#glad someone sees my vision
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re: those toys that were peak aesthetic, the mlp mermaids,
THE PLAYSETS!!!! THE CASTLE. THE C A S T L E IT LOOKED SO COOL. also the commercial version of the mlp song is still stuck in my head, where they added "it's a magical! my little pony" or maybe it was mermaid tail not magical?? anyway I usually hate commercial jingles they make up for toy commercials but that one was xute
I just looked up the castle and OMG??

little me would've ADORED this if she knew this existed!! this set looks so fun!! ty for bringing it to my attention honestly (。•̀ᴗ<)
I absolutely adore the little figurines they made for G3.5, but I haven't looked at the sets they came in all that often for some reason... I only ever knew of this moving ferris wheel toy just because I had one and then I broke it
weirdly enough, I don't remember seeing any G3 commercials so I can't share much in that regard :'3 I could try to look for how they sounded in Polish, I imagine the sound of that would still be nostalgic
#thank you for the ask btw! I know I didn't say much but I'm just glad to see someone who gets the vision#my little pony#mlp g3#mlp g3.5#mlp#nostalgia#kidcore#nostalgic toys#ask reply#2000s nostalgia#aesthetic#pastel aesthetic
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ohh wait is the 'diplomatic relations' like a metaphor for like. gravity? since in the early solar system or so saturn impacted jupiter quite alot (or so i heard. idk i'm not good at remembering 😭)
Yep! I heard that if it wasn't for Saturn existing and looking out for Jupiter, he'd have crashed everywhere. Earth would likely not exist as we know it, and anything can happen, like Jupiter crashing into the Sun.
But Saturn, although less powerful than Jupiter, is still more powerful than the other planets. He alone was able to get through to Jupiter when Sun cannot do it on his own.
Speaking of gravity, I wrote some lore about it! I added what I mentioned just now to it too, since my lore is still expanding and thus subject to change.
#still have my fingers crossed the grand tack scenario is real#because that would have so much backstory for sun jupiter and saturn#and provide insight as to why jupiter and saturn are so close#... side note. i'm glad jupiter and saturn are so close in solarballs too eheheheh finally someone else also sees the vision i've always ha#asks#ask#anon#anonymous
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God dirty keith sounds so hot.
😂😂 bro tell me about it. Keith’s going fully feral in the desert completely isolated from everyone. He has a limited water supply and the last thing he’s gonna use it on is bathing—and it’s not like it matters anyway, there’s no one around to see him or interact with. Similarly he just can’t be bothered most of the time. He’s either too devastated by grief to think of cleaning (anything, including himself) or too manic with trying to puzzle out the whole Energy business for it to cross his mind. He’s spending all his time outside/in caves and he’s basically just living in dirt and eventually it just kind of sticks to him and won’t leave. Also it’s hot out and when he sweats you can see the streak of dirt it leaves on his skin. He brushes his hands off when touching things (esp paper) leaves dirty fingerprints but it never /really/ comes off. Probably at best he showers during monsoon season and just stands out in the thunderstorms, but even towards the end of the season there’s still always a little left behind. The shack itself really isn’t much better, and he’s obviously tracking more inside. He couldn’t get away from it even if he tried so he just doesn’t bother with it. Gets used to it. The first time he takes a real shower again against the white tiles of the castles bathrooms he’s amazed at just how dirty the water running off him is. And this continues for multiple showers. He’s a working boy (or a depressed one) and it shows.
#I also believe he didn’t bother to do anything to care for his hair and eventually it got so tangled and fucked up he just decided#to chop it off with his knife#doesn’t matter if it looks like shit there’s no one around to see#and it feels so much better#and then it grew back out again into a mullet lol#anyway I’m glad someone appreciates my vision lol#thanks for asking#<3#vld#blorbo#keith kogane
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Mikaaaaa I just wanted to say I absolutely love how you're treating Foolish as if he's some kind of cryptid creature that is difficult to capture on camera-
"Foolish sighting in ___" is so true tho and I'm gonna be using that from now on if you don't mind lmfao heaven knows Foolish Gamers will NOT be documenting his Brazil time at all and we will only be seeing him in other people's posts
Hey love sure go ahead !!! In my mind both Charlie slimecicle and Foolish Gamers are creachures based in different ecosystems. While a Slimecicle sighting is much more common and is easy to be expected by the public no matter how bizarre it is.
Foolish on the other hand is truly a big-foot ass cryptoid and we never know when or even if we are ever gonna see him hence the 'Foolish Sighting' :D
#Also I'm so glad someone sees my vision#Foolish#Charlie slimecicle#Mika mumbles back#natureismynature#Ask#Qsmp Brazil time
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the most wholesome thing is seeing that the wholesome post blog runner is probably one of the nicest people ever :3 i’m generally Terrified of sending asks especially to a blog that Does Things like this but seeing you talk in the tags instead of just reblogging and moving on makes you seem very friendly and approachable !!!! and i hope u know i appreciate that :] i hope you have a wonderful day and both sides of your pillow are always cool and that if you see a random cat on the sidewalk it won’t run away from U ♡
woah, META-WHOLESOME!! thank ya for the compliment, i try my best to carry out those kinds of traits i value!!!!! i’m SUPER super glad that ya did!!! THANK YOU THANK U!! always appreciating how much of an impact this lil blog has on top of appreciating u for sharing as much with me :-)
it’s always a TRIP getting to hear that something i do that i wasn’t even really mindfully doing makes all the difference?? i’m just really, REALLY grateful for all the different kinds of posts that get sent my way and seeing cool + uplifting + sentimental + OVERALL WHOLESOME posts that i express my thanks + ramble a bit in the tags haha !!
i ALSO hope you have as terrific of a day as you’re able to! and i hope you’ll enjoy seeing more posts pop up!
AND YOU’LL NEVER BELIEVE but i got new pillow cases like a week ago THAT DO JUST THAT! AND THERE’S A NEW CAT ON THE STREET WHO HANGS OUT WITH ME SOMETIMES (i’ve been planning to see if he has a microchip, but i know for a fact that the neighbors who feed all the stray cats on our street already have a cage + are well-versed in TNR, so i’ve been thinking about asking them first because the thought that someone could be out there looking for their pal is enough for me to “do it scared”) !! SO THANK U NOT ONLY FOR THE SWEET SENTIMENTS BUT ALSO FOR THE UNEXPECTED HILARITY OVER THE FACT THAT THEY’VE COME TRUE???
#and i get it!! running a gimmick blog (as i’ve heard it be described) is v v different from the other blogs i’ve got going!!#ik i’ve said it in the past but i genuinely think what makes for the lack of ambiance is the fact that i didn’t really? start this blog out#as a gimmick blog in mind?? it was kind of just for me to ‘archive’ Solidly Wholesome posts in one place#by the dates i saw/read through them + let them flow over me. because there’s already a timestamp ya know?#but the Vision was that i’d go through this blog + see that a year ago on a particular day was Important#which is still something i do when i have the the time BUT now i ALSO get sent wholesome posts!!! which WOAH#became a collective effort whether you’ve mentioned me in one post or climbing up to the triple digits now haha!!! i appreciate them all#TRULY :-)#and i’ll also admit that i don’t really remember if i kept the ask + submission channels open because i thought ‘hey maybe i’ll get one#or two someday from someone?’ or if i kinda forgot to close ‘em because i think i only block Anonymous automatically for all the blogs#i’ve got?? THAT will probs be a mystery for a long time to come if not forever BUT am glad it’s all worked out in ways i never saw coming!!#also APOLOGIES FOR NOT ONLY RAMBLING IN THE TAGS BUT THE ASK!!#Apple Pie is defs a priority for me rn and i’ve done some research + talked to my neighbors about TNR being the best bet in our area#last we spoke anyhow which was some time ago#also my parents apparently got into taking stray cats to a TNR program a few cities over so i’ll ask ‘em too probably???#BUT FIRST THING’S FIRST: checking for a microchip#10/13/2023#asks#wholesomepostarchive
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the "dawn and lucas are related somehow" theory is one of my favorite interpretations of dppt tbh. i also like the idea of cyrus being related to them just because it would fucking suck for everyone involved 👍
also i am not telling you to do it but if you ever play swsh my favorite funny business to assume while doing so is that chairman rose is the main characters deadbeat dad
oh MAN naaaaahhhh if cyrus was also involved that’d be such a mess but also so so funny. actually now i want that too tbh
also FXHHDJSJ i thought we were saying rose was related to hop and leon. but it WOULD be really funny if the mc was his abandoned child
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SHINA!!! I’ll try to avoid using terms I’ve used before because I feel like that would give me away immediately BUT.
Goodness. Where do I even START?? You are so incredibly cool and such a kind and sweet person to talk to??? You always ALWAYS have something nice to say it seems, and you do not hesitate to say those things. I’ve seen you pop off with so many random in depth compliments to people that absolutely make their days. Oftentimes it’s after people post a work of theirs, but I’ve also plenty of times seen it (and received it) without any prior warning, and it absolutely warms my heart to see it.
You have so many absolutely bonkers ideas, but like, in the fun way! All of your aus and designs are extremely creative, and you execute them perfectly. Sometimes, things don’t look like they should work as an au, but you tie everything in so tightly and make sure it does, and it’s always a delightful surprise to see. It’s so fun to read your writing, as it’s got a genre of ideas that are so different from the norm but work so well the way you execute it.
And good god. Your ART. You manage to plant (ha) an image directly from your brain and onto the page in a way I’ve seen NOBODY ELSE do before. Seeing your speedpaints only serves to baffle me more on how you manage to do this— You seem to have exactly an idea of what you want to see and visualize it in its entirety before you even start the drawing, and then you transfer it directly onto the page. With nothing but the LASSO FILL TOOL sometimes. No sketch???? Huh???????? My mind is still utterly blown on how you manage to pull that off, but you DO, and it always turns into an absolutely stunning piece. It always looks like you know exactly how to make colors and lighting work in tandem with each other, and know what colors you’re wanting before you start. I am forever wondering how you’ve managed to get such a good grasp on it!
All in all, I think this even undersells a bit how cool you are, cause I doubt I could put it really properly into words. I look up to you as an artist, and you forever inspire me with the things you do. Keep it up, my guy, it’s so so wonderful to see
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#Anon ask#I'm regretting this is ANON ask#Cus i want to get to each one of you and just thank you personally now KWUWJAUWU#I do like - whenever i have energy for it to share my opinion on stuff I like in art#I wish i had more energy for reading to also do that for fics but#I like sharing my appreciation cus many don't have energy or don't want to#And i want to support others if I can#So I'm glad to hear someone appreciates that :]#And ough thank you for liking my ideas#I do feel they're often a bit of a niche but I'm glsd to have that niche and see some folks enjoying it#That's what it is all about :y#That plant pun made me snort sjsuwu#And i feel i should work more on colouring but I just like colours. I do find colouring fun and isusus I wish I could tell but I kinda#Have a mental vision and try to execute it jsyeue#Not every time will I get all colours correct#Sometimes out of laziness but yah#And in no way I think you undersold it It's oggh it. You spend so much time typing this prob.#You spend so much time typing all this#Wanting for me to read it all. Thank you#You're just so kind and wholesome :]
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speaking of character playlists, i am going to relisten to my rinne playlist
#i have a himeru playlist too. i should do a kohaku and niki playlist too at some point#seeing the responses in the tags to that last poll. so glad i dont have super mainstream tastes#so i can make more unique playlists. i was literally telling someone a while ago that even though#i think i'd like mother mother's music i refuse to listen to them out of spite bc theyre super popular in the playlist sphere#i think it was my sister actually amsdpfioads#uhm. i think my answer would also probably be other though cuz i do try to lyrically match up my songs too#i will listen to a song and the lyrics will remind me so viscerally of an enstars character or ship#and i'll send them to my friends and just go. listen. listen. do you see my vision#and they do!#shay speaks#if u want my playlists lmk i have them on youtube and spotify#i think my rinne one on youtube needs to be updated though
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#i can hear in the hall of the mountain king so beautifully through this post
…….
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You're so real for writing Sampo as like, possessive/obsessive. Obsessive love is so interesting to write about/read/pick apart. Characters who have intense and not necessarily normal or completely 'healthy' love styles are so fun. Excited to see how your fic goes :3
YESSS YES U UNDERSTAND ME like i fucking. love how interesting that kinda shit can be like the kind of love thats jus so fucking all consuming and jus such unbridled infatuation w every aspect of that person.
like i feel that sampo just. hes intense as a person and it reflects in his thoughts n feelings towards gepard in the kind of 'i never want to leave him/this place with him' way and passing, impulsive thoughts of keepin gepard to himself and wanting monopoly over him and UGH. like i want him to jus not be 'normal' w emotions n the things he feels are jus so intense yknow
#thankyou im excited for my fic too slkghslghslg#im weirdly selfconscious of it bein 'creepy' im glad someone sees my vision#in writing im tryin to put like a divide between what he thinks/feels and what he does#i did it already in the latest chapter of him being like. thinking bout how he could handcuff gepard to keep him from leaving#but he decries that thought and thats kinda the vibe#like he loves gepard to a grotesque intensity but also loves him enough to overcome those obsessive ideas yknow#anon
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hello! im not sure if you've done this before and if you have, i hope its ok to ask for more hehe but can i request rockstar poly marauders w a shy!reader and gets easily flustered when they show affection? thank u sm i really love all your poly marauders drabbles!!
Thank you for requesting angel <33
rockstar!marauders x shy!reader ♡ 1k words
The sound tech at this venue is nice. You liked her first for her pink hair and then for the easy way she motioned you over to help do the boys’ sound checks. You don’t think she needed the help; she only saw you standing off by herself and did a kind thing to make you feel less awkward.
Now the boys are off in their dressing room, and you’re trailing contentedly behind her while she shows you how she sets up for shows.
The bustle and ruckus of crews setting up before shows isn’t new to you. You’ve been with the boys since the beginning of their tour, but usually you stay out of the way, blending into walls or taking refuge in your boyfriends’ dressing room while they’re busy. You’ve never really gotten to know the actions the bustle and ruckus constitute.
“Usually I help with lighting once I’m done with my own stuff,” the sound tech tells you. “It’s all programmed ahead of time, so really I’m just on standby in case something happens. Do the boys have a favorite color if I have to pick something?”
You gnaw your lip, contemplative. “Sirius would probably like yellow, if you get the chance.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. You know it’s not in the usual color palette of the boys’ shows. “Really?”
“No.” You suck in a breath as a pair of arms wraps around your middle, releasing it when you realize it’s Sirius. “Not really. Minx, you know I hate yellow.” He smushes his face into your cheek. “Joke’s on you though, I look good in every color.”
“Yellow certainly least,” James teases. He steps into your field of vision wearing his concert outfit. Jeans and a tight t-shirt just short enough to tease a sliver of abdomen. Of all the fans who will get to see him looking so handsome tonight, you’re glad you’re one of them.
“Anyway,” he says, grinning, “we have a very important question for you both. No pressure.”
“Well, some pressure,” Sirius says.
You look at your sound tech friend. Like most crew, she’s largely unaffected by the rockstars currently sharing in casual repartee in front of her. Her eyes don’t appear to dip to James’ stomach or trace the myriad of tattoos you know are showing through Sirius’ sheer top. If anything, she looks only faintly amused by the way the band’s lead singer is mushing tiny, soft kisses into the skin by your ear. Your cheeks warm.
“What’s the question?” you ask, dreading the reply.
Sirius turns you in his arms, taking you by the shoulders and levelling you with a very serious look. “What is the hottest instrument for someone to play?”
Your sound tech friend barks a laugh. “Bass,” she says. “No question.”
James’ eyebrows fly up, his expression one of utter disbelief, but Sirius only says swiftly, “Wrong. You know what it is, don’t you, gorgeous?”
Your shoulders gravitate upwards at the moniker. “You can’t ask me to pick between you.”
“Don’t think of it as picking between us,” he says. “Just, which is the hottest? Objectively.”
“I can’t be objective,” you plead.
“Does anyone know what time it is? I can’t seem to find a clock in this whole place.” You turn your head as Remus emerges from their dressing room, blowing smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Oh.” He blinks when he sees you, waving to dispel the smog. “Sorry, dovey. Where’ve you been?”
“I’ve been here,” you say, voice softening. Sirius makes a quiet sound and hugs you again.
“You’re cute,” he murmurs, low enough that only you can hear. Your face flames.
“It’s quarter ‘til,” the sound tech offers helpfully.
Remus turns to her with a smile he’ll never understand the power of. “Thank you.”
“We’re conducting a poll on which instrument is the hottest,” James informs him. He jerks his thumb toward the sound tech. “She says bass.”
Remus’ grin turns smug. “Quite right. What’s your pick, dove?”
You’re mute and melting, hot enough by now that you wish you could evaporate into steam and float away through the vents.
“She won’t say,” Sirius sighs dramatically, breath warm against your cheek.
“Oh.” Remus seems to wisen to your plight. “It’s not really playing fair, is it? She can hardly be objective.”
“Right,” you agree quickly.
“But angel,” says James, bewildered, “guitar is classic.”
“I’ll tell you what’s not fair,” Sirius argues. “For anyone to say anything other than the front man! We’re chosen for our hotness!”
“Well, that’s not strictly true, is it?”
“Yeah?” Sirius has that shit-eating grin, like he’s winding James up in anticipation of hauling him into a broom closet. You’re only glad it’s not directed at you. “You got something to say, Potter?”
“Sorry,” Remus apologizes to your sound tech friend on their behalf, touching a hand to Sirius’ back to guide you both towards the dressing room. James follows.
“You’re good,” she laughs. “Nice to meet you, y/n.”
“You too,” you say, cringing at the unintentional softness of your own voice.
“Who was that?” Sirius asks as James closes the door to their dressing room behind you. “Have you made a new friend?”
You groan, flopping down onto the posh-looking, uncomfortable couch and covering your face with your hands. “I was trying to.”
“It looked like it was going well,” James says. “Maybe you can hang out with her again while we’re onstage.”
“I can’t now,” you mumble between your palms.
“Why not?”
“Because,” says Remus, as he sits beside your head and begins smoothing your baby hairs with his fingers, “we’ve embarrassed her.” You let your hands slip down enough to see him, and he smiles at you. “I don’t think she’ll hold it against you, dovey. She seemed nice.”
“You would think so.” Sirius plucks the cigarette from between Remus’ fingers, taking a drag before it can burn out. “She picked your instrument.”
Remus shrugs, smug again. “That helps.”
Sirius squints at him spitefully. He sits next to your knees where they’re flung over the arm of the couch. “Don’t let us spoil your new friend for you,” he says, sincerely. “She loves you already, I can tell. You’re perfect.”
“You’re biased,” you counter, face heating again.
Sirius grins like he can tell and reaches down to tug you upwards. He grasps you with a roughness for which he has no follow through, kissing you sweetly with his fingers bunched in your jacket.
“Wrong,” he says, lips moving against yours. “I know how to be objective.”
#marauders rockstar au#rockstar!marauders#poly marauders#poly marauders x reader#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#shy!reader#poly!marauders x shy!reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#rockstar!marauders x shy!reader#rockstar!marauders x reader#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders drabble#rockstar!james potter#james potter#james potter x reader#rockstar!sirius black#sirius black#sirius black x reader#rockstar!remus lupin#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#marauders x reader
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Tormented Spirit | 1
Part 2
"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."
Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, eventual smut, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, mentions/depictions of death/suicidal ideation, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.
A/N: i nearly decided on nuking this because it feels so fucking bad and aimless guess in the end I'M really the tormented spirit huh anyway if I'm glad i didnt and decided to wait it out. if you enjoy this please think of leaving a comment and/or reblog because i need the reassurance. | cross posted on ao3
Tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat
"Father," Alicent pleads, "she needs to see you."
Otto's jaw clenches as he lifts his gaze from his desk. He looks upon his youngest child's features. You were one in the same, his first daughter and last. He thanks the gods that she did not inherit the curse you bear.
Alicent picks at her fingers while awaiting a response. Though she draws blood, no sound leaves her lips. She did not know it, but her father catches this anxious tick. He mentally corrects himself: at least she did not inherit it at equal intensity.
"A man has no place in the dressing room of a bride-to-be," the Lord Hand dismisses.
Alicent knew about as much would be said, yet she still tries, "please. She is having a-"
"And when has my presence ever soothed her?" Otto interrupts, raising his voice to make his point clear.
It was enough. Alicent understood.
He turns back to his papers. He reads them but none of the words register. He says, "I am sure your brother is already there, coddling her as he does."
Alicent does not respond.
Otto lifts his gaze, "go," he speaks as though his daughter missed the obvious, "if she needs someone so badly, coddle her with Gwayne."
Alicent returns to your chambers. Her heart pinched in every which way at the sight of you. Here you stood, clothed in one of the few precious dresses that belonged to your mother— a bride. Dark blue satin and gold jewelry embellished your form. Your brown hair was curled and plaited and pinned. Your face had a glow, only because it was stained with tears. It was terrible and magnificent all at once.
Rhaenyra goes to her best friend, and the two girls clutched hands before walking towards you. Gwayne spots them and gives your hands a tight squeeze. Because of this, you turn from your older brother to your younger sister. Your eyes are pink with melancholy.
"Lord Hand," Alicent mutters, "is deep in his work."
On his daughter's wedding day, thinks Gwayne.
Rhaenyra clenches her jaw, loathing your father more than normal in this moment.
More than your own, you cannot stomach your sister's duress. You stroke her cheek, "I am well now. Worry no more."
Alicent catches Gwayne's expression and knows that is a lie. Still, she smiles and nods, "I am glad," she looks you once over, "you are an exquisite bride, sister."
Rhaenyra offers a smile, "I agree, dear aunt."
Your face twists at the young princess's words, though you knew she meant well. You will away the dreadful sensation in your stomach and manage a smile, "thank you... sweet niece."
You relish their company for as long as you can in this moment. You gather strength from Rhaenyra's smile, from Alicent's touch, and Gwayne's words. Then, all at once, you were alone, walking towards Daemon Targaryen.
In truth, he was not curious of you. He despised you, for after all, you were the spawn of that Cunttower. But, gods, what could possibly be the reason you were taking so long to walk down the aisle? It was not like this room was that big. And so, he turns over his shoulder to inspect you. His hand remains on Dark Sister and his weight still rested mostly on one leg.
He squints at the sight of you, moving like a snail. He is about to roll his eyes, but then he catches a glimpse of your countenance.
Tis strange.
You were not nearly as repulsive as he remembered you, and not nearly as similar in likeness to your rotten twin. How could that be, when it was not only- what, a season since he had pummeled Ser Cuntface to the ground? He will never forget your screaming face in the audience, and how deliciously distressed your father had been from hauling you away.
Even now, as Daemon's lilac eyes appraised your distant silhouette, gliding towards him like a phantom intent on haunting, he second guessed if that weeping woman from the tourney was you. But then he turned to your brother and saw his jaw harden. It was unmistakable then you were the weeping woman, and now, you were his weeping bride.
Gwayne, could not help the way his hands tightened into a fist as he helplessly watched you inch towards his most ardent foe. Beside him, unmoving, stood the very man who allowed such madness to ensue: your father.
You pass the pew that seated your family. Your twin's expression softens. He nods, and you know he means take heart. Your sister does the same. But your father, who stood between his children, does not spare you a glance.
Daemon notices the coldness. He would feel bad, but then again, he has been proclaiming his ill-guided brother's Lord Hand was the biggest cunt in the realm for so long, so he doesn't. Oh, but then you look at him with those beady eyes, and he did not know why his thorax felt uneasy.
Twas strange indeed.
Soon you stood in front of your promised, and, finally, Otto lays his eyes upon you. He does not see you though. He does not see the woman dressed in the garments that once belonged to his wife. He does not see your trembling hand and glassy cheeks. He sees his timid, tremoring, little daughter that he had to leave a moon's length for work. He sees her frail body that shook on her tiny bed and found no comfort in the way he held her tiny hand when he returned.
As the septon begins this damning rite, all he could hear was the voice of the maester that promised the new medicine he procured would heal his girl. As tears rolled down your eyes, he remembers how he nearly killed the maester for feeding you herbs that caused you to retch the little food you had eaten.
Has my child not suffered enough?
Has my child not suffered enough?
ᴴⁱˢ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈ ⁱˢ ᵐᵃʳʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵐᵒⁿˢᵗᵉʳ
Daemon turns to the pew beside the Hightowers' and finds his brother's face. Viserys seemed pleased to witness this wretched affair, as did Aemma, who clutched her pregnant belly. Rhaenyra beside her seemed more interested in you however, or at least the dress that she and Alicent helped dressed you in.
The septon blabbers and tells you both to speak your vows. You do, one as reluctant as the other. Then, as instructed, Daemon cloaks you and presses a kiss on your salty lips.
Twas bittersweet. On one hand, as he takes your clammy one, the image of Otto's face when Daemon told the King that he wanted to marry you comes to mind.
Oh, how excited he was to see the old fool look as though he was a breath away from lunging at him across the table, and how utterly horrendous that he hadn't. He would have simply, and justifiably, killed him. Then all this bother would not have ensued. The look upon the said man's face this moment, now that he's sullied what he so dearly protected, made his stomach giddy.
As the same time, as he held that same clammy hand of yours and felt it tremble, he remembers that you and he were bound. Though not in the manner of his house, he knew he could escape only so much of his wretched duties. Otto's vexation would only last so long, and deep down the cunt must enjoy that his daughter was now a princess. He knew soon Viserys would also begin nagging him again.
But then out of nowhere, he laughs. It was so abrupt that a few guests looked at him in confusion.
How could he forget? There was the matter of your... affliction. Perhaps he can frighten you to death on your wedding bed.
He chuckles once more.
The idea is so delicious, he is in good spirits the whole wedding feast. He does nothing but embarrass and shame you by entertaining literally every other lady save yourself.
What makes matters worse, at least on your end, is that your father refuses to go to your side and forbids not only your brother but as well as your sister from leaving their spots to come to your aid. There was no need to make the matter bigger than it was. You are left alone at your seat at the table, looking nothing but pathetic and weepy.
You sustain such temperament until you're in your marriage chambers, but then you do a funny thing and down two glasses of wine. Daemon laughs at how it spills from your lips, down your neck.
He, who had already much more than a measly two cups, comes behind you and takes the one you loudly prop on the table. You squeak and bolt away when Daemon's arm sneaks up from underneath your own; it only further amuses him.
"V'you a change of heart?" he pours himself a glass, "ready for debauchery, yes?"
You turn unbelievably pale, and it merits the fondest of laughs from your sadistic groom. Daemon drinks and licks the wine off his lips.
You gulp, reaching out a trembling hand.
He raises a brow at it. Suddenly, he's annoyed— twice was much because he has absolutely no idea what the gesture means.
That is, until you speak, "may I have some more?"
One of his faint silver brows raises. Suddenly, he is greedy with the wine he thought tasted too sour on his tongue. However, a curiosity within him urged to hand over the cheap drink, for why did his shivering wife have the nerve for this to be her first words to him?
He watched you throw your head back as you down the wine just as quick as you did the previous ones. He chuckles and crosses his arms. When you turn to Daemon, he tilts his head, "thirsty?"
You inhale deeply, though it is strangled, "for my anxiousness."
It takes a moment for him to realize what you mean, and when he does, his nostrils flare. Had he breathed fire, surely smoke would have come out his nose at this moment. Daemon releases an airy, unamused chuckle and averts his gaze, "eager to bed me, harlot?"
Your throat tightens, for that was not what you meant at all.
You forcibly swallow a lump that forms when he comes to your side. Your throat only further constricts when he grabs and yanks you into his chest. You whimper as he presses his nose against your ear. Goosebumps form when his hot breath hits your ear, "on the bed then."
Your heart thunders as he shoves you towards the bed. You nearly miss it. Actually, only your head and arms touch the cushion, and the rest of your body collides with the floor and the hard bed frame. Your tailbone throbs at the impact, but it doesn't hurt nearly as much as your chest that tightened, and tightened, and tightened and—
You barely manage to gasp. You are hard of breathing when Daemon crouches and grabs your thighs, pulling your skirts up. He feels your flesh tremble beneath his palm. His fingers touch your skin, and it brings him to hiss; you are ice against his burning hands.
He looks up at you. A line forms between his brows. You gasped for air that seemed unwilling to enter your lungs. Not only was your face stained with tears, but as well as your neck now
He mutters, "nyke pendagon jaelā naejot sagon ipradāri," I thought you wanted to get eaten, "I do so find fear delectable."
You continue to slump into the floor until you're a melted mess. You can do nothing but clutch your chest, not that it helps one bit.
Daemon is satisfied at this point. He stands and dusts his hands off. He looks at the pitiful Hightower, your dark locks spilled on the ground as if blood from a crime scene.
"Is that your affliction then, wife?" he tilts his head, "do you seize up when you're nervous?"
You look at him, but do not respond.
"S'rather inconvenient, no?" he sighs, as though he actually cared.
You shut your eyes and curl into a ball.
"Mmm, well, I suppose I will have to claim the womanhood owed of me some other time," he said, uninterested. With that, he exits the room with a skip in his step, pleased to know he had such a tremendous effect on you.
You remain in this turmoil for what felt like hours.
By the time you peel yourself up from the floor, your body is encased in sweat. You command yourself to calm; you cannot afford to slip into another bout of insanity. Your tears cannot be contained as you struggle to undo the ties of your dress; at least tremendous relief comes after you do. You struggle to your feet and remove the pins in your hair while making for the vanity table.
You sit before yourself; your horrid face reflects on the mirror that was far too clear for your liking. As you free your hair from its bounds, you think, perhaps it was fortunate that your husband did not lay with you. At least not tonight.
But then, comes to mind, the argument you with your father. Your chest threatens to tighten again as the severity of his voice replays in your head.
It was no secret, Otto despised Daemon. How then could he be so shocked at your horror of learning he had approved your marriage to him. His raging voice still rings in your head: "you ungrateful fool!"
You fall apart in your palms and nearly succumb to yourself again. Thankfully, you manage to take deep breaths and pick yourself up before you fall apart.
You always knew you were the spare in your father's eyes, but you thought that merited indifference. You did not think he hated you so deeply. How could anyone hand their child to their enemy? Perhaps this was his way of finally having use of you.
A spare. A pawn. Will it ever end?
You go to bed and wrap yourself tightly under the sheets. You stare at the ceiling, praying the same prayer you've prayed since you were eight: Seven, let this be my final slumber.
You nearly choke when you are awoken by such violent shaking. You jolt up, or at least as much as you can from the blankets you were so tightly bound in.
Daemon grins and brings the hands he had shaken you with behind his back, "I would say good morn, but it is apparently opposite to you, wife."
The name makes your skin crawl. You push yourself out of the sheets and sit up. You wipe your face and tell yourself; you must get used to this, "good morrow, husband."
Your brown curls spill down your shoulder as you sigh to yourself. Daemon thinks you look much more palatable this way, unlike yesterday, when your hair was jailed so tightly. He motions with his head, "ta. We make haste to the dragon pit."
Your eyes are suddenly devoid of any trace of sleepiness as you look at him.
His lips remain curled, "it would only be proper to do so, no?" He does not let you retort, as he is already making his way out, "tis Caraxes' right to know who his master has been shackled to," he opens the door, "at least momentarily."
If he was self-satisfied with how you shook under his grasp last night, one can only imagine his exhilaration over your severe disinterest in meeting his mount this morning. What's more, Caraxes could smell your anxiety, and it made him chuff and snap his jaws.
Of course, Daemon chastised his dragon, telling him to obey, even though he very much did not want him to. He eagerly fantasizes: oh, a shame my bride died the day I introduced him to my ride.
A true shame.
"Calm yourself," Daemon sniggers as he forcefully pushes you towards the blood wyrm, "the harder you make this for yourself, the harder it will be."
You found no encouragement in that, for no part of it meant to encourage. You continue to writhe against him, pushing yourself back, only to be pressed against the prince's chest and urged forward. It didn't help that he shackled his hands on both of your wrists, preventing you from elbowing him away.
Though your hair was braided to the side, you still manage to whip it to Daemon's face in your attempt to free yourself, only causing him to be more impatient. You could not help the harrowing shriek that left you when he ultimately brought you to the beast's maw, and the said creature pressed himself against your chest to sniff you.
Caraxes rips away and shakes his head at your piercing reaction. He shrieks in like, as if disapproving, or showing offence. He must exact appropriate retaliation. He draws a deep breath, readying to set you ablaze. Daemon would have let him, had he not been a direct target of his mount's wrath, "keligon, Caraxes!"
Caraxes hisses.
"Keligon!" Stop!
He does not enjoy the order, exemplified by the way he licked his teeth, but obeys, nonetheless. He roars one last time, spit sputtering onto your face as he does. It's enough to make you finally lose your resolve.
You cease your wrangling and find yourself going limp in his arms. Daemon is pleased. He can finally drag you on dragon-back and torment you even more mid-air. What he did not know, however, was that your stomach was tingling; it was not that of the usual dread so familiar to you, but twas familiar still.
Daemon takes you by the arm and tries to make you climb up to the saddle, but then he stills when he hears the sound you make. He pulls away just before the acid from your stomach rushes out of your mouth. You retch so much it comes out of your nose, and you feel yourself grow lightheaded.
"Fucking gods," Daemon recoils in disgust. He turns to one of the dragon keepers and orders you away.
The dragon keeper, who looked far older than your father, spoke to you in a language you could not make out. You understand the part where he says maester as he leads you out of the pit. You manage to convey you no longer needed his assistance once you were out and walked off by yourself. You flinch and shriek when Daemon takes off on Caraxes.
You do not go to the maester's, instead, you have your servants draw you a warm bath and stay in it until it is cold. Only then do you scrub your skin until it is tender.
Once you were clean, you looked for the only person in the world that did not use your name interchangeably with hysteria: your twin.
"That uliginous blinkard," Gwayne slashes the dummy before him. You watch him pace from the bench you were sat upon. "He is incapable of procuring a morsel of dignity out of his wretched existence."
You clench you jaw when he chucks his sword to the ground.
"I should smother him in his sleep."
The thought chills you.
"But then I would be no better than he, would I not?" he seethes as he walks to your side, grabbing the towel beside you.
He wipes his face. You look up at him, a line forming between your brows, "remember you are my confidant, not my vindicator."
"If not I," he chucks his towel back beside you, "then who?" His forehead wrinkles, "an affront to my twin is worse than one to myself."
"Then you would know better than anyone that I share your sentiment," you grab his arm, hoping to calm him down.
His face is hard. He pushes your hand away.
You sigh, "and you know well that I suffer more in circumstances where you've acted on my behalf."
He clenches his jaw. He draws a deep breath and denies the thought with the shake of his head, "father will not hold it against-"
"Father holds everything against me," your eyes instantly water, "he would not be our father if he did not."
Your twin has never spoken your name any other way but in gentleness, yet it is precisely why it chips you apart. Gwayne continues, "be it as it may, but I do not believe that he gave to the prince— certainly not willingly."
You laugh and lift your countenance to the sky. Tears fall from the corner of your eyes, down your ears and neck, "does it matter?"
"It does," he urges, "he fought for you."
"He does not fight for me," you turn back to him, "allow yourself to come to terms with it as I have. It will hurt you less."
Gwayne does not manage a response as someone else speaks in that moment. The way you both tense at the sound is that of instinct.
"You vomited in the dragon pit?"
You turn over your shoulder and shoot up from where you sat. You watch as your father walks towards you. He places a hand on your neck and looks you up and down, "did the prince jostle you so on his ride?"
His touch is like a searing rod against your skin, his eyes, even worse. The raised hairs on your neck remain even as he pulls away. You quietly retort, "I did not even touch his saddle."
"Oh," Otto raises his brows, "then perhaps your affliction is that of you carrying."
Carrying?
Both you and Gwayne are mortified by the idea. You stutter, "s-surely it is not that quick."
"The blood of the dragon runs hot," he sighs, "as he would so boldly proclaim."
Your face burns upon hearing this.
Your father looks past you, "take your sister to the maester at once."
"No, I-"
"Make sure that she is good condition and take note of what will be instructed of her."
"That is not-"
"I am sure she will be required to take further precautions because of her affli-"
"We did not!" you blurt, finally regaining the attention of your father.
Your heart races as Otto looks at you. Suddenly, you are like a deer shot by an arrow, pained and powerless. He is annoyed that you interrupted him, only to say nothing. He presses, "we did not what?"
You take a strangled breath before reply, "we... did not consummate ou-"
"You what?!" he steps forward.
Gwayne immediately takes your arm, eager to get between you two, "father-"
But Otto does the same and pulls you toward him, "you did not consummate, or you did not want to consummate your marriage?"
Gwayne's hold on you falters. Your saliva lumps in your throat, "I-"
"You do understand the consequences if you do not bear your husband heirs, correct?"
You turn to your feet, unable to hold his heated glare, "I-"
"Look at me when I speak to you," he shakes you.
You lift your eyes, and hot tears begin to rush down your face.
"You've proven your point, father," Gwayne blurts, "release her."
"Release her?" Otto redirects his ire. Though he does just that, release you, it feels as though an iron clamp around your neck replaces your father's hold. "Even if I were to release her, boy, your dearest twin sister will not be free of the truth," he turns back to you, "nor my point. Your failure to do what is necessary will lead you straight into the dragon's belly."
You clench your jaw tighter than anyone should.
"Do you understand, girl?"
You nod before you allow yourself to breathe. You blurt, "yes, my lord."
Otto looks you once over before turning and walking away. The moment he is out of sight, you fold like a deck of cards, and Gwayne must keep you upright.
He hushes you and sits you back down. He kneels in front of you, observing if you were about to collapse into another episode. You do not, for he was with you, but you do weep until tears could no longer fall. He leads you to your room after this and urges you to rest.
You repeat the prayer you prayed on your wedding night before you sleep.
#daemon fanfic#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen fanfic#daemon smut#daemon targaryen smut#daemon fluff#daemon targaryen fluff#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon smut#hotd fanfic#hotd smut#daemon angst#daemon targaryen angst
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omg haiii :3 #1 i just found your account and i love your works! the way you write is just… mwahmwahmwah. besides that! i’d love it if u could do a jinx x reader where reader is lowkey oblivious but jinx is super obvious with how much she wants to fuck… and when she finally gets to hit she degrades and dumbifies reader… orrrr am i just thirsty 🙂↕️🙂↕️
♱ fantasy. ♱

oh girl this is sexy trust, WE IS THIRSTY TEW!! also thank you, you’re so sweet!! i’m glad you enjoy my works :))
syp. the first time jinx set her glowy shimmer-charged eyes on you, she knew she had to have you—and she always gets what she wants. no matter that you were friends and you were oblivious to her constantly undressing you with her eyes, fighting her urges to completely ruin, defile, and destroy you. you’d come to realize soon enough.
cw: nsfw content!!, dom!jinx plotting on that p***y (lol), sub!reader (i'm a switch!jinx truther but let me cook...), a lot of degrading + dumbification, cursing, dirty talk, some praise, teasing, mocking, she forces you to take it!!, mentions of oral/fingering/gun-play, strap-on sex, hair-pulling, pet names (toots, hon, babe, baby, bunny, etc?), possessiveness, nastiness galore (lord forgive me!), reader’s past sex life is purposefully written to be vague, + prob more
wc: 4.2k!!
jinx’s fantasies involving you started a month ago when she was off roaming the rowdy streets of the undercity for a market sale. well, before it. she had begrudgingly taken up silco’s orders to keep tabs on the shipment coming in and out before the market opened to the public. for what? ‘who freakin’ knows?!’ she thought.
in retrospect, jinx was never an overly sexual person. she understood what it was, why people participated in it, and her own sexual preferences but she’d never devoted much time to finding someone to fuck or to fuck her for that matter. she's fucked before, but that was it. plunging her long, slender fingers into her own cunt while reading a racy scene in a shitty romance novel was enough to get her rocks off. she figured something was missing but she brushed it off.
her mind was… elsewhere most of the time.
(a month ago...)
lost in her thoughts, per usual, jinx doesn’t see you standing in all your beautiful glory. she walks right past you, eyes darting along everything she can see to accurately take in the information silco wants her to report back to him. she's still preoccupied with the inner workings of her mind and not too much with the zaunite public.
well, that's bound to change one way or another.
suddenly, she's stopping dead in her tracks. something's changed. the air feels charged, full of opportunity and something else. curly lines, shapes, and colorful graphics fill her vision—overwhelming but she feels as though she can really see clearly for the first time.
her nostrils catch a whiff of something… sweet. inviting. like freshly baked cookies although it's almost incomparable to how truly delectable the scent is. she's taken by surprise at the smell of something so good, good enough to eat, to devour. she’s never smelt anything or anyone so delicious. it intrigued her beyond belief, she knew that whatever it was, she was going to have that thing.
that’s when in her own self-induced frenzy she'd caused by frantically turning and thrashing around to look for where the smell led her, she sees you for the first time. as radiant as ever.
everything's in slow motion.
you're leaning up against a metal post and speaking to a market vendor, your voice as sweet as ever chatting to them about ‘who the fuck cares’. your smile is the brightest she’d ever seen living in a place full of drug addicts, violence, and poverty like you’ve never been subjected to zaun in your entire life.
she watches as you flip your hair to one side, hips swaying and fingers twiddling against your satchel. she watches you so intently, that she can see your eyes blinking slowly, she can count your individual eyelashes and remember the number for the rest of her life.
to say the least, jinx is enamored by the sight of you, let alone your smell. images of how good you'd look naked, and what your skin would feel like against hers cloud her vision, creating the perfect first impression of you in her mind. she looks further at you, specifically your ass and the jeans hugging it perfectly as well as the curve of your hips. the veins in your neck travel further down beneath your shirt and she can't help but wonder what your chest would look like.
bare.
before this moment, she'd never thought of somebody in such a vulgar light; it put her in a state of shock. she let her mind wander even farther off into jinx-landia and she imagines what it would feel like to slide her fingers into your pussy and press the pads of them onto your g-spot. she wants to know what it feels like to feel you get wetter and wetter and what it feels like to make out with your pussy—to push your own juices into your mouth and kiss you dumb. she thinks about testing how deep your cunt could get—how pretty your ass would look riding a cock, tits bouncing in the air.
controlling herself was something jinx always had problems with, so she isn't surprised when she is unable to stop herself from approaching you. her feet seem to be dragging themselves towards you like some sort of magnetic force.
“hiya, toots,” spills from her lips before she can even stop and think about what she's doing.
you pause your conversation with whomever you're speaking to, looking over in her direction to find her staring intently at you. confused and a little petrified, you stand up straighter, as you aren't expecting silco’s adoptive daughter to be staring you down at the beginning of some random ass tuesday morning.
“uhm, hey,” you respond, sounding more like a question rather than a greeting in return.
‘this is gonna be so much fun,’ jinx’s eyes light up and she lets her lips curl up in a friendly smirk, running through ways in her mind how exactly she’d ruin your body, mark you up, and claim you for herself.
because no matter what, nobody else is ever getting a piece of you now that she's sought you out.
no fuckin’ way.
…
somewhere in the present, there’s an idea—a certain narrative established between you and jinx.
you’re friends. good ones.
you don't know what else would explain the obvious liking jinx has taken to you. what else would explain the way she’s always touching you, looking after you, and asking you personal questions? questions so personal they have your eyes widening and gripping the edges of your clothes.
"have you ever, y'know, done it before? had sex?"
"what sorta stuff you into? like, sex stuff."
"you ever touch yourself? what feels the best? just trying to see if i could learn somethin' interesting for myself."
you never answer, often opting to lower your head in silence. how could you? it was wildly inappropriate and quite frankly, jinx made you shy. maybe it's because she's so pretty, and bold, and has a waist so small and touchable that you just want to-
no! 'why does she care so much?' you ask yourself frequently. no friend has ever been so crass...
duh! she gives a shit because she wants to fuck your brains out 'n then maybe cuddle you a bit! but you don't know that...
jinx follows you around too, insisting you need protecting since "you're too pretty 'n perfect" to not have protection.
one day, she started walking you to your god-awful job and never stopped. her excuse was, "can't have anyone takin' advantage of ya so early in the morning, princess. janna knows they'd try with a face 'n a body like that...whew", she whistled to herself.
needless to say, she kept your life interesting. she always seems to find you, no matter where you are. like she can sense your presence anywhere. you figure she doesn't have many people to talk to, everyone's scared of her being silco's daughter and all. but, you don't have anyone either; no parents or friends. no girlfriend.
well that makes two of you. sort of.
you both are currently smushed together on her sofa in her hideout making bracelets—snacks, craft supplies, and sleepover galore surrounding you. earlier on in the day, jinx had swung by your apartment (how she found out where you lived, you had no clue) and invited you over for a sleepover for the first time. you were surprised she was trusting you enough to let you see where she retreats at night and where she spends most of her time eating, sleeping, plotting; scheming.
she has a knack for making you feel special; like it’s just you two in the world and nothing else matters.
she makes you feel alive.
you’re shaken out of your thoughts by a grinning jinx. yes, physically shaken. both of her palms are placed on your shoulders, gripping them tight and looking into your eyes almost as a way to silently ask if you’re having as much fun as her. heat transfers from her usually cold hands to your skin which has you internally reeling. you’re wearing a tank top, comfortable enough with her to show a little something extra, “whatcha thinkin’ about, hon?”
you smile back at her, “nothing.”
you swear you see her eyes flicker down to your chest for a split second but you ignore it. her eyes move quick due to the shimmer, ‘you’re seeing shit, girl’ claims the angel on your shoulder.
“hmm, you’re lying.”
“am not!” you counter.
“are too,” she doubles back.
“whatever.” you finalize, emphasizing the ‘ever’. you’re not interested in arguing with her any further or giving her the satisfaction of proving her right.
you focus on the friendship bracelet you’re creating for her, determined to make it as pretty as you can for her. you want her to wear it—like it. love it, even. it fills you with a sick satisfaction knowing that soon you’d be wearing each other's creations, way more than it would if you just saw her as a friend. you see her pause her movements out of the corner of your eye but you keep going.
the faint sound of her own bracelet dropping to the couch cushion causes your head to rise up, looking at her in slight confusion. you’re not shocked to realize that she’s already looking at you.
“’m bored,” jinx replies blankly, pouting cutely.
“and grass is green. what else is new? you’re always bored, girl,” you playfully nudge her arm.
“well… grass has more of a grey hue down here so-“
the funny but slightly depressing joke nearly flew over your head but the knowing smirk on her face clued you in on her shenanigans.
you gasp in disbelief and nudge her arm a little harder now, fighting to stifle your laugh under your breath, “ha ha. very funny.”
“yeah, toots. i’m extremely hilarious,” she holds her head up high and crosses her arms above her chest.
she pauses, “let’s play somethin’.
she faces you fully now, right knee switching from resting next to your left to mirroring both of your knees, parallel to you. she scoots closer, and by now you know her calculating personality. you know that whatever she’s up to, has to be mischievous.
“ever hear of truth or dare?”
you roll your eyes, “of course i have!”
“then, you know the rules… right?”
“yes, jinx. i know how to play,” you rebuttal.
maybe you should’ve known her attention span wouldn’t last long while bracelet making. even if the speaker blared her favorite music at her gadget station, filling the space with a comfortable ambiance.
she smiles widely, “then let’s fuckin’ play!
“it’ll be so. much. fun,” she gets closer to your face with each word to emphasize her point, biting her lip and giving you intense eye contact. sexually charged eye contact. but again, you don't realize.
“fine. fine! but you’re going first. you're better at this sorta thing.”
she leans back to give you more space, just enough space to where it's socially acceptable to still be incredibly close to your friend. she's clapping her manicured hands together as her smile grows bigger and her shoulders tense with excitement.
"truth or dare?!" she asks in a televised over-dramatic fashion.
"truth."
'too easy' she thought. although, 'this is good,' her thoughts linger further. she figures she should start you off easy.
jinx has now stopped her clapping to put a finger on her chin in a thinking motion, obviously pretending to conjure up an interesting question that she's probably already picked out in her head.
"hmm...have you ever had a boyfriend?" she asks confidently, putting emphasis on the 'boy' part of "boyfriend" in a mocking manner; like how a sibling or family member would tease you about a crush.
your eyes widen, already caught off-guard by her first question.
"uhm... no. i-i don't really like boys like that."
she licks her lower lip and smiles once again, unbeknownst to you because you've just confirmed that she actually has a chance to win you over. although, she had her suspicions when she first met you.
"ever had a girlfriend?" she questions further, a serious, eerie edge to her voice appearing at the thought of you ever even romantically touching another girl. hell, in any way, shape, or form.
blinking rapidly, you shut her down quickly, "what, no! never really got the… chance to."
initially, you were going to tease her by mentioning that she was only allowed to ask one question but, you couldn't help but shake the feeling that she wasn't going down without an answer from you.
"awesome, good to know! your turn."
"okay. truth or da-"
"dare," she cuts you off delightedly.
you file through your mind to give her something entertaining to do but you find absolutely nothing, your mind blank like always the very moment you get around her. jinx makes you feel like you don't have to live your life thinking so hard. it's peaceful.
"damn, you are bad at this game," she snorts.
"hey, i can't help it. you've gotta help me here."
she raises a brow, "i mean, you could ask me t'do basically anything. y'know i'd do it," she slowly cocks her head to the side, still gazing deep into your irises. her braids follow the movement of her head.
"make it nasty."
"what the hell am i supposed to do? tell you to take off your clothes?!"
she doesn't waver, "yeah. yeah, that's a good one. do it."
you gulp, throat now dryer than ever and your fingers hurt from tightly grasping the fabric of your sleep shorts, 'here goes nothing.'
"u-uh... i dare you to t-take off your shirt," you order weakly.
jinx doesn't even let you finish your sentence before she's crossing her arms in front of her to tug the tiny, thin tank top off of her body, you follow her hands and you watch her chuck it on the floor carelessly. you look back up at her only to realize that,
she isn’t fucking wearing a bra.
you gasp in shock and secret arousal, eyes darting to the spot below you as you avoid looking at her soft, perky chest any longer, not wanting to over-step or make her uncomfortable.
"hey, you're startin' to hurt my feelings, babe. gave you that idea for a reason. makes shit more... interesting."
you look up to meet her eyes and for the nth time, you see her staring right back at you, gaze charged with something more than usual. you may have been oblivious, but you weren't dumb, something was definitely going on here. something that friends shouldn't do alone.
but you can't stop. it's turning you on.
the game continues on for many rounds after that, you and jinx switching back and forth from truth and dare, learning more and more about each other as time passes by. you start to get the hang of her outlandish questions, answering them shyly but not as reluctant as before. something you'd never get used to was the hypnotizing way her tits bounced with each slight movement, entrancing you. you learn that she's had sex once before and that she likes rope play and getting her hair pulled.
she also mentions other personal traits of hers that make your head spin, "y'know when i get wet, i get reeeally wet. like water wet."
needless to say, you know more than you should. she seemed to not mind telling you these things either, almost excited to clue you in.
"truth or dare, baby?"
"truth," you choose once more, the pet name affecting your better judgment and the seductive tinge to her voice causing the wetness already present in your underwear to leak through to your shorts.
jinx doesn't attempt to pretend to think of a question, "tell me, toots. what turns you on? what gets ya goin'?"
"what do you mean? like some sort of a kink?"
"yeah, like a kink."
embarrassment falls over your face like a dam breaking. you have to lie. this was getting too up close and personal for your own good and the only thing that could save what's left of your dignity is a lie.
"i-i don't know..."
so much for a lie.
her unhappiness with your answer is expressed when you see her narrowing her eyes at you. she leans in close, nose brushing yours and you can feel her warm breath on your face, "i know you're lying," she says real sing-songy-like. she's teasing you, and enjoying it.
her slender finger points in your face, “no fair! showed you my tits, toots! play by the rules."
"okay! okay! god, this is so fucking embarrassing-"
"c'mon..," she urges you on, eager to learn more about your sexual side and what takes you cream. she desired to know what made your pussy wet before she stuffed you full. but again, you don't know that.
"i-um. i read something onc-,”
she cuts you off once again, “don’t got all day!”
you sigh, “okay! i like getting called names. mean ones,” you blurt out quickly—sick of her antics.
“and i think i like it…rougher?”
her seemingly continuous stare falters for a split second before a bubbly laugh escapes her throat, smiling bigger and better than she has all day.
“oh, yeah? you like it… rough? you like getting treated like you’re nothin’?” she laughs out incredulously and somehow she’s gotten closer to you, lips almost close enough to graze yours.
“jinx… i- what are you-“
“what if we… played somethin’ else? somethin’ a little more worth our while.”
she figures, ‘ay, i’ve waited long enough…i need her'.
“like what?” you inquire even though you're no longer oblivious, catching on to what she means by “somethin’ else.” you feign innocence.
you feel a calculating hand travel up your leg, they’re slightly sweaty and cold which makes a shiver crawl down your spine. your chest visibly quickens, eyebrows furrowing, and eyes glossy with desire. jinx, still maintaining eye contact with you, remains calm although internally jumping for joy as she's finally got you where she wanted you the moment she laid eyes on you.
"how wet are ya right now, toots? you look like you're 'bout to cream your fuckin' pants!"
you audibly gasp, and she continues,
"i bet you're just drippin' down there... this whole time i've been sittin' here thinkin' you're being tortured answering all my questions, but, the entire time you've been gettin' off to it, haven't ya?!"
a single tear gathers in your eye out of complete and utter embarrassment. despite that, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't fucking love it.
her hand stops at the edge of your top, fiddling softly with it, "you can tell me to stop, baby! but, i have a feeling you don't want that," she whispers against your lips. you feel her tug the bottom of your tank top tighter, balling it in her clammy fist.
"dont! d-dont stop."
and just like that, a switch flips in her head. she's grabbing the back of your neck and smushing her lips against yours, capturing them in a searing kiss that has your lips aching. as soon as you feel her tongue attempt to break into your mouth, you let her in.
you initially jump in surprise but quickly sink into the kiss once you get used to the overwhelming contrast between her cold hands clutching your waist and her warm lips pressed on your lips. soon, she's basically drooling into your mouth, tongue trailing over every detail of the inside of your mouth as if she's trying to memorize the space. it's disgusting, really. but, it makes your cunt sloppy.
jinx breaks the kiss to pull your top over your head. she throws it on top of hers. the same one she abandoned long ago at the start of the game. it creates a small heap on the floor of her cozy abode.
"fuckin' whore," she laughs.
you moan, biting your lip softly as a seductive tactic to keep her kissing you.
"wooow!!" she drags out humorously, pressing her hand against your throat and tightening slowly with each word that comes out of her mouth, "you really are a slut. you like when i'm mean, slut?"
you nod, words seemingly impossible to form at this point.
she tightens her hold on you, bringing your neck closer so her mouth resides next to your ear, "if you don't speak up, i'm gonna make it hurt. 's gonna hurt so bad, bunny. gonna torture you. ‘n i know it’s our first time and all! don’t wanna have to scare ya just yet!"
unable to stop rambling, she continues, "hmm... maybe i'll shove the biggest fucking cock i have into your tight cunt... no prep! betcha you'd take it so well. hell, you'd probably like it! you're nasty like that."
"maybe i'll stuff my gun in there...with the bullets inside."
"please, jinx. fuck me.”
she just smiles, “i thought you’d never ask.”
…
you swear you see your life flash before your eyes because of how hard jinx is pounding your poor, abused cunt into the couch cushion. she has you face down—ass up with your hands held together behind your back by her own hands. your face rests on the couch arm, halfway visible to her so she can marvel at your eyes rolling to the back of your head and crossing achingly.
her own eyes roll at the sight of you in such a lewd state, “fuck, toots! you’re takin’ this cock so good. suckin’ me in your pussy like a good little cockslut. mmph. jus' swallowing it whole, fuck!!"
her pace is fast but calculated; and planned. as always. she’s roughly rolling her hips into yours to produce the addictive whore-ish moans to spill from your mouth. she’s also focused on watching her cock disappear in you, your cunt swallowing her cock like it was supposed to be there. the open space is filled with creamy cunt sounds and skin-slapping noises.
“holy fuckin’ shit, hear that? ya hear that pussy creaming ‘round my dick? she’s talkin’ to me, baby!”
you speak, remembering her resentment towards you not responding to her, “y-yes! i-i do, jinxie.”
“yeah?! you think she’s tryin’ to tell me how much she loves me? how much she loves when i split her open on my dick?” she reaches below your stomach to slap at your clit right where the balls on the faux cock meet your skin and you shudder in pleasure.
“fucking love your dick, ‘s so good, s-shit!”
it’s like her mouth won’t stop. she’s relentless—bullying you with her words as well as her cock. jinx pulls you up by your hair so your upper body mirrors hers. she slows her pace to thrust deeper and harder in you, damn near knocking the wind out of you. that causes to you choke on your breath, and your mouth is open as far as it can go.
“h-hah! aww… ‘s just sooo good, isn’t it?"
"see what happens when you’re good for me? good lil’ whores get good dick, ‘n i love givin’ it to ya, hon.”
you’re uncontrollably moaning, voice echoing loudly as you beg her for more—to wreck you.
“more! m-more please!”
“more?!“ she removes her hand from your head to dig her nails into your hips so she can get deeper, so she can open you up.
“you. want. fuckin’. more?!” she slams into your pussy with each word.
your pussy is drooling with your arousal and the shared sweat between you and jinx. you can feel it squelching down your legs with every thrust and throaty laugh she lets out at your pathetic form.
“god, you should see yourself. such’a perfect slut.”
with every word you feel your pussy quiver, getting closer and closer to cumming around her cock. when you curl your toes and inch off of her to prevent yourself from orgasming a whopping 3 minutes in she’s not having it, quickening her pace but keeping her almost-painful thrusts deep.
“nope! gonna take it all. ya asked for it, toots! you begged me to stick my dick in you. so take all of it.”
“b-but ‘m gonna cum! don't wanna yet! oh my god, p-please!!” you beg her for the slightest bit of mercy.
uncaring, she leans down next to the side of your head, lowering her voice, “you’re gonna fuckin’ cum, ‘n you’re gonna cum telling me whose pussy this is. who’s is it, babe?”
“who’s feedin’ this cunt good dick?!”
“you, you! only you.”
“yeah, ‘s me. cum, toots. soak me—get me wet.”
and that was it, “fuck! ‘m cumming!”
you release a soul-crushing moan and triggered by your sudden high, you grip the edges of the couch arm and fuck your ass back on her to deepen her thrusts if that’s even possible. wetness squirts from your cunt and everywhere around you, soaking the entire space below you including jinx’s lower half. the last thing you remember before you pass the fuck out is the hazy, content look on her face and incoherent mumbles that probably consisted of,
“that was way better than a fuckin’ fantasy.”
…
PLEASE TAKE THIS FOOD WHILE I WORK ON MY SEV REQS!!🙏🏽🫣...
#jinxvex#arcane#jinx smut#jinx x reader#jinx arcane#jinx x y/n#jinx x you#jinx league of legends#jinx#arcane smut#arcane imagine#arcane x reader#arcane x you#arcane season 2#wlw#wlw blog#wlw community#wlw post#sapphic#wlw concepts#wlw smut#wlw thoughts#arcane thoughts
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ONE CUP OF COFFEE. theodore nott
( master list )
IN WHICH… Theodore Nott can’t stand the idea of actually falling in love but he finds himself questioning his choices after a series of rather comforting conversation with a Hufflepuff.
“Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand having one coffee with me?”
Warnings: Smoking, mentioning of throwing up, mentioning of weed, swearing here and there, mentioning of hooking (pretty tame for a Theodore Nott fic tbh)
—

“One coffee. Black. No milk or sugar. Make it hotter than usual.” Theodore Nott wasted no time in repeating his order to the worker behind the counter. A new coffee shop had opened inside of Hogsmeade and in the Slytherin’s opinion, their drinks were better than any muggle one.
He tossed a few golden coins onto the table before walking away and taking a seat in a deserted corner. He liked to be away from people because despite being part of a popular Slytherin group and partying often, he wasn’t a social person.
The quiet lulling of muggle songs played around in the cafe, bouncing off the walls. Theodore pulled his turtle neck up higher, covering his bare skin from the cold air. It nipped at his slim fingers and he wished he had taken a pair of Draco’s Dior gloves now.
The rusted bell attached to the door dully rang as someone else entered. The cafe wasn’t too crowded. There were a few other students scattered here and there but not many people were willing to freeze just to grab a coffee.
Melted snow dripped off Theodore’s boots as his observant eyes followed the actions of the newcomer. He couldn’t tell what house she was in because she was wearing all white, but she definitely wasn’t a Slytherin. The girls clad in green and silver had a certain aura; an unfriendly, poisonous, and addictive one.
This girl radiated off sunshine and daffodils and basking in the warmth of a crackling fire. Theodore guessed she was in Hufflepuff because she had a certain charm to her bright smile.
“One cinnamon chai latte.” She ordered, kindly handing the cashier a few coins. She was practically the opposite of Theodore.
“Name?” The cashier asked, much comfortable in her presence as opposed to the Slytherin who sat a few feet away.
“Y/N.”
Her name jogged Theodore’s memory. She was the girl Lorenzo had been paired with in herbology. It was quite a long and dragged out assignment so whenever Lorenzo wasn’t hanging out with his friends, he was with her.
Theodore subconsciously sat up straighter and leaned forward to get a better look at Y/N. Lorenzo described her as a pretty and bright girl with a warm perspective on life. Instead of saying “what’s the worst that could happen?” She always said “what’s the best that could happen?”
Theodore was somewhat impressed by how positive a person could be.
He didn’t notice he had been staring until Y/N turned her head, innocent E/C eyes burning holes into his. Theodore almost jumped. He quickly adverted his gaze, clenching his jaw.
Out of the corner of his vision, he could see Y/N sit at the table beside him. She sat with her legs oddly crossed and her body was turned so she could look at him.
“Theodore Nott, right? Enzo’s friend?” Her voice was gentle, like a meadow full of daisies and glittering ponds of water.
Theodore thickly swallowed before he nodded. “Yeah. Lo’s talked about you. You were his partner for potions.” The brunette had never heard anybody call Lorenzo by Y/N’s nickname, but maybe that was because he didn’t allow anybody to call him that. Unless it was Y/N, of course.
The poor boy was smitten with her during fifth year but he shyly backed off when he realised he had too much competition. To this day, Draco was still trying to convince him to man up.
“He talked about me?”
“Only once or twice.” Theodore lied through his teeth. He may be a tease, but he refused to out his friend.
“The assignment we did was so annoying. I’m glad I had him as my partner. If it was anybody else, I would’ve gone mad.” Y/N signed and a small laugh slipped past her pink-tinted lips.
“You practically saved his herbology grades. Lo is smart but his plant knowledge is in the negatives.” Theodore huffed in amusement, his mouth curving into a sly smirk.
“He’s good with everything else, though.” Y/N uttered. Out of the whole Slytherin group, Lorenzo, Draco, and Pansy had the highest grades. Blaise couldn’t care less; he still scored pretty high but grades weren’t his whole life. And Matteo and Theodore, the players they were, didn’t even bother studying for exams.
“Black coffee.” The barista suddenly called out, making Theodore realise he had never given the worker his name.
“That must be your’s.” Y/N said, nodding over at the steaming drink. She smiled, which almost set Theodore’s heart alight. It was already drowning in gasoline and her damn grin may as well be the flaming match. “Theo?” She waved a hand in front of his face as he spaced out.
“Huh?” Finally, his blank eyes shifted to stare at her.
“Your coffee.” Y/N reminded him.
“Oh. Right. I’ll see you later.” Theodore was quick to stand up and grab his drink, the paper cup burning the palm of his hand.
“See you later, Theo!” Y/N called out, not seeming to notice his uneasy mood.
Theodore sped walked out of the coffee shop, holding a hand to his chest. His stomach sank as dread overwhelmed him.
Him and Matteo were like two peas on a pod. They shared the same habits too, like drinking their sorrows away and smoking until their lungs burned. And let’s not forget their infamous reputations as playboys. Theodore Nott didn’t do relationships so he refused to let a soft Hufflepuff change his mind.
Despite shoving down whatever warm feeling he felt when he was next to Y/N, Theodore couldn’t help but crane his head in search for a certain flash of H/C hair.
“Black coffee. Extra hot.” He muttered absentmindedly to the same cashier who had served him a week before.
“Name?” She asked, bored eyes gazing up at him.
“Theo.” He quickly replied, turning his head again when he thought he saw Y/N. He felt disappointed when it wasn’t her. The worker seemed to notice.
“Are you looking for that Hufflepuff you were talking to last time?” She questioned, arching a thin brown eyebrow. Theodore glanced down at her name tag that read Eulia.
“No.” He quickly denied her inquiry, wrapping his long Slytherin scarf tighter around his bare neck.
“She comes in every week around this time. She’ll be here soon.” Eulia said, glancing over Theodore’s shoulder to take in the growing line. She cleared her throat, reminding Theodore of where he was.
As usual, he threw some coins onto the countertop and walked away to the same table he sat at before. His head perked up when he heard the sound of familiar laughter.
Y/N walked in, waving good-bye to her Ravenclaw friend. “The usual, Y/N?” Eulia asked, already typing her order into the monitor.
Y/N practically bounced over to Theodore, taking a seat in front of him. “Hey, long time no see. I thought I’d see you at school but I guess not.”
“I was busy.” Theodore lied. In truth, he had been hauled up in his dorm and listening to Draco rant about Pansy.
“Doing what?” Y/N innocently tilted her head to the side, genuinely curious.
Theodore, as blunt and brainless as ever, blurted out the first thing he could think of. “Weed, drugs, and smoking.” He wanted to bash his head into the table. What kind of response was that?
Yes, he used to do all those things but he had toned it down. The only addiction he had was smoking now.
“I don’t know why I said that. It was the first thing that popped up in the mind.” He admitted, scratching the back of his head.
“I’m not judging you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Y/N laughed, “By the way, your cigarettes are about to fall.” She pointed to the packet that was lazily shoved into Theodore’s pocket. He quickly caught it.
“I don’t do weed or drugs anymore.” He uttered, “Just so you know.”
From the coffee machines, Eulia rolled her eyes. “Coffee for Theo. Cinnamon chai latte for Y/N.” She called out, placing the drinks down.
Theodore quickly stood up. “I’ll get them.” He offered, not waiting for a response.
“Smooth.” Eulia said as he grabbed the drinks.
“Cut me some slack. I’m used to hooking up with toxic girls, not chatting over coffee with a sweet Hufflepuff.” Theodore lightly scoffed.
“So, Theo, what do you want to do when you graduate?” Y/N asked as soon as he sat back down again.
He shrugged. “I don’t know.” In all his years of Hogwarts, he had never thought about it. “What about you?”
“I want to open a bakery.” Y/N said like she had been waiting the question to come up.
Theodore raised his eyebrows. “You like baking?”
“Yup! I’ll bake you something next week. Do you like chocolate?”
“Who doesn’t?” Theodore only knew one person who didn’t like chocolate, and that was Pansy. But to be fair, she had gotten food poisoning from spiked chocolate in third year.
It was safe to say that she spent most of that day hunched over the toilet while Matteo held back her hair and Lorenzo gently got her to drink water, which she threw up too but it’s the thought that counts.
“Great! I have to go now. I’m meeting up with another friend. See you at school, Theo!” Y/N effortlessly chugged her scorching hot drink. She slammed the cup against the table, grinning.
“What the…” Theodore was still trying to process what had just happened as he watched Y/N run out of the cafe and into the arms of her friend
The next week, Y/N arrived earlier than Theodore. He had been held up by Blaise, who was curious as to why he was visiting the same coffee shop three times in a row.
Theodore entered the store after managing to shake Blaise off. He shoved his hands into his pockets, shivering despite the atmosphere being warm.
Eulia, who seemed to be on duty every day, had already made his drink and placed it in front of Y/N. She was too busy doodling on his cup with a permanent marker to notice his sudden appearance.
“Cute outfit.” He said as he sat down, the legs of his chair scraping against the tilted floor. Y/N’s face visibly lit up at his small compliment. Theodore observed her pink sweater with little bows sewn on it and her short white skirt with fleece leggings lining her legs.
“As promised, your cookie.” Y/N slid the box over to Theodore, smiling. “I would recommend heating it up. A warm cookie is better than a cold and hard one.”
“Do you bake often?” Theodore asked, taking the box and letting it rest on his lap.
“I try to bake as much as I can. I like helping the house elves too.” Y/N began to fondly talk about her love for baking and as much as Theodore tried to focus on her words, his gaze wandered to a suspicious group huddled in the opposite corner.
Once Theodore looked past their dark sunglasses and large coats, he recognised them as his friends. He saw Draco shove past Pansy and he surely pointed at Y/N then at Theodore before slapped his hands together.
Theodore stared at him, puzzled. And it showed as he furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. Y/N didn’t seem to notice his wavering attention, much to his relief.
“Do you want to bake together sometime, Theo?” Y/N asked, bringing him back to their conversation. He felt a little guilty because he hadn’t heard another word of what she had said.
“Sure. Though, I don’t think I’d be much help. Matt and I tried making edibles once and we messed that shit up.”
From behind Draco, Matteo glared at Theodore. It was your fault, he mouthed. He wasn’t lying, Theodore had gotten just about every ingredient in the recipe wrong.
“Edibles?” Y/N tilted her head to the side.
“Weed brownies.” Theodore elaborated, “But that was last year. I don’t do that anymore, remember? I only party and smoke.”
“I know. You told me.” Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. Y/N’s gaze flickered to his packed of cigarettes that always looked like it was about to fall out.
“Would you like to come to a party with me?” Theodore asked, leaning forward. There was one in the Slytherin common room next week. Normally, people from other houses weren’t invited but if you had the right connections, you’d be let in.
“Parties aren’t my thing. I… don’t like the vibe. You know?”
“That’s fine. You ever tried smoking?”
“No. Cedric offered to teach me but I declined.” Y/N frowned at the lost opportunity.
“I’ll teach you.” Theodore said a little too quickly. He cleared his throat. “I mean, you keeping me company wouldn’t be so bad.” He grabbed his packet, sliding it across the table. “These are my good ones. Keep ‘em and whenever you’re having a bad day or just wanna have a smoke, find me. I’ll light one for you.”
From across the room, Matteo lightly gasped. Theodore never ever shared his good cigarettes with anyone, not even him.
“Really?” Y/N picked up the worn-out box, staring at it.
“Yeah. I gotta get going. My friends are probably wondering where I am.” Theodore, once again, lied through his teeth. He knew his friends had questions and he didn’t want to keep them waiting. He stood up, feeling Pansy’s gaze burn a hole through him.
“Enjoy the cookie!” Y/N exclaimed, grinning and waving him off.
Theodore smiled. “I’m sure I will, love.” He walked out of the cafe, his friends following close behind and bombarding him just like he had predicted.
“You clearly have some sort of feelings towards her.” Panay said as she poked the brunette beside him. All throughout breakfast, Panay had been trying to get Theodore to admit his growing affection for Y/N. He denied it every time.
“I don’t.” He said for the third time, leaning down to stuff some bacon into his mouth. As he quickly chewed, his gaze flickered to Y/N.
“You’re looking at her again!” Pansy exclaimed, huffing. “It’s so obvious you like her!”
“Where’s Lo and Draco?” Theodore changed the subject, realising the two boys were missing.
“You can’t change the topic. You like her and you know it.” Unfortunately for Theodore, Pansy was persistent. Maybe a little too much.
“Theo likes who?” Lorenzo tilted his head to the side in curiosity. The whole group, even Blaise who laughed at awkward situations, froze.
Nobody responded for a moment before Blaise put down his fork. “Y/N. He likes Y/N L/N.” Theodore glared at the boy, wondering why on hell he’d even tell Lorenzo the truth.
“… Oh.” Lorenzo didn’t say much as he sat down, glancing over at Y/N. “You’re not going to break her heart, right?”
“I don’t like her. End of conversation.” Theodore groaned, taking a huge gulp from his goblet.
“I don’t believe you.” Lorenzo uttered, pointing his fork at Theodore’s eyes, “Your eyes say it all. You keep looking at her every minute and when you do, your eyes soften.”
Pansy snickered, nudging Theodore. “Told you.”
“If you don’t like her, then you wouldn’t mind if someone else asked her out, would you?” Matteo piped up.
“You aren’t her type.” Theodore immediately replied, scoffing.
“We’re practically the same, Theo. If I’m not her type then you aren’t. She’s pretty and all but I don’t date. That guy, on the other hand, seems like he does.” Matteo pointed over to a Ravenclaw boy approaching Y/N. The whole Slytherin group watched as he nervously asked her something and when she slowly nodded, his face lit up.
Theodore clenched his hands into fists. “Did he just ask her out?” He seethed, clenching his jaw.
“You don’t like her, remember? You shouldn’t care.” As usual, Matteo had that same infuriating smirk on his face. “Anyway, what are we doing for the party tonight?”
Theodore had forgotten all about it. He faintly remembered Y/N saying parties weren’t her thing. Did she like guys who didn’t party? That Ravenclaw boy looked like he didn’t. Is that why she said yes?
“I’m not doing. Not really my thing.” He uttered, shrugging. His friends looked at him in disbelief.
“Not your thing?” Matteo stammered, “Mate, the only thing you do is party! What’s gotten into you?!”
“He’s trying to turn into Y/N’s ideal type.” Pansy snickered, “He knows he isn’t the blueprint and he can’t see her with anyone else so he’s improving himself.”
“Respect, bro. But what about Izzi?” Matteo motioned to the Slytherin girl down a few rows who was Theodore’s favourite hookup.
“I don’t care about her.”
“What about the drinks?”
“I need to cut my alcohol intake.”
“Smoking? You can’t give up smoking! You’re addicted!”
“Y/N has my cigs. When she wants to learn, I’ll teach her.”
“And if she never wants to learn?”
“Then I won’t pester her. Not smoking for a while might do me some good.” Theodore on the brink of giving up smoking for some girl was a huge deal.
Matteo leaned over to Draco, “Is he sick?”
Pansy lightly snorted and she teasingly grinned, “If you mean lovesick, then yeah.”
To be honest, Theodore didn’t even know what he was doing. His head tried to convince him to return to the common room and drink like he usually did, but his heart said no.
That’s how he ended up in the courtyard, enjoying the fresh breeze.
“Theo?” An all too familiar voice called out. He practically spun around, facing Y/N. “I thought you’d be at your party.” She stared at him, confused.
“I’m taking a break from all that.” He said. Y/N silently sat beside him on the stone bench.
“I still have your cigarettes if you want them.” Y/N said, handing the packet over. “I thought about it and I don’t think I want to smoke just yet.”
“Thanks, love.” Theodore took the box, shoving it into his pocket without hesitation. Normally, he’d take one out and light it up but tonight was different.
“So, that Ravenclaw boy.” Theodore drawled. “He asked you out, huh?”
“Hm? Oh, Rowan? Yeah. I only said yes to be nice though because he helped me with some work last year.”
“You’re too kind, love. You need to know your boundaries.”
Y/N’s cheeks heated up at the sound of his endearing nickname. “I can’t say no now. It’ll just be one date then I’ll say it didn’t work out.”
“What if he wants a second date? What will you do?” Theodore moved closer to Y/N so he could feel the warmth radiating off her body. His heart jumped at their close proximity.
“Then I’ll tell him I don’t want one.” Y/N whispered, staring up at Theodore with those gentle eyes he liked so much.
“I liked your cookie, by the way.” Theodore slowly smiled, “It was good.”
“I’ll bake you a few more next time.” Y/N beamed. “I’m trying a new recipe for a brownie so I’ll give you one too!” Theodore smiled as she jumped into another rant about baking. This time, he could actually listen without being pestered by his friends.
Theodore, as usual, walked into the cafe around the same time he usually did. Eulia spotted him and subtly waved. “Has Y/N come in yet?” He asked.
Eulia hesitated before she pointed over at Y/N and Rowan. Theodore visibly deflated. He knew Y/N was only being nice to the Ravenclaw but he still felt a twinge of sadness.
“I’m sorry, Theo. If it makes you feel better, she hasn’t looked like she’s enjoyed the date. She looks much happier talking to you.” Eulia handed him his coffee.
“Right.” He sat down at a nearby table, glancing over at Y/N every so often. The slight pang in his heart reminded him of why he never dated in the first place. He quietly cleared his throat, deciding that whatever butterflies he felt for Y/N had to be drowned.
He stood up and Y/N immediately caught his gaze. She smiled and waved when Rowan wasn’t looking, but Theodore ignored her. Slowly, she lowered her hand.
As Rowan ranted on about how Ravenclaw was the best house, Y/N couldn’t help but think of what she had done to possibly anger Theodore. So much that he ignored her when he usually enjoyed her small smiles and secretive waves. She blocked out Rowan’s voice, frowning. He couldn’t grab her attention like Theodore could.
If only she knew that Theodore was simply trying not to fall in love.
Theodore avoided her for the rest of the week. Whenever she tried to approach him, he’d walk away. Even his friends were puzzled. After another failed attempt of trying to talk to Theodore, Pansy placed a hand on her shoulder.
“We’ll talk to him.” She said.
“I don’t know what I did wrong. He’s been acting so moody all of a sudden.” Y/N sighed and pouted.
“Maybe he’s on his period.” Matteo snickered at his own joke but immediately stopped when nobody else laughed with him. “I mean, Theo hasn’t had a good drink, fuck, or smoke since Monday. And all he did on that day was smoke for five minutes before he got caught.”
“I thought he liked doing all those things. Why’d he stop if it’s just going to make him grumpy?” Y/N murmured, playing with the hem of her blouse. Matteo and Pansy exchanged a glance, knowing they shouldn’t expose Theodore so early.
“He’s just being unreasonable. Don’t worry, we’ll get through to him.” Matteo grinned, his eyes flickered to the box in Y/N’s hands. “More cookies for him?”
She nodded. “Could you give this to him? It might make him feel better.” Matteo lowly hummed, taking the box. He and Pansy walked off after Theodore, muttering to each other about what could possibly be wrong with their friend.
“Theo.” Matteo called out as they entered the Slytherin Chamber. They found him sprawled out on the couch, a burning cigarette in his mouth. “Y/N made you cookies.”
Theodore looked at the box in Matteo’s outstretched arms. “I don’t want ‘em.” He said with a lazy flick of his hands.
“But you said you love her cookies. Jeez, dude, what’s gotten into you?” Matteo scoffed as he grabbed one, shoving it into his mouth. “If a girl made me cookies like these, I’d fall in love.”
“That’s the problem!” Theodore exclaimed loudly. “I’m Theodore Nott, Hogwarts resident fuck boy. I don’t do relationships! But Y/N- Y/N is making me feel things I shouldn’t!” He groaned, pulling at the ends of his hair.
“That’s the problem?” Pansy huffed, taking a seat beside him. “Theo, look at yourself. You haven’t partied in ages, you haven’t drank, you haven’t had sex with any other girl since last month. And you haven’t been smoking up until now! If you’re willing to stop all that shit for Y/N then you obviously like her!”
“What if I’m just concealing it, huh? What if I haven’t changed and if I date Y/N, then I hurt her? I don’t care about any other girl’s feelings but Y/N, fuck. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Figure your feelings out then decide what you want to do. Easy peasy.” Matteo shrugged, eating another cookie. Theodore clicked his tongue, snatching the box out of his hands.
“It better be easy or I’m going to smoke all your favourite cigs, Matt.”
Matteo was lying. It was not easy to figure out how he felt towards Y/N. Every time he got close to her, he changed his mind last minute and rushed off. It earned him some weird looks but he couldn’t care less.
“Have you even slept lately?” Matteo questioned, slamming a cup of coffee in front of Theodore. He groaned.
“Do I look like I’ve slept?” He muttered, glowing at Matteo.
“Like a baby.” His friend teased, cruelly laughing. Lorenzo glanced over Theodore’s shoulder, clearing his throat.
“Y/N’s coming this way.” He whispered, kicking Theodore.
“What?” He looked around, panicked. Y/N was indeed walking towards him. He grabbed his coffee, splashing it onto Matteo’s wrinkled blouse.
“Yo! What the fuck, dude? That’s hot!” Matteo seethed, resisting the urge to peel his wet shirt off. Some girls hoped he would.
“Sorry, Matt. It was an accident. I’ll help you clean up.” Theodore tried to play his stunt off as an accident while practically dragging Matteo out of the hall.
“Okay, seriously, what was that all about?”
“I needed an excuse to get away.”
“So you spilled hot coffee on me?!”
“I would’ve let you do the same.” Theodore glared at his friend as he sat down and slumped. “She’s everywhere. How is she so social? I can’t get away from her.” He ran a hand through his messy hair.
“Have you been running away from Y/N this whole time?” Matteo questioned, arching an eyebrow. “It’s hilarious to imagine you running away from a girl.”
“Shut up. I’m processing things.” Theodore sighed.
“Just talk to her, Theo.” Matteo lightly nudged his leg, “What else can you lose? You’ve already lost your dignity.”
It had been a few weeks since Theodore had returned to the coffee shop. But finally, he strutted through the doorway with his usual uncaring demeanour.
Someone else entered as Theodore stood in the middle of the room, taking in everything he had missed about this cafe.
“Theo?” Y/N asked, peering over his shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” He stiffened and slowly turned around. “Are you having a coffee?”
“I’ve already had one, actually. I was just seeing if this place had changed.” Theodore wanted to walk away but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Y/N’s eyes.
“Well, there’s no harm in having another one, right? It’s on me.” Y/N smiled at Eulia, “One cinnamon chai latte and…” She thought for a moment, glancing over at Theodore, “You’ve already had a coffee so one cream latte as well!”
Y/N paid and brushed past Theodore.
“Kiss her.” Eulia hissed, harshly poking Theodore’s shoulder.
“I’m not kissing her.” Theodore replied back in a hushed whisper.
“Theo, you coming?” Y/N called out, looking over her shoulder.
There was barely anybody in the cafe and even if there was, Eulia would’ve ignored their drinks to make Y/N and Theodore’s.
Theodore reached out to grab his but Y/N was quicker. She grasped both drinks, smiling at him. “We don’t have to be back at school for a while so let’s sit here.”
Theodore nervously followed behind Y/N to their usual table. He sat down, rigid and stiff. He saw his cup and glared at Eulia, who laughed. She had written a message on the cardboard, kiss her, and Theodore was quick to cover it.
He looked out the window, almost jumping with joy when he saw Matteo. “Oh! Matt! I need to talk to him! Sorry, Y/N. I’ll see you later!” He ran out of the cafe, crashing into his friend.
“Matteo! Quick! Do something!” Theodore shook his friend, urging him to create a distraction.
“Is this about Y/N?” He asked.
“She’s in the coffee shop- don’t look!” Theodore shoved his friend.
“And you need me to something stupid?”
Theodore eagerly nodded but was unprepared when Matteo pushed him forward and down a snowy hill. “Theo! Sorry! My hand slipped! I’m coming!” Matteo yelled out in a fake worried voice as Theodore rolled and got a mouthful of snow.
Y/N watched their strange interaction as she sipped on her drink. “… He didn’t call me love like he usually does.”
Y/N hummed to herself as she slipped on a pair of mittens and took out a tray of cookies. She placed the hot metal tray on the counter, the smell of baked goods wafting through the air.
She poured herself a cup of light coffee and sat down, swinging her legs. She lifted her head when she heard the sound of quiet swearing and smelled the scent of cigarettes and cologne.
“Theo?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. It was silent for a moment before the boy sheepishly pushed the kitchen doors open.
“I was looking for a snack for Pansy. She’s not feeling well.” He looked around, staring at everything but Y/N.
“I would offer her a cookie but she doesn’t really like chocolate, does she?” Y/N circled her finger around the rim of her cup, “Would you like some coffee? I made it myself.”
Theodore found himself sitting across from her against his will. He watched as she poured him a cup, softly smiling.
“Thanks.” He stammered, grabbing the white mug and gulping it down.
Y/N’s eyes widened. “Careful! Isn’t it hot?”
Theodore slammed the cup down, ignoring the burning sensation on his tongue. “No.” He wheezed, his vocal cords threatening to give up on him, “I’m fine. Tastes great.”
“You’ve spilled some.” Y/N said. She leaned forward, pointing at his collar. His top two buttons were undone and hot coffee trickled down his skin. “That must hurt. Here, let me help.”
Y/N dabbed a tissue against Theodore’s collar and he flinched as her fingers came in contact with his exposed skin. She noticed, peeking up at him through her lashes.
“Do you hate me so much that you can’t stand having one coffee with me?” She asked, taking a small step back.
“What?” Theodore choked. He didn’t hate her, quite the opposite to be honest.
“You keep running away from me. And you left me in the cafe the other day. And you didn’t wave back. Do you hate me?”
Theodore hated how he could see her E/C eyes glass over. He fiddled with his mug, tapping his nails against the porcelain.
“I… have to go. Pansy needs me.” He stood up, leaving without another word. He was doing what he did best; running away from his problems.
With Theodore out of the picture, Y/N felt lonely. She dug around in her pocket, confused when she fished out a cigarette. “Oh… it must’ve fallen out.” She murmured.
She was on her way to the cafe, but not to meet up with Theodore. The day after he had walked out on her, again, a Gryffindor had approached her and asked her out. She said yes in hopes this date would be better than her date with Rowan.
Spoiler alert, it wasn’t. In fact, she felt like it was worse. Y/N stared at her cup as the boy beside her talked on and on about his love for quidditch.
“What’s your hobby?” He suddenly asked.
“Baking.” Y/N answered absentmindedly.
“Oh, that’s kind of boring. Quidditch is better, don’t you think?”
Y/N resisted the urge to sigh. Theodore never insulted her love for baking.
“Do you do anything else?” The boy questioned.
“I study.”
“Jeez, you really are boring. You wanna come to a party with me? I know a guy who’ll hook us up with some coke.”
“No thanks.” Y/N rested her cheek in the palm of her hand, watching the clock closely so she could dart away as soon as the date was over.
Someone suddenly pulled up a chair in front of Y/N. “Coke is boring.” Theodore uttered, “Baking is better.”
Y/N tried to conceal her smile since she was still upset with him, but when he winked at her, she couldn’t help it.
“What are you doing here, Nott?” The Gryffindor sneered.
“I’m here to thank you for keeping my girl company.” Theodore grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He grabbed Y/N by the wrist, tugging her out of the cafe.
“Why do you choose the shittiest guys to go out with?” Theodore asked.
Y/N lightly huffed. “It’s not like I mean to. At least they don’t walk away from me when I’m trying to talk, though.”
“You still upset with me, love?”
“You hurt my feelings, Nott.” Y/N pulled out the lone cigarette, shoving it into Theodore’s hand, before hurrying off.
He quickly placed it between his lips and lit it. “Let me explain, love!” He exclaimed, chasing after her. He breathed out a mouthful of smoke.
“Okay. Then explain.” Y/N folded her arms over her chest.
“What? Here? Now?” When Theodore saw the unamused look on Y/N’s face, he sighed. “Fine, but this is going to sound stupid.” He took another hit from his cigarette, needing all the courage he could get.
He took a deep breath. “I think you’re wonderful person and I didn’t want to risk hurting you so I tried to distance myself but that backfired and I was trying to process my feelings because I’m Theodore Nott. I don’t do relationships. But you made me want to give it a go so I got scared and that made me do stupid shit like spilling coffee on Matt or running away or allowing Matt to push me down a hill.”
Y/N furrowed her brows. “What are you trying to say?”
“I like you, Y/N! I like the way you smile and the way your eyes light up and I like how you look and me and how fond you are of baking! I like how you take the time to make me cookies because it makes me feel special! You treat me so differently from other girls and that’s how I know you aren’t just around for a hook up! I like your perfume and your hair and your outfits and the way you skip when you’re happy and how you read classic Muggle books because you want a cute teen romance!”
“You noticed all of that… about me?”
“How could I not? You have such a charming aura and I can’t stand it because no matter how much I try to deny it, I like you.”
“You really like me?” Y/N knew about Theodore’s reputation and she’d be lying if she didn’t feel the same way. But what if he was just toying with her?
“I do.”
“Okay then. Hug me!” Y/N exclaimed, confident he was joking. Theodore shrugged before embracing her tightly. “Uh… hold my hand!” He intertwined their fingers without hesitation. “Kiss me!” Y/N was sure he wouldn’t do it but when he leaned down and pecked her lips, she froze.
“Are you done? There’s a lot more things I’d do for you, Y/N.”
“Are you sure you like me? Like, really? Because what if we get married and you decide you don’t like me but we already have two kids and a cat together? Who will keep the cat? Or will we have shared custody over it?” Y/N spoke so fast Theodore could hardly understand her.
“What about the children?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.
“What about the cat, Theo?”
“I really do like you, Y/N. Believe it or not. I’m willing to give dating a try… if it makes I can date you.”
“Please don’t break my heart, Theo.”
“I won’t.”
“Can we finally drink coffee together without you running off?” Y/N questioned, which earned her a small chuckle from Theodore.
“I won’t run away this time, love. I promise.”
#theodore nott#pansy parkinson#harry potter x reader#harry potter fanfiction#one shot#harry potter#draco malfoy#lorenzo berkshire#theodore nott x reader#blaise zabini#matteo riddle#friends to lovers#strangers to lovers#fluff#gryffindor#ravenclaw#hufflepuff#slytherin#slytherin gang#hufflepuff reader
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Fuck it *adds Lance*


Cowboy Keith with BoM theme…!
#it felt like it was missing smth#or should I say someONE#what can I say Keith got lonely on those open Texas plains#o tried to make Lance’s outfit look like his oh clothes#I’m so glad yall see my vision#keith kogane#lance mcclain#voltron#Voltron in 2024? it’s more likely than you’d think#vld#klance#the nostalgia ohmygod#KICK#art#guys I can’t spell#*OG clothes
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Experiential Learning

“Dude, I don’t get it.”
“What’s not to get?” Mike grinned.
The two men paused their jog, taking a few deep breaths and basking in the warmth of the summer air. Jason wiped some sweat from his forehead and looked towards his friend.
“I guess I can understand it, well in theory.” Jason continues, running a hand through his blond hair, “But you’re telling me you’ll fuck around for hours and still not blow? Like, what’s the point?”
“That is the point, bro.” Mike stretches his muscular arms, “When you're right on the edge, so close to release... it's like nothing else. Fuck... and when you do finally let go.” His grin widens, “Fucking mind-blowing, best orgasm you’ll ever have.”
“Yeah but dude, isn't it just torture? Having to hold back all that time?” Jason shakes his head, “I'd rather just bust a nut and be done with it. Fuck, how do you get anything done? I feel like I’d be so fucking horny all day.”
Mike chuckles and slaps Jason on the back, “Oh man, it’s about the journey, not the destination. And that journey could last for hours, even days if you get as good as me.”
Jason raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Hours? Days? Dude, I don't know if my balls could take that much punishment. Sounds like a case of self-inflicted blue balls.”
“Ah you’re boring, man.” Mike shrugs, “But if you ever want a lesson.” He winks playfully.
“Gross dude.” Jason chuckles, “You do you, man. Just glad I’m not your cock.”
“You wish you were.” Mike laughs, “C’mon, lets finish this run.”
----------------
It’s the next morning when Jason is awakened by the sound of an unfamiliar alarm.
“Ugh fuck.” He thinks. His body feels stiff- more so than what he would’ve expected from the intensity of his workout yesterday, “I didn’t go that hard.” He thinks, his thoughts shifting to the blaring alarm, “Okay, okay... I can’t see anything...” It was so dark, and he was covered in warm fabric, “Those black out curtains are good...” He tries to reach out towards the sound of the alarm, “My arms... I can’t move my arms...” It’s a strange sensation, as if he doesn’t have arms to move.
As the realization slowly dawns on Jason, panic begins to set in. He tries to sit up, to move his legs, but feels only a strange, throbbing heat emanating from below. Each movement he makes just causes his body to twitch. He tries again and again to move, but nothing responds to his mental commands. Even his desperate attempts to call out for help are useless. No words are able to leave his mouth, which feels forced open in an circular shape. The only thing Jason can feel is his form rubbing against something soft with each weak twitch of his stiff body.
“Ugh fuck...” Jason perks up at the sound of Mike voices, “God damnit... this fuckin’ alarm.”
The alarm is silenced and Mike throws the sheets off of him. The light shines through the room, illuminating it and giving Jason a better view. Jason can barely process his new perspective. He finds himself looking directly up at Mike's toned abdominal muscles, the individual abs clearly defined. His gaze traces up further, taking in the expansive, sculpted pectoral muscles above. To either side of Jason, towering and filling his entire field of vision, are Mike's colossal thighs. He can feel the warmth radiating from them.

“C’mon dude! Don’t you see me?” Jason thinks, an increasing sense of panic welling up from inside him.
Mike yawns and looks down, a slow grin forming across his face. Jason can feel Mike’s eyes on him and he wants to ask why the hell his buddy is smiling at him. More importantly, he wanted to ask why the fuck he was apparently in his bed, wedged between his bro’s thighs. But he couldn’t- for whatever reason he could form the words.
“Well hello there, handsome.” Mike chuckles to himself, “Looks like someone's ready to start the day.” Mike reaches down at wraps his meaty hand around his throbbing cock.
A jolt of intense pleasure shoots through Jason's entire being as he feels Mike's strong hand wrap around his body. The sensation is overwhelming - every nerve ending seems to come alive at once. He can feel the texture of Mike's skin, the slight calluses on his palm, the firm yet gentle grip. As Mike begins to stroke, slowly at first then picking up speed, waves of ecstasy pulse through Jason's new body. He twitches and throbs in Mike's grasp, growing even harder.
“Oh god oh fuck what the hell is happening?! I.... ohhhh.... please stop..... I'm not a dick.... I'm not a damn cock! I’m a man!”
Jason's mind reels as the sensations intensify. Mike's grip tightens, stroking faster now. Jason's thoughts grow increasingly slurred and fragmented.
“Nnngh f-fuck... s'too much...” Jason's brain fogs over with each pump of Mike's fist. The pleasure is all-consuming, wiping away coherent thought, “Can't... can't think straight...”As Mike's strokes become more urgent, Jason's resolve crumbles. The boundaries of his identity blur and fade, “I'm... I'm not... hnnngh!
Jason's protests dissolve. In his hazy, lust-addled state, the idea of being separate from Mike's cock starts to seem absurd. After all, everything that made him Jason was gone. His firm pecs, muscular arms, toned legs- gone, his body just a veiny, thick shaft. His handsome features, killer smile- gone, just a pink cock head. Jason's mind goes completely blank as the pleasure peaks. All rational thought vanishes, replaced only by pure, primal need.
“Yes... I am a cock... Mike's cock...” Jason thinks, his remaining shreds of identity merging fully with his new role, “This is all I am, all I've ever been...” His purpose becomes clear, “Need... to... cum...”
But the hand stops. And as it does, Mike throws back his head and moans, basking in the pleasure and pain of denied release. All the while, Jason is suddenly jolted back to reality, his thoughts becoming clear, as a sense of clarity washes over him.
“Fuck...” He thinks as he regains focus, “I nearly...”
A sense of dread washes over him. He was so close. So close to losing himself. If Mike hadn’t stopped... if he kept going...
“...and when you do finally let go... Fucking mind-blowing...”
Mike’s words repeat in Jason’s consciousness. And Jason realizes that there is certainly a truth to his bro’s statement. If... when Mike finally released... Jason tries to push the thought out of his head. He had time- maybe he could find a way to communicate or reverse this. But before he can think more on it, Jason feels his perspective change again as Mike gets out of bed.

“Gotta hit the gym first.” Mike mumbles, grinning down at his slowly softening dick, “It’s been a few days, hasn’t it? Workout first, then...”
And Jason begins to realize he might not have as much time left as he thought. Mike grabs a pair of compression shorts and plunges Jason back into darkness, the feeling of the soft fabric teasing him even more. His thoughts growing foggy once again as each of Mike’s movements send a wave of pleasure and pain down the length of his sensitive, semi-hard body. The aching need nearly unbearable. Despite his earlier determination to escape this predicament, a small part of Jason finds himself craving the release he was denied. To fully experience Mike's take on edging.
"Maybe..." he muses dreamily, "maybe letting go won't be so bad....might be nice to finally...cum..."
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