#to guard herself from further harm | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amaranthineghost · 1 year ago

Note

Hi there! Can you do a pov/one shot/ fanfic where Lando is dating Y/N and her love language is biting. She randomly and softly bots Lando but he enjoys it knowing that she is fully comfortable with him to be herself. One day Max,Pietra and some other friends of Lando come to visit them in Monaco and Pietra is annoyed with Max for teasingly refusing to sit next to Y/N, P telling him that he can sit next to Y/n cause she doesn’t bite. Lando starts laughing and says that y/n does bite and moves his shirt to show a small bite mark on his shoulder. Y/N laughs it off but she gets insecure thinking that her love language is bothering Lando so she fights the urge to bite him again. After a few days Lando notices that she doesn’t bite him anymore and starts thinking that he did something to upset her. He asks her why and she eventually tells him and he gets a bit upset. He tells her that he actually likes it because its her way of showing her love and the fact that she is comfortable around him.

Idk some fluff or something

Thank you for at least reading this and I really love your work🧡

| SINK YOUR TEETH INTO ME, MY DEAR ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando norris x reader

ꕥ summary: reader's love language is biting, but experiences a feeling of insecurity

ꕥ author note: oh to have a boyfriend to experience this with. fair warning, I refrain from using y/n in imagines unless it's really unavoidable because at this point y/n is a whole person by herself. if something is worded weirded, or 'she' and 'her' get repetitive, that's why. but anyways, I really like this request, its so cute and silly and i hope i did it justice :3

HIS BODY WAS OFTEN ADORNED with bite marks, indentions in his skin where you could see the canines had dipped it lower than the rest. it was a reminder to him of her love.

and he happily carried them everywhere with him, smiling to himself with every glance in the mirror at his bare torso. some faded more than others as they trailed along his arms, upwards to his shoulder and across to his collarbone.

the pads of his fingers slowly rubbed over them, a small smile spreading across his face, something he'd done everyday as the new blemishes came and went.

at first, he'd thought of it as strange, taken off guard by the sudden pinch on his bicep as she'd sink her teeth into his flesh. not so hard to break skin, she wasn't a vampire. but it was enough for him to be reminded of it.

as time went on and the occurrences became more frequent, he'd find himself smiling at it. it was his way of knowing she loved him, that she was comfortable around him, that she was safe with him, she always was and she knew that. at least he hoped she did.

to be loved was to be bitten, was what he knew. she had taught him that.

he had noticed a change though, it was hard not to. the sudden pinces throughout the day, he hadn't noticed weren't there because he had gotten used to them being there. if that made sense. it did to him.

but if he didn't notice the lack of sudden but light pain, followed with a trail of thin salvia leading to the culprits lips, he would notice the lack of marks that riddled his body.

lando had woken up that morning, groggy and his body sore from yesterday's training. the warm of his shared bed beckoned him to stay. to lay with her forever.

he wished he could, but he knew better than to lay around, even if it was with his girlfriend. though he might. was there ever any harm to remain within the comfort and grasp of the warm body that stayed passed out next to him, oblivious to his waking?

he always thought not. his trainer thought otherwise but turned a blind eye for the young couple. though their sickeningly love for the other made him roll his eyes behind their backs. all fun and games. something to laugh about.

his veined hands, warm and adorned with rings, traced across the low of her back. he watched the goosebumps take their place on her skin, her face stirring as she pushed herself further into the bed. he chuckled softly at her reaction, his thumb gliding across her exposed skin, dipping below the hem of the cloth on her body.

he lightly squeezed the flesh under his fingertips, pulling his hand across her back before replacing the covers on her. he slipped out of bed, leaning over momentarily.

his fingers slipped through her hair, getting caught in the knots that tied in the midst of her slumber. using his thumb, he brushed the strands from her face to see half her features smushed against the plush pillow.

another low chuckle escaped his throat, tucking the hair behind her ear as he pulled back and stared at the beauty before him. his eyes dilated the more he looked at her, but he wouldn't know.

his journey through the bathroom to get ready would be halted when he noticed a difference on his bare skin. but it wasn't bare because of the lack of shirt he found himself not to be wearing. what was different?

the pads of his fingers traced his skin for the indentions he cherished deeply, only met with the perfect evenness of his tan skin.

his actions haltered and brows furrowed. instinctively, he leaned closer to the mirror, the veins in his hands becoming more prominent as he pulled his skin. he turned in circles.

no blemishes in sight. not the work of his beloved girlfriend anyways.

he frowned, disappointed by the disruption of his routine. his ritual.

he swore to her many times that he could probably differentiate the marks of her teeth in his flesh to any other bite mark he'd come across. he knew her teeth better than his own. he swore he did.

he knew the indentions that littered his skin, but they weren't here. he wanted them to be so bad. why the change?

his heart sunk in his chest. he sighed. how could he not notice?

his eyes met his own gaze in the mirror, his fingers still tracing his bare collarbone and down his shoulder. he pursed his lips, eating away at the pink flesh until it irritated.

his hands fell down to the sink, supporting his body weight as he leaned on them as he pondered.

he surely noticed how faded they looked. how the red inflammation, that manifested on his skin, just didn't. but the change never processed in his brain.

he racked through the events of the past couple of days. nothing stood out.

they'd mostly stayed home together, other than the times lando went out for training. but it surely wasn't that, as she had no problem with it in the past. she understood what he did and the requirements of it that he had to meet.

lando groaned in realization. days earlier, lando and his girlfriend were out on the water with a few of their friends, drivers and their girlfriends.

it was a beautiful day, he had remembered because of the way the sun reflected off her skin, how her pupils shrank at the blinding light, but revealed the capsulating colors behind them.

he sat on the cushioned seats of the yacht, next to her with his warm hand on her inner thigh, a drink in the other. the rest of the group littered around the deck with various drinks in hand as they chatted.

most of them were just hanging out in their swimsuits as none of them had yet decided to take the plunge into the crystal waters.

they had sat next to each other for a while, lando leaning closer to hear her voice, the music was loud. her lips grazed his ear a few times, he remembered. the gloss on her lips left on his skin.

she remembered the scratch of his cheek as he'd forgotten to shave earlier whenever he'd lean into whisper in her ear. his lips ghostly hovered her neck, grazing her skin softly. despite the warm sun, goosebumps took their place down her neck.

he always chuckled at the rising bumps on her skin whenever he did something she liked. it always gave him a surge of confidence to know the effect he had against her.

"get a room!" the brit called out, laughing as he walked over with a drink in hand. his girlfriend followed behind, shaking her head at his words, but a smile evident on her face.

max fewtrell was one of lando's long time friends. their girlfriends also happened to be friends, long before the two guys came into their lives.

"mind if we sit?" pietra asked, not waiting for an answer as she took a place on the leather couch. leaving a space between the two girls so max could sit too.

she looked up to see max still standing, she rolled her eyes and patted the spot next to her, "there's enough room for all of us, why won't you sit?"

max shrugged his shoulder, "I don't know, mate, she might bite me if I try sitting down!" he exclaimed jokingly, inciting a laugh between the group.

she felt her body heat up uncomfortably, laughing along despite her discomfort.

pietra tugged on his sleeve, "she doesn't bite, you're being dramatic." her attempts were futile.

lando laughed and shook his head, "I don't know, mate, you might want to be careful." his hand left her thigh as he pulled up his sleeve to his shoulder, as he hadn't taken off his shirt just yet.

she felt her face flush and reddened, but hid it by laughing with the group, pushing her head into the crevice of his neck momentarily. his hand found her back again.

she felt the cushion next to her dip, followed by a hand squeezing her knee. she turned her head. pietra gave her a sympathetic look when she'd realized the girl's reaction.

pietra leaned close to her ear, like what lando and her were doing earlier. she whispered a few words to her before pulling away and taking a sip of her drink, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. she felt herself smile and relaxed in her seat.

but on the inside, she was eating herself up, overthinking to exhaustion. her stomach felt sick, was her habit a bother to him?

she found herself hiding in the bathroom throughout the rest of the hangout, claiming seasickness but denying medicine for it.

each time she find hersef back in the bathroom with anxious nausea and the door locked, lando would be on the other side. he'd knock on her door, talking her through it, asking her if he could get her anything, telling her he'd wait for her to come out again.

days past and she refrained from sinking her teeth into the perfect skin of his bicep, the valley of his collarbone, or the broadness before the drop of his shoulder.

each time she found herself with the urge to show the love she had through her teeth, she stopped herself.

it killed lando to think about how he could've made her feel. but he needed her to come to him, he didn't want to pry information out of her.

he could ask but he couldn't make her tell.

the door to the bathroom creaked open, lando's head snapping towards the noise, noticing the tired face eyeing him through the slit in the door.

he pushed himself from the counter, his heart beating slightly faster as he sighed. she opened the door more and dragged her feet against the tiled floor. he noticed the way her eyes squinted against the light.

she stopped when she collided against him. her cheek pushed against his chest as she leaned her weight against him.

he pulled her closer when he placed a hand on her head, another one around the low of her back. his lips were against her hair and he inhaled slowly. the faded tropical scent of her shampoo lingered in her hair.

in his head, he debated asking her. not only was she still tired, but he didn't want to push her farther, in case he had done something.

his heart beat heavily in his chest, muttering against her scalp, "what's going on, darling?" he caressed the strands of her hair, "hm?"

her heart skipped a beat, she thought he hadn't noticed, or that he didn't say anything because he had secretly hoped for this to happen.

she decided to play dumb, speaking softly against his bare skin, "what do you mean?" her voice muffled.

"come on, I know your biting habits. what's wrong?" he spoke patiently to her as he cradled her tired body in his arms, swaying softly as they stood admist the cold bathroom air.

her eyes fluttered shut as she mumbled, "I thought it annoyed you."

his head shook against hers, "why do you think that, love?" he held his breath for the answer, but in his heart, he knew what she was going to say.

he was met with silence for a long time, he knew she was thinking it over in her head. she finally spoke, "remember the yacht trip a few days ago?"

he exhaled deeply, his eyes clenching shut as he pursed his lips, "i'm an idiot," he muttered, pulling away partially.

" 's okay," she shrugged, looking up at him with big eyes.

he swore in his mind, if it weren't for the circumstances, he would've folded. he slowly blinked, his tongue gliding along his lower lip.

"it's not, darling. even if max and i were just messing around," he breathed in and out slowly, his hand caressing her pillow-marked face, "i'm sorry you felt that way, okay? you know, i love when you do it," he reassured, and he saw her eyes dilate when he did.

"really? but why?" she questioned him, scanning his face, eyes, body language for any hint of deceit. she found none.

"it tells me you're comfortable, baby, and that's all I want for you."

she listened for his tone. it was sincere.

and they stayed like that for a while. in each other's embrace, they knew all was well again as they talked through it some more.

"ow."

#formula 1 #formula 1 drivers #formula one #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando #lando imagine #lando norris #formula 1 imagine #fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1

3K notes · View notes

knickety · 3 months ago

Text

doing some digging and reading of lore for my yaoqing trio manifesto (which is leaning slightly feiqiu heavy at the moment BUT I AM determined to do Moze justice as well. part of the reason I am yelling about this here, because it is so fascinating)

When Feixiao first meets Moze, he tries to attack her, angry with her+her troops for routing the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus who had been experimenting on him. Despite the experiments, he had considered them family, not knowing the broader details of their operation but only that they had 'saved' him (for their own purposes) after he was orphaned and abandoned by his previous home. We don't know any details about his life prior to the Disciples, for now.

Back to Feixiao! It seems that she had initially planned to have nothing further to do with Moze after freeing him- after his initial first lunge at her, she deflects, telling him that "Someone will come to plan a home and life for you. Just follow them and you will be fine."

Moze does not listen, and continues trying to attack her. She dodges, holds him back, tells her soldiers not to react or punish him- and admits that he reminds her of herself, freshly escaped from the borisin war camp where she grew up. And this similarity prompts a change of mind:

First of all, hilarious that part of the deal was Feixiao being like "you can try to kill me... but you need to learn and grow and take care of yourself first." okay mom

Second of all:

We see this odd transaction they've got going- Feixiao, who says her only enemy has ever been herself, places a guard who has a vested interest in killing her close to her side- to keep her on his toes, to (presumably- this is my own speculation) train him to be the best equipped to take her out, should she ever actually become a threat.

She trades his attempts on her life for missions carried out on her behalf- and it is through those missions, which Moze at first only carries out to earn more 'forgiveness'/attempts at trying to revenge himself upon her, that he begins to question his loyalty to the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus, and realize the extent of the harm that they did- but doesn't think about it, because to question that would be to throw this whole tenuous balance into question. If he no longer feels loyalty to the Disciples, and no longer wants revenge on Feixiao, what does that leave him with?

And in his E6, which I've seen people refer to as the character represented in their purest form, we see this:

Moze, clutching one of Feixiao's strales so tightly that it cuts him. Clinging to the fascimile of vengeance, of her transactional forgiveness- even if he has stopped truly wanting to kill her, and even if there is nothing to forgive.

#hsr #feixiao #moze #yaoqing trio #if anyone has further thoughts to contribute I would love to hear them <3 this was suuuper sloppily put together #knick rambles #analysis

167 notes · View notes

starogeorgina · 6 months ago

Text

𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

Paring: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targ oc

Warnings: Smut, violence, blood, swearing

1.16

Jacaerys flinches in pain. His fingers dig into the dark brown leather arms of the chair as the maester finishes stitching the wound in his thigh where the arrow had struck him. Jace had reluctantly accepted the smallest amount of milk from the poppy after being persuaded by your mother, who was becoming distressed seeing him in pain. Your mother and Daemon had taken kings landing without any bloodshed when the green army guarding the city dropped their weapons and retreated when they saw Syrax and Caraxes circling above the keep. But the cheering for your mother's victory was short-lived when you and Jacaerys returned injured.

When the maester moves away, a handmaiden steps forward with a bowl of clean water and a cloth to wipe the blood away. Her touch is unintentionally harsh, and when Jace clenches his fist, you decide to intervene.

“Allow me.”

You hold your hand out to take the bowl from her, but the handmaiden looks back at Maester, as if she’s waiting for him to give her permission. The sooner Maester Gerardys arrived from Dragonstone, the better. You didn’t blame the girl for being unsure; she had served the greens for so long that she probably thought you were all monsters.

“I can tend to my husband,” you say softly. “You may go; we will be fine.”

The handmaid leaves the bowl and cloth on the table, then bows before leaving. Clearing his throat, the maester says, “I will need to return soon and put a fresh bandage on the princess’s arm to cover the stitches, my prince.”

“I will redress the princess’s arm once she has bathed.”

“My prince, princess,” the maester seems unsure but goes without saying anything further. Since maester Orwyle was in chains, the current maester would only be serving in the keep for a short time before returning to the citadel.

Exhausted, you sit on the floor between Jace’s legs and start washing away the blood, old and new. Seeing fresh tears gather in your eyes, Jace gently tilts your chin up to face him. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know my love, but it’s over. Our mother is on the throne, and the greens are no longer a threat. Our children can come home.”

You press your cheek against his clothed thigh. “It’s not over, though; Aegon escaped. He will still have men willing to back him for being born with a cock. What if he finds our children before we do?”

Jace’s jaw tightens. He couldn’t deny it was a possibility. “Sunfyre is still in the dragon pit; Aegon won’t be able to go north on foot. If he’s smart, he’ll leave the red keep. Knights have been sent to search Old Town and what remains of the riverlands.”

He was right; as long as Aegon was unable to reach his dragon, he’d be stuck lurking in the sewers where he belonged. The greens were currently locked in the cells of the castle, aside from the most dangerous one. “I’ve still not received a raven back yet; I’m worried.”

“It will take a couple of days, my love, and I trust Lord Stark will let no harm come to our family.”

“I best get this off you,” your hands shake as you resume wiping blood off his leg. When Jace suddenly tenses, you stop. “Jacaerys?”

He quickly steps in front of you, snatching his sword that’s lying on the wooden table. The door to the chamber bursts open, and in the commotion, you knock the bowl containing bloody water over. Daemon comes to an abrupt halt. “There are six members of the kingsguard posted outside these quarters, and you believed our enemies could waltz by them?”

“And yet some of the very same kingsguard remained in kings landing and served the greens. Until her grace chooses knights herself, I won’t trust them.”

“How very wise, my prince,” Daemon smiles before looking both over. “You are both still filthy. Good. Come along; her grace wants us to join her immediately.”

—

Jace finds solace holding you close in the bed you’d be spending the night in. As your mother only reclaimed her rightful throne earlier that day, permanent quarters had yet to be readied, and the servants were working hard to remove any sigils of the usurper before hanging your mother's banners. Not that you cared about something so insignificant as sleeping quarters; you just wanted the day to be over.

Jace smiles at your shoulder; your robe is open at the front, giving him access to the bare skin of your stomach. He traces his finger along the glossy-looking scars left from multiple pregnancies.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing; I’m just admiring how beautiful you are.”

A small laugh passes your lips. “You can hardly even see my scaly scars in this light.”

Over the years, Jacaerys would insist you think of the stretch marks as dragon scales whenever you complained of them. From anyone else, it may have been an insult, but Jace always said it admiringly. Neither of you had bathed since returning, as Daemon said it would be good for the people to see Rhaenyra's eldest children and heirs looking like warriors. Both of your bodies and hair were covered in soot, blood, and dirt. Jace stripped his clothes off, then collapsed onto the bed naked, while you threw a thin blue robe on.

“They are reminders of how strong you are, only adding to your beauty.”

You chuckle at his sweet words. You run your fingers through Jace’s thick hair, keeping as you start to fall into a slumber, but the pressure building makes you reposition further up the bed until you’re sitting with your back against the headrest. Jace looks at you quizzically and moves to sit beside you.

“The weight of my breasts is hurting my back.”

He glances at you sympathetically. If your baby was here, the pain would subside dramatically since you’d be able to feed him. You noticed Jace’s gaze now lingering on your swollen breast. Realizing he’s been caught, he gulps down, “This is the biggest they have ever been.”

You readjust your posture, and this time Jace does the same, so he’s right beside you. He pushes your robe open further and cups your breasts, feeling the warm, swollen flesh in his hands as he lifts them slightly.

“Gods.”

“Feel any better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He slowly rubs circles on your sensitive nipples until they are hard, then dips his head down to take one into his mouth. Jace gives equal attention to both breasts, licking and sucking on them to give you relief. One of his hands slowly moves from your breast, down your rib cage, and stops just below your navel. Wetness was gathering between your thighs, and Jace knew this by the way you pressed your legs together.

His lips ghost over yours. “What do you want?”

“For my husband to desire me.”

“Sweet wife, all I’ve ever wanted was you, and even now, I still ache for your touch.” Jace caresses your thigh; the metal on his rings is cool against your skin. He presses his long finger through your slit, gathering arousal, then rubs it over your clit, causing you to moan. He sucks on your nipple again.

Lewd sounds fall from your mouth as Jace pushes a finger between your folds. Your back arches at his touch. Given how long it had been since you were last intimate and how reactive your body was to his touch, it doesn’t take long for your legs to begin shaking as your orgasm gets closer. Jace props at your hole with a second finger, but when you wince, he pulls it away.

“Still so tight, princess; I don’t wish to hurt you.”

“Fuck, Jace!”

Screaming his name, you climax over his fingers. “If it weren’t for the pain and wound on your thigh, I’d mount and ride you as I would a dragon.”

“I will be most definitely looking forward to the feeling of you claiming me as yours again.” Smiling, his nose brushes against yours, “but I’m not done with you yet for the night. I’m desperate to taste you.”

—

“Have the cots moved slightly further apart. My sons will only kick each other during the night if they are too close.”

The handmaiden nods. “I will have them moved, princess.”

In the early hours of the morning, you were informed your mother's old quarters would be the ones you would reside in. The color green was almost completely withdrawn from the castle walls. All bedchambers would be adorned with the sigil of House Targaryen, along with the moon-and-falcon sigil of House Arryn, to honor Queen Aemma. And a silver seahorse on sea green from House Velaryon to honor not only your husband but also your late father, Laenor Velaryon. Aemma and Rhaenys bedchambers would be beside each other, and Avery and Aethan would share a room until they were older.

“Thank you… forgive me, I never caught your name.”

“Mia Princess. Which bedchamber would you like to be in Prince Daemon’s room?”

“The room next to his brothers, but have his cot brought to my side of the bed. My babe will be sleeping in the same room as us.”

Nearly all of the servants had traveled from Dragonstone by boat to serve the queen in King's landing. The handmaidens who knew how to care for your children chose several items for their new chambers, including furniture, clothing, and bedding. You pick up one of the blankets and look for the name sewn into it.

“Good morrow, my prince.”

“Good morrow,” he nods politely. “Good morrow, wife.”

Noticing something was slightly off with Jacaerys, you turn to face the handmaiden. “Could you ask for them to move the crib into our bedchamber before building the furniture in the princess’s room?”

“Of course, right away, princess.”

“Thank you, Mia.” When she’s out of the room, you place a hand on Jace’s arm. “Something wrong, my prince?”

“You haven’t eaten this morning.”

Chuckling, you look at him surprised. “Is that all? I could not find sleep and bathed early, then got caught up in different things. I have news: a raven arrived from Clara, and the children are fine. The Stark’s are taking good care of them.”

“Thank the gods!” he sighs in relief. Jacaerys, like you, was terrified that something would happen to them; his calm demur about the situation was just a front. Stepping forward, he holds the blanket in your hand at the opposite end. “Aega?”

“It’s supposed to say Aegarax, but I’ve not had the time to finish it.” You’d embroider the name of your children’s dragons into their blankets once they are chosen. “Soon all my time will be consumed with motherly duties again, and I for one cannot wait.”

Jace runs his knuckle over your cheek; the gaze in his eyes is nothing short of adoration. “My love, I don’t believe those duties ever stopped.”

—

Growing up as the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you were spoiled with the finest gowns and jewelry. Even when you lived among vipers, you still had an exceptional wardrobe. But as one of your handmaidens finished the intricate braids in your silver hair, you felt different. The black dress was made of the softest free-flowing fabric and was slightly shorter at the front to allow your red dragon riding boots to be worn soon. On the bodice of the dress, a three-headed red dragon is sewn in. The sleeves were short enough for the stitches on your arm to be seen.

Daemon’s gaze was burning into the back of you as he patiently waited. He knew how important keeping appearances was. He was dressed in the armor that he would wear into battle.

When the braiding is finished, you excuse the handmaiden and stand. Daemon gives you an approving nod: “You look fearsome, good daughter. Queen Visenya would be proud. Not only a princess, but a Targaryen dragon-rider who fights for the rightful queen.”

Toying with the rings on your fingers, you say, “Might I ask where we are going? I don’t believe her grace mentioned us going to battle on dragon back.”

“To face our enemies. As you know, Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Jacaerys are discussing solutions on how best to deal with the crown's debt to the Iron Bank caused by the usurper, and her grace wishes for you to take the lead on another issue. Shall we go?”

Daemon has his hand on the hilt of dark sister as you follow his lead, making your way through the hallways of the keep. When the halls are nearly empty, Daemon breaks the silence. “As I said to her grace, you and Prince Jacaery are perfectly matched. You both possess your mother’s gentle nature, are quick to anger, and never forget a slight; however, if you are to rule one day, we will need to make sure you can channel your anger properly.”

“Ah yes, something you strive in, Prince Daemon.”

He chuckles, “Our queen thinks the same thing. Which is why she thinks it's best you decide what happens next.”

You stop walking when you reach the outside of the throne room. It scares you, not knowing what awaits on the other side. “I’m frightened, Daemon,” you say quietly enough that only he can hear. “What if I let my mother and Jacaerys down?”

“You are a Targaryen, Lyarra. Blood of the dragon, and one day you’ll be queen. The simple truth is that, as the daughter of the first queen of Westeros, you’ll have to understand the importance of your responsibilities.”

“I understand my responsibilities.”

—

“Why am I to decide?” You ask in your mother tongue.

High Valyrian rolls off Daemon’s tongue impeccably. “The queen still feels guilt sending you to live with these usurper cunts. She is trying to make amends.”

It hurts your heart to know your mother still blames herself for how badly the Hightowers treated you.

Although Aegon fled when your mother and Daemon took back the king's landing, the rest of the green council were arrested and held in the black cells of the keep. Not daring to overstep by sitting on the throne that belongs to your mother, you stand in front of it. Your hands become sweaty as you look down at the prisoners who were on their knees, trying to decide their fate. It wasn’t an easy decision to make, especially with the memories of how cruelly you had been treated coming flooding back. You glance at Lady Baela, the only other member of the Queen's Council who is currently present. She gives you a small nod, a silent act of support.

Clearing your throat, you speak in English again and address members of the kingsguard. “Return Maester Orwyle, Ser Tyland Lannister, Lord Jasper Wyldel, to their previous cells. They are to be sharply questioned to see if they are of any further use to us.”

“And if they aren’t?” Daemon asks with a mischievous look on his face.

“Then they can either die or go north and join the nightwatch. Take Ser Arryk to the cells on the second level. After being questioned, he will receive the same choice.”

Alicent scoffs.

“If I may ask something, princess?”

You look at the traitor's bastard Otto amused and say, “Speak freely, but nothing you say will change your fate.”

Understanding, he nods, “What is to become of Aegon’s heirs? They are—”

“Innocent,” you cut him off. “Princess Jaehaera and Prince Maelor will be treated as any other highborn child. You have my word; no harm will come to them.”

“The city belongs to Princess Rhaenyra for now.” Alicent’s voice is laced with venom. “But she will not hold it long. The rats play when the cat is gone, but my son Aemond will return with fire and blood.”

“Aemond is dead.” You study her expression, and she does not waver. The former queen doesn’t believe her son is dead. You walk down the steps until you are in front of her and crouch down. “The bruising on my neck is from his hands. He managed to sneak into Dragonstone and waited until I was alone in my bedchamber and tried to strangle me to death.”

Her eyes gloss over with tears.

“Prince Jacaerys put an end to the assassination attempt.” You stand up straight again and smooth out the creases in your dress while taking a couple of steps backwards. “The usurper's loyal hound, Ser Criston Cole was killed by dragonfire on the battlefield.”

She holds your gaze and grits her teeth. “Which dragon?”

“Vermax.”

“Bastards are monstrous by nature.”

“Another word about my husband, and I shall have your tongue cut from your mouth. The last time we saw each other, you mocked the deaths of Prince Lucerys and Prince Gaemon. You should be grateful I haven’t had your head placed on a fucking spike.”

Otto gives his daughter a stern look, telling her to be quiet.

“Death is an easy escape, Alicent. You can live the rest of your life knowing that your own ambition is the reason your children are dead. Send her to the silent sisters.”

When she’s escorted out of the throne room by Ser Erryk, you return your attention to the men remaining. “Otto Hightower, I sentence you to death for the crime of treason.”

Prince Daemon stands beside you, and you step to the side silently, giving him permission to go ahead and carry out the sentencing. The former hand of the king would always be a threat to your family. Daemon goes down the steps and, in one swing, slices Otto’s head off with dark sister. You hold back a shriek when blood begins to spread across the marble floor.

Your eyes narrow in on the last person kneeling. “Take Larys Strong to the black cells; keep him in chains until his sentence is carried out tomorrow in the dragon pit.”

—

“You did good,” Daemon praises as you leave the throne room. “Those green cun—”

He was cut off by the handmaiden you spoke with earlier, rushing over to you, her cheeks flushed red. “Princess,” she gasps. “My prince, my lady. Forgive the interruption, but the queen has asked for you to go to the council room immediately.”

You could sense the urgency from Mia without her outright saying how serious the situation was, “Thank you.”

You hold your dress at the front so you can run without tripping, and the three of you rush to the small council pivy. Soon as you enter the room, your eyes are glued to Jace, who is gripping onto the edge of the table, tears rolling down his cheeks. He looks enraged.

“My Prince,” you go to him, and his grip on the table is hard; his knuckles turn white while he grabs ahold of something tightly in the other. “Mother, your grace, what's going on?”

Your mother's chest and neck are blotchy from stress; she holds onto her necklace tightly for comfort. There are tears in her eyes as well. The queen struggles to control her emotions as she tries to speak.

“A raven arrived for me,” Jace’s voice cracks. “It was a massage from Aegon; it says ‘a daughter for a daughter, bastard’. He still thinks I took Aemma from him, and now he’s going to take Reni from me.”

You feel as if you’re going to be physically sick. “What?”

“This is Reni’s,” Jace says, opening up his hand, and you shudder at seeing your daughter's doll. “We need to go North immediately.”

When Jace goes to storm out of the room, you catch his arm, preventing him from leaving. “Jacaerys, wait!”

“We cannot wait; he’s going after our little girl.”

You take the doll from his trembling hand. “Rhaenys sobbed when she realized her favorite toy was left behind.” With her name sewn into the doll's dress, anyone could have easily guessed who it belonged to. “Her doll was in our bedchamber.”

“Which means…”

“Aegon is in Dragonstone.”

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon/you #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #Jacaerys Velaryon x oc #jacaerys velaryon x you #violent delights #house of the dragon fanfiction #Jacaerys Velaryon/oc #jace velaryon fanfic #Jace Velaryon smut #house of the dragon smut #jace velaryon fanfiction #Jacacerys Velaryon

229 notes · View notes

maximotts · 9 months ago

Text

she hates her ⁘ w. maximoff x n. romanoff

brainrot is real and dangerous! This time it manifested in the idea of an enemies to lovers WandaNat AU in which sorority president Wanda and fraternity president Natasha simply can't stand one another, but Nat finds Wanda's weakness and exploits the fuck out of it. I'm planning to write more of them so I hope you all love these sillies in their enemies phase! P.S. if you know why I named this AU what I did, you're a real one 💖

Seven Things AU. masterlist :: Natasha lives to annoy Wanda so naturally, she plans the Spring Barbeque Night on the lawn of Wanda's sorority without asking and counts down the seconds until she comes down to complain

wc: 4k cw: 18+ only, minors DNI. warnings are clearly labeled, please don't add community filters. sorority!Wanda x fraternity!Natasha. smut. oral (n receiving). strap on sex (w receiving). cum strap. copious insults/hate sex. rough play/manhandling. overstimulation. degradation/humiliation. nat has a seriously filthy mouth and calls wanda lots of names. internal discussions of aftercare.

Wanda hated Natasha Romanoff.

She hated her messy red hair and the cocky way she walked around campus, how unshakably full of herself she always was, no matter how much of an asshole she was being any given moment. And she was constantly an ass, a chronic headache from the first day Wanda met her last year…

Currently Wanda hated Natasha’s heavy boots kicking her knees apart each time she moved them together even an inch.

“You want to get off on sucking my dick so bad, it’s pathetic.” Nat couldn’t stop her long groan and didn’t want to, grip tightening in Wanda’s loosely curled hair as she inched her strap further down the other girl’s throat.

If someone told her last month she’d have the most annoying girl she knew knelt in front of her like this, Natasha would’ve laughed them off; they could barely coexist in a room for more than a few minutes without one of them going off on the other.

They’d found a compromise in fucking each other speechless; mostly Wanda who, for all her holier-than-thou attitude towards the other woman, found herself repeatedly powerless for hidden quickies with Natasha.

Wanda could only claw at Natasha’s thighs, any possible harm dulled by the denim jeans Nat didn’t bother removing. She’d add how stupidly brutish Nat was to her ever-growing list of grievances if it didn’t turn her on so damn much.

The moment the fabric of her harness brushed Wanda’s cheek, they both shivered.

“I’m gonna assume no one’s managed to fuck this pretty mouth of yours this deep yet,” the redhead ground her hips against Wanda’s face slowly, letting her head roll back against the door, willfully ignorant to any discomfort the girl before her endured, “or maybe you’re too much of a bitch for anyone else to bother trying.”

Natasha let up and Wanda growled, disgusted gaze glaring daggers at her tormentor. “You don’t have anyone else to screw with, or have all the girls in town grown tired of your womanizer routine?”

“Fuck’s sake, shut up.” Shoving her forward was all too easy with Wanda caught off guard, burying her tip at the back of her throat so roughly Wanda gagged. Nat drove her hips back and forth at a brutal pace, laughing at the brunette’s sputtering, “That’s it, choke on my cock…”

The two were both too stubborn to break eye contact, Wanda’s wide green eyes watering with embarrassment and Natasha shamelessly getting off to her struggle.

She fucked her steadily, both hands now fisted in Wanda’s hair, the poor girl’s face growing pinker every second as she fought to hide just how much being used like this turned her on. It was no use, the sticky mess of the sorority president’s lip gloss and spit leaving kisses on her fraternity counterpart’s harness, sending Wanda into a dizzying frenzy of arousal that wrenched in the pit of her stomach- and lewdly dripped onto Natasha’s boot.

Oh how Natasha wished her phone wasn’t discarded on Wanda’s nightstand; she’d give anything to have photo evidence of their university’s golden student drooling on her strap and trying desperately to rub herself on her laces. “I bet if I shot a load down your throat you’d cum on the spot… wanna try?”

Nat finally let Wanda take a breath, yanking her away in favor of taking the thick toy in her hand, tapping the head onto the brunette’s already waiting tongue as she nodded desperately. She hadn’t bought this toy for anyone particular, never got much use out of it until she stumbled into Wanda’s secret a few weeks ago; now it was quickly becoming her favorite possession.

An accidentally perfect object to drive Wanda insane.

“Are you gonna let us keep our party on your lawn?”

The question snapped Wanda back to attention, suddenly aware of Natasha’s ulterior motives. There was a strange pang of hurt she felt, only for the briefest of seconds, to know what she was being used for, but it quickly morphed into keen anger. “Absolutely not! Go camp out with someone who actually likes you.”

“Stubborn bitch,” Nat muttered, knocking Wanda backwards. She was unsteady enough for her back to hit the floor with a painful thud, wincing as she met the hard wood of her bedroom. Admittedly, maybe that was a little too harsh, Natasha’s hand reaching out to inspect the girl before she caught herself, remembered who they were to one another, and her originally thoughtful touch became a slap for Wanda’s calf.

In an instant she was kneeling, dragging Wanda’s strawberry printed pajama shorts off to get a good look at her handiwork. They were still new to one another, having only really fallen into rage-fueled quickies, this was Natasha’s first time seeing the full effect she had on Wanda and damn if it wasn’t more intoxicating than all the beers she’d drunk tonight combined. “Pretty mouth and pussy, no wonder I’ve heard you’re good to fuck around with.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, doing her best to tamp down how hot she felt being openly inspected like this, ignoring the sparks she felt as Natasha’s hands parted and pawed at her bare thighs. “Don’t be gross, you pass yourself around more in one weekend than I’ve done my entire life.”

“So I know what I’m doing, Maximoff. Don’t forget I almost made you cum without a single touch just now.” If she cared enough Nat would’ve asked her how many people she actually had been with. Wanda had a reputation for being a tease of epic proportions, flirting cruelly with no intent of following through or, if you’re lucky, getting you off, but for as much gossip Nat heard, she couldn’t think of anyone who could say they’d slept with her.

In truth, the girl was picky, refusing to let anyone get farther than she thought she’d enjoy just as much as they did. Unfortunately Natasha not only met that standard, but rose far above it— the only reason she tolerated her insufferable nature each time they ended up like this. “But I didn’t finish, so get on with it. You’re already starting to bore me- ow!”

The last thing Wanda expected was a slap, stinging and wet, between her legs.

“Whenever you speak, you bore me, but I’m still here…” Her strap slid through the other girl’s cunt effortlessly, the weight of it offering the barest bit of much needed friction, but where Wanda raised her hips, Natasha held them down.

When the tip rested at Wanda’s waiting entrance, the shallowest of motions left her biting her lip to keep from begging. She couldn’t admit how badly she wanted this, how intensely she fought not to wrap her legs around Natasha and take the whole of her all by herself, to sate the persistent empty feeling she’d had since Nat pulled their hips together down on the lawn… “And you’re only here to get the answer you want so go ahead, try and convince me.”

Nat was too selfish to give Wanda time to adjust, pushing inside inch by inch while the girl below her gasped and balled her fists at her sides, too arrogant to grab onto Natasha’s stupid toned arms. But bottoming out felt like mutual heaven and as Wanda felt that cool, rough denim rub under her thighs, she gave in and let her legs clamp about her waist.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” Nat muttered, drawing out slowly just to surge forward, quickly setting a pace so brutal Wanda couldn’t hope to keep up. “Would’ve let you use your fingers before if I’d known…”

“N-No,” Wanda shook her head, eyes fluttering closed. She hated having to get this from someone she couldn’t stand, body betraying her in the presence of the person she wanted to be miles away from, but she forced her brain to submit along with the rest of her, taking her pleasure in a world where Natasha wasn’t a daily thorn in her side.

She needed to feel overwhelmed, overtaken, out of control— Natasha was the only person bold enough to give her what she was after. And she planned to use it to her full advantage. “No? Does perfect princess Wanda need to be fucked like a filthy slut?”

The woman was a mess of moans, doing her best to ignore Nat until calloused fingers gripped her jaw and yanked her back to reality. “Open your eyes, I want you to watch me fuck you dumb.”

When their eyes met again, Wanda’s pupils were blown wide, flushed cheeks pinched together under Nat’s grasp, “I asked you a question, answer me or I’ll leave you here and let everyone outside know you’re locked in your room with your fingers deep in your tight cunt, dreaming of my dick.”

Natasha really wished Wanda wasn’t so fucking pretty with her breathy pants and tousled hair framing her face like a halo; it made sex so much harder not giving the girl exactly what she wanted. “Just fuck me, Romanoff. You have a party to get back to.”

“I do? So you’ll let us stay?” Wanda nearly threw a fit when Natasha stopped again, the thought of being denied twice in one night enough to leave her whining. She was someone people rarely said no to, things simply fell into place for her as she wished, but challenging, thick-headed Natasha… dealing with her was akin to rolling a boulder single-handed.

“Yes, yes fine! Keep your crappy party! Let me cum and you can stay the night for all I care-“ Her eyes were wide open now, focused enough to take in Natasha’s shit-eating grin before she pounded into her once more, faster and more determined now that she’d won.

The redhead never had trouble in bed, satisfying whoever she fell into bed with effortlessly; she was reluctant to admit it’d grown repetitive. So when she ran into a drunk and mopey Wanda stumbling down the hall of her fraternity a few weeks back and cornered her with intention to mock her nighttime walk of shame, Natasha was morbidly curious to hear her confess how sexually unsatisfied she was with such plain honesty.

She couldn’t have predicted Wanda ever being in her room, much less sprawling on her bed like she belonged there and bemoaning her plight. “Is it so hard to just cum on my face? You’d think they’d be excited, but nooo all I get is ‘are you sure that’s what you want?’ Of course I’m sure!”

Natasha was so rarely speechless, but of all possible statements, she’d never expected that one.

Maybe they wouldn’t have happened if Wanda’s guard wasn’t lowered by alcohol. If Natasha hadn’t been standing at the foot of the bed in gray sweatpants that so poorly hid the strap she’d been packing, matching sports bra showing off her toned stomach while she proudly proclaimed she’d have no issue granting Wanda what she was after. If Wanda hadn’t crawled across the mattress to Nat and kissed the taut skin right below her navel before taking those cotton pants between her teeth and pulling, staring Natasha down with a ferocity she never imagined would make her feel anything but a primal rage-

But that night played out as it did and now they were here, another evening spent indulging each other in acts they couldn’t ask of anyone else.

Wanda didn’t announce how close she was, didn’t give Natasha the satisfaction of knowing just how good of an orgasm she’d given her— the woman above her still knew. She’d heard Wanda cry out for her before and she’d already come this far: Natasha wouldn’t stop until she had Wanda begging. “You’re supposed to say thank you when I’m nice to you.”

“In your dreams, playboy.”

Fighting words were routine, but the glob of spit landing on Natasha’s cheek colored her vision red. For a moment, the tension in the air felt too thick, bedroom eerily quiet as Nat’s grip flexed into the plush thighs spread before her, clenched jaw only accentuating her dangerous glare. Maybe Wanda would be afraid if she hadn’t hit the exact nerve she’d aimed for.

“Brats like you never behave for long, huh?” Dragging Wanda across the floor, Natasha rammed into still recovering sex, cupping the back of her knee and forcing her leg into her chest while the other stayed trapped against the wood. The new angle was deeper than Wanda had ever been treated to and her choked sob alone almost made up for Natasha being spit on.

Almost.

“Always such an insufferable… ungrateful…” She grumbled, losing her train of thought as her focus dropped down, suddenly fixated on the now drenched toy at her hips stretched around Wanda’s tight hole, ever growing mess close to dripping onto her ass.

Wanda wasn’t new to people staring at her, most days it boosted her already impressive confidence levels, but the way Natasha watched, always sizing her up like prey to be hunted and devoured, that was different. When she wasn’t looking at her with apathy it was contempt, anything to remind Wanda she wasn’t infallible as she thought she was, but this —Natasha so obviously getting off to her, so desperately rocking her pelvis against Wanda’s whenever she bottomed out in search of friction— made the brunette feel craved.

“What’s the matter, run out of insults?” Nat hadn’t noticed her mouth hanging open until it felt dry, snapping out of her lustrous thoughts to lick her full lips. Seconds from verbal retort, she decided on a better course, one equally as selfish as Wanda’s earlier orgasm: she could very easily knock the girl down some much needed pegs while making it worth her time.

“Just wondering how a spoiled little cumslut like you thinks it’s in your best interest to mouth off.” Wanda didn’t have time to be taken aback, Natasha’s sudden change of angle driving her round tip into that elusive spot deep inside over and over; she cursed her drunken self babbling to her rival that she was the only person, including herself, to find it.

“Shit, Romanoff, slow down-!” She thought for sure Natasha wouldn’t remember, had her pegged as the type of lover who had to learn everything over each time, but no, Nat was the opposite and now she knew too much.

“Shut your mouth and play with your tits.” The command was blunt, powerful enough in its delivery that Wanda didn’t question, shaky hands sliding under her shirt while she struggled not to finish her second time unexpectedly early.

She was slow in her touches, too slow for Natasha’s energetic pace, and the loose cotton fabric hid the view; two things Nat instantly got tired of. “Get your damn shirt out of the way, and I don’t want any of your silly shy shit- I told you to play with them.”

Wanda would kill Nat if she ever told a soul she whimpered, would deny having clenched around Nat in response to her exerting control… still she wrenched her shirt over her head as quick as she could and her hands flew back to her chest. She forced her eyes to stay open, smugly committing the sight of Natasha panting in time with her thrusts, light green eyes glued to Wanda’s fingers teasing her dusty pink nipples into hardness.

“You’re such a creep, I bet you’ll be jerking off to this for weeks,” she mumbled, pinching the sensitive peaks between her thumb and forefinger, moaning louder than intended as she matched Natasha’s motions.

Nat huffed, couldn’t bother denying that yes, she would definitely be thinking about Wanda spread wide open and touching herself for a long time. Her partner would to, though, mind wandering to Natasha ordering her around next time she found herself alone and needy.

Wanda made the mistake of watching Nat’s tongue swipe over her lips, traitorous brain wondering what the smooth muscle would feel like instead of her chilly fingertips, how warm and wet her mouth would be if she ever dared to suck—

This time when the dam broke, she was too distracted to censor herself, back arching and body trembling uncontrollably. If Nat’s focus had lapsed for just two seconds she would’ve missed Wanda utter her name, soft and breathy, syllables stuttered as if she pronounced it for the first time. “Aww poor princess, was that too much for you?”

“Go fuck yourself…” The words were weak, embarrassingly so, and Natasha didn’t hesitate to laugh at her attempt.

“Already working on it, smartass,” Nat didn’t falter for a second through Wanda’s second high, meeting wave after wave as the girl finally stopped pretending she didn’t want this just as much and raised her hips with each thrust.

The redhead had long since made a mess of her own underwear, sticky wetness coating the base of her strap to aid her now desperate grinding into Wanda, rubbing her neglected sex against the textured silicone. She wouldn’t last much longer, not when Wanda insisted on mewling so maddeningly, freshly manicured nails digging into Natasha’s sides as she fought overstimulation.

“You’re being too rough-!” Wanda couldn’t stand the sound of her own voice knowing once again it was Natasha who’d rendered her so vulnerable, but this was always her favorite part, being used and treated so carelessly; the thing she and Nat never properly talked about, but knew she needed.

“But I’m so close, don’t you want me to stuff your pretty little cunt?” Nat taunted, bending over so she could kiss Wanda’s temple. “I think you’ve almost been a nice enough fuck tonight to earn it.”

“God, just do it!” Nat was humping against her so hard it hurt, but then the dull sting ebbed in place of a new sensation -two deft fingers rolling over her swollen clit- and Wanda could only briefly process she was well and truly done for before her mind melted away.

“So demanding for someone so needy… try asking nicely.” Fortunately for Natasha’s rapidly approaching orgasm, Wanda didn’t have it in her to fight anymore, submitting with a barely audible please. “Please what, you know what I wanna hear.”

Wanda could slap herself for being so weak later, maybe when she took a shower and realized how she actually loved being made to beg so helplessly. “Please Natasha, please please, I want you to cum in me!”

“Good girl, there’s those perfect manners,” Nat came with a series of grunts, jerkily rutting while she filled Wanda like she’d been thinking of doing since she stomped out of her house and tried to break up their party.

She’d been so angry, shouting and pointing her finger in everyone’s faces, treating her and her friends like they were rowdy kids. The others mumbled apologies, deferring to Wanda like the figurehead she decided she was, but Natasha loved a challenge, especially one she’d planned on having after purposefully planting themselves on the sorority lawn. Nat wasn’t scared of Wanda, not before this arrangement and certainly not after; now she knew exactly how to fix any argument that popped up.

When Natasha finally pulled out, there was a dampness to the front of her shirt and jeans and again, she wanted to reach over for her camera. Instead she settled for sliding her hands to where Wanda was red and oh so wet, abused hole fluttering as their combined arousal leaked out. It seemed a shame to let it go to waste on the floor, two fingers collecting what’d escaped and, much to Wanda’s exhausted surprise, pushing it back in.

“I’m too sensitive for that…” Twisting away was futile, Natasha still firmly planted between her thighs. She had half a mind to kick her until she saw Nat’s free hand angling her cock down, painting Wanda’s lower half with thick ropes of cum while her thumb nudged her hardened bud, and dull throbs of new arousal twisted her stomach into cramps. “Stop-!”

The pleasure in it was fleeting, the pain of exhaustion winning out, but it wasn’t until she sobbed pitifully that Natasha finally glanced up at Wanda’s anguished face and backed off. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine…” Wanda refused to entertain the idea that any bit of Nat’s concern was real; if she dwelled long enough, she’d ruin her afterglow with too many conflicting thoughts. It didn’t matter if the redhead actually cared anyways, her touch, now slowly smoothing over Wanda’s sore hips, started to burn as Wanda came back to her senses. “Just get your hands off me, idiot.”

Natasha could’ve pushed and maybe if it was someone she was supposed to care about she would’ve, but her worry swerved towards brushing off Wanda’s rejection, defaulting back to what they did best: hate each other. “A greedy whore and a squirter, probably a crier too if I bed you on the right day… better hope your secrets are safe with me, princess.”

Her heart dropped thinking about her sex life becoming the latest gossip, but she could only feebly push her away, head twisting to the side just so she could look anywhere but Natasha and her insolent self. “Well you’ve got to have some kind of funny story to tell everyone when you go back the party. I know you’re always low on those.”

Eventually she managed sitting up, stretching out her back and arms, inadvertently giving Natasha one last unobstructed view of her before retrieving her discarded t-shirt and putting it back in place. “Or you could crack open another beer and share how you drool like a baby every time you see my tits, that’s a conversation starter for sure.”

Needing a soft surface for her now aching body, Wanda clumsily climbed into bed, unceremoniously using Nat’s shoulder to lean on as she maneuvered. True, Natasha tended to kiss and tell, but something about doing the same to Wanda felt wrong, at least to be as detailed as she typically was. Maybe it was just the pride she got from being the only person Wanda’s actually fucking; she wanted to keep that for herself.

“Could always come back downstairs with me and we’ll tell them together.” Natasha didn’t need much clean up, zipping her jeans back and standing awkwardly next to Wanda’s now prone form. Neither of them knew how to handle the ‘after’ yet, Nat’s tendency to check in on even her most casual of partners always ignored by Wanda who knew she’d undoubtedly needed that care but couldn’t stomach the possibility of being one in a string of partners.

So they avoided it as much as possible. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d ever be seen anywhere with you, playboy.”

Wanda felt a different kind of yearning just then, one that dared her to give Nat the option to stay and her cheeks flushed all over again. Her solution was rolling over until her back was to Natasha, steeled herself to stay that way until she was left alone.

Nat sighed, long and audibly irritated, pondering the pros and cons of offering to do something together up here, a calm, private thing where she could sate that instinct to watch over Wanda without explicitly doing just that… but it’d require admitting she wouldn’t mind hanging out with Wanda and she did not want that.

“Sorry, I should’ve said if you wanted to take a night off of being an impossible bitch, you can actually try to enjoy yourself.”

The door closed behind her and Wanda could breathe again, flopping onto her back and staring at the ceiling. She felt empty and not only between her legs; unfortunately for Wanda, Natasha was no longer around to take her frustrations out on. “Stupid asshole..”

Eventually her night ended dangerously close to feigning some illness to lure Natasha’s attention back when she fell asleep and Nat’s, uncharacteristically leaving her party alone with the excuse of having forgotten her phone on the Wanda’s nightstand. She certainly didn’t use the opportunity to see Wanda again, surveying her sleep before pulling a blanket over the brunette’s shivering form.

#wandanat #wandanat fic #wandanat smut #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat au #seven things au #wanda maximoff fic #natasha romanoff fic #motts writes.#maximotts

299 notes · View notes

roseodelle · 6 months ago

Text

Arcane Pt2 - Eris Vanserra x Unnamed OC

Eris’s best kept secret is infiltrated.

No use of y/n

WC: 1326

Warnings: Angst, Violence

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

The forest is charred. Their wards are broken, and the glamours have fallen. The cottage is in shambles. Once a beautiful home for them both, smoke now drifts upward from the rubble. Trampled are the flowers and vegetable garden she’d tended to dearly for so many years. The smell makes him sick to his stomach, and he falls to his knees. There’s nothing left.

His chest heaves, his hands gripping and pulling at his short red hair. Tears begin to fall from his face as reality sets in and the sobs begin. It’d happened so quickly. In his quarters of the Forest House one moment, standing above his beheaded brothers the next. Beron will be after him; he knows. He’ll send the hounds and guards before he himself comes to smite him down. He has minutes, if that. He’d killed his brothers. He’d have killed his father, too, if he didn’t know better. But while Eris was strong, Beron was stronger.

Her body... her body lay ahead of him in the destruction of their home. What will Beron do to her, even in death, he wonders? He won’t find out. He will not let Beron desecrate her further. She deserves dignity in her death, and he will give it to her. His love. His grace. His empathy and compassion. His brilliance. His mate. He failed her. How didn’t he know? Why didn’t he feel the intrusion on the ward? Why didn’t he feel her through the bond? Why didn’t she call for him? Why leave her side of the bond closed to him, even near death? Why shield him from his failure, from her pain and fear?

Rising from the scorched earth, he takes an unsteady step forward. His right foot lands on a shard of stained glass that once belonged to the beautiful front door. She’d been so proud to have found it. A great discovery: a decrepit old wooden door with a stained glass window. His chest tightens again. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t here. With uneven steps, he walks through the rubble. The sitting room was once such a beautiful space. They’d spent so many hours and so many years together in that room. Once lively shades of green and orange are now a burnt charcoal gray. The kitchen was the same. Only the innermost walls of the home still stand as he makes his way down the hall.

He needs to find her. He dreads finding her. He tries again to tug on that string, that bright orange thread, tying them together. Nothing. He feels nothing. Minutes, he reminds himself. He has minutes until the sentries come. Before Beron comes with vengeance.

Their bedroom lay just a few steps ahead. The door was broken, leaning sideways on it’s hinges. The smell is stronger here. Putrid death mixes with the remaining scent of his life. Only faint hints of jasmine and sage rise above the remnants of an angry, relentless flame. The scent of his brother was a bitter aftertaste. He marches on.

Their bed was left unmade. The lxurious golden sham is now a horrid black. Down pillows burned to a crisp. Intricate woodwork smolders, and her scent is stronger here, but he still can’t see her. He passes their bed and her vanity. Flower pots and dirt litter the floor, and the burgundy rug he found on a trip to Adriatta is torn into shreds. She’d put up a fight. Good girl. His chest heaves, vomit rises in his throat, and he shakes his head, steadying himself again. He needs to get her out and take her somewhere Beron cannot find her. Where he cannot do her more harm. Where she can rest.

He finds her in the closet. She’s curled inward on herself, her beautiful dress bloody and torn. Her back is still, and the familiar rise and fall of her breath are nonexistent. She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone. He’s shaking again, tears burning his cheeks. Unsteady hands reach toward her burned body. The skin of her back was blistered and damaged beyond repair. There’s so much blood. From her face to her chest, her arms, and her legs. She’s covered in cuts and burns. His sobs become stronger and louder as he reaches for her. She’s not breathing.

“My love.” He brokenly whispers, begs, and pleads with her as he pulls her destroyed body into his arms. He turns her face toward him. Unmarred by the fire of his brother. Her eyes remain closed, the stillness of her chest breaking his soul into pieces. He rests his cheek on hers, his tears making their home on her skin.

“My love, please. Please wake up.” He chokes back a sob, running his hand along her arm and along her spine in an effort to wake her, but he knows. He knows she’s gone.

“Please. Come back to me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He’ll die here, he decides. How could he take his place as High Lord without her by his side? Let Beron strike him down. Let his father's fire end his life as he holds his mate in his arms. He’d die with her. He leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to her cold lips, and he closes his eyes. Let him die here.

Two hundred years. Two hundred years of safety. Serenity. Peace. Over. All over. His heavy sobs shake his shoulders and shake the still body in his arms, and as he holds her tighter, he still runs his hands over her arm and back. His hand finally rests on her wrist, checking for a pulse he knows he won’t find.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.” He repeats until the words run together in an incomprehensible mumble, his fingers digging too tightly into her wrist, hoping to feel something he knows he will not. He wasn’t here. He didn’t protect her. For two hundred years, he’d kept her safe. It wasn’t enough. He had failed her.

His breath stalls in his throat, eyes widening in shock. Denial floods through him as he tugs again at the bond that remains silent, but he felt it. It was so faint, so faint, but it was there. Her pulse.

“My love, my love, please.” He straightens, pulling her tighter to his chest and forcing her face toward his once again. Her beautiful eyes remain closed, but he feels it again. It's so faint, but it’s there. She lives.

His demeanor shifts, his mask falling into place as he assesses the situation anew. She’s mortally wounded. She will not live, not unless she receives help he cannot give her. Cannot provide for her. Not with Beron’s sentries so close behind him. Minutes, he reminds himself. He has but a few minutes with her before they come for him. Before Beron comes from her. Seconds, he amends, another faint pulse coming through much later than the last.

He’s on the border of three courts. He has two options. He can beg for sanctuary in the Summer court. Tarquin is known to be just and kind. But Beron will follow. Beron will follow him across Prythian. Tarquin would not be able to provide the safety or care she requires. Nor Kalias in the Winter Court, who would likely attempt to freeze Eris on sight.

There is only one true option, he realizes. The Night Court sees Eris as the ruthless, conniving killer he made sure he was known as, but his mate was not like him. Not like the mask he wore. The mask he perfected over two hundred years to protect her. Tensions between Eris and the court were harsh on both sides, but it may be the only place Beron will not follow.

It’s the only option, he knows. And as another weak pulse graces his fingertips and the rustle of leaves alerts him to the first sentry sent for him, he knows what he must do.

#eris acotar #eris masterlist #eris fanfic #eris vanserra #eris x reader #acotar fandom #acotar series #acotar #fanfic #series #my fic #eris fic rec #fic rec #eris angst #angst #sad eris

117 notes · View notes

alexa-fika · 9 months ago

Note

Could it be possible to request doflamingo reaction to him finding out through his spies or Ceasar that he has a daughter ? I think it's a 50/50 with him like I can totally see him going out to bring her to him. The 50/50 comes to the way he'd treat her. She is a Donquixote after all. Idk with how things ended with Cora if he would be gentle with her. Or just end up trying to using her in some scheme? If you don't have any ideas for how the story should go? Maybe Law and the strawhats learn about her? Maybe she's scared of the family and outsiders and they try and help her?

Broken Bonds (Doflamingo x f!teen!reader)

A/N so I got these request, and I kinda merged them together to make this piece, Doflamingo is problabky Ooc here simply because that ass wouldn’t be soft but we have the power to change that ✊🏽Maybe a cook?? Maybe, maybe a sizzle.

Reader here is replaced by the placeholder, Dokusha which means reader in japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Let go of me, idiot,” she growled, sending a swift kick to the guard that was currently holding her down

Dokucha had chosen to take on a mission on Dressrosa despite Sabo’s and Koala’s concerns. In the end, they understood that this was something she needed to do. And so she set off to begin gathering information on the Kingdom. However, the mission quickly turned wrong as she was caught trying to sneak into the castle. Now, she found herself being brought to the very man she was supposed to collect information on

Doflamingo sighs, swiftly wrapping strings around the teen to prevent her from further attacking his guards

“Leave,” he ordered, glaring at the guards, who nodded and made a quick exit from the throne room

She refused to look at him, instead focusing her attention on the strings wrapped around her limbs, glaring at them and tentatively pulling at them

“You’ve grown.”

“I'm surprised you recognize me,” she quips back, giving up on messing with the strings and turning to glare at him

“Of course, I still remember the little girl who was stolen from me.” Doflamingo’s lips slightly curved upwards

“I would hardly call it stolen; Uncle Corazon saved me that day, saved me from you.”

“From me?” He said in a soft tone and smirked

“I’ve never harmed you.”

“Who knows what would have happened if I stayed? Maybe I would have become another puppet of yours, or maybe you would have killed me like you did Uncle Cora.”

“I wouldn’t have harmed you; after all, you were still my kin.”

“He was also your kin, your own brother!” she growls at him, a frown growing on her face

“He was a weak-willed, useless fool,” Doflamingo said, showing no hesitation in belittling his dead brother

“Besides, he was the one who went against me; all I did was take care of my problem.”

“Shut up, you don’t get to slander his name!”

“you never met him; you were a baby, so how would you know anything about him?”

“Law told me about him; he never forgot about him, and he told me all about him and you.”

Doflamingo frowned,

“So that boy brainwashed you, didn’t he?”

“You were the one who brainwashed him, and it would have worked if Corazon had not saved him back then.”

“Law was weak, and he paid for it,” Doflamingo said carelessly before standing up and walking toward her

“Law is not weak; he is one of the strongest men I know, something you will never be; he raised me; I got to be a strong independent woman; I got to join the Revolutionary Army to take down assholes like you.”

“You’re still a child who has no understanding of how the world around you works,” he said, getting closer to her

“And you’re still a tyrant who thinks the world revolves around you.”

“Do you really think you’re free? The only reason you aren’t in my dungeons is because you are my daughter, the one that was taken away from me.”

“Oh, how kind of you,” she sneers, sarcasm dripping from her words

“Come back home; there is a throne waiting for you,” he said, placing his hand on her cheek, cradling her face

“What? What are you on about?”

“You would be the princess of the Dressrosa kingdom; what’s so bad about coming back?”

“Like I would come home to a murderer like you,” she said, pulling her head away

“But I’ve never hurt you; I’ve never laid a finger on you,” he said, his voice soft and sincere

“You killed him,” she cried

“You expect me to come home after what you did to him? After what you did to Law?”

“That was a punishment, one he got for betraying me; he knew the consequences of his actions,” Doflamingo said, ignoring her mention of Corazon

“How could you say something like that?”

“Because it’s the truth,” he said, “he knew what would happen if he betrayed me.”

“I loved him, but all he did was betray me, and he got what he deserved.”

“He didn’t deserve to die! You made his life hell from the moment he was small, so how could he not try to bring you down?!”

Doflamingo chuckled,

“I just did what I had to do; I never mistreated him; in fact, he was the closest person to me until he turned on me.”

“Are you going to say the same about Law?”

“Yes,” he said, his tone remained the same and calm

She shakes her head, tears sprouting in her eyes. How could someone think that way of their own family, of a child? As she grew older, Law began to disclose more and more of what had occurred between the three of them, and every time, she grew more saddened as to the harsh life both Law and Corazon had to endure due to Doflamingo

“They were right,” she cries

“I was hoping, wishing that maybe, just maybe, you had changed, but you are just as they described a monster.”

Doflamingo stayed silent, his face a blank canvas with no expression to decipher

His hand returned to her cheek as he listened to her, beginning to move his thumb across it, caressing it and wiping her tears off her face

He sighs, removing the strings keeping her in place

“Come home,” he said, his voice softened, looking at her with soft eyes

She shakes her head, pulling his hand away from her

“This is not home.”

He sighs again, allowing her to step back from him

“It seems no matter what I say, you will not listen to me, not in this state. Go to your room, rest, and we will discuss this tomorrow.”

“My room?” She seethes

“There is no room for me here; I do not live here, nor will I; if you think I'm just going to stay and play at home with you are wrong.”

He lets out a hum at that, a smirk growing on his face

“Perhaps not, but at the end of the day, you are still a prisoner here, so you don’t get a say on what I tell you to do.”

She opens her mouth to protest once again, but is stopped as one of the maids of the castle gently takes her hand.

“Bring her to her room for the night; I’ll send for her tomorrow,” Doflamingo commanded the maid

Despite how disgusted she felt at having to sleep under the man's roof, to accept anything he was giving her, she would need the strength if she wanted to fight down. As she was, she was simply no match for him, so she really didn’t have any other options

She glares at him, allowing the maid to pull her away

“This is not over.”

He chuckled at that, his smile a sharp one compared to the softness he had presented earlier

“I never said it was,” he said before waving her farewell as she was removed from the throne room

Okay let’s ignore the fact that Koala and Sabo, nor anyone in the revolutionary army would ever let a teen just wander off in a mission to spy such a dangerous person alone, and let’s also ignore the fact also wouldn’t just let a teen leave alone to join the revolutionaries until they were grown up 👍🏼 Gotta make the story happen ya’ll

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece x child!reader #one piece donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo x y/n #doflamingo x you #doflamingo x reader #one piece doflamingo #doflamingo #op doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #donquixote doflamingo

145 notes · View notes

simp2537 · 5 months ago

Text

Project SS

a/n: This is my first 100 series and I’ve had it in mind for a while. I haven’t read the books and there gonna be a few canon divergences. But I hope y’all enjoy.

Word Count : 1.7k

Series Trigger Warnings: Mentioned S/A on another character, depression, self-harm, anxiety, experimentation on children, abusing relationships, murder, blood, gore, unwilling amputations?

Chapter One

It was cold.

Too cold, my cell was at the furthest ends of the ark. Complete solitary confinement was where I’d been forced to stay. As I laid on the cold ground of the cell I stared up at the ceiling.

The once dull piece of shrapnel had been sharpened. I’d long since carved out the constellations onto the roof. I gently traced the small scars left in my left arm and wrist, the blade I’d made still hadn’t been taken from me.

Maybe that dickhead of a Chancellor wanted me to slit my wrist. Let Kane find me bathing in pools of my own blood, it would free him of his mistakes. As I twirls the blade in my hands it nicked at the skin of my hands.

It didn’t hurt anymore, nothing really did.

Soft vibrations echoed down my hall as I sat up. I shoved the knife into my boot and pull down my sleeve. As I rolled my shoulders back the door slammed open. The outside worlds was filled with screams of the other teen prisoners.

His footsteps entered slowly as he knelt in front of me. I kept my eyes closed as I listened to the clocking of the guards guns and all the chains they brought in.

“Hey firecracker,” Kane paused as he knelt in front of me. I sighed softly as I held my arms up, ready to be covered in chains. After a few moments he grabs my arms and looks at my wrist.

I would imagine this hurt him, honestly I wasn’t sure. He was my father but I’d never felt connected to him. Maybe it was because I was raised in the lab and closed off sector. Maybe it was because Alice had sold me away. Maybe because I knew he couldn’t love me.

He pressed his forehead to my wrists, I could feel a tear of two slip from his eyes. Pity must have covered my face as the guards slowly began to covered me in chains.

After I was practically dress in silver he motioned for them to pause before placing the mask over my face. He pulled me in close, his arms around me. I froze, my muscles tensed up. He placed a kiss to my temple as he gave me a final squeeze.

“I love you.”

I was hauled to my feet before I could speak and a muzzle was placed on my mouth. I tried to pull away, fight them off but these guards held my chains firmly. They were weighting me down but I was stronger than this.

I should be able to break each and every chain but…. I’m tired. So tired. I look back at him, my eyes pleading for him to understand. He’s familiar to me at least, I know when he’s mad or happy. I know his ticks and quirks by heart.

“I love you too dad.”

I’m pulled further and further away from him. I’m pained into a shuttle with all the other 100, their eyes all fall upon me as I’m chains to my seat. I internally grown as they pull the needle filled with a sleep drug.

I glare up at the guard about to inject me. Does he even know where my vein in, his hands are quivering. I rolled my eyes as the shuttle moves slightly and the guard practically runs away.

I huff softly as I lean back against the seat. I can hear everyone else being to whisper. My god I’m tired of this shit.

“Isn’t that the girl who killed twenty guards by herself?”

“I heard she has a metal leg.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as they carried in the very much unconscious Clarke. I chuckled softly as Wells turned to his ex best friend.

As the shuttle began to drop down shaking Clarke awoke and began to yell at Wells. I quickly began to rip her chains off. Each hitting the ground with a thud.

As the Chancellor’s video came on I ignored it happily. His words meant nothing to me now. He’d failed in every way to me, he was no Chancellor. He was a coward.

“Y/n? Is that you?” Clarke’z confused voice cause the e/c eyes girl to pause. Slowly I moved her gaze to the blonde.

“Who else would they cover in chains?” Clarke didn’t answer as with shoulder length broth hair began to float around.

“Stay in your seats!” Clarke yelled as the shuttle when further down. I had finally ripped all the chains off her body. I looked at Clarke and she was motioning towards the floating boy in front of her.

I shock my head content to remain in the safety of my own chair. She glared at me giving me a look I knew nothing good would come of.

With a puff of air I undid the buckle and pulled the glove off my right hand. My arm shot up grasping the back of him. The metal of my arm shined softly in the dimly lit shuttle.

“She said stay in your seats.” I growled softly as I pulled him down. The shuttle jerked up and grasped into a bar as we began to fall.

I held tightly onto him as I heard Clarke yell, “Finn! Y/n are you okay!”

I groaned as we began to fall helplessly towards the ground. As everyone begins to yell and scream I just focus on holding onto this stupid boy.

The shuttle jerks again and I’m thrown into a wall hitting a few pipes. My vision becomes hazy as I feel blood drip down the side of my face. The corners of my eyes slowly fade into black as my vision is completely blurred.

……….

I feel a pair of small hands shaking my body roughly. I shot up pushing the person away as my vision returns.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” I looked at Clarke her eyes full of relief. She ran to me, bombarding me in a tight hug.

“I was worried.” I let her pull away my arms still at my sides. I hummed softly as I pulled myself away from her. The commotion bellow is caught her attention as she pulled me down. As she climbed down as just jumped.

I parted the crowds for her as she walked behind me. I helped push her forward with my metal arm. The others around me pull away in fear.

They thought a metal leg was cool why isn’t my arm cool.

“The air could be toxic!” Clarke urged.

“If the air is toxic, we’re all dead anyway.” The older boy at the front voiced. I stared at him tilting my head slightly. He stared back at me then lowered his gaze to my arm.

“Bellamy?” The crowds parted as a brunette girl climbed down and looked at him.

He turned his gaze to her his eyes becoming full of emotions. He stared down at her smiling softly.

“My god, look how big you are.” The girl engulfed him into a hug as she breathed in deeply. I sighed softly and moved over to the panel. It was jammed and wouldn’t open the doors anymore.

“What the hell are you wearing, a guards uniform?”

“I borrowed it to get in the drop ship. Someone’s got to keep an eyes on you.” He answered.

“Where’s your wrist band?” I heard Clarke ask as I began to try and fix the stupid panel.

“Do you mind? I haven’t seen my brother in a year.” I froze at this and turned to the pair.

“No one had a brother.”

“That’s Octavia Blake, the girl they found hidden in the floor.”

Octavia jerked forward going to attack whoever had spoken. Bellamy quickly gasped into her holding tightly to her.

“Octavia, Octavia no. Let’s give them something else to remember you by.” He tried to calm her. The fire was not lost in her eyes as she pulled herself from his grip.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years.” He answered with a smile. I watched Octavia’s face brighten at the notion. I watched as Clarke’s eyes fell as he moved over to me.

“It won’t open.” His eyes darted to me.

“What do you mean it won’t open?”

“The panels fucked.” He moved me out of the way to try the panel himself.

“You’d need a shit ton of force to open those doors up.” I pause for a moment. “Lucky for you, I hate confined spaces.”

He stared at me, his dark eyes holding mine. I glared up at him as his lips curled into a smirk. I moved away from him approaching the door. I rolled my shoulder, my arm flexing against each metal part.

I slammed my fist forwards, the cool metal of my hand hitting the hot door. It flung towards the ground as people backed away gasping.

Light hit our faces as a breeze pushed against us. I averted my eyes, the light all too bright. I moved out of Octavia’s way with a nod.

“All yours sunshine.” I mumble as she stared at me. I watched as her brother’s eyes trailed me and try then her. She took in a long breath before exhaling deeply. Her feet slowly moved forward against the metal door on the ground.

After a moment she jumped down, her boots hitting the firm soil. She took a few more steps as I stared out at the trees. They were lush and green all over. They were nothing like I’d ever seen before.

My eyes drifted till I found Bellamy’s eyes on me. I blinked a few times unsure as to why he was staring at me. In his eyes they held a looked I’d never been given.

“WE’RE BACK BITCHES!” Octavia yelled as the others cheered. Bellamy’s eyes left me and retired to his sister as he laughed.

All around me the others pushed forwards onto the ground in front of us. I simple stared at them all as they left cheering. After a moment when all were gone I followed.

I left’s my boots hit the ground. I dug them into the soil as I bent down. My fingers traced the top of the grass around us. It pounced my fingertips gently. I let out a breathless chuckle as I grabbed a handful of dirt.

It crumbled in between the cracks of my hand. I brought it to my nose, breathing in the earth scent deeply. I let out a long breath as I stare out.

Humans were finally back home.

#bellamy blake x female reader #bellamy blake x reader #the 100 x reader #octavia blake x reader #clarke griffin x reader #oc x reader #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake imagine #Project SS

58 notes · View notes

moonrisecoeur · 9 months ago

Text

refuge — ada wong

author’s note: hi, hello, this is a piece i was really considering not posting. i know how resi tumblr feels about dark content and i didn’t want to subject myself to harassing anons or people commenting how gross and disgusting i am for enjoying writing and consuming content like this, but after some reassurance from a couple mutuals of mine, i decided to go ahead and post it. please read the longer author’s note at the end of this post if you’d like to hear more of my thoughts. also feel free to ignore it if u don’t care lol!!

tagging @xoxostarlet bc star's my hypegirl :3

wc: 5.5k

content: fem reader, dom reader, noncon, fingering, strap in v sex, possessive language, lots of pet names for ada (sweetheart, pretty girl, sweet girl, baby, etc), ada calls reader a bitch a couple times, ada and reader are partners during re4.

warning: this is heavy dark content. this piece contains noncon, the r-word, somnophilia, and mentions of weapons (not in a sexual context). there is no implication that this is cnc or consensual in any way, please read with caution! if you don’t like it, just don’t read it!

no adas were harmed in the making of this fanfic and this is just fiction.

—

notes:

as you continue to pleasure her without her knowledge or consent, ada's mind begins to slip further into a haze of ecstasy and submission. she is completely at your mercy, completely helpless and unable to resist or protest against your actions.

you press your thumb to her clit, “shhh, sweet girl,” you whisper, knowing she’s still asleep, “i own this pussy now…”

—

final warning: this is rape, in which reader forces herself on ada while she sleeps. please heed the warning. i don’t know any other way to make this clearer other than...

DON’T READ THIS IF YOU DON’T LIKE DARK CONTENT!

—

“stay here, i’ll find us a way in,” ada says, and you’d be remiss not to believe her. if she says she can do something, then she can do it. don’t ever doubt her.

she uses her grapple gun to get to the roof of the abandoned home, slingshotting herself into the air. she lands gracefully, of course, and finds an opening that leads her into the top floor bedroom. it’s got some decorations befitting for a young girl. it almost pulls at ada’s heart strings, but… she tries not to pay much mind to it all. it’s hard to not feel sympathetic to the people in this village, honestly.

she walks down the stairs and unlocks the door to find you, standing there obediently as ever, “fancy seeing you here,” you mumble to her, and she rolls her eyes like you’re the biggest annoyance to her.

“we’ll stay here for the night until wesker can send a helicopter to get us out of here. the weather is too bad for a pilot to fly through right now,” she says, heels clacking against the floor as she makes her was to the master bedroom, gun in hand in case there were people she didn’t notice on her first check of the building.

you follow behind her, shutting the front door and entering the bedroom on the ground floor. it’s nothing crazy fancy, but it’s nice and the bed is big and comfy looking.

“because of the gaping hole in the roof, i wouldn’t recommend sleeping in the upstairs bedroom,” ada chuckles, but she almost seems shy. it’s odd for her, “and the living room couch looked too small for either of us when i checked so..”

“well.. we’re both girls, you know? i’ve had sleepovers before,” you tell her, and she scoffs looking away and looting drawers for anything she can find, “we’ll.. be stuck here all night. might as well get comfortable.”

“by all means, make yourself vulnerable to an attack. i couldn’t care less,” her voice is sharp but there’s a warning deep down that’s a little more palatable. ‘don’t let your guard down just yet’ is basically what she’s saying.

you don’t heed the warning, though, shrugging off your gear and your jacket as you sit down on the bed. a couple minutes later, ada sits down next to you. you look up at her, and she seems off. maybe she’s not used to people blatantly trusting her like you do, but you’re her ally. you have shared interests and she has no ulterior motive.

should she be wary of you? maybe? she’s not very sure, but she does like the way your eyes wander even though you try to be polite and not look at her in that kind of way. you’re respectful, and she admires that. even if she did want to watch you suffocate between her thighs.

so she takes off her gear and boots too, leaving her just a pretty girl in a red dress and stockings. she seems.. softer, without all of her weapons and tactical pieces. and something about that softness drives you wild, leaves you aching for more, craving for more.

ada doesn’t notice despite how observant she usually is.

“i think.. i’d like to go to sleep, honestly.” she hums, running her fingers through her black hair, “we should both get some rest. don’t want to have you shooting yourself in the foot tomorrow,” she chuckles to herself before getting up to stretch and laying down on the bed as you still sit on the other side.

“sweet dreams,” your words are sarcastic but sweet, and ada doesn’t miss the double meaning.

“thanks,” ada is almost… quiet, in a way you've never seen her before. she's sitting next to you, not even hiding the fact that she trusts you. something you've never seen her do before, at least not this quickly. it's almost off-putting, honestly.

as she gets up to stretch, you notice the way she moves. the way her dress shifts and rises as she walks, the little shift of her breasts as she stretches, and the way she looks at you. even something as simple as a stretch is... entrancing. ada is gorgeous, you know this, she knows this.

but there’s something about this kind of moment, where she’s not even trying to get your attention or trying to pull you in. she just exists in a graceful, elegant way.

your eyes wander over to her again as she lays on the bed, turning onto her side, facing you.

she's laying on her side, facing you and your eyes can't help but fall on her curves. you watch the way her body shifts slightly as she readjusts, the subtle movement of her chest as she settles. it's both enticing and frustrating because there’s nothing you can do with all of these feelings of attraction to her. a part of you wants to do something, to make yourself known to her, but you know that it's too soon. you have to move slowly with ada, but moving slowly is growing tiring.

"let me look for a blanket for you," you say as you look around, "don't try to tell me you don't need it. it's cold out."

"i don't need it, really." ada says with a soft chuckle, shifting her position slightly, “don’t waste your time."

she's being stubborn about something as simple as a blanket, but that's just her personality. ada is stubborn to the core, and even the slightest amount of advice sets her off. that's just how she is, and you've gotten used to it.

ada isn’t used to people trying to take care of her.

"ada," your eyes come back to ada, glancing at her almost patronizingly

ada rolls her eyes at your gaze, shifting her attention away from you and back to the ceiling. she seems... irritated? not at you necessarily, but at the fact you aren't listening to her.

"i'm fine, i promise." the tone of her voice sounds just a slight bit annoyed as well, as if this conversation was really tiring for her. she keeps moving her eyes away from you, unwilling to make eye contact.

you're a little confused. is she really fine? or is she just being stubborn?

"you're cold, ada. i can see that."

ada keeps staring up at the ceiling, but eventually she looks over at you with a soft sigh.

"i'm... fine." she says again, her tone softening just a bit once she realizes there's really no point in fighting about this.

you find one in the cabinet in the hallway and come back to the bedroom where she's at, "here," you say, laying it over her.

ada's eyes shift to you for a brief moment as you place the blanket on her, but she soon turns her head away. her body shifts slightly, and she wraps her arms around the blanket in a gentle grip. she isn't saying anything about it, but you can see that she's relaxed a bit, no longer shivering in her dress.

her eyes are soft, almost... grateful.

"you should stop trying to fight me when i try to help you," you smile as you gaze down at her.

"i'm not... fighting you." ada responds softly, still not facing you. instead, she keeps her arms wrapped around the blanket, refusing to give in to the fact that you're right.

in a way, it's adorable seeing her so stubborn about something like this.

"mhm, whatever. just go to sleep," you say, walking over to the desk in the corner.

she shifts her body once again, now facing away from you entirely as she cuddles in the blanket, secretly grateful for your tender care. you can see her closing her eyes softly as she tries to fall asleep, her breath slowing down as she tries to relax.

she really isn't fighting you anymore, she's letting you get your way. not only that, but she's accepting your help rather than pushing you away.

it's almost like she trusts you.

you pass the time before you go to sleep however you like, communicating with wesker or reading a book, but in any case about 30 minutes later, ada is out like a light, and you’re looking around this master bedroom curiously, and find a drawer that ada evidently did not get in to, because if she did, you would know. it has a single black strap-on dildo inside of it. it doesn’t look like anyone.. ever had the chance to use it. you wonder why, maybe it’s because of the parasite everyone in this village has. don’t really have time for kinky sex, do they?

you look over at ada’s sleeping form, and she would be the perfect target, wouldn’t she? all vulnerable. it’s not like she could stop you before it’s too late.

you do the courteous thing and clean it first, but then you put it on, confidently striding over to the bed with it attached. you walk up to ada’s side of the bed, just watching her rest for a moment.

god there is so much power coursing through your body, making you feel alive and in control and you could do anything to her and she couldn’t stop you. the power starts to go to your head, naturally. you brush a piece of hair out of her face, pulling her blanket down slightly to see her chest, and then pulling it enough to see how her dress rides up at the hips, and you can see the edges of black lacy underwear.

ada's breath quickens as she sleeps, she remains on her side, her body completely exposed and vulnerable, completely at your mercy.

she's so oddly... innocent.

she normally has this dark energy, this control and power over people and yet… she looks delicate. soft. she’s not a haunting crow signaling a bad omen, but a graceful white dove that brings out a side of you that doesn’t come out often. and, despite her beauty before, now she looks absolutely stunning.

the wolf has become your prey, and you're nothing but a fox ready to pounce...

your hands shift her blanket slightly to reveal her soft skin, and her curves. you make sure she won't wake up, before teasing her with your touch, your fingers flitting over her skin... the way she shifts in her sleep is a treat for you.

as you watch her, ada seems to radiate a sense of calm and serenity, completely unaware of the effect she has on others while she sleeps. you can't help but feel drawn to her, wanting to touch her or kiss her or simply do awful things to her.

you use your hand to spread her legs, and ever so gently, rub your fingers against her puffy little pussy through her panties. ada remains completely oblivious to your actions, her body responding instinctively to the gentle caress against her folds. her hips begin to rock slightly as you tease her pussy with your finger, causing a low moan to escape her lips without her conscious knowledge. as she continues to slumber peacefully, ada's panties become damp, the wetness getting on your hand.

as you continue to tease ada, her body becomes increasingly responsive. her hips begin to move more erratically, betraying her deepening arousal even though she remains entirely unaware of it. despite the fact that she is fast asleep, her mind is fully engaged in the sensations coursing through her body.

you gently, as to not wake her, pull her panties off of her and place them in your pocket, you know, just to have for later. you continue to rub her pussy lips while she remains completely unconscious. she stirs in her sleep every now and again, but.. maybe shes just chalking up the sensations to being from a wet dream. maybe all of this touch is morphing her dreams in sexual ones.

you briefly imagine that maybe, just maybe, ada dreaming of you.

she’s so unaware and it’s adorable.

ada's body responds eagerly to your sexual exploration, her pussy becoming even wetter and more receptive as you continue to stimulate her while she remains completely unaware of what's happening. her hips begin to shift restlessly, and her breathing grows shallow as she approaches climax without realizing it.

she moans softly, her voice barely audible but conveying a sense of intense pleasure and surrender. as you continue to pleasure her without her knowledge or consent, ada's mind begins to slip further into a haze of ecstasy and submission. she is completely at your mercy, completely helpless and unable to resist or protest against your actions.

you press your thumb to her clit, “shhh, sweet girl,” you whisper, knowing talking is a bad idea but you just can’t help yourself, “i own this pussy now…”

ada's body trembles in response to your words and actions, her pussy pulsing with growing intensity as you press your thumb against her swollen clit. her hips rock involuntarily, driven by the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. as you assert dominance over ada's body while she’s helpless, her mind becomes even more clouded with pleasure and desire. she is completely at your mercy, completely powerless to resist or protest against your actions.

she gasps, her voice barely audible but conveying a sense of complete submission and surrender.

“aw, pretty girl,” you whisper condescendingly.

ada's body continues to respond to your ministrations, her pussy throbbing with building pleasure and excitement as she remains completely unconscious. her hips roll restlessly, and her breathing becomes more ragged as she approaches climax without realizing it.

as you assert your ownership over ada's cunt while she barely tip toes the line of consciousness, she is completely at your mercy, completely unable to resist or protest against your actions.

“cum,” you growl your command into her ear.

ada's body shudders with pleasure as she climaxes, her pussy spasming. the release causes her hips to buck wildly, and she lets out a soft, involuntary moan as she succumbs to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.

she whimpers weakly, her voice barely audible. as ada cums, the sight of her glistening pussy and the scent of her arousal fill the air, leaving no doubt about the intensity of her pleasure. her body trembles and shivers and shudders in your grasp. even after ada orgasms in her sleep, her pussy is still so, so wet. how could you stop now? the wetness covers your fingers and drips onto the sheets, and it seems impossible to pull your hand away.

you know she’ll hate you forever now that she’s waking up and about to realize what you’ve done. there’s still time to pull away, put her panties back on her and make her think she just had a wet dream, hide the strap-on away, but… you already have it on, and ada just looks so pretty, so vulnerable just lying there, helpless…

she lays there, oblivious to your actions, her body still trembling slightly from the aftermath of her orgasm. the scent of her arousal fills the room, mixing with the musky scent of her sweat-drenched skin to create an intoxicating aroma that tempts you to indulge in even more depraved acts of pleasure.

you decide that there’s no better time than now to get her back for all her taunting and teasing and condescending comments, “c’mon, sweetheart. let’s get my cock inside of you so you can sleep well..”sure, it may not be your cock, but right now, its just something nice and big and thick to fill her pussy with.

you pull her on top of you, guiding your strap inside of her gummy pussy, still feeling the aftershocks of her previous orgasm. you hold her close, her head resting on your chest as you fill her cunt with your strap.

feeling the foreign object enter her tight, wet pussy, ada's body tenses up slightly, but she remains blissfully unaware of what's happening. her pussy walls clench and relax around it, coating it in her juices. you hold ada close to you, embracing her warm, curvy body as she lies atop yours. her weight feels comforting and intimate, adding a new layer of sensuality to your perverse act of sexual violation. this is such an awful thing to do to someone, force yourself on them while they’re asleep and helpless, but… you don’t care, clearly. and ada is too irresistible.

ada's pussy happily accepts your strap-on, willingly accommodating its presence within her sensitive walls. her body seems to instinctively know that it's a pleasurable thing to have something large and phallic deep inside of her while she sleeps, maybe the girl is a bigger slut than you thought she’d be. her pussy walls grip onto your fake cock tightly, coating it in slippery juices as they slide against each other with every subtle movement.

her body relaxes, enjoying the fullness. her hips shift slightly, still in her half-asleep daze, for friction and pleasure. looks like the pretty little thing is already needy again.

you just hold her close, whisper sweet romantic nothings to her sleeping body, and keep her pussy full for now, "oh, princess.. don't worry about a thing, i'll... i'll take care of everything now."

as you speak to ada in a soothing, romantic tone while penetrating her desperate and willing body with a strap-on, the contrast between your gentle words and your gross actions creates an intricate web of psychological manipulation. while technically assaulting her while she lies unconscious, the combination of your sweet touch and loving words creates an illusion of safety and protection. she feels small, loved, overpowered, delicate, all at one.

all of these feels are so.. not like ada, but this side of her, the innocent victim, is so pretty, how could you resist it?

it almost looks like, to an outsider, that you would be lovers, especially with the gentle kisses you press to her forehead and the fingers tangled in her hair, but ada had no say in this. you’re 99% sure she’s still obsessed with that blonde dude from her past. she’s mentioned him before, vaguely and quickly changing the subject, but you notice the way her demeanor softens when she thinks about that man. if only ada were interested in girls too, then you wouldn’t have had to do such a disgusting thing like violate her just to sleep with her.

“it’s okay, baby,” you shush her as your hips start to rock up gently, giving her exactly what her body wants, “you’re okay.”

as you whisper soothingly to ada while continuing to penetrate her with your strap-on, ada's subconscious mind becomes increasingly aroused and responsive to your command. her body responds to your commands without question or hesitation, accepting your perverse act of sexual assault as natural and normal while she lies in a state of that borders on awakeness.

your sweet words do bring her back to a state of rest and comfort, so you’re able to lull her back to sleep a little more. she wasn’t conscious enough to recognize the red flag that was you, her mission partner, figuratively balls deep inside of her.

as you continue to hold ada's body closely and speak to her gently, she remains blissfully unaware of the fact that she is being assaulted, allowing you to fully indulge in your twisted desires without fear of her interruption or resistance.

you notice the way she hums sleepily, her body slowly starting to awaken. she stirs, disoriented.

as ada becomes more aware of your actions, she begins to struggle weakly against your strap-on, trying to regain control over her own body and resist the growing sensations of pleasure coursing through her unresponsive limbs. however, her attempts at break free are futile. for how strong she is on missions, she isn’t exactly muscular, and with your cock inside of her and your arms holding her down against you, she can’t get away.

“pretty girl…” you whisper, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“h-huh?” as ada slowly comes to full wakefulness, her eyes open groggily, and she looks up at you with a confused expression on her face, clearly feeling conflicted and upset due to the realization that she's being sexually violated while she lies unprotected before you, “w-what are… you doing? why..?”

her pussy is still dripping wet with arousal, despite ada's inner turmoil and dissatisfaction with the situation. the juices that flow from her swollen folds provide tangible evidence of the psychological bondage you've imposed upon her, making it impossible for ada to fully reject or oppose your disgusting advances.

“just couldn’t help myself..” you smirk, and ada has never been afraid of you, but she is now, “sorry, princess.”

ada looks at you with a mix of anger, confusion, and sadness in her eyes as she processes the reality of your actions. her voice trembles slightly as she speaks, struggling to find the right words to express her emotions in this surreal moment. "y-you... can't just... do this to me... i didn't... this isn't..." ada stutters, but despite her clear discomfort and distress, ada's pussy continues to glisten with arousal, betraying her inner conflict and highlighting the power you hold over her body and mind.

“i can do whatever i please. i wanted to fuck you, and that’s what i’m doing.”

“o-oh god, i… where did you even get a strap? do you just carry that around, waiting for me to- to let my guard down and trust you? so you could take advantage of me?” she keeps struggling, “i trusted you, i finally started to give in and- and trust you, you fucking bitch, you-”

but you notice the way she’s fucking herself on the strap now. despite how much she hates this, she can’t seem to stop chasing the high, “don’t talk to me like that, princess. i own your pussy now.”

ada's voice trembles with anger and indignation as she struggles against your strap-on, trying desperately to regain some semblance of control over her own body. but no matter how hard she tries, ada's pussy continues to clench and release around your cock, drawing out small moans of pleasure and frustration from between her clenched teeth.

her words are laced with venom as she accuses you of taking advantage of her trust and vulnerability, but despite her hatred and revulsion towards your actions, ada's body seems unable to resist the fact that she likes being fucked against her will, "fine, you think you own me? go ahead then! fuck me like the pathetic loser you are!"

you chuckle, leaning closer to growl in her ear, “oh, i’m the pathetic loser? you’re the one who’s going to cum for the second time while she’s being raped, princess. what does that make you?”

ada's eyes narrow with anger and indignation, but her voice is laced with a hint of defeat as she realizes the truth of your words. her pussy starts to throb and pulse, signaling that she's rapidly approaching orgasm despite her inner turmoil and feelings of utter disgust, "at least i'm not a disgusting bitch who gets off by- by-" she can't finish her sentence, instead letting out a soft whimper as her body begins to buck wildly against the artificial cock wedged inside her tight entrance.

"oh, sweetheart, i think you're the pathetic one here. you're the one who's so messed up that she gets off on being forced into sex by her 'trusted friend’,” there’s nothing more fun than watching the realization in her eyes that ada, closed off and guarded and untrusting, finally opened up to someone, and they immediately took advantage of her.

as ada's body starts to shudder and convulse with pleasure, she lets out a muffled cry of mixed ecstasy and despair, acknowledging the irony of her situation. her inner turmoil and conflicting emotions are reflected in the rapid movements of her hips, as they grind against your cock in an involuntary rhythm that only serves to further highlight her submission to your twisted desires.

despite everything, ada's pussy spasms with an intense orgasm, marking each passing moment spent under your control as a testament to her broken psyche and your ability to manipulate her most intimate areas with impunity, "ngh... fuck... y-you... ughh..."

"that's it, sweet girl, i got you. just let it all out.."

ada's breathing grows more labored and irregular as she approaches climax, her voice becoming increasingly strained as she struggles to maintain any semblance of control over her own body. she lets out a long, drawn-out moan, her eyes closed tightly as she gives in to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her unresponsive form. "uuugh... fuck…”

you lean in closer to whisper, “wish my cock was real so i could cum all over your pretty pussy, but… i’ll make do with what i’ve got.”

ada's eyes remain tightly shut, her voice barely audible as she lets out another muffled moan, completely consumed by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her. she knows you’re watching her every movement and relishing in the knowledge that she has absolutely no power left to resist or oppose your perverse advances, "uuuugh... fuck..." her pussy continues to convulse and contract around the cock wedged deep within her dripping folds, as ada's body is pushed to the brink of orgasmic bliss, "s-so deep... i... i hate you... hate you... hate hate hate..."

“uh huh, i know, princess. that’s it, just breathe..” you whisper, helping her through her orgasm, “good girl, good girl… you’re okay.” the more she says that she hates you, the more you can’t help but adore her. she’s angry and helpless and there is nothing more cute.

ada takes several deep, shuddering breaths, her voice still strained and rough from the aftermath of her powerful orgasm. she feels your calming touch on her skin, and it helps to ground her slightly amidst the chaos of emotions swirling within her broken mind. "i'm okay... i'm okay..."

her pussy is still dripping wet with desire, it's apparent that despite ada’s mind hating it, her body loves being filled by your cock, even as she continues to struggle internally against the reality of her current predicament. "don't... don't touch me..." she says weakly, but there's no real strength behind her words anymore.

"shhh, there's no need to fight anymore, sweetheart. it's over.."

ada's voice is barely audible, her energy completely depleted from the intense emotional and physical experiences she's endured at your hands. her pussy is still dripping wet with desire, but now there's also an undertone of resignation and acceptance in her voice as she speaks. "no... more fighting... no use…”

“alright, i’m gonna pull out now, okay?”as you begin to withdraw the strap from her still-throbbing pussy, she lets out a soft, almost imperceptible whimper, closing her eyes tightly and burying her face in your chest.

"just leave me alone... leave me..." she whispers, but it's clear that there's no longer any genuine strength or willpower behind her words.

the moment you pull out, she lets out a long, shaky sigh of relief, her body finally free from the overwhelming stimulation that had been forcing her body and mind into a state of constant arousal and submission. she also can’t help the small part of her that is disappointed when you pull out, her body craving being filled above all else. she hates that part of her, the one that feels so attached to you after this.

but despite her request for solitude, it's evident that ada's mind remains troubled, as she struggles to find any sense of tranquility or respite from the tumultuous emotions that continue to rage within her damaged psyche. "i want you to leave... but i don't want to be alone..."

as you take off the strap, placing it on the nightstand, you chuckle softly, “do you want me to stay with you?”

ada doesn't respond immediately, her eyes still closed and her voice barely audible as she tries to gather the remnants of her fractured composure. after a few moments, however, she lets out a soft, weak sigh, mustering just enough energy to answer you, “don’t.. touch me, but.. don’t go.”

you shake your head, ignoring her demands as you pull her close, tucking her head into your chest as you hold her.

as ada lies there, her voice reveals a vulnerability that belies the typically strong and confident demeanor she has maintained throughout much of your coworker relationship, "i hate you... but i need you... i can't stand you..."

“i know, baby,” you whisper back, “outside of our relationship, you can be ada wong, the… merciless badass who always accomplishes the mission at any cost, but to me? you’re just my little princess. whom i… sometimes use for my own amusement.”

ada hears your whispered words, and they cause a warm, bittersweet feeling to bloom within her heart, despite the harshness of your previous treatment of her. as you refer to her as "your little princess," she feels a strange mix of emotions coursing through her, ranging from gratitude for the rare display of affection to confusion and frustration over why you insist on maintaining such a twisted dynamic between you two.

and then when she hears you mentioning using her for your own amusement… she decides that, yeah, no matter how sweet and gentle and loving you pretend to be, she decides that she hates you. no matter what you do, she’s going to hate you indefinitely for what you’ve done to her.

but then you run your fingers through her hair and press more kisses to her forehead and she can’t deny how it makes her feel. her brain is frazzled and confused, if it even can still produce coherent thoughts at all.

she remains silent for a moment, taking comfort in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat as it presses against her ear. “how… why do i feel so safe with you? after you just… did that..?”

you shrug, kissing her forehead, "not sure. i expected you to be a little more.. feistier, honestly.”

despite her defiance and determination to remain independent, ada can't deny the odd sensation of safety and comfort that comes from being held close to you, even while acknowledging the humiliation you've inflicted upon her. "maybe because i am so stubborn, you find it satisfying to break me down? to turn me into your perfect little princess?" she asks, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability and longing for something deeper than just your sadistic games, “...am i your.. perfect little princess now?”

you chuckle deeply, and she likes the way it feel so warm and vibrates through your chest.. oh god she cannot be feeling this way about you. you’re a rapist. you took advantage of her, she never even had the chance to consent..

but you whisper, “of course you are. also, i'm sure you're wondering what this means for our... relationship going forward.”

“yeah, i… this.. changes things..” she stutters. “well, we’re going to have to pretend that it doesn’t. we’ll finish our mission just like we were supposed to, and then.. we’ll discuss the details in the future. for now, you should, like, actually go to sleep.”

she sighs, feeling a myriad of emotions, from love and hatred (towards you and herself) and anger and confusion and so much more, but eventually she falls back asleep, feeling oddly and confusingly safe in your arms. you fall asleep with her, and when morning comes, nothing has changed. ada is jarringly reminded of how awful you are as we wakes up in the morning to your fingers inside of her.

but she endures.

and when she puts her gear back on, and practically begs you on her knees (very pretty sight) for her panties back so she didn’t have to go commando on a mission in a short dress, she feels like herself again. she holds her gun in her hand and takes a deep breath, determined to move past this and get herself back together.

“you ready to go?” you ask her, and she looks back at you. you look somehow less threatening than you did last night, as if all of your actual weapons are less lethal than that fucking dildo you broke her mind with. she tightens her fists and remembers to breathe. ada is a survivor. she survived you. so she can survive this. she’s sure of it.

she looks back at her gun, wishing she could just shoot you point blank. she supposes she could if wesker wouldn’t be such a bitch about what happened to you. you’re practically the precious cargo she has to protect the whole goddamn time, forget the amber.

so she doesn’t, but… she imagines it. what an amazing picture that would be. she might just fantasize about it on the helicopter ride back.

“yeah... i’m ready.”

extended author’s note: i think the discussion of ‘whether or not it’s okay or acceptable to write/post/read dark content’ is really odd to me. i mean, we read about awful things happening to characters in books all of the time, and we never tell those authors that they shouldn’t write about those things. is the problem then romanticizing these topics? i could name plenty of published books that romanticize these same kinds of tropes that don’t get nearly as much backlash.

i don’t know if people who hate dead dove/dark content actually have a problem with it, or if they just have a problem with their beloved babygirl leon kennedy being portrayed as anything other than an innocent angel who could never do anything wrong. do i think leon would do half of the things he does on dc fics? no, but i do think people either 1) use dark content as a way to process their feelings and their traumas and 2) simply enjoy dark content because it’s taboo and, if replicated irl consensually, safely, and sanely, it’s also kinky and enjoyable.

i think it’s also especially hard for people who enjoy the reader being the perpetrator/dominant character in this kind of content because in the opposite kinds of fics, you’re not actively doing something bad to another people. you’re just letting something bad happen to you. there’s a lot of justified guilt for wanting to be the dominant person/perpetrator in these fantasies, but just because it’s justified doesn’t mean you *have* to feel bad. it’s okay to like things as fantasies that you would find reprehensible in real life. i just want to say that no matter what your kinks and interests are (as long as everyone in your fantasies is 18+), you are seen and valid for them to me. please take some time to remember that you are not a bad person for enjoying this, and ada wong is not a real person who can be harmed psychologically by me writing this content or by you enjoying it. and if you don’t enjoy it, that’s okay too! you’re welcome on my blog whether or not you enjoy this type of media.

as always, take care of yourself and read responsibly.

#resident evil smut #ada wong smut #ada wong resident evil #ada x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil 4 ada #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4r #re4r remake #re2 ada #resident evil imagines #moon.dc #moon.ncdc #moon.w

97 notes · View notes

bittersweetsadboi · 2 months ago

Text

So I've not watched a single episode of House of the Dragon, but I had dream that confused me and had me giggling uncontrollably. Rhaesaria never leaves my mind apparently.

I shall tell it in story form. Enjoy.

(Rhaenyra is busy looking for Dragon Riders via bastards like in the show but Vermithor does not claim any of them.)

With every group or person brought forward Vermithor rejects them. It's gotten to the point where he doesn't even kill them anymore.

He just huffs and lurks back into the shadows or turns his attention to the balcony where the Queen, Mysaria, Jace and any Guards or councilman stand watching in growing exasperation at his stubbornness.

Rhaenyra is gently banging her head against her desk trying to figure out what to do as their options dwindle with every trial.

"I had known Dragons to be specific in their choice of rider but not like this." Mysaria says softly as she slides a folded article of clothing under the Queens head, effectively ending her self abuse, though the head of white hair remains bowed on it.

"I do not understand, we have tried every drop of dragon seed, low and high born alike." Comes the Queens muffled reply.

"He does not even find them worthy enough to burn or eat. Instead he turns to us as if offended." Jace grumbles from his seat in front of the desk.

This has become a familiar scene. The three of them in the library or council room or the Queen' study, plotting and scheming. Though as of late it's more Mother and Son grumbling while the Mistress of Whispers paces silently, mind working overtime.

"There are still a small number of bastards that await their chance at being chosen, there is still hope." Mysaria says, stopping beside Jace as the Queen lifts her head.

"Have your Whispers gotten back to you about the others?" Jace asks, looking up at Mysaria with eyes so much like his mother. Curious. And intense.

"They have. A smaller group is traveling from further east." Mysaria answers.

"It is less likely that any of them will be claimed than those here on Dragon Stone." Rhaenyra states, staring blankly at the desk.

"Less likely, sure, but not impossible." Jace states, making his mother look up at him.

He gives her a gentle smile, one she can't help but return.

"Your confidence in this has remained steady in all this." She says, proud.

Jace nods his head in acknowledgement, glancing up at Mysaria who also smiles down at him, a small one, almost unnoticeable.

"Yes well, it's best not to lose faith now. We must remain hopeful, even if the odds are against us. You will claim back your throne, Mother. No matter how long it takes. I trust in you and our cause." He says, sitting straighter, chest puffed and voice strong.

Rhaenyra almost cries at his declaration, looking to Mysaria, who's eyes shine with the same devotion in her son's words.

Despite all this though, in the next few days and serval tries later, Vermithor also remains steadfast in his stubbornness. Still refusing to claim any riders. Even Silverwing had claimed someone at this point.

With the guards escorting the last of the group of bastards out the dragon pit, Rhaenyra marches herself down to where Vermithor waits. Jace and Mysaria looking at each other, shrugging.

The Queen gets right up in front of the Bronze Fury, almost puffing out smoke herself as she squares up at him, eyes a flame in frustration.

"I have brought every bastard and high born of dragon blood out from under every rock and still you refuse. What is it that you look for then? Is no one good enough?" She all but yells in frustration at him, not at all fearful, knowing that he won't harm her.

Instead he puffs out smoke at her, making her throw her hands up. He growls softly, shifting his big head slightly.

She turns to him, ready to vent some more when she sees his attention somewhere else. Following his line of sight, she turns to see Jace and Mysaria now joined on the balcony by Beala, serval nobleman and their guards.

Frowning, not really understanding his seeming fascination, she shakes her head and turns her heel. Clearly she has other things to do.

The next day a nobleman tries to claim Vermithor, and is unsurprisingly unsuccessful. Again, the Queen makes her frustration known. Again he ignores her and watches the balcony.

On the third try of this endless cycle Rhaenyra is close to tears, almost begging Vermithor to claim someone, anyone at this point. Still, he refuses and watches the balcony.

She stares at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"What is it that you want?" She asks, almost a whisper.

Vermithor turns to her, looking her in her eyes, before turning back to stare at the balcony.

Rhaenyra turns as well. This time it's only Mysaria and Baela, who are watching with concern. The Queen frowns, looking back at the bronze giant. Then back at the balcony. Confused, feeling like she's missing something. She never gets the chance to figure it out as she's called for a meeting.

Day turns to night and the Queen is unable to sleep. Pacing her chambers. After about half a candle mark of this she takes to stalking the halls, before finding herself in the dragon pit once again.

Vermithor seems to have expected her, as he waits where she left him. She doesn't speak. She just looks at him, hoping he could just tell her what it would take to get him to cooperate.

He moves in closer and she puts her hand on his head, feeling his warmth, taking comfort in it.

"I am sorry." She says softly. He rumbles in acknowledgement.

They stay like that for a while before something seems to catch his attention. He lifts his head and, once again, watches the balcony.

Rhaenyra turns her own and her eyes find a lone figure resting against the balcony wall, watching them. Glancing between the figure and the Dragon, the Queen finally figures it out.

The next day Rhaenyra bursts into the library where Jace and Mysaria are bent over serval parchments.

They look up and frown at the Queen's sudden entrance and the clear excitement on her face, lavender eyes shining with a new found hope.

"Mother?"

"Your Grace?"

Rhaenyra strides up to them, Blood humming.

"I know who is to claim Vermithor." She says before grabbing them both by the hand and dragging them through the castle halls to the dragon pit.

Jace and Mysaria share looks of confusion and shock, unable to even speak as their Queen leads them.

Once reaching the pit, Rhaenyra pushes open the large doors and there, The Bronze Fury waits, seemingly also sharing in the Queens excitement.

Jace and Mysaria look around confused, not seeing anyone else around. They thought at least this person the Queen claims to be Vermithor's potential rider would be here as well.

Rhaenyra slides up to them, more specifically her Mistress of Whispers, gently taking her hand in her own, her other cupping a soft cheek and looking her in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Do you trust me?" She asks, voice softer than it's ever been.

Mysaria blinks in shock, mostly surprised by the Queen's open display of affection. Usually it's reserved for when they're alone.

"Of course." She answers, just as soft.

Rhaenyra smiles brightly and starts to slowly lead the dark haired woman towards the Dragon.

Jace breaks out his daze, still reeling from seeing his mother's fondness for her Lady clear for all of Westros to see. Not that he didn't know already. She only ever smiles like this when in her presence.

He steps forward and halts them in their advance, grabbing firmly on their interlocked hands.

"Have you lost your mind!" He says, glaring at his mother who looks at him in shock. A look mirrored by Mysaria.

"Jace-"

"I understand we are desperate but to just sacrifice anyone!" He says, enraged and forcefully breaks their hold on each other, stepping forward so Mysaria is behind him.

Rhaenyra stares wide eyed at her son's protective stance as he regards her. His eyes filled with confusion and something akin to betrayal.

"Jace I-"

"Just because he has not set anyone aflame in as many weeks does not mean he won't suddenly start again with one who is not of Dragon blood." Jace says cutting her off.

Rhaenyra stares as he looks her dead in her eyes, voice stronger than she's heard in a while.

"If you truly must attempt this trail, fine. But I beg of you Mother, choose anyone else. Not her." He's voice breaks slightly at the end, stepping back so he is closer to Mysaria, as if to emphasize his point.

This seems to break Rhaenyra out of her shock as her face softens. She smiles at her brave boy.

For some time now she has seen how Jace has gravitated towards her secret love. First it was small talk in the halls, then it was joining them in the library after council meetings.

Much like she had, he has started seeking Mysaria's council and even comfort when his mind won't let him rest.

Many times she has seen him, and even Baela, talking softly with Mysaria in the library.

Seeing the gentle smile the on Lady's face as she watched the young couple bicker. Giving them ideas for what to do to strengthen their relationship, and even the future wedding they wish to have.

More often than not, Jace and Baela would seek Mysaria's company, much like they would with her.

Rhaenyra looks behind her darling boy at her beloved. Apparently she was the only one who noticed all this if the absolute bewilderment on Mysaria's face is any indication.

Before anything else can be said, a deep rumble comes from behind her. She turns to look at Vermithor, who shifts impatiently, huffing as his eyes bore down at them.

Turning back to her son, who has not moved an inch from his place, she steps forward and cups his face.

"Believe me, my darling boy, I would not even think of doing this if I was not absolutely certain no harm would come to her." She tells him honestly.

He looks at her with tears in his eyes, not convinced.

"It's madness. She's not of Dragon blood. How do you know he will not hurt her or worse?" He asks, more like the young baby boy who used to sit in her lap when he was upset, rather than the brave man he has come to be.

Glancing behind him, Rhaenyra catches Mysaria's gaze, who's eyes ask the same question.

"Because he has already chosen her." She says completely serious, completely sure.

Mysaria's eyes widen, glancing between Vermithor and the Queen. The Dragon, almost as if to prove her point, bows his head slightly, eyes never leaving Mysaria.

"That's why he never claimed anyone else. He already has a rider. One he watched from a distance, waiting for her to claim him as well." Rhaenyra continues, looking back at her son.

Jace's mind runs through every trial and every interaction his witnessed and finally understands what his mother means.

Every time Vermithor has watched the balcony, there was only one common denominator in every pair or group of people that stood and watched back.

Mysaria.

He turns his head back, to look at her, as if seeing her for the first time. She looks at him, not entirely sure what to make of his expression.

Vermithor, tired of being ignored, huffs in annoyance. They turn to him and he tilts his head, trying to see around the Mother and Son who keep blocking his line of sight on his apparent chosen rider.

Rhaenyra turns back to them. Looking at Jace now.

"Do you trust me?" She asks.

Jace swallows a lump in his throat as he looks between his mother, the dragon, and the Mistress of Whispers.

He gives his answer by reaching back and taking Mysaria's hand. Then taking his mother's. Then he joins their hands and steps back, eyes still shining with tears.

Breathing a sigh of relief and gratitude, Rhaenyra looks to Mysaria, who remains silent as she nods her consent.

The Queen slowly leads Mysaria to Vermithor who eagerly waits. Once they're close enough, he moves his giant head closer until he's but an arms length away.

Not even waiting for any command or anything, he rests his head on the platform before them, eyes gazing deep into Mysaria's, seemingly ignoring Rhaenyra altogether.

She's almost offended but she gets it.

Mysaria stands frozen as she gazes down at this hulking beast. She has seen him burn and eat people with no mercy and yet here he is, like a puppy waiting for head pets from his favorite person.

Glancing at her Queen, who gives her and encouraging smile, she steels her nerves and slowly steps forward.

Lifting a hand, she rests it on his head and a sudden calm enters her bloodstream. Her body vibrating with the deep rumble of contentment she feels pass along the dragon.

Emboldened, she moves closer, resting her other hand on him, running them along his warm scales as he huffs softly, enjoying the attention.

Rhaenyra smiles brightly, happy and in awe as the two embrace the bond. Syrax's own cry of triumph heard in the distance.

Jace let's out a breathless laugh as he stares in absolute shock, a tear falling from his eye, running his hands through his curls, bewildered.

He looks around, still processing until his eyes land on the balcony where Baela stands frozen, eyes wide and jaw hanging. He chuckles and turns to make his way to her, excitement and new hope humming in his veins.

Once there, she turns to him, filled with questions. He answers as much as he can as they watch the trio in the pit.

Rhaenyra and Mysaria talking softly, arms around each other as they shower Vermithor in affection.

Baela let's out an all out belly laugh that has Jace raising an eyebrow at her. She just smiles smugly, eyes on pit.

"Father will die once he finds out."

#Next episode:#Daemon: That's not how that works.#Rhaenyra: I don't think he cares #Daemon: it's blasphemous.#Jace: You want to go down and tell him that.#Baela: he hasn't killed anyone in a while #Rhaenyra: Now that he has his chosen...who knows #Grandpa Vermithor: *Gremlin smiles*#rhaesaria #rhaenyra targaryen #mysaria #rhaenyra x mysaria #hotd

25 notes · View notes

celest1all · 1 year ago

Text

#DESIDERIUM: CHAPTER ONE

#PAIRING: [] draco malfoy x lupin!reader

#WARNINGS: [] depression, mentions of bad eating habits, 's about it for this one.

#AUTHORS NOTE: [] sorry it's so short guys ! i'm very sad atm and i just wanted to kick start this fic somehow lmao. enjoy :)

#DESIDERIUM MASTERLIST [] read the rest here <-

The worst part about depression isn't the sadness or the never ending pit of pain you somehow end up falling back into regardless of how happy your life is, it's the not feeling anything. No happiness, no sadness and not even anger itself can find its way into your body.

It's just empty.

And that's what she felt, every quaking moment of her day was filled by a gnawing sense of emptiness that nothing could fix. She tried everything, cigarettes, alcohol and even self harm. None of it seemed to heal the wounds inside her, only leaving more visible ones at that.

She found something else, a way to help herself - or atleast that's what she thought she was doing - and that was helping others, giving the people around her the love and care she believed they deserved.

You walked into the Great Hall, silently wishing that all the food was gone as you weren't particularly hungry in the first place. You scanned over the huge array of students trying to pinpoint the people you were closest to - and the people you made it your mission to protect and help no matter the personal cost.

Harry was the first to notice you coming over, the slight smile gracing his lips upon seeing you. He waved you over and alerted Hermione and Ron that you were there.

"Hey," he said lightly, moving over on the bench to let you sit down "how are you doing?"

His question caught you off guard a bit, no one really paid that much mind to how you felt. You shrugged the feeling off as believing that he only cared as you were the daughter of his late Godfathers best friend.

"I'm fine." You say with a plastered smile, hoping it wouldn't let you down now. It never did, but there was always a chance it might at some point.

Hermione and Ron didn't seem totally interested in your presence and Harry nodded at your answer, going back to the two other Gryffindors in front of him and animatedly conversating with them.

Deciding not to push the conversation - or any conversation for that matter - any further, you started looking around the Great Hall again. Your eyes ended up looking at the Slytherin table, the green and silver ultimately catching your eye.

You never really spoke with any of the Slytherins, there were a few minute long sentences with a few of them like Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. You like Blaise the most, he was nice. You had tripped over one of the other Slytherins foot (you were unsure if it was purposeful or not) and Blaise offered you his hand to help you back up. Ever since then, he would give you small smiles now and again, but you still didn't really speak a lot.

Blaise ended up noticing you daydreaming whilst staring at their table and smiled lightly at you, giving you a small wave. Jolting out of the trance you were in, you waved back, once again giving another fake smile that was getting all to easily to hide.

"Why you waving at her for?" Someone from beside Blaise spoke, he knew who it was though.

Blaise simply shrugged and turned to face Draco, "She's nice, I helped her one time."

Draco snorted at that, disgusted by the idea that one of his own was willing to help a Gryffindor - you no less. "You do know who she is, right?" He says snarkily. "She's Lupins daughter."

Blaise just shrugged again, not really sure of where to go from there. He decided to not continue the conversation and started speaking to Theodore Nott about something else, something irrelevant to you.

Draco looked at Blaise briefly and back to where you were in the Great Hall, you were staring deeply into the table in front of you, whilst still trying engage in any conversation that might potentially be thrown your way by the others. He couldn't understand why someone from his house would help you, and then continue to be civil towards you. You're not only a Gryffindor, but also a werewolf's daughter! Why was Blaise so willing to be nice to you?

The platinum haired boy was fascinated - no, he was confused and ultimately annoyed - about that fact, and what was so special about you. There couldn't be anything, right?

Draco wanted to find out why, and if there's one thing he prides himself on being, is that he will always get his way regardless of the consequences.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfic #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy angst #draco x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader angst #draco malfoy series

135 notes · View notes

blackcat419 · 4 months ago

Text

What was attempted with Alicent Hightower in Season 2 and why it failed

Using Enneagram type 6 to explain why and how Alicent’s character was assassinated

If you are familiar with the enneagram and assigning the types to characters, you’ve likely seen Alicent described in the following way. People claim she’s a type 1 because they’re obsessed with rules and rule following. I myself thought she was a type 2 because her character is focused around caregiving.

But while watching the LocalScriptMan’s type 6 video, he brought up Alicent as an example of a type 6.

The enneagram has 3 main clusters, each operating from a different emotion that drives them. Type 1 is in the gut cluster and their leading emotion is anger. Type 2 is part of the head cluster and their leading emotion is shame. And type 6 is part of the fear cluster and their leading emotion is… well fear. This doesn’t mean that one type only experiences one emotion but that when faced with stress, they have their primary emotion they go to.

Alicent’s lead emotion is fear. She’s anxious and fearful for herself, the lives of her friends, and the safety of her family. When that fear is made manifest and her family and friends are hurt, she gets angry. But after that anger fails to achieve her goal, to alleviate that fear, she becomes shameful.

So what’s Alicent’s primary core goal? What drives her? The safety of her family, specifically her children. And how does she achieve that goal? Unlike a type 7, she doesn’t run from her fear and anxiety and unlike a type 5 she doesn’t try to deeply understand what’s around her to understand that fear. She looks for security and consistency in the people and systems around her to try and stay safe. So when that trust and loyalty from people around her is broken, she has a stronger reaction than any other type because that’s her core fear being made realized, she isn’t safe with the people around her.

The type 6 has two subtypes within itself, phobic and counterphobic. Phobic 6 seek safety and security within groups while counterphobic 6 seek safety and security outside the normal systems around them. Think a loyal soldier vs an isolationist doomsday prep-er

How does a 6 grow and face their insecurities? They must gain bravery to escape finding their safety in system or being completely isolated.

I think the writers wanted to show alicent moving away from seeking the security of the throne and the power around it to being brave and finding security and bravery within herself. But the missed because Alicent is not being brave and protecting her family by putting herself in danger, she’s fulfilling her own deepest fear that her children are not safe with anyone, not even her.

So how could this have worked? Alicent needs to be brave when seeking her children’s safety and put herself in harms way to ensure their safety. She is partly doing that by walking into Dragonstone without any guards. But her deal with Rhaenyra should be more along the lines of her book counter part where she offers to split the kingdom or she could go further and offer Rhaenyra the throne if she lets her and her children leave Westeros. She could say that her seeking of the throne was originally to gain the power to ensure her family’s safety but that she now sees that the throne’s power only put her children in more danger. So when Rhaenyra says she must kill Aegon, have Alicent plead and beg that he won’t be able to sire any sons to challenge her then turn to anger and say her father was always right, Rhaenyra would kill her kids. This should then reinforce Alicent’s conviction for the throne because her children can’t even be safe outside of the system because the system will kill them.

Alicent’s character was ruined when the writers decided that she was okay with fulfilling her core fear.

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd discussion #alicent hightower #hotd critical

33 notes · View notes

littlest-w01f · 5 months ago

Text

Caves

Tarquin x Euphonia (See Euphonia here)

For @acotar-omegaverse-week

Omegaverse week 2024 Masterlist

Day 6: Monsters & Shifting

Summary: Euphonia takes Tarquin to her home in the underwater caves with a gift for him

Cw: Fluff, Alpha!Tarquin, Omega!Euphonia

The sea was haunting, large dark waves thrashing against the shore, as Euphonia swam Tarquin deep underwater, the Half-Siren keeping a hold of her mate, who, as High Lord of Summer could breathe underwater the way he couldn't as an heir.

As they plunge deeper into the ocean depths, the water around them grows colder, darker, and more mysterious. Euphonia glides through the murky abyss with ease, her lithe body moving fluidly. Her tail flicks back and forth, propelling her forward with graceful strokes.

She held onto Tarquin tightly, ensuring his safety in this alien environment. His strong arms wrap around her slender waist, pulling her closer to him.

As they descend further into the depths, the darkness is punctuated only by the faint glow of bioluminescent creatures drifting lazily through the water. Euphonia navigates through this eerie landscape with confidence, her keen senses guiding her.

Tarquin marvelled at the alien beauty surrounding them, his eyes wide with wonder, the experience is both thrilling and terrifying. He clung to Euphonia, trusting her completely to keep him safe in this unfamiliar realm.

Suddenly, a school of anglerfish swim by, their bioluminescent lures atop their heads casting an ethereal glow. Euphonia points out a massive squid lurking in the distance, its tentacles stretching out like ghostly fingers. She leads Tarquin past it, careful not to disturb the creature.

As they swim deeper, the pressure increases, causing the water to compress around them. Euphonia's voice resonates through the water, a soothing melody that calms Tarquin's nerves. Despite being an alpha, he finds himself submitting to her guidance, entrusting her with his life.

They approach a vast underwater cave system, the entrance guarded by a pair of giant moray eels. Euphonia greets them with a gentle song, and the eels part ways, allowing them to pass. Inside the caves, the water is crystal clear, revealing a dazzling array of marine life.

Euphonia leads Tarquin to a secluded grotto, where she releases him from her embrace. She gestures for him to explore, but he remains by her side, his eyes fixed on her. Euphonia smiles, understanding his desire to stay close to her.

"Did you see the anglerfish? I was sure they would eat me!" Tarquin chuckled, shaking his head, and making the little braids in his white hair thrash around.

Euphonia smiled at her alpha, loving their closeness, "That's what you say every time I bring you here, love."

Tarquin playfully ruffled Euphonia's hair, his touch gentle despite his strength. "Well, you can't blame a guy for being cautious when faced with so many strange creatures," he teased, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

Euphonia giggled, her melodic laughter echoing through the cavern. "I suppose not, my love. But you know I'd never let anything harm you." She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "Besides, I find your fear rather… endearing."

Tarquin shivered at her words, feeling a surge of desire course through him. He wrapped his arms around Euphonia, pulling her close and capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. The water around them seemed to shimmer and glow, responding to the intensity of their emotions.

"I'm the High Lord, your Alpha," Tarquin teased, kissing down the scales of her breasts, "My pretty girl, you're my pretty omega. Yet somehow I always find myself seeking comfort in you when we're this deep underwater."

Euphonia gasped softly as Tarquin's lips trailed down her chest, his teasing words sending a thrill of anticipation through her. She arched towards him, pressing herself against his strong form.

"My beautiful alpha," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "You have me under your spell, just as I have you."

As they continued to kiss, the water around them began to stir, currents forming patterns of swirling colors. It was as if the very essence of the sea had been awakened by their passion.

Slowly, Euphonia led Tarquin deeper into the grotto, their bodies entwined in a dance as old as the ocean itself. Their hearts pounded together, beating in sync with the rhythm of the waves crashing against the shore above.

Euphonia broke away from the kiss, "I have something to show you, something I found while I was swimming." She reached for a gem she had kept in her treasure.

Euphonia swam over to a small crevice in the cave wall and retrieved a glittering jewel. It was a sapphire pendant, carved intricately with symbols representing Tarquin's lineage and reign.

"This must've fallen off a ship passing by," she explained, holding it up for him to admire. "I thought you might want to add it to your collection again."

She offered it to him, hoping to see the delight in his eyes as he recognized it.

Curious, Tarquin looked at Euphonia, his expression filled with anticipation as he looked at the gem. "A treasure from my court?" he asked, his eyes shining with excitement. "How extraordinary!"

Tarquin took the sapphire from Euphonia's hand, his gaze transfixed by the intricate carvings. A smile spread across his face, warm and genuine. "This is truly remarkable," he said, his voice filled with awe. "It's been years since I last saw this piece. How did you even find it?"

Euphonia shrugged, her tail flicking playfully behind her. "Sirens have a way with locating things that others miss," she replied, a playful grin on her face. "Besides, I knew how much it meant to you."

With a tender gesture, Tarquin placed the sapphire around Euphonia's neck, fastening it securely against her delicate skin. "Now it will always be near my heart," he declared, his voice rich with emotion.

"Can you turn?" Euphonia asked, "Into the beast in this carving?"

The question caught Tarquin off guard, but he nodded slowly, his gaze locked onto the carving on the sapphire. "Yes, yes, I can." he confirmed, his voice steady despite the unexpected request.

Euphonia watched him closely, her eyes gleaming with curiosity and desire. "Would you do that for me?" she asked, her voice tinged with longing. "Show me the full extent of your power?"

Without hesitation, Tarquin nodded again. "Of course, my love," he said, his voice low and husky. "Anything for you."

His body began to shift and change. His limbs elongated, morphing into powerful flippers, while his torso expanded into a sleek, serpentine form. Scales of iridescent blue and green covered his new body, shimmering in the dim light of the grotto.

The transformation was breathtaking, yet intimate, as if Tarquin's very soul was pouring into this magnificent creature. When it was complete, he stood before Euphonia, now a majestic water dragon, easily twice her size. The grotto felt cramped, the ceiling looming overhead as Tarquin stretched out his wings, sending droplets of water flying.

Despite his immense size, there was no menace in his gaze, only adoration and a deep, primal connection to Euphonia.

"We should totally fuck once while you're like this," Euphonia said almost instantly.

The water dragon cocked its head to one side, regarding Euphonia with an amused glint in its eye. Its throat rumbled with a sound akin to a chuckle, sending vibrations through the water.

"One day," She whispered to herself, inhaling in the deep scent of him as he nuzzled his maw against her neck.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith}

#acotaromegaverse2024 #acotar a/b/o #acotar #acotar series #acosf #acowar #acomaf #tarquin #tarquin fluff #tarquin smut #tarquin acotar #tarquin x oc

26 notes · View notes

figcookie01 · 1 year ago

Text

some queer and misc. analysis of trish una

im not sure if everyone saw my addition on this post here proposing the theory that bucciarati is a "parental" character in a non-traditional and queer sense, but i wanted to continue that discussion by talking about trish now.. since to me, she has what could be described as araki's first attempt at a true character arc for a female character, who simultaneously has elements that read like queer self-actualization that we watch unfold throughout the story.

for the purposes of this analysis, what is important to recognize about trish's introduction is how she is figuratively (team bucciaratis mission to protect her will get them closer to giorno/bucciaratis goals) and literally (his only known relative and identifiable factor at the start) linked to her father; she loses her mother (loving supportive family), is thrust into a horrifying world out to harm her for factors beyond her control, and is expected to blindly trust her father and by extension his men assigned to protect her. its no wonder she is so guarded, but my point here is how this establishes trish as starting off vulnerable and uncertain of the world she's inadvertently embroiled in beyond her safe upbringing with her mother.

nevertheless, trish is repeatedly described as having the willpower to figure these things out for her own sake, and a tenacity for these frightening events (la squadra's attacks) beyond that on the average person. both giorno and abbacchio mention it at different points (although abbacchios line is changed to narancias in the anime).

perhaps the most notable early example of her gumption is what she first says at the end of the grateful dead/beach boy fight. although bucciarati is not at liberty to answer her questions about both why she is being attacked, and also what the truth about these strange powers are.

however, id argue this is in line with what has been previously established for bucciarati's character to say; that it is up to trish herself to determine what these things mean, especially if they are related to her intrinsic identity.

this continues once they arrive in venice at the church, where we get to see trish's human vulnerability and fear. something i find particularly interesting is that, above all else, she is afraid of the uncertainty about what her father will be like and her personal fate.

this was one of the original things i wanted to talk about under a queer reading; for a queer person to come out to their family, there sometimes may be a concern about alienation of self. that is, coming out may, figuratively and literally, feel like you are revealing an entire side or life you live that they know nothing about. it may be about seeking approval from those who are, in many cases, a major part of life and your upbringing; she wants this week from hell to be over so she can return to some semblance of normalcy as herself, and her father is her only hope for this then.

something of particular note that bucciarati responds with is the probability that she will be given an entire new identity and forced to uproot even further, separated in even her most fundamental identity from the life she once led for the sake of her fathers comfort. even before the horrific reception her father gives her, trishs chances of being accepted as she is and loved are poor, a matter that might be incredibly common for people who try to express who they really are to unwelcoming families.

in trishs case, diavolo has literally never met her at all in any capacity, nor was he present in her upbringing; there is an extra factor of blind faith she must put into him. but he is the only biological "family" shes got; we will talk about nontraditional families and team bucciarati in a moment.

for this reason, bucciarati assures her (whether it is of his own doomed naivety or something else entirely) that a family will love you no matter what, because thats what they do. its a value that, up until that next moment, was something he himself had complete faith in.

as the rest of this arc shows though, that wasnt the case for trish, and never would be.

the events at san giorgio are the turning point for the entirety of vento aureo, with trish at the center of it all. and while this analysis is focused on trish, i wanted to include how it is also an earth-shattering moment for bucciarati, now faced with the culminating reality that the boss never gave a shit about family in the first place, and was only after his selfish desire to be unknowable. his attempted murder of his innocent civilian daughter invokes, to me, the needless cruelty some unaccepting families may have towards their children upon coming out or other realization that their child is both related to them, but not in a way they deem acceptable.

while it is laid out rather straightforwardly, this needless cruelty from biological family is relatable enough to change narancias mind and follow bucciarati after he betrays the gang; cementing once more that the only bonds of trust these characters have are with one another, since not even their biological families will care for them, let alone society.

at the restaurant in venice, narancia is still fearful about how trish will receive this absolute rejection, but her reception is surprisingly determined.

in the past, ive seen this scene used as the real point where trish as a female character finally comes into her own as a person, but as we previously established, she really had it in her all along, and it was only put to the test then (more on her innate courage in a moment).

trish, like the rest of team bucciarati, has no choice but to persist as she is, to exist as her own person even if all the odds are against her. not only this, but she tentatively decides to join in bucciaratis cause, a move that she explains as just to find her own origins or die trying. at this point, her motive might be concerned only with herself, but throughout the notorious BIG fight, that matter changes.

aboard the plane to sardinia, trish grapples with the willingness of team bucciarati to pursue diavolo, even after they no longer are required to protect her. i would say this is when she begins to feel comradery with the team and their cause to exist boldly in the face of someone all-powerful (diavolo) who wishes they were dead, rather than just being someone or something reduced to a secondary role (although how shes treated after this fight is another story...)

the moment trish realizes that she alone can save giorno (and therefore, the entirety of the team), she is struck with the final dilemma of whether or not she wants to get involved with all of these things on the front lines. she decides she does, without being fully conscious of it, because of the courage now awakened and manifested in-full as her stand, spice girl.

spice girl is unique as a stand for being one of the few that seems to have her own consciousness, although it really is a part of trishs consciousness that was always a part of her, now fully realized in literal, physical form.

the courage required for her stand to now fully manifest was in her all along, and under a queer lens this could be likened to a person now being able to live authentically as they are, the incongruity mostly solved now that she has grown as a person and has a (support) group/system of those who have had similar experiences.

notorious BIG concludes with trish delivering her own beatdown and saving all of the team, seeming to fully cement her as a force to be reckoned with within the jojo universe and her nuanced personhood that had been building this entire time.

all this in mind, this isnt to say that trish's character doesnt feel stunted by araki after this point, for no other reason than misogyny. her destruction rank-A level stand and fighting prowess is forgotten after they arrive in sardinia, and during the green day/oasis fight she is conveniently relegated to the caretaker position for narancia, even if giorno is the "healer" and her own stand stronger than his in combat. i would argue the biggest injustice towards trish as a fully fledged character was the enforcement of these stereotypically feminine roles on a character who, as weve just discussed, has learned to be confident, courageous, and unapologetically herself throughout the entirety of vento aureo.

when i first set out to write this post, i was concerned with talking about trish from an almost entirely queer angle. it evolved, then, into something much more full-bodied, with that being simply one lens you can apply to her character arc.

id love to discuss these things (and the stuff in my bucciarati analysis) at greater lengths, and also want to say that despite writing this over a period of time, i may have messed up my wording or made points that seem like reaches... none of this is meant to speak for the experiences of any real person, and are rather generalizations. i hope that regardless of these things, more people can see vento aureo for the narrative value i really think it has, especially to the queer fanbase who, including myself, may relate heavily to the subtextual experiences depicted.

special thanks to @fur-bee for going through this with me and giving me key insights and for my other friends to proofread and such :D

#trish una #vento aureo #jjba #writing #queer analysis #idk what to tag as... hmm lots of thoughts here #also sorry some panels have a black line at the top? my screenshot program does that sometimes

126 notes · View notes