#throne of glass drabble

[throneofsapphics]

I’ve been waiting for you to open your requests 😩I had to write my ideas down as to not forget them lol

But could you write a Rowaelin x Reader where Rowan accidentally calls Reader Aelin? and Reader gets upset and kind of jealous 😁

falling behind 

Rowaelin x Reader 

Summary: Rowan keeps calling you Aelin

Warnings: jealousy

A/N: thank you for the request!!

Rowan heard the door swing open, his magic singing to the breeze flowing in, the combined scents of his two favorite people. 

“Aelin, could you take a look at -” 

“Try again,” he heard your voice, not raised but sharp and short, a tone he wasn’t used to hearing directed at himself. No, that was usually saved for courtiers that pissed you off royally. 

The door slammed shut, a muscle in his jaw ticked. He hated slammed doors and you knew that. 

Aelin’s scent had been so strong, you must’ve just come from spending time with her. He’d figure out what was wrong later - no, later didn’t feel right. Later wasn’t good enough. 

He frowned at the papers in front of him. Military movements and plans, not needed til the end of the week. Rowan shoved them to the back of his desk, placing a heavy glass paperweight on top. He hated paperwork anyway,a nd you’d always come before it if he could help it. Right now was one of those times. 

-

You found Fenrys first. He read the fury lining your features and dismissed the guard he was speaking to, and ushered you back towards one of your favorite secluded gardens, far away from prying eyes and ears. 

“Are you sure you weren’t -” he hesitated at the end, with good reason. 

“If you say overreacting I will throw something.” 

He fixed you with a look. You sighed. 

“It was the third time. This week. He always assumes it’s Aelin, that’s the problem.” 

“You sound jealous.” 

“I am,” the words slipped out before you could think better of them. It’s true, it always felt like there was something they had together and you wouldn’t be able to share with them. 

“Have you communicated this?” Fenrys prompted. 

“No,” you sounded a tad too petulant. 

“I don’t know much about triads but that does seem important,” he said dryly. You wanted to smack him, mainly because he’s right. “Speaking of communicating,” Fenrys continued, “you can stop hiding Rowan.” 

Fenrys disappeared before you could make good on your thoughts of violence. 

Rowan, per usual, didn’t look even the smallest bit ashamed at being so damn nosy. 

“That was a private conversation,” you said - accused. He shrugged. Asshole. 

Turning your back, you took a few steadying breaths. He waited. “I’m assuming you heard everything.” 

“Yes.” Footsteps. Rough hands gripping your shoulders, turning you gently. Green eyes meeting your own. “I’m sorry.” 

Your lips parted, before slamming shut. You were surprised at the rare apology from him, although you thought it was well deserved. 

“Just stop calling me Aelin.” 

“I think it’s deeper than that, love.” His hand slid around your back to pull you closer, warmth enveloping you. A kiss to the top of your hea. 

He wasn’t entirely forgiven, not yet, but you could lean into his warmth for now. 

“We need ot talk,” you murmured, “the three of us.” 

“I hope you don’t think you’re leaving,” his voice was teasing but his body tensed. 

Your immediate “no” relaxed him. 

“Communication is important,” you parroted Fenrys and Rowan had the good grace not to comment on it.

[mariaofdoranelle]

The Booty-Call Dare

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics, prompt “Impress”

I got the idea for this after an incredibly unproductive conversation at a bar lol

Warnings: language, sexual themes (but SFW)

Words: 963

You’re just proving my point, Rowan texted her in response to a selfie Aelin sent of herself eating pie.

“What’re you smiling at?” Lysandra teased from the other side of Aelin’s living room, which caught Elide’s and Fenrys’ attention.

She immediately wiped it off her face and gave an eye roll before giving her attention back to Rowan.

It has strawberries in it, Aelin texted back, defensive of her dessert choices. It counts as fruit.

Nice try. There was a brief pause before he sent, What’re you up to?

Not much. You?

She needed to cut this conversation short before Fenrys complained that she wasn’t focused on Girls’ Night—no one could pinpoint exactly how he started attending, but he was a constant in her monthly-ish reunions with Lysandra and Elide.

In response, Rowan sent her a picture. It was a mirror one, just the curves of his biceps and shoulders in front of rows of dumbbells.

A gym pic.

Are you trying to make me feel bad for all that pie I ate? What the hell was she supposed to say?

His response came lightning fast. I thought it counted as fruit.

“Holy shit,” Elide said from behind Aelin, right before snatching her phone and zooming in the picture. “He’s so trying to impress you with these.”

“Stop it,” Aelin hissed as she took her phone back.

It wasn’t a show-off picture like the ones Fenrys posts, it was casual. Rowan must be so oblivious he had sent her a not-so-friendly reminder of his very tanned biceps.

“What?” Lys asked.

“Rowan DMed her a gym pic!”

Fenrys choked on his pie.

Aelin crossed her arms, ready for it. Her friends had a problem of constantly reading too much into Rowan’s behavior when he was just being a good friend.

Fenrys held both hands up in surrender. “Look, I can’t see through a dude’s heart, but I know when he wants his dick wet.”

Sometimes, Aelin wondered if things wouldn’t be different if she hadn’t been in a relationship when they met, in college. Still, she was glad for what they had now. “Rowan wouldn’t risk our friendship for a hookup.”

Fenrys sighed, a faraway look that indicated that he was in Philosopher Mode. “Having female friends is like raising chickens. Even if you never eat them, at some point you’ll look at them while you’re hungry and wonder.”

“Very well, then.” Aelin raised one brow up. “We’re friends.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you don’t think of me romantically.”

“No, ma’am.”

“But if I invited you to my bedroom…”

“I’d be there in a heartbeat. So would Rowan.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Aelin was confused, Fenrys never gave up like this.

“Alright,” he confirmed. “Call him now. Prove me wrong.”

“What.”

Lys and Elide cackled, then started a chorus of Do it! Do it!

Never one to back away from a challenge, Aelin squared her shoulders and unlocked her phone. “If I win, you’ll be demoralized and drop this subject forever. And if I lose…?”

Lys rolled her eyes. “You’ll fuck Rowan. I think this is a win-win scenario for you, Ae.”

But would she? She didn’t have much time to think about it, given the speed in which Rowan took her call.

“Hey, Fireheart.”

Her friends would mock her endlessly is she described Rowan as anything close to cheerful, but after being best friends for so many years, Aelin learned how to pick apart his undertones of grumpiness and yes, this was a happy one.

“Buzzard, hi.” The messy background noise from the call indicated that he was still at the gym. Good. She’d win this bet more easily if he was busy when she made the proposition—an idle brain is Hella’s playground. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Depends. Why’d you ask?”

“Um…” Aelin got up and paced around her small living room, and her friends watching on the edge of their seats didn’t help at all. “This might seem out of the blue, but I was wondering if you were up for… some Netflix and chill. You and me.”

This pause that felt like a lifetime was probably Rowan rewiring his brain after his best friend threw herself at him. Then, “Sure. There’s this new horror movie I thought you’d like. Or you wanna watch Gilmore Girls again?”

He didn’t want this. Rowan didn’t want it so bad he failed to recognize her proposal for what it was. The desire to hang up on him and disappear forever was overwhelming.

“No, not Netflix and chill. Netflix. And chill.”

A pause. “I’m confused.”

“I—“ Aelin pinched the bridge of her nose. This was harder than she thought. “Do you wanna bang?”

Rowan’s deafening silence was all the confirmation she needed.

“Fuck, um—“ Aelin grimaced. “I’m sorry. This was so stupid of me—“

“NO!” he interrupted. “S’okay. I— Um— Can you meet me in an hour? My place? Yours? D’youwannagrabdinner?”

“Um…” From the way her friends were grinning, Aelin’s blush must be visible from outer space. “Your place. I already ate. See you in an hour.”

“Cool.”

Aelin mumbled an unintelligible goodbye and hung up.

“I’m not even surprised.” Fenrys had a triumphant smirk on. “He’s doing cartwheels as we speak.”

Lysandra, the traitor, was laughing. “He’s setting off fireworks!”

Ellie’s eyes went wide. “Did he ask for that hour to shave?”

Aelin was frozen in place.

She had just scheduled a hookup with her best friend.

“Should I call him again to cancel?”

“Do you want to?”

No, she didn’t.

She had just potentially murdered their friendship, and Rowan seemed to be okay with it.

Aelin peeked under her shirt, cursed and ran to her room.

“I’m wearing granny underwear!”

If Aelin was about to ruin their friendship, she’d do it right.

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[writingsoffaeandwitches]

Stargazing - Manon/Reader

Warnings: none

This is the first thing I've written in a while but I was inspired to put more Manon fics out there. (more of a drabble at this point really)

______________________________________________________________

You were restless. Not yet ready for sleep even though the castle's activity was winding down. You had a hard time sleeping with her being away. She was not expected home for another three days time, having gone on a diplomatic mission that no other than the Queen of Witches could complete. At least, that’s what she claimed. You know Asterin or one of the other thirteen could have gone but she preferred to do things herself. Of course you supported her through it all. You knew how important it was to her to unify the witches and reclaim her homeland, but that didn't mean you missed her any less. 

You sighed to yourself, moving from your position by the crackling fireplace to grab your cloak and head out. On a night like tonight you knew you would be getting no sleep. Instead, you wandered down the halls and outside into the cool evening. You waved at the guards on duty, everyone knowing who you are, the queen’s lover. It came as a shock to most when she brought you to her castle. You, a mere human, had captured the heart of the most feared witch alive. Their surprise continued when they found out you were basically sunshine personified. Always smiling and lending a helping hand. But I mean hey, opposites attract. You were brought out of your thoughts when you encountered the guards watching over the west entrance to the castle. 

“Going on an evening stroll?” Abby, one of the guards on duty, questioned. She was one of your favorite guards, always down to gossip about the latest comings and goings of the castle. 

“Ah, you know, can’t stay locked away all day,” you teased, turning your back towards the path, continuing to walk while facing Abby. “I won’t be out long, pinky promise.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Abby replied, “The Queen would have my head if you disappeared on my watch.”

You hummed in reply, knowing she wasn’t wrong. Manon was very protective of what was hers. You turned around, wiggling your fingers in goodbye as you strolled ahead.

After walking for a few minutes, the castle a glowing dim light in the distance, you stopped, taking your cloak off and laying it across the grass. You laid down, shivering slightly from the wind's crisp caress. You turned your eyes upward, watching the sky darken across the horizon. The spot you chose was one you frequented, a sloped hill giving you a view of the land ahead, which consisted of sprawling lands of green, spotted with color where flowers bloomed. You watched as the sun sank and twinkling stars began to appear. 

This was your favorite time of day, when the world went to sleep and the stars awakened. You watched the lights slowly blink into existence, gazing at the constellations that began to appear in the night sky. You reached a hand skyward, tracing out the constellations Orion and Taurus, then Centaurus. You greeted them like an old friend, having spent long restless nights with them before. You could recite their stories in your sleep at this point. The tale of Orion and Taurus, the hunter who could kill any animal, forever pursuing the bull Taurus. Perhaps that was his punishment you thought, forever chasing the thing he could never again have due to his boasting and pride. 

You continued to peruse the night sky, smiling softly at each star in the sky, reciting their stories in your head.  

“How did I know you would be out here,” a teasing voice whispered in your ear, all at once startling you and causing your smile to widen. You whipped your head around, gazing upon Manon, still in her riding gear, softly smirking at you from her position above you. 

“Manon!” You exclaimed, rising up and flinging yourself into her embrace and pulling her close. “I did not expect you to be back for another three days.” 

“Negotiations took shorter than we anticipated, so I took the opportunity to surprise my girl and come home early.” Manon spoke against your temple, pausing to press a kiss to your hairline. “I missed you.”

“And I you.” you replied, looking up into her golden eyes, bringing your hand to the side of her face to guide her lips to yours. Kissing Manon felt like gazing at the stars, comforting and warm. You could easily lose yourself in this, just as you lose yourself gazing upon the stars. 

Manon smiled into the kiss, tugging you impossibly closer, until you could no longer feel the cold air, only her. She broke the kiss between you, holding you in her embrace. You laid your head on her chest, breathing in the scent that was undeniably Manon. You felt you could stay here forever, held in her loving embrace under starlight. 

“Come love.” She said at long last, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and guiding you back towards the castle. You followed her dutifully, leaning into her as you walked back to your room. The stars will always be there another day, you would gladly follow Manon, your starlight, anywhere. 

[gothicbabydollz]

look what i just found 😀

I hate it, this was a hard read. I can’t tell if it’s cause i just really hate the way i was trying to write this or if it’s cause it’s about a man. Who knows.

I’m gonna post it anyway since i did promise this ages ago. I apologise if it’s not my best work.

strict!dom rowan…

to the outside world, Rowan Whitethorn is cool, collected and ferocious member of the cadre.

and that doesn’t change much behind closed doors, especially in the bedroom.

he never realised just how much he strives for control, gets off on it. Until he tapped into his dominant side.

and when you came along, the switch clicked perfectly into place. You’re so eager and so willing to listen to him

you want to be his good girl.

now, Rowan has rules. Not too many but he is strict about them

1. Manners.

If you want something from him, you ask nicely. If he’s in between your legs, has your thighs pushed back against your chest. He’s watching your pretty cunt swallow his thick fingers. Slowly slipping in and out, massaging your warm, wet walls. Curling perfectly to feel you squeeze. Desperate for release, you want more. “Please,” You’ll groan out.

“Please what, angel? What is it?” He asks so nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t stroking that one specific and delicate spot inside you. Rowan does it on purpose. Making it harder for you ask for what you’d like from him.

“F-faster! Mmph! Need you to fuck me faster, sir please.”

(this man is so sir coded istg!!)

Majority of the time, Rowan is a ‘you’ll take what I give you’ kind of male. But gods does he love hearing you beg. He’ll drag this out for a while, because one thing to know about Rowan…he’s a tease. He’ll get you whining for him before he finally gives you what you want. Thrusting his fingers into your heat at a relentless pace, cunt sloshing lewdly. You asked him so nicely, how could he refuse? Rowan‘s hand will also find its place wrapped around your throat. Not squeezing. Just holding. So he can feel the vibrations of your moans against the palm of his hand.

“You like that? Is this what you wanted?” He’ll ask you. Knowing you’re getting fucked too good to form a coherent answer.

Too add on, you thank him when you cum. Rowan sees this as form of appreciation for him. He can’t describe how much he enjoys feeling you cling to him as you bury your face into his skin, or look him in eye, murmuring out, broken and raspy “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you” almost like a chant.

2. Don’t act like a brat.

Aka, don’t talk back, don’t roll your eyes at him, don’t try to make him jealous, don’t try to squirm away from the pleasure he gives you rowan knows what you can handle

This one is definitely a rule you slip up on from time to time. That little masochistic devil on your shoulder loves to test Rowan’s own devil, the sadist twin.

But we’ll get into the punishments another time.

3. Don’t you dare climax without his permission.

Rowan could go for hours. Teasing you. Winding you up. Release so close you could reach out and touch yet still it’s miles away.

He’s deadly serious about this rule

And he loves making it hard for you to follow

He’ll edge you for ages, making you ride his thigh or hump his pillow while he watches, muttering all sorts of filthy remarks.

“does that feel good, huh? like rubbing yourself all over my fucking pillow? filthy girl, you want me to smell your cunt while i sleep, shit.”

“where’d my precious angel go?”

And all you can do is pant loudly, hips rutting harder and faster as you try to hide how much his words affect you

Every time he senses that you’re close and, he’ll make you stop.

He knows the signs.

By the gods, he knows you better than you know yourself.

And he loves to remind you, that through all this torture, he’s not being cruel…he just knows what’s best for you

Even if that means denying your climax until you’ve hit your breaking point, where he’ll finally take over and do exactly that…

He’ll break you.

[leiawritesstories]

How about from the firsts list "first time defending them"?

CUUUUUTE thanks for asking!!

500 followers celebration prompt fills

Word count: 650

Warnings: dumb high school bullies, swearing, mild angst?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As she walked out of the classroom, Aelin slipped her earbuds in, tucked her head down, and focused on her footsteps, trying to drown out the soft whispers that followed her everywhere she went. Have you heard what she did? I knooowwww, it's so shady! Ugh, I just know she buys her followers, the dirty--

Enough.

Enough.

She knew the nasty words were just rumors, just a bunch of stupid high school kids who didn't know what they were talking about, but they hurt all the same. And she knew she could never stop them; nothing she said would change the whispers. If anything, speaking up would only make people believe their wild, disgusting lies even more.

No words she spoke would ever convince the student population of Orynth High that Aelin Galathynius was anything other than a desperate attention-seeker whose stupid little TikTok was probably only followed by bots and creepy old pervs. She had that damn account as a way to escape her reality, but it had turned out to invade her whole entire life.

"Hey look, it's Aelinnnnnnn," snickered Chaol Westfall, a particularly chauvinist member of the football team. He was convinced that his quarterback status made him the king of Orynth High, despite the fact that he'd never come close to winning any kind of championship. "Gonna do a trend for us, Aelinnnnnnn?" He stretched out the syllables of her name, mimicking her TikTok username.

Aelin rolled her eyes, so beyond done with Chaol's bullshit, and was half a second away from snarking an insult or ten when another guy's voice cut in.

"You're just jealous that her little trends get a million times more views and likes than your shitty photos of your flabs, Westfailure," Rowan Whitethorn scoffed. "Y'know, steroids don't do shit when you don't actually hit the gym."

Chaol's face turned a surprisingly vivid shade of crimson. "How about I hit you, asshat?" he snapped.

Rowan set his backpack casually on the floor, rolled his neck, and cracked his knuckles. "Bring it on, Little Miss I-Lost-My-Virginity-To-A-Sock." Most of the people in the classroom, including Aelin, snickered, eagerly watching the drama unfold.

"Fuck you," Chaol grunted.

"You wish," Rowan smirked.

Snarling wordlessly, Chaol reared back and punched Rowan right in the stomach, just in time for the teacher to walk in and watch the quarterback punch the captain of the hockey team.

"Westfall!" the teacher yelled, breaking up the fight as soon as it started. "Leave. Now."

"B-but-but sir, he started it!" Chaol protested, stunned.

Mr. Vaughan, who happened to be one of the football coaches, folded his arms across his chest and glared flatly at Chaol. "Get your ass out of my classroom, Westfall. You're lucky if you're allowed to show your face at practice for the next two weeks." His glare only intensified when Chaol tried to protest. "Get. Out."

Biting his tongue, Chaol collected his backpack and hauled ass from the classroom. The class settled down, slowly dispersing back into their seats.

Aelin sat down in the seat across the aisle from Rowan and flashed him a grateful smile. "Thanks," she murmured. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah I did," he returned. "No jackass gets to talk to a girl like that."

"Chivalry? In this day and age?" Aelin mock-gasped. "And here I thought they said chivalry was dead."

"Maybe, but decency isn't." Rowan flashed her a boyish grin. "Oh, and I may or may not have asked one of my buddies to film that. He says it's already going viral."

Aelin had to clamp her hands over her mouth to smother her laughter. "Shit, I love that! I'll duet it to my account so it never dies."

Needless to say, Chaol Westfall became the face of every Orynth High meme for the next two years. Aelin called it comeuppance. And a little help from her good friend the internet.

~~~

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[aelinschild]

Trick, or treat?!

Gently - Drabble

Thank you so much for the ask, and so I give you a treat!! :))) Here's a quick drabble I just wrote for this, so pardon if its not fantastic, but there will be another one-shot coming verrrrrry soon.

SYNOPSIS: After a long day, all Aelin needs to get done is her skincare. Thankfully Rowan is there to lend a helping hand. WORDCOUNT: 1k WARNINGS: None - just fluff

Main Masterlist

After a long day at work, Aelin was looking forward tp the simple pleasure of washing the day off her face. Her routine, whether it be evening or morning, was her therapy. The gentle act of washing and preparing for bed was incredibly self-soothing, and she never failed to complete it each night.

Her steps up the stairs were heavy, like the weight of the week, but a few more moments, and then she’d be able to sleep the day away.

Entering her and Rowan’s shared bedroom, she founding him lounging on the bed. He had only his pyjama pants on, and a pair of reading glasses. This was their safe haven, and Rowan looked equally as comfortable as her bed. He was reading when she walked in, so at the sound of the door he looked up at her. I should just join him now…

“Hey love, all done for the night?” He whispers into the quiet of their room. Careful to not break the gentle atmosphere. 

Aelin just makes a hmph sound, letting her shoulders droop and releasing the built up tension in her neck. On light feet, with Rowan still staring lovingly, she walks over to the closet and shucks off her sweater and unbuttons her pants. Stepping out of them, then her underwear, she slips into a two piece silk pijama set. In no mood for anything sexy. 

Exiting her closet, Rowan’s attention was back on his book, though a small smile graced his face. 

Aelin needed to get her skincare done before she fell asleep on her feet, and so with one last longing look at her bed, she went to the bathroom.

Flicking the light on, their shared bathroom lit up. It was a humble room, and considering this was Aelin and Rowan’s first house together, it had what she wanted. Which was, of course, a bathtub. That was one thing she wouldnt compromise on.

As Aelin began to brush her teeth, she missed the sound off Rowan getting off their shared bed and approaching behind her. His strong hands wrapped around her middle. Caging her and and securing himself to her behind. 

He moulded his warm body to her, and while it was lovely to feel his strong torso and large thighs cage her closer to the sink, it made completing her routine much harder. He started peppering gentle kisses to her neck and by her ear. 

“Rowan…” Aelin murmurs, too tired for anything more. His hands just continue their gentle caresses before Aelin is abruptly spun around and lifted by the backs of her thighs. Rowan, now facing her, lifts Aelin onto the counter, gently setting her bottom down on the edge. His hands move from her thighs to her hips, down to her knees to spread her legs open wide enough that he can fit between them.

“Rowan.” Aelin says, a little stronger this time.

He just shushes her and smiles, eyes crinkling up. He leans in, and Aelin moves to what she thinks is a kiss, before he just delicately rests his forehead on hers. Staring into eachothers eyes with so much love. He then presses a chaste kiss to her lips, and steps back, still with his hands on her legs. A little breathless by the quick change, Aelin straightens up. 

“I though you were going to fall asleep on your feet over here,” he says gently. “So I've come to rescue you.” He turns and graps the cloth off the rack behind them, and leans around Aelin to soak it with warm water. 

Aelin’s a little starstruck, and a lot in love. Its not rare for the two of them to take turns taking care of eachother. These simple gestures are what strengthen their bond. The intimacy of each little moment, from washing eachothers hair to choosing an outfit for eachother, the little things that prove their unbreakable bond. 

“Okay, thank you.” Aelin hums out. Just letting Rowan take care of her, and basking in the moment. 

He lets the cloth warm up in the water, and in the meantime grab the micellar water and pours a little onto a cotton pad. When he deems it to have enough product, he turns back over to Aelin, now slouched on the counter with her eyes closed, and wipes the makeup off her face. It comes off easily, as most of it was removed hours later when she got home, just little bits remain. 

He tosses the now dirty cotton pad, and reaches for the warm cloth. Wiping off her face gently, careful not to irritate her skin, and then grabbing her evening cleanser. While Rowan had studied Aelin’s routine, wanting to know every little intricacy about the woman he adored, he was more than grateful for Aelins little quirk; leaving the bottle in order of use. Maybe for ease, or maybe for him, either way he knew which one was first. 

Rowan squeezed a few drops onto his hands to emulsify before lightly rubbing it onto Aelin’s face. She let out a delighted sigh, eyes still closed. Rubbing the cleanse in till it no longer made bubbles, he grabbed the cloth again to wipe it all off. 

Grabbing another cotton roll and dsqueezing out a few drops of her toner, he gently rubs that over her skin. Next is a serum, that he uses the dropper to put three drops directly on her face. Smoothing that on, he reaches for the moisturizer. Unscrewing the lid, and scooping out a little onto the back of his finger, he dots it all over her face before rubbing in the product. Its a little thicker, so it takes a moment, but Aelin doesnt move. Still in a tired trance, she just enjoys the intimacy of the moment. 

Rowan finishes off with some aquaphor on her lips, knowing shell be grateful for it in the morning. 

When he’s done, and admiring he good work, he rinses his hands off. Aelin, most likely asleep now, doesn't make any noises when he lifts her bridal style off the counter and carries her to bed. Feeling warm and happy, Rowan tucks the love of his life into her side of the bed, and then crawls into his side and reaches over to her. Aelin is still awake enough to curl herself around him, but soon both are drifting off to sleep, together.

Thank you again for reading!! Interaction is always appreciated! Have a lovely day!

[writtenonreceipts]

Aelin Week Day Seven: Aelin and her fire, @rowaelinscourt

Just a small drabble for the last day of Aelin week.  I meant for this to be something else, but here we are...not going to bother with my regular taglist.

Post Kingdom of Ash, no warnings apply.

The Flame of Terrasen

The mosaic was cracked beneath her feet.  These carefully laid tiles with their carefully crafted colors, apparently, were unable to stand the test of time. Aelin frowned down at them.

Somewhere in her memories she could remember running across this very pattern.  She'd been a child laughing and screaming as her father chased after her while playing together.  It was only a flash of memory that hazed along the edges and was quickly turning to just a feeling--but it was there.

The Terrasen Palace had long been kept from her to the point that Aelin never thought she would be here again, that it would be hers, that she could be home.

But here she was.

She walked through the great hall as the sun drifted through the large stained glass windows that lined the walls.  Their towering presence filled the hall with the dimming light of dusk.  Blues, reds, purples, and the fading sun swirled together creating a secondary mosaic of sorts.  

A deep sense of longing thrummed through Aelin as she walked through the hall.  Her leather boots scraped against bits of rock, dust, and debris.   

This was her home, chaos and all.

She came to a stop in the center of the hall where she stood just beneath a grand chandelier of crystal.  Draped in cobwebs and dust, there were still a few remaining candles settled in their casts.  For the most part, it was still intact.  All it would take was a careful hand to tend to the crystals and cleaning cobwebs.  All it would take was a snap of her fingers and those candles would illuminate what remained of the hall.

Closing her eyes, Aelin tilted her head back and listened.

Outside there were shouts and orders from her army as they began their cleaning processes.  A few heavy footfalls moved through the halls outside.  Beyond it all, she could still hear the silence.  

It was subtle and small but it was there all the same.

She’d been searching for it for a while now and here it was.

Peace.

Aelin opened her eyes once more and snapped her fingers.  Overhead, candles hissed to life and she could see the future burning bright before her.

[shallyne]

Malide please

Just finished my Malide fic for crackshipmonth, here you go:

Elide looked at Manon. At her white hair, the tank top she wore only when she was about to hit the gym and the golden eyes that were fixed on Elide, who looked back at the TV and slumped farther into her pillows. "Leave."

That only seemed to make Manon more sure of staying. "You're pathetic! Look at you! That stain on your shirt is three days old."

"It's two days old!" Elide replied. "What do you care?"

She ignored Elide's question. "You're doing this," she waved her hand at Elide, "Because of a man?" She almost laughed at Manon's disgusted expression. "He was a dick anyways, you should be glad that he dumped you."

[aly4khq]

⋆｡°✩# VIBRATING SENSATION?!

⟢ summary: sylus torturing you with a vibrator !

⟢ pairings: sylus x reader

⟢ warnings: mdni! — vibrator, crying.

— another small drabble !

Sylus, one level leg crossed over the other, on his throne with a glass of wine swirling in his hand whilst you kneeled on the floor next to him, hugging his leg as you tried to overcome the feeling of that vibrator he's been torturing you with for the last 30 minutes.

"...Pleaseee! Sylus I'm soorrryyyy!!" You beg and plead, head lowering to face the floor, "I'm sorry okay? I can't take it...it's too much—Hahh!"

He upped the voltage, letting ours satisfied hum as he continued to go higher and higher on the little controller.

7...8...9...10. "Only up to 10? What a shame." Sylus sighed, throwing the controller onto the floor befroe lowering his head to see your kneeled figure, legs shaking, face sweating and jagged movements whenever the vibrator would just nudge your clit. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"

"I hate you...you evil man..." your hand hit him armrest, your other hand digging in your thighs.

"Hate me now?"

Suddenly, the voltage rose increasingly fast, makikg you cry out with a loud pleas and cry.

"Wait! Wait wait wait! I'm sorry—Ahhh-Hah! Please I'm sorry! Sooo soo sorryy!"

"No no, because you hate me so I'll give you the 'hating energy' you wanted." He chirped back, his hand going to your chin and lifting it up to see your glistening cheeks from your tears. His smirk only wondering. "Don't cry, sweetie. I'll be over soon."

He wiped your tears, brushing hair out of your face. "...no it won't..." you complain, your head falling back onto his thigh with a soft whine. His heavy hand landed on top of your head, rubbing your hair. "Indeed it won't, i intend of making you remember that you're married."

date made: 26/03/25

[antinousletmehit]

ight, here me out...

What if y/n gets hurt along with the other suitors since Antinous dies in the Ithaca Saga? I mean, she terrorized poor Telemachus so she slightly comes as an enemy.

I didn’t know whether you wanted me to write a fic for this or just yap but I’ll just yap and later post maybe a short Drabble on this.

Okay so Aphrodites gamble was written and completed WAY before the Ithaca saga came out so the end part isn’t gonna be like the Ithaca saga in the slightest, besides the challenge.

Okay so y/n was definitely in the room when hold them down happens in this scenario. She SAW her brother die but before she could grieve the suitors picked her ass back up and said “wtf do you think you’re doing, FIGHT WITH US??” And she basically gets forced to tag along with them while she’s still sobbing.

Yk when Telemachus kills that one suitor guy? After he tells them to throw down their weapons he spots her and is like, “wait is that my bae—I meant enemy??” So he sees her crying and feels. A little bad before getting jumped by the suitors.

Cue Odysseus killing them after trying to jump Telemachus, and as soon as he goes in for the kill for y/n, Telemachus stands in front of her and is like “wait dad this one’s okay, don’t kill her” his dad will be confused but he lets it slide as he kills the others.

Then Telemachus will be like “soo…” while y/n is trying to finish her breakdown about her brother dying, and now is somewhat scared of Telemachus.

————————

She was crouched in the corner, her back pressed tightly against the stone wall. Her knees were pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them as if she were trying to make herself as small as possible. Her hair was disheveled, her face streaked with dirt and tears. She was trembling like a frightened animal, her wide, glassy eyes darting around the room as though she expected another attack at any moment.

Telemachus blinked, his chest tightening at the sight. He hadn’t expected to see her again. He thought she’d run—escaped into the night as soon as his father had lowered his bow. But here she was, a shadow of the girl he remembered.

The girl who used to tease him mercilessly.

For a moment, he couldn’t reconcile the trembling, broken figure in front of him with the Y/N he’d known. The Y/N who had always been by Antinous’s side, quick witted and sharp tongued, throwing barbs at Telemachus with a smirk on her lips. She’d always been confident, playful in her cruelty, almost like a cat toying with a mouse. He could still hear her mocking laughter in his head, the way she’d roll her eyes when he tried to stand up to her brother.

But this wasn’t that girl. That Y/N had been untouchable, proud, unflinching. This Y/N… this Y/N looked as though the world had broken her.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice breaking the silence like a crack in fragile glass.

Her head snapped up, and for a moment, her gaze locked onto his. Her eyes were wide and wild, filled with fear. She flinched, pressing herself further into the corner, as if trying to disappear into the stone itself. Her hands gripped her knees tightly, her knuckles white.

“Stay away,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and trembling.

Telemachus took a step back, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said quickly, his tone gentle. “It’s over. The fighting is done.”

Her breathing was shallow and erratic, and her eyes darted to the sword in his hand. Realizing how threatening it must look, Telemachus immediately sheathed it, the motion slow and deliberate. “See? I’m unarmed now,” he said, his voice as calm as he could make it.

But Y/n didn’t relax. If anything, she seemed to shrink further into herself, her shoulders shaking. “I… I didn’t want this,” she stammered, her voice breaking. “I didn’t want any of this. I just want my brother back, I don’t care for those idiots, I don’t care for the throne, I don’t care for the blood soaking the palace halls. I just want my brother”

Telemachus felt his heart clench. He had no idea what to say to her, no idea how to bridge the chasm between them. A part of him still burned with anger, this was the girl who had stood against him. But another part of him couldn’t ignore the way she looked now, so small and lost, like a bird with a broken wing. Telemachus felt a pang of guilt at the mention of Antinous, despite everything the older boy had done. He had been Y/n’s anchor, her protector. Without him, she was adrift.

——————

Idk then they kiss. But anyways, yea I think that would knock her off her pedestal for a while.

[throneofsapphics]

a/n: this year I'm doing kinktober a bit differently, I'll have one longer kink and angst riddled fic with shorter drabbles/oneshots sprinkled in between. I'll keep this masterlist updated as it goes on. for some of the days I'll be opening up a vote for which character to pair our lovely reader with <3

if anyone wants to be added to a taglist, either for the series, kinks, or both please let me know! you can comment under here or send me an ask/message :)

against the contract - poly!Feysandriel x f!Reader

If they were genuinely bad people, it would be so much easier to kill them. Signing a special contract to work with Azriel, Feyre, and Rhysand turns out nowhere near expected. You were a bit of fun that became their solace and escape, they were supposed to be an easy assignment that turned into your living nightmare.

first post 10/1, updating weekly

kinks drabbles/fics list (dates subject to change)

10/3 one for the party - orgy with aelin’s court | posted 10/6 experiments - toys with aelin | posted 10/9 special plans - punishment with poly!neris 10/12 (not very) patient - impact play with lorcan 10/15 throne pet - exhibitionism with poly!manorian  10/18 pretty girl - dacryphilia with poly!cazriel 10/21 give me more - throat-training with lucien 10/24 chase me baby - cnc/primal with cassian 10/27 weapons - gun play with poly!ruhnlidia  10/30 kittens - pet play with manon, nesta, & elide

bonus content

to be added

[mariaofdoranelle]

Cemetery Buddies

Written for @throneofglassmicrofics, prompt “Petrichor”

So, I wrote this today at the cemetery instead of the chapters I actually have to finish, because it felt too weird to write smut by my grandfather’s grave. I was there the entire afternoon and I kinda conjured this fic on the spot, but I really hope you like it!

Warnings: mentions of death of loved ones, quick mention of death by covid

Words: 888

Aelin’s picnic blanket did a good job of protecting her clothes from the dewy grass, but not from its gentle prickling on the exposed part of her legs. It felt peaceful, though. She got used to the silence, the soft ruffling of leaves and chirping of birds filling her days in the past two years.

Just her and her parents hanging out together, like old times.

The cemetery staff were even kind enough to lend her a beach umbrella in case the rain came back.

A delighted sigh. Don’t you love the smell of petrichor, Mom? Aelin echoed inside her head, because she still thought it was weird to talk to a grave.

She slid her crochet hat over her face and closed her eyes, feeling the nature surrounding her instead of watching this landscape of flowers and white stones she knew so well. Feeling the wind battle against the edges of her blanket and lose it when her weight overpowered its strength. The sunlight peeking from parted post-rain clouds burned in a delicious way the long stretches of skin her overall shorts left exposed.

She lived in Orynth, after all. Aelin and her parents always made a point to make the most out of summer, for however long this freezing city and its climatic crisis allowed them to.

“You okay there?”

Aelin lifted her hat from her face enough to take a peek into the outside world, but she didn’t need it to know it was her cemetery buddy.

Fully sat on the blanket now, she eyed the Heineken six-pack on Rowan’s hand with a smirk.

“Better now that you brought the good shit.”

He gave her a close-lipped smile and unfolded the two chairs provided at the entrance by the staff, since Mr. Fancy Pants preferred it over lying on the grass like Aelin.

To an outside observer, the difference between them is striking. Rowan in his dark suit and tie, brooding with that permanent scowl on his face; right by his side, Aelin’s in denim overall shorts, red top and crochet hat, being her usual fun, dazzling self.

Both hanging out together, sharing beer by their loved ones’ graves. What made them good friends wasn’t their differences, but how similarly they were miserable.

“So.” She cleared her throat and eyed the six-pack. “I guess things didn’t go the way you wanted at work?”

“Lorcan—“

She tilted her head, brows furrowed in confusion.

“The boss’ kiss-ass,” he explained.

“Oh, that guy.” Aelin said with a grimace. She did not like this Lorcan person, even if he had a friendship of sorts with Rowan. “Tell me what he did this time.”

Today, she was loosened up enough by the weather and the beer, and it happened that Rowan was also a little chatty as well. Sometimes they silently sit side by side. Sometimes Aelin doesn’t sit, she kneels on the grass and hums ancient Terrasenian laments, which her buddy raptly listens to. Sometimes Rowan starts venting about his lack of ability to keep his deceased wife’s garden, leaves for the bathroom and comes back with red-rimmed eyes.

It’s getting progressively less dramatic, though. During the majority of the last few months, they’ve been just talking and sharing snacks.

His wife and Aelin’s dad died of COVID at approximately the same time, four years ago—hence why their graves are so close together. Her mom ended up sharing a grave with her husband a while after, but Aelin and Rowan didn’t cross paths at the cemetery until a year and a half ago, when their respective visiting habits finally overlapped.

And at some point during visits to their loved ones’ graves concurrently, they slowly forged a friendship—emphasis on the slow part, and no thanks to Rowan’s closed-off personality.

However, their conversation was cut short when an employee signaled that they were nearing closing time.

“So…” Aelin let out a performative sigh to chase away the awkwardness of goodbye. “Same time next week?”

Instead of answering, Rowan pointed his phone at her face, squinted at the screen for several seconds, then retreated the device.

Aelin tilted her head. Care to explain? she silently asked.

Rowan had a soft smile while he studied whatever was on his screen, for a longer time than expected, then jutted his chin towards her face. “I’m sending my mom a picture.”

During one of the rare occasions Rowan’s mom visited Lyria’s grave with her son, they found Aelin alone under a merciless sun. The older woman was scandalized. She made Aelin stay under her umbrella, forced Rowan to walk the long stretch back to the reception and get another one with the staff, and in the meantime very surreptitiously asked Aelin what her favorite color was.

With a soft chuckle, she took off her crocheted red hat with white daisy patches, handmade especially for her. “Did you tell her how much I love it?”

“Only after the first few times you told me to. The woman’s already too smug.”

“As she should be!”

Aelin still hadn’t got used to it, the sound of Rowan’s laugh. Maybe he was different outside of the cemetery—she wouldn’t know—but now he had a lightness of sorts that showed itself more and more frequently as the days passed, and she could only be happy to witness this change in him.

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[studioeisa]

hello im here for ur jealousy drabble game 😗

"maybe i have a crush on you. so what?" with 🥁🥁🥁.... Mingyu! (surprise surprise haahah)

ⵌ royalty!mingyu x royalty!reader. ⵌ word count: 998 ⵌ notes: alternate universe: royalty, mention of alcohol, teensyyy princess diaries mention. laughed at "... mingyu! (surprise surprise)". ilysb, maple. and since this was our last conversation, i offer you some royally down bad gyu! 🙂‍↔️

When you're the crowned prince, you tend to get everything that you want.

Mingyu doesn't even have to ask. Anything his heart might desire has been served to him on a silver platter insofar. That horse for his eighth birthday? That Mercedes-Benz CLK-GTR for when he started driving? You name it; Mingyu has it.

He tries not to let it get to his head. Really, he does. He has a reputation to uphold, after all. He refuses to be the future monarch that's seen as spoiled, that's viewed as a brat.

It's getting increasingly hard, though, as he watches you from across the ballroom.

Mingyu's fingers are tight around the stem of his champagne flute, almost to the point that the delicate glass might just break. There's somebody trying to talk to him— some sultan from Brunei— but Mingyu is only half listening to him. He knows he ought to pay more attention. It would certainly be the polite thing to do.

Instead, he's trying to catch your eye as you dance with Lee Seokmin of all people.

The thought of the smiley prince from some small country almost makes Mingyu scoff. Seokmin isn't even the heir to the throne! He's a goddamn second born!

… And yet, you're looking up at Seokmin like he hung up all the stars in the sky. Mingyu doesn't like it. Not one bit.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says to the sultan, who had started ranting about oil reserves. "I fear that duty calls."

Duty calls is one way to put it, Mingyu thinks, as he strides off to where you're waltzing with Seokmin.

Mingyu clears his throat the moment that he reaches the two of you. Without missing a beat, Seokmin folds into a curtsy. You follow, albeit with a barely concealed roll of your eyes. If he was less on edge, Mingyu might have teased you for it.

"I was hoping I could get a dance," he says coolly.

"Of course, Your Highness," Seokmin answers.

Delicately, he passes your gloved hand over to Mingyu's grasp. Mingyu doesn't miss the flash of disappointment on your expression, and oh, does that make him want to scream.

He doesn't, of course. Not in this party of dozens of some of the most important world leaders and their children. Not when all eyes are on him, are on the two of you, as you stiffly place your arms around Mingyu's shoulders and he rests his palms over your waist.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. You simply fall into the practiced choreography of this familiar dance, this tried-and-tested charade. Back, forth. Back, forth.

Mingyu breaks the silence with, "So, how was hanging out with Prince Charming?"

He sounds a touch more scornful than intended. You pick up on it as you often do. "Prince Seokmin is fine," you answer cordially, carefully. "He's a delight to be around."

I noticed, Mingyu wants to say. You laugh so freely when you're with him. You never laugh like that when you're around me.

In the end, he only says, "I'm sure he is."

The song you're dancing to winds to a close. Your arms twitch around Mingyu like you might pull away, but— despite his better judgment— Mingyu's fingers tighten at your hips. "Indulge me for one more song," he says.

There's a ghost of a smile on your face. "Is that a command, Your Majesty?"

"Never." His answer is quick, thoughtless. "I— I would never command you to do anything."

You seem appeased at that. At the knowledge that Mingyu's question was more of a plea than anything. You relax in his hold, and some of the tension eases out of him as well. Another song strikes up. Your waltz continues.

Mingyu thinks it's going pretty well, that things are falling into place, until you decide to poke the bear.

"You seemed rather cross with Prince Seokmin back there," you muse. "Has he wronged you somehow?"

It's a good thing that Mingyu has spent much of his life in dance lessons. Otherwise, he might have stumbled over his feet. As it is, he manages to maneuver you past a dancing couple without breaking a sweat— even though a muscle in his jaw does jump at your brazenness.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he answers. "I was perfectly civil with the prince of middle-of-nowhere Genovia."

A decisively un-princess-like snort of laughter escapes you. Mingyu's heart— the bloody traitor!— skips a beat or two in his chest. He's dazed at the thought of making you laugh, even if it is at his own expense. The back-and-forth that ensues is dizzying, matching the quickening pace of your dance.

"You weren't civil, you were cold."

"Well, I don't owe the prince anything."

"I think you're jealous."

"Am not."

"I think you want me all for yourself."

"And what if I do?"

The words are out of Mingyu before he can reel them in. He doubles down as he spins you around, his words spoken in a rush. "Maybe I have a crush on you," he says. "So what?"

When you turn back to face Mingyu, your palm lands on his chest. His arm snakes around your waist, holding you in place, as the two of you try to catch your breaths after the whirlwind of a dance. You're staring up at him and he's terrified that you can feel the hammering underneath your palm.

There's only a hint of surprise on your features, but it's as gone as quick as it came. When you answer Mingyu's hasty confession, it's with the ice cold composure that you're infamous for.

"Well, I would hope so," you say. "We're getting married in a few months, aren't we?"

The reminder of the arrangement is like a bucket of water over Mingyu's head. He swallows around the lump in his throat before giving you a jerky nod.

"That's right." A beat. "So don't go dancing with any other princes aside from me, then."

୨ৎ * GAME, SET, PLAY ! ( JEALOUSY ) DRABBLE GAME.

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

"missed a spot"

Warnings: lil bit of groping, some antiquated views.

Word Count: 539

A/N: Listen, I know I should be working on more of the series I just started, and I am... but this? It literally came to life because of this ask. So here's a lil Benjamin drabble. We love to see it. Thank you, anon. <3

He shouldn’t even be in here, but that’s never stopped him before.

Ben leans against the doorframe like it’s a throne, arms crossed over his bare chest, still damp from the gym. His hair’s a mess—sweaty, tousled, perfect in that I wrestled a bear and then made out with your neck kind of way. And he watches you like a man starved.

Steam clings to your skin, still warm from the shower, wrapped in a towel that hugs the curves he keeps dreaming about. The bathroom’s small, barely big enough for one person—but that’s never stopped him, either.

You’re humming softly under your breath, some half-forgotten song as you uncap another little glass vial and tilt it into your palm with practiced grace.

His eyes narrow.

“What the fuck is that one?” He mutters, stepping closer like a wolf circling a candlelit altar. He squints at the label like it’s written in Latin. “Nina-somethin’? Ninacentipede?”

Your laugh is soft, airy, the sound of someone who’s already used to his bullshit. “Niacinamide, Benjamin.”

He tilts his head, mockingly sincere. “Uh huh. And that’s for…?”

“So I don’t look like I got sandblasted in the face.”

He scoffs, like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “Back in my day, we had a bar of soap. One. For everythin'. Hair, face, balls, car tires—soap.”

“And back in your day, people thought asbestos was a spice,” you say, rubbing the serum into your cheeks with delicate, upward strokes. “Not exactly a golden era of hygiene.”

Ben steps closer. The steam smells like you—jasmine and sugar, expensive and holy—and his hands twitch at his sides like they’re being called by a higher power.

“You’re so fuckin' complicated,” he mutters, voice thick and low. “You’ve got a whole goddamn pharmacy in here. Bottles. Jars. Roll-y stick things. What in the shit is this?” He picks up a rose quartz gua sha tool like it might bite him.

You roll your eyes and gently pluck it from his hands. “It’s for sculpting.”

He raises a brow. “I could sculpt you with my hands.”

And then he does.

Big, rough palms land heavy on your hips as he steps into your space, pulling your towel-loose body flush to his sweat-slick chest. You gasp a little—half scandalised, half thrilled—as the cold edge of the counter kisses the backs of your thighs.

“Ben—”

“You smell like heaven,” he rasps, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Sweet, soft, and fuckin’ forbidden.”

His hands move slow but sure—like he’s claiming territory. One slides up your spine, pressing between your shoulder blades to feel how your skin radiates warmth from the shower. The other drifts beneath the towel, gripping your ass like it belongs to him.

“You put all that magic shit on your face,” he murmurs, nosing along your cheekbone, “but you’re still blushin' for me.”

“Shut up,” you breathe, shivering under his mouth.

“You love it when I don’t understand your weird girl potions.”

He’s not wrong.

You melt into him, a little dazed, serum still glistening on your skin, and he watches you with that ruined, reverent hunger like he might just fall to his knees and worship right here—between the soft glow of the vanity mirror and the crumpled bath mat.

And maybe he will.

But not before he says, “You missed a spot—right there.”

And then licks it off your collarbone.

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah. @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @lyarr24 @imtheworst123 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @ohgodimgoungtodie @cevansbaby-dove @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids <3

[sonarspace]

໒꒱ welcome to the jujutsu kaisen masterlist .ᐟ 18+ only. be sure to check out my rules before you request.

return back to ➜ main masterlist ⁞ pinned post

♯ MULTI - HEADCANONS

touch ; just a fluff headcanon

valentine's day ; how they'd celebrate v-day with you.

taking care of you ; how they'd take care of you after a rough day

wishes ; morning b-day sex.

casual intimacy ; physical touch as a love language.

snip, snip, snip ; giving a trim to your boyfriend turns into something more

sharing ; in which geto shares his girlfriend.

no nut november ? ; no nut november or nut november. who knows..

all they want for christmas is you! ; the holidays are all about giving—and these men don’t hold back.

touch me, take me, kiss me ; where celebrating new year’s with your best friends turns into something much more intimate—one kiss at midnight isn’t nearly enough.

v-day with horny jjk men ; love isn’t the only thing they’re giving you tonight.

♯ ONE SHOTS / FICS

؛ ଓ SUKUNA RYOMĒN

whipped loverboy ; somehow, you’re the one person sukuna’s whipped for. he’d never admit it, but you know he’s all yours.

love sick king ; down bad sukuna

new throne ; sukuna lets you try out a new throne

holly, jolly, sinful ; where the krampus you feared is far from the monster in the stories, and santa isn’t the saint you thought he was.

؛ ଓ SUGURU GETO

needy ; geto’s craving all your attention, and he’s not stopping until he gets it.

twin xl ; a night that changes everything.

the last night ; spending a final night together, you and geto make every second count.

more than friends ; a shared brownie brings out old feelings, and after years apart, you and geto finally cross that line.

feral ; geto's not sure how you’ll react to his new haircut.

؛ ʚ FEM!GETO

bubbles ; in a steamy bubble bath, things heat up fast.

appointment ; in a waxer’s chair, you’re completely at her mercy, and she’s got you blushing from more than just the heat.

؛ ʚ BOXER!GETO

knockout kiss ; he’s got more than just a championship title on his mind.

batter & bruises ; the morning after.

؛ ଓ SATORU GOJO

teasin’ ; he can’t resist pushing your buttons, keeping you at the edge with every touch and word. he knows just how to play with you... until you beg for more.

when im down on my knees, you're how I pray ; your boyfriend gives you a good reason to stay home from work.

sweet syrup ; emotions are all over the place when fwb!gojo stands you up… for another girl?

study break ; being in the same class as him was bad enough; having him as the professor’s insufferably smug assistant made it worse.

blowout all the candles ; you made satoru gojo feel something he rarely ever did—normal, and undeniably special.

؛ ଓ KENTO NANAMI

deception ; bad dreams are just dreams after all.

rain, regrets, & redemption ; a rainy night brings nanami back, along with memories, missed chances, and a spark that refuses to fade.

؛ ଓ CHOSO KAMO

love cramp ; choso's addicted to you.

؛ ଓ TOJI FUSHIGURO

breaking point ; toji’s job was simple: watch, report, and move on but when the lines between his mission and his desires blur, he’s forced to confront a breaking point he never saw coming.

i’ma care for you, you, you ; what starts as a quiet attempt to keep toji sober on new year’s eve turns into something far more intimate—because for the first time in years, he’s found something worth staying sober for.

♯ DRABBLES / ASKS

؛ ଓ SUKUNA RYOMĒN

fluffy brain rot

smutty brain rot

nicknames

subby!sukuna

؛ ଓ SUGURU GETO

missed you

sleepy

sweet like sugar

birthday celebration

recharge

؛ ଓ SATORU GOJO

blindfold

forever more

warmth

taking care of you

clan leader!gojo

؛ ଓ KENTO NANAMI

waves of love

safeguard

coworker!nanami

؛ ଓ CHOSO KAMO

choso with glasses

؛ ଓ TOJI FUSHIGURO

empty ... send requests :D

؛ ଓ SHOKO IEIRI

boys suck and girls i've never tried

؛ ଓ YUKI TSUKUMO

gf!yuki

© SONARSPACE. 2024 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WORKS ON OTHER PLATFORMS.

[yan-lorkai]

Hello! I have a Black butler request if you don’t mind! (It can be yandere but If you can make it not to noticeable??? If that makes sense.)

If I may could I request a Ciel Phantomhive x Cruella De Vill reader? I mean not exactly like Cruella but the fact she was born with hair spilt between black and white, she owns multiple Dalmatians which are really aggressive guard dogs for her. And she has a wonderful sense of fashion, even though most her clothes are only black, white or red. She even has a nickname that combines her name and Cruel together (like “Cruel-(/N)”) because she can be really honest and it comes off as rude. She is short temper but unlike Cruella she is only occasionally sassy but most of the time she is quiet because she used to get made fun of for her hair.

Also I was hoping it would be a oneshot, with a few hc. But if that’s to much it can just be hc! Thank you and have a nice day!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I hope I did this rq justice because I absolutely loved it. Detailed rqs my beloveds. As you ask, I did some hcs and then wrote a little drabble, though I do apologize for such delay in answer it. Hope you like darling <33

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic content. Maybe typos too.

☆*: In Ciel's ears, the news of a figure with two-tone hair who only dresses in black and red reaches him through gossip that Lau felt the need to share. The rumors, however, were not enough to capture the earl's attention at first. Who cares if Londoners are talking about this girl because she acts different and has a sharp tongue? Who cares if she has some protective dogs who can attack on command?

☆*: Certainly not Ciel. He has better things to worry about being the Queen's Watchdog besides running his own company. Gossip and rumors are not something that holds his attention unless they are related to the murderers who killed his parents.

☆*: So it takes a while before you finally get to know each other and he can get a glimpse of your strong genius. And heavens, he's enchanted, even if he doesn't know it, feelings aren't Ciel's thing. One thing he knows, this night will be one he would never forget.

...

Reluctantly, Ciel was participating in the celebration. A glass of juice in his hand as he watched each of the nobles approach the throne, kneel and say their rehearsed congratulations. So typical of nobles, so insincere. He hated it here, he could be doing so many things right in the comfort of his office. Still, he smiled and played his part when all adults around him looked down on him just because he was the only child here.

The starry night became filled with light and laughter; The Queen was throwing a party to celebrate another birthday well spent. Her age-kissed skin was still glowing, her eyes carrying a tinge of unforgettable joy, and her voice a jovial tone. As usual, she sat on her throne and waited for one by one the nobles to greet and boast about the gifts that were certainly better than the others.

It was funny to watch though. They all just seemed like jealous peacocks, huffing and puffing their feathers, wanting the queen attention on them.

Sebastian when can we leave? was what he wanted to ask to the butler at his side. What he almost asked. But right at that moment he heard a commotion.

A few meters ahead stood the notorious Cru-y/n DeVil, your presence commanding attention. Ciel couldn't help but be drawn to you, his gaze fixating on you with a mixture of intrigue and caution. Despite your reputation, he couldn't deny your beauty, a striking contrast to the darkness that surrounded your name. You were young, much like himself, yet exuded a confidence that belied your age, almost as if you too had to grown fast to protect yourself.

You seemed to be fighting a much older and powerful woman. The duchess who was always looking to fight someone and today had just found her new victim. But you aren't having any of that, making exaggerated gestures and smiling mockingly at the duchess.

Ciel observed the scene with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, at least the party turned out to be entertaining with this little fight happening and the queen was also watching you two too intently, curious, not at all bothered by it. Ciel couldn't help but roll his eyes when the duchess continued to argue and pointed her finger at you.

"Your hat is adorable" You say in a loud and clear tone, with the sweetest smile you can produce. "I'm sure it was worth sacrificing Big Bird, its poor beautiful yellow feathers wasted on this hat that perfectly fit your head."

A murmur starts around the two of you, some are laughing loudly, others are whispering among themselves, repeating what you said. The duchess, wanting to appear strong and resilient, fixes her khaki yellow hat - that barely fits in her head, lifts her chin an extra millimeter and leaves. However, Ciel knew that your comment would still haunt her for months to come. Today she had lost a fight and was insulted.

Undeniable was that the hat was horrendous.

Holding back a laugh that seems to want to escape him anyway, Ciel takes off his hat in greeting to you as soon as your eyes meet. He understood now why everyone was talking about you so much. To the court you were like a fresh breath of air, devastating if you hate it, great if you like it. And he absolutely like it. Not a lot of younger aristocrats behave this way and he really needs someone different to spend time, as Elizabeth is quite overwhelming with her affection and Sullivan is busy.

He approach you and with this gesture, plans to know more about you. He is now curious and his curiosity must be satisfied.