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fandomfics · 3 months ago

Text

Anything for You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem Reader

Description: undercover jobs are always risky, but when you're caught going against the gang you and Dean have fallen in with, Dean is forced to do something drastic.

Masterlist

A/N: I love Dean. That is all

⚠️Warnings⚠️

18+ MDNI

Past/memories in italics. Canon typical violence, language, use of restraints, alcohol use, drunkenness, dark themes, human trafficking, murder, talk of vamps, no actual vamps appear. unprotected p in v, oral F receiving, angst, fluff, smut. The whole 9 yards. Not proof read.

Smut under the 🔥

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You are on your knees on the hard concrete, sitting on your heels, blindfolded. The rope that binds your wrists behind your back digs into you, the friction burning your sensitive skin. The smell of blood invades your nostrils, you can only hope it's not Dean's.

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"This could take weeks. We need to make sure that we don't blow this before we find the nest. " Dean sighs putting his head in his hands.

"We'll be fine. As fucked up as it is, them using a shelter as a cover will help us. My intel says they mostly pose as volunteers, they just hand the people off, No kidnap or torture at this stage. We pass the info to Sammy when we get it," you gesture to him across the table, "and he'll let the other hunters know the drop point."

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You curse yourself under your breath as you remember those words, you should have been prepared for the unexpected. Your sense of time is distorted, your body is weak, you just want to fall to your side and pass out. You resist the urge and continue straining your ears to hear anything outside of the concrete room you are in. Nothing. Every pair of shoes you have are modified to carry a blade of some sort, You take the silence as your que to remove it and work at the rope. Periodically you stop to listen for any indication of footsteps, when you are satisfied by the silence you continue.

After what feels like an eternity, you're finally able to free yourself. When you draw up the blindfold you see the bare concrete room with a single light dangling from the ceiling and a door in front of you.

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The shelter you stand in front of is quiet and unassuming, the sign above you flickers momentarily, 'Hope's Haven'. Your gut clenches, places like this are supposed to be safe for the less fortunate. You're spurred on to take out this threat and move forward, duffle slung over your shoulder.

Dean is hot on your heels as you enter the building, "We're the new in-house caretakers." You say plainly, looking over the receptionist, wondering if she's part of this whole game.

"Door at the end of the hallway." She considers you and Dean for a moment before returning to her computer.

You pass several doors, every one marked, men's and women's dorms, family dorms, restrooms, showers, cafeteria, rec room. The door at the end of the hallway is marked volunteers only.

Behind the door is a staircase that leads to the small volunteers dorm, a few individual rooms and bathrooms, and a door marked 'Do Not Enter.' each door of the dorms has a white board on it with the names of the occupants, you quickly find the one marked with yours and Dean's chosen alias'.

"I'm surprised you let me pick the names. No protest either. I expected more from you Dean." You chuckle as you start to unpack your things.

His eyes narrow as he realizes he's missed something, "what do you mean?"

"You know," you stiffle a full on giggle before continuing, "Stevie Nicks is a woman right....and Lindsey Buckingham is a dude."

"Really?" Dean says Incredulously. "I guess it's a good thing no one ever thinks twice when we give our cover names..."

You can no longer keep your laughter in, bursting out in a fit as you fall back into the bed. "Right, no one EVER second guesses them." The sarcasm in your voice evident as your laugh dies down.

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You hear footsteps approaching outside the door and reposition yourself to sit against the wall, replacing the blindfold, hands behind your back with your small knife in one.

The creak of the door causes your muscles to tense, but then you hear his voice.

"Fuck, are you okay?" You can hear Dean making his way across the room to you as you quickly bring your hands up to remove the blindfold. He drops to his knees next to you and cups your face in his hands waiting for your reply. When you don't respond quickly enough he lightly taps your cheek with his hand, "Hey!"

"I-I'm fine." You look at him in shock, "Dean...why are you covered in blood?"

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"I told you to fucking wait for me!" Deans exasperation was clear, "You think they really believe that you weren't in that office snooping?"

"Would they let me go if they didn't?" You plop down on the bed in your shared room and start to take off your shoes.

"Maybe not, but you still should have waited dammit." His voice was quiet, almost inaudible. You pause briefly before continuing in a totally different direction.

"Come on, it's the fourth night we've been here, stop sleeping on the floor. I'm not gonna give you cooties." You say playfully trying to change the subject.

"Fine, I guess that's a suitable punishment for making me worry."

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You've barely slept, huddled with your back against the wall, Dean takes up most of the bed. As much as you would love to just cuddle up to him, he's your best friend. You've harbored a bit of a crush on him for years, but you know he doesn't feel the same, you've accepted that.

You're letting your mind wander until he begins to shift beside you and suddenly his face is inches from yours.

"Dean." His name a hoarse whisper. When he doesn't stir you try again, this time louder, "Dean!"

His eyes open slowly, "hmm?" When he is finally able to focus he realizes how close he is. "I told you this was your punishment. I'm not moving." You push his chest trying to get him to move but he doesn't budge.

"I can't sleep, you're taking up the whole fucking bed." You whine, exasperated from your exhaustion.

He wraps his arm around you and pulls you a bit closer as his eyes slowly close again. "Come on. We're friends, you don't have to be afraid to touch me, get some sleep." He turns away from you and gives you a bit more room. You follow suit, turning to your other side to face the wall and finally drift off.

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When the alarm wakes you in the morning you feel the heaviness of Dean's arm draped over your waist. He stirs behind you and swings his arm back to turn the alarm off before leaving it back where it was.

"Mornin'" His voice is groggy

"Dean...what are you doing?"

"Shit, sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?" He starts to move away but you catch his hand before he can, keeping it firmly planted where it lays on your stomach.

"No, it's nice." You are emboldened by his touch and allow your fingers to trace over his hands.

You feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear, "Yeah..." He quietly agrees before lightly kissing your cheek. Your heart swells and flutters and you have to stop yourself from overthinking this. He isn't confessing his love your you, he's just enjoying cuddle. It doesn't mean anything.

You wait a couple minutes in silence, enjoying a little taste of domestic bliss with Dean before reluctantly pushing his arm away and speaking again, "Come on, we gotta get up." You sit up and stretch, turning to Dean, "Come on!" He turns to lay face down, the pillows muffle his clear rejection at the thought.

"We've got shit to do. Come. On." You stand on your knees and push at his body again, trying to roll him out of bed. When that doesn't work you begin to poke and prod at him.

"I don't wanna." He groans.

As a last resort you stand up and start bouncing up and down, it's childish, but you're having the time of your life annoying Dean until he turns and sits up. You stop your antics, standing above him within arms reach, out of breath and giggling. His face softens and he smiles.

"You're a god damned pest, ya know that?" He chuckles and finally swings his legs over the side of the bed.

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"We can talk about it when we get out of here." Dean says as he helps you up from the concrete floor.

He checks you over before grabbing your hand to make a run for it. Everything is oddly quiet and you meet no resistance on your way to baby. In an instant your on the road making your way out of town in silence.

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You've barely slid out of the bed when you hear the door open. Some of the bigger goons of this operation stand on either side of the door as the woman you assumed to be the receptionist in your time here walks in with a look of disappointment on her face.

"You can't just barge into-" Dean starts protesting before one of the men point a gun at you. He stops and keeps his eye on him with a glare. "What do you want?" Dean says harshly.

"Her." The woman states rather plainly.

"Why?"

"She violated my privacy, caught her snooping through my things."

"What? No I didn't!" You try desperately to lie.

"Honey, I got you on camera."

Deans face drops as he looks to you, his face contorted in surprise and anger.

"Oh," she feigns pity, "you didn't know what she was doing without you? Wonder what else she gets up to behind your back?"

You're both too stunned for words as she turns with one last statement, "lock her up, don't torture her too much. She may still be useful. And Stevie, you'll need to work extra hard around here if you ever want to see her again." She snaps her fingers and the men drag you off to the room.

"Just do what they say, help them finish the job. don't worry about me." You try and tell Dean as he calls after you.

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An eternity passes in silence and night falls. A neon sign in the distance advertises a motel with a 24 hour diner across the street, you sigh in relief knowing he'll stop.

When you've showered and eaten you both lay in your respective beds in the dark. Dean has still barely said a word to you, the tension has made you anxious. You fade in and out of consciousness, your thoughts never ceasing. You remain restless.

You look to the clock on the nightstand. 3:17am. You run a hot bath, hoping it will help to ease your tense muscles, you pour the lavender shampoo in the running water, hoping the calming scent will ease your mind.

You let out a sigh as you sink in, your thoughts still lingering on the question you've pondered since leaving. What did Dean do that would cause him to be so distant?

Your snapped out of your thoughts when you hear a knock on the door. The water has grown cold and you're unsure how long you had been in there. "How much longer you gonna be? I need to piss." You hear Dean's gruff voice from the other side of the door.

"I'll be out in a sec." You quickly dry yourself off and dress allowing Dean the restroom. You sit on his bed, lights on, waiting for him to finish. He doesn't seem surprised, but he still doesn't want to talk.

"Dean, tell me what happened."

"I saved you, end of story." His climbs back into his bed and turns away from you. "Get the lights will ya?"

You scoff, "if it's that fucking simple, why can't you talk to me about it?"

He remains silent, no sign of any change. "Fine." Tears sting your eyes as you move back to your bed, turning the lights off on the way.

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You sit in the kitchen of the bunker with Sam. Same thing you've done a million times before.

"It's been three months Sam. Has barely talks to me. It fucking hurts."

"He still won't tell me anything about it either-"

"Yeah, but at least he doesn't treat you like the worst thing that ever happened to him, like a plague. We used to be so close, now we're practically strangers. I don't know if I can keep living here like this. I don't want to."

You hear footsteps retreating away towards the library and look to Sam.

"Well go tell him that. I don't want you to go, but I don't blame you either."

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You walk into the library to see Dean sitting at a table, hunched over a book, deep in thought.

"I'm leaving, I can't live here anymore." You say matter of factly.

"Okay. Have a nice life." Dean doesn't look up from his reading.

You march over to where he sits and fling everything in front of him off the table in a rage.

"What the fuck happened to you Dean? You have made these last few months an absolute living hell for me. We were best friends, we shared almost everything with each other." Your tears fall freely as you scream, he avoids your eyes.

"You can't even look at me. Like whatever happened is my fucking fault, but you're too chicken shit to say what it was."

You start to pace around as he stands up to leave.

"You're gonna run away from me again?" You stalk forward and shove him back, "Just tell me you hate me, you don't want to be near me, you don't want anything to do with me anymore. Something, anything. Give me some god damn peace Dean Winchester." You try to push him again and he catches your arms before they can make contact with his chest and you struggle to free yourself from his grip.

"I wish you left sooner. I thought maybe you woulda got the hint sooner. You're making this whole thing harder for both of us." He finally looks into your eyes after months, you're clearly in pain. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief of his words, as a sob shakes your body and your legs stop working. He catches you and sits you in the chair he was occupying.

You feel as though the man you thought he was is dead, and you sit in front of a facsimile of him, mourning the loss of someone who was once dear to you.

His hands slam on the table and you flinch at the sudden noise. "You want to know why I don't talk to you? Cause I killed five people. People, not monsters. I didn't think twice about doing it. I did it to save your sorry ass."

You sit in stunned silence as he leaves the room. You're heartbroken, you never would have expected him to be so cruel to you of all people.

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Torture? Absolutely the fuck not. Dean is going to take down every one of them before they can touch a hair on your head. He gets dressed and opens the door to find one of the large men guarding it.

"What? You supposed to follow me around?"

He nods solemnly. Without warning Dean pulls a small knife from his pocket and stabs the man right in the neck. As he begins to fall Dean catches him and drags him into the room before holstering the knife and continuing on.

His rage bubbles in his gut, consuming him entirely, his body moves without a second thought. His mission to rescue you is clear, damn the job, damn these fucking people.

One by one he finds each of the other people and puts them down without hesitation.

Something snaps when he finally releases you and is running for the exits. He just murdered five people. They weren't good people by any mans, but they weren't monsters in the literal sense.

The entire ride to the motel was silent, his mind was overwhelmed with the thoughts of how far he went to rescue you, how much it scares him that he was willing to take these humans out, for you. The fact that he would do it again a hundred times over if it means you're safe.

As much as he doesn't want you to leave, he is afraid of the lengths he will go to, the things he will do for you.

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Sam finds you in the library an hour later, hunched over the desk, still crying. He kneels beside you and puts a hand on your back to sooth you. You immediately turn into him and engulf him in a hug as you explain what happened. Your ever dutiful friend listens to every word as he allows you to cling to him, rubbing your back.

"I'm so sorry," he says as he squeezes you tightly. "I understand if you still want to leave, but you need to rest a bit now." You nod into his shoulder and he helps you up, guiding you to your room and laying you in bed. As he leaves you turn to face the wall and cry yourself to sleep.

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In the middle of the night you find yourself in desperate need of hydration. On your way back from the kitchen you turn a corner and collide hard with Dean. The glass in your hands drops to the floor and shatters sending water and sharp shards across the hallway. You're about to berate Dean, take all your anger out on him until you realize he's been crying.

He turns and makes his way back to his room without a word and you follow close behind.

"What the fuck do you have to cry about Winchester? Huh? You tore me to pieces like I didn't mean a thing and you're crying?" You scoff.

He ignores your words and you keep going. "Still don't want to talk? You killed those people. Not me. I told you to finish the job, not to worry about me. You decided to do all that yourself. So stop taking it out on me you selfish prick. Hate me all you want, but that was your decision."

He stops in his tracks just as he crosses the threshold of his room and finally turns his head to address you. "I don't hate you."

"Unbelievable."

"You're not going to leave me alone are you?" He turns to you fully now, "You aren't getting it. I killed those people because the thought of them touching you in any way was terrifying to me. The thought of losing you forever filled me with blind rage. You were careless and got yourself caught and I couldn't deal with it. The fact that I could do that for you fucking scares me. I was the monster."

His door slams in your face and you are left speechless. You have no idea how you feel, your thoughts are jumbled and you want nothing more than to quiet them down.

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You and a bottle of rum occupy the kitchen for the remainder of the night. You talk to yourself, to the bottle, to imaginary Dean as you play out how future conversations may go. You're emotions are scattered to the winds and you just want to drink until you're numb.

Half the bottle is gone and your head lays on your folded arms at the table. You hear someone walking in but all you can do is groan pitifully. Your vision is blurred and your head is fuzzy but you recognize Dean's voice through it it.

"Jesus Christ," you hear the bottle being picked up and unceremoniously slammed back down. "This isn't going to help."

"Yeronetatalk" your words slur together.

Without another word he lifts you from the chair and takes you to your room. As much as you want to protest, you can't, you're too drunk. He lays you in your bed and leaves for a few minutes. He returns with a gallon jug of water, a cup, a trash can, and some aspirin.

He pulls a chair up next to the bed and puts his head in his hands. He spends hours there with you, mostly asleep, but taking care of you when you're not, holding your hair back, urging you to drink water.

"I'm sorry." You hear him whisper when he thinks your asleep. "I didn't want this."

Your heart hurts. So does everything else. Your eyes open and he urges you to drink more water and take the aspirin.

"Dean," his eyes meet yours. "I'm sorry...for being reckless. I should have waited for you. You're right. But don't you dare blame me for what you did."

"I'm sorry too. I know it wasn't your fault that I did it for you. I just wanted you to leave so I wouldn't have to worry about losing you in the worst ways imaginable. I wanted you to run off and find a nice normal guy to settle down with and live a nice normal life. I've been....selfish. "

Again you're left speechless at the vulnerability that Dean is showing. He's finally talking to you again and dropping his innermost thoughts, it's dizzying.

"You're one of the most important people in my life, my best friend, I love you."

"Dean, I love you too, I never wanted to leave, you just made me feel like trash. Like nothing. I don't know what this means for our friendship, but you really fucking hurt me. Im not going anywhere though."

"I don't just love you as a friend. That's not what I meant." He whispers "but I understand, I wouldn't want to even be my friend after what I've done to you."

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The next day him and Sam leave to go take care of a simple haunting. They should only be gone a few days, a week at most with delays. You take the time to try and do things you enjoy. You relax. For the first time in months. Now you know everything, it still hurts, but you aren't in the dark anymore.

You use the time to think about what you want. You think about Dean saying the words you've wanted to hear for so long. Even after all that you are still in love with him too.

You spend the next four days mulling everything over, weighing all of your options, going through every scenario in your head. Every outcome.

This is the first time in the years that you've known him that Dean has ever done anything to purposely upset you. You understand why. Can you forgive him?

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You hear them return and rush to Dean's room to wait for him. You play with your fingers nervously as you sit on the bed, it feels like time slows as you wait.

"Oh, Hey." He says somewhat suspiciously as the door opens.

"Hey," a small smile graces your lips. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah....yeah. " he drops his duffle in the floor and sits next to you on the bed, suddenly finding his hands very interesting.

"I forgive you. You should forgive yourself too. Those were terrible people. They knew what they were sending those people into. They knew they would die."

He looks up to you in surprise, "They were still human though."

"They've led hundreds of people to their deaths, knowingly. Fuck them. I know you Dean. You wouldn't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it."

"I did though... I hurt you."

"Okay, but you usually don't." You place your hand on his. His eyes meet yours before you continue, "That's why I forgive you."

"I don't deserve it."

"I think you do, so get over it and accept it because I'm in love with you too. You're never getting rid of me now."

"You can't be serious." You cup his face with your hands and pull him in for a gentle kiss which he eagerly returns.

"I am," you say pulling away, "get some rest, you're taking me out on a date later. And I want something fancy. Pick me up at eight."

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At exactly 8pm, Dean knocks on your door. He extends a single red rose when you open the door, a wide goofy grin adorns you face as you look him over in his suit. You take the rose and place it in the glass of water at your bedside before returning to him.

"You look beautiful. You always look beautiful." You look down as a blush comes to your cheeks.

"Thank you," you reach up on tip toes and kiss him on the cheek. "You look handsome as usual." You smile up at him.

"So, where are you taking me Mr. Winchester?" He extends an arm and you take it as he leads you to the garage.

"It's a surprise." He winks and your heart flutters.

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"Truth or Dare?" Dean asks you, it's your first night at the shelter and you and Dean are passing time with a game.

"Uhhhh, truth."

"What's your ideal date?"

"What an odd question from you," you laugh, "a picnic under the stars, dancing slow in the moonlight, maybe a bit of wine."

"That is so fucking sappy." Dean laughs and you stick your tongue out at him playfully.

"Whatever. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"What's your ideal date?" You chuckle maniacally.

"Whatever gets me laid." He laughs heartily and you roll your eyes.

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"Close your eyes." Dean holds you hand as he drives, after about 15 minutes of driving the car comes to a stop and Dean takes your hand. Your confused when you step out and feel the crunch of gravel beneath your feet, after a short walk it turns to grass.

"Okay, open your eyes." Dean drops your hand and leans down to press play on a. Old boom box and Lady by Styx begins to play. You stand on a hilltop, a tree before you is covered in fairy lights, on the ground is a blanket that's been laid out, he sets a basket on the ground and gestures for you to sit. The moon is full, the sky is littered with stars, everything is perfect.

"I know it's not fancy like you said... But-"

"You remembered." You whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"Of course I did." He smiles. You enjoy a charcuterie board, conversation, wine. You spend a while just enjoying each other's company, laying on the ground staring up at the stars. The tape that was playing finally ends and Dean switches to a new tape before standing up and extending his hand to you.

Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley begins to play and you take his hand. He helps you up and pulls you close, "dance with me?"

You nod your head, one hand clasped in his as the other rests on his chest. His other hand pulls you by the waiste, impossibly close. You sway slowly, looking up into his eyes. "You're so fucking sappy." You grin.

"Anything for you." He looks deep into your eyes before continuing, "I want to ask you something."

"Yeah?"

"Before I ask, I want to promise that I will always be honest with you from now on. I won't ever hide anything unless it's a really cool surprise for you."

"Okay," you giggle

"Will you be my girl?"

"Abso-fuckin-lutely." You bring him in for a kiss. It's soft and sweet, you feel a warmth flood through your body. "And I promise to try and not be so reckless."

He smiles and plants a quick peck on your lips before pulling away to get a velvety rectangular box out of his jacket pocket. He opens it in front of you and you can't help but laugh boisterously at his cheesy gift.

A dainty silver chain with a "D."

"You hate it." He says looking down.

"No, it's the cheesiest fucking thing and I absolutely adore it. Help me put it on!" He moves behind you and clasps it around your neck before snaking his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder. You rest one hand on his and cup his face with the other.

"I'm never taking this off." He gives you a little squeeze and sways with you to the next song that plays. "I love you dean." He hums contentedly.

"I love you too." He says softly before kissing your neck. A small moan escapes your lips and you feel him smirk into your neck. You tilt your head and allow him to continue and he takes the invitation with no hesitation. A shiver runs down your spine when he hits your pulse point and you turn in his arms tilting your head up just as his lips crash into yours.

🔥

This kiss is deeper, voracious, his desire is evident in the way he holds you to him, and you're returning it right back to him.

"Dean," you pant after breaking the kiss, "do you think we'd get caught for public indecency out here?"

His eyes widen as he takes your meaning, "Babe, it'd be worth it even if we did."

You giggle as he backs you up against the tree and kisses down your body, when he's on his knees he looks up to you, "Tell me. Tell me what you want."

"I want you. I want to feel you inside of me, I want you to claim me."

"Fuck." He moans out before pushing his hands through the slit in your dress to remove your underwear. He shoves them in his pocket, "Those are mine now." He winks before hiking one leg over his shoulder, displaying your dripping cunt to him.

He immediately dives in, the obscene sounds of him devouring you mixed with both of your moans cut through the silence of the night. His hands gently caress your legs leaving a delightful tingle that causes you to shiver as the bark of the tree digs into your back with a pleasurable pinch of pain. He moves his focus to your clit as he allows a finger to prod your entrance.

"Yes, please, Dean..." You whisper breathlessly. He hums, sending a vibration through you and you can't help but buck into it. Your hands weave into his hair, gently pulling as you continue to roll your hips into him. He fully inserts his finger and curls it right against your sweet spot, eliciting a squeak of surprise from you that quickly turns to a moan.

He adds another finger and continues pumping them into you, moaning every time you pull his hair and grind against his face.

"Dean...fuck, just like that.... I'm gonna cum." Your cunt tightens, pulsing as your release hits and you cum hard on his fingers as he helps you ride it out. He immediately laps it up and removes his fingers. You moan as you watch him lick them clean. The lower half of his face is covered in your slick, igniting your desire to feel him again.

You grab the lapels of his jacket and yank him to you, his mouth finds yours again and you taste yourself on him. Your hand travels down his chest to the hard outline of his cock. You gently run a finger over it, teasing him until he's a shivering mess.

"Babe please." He whispers into your mouth. You make quick work of releasing him, he hikes your leg up, keeping one hand on your thigh as he lines up to your entrance. He slowly rolls his hips until he's fully inside of you.

He continues languidly rolling his hips, his free hand cups your face as his forehead rests against yours, his eyes firmly gazing into yours. The connection you feel is deeper than just the physical way your bodies are melding.

You call out his name in a breathy moan and his hips move a bit faster, "where?"

"Cum inside me, please Dean. I want to feel you."

"Fuck, you drive me wild. Cum with me." Your hand finds your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. Your eyes close involuntarily in bliss, "Eyes on me beautiful."

"Almost...."

Another wave of pleasure washes over you, you pulse and contract around Dean as you both cry out in pleasure. You feel him spill inside you with a few final languid thrusts. He stays there, cradling your face in his hand, catching his breath.

After his breathing steadies, he releases your leg and puts himself away. He takes one of the extra cloth napkins he brought and pours some water on it before getting on one knee in front of you. His hands guide your foot to rest on his leg to open you up to him once more and he cleans you up, lovingly planting kisses to your inner thigh.

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saturnville · 7 months ago

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Voting for more hamilton content!!!

wash day, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x she (black fem oc) content: non-physical intimacy is just as important as physical intimacy. warnings: none. an: the girlies want lh content, so here we are! likes are cool, but we love reblogs and comments! let me know what you think <3

The soft pallets of her fingertips danced along his scalp. Her manicured nails brushed the sides of his temples, swiping away any beads of stress and insecurity that might have lingered longer than needed. Her gentle actions pulled a moan from his throat. She smiled softly.

A soft hum from the fan in the bathroom was the only sound that could be heard. That and the sloshing of the water in the tub when they moved ever so slightly.

She combed through the beautiful coils upon his head with her fingers carefully. With ease, the knots and tangles broke away. Strands of his hair fell upon her wrist as she raked through his locks.

Wash day was her favorite as much as it was his. It was a time for intimacy between them that did not require any sexual activity. Non-sexual intimacy was important. She stood by the sentiment and was willing to die on the hill most desired to climb upward in competition. There were important things, she noted, that deserved cultivation and just as much attention as learning her partner’s body. If she was honest, she felt closer to him in moments like these compared to when his body was pressed against hers.

She easily remembered the first time she participated in wash day with him. She came over one Sunday afternoon and found him in the bathroom scrubbing away at his scalp with his shirt drenched in water. She vividly remembered giggling at his state and offering to lend a hand, which he desperately needed. Sure, some people did his hair for him, but he figured he’d try it out himself. He did learn, however, he enjoyed it when she did it. There was something about being trapped between her legs as she wrapped his ringlets around her fingers, that he couldn’t get enough of.

“My hands are starting to prune,” she admitted as she dropped her hands into the water. She swished her hands to remove the remnants of deep conditioner trapped between her fingers. “You let this sit for a few minutes. I’m gonna rinse off in the other shower.”

She pressed her hands against the floor of the tub to push her body up, but his hands against her thighs halted her movements. “Mhm, stay.” His fingers danced along her calves.

“By the time you get out, I’ll be waiting for you. I don’t want to shrivel up,” she replied, tapping his shoulder. With a dissatisfied groan, he released her body from the trap he had her in. She pecked his neck as she stood to her feet.

His eyes were on her as she walked towards the rack that held her black towel. His eyes followed the droplets of water that slivered down her chest, to her hips, and down her brown legs. His tongue grazed over his lip. She sent him a wink before exiting the bathroom and starting towards the other one.

He joined her hardly ten minutes later. She jumped when she felt his hands on her hips. She turned in his arms, gently shoving his shoulder as a repercussion for scaring her. The playful scowl on her lips did nothing but only egg on his desire for her.

“Sorry, baby,” he mumbled, drawing her wet body close to his. She hummed in response, allowing her lips to brush against his. Her teeth gently nipped along his bottom lip before capturing his mouth completely in a steam-filled kiss. She swallowed his quiet noises and broke away before his wandering hands spurred her on.

The warm water beating against them only intensified the heat burning between them. By the time the fire was extinguished, the water was as cold as a winter day, probing them to exit the shower.

“You don’t make yourself discreet at all,” she said while looking over her shoulder at her lover who smiled innocently. He was perched against the doorframe, a gray towel tied tightly around his waist. His damp hair leaked small droplets of water that slid down his bare chest. He smiled at her.

She shook her head and continued to moisturize. She slid on a clean shirt and underwear. She sat on their shared bed and ushered for him to get dressed so she could finish his hair.

“You want two pieces left out or not?” she trailed off once he sat on the floor between her legs. Beside her was the “hair bin” filled with the creams, serums, gels, and oils they used on their thick locks.

“No,” he replied, lifting his arms to place them on her thighs. His fingers drew imaginary doodles on her skin. Mumbling a quiet, “Okay,” she retrieved what she needed from the hair bin and began combing his hair softly.

Small conversations and little comments were made, but, a comfortable, silence dawned over them. She was focused on parting, moisturizing, and braiding his ringlets, and he was basking in the relaxation he felt. He nodded off a few times, only to be awoken by her giggles.

“I’m almost done, baby,” she assured. She took a nice amount of oil in her palms and rubbed them together, taking the time to massage his scalp softly. She ran her hands over his hair, watching as the curls jumped under her fingertips. She wiped her glistening hands on an old towel and then patted his shoulder.

“You’re good to go. Tie it up.” She tossed a black durag at him, which he caught with easily.

“Thank you, baby.” He kissed her gently. She smiled and pushed the hair bin to the side, making a mental note to put it away in the morning.

Tiredly, she pushed her body up the bed and swiped her scarf from underneath her pillow. It was silk and smelled like a variety of oils. She tied the fabric around her twisted hair and laid against the pillow. Just moments later he climbed in bed next to her. He was quick to engulf her in his arms and press a gentle kiss against her forehead.

“You know I love you right?”

“Mhm,” she hummed. “I love you too. That’s the only reason I’ll spend four hours doing your hair every month.”

“I’m lucky to have you,” he said in response. His words were muffled as his lips moved against her neck. She sighed softly at the feeling of the open-mouthed kisses against her neck and his hands against the flesh of her thighs.

“I’m lucky to have you,” she replied quietly. “and also lucky that wash day is over. I’m going to bed; cuddle me.”

Lewis hummed and slid his hand beneath her shirt, palming the heavy flesh of her chest. “Yes ma’am.”

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #lh44 #team lh44 #lh44 x reader #sir lewis hamilton

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creatingblackcharacters · 5 days ago

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hi there; first, thank you for making this blog and all the lessons you do, i really appreciate them as a Black person because it highlights a lot of struggles i face with fandoms in general, and why i dont interact more in certain spaces. it makes me feel seen

with regards to your questions, i'd also like answers to them from nonblack fans, especially nonblack anime fans. i don't even mean consuming anime with overtly racist caricatures of black characters (because numerous anime fans pirate their anime and never send a cent to the creators anyway), i mean how can they make fanworks of it?

how can they look at something that they are told is wildly offensive, but then defend with "well, this is how it looks in canon"? where is the line drawn between what's okay and what isn't? as long as it's slow and gradual, is there no line at all?

these are probably just rehashings of your own followup questions, so please excuse that, but i do have an anecdote

i joined a casual anime server the other day and a lot of folks were lamenting one Black character's racist design and how often those on social media will replicate it without thinking/caring. The thing that struck me is that, I've checked this character's tumblr tag regularly for a long time. There are always people who will post art/fanworks of this character with his racist design. Yet hardly ever, if ever, (outside of Black fans) have I seen any of these folks- the ones in the discord server- try to talk to artists/writers/fan creators/etc via asks/replies/etc. There's a notable amount of people in that server and a notable amount that agreed the design was outright racist and that they'll never make fanworks like that, and yet still silence

i'm not entirely sure what would be the line, or the "okay, that's enough" moment to spur any of these folks into action. i'm not sure if there is one. the only reason i don't make my own "hey what is wrong with all of you" post and blow up is because I've made a wonderful little friend group in this fandom who get it, and I don't want them to get caught up in whatever happens if I were to make a post like that

And this is just for getting people to stop using the canon design of the character, i.e., to stop drawing him as a racist caricature. This isn't touching on the people who 1) lighten his skintone [he's been horribly whitewashed over time, which has been reflected in some fanarts and fan merch], or 2) give him a looser hair/straight hair texture, rather than his type 4 hair (there's also #3, which is fanfiction with straight up slurs, and horribly racist writing in it that my friend heavily warned me not to read, but that was more of a one-off case and I've had the creator blocked a long time now).

my point being, we (Black fans) can't even get folks to stop with the caricatures, which we have to start with, and then there's even more of an annoying uphill battle with the other stuff. I'm just so tired of all of this; it makes me want delete my own works and turn away from fandom all together because i can't stand it.

trying for polite and assuming ignorance hardly ever works, speaking bluntly doesnt work at all, making public posts hardly goes anywhere (partly because of how rarely people reblog things anymore, partly because it makes people 'uncomfortable' to share this information with others). Black fans so obviously need help to combat this, and yet it's like sitting at a tea party and hearing all these pretty words in this one setting, yet nobody does anything different/better when the party's over/outside this setting.

sorry for dooming a bit, but like, genuinely i would like to know where the line is for nonblack folks? what is the point/are the points where you would speak up against antiblack racism? have you ever considered speaking up? if there's ever a moment you recognized antiblack racism and didn't say anything, why didn't you? did you consider how your lack of speaking up might affect your fellow Black fans? or how Black fans may be interpret this as silent agreement with the racists/with the racist 'norm'?

..those could maybe be alternative ways of asking your last followup question?

(if i've made any blunders or overstepped here, please let me know!)

No, I'm glad you spoke up! I too would like to see answers!

#creatingblackcharacters #fandom racism #racism #antiblackness

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ejoym · 3 months ago

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Love your Durge she's fun and love the dynamic with Astarion she have. Do you plan to also draw some more durgetash with her or elaborate a bit on her relationship with Gortash?

Thank you anon! I’m so glad you asked about this. I do plan to draw more Durgetash! In the meantime, here's an elaboration on how their romance began:

(Warning: includes mentions of sex and some minor spoilers for The Dark Urge.)

Gortash and Durge had been working together as platonic business associates for several months. Already they had made considerable progress on their plans to infiltrate the hells. Gortash had recently learned of a tiefling socialite who had valuable intel that they needed. She would be attending a prestigious gala held annually in the upper city. It was the kind of event that the elite used as a cover for bribes, lobbying, and all sorts of nefarious acts. Gortash's plan was simple: seduce the socialite while Durge provided any necessary back-up support.

Gortash insisted that Durge needed a cover name though. He couldn’t very well call her The Dark Urge in front of high society people. Durge didn't really care and so left it for him to decide. He had affectionately started calling her a “devilish elf.” That led him to the simple portmanteau of devil and elven:

Devlin.

At the event, Gortash saw his mark and began his elaborate courtship dance, leaving Devlin alone to entertain herself. In true goth kid form she loiters by the food and glowers at the guests. Back in those days, she viewed all mortals as mere cattle waiting to be slaughtered in her father’s name.

(A fun detail is that Cazador attends this event with a handful of his spawn including, you guessed it, Astarion! I think Devlin and Astarion share an inconsequential exchange over the buffet table.)

Gortash soon returns with his tiefling mark around his arm.

The lady asks if Devlin and Gortash are partners to which Devlin quickly answers in the affirmative. She’s unaware of the woman's more coy meaning. Gortash fears all of his hard work is lost…but the socialite propositions them both for a threeway.

Gortash attempts to walk the offer back but to his complete and utter surprise--Devlin accepts.

The socialite leads them through the manor to a private room. Behind her, Gortash and Devlin whisper about what a bad idea this is…but the competitive fools spur each other on. And neither of them can really resist the curiosity to see where the night will lead them.

Gortash tries to have some tact but Devlin is not one to dawdle. She takes the lead and starts lavishing the socialite in attention. (Oral...she's giving the lady oral) Gortash is a bit off his game but does eventually join in for the sake of the mission.

But both him and Devlin can’t help but get a little lost in the fantasy.

When their pillow princess is good and spent, Gortash notices that Devlin’s eyes glow blood red. The urges overcome her and threaten to spill the blood of the vulnerable woman beneath her. Gortash obviously can’t allow that to happen.

He steps in. She kisses him.

They fuck like animals.

For the next four years they share a highly physical relationship with occasional feelings. Durge specifically requests that Gortash call her Devlin during their time together. She hides behind that name while living a double life outside of her duties as The Dark Urge.

It's Orin who feels Durge pull away. She experiences Durge’s absence as a form of abandonment (like a best friend who starts spending more time with their new paramour). That feeling of betrayal leads Orin to tadpole Durge and cascades into the events of the main game!

#asks #ejoym answers #devlin lore #durgetash #gortash #ejoym talks too much #suggestive #long post

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maxdibert · 9 days ago

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I’ve seen you talk about how the Marauders fandom (and how they have made their horrifically inaccurate fanon canon in a way) and I was curious about your thoughts on their horrible mischaracterisation of Lupin. From what I’ve seen they paint him as a sarcastic bad boy who’s apparently getting hit by everything all the time or whatever constantly (gee, sounds familiar in a way. ((I believe this was spurred on by ATYD.)) Anyways, thoughts?

Each of the Marauders triggers me in a different way, and not because I was bullied in school or have a visceral reaction due to personal traumas with people like them, but because I’ve met people like them. I’ve had to put up with people like them—people who are terrible, you know it, you see them as the absolute worst, yet they have the audacity to think they’re morally superior to others simply because of their political stances.

As a student, I was very involved in unions and active in political groups, and I’ve met James Potters (wealthy, privileged kids from progressive families who thought they were "fighters for the people" but had no clue about people’s actual needs and were only there because it was what they were supposed to do), Sirius Blacks (privileged kids who thought they were special because their whole family were fascists and they had "broken the cycle," yet they still carried all the prejudices of someone raised in a conservative, right-wing environment and made zero effort to deconstruct themselves because they thought not talking to their parents was enough), and Remus Lupins.

Remus Lupins, the quiet guys, the introverted ones who seem super nice but have awful friends. They don’t seem like terrible people because they don’t proactively show their flaws, and if you compare them to the others—who are a whirlwind—they appear as though they’ve never done anything wrong.

What bothers me about how the fandom characterizes Lupin is that it has nothing to do with what we see in the books or what Rowling said about him. Lupin was someone deeply insecure and self-conscious about his condition as a werewolf. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself as a way to hide that condition. He always followed behind his friends, letting them take the lead. His relationship with James and Sirius was nothing like Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s. The latter trio did everything together; they lived their adventures together. From what we know (because it’s explicitly mentioned in the books), the ones constantly seen together were James and Sirius. It’s literally stated that where one went, the other was always there. Remus (as Rowling herself said) was the third in a duo.

In fact, I imagine Remus and Peter being closer (something most people seem to find unthinkable because they have the critical reasoning skills of an amoeba when it comes to the Marauders) precisely because James and Sirius were the duo. The idea that Remus was some kind of alpha male is absolutely ridiculous because, if there were two characters in that generation who epitomized toxic masculinity and outdated gender dynamics to the fullest, they were James and Sirius—two bullies who used their power to get what they wanted, whether it was torturing someone or dating a girl.

We see Remus avoiding conflict, not having the guts to tell his friends they were wrong even though he had the responsibility of being a prefect. As an adult, we see him justifying his friends’ actions, which are unjustifiable. Remus was a lapdog because being with James and Sirius was a way for him to protect himself, to feel safe, and contradicting them would mean jeopardizing that safety he so desperately needed. So, he let everything slide. This is canon, and it tells you his personality was fearful, passive, and accommodating.

Remus is a coward. In fact, I find him much more cowardly than Peter. He never had the guts to confront his friends, never had the guts to admit that his friends were horrible people—even as adults—and never had guts, period. The best evidence is that, at 38 years old, he got a young woman pregnant and then left because he didn’t have the courage to face the consequences of his actions. Remus is the typical nice guy who acts all chill and friendly and understanding but, when it comes down to it, behaves like a jerk. He’s a Ted Mosby type.

Any other characterization, especially one that tries to make him sassy or badass, is an insult to anyone who has read the books because they’re literally inventing a new character and slapping his name on it. But that fandom does this all the time—they do it with all the characters. It doesn’t even surprise me anymore.

#i dated a sirius black once #omg what a hell of a person #like always talking about how awful his family was #then complaining in a restaurant for nonense shit only rich people cares about #remus lupin #lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #marauders #marauders era #marauders fandom #marauders fans #harry potter #harry potter meta

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genericpuff · 5 months ago

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Out curiosity what’s your honest opinion of people getting there girlfriend/boyfriend name tattooed on a them?? Because honestly I think it’s bad luck.

haha there's definitely a superstition among artists that once you get your partner's / friend's name tattooed on you, the relationship is doomed. The craziest real life example I have of that happening is when I gave matching tattoos to a boyfriend and girlfriend who then went through a break-up so messy just a week later that it literally led to her getting a restraining order against him, which was NUTS (she's doing a lot better now tho which is great to see)

But also it's one of those things where it's just superstitions, a tattoo is a tattoo. I do generally recommend that people who get matching tattoos with their besties / tattoos of their partner's names / etc. do all the proper amount of thinking over it to ensure that it's not a last minute spur-of-the-moment decision and that their relationship is generally stable enough that they don't see it going anywhere any time soon. One thing I've been seeing people do more of is get 'matching' tattoos that are still perfectly fine on their own, so if the relationship does fall through, they still have a tattoo that stands on its own with its own meaning without needing the other half to make sense.

Shit happens though, tattoo or no. If you really want to get tattooed together as a fun outing and bonding experience between you and a partner / friend / etc. then ultimately it's your choice and superstitions be damned. Just make sure you weigh the pros and cons properly and that all the people involved are going in fully informed and aren't just getting dragged along into it! It can be hard to draw boundaries regarding something like matching tattoos because it usually involves at least one person being super excited to do it and it can be hard to say no to that, but at the end of the day it's your body that you have to live with for the rest of your life, so you need to make the decisions that are right for you and your skin (•̀ᴗ•́)و

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #tattoo advice

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year ago

Text

The dragon's Mistress (11)

11. King and Queen

MASTERLIST

Summary: You had known more about humiliation in the past months that you’d hope you’d known in a lifetime

Warnings: cursing, mentions of war, mentions of death, humiliation, use of the word bastard and traitor, incest, smut, breeding kink, from now on it will be adultery and sort of cheating, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 2.3k

Notes: shorter chapter, and a sad one too... anyways I wanted tog et this one out of my way hehe, now the dynamic is going to be different from before

Aemond’s heavy breath in your face soothed you in some way, as he kept ramming into you, drawing moans and whimpers from your mouth. He kissed you sloppily, and your nails scratched his back angrily, but that seemed to spur him on. He kissed your jaw and neck.

He kept pounding into you, making you whimper

“My King”, you whisper mindlessly, and he smiled wickedly at you

“I’m going to breed you”, he said, but it sounded more like threat, “I’m going to give you my children, and you will be the mother of the future King”, he growled, and in the haze of pleasure you believed him, and even wanted it, desire it

He cummed inside you, like he always did, and then he threw himself over you, crushing you under his weight. But the weight calmed you, made you feel sickly protected

Until you remembered what day it was. He seemed to read your mind, and he lean back to gaze at your face.

“We need to get ready”, he whispered, caressing your cheek with devotion

“Please don’t make me go”, you whispered, Aemond sighed, like he was tired of you, he lifted himself off of you and off the bed, and you seated on the bed, covering your naked body with the sheets as you saw Aemond put on his clothes he left in the floor of your room

“It is a royal wedding”, he said simply, and your eyes filled with tears again, “the wedding of the century according to many”

“Please”, you begged again, he looked at you, and only nodded. Unknown to you his mother had begged him to keep you out of all this, the mistress of the King being in his wedding ceremony was not going to look good, not for the family of the bride and not for the entire court. So, wanting to avoid drama and that nauseous look on his mother's face, he didn’t fight you.

“if you rather be locked up in here, fine”, he said bitterly

You were more relieved, but then, nausea hit you like a wild horse, make you scramble out of bed, finding the nearest pot, and throwing up in it, Aemond was on you in a second, taking your hair out of your face and caressing your back

“Are you alright? Are you ill?”, you only wiped your mouth with the back of your hand

“I’m fine my king, you don’t have to worry about me”, you whined

“You are the only one I worry about”, he whispered, leading you to sit on the bed, “I will go and fetch a maester”, he said gently

“You should go and get ready for the wedding”, you murmured

“I will do what I have to”, he said stubbornly, and left you

He didn’t show up again, but the maester did, he checked on you, gave you a simple tea for your weak stomach, claiming you felt nervous and that it gave you a sickness. So the tea was going to settle your stomach and then he left you alone.

Alone to hear the party that was going on in the castle and around it

You avoided Aemond like he was the winter fever when he started to talk about how boring where the preparations of his coming nuptials

Because he did tried to talk to you about it

How sick was that?

That Floris turned into some kind of monster that demanded these flowers, and this prayer, and this song, and this feast or this color… Had driven Aemond insane. You just listened to him and nodded, or hummed, not really caring, trying to think about anything but what he was saying

Each time he spoke of the wedding you wanted to throw up.

You could hear the celebration from your chambers, the music, the people gathering and cheering, it was driving you mad

But at the same time…

Everyone was distracted…

Nobody was going to bother you today, not Aemond, not anyone…

This could be an opportunity you were never going to have again…

You put on a comfortable dress, one you used for riding because you could put pants under it, and that is exactly what you did, you grabbed everything of value you had in a small purse, and then a cape. But as soon as you opened the door, there was a King’s GUard outside of it

“Your grace”, he greeted, bowing slightly

“Ser Steffon”, Ser Steffon Mangold had been recruited for the King’s guard of Aegon II after half of the guard would have fled to back your mother’s claim. He was exceptionally good with not one but two swords, and his job was to care for Aemond, and now, apparently, you.

“May I ask where are you going?”, he asked, you seemed to hear a tone of mockery in his voice, you only looked up to meet him

“The Dragonpit”, you said

“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to”, he whispered, “King Regent’s orders”

“Please”, he truly seemed sorry for you, but he still shook his head

“I'm sworn to the King, and I need to follow his command”, he said severely, and you only nodded, entering your rooms again.

But you couldn’t give up, you remembered what Jacaerys told you, about the secret passageways installed deep within the castle walls

But where to find them?

You placed your hands in the wall, and pushed, then and there, everywhere, but nothing, there was nothing or rather, it was and now it was sealed shut, Aemond wasn’t an idiot and Aegon was famous for sneaking out of the Red Keep, using the same passageways, they said Queen Helaena’s children were murdered using said tunnels

Probably Aemond had them sealed

So you opened the door ever so slightly, but to no use, the Kingsguard acknowledged you immediately

“Yes, your grace?”, he asked, clearly Aemond had restored your title of princess

“Please, I’m hungry, can you fetch a maid?”, you asked him, and he looked back at you, mockingly

“Do you take me for a fool?”, he asked then

“I will tell the king you refused…”, he sighed, loudly

“Very well, is this is how you want to play it”, he walked away from the door, and you, obviously, ran to the other side as soon as he turned the corner

It was silly, so silly it might actually work

YOu only wanted to be at peace…

Was that too much to ask?

The only way to achieve that was to go away from the Keep, let them have it, your mother never wanted the crown anyways, you wouldn’t be disappointing her in any case, shape or form, but Dragonstone wasn’t far enough.

You had heard that Saera Targaryen, one of King’s Jaehaerys numerous daughters had run away to Pentos or one of the free cities, and had turned into a wealthy woman and lived freely, perhaps you could do the same.

The free cities it was then

a quick stop in Dragonstone to take some golden dragons from under the mian room’s floorboards, and then…

Freedom

You ran hastily, the Red Keep was completely empty, everyone, including the staff must have been celebrating the Royal wedding

Your stomach twisted but you convinced yourself that the furthest you ran, the happies you were going to be.

You didn’t need to sit the throne, or for your children to do it, you were going to honor your mother by living, you were your mother’s legacy, she was going to live through you and the children you were going to have.

Perhaps you could search for Saera, join her, you didn’t know her, but you shared the blood of the dragon and that must count for something, right?

With all those things running through your head, you managed to reach the entrance of the castle that went through the courtyard, you didn’t know who you were going to go past the guards and that huge guarded door, but perhaps only an intimidated look was going to be enough

And when you looked down the courtyard… IT WAS EMPTY!

You ran towards the exit, sprinted down the stairs… you were so close you could feel it.

But as soon as you touched the huge wooden doors, you felt someone pull you off of them

“NO!”, you screamed, and wiggled out of grip, but it was Iron tight

Steffon Mangold, the king’s guard

“PLEASE!”, you cried, “let me go!”

“I can’t do that”, he seemed truly sorry as he started to pull you gently back towards the castle, “I can’t”

“Please”, you begged quietly, “I bet you are loyal towards the Baratheons?”, you offered, “If I leave, you will never see me again, Floris will be the Queen, she won’t be humiliated!”, you said, “please, I don’t want to be his mistress, you can say I knocked you out with a stick or something, and ran away, you don’t have to face any guilt, please, you will never see me again!”, you were back inside the hallways

But he stopped, and made sure to look into your eyes

“I’m not loyal to that cunt”, he growled, and that surprised you

“Who are you loyal to?”, you asked. He blinked, and his anger passed to be something else

“Someone else”, he muttered, “I know you don’t want this, but there is something bigger at play here”

“What?”, you asked, but he turned and keep dragging you towards your rooms

“I can’t tell you”, he say stubbornly, and kept walking, and you were now resigned, he didn’t give you anything to go on, to hold onto any hope, he just dragged you back to your chambers, not before encountering the royal party, Aemond and Floris leading them, holding hands

It was only a second, in which Aemond looked upon you being dragged by your King’s guard, before you disappeared down the hallway

Your stomach twisted painfully, you were hungry you haven't eaten all day, but also, in disgust

“Please”, you begged one more time before you reached your rooms

“I can’t”, he said, “but trust me, everything is going to be alright”, you only shook your head

“Please”, you begged, but he closed the door gently, but still… on your face.

When you turned, you saw the table was set for you. You guessed they took a serving from the wedding banquet

You ate in an embarrassing pace, you were starving, luckily you were alone, but as soon as you took a pork chop, the strong smell caught you off guard, sickening you, and you threw it away like it burned, now you wanted to throw up like in the morning

So you washed it up with wine, and then you decided to take some fresh air, so you took a book and decided to sit on the balcony to read.

But your mind kept wandering…

Was there really something big at play here? you shook your head, you couldn’t do that to yourself, you couldn’t hold onto hope, what if there was nothing there? you were going to get your heart broken all over again… no… you had to ran away, it was the only way

You dozed off in the balcony, the sun was setting and you felt suddenly so tired, and you didn't understand why, so you walked back to the bed, disposed of your dress and just cuddled with yourself in your undergarments

You didn’t know how late it was, but you were woken up by the door opening, you almost jumped off the bed, scared, but from the light of the torches in the hallway, you clearly saw Aemond walking in, and you whimpered, you did not wanted to see him today

“My King?”, you called, you didn't get to see his face, you only felt his heavy body land on the bed by your side and hugged you tightly against him

“Why are you here?”, you asked to the darkness of the room

“I couldn’t stand her”, he muttered, and you only whimpered

“Please my king, you shouldn’t be here”, you cried, “you should be with your wife”

“She isn’t you”, bitter tears fell down your eyes

“Please”, you begged, you wanted him to leave, you did not want all the court hating you, even though it was probably too late for that

“Call me Aemond”, you felt it on his breath, he was drunk

“No”, you refused, turning in your bed, and you pushed him off of you, “you need to be with your wife, please, leave”, you begged. but no matter the strength you put on your arms, he wouldn’t budge, he just sighed

“I did it”, he whispered, he was out of it, drunk, you had never seen him like this, “I consummate the marriage”, that hurt, that truly hurt, he had been inside of her, and now he was laying next to you, you felt disgusted, “but she isn’t you”

“You married her, Aemond, it was your choice, now you have to endure it”, you said angrily, chances where he was not going to remember anything tomorrow, “get out!”, you cried, bitter tear fell down your face, “get the fuck out!”

He sat on the edge of the bed in a messy movement, showing you his back, he leaned forward, you couldn’t see him because it was dark and all, but it seemed like he used his mouth to stifle a whimper, but you were probably just dreaming

“Get out”, you whined, and he just stood up from the bed, and left the room without another word

Tomorrow you were probably going to pay for that, but tonight, you were going to enjoy the fact that he was not going to be over you every night, he had a wife now…

But still you felt sickened to your stomach.

#misguidedmistress #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x alys rivers #aemond x oc #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen #targaryen!oc #targaryen!reader #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon #house targaryen

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thunder-point · 7 months ago

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Long ramble ahead

I've talked a bit about some things I liked, and mostly qotey, but I mentioned already that I adore phumpeem also, and this episode just spurred my love for their dynamic even more BECAUSE

THIS REACTION???????

THIS ONE AS WELL???

HOLD UP SOMEONE HOLD ME SOMEONE HOLD PHUM'S UNSTABLE ASS

For the love of everything on this planet I LOVED LIVED BREATHED FOR IT.

Not only because I adored how positive it was on both ends, but because of the differences and the genuine quality it gave me. The kiss was absolutely delightful, once again pondphuwin just delivered on that aspect, as they did throughout the entirely of Never Let Me Go.

BUT LISTEN Y'ALL

I just????? Fucking love???? HOW DIFFERENT PHUM AND PEEM EXPRESS THEIR LIKE TOWARDS EAC H OTHER

First of all I don't know how others feel about phum's character. Personally, I enjoy it very much. He has very visible flaws, emotional constipation in some aspects, but those in some way give way for other moments that just express how free he is with his feelings.

Because he likes Peem, and this episode he expressed it so openly that it gave me LIFE.

We don't know much about Phum yet, but he seems to have a complicated relationship with his parents. It gives the feelings that he lacked the affection he needed in the past. That, of course, leads to the attitude of seeking it so selfishly like he does with Peem.

And it's enjoyable to watch. He's a needy asshole, he's arrogant and he's attractive and he's attracted to Peem and he doesn't let ANY chance slip to get that attention that he wants. And even if it started in a rough way in the beginning, I genuinely think it's mostly because, for the most part, some people who never really had the attention they needed resort to getting it in very obnoxious manners later on. Phum is doing exactly that.

There are many things to talk about when it comes to Phum, and I hope that as the series goes on we get more from him, and good things while we are at it, but I just love how his crush developed. I loved that as soon as he realized he truly fucked up, he apologized THREE times, I love how remorseful he's looking in episode 6 when Peem's ruined painting is mentioned.

And I absolutely love how blunt he is with his feelings for Peem. He doesn't waste any time in episode 6. Not even caring if his friends catch on, if Peem's friends catch on. My man Phum is on a mission and he is RELENTLESS.

I think it gives me so much joy because they could have totally made a character like Phum, who is prideful and stubborn, hide his feelings behind teasing and this 'you are my slave' act that he puts forward. But instead, we got the softest smiles from him after the kiss. We got him coming into the art gallery TO TAKE PICTURES, TO START A CONVERSATION ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED.

We got him calling Peem adorable and pleading Peem to draw on a cup with him. He just wants LOVE. He wants it and as soon as he saw Peem reciprocated in some way it's like it exploded from him. And there's so much to say about it. God.

But Peem? Listen, I love it even more on Peem's side.

Not only did this man INITIATE THE FIRST KISS, the way he's processing these emotions are so funny AND SO REAL.

I loved it from the very beginning that we see that Peem is attracted by Phum as much as he's incensed with him. He admitted it - Phum is handsome, but he's an asshole. And that's real. As someone who fell for a person who I bickered with a lot at first, I had such joy watching Peem's way through his bond with Phum and how it developed.

Because Phum has his bad sides, and he seems to bring them up around Peem for that attentions and reactions it gets him, but when Phum goes soft? That's when his attractiveness and his personality clash in a way that seems to make Peem WEAK.

"You're so demanding, Peem," said softly had Peem BY THE THROAT. And I felt that.

Phum apologizing so softly, Phum eating Peem's atrocious cooking. Peem? Absolutely GONE for it. And that's certainly such a rushing feeling to have. Peem is clearly not experienced with relationships, and that just makes the fact that he initiated the kiss SO MUCH BETTER.

Because we know that he's not scared of showing his emotions. Even if he's a people pleaser, he's not a pushover. He kicked Phum's balls back into his goddamn body as soon as he had the chance. HE THREW A CHANCLA AT HIM.

Him going for the kiss when he felt the need to MAKES SENSE. it's wonderful.

And don't get me started on how often my man seemed to fantasize back to those soft moments with Phum. Don't get me started ON HIS CONVERSATION WITH Q this episode about affection and relationships and FUCK. Don't get me started on his gay panicked ass.

that's a ramble for another post. I feel like this is already too long and too incoherent. I jumped from so many topics but I have so many feelings for these two. As many as I have for Qtoey.

#phumpeem #we are the series #pondphuwin #we are #bl thai drama #thai bl

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artful-aries · 2 years ago

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Acrophilia - Venti x Reader (NSFW)

Content Warnings: Penetrative sex with Venti in the hands of the statue of Barbatos statue in Mondstat. Reader can be read as gender neutral. Porn without plot. Minors please do not interact with this post.

Word Count: 1.1k

The cool night air kissed your flushed skin as you looked down at Venti who was laying down on the carved marble of the Statue of Barbatos’ hands, looking up at you as though you descended straight from Celestia itself.

Funny how this was his statue and yet, here he was underneath you, practically worshiping the sight of you taking his cock so well.

“Ah- ah, (Y-Y/N),” Venti whined as you slowed your movements to tease him, “P-Please, I can’t-“

“Shhh, Venti, your voice carries on the wind from up here,” you cooed as you sheathed his entire length inside of you, grinding against his hips in lazy circles, “If you’re not careful, someone might hear us. You wouldn’t want me to stop, would you?”

“N-No,” Venti breathlessly stuttered as his hands gripped your hips in pure desperation, “No don’t s-stop, mmn, please don’t stop (Y/N).”

You smiled sweetly at him as you rewarded him with a slow, steady movement of your hips, eliciting a sharp hiss from him as his fingers dug into your soft flesh. His chest heaved as he struggled to keep quiet at the feeling of you riding him, little tremors of pleasure rippling through his body at your teasing movements. You could feel the wind pick up a little bit, making you smile as you knew that it was a byproduct of Venti’s overstimulation.

“Didn’t you ask me to tease you?” You feigned a sweet innocence as you brought your hips down harshly, making Venti choke on his own moan, “And all the way up on this statue, no less. What would the people of Mondstat think, seeing their god committing such lewd acts?”

The blush that was already covering his cheeks extended down his neck at your words, “F-Former Archon, (Y/N). I’m not their- Nng!”

His protest was cut off with a groan as you sped up the movement of your hips, making you smirk down at him. Venti had always been a talker, it came naturally to him as a bard, but it was extremely satisfying to take the words out of his mouth for once. His bright eyes looked up at you, half lidded with lust as he watched the steady bounce of your hips as he struggled to keep composure.

“S-Shit, you feel so good,” Venti moaned as he couldn’t help but buck up into you, drawing out a low moan from your lips before you could stop yourself.

“A-ah,” You breathed at the sensation of him twitching inside of you, making your toes curl, “Y-You want me to ride you faster, hm?”

Venti gave a fervent nod, his hands gliding over every inch of your skin that he could reach, “P-Please, I’m s-so close, I- mmm, I need you (Y/N).”

Your fingertips traced his swollen lips for a moment before you leaned down to trap him in a heated kiss, grinding against him for some desired friction before breaking away to properly ride his cock. Placing your hands on his chest for stability, you quickened the pace that your hips slammed down on him, your tight hole seeking to milk Venti completely dry.

His almost helpless whimpers spurred you to go faster as he begged, “J-just like that, f-fuck- just like that. More, p-please please give me more-“

“F-fuck, Venti,” You found yourself whining as you worked your hips at a relentless pace, the wet squelching sounds of his cock pumping in and out of you mixing with the sounds of the wind that Mondstat was renowned for. Any other time you might have worried about anyone potentially wandering to the statue late at night and hearing the two of you, but at this moment you didn’t care. Venti was laid out so nicely in the statue's hands as you rode him with reckless abandon while chasing after your own orgasm, how could you stop now?

“(Y/N), s-so close, I’m so close,” Venti groaned, unable to hold himself back as he gripped you harder and timed his thrusts to match yours, making you roll your eyes back in ecstasy, “Where do you want me, my windblume?”

You were barely able to stutter out a reply, your nails digging into Venti’s chest as he worked himself deeper, “I-inside, I w-want you to cum inside.”

Venti grinned before his brows knitted together in concentration as he struggled to maintain his steady rhythm, his hips stuttering the closer he reached his climax. You weren’t much better off yourself, your resolve to tease Venti going out the window as his length hammered into you.

“Mmn, V-Venti, you’re s-so good to me, fuck,” You moaned as his hand buried itself into your hair, “I’m coming, c-coming-!”

The force of your orgasm made you clench around Venti’s cock as you trembled, rushing him towards his own orgasm as he whined your name while spilling into you. Panting heavily, Venti gently pulled your face down to kiss your lips, not bothering to pull out of you as his cum dribbled down his shaft and your thigh.

He looked dazed and completely fucked out as he stared at you, caressing your cheek with a lopsided grin, “W-Wow, you were amazing, Windblume.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, “I’ll say, it’s written all over your face, Venti. But you were pretty good yourself,” You wiggled your hips teasingly, drawing a hiss from the former Archon.

“S-Still sensitive,” Venti breathed, his hands moving to keep you still.

“So you don’t want to make the most of our time up here?” You hummed as a mischievous glint flashed in your eyes, “You usually have more stamina than this, Venti. If you just wanted a quickie, we could have done it in an easier place than in the hands of your statue.”

He pouted at your words, “What do you mean? You teased me for so long, it’s a miracle I lasted as long as I did!”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “I guess that means I can get off your cock and start getting dressed then?”

“…You’re more of a brat than I am,” Venti grumbled before rolling you underneath him. His eyes burned into yours as his thumb traced your bottom lip, “If you want to see how long I can really last, then you’ll get your wish.”

The look of determination on his face told you that it was his turn to make you a quivering mess. You were grateful that Venti had warmed the cold stone of the statue with his body, because you were in for a long night.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #reader insert #genshin imagine #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagine #genshin headcanon #venti #venti x reader #Venti smut #smut #not sfw

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slightlyhopefulromantic · 5 days ago

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aaand here's deadlands! it didnt take seven months this time, who cheered?

i'll probably do another post grouping all of my line-ups together, but that's gonna wait for when i do the wyrdwood PCs as well :] more thorough design thoughts/smaller details will be under the cut, but im putting this here so that everybody has to know: their eye shines are all different card suits, except for nate, who gets J for the joker card :]

oxventurers guild | the hobby horses

unlike my other designs where i let everyone have individual colors/palettes, i tried to keep colors more consistent across these designs! the oxventurers guild has the fantasy element and theyre all very different, so the wide mishmash of colors are fine, and the hobby horses all have a lot of dark colors so that keeps them looking consistent together. but for these guys, i wanted a more consistent feel, so i tried my best to reuse colors between each design (especially between delacy and nate ^-^)

silas - ough. my boy. i wanted him to be broad with a strong build, and i hope i pulled that off :D i had so much trouble with his hat that i almost just didnt give him one, but eventually i decided it was better to just. give up and rock with it, even if he looks a bit like a mountie hbjgfjhd and he is wearing cowboy boots, theyre just tucked into his pants because he doesnt feel the need to flash them (looking at delacy, lol). he has spurs on his boots, even though he doesnt ride horses, because he likes the way they jangle <3

garnet - people really liked it when i gave garnet dark roots, so i have decided to always give her dark roots. i like how it looks hehehe and i also like to give her freckles!!! i think theyre cute!!! for the vest, i struggled for a while trying to capture the vibe of jane's vest, because its so so strange and specific in a way that makes it impossible for me to picture garnet without it. i'm pretty happy with where i landed with it, especially the pattern, since i've never tried to make a pattern like that before :3 i dont know why ive been loving patterns so much lately LOL but i will keep riding this wave and regret it later when drawing the designs again

edie - definitely the furthest departure from canon outfits, though still in the right wheelhouse. i just don't like drawing multiple layers of ruffled skirt. i didn't like how my sketches kept looking. i wanted to give her a skirt slit, especially after my friend reminded me about her thigh rifle holster. so today, i stared at a bunch of victorian ballgowns and party city costumes, and then completely redesigned her skirt before i lined these XD and i think it was worth it!! i love the layers and the way her rifle peeks out, and it meant i could show off more of her boots and give them a pretty design :]

delacy - my main thought going into drawing delacy was just. "i need to malnourish this boy" LMAO i refuse to believe that he is eating properly, i just know that he is not. otherwise, i mostly just stuck to the campaign art but scuffed up his clothes a bit. as implied on silas's notes, i very purposefully had his boots be Big. he's overcompensating a little bit :] also sorry i did not want to draw rooster so he just gets a generic handgun. i didnt feel like drawing complicated guns, and i wanted it to be a smaller handgun so that he could be poorly copying edie :') he has no trigger discipline but neither does edie so its fine

nate - that's just nate, baby!!! i think, canonically, he's meant to be a bit. emaciated. but i cant help but just picture him being a bigger guy, i think it fits his vibe better and its more fun for me to draw that way. i like having variety in body shapes, and garnet and delacy already have the rail thin thing down for this line-up. let my old man be fat !!! also. he has a weird nipple because he is transgender. heart emoji

#oxventure #oxventure deadlands #silas flint #garnet munro #edie valentine #delacy oxventure #nate janssen #'travis you forgot the buttons on a few of the shirts-' SHHH SHHHHHHHHHH DONT LOOK AT THAT IM TIRED #i just wanna move onto wyrdwood im done with these bhjgfhjdbghjd #i am super happy with how this came out though :3 #okay time for sleep i have a friend visiting tomorrow and its past my bedtime

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charliedawn · 1 year ago

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What if the slashers kept a journal ?

Bo was taking care of one of the employees' car—which had a flat tire—when you decided it was the perfect time to do a round check of all the bedrooms. All of the slashers had to keep a journal and you thought it would be alright to just give it a quick look to see their progress.

However, Bo's journal seemed very well hidden and then, you found out that his desk was slightly off-centred. It was by palming haphazardly the underneath of his desk that you found the journal—hidden inside a secret compartment he had surely crafted himself.

"You clever clock.", you whistled admiratively with a proud smile. You then opened it and frowned as you noticed that the first page was blank...and the second...and the third. Why was it empty ?!

"Can I help ya ?"

You were surprised to hear Bo's voice behind you and quickly turned around. He eyed the journal in your hands and looked up at you before blinking several times. He seemed to catch up quickly on what you were doing by how guilty you looked.

"Anythin' interesting in there, nurse?"

However, instead of replying, you threw the journal on the bed scurried off of the room as quickly as you had entered it. As soon as the door was locked, he smiled and walked to his desk. He checked that his real journal was still there—hidden underneath some mechanical engineering book—and smiled when he realized it was...

He chuckled knowingly.

"Noisy lil' darlin'."

In Vincent's journal, there were merely animal pics and various unreadable scribbles. You couldn't possibly read the things written, so you focused on the photographs and smiled at the various subjects...until you arrived to the last days' entries. Now, you knew Vincent to be easily obsessed. He had once followed a bird for hours—only to draw a sketch of it. However, you had never seen him get obsessed over an actual human being—until today.

There were only photographs of you.

You. Eating.

You. Talking.

You...Sleeping.

Oh...You blushed and promptly closed the journal before hiding it back underneath his pillow. However, when you turned around—you fell face to face with Vincent.

He looked successively between you and his pillow and finally, it clicked. He tried stop say something—but by then, you were already gone. You had snuck past him. He stood still for a second or two before re-opening the diary. He gently stroke the last photograph he had taken of you—smiling at him.

It was his best one yet...

Sex jokes. So many sex jokes. You thought that man would take the time to write profound meaningful things ? Ah ! Joke's on you.

However, he smiled when he saw you reading his diary. He stayed there for a moment before creeping his way in and surprising you by suddenly pulling your head back.

"Haven't you heard the expression curiosity killed the cat, sweetheart ?", he asked with a threatening grin and you shrugged.

"Haven't you heard bastards usually get cooked ?", you shot back.

At this point, you didn't give a toss that he had caught you—with the amount of garbage you had read. His whole brain needed to be purged in holy water.

"It doesn't make any sense.", he snarled and you offered him a sweet smile before taking a lighter on the table.

"Yes. It means let me go, Krueger...before I burn you somewhere that REALLY hurts.", you his in-between meaningfully—but it didn't seen to be efficient. It only spurred him on as he closed the door with his foot.

"Hmm...Nah. Don't think I will."

No need to say...Freddy got more than one additional burn that day.

Brahms was so discreet—you didn't notice when he approached you from behind. He glanced at what page you were on and realized it was a part when he described you.

Curious. Nice. Beautiful...

You smiled at the compliments, but realized that he had missed the point of the exercise. It was to focus on himself and reach deep. However, Brahms didn't like people reading his secrets.

His chest heaved heavily and in a matter of seconds, your back was against the door and he had removed his mask. You wanted to read all about his secrets ? He would make you sing yours.

Jason mostly wrote random words he learned. He couldn't make full sentences yet—but he mostly tried to write words and various emotions or actions of the day.

Cutting. Eating. Cooking.

He didn't like making sentences—so he usually only writes down random words. He described people he met, places he went to and his feelings.

You smiled.

He might be the only one who had listened to you and tried to fill their journal with what they felt. You flipped quickly through the different entries until you reached the final one. You were then pleasantly surprised by finding a few sentences. But that pleasant feeling quickly disappeared when you read.

'Hello, mommy. I have friends now. I think you would like them. And I...I met someone. I think you'd like them too. They like us. They take care of us. I miss you. But I...I think I'll be alright.'

You let out a few tears as you imagined Jason writing those words. He had learned so much and you weren't afraid to say that you were proud of him. And you were sure his mother would be too if she could see him.

Michael could smell you. He knew you had been in his room and every single thing you touched. The scent lingered on his diary and on one page in particular—one he didn't think was that important.

It was a photograph. A photograph of all the slashers reunited on Christmas. It was also the only day Carrie and Sadako were allowed in the facility.

Jason had taken that photograph before giving it to Michael as a present. He is completely forgotten about it, but smiled faintly at the realization that you had chosen this page in particular made it special.

He sighed before sitting on his bed and closing the journal. He looked out at the garden where you were helping Freddy with the bad weed.

You looked so...perfect. And that made you precious in Michael's mind—but also dangerous. He had this urge to protect you clashing with the need to kill you. It was exhausting to keep that last urge at bay, and he was afraid of what he might do if you were to ever know about his feelings...But, he wasn't worried.

You would never feel the same...right ?

Jack writes down everything—and I mean everything. He can fill an entire book about his day. He also has a big memory and can remember the tiniest of details.

That was the reason why you had decided to read his entries—in case he would have written something you had missed.

What you found inside made your eyes widen.

He had studied them all. And it wasn't just moments. It was fully-detailed portraits. Physical. Mental. Psychological...He had recorded ever trait, every change...And not only about the slashers or the other patients.

But the staff as well. And of course, you. You learnt that he had memorized everything to you taste of cake and the type of clothes you wore for every occasion. It was impressive—but also rather worrying.

"Well well...Wasn't expecting any visitors."

You turned around swiftly add found him standing there with a smug look on his face. He didn't seem to mind you reading his journal. He simply tilted his head with a knowing smirk and you let the journal fall to the floor before slowly backing away.

"I was just..." His eyes didn't leave yours before he stepped out of the way.

"Here you go, nurse. You can go."

You eyed the door suspiciously. Could you...really ? But, you didn't want to stay and ask—so you walked out. Jack's eyes followed you until you were out of view before smiling and picking his journal back up.

New entry: Nurse Y/N doesn't seem to be very happy about being the studied subject for once...

Pennywise hadn't written anything. You were partly disappointed, but not that surprised. Pennywise didn't like sharing—and that was even with himself. He was complicated and he refused to acknowledge his own feelings.

But, that was okay.

You closed the diary and looked at Pennywise who was sitting in his favorite rocking chair and was staring ahead at things you couldn't fathom.

Maybe were there ghosts of his past ? You didn't know. Maybe would he open up some day. But, you'd wait until then.

They ran. They all ran. And I chased after them. Their little hearts pounded loudly in their chests as I trapped them. Their wide eyes fixed on me.

You had mainly a lot of notes on his time when he had to face the Losers' club. Penny was oddly specific on the gore details of his past kills. But, you needed to understand him—so you digged dipper.

You read everything—everything until you found something truly important.

I'm losing my memory...Pennywise says it's normal. But, I can't even remember who I was before. What was my name ? I think I was a clown...But, I don't know anymore. I think I had a daughter. But, I don't remember her name.

Penny was...losing his memory ? You looked up and saw him playing with the other younger slashers in the garden. He was smiling and carelessly chasing after them. But, what if...there was more to him than you had initially thought ?

Ghostface had refused to show his face to anyone. You had simply wanted to get to know him better. You knew that searching though his personal entries for answers wasn't really nurse-worthy...But, he refused to open up. However, before you could read as much as a few words—he had grabbed the diary from your hands and pressed his knife against your throat.

"Now now...nursy. Spying ? That's not very ethical of you.", he teased and you closed your eyes.

He seemed pissed by the way his voice became slightly more high-pitched and you knew that you should be afraid—but something else crossed your mind.

"What is you favorite scary movie ?", you muttered and Ghostface tilted his head quizzically.

"...What ?"

You slowly turned around to face him fully and he didn't stop you.

"That is the question you ask to all the patients. The question you always ask to everyone you meet. Are you...", you looked up—even though you couldn't really judge his reaction. "...searching for someone ?"

Ghostface stayed uncharacteristically quiet for a moment before clenching his fists.

"Leave. Now.", he uttered in a quiet whisper and you didn't dare defy him—as you knew by the way he had suddenly tensed up that you weren't welcome anymore.

The moment you were out, he slammed the door and locked the door before removing his mask and throwing it to the ground angrily. He was was conflicted. He was ashamed that you had succeeded in seeing right through him so quickly. And, he couldn't tell you—not yet. He opened his diary and sighed. He couldn't tell you that the answer he was searching for was Psychose. 1960. His father's favorite scary movie.

It was the only information he had—that and that he was a patient in St Louis. He looked up at the ceiling and suddenly threw the diary in the fire heating up the room.

No one would know. He wouldn't risk it.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 2017 #pennywise 1990 #pennywise x reader #slashers #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #jack torrance x reader #ghostface x reader

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the-raven-lady · 4 months ago

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a gift for @men-want-me-fish-fear-me !! it told me about its mpreg AU and got me thinking about the complications that would have for someone like Konrad

this one's a bit heavy on body image issues so please be in a good state of mind for this!!

please read the warnings!!

Character: Konrad Curze

Song Inspiration: Real Men - Mitski [YouTube] [Spotify] "Real men don't need other people / And real men suck it in / Real men don't flinch or bleed in public / Oh, I think I'm a real man."

Warnings: mpreg, pregnancy symptoms, self image issues, self-inflicted gore, lamenting dark realities, implication of potential non-con, mentions of infanticide

Word Count: 643

Konrad groaned as the weight shift nearly threw him off balance and crashing into the stones below. Had the nausea not been enough? Blackened nails and coarse fingertips drag over the sensitive flesh of his aching abdomen, the skin taut against the growing life beneath. The Night Haunter loathed his natural urges. Being bound to a biological clock beyond his control was one of the many gifts of his father that he would rather have ripped out long ago.

As if he hadn’t already tried.

It was easy enough for him to sink his clawed finger tips deep into the putrid skin of his belly. The iron tang of blood spilled had only served to spur him on, ripping and tearing and pulling as the offending organ until it was nothing but fleshy pink viscera on the floor. How miserable it had been when it had not even taken a week for the gland to revive itself. The regenerative nature of primarch biology seemed to leave him no choice in the matter.

Righting himself on his perch, Konrad elected to take a break from his prowling to calm the waves of nausea washing over him. He would never get used to it. A zing of electricity shot up from his tailbone when he sat against the stone ledge, drawing a gasp from him, then several curses. He gently rubs the base of his spine to soothe the ache.

Konrad felt delicate. Every little action that he would normally perform without effort could prove to be too much on his pregnant body. Perhaps he would be fine with it if he chose when the urges to breed took him, but his genealogy couldn’t even grant him that. Throne save the next helpless serf that wandered in his path when it kicked in, for Konrad knew their chances of survival were slim at best. This was a part of his father’s great vision? Bouncing on the cock of passers-by then birthing sons into a legion of murders and scum? It infuriated the primarch to no end. His only saving grace was that he never seemed to inflate to the size of his expecting brothers, remaining more gaunt and lithe.

Perhaps if he were Guilliman or Fulgrim, he could try to find an ounce of pride in bringing a new life into the world. Maybe then, he would see a purpose to all of the lost meals, cramping, and searing pain of the birthing process. Maybe then he wouldn’t hate the changes to his body, losing the ability to bend and contort as he wished. Maybe then he would want to hold the boys as they came out and coo at them as his brothers did.

His legion would never be grateful for the effort he put in for them. He would spare all of his blood children the mercy of ever having to integrate into the Night Lords with a quick snap to the neck if they weren’t always taken from him so quickly. Darling of his brothers to chain him down each and every time he neared emergence after they discovered the fates of the first several cycles. Fulgrim had been mortified hearing about how Konrad had disposed of the newborns like waste.

The Imperial Palace was always quiet at this time of night, nobles and Astartes alike turning in by this hour. Only Custodians remained, silent watchers they were (at least they could mind their own business), and his brothers would rarely come to check in on him. Konrad let out a weary sigh and tucked his legs the best he could against his swollen belly, protecting the fetus within. Emotions threatened to boil over in his chest, and Konrad Curze had to choke back a tired sob.

Things would be much easier if he didn’t still love each of his sons anyway.

#the raven lady double posts #a midsummer miracle #cw pregnancy #cw mpreg #cw gore #konrad curze #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 30k #primarch #warhammer fanfic #raven lady writings

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e-n-t-r-o-p-i-c-f-r-o-g · 1 month ago

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The amazing hanahaki Xie Lian art got me thinking about some things.

Honestly, I don't know much about hanahaki. I know the premise, I've read some fics about it, but one thing stood out to me.

It's scary.

It's an all-consuming love that grows from within, but a love you can't escape.

(And it's usually what scares me that gets me really curious and creative ahsjfkgll)

From what I understand, hanahaki happens when you love someone, but that love is unrequited. The more you fall in love, the worse the disease gets.

But, of course, with hualian, Hua Cheng is so in love with Xie Lian that it wouldn't even give Xie Lian the chance to develop the disease after they reconnect in the main timeline.

So how would Xie Lian get hanahaki?

Maybe it's the asexual in me, but can hanahaki disease grow from a love that is explicitly not romantic or sexual and can it be directed toward more than one person? Can it even be the result of dedicating oneself to an idea? A people? A nation?

Because if Xie Lian loves "the common people," and that is the thing that spurs on hanahaki disease for him, that's just... so sad. And also very intriguing. I will likely rotate this around in my brain for a while.

Also, I wonder if this will result with Xie Lian eventually meeting Hua Cheng and being very confused because. He loves him. He knows he does, and yet, why hasn't the disease hit him yet? Is something wrong?

Also, would this mean that Hua Cheng would never have gotten hanahaki himself because, to Xie Lian, Hong Hong'er is a representation of "the common people" he has dedicated himself to, body and soul? This would spare Hong Hong'er from hanahaki, especially if we're not restricting it to the romantic or sexual kinds of love (as Hua Cheng grows older) that needs to be requited. Or perhaps he has a diluted and survivable version of the disease as a result.

Although Hua Cheng loved Xie Lian in return when he was younger, his love was the love of one small and impercievable person, especially to a god, not the amalgamation of all loves from the entire world. And he therefore could not relieve Xie Lian of his suffering. This may inspire Hua Cheng to become stronger than anyone else. To catch Xie Lian's eye in anyway he can, and become his world.

Would Hua Cheng create cities of flowers to try and communicate, somehow and someway, that he has, and will always, love Xie Lian? Could it convey the beauty and agony he's felt despite him not bearing the brunt of hanahaki?

Mmm, yes, much to think about.

*here's the art!

#frog rambles #im not historically a hanahaki enjoyer #(but i respect it totally)#that said if i can put twists and turns on it i know ill have an absolute field day with it #tgcf

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vera-king-hrfl · 6 months ago

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Second part of the thing I did. This one is more porny. Soft dom Zev, Rolan on his knees... 🏳️‍🌈

As you weave your way through the darkness, heading toward the river, you reflect on everything that has happened since the fall of Elturel. That city had been restored, but your people had been blamed, and you were no longer welcome. It made little difference to you. You’d rarely felt welcome anywhere until Cal and Lia decided that you would be their brother, and share in their love. But Zevlor, also, had always been there. He had broken his Paladin oath to keep you all safe, to protect you. Abandoning his city, his post, his duty and his gods, choosing to lead a pack of feeble refugees into the wilderness to find a new home for you all. You owed him everything, more than any of you could ever repay. But he asks for nothing in return. His life has been nothing but pain since then. You want to give him what he’d given you. A feeling of belonging. Of comfort. Your body and your feeble skills are a meagre offering, but you will give gladly, if he will only accept. The kiss, earlier, burns in your mind. The heat and power of him, the staggering effect he has on you. You have never wanted another person this badly, and the longing to give him pleasure spurs you onward despite your nervousness. You will not measure up. You can’t. But by all the gods above and below, you will try.

He is there. You see him in the distance by the soft gleam of moonlight on his horns, the pale streak of the white shirt he wears. He is out of armor for the first time in weeks, standing at the water’s edge, his back to you. His head is bowed, hands curled at his sides, shoulders seeming tense. You call his name when you draw closer, but he’s already turning, sensing your approach. Sneaking up on Zevlor would be no easier then besting him in combat. The nobles of Elturel has driven out their greatest treasure, their most devoted servant, to slog along a dirty dangerous road, caring for people who did not deserve his loyalty. People like you. You feel shame again at how you had treated the dignified older man, but you’re here to make that better, if you can.

He smooths his shirt when you draw near, touching his hair, his horns, looking quite nervous. Your own heart is beating like a trip hammer, and you think you know how he feels. “You came,” is all he says before turning again to study the reflection of the moon on the dark water.

You smile as you reach him, taking his hand and standing next to him, remaining silent, enjoying his closeness. The moment stretches, and you feel more comfortable the longer he presses your hand. “I couldn’t stay away,” you whisper finally. “Do you want to talk about this? I don’t really need to, but if you’re apprehensive…”

He glances at you and sighs. “I must admit… yes, I am. This… these feelings. I never imagined that I would allow anyone to affect me like this again. I thought all that behind me. My purpose…”

“Yes, I think I see. Zevlor, I want this. I want to spend the night with you. But I won’t push you if you’re not ready. I thought it might make you feel… but I have to tell you, I have little experience. Some, but rather outdated. There have been other more pressing concerns than… that.”

He looks at you again and this time he holds your eyes. “For me as well. Perhaps at one time…” He chuckles softly, “But I know how to please a man. I can still make this good for you. I may be a bit rusty, but if you will only tell me what you enjoy, I will do anything you want. But let me lead. Please. I am more comfortable...”

You grin at him, lowering your head. “You like to be in charge. I have no problem with that. And I have a feeling I will enjoy anything you do to me. Put me on my knees. Let me call you Commander. I know I act like I have everything handled, but usually I’m just fumbling for purchase, for my place in the world. For tonight, you can control my body.”

He looks rather startled for a moment. Understandable, given your previous aggression, but then he smiles, “Then I will do my best to liberate you. Come, there is a place nearby.” He turns then and leads you away from the shimmering river into a deeper darkness beneath a copse of trees. There seems to be the unspoken agreement between you that this remain secret, but you don’t mind that. He has placed a bedroll there, and he stops, turning to catch you by the back of the neck and drawing you to him. His mouth covers yours and now he is not hesitant, but confident, the kiss almost fierce, so great is his need. You moan, melting in his strong grasp, releasing your tension and putting yourself completely in his hands. His tongue plunges between your lips, his other arm curling around you and pulling you against him hard. You feel your cock start to stiffen immediately. The shy, reserved man is gone. This is the Hellrider, the Zevlor you once knew and secretly fantasized about, the one you’d heard the older folks mention in hushed tones as a miracle worker in the bedroom as well as on the battlefield. His kiss is hot, hungry, and he pulls the tie from your hair and grips a handful, pulling your head back so he can kiss and lick your neck. Every shred of hard-won poise deserts you then, and you whimper, clutching at him, pushing your pelvis forward, wanting to feel every inch of his solid, muscular body. You feel his sharp teeth nick your skin. “May I?” You nod, begging for his bite, and he sinks the fangs deep, drawing blood and a sharp cry from you. He holds you while you twitch, licking at the wound, then lifts his head and reclaims your mouth, coiling his long tongue around yours. He is not much bigger than you, but harder, stronger, with more infernal blood, and his tongue is deeply forked while yours is only lightly indented. You feel the power of that heritage when he pulls your head back again and grins. “Take off your clothes.”

He releases you and you step back, hastening to shrug out of your robe and underthings, and you shiver with delight when he looks you up and down with seeming approval. He pulls his own shirt off and your breath catches. It is dark, but your night vision is good, and you let your eyes trace every ripple of muscle, every ridge, every deep slashing scar on his beautiful torso. The Commander is modest around others, and you’d never seen him shirtless before. You start to approach, wanting to touch him, but he holds up his hand and you halt, trembling.

“On your knees.” You hit the ground almost before you can think, the weight of his command overwhelming, desiring nothing more than to obey, to please him. “Do you want to taste me?”

“Yes, Commander. Yes, please. I’ve dreamed of this.” His authority sets you on fire and you reach around behind him to release the clasp of his pants and drag them down his heavy thighs. His scent hits your nose when his hard shaft springs free, clean and fresh, but with a hint of something more. Dark, spice, animal. You groan when he tangles his fingers in your hair and allows you to lavish the length and crown of him with your tongue, kissing, licking, needing his taste. You had never particularly enjoyed this in the past, hadn’t been very good at it, but tonight your own cock twitches in sympathy when he eases into your mouth. You grip his hips, opening, letting him sink deeper until he’s lodged in your throat. He’s quite large, but you have a wide mouth and you are able to take him with only a little strain. Despite his show of dominance, he is still being careful, not pushing you too hard, and his deep groan is beautiful to your ears. The idea that you are drawing such a sound from him winds the tension in your groin near to the breaking point.

He seems to notice your crisis and growls, “you can touch yourself while you suck me if you want.” But you don’t release his hips, instead simply letting him pull your head back and then hold you still, pumping into your throat again and again, slowly, dragging the ridges of his length against your tongue, making your eyes water. You don’t need to touch yourself. You are already close enough, and when he loses himself a little and shoves deeper with a growl, you gasp through your nose and release onto the ground, shuddering and moaning. He continues for a few more seconds before pulling you off of him and looking down at you, stroking your hair. “Did… Rolan, did you come just from that?”

You close your eyes, licking your lips to savor his taste. “Yes I did. You… it’s so good. Wanted this so badly.” It is liberating, to allow him control, to know that he is going to use you, without you having to think, having to perform.

He chuckles. “Good boy.” You smile at the praise, feeling warm and content. “My, you are enjoying this. Who would have thought… do you want to continue?”

“Fuck yes. I want to make you feel good. Want to make you come. Use me, Commander, please.”

He growls again and grabs both of your horns, pulling you back down his cock, and starts to fuck your mouth more vigorously, challenging you to keep your breathing controlled and your teeth away from his skin.

“Oh gods, yes… fuck, Rolan. So good… you’re doing so well… suck a little harder… oh fuck yes yes just like that… close, going to come down your throat. That’s it, you can take it. Just a little more.” His words are magical, his moans and whimpers delectable, his smell and taste and the feel of him yanking on your horns making you hard again, wanting him to spill into your mouth, wanting his pleasure, needing it. You feel his cock swell, twitching, and then he cries out, forcing your face to his belly and filling your throat with hot spurts of his seed. You choke a little but control yourself, managing to swallow every drop. He gasps and snatches his hands away, but you rise slowly, drawing his climax out until he’s shaking and whimpering, fisting his hands at his sides. You finally release him with a sharp pop and grin, looking up. He pants, eyes blazing, and then groans and stumbles to the bedroll, dropping down on it and lying on his back. You follow, stretching out beside him and caressing his chest.

Eventually he turns a bit and kisses you, pressing his forehead to yours with his eyes closed. “That was incredible,” he whispers, “I haven’t felt anything like that in more than a decade. I still have no idea why you’re here, but I am glad I did not lose my nerve. It was a near thing, you know. I was going to send you away and come over here, get myself off, and go to sleep. But you were so sweet, holding my hand. So pretty…”

You snort, “that doesn’t sound like much fun. I’m happy that my own courage didn’t fail me. And I’m glad you enjoyed it. I wanted to be able to do this for you. To make you feel good. At first, I really just wanted you to fuck me, but this was so good that I am certainly not disappointed. We can do that another night if we get the chance.”

His eyes open then, and he raises his brows, “Oh, sweet boy. You think I’m finished?” He laughs and sits up, reaching for a bottle of water and taking a long drink before handing it to you. He bites his lip, grinning and looking you over as you sip. “I may be getting up in years, but I think I can outlast a cranky little wizard. I would still like your pretty ass, if you think you can take it.” His smile grows darker. “I’m not sure you can.”

You hear the challenge in his voice and growl. “Yeah, yeah, I know. My jaw is already aching a bit and I probably won’t be able to walk properly afterward, but that’s what I’m here for. I’ve been so fucking stressed… I think if you pound me until I can’t see straight it might improve my mood. At least for a little while.” You think it also might serve as a personal penance for how you behaved toward him earlier, but you don’t mention that.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “you make a convincing case. We’ll have to get you ready first. I’ve been told I can be a little… intense… when I’m doing that. And I know I’m a bit bigger than average, but if we start slowly, I will be more than happy to fuck the attitude out of you.”

#zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor bg3 #nsft #zevlovers #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan bg3 #holy rolan empire #rolan x zevlor #zevlor x rolan #zevlor going from nervous to dommy just does something for me #not sorry

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