#maybe I’m just easily entertained. I don’t care

[rafey-baby]

trinket

rafe thinks his maid is just the sweetest little thing...  

prince!rafe x maid!reader 

c/w: rafe being a menace, him flirting (?) w her, some royal cameron family angst ig, brief descriptions of him having sex w another woman, 18+ mdni!

wc: 2.3k

also this is by no means historically accurate which is why i’m not gonna name any specific era for this xx

moodboard & introduction

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Every mid-December, the palace comes alive in an entirely novel way with the bustling preparations for the annual winter ball that the king and queen host to celebrate ‘another wonderful year’.

The once quiet and calm castle transforms into something colorful and vivid with the mouthwatering smell of cakes and pastries cooking in the ovens of the royal kitchen, along with maids and other servants whirling around the long hallways as they place intricate decorations and shiny ribbons all over the broad staircases and windows. 

She’s grateful she doesn’t have to partake in the hustle and bustle all that much since her primary duties include taking care of the prince and ensuring he has everything and anything he could possibly need.  

Although right now, she sort of wishes she could be stringing up polished ornaments or garnishing elegant baked goods because apparently, being the prince’s personal maid sometimes means sitting quietly in his bedchambers (as per his request to keep him company while he’s reading) with her own thoughts and the sounds outside the door her only source of entertainment.  

Therefore, she’s elated when he suddenly turns to face her in his armchair— flitting his eyes over to her from the hefty book that seems to have made him exasperated rather than enthralled.  

“Will you join me for a walk? All this noise is makin’ m’head hurt.”

There’s enthusiasm in the nod of her head; a yearning to see the fresh layer of snow covering the trees and painting the entire kingdom with its powdery whiteness— the aftermath of last night’s blizzard. She doesn’t think there’s anything more beautiful than the crystalline snowfall glittering under the touch of the afternoon sun— or maybe a certain pair of aquamarine eyes, but that’s beside the point.  

“That would be my pleasure, Your Highness,” she easily agrees. 

“How many times do I have to tell you how much I despise that name? There’s no need to use it when s’just me,” he scolds her before he’s straightening up and stretching out his arms over his head. 

“My apologies, it’s a habit,” she rises to her feet as well; trying her hardest not to let her eyes linger on the sliver of his stomach peeking out from underneath the silky fabric of his shirt. 

“I don’t want your apologies, want you to use my name,” he says before stepping closer— standing tall before her and forcing her to blink up at him in order to meet his eyes. “Go on, sweetheart, say it,” he practically orders; eager eyes fixed on her face.  

She hesitates under the sudden attention. He’s always seemed so fascinated by her and she doesn’t know why.  

“Um…Rafe.”  

He lets out a hum of approval. “That’s good. You ready to leave?” 

“Y— yes, uh, Rafe.”  

“Good job. Not so difficult, is it?” he coos at her almost mockingly— fingertips grazing the skin of her cheek when he tucks a loose tendril of hair back behind her ear. 

She merely shakes her head— a warmth dusting over the apples of her cheeks when his touch lingers on the side of her face afterwards. And for a moment, she thinks she’s going to drown in the lagoons of his eyes, but then he clears his throat and offers the palm of his hand for her to take.  

And it’s rather unusual for someone of his status to do; a prince who’s bound to wear the crown one day holding his maid’s hand isn’t exactly something that’s written in any book regarding the royal etiquette. However, he’s never been one to allow for dreadful rules and traditions to dictate his behavior, especially not towards her.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

“Are you looking forward to the winter ball?” she asks when they stop by the stables to check up on his horse, Jupiter.  

“You know I hate dancin’,” he mutters out as he watches its teeth grind on the carrot he brought with him.  

She smiles because she does know, before letting out a wistful sigh. “I wish I could attend.”

“You do? Why?” he’s perplexed by her enthusiasm towards something he considers as more tedious than anything— having to plaster on a smile for an entire night and socialize with people he doesn’t necessarily care for in order to humor his father never being something he’s particularly taken delight in.  

Especially when Sarah is going to be the one receiving all of their father’s attention anyway. Not that he cares (he does) but he would appreciate it, if for once in his life, his old man would show him even an ounce of the care he seems to so easily shower his sisters in.  

“Well, I’d love to wear a ball gown, but mostly for the food,” her feather-light voice brings him back to the moment.  

“I’ll make sure to bring you a plate ‘n you can eat it in my room then, yeah?” he promises as he runs his fingers through Jupiter’s black main.  

“You would do that?”  

“If you promise not to tell the other maids or they’re gonna accuse you of gettin’ special treatment,” his tone is playful. 

“They already do that,” she points out. “They think we spend too much time together.” 

“And what do you think?” he asks, genuinely curious. 

“I don’t mind. I quite enjoy your company,” she answers truthfully. After all, she has grown quite fond of Rafe throughout the years. Sometimes she just wishes he wasn’t so overwhelming, in every sense of the word. 

“Yeah?” a smirk pulls at the side of his mouth, seemingly pleased with her answer. 

She’s certain he’s well aware of the effect he has on her— the effect he has on everyone. And she thinks that he enjoys it; relishes in toying with her for his own amusement simply because he can. He can practically do anything he wants since his father is oftentimes gone for long periods of time; fulfilling his duties for the kingdom and whatnot.  

And she knows Rafe doesn’t particularly mind the fact that his father is rarely home because he’s always been hard on him, much harder than on his sisters because whether he likes it or not, he’s set off to be the new king one day. And his reputation of having female guests over more often than not whenever his father is away doesn’t necessarily help with gaining his approval.

After all, rumor travels fast around the palace.  

Rafe once admitted to her that he often felt like a disappointment, and that the pressure of everyone’s expectations sometimes made him wish he was nothing more than a stableman. After all, he does get along with horses better than he ever has with his family— it’s not exactly a secret amongst the royal court.  

“Would you wanna go for a ride with me? Think Jupiter’s gettin’ bored,” he suddenly asks.  

“Oh, I would love to but I’ve never, um, ridden a horse before,” she timidly admits. 

“No? You wanna know how it feels? You could jus’ sit behind me, don’t need to do anythin’, yeah?” he coaxes her to say yes with a seemingly sincere smile; already walking Jupiter out of its stable and leaving her no choice but to follow them outside.   

“Really?” the frosty air causes a shiver to crawl up her spine when she eyes him, hesitant.  

“Mhm. Promise nothing’s gonna happen, I’ll take care of you. ‘N I know you’ll like it, s’very freeing,” he assures her as he’s already saddling up the horse, seemingly aware that she could never refuse him of anything.  

“Okay...if you insist,” she tentatively agrees with a nod that he rewards with a beaming grin; the icy snowflakes sticking to his hair making him look like something straight out of a fairy tale.  

Then, he’s lifting her up to straddle the entirely too big of an animal that sort of still scares her— strong hands gripping onto her hips and leaving her momentarily starstruck at how effortlessly he does it; as if she weighs nothing more than the carrot Jupiter was just chewing on.  

He follows soon after, settling down in front of her with ease before looking at her over his shoulder. “Need you to hold onto me unless you wanna fall,” he instructs, seemingly reveling in the fact that he gets to be the one teaching her something new.  

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she says, gingerly setting her hands on his waist, movements uncertain.  

“Gonna need you to hold on tighter, promise I won’t bite,” he huffs out a laugh before he’s grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his middle more firmly— forcing her to fully lean against his back when the sudden clip-clopping of Jupiter’s hooves against the snow-covered cobblestone causes her to let out a surprised shriek.   

“Good?” he asks, seemingly amused at the way she’s practically clutching onto him as the cottony snow prances around them. 

She manages out a hum, wondering if he can hear her poor heart loudly thumping in her ribcage when he decides to pick up the speed some more, as if she wasn’t already terrified.  

“Rafe! Can you slow down?” she squeaks out when Jupiter seems to only accelerate further underneath them.  

“Where’s the fun in that?” he lets out a hearty chuckle in response, apparently finding amusement in her utterly frightened state while she wonders why she let herself think for even one second that he had pure intentions.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Y/N? Will you go look for my son? I fear he’s once again escaped his responsibilities to God knows where,” the king requests with an exasperated sigh while she’s crouching down and helping a servant clean up the sharp pieces of a shattered wine glass— the sound of laughter and dancing flourishing around them. 

And she could swear she saw Rafe conversing with a guest only a few short moments ago. However, as she looks around in an attempt to locate the missing prince, he’s nowhere to be found.  

“Right away, Your Majesty,” she’s quick to answer with a polite smile.  

“Thank you,” he nods gratefully, seemingly fed up with his son already.  

She ensures that the poor girl who accidentally cut her finger on the broken shards is not going to faint before tiptoeing up the broad flight of stairs in order to reach the higher levels of the palace— the loud music and blooming celebrations echoing around the halls. 

“Your Highness? Are you in there?” she knocks softly on the mahogany door leading to his bedroom.  

However, she isn’t granted a response. 

“Rafe?” she tries once more before pressing her ear against the wood separating her from the muffled sounds she can now hear from the other side— brows furrowing when something akin to a whimper reaches her ears.

It sounds nothing like Rafe; it has a higher pitch, something more feminine than his usual drawl. And as she stands there, contemplating whether something is wrong or if she should just leave, the volume only amplifies.

And in a moment of cloudy judgement, she finds herself pushing down on the handle.

However, she curses her curiosity the moment the door cracks open and she’s faced with the view of some woman’s naked back. Her long, beautiful hair reminds her of lady Lydia (a daughter of one of the dukes invited to the ball) with none other than the prince himself underneath her sweaty form.  

The sheets that she changed this morning are crumpled and creased around them and without the barrier of the door, she can now hear Rafe’s low grunts as well— can see how his big hands guide her movements. And they’re both panting heavily, seemingly lost in some haze— maybe the same one that forces her to stay rooted to her spot in the doorway.  

With her eyes as wide as saucers and mouth parted, she’s not entirely sure how long she stands there for. Until out of the blue, she notices Rafe’s eyes flickering over to her— a smirk tugging at his mouth when he catches her staring. 

She tries to move her legs but they won’t listen; making his lazy grin only grow in tandem with his strained groans that seem to only increase in volume as he locks his eyes with her.  

And she can’t breathe; the air clogging her lungs instead of flowing through as her dazed mind tries to get her to do something, anything to get her to leave the room but his heady gaze seems to have hypnotized her— compelled her to stay right where she is.  

All at once, a gravelly noise rumbles from his chest— his head dropping against the cushion of his fluffy pillows, seemingly reaching some sort of a peak in his search for pleasure as the woman above him begins to slow down her movements. And that’s when she’s finally able to step away; shutting the door behind her before scurrying down the stairs with bated breaths and heart pounding in her ears.

When she reaches the bottom, she accidentally stumbles into someone holding a golden serving tray— causing it to topple over to the floor with a loud clatter. 

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes before her wobbly legs are scrambling off in an attempt to locate the nearest escape route to the garden.  

And once she’s managed to make it outdoors, she feels like she can finally breathe— the crisp December wind granting her heated skin an opportunity to cool down as she sits down on one of the wooden benches with a sigh.

[dreamdragonkadia]

I like naps with Percy, that might be my one personality trait now. p.jackson x reader

It happened again.

You weren’t even surprised at this point.

No matter how many times you told yourself you’d sleep in your own cabin, maybe curl up under a tree, or even find a spot by the lake, you always, always ended up right back here—buried in soft sheets that still carried his warmth, wrapped in the scent of sea salt and summer storms.

Poseidon hadn’t banned you from Cabin Three yet, which was nothing short of divine intervention. You were convinced the god had to know by now, had to have looked down at least once to find you curled up in his son’s bed like you belonged there. Maybe he was entertained. Maybe he didn’t care. Or maybe he had bigger problems to deal with than his son’s significant other making themselves at home in his temple of a cabin.

It was so easy to drift here. The sound of waves just outside, the distant echo of water lapping against the shore, the rhythmic push and pull of the tide—it all wrapped around you, lulling you into that perfect state of almost-asleep, where reality blurred at the edges and you felt like you could float away.

You’d already woken up twice.

Both times, you had every intention of actually getting out of bed. You’d even made it as far as pushing the blankets down, wiggling your toes, thinking about what you were going to do next. But then the pull of sleep had dragged you back under, his scent wrapping around you like a tide dragging you out to sea.

Maybe just five more minutes.

You weren’t asleep—not really. But you weren’t awake either. You hovered in that in-between, listening to the distant chatter of camp outside, the occasional singing of birds, the calls of demigods training. You wondered, vaguely, if you should be doing something right now.

Then came the softest chuckle.

You stirred, blinking blearily, and those damn sea-green eyes were the first thing you saw.

Percy was perched on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, watching you with that lopsided grin that made your heart do annoying things inside your chest. His hair was slightly damp, the ends curling slightly, like he’d just finished sparring or maybe finished up with a shower.

"Hi, Handsome," you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep.

"Hi, Beautiful," he said, voice soft as the tide rolling in.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss against your lips—once, then again, then a third time, slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. You could’ve stayed here forever, tangled up in him, the rest of the camp forgotten.

Your arms found their way around his neck without thinking, fingers threading through his hair, and he melted against you, his body warm and solid against yours. Not in the urgent, breathless way of stolen moments, but in something soft, something constant. His body pressed against you in a way that made you feel grounded, like an anchor.

He sighed against your skin, his head resting against your shoulder, the tips of his hair tickling your collarbone. "I swear," he muttered, "I’m just gonna start checking my cabin first whenever I’m looking for you."

You laughed, eyes fluttering shut again. "Smart choice, Seaweed Brain."

He huffed against your neck. "I knew you were gonna say that."

"You always know what I’m gonna say," you murmured, fingers lazily tracing the shape of his shoulder. "It’s, like, your one personality trait."

"Excuse me," he scoffed, pulling back just enough to look at you, feigning offense. "I have plenty of personality traits, thank you very much."

"Uh-huh," you teased, eyes twinkling. "Like sleeping, eating, and almost dying every other week?"

"Wow. Okay. Rude."

His fingers found your sides, pressing in just enough to make you squirm, and you yelped, trying to twist away as laughter bubbled up in your throat. "Percy—no, don’t you dare—"

"Shouldn’t have insulted my personality," he teased, grinning as he easily pinned you down, trapping you beneath him.

You pouted up at him, breathless from laughter. "I like your personality."

"Yeah?" He arched a brow.

You hummed, brushing your nose against his. "Mhm. Even when you’re being an absolute menace."

His grin softened into something more affectionate, something quieter. He dipped his head down, capturing your lips in another kiss—slower this time, lingering, like he was memorizing the feeling of you beneath him. When he finally pulled away, his lips barely ghosting over yours, he murmured, "Guess I can live with that."

You sighed dramatically, stretching beneath him, making no attempt to actually move. "Good, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere."

Percy chuckled, shaking his head as he shifted, settling against you like it was the easiest thing in the world. His arm draped lazily over your waist, pulling you closer as he nestled his head against your chest.

"Yeah, me neither," he mumbled.

He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck, warm breath fanning over your skin, and just like that, he stilled. No more teasing, no more witty remarks—just the two of you wrapped up in each other, breathing in sync with the distant lull of the waves outside.

And so you stayed, the rest of the world forgotten.

[femmeroll]

hiii, could you write something about sevika corrupting a sweet church girl?

your blog is really cute btw <3

omg omg omg !!! i’ve been dying to write something like this, thank you for the request!!

sevika x fem reader

cw: religion, corruption, implied age gap, fingering, semi-public.

you’re a good girl. made good grades in school, good daughter, good sister, kind person. you never miss a sunday service. and if you must, you’ll be at the church for service on monday afternoon. you spend your life being pure, avoiding sin wherever it may rear its devilish head.

no pride or greed or lust. just simple, sweet purity.

that is, until you meet that lady.

every day on your walk home from mass you see her. maybe mid forties, dark hair, and easily six feet tall. she stands outside the deli every morning at 11:45 on the dot for her smoke break.

and every sunday morning she says hello, or good morning, or asks how ‘sunday school’ is going. it’s strange. you always give her a smile, say hello back, but she seems so condescending. like every word she says to you is secretly making fun of you.

you don’t really know her either, which is weird. it’s a small town, everyone knows each other. not…her thought. she’s just an impossibly rude person you see on sundays that causes you to remember the jesus was always kind to strangers.

it’s a cold january morning, sidewalks slick with ice. like clockwork, that woman is standing outside the deli with her cigar.

“careful, virgin mary. don’t want you slippin’ out here.”

okay, rude.

“i’m okay, no need to worry,” you respond, stopping in your tracks in front of her. the gaze she holds on you is almost uncomfortable. she’s staring down at you like she’ll burst out laughing at any moment. like the mere idea of you is just hilarious to her.

“sevika, by the way. my name.”

oh. sevika. okay.

“y/n. it’s nice to properly meet you. i’ve never seen you around outside of…this.”

“i’m not very social” she responds.

you smile. you certainly know the best way for people to find community in town.

“well, there’s a service on mon-”

she cuts you off with a scoff. “not interested. not the place for me.”

“why not?”

sevika leans closer, letting her lips fall near your ears.

“i like smoking, drinking, cursing, fucking. it’s not the place for me, princess.”

you clutch the cross around your neck with a gasp. this is wrong on so many levels. sinful, disgusting, unnatural…and yet you feel your face getting impossibly redder.

sevika stomps out her cigarette. “see you next sunday, princess.”

whether you like it or not, sevika evokes quite a bit of lust in you. her smirk, her piercing grey eyes, her muscles that stretch the fabric of her impossibly tight tshirt…you can’t help it. the forbidden fruit is strong. you suppose it’s all a part of the lord’s plan. send you a taste of homosexual temptation and watch you be a true follower.

you aren’t though.

you entertain her flirting, all her lustful stares, and your church dresses start to come above the knee just to give her something to look at. you don’t know why you like this so much. it’s gross. it’s wrong. it’s against god’s wishes.

but jesus christ, one look from sevika and that all goes out the window. every good christian moral, everything you’ve known to be true disappears the second sevika locks eyes with you.

after a monday evening service, you take your weekly stroll home. it’s dinner time, and sevika is working.

you open the door to the deli, seeing sevika behind the counter. you watch silently as she meticulously rearranges the meats on display.

“i could use some dinner, sevika” you say and she perks up, brief shock replaced with her signature smirk.

“princess. c’mon back, i’ll make you whatever sandwich you want.”

and she does. you’re sitting on a wooden stool in the back of the deli, making small talk. sevika’s presence feels strangely right, like these little moments were made to happen. maybe this was the lord’s plan after all.

sevika steps closer, towering over you.

“you have sauce on your lips. messy eater, huh princess?”

she takes her calloused thumb and wipes the sauce away, eyes never leaving yours. the air feels thicker and your face feels hotter. and without skipping a beat, your lips on on sevika’s.

she stammers a bit in shock, then immediately gaining back control. she wraps her hand around the back of your neck to pull you in deeper. you can feel her smirking against you, prying your lips apart and exploring the inside of your mouth with her tongue.

her lips feel like the missing piece of a puzzle, perfectly slotting against yours in a dance of passion and affection. she’s calculated with the way she kisses, making sure you feel every bit of her tongue gliding against your mouth.

“sevika-” you pant, pulling away. “we shouldn’t, i-it’s not right.”

“shush, princess,” she growls, “gods not watching right now.”

and maybe he’s not. so fuck it. you nod and let sevika pull your blouse off, pushing her head into your chest. she litters your chest in bites, reveling in the sweet moans you let out.

her hands make their way under your skirt, silently asking for permission to pull your slick panties down.

all you can do is nod, desperate and utterly dumb for her touch.

“so soft, princess…” she moans, “so wet. is that all for me?”

another nod.

“you gonna be a good girl?”

another nod.

sevika pulls hand away with an evil grin. “words. or you aren’t getting shit from me.”

“yes, it’s all for you. yes, i’ll be good. please hurry before i remember that i’m a woman of god and stop,” you groan.

her ring finger circles your swollen clit, spreading your folds and rubbing you down to your needy hole. one of her thick fingers is enough to stretch you out, walls tightening around her as she slowly moves in and out of your cunt.

“tight fuckin’ pussy…so pure and innocent, huh? just a good little church girl who likes other women fucking her greedy cunt?”

she chuckles darkly at herself, and at the way you get even tighter at her mean words. so humiliating, so blasphemous, so unholy. and yet every deep, deliberate thrust has you closer and closer to cumming.

“sevika,” you whimper, “i can’t hold it, please.”

“is that right?” she teases.

“you can cum, baby. but make sure to repent after.”

[revelboo]

Alright which fragger is gonna be the one who starts spreading human valve is good propaganda? Wheeljack and Constructicons are builders for human houses. I’m imagining a little catalogue or file being sent spread anonymously to all the bots on earth and more about human mate and their needs. Primus, is Optimus going to the leader who first ends up with a interface/sex scandal? Walked/ran on by humans and doing a psa about it, or is going back for double points for Megatron and being sparked up by a human? Regardless the G1/IDW Revelbooverse is unhinged and I love it. Thank you for giving us this gorgeous Fuckery.

I’m just having fun, but honestly, I can see Thundercracker writing and anonymously sending out a human care manual just on blast. Bots and Cons both

So You Have A Human

Thundercracker x Reader

So you have a human or are thinking of acquiring one. Stop. Humans require a lot of care and attention. They’re social and need to be kept entertained. Before committing to finding a human, maybe use a holomatter avatar to go out among them and observe. Don’t try to touch or grab them, though. They will attack. Another less hands on way to research is to check out human media.

If you’ve decided you do want a human partner, understand how fragile they are. They scare easily, so understand how intimidating you are. You’re much bigger than they are. Don’t pick them up by their limbs or you can break those delicate bones. Cup them in your hands, keeping your grip loose so they don’t panic, but not so loose they can wiggle free and fall. They’ll die if they fall out of your hands. Don’t chase them down, you can actually scare humans to death as strange as that sounds.

Humans need organic foodstuffs and access to clean water. Just because something is organic, doesn’t mean that they can consume it. Please, find and retrieve foodstuffs meant for human consumption, don’t scavenge in the outdoors for them. They’re picky eaters.

Is your human a bit skittish? They tend to be cold in temperatures comfortable to Cybertronians, so coax your human into sleeping on your chassis. It gets them used to you much faster, letting them get comfortable with the sound of your spark. Make sure you talk to them. Ask them questions and get to know them. They need to socialize.

Interfacing with organics is taboo. And that’s an outdated belief. Humans are amazing. Court your human with little treats. Flowers. Snacks. Some of them adore sparkly ornaments. But make your intentions clear. Don’t just whip out your spike and hope for the best. Build a relationship first.

So you’ve successfully won your human over and you’re both comfortable with each other. Time to mass shift to their level. Humans kiss like we do. They interface like we do. Take your time exploring your partner with servos and your mouth. Try to take it slow so you don’t overwhelm them, because even mass shifted, Cybertronians are still much bigger.

Humans are incredibly flexible, but be sure to check with your human frequently. Make sure they’re comfortable. You’ll need to be patient, and properly prepare your human before you can-

• Head lifting sleepily from where you’re sprawled on him, you reach to tap a finger against the datapad he’s frantically typing alien glyphs on. “What are you smiling about?” Oh. Now he’s embarrassed, wings shifting at his back where they’re partially pinned under him. What is he writing? Because he’s acting like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing, won’t even meet your eyes. “Alright. Keep your secrets, but if you’re writing smut about us, you better change our names.”

• Reaching to stroke your cheek, he saves his work and sets it aside. And mass shifts, smiling when you gasp and grab at him. “It’s not like that. I just- there’s a lot of us with humans now and I thought I’d explain some stuff. You know, so there’s not any mistakes or accidents. Misunderstandings.” And you lean up on him, mouth brushing his. Servos threading into your hair as his other hand rests on your hip. Because this means everything. This intimacy.

• “As long as you’re not encouraging your people to go snatch mine,” you say, lips ghosting over his before you sit up on him. “You’re not, right?” And he immediately shakes his head, the tension spilling out of you. A little heads up on taking care of humans definitely couldn’t hurt. You know there are other humans here, but the Decepticons are weirdly protective of their humans and don’t seem to trust each other that much. “I still want to round all the humans here up. Humans need other humans. No offense.” His palm slides up your side, touch almost reverent.

• “I’m trying,” he replies. Because for you? If you need to spend time with other humans, he wants you to. Wants you to have whatever you want. “You know I’d do anything for you.” Loves you too much to deny you anything.

[busyw0man]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗲𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀

❝ i wouldn’t find the need to tell you ‘i told you so’ if you weren’t so allergic to admitting i’m right—but by all means, keep walking into walls just to prove a point. ❞

❝ there are better hills to die on, but i’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, so this one? this one suits me just fine. ❞

❝ would you come with me? i know i could go alone, but everything feels a little less terrifying when you’re beside me. ❞

❝ that’s not the worst thing i’ve ever heard, but it’s definitely in the top ten—and i’ve been to family dinners. ❞

❝ i would love to help you, truly, but i’m currently suffering from a terminal case of 'not my problem' and my doctor says there’s no cure. ❞

❝ could you, for just one second, think about someone other than yourself? i’m not asking for a miracle—just a moment of humanity. ❞

❝ i’m not going to stand here and argue with you about how badly you need rest. when you crash, don’t expect me to catch you. ❞

❝ would you be a dear and shut the hell up? there’s only so much self-centered rambling a person can survive in one sitting. ❞

❝ i know i need help. i know. but asking for it feels like walking into battle without armor—give me a second to find the words. ❞

❝ do you know where we’re going? or are we just letting the chaos guide us now? ❞

❝ i’m trusting you with this. that’s not something i give away easily, so please—don’t make me regret it. ❞

❝ do you like it here? not the place—the moment. the quiet. me. ❞

❝ are you still happy? and i don’t mean surface-level smiles and small talk. i mean really, truly happy. with me. with this. ❞

❝ i didn’t lie to you. i just told the truth in a way that made it easier to swallow. if that’s betrayal, then maybe you never wanted honesty—just comfort. ❞

❝ do you even like spending time with me anymore? because lately, it feels like all we do is circle the same argument and call it conversation. ❞

❝ one of us is going to have to be honest eventually, and i’m starting to think it’s going to have to be me—again. ❞

❝ i want to tell you something. something real. something raw. but i keep getting caught in the storm of my own hesitation. ❞

❝ if you were the religious type, i think i’d still find a way to make you worship me. or at least remember me in your prayers. ❞

❝ don’t tell me to stop being dramatic. it’s the only thing that makes this unbearable mess of a life remotely entertaining. ❞

❝ were you ever going to tell me, or were you just hoping i’d eventually give up trying to read your mind? ❞

❝ i never needed you to fix me. i just needed you to stay when i was falling apart. but even that was too much, wasn’t it? ❞

❝ sometimes i think you love the version of me that only exists in your head. the quiet one. the easy one. the one who doesn’t talk back. ❞

❝ i’m tired of being the bigger person. it’s lonely up here and the view isn’t even worth it. ❞

❝ you don’t get to disappear and then waltz back in like you didn’t shatter something on your way out. ❞

❝ if you wanted to hurt me, congratulations. you did it with terrifying precision. ❞

❝ it’s not that i don’t care anymore—it’s just that caring has become exhausting. ❞

❝ i don’t know what we are anymore. i don’t know if we ever really knew. ❞

❝ you keep saying everything’s fine like you’re trying to hypnotize me into believing it. ❞

❝ loving you felt like setting myself on fire and pretending it was candlelight. ❞

❝ i keep telling myself it’ll get better, but i’m starting to wonder if that’s just another bedtime story i made up to survive. ❞

❝ you can’t just say ‘i’m sorry’ and expect everything to go back to the way it was. apologies aren’t time machines. ❞

❝ you left. and somehow, i’m still the one who feels guilty. ❞

❝ i didn’t push you away. you just stopped reaching out. there’s a difference. ❞

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Could you please write something that is spicy and fluffy? I adore your writing!

“So…” the hero purred. They scratched three perfect lines into the villain’s forearm, their lips close to the villain’s ear. “…when are you going to regret having kidnapped me?”

The villain squeezed their eyes shut and waved with their hand, as if to shoo the hero again.

“I didn’t know you’d be this annoying, that’s for sure,” they said. They stared back at their phone and continued with the scrolling.

“You can also let me go…” the hero suggested. They grabbed the villain’s forearm and squeezed until the villain was staring at them. “…I mean, it’s kind of a waste of my talents. To sit here. Do nothing.”

“You’re always welcome to watch TV,” the villain said.

“That’s not exactly what I want.” They let their gaze crawl down the villain. “You know, you brought me here so, technically, you’re responsible for entertaining me.”

“Is that so?” They let their eyes drop to their phone again.

“Yeah. I get bored easily.”

“I can tell.”

“Come on. Let’s spar.”

“Not right now,” the villain said.

“Then tell me what you did today.”

“Burned down an orphanage and ran over three cute puppies,” the villain answered bluntly.

“You’re not funny.” The hero stopped leaning over the villain and stood up fully. They crossed their arms in front of their chest, their eyes narrowing.

It had been over a week and the hero was beginning to feel like this was getting somewhat ridiculous. On day one, they had tried to punch through the walls. On day two, they had used their powers. On day three, they had started questioning the villain.

To no avail - the villain wasn’t talking. Attacking the villain wasn’t going to lead anywhere, so, the hero was trying everything they could to get some information out of their nemesis.

Why on earth were they stuck in an apartment that was certainly not the villain’s with the villain coming and going whenever they pleased?

What was going on?

The hero took the villain’s phone.

“There’s no SIM card in there,” the villain said. They looked unimpressed. “In case you were planning on contacting anyone.”

“Talk to me, baby,” the hero said suddenly. They put the phone aside and sat down on the villain’s lap. Their hands found the villain’s neck easily and although their nemesis tried to look annoyed, they didn’t push the hero away. “Talk to me. Don’t be shy.”

“You’re really testing my limits here,” the villain whispered.

“Is that so?” The hero leaned forward and they could see how very quickly, the villain started to look very shy. The hero loved it when the villain let their guard down in front of them. It was very sweet, very rare too. They were so grumpy and mysterious all the time. It was lovely. “I just want a few answers, pet.”

“What do you want to know?” The villain put their hands on the hero’s lower back, but rolled with their eyes at the same time.

“Why am I here?” Their gaze dropped to the villain’s lips.

“Because I kidnapped you.” Still no answers, then.

“Do you want me all to yourself, is that it?” the hero asked. They let their thumb follow the curve of the villain’s bottom lip. God, for how long had they been tiptoeing around each other?

It was probably a year by now.

Their other hand played with the hem of the villain’s shirt and their knuckles brushed against their enemy’s naked abs accidentally.

The villain took in a deep breath.

“I mean, I’m not complaining, you’re so very good to me. But there’s a lot of helpless civilians out there that need my help.”

“Do you think I care about civilians?” The villain asked. They leaned their head back against the armchair.

“No, but I think your greed should be a bit obvious to them. After all, civilians don’t like sharing their heroes with villains,” the hero said. “And you know what happens when the people get upset…”

Admittedly, they were getting greedy themselves. They wanted their nemesis. They really did. Maybe more than getting answers.

They kissed their jaw. Was the villain a good lover? Were they passionate? Or shy?

“Damn you,” the villain whispered.

The hero let their fingers go over the other’s stomach, exploring carefully. Whenever they could feel scar tissue, they took their time to follow it.

“What?” They kissed the villain’s temple next. Then their cheekbone. They exchanged looks, both clearly longing for the enemy.

This was only happening once. The hero couldn’t allow themselves to do this regularly.

“Is it a possessive thing?”

The villain let out a pained sigh. Their fingers dug into the hero’s lower back softly.

“It’s a a-lot-of-people-want-to-kill-you-thing,” they said, defeated almost. They looked away.

“Aww, you care about me.” Their gaze jumped back to the hero. Both of them were aware how much the villain was blushing.

“I don’t. Now, kiss me properly.”

“Say please,” the hero said.

“Kiss me, please.”

“There we go.” The hero leaned in and realised quickly that this was definitely not happening only once.

[fandomizedtrash]

Be Careful What You Wish For...

Summary: Whisphers of animals drained of blood in the forest circulate through your town. After an evening out with your friend, you stumble across the sourse of these rumors. Although, instead of turning away, you continue to spy, but the consequences for your actions soon catch up to you… 

Authors note: I decided to take a dark turn to this. It is a bit of a slow burn but so worth it I promise. This took a bit longer than I thought to write (sorry anon!) but I am very happy with the final product 

Warnings:  Kidnapping, Remmick kills a rabbit for food (no graphic description though, I was careful with this but let me know if you think overwise), knife play (?), Remmick cut’s readers dress, bondage, non-con smut

REQUESTS OPEN

Word count: 3.8 k

“And be home before sunset.” Your mother said sternly as she finished up washing the dishes. “I’ve heard the rumors of animals being bit wide open, blood drained, and a young man right on the border went missing last week. I don’t want you running into trouble.” She shook her head as the last of the plates were stacked on the drying rack.  

You rolled your eyes at her remark, tying your shoes in a double knot. Your family has always been the superstitious kind, hell, everyone in your town was. Tales of ghosts and monsters that lurk in the shadows, emerging when you least expect it. It was all such utter nonsense. You have lived in the Delta all your life, and the only thing that has given you a fright was when you opened the trash bin outside your house to discover a raccoon. 

“I promise mama.” Your tone was a bit more aspirated than you intended. Though you were past the age most would’ve already struck out on their own, between the quiet comfort of home and the weight of your family’s expectations, leaving had never felt like a real option. This evening you planned to go dancing out with friends, one of the few entertainment options the Delta has to offer. All you wanted to do was let loose, have a few drinks and maybe even sneak a kiss or two from the young men in town, not that your parents needed to know that. 

After tying your other shoe, you got up to make your way to the door. “Bye mama, see you in a bit.” You called out over your shoulder as the door shut behind you. 

***

You giggled loudly as you sipped a glass with your friend Nellie over the music.

“I swear to you I did.” Nellie spoke, still hunched over laughing. 

“At least tell me he kissed you after all that?” 

Your close friend was sharing a story about a boy she knows from church, and apparently, after last night, knows on a more intimate level. 

“Not even a peck on the cheek.” Nellie said with perfect annunciation. 

“Good lord. All that sucking for what?” 

“Y/n, shhh.” Your friend put her finger to her lips and started to look around her for any potential eavesdroppers. “What if someone hears?” 

“Who cares. At this point, who hasn’t sucked on something in this place?” You lamanted. “If they have anything to say then they are just hypocrites.” 

“Aren’t you the wisecracker?” You smiled smugley and shrugged. Things didn’t slip your mind easily, however, your sharp wit and fast tonge is usually what gets you in trouble. 

You could’t help questioning authority, pushing the bonds of what was permissible, especially from your parents. It was your little way of getting a thrill in a place where there wasn’t much to thrill about. 

“So, do you think any boy will get lucky tonight?” Nellie said while giving your shoulder a nudge with her own. 

You eyed the room around you. There were certainly good looking men, no doubt about it, but tonight you couldn’t be bothered. 

“Not tonight I’m afraid.” 

“Pity.” Nellie said with a pout.

“But not for me.” The two of you, like school girls, laughed profusely. 

“Did your mama also tell you about the incidents?” You asked. 

“Which Delta mama hasn’t? I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna keep my head down till this mess dies down.”

“You can’t be serious Nell.” You moaned. “It’s just a silly superstition, odds are it was some coyote or a bear. And the man skipped town after he knocked up some girll.”

Nellie looked less than convinced. “I’m not too sure y/n. Never in my years have I heard of animals being ripped open, blood almost all gone. Something is amiss, I feel it in my bones.” You frowned, but didn’t continue the conversation. Nellie was almost just as spooked as your mama, and you were not going to let a good day go to waste. 

***

After your feet started to get sore, you knew it was time to head home. You waved goodbye to your friend as you stepped out of the building. The sun still hasn’t finished setting, meaning you were in no rush to get home. Wanting to take advantage of the extra time, you decided to take the long walk by the river. 

You strolled leisurely by the water, feeling a warm air on your face and the gentle sounds coming from the forest around you. As your mind started to wander and daydream, a blurry movement barely caught your eye. 

You instantly left your dazy mind and focused on the scenery in front of you. However nothing seemed amiss. 

Blaming it on a trick of the imagination, you went on with your walk home, but then it caught your eye again, this time more clearly, somone, a man no doubt, was running several yards in front of you, remarkably fast. 

The sight took your breath away in surprise. Was the man chasing something? Was something chasing him? Your curiosity got the best of you and you followed the man’s path, carelessly straying from your way home. 

After walking in his direction for several minutes, you came to a clearing in the forest. A large area covered with tall grass and wildflowers with a log cabin in the center. You stood on the edge of the clearing, head peeking out from a thick tree. 

Peering to the window on the side of the cabin, you saw the same figure move. Eyes squinting for a closer look, you were able to make out the figure. From what you could tell, the man had a strong frame and dark hair. 

When you were about to stick your head out further for a better look, the man's head turned, and despite being somne 20 yards away, the red gleam in his eye was unmistakable. 

You gasped and moved back so behind the tree, hand to your chest. Realizing that the last rays of sunlight were slipping away, you ran back home, the burning red eyes you saw in the cabin burned in your mind. 

By the time you arrived home, night had just fallen, your mother gave you a stern look from her spot on the couch as she sat knitting. 

You knew she wasn’t happy with you pushing the boundaries of your curfew but not enough to say something. 

Aftering tucking yourself in bed for the night, eager to get a good night's sleep before your job tomorrow, you still couldn’t shake the haunting image of the man, and you decided then and there that you were going to find out who, or what he is. 

***

The next day after your humdrum work, you went to the same neck of the woods you were last evening, walking aimlessly through the trees, trying to use your senses to capture any unordinary sights or sounds. 

But, much to your misfortune, nothing seemed amiss. The Delta widlneress seemed to encomapss you completely, with nothing but birds chirping, the wind blowing through branches and the occasional rodent scurrying through the bushes.  Just when you were about to give up, you were able to once again find the cabin from yesterday. 

The thrill seeking part of you wanted to run up to the cabin and open the door, but the rational part of you knew it was unwise, if you wanted to find out anything more about this man, you had to be careful and keep yourself hidden. Exposing yourself too early might ruin any chances of learning more.

And so you waited. Right as the sun was setting, while walking the peremiter of the clearning, you heard the cabin door open. Just like yesterday, you stuck your head out from behind the trunk of a tree, this time from the front left side of the perimeter. You made sure to tell your mama that you would be with Nellie for the night, allowing you ample time for investigation. 

As the man was walking out, you shifted your position to allow yourself a better view, however, as your feet shuffled, a loud snap was heard from under your foot. 

His head snapped around to the sounds direction while you stood frozen in your spot. Thankfully, you were too far away, and the trees too thick for the mystery man to turn back around and dismiss the noise. You let out a long sigh of relief. 

This time, making sure to watch your step, you started to follow him slowly and carefully, keeping a good amount of distance between the two of you, moving from tree to tree.. 

Not long, a rabbit was hopping through the evergreens, catching the man’s attention. Staying hidden, you watched to see what he would do next. 

Waiting for the rabbit’s next move, the second the forest critter jumped, the man moved with unhuman-like speed to grab it as he went to his knees in the bush. You jumped back at the sudden movement gasping. 

When he rose again, the rabbit lay limp, but what happened next you could never expect. The man went to bite the rabbit, sinking its teeth in deep. 

Your lip parted in shock at the scene before you. Just like a car crash, you couldn’t look away. 

The man seperated himself from the rabbit, mouth covered in blood as he tossed the animal aside. 

Your brain slowly connected the dots. The critters found in the forest drained of blood, the missing man, the very sight in front of you. It all became crystal clear. You knew from your mama’s stories, and from everyone else in town for that matter that the smart thing would be to turn back and go home as fast as you could, But you were never one to let a good story end so soon. 

After he, the vampire, finished his meal, he jumped up so high it was if he were simply floating. He moved away from your position in the trees and soon out of your line of sight.  

You let out a humph of frustration, dissapointed that your inquiry came to an end. But you weren’t going to give up so easily.

***

Deciding to accept the loss, you go to Nellie’s place to spend the night to avoid your mother’s suspicion. It was a Saturday, and the day came and went as you went back to your parent’s house to help your mama around the house. 

But the moment the sun was setting. you knew exactly where to go. Giving your mama another lame excuse, you went back to the thick forest, this time knowing where the mystery man’s cabin is. 

Soon enough, you reached the wooden house, still trying to keep out of sight from the windows. Eventually, you saw him emerge from the other side of the clearing walking towards the house.

Your curious eyes continued to peer at him in pure wonder. How silly your mama was, how silly was Nellie and everyone else in town to throw such a fuss over a single man. 

As he was maming his way to the front of the cabin, he elevated himself from the ground just as he did the day before. Your head fell back, trying to see where he went off too, but the tall trees blocked your vision. 

Turning your head left and right, you tried to figure out where he could have gone off too, but the answer was given to you. 

“Hey there sweetheart.” You whipped your body around to the direction of the voice, and sure enough, it was him.

“You must have thought you were being real clever weren't you?” He said smiling, slowly walking towards you. “I have to admit, I’m impressed, you hid yourself better than I thought you could, but I’ve been around long enough to know when someone has eyes on me.” 

Your cheast started to heave up and down, there was not a single word you could think of to say. 

“You really believed that a lil’ mortal like you could get away with spying on someone of my kind.” He began to laugh, the idea of it so ridiculously impossible it was funny. 

“Now, enough chit chat.” Instantly, he moved towards you with the unhuman speed you saw yesterday. You stumbled till your back hit a tree, his face now mere inches away from yours. 

“Tell me, did you find what you were looking for?” Your eyes widened and your body began to tremble in fear. How stupid could you be to purposely seek out one of the most dangerous creatures in all of Delta folklore? You let your ego blind you to the reality of the situation, and now your life, for all you knew, was in the hands of the man right in front of you. 

“I-“ You began, still not knowing how to answer the question. The man innocently tilted his head to the side, waiting for your response. 

“Please. Don’t hurt me.” Tears started to brew from the corner of your eye. “I promise I won’t come back, I won’t tell anyone.” You begged.

“But how can I believe you sweetheart?” He said in a tone so understanding that if it hadn’t been for the situation at hand you would have taken him for a gentlemen. "If there is one thing you have shown me these past few days is that you run into mischief head first, and I am not about to have some girl ruin my peace.” His fingers went to gently stroke the side of your face. 

“Don’t kill me.” You said as a rather pathetic last ditch effort to save your life.

“Kill you? A sweet thing like yourself?” He placed the palms of his hands against the tree, caging you in, allowing no chance to escape. 

"Now I may be a monster but I don’t just go around killing nice young ladies, espeically ones as beautiful as you.” His hand dropped down to around your neck, causing you to breathe in sharply. 

“No, I have a much better use for you.” It was impossible to not hear the eagerness slipping from his tone. 

His eyes trailed to your mouth, and a moment later, his lips were on yours. 

The sensation was more gentle than you were expecting, but things escalated in an instant. 

His body was completely against yours. His other hand pulled at your waist to bring you in closer while the hand around your neck started to squeeze. Your body squirmed, trying its best to break free from his clutches, but it only seemed to make him grab onto you tighter. 

“What’s the matter?” He said finally after ending the kiss. “You finally got what you wanted and now you want to run away?” The tears contined to stream down your face as you agonized over your own stupidity. 

“Don’t you worry, I will make sure you get exactly what you came here for.” 

***

You woke up in a daze, head pounding. The last thing you remembered was being in the forest, him kissing you, and then everything going dark. 

Looking around at your surroundings, it was made clear that you were inside the cabin, laying on a double bed. When you tried to rise, you found that you couldn’t, as your wrists were tied with rope to the bed frame, allowing your little mobility. 

That wasn’t the only disconfort. To your horror, you felt your panties were completely gone, your dress’s fabric was the only thing hugging your bare ass.  

“Look who’s awake? I was wondering how long my little lady would stay asleep.” Your head turned to look at his sideways figure leaning against the door frame, thumbs stretching on the bands of your panties. 

“Don’t worry." He said looking down, smiling at the fabric in his hands. “While I do admit I couldn’t help myself initially, I promise I didn’t go too far. Well, not yet at least.” He let out a chuckle. 

“I realized I never got the chance to introduce myself. I’m Remmick.” You didn’t respond, you didn’t have the words, and even if you did,  you felt too weak to say them.

“The least you can do is tell your gracious host who you are.” He scolded. 

Your lips remaind sealed in defiance. Never being one to follow what everyone else was doing, you sure as hell weren’t going to stop now. 

Remmick’s brows furrowed and he approached you, throwing the panties to the ground in frustration. His hands made their way up to your head as he grabbed your hair tightly. “You can make this difficult, or easy, it is entirely your choice.” His voice was low and serious. Not wanting to take any chances, you stammered out a reply 

“Y/n… y/n.” His grip loosened. 

“Y/n.” He said, testing the sound out loud for himself. “Well ain’t that a pretty name.” You stared at him defiantly, not wanting to allow him to break you. Whatever was to happen, at least your digity would survive.

“I imagine these must be unpleasent for you.” Remmick motioned towards the binds. “I do hope you understand it was just a precaution. I can’t have my little y/n running away from me can I?” You cursed under your breath. How could you have allowed yourself to be so arrogant?

“Now.” He started. “You can make this easy, or hard, entirely your choice. I am going to untie you, but if you fight back, or dare try to run away, I will lock you up so tight that you won’t see the sun again. Do I make myself clear?” 

You barely nodded, looking nothing more than a twitch, but enough for your captor to understand your asnwer. 

“Good.” He took out a switchblade from his pocket and cut each rope in two swift motions. 

“Now.” Before you even had the chance to sit up, Remmick’s legs went up to the bed, thick thighs pressed tighly againt your torso as he pressed the switchblade to the side of your neck. 

You gasp at the sensation of the cool metal, while he twirls the tip blade on your skin.

“I’ve had nothing but common forest critters to feast on for the past month. The last time I had the pleasure of drinking human blood was from that boy a few towns over.” The tears started to brim once more. “C’mon, don’t cry now, if anything you should be flattered. So long without a good meal and right when one is in my clutches I’ve decided against it.” 

He continues to press the blade against you, trailing it down to where your bare skin met the edge of your dress.

“There is another thing which I have gone long without.” Remmick began to cut the fabric steadily, stopping as he reached the bottom of your breasts. “So long without that I’m starting to forget how it felt.” With a click, the blade returned to the compartment, tossing it to the floor.  

It was impossible not to notice the buldge that was begging to be released from his trousers. 

“From the moment I saw your peering eyes I longed for this.” His dark blue eyes stared down at the sight before him, hands grazing but barely touching your breast. 

“And now.” Remmick placed his hands on the mattress, brinding himself closer to your face. “It’s finally happening.” 

Without warning, he closed the gap between you two. But unlike the one in the woods, it didn’t start slow, Remmick wasted no time in thrusting his tounge in your mouth, trying to taste as much of you as he could. 

His hands started to massage your breasts though his incision, nipples hardening at the touch. 

“Oh, y/n, the things you are doing to me.” 

You heard the metallic click of a belt while Remmick pulled the strip of leather, sliding it free through the loops. 

“I may be many things, but I am not selfish.” Unexpectedly, the vampire began to rub at your clit with his thumb. A low moan left your lips. 

“That’s it sweetheart.” Two fingers inserted themselves in your folds and gradually moved in and out while your clit contuned to be rubbed.  

“See how much better it is when you make it easy for me?” You didn’t dare respond, the humiliation was already burning through your face

Once your pussy was completely damp, he removed his fingers, completely coated in your wetness. 

“Enough teasing.” Remmick unzipped his pants and finally freed his cock. 

Your eyes filled with terror at the sight. The pure thought of having that inside you sent shock waves through your body. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, this shouldn’t hurt a bit.”

Perhaps he said to make you calm down, but it was still a lie. It did hurt. The stretch was more intense than you initially expected. Even with your soaked walls, you felt his shaft torturously move deeper inside you. 

Remmick groaned as he completely inserted himself. Once fully inside, he started to rock back and forth, testing the limits of how much your pussy could handle. 

“That’s it,” he whisphered, starting to thrust faster.

Your cunt started to throb at the penetration, but the pleasure it brought you was undeniable. 

“You have no idea how long I have been waiting for an opportunity like this. I thought I’d have to go out of my way, but I guess destiny had other plans.” He continued to slam onto your pelvis, slapping your clit by the impact, sending an extra jolt of ecstasy. 

“To be honest, I thought about drinking your blood after this, but now I’ve had a change of heart. I could go for the rest of my days with nothing but rabbits as long as I have this to come home to.” If possible, your mind paniked even more. The idea that this would become your new reality, your new life scared you to no end. Your immortal captor sensed that thought too.

“Relax sweetheart. You will be well provided for.” With that, you could feel your climax approaching. 

Remmick resumed his movements, reaching to places so deep you didn’t even know possible. 

He reached one hand to your chin to lift your head up.“Come for me y/n.” 

He didn’t have to ask twice. 

Your peak finally arrived as your folds quivered in response. 

“That’s it sweetheart.” With a final thrust, his warm cum was coating your now sore walls. 

In one agonizing motion, Remmick removed his cock, covered in your wetness which dripped from his tip to your stomach. Making your humiliation known right in front of you. “It will take some time for you to truly enjoy this.” He dismounted you, massaging the insides of your thighs which already had streams of cum trailing down. “But I promise, you’ll learn to.”

[knavesflames]

Jealous reader x sub!arlecchino

(Poll result)

Hello I am so back.. again.

Guys genuinely I am SO sick it’s insane. I won’t go into details on this post because it’s a lot and it’s scary but I’ve never been this ill. It’s the fanfic writer curse, I say. To make up for the lack of writing, this one is LONG. Anyway, I truly hope you all enjoy Arlecchino being a sub because I giggled the entire time I wrote it. I wrote about half of it before I got sick again in December, and half of it.. today. Thank you for your service and patience, my dear readers

Word count: 2.9k

Contents: jealous reader, sub arlecchino, strap sucking, strap riding, you know what hell yeah

(I listened to blind eyes red by Minnie, touchin’ me by chandler leighton, pornstar by nessa barrett.. you’re getting where I’m going, yeah?)

Nsft utc!

“I don’t think you quite understand. I don’t like when you talk to other women that way.”

Your voice rings out in the bedroom you and Arlecchino share. Watching as she sheds the blazer of her suit, your jaw feathers at the little smudge of red on her white collar. The faint smell of alcohol wafts into your nostrils and you’re not entirely sure if the smell is coming from you or her, and you don’t think you really care.

“It isn’t like that,” Arlecchino murmurs, a slight hint of irritation breaking through her usual tone. “She was drunk, I was entertaining her. She talked, I listened.”

“You listened? I suppose you were ‘just listening’ when her hands were all over you, then?”

“She touched me, I did not touch her.”

“That makes it fine, then. You didn’t touch her, so it’s fine that she’s marked you with her fucking lipstick!” Arlecchino pauses, one hand on her tie. She isn’t sure if she’s ever seen you this angry before, it causes her eyebrows to furrow, a small frown forming on her face.

“My dearest, please, you must calm down. I am wearing a ring, the ring that shows I am devoted to you and only you—“

“Yet, I watched you entertain that woman the entire evening. Maybe that dessert had an aphrodisiac in, because you were all over her like you hadn’t had sex in months.”

“You and I both know that statement is false.”

“Then stop acting like it is. Do I not fuck you well enough? Do you not fuck me well enough? Is that why you let her put her hands on you?”

Arlecchino almost recoils at the vehement words that spill from your mouth. You have never acted this way, not ever. Of course, she’s used to women fawning over her and trying to get her attention, and you’ve never reacted this way before. With a barely noticeable tilt of her head, she responds, her usually commanding voice slightly softer than usual, filled with thinly veiled annoyance.

“You are very good at what you do, if that’s what you’re wondering. If we’re talking about who does what to who, however, I must make it clear to you that you do not fuck me.”

“I could.” Arlecchino isn’t entirely sure whether that was a challenge or something you were just saying. She stares at you for a second, eyes fixed on the way your eyebrows knit together and the way your lips downturn into an irritated frown. She scoffs bitterly, but she can’t help the slight amusement she feels at the thought of you trying to take control of her the way she so easily controls you. Her hands continue the act of undressing herself, letting herself slip out of the black blazer she saves for events like these.

“Ha. Unfortunately for you, my dear, you aren’t very good at taking control, let alone keep it. I can melt you into nothing but putty with a few words.” For Arlecchino, she knows she’s upset you, and she does feel guilty, but she can’t help the way she feels a small burning in the pit of her stomach at the way you’re so.. demanding. She wonders if you’d actually do it, she decides that you wouldn’t. She decides that part of you just isn’t in you, that you couldn’t, until she hears your voice, irritated, hard, and with absolutely no option to argue against it.

“Take off your belt, Arlecchino,” She freezes, eyes moving towards you once again. You cannot be serious, she thinks, except you are, and she can tell by the way you tap your finger impatiently against your thigh. “Now.”

“What on Teyvat is this?” She murmurs, one hand moving towards the buckle, expertly weaving the leather out of the buckle before pulling on it, letting it fall loose. Looking at you with furrowed eyebrows, she pulls the belt off, the sound of the leather moving through the belt loops. As soon as it rests in her hands, you move, snatching it with a speed she couldn’t have expected. You inspect it for a few seconds, turning it over to feel the material in your hands. You look up at her, jaw clenched before you, with mirrored motions, things you’ve watched her do so many times, create restraints with her belt, tying them firmly around her wrists. You don’t let her speak, your hands move quickly to remove her trousers and whatever else she has on under her waist. She tries to act like the sudden change isn’t affecting her, because it isn’t. Not really. Maybe a little bit. Arlecchino finds herself eagerly stepping out of her clothing, and you don’t miss the way the tall woman almost stumbles.

“I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen now,” you breathe quietly, stepping back to look at her. Her hands are retrained in front of her, and she’s bare, save for the loose dress shirt hanging on her body. “I am going to sit on this bed, and wear the strap you so love to use on me, and you, my dear, are going to get fucked. You tell me I cannot do what you do to me, but I think I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

“You’re going to— what? You can’t. You never have before. Do you even know how to use it?” Arlecchino seems to be biting back a chuckle, the look in her eyes tells you that she truly doesn’t believe you’re capable of it. But you’re angry enough, she knows that much. “This is ridiculous.”

“Sit.” You demand softly, and like clockwork, she steps back until she finds herself perched on the bed. No biting remark this time, not when she sees the look on your face. Her dark eyes track your movements as you move to That Drawer, hands moving over the harness. Your head turns and you glance at her from over your shoulder. Despite the many masks she wears, you can see the hard determination in her eyes— she doesn’t plan to fold for you. She has no idea that she will anyway.

Your hands fumble slightly as you remove whatever items of clothing you still have on before you start buckling the harness. She chuckles dryly, almost mockingly, as the harness nearly slips from your grip. You meet her with a look so dangerous her chuckle fades out into a sigh, her eyes drifting down to the belt tied around her wrists. She gives an experimental tug, but you’ve tightened it to the point she can’t seem to break free. She wonders if she even wants to, but then remembers that she’s not supposed to enjoy the lack of control. She doesn’t. She likes control, she needs control, and yet..

Her thoughts are interrupted by the feel of weight on the bed, the mattress denting slightly as you sit. Red crosses gazing over you, you watch as they land on the way your hand moves along the length of her strap. It’s an unfamiliar sight, usually she is the one watching the way your eyes widen slightly and the way your chest rises and falls slightly quicker in anticipation. Even with the unfamiliarity, you’ve touched the silicone enough to know your way around it, and just to annoy her, you let out a quiet airy moan when your fingers swipe over the top of it. She scowls, jaw tensing.

“Stop.” Arlecchino mutters, casting an irritated look in your direction as she shifts slightly, adjusting her position on the bed. She swallows, but doesn’t take her eyes off of you or the way your hand moves.

“Why? Are you finally feeling something?”

“Not in the slightest, dear.” The pet name is said with almost a growl, and the edges of your mouth quirk up in a smirk.

“Liar.” You return with equal vigor, standing up once again to stand in front of her. The smirk fades, and what returns is the angry look from earlier. Your voice, once soft, comes out sharp and commanding. “Get on your knees.”

“I will not.”

“Peruere.” Ah. Her eyes flutter at the way you say her name, and her fists clench in the restraints. After a few seconds of debating, her height slowly reduces as she moves from the bed to sink to her knees in front of you. Arlecchino looks up at you, and you swear for a second you see a look of need there before it disappears. A gentle hand of yours brushes her hair from her eyes before cupping her cheek, and on instinct, subconsciously, she leans into it, eyes closing for a second.

“You know what to do, don’t you, baby?” You murmur in a voice that’s suddenly so soft and sweet it makes her double take. She can’t figure you out, she knows you’re purposely switching tones the way she always does with you. She knows you’re aware of the small fire growing in her stomach even though she denies it vehemently. You hold the silicone in your fist, giving it a few experimental pumps (you swear you can feel it) before you tap the tip against her lips, her lipstick almost matching the colour of the material. “Come on, pretty girl.”

Her lips part as her eyes close, and she feels it against her tongue as her mouth closes around it. One hand stays cupping her face, the other moves to grip her hair, caressing her scalp before tugging.

“No, look at me,” you chide gently, your own head threatening to tilt back at the sight of her like this. You wonder if you’re punishing her for her actions still or just enjoying the fact you get to boss her around for once. Probably both. When she doesn’t open her eyes, and instead goes to squeeze them shut even more, your voice comes out slightly colder. “Now, Peruere.”

Reluctantly, they open, just as the strap slides and hits the back of her throat. You gasp quietly at the sight of it disappearing and the way her eyes are threatening to tear up with every movement, words coming out shakily. “Oh, there you go, I told you you could do it, didn’t I? Good girl, Peruere.” You think you hear her moan as her chin begins getting wet, and you wish you weren’t breathing so loud so you were able to hear every little noise that came out of her. You can count on your fingers the amount of times she’s made noise during acts like these, and now she’s on her knees in front of you, looking up at you with glassy eyes and spit covering her chin, moaning at the feel of you thrusting the silicone into her mouth. Your hand leaves her hair and covers your face, feeling the way your cheeks have heated up before you pull away from her, leaving her with an obscene noise that causes her to gasp for breath.

You move back to the bed with trembling legs, sitting so your back is pressed against the headboard. You gesture with a finger for her to come to you and she does without hesitation. Once next to you, she looks at you, both hands coming up to wipe the spit on her chin with whatever she can wipe it with— the skin of her hands or the belt, she doesn’t care, but she decides she won’t be seen as a fucked out mess before she’s even been fucked.

“Go on. If you plan on being a whore at the party, you can be a whore for me at home, yeah?”

“That isn’t—“

“I didn’t tell you to speak. You know what to do, don’t make me say it, it is not in your best interest.”

“Oh.” She hums, trying to act nonchalant like her heart isn’t threatening to beat out of her chest. Either way, she moves, positioning the strap in the right place before taking a soft breath, her arms moving over your head until her bound hands are resting by the back of your neck. You glance down and scoff quietly, your voice nothing but a whisper of condescension and awe.

“You’re dripping, Peruere. I haven’t even done anything, you really ARE a whore, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“Answer me. Now.”

“..yes.”

“Good. Continue.” A command, really, not a request. She stares at you, and you stare at her, an unforgiving, unrelenting look in your eyes. Arlecchino’s jaw tenses and feathers before she sinks down, immediately gasping at the stretch she’s not really used to feeling. It takes a while for her to sink down fully, and you say nothing, but the hand that moves to her waist to stroke your thumb gently across the hot, marred skin is reassuring enough, even though you’re angry at her. Once she does bottom out, however, the noise you hear from her is something you didn’t think she was even capable of making. She whined. You blink twice almost in shock before she looks at you, face red as her head shakes gently.

“Don’t.” She mumbles, teeth grazing her lip. She doesn’t move, she knows exactly how she’ll react if she does, and quite frankly, it’s humiliating for her to have been so confident just a little while earlier.

“Move, Peruere, or I’ll move you. I can see that you want to. I can HEAR that you liked it, hm?”

Her jaw drops slightly as your other hand comes to her waist, and she knows the threat of you moving her is real (even if she almost wants it), so she takes it upon herself to control her movements. But she whines again, and can’t help but bury her face into your neck. You let her, for it’s only the first time she’s been like this with you, if at all, and you’ve embarrassed her enough, you think. She’s tentative with her movements at first, almost testing what she can take and what feels like too much. You place kisses on her shoulder, whispering things that turn her even more into a pathetic mess.

“I wonder what the rest of the fatui would say if they knew you were riding me like a pathetic little slut, Peruere,” You whisper, hardly containing the breathless grin you have on your face as she moves, your hands guiding her whenever she loses rhythm. Your words register, and she slows, only to have whatever self control she had snap, and she speeds up, nails digging into your back. You hiss at the pain, but moan when it fades into a dull ache and you hear her whimper into your ear. “If only your god could hear you like this, all fucked and desperate to cum for me.”

“Don’t—“

“You don’t get to tell me what to do when I have the ability to take away the pleasure. Isn’t that what you always say to me?”

“You’re evil.” She gasps out, stifling yet another humiliating whine by biting into your shoulder. You groan, but let her continue when you feel her eyelashes getting wet once more.

“And you’re about to cum while you cry because of me.” You respond with such cockiness she’d snap at you in any other situation, but you’re right, and she knows it. “It really feels that good, huh?”

“Yes.”

It’s all Arlecchino says. She doesn’t think she can say anything else, she’s not even sure if she’s thinking anymore. She’s clenching around the strap and letting out strained noises every time the tip of it nestles itself into the spot that always makes her see stars. You’re making noise too, just the sight of her so undone like this, her dress shirt barely on her body now, only there because you like the way it looks.

“Please, I’m.. please.” She mewls, legs beginning to tremble.

“Words. Use them.”

“Let me cum. Please.”

“Do you think you deserve to after what you did tonight?” You ask, voice piercing through her. She knows the implications and she lets out a soft cry/moan, shaking her head, her hair tickling your shoulder, her forehead pressed onto your collarbone.

“No. I’m sorry, please. I won’t—“ she stops, gasping for breath again. She can feel it, a few more movements, but she knows she needs, or rather, wants, your permission.

“Won’t what?”

“I won’t do it again. I’m yours, always.”

“Good. Then cum, pretty girl.”

Mumbling a string of ‘thank you’s and ‘oh, archons’, she comes undone, her movements frantic before eventually stopping to a halt. She pants into your shoulder before raising her head half a minute later. Both of you are breathless, but her mascara has run, her cheeks are flushed and her lips are swollen. At the sight of you, Arlecchino lets out a shaking breath before hiding her face again.

You urge her to put her hands in front of you again, and she does, lifting them off of your neck.

“You did so well.” You untie the belt, letting it fall on the bed beside you both with a small clink. You find the edge of the bedsheet and move it so it covers at least some of her. For someone so ‘ruthless and violent’, she’ll need a lot of love and care after this, you think, even if she’ll grumble while accepting it. The poor woman is exhausted.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A Changed Future (2) | Yandere Isekai

Part 1

It’s so irritating for Haruko 

He remembers how he used to try and make noise in the beginning, when the same thing happened to him

But even without your struggling, he’s got more obstacles than he thought

“Tch all these guys getting in our way, maybe I should just kill them.”

“Haru no!”

“Why not, I'm sure you did it when I was trapped.”

“That…that doesn’t make it right!”

“So? Who cares about right when we’re in love? I think it was you who said that.”

Either way with or without your approval he’s figuring out a way to take down his newfound rivals

He kind of hopes they are as ambitious as the friends who recently abandoned him

Too bad they aren’t

In the original story, the crazy thing about the protagonist was that despite their obsessive love for Haruko and general disregard for those who got in the way of that was otherwise really inspiring

Breaking away from their elitist family for their violent morals ironic right

Joining the workforce, easily rising because of their work ethic and intelligence

And all that while beautifully evading a less-than-clean detective trying to pin the blame of random crimes on them

Which of course got them their own male leads attempting to pursue their affections

Always doomed to fall short because of circumstance or the protagonist suavely crushing their hopes to gush about their love

It was a uniquely terrible tragedy for their characters to be written this way

That’s what the random reviewers would say

Which is why you did feel inclined to maybe entertain them a bit more than the original protagonist would have ever done

“Since you are quitting….I hope you’ll let me treat you to dinner. For all your hard work of course.”

“Uh sure but I have to be home by sunset.”

“That’s a shame then we’ll have to—Wait. Did you say you would?”

“Yeah, are you okay?”

“YES! Ahem I mean yes I’m fine! I look forward to a nice evening together!”

Unknowingly furthering the obsession the protagonist was barely keeping at bay

“So mind telling me what you ordered that day at the restaurant?”

“I think it was my favorite dish there called the berry delight but I’m not sure. I think they changed the menu since I was there.”

“Why not confirm it later today? That way you can tell me if you did see the missing classmate of yours.”

“But I don’t remember exactly where I sat–”

“Then we’ll just have to sit in every spot until it rings a bell.”

“I don’t know if that’s–”

“Don’t fret. I’ll be paying but there's no way we’ll get to try every table. We’ll have to come back multiple times.”

“Okay…”

“No worries I’m sure you’ll get tired of eating there so we’ll go to some other places to give you a rest. Anywhere you wanted to try?”

You’d be foolish to think you could escape them by agreeing to Haruko’s entrapping of you 

It only takes a day of you not responding to messages that they both eagerly awaiting you at your door

And after the first few times, Haruko shooing them away they begin to get resourceful

“Yeah bud nice try their still out.”

“Hm well say that to my lovely warrant right here.”

“Wait! H-h-hold on! Geez I-i’ll go get them now but they are not going to be happy with you!”

It really doesn’t get better as the guard against the protagonist’s secrets begins to be let down as interested parties slowly make their way in

You don’t have the same ruthlessness or ability to deceive as the protagonist you took over for 

On top of that you never actually read the webtoon so you’ll be left trying to piece together whatever few weak points the protag has

Where if you hadn’t already started to make your pursuers interested all those faults are fuel for their agenda

“It’s so unfortunate that the company can sign off on your absence during this suspicious crime but I don’t mind editing records if you wouldn’t mind spending time with me. That way I can vet your personality myself. Over wine of course!”

It’s overwhelming constantly being pulled in 3 directions 

What’s worse you’re completely oblivious when the latest obstacle in the protag’s perfect life finally makes themselves known

“Hello darling, it took us years to find you but we did it!”

“Don’t look like that come give your Mama a hug!”

Part 3: Here

[dumplingsjinson]

List of random dialogue prompts (pt. 3)

“Truth be told? I miss the times — the me — before I fell in love with you.” 

“You know, I can see myself in, on top of, or under you. What do you say?” “I can see you buried six feet under my very feet if you don’t stop joking about this shit with me.” 

“Was there a point when you fell out of love with me?” “There was a point when I fell in love with you, but never out.”

“When did you fall out of love with me?” “That’s the thing: I never fell out of love with you. You’re the one who fell out of love with me.”

“Right person, wrong time… What if this is the right time? We’re just the wrong people for each other.”

“You have me wrapped around your fingers. Crazy part is, I don’t mind it.” 

“Don’t forget this: I made you. I can easily break you if I wanted to.” 

“I shared pieces of me, with so many people, and none of them kept those pieces safe, and I don’t know if I can risk that with you because it would devastate me if you turn out to be the same as them all. I would be completely destroyed.” 

“Don’t give me that look.”

“You okay?” “No. I need hugs. From you. I need you to hug me.” 

“I just wanna fucking get over you so I can be okay again.” 

“Stop trying to remind me that you’re still in my life. I’m trying to not think about you, for God’s sake.”

“I wanna kiss you so badly right now but we’re in public and I know you hate public display of affection—“ “I’ll allow you to do it this time.” “Wait… Really?” 

“I make shitty decisions and you’re a testament to that matter.”

“I have things to do, and most of them include me trying not to think about you.”

“I’ve never cried because of someone, you know? I didn’t have anyone to cry over. You’re the first, and you’ll also be the last, or so God help me through this embarrassment.” 

“Breaking up with me does not mean you had to kick me off your Spotify playlist, you know? Because damn. As much as I’m upset, your list had some bangers.” 

“You don’t get to do decide my feelings for you.” 

“I’m not bitchless, you fucking dickhead. Take that back!” 

“Every little thing reminds me of you, which sucks because you’re not in my life anymore.”

“It’s kinda weird not seeing your name on my phone when I wake up. It’s gonna take me some time to get used to this.”

“I think I knew this wasn’t going to last when I realised it’s not that I trust you. It’s that I don’t care what you do, and who you might be fucking around with.”

“One text from you has me happier than a child whose mother bought them their favourite candy. It’s not okay.” 

“I don’t share my Spotify playlist with just anyone. It’s like a secret love language of mine, reserved for those I want to let in. You’re one of them, yet you’re here thinking I don’t feel the same way about you?”

“I dunno, I just… Kinda fell for you.”

“You’re the reason why I fell in love with you. You, as a whole.” 

“There are some songs that I can’t listen to anymore, because they remind me of you; of all the times we’ve had together. And it sucks because some of them are great songs. And you fucking ruined them, you asshole.”

“I’m tired of acting like I don’t care, because I do. I fucking do, and that’s what makes this even worse.” 

“One thing you should know about me is that I suck at letting go.”

“So you’re telling me I’m supposed to sit here and give a fuck? You couldn’t pay me enough to do that. I have places to be and things to do.” 

“You need to stop being such a dramatic bitch.” “It’s the only way I can entertain myself, okay? Now piss off and leave me be.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have let you go.”

“You deserve someone better than me—” “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“You ever think about how good we could have been together?” “Yeah. I think about it all the time, and then I remember how badly you fumbled. So yeah, good job.”

“You’re blushing.” “I’m not.” “…Then I guess I’ll have to give you something to blush over.”

“I lost myself while trying to find the good in you.”

“I think it’s comforting that they’re somewhere out there… Even if we never speak again, you know? They were a part of my life, even if it was only for a little while. They made me feel good, even if it was only for a short amount of time.” 

“Remember when you said you’d catch me when I fell? Well, you’re a fucking liar. Figuratively and literally. Now I’m hospitalised and also emotionally scarred. I hope you’re fucking happy about that.” 

“If we break up, I’d look for you in other people and be reminded that they are not you, and that I’d never find someone like you again. And… I don’t think I can bear the thought of that.”

“I give you permission to break my heart.” “And I give you permission to end me if I ever do break your heart.” 

“I have things to do—“ “And I’m one of them.”

“You’re only saying sorry because you want to make yourself feel better, so you can go shove that sweet apology up your ass because it doesn’t mean shit. I hope you continue to feel like shit over what you did, because I’m never forgiving you.”

“I had expectations for someone I knew couldn’t meet those expectations, so that’s my fault for expecting anything from you at all.”

“You? Breaking my heart? It’s funny how you think you even have that power over me.”

“You were like a routine that I loved and it felt… comfortable. But I guess that’s not the case anymore.” 

“You fell in love with the idea of someone that wasn’t even real. You fell in love with your own projections. How are you so foolish to think that it would have worked out?”

“I’m fine. Of course I’m fine.” “Everything about this interaction is telling me you’re not fine — not even close.”

“The idea of us was perfect. Blame me for thinking it would turn out into something good and as fantastical as what I made it out to be in my head.”

“Because no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s about to drive me to the very brink of insanity, so if you’ll excuse me for not wanting to be near you, that would great.”

“I would not be who I am today if not for you.” 

(pt 1.) | (pt. 2)

[zzencat]

How To Energetically Get The Most Out Of Your School/Work Life - ⏳

Since we’re getting into the groove of things…let’s gaur!!!! For entertainment purposes.

From left to right. Breathe and choose the one(s) you can't keep your eyes off of.

TO ENHANCE ACCURACY BEFORE CHOOSING: Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

Pile 1 | boomer mentality?

• change your ways. Bad habits, weak ways of thinking- sure, it’s uncomfortable. Growth is uncomfortable. Success is uncomfortable (I’m pretty sure someone super famous said that once maybe someone should remind me- 🤔) . You’ll find that if you look at things from a new perspective, a new angle, it’ll be beneficial for you in the long run. Just like looking at stress in a good way- there are studies on it that show that if you look at stress in a more positive way and use it to your advantage, you could really stretch out your life and live longer than those who were pessimistic about it (lol fun fact for you)

if you let go of the old, your luck will change. embrace these new changes, beliefs, environments, and people.

don’t keep your time and resources to yourself. allow for self reflection and transformations to happen!

big focus: don’t let history repeat itself. it’s time for a change! let go and let in.

—————————

Pile 2 | feeling stuck or stagnant

• pile 2, you tend to overthink everything. You let your mind run its course. That ain’t good news. It prevents you from reaching new heights- prevents you from even starting on something, just because of fear or even roots of perfectionism. There’s a huge lack of motivation, confidence, and trust in yourself- so much that even when I was pulling your cards they were hesitant to come out. it feels like russian roulette but it’s firing on its own. some people here might tend to overreact/throw a tantrum as well or be immature in situations that need sensibility (in this case, ya gotta take this time to mature.)

• I feel this group has trouble with balance in general. Nothing wrong with that on occasion but if that’s your default setting and you’re stuck in your mind all day, wondering about this and that—just a crazy clash of thoughts and ideas—ruminating and running around in a vicious cycle full of mental bullshit then it’s gonna stop you. It’s gonna stop you from growth, from achieving things, from getting started, from living life normally. That’s the bare minimum, isn’t it? All we gotta do is breathe and when life makes it hard, the brain works harder. The mind is truly the most dangerous thing and you have to embrace it, marinate in it, and pick at it. find out where the balance is between intuition, logic, and emotion.

you might feel restricted and the need to break free, but what you also need is a breather to calm down and assess yourself before making decisions. rmr, deep breaths.

•Do your own research, form your own opinions, figure out who you are, how you operate, and what you want in life. That’s how you begin to build character. That’s how you can move forward, even if it’s little by little. (A more stable foundation comes outta that too.)

big focus: practice self control. when they say “lead with your head,” they really mean the control center of logic, intuition, and emotion…but who’s doing more of the controlling here, you or your mind?

——————————

Pile 3 | “how could I miss that?”

• What you need to focus on is slowing down. it’s easy to miss things when we’re busy or taking on a lot of responsibilities. give yourself some love and care—tend to those inner callings. It’s good for your mental health as well. Remember: mental becomes physical.

• put yourself first for once. Connect with yourself and loved ones- go on one of them self dates- Yessir those exist 😳

• pile 3, you are easily the most efficient and speedy group- cards were legit being shuffled like they were being handled like a pro- but you know the con of that? You miss all the moments you could’ve had with friends, lovers, family. Yourself. You get to miss all the details because things are going too fast pow pow pow one after the other until it piles up and then you end up beating yourself up for small and simple mistakes…calm down and adjust yourself. You will be okay.

• I’m telling you fam- TAKE BREAKS. Give yourself moments to relax and rejuvenate before you push yourself!! You put too much pressure on yourself as it is

• connect with your inner feminine energy when you have the time—you gotta MAKE that time for yourself

• don’t be so neglectful in your relationships btw! Romantic, platonic, familial, wtv- learn how to manage your time so that you can separate work and assignments with social relations. Keep that communication up!! This includes your inner and outer voice. Reflect and acknowledge how you feel.

big focus: be more open minded to making new connections! spend more time with others. you’ll find emotional happiness and fulfillment in it :)

————————————

Ending Teddy note:

Hello hollywood people 😎 it has been a long minute! thank you for taking the time to read through this—YOU ARE AWESOME!!! Always remember to take what resonates and leave what doesn’t! I’ll cya fam ciao :)

[drinkabletoxicdishsoap]

the fandom’s characterization of peri becoming a father to dev will always be interesting to me because where it did it even come from ???

I mean in operation birthday takeback, bro CLEARLY did not care. He honestly seemed so disinterested and didn’t even care when they went into his dad’s private office by accident. He didn’t seem care or smile for his godkid when he was happy. Even got a little mean when Hazel made a nice wish for him with the rocket boots (“Well that should keep him entertained for about 10 minutes” or smth like that)

Lost in Fairy World he didn’t really seem to care either??? he really only just wanted his wand and to ‘look good’ in front of his godkid and do things his way without his parents interfering. Sort of like how a babysitter wants to look good in front of the family of the kid they’re looking after if that makes sense.

The only time we ever seen him actually care about dev was in the finale when he said that. But even after fairy world got turned to normal he didn’t really seem sad about dev??? he was just smiling after, seemed genuine too and not a fake one. Maybe it’s just me, but if I was a fairy and lost my first godkid, who took over my home, I would be doing anything BUT smiling, even if we won in the end. Peri doesn’t seem like one to hide his emotions easily either (maybe I’m reading into his character wrong)

You could bring up best of luck, which I would say is a fair point, but I’m going to bring back the babysitter/job synonym. Wouldn’t you get jealous of the person that stole your position or place in a work environment after you got fired?? Especially if your rival/enemy took that position?? I PERSONALLY don’t think the jealousy comes from a place of care, but maybe that’s just me.

It could honestly just be the fandom’s way of coping since Dev doesn’t seem to have any good people in his life after the finale, but why Peri? I mean if you really want to make one of the fairies a father figure to dev, I’d say the anti fairies more over are his family but that’s IF we have to choose.

Don’t get me wrong, I do think all of the peri and dev being a father son duo is super cute and heartwarming!! I love seeing all of the art and fics of that because it really is sweet :3 but to me, it just doesn’t really make sense and seems more out of character for Peri if anything.

He seems to care more about following Da Rules in my opinion. And while I do think it’s important to follow rules, especially when it comes to a job, you shouldn’t rely on them. At a job, you shouldn’t be constantly looking over rules to make sure you’re following them, you might end up tripping over yourself. That’s what Peri ended up doing.

If I assign the duo as anything, it would be the tired babysitter who just wants to get paid and the kid he’s looking after. A dude working a 9-5 at his job he couldn’t really care less about (dev).

I mean (only from his words) he wanted to go into the family business. Not because he genuinely cares for kids, but because it’s what his family has done. He’s treating godparenting as work, not stepping into a kids family and genuinely looking after them.

I do wonder if he would act the same way if he had an easier godkid.

BUT!!!! that’s just my thoughts. I’m sorry if I got anything wrong and feel me to correct me if I did !! Also if you disagree with anything that I’m saying, tell me why in either the replies or reblogs !! I would love to hear other people’s perspectives or opinions.

That’s it 😨 thank you so much for coming to another yap session and I hope you have a great day/night wherever you are in the world <3

[trippinsorrows]

ltye: in your hands

authors note: welp. here i am, once again. we're back with yet another 'what if' scenario, prompted by you lovely people in an ask that i can't seem to find to link right now. smh.

words: 3.3k

warnings: none. just sam being sam.

song inspo: in your hands by halle

Roman should have stuck with his first mind. Stayed home. Texted her some excuse about being caught up with work. She would have never found out the truth, and even if she did, he wouldn’t have given two fucks. 

Because this shit doesn’t seem to be getting any better. 

This dating thing. 

It’s gotta be at least the fifth or sixth one he’s taken her on, and each one has been just as miserable up until the point where he gets her on her knees, gagging or bouncing on his dick the minute they get back to his penthouse. Anything before that has been irksome, borderline miserable. 

Samantha is stunning. Has been since they were kids, and her body is the most desirable of the women he has on his roster. She leans on the thinner side of what he prefers, but the tits and ass are decent, regardless. She’s also just as kinky as him, which is why they’ve worked all these years.

But, the more “dates” Roman forces himself to power through, the more he’s starting to feel like bedroom activities is where it stops for them. 

Technically, he’s always known this. Even if he did have some level of desire to be in a real relationship with someone, which he doesn't, it would never be her. She’s vain, condescending, and seems to think she’s somehow better than the other women he fucks with.

If only she realized he views her just like he views the rest of the women. A warm body with a wet cunt to help him get his dick wet. 

“Roman!” Her voice cuts through his inner dialogue as he focuses on her cleavage. The dress she wore, short and tight, doesn’t help his desire to skip to the fucking part of this evening. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No.” Roman sees no sense in lying to her. “I probably don’t care either.”

She rolls her eyes and proceeds to continue like he literally didn’t just tell her he doesn’t care. “I was saying we should go somewhere.”

He’s partially intrigued now. Mostly because he’ll probably need to set her ass straight. “Where?”

She smiles and shrugs. “I don’t know. I was thinking Bora Bora.”

He shakes his head. “So go.”

She frowns, clarifying. “I said we should go, Roman.”

He scoffs, looking off at the ice sculpture in the middle of the upscale restaurant. A waste of money, in his opinion. “What the hell makes you think I have time to go to fucking Bora Bora with you?” He really wants to ask her what makes her think he would want to in the first place, but he’s trying to be somewhat less of an asshole to see if maybe this could work.

His Wise Man’s nervous voice balanced out with sage wisdom returning to the front of his mind.

“If the Elders are to force you into a marriage, why not with someone you already know? Especially someone who you know would have no issue in giving you an heir.”

If only Samantha wasn’t so fucking annoying.

She leans back in the chair. “You make time for these dates.”

Out of obligation. But, he won’t say that. “Yeah, but I can get my nut and send your ass packing in the same night. Can't do that if we're out of the fucking country.”

“You’re suck a di—”

“I’m so sorry.”

Soft. It’s the first thing that comes to mind hearing her voice. Light, almost. Kind. Even with just three words being spoken. And that’s just based off audio. Visually, Roman’s thoughts take an entirely different direction.

Stunning. 

Roman’s seen, entertained, and done a lot more with some beautiful women in his time, but the one standing at their table seems to have something more than all of them put together. She’s beautiful, easily one of the most gorgeous women he’s ever laid eyes on. And her smile, small but genuine makes him pause. As does her body.

She’s wearing the same uniform he’s noticed on the other waitresses, but none of them fill them out like she does. The white, long sleeved shirt that’s tucked into the knee length black pencil skirt can’t hide the curves he can practically see through the bland outfit. Nice, heavy breast. Curvy hips, thick thighs and an ass he can partially see from the front. 

This. This is his preferred body type. A woman who has something he can grab onto when he’s fucking her from behind. And Roman can only imagine what it would be like to be holding onto those luscious hips of hers while he—

“Oh my god, are you stupid?” Samantha’s annoying voice once again pulls him from his carnal fantasies. She gestures between herself and him. “Can you not see we’re in the middle of something?”

The girl, who Roman would guess is in her late twenties, early thirties at most, immediately looks repentant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—I was just going to apologize for your wa—”

“Whatever.” Samantha lifts her hand, silencing the girl who’s now looking down at her shoes, clearly embarrassed. “What’s the special for this evening?”

“What’s your name?” Roman’s question comes out at the same time as Samantha’s inquiry. However, his voice clearly presents with more of a commanding nature. 

She swallows. “S–Solana.”

Pretty. Just like her. 

Samantha notices the way Roman is looking at her and is fully confused as to why he’s asking this fat troll for her name. She cuts in again, in that same nasty tone. “Hello? I asked you a question.” 

Solana is clearly struggling with Samantha’s aggressiveness, Roman wondering why this bitch is directing whatever unresolved feelings she has onto this innocent girl. “Umm, I think—”

Samantha scoffs, nose turned up. “You’re our waitress, and you don’t even know what the evening special is?”

“No ma’am, I do. I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s been a long day.” There’s a weight to her words, a sadness in her voice and in her pretty brown eyes. Roman notices all of these things and finds himself wondering what the story is. Everyone has one, and hers is suddenly of interest to him. For reasons he cannot understand. 

“Pretty unprofessional to bring up your personal life, don’t you think?”

Solana closes her eyes, pausing before answering. She looks exhausted. Mentally and physically. “It’s Squab. That’s the main co—”

“I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat.” Roman rolls his eyes. This hoe has been saying that since they were in high school, yet every so often she goes back to having a normal fucking diet only to switch back to that salad shit. “What’s on your—”

“I’ll do us both a favor and get her to shut the fuck up.” Roman has had enough, both of Samantha’s grating voice but mostly her being a bitch to this girl for no reason. He’s a dick on the regular. He knows this. But, never has he come across someone like this Solana woman who, with just her presence alone, exudes such softness. Like, she doesn’t have a mean bone in her fine ass body. And she clearly doesn’t because anyone else would have probably lost their job by cussing Samantha out. Not that it wouldn’t be deserved.

Roman catches the faintest hint of a smile on Solana’s face as she redirects her attention to him. “Give her the salmon. I’ll take your best steak. For wine, you carry Madeira?” 

She’s pulled out her notepad and finishes taking down the order before answering with a nod. “Yes, sir.”

Roman’s jaw clenches at that sir bit. He could ruin this girl. “What do you recommend?”

She’s visibly taken back by his question, probably by the fact that he’s asking her for her opinion. “Umm—”

“Roman, I can rec—”

“I didn’t ask you,” he cuts that bitch off with the quickness, eyes never leaving the pretty girl before him. “I asked Solana.”

Her smiles widens as she answers in a more confident tone. “Julio Barros…..1950.”

Roman smirks. 

Exactly what he was going to order.

“I’ll take it.”

Their gazes linger on each other a second too long for Samantha’s liking as she cuts in once once more. “You can go now.”

Solana’s smile drops again, Roman suddenly finding himself all annoyed. Her smile is something pretty that he wouldn’t mind seeing more of, though that irritation is waned as he’s granted the view of her nice, round ass and curvy hips swaying as she walks to the back to turn in their order.

Samantha reaches over and touches his hand, Roman snatching it back and sneering at her. “What?”

She sighs. “Baby, I’m trying to talk about us.”

And just like that, he’s annoyed all over again. “There is no us.”

Samantha looks sad only for a brief second. “Roman, I’m not stupid. I know what these dates have been for. You’re trying to see if it could work.”

“If what could work?”

“Us.” She goes on to share. “There’s rumors that the Elders have been putting more pressure on you to settle down and make an heir.” Sam leans over the table, intentionally trying to emphasize her cleavage. It’s nice. He’ll give her that. But, he’s certain it’s nothing compared to Solana though and those big breast of her hers. “I can do that for you. Be that for you. Be your wife. The mother of your children.”

Not a damn thing she’s saying sounds even the least bit desirable. At all. 

“I mean, we’ve been fucking around since we were kids. Why not make it official?”

For a lot of reasons. All the reasons. The main one being Roman don’t like this bitch unless she’s choking on or riding his dick. 

What he does like, however, and finds solace in is the interactions with Ms. Solana as the evening goes on. They’re not very often outside of her bringing the bottle of wine and their food when it’s ready as well as a check-in here or there on how they’re doing.

Each time Samantha sending her the dirtiest look or just being an ol’e nasty bitch, to which Roman shuts down, cutting her off and even telling her to shut the fuck up.

The girl is just trying to do her damn job. And as his eyes locate and land on her on several different occasions, he can see that she works hard. Moving from table to table, almost saddened facial expression indicates she’s on the receiving end of more verbal lashings from people like Samantha.

That actually pisses him off, Roman having to control and stop himself from doing some out of pocket shit. 

Again, for what reason, he hasn’t the slightest clue. He just knows those brief glimpses of her actually smiling, usually when she’s chatting with a coworker, do something for him. 

Maybe even to him. 

And unbeknownst to him, the intrigue goes both ways, because as shitty a day Solana Miller was having, the handsome stranger with the rude girlfriend or wife or whatever has somehow, someway made this day just a little bit better.

It’s been some time, if ever, Solana has come across someone with such a presence about them. Him dining at this uppity restaurant she was able to score a job at tells her that he’s wealthy. His disposition and the fact that he somehow secured it to where the surrounding tables of where he sits have been marked as unavailable tells her that he has pull. But, the way he interacts with her, a literal nobody, she’s not sure what that means.

Especially with the beautiful woman he’s with, because while Solana thinks she’s every bit a bitch as most of the women who come into this place, she’s a stunning bitch. 

Which is why Solana can’t allow herself to believe that that equally beautiful looking man is looking at her in any sort of capacity. 

There’s no way in he—

“Solana.”

And just like that, she's frowning again. “Mami?”

The last thing she expected to see this evening was the sight of her mother, already dressed in her scrubs, baby in her arms. 

Solana’s baby. 

Her 11-month–old daughter, Soraya. 

The shock wears off as Nina gets closer, Solana shaking her head, “what are you—”

Nina shakes her head, face apologetic and tone contrite. “I’m so sorry, baby, but I got called into work. I can’t watch Raya.”

Shit

It's inconvenient, but Solana understands it. She remembers the countless times Nina had no other option but to leave her with a neighbor after being called into work at all kinds of hours. She’s always worked so hard to take care of the two of them when Solana was growing up. 

“It’s okay, mama.” Solana easily reaches for her daughter, a wave of relief and happiness washing over her as she holds and kisses her baby. The source of all her joy. All of the struggle, every bit of it, is worth it as long as she has her daughter. She’d do anything for her. “How was she?”

Nina gives a small chuckle. “She’s like you were and still are. An easy child.” Solana kisses Soraya’s temple. “Sol…..” And just like that, Solana already knows she’s probably not going to like what she’s about to hear. “I know you’ve said you don’t want to go after him for child support, but it’s not fair for you to be out here working two jobs while putting yourself through school to take care of his child.”

Solana holds Soraya just a smidge tighter. “She’s my baby, mami.” 

Nina counters. “She’s his biological child.” Solana looks away, hopeful her manager, Aldis, doesn’t come out and scold her for this little interaction. She’s scheduled to clock out in another half hour anyway. “He should be paying you child support.”

Her mom is right. Solana knows this, knows that it’s not fair for her to have to be the sole provider for her baby girl, while Cruz lives his best life as an absentee, deadbeat dad. And she’s considered on several occasions going to the courthouse to see what she needs to do to get that ball rolling. 

But, every time, she’s haunted by something he said the last time they spoke, not even a month after her daughter was born. 

“Don’t you get it? We were fine before she came in the picture! We could be fine again if she wasn’t.”

Solana’s never been more disturbed than she was to hear those words leave his mouth. That’s why she’s glad he’s gone, that he wants nothing to do with her or his child. Because she would never trust to leave her baby girl with him in the first place.

And if that means she does it without him contributing financially, that’s exactly what she’ll do. 

Solana shifts Soraya from one hip to the other. “I don’t need him, mami.” And she doesn’t. Because if Solana had to resort to sex work to take care of herself and her daughter, it’s exactly what she’d do.

Nina gives a heavy sigh. “Mija, you know I help you when I can.”

“I know.” Because she does. But, the same way that times are hard for her. They’re hard for her mom, too. Everyone’s struggling these days, it seems. Everyone except the rich people who wine and dine without a care in the world around them. “I’ll be okay.”

Always will be.

Nina gives a knowing nod, hugging her daughter and gently taking her granddaughter’s hand, kissing it, speaking in Spanish. “I’ll see you later, okay? Abuela loves you.”

Solana smiles. “Thanks, mama.”

“Always, baby.” 

Nina reaches Solana the diaper bag, Solana placing it on the bar stool, knowing it’s bound to be left alone. These rich ass people would never bother with the Ross purchase. With a final parting smile, Nina is off to the hospital, leaving Solana with her daughter who’s just now waking up.

“Hi, baby girl,” Solana giggles at the almost cranky expression on her baby’s face. Raya is definitely not the happiest camper when being woken up. 

A glance at the time reminds Solana that she technically is still on the clock and really shouldn’t have her child with her. But, with no other option, she accepts she’ll just have to clock out early and take whatever those consequences are.

But before that, the least she can do is grab the bill from the table where the handsome stranger and his girlfriend sat. She’s briefly disappointed to see the table empty, even if she remembers his deep voice thanking her for her assistance this evening as she brought them that same check earlier. 

It’s a silly thing, really. And she tries to push away the disappointment at not properly telling him goodbye. A stranger. 

Silly.

Soraya grasps at the collar of her shirt while Solana walks over to the table, pausing as she gets close enough to see that there’s more than just a bill with a signature. There’s cash. A stack of it. Money in hand, she’s confused, because this man paid with a black card, so what—

“Good.” 

Solana gaps and spins around, her eyes widening as she looks up. He’s a lot taller than she realized, burly body nearly eclipsing her view of anything else, silky black hair in such a neat, perfect bun. “Wanted to make sure you got it.”

Brows furrowed, it’s hard for her to speak for a lot of reasons. One of which is the fact that this man cannot be real. A man cannot be this handsome. But, he is real, and he’s looking at her.

And Soraya. 

“I—” She shakes her head, clearing her throat. “Is this—you already paid—”

“That’s not for the bill,” his voice is so velvety, smooth, and deep. “It’s your tip.”

Eyes widening, her gaze snaps to the wad of cash as Soraya continues to grasp and squeeze her shirt. She doesn’t even need to count to know that this is a nice amount of money. 

Too much.

“I can’t—it’s too much.” 

He chuckles, “do I look like I can’t afford it?” Her eyes roam over his big, muscular build dressed in fine, expensive looking clothes. He just oozes wealth. 

And power. 

“N–no.”

“Dealing with Samantha, trust me, you earned it.” Solana looks down, wanting to hide her small smile. His gaze redirects to the child in her arm. “Who is this?”

And just like that, Solana’s proud smile returns. “My daughter, Soraya.” It’s like Soraya knows she’s being discussed, lifting her little head to look at Roman. A big grin on her face before she buries her face into Solana’s neck. 

Roman makes a sound, and she can almost swear she sees the smallest smile on his handsome face. “She looks like you.”

That creates such a warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach, “thank you…..”

He looks at her a bit confused, like her unspoken question surprises him, before answering. “Roman.” Roman. “Roman Reigns.”

Roman Reigns. Even his name is powerful.

It fits him.

Solana shifts Soraya around as she starts to get wiggly in her arms. “Well, thank you, Mr. Reigns.” She’s certain the shock of just how much money this random, rich stranger has given her hasn’t truly set in. Because if it had, she’d have a much more visceral response. 

A lot more.

“Roman,” he corrects. “Call me Roman.” 

“Roman….” 

Something indecipherable flashes in his eyes, something that makes her feel a bit unnerved under his intense stare. It’s broken, however, by her now irritated daughter.

“Mama.” Soraya makes her dissatisfaction at being still for too long known by punching her tiny fist against Solana’s chest. “Mama!”

“Shhhhh,” Solana kisses her temple, trying to quiet her down before someone makes Aldis aware of her presence. She looks at Roman, eyes softening, “thank you again.”

Truly. Honestly. He hasn’t the slightest clue how much this will help her. It’s why she can stand here without anxiety and concern about making it to the bus stop on time. Tonight.....tonight she’ll treat herself and her baby with calling an Uber instead. 

Might even stop and pick up dinner.

Roman nods, eyes briefly glancing at her daughter again, the smallest smile on his face. “I’ll see you later, Solana.” His head dips a bit in acknowledgment towards her baby. “Soraya.”

The smile is plastered on her face even as he walks off without another word. And it’s only a good two minutes later that she catches onto what he said. A certain word in particular standing out the most. 

What did he mean by later?

[aldisobey]

OC Tag/Mood Game

Thanks for taaaags I’m in love with all your Rooks and will expound on it all later!!! @emmg @holdingontojupiter @ollypopwrites @thequeenofthewinter

I don’t have screenshots, enjoy this piece of Worne with his beloved necromancer by @qwiqwiaqwi instead. I’m combining two games and using ‘mood’ gifs because I've got a Foolproof chapter out coming later today that needs a little more work and gotta focus and I'm not gonna worry about it. Meet my rat. He loves Emmrich and also you. I'm answering these for the bodyguard AU Worne

General…

Name: Rook Worne Thorne

Alias: None really. Thorne is what the Kirkwall templars called him. Rook was given by Varric and he considers that his first real name. Worne was given by the Grey Wardens, drabble explanation here.

Gender: Male

Age: 32-34 he isn’t sure of his birthday

Spoken Language: Trade/Common, Dwarvish (He had a lot of Deep Roads duty)

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual - are you a consenting adult? He is keen.

Occupation: He’s been pickpocket, thief, mugger, prisoner and unwilling Grey Warden. He’ll tell you his real occupation is lover and he makes a great bodyguard.

Favorites…

Color: Greens, browns, if Emmrich makes him choose just one at dinner he’s pointing at those eyes.

Entertainment: Reading. Oral story telling, music, board games. Naps. He’d like and be good at offbeat sports like, disc golf, hacky sack, or yo-yo.

Pastime: Gardening. He has a greener thumb than Emmrich. Davrin says it’s because he’s part dirt. Also running. Loves to go on marathon type journeys for the feel of it.

Food: Literally anything. But he has a fondness for beer nuts and crab cakes you’d find at The Hanged Man, no one makes the crab cakes quite the same.

Drink: He’s a water man. Not much of a wine guy makes him sleepy. Enjoys his shitty beer. Polite about tea. Does not need coffee or care of it. And do not give him hard liquors it’s not a fun time for anyone.

Have they…

Passed University: He did not pass kindergarten. Never had a chance for schooling. But he is literate.

Had Sex: Yes. Plenty and more. He loves intimacy, loves pleasure, and he enjoys getting to know people. Enjoys discovering what they might like, slut for anyone that returns such favor.

Had Sex in Public: Weisshaupt is well aware of his ass. Minrathous has seen plenty. And the Necropolis doesn’t know what it’s in for.

Got Tattoos: Yep. He’s got the Kirkwall sigil high mid back between shoulder blades, and a rook chess piece somewhere he’s not telling.

Got Piercings: NO. He would end up hurt, they’re getting torn off somehow and it’s not his fault. A small wip showing why

Got Scarred: Yes. To a ridiculous degree. He’s been through a lot and uses his body as tool when he knows he has a healing mage around. Shivs, arrows, claws, teeth, spears, once a spoon, that was his fault. Those and more of all types have left marks on the scar latticed skin.

Had a Broken Heart: Maybe once. I think the Joining tried crushing it by taking a longtime friend he was warming to. But life has been so fast and violent he never had a chance to experience romance, never had an opportunity to give his heart to be broken. Honestly his heart is probably the strongest muscle in him. But has it been truly vulnerable yet?

Are they…

A Cuddler: One hundred percent yes, he’ll cuddle friends, he’ll sidle up to acquaintances that seem keen. He loves touch. Be it platonic or more sensual. He’d hold a hand forever, would never need encouragement to lean his head on a shoulder or pull someone into a hug.

Scared Easily: Conditional. Majority of the time no. Absolutely not. But he does have a fear of drowning and water. And necromancy. That’s a complicated affair. He kinda likes whatever that ‘fear’ is.

Jealous Easily: Conditional. He’s never had much, and doesn’t desire much. He doesn’t see people as ‘owning’ things how could he be jealous? If he needs it he’ll get it. Before Emmrich he never experienced relationship jealousy. Everything was surface level fwb, one night stand stuff. Once romantically involved with Emmrich he’s realized he’d be veeeeeery jealous if someone tried to take his place. He’s cool with consensual sharing but needs to know he’s foremost or he’s gonna look like a hurt puppy.

Trustworthy: Conditional. Around cheese? No. Sharp objects? Fire? Glass? Also no. But secrets and gossip and having your back? You won’t find better.

Family…

Sibling(s): None. But the Grey Wardens are his siblings. Every warden is considered family to him.

Parents: Dead before he could walk.

Children: Only if we’re counting Manfred. He’s a better uncle than primary parent, way too lenient.

Pets: He wants a griffon. Emmrich has tried explaining why that’s such a bad idea when they live in the Necropolis but the dream lives on and the flock consider him family.

Partner: I ADDED THIS ONE K Emmrich is gonna be family that's his husband right there. Okay they're not married and Emmrich might be accepting a betrothal to some young lady but that's his husband.

-----------------------------

and all y'all I want to see your Rooks link me to oc tag game and mood boards if you posted already!! @heylittleriotact @caffeinatedmunchkin @lavenderprose @thepalehorsevictoria @smoreofbabylon @xiomara42 @by-ilmater @razildor @draco-illius-noctis if I'm missing you shame me pls I will be contrite and give you pleasant words.

[0omillo0]

BIKER! BANGCHAN X BUSINESSWOMAN! READER

Warnings: Fluff!!

masterlist

The low hum of engines filled the night air as a group of motorcycles came to a halt outside a popular club on the outskirts of the city. Among the riders, Chris "BangChan" was the most prominent figure, known for his sleek black bike and the commanding presence that drew eyes his way. He took off his helmet, shaking out his tousled brown hair, and glanced toward the neon-lit entrance of the club. Another night, another distraction from the endless humdrum.

Meanwhile, inside the club, you were busy sipping on your third drink. It had been a long week at the office. Being a businesswoman was rewarding, but today was particularly exhausting with the never-ending meetings, reports, and deadlines. You needed this — an escape. A little buzz to let loose, even if for just one night.

Your normally polished and professional demeanor was unraveling, and while you knew it, you didn’t care. The alcohol was bringing out a version of yourself you hardly recognized — free, wild, a little reckless. It was the exact opposite of the poised businesswoman everyone knew during the day.

BangChan walked into the club, scanning the scene. It didn’t take long before his eyes fell on you — a woman in a sleek black dress, swaying to the music, drink in hand, with an air of confidence that matched his own. Except there was something different about you. A look in your eyes that drew him in.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the bar next to you. His deep voice had just the right amount of casual charm.

You turned, your gaze landing on him. Normally, you wouldn’t entertain some random guy at a club. You were busy, driven, and too focused on your career to waste time on flirtations. But the alcohol had loosened your walls.

“Well, aren’t you handsome?” you teased, a playful smile curling on your lips.

Chris chuckled, surprised by the boldness. “And you’re… interesting,” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s your name?”

“Why should I tell you?” you teased again, feeling bolder than usual.

“Because I’m curious.” He leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “And you look like someone worth knowing.”

Something about the way he looked at you made your heart race a little. Without thinking, you grabbed a napkin from the bar, scribbling your number down and sliding it toward him. “Here. Don’t make me regret it.”

BangChan raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the napkin with a smirk. “I won’t,” he promised, slipping the napkin into his pocket. “I’ll see you around… maybe sooner than you think.”

---

The Next Morning

The alarm blared loudly in your ear, pulling you from your deep slumber. You groaned, rubbing your temples. The throbbing headache reminded you of your little escapade last night, and flashes of the club came back in hazy fragments. Your eyes widened when you remembered the guy… and the number you gave him.

“No way,” you whispered to yourself. “I gave him my number?”

You threw off the covers and rushed to get ready for work. There was no time to dwell on your mistake — if it was a mistake. You had no idea who this BangChan guy was, but something told you he wasn't just going to let you forget him that easily.

---

Later at Work

It was a busy day at the office, as usual. Your professional mask was firmly back in place — sharp suit, high heels, hair pulled back in a tight bun. You were the embodiment of efficiency, commanding respect from everyone around you. No one would ever guess the carefree woman dancing in the club last night was the same person striding through these halls.

As you sat down to check your emails, your phone buzzed. A text message. You glanced at it, half-expecting it to be from a colleague, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name.

Chris (Motorbike Guy):

Hey, boss lady. Rough morning?

You stared at the message for a moment, the memory of last night hitting you all at once. How did he manage to look so effortlessly cool in just one text? You quickly typed a response.

You:

How do you even know I’m at work?

A moment later, your phone buzzed again.

Chris:

Because I’m outside your office.

Your breath hitched. What?! You stood up quickly, peeking out the window of your corner office. Sure enough, there he was — leaning casually against his motorcycle, sunglasses on, looking completely out of place in the corporate landscape but somehow making it work.

You grabbed your phone and called him.

“Are you serious?” you asked as soon as he picked up.

“Dead serious,” he replied with a chuckle. “You didn’t think I’d just forget about you, did you?”

“I was drunk,” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was overhearing. “That doesn’t mean you can just show up like this!”

“I don’t mind if you were drunk. I still liked what I saw,” Chris said, his voice deep and teasing. “Come down and have lunch with me.”

You sighed, torn between your work responsibilities and the allure of his bold, carefree attitude. You had meetings lined up, deadlines to meet… but a part of you couldn’t shake the memory of how alive you felt last night. Maybe this was a side of you worth exploring.

“I can’t,” you said, your voice firm. “I have work to do.”

“Alright,” Chris said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’ll wait.”

And wait he did. Every day for the next week, he was there — waiting outside your office, sending you playful texts, making it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. One day, he even left a small gift at the front desk — a sleek, custom-made helmet with a note that read: “For when you finally agree to ride with me.”

Your resolve was slowly breaking, but you held on. Work came first. It always had.

---

A Week Later

It was another long day at the office, and as you stepped out of the building, there he was again. But this time, instead of waiting by his bike, Chris stood right by the door. He had a bouquet of white lilies in hand, looking out of place in his leather jacket, but somehow, it made your heart flutter.

“Flowers now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re really pulling out all the stops.”

Chris smiled, handing them to you. “Figured you deserved something beautiful after a hard week.”

You stared at him for a moment, something inside you shifting. This wasn’t just a guy who wanted to get your number or flirt for a few days. He was serious. And despite your better judgment, you found yourself wanting to let him in.

With a sigh, you took the flowers and smiled softly. “Fine,” you said. “One ride. But if I regret this—”

“You won’t,” he interrupted, grinning as he handed you the helmet. “I promise.”

---

The wind whipped through your hair as you clung to Chris’s back, the city lights blurring around you. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t thinking about work, or deadlines, or responsibilities. You were just… living.

When the ride ended, you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. Chris parked the bike and turned to you, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Told you you’d like it.”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in years. “Okay, maybe I did.”

Chris stepped closer, his voice softening. “I like this side of you.”

You glanced up at him, your heart racing for an entirely different reason now. “What if I can’t always be like this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Then I’ll wait for the moments when you can. I like all of you, businesswoman and all.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. It was gentle at first, a tentative kiss, but soon it deepened, filled with the unspoken connection that had been building between you both.

When you finally pulled away, you were breathless, your mind swirling with thoughts of everything that had led you here.

“I think I made the right decision,” you whispered, smiling.

Chris grinned, his hands still resting on your waist. “Told you I’d make sure you wouldn’t regret it.”

And for the first time in a long while, you knew he was right.

[kvroomi]

you don’t even look at him when he inches up beside you. instead, you keep your gaze locked onto the canvas: an abstract slather of purple and blue paint, vaguely resembling the essence of regret.

fitting.

gojo leans in with the social awareness of someone who has never once read a room.

“i see you’re admiring asymmetry of want,” he murmurs the words deliberately and amused, inches from your ear. the art gallery is filled with nothing but the squeaking and shuffling of shoes, and the warm press of his presence at your side sets your nerves thrumming. you don’t turn. you don’t breathe. your jaw is tight enough to ache and your lips purse even harder when he continues to run his mouth. “i’d say the title’s a little on the nose considering you’ve been ignoring me all night.”

you clench your jaw. “go away—you’re being a nuisance.”

“i prefer the words ambiguous or esoteric, but hey,” he throws his hands up in mock defence, his expression wide-eyed and smug. “i don’t control your vocabulary.”

“you crashed my dinner with my coworkers and my boss, told them i talk in my sleep—specifically about work emails—and then suggested they let me take mental health naps in the supply closet.”

gojo blinks. “i was looking out for you! you can't seriously be mad about that.”

“oh but i am, actually.”

his mouth opens, ready to spill a witty reply before your finger is raised in a silent command—do not even think about talking, i'm not finished.

"not only that, but you tried to squeeze into a seat next to me and knocked over a glass of water onto my boss’s lap! i mean fine, accidents happen but did you really need to scream bloody murder in the middle of the restaurant when it happened?"

“alright, fine—maybe i overreacted a little bit—but it's ancient history now!"

“it was three hours ago, satoru!”

“time is relative,” he says, serene as a monk. there is not a single trace of urgency emanating off of him, as if he believes your fit of anger is all just a passing storm he can easily sunbathe through. “and besides, i charmed her by the end of the night anyways so she's probably forgotten about it.”

“yes, because charming someone over means insulting their crystal collection.”

“making every decision in your life based off of a couple rocks is brainless!”

you exhale sharply through your nose, refusing to let your volume rise in the echo-prone, white-walled hell of pretentious lighting and overpriced wine. “i am this close to shoving you into that installation piece behind us.”

“i’m 90% sure it’s just a trash can with a lumps of yarn in it.”

“and i’m 100% sure i don’t care. you'd fit right in.”

he grins, impossibly calm as his eyes follow the arches and curves of your face. you want to recoil at the intensity of his gaze, but it's difficult when it holds a fondness in it that you can't help but mirror in your own eyes. “you get this intense, cute, little wrinkle right here when you’re mad.” he reaches up and tries to smooth the furrow between your brows with his thumb like it'll erase your irritation along with it.

you slap his hand away. “do not touch me with your grimy hands right now.”

he has the gall to pout. “but they’re so gentle... like doves... or—" you turn to walk away from him mid sentence, overwhelmed with the feeling of frustation. "yikes, you must be really mad.”

whirling back towards him, eyes blazing, your words are sharp and low enough to kill gojo a man. “you think this is funny."

before he can even think about butting in with another word, you continue. "you think you can just breeze in, flirt and woo your way out of this—but let me make this clear: you are not entertaining anyone. in fact, you are irritating the ever living fuck out of me. newsflash, satoru: being noticed is not the same as being wanted."

and as if gojo couldn't get any more insufferable, he places a hand over his heart as the other wipes an invisible tear from his eye in faux appreciation. “that last bit was art—but i must point out...”

you are absolutely enraged now.

gojo on the other hand? he has the nerve to lean in like he’s about to tell you a secret in some intimate moment and not the brink of your moral collapse.

“you’re still talking to me,” he whispers. “mad? sure. but you' re still standing here, and you're still giving me that look like you want to kiss me or kill me though i haven’t quite yet decided which.”

you glare. “do not flatter yourself.”

he smiles, though softly this time, eyes flickering with subtle regret and you know better than anyone that he genuinely does feel sorry. you also know that once you're both home—maybe when you're both in bed—he'll whisper his heartfelt apologies to you, and contrary to your long monologue, he will woo his way out of it.

“i don’t have to,” he says. “you’re doing it for me.”

you stare falters and your mouth falls into a subtle gape, proof of your stunned silence.

it’s not that he wins, because he never quite wins with the way you scowl at him for hours after he's done something wrong. but he’s infuriating in the way that he knows you, really knows you—which means you don’t get to stay mad at him for long without him successfully saying something corny or cheesy that makes breathing feel that little bit harder.

a gallery attendant walks by and throws you a politely, concerned glance, probably wondering if you’re about to cause a scene in front of the painting.

you sigh through your gritted teeth. “you’re lucky i don’t want to ruin yuki’s art show.”

“which is why i waited until we got to the quietest, most echo-y part of the exhibit to approach you. see? i’m being considerate.”

“you're such an ass.”

he's already hooking his fingers around yours in the most arrogantly casual way possible when he pulls you in and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “you still love me.”

you stare at your linked hands.

then at his insufferable, perfect face.

then, dropping your head, you groan—loudly.

it echoes, obviously, and lands you a plethora of confused stares.

“i’m going to kill you,” you mumble.

“I’d probably be into that.”

you look up.

he grins.

you don’t unlink your fingers.

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