortably between you two. There’s something different. You look back at Jimin but her attention is taken by her phone already, again like a hit-and-run truck, but not completely as you can see her smirk the way you love. So you just enter the bathroom.

In the shower you review the past 30 minutes—you had sex with the girl Yoo Jimin: nothing special. But not just that; Jimin has by far the best body of all the other girls you’ve experienced. You can tell you really enjoyed it today. You can tell she’s worthy of continuing the relationship. You like the way Jimin turns from a bubbly, sassy girl in school to a begging, screaming mess in bed under you. And the way she calls you baby—it dulls all your edges like a cup of boiling water would do to an ice cube. Just like the hot water pouring on your head.

You come out of the shower and see Jimin smoking on your bed, sitting on the edge with her legs crossed, elbow on her thigh, still aesthetically naked. She looks gorgeous like that. You walk to her, take the cigarette from her hand to your mouth. Then push her down on the bed, breathe the smoke in deep and throw the shortened cigarette away to the bin next to bed, breathe out, and share a smoky kiss.

A few moments later your rod pokes at her belly and Jimin parts away with a giggle.

“Fuck, I really have to clean my body.” You bring her off the bed with you. “Shut up and get down here,” With a smirk she does, and as soon as she adjusts her legs and position you shove your cock in her mouth. A gag earned.

But after that Jimin takes your big cock pretty well, without gagging or looking uncomfortable, even when her nose crashes on your crotch; you’ve found yourself a perfect girl, indeed.

“Nice.” Her teary eyes never leave yours throughout the session as you pace up for a brief finish. Adjusting to the speed of your cock moving entirely in and out, Jimin’s hands go up to the back of your thighs for firmer grip.

Jimin’s drool tickles down your balls and forms a small puddle on the floor. With the filthiest slurping sound Jimin bobs her head at the beat of your cock sliding through. Whenever her delicate tongue presses onto the underside of your cock you throb inside her mouth, making her head slightly move simultaneously.

Jimin’s tears meet the drool on her chin, and with a sound of her voice from her throat Jimin taps your thighs for you to pull out. You take your cock out of her mouth and slap it on her fucked face a few times, painting her face with her own saliva, to her liking.

“Finish it.”

Put the shower aside, and you shower Jimin with your lust deep into her throat. You feel your legs not far from giving in, but thankfully your cock is just the same, due to what Jimin is doing under you.

“Jimin, I’m-I’m close.”

Jimin starts to fondle your balls and that certainly helps you cross the line. In no time you fill her throat up white, and the room with your satisfied groan.

You look straight into Jimin’s eyes when you cum, and it’s astonishingly reciprocated when she gulps down your load quickly, professionally. As soon as you are done pouring into Jimin she stands up, showing you her clean tongue with a tilt of her head, and heads to the bathroom. You, left alone, giggle quietly and sprawl on the bed after putting on underwear.

******

“Text me at lunch break. You know where to meet me.” You just nod at Jimin, who’s in one of your T-shirts that is just a little bit big for her; loss of all the buttons on her uniform comes at a cost. An inner beam blooms under your face when you find her just too perfect in that outfit of school skirt with your T-shirt tucked under it. Those unhidden bra lines count as one of many reasons for you to stare at her, take her in your arms right now and-

“Not now, perv.” Her smirk lets yours surface up to reciprocate hers. You stand up from the bed, approach her and walk her backwards to the wall. Jimin has been playful and relaxed with you and you like it. But when you—just like right now—detect submission in her eyes: you love it. You don’t stop your hand from rising up for her neck and have a good grip around it. You don’t stop the other from being pulled away to her gracious tits and squeezing them.

“Not now?” And there are those big eyes begging for you to go further, that bitten lower lip asking for any contact, as if the one who just quipped ‘not now’ choked out. Always hits you differently when she just switches from a brat to a subby mess out of control.

Contradiction is the most normal of things when you have a tight grip over Jimin. Her reddening face gradually forms a thin smirk when your lips close in to hers. Her eyes close, lips part for a mind-numbing kiss—

“Not now.” You make a sudden pull back and release Jimin from your grip. She stumbles and almost collapses on the floor so you hold her in your arms. For the same purpose and then some, her arms rest on your shoulders and pull you in, only to be denied by your hand pushing her chest off of you, leaving Jimin just keeping a hungry gaze at your lips and whimpering “Please.”

You finish tying the necktie, bring your thumb up to her lips. As it sweeps over them Jimin lets her tongue coat your thumb with her saliva which could’ve blended perfectly with yours.

“To the spot at lunch break, Jimin. And ah,” You stand down and pull her panties down in one sway and she helps herself out of them by lifting her legs respectively. You toss it on the bed and rise up again, for your collarbone to match her height, for her to look up at you again.

“You don’t wear the same panties for two days straight, do you?” Jimin just nods quickly and tries to crush her lips on yours yet again. Seems like she wouldn’t care even if you made her go to school all nude, if she could just mix her tongue with yours right now. Her efforts to make you kiss her is visible to you; eyes so seductive yet not able to take themselves off of their foremost target, lips slightly open for her tongue to peek outside. Seeing that you just step back and prepare to leave for school with an unseen smirk.

“Let’s go.”

******

As anticipated, needy and untidy Yoo Jimin sends you a dozen pictures of her bare crotch under her skirt, saying ‘Want your fingers inside’, ‘Can’t wait for the lunch break.’ Those are to be left on read.

Morning classes fly by as the bell rings to announce the lunch break. The class rushes out for lunch, has a race among them with some of them even running like they have something to win. And amongst that crowd you head to the spot, to Yoo Jimin.

She’s there already waiting for you when you turn the last corner. Legs crossed, back on the brick wall and a half-spent cigarette between her lips, looking so delinquent there with that insanely short skirt and in the shirt you gave. She notices you, has a reet smile on her and throws the cigarette on the ground, and watches you approach her standing still. No immaterial words or acts are needed when you can just kiss those lips like they’re yours. The remnant of the cigarette a fume that makes you dive deeper into this trance her tongue and yours are building, you spontaneously get rid of her skirt and are met with the wet skin under it.

Your fingers taste her crotch, slowly rubbing around and poised for any further indulgence. Her hands are, on the other hand, hectic with your buttons and when they’re done they swiftly go down to your belt. Your pants drop to your ankles in no time with your underwear, and with your erect cock emancipated, Jimin detaches from the kiss and spits on your cock and spreads it.

It all happens so fast that you are still enraptured by the kiss and her tits in your palms, leaving so many treats unfelt to your body. The next second you are inside her, making it even headier for you to follow up.

“Fuck, I needed this.” Jimin grits. With no clue of downshifting she takes the shirt off, her bra to follow suit, and hooks her arms around your neck to stand the frantic sex she wants from you. And that happens right away, as your instinct drops the hammer for you to automatically thrust into her even before you find yourself moaning at the sensation of her inside.

You keep your eyes closed while wrecking her pussy despite the eye candy that is Yoo Jimin during sex, and suddenly you notice her teeth on your shoulder. It’s a pain that can make you grin, that can make you savor the feeling, even it gets even stronger, because now you know that when she bites, she cums. Her legs give in, and you know it by the weight of her arms around your neck. Her walls clench harshly and there’s a stream of her juice down your legs when she cums. Yoo Jimin is so tactile, and when she cums her whole body does, for yours to recognize, you don’t even have to hearken to know it. The auditory input hits your brain the last, the pearly, shaky yelp of the orgasming needy girl adds up to all the stimuli you are taking.

When she comes down you slow down, lazily reaching her cervix as she hums at it every time.

“Kiss me, baby.” You do. It’s saccharine to your tongue. Her tongue distraughtly moves around inside your mouth, some of the drool leaking onto her tits to make it even more impeccable. The gustation mesmerizes you into a rabid sex, this time for yourself to get off. No subduing, only upshifts lead the way as you turn her around, put it back in and lavish thrusts into her sex.

“Shit. Jimin, you’re so fucking perfect.” You’re not saying this again because she might not have heard it; you are repeating it like a low-functioning machine because you’re afraid you haven’t said it enough. And she can condone it—of course she can, it’s a compliment anyway—because she knows it already, because the feeling’s mutual. You say it several more times on the back of her neck, almost making it a tattoo, carving it in intaglio. Still deranged, Jimin is just screaming with her back arching to the sky and carotically facing the brick wall with her left cheek. The right side of her face is rosed up, and her eye has a glimpse of you, your wry face and the sweat-coated torso and shuts and she cums just like that.

Her breaths are shallow, irregular, a gusty fluid squelches out of her pussy and the scene of her orgasm is intimidating your endurance, easily sending you to an orgasmic stupor and making you spurt out inside her with a gritted groan.

“Jimin, I… God, fuck…!” To your overstimulated cock Jimin has her shrewd tongue on it, sealed with her lips. Makes your legs wobble, unmercifully agitating your mind with frenzy, but just until she clears your shaft up clean from the tabloid juices all over it.

“I loved it. Maybe we should make it daily.” Jimin rises up, with her skirt and your shirt in her hands and still breathing somewhat heavily. And the desecrated smile on her face is the coercion for you to wear one too, a copacetic one. Shirt on, a smoking cigarette between your fingers, you insinuate to her.

“Your panties are still on my bed, you know.” And she’s shrewd with it—has been from the very beginning—and purrs. “Mhmm, I’m going to go fetch it after school with you.”

Of course, is what your nods that follows says, and there’s my girl, says your zest-filled grin, looking at her back that walks out of the corner. It’s always that intrinsic sass you could simply, so simply kill for. Maybe a challenge for you, maybe a finesse for you to be benumbly trapped into. It’s your choice, and from some point on the latter looks dazzling to you; maybe you’re a person who just dyes so well, to a derogated girl who seemed to have taken everything you’ve given but turns out she just put you in the phantasma of her own stardust without you realizing it—you’ve lost it in her, somehow. And that’s bizarre: and you love it.

******

You’re standing at the bus stop, hands in your pocket and looking around to find your girl. When you do, you’re so surprised at how Jimin so stands out among all the crowd while doing nothing but just walk. Even from miles out you’re sure you’ll spot her in a second. The belle of the crowd, wherever she is. She’s not the tallest but still piques herself on her to-die-for aura like she blurs everyone out. As if she sensed the scrutiny, Jimin looks up from her phone, looks around and soon finds you looking at her. You hate to be seen so infatuated like this but you can’t help it, as your eyes meet hers and your face brightens up, half from seeing her and half at yourself caught like that.

“That happy to see me?” You don’t answer, just bring your hands to her crotch and check there’s no underwear blocking your way. A flick over her uncovered pussy earns you a shocked look.

“This is not your bedroom!” Jimin shouts in whisper, but not with caution, but an intrigued grin with eyes darting around the crowd waiting for the bus.

“Are you telling me to stop?” You take your fingers to her mouth, her tongue welcoming the taste of horniness coated all over your fingers. “I’m telling you not to stop.”

So your hand returns to her pussy. You’re rubbing, tapping on and hooking your fingers in, Jimin bites on her own fingers not to relinquish her scream. You hold her trembling body as steady as possible but you know that it’ll be absolutely normal if the people around you realize that you two are having a little fun explicitly in public. Everyone’s looking at you and Jimin in front of you, facing the same way as you and receiving that dirty fingering amongst so many audiences.

In a few minutes the bus is here, to show you only one vacant seat left. You take the seat and Jimin sits on your lap, facing backwards and hugging your neck. You resume the unholy yet entertaining fingering to the pretty moaning girl on your lap.

And you return to who you really are: you’re a gentleman yourself, with etiquette, with common decency, to pull Jimin’s head down on your shoulder to muffle her nasty sound on it. You know even the driver is looking at you through the mirror, but that’s because of her, not you; again, you’re making no noise, and Jimin in your embrace is the culprit of all the squeaky, watery, moaning noise, not you.

“Quiet, Jimin.” Now her teeth dig into your skin, synchronizing with your fingers indulging into her wet, tight hole. You know what you’re doing won’t shut her up. You’re just saying it, a formality. Inside your mind you want her to moan loudly, at the same time want to see her struggle keeping it quiet. So you yank her hair back to watch her distorted face, observe every tiny wriggle of her expression.

“Ah…!” Look into her eyes as if wanting to pierce through them. Jimin looks at you too, flooding with lust, drowning in her own sensations of sex and embarrassment of being exposed in such a public situation. “I’m almost there.” It’s a plain text but she’s begging there. She says she’s almost there but she’s already there, as it seems.

“Yeah, we’re almost there.” A bump on the road makes your fingers hit her spot, makes her back arc, makes her almost, almost lose it right there. You pull out your fingers from her hot cavern to the relatively cool air of the bus. Her liquid feels fresh out in the air but that feeling is soon lost, by her tongue wrapping them up and sucking it clean—suckling it dirty.

The bus stops right then for only you and Jimin to get off. It’s much quieter than inside the bus, partially due to you not fingerfucking her anymore. In no time you’re at the door of your house, unlock it, swing open and it slams shut. Simultaneously Jimin hops on you and dive into your mouth with hers. You stumble through to your bedroom, toss her on the bed, swiftly undo your belt and pants with your boxers, let your already hard dick spring out but don't let it feel the air as it vanishes into Jimin’s waiting pussy right away.

No one speaks a word. No one can, to be fair. You two are merely inches away from dying, too impatient to wait another second. And there you let Jimin approach death a bit closer by holding her neck around, a perfect necklace for her, and straining your hand. Jimin’s mouth is open, difficulty in breathing so visible, face reddening but there’s still her hunger in it; she grins. Her smile is so cruel, violent, so evil yet joyful, as if she’s the victimizer and you’re the victim.

“Please, baby… Kill me. Fucking choke me to death, please, choke me and kill me-fuck!” You make her scream when you slap her tits, as if you were angry at her, but you’re the opposite—you love her so much that you just want to abuse her, to her liking, just like right now. All her sensations seem to evaporate as her eyes roll back and her hands drop to her sides spiritlessly: or, airlessly. You let her go, not wanting to actually kill her.

With a giant inhale Jimin returns from the border of unconsciousness. Her hands travel from her own tits, your hands, and soon back to the sheets, still wandering in need for anything to release the tension. So you pin down her wrists and pace up your thrusts.

“Fuck, Jimin. Don’t tempt me. You make me really want to fuck you dead.” You’re saying it right on her face, which enables her to feel that you mean it. There she tries to kiss your lips, but you pull back with agility, instead covering her mouth and nose with your palm, again suffocating her to your liking, to your loving, to your abnormal, psychopathic obsession.

“I want to see you struggle for life. I want to see you beg for life. You’ll look so perfect like that.” Jimin screams into your hand, covers it with her saliva and tears. You close in with your other hand groping her tit and your cock hitting everywhere inside her squeezing cunt. Jimin’s eyes widen as her orgasm fades in, muffling “I’m cumming!” Several times on your palm before peaking like never before. Her orgasm never gives her the time to even shut her eyes as they roll into her head. Her scream penetrates your hand over her mouth as it departs on your ears so deliciously.

That’s what psychopaths do, isn’t it? To experience the catharsis washing over your spine and get off with how a person screams, all helpless, with tears, shallow breaths as if soon going to die, or at least pass out. Maybe it’s that she’s making it clear about who you are. Would be a pleasure to embrace it.

And it’s your turn now. You pull out, escaping Jimin’s spent pussy with quite an amount of her squirt, leaving her all trembling and arching. There’s a layer of sweat all over her body and it makes it look like a scene from any pornography. Jimin doesn’t move a bit-only her chest is heavily healing up and down, even after you flip her upside down.

You tease her asshole with your middle finger and when she senses it enter she helps you by spreading her cheeks for deeper insertion. No resistance in and out of her ass. Every curl inside her ass makes Jimin squeeze her own cheeks as a response with a powerless moan. “Mmm, fuck me please… I’m not done yet.” Of course. You grin and prepare your cock for the second entrance as you pull Jimin up on all fours. Her arms give up when you rub your glistening cock on her pussy lips. And her reason gives up when you penetrate her rear hole.

“Ahh-fuck yes!”

“Holy fuck. This is so tight.” Her tightness erases your patience to savor it slowly. You start ruining her ass with the intention of actually destroying it. Jimin frowns, loud moan seeping through the bitten lip, hands curling into fists but arms all powerless on her sides.

“It’s so good, it’s so fucking good…! Don’t stop it baby. Make me cum like a fucking whore…!” Her voice can’t even get louder when her words just melt on the mattress just like her. Her words turn to nothings, eyes squeeze shut, concentrating all her senses to where she’s getting fucked. You feel your eyelids become heavier every single thrust, but the visual pleasure is just too good to give up watching it-her ass up for you to fuck it senseless, narrow waist contrasting her wide hips so aesthetically. The cherry on top is the expressions on her gorgeous face which you can’t quite read. Just like when all colors mixed makes pitch-black, her facial wrinkles and twitches are the perfect mixture of all pleasure, ecstasy that you can’t tell what she’s feeling at this moment.

“Nngh!” Actually, you can. Jimin is orgasming so hard, clear—dirty—liquid pumping out of her empty pussy to flood the mattress. Her ass squeezes your cock too hard for you to move in and out as fast as before without blasting every drop in her climaxing ass hole.

So you park it deep in her contracting hole, stay there, and shut Jimin’s moaning mouth with yours. She doesn’t care—or she doesn't acknowledge—and keeps screaming for her life even after her peak has washed over. A few dozen seconds pass, she calms down to at least breathe regularly when you stand your torso up to resume the session.

“You… You have to cum…” As if she even cares for you instead of her own pleasure. You know she just wants more overwhelming orgasm only you can deliver, and you are no different. There’s something about this body, these tits, the voice, this face, this pussy, this ass; there really is something about Yoo Jimin. Without your knowledge you are humping her like a villain, mad, but with a grin that’s so dangerous that Jimin mirrors. Your hand already made itself home around her neck, a red mark of it pressing hard inevitable, tears rolling down along her side face.

“I’m going to fill you up, Jimin.” And with a sharp inhale you begin wrecking her inside. A gut-rearranging pounding is what her perfect ass deserves and she can’t even open her eyes properly-either one stays closed against her will, rolling up to see that there’s nothing inside her head.

“Fuck! Please, please, please, please… Gah, I’m- Again…!” How impatient. There’s not even a point for you to call a flaw. Immoral, impatient, vulgar, dirty… She’s all too perfect. And you’re sure that’s why you cum so hard, like never before.

A nasty pair of voices fill each other’s brain as you two cum. You lower your body, forehead on hers and eyes on hers, looking through those teary orbs as you feel yourself bursting out gregariously. No words but loud pants bridge your sensations to each other, and until the last spurt you don’t even blink in order to see Jimin go through her own orgasm.

That’s it; it’s been your undesirable sadistic desire that kept you on fire, and when you have saturated it it flips out of your head, making it empty—there hasn’t been anything other than that. When you’re done completely you let Jimin go from your glare, sit on the edge next to her gasping body. Your urge is swept off so cleanly, and you can see how dirty it was by the mess on your bed.

“Are you alright?” You ask, but looking up at the ceiling, not Jimin. You don’t turn your head but can already sense her looking at you. “You’re just so perfect.” Selfishly she doesn’t answer. And you hear the smirk in her words. You make one on your face too, hearing that, stand up, face her and find Jimin overloading your vision with how she gorgeously lies down there, making even all the nasty things complement her perfection.

“I’ll shower. Just don’t fall asleep on the bed. It’s dirty.” You tell Jimin, all helpless and powerless on the bed and panting like she just had the best sex in her life. The lustful girl who was begging for you to kill her is nowhere to be found; instead there’s a weak, short of breath, vulnerable and lithe angelic devil with your cum gushing out of her ass. As if a few more touches and she’d actually evaporate.

In the shower you barely feel the water on your body, so distracted by your own thoughts—your own thoughts but in the grabs of Yu Jimin. The exact same as yesterday, you are showering yourself with your shocked, strange feelings in the shower after sex that simply blew your mind.

It's just that she's too good. Too good to call it a hook-up, too good to make it only an occasional sex. The way she craves your cock, the way she begs for your violence, the way she’s so desperate for extreme orgasms under your hold. It’s the first time for you to smile just by thinking of a girl, especially when you’re such a harsh and rough type of a person even you’d admit. She’d let you hit her. She’d let you choke her, let you fuck her, destroy her—let you love her.

Then the door opens, a small, pale figure of female comes in, walks slowly through the mist of the hot water. Jimin stops in front of you, legs barely holding there, face buried on your chest and her arms locked around your neck to support her lithe body but they barely do. You move a little backward to let her more of the hot water.

As if all the water got into your veins, you feel your heart burn. Just look at her—legs all wobbly, barely standing, too exhausted to even look up at you, her hands at the back of your neck irregularly stroking the back of your head as if signaling she’s at least perceiving things properly. You put a hand on her back and spread the water on it, and that’s when she lifts her head and meets your eyes.

Weak and lethargic like a candlelight in front of a tsunami, Jimin is barely standing there with low moans whenever her legs wobble and give up. Her arms tighten around your neck as one of yours hug her back so that she doesn’t collapse. Her face is right beneath yours, tilted up to face yours. Those eyes can’t avoid looking at your lips, which is just what you’re doing to her unashamedly.

Your hand climbs up to the back of her head. Regardless of that you and Jimin are exchanging such a strong yet soft, intense yet loving eyelock. It is an atypically genial moment and if you look back at this moment you might throttle yourself. She should know it by now, from the visible, audible changes on you.

(Maybe you were afraid. Or beyond that. Love was what your fears were afraid of. Doesn’t quite make sense to say that you have fears, but anyways, you didn’t want, nor expect a couple nights to escalate to an actual romance.)

Minutes pass, and pass, and—and pause, when you pull her a bit into your arms and make a soundless, yet seismic kiss. Lips lock. Two pairs of lips open and a pair of tongues make contact, hug each other just like you two. Her hands snake into your hair, your head in her hands and deeper into the kiss. You two have even forgotten to breathe as the liplock continues for what feels like a lifetime, to complete the kiss of your life. When you try to pull back Jimin lunges a bit forward not to break the kiss, and you let your system suffocate a few dozen seconds more.

“You’re so beautiful, Yu Jimin.” You finally tell her this. Not the literal confession of love but she gets it with the bewitching smile she always wears like nothing. Never been in love, you feel like you’re sent back to childhood, pure and intact, but that feeling is shattered into pieces when her hand finds your hardened cock poking at her belly.“Is that why you’re so hard, baby?” This time, the word ‘baby’ sounds so right with a lip bite of your lover and with a lust-filled grin on you. Her thumb slides on the underside of the tip, almost making you stumble back.

“Yes. Just like you’re always horny because of me.” With a smirk you turn her around, bend her over so that her hands are on the wall, and put your cock in in one stroke. Jimin helplessly loses all the strength in her legs and falls but you're prudential enough not to let her. It's to the point where she's just hanging from your arms when you kindle the movement. Her skin looks even more satin with the water so you collar her and go on. You can't stop when the biggest impetus is jonesing for it. No choice but to harden the grip on her throat.

Jimin is flaccid on the wall, fingers fumbling on and desperately digging themselves on it with her head facing down. You are never going to unbind her until she falls into a stupor. “Baby I… I fucking love it so deep…! Use me just like that…” She can't let it out loud and soon loses all voice, raises her head, brings yours right beside hers and kisses you. And a feeling that this is the requital for your disclosure makes it compulsory to reciprocate it poignantly. Her hand guides one of yours to her tits, pushes it hard on it to make you squeeze them and soon the convulsions agitate through her body. Her orgasmic screams reverberate through your throat, which is also moaning out of the pleasure congesting your mind.

When the kiss breaks her yelps stifle the smacking and squelching. You have no idea if it’s your heartiness or just overstimulation from before the shower, but her voice sounds so giddy she might just hit the floor all limp. The burgeoning pleasure conglomerates into a derogated vertigo, the unbearable sensations stack up in your spines and Jimin’s wringing walls really doesn’t help you push it down. Her eyes tell you—because her mouth can’t right now—she’s only a couple thrusts away from coming undone, tantamount to what’s threatening to blow your mind, break down your nerves.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m fucking coming…!” A tautology that is so understandable. You help her, add to the pleasure by choking her. Her moans permeate to your hand through her throat and the foul secretion of her orgasm flows down her legs with the water pelting down on your bodies. Jimin fumbles on the wall with her fingers, too herring-gutted to digest the deray.

“Jimin. Yu Jimin. I’m coming too-fuck…!” When Jimin hears her name she hums, and when she feels the warmth coat her walls she buckles, arches her back to beckon your lips and jockeys her tongue between them. In less than a minute however she pulls back, due to lack of air, because of your chokehold, and pants in your face, with a pejorative smile, but no sign of mannerism—you all know, that smile that follows after an exquisite sex—her sheer feelings carved in it, and you willingly mirror it as a beck of mutuality.

******

A rather huge thing is settled. Sitting on the edge of the bed together, with a cigarette between your fingers for each, you recount your history: the reason you moved, your personality, your sex life being like this. All of them, however, converge to her, Yu Jimin, weirdly enough for you who just can’t concede any feelings involved, which sounds like a monolithic psychopath which actually might be who you are.

Well, a little bit of romance couldn’t kill, could it? You think, lying next to Jimin and slowly closing your eyes to fall-

“You haven’t said it yet.”

“Say what?”

“You only said I’m beautiful.”

“And?”

“I know there’s something more. You know there’s something more.”

There you fail to hold out the chuckle.

“I don’t know what you’re-“

“It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to be shy about it,”

Jimin mischievously giggles. You know you can’t just laugh it off, and you won’t. That intricate feeling that tickles, but is not transient.

With a somnolent voice, you placidly say, like a tagline of a tragedy—or a comedy.

“Love you, Jimin.”

Her grin infiltrates her words hearing it.

“That’s it, my boy. Love you too.”

******

#kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #karina smut #aespa smut

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shuenkio · 3 months ago

Text

Mid Night w'you | Ksn. 🌜

Paring: Innocent!Sunoo X Male!reader | Genre: Sg Smut.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ׄ 　۪ 𓂃 ੭୧ 𓂃　۪ ׄ

Synopsis: Sunoo was waking up in the middle of the night feeling overwhelmed by the sudden heat, so he asked you for a lil help.

Cw: mentioned of cum, masturbate, overstimulated, curse Mdni.

Non proof read | Eng is not my first.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A-N: I'm back with Sun's work after a while, I mean I'm kinda sucky at writing this genre a bit suar don't be mad at it :') / also tell me which member you wanna see next.

You know that, your boyfriend, Sunoo was a bright person, sweet as sugar, a gentleman and never had any bad background before, he was just perfect. However, in the life of a human, as a man he was pretty innocent even if he was already an adult, you know what we trying to say.

Sometimes he was a pain and oblivious that, doing it with alone times is nothing to be ashamed of, your body do need relaxation too such as a good release. You did bring up this topic a few times too that, nothing to be embarrassed off, while he said he was fine, shrugged it off didn't care of it that much. So you just go along with the flow, not everyone is enjoying themselves doing alone time.

However, during the middle night as you and him, have gone to sleep. Sunoo was seen waking up, feeling uneasy, flashing and heat surrounded all over his body in every part especially 'that'. Why did his dick is so hard like a rock right now, damn it. To say that, he didn't know how to make it dead down and back to normal. Usually Sunoo would just pee it out when his bladder said so, but this was different. He feel nothing to pee, his balls are tight together, the base of his dick twitching and throbbing hard to point it actually painfully hurt.

He didn't want to wake you up from your sleep just for this personal issues to be solve, it kinda make him even more ashamed and embarrassed. Yet he got no choice, as Sunoo pull over to see once again under his pant, it wet? Why did his tip leaking wet and what are all these, he don't understand. Yeah they said everybody had a wet dream when they hit puberty, for Sunoo, he don't really care about it that much, at this point, he don't even know what c u m is. Innocent, really innocent.

He left with no choice, the more he try to resist, the more his dick hurting him more and more, that feeling when it just hitting, and needed to get it done asap. Shaking you gently, as you slowly open your eyes to see what's wrong, He finally explain.

Sunoo expected that you'd be hate him for waking you up this late, just for his dick never dead down or to find solution for him? Instead, you yawn. You know someday, man will always be man, and so are you and this was a countless time that you have to deal with it, and today it turn out to be your innocent boyfriend, this is going to take a while.

"M/n— i-im sorry, but how am i suppose to make it stop hard" He asked. His face are all redden like a fine wine, clenching tight on the bed sheet because he was shy, to deal with this with you helping. On the other hand, you didn't say anything as you remove the blanket away from the views and asked him.

"Sun, remove your pant. And underwear you need it" you state, finally half awake as you command him to do as you told. Shamelessly, he did remove everything and was left with bare butt and his dick, able to breathing for once. His expression is readable, he could actually fainted from all of these moments alone.

"N-now what should we do next?" Sunoo asked, he was still leaking with pre cum and it soaked his shaft already, well this was his first time for a while, gonna be a bit sensitive.

"So... It kinda late, we can't do something that need much energy so, can you uh jerk it off?" Explain what he should do, his face began to grow even redder, he was supposed to what? Fap his own dick? Naur way, he don't even know how to do it.

"I need to what? B.. but i don't know how!" Claiming he can't do it, explain the big picture that he can't do it for himself, which in the end you did have to help him, everything.

"Okay, I'm gonna help you Sun, but let me tell you first, it gonna be sensitive yeah?" Informing your boyfriend, he know that it would be so he agree even if he know he's gonna squirm under your touch, not to mention, everybody first time, its a hella crazy experience.

You crawl closer beside him, as you slowly wrapped your palm and finger around his dick. Just by doing that, he's already gone twitching non stop, the sensation are slowly making him swallow hard already.

But to stop it, he must need to do it, nothing to be afraid of.

You looking at him for consent that you'll be moving, when he catch your eyes he gently nod, as his brows strain together, feeling the heavy heat absorbing him once again.

As you moving your hand up and down in a slow pace, Sunoo was shaking. His thighs is so sensitive to your touch, with the wave of first stage pleasure wash over him. But why does he feel good? What's this feeling. Continue to jerk him off by the increase speed in every step, he can't help but to cover his mouth by the pleasure. The sound that he make only was whimpering, only to make him even more turn on.

Little by little, the slow pace turn into a fast one. The foreskin on his tip moving up and down nonstop with the help of your hand. The balls are swinging by the rhymes of your move that make Sunoo rolling his eyes over, almost can't hold himself back down. The more you go, the more his breath start to hitch, along with the high pitch sound he make, groaning, feeling like he was about to seen heaven in any moment.

"S-SHIT m/n i want to pee, i n-need to pee right now! Nvgahh ah"

"Piss it out Sun, don't hold back it not a pee~"

In another few more strokes, a wave of ecstasy hit him, as Sunoo feel like his body is begging for to be release the white liquid that he had seen back in those day. He was trembling and indeed squirming just like he predicted, his tips is twitching as it giving signal once last time before a big load of cum shooting out on the bed, a very heavy one. Sunoo's body couldn't endure such pleasure before, the sensation running wild in his vein, and that's when he pass out, on the spot. He's probably seen heaven before he pass out right now.

You chuckle at your boyfriend who is a sensitive guy, before lay back down next to him, leave the dirty sheet for a while.

"How does it feel ma luv?" You asked, seeking for the attention and how does he feel like to be able to masturbate.

Yet Sunoo was still catching his breath, he can't bare himself to touch his sensitive spot, why does it feel so pleasurable that he can't even endure it yet he feel so good?

He must try... For another time in a while he thought, again soon.

"It feel so... Good just like you said, M/n...it actually overwhelmed with- it sensitive good"

"I know you would, everybody did, you don't have to be shy, unless it for everybody and not me ok? Now go to rest, you look like you're about to dead, so sensitive so cute hehe"

"Thanks you, M/n"

Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

Crd to all the owners of pics and dividers.

Ps; I didn't use the grammar checker so a lot of words might be incorrect.

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ceilidho · 6 months ago

Note

This is in no way of hating but i want to know why do you enjoy writing noncon/rape? When I first downloaded tumblr which was couple of months ago i was surprised by the amount of noncon fics here. I eventually came to enjoy them which makes me question myself. Whenever i read a noncon fic and enjoy it i feel like im betraying women who actually went through those traumatic events. Plus I actually don't really like dark romance books? I love cod dead dove and that is mainly because i really love the characters and the authors are so talented. I rambled so much and i hope you don't get this in the wrong way i don't mean to hate AT ALL i love the stuff you write. Maybe i shouldn't think too much and let myself enjoy what im reading lol

first of all, no worries! i wasn't sure about your tone/intentions at first, but by the end i was totally fine with the question.

i actually don't mind talking about this stuff - i just sometimes avoid it on main because i prefer chatting about it privately.

second, i'm no psychologist or sociologist, so i probably won't be able to give you the most satisfactory answer, but i think there are a lot of different reasons. i can only name a few. one thing i should mention right off the bat is that rape fantasies are very normal (and this is true whether you're a survivor of SA or not) and writing/reading fiction can be a safe way to process those thoughts/feelings.

one of prevailing reasons is, of course, that many survivors of SA use noncon/dubcon literature/art as a way of processing their experiences and taking ownership of their trauma.

and look, people are going to go back and forth on this point (i've seen it all before - many people refuse to believe that engaging with noncon lit/art is helpful, and in fairness, it's NOT helpful for everyone because every person is different), but at the end of the day, if a survivor tells you "writing/reading this was helpful in my recovery" then that's that!

additionally, for many women and non-binary folk (i can only speak as a cis woman, but i'm sure this is a shared lived experience across many different people), we're also taught from a very young age to suppress our sexual desires / that being open about our sexuality is morally reprehensible and shameful. and a lot of people carry that shame for years, impacting them well into adulthood. so dubcon/noncon fantasies can be a way of being able to enjoy sexual scenarios where you don't have to be the initiator, thus taking away some of the emotional weight and shame.

plus, at the end of the day (and im sure many people will disagree with this take, it's something that i'm still figuring out myself), there is a kind of weird underlying consent implicit in dark fics. like, you might be reading a fic or novel that's ostensibly noncon, but you're also actively seeking out that literature (hopefully it's not just sprung on you - i do very much agree with tagging to the fullest extent and my lukewarm take is that I think all books, even traditionally published ones, should come with content/trigger warnings too).

there are a medley of reasons why someone might write or read dark fiction/dark romance. again, i'm just one person and i can only speak from my own experience!

i think at the end of the day, the important thing to realize is that fiction is fake, and as long as the writer appropriately tags their work and ensures that the audience is aware of what they're getting into when they start reading, they're not coercing the reader into something they aren't prepared for.

and it's totally fine if you have limits (like, you can read and enjoy dubcon, but not noncon) or can't engage with the material at all, but it's also unfair to say that it reflects someone's real life values - the same way that we don't say that the people who enjoy crime fiction must love murder.

and the last thing i want to say because this got a bit out of hand lol, is that, yes, for some people dark fiction is genuinely harmful, whether or not they're a survivor. it's not for everyone and that's completely fine and i'm aware of that, which is why i agree that you should tag as much as possible (even if you feel like you're overdoing it sometimes), but someone else's discomfort doesn't give them the right to tell you how to process your own emotions/experiences/desires/etc.

as long as no one's getting hurt, there's no issue as far as i'm concerned. and sorry but, no one's getting hurt by reading a fic or a novel unless the author didn't give proper content warnings - if you "forgot" to read the tags or read anyway DESPITE being warned, im sorry but that's life.

#this is sooo rambly but doing my best to give my perspective

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fioiswriting · 5 months ago

Text

The sea and the fire

“Fire and water looked so lovely together. It was a pity they destroyed each other by nature.” - R.F Kuang

Summary : when you're married to your childhood sweetheart who becomes your enemy and you get lost in the terrible maze of politics.

[previous chapter] [masterlist]

Rating : None for now, will be explicit 18+ later MDNI

Pairing : Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader (There will be some Cregan Stark x Reader later)

TW : none for now except not proofread. TW will be added as the story progresses.

Words count : 4408

AN : Hi everyone!! I hope you're all doing well. So, MONTHS later, I've finally decided to post chapter 2. Sorry for the wait.

[About this story This fanfiction is inspired by an RP I started with my girlfriend (@irmawrites, go check her work) in early 2023, which is still ongoing. My girlfriend writes for her OC (who is the daughter of Viserys and Alicent) as well as for Aemond and Cregan, while I write for my OC (who is the daughter of Rhaenyra) as well as for Aegon and Cole mostly. This fanfiction doesn't cover exactly the same events, I've changed some things, added some others and omitted some. But it follows the main storyline. The character of Irma is a nod to my girlfriend and is based on another of her OCs (Alicent's niece). I'm keen to turn this story into fanfiction and I hope you'll like it! ❤️ I know there's a ton of fanfiction out there based on the Aemond x Rhaenyra's daughter trope. If you don't like it, if you feel uncomfortable, or if you've read too much of it, I'd suggest you read another fanfiction written by one of the many talented authors on this platform ❤️ The story will unfold in several arcs, with the first arc building up the relationship between the reader and Aemond. The tone is therefore lighter. The following arcs (which I can't wait to get to!!) will gradually introduce a lot more angst (my favourite thing to write). The tone will be radically different. Overall, the fanfiction will sometimes be based on elements of the book, and sometimes on the show, with my own interpretations. Please bear in mind that my dialogue will sound very "modern" because I struggle to write medieval dialogue in English, as it's not my mother tongue.]

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

After all that talk, ENJOY <3

Chapter 2 : Familiarity

There was a sense of renewed familiarity.

You had regained your childhood bedroom and with it your landmarks. Of course, you still missed Dragonstone. And that could seem strange to some - Dragonstone was just a damp cave, a pile of stones perched on a rock. You were in King's Landing, now. You lived in opulence, in a royal comfort unmatched by the perch above the sea where you had spent most of your youth.

But Dragonstone had a charm you couldn't find in King's Landing. Perhaps it was the stillness of the library where you spent all your time, lost among the scrolls of parchment and the thick tomes, or perhaps it was the sound of the crashing waves that rocked you on stormy nights, you weren't sure.

But somehow a sense of familiarity had returned. Your old room hadn't changed much, despite Alicent's questionable alterations to the decoration of the Red Keep. You had found an old toy in the shape of a dragon, and even some old paper on which you had practised your precise handwriting under the strict gaze of a stern Septa when you were a child. It was a memory frozen in time, a kind of testimony to the past. A room that reflected the little girl you were when you left King's Landing.

But perhaps you could change it to your liking, to reflect the young woman you had become. Perhaps it was a way of keeping you occupied before you left again. After all, your mother had promised that your stay would only be temporary. Just time to sort out some inheritance issues. Time to try and heal your family's wounds. Time to secure your family's future. As if the hope of you all rested on your shoulders; the only guarantee that your family wouldn't descend into a bloody escalation, or something like that.

And yet, even though you'd only been here a short time, you'd already gotten into trouble, and it was Aemond himself who had to rescue you. You hated the idea.

You hated the fact that he'd come to your aid.

You hated the fact that you owed him, that you were indebted to him.

Fortunately, your little escapade hadn't been reported - you didn't want to disappoint your mother, or see the reproachful look on her face, even though you were aware that she might not be in the best position to make a comment. You were close to your mother. You were her eldest. You were her only daughter. She cherished and loved you, and you knew you could share everything with her. But you cherished your secret freedom, and you feared that her concern for her only daughter would give her the bad idea of assigning you closer supervision.

You didn't need a chaperone. You valued what little freedom your condition as a daughter afforded you.

As you slipped under the sheets, your thoughts kept returning to Aemond. The way he'd protected you, the way he'd carried you on his shoulder - it was humiliating, you weren't an object. And the way you had planted a kiss on his cheek. An impulsive act. A foolish act. You had to admit that you weren't averse to doing it again.

It just didn't make sense. Why had he come looking for you when he'd never answered your letters? He'd probably felt superior, after calling you and your brothers bastards, he'd probably decided you weren't good enough to be his friend anymore. All this time, all these years, you'd been waiting for a word from him - a mere reply to the letters you'd sent. It never came. You concluded that your friendship had ended, in silence, after all you had done for him; after reassuring him, after holding his hand while the maester tried to repair the broken flesh on his face as best he could.

Had he really been your friend for even one day, or had it all been a facade, a role he'd played? Had he ever been sincere?

You were furious.

Rhaenyra had stroked your hair through every disappointment that gripped your heart like the loving mother she was. Daemon - Daemon had soothed you in his own way, telling you again and again that Aemond wasn't a good man, and that you would save your heart by forgetting him.

But now he had come looking for you. Something had changed. He had taken a step in your direction. You were lost. You were angry, but it was not just anger. There was something else underneath that pile of confusion and resentment. His approach unsettled you. Every step he took towards you, every word he said, sent a whirlwind of conflicting emotions through you. A burning curiosity. An irresistible attraction.

You hated yourself for thinking it, but maybe your betrothal wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe you could retrieve the complicity of your childhood.

Maybe it had never really disappeared.

In the early hours of the morning, the smell of warm bread tickled your nose even before you felt the warmth of the sun's rays through your chamber window. You rolled onto your side to steal a few more minutes of comfort, stifling a grunt into your pillow. You waited fatefully for the moment when Celia or Jeyne would come and wake you.

"Wake up you lazy groundhog, you've got things to tell me!"

But the high-pitched, overly cheerful voice that echoed around your room wasn't Celia's, and it certainly wasn't Jeyne's. You sat up immediately, as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over you, your fingers rubbing your tired eyes to make sure you weren't dreaming.

Irma Hightower was standing in your room, in a gown more extravagant than ever. You wanted to throw yourself into her arms.

"It was usually me who overslept in the morning and you who had to wake me up," Irma exclaimed, placing the tray she carried awkwardly under her arm on the table with a loud clatter, causing the tea to overflow from the cup and drip onto the wooden table. "But I reckon that sneaking out seems tiring." She punctuated his remark with a knowing wink before dusting off her dress as if she'd just worked in the straw or done the most strenuous physical labour in the world.

Still too sleepy to make sense of your friend's words, you frowned as you looked around for your two handmaidens, the ones who woke you up every morning, helped you get dressed and brought you your meal. "Where are -"

"I dismissed them for the rest of the morning," Irma replied without letting you finish the sentence. That explained the tray and the near disaster. "But here's your breakfast. Gods, did you know a tray was thatheavy? " She paused briefly, barely giving you time to wake up properly.

Irma Hightower was a tornado. She swept away everything in her path - she carried away hearts and minds with equal ease, leaving a whirlwind of chaos behind her. Wherever she went, she stirred the air with unbridled energy, forcing others to adapt to her frenetic pace or be wiped out by her determination. But it would be a lie to say you weren't happy to see her. You sat down on the edge of the bed and stretched, your arms reaching for the ceiling before tilting your head to one side. A smile curved the corner of your lips as you watched your friend. You wondered what Irma was doing in your room in the early hours of the morning, especially when, last you heard, she was supposed to be in Oldtown furthering her education.

To tell the truth, you might have had an idea why she was here. You just didn't want to subject yourself to your friend's interrogation - some secrets should remain your secrets.

And what you'd done yesterday was one of them.

"'So?" she asked with a mixture of overflowing curiosity and impetuosity, her brown curls twirling around her face.

"So what?" you sighed as you went behind your dressing screen to remove your nightgown. You slipped into a flowing ocean-blue dress adorned with pearls and embroidery - one of your favourite gowns, a creation that reminded you of your favourite element: the sea.

Unlike your brothers, you weren't made of fire and blood. You were made of sea and storm, and you knew deep down that this was perhaps hypocritical - your own appearance reminded you of it every day. But it was what your heart had always told you, and you'd come to believe it, too. The feeling of your feet in the water and the breeze on your face, its salty taste against your lips, was the one that brought you the most comfort.

"So what happened yesterday ?” Irma insisted. Her voice grew impatient. "I saw you.”

But you ignored her, busy wriggling to reach the lacing at the back of your dress. In vain. You weren't flexible enough. "Since you've decided to play the handmaid today, help me get dressed," you replied, appearing on one side of the screen, your hands gripping the fabric tightly, your back to her. Irma rose with a long sigh - it was just for show, you knew - and came over to you. You smiled mischievously. You had to admit that you enjoyed seeing her in this role, so opposite to who she really was. You wondered what her time in Oldtown had been like; whether she'd been treated like the spoilt brat she truly was, or whether, on the contrary, she'd had to learn patience, faith and discipline - all qualities that didn't characterise her.

"I could actually keep you as my lady in waiting, you know. You'd be good for that. Forced to follow me everywhere, I'd love that."

You didn't need to see her to know that she rolled her eyes. " I am the Queen's niece. I was made for more than that."

When her fingers became tangled in the lacing of your dress, she spoke again, her voice caressing the back of your ear as she tugged at the lacing with a little more force: "You haven't answered my question."

How could you forget that Irma was so perceptive? And above all, how could you forget that when Irma wanted something, it was impossible for her not to get it? You weren't going to get away. She would insist, until you fell for her angelic pout and her round eyes that tried to win you over.

It reminded you of your shared youth - the times you spent together, swapping secrets and gossip, talking about your joys and sorrows. You had been inseparable before you were forced to return to Dragonstone, and she to Oldtown.

"Nothing happened. At least nothing like you may think," you admitted, turning to smooth the front of your dress. You whirled around, the fabric rising gently around you like a bluish wave. "How do I look?"

"I wouldn't describe being carried around like a sack of flour on your dark uncle's shoulder as nothing. Especially in your family."

Irma inspected your outfit, her eyes expertly examining you from top to bottom and then from bottom to top, looking for the slightest detail that would have spoiled her work. She brushed away a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face.

"Did he kiss you?" Her eyebrows arched, her mouth forming a playful pout of false surprise. She was clearly determined to decipher your every secret, to expose them. You hesitated for a moment, to cast doubt, to let her imagine more - but you were afraid of the repercussions this might have on you. You weren't sure that Irma knew how to hold her tongue. And you didn't want to risk exposing yourself to Aemond's irritation over false rumours. Not when you'd planned to play with him a bit; to prove to him that you had the upper hand, that you could have him wrapped around your little finger and drive him mad. You were still suspicious of him. You hadn't really figured him out yet. You just knew he'd changed since the last time you'd seen him, but you weren't sure how much.

"No, he didn't kiss me," you repeated, putting the same emphasis on the word as your friend. You walked over to the table to sip your still steaming cup of tea. You could feel Irma's round eyes on your back - she was waiting for you to say more. She probably had a dozen unanswered questions: why had Aemond brought you back like this? Where had you been? Who had you been with? What had you done? But you didn't answer right away, biting into the crusty bread.

"He just... came to fetch me," you finally admitted between two bites, your mouth half full - it was a far cry from the princess manners in which you'd been raised. Sitting on your bed, Irma stared at you with her brown eyes - the same as her aunt's. "I was with Aegon. In King's Landing. And I got lost."

That was enough. Irma didn't need to know everything; after all, it wasn't a lie if you only omitted certain details that you deemed relatively unimportant.

Or that Irma didn't need to know.

But the revelation provoked a silence. Your friend didn't answer immediately. Her eyes narrowed, revealing a fine line between her eyebrows, and her lips pursed into a bitter pout. She looked troubled, her fingers twitching in her lap. "I didn't know you were close to Aegon."

If you didn't know her so well, you wouldn't have detected the note of reproach in her voice. Was it jealousy? Was your friend jealous of the time you spent with Aegon?

You weren't sure you understood. He was married - and more importantly, as you remembered, Irma hated him for his debauchery and the alcohol he drank to excess.

But this was no time to argue, and you preferred to play it safe. There would be plenty of time for your investigation later, when Irma's suspicions would be at rest. "He's my uncle and... he suggested he show me the streets of King's Landing because I was feeling bored."

And the idea seemed liberating at the time. A moment of stolen freedom, away from the court, away from your duties. Where you were no longer the model princess, the paragon of virtue, but just another girl, lost in anonymity. You weren't sure she understood - she'd always loved the court, the gowns and the politics. You too, of course. It would be a lie to say you weren't made for it; for the life your status as a princess could offer you. You cherished the comforts and loved the responsibilities that came with your role. But sometimes those same responsibilities – and duty above all - stifled you. You needed solitude. To be somewhere else.

"It's dangerous. You could have been harmed!" Irma said, crossing her arms over her chest with an air of concern and annoyance. "You can't just follow a man like Aegon into the city," she sighed.

Some truth was hidden in her words, and you were aware of your lack of rationality, of the stupidity of your foolishness. The danger you had put yourself in, too, for if Aemond hadn't intervened... You didn't want to think about it. The dirty hands and lecherous looks those men gave you still made you shudder. All those risks for an illusory feeling of freedom, wasn't it a high price to pay?

Aemond had come for you. The humiliation still burned on your cheeks.

"Lost in your thoughts?" Irma asked impatiently, offering you her arm as if she'd waited too long for you to come out of your reverie, "thinking about your Prince Charming again?"

You gave her a little tap on the arm, your eyes raised to the sky at the broad smile that stretched her lips, but you accepted her invitation anyway. "Fine, let's go. I heard that they are training this morning. And I know you're not indifferent to Dornish charm." You winked at her. And arm in arm, you and Irma walked through the corridors of the Red Keep towards the courtyard.

Aemond's movements were precise and swift. Faced with Ser Criston's Morningstar, he moved skilfully, as nimble as a cat. You leaned against the parapet of the ramparts; your eyes riveted on the two silhouettes that seemed to be dancing in the courtyard amidst the small crowd that had gathered around them. Irma didn't miss a moment of the spectacle, and you wondered if there was a man she didn't find charming. Aemond, probably. You knew she didn't bear any affection for him - he was too serious, too stern. Too scary, too.

"Did you get tired of Oldtown, is that why you're here?" you asked teasingly, glancing briefly at Irma.

She leaned towards you as if to share a secret, not taking her eyes off the show the two men were offering. "They didn't want me anymore," she confided. "I used to drive the maesters and the septas mad. It was amusing."

You should have known better. Irma was too stubborn and brash to be around men and women who had dedicated their lives to knowledge. She was intelligent, there was no denying that, but she lacked the patience and diligence that the study of texts demanded. Though she had spent her childhood in King's Landing, perfecting her courtly education at her aunt's side, her rebellious attitude had sent her straight back to Oldtown. And then, she had threatened the Maesters and the Septas - she belonged at Court and she was convinced of it.

"And how is Daeron?"

"As courteous and charming as ever," she replied.

Aemond disarmed Cole and everyone applauded; including Jace and Luke, who you could recognise in the crowd. Your betrothed's eyes shifted from the spot he was staring at in the crowd - your brothers? - and looked up at you for a moment. You wondered if Aemond had seen you, if he had felt your gaze on him, and if that was why he had become fiercer in his attacks. A strange sensation arose in your belly, as if a swarm of butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, making your heart beat faster. You forced yourself to suppress your emotions, which you blamed on all the time you'd spent away from Dragonstone. You refused to admit that it was Aemond's gaze that you sought more than any other, especially after the events of the previous day. Especially when you could still feel his skin against yours, his firm hands around your body, his face just a few inches from yours.

You wondered what had possessed you to kiss him on the cheek.

You wanted to play with him, that was certain. But you refused to subject your heart to the whims of love. Not after the heartache you'd felt when you found out he'd forgotten you so easily.

It was nothing serious.

You met Aemond's gaze. The intensity of his lilac eye had this very capacity to send shivers down your spine. He didn't even crack a smile, and looked away as if nothing had happened.

"I'll see you later," Irma said, squeezing your arm, before turning on her heels to - presumably - find some male company. Once you were alone, you walked down the steps that led from the ramparts to the courtyard. Your steps instinctively brought you to where Aemond was standing, ready to sheathe his sword.

If he seemed surprised to see you, he didn't show it. His icy eye rested on you, unreadable as ever.

"Lady Strong."

"We should talk," you began, ignoring the unpleasant way he had just addressed you. Lady Strong. The nickname left a sting of humiliation, and under normal circumstances you would have reacted. You would have defended yourself, you would have thought of something witty to retort - but today you had decided to take a step towards peace. You had decided to show that you hadn't come here with any animosity, even though everything inside you was screaming to make him swallow his insolence.

"There is nothing to talk about," he replied mechanically. Cold. Distant. Disinterested. Syllables sharp and icy.

But yes, there were a thousand things to talk about; the betrothal that would lead to your certain future marriage, the events of yesterday, the letters he had never answered, his hostile and cold attitude towards you. There were all these things and more, but neither of you seemed to know how or where to begin.

"About yesterday -"

"I haven't spoken a word to anyone. Your little secret is safe with me. You can rest assured, niece."

That's not what you meant. It wasn't that you wanted to talk about - it was everything around it; it was the reasons, it was how he had found out, it was the consequences, it was the kiss on his cheek, it was the thick tension between you that you were sure he had felt too. It was all these things.

You took a step towards him. Suddenly you felt yourself bubbling. And as if you'd grown wings, you closed the distance between you without looking away.

"Why?" you asked, your tone more urgent. You wanted to push him over the edge. You wanted him to admit what you knew for a fact that he would never be able to. "You could expose me. Tell everyone about my little escapades. Make me lose all credibility. End our betrothal." You paused, leaning your body towards him, your warmth mingling with his.

You felt him hold his breath. He tensed, straightening his neck, tilting his head slightly to the side to watch you.

"Why exactly would I do that, Lady Strong?"

Because you hate me, you were tempted to reply. Because you hate me, just as you hate my brothers. Because you cut me off all those years ago, without a word. And despite all the affinities that could bring you together, despite the fond memories of your shared childhood and your closeness, despite the love you harboured for him, you were loyal to your siblings, like he was to his. Whatever you did, you would always be associated with them. Your family. So wasn't it normal for him to see you as an extension of the hatred he felt for them?

At your silence, he continued, this time in High Valyrian: "I am not the one who despises the other. You know that."

Hate was nothing more than a form of passion.

But you weren't sure it was hate you felt for Aemond - no, the hate would come later, stronger, hotter than ever. For now, you felt disappointment and a form of betrayal after the friendship that had bound you together for more than a decade.

"I am not the one who is determined to make you my enemy."

Enemy, like water to fire. Trying to destroy each other by nature.

"And yet, you treat me like one," you replied. Sharpness staining your voice.

He let out a hm. He was still staring at you; the sensation was almost disturbing. He took a step in your direction, violating your breathing space. You had to lift your head to maintain eye contact. Then he leaned towards you, the corner of his lips turned up slightly in a smirk.

"I wouldn't have come to rescue you if you were my enemy."

The words barely out of his mouth, he straightened and took a step back, giving you the courtesy to walk away as your cheeks turned red. You didn't need him to remind you of what had happened yesterday. The memory was still frozen in your mind, clear and intact. The ghost of his touch like a burn. You wondered if he felt the same; if he thought about your lips on his cheek, if they had left an invisible, indelible mark on his skin, like his fingers on yours.

You had to change the subject. Quickly. Before you got caught at your own game.

Your hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword on the table beside the training area. You lifted it. It felt heavy in your hand, still warm from Aemond's grip.

It was strange, this power in your hand. A weapon that could take a life. Too big and unsuitable for your delicate fingers, but fascinating.

"Teach me."

"No," he replied immediately, following your every move with his icy gaze, as if he feared you might hurt yourself. You rested the heavy sword on the wooden table before turning. You approached him again.

"Daemon taught me how to use a dagger. At least he taught me where to aim to hurt." You flatten your hand against his chest, just below his ribcage. His body stiffens beneath your palm. "He said it was to protect me from dangerous men." Your gaze travelled from your hand to his eyes.

Aemond chuckled. He didn't try to push you away. On the contrary, he kept your hand pressed against him. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, and he guided your hand to his jugular, where you could feel his heart throbbing against your fingertips.

"First lesson: that is where you aim to kill." Caught off guard, you tried to withdraw your hand, but Aemond held it in place, your fingertips on his skin, your eyes both searching and challenging each other. The air was charged. Tense. Like a cloud before a storm. You held your breath. "But you wouldn't dare hurt a fly."

He released your wrist and gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to step back until your back hit the table. He leaned in. His face so close to yours that you could almost feel his warm breath melting into yours. A few inches and you could close the gap between your lips. A few inches and -

"Well, niece. I hope to see you for dinner. And, of course, I expect you to behave."

With that he released you. With that, he turned on his heel.

He stopped. And without looking back, he added: "And please. Don't make a habit of me saving you.

Well, you were evenly matched.

#aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic #the sea and the fire

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pomefioredove · 12 days ago

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Do you have any advice for writing Rook's character? I'm always worried I'll write the twst boys too ooc

mmm let me think

my absolute least favorite interpretation of his character is the loyal lapdog. I hate it with such passion that I won't engage with anything that makes him that. rook is eccentric and excitable and passionate about his interests, and none of that makes him "pathetic". reducing him to that dumbs him down, imo. he has also repeatedly shown that while he admires vil, he isn't bound by that admiration, and will disobey if he sees fit. he says he doesn't feel particularly committed to anyone in his suitor suit lines. he follows his heart, but he's aloof just the same

there's also nothing, to me, that tells me his interests are romantic in nature. if anything, what he says/shows tells me he's explicitly not romantically interested in anyone, whether that be vil, neige, or yuu. when I write rook, I don't lean on that crutch, because it doesn't exist to me. I don't read rook as a flirt, or a romantic. so I don't write him that way, either. rook admiring someone's beauty doesn't equal flirting. he's just autistic

so what I choose to focus on is understanding. rook is an intrinsically lonely character. he's very private, and guarded, and keeps himself at a distance from everyone. he's expressed that he doesn't get to talk about his interests much because people find that weird/annoying, and I think, as shameless as he seems, he carries a lot of shame with him. his friendship with vil feels unnatural, in a way, because he knows everything about vil (or, he thinks he does, at least, but this is also arguably not true), and vil knows almost nothing about him. rook enjoys supporting people, but is never supported in return. sure, he's extroverted, and eccentric, and surrounded by friends, but he never feels as if he can be his true self with any of them. supportive, but not supported. he's got that chronically lonely autism, which is something that has always really spoken to me about him

so, I don't want to write him as "the flirt" or "pathetically devoted loyal dog" because he isn't either of these things to me. rook is weird. he's also insanely withdrawn and lonely and sad, in a way that he doesn't really show. he isn't bound to anyone. he does his own thing. so I think his connection to yuu comes from a place of understanding. rook knows what it's like to feel lonely and isolated and like you don't quite belong where you are. he knows how it feels to always support others, but never be supported in return. he knows how it feels to have a mind that doesn't think like everyone else's, to be intrinsically "different" without even trying

rook is sympathetic. he's deeply caring. he's observant and a little mischievous, sometimes, but he's a good person. he wants to help. he struggles with being vulnerable because of how he's been rejected in the past. he's eccentric and extroverted but also emotionally sensitive. he can be difficult to understand, but he really is a good person

tldr um, I don't know, he's just got a lot of emotional depth people don't really write him with. and autism I guess is the big takeaway but that's hardly helpful. it makes sense to me. this is long and terrible sorry lol

#*ੈ✩‧₊˚asks!

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fuxuannie · 2 years ago

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Whaaa i love ur writing style!! Could I ask for Sampo, Gepard and Dan Heng with a very shy reader? 🥺🙏

I just love those three!!

* pairing(s) : various hsr x gender neutral reader ( plus a joke-ish caelus prompt since ppl seem to like him !!!)

* prompt : request ♡

* authors note : thank you all so much for the overwhelming amount of support recently omg ♡ you're all so sweet, and it means the world. feel free to send requests, msgs and the sort my way!

DAN HENG understood your shyness, and was always there for you in situations where it really shone through. Especially in social settings, where you'd just cling onto his arm behind him. All of it, he was used to it, and never pushed you to do things outside your comfort zone.

When you two were just friends, he really appreciated the moments of comforting silence you two would always share. He would be reading on his bed and you'd be doing your own thing on his table. Sometimes you'd catch him just taking those times alone together to stare at you. (Which he'd miserably fail to deny every time he was caught. With his hand covering his mouth, brows furrowed and clear blush on his face.)

And when the confession happened, you were surprisingly the one to tell him. You wanted to prove that Dan Heng was really the only man for your heart, the only one who got to see that smile you'd hide away from people, and the side of you that people rarely know exist.. the one you show to him. A side of you where you're free to laugh without the need to swiftly cover your mouth afterwards, the side of you that's able to talk for hours on end about the little things you're excited about.. Everything he sees of you, its for him alone. And he's happy to know that.

SAMPO was like your voice in situations where you feel shy, it's almost scary how accurate he can read your feelings and convey them to other people.

"Oh don't worry! They're truly greatful, just a little shy." And you'd nod to confirm whatever he was saying.

But Sampo likes to play a little fun, enjoying how quick it was to fluster you. But if ever you asked him to stop, he would in that very moment. He likes to tease, but also knows how to stop.

Before you two dated, things really weren't all too different. Considering how close you two were, with him being your childhood best friend and knowing all about how shy you were.. he really didn't mind. You preferred to be a listener instead of a talker, and boy did he love to talk.

And now that you are now together, it seems not much had changed. He loved to talk, but now you loved to talk with him. You learnt how to open a little and crack out your shell, after the gentle encouragement and patience that Sampo had to help you open up. You owed it all to him.

GEPARD and you were both equally shy, which made such a silly and adorable pair. The mere idea of you two holding hands together had him clearing his throat and you looking down in embarassment.

You were his second in command, many viewed you as a cold leader who rarely ever spoke unless it was needed.. when in reality, you were just really shy. But you're second in command for a reason, your leadership skills and how you'd treat everyone with kindness was something Gepard really admired about you.

But while you two were mutually pining for each other, you two were so painfully awkward that Serval was this close to announcing in her next concert that you two loved each other. She had to listen to Gepard talk for hours on end for the fact you held EYE CONTACT with him.

But those really were signs, Serval thought he was going delusional, but you were genuinely trying to hint you liked him like that. The way your eyes would stare a bit too long into his, how you spoke to him even when you didn't need to and lastly just.. the way you looked at him. You could look him straight in the eyes, when usually you'd turn away at the very second the contact was made.

And now that you two are together, it's like Gepard still hasn't accepted it. Because he acts like you're STILL just a crush. He's just so madly inlove with you that he still gets all flustered and nervous.

You were shy, and your boyfriend was a ticking time bomb that attacked anything at any given moment. Most of the time, people would never really mind you, mostly because of how much of an oddball he was.

"Caelus, please stop scaring the hotel staff.. I really don't wanna speak to them and apologize on your behalf."

You watch Caelus sadly leave the closet, but if you asked him to do anything, he will do it in a heartbeat. "Me and my partner don't argue, they tell me to do something and I listen like a dog" Him, probably, but he knows he just doesn't wanna put you in situations where you're uncomfortable.

However his random obsession with trashcans has been getting concerning and you've started to wonder how the stars in the galaxy guided you to fall for him.

#✹ ִֶָ ꐑꐑ entos paw prints #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #gepard landau x reader #gepard x reader #sampo koski x reader #sampo x reader #dan heng x reader #caelus x reader #caelus hsr x reader

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hannahbarberra162 · 13 days ago

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Will EP omega reader meet the whitebeard pirates? How would shanks react?

Hi Nonnie!

This was originally the trajectory before I decided to take it in a different direction. Not all the WBP since this story is set after the Paramount Wars and they’re disbanded but I was going to have the Reader meet Marco….

This is an alternate ending so not as proofread / edited. This is set after Reader has come to from the heat (you’ll get that scene in the next chapter - which, yes, I am writing). Shanks is a bad boy in this one, don't come for me.

I'm not gonna do the tag list for this (except @mfreedomstuff ) since it's not a chapter of the main story. I do have a few more ideas / scenes I thought of for this maybe I'll write them eventually.

All the actual chapters

Shanks POV

Your first heat had gone well by Shanks’s estimation. The physical demands were rough on you, you had been sleeping and eating in excess since it ended to make up for the days on end with little of either. He’d also had to recuperate after your heat but because you began heat in a worse state it was taking you longer to get to your baseline. He checked on you every hour or so as you slept, bringing you food and water as you needed it. You protested with a groan as he checked your temperature and breathing but allowed him to move you as he pleased like a limp rag doll.

There was one thing that bothered him though - the bite mark from Kid still hadn’t healed. He’d given you his word during the heat that he wouldn’t claim you but he didn’t like seeing the bite from your former Alpha. He’d already spoken with Hongo about it already but the doctor said there wasn’t anything to do except wait.

Unless.

Shanks had known Marco the Phoenix since he was a child, the former Commander slipping in and out of his life like the tide. They weren’t friends exactly but Shanks had offered Marco the opportunity to join his crew many times. He’d slept with Marco a few times over the years and Shanks deeply enjoyed the experience - though they sometimes fought for dominance.

But there was something in Shanks that had always wanted to bring Marco to heel. Marco acted like he was above Shanks, like he was better than him. He always had too, enjoying being the golden child of Whitebeard for years after Shanks had to watch his own Captain publicly executed by Marines. Even after Whitebeard’s death Marco hadn’t joined Shanks’s crew which stung his ego. It didn't help that Marco’s Zoan form had an ethereal beauty like no other and it only elevated his charm and charisma. Marco was powerful, strong, handsome and well respected outside of his piracy for his skills as a physician. Unlike others, Marco wasn't fooled by Shanks's games and lackadaisical attitude and saw right through him. No, Marco needed to be shown his place in the world but the opportunity hadn’t arisen.

Regardless, Marco could heal the bite on your neck in seconds if he visited the ship. Mulling over the idea, Shanks decided to call and see if Marco could fly out. The ship wasn’t that far from Sphinx, Marco could make the trip quickly if he so chose. Grabbing his snail off his desk, he dialed and waited.

“Oi, Marco. How are you?” Shanks asked the calm looking snail as the call was picked up.

“Shanks, to what do I owe the pleasure yoi? What do you want from me?” Marco responded dryly, already anticipating a request. The snail was looking over at something else as Marco continued to work through the call.

“Maybe I just want to see how you’re doing, call up an old friend,” Shanks teased before turning serious. “I am happy to hear you’re doing well, but you’re right, I need a favor. I have an Omega on my ship and she has a wound that’s not healing -”

“Is it not healing or not healing fast enough for you yoi?” the Phoenix interrupted, still not giving Shanks his full attention as he continued to read. Shanks’s irritation was rising but he buried it deep, he wanted Marco’s help.

“It was an infected claiming bite that didn’t take. She just went through heat and it was bothering her, she kept rubbing at it until it was raw. I had to Command her to stop before she left it alone. She’s still recovering - her previous Alpha beat the shit out of her, she was barely alive when I found her,” Shanks said with a frown on his face. Marco was a lot softer than people knew - he was sympathetic to weaker people suffering at the hands of those who were stronger. Shanks knew adding in the bits about your status would tip the scales in his favor. The snail sighed and looked at Shanks with its heavy lidded stare.

“How is she now?” Marco asked, the doctor in him rising to the surface. Shanks gloated internally as he knew he had Marco hook, line, and sinker.

“She’s sleeping a lot, eating when she wakes. It was her first heat - she’d been taking suppressants for years on end so it was particularly rough. I think she’d return to normal faster if she wasn’t also healing the bite,” Shanks mused aloud, knowingly ensnaring the former Commander further.

“Hm. And I suppose you want me to come heal her despite the fact that Hongo likely told you to wait it out yoi,” Marco said with a frown. Shanks smiled brightly, Marco correctly guessing the desired outcome.

“Well, if you’re offering…” Shanks said, letting the sentence dangle. He waited in silence, knowing Marco was going to accept.

“Where are you?” Marco asked in a huff, crossing his arms.

“Not too far from Sphynx, maybe a day’s flight away,” Shanks said jovially.

“Fine. Head towards the island, I’ll get the coordinates from Benn. You owe me.” Marco said with finality before hanging up the snail. Shanks’s smile widened even further.

Your POV

You heard an unfamiliar male voice near the entrance of the cabin. New men weren’t something with a positive association for you but this voice was melodious, almost like a bird song, the person speaking with soothing calm. Listening in, you heard the Emperor speaking to the man like they were old friends. A knock on the cabin door alerted you that they were about to come in so grabbed the blankets and pulled them up to cover your nakedness. You hadn’t worn clothes since before your heat and all that you had were the Emperor’s.

“We’re coming in,” announced the Emperor brightly. As the door opened you saw a man as tall as Benn standing behind the Emperor. His teal eyes met yours and the world stopped for a moment. You’d never seen someone so beautiful in your life, his wanted posters not capturing his true essence. You knew it was Marco the Phoenix but you couldn’t bring yourself to say a single word. You nearly uncovered yourself to walk to him but stopped yourself at the last moment. He wasn’t speaking to you either, standing in shocked silence by the doorway with a stethoscope wound around his neck.

The Emperor looked between you and Marco and started talking but you weren’t listening. All you wanted to do was talk to Marco, to bare your soul to him, even though you’d never met before. He smelled like coconut, pineapple and a touch of spiced rum. You had the urge to lick his scent glands, to bask in the glorious smell of this Alpha. You’d never felt this way with any other Alpha - certainly not with Kid but also not with the Emperor. He walked towards you hesitantly, like you’d bolt if he moved too quickly. You watched his graceful movements as Marco approached, entranced by his very being. The Emperor suddenly put two fingers under your chin and tilted your face to his own.

“Have you met Marco already?” he asked with a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. You noted his stiff shoulders and dominant body language. The Emperor was annoyed and in a dangerous mood, you thought to yourself. Marco forgotten for the moment, you nuzzled into his hand - an act that he’d praised you for before.

“N-no. I was just distracted,” you said quickly, afraid to admit you were staring at the handsome stranger. Your proactive touch mollified the Emperor somewhat as he dragged his thumb up and down your cheek.

“I apologize for startling you yoi. Like Shanks said, I’m Marco. I’m a doctor -”

“And a pirate,” Shanks added, giving Marco a smirk. Marco gave the Emperor a disdainful look.

“Yes, and a pirate yoi. I used to be Whitebeard’s First Division Commander, but that’s in the past. Now I’m just a doctor,” Marco said with a calm smile.

“I’m not so sure, maybe we can finally convince you to join our ranks after all,” Shanks continued, giving Marco a strange look. Marco returned Shanks’s look with one of his own. You weren’t sure what was being communicated between the two men but you didn’t want to be in the middle of it. Cringing backwards, you covered yourself up further with the blankets. Marco’s gaze flicked to your face and his countenance softened.

“It’s alright, I’m going to take a look at you yoi. I heard you have a wound that isn’t healing, is that right?” Marco said, pulling a pair of gloves from the pocket of his doctor’s coat. He sat down next to you on the bed, still towering over you with his tall frame.You nodded, moving your hair to the side so Marco could see the wound still left from Kid. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and put on the gloves.

“I’m going to touch you now, just around the bite, OK?” he said to you softly. You nodded again and shifted towards him in the bed to allow him easier access to your neck. The Emperor moved and leaned against the opposing wall of the cabin, watching Marco’s every move with barely concealed interest. You weren’t sure what he was thinking but you hoped nothing bad came to Marco because of it.

Marco moved his fingers along the stitches Hongo had given you, pushing on the wound in a few spots. His assessment was clinical but it was the most caring anyone had touched you in a long time. He hummed to himself before placing the buds of the stethoscope in his ears.

“I’m going to listen to your heart and lungs yoi. I’ll press the bell of the stethoscope against your skin a few times and listen, OK?” You nodded eagerly, waiting for the contact to continue. You knew what stethoscope usage entailed but it was thoughtful that Marco described what he was going to do anyway. You pulled the blankets down further than you needed to give Marco access to your chest and back.

“How’s she doing?” Shanks interrupted, sitting himself next to your other side on the bed and putting your hand in his own. Marco removed your hand and returned it to a resting position.

“Shh. I’m listening,” Marco said, dismissing the Emperor. You were sure Marco was hearing your heart beating fast from Marco rebuking the Emperor. You’d never heard anyone speak to him that way - even though his crew were relaxed and casual they always maintained an air of respect towards him. Marco on the other hand was irritated with the Emperor and didn't hesitate to make his feelings known.

Marco placed his fingertips on your back, his warm touch gentling you to the sensation of the cold stethoscope. As he listened, you saw his eyes rove over your well loved body from the heat. Your gaze dropped and your cheeks heated as you looked over all the hickeys and bite marks over your front from your heat with the Emperor.

“One more deep breath, there we go,” Marco said soothingly, rubbing a small circle on your back. You did as he said and he removed the stethoscope from his ears.

“I can heal the wound yoi. Like I already said, it was healing just fine on its own. You were too rough with her during her heat. Look at her, she’s covered in bruises and bites. If she’s already healing wounds you shouldn’t add more. Control yourself,” Marco continued, giving the Emperor a dirty look. You hugged your knees with your arms and ducked your head for the ensuing confrontation.

But none ever came. Instead you heard the Emperor’s laugh ring out in the cabin.

“Eh, it was more difficult than I thought. Would you care to find out?”

Marco POV

There was no doubt in his mind the cowering little Omega was his fated mate. He wondered if you could feel the connection too but given your acute distress and prior experiences he doubted it. He felt a pull to you, he was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. It was like some missing piece of him had settled in his soul and he was finally complete, after looking for something he didn’t know was gone. You were absolutely breathtaking, even littered in the evidence of harsh treatment by other Alphas. His first instinct had been to whisk you away on the wings of the Phoenix far from Shanks, back to his home on Sphynx where he could claim you and keep you safe. Alas, things would not be so simple in the real world.

Your scent soured as Shanks extended Marco a crass invitation to have sex with you. Marco highly doubted that he’d shared you before - Shanks was covetous and jealous by nature. Even now while Marco was attending to you as a medical professional Shanks was inserting himself unnecessarily to gain your attention. Shanks hid his true colors under the guise of an easy going and amicable nature but Marco knew better. He was cold and calculating, always seeking what he didn’t have. Which is why he’d never joined Shanks’s crew despite the many offers or dallied with him more than a few times. Shanks never let something that he wanted slip through his fingers and Shanks wanted Marco.

Marco’s hackles rose but he pushed the feeling down. He needed to play nicely with Shanks and think his plans through before he acted. No matter what Shanks did or said, Marco wasn’t strong enough to take him on. He’d lived with an Emperor for long enough to know that Shanks was in a class of his own and even the Immortal Phoenix could be killed by his hands. Instead, Marco put his hand on your shoulder and stood up, inserting himself between you and the Emperor.

“I’ll heal her now then let’s chat outside for a few minutes yoi,” he said to Shanks with a neutral expression. He turned to you and gave you a warm smile, trying to convey his love and kindness in a single facial expression. He thought he saw the flicker of a smile on your sweet mouth.

“I’m going to use my Devil Fruit powers to heal you. It won’t hurt so you don’t need to worry,” Marco said, already trying to heal your growing anxiety. You nodded at him and your shoulders relaxed slightly, revealing the ugly bite on your neck. Something part of him was pleased you weren’t claimed by Shanks but Marco didn’t think it was due to benevolence on Shanks’s part. Marco knew you’d be claimed in the next heat whether you wanted it or not. His gift worked best on skin to skin but he didn’t want to make you too uncomfortable.

“I’ll be on the deck. Don’t enjoy yourselves too much,” Shanks said with a wink. Marco wanted to throttle him right there - couldn’t he smell what his remarks did to you? How afraid and small they made you feel? But even so Marco was thankful for the reprieve from Shanks’s presence. The Captain swaggered away after patting your head like a beloved dog, slamming the door to the cabin behind him.

“Nothing is going to happen that I haven’t already told you. I’m going to heal you with my powers and that will be all. I do have to touch you and it works best if it’s nearest to the injury. May I heal your neck?” Marco explained in a calm and patient voice. Giving you expectations of what he would do might quell your anxiety. You nodded once more, still not speaking. Marco reached slowly for your neck, one of his hands large enough to wrap around nearly the whole thing. The other he placed on your upper back to steady your erratic breathing. In his heart he wanted to pull you in for a soul searing kiss but he’d have to deal with Shanks first.

“Easy, easy. I’m going to begin, alright? It might feel strange but it doesn’t hurt,” Marco said as his flames began to rise over your neck and upper chest. Your eyes opened wide and you tried to swivel your head as you were engulfed in his power but Marco kept you steady. “It’s alright, shh, it’s alright. Relax, just relax, nothing bad will happen yoi,” Marco cooed at you as you ceased looking around like a frightened rabbit. He didn’t want you to struggle against him, nothing in him could ever hurt you. You soon allowed him to heal you without worry, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch.

Marco focused first on the bite but extended the flames to the rest of your body as well. He healed all the marks Shanks had left until there was no sign that you’d ever been intimate with the Emperor. Before removing his hand from your neck he felt something unusual.

“Do you have an old injury here yoi? To your larynx perhaps?” Marco asked quietly while palpating the area, not wanting to alarm you. You looked down and nodded again.

“Would you like me to heal it? I’m not sure it will work completely but it may help,” Marco offered. He’d learned over the years that some people preferred their scars and marks to remain as momentos or as badges of honor. Though injuries like the one you had to your throat were rarely something worth remembering.

“Yes, please,” you rasped. Marco tried to heal your broken vocal chords and damaged neck to the best of his ability, sending wave after wave of healing flames to the area. All too soon, the healing was complete and he had to go deal with Shanks.

“How do you feel now?” Marco asked, removing his hands completely from you. They itched to remain on your skin but he wanted to give you the space you needed.

“Much better, thank you,” you said, reaching to touch the now healed bite on your neck. He’d only heard your voice briefly when you were trying to soothe Shanks’s ego but it sounded smoother already.

“Unfortunately it did scar a bit due to the age and severity of the injury but the scar should fade somewhat over time,” Marco said as your nimble fingers probed the area. You stretched your limbs and gave him a ghost of a smile, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Thank you Marco,” you said softly. Marco had so much he wanted to say and do but the Emperor was waiting for his audience.

“I’ll be with Shanks if you need me,” Marco said, rising from the bed. He felt your eyes watching him as he crossed the messy cabin and left, closing the door softly.

Shanks was sitting at the circular table on the deck, his ochoko filled with sake. His calves were resting on the table and his arm was behind his head in a relaxed pose as he watched the sea. To most, it would look like he didn’t have a care in the world. But Marco knew Shanks was toying with him, like a cat would a mouse before the death blow. Benn was reading the paper next to his Captain and gave Marco a pleasant nod when the two made eye contact. Marco returned it.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Shanks said, still gazing at the sea. Benn took that as his cue to leave, folding his paper in half and tucking it under his arm. He gave Marco a clap on the shoulder as he passed.

“She had greater injuries than you told me yoi,” Marco complained as he sat down in the now unoccupied chair.

“Yeah, she was pretty busted up when I found her. I took her from Kid - not sure if you knew him, I didn’t before then -”

“She’s my fated mate,” Marco cut off Shanks, wanting to get to the heart of the matter. He was loath to play Shanks’s games but for now he’d have to endure. Shanks grinned a toothy smile and lifted his feet off the table, planting them on the deck. He crossed his legs at the ankles and sat up, picking up his ochoko.

“Hm, fate is a cruel mistress. Since the Celestial Dragons interfered with the mating process, fated mates have become an old wives tale, a bedtime story for children. They say when an Alpha finds their mate they would do anything to stay by their side and keep them safe. That a bonded Alpha and Omega share the same lifeline, their chests beating with the same heart. So how fitting that a myth should become real for someone so mythical,” Shanks said, swirling his sake in the small cup. The Emperor’s eyes danced with mirth as Marco watched him take a drink from the ochoko. Marco felt like a snare was tightening around his ankle, like a wild animal stuck in a trap it would never be able to get out of.

“You’re not going to release her yoi. Are you going to claim her?” Marco asked, already knowing the answer to both questions.

“No, she’s staying with me. As for claiming,” Shanks said before draining his cup, “I will during her next heat. But so can you.” Marco didn’t react outwardly, keeping his face still as his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. Shanks refilled his glass to the brim with sake.

“I did some research and it seems Omegas can be claimed by two Alphas. But I found out something even more interesting. Did you know Apex Alphas can claim other Alphas?” Shanks said, pouring sake into an empty ochoko. Picking it up, he extended it to Marco. The implication was clear - Marco would be able to claim you if Shanks claimed Marco. Marco would never be able to leave Shanks though he was unsure of other possible ramifications.

“We’ve had fun before, eh Marco? I think adding an Omega would be beneficial for both of us. You’d be able to stay with her, tend to her, care for her…along with my help, of course. What do you think?”

Marco knew he had only a few moments to consider the proposition or Shanks would revoke it and think of something worse. Marco tried to engineer a solution to his problem in the short time frame but Shanks had him backed into a corner. The Alpha in him couldn’t leave the Omega on the ship, he needed to be near her and protect her like he needed to breathe air. He wasn’t strong enough to challenge Shanks for her and win. He couldn’t leave her and he couldn’t take her. Marco’s eyes met Shanks’s triumphant gaze and broad smile.

Shanks had finally won.

Marco extended his hand and took the ochoko from Shanks. Every moment spent with Shanks further sealed his fate but it also brought him closer to you.

“Welcome to the Red Haired Pirates,” Shanks said, draining his cup with a cold smile.

#emperor's prize au #op x y/n #marco the phoenix #tw yandere #Marco x shanks x reader #marco op #x reader #yandere shanks #fated mates #alternate ending

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