#next prompt: discipline

[flowersdiceandlove]

The burial mounds, a place of mystery, the place of the dead, cannot be comprehended by humans. It is a place warped by time and resentful energy and the intentions of those who inhabit it and who knows what else. It is sentient and has a strong will of its own. It’s said that no one can leave the Burial Mounds, and that is true as much as it’s not. The burial mounds keeps what is theirs; protects what is theirs. No one can escape from the Burial Mounds bc more often than not, once you enter, the Burial Mounds see you as theirs. It does not take well to people hurting and taking what is theirs. (And, maybe this is why a certain demonic cultivator was able to survive and leave that place. Maybe he understood this will and resentment bc he too would do anything to protect those he loves. For him as well, once he considers someone family, they are family. And nothing will change that. No matter what happens, his family is his family, and those under his protection are fully under his protection. They can see a kindred spirit in each other, and so the Burial Mounds let him go, knowing that he will always carry part of the Burial Mounds with him. The souls in his sleeves and the resentful energy he welcomes into his body. The boon that the Burial Mounds grants him.)

It is for these reasons that WWX knows to bring the Wen remnants there. Not only does he know he can defend them if needed in that place teeming with resentment, he knows the Burial Mounds themselves will protect them. It protects its own, and the Burial Mounds knows these people that WWX brought are his, so they are its. It’s as simple as that. And, the Burial Mounds likes it. It likes having these people here, milling about and carving a life on it. It likes how they turns its soil from barren to fruitful. It likes how they are happy and content. It likes being their home and haven. It will do anything to protect them.

When the first siege comes, the Burial Mounds try to protect what is theirs. These people who have made a home on it. But, they are all grieving deeply, and it’s beautiful child, the first to even understand them and want to make peace with them instead of destroying them, is breaking apart. He is breaking apart with the weight of someone who could not protect that which is most precious to him. And he has been breaking with this weight for months now, every day chipping another piece of himself away, every day pulling further and further into himself, every day driving him just a little more insane. The Burial Mounds have no problem with madness. They will still embrace him fully and without question, but it pains them to see him like this. They are all breaking under the pressure of what the world outside its borders do. This is no longer their haven, but now their place of imminent doom. It is only a matter of time until the cultivators attack. The Burial Mounds fights back as it always does to protect those that are its. But, some of these living cultivators attacking are family of WWX and it cannot attack family. And, it knows that even should he wipe all these harmful intruders out, that will not stop more from coming, and more after that. The Burial Mounds would fight every wave they send, but that is not the issue. The issue is that its people are grieving and breaking. The issue is that it cannot do anything to fix that and every attack will break their spirits just that much more.

So instead, the Burial Mounds decide to change it. As the cultivators pour in, the Burial Mounds pulls its energy from defending and into charging its intention.  Some of its people get cut down, but that is fine, it will still work, they do not have to be alive. Just as WWX is about to destroy the Stygian Tiger Amulet (oh, and look at their brave boy, but don’t do that, my child, it will tear you apart) a large pulse of resentful energy ripples out over the battlefield, shaking the ground and seeping into all that is theirs. The air and ground starts to ripple, unstable and warping like swirls of marble, until none can stay standing in this odd happening, toppling over, nauseous from the swirling. Those that are theirs are sucked into the soil, deep into its power, and it embraces them into its depths.

Then—

They open their eyes.

WWX is seven, on the streets of Yiling, and turns his head to the Burial Mounds so close by, calling to him. Come home, my child, it whispers. Come to me; I will protect you.

Wen Ning is eight and Wen Qing 14. They also look in the direction of Yiling—of the Burial Mounds. They too hear the call. There are gasps rippling around their home, and people bursting through doors, embracing each other, crying in joy. Eyes flick around at everyone. They know. All those that were on the Burial Mounds, as well as Wen Qing and Wen Ning remember. They know what Wen Ruohan is planning. They also know what will happen to their real family.

They go to Yiling. Just a few at first. They lost many people in their branch before they were saved by WWX, and those people are more than hesitant to go to that cursed place. Those that remember can’t simply leave them to their fates again. So, some go, while some stay. They will convince the rest later. When they arrive at the base of the Burial Mounds, there is already a large collapse in the wall surrounding it looking to be made recently. The paths open up for them as they start their ascent. The path is just as they remember, the corpses and spirits howling, but leaving them be. They know they are already part of them. Granny Wen and Wen Qing are at the front of the group, leading the way. Wen Qing wishes her brother was there, but that was not something their parents would budge on. They barely let her go, and only because Granny was insisting as well and promised to look after her.

They reach the clearing where their homes were, and there they are. Their little shacks that barely stay standing. The patches of land they’d tilled and toiled over. And there, perched on a tree stump by the side of the road is a boy, even smaller than A-Ning, covered in dirt and grime that can’t all be from the Burial Mounds, spinning a black, bamboo dizi in his tiny hands. He watches them with shining eyes and a large smile they’d know anywhere breaks out on his face, then—

He laughs. The boy laughs loud and clear and bright as he topples off the stump in his joy. Many of them join in the laughter as well. Amazed and in disbelief. Wen Qing, granny, and a few others rush over to the little Wei Wuxian and pull him into a crushing embrace. The laughter soon turns to wracking sobs as they all cling to each other and let it all sink in. 

They are alive. They are together.

And, they will make sure it stays that way.

The Burial Mounds hum around them, welcoming them home.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

600+ Personality Traits

as reference for your next poem/story

Positive Traits

Accessible - easy to speak to or deal with

Active - disposed to action; energetic

Adaptable - capable of being or becoming adapted (i.e., suited by nature, character, or design to a particular use, purpose, or situation)

Admirable - deserving the highest esteem

Adventurous - disposed to seek adventure or to cope with the new and unknown

Agreeable - ready or willing to agree or consent

Alert - watchful and prompt to meet danger or emergency

Allocentric - having one's interest and attention centered on other persons

Amiable - friendly, sociable, and congenial

Anticipative - given to anticipation (i.e., the act of looking forward)

Appreciative - having or showing appreciation (i.e., a favorable critical estimate)

Articulate - expressing oneself readily, clearly, and effectively

Aspiring - desiring and working to achieve a particular goal

Athletic - characteristic of an athlete; vigorous, active

Attractive - arousing interest or pleasure; charming

Balanced - being in a state of balance; having different parts or elements properly or effectively arranged, regulated etc.

Benevolent - marked by or disposed to doing good

Brilliant - distinguished by unusual mental keenness or alertness

Calm - free from agitation, excitement, or disturbance

Capable - having or showing general efficiency and ability

Captivating - charmingly or irresistibly appealing

Caring - feeling or showing concern for or kindness to others

Challenging - invitingly provocative; fascinating

Charismatic - having, exhibiting, or based on charisma (i.e., a special magnetic charm or appeal)

Charming - extremely pleasing or delightful; entrancing

Cheerful - full of good spirits; merry

Clean - pure; free from moral corruption or sinister connections of any kind; fair

Clearheaded - having or showing a clear understanding; perceptive

Clever - mentally quick and resourceful

Colorful - full of variety or interest

Companionable - marked by, conducive to, or suggestive of companionship; sociable

Compassionate - having or showing compassion; sympathetic

Conciliatory - intended to gain goodwill or favor or to reduce hostility

Confident - having or showing assurance and self-reliance

Conscientious - meticulous, careful

Considerate - thoughtful of the rights and feelings of others

Constant - marked by firm steadfast resolution or faithfulness

Contemplative - marked by or given to contemplation (i.e., an act of considering with attention)

Cooperative - marked by a willingness and ability to work with others

Courageous - having or characterized by courage; brave

Courteous - marked by respect for and consideration of others

Creative - having the quality of something created rather than imitated; imaginative

Cultured - cultivated (i.e., refined, educated)

Curious - marked by desire to investigate and learn

Daring - venturesomely bold in action or thought

Debonair - suave, urbane; lighthearted, nonchalant

Decent - marked by moral integrity, kindness, and goodwill

Decisive - resolute, determined

Dedicated - devoted to a cause, ideal, or purpose; zealous

Deep - of penetrating intellect; wise

Dignified - showing or expressing dignity (i.e., the quality or state of being worthy, honored, or esteemed)

Directed - having a positive or negative sense

Disciplined - marked by or possessing discipline (i.e., orderly or prescribed conduct or pattern of behavior)

Discreet - prudent; modest; unobtrusive

Dramatic - having or showing a tendency to behave or react in an exaggerated way

Dutiful - filled with or motivated by a sense of duty

Dynamic - energetic, forceful

Earnest - characterized by or proceeding from an intense and serious state of mind

Ebullient - having or showing liveliness and enthusiasm

Educated - having an education; skilled

Efficient - productive of desired effects

Elegant - of a high grade or quality; splendid

Eloquent - marked by forceful and fluent expression

Empathetic - involving, characterized by, or based on empathy (i.e., the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another)

Energetic - operating with or marked by vigor or effect

Enthusiastic - filled with or marked by enthusiasm (i.e., strong excitement of feeling)

Esthetic - artistic; appreciative of, responsive to, or zealous about the beautiful

Exciting - producing excitement (i.e., something that rouses)

Extraordinary - exceptional to a very marked extent

Fair - marked by impartiality and honesty

Faithful - steadfast in affection or allegiance; loyal

Farsighted - having or showing foresight or good judgment; sagacious

Felicific - causing or intended to cause happiness

Firm - not weak or uncertain; vigorous

Flexible - characterized by a ready capability to adapt to new, different, or changing requirements; tractable

Focused - a state or condition permitting clear perception or understanding

Forceful - possessing or filled with force; effective

Forgiving - allowing room for error or weakness

Forthright - free from ambiguity or evasiveness

Freethinking - thinking freely or independently

Friendly - showing kindly interest and goodwill

Fun-loving - lighthearted and lively

Gallant - nobly chivalrous and often self-sacrificing; spirited

Generous - liberal in giving; magnanimous

Gentle - free from harshness, sternness, or violence; docile

Genuine - free from hypocrisy or pretense; sincere

Good-natured - of a pleasant and cooperative disposition

Gracious - marked by kindness and courtesy

Hardworking - constantly, regularly, or habitually engaged in earnest and energetic work; industrious, diligent

Healthy - prosperous, flourishing

Hearty - enthusiastically or exuberantly cordial; jovial

Helpful - of service or assistance; useful

Heroic - exhibiting or marked by courage and daring

High-minded - marked by elevated principles and feelings; also: pretentious

Honest - genuine, real; marked by integrity

Honorable - deserving of respect or high regard; illustrious

Humble - not proud or haughty; unpretentious

Humorous - full of or characterized by humor; funny

Idealistic - of or relating to idealists or idealism (i.e., having a standard of perfection, beauty, or excellence)

Imaginative - given to imagining; having a lively imagination

Impressive - making or tending to make a marked impression; having the power to excite attention, awe, or admiration

Incisive - impressively direct and decisive

Incorruptible - incapable of being bribed or morally corrupted

Independent - not requiring or relying on others

Individualistic - pursuing a markedly independent course in thought or action

Innovative - characterized by, tending to, or introducing innovations (i.e., a new idea, method, or device)

Inoffensive - giving no provocation; peaceable

Insightful - exhibiting or characterized by insight (i.e., the power or act of seeing into a situation)

Insouciant - lighthearted unconcern; nonchalance

Intelligent - guided or directed by intellect; rational

Intuitive - possessing or given to intuition or insight

Invulnerable - immune to or proof against attack

Kind - of a sympathetic or helpful nature

Knowledgeable - having or showing knowledge or intelligence-

Leisurely - characterized by leisure; unhurried

Liberal - marked by generosity; openhanded; broad-minded

Logical - skilled in logic; analytic; capable of reasoning

Lovable - having qualities that attract affection

Loyal - unswerving in allegiance

Lyrical - having an artistically beautiful or expressive quality suggestive of song

Magnanimous - showing or suggesting a lofty and courageous spirit

Many-sided - having many sides or aspects; interests or aptitudes

Mature - based on slow careful consideration

Methodical - habitually proceeding according to method

Meticulous - marked by extreme or excessive care in the consideration or treatment of details

Moderate - avoiding extremes of behavior or expression; calm, temperate

Modest - decent; unpretentious

Multi-leveled - having a scale (as of difficulty or achievement) with multiple positions or ranks

Natural leader - a person who has qualities that a good leader has

Neat - habitually clean and orderly

Nonauthoritarian - not authoritarian (i.e., of, relating to, or favoring a concentration of power in a leader or an elite not constitutionally responsible to the people)

Objective - expressing or dealing with facts or conditions as perceived without distortion by personal feelings, prejudices, or interpretations

Observant - paying strict attention; keen; mindful

Open - characterized by ready accessibility and usually generous attitude; responsive

Optimistic - of, relating to, or characterized by optimism; feeling or showing hope for the future

Orderly - well behaved; peaceful; tidy

Organized - having a formal organization to coordinate and carry out activities

Original - independent and creative in thought or action; inventive

Painstaking - taking pains; expending, showing, or involving diligent care and effort

Passionate - capable of, affected by, or expressing intense feeling; enthusiastic

Patient - bearing pains or trials calmly or without complaint; not hasty

Patriotic - befitting or characteristic of a patriot (i.e., one who loves and supports his or her country)

Peaceful - untroubled by conflict, agitation, or commotion; quiet, tranquil

Perceptive - responsive to sensory stimuli; discerning; observant

Perfectionist - having a disposition to regard anything short of perfection as unacceptable

Personable - pleasant or amiable in person; attractive

Persuasive - tending to persuade (i.e., to move by argument, entreaty, or expostulation to a belief, position, or course of action)

Planful - full of plans; resourceful; scheming

Playful - full of play; frolicsome, sportive; humorous

Polished - characterized by a high degree of development, finish, or refinement; free from imperfections

Popular - commonly liked or approved

Practical - actively engaged in some course of action or occupation; useful

Precise - strictly conforming to a pattern, standard, or convention

Principled - exhibiting, based on, or characterized by principle (i.e., a comprehensive and fundamental law, doctrine, or assumption)

Profound - having intellectual depth and insight

Protean - displaying great diversity or variety; versatile

Protective - intended to resist or prevent attack or aggression

Providential - coming or happening by good luck especially unexpectedly; fortunate

Prudent - having or showing good judgment and restraint especially in conduct or speech; cautious

Punctual - being on time; prompt

Purposeful - full of determination

Rational - having reason or understanding; reasonable

Realistic - able to see things as they really are and to deal with them in a practical way

Reflective - marked by reflection; thoughtful, deliberative

Relaxed - easy of manner; informal

Reliable - suitable or fit to be relied on; dependable

Resourceful - able to meet situations; capable of devising ways and means

Respectful - marked by or showing respect or deference

Responsible - able to answer for one's conduct and obligations; trustworthy

Responsive - quick to respond or react appropriately or sympathetically; sensitive

Reverential - expressing or having a quality of reverence (i.e., honor or respect felt or shown; deference)

Romantic - having an inclination for romance; responsive to the appeal of what is idealized, heroic, or adventurous

Rustic - characteristic of or resembling country people

Sage - wise through reflection and experience

Sane - rational; able to anticipate and appraise the effect of one's actions

Scholarly - of, characteristic of, or suitable to learned persons; learned, academic

Scrupulous - having moral integrity; acting in strict regard for what is considered right or proper

Secure - trustworthy, dependable; assured in opinion or expectation; confident

Selfless - having no concern for self; unselfish

Self-critical - inclined to find fault with oneself; critical of oneself

Self-denying - showing self-denial (i.e., a restraint or limitation of one's own desires or interests)

Self-effacing - having or showing a tendency to make oneself modestly or shyly inconspicuous

Self-reliant - having confidence in and exercising one's own powers or judgment

Self-sufficient - capable of providing for one's own needs; haughty, overbearing

Sensitive - highly responsive or susceptible; delicate; touchy

Sentimental - marked or governed by feeling, sensibility, or emotional idealism

Seraphic - suggestive of or resembling a seraphim or angel

Serious - thoughtful or subdued in appearance or manner; sober

Sexy - sexually suggestive or stimulating; appealing

Sharing - to talk about one's thoughts, feelings, or experiences with others

Shrewd - marked by clever discerning awareness and hardheaded acumen

Simple - free from guile; innocent; modest; naive

Skillful - possessed of or displaying skill; expert

Sober - marked by temperance, moderation, or seriousness; calm

Sociable - inclined by nature to companionship with others of the same species; social

Solid - sound; reliable; serious in purpose or character

Sophisticated - finely experienced and aware; intellectually appealing

Spontaneous - controlled and directed internally; natural

Sporting - of, relating to, used, or suitable for sport

Stable - firmly established; enduring

Steadfast - firm in belief, determination, or adherence; loyal

Steady - not easily disturbed or upset; dependable

Stoic - not affected by or showing passion or feeling

Strong - extreme, intense; ardent; firm

Studious - assiduous in the pursuit of learning

Suave - smoothly though often superficially gracious and sophisticated

Subtle - delicate, elusive; obscure

Sweet - marked by gentle good humor or kindliness; agreeable

Sympathetic - given to, marked by, or arising from sympathy, compassion, friendliness, and sensitivity to others' emotions

Systematic - marked by thoroughness and regularity

Tasteful - having, exhibiting, or conforming to good taste

Teacherly - resembling, characteristic of, or befitting a teacher

Thorough - complete in all respects; having full mastery

Tidy - methodical, precise; neat and orderly

Tolerant - permitting or accepting something (such as a behavior or belief) that one does not like

Tractable - capable of being easily led, taught, or controlled; docile

Trusting - having or showing trust in another

Uncomplaining - accepting pains or hardships calmly or without complaint

Understanding - endowed with understanding; tolerant, sympathetic

Undogmatic - not dogmatic; not committed to dogma (i.e., something held as an established opinion)

Unfoolable -impossible to fool (i.e., deceive)

Upright - marked by strong moral rectitude

Urbane - notably polite or polished in manner

Venturesome - inclined to court or incur risk or danger; daring

Vivacious - lively in temper, conduct, or spirit; sprightly

Warm - secure; ardent; marked by or readily showing affection, gratitude, cordiality, or sympathy

Well-bred - having or displaying the politeness and good manners associated especially with people of high social class

Well-read - well-informed or deeply versed through reading

Well-rounded - fully or broadly developed

Winning - successful especially in competition; tending to please or delight

Wise - marked by deep understanding, keen discernment, and a capacity for sound judgment

Witty - marked by or full of clever humor or wit

Youthful - having the vitality or freshness of youth; vigorous

Neutral Traits

Absentminded - tending to forget or fail to notice things

Aggressive - marked by combative readiness

Ambitious - having a desire to be successful, powerful, or famous

Amusing - giving amusement; diverting

Artful - using or characterized by art and skill; dexterous

Ascetic - austere in appearance, manner, or attitude

Authoritarian - of, relating to, or favoring a concentration of power in a leader or an elite not constitutionally responsible to the people

Big-thinking - tendency to think about doing things that involve a lot of people, money, effort, etc.

Breezy - airy, nonchalant

Businesslike - serious, purposeful

Busy - full of activity; bustling

Casual - feeling or showing little concern; nonchalant; informal

Cautious - careful about avoiding danger or risk

Cerebral - primarily intellectual in nature

Chummy - quite friendly

Circumspect - careful to consider all circumstances and possible consequences; prudent

Competitive - inclined, desiring, or suited to compete (i.e., to strive consciously or unconsciously for an objective)

Complex - having many parts or aspects that are usually interrelated; complicated; intricate

Confidential - entrusted with confidences

Conservative - marked by or relating to traditional norms of taste, elegance, style, or manners

Contradictory - involving, causing, or constituting a contradiction (i.e., logical incongruity)

Crisp - concise and to the point; lively

Cute - attractive or pretty especially in a childish, youthful, or delicate way

Deceptive - tending or having power to cause someone to accept as true or valid what is false or invalid

Determined - characterized by determination (i.e., the act of deciding definitely and firmly)

Dominating - dominant; domineering

Dreamy - quiet and soothing; delightful, ideal

Driving - acting with vigor; energetic

Droll - having a humorous, whimsical, or odd quality

Dry - not showing or communicating warmth, enthusiasm, or tender feeling; uninteresting; plain; aloof

Earthy - practical, down-to-earth; unsophisticated

Effeminate - having feminine qualities untypical of a man

Emotional - markedly aroused or agitated in feeling or sensibilities

Enigmatic - of, relating to, or resembling an enigma; mysterious

Experimental - of, relating to, or based on experience or experiment; tentative

Familial - of or relating to a household or family; homey; domestic

Folksy - homespun; having or showing an unpretentious informality

Formal - following or agreeing with established form, custom, or rules

Freewheeling - free and loose in form or manner

Frugal - economical; careful in the management of money or resources

Glamorous - full of glamour; excitingly attractive

Guileless - innocent, naive

High-spirited - characterized by a bold or energetic spirit

Hurried - going or working at speed; hasty

Hypnotic - readily holding the attention

Iconoclastic - tendency to not conform to generally accepted standards or customs

Idiosyncratic - peculiar; eccentric

Impassive - unsusceptible to or destitute of emotion; apathetic

Impersonal - withdrawn; having or showing no emotional warmth or interest in others

Impressionable - inexperienced; easy to influence

Intense - extreme in degree, power, or effect; passionate

Invisible - discreet; not readily seen or noticed

Irreligious - lacking religious emotions, principles, or practices

Irreverent - lacking proper respect or seriousness

Maternal - of, relating to, belonging to, or characteristic of a mother; motherly

Mellow - pleasant, agreeable; laid back

Modern - being or involving the latest methods, concepts, information, or styles

Moralistic - characterized by or expressive of a narrow moral attitude

Mystical - impossible to prove, understand, or explain by either the senses or intelligence

Neutral - not decided or pronounced as to characteristics; indifferent

Noncommittal - having no clear or distinctive character

Noncompetitive - not inclined towards or characterized by competition or rivalry

Obedient - submissive to the restraint or command of authority; willing to obey

Old-fashioned - adhering to customs of a past era; outmoded

Ordinary - being of the type that is encountered in the normal course of events; normal

Outspoken - direct and open in speech or expression; frank

Placid - serenely free of interruption or disturbance

Political - involving or charged or concerned with acts against a government or a political system

Predictable - behaving in a way that is expected

Preoccupied - lost in thought and unaware of one's surroundings or actions; distracted

Private - preferring to keep personal affairs to oneself

Progressive - liberal; not bound by traditional ways or beliefs

Proud - feeling or showing pride

Pure - having exactly the talents or skills needed for a particular role; immaculate; innocent

Questioning - skeptical; inclined to doubt or question claims

Quiet - calm; gentle; easygoing

Religious - scrupulously and conscientiously faithful; zealous

Reserved - restrained in words and actions

Restrained - not excessive or extravagant

Retiring - reserved, shy

Sarcastic - given to the use of sarcasm; caustic

Self-conscious - conscious of one's own acts or states as belonging to or originating in oneself

Sensual - devoted to or preoccupied with the senses or appetites

Skeptical - relating to, characteristic of, or marked by skepticism (i.e., an attitude of doubt or a disposition to incredulity either in general or toward a particular object)

Smooth - amiable, courteous

Soft - lacking firmness or strength of character; feeble

Solemn - marked by grave sedateness and earnest sobriety

Solitary - not gregarious, colonial, social, or compound

Stern - having a definite hardness or severity of nature or manner; austere

Stolid - having or expressing little or no sensibility; unemotional

Strict - stringent in requirement or control

Stubborn - justifiably unyielding; resolute; mulish

Stylish - conforming to current fashion

Subjective - arising out of or identified by means of one's perception of one's own states and processes

Surprising - of a nature that excites surprise (i.e., a taking unawares)

Tough - capable of enduring strain, hardship, or severe labor

Unaggressive - not aggressive; not given to fighting or assertiveness

Unambitious - feeling or showing a lack of ambition (i.e., desire to achieve a particular end)

Unceremonious - not ceremonious; informal

Unchanging - constant, invariable

Undemanding - not requiring much time, effort, or attention

Unfathomable - incomprehensible; impossible to understand

Unhurried - not hurried; leisurely

Uninhibited - free from inhibition; boisterously informal

Unpatriotic - not feeling or showing love for or devotion to one's country

Unpredictable - tending to behave in ways that cannot be predicted

Unreligious - having no connection with or relation to religion; involving no religious import or idea

Unsentimental - not marked or governed by feeling, sensibility, or emotional idealism

Whimsical - characterized by whim or caprice; especially: lightly fanciful

Negative Traits

Abrasive - causing irritation

Abrupt - rudely or unceremoniously curt

Agonizing - causing agony (i.e., intense pain of mind or body)

Aimless - without aim or purpose

Airy - affected, proud

Aloof - removed or distant either physically or emotionally

Amoral - having or showing no concern about whether behavior is morally right or wrong

Angry - feeling or showing anger (i.e., a strong feeling of displeasure and usually of antagonism)

Anxious - characterized by extreme uneasiness of mind or brooding fear about some contingency; worried

Apathetic - having or showing little or no interest, concern, or emotion

Arbitrary - marked by or resulting from the unrestrained and often tyrannical exercise of power

Argumentative - given to argument; disputatious

Arrogant - exaggerating or disposed to exaggerate one's own worth or importance often by an overbearing manner

Artificial - imitation, sham

Asocial - not social; rejecting or lacking the capacity for social interaction

Assertive - disposed to or characterized by bold or confident statements and behavior; aggressive

Astigmatic - showing incapacity for observation or discrimination

Bewildered - deeply or utterly confused or perplexed

Bizarre - strikingly out of the ordinary

Bland - dull, insipid

Blunt - insensitive

Boisterous - noisily turbulent; tumultuous

Brittle - lacking warmth, depth, or generosity of spirit; cold

Brutal - cruel, cold-blooded; harsh

Calculating - marked by prudent analysis or by shrewd consideration of self-interest; scheming

Callous - feeling or showing no sympathy for others; hard-hearted

Cantankerous - difficult or irritating to deal with

Careless - negligent, slovenly

Charmless - unpleasant and without charm or interest

Childish - marked by or suggestive of immaturity and lack of poise

Clumsy - lacking tact or subtlety

Coarse - crude or unrefined in taste, manners, or language

Colorless - dull, uninteresting

Complacent - marked by self-satisfaction especially when accompanied by unawareness of actual dangers or deficiencies

Complaintive - prone to complain

Compulsive - of, relating to, caused by, or suggestive of psychological compulsion

Conceited - having or showing an excessively high opinion of oneself

Condemnatory - expressing strong criticism or disapproval

Conformist - following or seeking to enforce prevailing standards or customs; opposing or avoiding unconventional thinking and behavior

Confused - being perplexed or disconcerted

Contemptible - worthy of contempt (i.e., the act of despising)

Conventional - lacking originality or individuality; trite

Cowardly - being, resembling, or befitting a coward (i.e., one who shows disgraceful fear or timidity)

Crafty - adept in the use of subtlety and cunning

Crass - having or indicating such grossness of mind as precludes delicacy and discrimination

Criminal - guilty of crime; disgraceful

Critical - inclined to criticize severely and unfavorably

Crude - marked by the primitive, gross, or elemental or by uncultivated simplicity or vulgarity

Cruel - disposed to inflict pain or suffering; devoid of humane feelings

Cynical - having or showing the attitude or temper of a cynic (e.g., contemptuously distrustful of human nature and motives)

Decadent - characterized by or appealing to self-indulgence

Deceitful - deceptive, misleading

Delicate - weak, sickly; fragile

Demanding - requiring much time, effort, or attention; exacting

Dependent - relying on another for support

Desperate - having lost hope; suffering extreme need or anxiety

Destructive - designed or tending to hurt or destroy

Devious - not straightforward; deceptive

Difficult - hard to deal with, manage, or overcome

Dirty - morally unclean or corrupt

Disconcerting - causing embarrassment

Discontented - dissatisfied, malcontent

Discouraging - causing someone to feel less confident or less hopeful

Discourteous - lacking courtesy; rude

Dishonest - characterized by lack of truth, honesty, or trustworthiness; unfair, deceptive

Disloyal - showing an absence of allegiance, devotion, obligation, faith, or support

Disobedient - refusing or neglecting to obey

Disorderly - engaged in conduct offensive to public order

Disorganized - lacking coherence, system, or central guiding agency

Disputatious - inclined to dispute; controversial

Disrespectful - showing a lack of manners or consideration for others

Disruptive - disrupting or tending to disrupt some process, activity, condition, etc.

Dissolute - lacking restraint

Dissonant - marked by dissonance; discordant; incongruous

Distractible - when attention of the mind is easily distracted by small and irrelevant stimuli

Disturbing - causing feelings of worry, concern, or anxiety

Dogmatic - characterized by or given to the expression of opinions very strongly or positively as if they were facts

Domineering - inclined to exercise arbitrary and overbearing control over others

Dull - tedious, uninteresting

Egocentric - self-centered, selfish

Enervated - lacking physical, mental, or moral vigor

Envious - feeling or showing envy (i.e., painful or resentful awareness of an advantage enjoyed by another joined with a desire to possess the same advantage)

Erratic - characterized by lack of consistency, regularity, or uniformity

Escapist - relating to avoiding an unpleasant or boring life by thinking, reading, etc., about something more exciting or fun, especially something that could not really happen

Excitable - capable of being readily roused into action or a state of excitement or irritability

Expedient - governed by self-interest

Extravagant - lacking in moderation, balance, and restraint

Faithless - not to be relied on; untrustworthy; disloyal

False - not genuine; intentionally untrue

Fanatical - marked by excessive enthusiasm and often intense uncritical devotion

Fanciful - marked by fancy or unrestrained imagination rather than by reason and experience

Fatalistic - having or showing a belief that the future is determined and cannot be changed

Fawning - seeking or used to seek approval or favor by means of flattery

Fearful - causing or likely to cause fear, fright, or alarm especially because of dangerous quality

Fickle - marked by lack of steadfastness, constancy, or stability; given to erratic changeableness

Fiery - easily provoked; irritable

Fixed - firmly set in the mind

Flamboyant - excessively showy

Foolish - showing or marked by a lack of good sense or judgment

Forgetful - inclined to forget what one has learned or to do what one should

Fraudulent - characterized by, based on, or done by fraud; deceitful

Frightening - causing fear

Frivolous - marked by unbecoming levity

Gloomy - lacking in promise or hopefulness; pessimistic

Graceless - lacking a sense of propriety; immoral

Grand - lavish, sumptuous

Greedy - marked by greed; having or showing a selfish desire for wealth and possessions

Grim - ghastly, repellent, or sinister in character

Gullible - easily duped or cheated

Hateful - full of hate; malicious

Haughty - blatantly and disdainfully proud

Hedonistic - devoted to the pursuit of pleasure

Hesitant - slow to act or proceed (as from fear, indecision, or unwillingness)

Hidebound - having an inflexible or ultraconservative character

High-handed - having or showing no regard for the rights, concerns, or feelings of others; arbitrary, overbearing

Hostile - marked by malevolence; having or showing unfriendly feelings

Ignorant - unaware, uninformed

Imitative - imitating something superior; counterfeit

Impatient - not patient; restless or short of temper especially under irritation, delay, or opposition

Impractical - not practical; impracticable; idealistic

Imprudent - lacking discretion, wisdom, or good judgment

Impulsive - prone to act on impulse

Inconsiderate - careless of the rights or feelings of others

Incurious - lacking a normal or usual curiosity; uninterested

Indecisive - not decisive; inconclusive; irresolute

Indulgent - willing to allow excessive leniency, generosity, or consideration

Inert - sluggish

Inhibited - not confident enough to say or do what one wants

Insecure - beset by fear and anxiety; not confident or sure

Insensitive - lacking feeling or tact

Insincere - not sincere; hypocritical

Insulting - giving or intended to give offense

Intolerant - unable or unwilling to endure

Irascible - marked by hot temper and easily provoked anger

Irrational - not using or following good reasoning

Irresponsible - having or showing a lack of concern for the consequences of one's actions

Irritable - easily irritated or annoyed

Lazy - disinclined to activity or exertion; not energetic or vigorous

Libidinous - having or marked by lustful desires; lascivious

Loquacious - given to fluent or excessive talk; garrulous

Malicious - having or showing a desire to cause harm to someone; given to, marked by, or arising from malice

Mannered - having an artificial or stilted character

Mannerless - lacking good manners; impolite

Mawkish - exaggeratedly or childishly emotional

Mealymouthed - not plain and straightforward; devious

Mechanical - without thinking about what you are doing, especially because you do something often

Meddlesome - given to meddling (i.e., to interest oneself in what is not one's concern)

Melancholic - tending to depress the spirits; saddening

Meretricious - superficially significant; pretentious

Messy - extremely unpleasant or trying; slovenly

Miserable - causing extreme discomfort or unhappiness; being likely to discredit or shame

Miserly - marked by grasping meanness and penuriousness

Misguided - led or prompted by wrong or inappropriate motives or ideals

Mistaken - wrong in what you believe, or based on a belief that is wrong

Monstrous - having the qualities of a monster (i.e., a threatening force; of unnatural or extreme wickedness or cruelty)

Moody - subject to moods; temperamental

Morbid - abnormally susceptible to or characterized by gloomy or unwholesome feelings

Muddleheaded - mentally confused; bungling

Naive - deficient in worldly wisdom or informed judgment; credulous

Narcissistic - of, relating to, or characterized by narcissism (i.e., egoism, egocentrism); e.g., extremely self-centered with an exaggerated sense of self-importance

Narrow - illiberal in views or disposition; prejudiced

Narrow-minded - not willing to accept opinions, beliefs, behaviors, etc. that are unusual or different from one's own; not open-minded

Negativistic - having an attitude of mind marked by skepticism especially about nearly everything affirmed by others

Neglectful - given to neglecting; careless, heedless

Neurotic - behaving strangely or in an anxious way, often because one has a mental illness

Nihilistic - holding a viewpoint that traditional values and beliefs are unfounded and that existence is senseless and useless

Obnoxious - odiously or disgustingly objectionable; highly offensive

Obsessive - excessive often to an unreasonable degree

Obvious - very noticeable especially for being incorrect or bad

Odd - differing markedly from the usual, ordinary, or accepted

Offhand - done or made offhand (i.e., without premeditation or preparation; extempore)

One-dimensional - lacking depth or complexity; superficial

One-sided - limited to one side; partial

Opinionated - firmly or unduly adhering to one's own opinion or to preconceived notions

Opportunistic - taking advantage of opportunities as they arise (e.g., exploiting opportunities with little regard to principle or consequences)

Oppressed - burdened by abuse of power or authority

Outrageous - violent, unrestrained; going beyond all standards of what is right or decent; deficient in propriety

Overimaginative - excessively imaginative (e.g., devoid of truth)

Paranoid - characterized by suspiciousness, persecutory trends, or megalomania; extremely fearful

Passive - lacking in energy or will; lethargic

Pedantic - narrowly, stodgily, and often ostentatiously learned

Perverse - turned away from what is right or good; corrupt

Petty - marked by or reflective of narrow interests and sympathies; small-minded

Pharisaical - marked by hypocritical censorious self-righteousness

Phlegmatic - having or showing a slow and stolid temperament

Plodding - proceed slowly or tediously

Pompous - having or exhibiting self-importance; arrogant

Possessive - manifesting possession or the desire to own or dominate

Predatory - inclined or intended to injure or exploit others for personal gain or profit

Prejudiced - resulting from or having a prejudice or bias for or especially against

Presumptuous - overstepping due bounds (as of propriety or courtesy)

Pretentious - characterized by pretension (e.g., making usually unjustified or excessive claims)

Prim - stiffly formal and proper; decorous; prudish

Procrastinating - habitually and/or intentionally putting off the doing of something that should be done

Profligate - wildly extravagant; shamelessly immoral

Provocative - serving or tending to provoke, excite, or stimulate

Pugnacious - having a quarrelsome or combative nature; truculent

Puritanical - : of, relating to, or characterized by a rigid morality

Reactionary - relating to, marked by, or favoring reaction; especially: ultraconservative in politics

Reactive - done in immediate response to something especially without thinking or planning

Regimental - of or relating to a regiment; dictatorial

Regretful - full of regret (i.e., sorrow aroused by circumstances beyond one's control or power to repair)

Repentant - experiencing repentance (i.e., the action or process of repenting especially for misdeeds or moral shortcomings)

Repressed - characterized by restraint

Resentful - full of resentment; inclined to resent (i.e., to feel or express annoyance or ill will at)

Ridiculous - arousing or deserving ridicule; extremely silly or unreasonable; absurd, preposterous

Rigid - inflexibly set in opinion

Ritualistic - stressing the use of ritual forms; adhering to or devoted to ritualism

Rowdy - coarse or boisterous in behavior; rough

Ruined - bankrupt, impoverished; devastated

Sadistic - taking pleasure in the infliction of pain, punishment, or humiliation on others

Sanctimonious - hypocritically pious or devout

Scheming - given to forming schemes; devious

Scornful - full of scorn; contemptuous (i.e., manifesting, feeling, or expressing deep hatred or disapproval)

Secretive - disposed to secrecy; not open or outgoing in speech, activity, or purposes

Sedentary - lazy; not doing or involving a lot of physical activity

Selfish - concerned excessively or exclusively with oneself

Self-indulgent - excessive or unrestrained gratification of one's own appetites, desires, or whims

Shallow - lacking in depth of knowledge, thought, or feeling

Shortsighted - lacking foresight

Shy - sensitively diffident or retiring; reserved

Silly - exhibiting or indicative of a lack of common sense or sound judgment; frivolous

Single-minded - having one driving purpose or resolve; determined, dedicated

Sloppy - slovenly, careless; disagreeably effusive (i.e., marked by the expression of great or excessive emotion or enthusiasm)

Slow - lacking in readiness, promptness, or willingness

Sly - lightly mischievous; roguish; furtive; dissembling

Softheaded - having or indicative of a weak, unrealistic, or uncritical mind

Sordid - marked by baseness or grossness; vile; meanly avaricious; covetous

Steely - harsh and threatening in manner or appearance

Stiff - stubborn, unyielding; harsh, severe

Strong-willed - very determined to do something even if other people say it should not be done

Stupid - marked by or resulting from unreasoned thinking or acting; senseless; vexatious, exasperating

Submissive - submitting (i.e., to yield oneself to the authority or will of another; surrender) to others

Superficial - concerned only with the obvious or apparent; shallow

Superstitious - of, relating to, or swayed by superstition (i.e., a notion maintained despite evidence to the contrary)

Suspicious - disposed to suspect; distrustful

Tactless - marked by lack of tact (i.e., a keen sense of what to do or say in order to maintain good relations with others or avoid offense)

Tasteless - having no taste; insipid; dull

Tense - feeling or showing nervous tension

Thievish - given to stealing

Thoughtless - lacking concern for others; inconsiderate; reckless

Timid - lacking in courage or self-confidence

Treacherous - likely to betray trust; unreliable

Trendy - marked by ephemeral, superficial, or faddish appeal or taste

Troublesome - difficult, burdensome; giving trouble or anxiety; vexatious

Unappreciative - not giving recognition or thanks for something

Uncaring - lacking proper sympathy, concern, or interest

Uncharitable - lacking in charity; severe in judging; harsh

Unconvincing - not convincing; implausible

Uncooperative - marked by an unwillingness or inability to work with others

Uncreative - lacking originality of thought; not productive of new ideas

Uncritical - showing lack or improper use of critical standards or procedures

Unctuous - having, revealing, or marked by a smug, ingratiating, and false earnestness or spirituality

Undisciplined - lacking in discipline or self-control

Unfriendly - not friendly (e.g., hostile, unsympathetic; inhospitable, unfavorable)

Ungrateful - showing no gratitude; making a poor return

Unhealthy - of a harmful nature; morally contaminated

Unimaginative - having or showing a lack of imagination or originality

Unimpressive - not attracting or deserving particular attention, admiration, or interest

Unlovable - incapable of inspiring love or admiration; not having attractive or appealing qualities

Unpolished - not polished (i.e., characterized by a high degree of development, finish, or refinement)

Unprincipled - lacking moral principles; unscrupulous

Unrealistic - not realistic; inappropriate to reality or fact

Unreflective - unthinking, heedless

Unreliable - undependable, untrustworthy

Unrestrained - immoderate, uncontrolled

Unstable - wavering in purpose or intent; vacillating; characterized by lack of emotional control

Vacuous - marked by lack of ideas or intelligence; inane

Vague - not thinking or expressing one's thoughts clearly or precisely; vacant

Venal - originating in, characterized by, or associated with corrupt bribery

Venomous - spiteful, malevolent

Vindictive - intended to cause anguish or hurt; spiteful; vengeful

Vulnerable - open to attack or damage; assailable

Weak - not firmly decided; not factually grounded or logically presented; ineffective, impotent

Weak-willed - not having the determination that is needed to continue with a difficult course of action

Willful - obstinately and often perversely self-willed

Wishful - according with wishes rather than reality

Zany - strange, surprising, or uncontrolled in a humorous way

Sources: 1 2 3

[uhohdad]

(18+) John Price x Reader - Spanking ♡

WARNING: NON-CONSENSUAL THEMES

John Price absolutely believes in corporal punishment :(

If you’re acting like a brat, he’ll remedy it by throwing you over his knee, holding you tight while you try and squirm away. Locking you down with a sturdy arm over your waist and a leg slung over the back of your knees as you thrash and throw demands you’re in no position to be making.

“What are you doing?! Stop it!”

“Oh no, sweetheart, you’ve been begging for this.”

He’s not afraid to manhandle you, roughly yanking your pants down to your thighs and bunching your panties up to expose your plush ass to him.

The first open palm strike that lands makes you gasp, intensifying the kicking and writhing in his unforgiving grip. He doesn’t fold, keeping you steady with a rigid hold to give you a matching handprint on the other side.

“It’ll be easier for everyone involved if you just let it happen.”

His hits aren’t too painful, but they are hard enough to leave behind a stinging bite that compounds with each strike. John knows it’s not just about the pain - it’s about the humiliation of being bent over his knee with your pretty panties and ass on display, knowing anyone in the vicinity could very well hear your embarrassing punishment. It’s a clear reminder of who’s in charge and what will happen if you step out of line again - that back talk will not be tolerated, because all you are to him is a little girl who doesn’t know her place.

“Cap-Captain!”

“S’okay. You need this.”

His hardened, experienced palm has no problem navigating your squirms, landing his slaps to the height of your ass without fail, alternating sides to make sure he leaves you with an even burn.

You sputter and squeak hit after hit, the repeated, intimidating crack of flesh-on-flesh echoing throughout his office. The crease of your middle is forced against his thigh and your body lurched forward under the force of each increasingly strict swat. His disciplined and evenly-timed strikes have you braced for the next impact before it even lands. You find yourself fighting the pain instead of him, your hands scratching at his legs and your thighs wriggling to expel the stinging sensation his hands bring.

“There we go, that’s it. No need to fight it. You know you needed it.”

His smacks have steadily turn merciless, the pain of his stern hands much harder to swallow. His pace quickens, giving you less time to recover between the burn of each relentless swat. While you’re choking on your own gasped breaths and the broken high-pitched whines coaxed from your throat, you finally give into him. Submitting to his will and lulled by his rhythmic strikes, your mind gone blank, unable to focus on anything other than the next anticipated bite of his unyielding hands.

Reduced to a drooling, limp, sobbing mess splayed across his thighs, his free hand no longer keeping you from thrashing, but offering soothing rubs on your back as he rounds out his final harsh smacks, each sure to elicit a cry and leave behind a handprint. A tender hand follows his last hit, smoothing over your welted backside while you whimper over his lap.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, you’re all done.”

You can’t find it in your right mind or your trembling limbs to pull yourself up anytime soon, but John forgivingly fixes your panties for you, his careful fingers brushing across your warmed, punished ass before he gently tugs your pants back up. He gives calming, feather-light strokes over your sore backside, waiting patiently for you to find your bearings.

You can’t look at him once you slowly bring yourself to a sit, tears welled in your eyeline and your face just as warm as the evidence of your punishment. When he prompts an embrace, though, you all but throw yourself into his arms, burying your burning face into his chest while he holds you tight in his strong arms. From your hiding spot, his words are just a vibration against your cheek.

“Are you my good girl now?”

When you give a silent nod into his shirt, he hums in approval, tracing his fingers up and down your back until you’ve calmed down. He makes you promise him you’ll behave before he sends you on your way with a gentle pat on your backside and your pride in his reddened palm.

John will pretend he didn’t notice the puddle of arousal that stained your pretty panties after your spanking, so long as you pretend you didn’t notice the strain in his pants that had been flush against your side from the moment he put you over his lap. ♡

♡ UHOHDAD’S DRABBLE MASTERLIST ♡

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 4) - Above The Gods Eye

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I had envisioned bonus chapters as not too integral to the main plot (as in, you will be able to follow the story without reading them), but this one... this one might just count.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

A series of moments from the vault, occurring in part eight of the story, now yours to enjoy. 🤍

The one with the second sons…

The photoshoot has wrapped, and the cast of House of the Dragon has drifted into all corners of the set, exchanging laughs in between much-needed sips of caffeine. The next item on Entertainment Weekly’s agenda is the video segment recordings, pairing cast members for various games and interviews.

Fabien and Freddie finished their narrative recap of season 2, with more jokes than actual informative recaps. Harry and Bethany played a game where they guessed whether the line is from House of the Dragon or Game of Thrones. Tom and Emma played a ‘which sibling' game, leaning into the dynamic between Aegon and Rhaenyra that clearly should have been explored in previous seasons.

As it happens, Matt and Ewan are paired up for an Aemond or Daemon game, meant to give the audiences a glimpse of what to look forward to. Their notorious rivalry, culminating in a battle that will be their last. 

The two film their segment in Studio E, the set consisting of the great cellar of the Red Keep where Balerion’s massive skull looms on a pedestal. The dozens of candles surrounding it have been lit, casting dramatic shadows as they take their seats, facing each other in what could easily be mistaken for the start of a duel.

“My name is Ewan Mitchell and I play Aemond Targaryen,” Ewan starts.

“And I’m Matt and I play the Daemon Targaryen,” Matt follows. “And we’re about to play Second Sons: Aemond vs Daemon.”

“Let’s go,” Ewan rolls his shoulders, his sense of competitiveness all fired up, intensified by the fact that the man in front of him potentially could become his rival off-screen. That is, when it concerns the battle for your affections. 

He can still hear it ringing in his ears, the sound of your laughter in the background, distracting him during the photoshoot. That laugh, so addictive, so yours, was a melody he could listen to forever - except when it’s Matt Smith who’s the culprit. 

The lads take their cue to read the first prompt displayed on a screen above the camera. The game begins. 

“Who is the better swordsman?” Matt reads aloud with a smirk. “Well, that’s obviously Daemon, mate. He’s older - ”

“Age doesn’t always mean better,” Ewan counters smoothly.

“Ah, but he’s battle-tested. He fought in the Stepstones, and was the Commander of the City Watch, for heaven’s sake. What’s Aemond got?”

“Aemond spent years and years training with Criston Cole in the Red Keep yard, honing his skill,” Ewan argues. “He clearly has the dedication. He’s disciplined.”

“Training,” Matt scoffs, turning to the camera as if sharing an inside joke. “Put Aemond out there in a real battle, then we’ll talk.” 

“Alright, alright,” Ewan concedes, biting his cheek to keep from saying more. “Next one. Who’s the better dancer at the royal ball?”

Matt can’t help but chuckle, “Neither of us are inclined to - ”

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

“But if we had to pick, then I'd say Daemon. We saw him dancing in the first season, didn’t we?”

“I don’t think Aemond would be much of a dancer,” Ewan says, before adding with a smirk to the camera, “unless it’s with Vhagar.”

“Oh, yeah?” Matt asks him. “Short of dancing partners, is he? Can’t say I’ve got that problem. I’ve got Rhaenyra, I’ve got my daughters, and of course, the lovely Alyna.” His voice drops at the mention of your character, and he notices a telling flicker in Ewan’s expression. The younger boy latches on to it, hook, line and sinker. 

Ewan’s brows scrunch, not missing the bait. “Oh, she wouldn’t dance with you,” flies out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“Alyna wouldn’t?” Matt tilts his head, feigning hurt. 

“She’s… she’s too busy fighting the war,” Ewan quickly musters. “She’s got better things to do.”

“Mate, I think we all are. But that wasn’t the question.”

“I just don’t think she - ”

“She’ll dance with Daemon,” Matt says confidently. “Once she realises how good he is, then it’s game over.”

“I disagree,” Ewan easily says to the camera, willing the viewers to side with him.

“Next,” Matt continues, “Who’s more likely to get into a fight at the tavern? Is this… so far, it's been all Daemon! This one too.”

Ewan nods, but adds slyly, “Aemond’s not one to waste his time at the tavern, no.” His answer is an apparent concession to Daemon, until he adds, “which is why Alyna would prefer to spend her time with him. He’s calmer… more reliable… no unnecessary tavern brawls or anything…”

“Calmer, mate?” Matt rolls his eyes, chuckling to himself. “Come off it, yeah?”

“Compared to Daemon, he clearly is.”

“He killed Luke and Rhaenys!”

“That was an accident,” Ewan shrugs. “He feels bad for it.”

“Alyna better steer clear,” Matt points to the camera, making his point. 

Ewan shakes his head in protest, “I don’t agree.”

“So, for this one, again, it’s Daemon,” Matt finishes. 

Ewan lets it go, the Alyna comment lingering in the back of his mind. It didn’t seem like an Alyna reference; it felt like a message to you. His stomach twists, suspicious of the other game Matt seems to be playing at. Turning to the prompter, Ewan reads, “Who’s got… the better hair care routine? Oh wow.”

“Daemon’s been at some dingy castle,” Matt says, “clearly no showers there. Forget it.”

“Aemond’s got this locked down,” Ewan grins.

“Has he? Alright then,” Matt responds, amused. “He does have that pin-straight hair, doesn’t he? It’s almost like… well it’s almost like it’s a bloody wig!” He laughs, and some of the onlookers behind the camera mirror the sentiment. 

“I did read somewhere about Aemond having a 20-step hair care routine… ”

“20 steps? Blimey, mate. I’m surprised he even makes it out the door,” Matt says. “Would you say he’s got better hair than the women on the show? Than Alicent or Alyna maybe?”

“Oh,” Ewan leans back, mulling it over. How to one-up Matt without making it seem too obvious? He’s about to respond, when he hears some soft giggling in the corner. It appears that you’ve made your way into Studio E with Phia and Liv. The sound came from Phia, who gives him a thumbs up when she notices his diverted attention. 

Matt notices your presence too, and when the director waves a hand for them to carry on, he answers for Ewan, “We could say Aemond has the better hair. Alyna’s way too busy training with Daemon anyway. We do tend to get into that rough and tumble during our sword fights.”

“Mmm,” Ewan narrows his eyes. He then ignores or conveniently forgets the fact that it’s Matt's turn to read the next question. “Who’s more likely to fight a dragon for their lover?” 

The two men lock eyes, the air between them charged, more so due to your appearance. If a rivalry is what the viewers expect, then that is what they’ll get. 

Matt puts a hand up. “I think Daemon’s the one with the guts to fight a bloody dragon. Daemon will stand against anything and anyone. Without a doubt.”

“It’s different with him, though, isn’t it?” Ewan responds. “Daemon would be doing it for the glory. He’d be doing it for himself. Whereas Aemond… he’d be doing it out of pure devotion.”

“Are you talking about the same devotion he had for his brother? I’d say he’s more likely to burn his lover to a crisp, than fight a dragon for her.”

“There is a completely different dynamic with his brother,” Ewan explains. “I think that when Aemond falls in love, there is nothing at all that he wouldn’t do for them. In season 2, we already kind of saw him leaning into this reputation of being the most wanted man in the realm. So… he’d fight anything for his lover, that’s for sure. He’d burn the seven kingdoms down if necessary.” He turns to look at the camera, but he catches your eye instead. You’re shaking your head slightly at his answer, but the small smile that graces your lips tells him that you enjoyed it. 

He simpers at your apparent show of approval, but Matt cuts the shared moment short. 

“I think Aemond’s a young buck,” Matt says, “who’s desperate to make his mark. He wouldn’t know the first thing about devotion. But Daemon… that’s been his internal struggle this whole time. He’s proven that he stands behind his brother and Rhaenyra, no matter how much he tries to act to the contrary. But yeah, we’re going a bit off track here. What was the question? Who’d fight a dragon… ”

“For their lover,” Ewan finishes. “I would still say Aemond. Daemon is too unpredictable.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Matt wags his eyebrows at him. “But I’m standing by my answer. We clearly saw Daemon basically pledge himself to Rhaenyra in the last episode. What more proof do you need?”

“Aemond’s got something up his sleeve,” Ewan says. “He just wants to be loved, that’s it, and when he finds that, there’ll be no question of what he’s capable of doing for Al - ” He catches himself at the last second, before he fully lets slip your character’s name. “I mean - ”

Matt’s eyes light up, sensing an opportunity. “For Alys, you mean?” To the camera, he adds, “spoiler alert, everyone.”

“Right,” Ewan lets out a breath, “Of course.”

“Can’t be anyone else,” Matt challenges him. 

“I don’t know for now,” Ewan tries to keep up. 

“You currently have a bit of a lack in the lover department,” Matt smirks. 

Ewan narrows his eyes at the apparent insinuation. He better be referring to the show. “Fine, then, we can give this one to Daemon. But as to their real-life counterparts,” he locks eyes with you again, “who’s to say? I bet I have this in the bag.”

Matt follows his line of sight, pleased when your attention switches to him. “I think that’s yet to be decided.”

“Alright, we’ve got some more,” Ewan quickly says, in an attempt to divert Matt’s gaze from you. 

Matt reads, “Who’s more likely to maintain a good social media presence? Oh, bloody hell, we’re crossing over into uncharted territory with this one.”

“That’s interesting.”

“I’ve never touched it myself,” Matt shrugs. “I’m not on anything, only Facebook for a moment ages ago, but I did not have any desire in going back. Oh wait, we’re meant to answer for our characters. Apologies.”

“Hmm,” Ewan nods. “I don’t know if Aemond would be on social media, no.”

“Yeah, this is a weird question,” Matt says. “Maybe Daemon then? But only to post pictures of Caraxes or something. What do you think?”

“Yeah, Daemon can take this one,” Ewan replies. “Personally, I’m not on social media too much - ”

“But didn’t you jump into the fray recently? With… which one was it?”

“Instagram? Yeah, yeah, that was something.” His mind flashes back to the pictures he had up, both attesting to his love for you. But you had asked him to take the latest one down, which led him to deactivate the account altogether. Temporarily. If the fans assumed that the action was meant to symbolise an end of his involvement with you, then now would be the perfect opportunity to prove them wrong. “I did have to take a step back, because it was kind of overwhelming. I just needed to take some proper time off.”

“Oh really? I wouldn’t know,” Matt says. “Did you actually share some photos there?”

Ewan smiles, pleased at being able to answer this question. “Yeah, I shared a few of my most treasured ones. They were some great pictures, but I’ve got loads more of the same in my phone, and I - ” He throws a warning glance to the camera “ - I think I’ll be keeping those to myself for now.”

Matt, oblivious as to what he’s hinting at, reads the next one. “Who’s the better brother?”

“Aemond for sure.”

“Clearly Daemon.”

And so the banter continues for a couple more prompts, sharp yet flowing naturally, foreshadowing the frenzied fan reactions when the segment is shared online for all to see. 

The one where Ewan needs his cowgirl…

Ewan paces around his dressing room, settling into his outfit, awaiting his cue from set. The outfit is a bold mix of traditional Western elements and high fashion: a tailored deep brown leather jacket with intricate embroidery, a crisp white shirt with ruffled cuffs, fitted trousers, and a wide-brimmed cowboy hat. His boots click against the wooden floor as he moves. He’s nervous but determined to impress you, even though it’s always been you with a knack for making his heart race.

After a while, he makes his way out of the dressing room and into the bustling set. The set is decked out to the theme. The director and crew are scattered all around, but Ewan focuses solely on finding you. 

When he finally does, his world seems to slow down. You are standing near a vintage saddle, dressed in your own Western-inspired attire. Your smile is radiant as you speak to your assistant, and the way your eyes light up when you see him makes his heart skip a beat. No, it never gets old, he realises, you will always have a maddening effect on him.

He takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and saunters over with as much swagger as he could muster. “Howdy, darling,” he greets in his best cowboy lilt.

You look him up and down with a smile. “Why, hello, good sir,” you say, even doing a playful curtsy. 

“Ready to give them a show?” he asks, gesturing to the expanse of the set. Ready to be my cowgirl, darling? He wants to ask instead. 

You hum a response. “As I’ll ever be. I’d say you’re a natural at this whole cowboy thing.”

“Oh, darling,” he smirks, “you’d be surprised by what I can do with my lasso.”

“Down, Mitchell.”

“Whatever you want, my cowgirl.”

The atmosphere is electric throughout the shoot, with Ewan constantly leaning down to whisper suggestive lines in your ear. 

He finds himself getting lost in the intensity of the shoot, but his focus remains on you. It isn’t as if you are making it easy on him, with your lingering touches and flirtatious remarks. 

The camera's shutter clicks away, and Ewan and you pose for one perfect shot after another. The set is alive with activity, but he only sees you, the lighting casting a warm glow on your rouge-stained cheeks. Forgetting where he is for a moment, his hand reaches up to caress your face, and he leans in slightly. 

You pose accordingly, likely thinking that he’s just giving the shoot what it demands. 

“What was that you were saying about a lasso?” you smirk, in an attempt to diffuse the tension, but it only spurs him on. 

“Care for a demonstration?” he shoots back.

“Why not?” you reply easily, adjusting your stance. 

“We may need a more intimate setting for that, darling.”

“More intimate than this?” you laugh breathlessly, the warmth of it fanning his face. He’s close enough that the tip of his nose brushes against yours. 

He smiles, deaf to the low warning that escapes your lips when he leans in for a kiss on instinct. 

Just as his lips are about to graze yours, the director’s voice cuts through the charged silence.

“Cut! Break, everyone!”

The spell is broken instantly. Ewan pulls back, his expression shifting from one of intense concentration to surprise and a hint of frustration. 

You stand facing each other, flustered and left wanting. Ewan wants nothing more than to just reach for you and pull you in a closet, and show just how well he can use that bloody lasso. If you want him to. But he forces himself to croak, “To be continued, darling?”

You mirror his heated gaze, nodding once, before turning on your heel and heading to the break room. 

When the set is mostly emptied, Ewan picks up the hefty lasso that’s been put aside. With a determined look on his face, he swings it expertly through the air, causing a resounding thwack. The movement is deliberate, a release of his frustrations about you. About Matt. About everything. 

But it doesn’t quite bring him the relief he needs, because only you can offer that. 

It’s only ever been you. 

The one with the first date…

You glance at your phone to check the time, heart fluttering with anticipation. Matt had promised to pick you up at 2, and it is only a minute past, but you’re already standing nervously in your living room. Not a moment too soon, your buzzer alerts you of his arrival, and you press the button to allow him upstairs. 

You sneak one more glance at the mirror, smoothing a hand over your t-shirt and jeans. You opted for a casual look, dressed up with some jewelry and heeled boots. 

Finally, there’s a knock at the door and you grab your purse as you walk up to meet your awaited visitor. 

There he is, standing in the doorway, as impossibly charming as ever. Matt’s dressed in a perfectly fitted black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms, paired with staple dark jeans. His tousled hair looks like he ran a hand through it on his way over, and his signature mischievous grin plays at the corners of his mouth as he takes you in.

“Hello there,” he greets cheerfully.

“Hey, Smithy,” you blush under his gaze. 

“You look absolutely incredible,” he says, his gaze sweeping appreciatively over you, “As can be expected. You are my Alyna, after all.”

“Thanks,” you manage to say, your voice soft, almost breathless. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Glad to hear it. I was worried I’d underdressed,” he teases, though the way he carries himself shows that he knows exactly how good he looks. He steps a little closer, his hand lightly grazing your arm as he does. 

“You ready to go?” he asks, his voice just a shade deeper, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that still catches you off guard, no matter how exposed you have been to his charms.

“Yeah,” you nod, suddenly aware of how close you’re standing, the air between you thick with tension. “Let’s do this.”

The late afternoon air is crisp as you walk with Matt down a quiet street near Hyde Park. The anticipation from earlier has settled into something more relaxed, yet there’s still an undercurrent of excitement, an unspoken awareness of the new territory you’re both navigating.

Matt leads you to a small café tucked away from the bustle of the city. It’s quaint, with ivy creeping up the walls and soft lights glowing through the windows. As you step inside, the rich aroma of coffee and freshly baked pastries envelops you, and you can’t help but smile. The interior is just as charming as the exterior, and a few patrons sit scattered throughout, each absorbed in their own worlds. Too absorbed to notice two somewhat renowned actors entering the premises.

“Pick a spot,” Matt says, his hand gently brushing the small of your back. The touch is fleeting, but it’s enough to send a warm tingle up your spine.

You choose the table with a view of the park just beyond the glass. Ever the gentleman, Matt pulls out a chair for you before settling into the one across from you.

“Hope you like this place,” he says, his tone easy and genuine. “It’s one of my favourites. Feels like a bit of an escape from everything, you know?”

“It’s perfect,” you reply, taking in the cozy atmosphere. “I can see why you come here.”

A waitress comes over to take your order, and Matt gives you his recommendations which you happily go along with. The familiar way with which she addresses him as Mr. Smith confirms his frequent visits. Once she leaves, you lean back in your chair, letting yourself relax into the moment, though you are aware of his eyes watching you the entire time. 

“So, how are you finding the city? It’s different from set life, that’s for sure.” Matt asks, his eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and something deeper. Something you can’t pinpoint just yet, though it’s not unfamiliar. You’ve seen that look before. From Ewan. The sudden thought of him drives a wedge in your focus, and you have to shake it off before you answer.

“It’s been great,” you say, smiling. “It’s nice to be able to explore it more this time around, since I've got some downtime. And, of course, the company’s been pretty good too.” You add the last part with a playful tone, which makes him chuckle.

“Oh, I’m sure it has,” he replies, a teasing glint in his eye. “But don’t let Ewan monopolise all your time. I’m around if you ever need a break from him.”

The mention of Ewan brings a subtle shift in the conversation. It’s light, but there’s a hint of something more - an awareness of the connection you share with Ewan that both complicates what you have, or what you could have, with Matt. 

“You’re a good friend, Matt,” you say, your tone still light but more sincere. “I appreciate that.”

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. “Friend, sure,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “But, just so you know… I’m here, if you ever want more than that.”

It’s a simple statement, but the weight of it hangs in the air between you. He’s not pressing, not trying to make you uncomfortable, but it’s clear that he’s laying his cards on the table. Matt’s always had a way of being direct without being pushy, and this moment is no different.

You meet his gaze, feeling the sincerity behind his words. There’s a part of you that’s tempted, drawn in by the way he makes you laugh and feel seen. But there’s something - someone - holding you back. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, smiling softly. 

Matt nods again, his smile resurfaces, as sure as the sun rising. “That’s all I ask.”

The waitress returns with your coffee and pastries, breaking the tension with the clink of cups and the sweet scent of buttery croissants. 

After a moment, Matt takes a sip from his own cup and raises an eyebrow. “You know, I heard that drinking coffee in a café like this can increase your charm significantly. I think it’s working, do you?”

You play along, pretending to consider this. “Hmm, I don’t think you need help in that department. But… I’ll still be careful. Just in case you charm me into agreeing to a second date.”

Matt leans closer with a grin. “Second date? Love, if I’m being honest, I’m already planning our third date.”

The conversation shifts back to lighter topics - your favourite places in the city, funny stories from the set, and his many revealing anecdotes about Fabien. Like the one where he got properly sloshed after a night out at the pub, so much so that he stuck some croissants in his washing machine thinking it was the oven. 

“To his defense,” Matt exclaims as you giggle uncontrollably, “the two appliances are similarly shaped!”

As the date progresses, you feel undeniably warm and comfortable in Matt’s presence, but you also can’t ignore the lingering thoughts of Ewan. Your phone had buzzed at some point, and when you snuck a glance at the screen, it lit up to reveal three missed calls from Ewan One-Eye. He knows you’re on a date, so he must be interrupting on purpose. Thankfully, Matt’s enthusiastic regaling keeps you from lingering on Ewan - from worrying about him, missing him… from wishing that he could freely allow himself to take you on a date just like this. 

As you and Matt stroll back to your apartment, the city lights cast a warm glow on the pavement, creating a magical backdrop for the end of your evening. His arm around your shoulders brings you a sense of ease, and you no longer feel that nervous flush as earlier. 

He walks with you inside your building, and when you reach the door to your apartment, Matt pauses by the entrance, turning to face you with a gentle smile. “Well, this has been quite the evening,” he says. “I’m really glad we got to do this.”

You return his smile. “Me too. It’s been a lovely night.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, a shared look that speaks volumes without words. 

“Well, I - ” you swallow, your nerves returning, “I better head inside.”

As you reach for your keys, Matt’s hand gently wraps around yours, causing a jolt of electricity to travel up your arm. “Before you do,” he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “there’s something I’ve been wanting to do all night.”

You look up at him. Screw your newfound sense of ease. Your heartbeat now pounds in your ears like an erratic drum. “Oh? And what’s that?” But something tells you that you know just what he means. 

Without breaking eye contact, Matt leans in slowly, his face drifting closer.

“This,” he mumbles the word as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. And then his lips touch yours.

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

This poll caused quite the stir amongst yous, I see. Consider me amused. Since part 9 isn't out yet, and my mind isn't set either - if you've got something to let off your chest, some supporting arguments, you've got one more chance to let me know below (or let each other know) 😉 I always read all your opinions, and they are properly taken into account. What did you think of Matty after this?

When Ewan called her at the end of part eight, do you think she had company? Anyway, something sweet is coming in part nine with Ewan and his darling!

To those who are seriously worried about the outcome, note that is and always has been a Ewan x reader fic. I am a Ewan girl just like yous. Hold fast and have fun on the wild ride, darlings 💙

[becomingthatgirl111]

journal prompts you can use to improve your life

journaling is a really powerful habit that i love because it has helped me a lot in my transformation and healing process. it also offers us many benefits for our life. when we write down what we feel or what we want to achieve we are focusing and giving it much more clarity. through this magical practice, we can solve any type of situation or problem. It helps us to get rid of fears and anger. my favorite way is to ask myself questions that I can answer, this gives me more clarity and concentration. i recommend doing it on paper in fact i have my own notebook in which every day i carry out this wonderful practice.

✨ some of its benefits are:

helps reduce anxiety and depressive thoughts.

improves cognitive capacity, writing by hand activates many neural networks and, consequently, improves our cognitive capacity. In addition, it also emphasizes that this activity promotes prospective and working memory.

helps cultivate discipline

improves memory

it helps us to create habits moreover, writing on paper those "tasks" or habits that you want to integrate into your life, makes your brain catalog them as "important actions" and it is more likely that you fulfill them in the day. What happens is that your reticular active system (SAR) files them as actions that you must accomplish.

✨ journal prompts ideas

for the morning - have a great day and focus on the positive and what we want to accomplish today.

how do i want to feel today?

what should i focus on?

how do i need to act today to get closer to my best self?

what should i avoid?

what can i do to have a great day?

what would i like my day to be like?

today…(the things you will do, how you will feel)

today no…. (the things you want to avoid and not focus on)

for times of stress or anxiety.

how am i feeling?

what has caused me to feel this way?

have i felt this way on other occasions? is it a pattern i am repeating?

how would i like to feel?

what should i focus on?

what would make me feel good right now?

is there anything i can do right now to fix it?

how would i like to act the next time this situation happens?

how would my best version of me act in this situation?

is there anything I can do to make this better?

to become our best version

what would my best version look like?

what things should i change to get closer to my best version? (like thought patterns, habits…)

what can i do to get closer to becoming my best version?

what do i commit myself to every day to be closer to this version?

what would my desired life look like 6 months from now?

what would my desired life look like 1 year from now?

what are those thought patterns or limiting beliefs that prevent me from living my life the way i want?

what is it that makes me feel fearful or insecure? (make a list and next to it you can replace the negative affirmation with a positive one).

write down 5 positive affirmations of how you want your life to be from now on and commit to repeating them daily.

to focus on new goals or habits

what habits would i like to implement in my life from now on?

what habits do i need to remove from my life?

what would my desired routine look like?

what can i do to achieve this?

what would be my dream lifestyle?

what can i do to achieve it?

what are my goals?

how can i get closer to them?

do i feel capable?

if not, what is stopping me?

what can i do to change that thinking?

against negative thoughts

where does this thought come from?

how does it make me feel?

how would i like to feel about it?

what thoughts would i like to have?

from now on i commit myself to…(list of positive beliefs you will have from now on)

for the evening, to end your day on a high note and prepare for the next day.

3 things i am grateful for today

how did i feel today?

what can i improve tomorrow?

what should i focus on more tomorrow? (e.g. goals)

how would i like to feel today?

these are just a few examples, you can use them if they help you or invent your own, the important thing is that they help you feel better or whatever you want to achieve at that moment.

it is important to write every day, even if you feel good, write how your day was, what you want to improve, what you can do to make it better, anything! but this habit is very powerful and will improve your quality of life a lot.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s child

Tony Stark x child!reader

warnings: alcohol ment,

a/n: so i just really think that the concept of tony having the party kid as opposed to nerdy avenger kid would be a really cool idea to explore teehee. most of this does actually take place pre-avengers tho!!

prompt:

you we’re quite the exhausting kid

“is this really how it felt to raise me?” -tony

many of nights he’d find your bed empty, you’d snuck out to go have your fun as teenagers do

“yeah, boss, i imagine it was” -happy

you always showed back up in one piece (like him) and besides a little slap on the wrist you didn’t get much discipline

actually, it usually went like:

“so, where did you go off to last night?” -tony

“a party” -you

“really? didn’t want to loop me in before you snuck out…again?”

“last time i told you about a party you showed up!”

“uh—yeah, but it’s not like i went all dad on you and dragged you away or anything”

“yeah, you joined the party and offered to buy teenagers more booze”

“hey, they all loved you after that! and they couldn’t get enough of my classic dance moves” -tony, jokingly doing the sprinkler with one arm “but seriously, let me know next time”

“we’ll see about that” -you

^the above conversion went about the same every time

sometimes for entertainment purposes you’d try a little harder, throw a few pillows under the covers to make it look like you were still home to put a smile on tony’s face

“aw, y/n reminds me so much of me” -tony

tony was still partying at this point so you’d flip the script on him from time to time

“you were out late” -you

“what are you, a cop? leave me alone. actually, can you get me some aspirin and water?” -tony

“sure, one or two” -you

“make it three” -tony

he would nurse your occasional hangovers (what a great dad!)

okay, he didn’t always know when you were gone. he was busy a lot of the time with his own business and extracurriculars so you guys did just kinda do your own thing for certain stretches of time

honestly you could be a bit of a klepto in the best of ways

but only to tony and only for fun

“oh, great, where’s my car?” -tony

“which one?” -pepper

“the black one!” -tony

“be more specific” -pepper

“the only one missing from my garage!” -tony

“yeah, i know, just wanted to give you some more time to think about it” -pepper

“i changed the code on the lockbox like, five times this week. did they hotwire it?” -tony

“we are talking about your kid, right? pretty sure they just hacked it” -pepper

“i am…so proud” -tony

you MAY have gotten a few close calls with authorities, but nothing tony couldn’t handle

and up until tony’s accident, the phrase “you’re going to give me a heart attack” was silly and endearing

“you might actually give me a heart attack, y/n, give a guy some warning or just say please for god’s sake” -tony, now comes with an arc reactor in his chest

“sorry” -you

“what—huh—didn’t hear ya, wanna say that a little louder?” -tony, very sarcastically

i tell ya when he got that armor u couldn’t tell if u were gonna flip out at him or invite him to a party

or steal it for…you didn’t even know what

but tony was 3 steps ahead of you when all this came to be

and you weren’t very interested in weapons, still just parties and dumb fun for you

“dad, i dont wanna be a nerd, will you just let me go out?” -you

“come on! just help me in the lab a few hours, what’s it gonna hurt?” -tony

“my social status” -you

“might i remind you you’re a stark? i think you’ll live if you miss one party” -tony

“you’d be surprised” -you

“hey, i almost died! give your old man a break” -tony

once tony got involved with SHIELD and the avengers he got even busier really

and in came the parenting advice from fury, clint, nat, steve

“hey, i don’t see you raising a teenager, back off” -tony

*clint side eye*

steve once tried to give you a good talking to, but you reminded him a great bit of your father with your stubbornness

“you done? i dont think you should be giving out any parenting tips fresh off the ice” -you

tony was kind of proud of you for sticking to your guns

especially around such powerful people

but you had a knack for that and could do it to practically anyone

mostly because you felt like an invincible teenager since you were raised by tony, who also thought himself an invincible teenager at one point

u tried to tone down giving tony grief when he started having panic attacks

since u accidentally caused a few by pushing boundaries and staying out for several nights in a row

cuz as tony gained more enemies, he thought you’d be in more danger

which was true

“happy, you’re y/n’s personal bodyguard” -tony

“no!” -you

“uh, cool? any fun parties planned tonight? i’ll be the designated driver. god knows i’ve been tony’s too many times” -happy

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

[mostlymihawk]

Getting Sick!

Straw Hat Crew (+ Shanks + Mihawk) x GN reader

Prompt: How they react to you getting sick.

CW: Emetophobia (throwing up)

Luffy:

Completely useless.

The man's made of rubber, he doesn't have a clue what to do.

"Um...it's gonna be okay? It's gonna be okay, right?"

You have to ask him for everything.

Does carry you to bed when asked, and will happily snuggle you.

Then asks if you want something to eat.

Food is the solution, and refuses to understand that food can also be the problem.

Nami:

Holds your hair and runs her fingers through it at the same time.

Also dabbing your face and neck with a cold cloth.

Certified professional make-it-better-er.

She did a lot of throwing up when she was younger.

Childhood trauma combined with lying to your sister and working for your mother's murderer will do that.

Knows exactly what she would have wanted, and gives it all to you.

"It's gonna be okay. I've got you, sweetheart."

Keeps tabs on your temperature to make sure this isn't a symptom of something bigger.

Refuses to let you out of bed until you're 100% better.

Zoro:

Keeps his face carefully blank and gently rubs your back.

Looking away the whole time.

You know him well enough to know he does not want to be doing this.

Handles blood just fine but this is a whole other ballgame and he wants no part of it.

Happily helps you to bed after, because it means the gross part is over.

"Better out than in...I guess."

Then he remembers someone has to take care of the cleanup.

Tries to frame it as discipline training to make it better.

Usopp:

Useless, but tries his best.

"Do you need a cloth? Some water? I can get, uh...fresh pair of clothes?"

Standing outside the door, so you croak out what you need and he runs to get it for you.

Needs to be filling the silence.

If he's not asking you something and you're not answering he's talking about how this reminds him of that one time in the Forest of Doom...

Spends the whole night telling stories to help you get to sleep.

Gets a lot better when he realizes this isn't all that much different than barnacles and bird poop.

Unfortunately, the worst of it has already passed by then.

Confidently assures you he'll be ready for next time, though.

Sanji:

As a gentleman, it's his duty to take care of his significant other when they're sick.

He's damn good at it too.

That doesn't mean he has to like it.

His face is pinched as his thumb gently rubs your back, he dabs your face and neck, and offers you sips of water when you can manage it.

"You're alright, sweetheart. A little bit of my tender love and care and you'll be on your feet in no time."

And then he notices the colour, not unlike the blueberry reduction from the dessert you'd asked for after lunch.

Gently helps you to your room, and it's not until the next day that you notice anything is amiss.

In. con. solable.

No one has ever gotten sick from his food before. Ever.

Refuses to serve food.

The Straw Hats have to turn back to Baratie so Zeff can literally beat some sense into him.

Shanks:

Bonus!

This crew loves its alcohol way too much for Shanks to be even the slightest bit bothered by a little vomit.

Sits by your side, dabbing your face, rubbing your back, completely unfazed, cracking jokes the entire time.

"Snuck into the hold and had yourself a little party without me, did you?"

Knows exactly what to do to help you feel better.

Again, the crew loves alcohol too much for anything else to be true.

Cuddles. So many cuddles.

This crew is too experienced to let a sick crew member come back to work early, so despite the unserious approach you're on strict bedrest.

The whole crew makes fun of you...but only once you've recovered.

Mihawk:

This is not a man who routinely deals with people being sick.

Confused.

Why are you sick.

Who caused this.

Who does he need to kill.

(It's whoever cooked your dinner at that restaurant you went to last night, but you don't tell him that.)

Completely repulsed, does not let it show on his face while he tends to you.

Rubs your back very gently, and uses a cool cloth to wipe the sweat off your face.

Helps you to bed, sits up and lets you lean against his chest so you're upright, and encourages a few sips of water.

"Get some rest, my jewel."

The next day there's a doctor at your bedside.

You don't need a doctor, but the look on Mihawk's face says this is non-negotiable.

[hyewka]

soobin + hybrid pls :33

⭑ warnings; hybrid!au, sub!soobin, blowjob, breeding, impregnation kink (this is filth good god), big dick soob, dubious consent somno

⭑ send in a small prompt with the format of (member) + (nsfw prompt) and ill write you a small drabble!

owning soobin as your eccentric bunny hybrid who goes around humping literally everything you own, his favorite being your poor couch. you'd have to stop the poor thing from unknowingly going at it on your leg in pure daylight or when guests are over, thankfully after a while he learnt to control that part of himself, saving you from anymore future awkward encounters in public. you've searched and looked all over the internet for anything to help tone it down just a little bit but every pill that promises to get rid of it completely only does so for an hour or two before your bunny starts it again like the horn dog he is.

using your mouth on soobin was a home remedy that surprisingly worked for longer than a few hours and you're beyond surprised, he loves it. 'not gonna play with you like this again if you continue ruining my couch bun, know that right?' he nods and nods and he doesn't stop, his tongue out panting so dumbly as you squeeze the base of his bunny dick, satisfied with his obedience. so that marks the day you dump out all the useless vitamins and pills, emptying your bathroom vanity.

of course, all this really does is get him obsessed with you sucking off his dick, retaliating by ruining your couch even more. does he like the feeling of you punishing him? does he know that you're weak to his eyes and you always give in the week of denying his begging and pleading? yeah, you needed to practice some self discipline--your knees would thank you.

when week two comes around, and soobins sulking around everyday, trying his best to get you to give in, because he's so so addicted to the warmth of your mouth the moment you had got on your knees for him but you're really strict this time and he feels like he could cry. it gets even worse when he feels a fire in his tummy in the middle of the night, heating up rather quickly, and he groans. heat period, now of all days.

he really is cursed but bunny!soob is unhinged, he can't stand being hornier than usual so what does he do? he goes to your room, tries to think over his options but fuck it, he goes in, climbs in your bed, as careful as he can, he tries to make it quick, just a little bit of your warmth and your scent and god, he clumsily pulls down your panties in one go, dick standing up tall, rubbing against your cheeks and he's already sent to overdrive. you're murmuring, moving a little bit. when he looks over to check your face you're not opening your eyes, he sighs. he'd definitely get punished for life for this so he swears he won't cum at all and if he feels that he would, he's running straight to the bathroom.

unfortunately bun soobin isn't known for having self control, so when he's done prepping, rubbing your core and collecting at your arousal, he doesn't let your body get used to his cock, bottoming out, stretching you out to unimaginable degrees. if you pretend to be sleeping before, you aren't now.

"s-soobin, shit, d-do you wanna--get punished?"

he ignores all your threats to taking away his little blowjob privilege because this is a hundred times better, this is heaven. bunny soobin who really doesn't stop, he can't, he physically can't, his thrusts are erratic yet it felt like his stuffing cock was hitting your womb each time. you feel so full already, you weren't ready for what comes next. soobin promised to himself he won't cum, he can't or you'd kill him, but he's too far gone, his eyes rolling back as he feels his high coming rather quick. "wanna fuck a baby into you, please let me-- 'm cumming, cumming!"

he can't hear your protests-- it's all background white noise, he's just fucking into you, sopping sounds coming from your pussy as he mewls, your ass feels like it's bruised with how hard he slams into you, bunny's just sooo so obsessed with your cunt. and when he eventually cums, and you then later, he doesn't stop. you're past overstimulation with how much he filled you up, and yet he still keeps going and going, switching positions with him hovering over you with your legs pressed to your chest like all you were was a breeding bitch for him to spill his load in. all hybrid!bunny soobin does the night is plan to fill you up with his seed, cute scut twitching every time he jizzes lol >_<

[prythianpages]

Slipping Through My Fingers | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch | Summary: it's your baby girl's first day of school and Azriel isn't ready to let her go.

warnings: fluff/angst; some suggestiveness at the end (bonus scene)

a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: but also my Dandelion series. I really adore this song and this was the only series I could apply it to. This can pretty much be read as a stand alone imagine. All you have to know is that reader is a witch and is an established relationship with Az.

In the quiet hush of morning, Azriel and Melaina find themselves at the breakfast table with sleep in their eyes. The floor is cloaked in their shadows, joining one another at their feet in a vast sea of darkness.

Yet, the dance of their shadows harbor distinct meanings.

Though he tries to hide it, your keen eyes pick up on the subtle poignant unease in Azriel's demeanor. An undercurrent of melancholy taints the air, prompting you to send a reassuring tug through your bond. Azriel returns the gesture, his hand finding yours across the table. Meanwhile, Melaina quietly finishes her breakfast. Her shadows, a whirlwind of nerves and excitement, betray her impassive appearance. Today is her first day of school, the precipice of a new chapter in her life, and Azriel can't help but grapple with the realization that his little girl is growing up far too quickly.

“All done, my pretty?” You ask softly, gaze alight with admiration as her small wings flutter behind her.

She’s the mirror image of her father with her captivating hazel eyes–a perfect blend of greens and browns that remind you of the nature you’re so fond of. Two braids cascade down her shoulders and delicate bangs accentuate her sun-kissed complexion. When she was born, you had joked that you had given birth to Azriel’s carbon copy and little did you know that even her personality would match his. 

Melaina nods and you rise, taking her plate to the kitchen sink. The corner of your lips lift up into a smile when you hear Azriel ask, “Are you sure you want to go to school? You can always start next year.”

“Mel is more than ready for school,” you lightly chide Azriel, who chooses to ignore your words of consolation. 

His gaze is fixed on Melaina, a plethora of scenarios plaguing his mind. He wishes he could see what’s really on her mind–to be able to foresee any worries she may have and ease her through them. The same way he’s eased her through every milestone of her life thus far. He was there when she took her first steps, when she first got hurt from tripping over a rug that he immediately disposed of after, when she said her first word–which much to your dismay was your cat’s name, Binx. 

But now, she was ready for school. Her first time being away from home without you or him or his brothers by her side. Her first time being on her own. What if the kids in her class don’t take well to her? To her shadows? He remembers the apprehensive looks he’d receive in Windhaven when growing up and the thought of anyone doing the same to her pains him. What if they are mean to her? What if they hurt her?

The obsidian tendrils at Azriel's side stir with an eerie melody, commanding Melaina's shadows to rise. They snap to attention like disciplined soldiers heeding orders. An unspoken promise unfolds—her shadows would help guide her and protect her from any lingering stare or slightest suspicion of malintent. They return to her side as she rises to her feet, tickling her sides and causing her to giggle.

 Azriel smiles and shares her laughter, capturing every minute of it, the feeling in it.

**

There’s that odd melancholy feeling again as he stands in front of the school with Melaina on one side and you on the other. He can’t help the frown that settles over his face when she wiggles her tiny hand out of his grasp to run to her cousins. You’re following after her, tugging Azriel along with you to join his brothers and their mates at the front of the school.

“Good morning, Azriel jr,” Cassian greets her with a smile, playfully tugging at one of her braids. “Are you ready for your first day?”

Melaina lets out a huff. “Of course I am, Uncle Cas.”

Cassian then looks toward Azriel, who continues to brood, and chuckles. “It doesn’t look like your daddy is.”

Azriel glares at Cassian. You leave his side to hug Feyre and the frown leaves his face at the delighted squeal that comes from you, his shadows singing in response. He turns his head to see you and Feyre exchange smiles while you gush in excitement over her growing belly. Though Feyre looks at Azriel with a knowing smile, her words are directed to you.

“Rhys was the same way with Nyx,” she muses and out of the corner of his eye, Azriel catches his brother rolling his eyes. But he doesn’t deny it.

“So was Nesta,” Cassian adds, propping an elbow on Nesta’s shoulders. She shoves him off with a shrug before chiding after their twin boys, Cardan and Calian. The aftermath of the aphrodisiac you made–or rather, remade–for her after Azriel accidentally drank the first batch.

“I’m surprised you’re faring well with this,” Feyre says with a raised brow at you.

“Well, someone has to be the strong one,” you tease, side glancing at Azriel and squeezing his hand. 

Azriel lets out a small huff, similar to the one Melaina let out earlier. He knew you were also stressed and a little sad but you were surprisingly able to hide it better than him. But unbeknownst to him, just in case the obsidian necklace she wore was not enough, you had casted a protection spell over Melaina before she went to bed…and packed her bags with a variety of charged crystals.

The gathering of students at the school's entrance slowly disperses, and Azriel tenses beside you, acknowledging the imminent moment of having to say goodbye. Nyx, ever courteous, takes it upon himself to accompany Melaina to class. Azriel suspects Feyre's influence in Nyx's gesture, as if she intuited the added difficulty for him and you. He watches as Melaina walks back to you and you lean down, gently smoothing her bangs before placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Today will be a wonderful day for you,” you affirm for her with a radiant smile, making Azriel's heart melt at the sight of the two girls he loves the most.  He wishes that he could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time. 

Your hand delicately reaches for the obsidian crystal suspended from her neck, lifting it tenderly to your lips. There’s a flash of green light that engulfs the crystal and as you release the necklace, Azriel notices the new sparkle to it. “Love you, my pretty.”

Though Melaina doesn’t verbalize it back, her eyes radiate a golden glow and the soft caress of her shadows against your face feels like a tender whisper that articulates, "I love you too.” You pull her in close, hugging her smaller frame and lean down to whisper. But Azriel’s attentive senses still catch it.

“Now hug and give your daddy a kiss so he doesn’t cry.”

Azriel resists the urge to roll his eyes. Feeling a tug on his sweater, he leans down to meet his daughter at eye level. Opening his arms expectantly, a surge of warmth envelops him as she eagerly rushes into his embrace. A tender kiss graces his cheek, accompanied by the familiar caress of her shadows against his other cheek similar to the way they had done with you. He pulls away to look at her, holding her gently by the shoulders. He knows her shadows will do well to protect her and if those aren’t enough, her older cousins are just a couple of classrooms down the hall. But he needs to hear her say it.

“What will you do if someone is mean to you?”

Melaina’s eyes light up and she steps out from his hold. True to the goddess you named her after, she's a tiny vision of nightmares and madness, as she assumes a defensive position, her shadows dancing around her.

“Kick them in the face!” She exclaims as she raises her leg up with a glare directed toward her nonexistent enemy.  “I'll make my enemies bleed.”

Cardan and Calian follow after her while Nyx wisely keeps a safe distance, amused by the spectacle of his younger cousins engaging in an imaginary brawl. Cassian watches them fondly, striking punches of his own into the air but you’re shaking your head with furrowed brows. Azriel catches the pointed look you send his way and a subtle blush overtakes his cheeks as you’ve discovered his secret. He continues to read Melaina, those books you told him not to. 

“No, Mel, that’s not–”

“That’s my girl,” Azriel grins as he rises to his feet, feeling slightly better. He rustles her bangs fondly.

The sound of the school bell echoes through the park as a final warning that class should be beginning shortly. Azriel reluctantly shrugs Melaina’s backpack off his shoulder, the small bag looking ridiculous on someone of his stature. He adjusts it on her with careful consideration for her delicate wings and feels an ache in his chest as the backpack nearly engulfs her smaller frame. 

As the faint rustling, reminiscent of rocks shifting, comes from the bag, it is Azriel’s turn to send you a subtle yet pointed look in your direction. A suppressed smile tugs at his lips when you quickly avert your gaze and he realizes he wasn’t the only one keeping a secret.

“Off you go, my little shadow. See you later.”

Once the backpack is secured to her, she takes Nyx’s waiting hand and runs off to the entrance with him. Azriel almost frowns but then, at the top of the stairs, she turns around, waving goodbye with a small absent-minded smile.

He watches her go into the school with a surge of that well-known sadness. Tears prick his eyes and though he knows he’s being dramatic, he can’t help the feeling that he’s losing her forever. His sweet little girl who keeps on growing. She’s slipping through his fingers all the time.

**

Bonus scene

Before his family could indulge in making fun of him, Azriel grasps your hand, drawing you close as he summons his shadows. The inky tendrils swirl around you both, transporting you back to the familiar sanctuary of your home.

"If this is your reaction on her first day of school, I can only imagine what you’ll be like when she has her first crush," you say, a teasing sparkle in your eyes.

Azriel's grip on you tightens. He doesn’t want to grapple further into the inevitability of his daughter's growing independence because to him, Melaina will always be his baby girl. A subtle strain echoes in his voice as he pleads, "Don't."

Easing out of his embrace, you giggle at his dramatics, strolling toward the kitchen with a lightness in your step, intent on brewing some tea. "It's just a couple of hours, Az," you reassure him.

"A couple of hours?" Azriel echoes, a pensive note in his voice as he joins you in the kitchen.

Having taken the entire week off, he had intended to be present for every moment—dropping Melaina off and picking her up during her first week at school. He didn’t plan for much other than that and he was used to spending his days off with his little family but now Melaina was off at school, leaving the two of you alone.

The kettle placed on the stove begins to whistle, harmonizing with the new thought that brews in his mind. You’re raising your steaming cup of tea to your lips, peering over at Azriel as he walks up to you. “What? You want some?” You ask, raising your cup to him.

Azriel shakes his head with a smile. Carefully taking the cup from you, he places it onto the counter behind you. He gently but firmly holds your chin, coaxing you to meet his gaze. The faint blush on his cheeks returns, a soft hue that complements the golden brilliance in his eyes as he looks down at you with adoration because you’ve given him everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

Still, there's an insatiable desire within him for even more moments, more shared dreams, and more of you.

“Let’s have another?”

“A baby?”

Azriel nods, attentively studying your features for any nuanced emotion. He feels relief when you smile and you voice your answer without having to say anything, flooding him with love through the bond you share. The two of you had discussed having children years ago, almost two years before having Melaina. After she was born, you mirrored each other’s desires for having more but had agreed on waiting but not too long as you wanted your children to grow up together.

“We do have a couple of hours to ourselves,” you remind him again, embracing him with arms entwined around his neck, fingers brushing through the back of his hair.

He hooks his arms under your knees, lifting you up with ease and you’re wrapping your legs around his waist. He grins when your legs tighten around him and kisses you.

“Let’s not waste another second.”

a/n: hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it <3 Sorry, I skipped ahead. I do want to eventually write an imagine for when Az & reader first find out they're having a baby. That might be the next imagine for this series.

tagging: @fxckmiup

[series masterlist]

[the-writer-arrived]

Disciplinary Method

Synopsis: you cannot stand veritas ratio, just the sight of him (or his stupid statues) makes your blood boil and causes you to argue with him everytime. sick of your attitude towards him, dr ratio believes you deserve to be taught some discipline.

Character: dr ratio.

Warnings: afab!gn!reader; explicit smut; reader is a member of the intelligentsia guild; kind of brat taming; semi-public sex (you two fuck in an empty classroom); fingering; use of a bullet vibrator; rivals to lovers but not really?? more like fuck buddies? rivals that fuck each other?

A/N: don't look at me, i lost the battle against my demons and was forced to write this!!!

<<This work has sexual themes and is not suitable for minors. If you click on read more, I am not responsable for any discomfort you may feel reading this. You have been warned.>>

The Intelligentsia Guild is a place that welcomes people from all walks of life that have the desire to learn. You are fortunate enough to be one of their scholars and you love teaching, love seeing the spark of passion for knowledge in your students' eyes.

But it seems like not everyone in the Guild thinks the same as you.

"Fail. Get out of my sight!"

Those words are frequently said by Veritas Ratio, or Dr Ratio, your insufferable colleague.

The first time you met, he barely spared a glance at your direction and complained about the arrival of another 'simpleton'. Suffice to say that that was a declaration of war.

From that day onwards, whenever you two would cross paths in the hallways, one would throw a snarky comment which would prompt a jab from the other until it becomes a full out argument (you'd call it 'academic debate' but whatever).

What other people don't know is that most of those arguments between you two end up in a way that was quite unprofessional...

----------

"I can barely hear you. 0 points."

"Stop grading me, I'm not one of your stude- fuck!"

The harsh pull of your poor nipple interrupts your complaint.

You don't know how long you've been in this empty classroom, your pants and underwear hanging on your ankle while Veritas keeps you on his lap, your legs spread open as he tortures your chest from under your shirt with one hand and keeps teasing your folds with the other.

"You kept running that annoying mouth of yours the whole day to get on my nerves, but now you want to keep quiet?"

He makes another attempt to make you moan louder, this time pinching your sensitive clit, and he would have succeeded, if you hadn't bitten down your lip to stop the sound from escaping. The scholar clicks his tongue in annoyance at your stubborness.

"If that's how you want to play, be my guest. Let's see how far you can hold on with this."

Veritas' hand leaves your chest to grab something that makes your eyes go wide: a small, silver bullet vibrator.

"W-When did you get that? And why do you have it with you?!"

"Recently. I thought it would be a useful tool to teach a certain brat a lesson, but who knew the opportunity would present itself so soon." He presses down the button and the bullet starts to vibrate with a low hum.

He starts dragging it from your neck, the cool object feeling nice on your heated skin. Then, he goes to your inner thighs, tracing it ever so close to your needy pussy, but never touching it like you wanted.

"Will you stop playing around alre--Ah!"

Your words are once again interrupted, this time by your own gasp of surprise and the way your whole body shivered when the vibrator is suddenly on your clit. However, as quickly as it came, the stimulation is taken away a second later.

The anticipation and the desire to be touched properly are getting on your nerves, so you grab the hand holding the wretched toy to push it to where it should be, but the man simply turns it off.

"You're not getting what you want so easily. You either do as I say and be as loud as I want or you go back to teaching your next class unsatisfied. Surely even an idiot like you know what choice to make here?"

The look on his eyes tells you he's not bluffing. You've been a fool to doubt him once before and paid the price. Between letting the quality of your teaching drop because of sexual frustration and having your pride get hurt by obeying Veritas' words like some obedient dog, of course you'll choose the latter.

"...Fine."

"Good, it seems like you do have a working brain after all."

The insufferable man smirks, satisfied with your decision. He turns the toy back on and rubs languid circles around your clit, your essence helping the movements feel smoother. You grasp onto your shirt and his arm, doing your best to not muffle your shy sounds and lose this feeling.

"Better, but still not good enough."

"Ngh just... Just shut up, ah..."

Since you've been edged and teased for so long, it doesn't take long for your gasps and whines to become louder. You get closer to the edge, but there's still something missing.

"M-More... Need more..."

Dr Ratio doesn't miss your hole clenching pathetically over the tip of his fingers, your body showing what you truly desire. The asshole chuckles, reveling in the sight of you so pliable and obedient in his arms like that. If you didn't constantly get on his nerves, he'd consider you almost cute.

It's almost embarrassing how your cunt basically engulfs his two fingers with ease, your head thrown back to rest on his shoulder as you moan with abandon. You don't even care about your surroundings anymore, the intoxicating sensation of his long fingers pumping in and out of your drooling hole paired with the small vibrator rubbing on your clit making your brain melt.

You singing so beautifully right into Veritas' ear and the hypnotizing sight of your pussy leaking on his knuckles are both things he wants to engrave in his memories, to be able to recall them time and time again until the next time he has to discipline you.

"Please, please I want cum, please let me cum!"

Your sweet pleas go straight to his twitching dick and he hides his blushing cheeks on the crook of your neck, his voice coming out as a groan.

"Very well, you earned it. Come for me now."

Like an automatic response to his permission, your body convulses in his hold, tears running down the sides of your face and mouth hanged open with a hoarse chant of his name.

Veritas turns off the toy and slowly retreats his fingers, your legs still shaking a bit.

"See? That wasn't very hard, was it? If you had behaved yourself from the start, you would have had this much earlier."

"Oh fuck off... You made me cum using a vibrator, that's nothing to be cocky of. I do that all the time."

"And you call my name as well when you're alone?"

You blame your lack of a comeback at your foggy brain, choosing to whack his stupid face with the back of your hand.

Suddenly, you both hear a melody coming from below you. It's your phone, which had fallen out of your pants' pocket, the screen showing the alarm you set up: 10 minutes until your next class, which is on the opposite side of where you are.

"Oh shit, I'm going to be late- woah!"

If it weren't for Veritas holding you by the waist, you'd surely fall down, betrayed by your own weak legs. You've never climaxed so hard like you just did, but you'll never admit that to him, his ego is already too big without that knowledge.

After making sure you're stable enough to stand on your own, the scholar lets go of your waist and watches you quickly dress up and fix your appearance.

His eyes rest on your neck, wondering how would you react if he to left a mark there, in a place for everyone to see... But he knows he shouldn't indulge in such fantasies, that would cross the boundaries of your... dynamic and he'd hate to cause you this kind of distress.

Dr Ratio is brought back from his thoughts when you go to the door of the classroom and point an accusatory finger at him.

"This is the last time we're doing this, you hear me?!"

You leave before he could respond, but he just chuckles. You always say that after you two get frisky and it has never held any meaning, considering that it's never ended up being the last time for real. He secretly hopes it continues that way.

Now, he needs to deal with his own 'little' problem before he can leave and act as if nothing scandalous happened in this empty classroom...

thanks for reading <3 likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated <3

heart divider made by @/cafekitsune

red dr ratio banner (smut) made by @/the-writer-arrived aka yours truly ;)

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

09 Edging

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Zhongli is a cold-hearted meanie in here, but you deserve it for being a flirty little brat / Possessive Zhongli / Filthy smut because the prompt demands it

Your beloved was such a polite and considerate man. Everyone who was familiar with him held that impression, including you. Mister Zhongli was always soft-spoken, always fair, always generous with his praises and compliments, giving credit where due.

So naturally, it would come as a surprise to be proven wrong. Although his tone would always remain gentle and patient, his actions would show you that this man was capable of being the cruelest bastard in all of Teyvat if he found a good reason to.

Alright, so maybe you had brought it on yourself. Maybe you deserved to be reminded that your beloved was the archon of Liyue at one point and authority was such a familiar thing to him. Nobody dared to cross him, intentionally that is. You, in all your misguided confidence, decided to not only ignore his request to keep your distance from a particularly charismatic guest at the gathering, but proceeded to flirt with them right in front of his face. Now, Zhongli was never outwardly a jealous man. You'd have to dig deep, peel back quite a few layers to get there. Tonight, with just a few careless words and a bit of wine, you had managed to awaken that slumbering dragon in him.

"Please… please, I need…" You choked on your words, begging like you had never begged in your life.

"I was under the impression that you could do without me, dear. How come you are going back on your words?" The cruel gentleman asked as if he hadn't just denied you an orgasm for the fourth time.

You grit your teeth, panting and heaving like you had just fought and lost a battle with an impossible opponent. Frustration was a form of arousal, you found out after he pulled out the first time. Each time he put a stop to your impending climax, the next one came with an even more vicious urgency. Your heart would beat so frantically, it felt like it would explode as your back arched off the bed.

"I was wrong!" You wailed, crying and sobbing as if you were truly ridden with remorse. "Please… let me have it… I'll be good! I promise! Z-Zhongli!"

"Dear. Look at you. If you had heeded my words, I would not have to resort to disciplining you in this manner."

"Please…" You whimpered as he continued to exert punishment on your swollen, overstimulated hole.

"Poor thing." He cooed, reaching out to tidy your disheveled hair a bit. "Do you want it so badly?

Zhongli leaned over you, close enough for the tassel dangling from his ear to tickle your face. You nodded desperately, eyes glassy from crying so much.

You were so tired, so frustrated. His constant edging drove you delirious with need. Your voice was hoarse from all the begging and whining. Your body shook as he drove into your wet and waiting hole, pumping in and out with brutal strokes. There was no more need for gentleness and patience. You want him to fuck you deep and hard until your mind becomes incoherent mush. Then perhaps you could momentarily forget how mean he was being to you.

"Please… please… Just let me come…"

A steady stream of pleas spill from your lips, mingling with his shallow breaths and grunts. You throw your head back, words replaced by whimpers. He brings you so incredibly close, you could almost taste the sweet release.

Just when you're about to tip over, the feeling vanishes. Your slicked walls clench helplessly, but he's already pulled out. Tears roll down your cheeks as you sob uncontrollably. Your mind was still a complete mess, unable to comprehend that another orgasm has been snatched from you. All you can do is lay there underneath the cruel bastard, crying like the tortured little thing you are.

Zhongli's conscience finally returns. He kisses you softly on the forehead and whispers apologies into your ear as you catch your breath. Very slowly, he reenters you. Your poor hole had been abused all night, puffy and raw despite being drenched in your slick.

"Are you alright, my dear?" He asks you.

"No." You replied, voice coming out halfway between a whine and a sob. "Are you going to let me come this time?"

He chuckles, placing another kiss on your tearstained cheeks. "It seems you've learned your lesson. I have no reason to further punish you."

You wrap your arms around his neck as he fucks you slow and deep, lips finding yours as he works up a gradual pace. Your breathing gets short and your lips part to let out a high pitched moan. Zhongli groans as he feels you clenching needily around his cock. This time, he intends to bring you all the way to the finish.

"Heartless." You huffed in between moans.

"I could say the same about you as well, my dear. You can be quite insensitive when you have one too many glasses."

Zhongli pins your thighs against your body as his cock impales you over and over. Whimpers spill from your lips as he drives into you at a maddening pace.

You tremble as the familiar sensations begin to wash over you. Pleasure clouds your mind like a thick fog. Everything stills for a split second. All the pent-up frustration and tension culminates into a single, tight coil that comes undone all at once. Convulsions rake your body as your walls cave around him.

Warm cum floods your insides, seeping out and soaking the sheets beneath you. Zhongli pulls out with a groan, cock drenched in cum and slick. Thick ribbons of milky white spilled from your hole, some of it still connected to his cock in glistening threads.

Turned out you weren't the only one tortured tonight from the amount of cum still leaking from his tip. How he managed to last this long, you didn't need to know. All you needed to know was that you should definitely watch your alcohol intake from now on, unless you wanted to purposely invite the wrath of a very jealous, very possessive god.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Evidence of Obedience ~Sub!Alex Cabot xFem Dom!Reader

Summary— I Headcanon that seasons 2-3 Alex are more sub and baby. In light of that, here’s a little smutty fic about Reader teasing and pleasuring sub!Alex… Alex isn’t allowed to cum, but it’s forced out of her. What will Reader do…?

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, strap-on sex, plastic dick riding, overstimulation, begging, discipline, teasing, forced orgasm, praise, degradation, praise kink, degradation kink, ma’am kink, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

“P-please ma’am please—!” Alex desperately mewls as she’s bouncing in your lap on your cock.

“No baby… be a good girl and hold it…” you cooe warily, drinking in all the young blonde’s reactions.

Alex’s head tilts back as she lets out a strangled groan, her body bucking and continuing to grind against your plastic dick. Your hands are holding her hips firm and setting an unrelenting pace for her to be riding you. You lick your lips at the sight of a sweat sheening, tits bouncing Alex Cabot.

“Can’t can’t ma’am gonna cum—!!” She babbles.

“Poor baby… needs it so bad you’re gonna defy my orders…?” You tease, as you force the women over the edge with a particularly striking thrust.

Alex comes crashing down, grinding haphazardly against your cock and lap, eyes shut tight, and a string of moans leaving her lips. As soon as she comes back to reality, the blonde finds that you are still fucking up into her at an unrelenting pace, using your hips to swivel the plastic dick further into her sensitive cunt.

“Shit ma’am AghgGgHH I’m sorry—!” Alex whimpers, leaning forward more into your frame, as she is overwhelmed by more pleasure and her next climax starts to build up.

“Oh you’re sorry, babygirl…?” You purr, a wicked gleam in your eye.

Alex nods vigorously, biting her lip as she lets out another desperate whine.

“I am, I am so sorry ma’am couldn’t listen mmm sorry…!!” She whines.

Suddenly you stop completely, leaving the strap-on dick deep inside the other woman. Alex’s eyes shoot open and she immediately tries to regain the lost friction, but your hands hold her firmly in place.

“No no NO ma’am I’m so sorry I’ll do better please ma’am—!!” She begs, hips thrashing and fighting your hold,

“Please I’ll be a good girl please punish me please I’ll listen give me another chance ma’am pleasssseee…!!”

“You wanna be good for me?”

She nods eagerly, bright eyed and bushy-tailed at the mention of forgiveness and redemption.

“You wanna be my good girl…? Prove it.” You purred, rolling your hips up once experimentally into the blonde.

“Yes ma’am…!!” She squeaked, her eyes rolling back at the little friction you rewarded her with.

You tilt your head and smirk, before loosening your vice grip on her hips and encouraging her to roll them against your cock once more. Alex gasped in delight and quickly began riding you fast and hard, with your help of course.

“Such a pretty girl…”

“Oh Jesus FUCK—!” She moaned out.

She set a brutal pace for herself, which you aided in helping her keep by thrusting your own hips up into her and bobbing her hips up and down in rhythm with your thrusts. The blonde let out desperate whimper after whimper, getting closer and closer to her next climax.

“Taking me like such a good girl… you gonna be an obedient little slut and cum as many times as I want you too…?” You cooe lustfully.

The blonde shaked her head cock-drunkenly.

“Very good girl…” you purr as she topples over the edge once more.

~~~

Alex Cabot Masterlist

[milksuu]

❀. │GIRL DINNER (O2)│. ❀

❥ prompt: You're hungry. You want food. You want a snack. You just want SOMETHING. You send your HEARTSTEEL boyfriend(s) on a food-run adventure. Let's see what each boy brings back. ❥ content/warnings: sexually suggestive themes, fluff ❥ characters/pairings: v!Heartsteel (sett, yone, k'sante) / f!reader

SETT

foot-long sub and gatorade

When it comes to feeding you, Sett isn’t willing to compromise. He goes big, or he goes home. And he’s not going home empty handed. 

He Facetime’s you when he’s at the Deli counter of the local grocer, where the sub-meat selection is divine, options are abundant, and the portions are unbeatable. 

When you say you want double amounts of meat, you’re getting it. When you tell him you want more toppings, it’s done. Oh, you want your bread extra toasted and slathered in condiments? Baby, it’s yours. No problem—he’s got you.

When he comes home, you get a running head start, and jump into his arms without warning. The man has no trouble catching you, ever. 

As he greets your neck with a kiss, you lean and whisper into his soft ears about wanting to ‘share some’ with him. Since Sett has an uncontrollably tendency to go over-board with anything portion related, he’s more than willing to help you out. He understands you can't finish most things by yourself. Especially if he's the one serving you.

You huff with an embarrassed whine, shaking your head. You weren't talking about the food! 

Sett finally catches on by the squeezing of your legs around him, the flush of your cheeks, and the hot puffs you tow against his twitching ears. He hums a low and warm grumble at the insinuation. That large hand cradling your bottom squeezes in all the right places. It's enough to elicit a satisfied cry from your lips.

Sett really didn’t come home empty handed. In more ways than one.

YONE

home cooked meal and water

Yone was an expert and perfectionist—especially in the kitchen. Why would he buy you anything processed and unhealthy when he could make anything you desired? He wasn’t going to tolerate you poisoning yourself. Not on his watch. 

Insisting on cooking for you, you watched at how meticulous he was in the kitchen. His expertise with a knife was incomparable. You never realized chopping vegetables could be a discipline and an art form.

When he finished garnishing the plate, he served you. If you didn’t know any better, you would think the dish came straight from a Michelin five-star restaurant!

Not allowing it cool, you burned your tongue on your first bite. Yone chastised you (one of his ways of showing affection) before taking the next helping, and blowing away the steam. He raised the fork to your lips.

Yone was always cool, calm, and collected—but would then do things that were heart-pounding, sweet and seductive. You felt silly with embarrassment. You shook your head, declining his help.

Unacceptable. Yone took your chin without a word, pressed his lips against yours, and slipped a tongue to open your mouth. When you gasped a moan, he abandoned your mouth, and placed the food inside. He encouraged you to chew thoroughly, but all you wanted to do was collapse.

Yone was definitely an expert and perfectionist—at driving you absolutely mad about him.

K'SANTE

take-out and bottle of wine

K’Sante was never about the ‘Netflix and chill’ thing. More like the ‘Netflix and serve my Queen’ scene. And that’s exactly what he planned to do.

Knowing your favorite restaurant, he orders express delivery and pops the cork off of a pricey bottle of wine.

K’Sante has everything ready for the night. Lights dimmed, scented candles lit, and Netflix show ready to go at the press of a button. 

Like the Casanova he is, he serves you everything first. All the while showering you with compliments about how beautiful you are. K’Sante isn’t ashamed of expressing himself to what he likes—which is obviously you. 

After eating and having your fill of wine, you relax further into the couch with him. All the while, watching your shared guilty-pleasure reality TV-show; 'Too Hot To Handle'

The wine seems to get the better of you two. Spooning you from behind, you turn over a cheek expecting to see K’Sante watching the TV. Far from it—his lustrous gaze is on you. He graciously takes your mouth. Slow and passionate. And you can taste the spice of the wine. 

With eyes closed, you feel his trained hand slide across your waist, and slip between your thighs.

K’Sante wasn’t done serving his Queen. And that’s exactly what he planned to do.

[houserautha]

Pain & Pleasure

Summary: Based off this ask. Your husband only wants to protect you.

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: MDNI. Most of my warnings fall under the prompts given for Fangtober. Also, spanking. In the wise words of Cloud Guy, “A little slappy, make daddy happy.”

A/N: This is my submission for @lady-phasma’s Fangtober!! I kept writing and rewriting until I saw this ask and then was inspired. Prompts: blood, ejaculation, bondage, dominance, S&M, some humiliation and discipline, and tears.

The spice-laden wine goes straight to your head, blurring the harsh edges of the Harkonnen party. It's certainly more tolerable this way. You float through the throng of courtiers as if pulled along by a slow moving current, smiling and offering platitudes when necessary.

Distantly, you're aware of Feyd's eyes on you.

They never really leave — a constant, watchful presence that burns between the blades of your shoulders. He likes to keep you within view, preside over every interaction and conversation. And when you complain about this, he always tells you, "You are my jewel. You do not leave precious treasure unguarded."

Precious treasure, you muse, sipping the dredges of your drink.

If you tried hard enough you would surely find Feyd in the crowd, dark gaze trained on you. He would be charming the courtiers all while keeping you in his sights, somehow straddling the line between host and careful guard. You, on the other hand, struggle with the act of entertaining your guests. Not from lack of trying.

And thus, when one of the courtiers presses his hand to your lower back as he passes by, you don't threaten to cut it off. Hopefully the smile on your face doesn't resemble a grimace. The courtier, a man dressed in a trim suit, removes his hand but does not leave.

"na-Baroness," he says, feigning surprise. He's a terrible actor. "I didn't realize it was you. My humble apologies."

"You're forgiven."

Why do all of your smiles feel as if you're baring your teeth?

"May I get you another drink?" The man asks.

Before letting you answer, he waves down one of the servants and thrusts another glass into your hand. His fingers graze yours in the process, in such a fashion that cannot be mistaken as an accident. There's no spark of attraction, no pinch of arousal in your lower belly that a touch from your husband would usually incite, but you let this go too. Not only because you need to develop repertoire with the courtiers, because usually people are too frightened to speak to you.

This man might be a brash idiot but at least he doesn’t shy away from you.

"You look magnificent," the man says, his mouth close to your ear. The music isn't really that loud, and you recognize this as a ploy to get closer to you. "The na-Baron is a fortunate man indeed."

You swirl the spice-wine coyly. "That's what I tell him."

“You shouldn’t need to remind him.”

“Mm. Why’s that?”

"He should know to take care of such a beautiful woman, lest someone start to covet her." He adds boldly, "There are more things a man can offer you than prestige and wealth."

"And what would that be?" You peer up at him from beneath your lashes.

Feyd has given you quite literally anything you could ask for — a home, a protector, an equal. And more orgasms than you can count, which you understand is what this man before you is implying the na-Baron cannot provide.

The man steps closer to you. "I would be more than willing to show you, na-Baroness, if you would let me."

“You are very bold," you counter.

“Among other things.”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

"Don't be." He flashes you a winning smile that does absolutely nothing to you. You might as well have been speaking to a rotting corpse. "You can ask me anything and I will answer as truthfully as I can."

You study him, considering, tapping your nails on the stem of your glass. "Do you truly think I will stray from my husband for you?"

"Yes," he says. "Next."

"Do you truly think you can best him in pursuit of my...pleasures?"

"If you come with me, you might answer that question yourself," the man says in way of reply, hand lingering over your elbow.

"Go with you where?"

Feyd appears nonchalantly at your side. A part of you sighs in relief, as it always does when you're together. But there's an underlying current of danger in his voice, double-edged and pointed at both you and this courtier, who apparently does not sense it or does not care.

"I was going to let her choose," the man answers coolly.

Feyd's jaw feathers. "How quaint."

"Excuse me?" The man's brow furrows and you almost feel bad for him, this stupid, arrogant courtier.

"My wife goes where I tell her. She quite likes a...strong hand." Feyd curls a possessive hand at your waist and, without breaking eye contact with the man, orders, "Go to our room and kneel on the bed, naked, and wait for me to join you."

Desire pulses deep within you. You shoot the man an apologetic, slightly triumphant look, knowing that his demise is eminent, and disappear into the crowd. Anticipation carries you all of the way to your shared quarters with the na-Baron, where you undress and then arrange yourself at the foot of the bed. An inordinate amount of time passes before the door finally opens and your husband steps through it, a phantom in the shadows.

Feyd prowls toward you. Only once he's in reach of the light do you realize that his hands, the front of his tunic, are drenched in blood.

You breathe out, "You killed him."

Not that you're shocked, necessarily; it's the quantity of blood that disturbs you, painting him in a study of crimson. Goosebumps pimple over your skin.

Feyd does not deign you with a response.

When he comes to you, you flinch away reflexively from his blooded hands. A growl rips from his chest and you don't even have time to regret your decision when he's grabbing you by the jaw and squeezing. "You did this to him."

"I didn't make him do anything," you hiss. Feyd's grip tightens. The pressure becomes nearly too much for you to handle, fingers digging into your flesh, pouting your lips.

"You didn't stop him either, did you?" Feyd looms dangerously close to you, fury radiating off him. The brunt of his anger comes when he releases you, roughly shoving you away.

You're then aware, vaguely, that the man's blood is now smeared on your face in the shape of your husband's hand, inviting a coppery smell that invades your senses and churns your stomach. The weight of Feyd dips the mattress as he sits down then pats his thigh. "Lie down on my lap."

You hesitate. Another stupid, reckless decision.

Feyd grabs the hair at the base of your skull. A squeal escapes you as he forces you down over his knees, exposing you entirely to him. Liquid embarrassment floods over you and a protest begins to form on your tongue — you are the na-Baroness, after all, not a child to be ridiculed.

Like he can hear this particular train of thought, Feyd snatches your wrists with one hand and secures them behind your back. When he leans in, discomfort sprouts from the awkward position, your back bowing to keep your arms from snapping. "If you're going to act like a whore, then I'm going to treat you as one. Do you understand?"

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, who?”

Your face burns. “Yes, na-Baron.”

“Good girl.”

You’re perched over his lap now, ass up, cunt exposed to the coolness of the room. It’s shameful how wet you already are. There’s a moment of jostling as Feyd removes his belt and snakes it over your wrists to keep you bound.

Now that both of his hands are free, Feyd drags his fingers through your slick folds. He continues up, up, up, circling your wetness over the tight ring of muscles of your ass. Your breath hitches as he then palms one cheek and gives it an experimental squeeze.

A dull roar consumes your mind. The inevitability of his punishment ratchets —

White-hot pain explodes over the surface of your ass. You gasp but there’s barely any time to recover before he’s striking you again, open-palmed, the contact of skin on skin ringing out. A sob builds in your throat. No matter how you tense or prepare, his hand collides with your backside in a sear of blinding heat.

And, worst of all, your traitorous cunt clenches with anticipation.

Feyd ceases long enough to snarl in your ear, “I know what men think when they look at you. Look at my wife.”

His palm cracks against you. You try to jerk away but he keeps you in place. Beneath you, his hardening cock nudges against your belly.

“I know —” smack, “—what—” smack, “—men—” smack, “are capable of.”

Tears spring to your eyes. The memory of his hand prickles as you attempt to collect yourself, only to yowl out as he spanks you again. The repeated action robs you of any thought or rationality, any plea that you might be able to summon. And he seems to be enjoying it as much as you are, bucking his hips as you thrash and squirm. Everything burns.

Pain lances through you, fiery and sharp. You feel your backside blistering from his touch, feel the welts raise. And you’re completely helpless to stop this. The leather of his belt bites into your wrists, scrapes against you as you writhe, trying to escape his hand while also dripping wet at the promise of being dealt another strike.

“It’s for your own good, you know,” Feyd murmurs almost lovingly, large hand brushing over your ass. The reprieve has you sputtering and gasping for air, aware that your front — and likely your backside — is covered with sticky, dried blood. Feyd strokes your hair as you whimper. “I just want to protect you, jewel.”

The sentiment is punctuated by another bone-rattling smack. You howl out and in reply he snaps his hips up, grinding into you.

“And that’s why I have to punish you.” He cracks his hand down again. There’s a tremor of emotion in his voice. “So I can protect you.”

Feyd spanks you again and again until you’re freely sobbing. He’s managed to unravel you completely, cast you adrift in a sea of pleasure and pain. You barely know who you are anymore, wave after wave of burning heat making you somehow both deliriously empty and wanting.

“You are mine, jewel,” he rasps finally.

“I-I am yours, na-Baron.”

He murmurs his approval, setting to work removing his pants. “Now get up and take this cock.”

You wince. “Feyd, I —”

“You can and you will.”

He wrenches you up by your hair again, tossing you to the side as he rises to his feet. You fall awkwardly to your side and Feyd takes advantage of your stumble, whipping you around so that your front is now pressed to the mattress. Another bought of embarrassment grips you as you realize how easily it will be for him to see your arousal — how ruined you must look, skin flaring with welts and bruises and blood.

Feyd keeps your head pushed against the mattress as he forces his cock inside you. He buries himself deeply without giving you time to adjust, and with your arms bound behind your back you can do nothing but squirm.

Saliva gathers in the corners of your mouth. You struggle to breathe against the mattress, breathe through the combined waves of pain and pleasure. Each snap of his hips sends a jolt through you as he comes in contact with your ass, reigniting the burn. He ruts into you as if he knows this and your whole body jostles with his thrusts, growing more fervent as you choke out sob after sob, muffled into the bed.

“Maybe next time you’ll remember to be a good wife,” Feyd all but seethes.

He claws his hands over your hips and ass, fingers digging into the reddened flesh. Blood and your own juices mingle, filling the air with wet noises — sending you over the edge with the reminder of you and the courtier’s punishments.

The mattress muffles your scream as you come, a loud, cathartic release. Feyd bucks into you until you’ve finished, and even then, wringing out every drop of your pleasure until he reaches the peak of his own. He pulls out at the last second, deriving you of his cum, and you howl. Warm splashes of his seed spill on your ass, agitating the already raw skin, and your cunt clenches in displeasure of not being filled.

Feyd lingers in you until his cock softens and slips out. You’re sniveling and crying still as he disappears from behind you — you’re half afraid he’s going to come back and continue his punishment.

But when he returns, it’s to gently wipe away the mess of blood and cum with a towel, taking precaution not to hurt you more than he already did. His hands replace the towel next, massaging a soothing balm over each cheek. You’re still sniffing by the time he unties the belt from your wrists and pulls you further up onto the bed, cradling you against himself.

“Shh, now, jewel,” he breathes into your hair. “I will always keep you safe.”

[sweetvoidstuff]

Yoga Pose: Love

Jungkook x Reader

Summary: Jungkook, a dedicated gym enthusiast, finds his routine disrupted when Y/N, a serene yoga instructor, joins the gym. As they bond over shared challenges and personal growth, their friendship evolves into a profound connection, nurtured by their mutual love for fitness and resilience in overcoming obstacles.

Masterlist

Jungkook wiped the sweat from his brow, his chest heaving with exertion after a particularly grueling workout session. The gym around him buzzed with activity—weights clanked, music pumped through the speakers, and people moved with purpose. This was his sanctuary, where he pushed his limits and found solace in the rhythm of physical challenge.

Jimin, the blonde gym owner and a close friend, had recently introduced a new addition to his team: Y/N, a yoga instructor renowned for her transformative classes. Jungkook had heard whispers of her arrival, promising to bring a fresh perspective and welcoming atmosphere to the gym. Intrigued, he had yet to witness her teaching firsthand.

As Jungkook approached the water fountain, his eyes swept across the studio floor where Y/N conducted her class. soft, ambient music is heared and a gentle scent of lavender lingers around the studio door. The room is warmly lit, creating a calming atmosphere. Mats are laid out in neat rows. She guides her students through a series of asanas, or poses, each one flowing seamlessly into the next. Moving with grace and precision, demonstrating each pose with clarity while offering modifications for those who need them. From the grounding Mountain Pose to the invigorating Warrior Series, each movement is deliberate and purposeful. Her fluid movements seemed almost choreographed, a serene contrast to the intense energy of the weights area.

“Hey, Jungkook!” Jimin’s voice interrupted Jungkoos thoughts. “How’s the workout going?” He hadnt realised how long he had watched the session and Y/N.

“Good, Jimin,” Jungkook replied, glancing back at Y/N’s class. “Who’s the new instructor?”

Jimin followed Jungkook’s gaze and grinned proudly. “That’s Y/N. She’s fantastic—her classes are really popular with the ladies.”

Jungkook nodded appreciatively, taking a moment to observe Y/N's teaching style a little longer before sipping from his water bottle. “She seems great,” he remarked quietly a soft blush forming on his cheeks.

Later that week, after completing his usual routine and stretching out his muscles, Jungkook overheard a group of guys loitering near the studio entrance. Their snide remarks about Yoga class cut through the gym’s usual din.

“Yoga? Seriously? That’s not even a real workout,” scoffed one of them, smirking as he leaned against the wall.

“Yeah, what’s next? A knitting club? Park should have put a Cycling session there or anything else, man.” another chimed in, prompting laughter from his companions.

“At least they look good stretching like that,” added a third, gesturing dismissively towards the big glass studio doors.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek in anger. He had always believed in respecting every form of physical activity, understanding the dedication, discipline, and skill required to pull through with any kind of workout routine. Those comments struck a nerve—dismissive, disrespectful, and entirely uncalled for. Especially as the girls closest to the door shyly turned their heads at the noise.

Meanwhile, you seemed focused on your class and undeterred by the comments echoing nearby, continuing to guide your students with professionalism and grace. As Jungkook watched you calmly lead your class, he felt a surge of admiration for your poise and resilience. You embodied a lot he valued in fitness—a commitment to excellence, inclusivity, and unwavering dedication to your students. It was clear to him that you were not just an instructor, but a role model who commanded respect through your actions and expertise.

A couple of weeks passed in the steady rhythm of the gym. You continued leading your yoga classes with unwavering dedication, despite the occasional snide remarks from a group of guys who loitered near the studio area. Jungkook, often observing from a distance after his workouts, seemed increasingly agitated each time he overheard their disrespectful comments.

One afternoon, after finishing your usual routine, you found yourself chatting with Jimin near the front desk. Your class had just concluded, and you approached them with a friendly smile, ready to head home for the day.

“Hey, Jimin,” you greeted warmly, nodding politely at Jungkook.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jimin responded, introducing you formally. “That's Jungkook. Jungkook, Y/N.”

“Hi,” Jungkook smiled back at you, admiration for you evident in his eyes. You returned the smile graciously.

“How’s everything going?” Jimin inquired, leaning casually against the counter.

“Good, as usual,” you replied, your voice carrying a hint of weariness. “The classes are great, with ecxeption of those guys…”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. “Yeah, about that. I wanted to talk to you about some of the members. Their comments are way out of line.”

Jimin’s expression shifted to concern, exchanging a concerned glance between you and Jungkook. “Should I talk to them? It’s not acceptable for them to make you or the others uncomfortable.”

Shaking your head calmly, your demeanor composed despite the underlying annoyance. “I appreciate it, Jimin, but I’m not fazed by them. I’ve dealt with worse.”

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully, his respect for you growing. “Still, you shouldn’t have to put up with it. If you ever need backup, just let me know.”

Your smile widened gratefully. “Thanks, Jungkook. It means a lot. Just having some privacy screens on the windows would be appreciated. Not all the girls want to feel like they’re on display.”

“Consider it done,” Jimin assured you with a nod of determination. “I’ll get that sorted out.”

As you bid them good evening and headed towards the exit, Jungkook’s admiration for you was palpable. You handled adversity with grace and strength, your focus unwavering on your passion for yoga and your students rather than letting the ignorance of a few detract from your mission.

Later that week, true to his word, Jimin had privacy screens installed around the studio windows, ensuring you and your students could practice yoga without feeling scrutinized or objectified. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by you. You expressed your gratitude with a nod and a warm smile to Jimin.

Your classes continued, now with a renewed sense of peace. The girls in your class seemed more at ease, no longer casting wary glances towards the windows. Your studio became an even more welcoming sanctuary, a place where everyone could focus on their practice without the distraction of unwanted attention.

Over the next few weeks, your interactions with Jungkook blossomed into a genuine friendship. You noticed him actively seeking you out a couple of times, and in turn, you made a point to spot him as soon as you came in. Those moments of connection brightened your day—whether it was sharing a quick chat after your workouts or exchanging friendly smiles across the gym floor.

One day, after a particularly challenging boxing session with Jimin, Jungkook noticed you watching him from the sidelines with a curious expression. As you caught his eye, he wiped the sweat from his face and sauntered over with a playful smirk.

“Enjoying the show?” he teased lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You laughed, feeling a slight flush spread across your cheeks. “You’re pretty good, Jungkook. I might have to join one of Jimin’s classes someday.”

He grinned, his playful demeanor lighting up his features. “I’d love to see that. Maybe I can join one of your yoga classes in return.”

“Deal,” you said with a smile, extending your hand for a friendly shake. Jungkook’s hand met yours, his touch warm and firm, sending a subtle thrill through you. His fingers were strong, yet surprisingly gentle, wrapping around yours with a confident ease. The calluses on his palm told tales of hours spent lifting weights and honing his physique, while the smoothness of his skin spoke of care and dedication to his craft. As your hands clasped together, you couldn’t help but notice the contrast between his slightly larger hand and your own, a physical reminder of the differences and similarities that drew you together.

However, it wasn’t easy to coordinate meetups, despite both of you attending the same gym. As a fitness instructor, some of your class schedules clashed with Jimin’s, making it challenging to attend his sessions. Despite your best efforts, your schedules rarely aligned. Jimin’s classes were popular among women, partly due to his charismatic and his appearance. Many attended to get close to him, but few could keep up with the demanding workouts he offered.

On the other hand, Jungkook made an effort to attended your yoga classes, where he stood out as the lone man amidst a sea of women. He approached yoga with dedication, diligently stretching and balancing, though he was often surrounded by admirers after class, making it difficult to approach him. It was impossible not to notice Jungkook’s attractiveness, which was on par with Jimin’s. Despite these challenges, life had a knack for throwing unexpected curveballs into the mix, complicating things further.

After a particularly bad day, you found yourself needing an outlet for your frustration. You came to the gym on your off day, feeling mentally and emotionally charged. Your usual calm demeanor was replaced by a storm of emotions that you needed to unleash. You waltzed through the front desk without greeting anybody, your face set in a determined scowl. The receptionist's cheerful "Hello!" went unanswered as you beelined for the locker room. You changed quickly, the routine motions doing little to quell the turmoil within you.

Once you were in your workout gear, instead of heading to the yoga studio, you decided to channel your frustration into something more physically demanding: boxing. Boxing had always been your go-to for releasing pent-up emotions when yoga didn't suffice, a skill honed through years of training and personal discipline even if your fitness focus had shifted over the years. It was an outlet where you could unleash your energy and focus on the rhythmic cadence of punches.

It was particularly frustrating that you couldn’t fit one of Jimin’s classes into your schedule. Jimin had seen you box once or twice before, and you preferred not to do it with so many people around. It didn’t quite fit the image of the calm yoga instructor you portrayed to your students. Luckily, the gym’s boxing area was today less crowded, providing a sanctuary where you could let loose and regain your balance.

Making your way to the punching bag, it stood as a familiar and comforting presence in the dimly lit corner of the gym. With practiced precision, you wrapped your hands, the ritual grounding you in purpose. Each loop around your wrists was a reminder of discipline and control, a prelude to the cathartic release that awaited.

As you stepped closer to the bag, you took a deep breath. The rhythmic thud of your fists against the heavy bag echoed in the quiet space, filling the air with a steady beat that matched the intensity of your emotions.

With each strike, you felt the tension in your muscles melt away, replaced by a surge of adrenaline and clarity. The physical exertion demanded your full attention, drawing your focus away from the frustrations of your day and into the present moment. Jab, cross, hook—each movement was deliberate, a calculated release of energy that brought a sense of satisfaction.

The combined stress of everything—the missed connections, the demanding job, the personal struggles—felt like too much. You began with some shadow boxing, your movements sharp and precise. Each punch and jab was thrown with the intent of expelling the negative energy inside you. The familiar rhythm of boxing, the controlled breathing, and the power behind each hit helped you focus and calm your mind.

As you transitioned to the heavy bag, your strikes became more forceful. The sound of your fists hitting the bag echoed through the gym, a physical manifestation of your inner turmoil. You lost yourself in the workout, each punch and combination a cathartic release. The rhythm of your fists against the bag was almost hypnotic, providing a temporary escape from your thoughts.

But the relief was short-lived. A few minutes into your session, the comments of the gym bros reached your ears. They were gathered nearby, their conversation loud and invasive. Their crude jokes and dismissive remarks about women in the gym were hard to ignore, especially today. Normally, you could brush it off, but today their words felt like daggers, turning your sucky day into an even worse one.

“Man, now the girl is even occupying the boxing space,” one of them laughed, not even trying to lower his voice. Another one added, “Yeah, why even bother? She should stick to yoga or something.”

The words stung, a reminder of the relentless misogyny you had to navigate more often than not. Anger bubbled up, mixing with your existing frustration. You threw another punch, harder this time, imagining the bag was the source of all your problems. Your form faltered, which just annoyed you even more.

Their laughter continued, a grating soundtrack to your workout. You tried to refocus, to let the rhythm of your punches drown out their voices, but the irritation was too persistent. The gym had always been your sanctuary, a place to clear your mind and channel your energy. But today, it felt tainted, the safe space violated by their insensitive banter.

One of them, a tall guy with a cocky grin, stepped closer, watching you with a smirk. “You’re wasting your time, sweetheart. Boxing isn’t for girls,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension.

His words hit harder than any punch, reigniting memories of every time you'd been underestimated or belittled. The rage simmered beneath your skin, threatening to boil over. You clenched your fists tighter, feeling the rough texture of the tape against your palms, a tangible reminder of your determination.

Ignoring them was becoming increasingly difficult. You could feel their eyes on you, scrutinizing your every move. Each punch you threw was an act of defiance, a statement that you belonged here just as much as they did. Yet, the weight of their judgment was heavy, pulling you down, sapping the energy you desperately needed to keep going.

You paused, trying to steady your breath, to calm the storm inside. You were one deep breath away from going over there and catching yourself a lawsuit. The intensity of your anger was palpable, your fists still clenched tightly. Just then, a familiar voice cut through the din, sharp and authoritative. “Hey, why don’t you guys shut up and mind your own business?" he said, his voice low and controlled but carrying an unmistakable edge. "If you have a problem with how the gym is organized, Park would be happy to hear about it. And if you have a problem with her, well, we can deal with that right now.”

It was Jungkook. He had walked in unnoticed, and now he stood between you and those assholes, his expression a mix of pure anger and annoyance. His skin was glistening with sweat, evidence of an intense workout, and his hair was slightly disheveled, clinging to his forehead in damp strands. His chest heaved slightly, as if he had rushed over mid-set, not caring to finish his exercise the moment he sensed trouble. The sight of him, fierce and protective, momentarily took your breath away.

His eyes were dark and intense, practically blazing with fury as he glared at the gym bros. The muscles in his jaw tightened, and his lips were pressed into a thin, hard line. Every part of his body language screamed readiness to defend and confront, creating an almost palpable aura of protectiveness around him. His usually calm demeanor was replaced by a formidable presence, one that demanded respect and silence.

As he took a step forward, the gym bros visibly shrank back. "Well?” Jungkook's broad shoulders squared off, making him appear even more imposing. His arms, still tense from his workout, were now crossed over his chest, showcasing the taut muscles beneath his skin. Each movement was deliberate, his stance unwavering, as if daring anyone to challenge him.

The gym bros exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier bravado quickly evaporating in the face of Jungkook’s challenge. Their murmurs turned into grumbles, and they reluctantly dispersed to another corner of the gym, casting furtive glances over their shoulders. None of them dared to meet Jungkook’s eyes again, the threat of confrontation still lingering in the air.

Jungkook watched them retreat, his stance not relaxing until they were a good distance away. Then, he turned to you, his eyes softening instantly, the anger melting away to reveal concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gentle now, a stark contrast to the intensity he had displayed moments before. The tension in the air eased slightly, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

You nodded, letting out a deep breath, the tension in your body slowly dissipating. The whirlwind of emotions you felt—anger, relief, gratitude—left you momentarily speechless. The sight of Jungkook, standing there like a protective barrier between you and those man-children, had both calmed and unsettled you in ways you couldn’t quite describe.

He seemed to understand, nodding in return. “Want some company?” he offered, his tone now light, as if trying to bring you back to a more normal, comfortable space.

You hesitated for a moment, the residual anger still simmering beneath the surface. But the idea of having someone like Jungkook by your side was too reassuring to pass up. Finally, you nodded. “Can you hold him steady?” you asked, gesturing to the punching bag.

Jungkook joined you at the punching bag, his lips curling into a small smile. “You sure you only mean this?” he teased lightly, gripping the bag firmly.

You managed a small smile in response. “For now,” you replied, your voice steadier than before.

With Jungkook holding the bag steady, you resumed your punches, each strike more controlled and precise than the last. His presence beside you grounded you, lending a sense of stability. As you unleashed your energy on the punching bag, the anger that had threatened to consume you began to dissipate, replaced by a renewed focus on your workout.

“Thanks for stepping in,” you said after a few minutes, your punches finding a rhythmic cadence. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Jungkook shrugged nonchalantly, his grip on the bag firm and steady. “From the looks of it? Probably broken a nose or two.”

You chuckled at his remark, jabbing the bag once more. “So you were actually concerned about them and not me,” you teased, a playful smile spreading across your face.

His smile mirrored yours, bright and genuine. Seeing you relax and unwind brought him a sense of contentment. He shook his head playfully. “Hey, you know I’ve got your back, whether it’s punching bags or them.”

You continued to punch the bag, feeling the weight of the day’s frustrations gradually lifting with each powerful strike. Jungkook stood by your side throughout the session, steadying the bag and occasionally offering words of encouragement or lighthearted jokes. His unwavering support transformed what had started as a terrible day into a moment of resilience and determination.

After a while, both of you took a well-deserved break, settling onto the mats. Jungkook handed you a water bottle, and you gratefully took a long drink, feeling the coolness soothe your parched throat and ease the residual stress that had built up inside you. Despite the bustling atmosphere of the gym around you, there was a peaceful bubble of calm in your corner with Jungkook.

As the workout came to an end, exhaustion and relief washed over you in equal measure. The earlier incident now seemed like a distant memory, fading into insignificance in the glow of your friend's unwavering support. Jungkook released the bag and flashed you a thumbs-up. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you replied sincerely, a genuine smile spreading across your face. The anger and frustration had ebbed away, replaced by a sense of calm. “Thanks for this, Jungkook. I really needed it.”

“Anytime,” he said warmly, wiping sweat from his brow with a towel slung over his shoulder. “And about those guys... don’t let them get to you.”

You nodded, feeling lighter. “Yeah, I know. Some days it’s harder to brush it off.”

“I get that,” Jungkook said softly, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding. “But I have to ask. Who taught you to throw a punch like that? It can't be Jimin. I never see you in his class.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No, it wasn’t Jimin. My dad, actually. He taught me when I was a kid.”

“Your dad?” Jungkook looked impressed. “He must be pretty good.”

“He was,” you said, feeling a pang of nostalgia. “He used to be a boxer before he got injured. He wanted to make sure I could defend myself.” You made a mental note to call him later and tell him about the day's events.

“Smart man.” You hummed, as you both sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the hum of the gym around you providing a soothing background. It was nice to just be, without the weight of the day pressing down on you. Jungkook’s presence was calming, his steady demeanor a counterbalance to the chaos you had felt earlier. The silence between you was filled with unspoken understanding.

“You know,” he began, breaking the silence, “if you don’t have any classes today, would you want to grab a bite with me?” He smiled at you, his eyes warm and inviting.

“I’d like that,” you replied warmly, feeling a genuine smile spread across your face. “Where do you want to go?” You looked at him, appreciating the offer.

The thought of spending more time with Jungkook, away from the tension of the gym, was undeniably appealing, especially now that you realized your feelings for him were more than just friendship and gratitude. His presence had always been comforting and supportive, but today, seeing him stand up for you had stirred something deeper within you.

As Jungkook stood there, defending you with such unwavering determination, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes flashed with intensity, how his voice held a protective edge that sent a thrill through you. The way he effortlessly commanded respect from those around him, yet showed such gentle concern for your well-being, made your heart skip a beat.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he returned your smile. There was a hint of amusement in his gaze, as if he had sensed your newfound admiration. “There’s this great place nearby that serves amazing Korean BBQ,” he suggested, his voice carrying a touch of enthusiasm. “It’s perfect for unwinding after a tough workout.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed eagerly, the prospect of spending more time with him outside of the gym lifting your spirits even higher. “But I think I need a shower first.”

Jungkook chuckled at your mock offended expression. “Oh, you definitely need to!” he teased, his tone playful. “Can’t have you stinking up the restaurant.”

“Rude!” you shot back with a laugh, playfully nudging him. “As if you’re one to talk!” Smiling and shoving his biceps teasingly, unable to budge his solid frame. Jungkook laughed in response, his eyes crinkling even more at the corners.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘stinky’. Let’s go,” he said, still chuckling, as he gently nudged you towards the showers.

Inside, the air felt crisp and refreshing, a stark contrast to the warmth you felt in Jungkook’s presence. The thought of spending the evening with him, enjoying good food and each other’s company, was enough to make your heart race with anticipation.

As you gathered your things and headed out of the gym together, a sense of contentment washed over you, warming you from within. The day had started off poorly, marred by the insensitive comments and frustrations, but it was ending on a high note. With Jungkook by your side, the world seemed a little brighter, and the challenges a little more manageable.

During the short walk to the nearby Korean BBQ restaurant, you found yourself stealing glances at Jungkook. His hair was slightly disheveled from the quick shower after the workout, strands falling over his forehead in a way that made him look effortlessly cool. His eyes, normally sharp with determination, softened whenever he looked at you, a small smile playing on his lips. Each detail about him seemed to imprint itself more vividly in your mind, as if you were seeing him in a new light.

The restaurant buzzed with activity as you settled into a cozy booth, the scent of grilled meats and spices mingling in the air. Jungkook’s easy conversation and genuine interest in you only deepened your feelings. He asked about your interests, your day, and listened attentively as you shared anecdotes and thoughts, his laughter blending with yours in perfect harmony.

As the evening wore on, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle gestures Jungkook made—the way his hand brushed yours accidentally, the playful teasing that brought out your laughter, the way his eyes seemed to linger just a moment longer on yours. Each interaction sent a flutter through your stomach, a mix of excitement and nervousness as you realized that your feelings for him had definitive grown beyond friendship.

The realization that you had developed a crush on Jungkook filled you with a heady mix of emotions. You wondered if he could sense the change in your demeanor, if he could tell that your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled at you, whenever he leaned in closer to hear your words.

As the meal came to a close, Jungkook leaned in a little closer across the table, his voice warm and sincere. “I’m really glad we did this,” he said softly, his gaze locked with yours. “Spending time with you today... it’s been really great.”

His words echoed in your mind, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. You felt a rush of warmth spread through you, a confirmation of the connection you felt with him. In that moment, you realized just how much you valued Jungkook, how much you wanted to continue exploring these newfound feelings.

Before you could respond, Jungkook’s expression softened further, his eyes searching yours with a depth of emotion you hadn’t expected. “You know,” he began, his voice a little hesitant but filled with sincerity, “I... I really enjoy being around you. More than just as friends.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his admission, your own feelings suddenly laid bare. The tension between you melted away, replaced by a shared moment of vulnerability and honesty. You could feel the weight of his words, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

Before the silent could grow into something uncomfortable you replied “I feel the same way, Jungkook,” your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. “I’ve... I’ve liked you for a while now.”

A radiant smile spread across Jungkook’s face, genuine and filled with joy. It was a smile that spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of mutual feelings finally expressed. In that simple exchange, the air around you seemed to shimmer with newfound possibilities, the future unfolding with promise.

As the server cleared away the last of the dishes, you both stood up from the table, hands brushing lightly against each other. The evening had become infused with a sense of exhilaration, a shared excitement for what lay ahead.

Walking out of the restaurant together, the city lights casting a soft glow around you, Jungkook gently took your hand in his. His touch was warm and reassuring, sending a tingle of anticipation through you. With a gentle squeeze, he looked at you with a playful yet sincere gaze.

“Do you mind if I ask for one more thing?” Jungkook said softly, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness beneath his usual confidence.

You met his gaze, feeling your heart race with anticipation. “What is it?” you asked, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Jungkook took a small step closer, his gaze unwavering as it locked onto yours. “Can I... kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with hope and longing.

Your heart skipped a beat at his request, a rush of exhilaration coursing through you as you felt your own desire mirrored in Jungkook’s eyes. Without hesitation, you leaned in, closing the distance between you. His lips met yours in a tender kiss that started softly, a gentle exploration that quickly deepened into something more.

There was an immediate spark of electricity as your lips melded together, drawing you into a primal dance of passion. Jungkook’s touch was confident yet tender, his hand sliding into your hair with a gentle pull that brought you closer to him. The taste of his lips against yours was intoxicating, igniting a hunger that intensified with each passing moment.

As the kiss deepened, fueled by the growing intensity of your feelings, Jungkook’s lips moved with increasing fervor against yours. His kisses became more urgent, each one a silent plea for more, a testament to the depth of his desire. His hand found the small of your back, drawing you against his body, the heat between you heightening the sensation.

Your own hands instinctively roamed, finding their way to his shoulders, then to the back of his neck, pulling him closer in a passionate embrace. The connection between you intensified, tongues tangling in a dance that spoke volumes of unspoken longing.

In that moment, the world around you faded into obscurity, lost in the heat and intimacy of the kiss. All that mattered was the electrifying bond between your lips, the mingling of your breaths, and the sensation of Jungkook’s touch against your skin. Inhibitions melted away, leaving only the fire of desire burning fiercely between you.

As the kiss lingered, a rush of emotions swept through both of you—desire and affection. It was more than a physical act; it was a soulful exchange, a declaration of the newfound intimacy between you. When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you met Jungkook’s eyes, both of you silently acknowledging that this kiss had changed everything.

Hand in hand, you continued your walk down the bustling street, the world around you seeming brighter and more vibrant. It was as if the city itself was celebrating the intensity of your shared moment. This kiss had marked a new chapter in your relationship, one filled with promise, passion, and the boundless possibilities of love.

A/N: Please let me know if you liked the story. If you didn’t like the story, I would appreciate your feedback even more so I can work on improving my writing style. Thank you!

[inlovewithpandora]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — Summers Of Pandora ᝰ Day 4 - Discipline

Artists — Neytiri x fem!Avatar!reader

Music Submission from: Anonymous — Can you do more Neytiri with female reader pleaseeeee!!! Maybe something like her and y/n are already in a relationship and the Omaticaya have a party one night where y/n is teasing Neytiri a lot, like brushing against her and whispering dirty things to her BUTTT the final straw comes when y/n starts dancing with a clan member who she knows has a crush on her and Neytiri gets PISSED and she drags y/n away from the party and punishes her 😋

Lyrics — When one of the elders requests Neytiri’s presence she leaves you alone for a few moments and comes back she finds you entertaining another woman. Her anger is coming to the surface as she drags you away from the party, once you make it home she punishes you for misbehaving.

Music Advisory — nsfw content, porn w/ plot, avatar 1 based, small angst, fluffy ending, established relationship/mates, afab!reader, Dom!Neytiri, sub!reader, use of restraints, oral (reader receiving), tribbing/scissoring, subtle praise, thigh smack, clit play, slight orgasm denial

Duration — 3.1k words

Index — tìyawn - love • tewng - loincloth • sevin - pretty

Words from Artist — This request is from a long time ago and I’m happy that it’s finally being posted! Writing this was fun and I enjoyed it, especially since this is my first time writing smut for Neytiri. Always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

Current Platforms — event m.list・main m.list・event taglist ・prompt list

“Come on, Neytiri, loosen up a little!” You say as you try to hand her a wooden cup filled to the rim with Na’vi made alcohol. Today is your first time going to an Omatikaya party and you’re excited, your mate Neytiri on the other hand isn’t. She’s been to millions of these things and she felt like they were all the same, the only reason she came is because you wanted to attend and she wanted to keep an eye on you to make sure you stayed out of trouble.

“I don’t need alcohol to have fun.” Neytiri pushes the cup back toward you which makes you shrug your shoulders, deciding to just indulge in the drink yourself. This is only your second drink, so you aren’t drunk yet, just a little tipsy at best. Once you sip the last drop, feeling the liquid burn down your throat, you place the cup onto the table and pull Neytiri toward you.

“Don’t be like that, ‘tiri. You should be partying with me.” You grab her arm and pull her closer to you. “If you party with me now we can have our own later.” Your voice turns from playful to sensual, grabbing Neytiri’s hands and placing them over your breasts that are being held in place by a thin layer of woven fabric.

You’ve been like this all night, teasing Neytiri with dirty words and acts. Whispering all the things you want her to do to you before the night is over while giving her a visual using her hands. You love doing things like this, knowing you are pushing Neytiri to the limit to get exactly what you want.

You take Neytiri’s hands and drag them down your slim figure while turning around and pressing your ass against her pelvis, purposely going a little lower so it can press against the mound of her cunt. Even though Neytiri didn’t like you doing this in public where everyone could see, she can’t deny how good you look doing it.

She lets you have your way for a few more seconds before turning you around to face her. “You are really trying to test my limits tonight.” She chuckles while cusping your chin, leaning your head upward to make sure you look her in the eye so you can understand the intensity of her next sentence. “Don’t get carried away and let this party get to your head.” With the look in her eyes you could already tell what she is implying, punishment.

You nod your head in response which makes her smile, hoping you wouldn’t do anything else risqué until you both make it to your shared marui. As you and her continue conversing, one of the elders calls her over from across the room. Neytiri hisses lowly, not wanting to speak to them because they have a tendency of being long-winded.

“I will be back, don’t do anything foolish.” She turns around and walks in the direction of where she was summoned. You walk over to an empty tree log and sit down since you now have no one to accompany you. You watch everyone dance in the center of hometree, musicians playing their instruments, singers singing upbeat songs, some couples grinding against each other while others are in their own world.

As you continue watching everyone and everything around, you feel a presence appearing next to you. “Why are you sitting alone?” Peyral asks, sitting right next to you, leaving no space between you two. Before you and Neytiri officially mated Peyral was making attempts to court you. She would come by your marui and bring you multiple gifts, trying to make you fall for her. You thought she was nice and sweet, but your heart only beat for Neytiri, so you declined her proposal and almost a week later, you and Neytiri became mates.

“I’m just waiting for Neytiri to come back so we can dance.”

“A sevin girl like you shouldn’t have to wait.” She says, placing her hand on her thigh, making your face heat up at the compliment. After Peyral found out the news of your marriage she did stop her attempts to pursue you, but she never stopped her flirtatious ways. “You should dance with me, I’ll keep you company until she comes back.” Before you could protest and tell her “no”, she grabs your wrist and pulls you toward the center of hometree.

__

“I don’t want to interrupt you, but my mate is waiting on me.” Neytiri says, trying to wiggle her way out of her conversation with the elder because she wants to spend the rest of her night with you. The elder wraps up the conversation and lets Neytiri go, so when she leaves their presence, she sets her mind on finding you.

She first walks to the spot she left you in, but when she doesn’t find you, she assumes that you’ve gone back to the refreshments table. She looks across the room at the table and doesn’t see you either, and she starts wondering where you are since you weren’t in any of the places she assumed.

She starts looking in the crowd of people, wandering her eyes around the center of hometree. Right when she assumes you weren’t there, she sees Peyral with her hands planted on your hips, swaying your body to the beat of the drums playing in the background.

Looking at the smile on your face and watching you laugh in Peyral’s face make Neytiri want to claw her eyes out. Neytiri hated how Peyral would push herself on you, no matter what was your relationship status, adding to that the fact you were entertaining it made Neytiri seethe with anger.

“You look beautiful tonight.” Peyral whispers in your ear, pressing her lips against your ear, making a shiver run through your spine. Her breath gliding against your skin causes the hairs on your neck to stand. You know this is wrong, that Neytiri would hate the way your body is reacting to another woman, but you couldn’t help it. The way her scent filled your nose, her hand moving to the small of your back, it all makes you weak in the knees.

You are about to reply with a quiet ‘thank you’, but before you can open your mouth, you feel someone taking a hold of your bicep. You turn around and see Neytiri’s fingers gripping tightly on your azure skin, pressing deep within your skin. You see her dark, blown pupils and her teeth bared, practically ready to kill Peyral for laying a hand on you. “‘tiri please, relax.” You place your free hand on her chest, hoping to make her calm down, but it only adds fuel to the fire, making Neytiri even more angry that you’re trying to defend her. Neytiri hisses at Peyral, letting her know that this isn’t over and that she will deal with her later. Then in an instant, she drags you across hometree, her tail thrashing behind her, anger written in her body language. “Neytiri listen, it’s not what you think-”

“Don’t speak!” She growls, not wanting to hear a word from you at that moment. Watching you with another woman letting Peyral touch you in places only she should have access to makes Neytiri territorial. Many thoughts run through her head, but the main one is how she is going to teach you a lesson about misbehaving.

After a long tense and silent walk, you both make it to your shared marui. “‘tiri, I promise I wasn’t doing anything with her.”

“Don’t lie to me, y/n. I saw you. I bet you wish she was your mate instead of me, don’t you?” She shoves you on the bed, hovering over your small frame, placing her nimble finger under your chin and tilting your head upwards. “Tell me, is that true?”

You gawk at Neytiri, frantically shaking your head. “N-No, I only want you. I was only bein’ friendly because she asked me to dance.”

Neytiri scoffs, only halfway believing your statement. She walks to the other side of the marui, grabbing a bundle of rope that was on the makeshift table. “You let her touch you, place your hands on what belongs to me.” She begins to unravel the rope, allowing it to drag across the floor. A stunned expression washes over your features, watching the smirk grow on Neytiri’s face, practically seeing the racing thoughts in your mind.

“And you were being more than friendly. I told you not to do anything foolish, yet you do the exact opposite.” She straddles your lap, tsk’ing to herself as her finger traces around your chest, slowly moving down to your cleavage. “When I’m done, you’ll learn to never pull a stunt like that again.” She cusps your chin and pecks your lips, pulling away with a deceitful, yet soft grin.

Neytiri knots one side of the rope around the wooden bed frame, grabbing your wrists and placing them behind your head, securely binding them together. When she pulls the rope, to make sure it wouldn’t untie, you gasp at the feeling of the rope rubbing against your skin. The power she holds over you is intoxicating, and the way she carries herself with such power and authority makes your mind fuzzy with lust. The only thing you want to do is to submit to her and grant any requests she makes.

“You look gorgeous like this, tìyawn.” She purrs, making you almost melt at the minimal praise. When you meet Neytiri’s hungry gaze, your body begins to ache, wanting any form of physical stimulation. As if hearing your thoughts, your wishes are fulfilled when she leans forward, brushing her lips against yours before finally giving in. Her tongue slips through your parted lips, intertwining with yours while gracefully sliding her hand down your body.

Suddenly Neytiri rips off your bra top and starts fondling them, playing with them like putty in her slender hands, before she bends down and latches onto your hardened nipple. You can feel her tongue swirling around your areola and sucking gently on your nipple, applying just enough pressure to make your cunt drenched with your sweet slick.

As she continues showing your breast affection, aching groans leave your lips as you wish that Neytiri was using her amazing skills on your cunt that is painfully throbbing for attention. Again, as if Neytiri could read your mind, she unlatches from your breast and begins to toy with the strings of your tewng. When the strings come loose, she pulls them down and her eyes slightly widen as she sees a string of slick dripping from your cunt onto your blotched tewng.

“I’ve barely done anything, yet you're soaked. You must be desperate for me to satisfy you.” She taunts, already knowing your answer by the way your body is reacting, but she just wants to get under your skin and make you squirm under her intense gaze.

“Please, Neytiri, I need you.” You whine, as you thrust your hips into the air, wanting to feel any sort of stimulation to relieve the aching pain in between your thighs. “I-I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

When Neytiri hears that, she can’t help but laugh and let out a small scoff. “How can I trust you’ll be good now when you weren’t earlier.” She says, running her hand up your thigh before sending a slap to your skin, forcing you to whimper from the stinging sensation. At first she was going to deny you the right to feel any pleasure, but then she decided to let you get your way, for now. “I will give you what you want, but don’t come until I say so, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” When Neytiri feels satisfied with your reply, she lays on her stomach, putting her head in between your thighs –that are smeared with lines of your arousal. When you feel her flatten her tongue and swirl it around your aching clit, your hips threaten while your tail aggressively thumps against the bed, trying to keep your movements to a minimum. “Mmm!” Your moans fill Neytiri’s ears, making her want to taunt and tease you some more. She moves her hands to your legs, placing them on her shoulders, allowing herself to be fully buried in your cunt.

Feeling her tongue ravishing your heat, focusing on your bundles of nerves and every so often moving down to poke her tongue at your entrance make your toes curl. Neytiri is driving you wild with the kisses she presses on your clit before flicking it wildly with the tip of her tongue, forcing a squeal out from the pressure. “M’fuck, ‘tiri!” You mewl before letting out a whine, wishing your arms were free from the rope so you can push Neytiri’s head deeper into you.

After a few minutes, you can feel a familiar sensation build up in your stomach, a sign that you are going to cum. Neytiri can feel your hole begin to convulse, making her abruptly stop her movements, which casts a frown upon your face. “W-what are you doing? Wh-Why did you stop?” Your voice quivers, with your legs trembling with anticipation.

You feel like you are going to cry from the sudden loss of her warm tongue licking your folds. Your head falls back onto the wooden bed frame as you whine with desperation spreading through your body, wanting the painful ache to be alleviated. “L-Let me cum, please. It really hurts.” Tears start filling your eyes, threatening to flow down your face at any second.

“Stop acting like a child.” She taunts, tracing her slender fingers around the skin of your lower body, purposely avoiding your swollen wet core. As Neytiri watches how desperate you are and how much you crave her touch, she begins to feel a hint of guilt for snatching your release. However, she’s stillcomplacent about the situation, savoring the way you covete her.

You dismiss her statement and start pulling against the rope, frantically trying to rip the knots so you can finally achieve your sweet release. You are struggling and it’s making you more and more upset, both emotionally and sexually. You begin to bite on your lip, something you had a tendency of doing in times of frustration. Tears flow down your face and your lips began to quiver from being deniedt what you wanted.

“Baby, please. I’m so sorry. I won’t ever talk to Peyral again, I swear. I just want you please. I’m yours forever, you’re the only mate I want, you’re the only woman my heart desires. Please forgive me.”

When your words hit Neytiri's ears, she tries her best to fight back the small smile that threatens to spread across her lips. She is trying with all her might to not pity you, but how could she when you said the words she’s been wanting to hear all night? All she wanted was reassurance that you wouldn’t leave her for another Na’vi. She thought it was fun to punish you, but now she wants to reward you, especially since it would be a reward for her as well.

She places the pads of her thumbs under your golden eyes and begins to wipe the tears that stained your supple skin. “I forgive you, tìyawn. I know your words are true.” And she means it, she wholeheartedly knows that you truly meant every word you said, and that’s what makes her grab the knife that’s sitting in its sheath and raise it to your wrists that are covered in purple marks from the restraints. “Let’s get you out of these, hm?” She places her knife under the rope and cuts it, and you let out a sigh in relief, happy to freely do whatever you want.

You don’t waste any time and you climb on top of Neytiri, untying her damp loincloth and throw it aside. Her sweet scent fills your nostrils and the view of her dripping makes you moan out in satisfaction. When you place your hands on her legs, ready to bury your face in her heat, she flips you over. “I’m still in charge.” She says in a gentle yet stern tone, making you pull back and let her once again gain control over what occurs.

Neytiri lays you on your back and spreads your legs, before placing herself in between them, plopping down flush against your swollen clit. When you feel her gyrate her hips, dragging her wetness against your aching core, your hands ball up the woven blanket under you. “W-wait-shit!” Your body is already buzzing with pleasure from her past actions but this makes you feel overwhelmed.

Your face was balled up with pleasure, eyes screwed shut trying to brace yourself for the harsh orgasm that is approaching. Instead of letting it come naturally, Neytiri decides to force it out of you by increasing her speed, angling herself perfectly so each time she moves her hips, your clits brush against each other. “Come on, pretty girl, let go for me.” The softness of her voice is enough to make you come undone. Your hands fly to her hips, digging your nails into her skin as your body convulses under her while mumbling curses under your breath.

After a few minutes your body goes limp, your chest rapidly rises and falls, trying to regulate your heart to its resting pace. Neytiri dismounts your body and walks over to the corner of the room and comes back with a bowl of water and a damp cloth so she could clean you up. As she looks at the fucked out expression on your face, sweat dripping down your face and body, eyes halfway closed, and the messiness of your hair, she can’t help but admire you. Even though she has seen you like this many times before, each time it makes her heart flutter, knowing she’s the only one who gets you this way.

“So what did we learn from this?” She asks while wiping down your tired muscles, wanting to make sure that everything she’s done tonight isn’t in vain.

“M’yours and yours only, no one else can touch me the way you do.” When she hears your response, a smile spreads across her lips, happy that her reasoning has finally seeped into your brain. Once Neytiri finishes cleaning you up, she gets in the bed next to you and you immediately cling to her, resting your head on her chest, tracing her darkened stripes with your fingertips while she wraps her arm around your body.

“Good girl.” Neytiri coos as she places a kiss on your forehead and pulls you closer into her embrace, allowing her rich scent to fill your nose. For the remainder of the night, both of you snuggle together, sharing kisses here and there, reminding each other why you fell in love.

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