Tumgik
#like you can like whatever you want and write your own fanfics but
sandersgrey · 1 year
Text
"Nico solo book should be a tragedy" disagree.
Nico was Rick Riordan's first canonically queer character, and the first book queer character a lot of my generation knew about as kids- it would be a huge slap on the face of his audience if his story ended as a tragedy, and Riordan knows that. Thats why solangelo has such a solid, healthy dynamic in the background of toa.
Of now, he's also one of very few pjo-verse characters to be basically confirmed mentally ill, and he's also really disabled in the text, whether its said or not.
Nico is a queer orphan who's entire storyline til toa was just tragedy after tragedy after goddamn tragedy, and who has JUST begun to heal. He deserves a happy ending.
More importantly, the audience- the queer, disabled, mentally ill kids who see themselves in him- deserve to see him be happy at the end.
To make his story a tragedy would be to validate Nico's (and Hades') belief that kids like him don't get a happy ending. That all we're made for is tragedy.
Rick Riordan first wrote The Lightning Thief so his adhd son could finally see himself in a hero. He keeps writing after his son is grown because he knows how much other kids need those stories- his students, even. He knows.
It's even in the narrative itself: it tells us upfront that Percy's mother called him Perseus because he was the only greek hero who got a happy ending.
Nico is the queer kid's original Perseus.
The reasoning follows that he must be happy.
710 notes · View notes
solardistress · 9 months
Text
everyone who is in the stanley parable fandom should somehow get sucked into the rabbit hole of the story and or characters and or the concept the game presents . not like ohhh i looove the narratorso much heres my design and lore for them for it kind of rabbit hole where you fixate on this character that like. you are making uo backstory for to the point it deviates from canon because youve gone too far from the game details or whatever but but really aanalyze the game the moments the dialogue for just a moment . mmfind the meaning in the words . find somethin g profound in the data the papers the desks the situation as a whole . you cant just . romanticize the characters. without. like. understanding them first . tou cwnt do anything with the characters until you inderstand them at a gut wrenching level . at least brush uo on their wiki once in a while ? play the game ? every now and then ? treat stanley right ? anyway if you like the stanley parable so much why cant you tell me about 432 and their situation . how profoundly sad their existance is and how you trea t them. how about cookie9? why do you hate themm so much. because of a review ? tou antagonize them for what ? the narrators doing ? bexause the narrator what . yeah . tou cant even explain his actions . go go play the game and hav eit rewrite your brain . go down the rabbit hole and bask in the true horror and unrealism of their situation
#how sleepy am i jesus christ#tsp#anywayy i think what im saying is pleade enjoy the gamr and the story it has actually theres so many little details and often all i see is#just. the narrator . the endings . stanley. yeah theres feeling and emotion but j want that in words i want to to see you understand it#i want to see you see it in your own way inderstand and process it in your own way and share that#i love seeing analysis posts !!!!! uughh nbrhh. not to say that like. the fanart isnt what i want no i love the fanart so much#but i wish there were more analysis posts or something idk#idk what my point was here#i love characterization . by the way . as someone who would write fanfics and has a pet peeve of correct characterization in fics and such#i just wish more people hnderstood the game as a whole and didnt just end up being like haha ships !!!!!!!! romance !!!!! like yes ! but#but also like they have something MORE than romance. something more intimate and close . not sex yeah sure whatever but they are#connected in the most horrible ways and connected so closely and lovingly and they are connected whether they like it or not#they hate each other they love each other they are each others world they are divorced theyve been married for eternity they would kill eac#other they woukd have sex they woukd kiss they would dance they would do so many things that arent romance oriented but still close in#so many fucking ways because they love hate each other and their relationship is so conplicated you think they just suddenly love each othe#no matter what now ?? after what. you think stanley is forgiving ? after being brought through hell over and over and over again?#no! they hate each others guts i tell you. but they still stick by each others sides because they dont belong anywhere else#theres love but not in any way any of us can think. theres love but not like that but also exactly like that. theres also hate#and its a beautiful mix of the two that allows them to get along so well and endure each other for so long and further#anyway fucking . i forgot my point#anyway go down the rabbit hole 👍 this game is insane and you should be insane about it too#but like. be insane about it . not the concept of romance in this game. do not pair them up just for the sake of shipping#understand their relationship. understand them. understand their circumstances. understand their problems their bate their love#them. understand them and how much they need each other. how they keep chasing and chasing and chasing only to run#in circles. anyway what was my POINT. i ront remember 👍👍👍#i am . so sleepy
30 notes · View notes
kurous · 2 months
Text
i think my issue with the way a lot of the discourse is handled on this app is that everything has to be handled in a large callout post and everyone must adhere to the same community-wide agreement on said discourse. vigilantism is not helpful and rallying other people to "cancel" those whose opinions (particularly when it comes to what they're writing about or what they should be writing about) is sort of fucked up.
if you're pro or anti dark content that is entirely your business, but constantly making 200 note posts about particular people that don't support it or do is not helping anyone. in fact, i would argue that a lot of the attitudes people on this app have towards, not only dark content but writing in general, are weird and semi-cultish.
6 notes · View notes
submarine-prince · 10 months
Note
Do you ever just randomly realise that you are a published author? Like holy shit thats so cool of you
You are so cool
omg that's right, i am, thanks for reminding me lmaooo
to be honest i don't really consider myself like a proper published author because i self-published, but it is crazy to realise that there are people out there who have my book with my words in their houses
i would love to become like a "real" author with my own publisher in a publishing company and stuff, maybe someday :)
thank youuuu you're cool too, i love the covers of songs you post on youtube <3
8 notes · View notes
avaantares · 1 year
Text
Fanfiction Authors: HEADS UP
(Non-authors, please RB to signal boost to your author friends!)
An astute reader informed me this morning that one of my fics (Children of the Future Age) had been pirated and was being sold as a novel on Amazon:
Tumblr media
(And they weren't even creative with their cover design. If you're going to pirate something that I spent a full year of my life writing, at least give me a pretty screenshot to brag about later. Seriously.)
I promptly filed a DMCA complaint to have it removed, but I checked out the company that put it up -- Plush Books -- and it looks like A LOT of their books are pirated fic. They are by no means the only ones doing this, either -- the fact that """publishers""" can download stories from AO3 in ebook format and then reupload them to Amazon in just a few clicks makes fic piracy a common problem. There are a whole host of reasons why letting this continue is bad -- including actual legal risk to fanfiction archives -- but basically:
IF YOU ARE A FANFIC AUTHOR WITH LONG AND/OR POPULAR WORKS, PLEASE CHECK AMAZON TO SEE IF YOUR STORIES HAVE BEEN PIRATED.
You can search for your fics by title, or by text from the description (which is often just copied wholesale from AO3 as well). If you find that someone has stolen your work and is selling it as their own, you can lodge a DMCA complaint (Amazon.com/USA site; other countries have different systems). If you haven't done this before, it's easy! Here's a tutorial:
HOW TO FILE A COPYRIGHT COMPLAINT FOR STOLEN WORK ON AMAZON.COM:
First, go to this form. You'll need to be signed into your Amazon account.
Select the radio buttons/dropdown options (shown below) to indicate that you are the legal Rights Owner, you have a copyright concern, and it is about a pirated product.
Enter the name of your story in the Name of Brand field.
In the Link to the Copyrighted Work box, enter a link to the story on AO3 or whatever site your work is posted on.
Tumblr media
In the Additional Information box, explain that you are the author of the work and it is being sold without your permission. That's all you really need. If you want, you can include additional information that might be helpful in establishing the validity of your claim, but you don't have to go into great detail. You can simply write something like this:
I am the author of this work, which is being sold by [publisher] without my permission. I originally published this story in [date/year] on [name of site], and have provided a link to the original above. On request, I can provide documentation proving that I am the owner of the account that originally posted this story.
Tumblr media
In the ASIN/ISBN-10 field, copy and paste the ID number from the pirated copy's URL. You'll find this ten-digit number in the Amazon URL after the word "product," as in the screenshot below. (If the URL extends beyond this number, you can ignore everything from the question mark on.) Once this number has been added, Amazon will pull the product information automatically and add it to the complaint form, so you can check the listing title and make sure it's correct.
Tumblr media
Finally, add your contact information to the relevant fields, check the "I have read and accept the statements" box, and then click Submit. You should receive an email confirmation that Amazon has received the form.
Please share this information with your writer friends, keep an eye out for/report pirated works, and help us keep fanfiction free and legally protected!
NOTE: All of the above also applies to Amazon products featuring stolen artwork, etc., so fan artists should check too!
85K notes · View notes
southfarthing · 10 months
Text
what with all this talk of fanfic and ai and feeding other people's work without permission into ai programmes to 'finish' a fanfic or whatever... it's just showing how people see fic as 'content'? a fanfic as something mass-produced and official, something to consume at a distance and then talk about in a vacuum? something to use for your own purposes and something over which you have a claim?
fanfic is written by fans like you. written out of love and passion and a lot of effort and hard work, so that the author can share their enthusiasm for the characters and stories with other fans. like you. they aren't these untouchable, faceless people above you – they're your peers. gifsets, fanart, fanfic – they're all made by your peers. mutuals. friends.
if you want to know more about the fic, talk to the author! so many fic writers leave their socials in the end notes of their fics – talk to them! they're not going to be affronted or judgemental. chances are, they're going to be over the moon that you like their work and want to engage and discuss the characters and the themes etc. they made you happy with their fic, and you would be making them so happy in return! (and what does a happy writer do? write more!)
as a fic writer, I made one of my closest tumblr friends because she read my fic and left a really nice comment, and then we got talking and brainstorming loads of headcanons and fic ideas together! fic writers want to talk! if you enjoy someone's presence and contributions in a fandom, let them know!
and for the love of all that is good, don't feed someone's hard work into an ai programme!!! whether you post it (which is just horrible tbh) is beside the point – you're facilitating the plagiarism of their fic!
11K notes · View notes
articulatevampire · 1 year
Text
Under a cut bc I am sick of hearing about this
You know... Anne Rice has a distinctive style. Her writing is not for everyone the same way that Lovecraft or Shakespeare aren't for everyone. They have very florid, descriptive styles. They are highly creative with language. But because she's a "popular novelist" it's okay to just trash it. Stephen King asked a group of popular writer friends if there was a question they were never asked at writer's talks, and Amy Tan said, "No one ever asks about the language." Writing is not easy. Writers are not typists. Fiction writers are not the same as journalists or bloggers or nonfiction writers. The techniques are different, and open. This is art. Popular novelists are allowed to be artistic with language.
Listen, there are valid critiques from academics regarding her style, her characterization, and especially her plot, but for fuck's sake, let it go. If you don't like it please, please, curate your experiences. Don't read it. Wikipedia and Google are free. Or just go around asking people on social media about fandoms instead of looking into source material. No judgment, seriously. You do you, and I genuinely hope you have fun.
0 notes
savannahsdeath · 8 months
Note
hii i have a little ellie request. so can we maybe have an enemies to lovers where reader and ellie “hate each other” but in reality ellie just wants to be with reader and she ends up using the strap roughly bc reader didn’t wanna confess after years? (sorry this seems long😭)
i absolutely love this idea omg??
ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER
PART1ONE
part 2two
mdni please<3
Tumblr media
warnings: 18+!! smut, 'enemies' to lovers, strap (r!receiving), mean!ellie kinda??, rough!ellie, reader is also mean at first !!
writers note: i love receiving requests like yall are so creative and idkk its just easier to write a req than my own idea🫣🫣 also this turned out to be longer than i expected (my longest fanfic yet!) but even the anon said it seems long so ig thats how its supposed to be🙏
Tumblr media
It was another PE lesson you hate so much. It wouldn't be that bad, if not the fact that you're in the same team with Ellie. Ellie fucking Williams.
She would get mad at you for every little mistake you made. You absolutely hated her.
You had to admit she was... pretty. Especially when she had the mix of mad and stern expression on her face. Sometimes you provoked her just to watch her insult every little thing about you she could but you didn't mind. You just sat there with a smirk, sometimes making a mockingly worried face to piss her off even more. Sometimes. Sometimes you weren't in mood for that and you'd actually get offended. Sometimes even hurt. But you couldn't really blame her, that's how it works.
This day, you were literally rescuing your team. Every point was because of you. Every 'that was close' situation was only 'close' because of you. But your luck, or whatever made you win, had to run out eventually. You missed one time.
"What happened? Got holes in your hands? Tired? Not so good anymore?" Ellie asked you with that mocking tone.
Everyone ignored your interaction - they knew what's starting and they didn't want to get involved in that.
"I've done pretty much everything for this team, and the only thing you do is complain, Williams." You said and you could feel your temper rising.
Ellie didn't hesitate to respond to that.
"Well at least I don't do a half-ass job like you. You're really so full of yourself, aren't you? Why not just give up and let someone actually capable take over, huh?" She barked sarcastically.
The other team members didn't even try to hide their excitement now, they just sat back and enjoyed the show, even the teacher was having a hard time holding back the grin on his face whenever Ellie came up with a new insult.
And now, there was no going back.
"Oh, I'm sorry Williams, did your precious little ego get hurt from that? Are my skills threatening your so-called pride? Well if you don't like it, suck it up." You shot back.
If this kept up, you were going to end up with another detention for sure. Everyone knew that you two were like oil and water, but nobody really expected you to get into a shouting match over PE class. Especially, not this early in the morning.
The teacher finally decided that it was enough trouble, and he stepped between the two.
"Ladies, settle down! If you can't figure out how to work well together in a simple PE session, then you'll need more than one detention to figure it out. Go sit down." He ordered, and you two sat down, next to each other.
As if following a silent order, all the other students just went about their business and pretended like nothing had happened.
"You should learn how to shut up sometimes." You said quietly, nervously playing with your fingers.
"You should stop thinking you're so damn important." She snapped back, completely ignoring your advice as she stared at you with the same icy cold look as before.
The teacher came over to the two of you and handed you a form, which you quickly read over. "Maybe it's rough but that's what you both deserve after arguing in every single class. And if that won't help... I don't know what will. Someone will check in on you from time to time, so don't even think about anything, understood?."
In short, the file was saying you'll have spent a month after school doing little school works, like cleaning the gym, with her. It was a frequent way of dealing with problematic students in your school.
You weren't even surprised - the teacher was right. Your little bickers were the main gossip topic and there was no way they'll go unnoticed.
Still, you couldn't help but frown.
"You've got to be kidding me." You muttered under your breath. Spending a month after school doing odd jobs with Ellie was literally the last thing you wanted to do. You knew there was some sort of punishment coming, but this was extreme.
Ellie overheard your muttering, and she rolled her eyes. "It's just a bunch of cleaning, what's wrong, can't handle a little hard work?" She mocked.
"And why are you so happy? Maybe you wished to spend more time with me?" You chuckled, finally looking up at her.
Ellie seemed caught off guard, but she quickly recomposed herself. "Who said I was happy? Sure, I'll love to see you grovel and scrub floors while I sit back and relax." She replied in a sarcastic tone.
You decided to press your advantage, and give Ellie a dose of her own medicine. "Aww, is someone actually admitting that they like spending time with me? I'm so honored." You said with an overdramatized fake fluster.
Ellie didn't even let you finish your sentence before she cut in with her usual sarcastic tone. "Pfff, don't get so ahead of yourself there." She chided. Even then, you could hear some slight annoyance in her voice.
Ellie may have been a jerk, but there was something about her you couldn't help but like. You couldn't explain it, but you liked this banter between the two of you.
Oh, who were you trying to lie to? You liked her. You were just good at hiding it.
You were just about to open your mouth to respond to Ellie's last snarky remark, when you were cut off again.
"Enough."
You both turned to see the teacher staring at the two of you. He sounded more annoyed than before, and you decided it was better to stop your feud before you got in any more trouble.
"You two are already going to spend a month together doing odd jobs. The last thing we need is for you to add another week to that sentence." He warned.
You wanted to say something back, but you decided to shut up before the teacher had to make it worse. You and Ellie just looked at each other for a couple of seconds, before you rolled your eyes and got up from your seat.
After a few more classes, the time of  fulfilling your penalty came. You sat down at the gym benches, waiting for Ellie. You waited, and waited, but no one came.
Ellie was faster than you with getting up. She smirked and said; "Well it's not like you actually had anything worth saying anyway, so it's easier for you." With that parting jab, she walked out of the gym.
Tumblr media
You expected something like that from her, so you stood up and a few minutes later you were standing in front of her room. You knocked to the door, patiently waiting for her to answer.
After a few moments, you heard footsteps, before the door finally opened. Ellie stood in front of you, her face as annoyed as ever.
"What do you want?" she grumbled, clearly not in the mood to be bothered right now.
"Uh, hello? We're supposed to be doing the clean-up, remember? You haven't forgotten, right?" You said, trying to stay as polite as you could.
She sighed and motioned for you to come in, clearly not ready to go just yet.
You slowly stepped into Ellie's room, your eyes taking in the decorations and mess. It was clear that this was Ellie's world, but you couldn't help but feel a slight curiosity towards her.
"So, why exactly weren't you at the gym?" You asked, finally breaking the tension. You didn't want her thinking you were here to start another argument.
"I had stuff to do." Was the terse response you were met with, nothing else.
"Yeah, of course." You rolled your eyes. "Your room could use some cleaning too."
Ellie smirked when your tone turned from polite to annoyed when she gave you her response, but you couldn't help but notice that she slightly recoiled when you mention how messy her room was. For someone with such a sharp tongue, she sure wasn't enjoying that same kind of treatment.
"Oh yeah? So maybe we should have you clean my room instead." She shot back.
"Actually, boarding school is still school, so that'd count too." You smirked, not so sarcastically anymore. You'd really rather stay in her room than running all over the building with a mop and dirty cloths.
Ellie raised one eyebrow at your reply, clearly not expecting you to just accept it without some kind of snarky remark or argument.
"Alright then." She replied simply, and she walked over to her bed and started to clear out the clutter. You couldn't really deny that her room was in a pretty messy state.
You explored the room, looking for something to start with.
Just then, near other scattered clothes, you saw feminine underwear. Clearly not hers.
"Um, Ellie..." You laughed. "Who's this?"
She walked up to you, not seeming surprised or embarrased at all. "I dunno. There's lots of girls visiting." She smirked.
You knew the smart thing to do would be just to drop the topic, but your curiosity got the best of you. Just who was Ellie Williams hanging out with?
"Really? And how many of them leave a pair of underwear in your room as a souvenir?" You asked, trying to keep a straight face, but you couldn't help but be amused by the situation.
Ellie just laughed, and you couldn't help but grin at her confidence in that moment.
"If you're asking if I'm dating someone," Ellie said, looking at you with an amused expression, "then no. I wouldn't call it dating."
You knew Ellie was always too stubborn and proud to just admit it normally, so you decided to push her just a little bit further.
"So it's not just a single person then? What's it? A new girl every day?" you asked with a smirk, knowing you'd hit a nerve there.
The slight flicker of annoyance on Ellie's face told you that you'd hit the mark.
"So what if it is? Are you jealous?" She teased in response, just adding fuel to the fire.
Now, she had the smirk on her face, and you just knew you'll regret what you started.
"Not really. Everyone knows you fuck every girl in the school anyways. Well, almost every." You suggestively pointed at yourself. "That's honestly sad. You should focus on one person, don't you think?"
Ellie took this as a challenge, she just couldn't resist it when you made yourself the exception.
"Oh, you think you're a special case? How cute." She snickered, and you couldn't help but feel somewhat pleased with that response after how much you two had been annoying each other for the past month.
"What do you think, should I consider dating you? It seems like you're interested, isn't that why you keep sticking around?" She asked, looking at you, knowing very well what kind of effect her words were gonna have on you.
"Me? Interested? You're the one finding excuses to talk to me every day, even if it's just another argument!" You shook your head and looked down, trying to hide that your smirk turns into a honest smile.
You felt Ellie's eyes studying your face as you tried to hide your genuine happiness, you tried to play it off, but you knew that it wasn't working in your favor. You couldn't even deny it, because it was true, you were interested in Ellie. Maybe not at first, but after spending time together, you grew to like her, her arrogance, her wit, the snarky smile on her face... and her eyes.
"Oh, so you do care!" She quickly cut in, sensing your weakness as your smile grew.
"Come on, don't tell me you've been enjoying this little game of ours, haven't you? Don't you look forward to it every day? Don't you love the adrenaline that kicks in when you're about to say something that's bound to start an argument?" She asked, taking a step closer to you and lowering her voice.
You could almost see the sparks fly as the two of you stared at each other, both feeling the tension in the air. You were almost tempted to take her up on the offer, but your pride got the best of you.
"You're just full of yourself, aren't you? Thinking everybody craves that attention." You said after taking a deep breath.
Ellie just smiled and walked straight to you, getting up close and personal.
"Well, I know you want it. So stop putting up a facade and admit it."
"I'm not like these sluts you fuck, Williams." You said, trying to keep your voice steady and calm.
Ellie just smirked in response. "You're right, you're not like them. You're better than them. And maybe you are a little special, considering how much you manage to piss me off everyday." She took a step back and looked you up and down. "I kinda like it." She said, and you couldn't help but feel your heart rate go up a little when she said that.
You just stared back at Ellie, not really sure what else to say in this situation. Both of your egos were too big to give the other one satisfaction, and neither would be making the first move.
She finally spoke up; "Your turn to be honest now. Admit you're into me."
She was awfully close to you now, daring you to say something.
"Don't push it, Ellie." You told her confidently, and even though you really wanted to say it, your pride was holding you back from admitting it.
Ellie just smirked and moved even closer to you, until her face was just an inch away from yours. "Say it." She whispered.
You felt your heart pounding faster as you just looked at her, not able to break her stare.
You shook your head. "No way."
She just chuckled at your response. "I knew you'd say that. And now, I'm gonna make you say it yourself."
Before you could even comprehend what was happening, Ellie pulled you close, just enough to make your lips meet. You just stood there, completely stunned by how bold she was, but at the same time, the feeling of her lips against yours was so new and so good as well. You hadn't felt this type of rush before, and you didn't want it to end.
You couldn't stop yourself from letting out a gasp followed by a moan into the kiss, which made her even bolder.
"I'll show you how lucky those so-called by you sluts are." She whispered after pulling away from you, but not for long.
While Ellie's mouth aggresively covered yours, you felt her slowly pushing you towards the bed.
You were barely able to think now, as your adrenaline was pumping through your whole body. Your back hit the mattress, and Ellie continued to push you down as she climbed up onto the bed on top of you.
That's when it hit you.
You realized that your little feud with Ellie wasn't going to end after all, except this time you weren't fighting her.
Instead, you were just enjoying the moment with someone you could almost call a friend.
It felt like there was nothing else in the universe, just a rush of new sensations that you didn't want to end.
Ellie was the one in control now, as you felt her body pressing up against you, her lips pressing against yours, her hands moving around your body without hesitation. You weren't even thinking straight anymore, you just let her embrace you, letting her take control entirely.
You felt her break the kiss for a moment, just to whisper something in your ear. "Say it."
You knew what she wanted you to say, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do so.
Before you could answer, you felt her slowly undressing you. Her lips were tracing paths along your throat, not letting you let out a logical word from it - only little whimpers.
You felt every curve of her body as you felt her lips against your neck, every touch sending chills down your spine.
When you felt her hands move towards your pants, you felt your body respond in the only way you could.
You couldn't think of anything else but her embrace, her warm breath against your neck, and your body slowly being freed from clothing.
Ellie knew exactly how to push your buttons.
Before you could catch your breath, you were left shaking, as her hand slipped into your underwear, which was soon on the floor too. She was teasing your clit in almost painful slow way, watching you squirm.
"Speak up, babe." She whispered mockingly.
But you couldn't. Not because you didn't want, or because your ego didn't let you - you just couldn't. You even asked yourself 'What does this girl wants from me?' as you already forgotten her previous wish. You just weren't thinking straight.
"Come on, do this for me." She kept looking at you with overdramatic concern. You saw her fastening her belt and sliding of her jeans, revealing an obviously-way-too-big strap, which purple color didn't surprise you at all as you imagined it the same way in your dreams.
When you finally came back to your senses, you constructed a whole full sentence answer. But as soon as she saw you opening your mouth to speak up, she slid a few inches of her toy into your soaking cunt. Your planned reply quickly got replaced with another gasp.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" She smirked, her hips started thrusting. She had some sympathy for you, so she didn't make it too painful, but she wasn't also so merciful.
You cried out, at first clenching your thighs from surprise, but she was too strong for you to actually succeed.
You leaned your head back against the pillow, squeezing your eyes shut causing a few of your pathetic tears soak into the sheets.
She held your hips, so she won't miss your sensitive spot, but her grip was so hard you swore you can already see the bruises creating right beneath her fingers.
"Honestly, I'm really happy it ended like that. You have no idea how often I'd imagine you instead of some random girl. But it's good to have you really there." She chuckled, not slowing down but not speeding up either.
Your eyes opened wide at this confession. Before today, the nicest thing she said to you was 'what's wrong?', even though it was in an obviously mocking way. And know it turns out she liked you for a long time. Just like you liked her.
"W...Wh- What?" You managed to stutter out, leaning on your elbows to look at her before your vision turned blurry again so you fell back on the pillow.
"You didn't know?" She laughed. "I mean, you were always oblivious, so I shouldn't be shocked but... I thought it was clear." She was speaking slower than usual as every single word coming from her mouth was synced with the moves of her hips. While saying this simple thing, she pushed her strap into you at least twenty times. And she wasn't taking her time, oh, no. She was fast and rough, like you're just a sex toy without feelings. Did you mind? Hmmm...
When you started getting used to the size of her cock and your mind wasn't completely blank anymore, you remembered one important thing your PE teacher said. 'Someone will check in on you from time to time, so don't even think about anything.' None of you were either at the gym or putting up flyers around school. They're going to think you ditched it. Even though you'd rather get into more trouble than end whatever you were doing now, you felt you need to tell Ellie, just in case.
"El-s..." You moaned out and quickly realised it won't be easy.
"What is it?" She asked, seeming honestly interested in what you got to say. "Ready to admit you're absolutely obsessed with me?"
You clenched your fists, squeezing the bed sheets between your fingers.
"Th- no... We should..." You couldn't help but cry out again.
As soon as she heard the two keywords - 'we should' (and she hated when someone was telling her what to do, so that pissed her off) - she understood what you're trying to say.
"Behave? Fulfill our duties? Or...?" She chuckled.
You wanted to speak up, just to not feel so vulnerable as you really were. You only managed to mumble 'we' before one of her hands started rubbing your clit, just like at the start - painfully slow. The feeling made your thighs tense and move closer to each other, wanting to close the gap between them. But Ellie didn't let that happen as she quickly separated your legs.
Her hips also didn't stop moving, and all the sensations connected made you go silent again. Well, not silent - unable to speak. And that were two completely different things.
"I'd take that as a 'we should continue what we're doing right now'. Isn't that what you want?" Even though you're eyes were closed, you could feel her intense stare on you. Then, her mocking tone came back. "What is it with you being so quiet all of sudden? You spent a few of the past years yelling at me, and you can't even say a word now?"
"I ju-st..." You said but then she hit your g spot again, and again, and again... making you go silent.
Your stomach started feeling funny - probably because of how deep in it Ellie's strap was. At this point, you thought you can even feel it in your throat and that's what's blocking your words from coming out. But the funny feeling had a different origin - your release was getting awfully close, and it didn't go unnoticed.
"We're going to have lots of fun this month." She whispered, leaning in to stroke your cheek.
2K notes · View notes
fioiswriting · 5 months
Text
Reunion | oneshot
Tumblr media
Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...
[Part 2]
Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI
Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, implied Cregan Stark x Reader (you can interpret them as lovers or not). Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course &lt;3
TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral m receiving, praising kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, Alys Rivers (but no cheating), Reader has a child, grief, light choking, not proofread.
Words count : 7600
Author's notes : Hi everyone !! Sooo I’m posting my first ever fanfic on here, my first x reader and my first fanfic for Aemond. I’m very anxious haha But well, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a RP that has been going on for months with my wonderful gf <3 She writes Aemond so well I swear and now she’s making me fall in love with Cregan too haha oops whatever. Some of Aemond’s lines in this fanfic are hers so of course the credits go to her 💕 Long story short the reader’s backstory is inspired by my OC! The plot doesn't make any sense but whatever
Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!
Enjoy 🖤
I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met The night we met - Lord Huron
The snow had covered the landscape of Winterfell in a thin white layer so similar to ash, and the image tugged at your heart for a moment. Ashes. Fire. War. It was strange, the stillness that had followed the fury of screams and blood, of fire and ash, the constant anguish and pain of loss. It was like a long howl and then sudden silence. Life had resumed its course, the earth and the grass nurtured in red, as if nothing had happened, and that still irritated you sometimes, three years later.
For this peacefulness was a constant reminder of your life before. Before the war, before your own family ripped itself apart from within, before you lost him. There was something bitter in the thought that, in an alternate reality, you would have been happy with him by your side. The night brought its share of sweet dreams, lulled by the embrace of his arms, and you closed your eyes with ease, hoping to see his face again, which was fading day by day, desperately clinging to the details that made him.
It had been the best solution, you knew. 
For there was no reality in which he could live as much as you wished for. And you had accepted your duty by straightening your shoulders, silencing your heart, digging your thumbnail into the inside of your wrist. Your stepfather had said he was dead; he had seen Vhaegar fall from the sky, wounded.  He had seen the huge dragon crash into the water with all its weight. He had waited, and no silver hair had returned to the surface. He had searched and no body had been found.
So, he had returned, triumphant, with the conclusion that Aemond Targaryen was dead.
The room had swayed around you, but your fingers on the hard, rough wood of the table had kept you grounded. You had nodded, unsure, your ears ringing, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your tongue to hold back the tears that were beading at the edges of your eyes.
You knew it was inevitable, perhaps even fair. But it still hurt.  It sill fucking hurt.
Daemon had reassured you by pointing out that you were now released from your marital obligation.  A marriage to him that you had hoped for, waited for, dreamed of in your younger years. A marriage you had despised, once forced into, once made captive, a prisoner to be used against your own mother. And then a marriage that you had loved, cherished even, when he had opened up to you, when he had changed, when he had revealed that soft side despite his rough edges.  And you loved him, truly. The childhood love, the shy love that had blossomed between laughter muffled behind the curtains, hand-in-hand runs through the Red Keep and reading session hidden under the library table, had been rekindled.  Raw, devouring, bruised by war, but more powerful than ever.
Out of the corner of your eye you had caught a glimpse of the comforting gaze of your mother, the Queen, her gentle eyes searching for clues that would betray what you were feeling. It was she who had stroked your hair that evening, her presence welcome and soothing.
During the war, events had made you more uncertain than ever; blood and cheese had broken something in you. Suddenly shaken by the horrific actions of someone you hardly recognised, by the actions of your own family and the father figure who had raised you as his own daughter. You questioned your loyalties more than ever. Of course, you'd been devastated by Luke's death, your beloved little brother, so innocent, so sweet, and the despair you'd felt, the sadness, had gradually turned to anger. 
Your desire for revenge had fed on your rage, on your anger.
And in your quest for revenge, you had grabbed the dagger hidden in your bodice when you had kissed him, when you had poisoned him with your lips and your body pressed against his. Perhaps it was cowardice to do it on your wedding night, right after the pitiful ceremony in which you had been forced to exchange your vows of fidelity, the humiliation of the white, blue, red and green cloak around your shoulders.  Perhaps it was cowardice to wait for him to surrender to your touch, hard with desire, before plunging the blade straight into his heart.
But you didn't do it, in the end, the humiliation of your failure burning in your cheeks, and you had seen the horrible reality in the icy eye fixed on you: he was expecting it.  He knew. He had anticipated you, as usual, one step ahead of you, ahead of your plans. And the humiliation was all the more bitter.
First he had defied you, knowing full well that you couldn't do it, despite your momentary hesitation. Then he had wiped away your tears, the sound of metal echoing off the floor as he captured your lips with his own. 
And both you and he had sought to release the accumulated tension in the comfort of your naked bodies, in the rough, demanding thrusts.
You weren't quite sure when your relationship had changed. When he had become more forgiving. When he had trusted you. When he had become gentle. When you had felt him slipping away, subtly, almost imperceptibly. When you had begun to seek comfort in his arms, to seek the warmth of his body, to seek his love on his lips.
You loved him.
So you spent the nights lying awake in fear. Fearing the moment when you would have to make a choice. Fearing the moment when you would have to betray.
Which side would you choose when both armies were coming towards you, carrying the same flags, the same weapons, both calling your name?
Anxiety had spread its roots in the pit of your stomach, crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You felt as if you were losing your mind.
But the choice had been forced upon you without you having to make it. You had accepted it, as your duty demanded, as your loyalty to your family demanded.
Life at Winterfell wasn't so bad, quite the opposite in fact, despite the cold and snow you weren't used to. Cregan Stark was a good man. He had given you time and space to grieve, and had opened the castle gates to you with kindness. You had decided that you could get used to the cold and the snow, to the stone and the rustic wood, so different from the refineries of the capital, but infinitely warmer.
It was your choice, your departure for Winterfell.  Dragonstone was still haunted by the ghost of Luke, by the ghosts of Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys and Rhaenys and all the family members you had lost.  King's Landing was haunted, too. By your sweet aunt and her cries of despair, by Aegon's descent into madness, by the humiliations you had so gracefully endured, by the recurring announcements of deaths, by the smell of the innocents’ blood, by the pitiful looks of Alicent, who had seen in you the image of herself a few years earlier, powerless and manipulated.
But above all, it was haunted by him.
The weight of the memories had become unbearable and you needed to leave.
You chose Winterfell, hoping the cold would help you forget. And Jace had come with you, his thumb caressing the back of your hand with affection, always the protective, reassuring big brother he was to you.  Probably glad to see his friend again, too. Your friend, to both of you.
But forgetting was something you'd never really been able to do, even less with the last memory he'd left you.
Now, just over three years later, you felt ready to return to King's Landing to visit your parents, to face the demons of your past and to mourn once and for all. It was inexplicable, perhaps a little strange, but you felt the need to go back.
On his first dragon ride, Rhaegar clapped his hands along the way, nestled into your arms in front of you, closing his eyes as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Midnight, your dragon, as pleasant as ever, as easy and gentle as ever, took care to be careful with the two of you on his back.
When you arrived, Rhaenyra hugged you as tightly as she'd ever hugged you, her nose buried in your thick hair, before bending down to take her grandson in her arms.
"I've missed you, sweet girl." she said to you. You smiled and reached for her arm, glancing at your son who'd grabbed one of your mother's long silver curls: "Daemon has missed you too. You know he doesn't show his feelings, but... he missed you." 
You smile, your eyes dropping to the floor.  You missed them, too, terribly, despite the frequent letters.
"And of course... we’ve missed you too, little one!" Rhaenyra added, catching the child's nose with her thumb and forefinger, causing him to burst into laughter.
It felt good to be back.  It was good to have regained some sort of routine in your daily life with your family. It was good to see the walls of the Red Keep return to their original familiarity, chasing away the ghosts you feared you might see again.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Perhaps you should have listened to your stepfather and not stray under any circumstances from the knight who has been following your every step with concern, afraid to lose sight of you. 
Five years earlier, it was Sir Erryk's vigilance that you had deceived when you had carelessly followed your eldest uncle into the dangerous streets of the capital.
The streets of King's Landing offered you a freedom you had missed. But now you almost regret sneaking through the crowds to escape the vigilance of the knight who had escorted you. You decide to take a shortcut, the hood of your cloak pulled down over your forehead.  It must have been your imagination.  You aren’t on the worst side of the city, not like five years ago, and the streets have become safe, much safer now that your parents are in power.
Your footsteps led you to some stone steps, which you climb at full speed, your heart pounding in your chest.  Glancing behind you, you disappear like a shadow around the corner of an alley, but the feeling is still there. You feel as if you are being followed.
At the Red Keep you already had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. In the gardens, with your son. Along the ramparts, enjoying the sea breeze on your face.
But you blamed it on your body's automatic response to the anxiety that had built up in all the years you'd spent within the walls of the Keep.
You slow your pace as you spot the dome and towers of the Great Sept at the end of the alley. From there you can easily find your way back to the Red Keep. All you had to do is keep moving, staring ahead, pressing your pace, wrapped in the thick wool of your cloak.
One step after the other. Breathing deeply. Half-moons in your palms.
The Great Sept growing closer give you a strange kind of reassurance.
And then suddenly, one hand closes over your mouth, the other around your waist. Your back bangs painfully against the cold stone wall of the winding alley into which you have been dragged. Fuck. Fuck.
You are too paralysed to struggle, too paralysed to bite the hand of the stranger holding you prisoner between the wall and his own body.
"You obviously learned nothing from my advice, Lady Strong," the icy voice whispers in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes widen. 
That voice. It couldn't be.
Lady Strong. Lady Strong. Lady Strong.
It can’t be.
That is your sick mind playing tricks on you again.
"As reckless as ever, hm, aren't you? You could easily get yourself killed."
The stranger releases you and you look up again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, searching for that icy blue, tinged with lilac, that have read through you so many times before.
It is impossible.
He has died three years before, falling from Vhaegar's back into the deep waters of the lake at Harrenhal.
Is it a ghost? Is it a hallucination?
"You are dead. You were dead," you whisper, more to yourself than to him, still in shock from the feel of his body against yours. You feel the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes roll down your cheek, and your little fists pound his chest.
You have so much to say to him. So many things to reproach him for.
His hand cups your cheek to turn your head and force you to look at him, his thumb wiping away your tears. 
The way he looks at you hasn’t changed; it still makes you shiver. You still feel that your uncle could read through you, that he could discover your deepest secrets.  And there is still that hint of desire, too, that gleam in his one seeing eye.
You want to kiss him. You want to slap him.
He clenches his jaw as he pulls you against him, burying your face in his chest, his arms around you. He rests his chin on your head. One of his hands strokes your dark hair as you stifle sobs into the wool of his cloak.
The situation takes you back to your wedding night, when he had comforted you in the same way after you had told him that you couldn't hate him, even if you had tried.
"I know," you hear him whisper, the vocal cords vibrating from his throat against the top of your head.
He is standing there, in front of you. You cling to the fabric of his clothes with all your might, as if you're afraid he'll slip away again.
"How?" you ask, eyes closed, head against him. If he is to be taken from you again, you intend to enjoy every moment in his company. 
He clenches again. You step back to look into his eyes, to search his enigmatic gaze for answers, for clues, for signs that would explain how. Why.
He doesn't answer you, but he is filled with desire as he grips your chin between his middle and index fingers, as he captures your lips with his own. You rediscover the possessiveness you've been missing. He pushes you a little harder against the wall behind you, as if to remind you who you belong to. Who you were married to.
A familiar warmth blossoms between your thighs, a warmth you haven't felt for too long. You're trapped, right there, your uncle towering over you, trapped between the wall and his body. His fingers close around your jaw and you kiss him back hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.
You're perfectly aware that the situation is surreal.  You're perfectly aware that you're making a mistake, that you shouldn't respond to the kiss of the man who used to be your husband, not when he's technically still your enemy, not when he's technically dead. 
But you shut out the voices in your head begging you to stop.
"I still want to hate you, you know," you breathe between his parted lips. He merely mutters hm in reply, trying to shut you up again, his hands wandering under your cape, tracing the ribs of the body he'd missed so much. He reaches for your waist, your hips, which he grabs meanly. 
There's no one in the alley around you, but the hood over his head hides his long silver hair anyway. 
"Three fucking years." Your lips leave his, a mixture of anger and desire bubbling up from your lower belly. Aemond stares at you, his jaw clenched. He knows you need to unleash your emotions when you don't read an ounce of regret in his gaze. "Three. Fucking. Years. And you've told me nothing. You never sought to -"
"I couldn't," he retorts harshly. He seems to be searching for words to explain something you could not possibly understand, but his gaze does not soften. You know he needs time, you've learned to know him.  You've waited three years, what's another moment? But you're tired, and your patience isn't as strong as it used to be.  You look away, a mocking laugh escaping your lips as you repeat his justification. "You couldn't." 
"And risk your mother executing me?" He forces you to look at him again, and you feel the lump form in your throat. You know you are perhaps being unfair, but you were alone for those three years while you mourned him, so alone, and in a way, you want to make him pay.
"You were dead to me, qybor." Uncle. You feel him twitch at the mention of your family tie, at the nickname he used to love to hear on your tongue. "I had to live with the idea that you would never come back."
The tears that had dried on your cheeks threaten to flow again, pooling at the corners of your eyes. Aemond sighs. 
"I thought I was dead too," he whispers. You can feel the tension in every one of his muscles. There's a moment of hesitation, a silence that hovers between you.  You have so many questions, but you don't know where to begin.  Not a sound leaves your lips.
"She tended to my wounds," he adds, and you frown in confusion. "Alys."
Alys. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he keeps you pinned to the wall.  Alys, you remember the rumours whispered in your ear by that rat of Larys - those false rumours, you remind yourself -  but you can't help feeling your heart clench.  You don't trust your voice enough to speak, to say anything.
"There's no one left in Harrenhal but her," he adds, as if you need that clarification, as if you need to know where he's been all this time. 
You say nothing. Your throat is tight. If you speak, if you look at him, you'll cry again and betray your feelings all over again. You refuse to make a fool of yourself, not now.
"She's the one who saw you. In Winterfell." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice as he mentions the place where you've spent the last few years rebuilding yourself, trying to forget him.  A bit of anger, perhaps, too.
"Cregan Stark welcomed me indeed," you reply curtly.  Perhaps you want to hurt him as he hurt you, but you are deliberately vague in your answer. "I have mourned you, qybor."
Everything is so confused in your mind.  A paradoxical blend of desire, anger, sadness, jealousy.  Of love too.
You want to strangle him and melt on his lips at the same time, and you know that after all this time you should be used to feeling this paradox of emotions with Aemond. Your uncle was a set of contradictions all his own.
"I saw you. On Midnight. That's how I knew you were here."
You nod. Words don't work between you, you know that. It has always been like that; the habit of letting silence speak more than words. The habit of communicating through the carnal acts of your bodies against each other. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Aemond pushes you against the wooden door as soon as you enter the mediocre room of the inn. He is demanding, more than ever, as his hands run along your hips to your thighs to lift you up and press you against the door, your legs closing around him. He watches you with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You can't stop a moan from escaping your lips. 
There's something feverish, passionate, urgent about the kiss. And when his tongue begs for an opening, your lips part to welcome him. There is only you in this room, an interlude where nothing else exists, where you don't have to worry about your duties and loyalties, where you are guided by nothing but passion.
His hand slams against the wall next to your head and with a movement of his hips he lifts you a little higher onto his waist, your legs locked tightly around him. He grunts into the crook of your neck at the friction of your crotch against his.
"Tell me to stop." His hand which isn't against the wall to support your weight slides up to your jaw. He lifts your chin, his gaze locked in yours, searching for clues, anything that would betray your desire to end whatever it is you're doing. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."
You don't want to stop. You should, you know you should, but you silence the little voice in your conscience that's begging you to pull yourself together, to end it all before you've even started, before you've even gone too far, and you kiss him with more vigour, with more fervour.
"I'm not going to tell you to stop, qybor," you whisper against his lips. "You know that."
His hardened member twitches beneath you at the mention of the High Valyrian, at the mention of that nickname he's so fond of. It's his weakness, you know, and despite the three years he's been away, he hasn't changed.
It's so good to feel him against you again, to feel his lips against yours, along your jawline to the junction with your neck. In one sharp movement, he rolls his hips to meet yours, pressing you a little harder against the wooden wall, and he catches your moan between his lips.
You know that tonight there will be no shy touches between you, no awkward explorations like in the early days of your love, when it wasn't tainted by war, blood, and death yet. You and he will both be consumed by the burning fire of passion.   You both need to release that tension and frustration, to make up for lost time, to drown, drunk with desire, in the most carnal of acts. All that matters now are his hands on your body to ease the pain pulsing between your thighs, the desperate need to feel him inside you. 
The barrier of your clothes frustrates you. You need to feel his skin against yours, to feel all of him, and your hand runs down his body to pull at the cord holding his breeches together. Immediately his fingers close around your wrist to hold you back. He wants to be in control, you know. But it has been three years and something about you just isn't the same.
"Let me worship you like I used to, qybor," you whisper against his lips, your forehead pressed against his, and you feel his jaw tighten. There's a moment of hesitation in his eyes, clouded by desire.
His thumb caresses your lips, pressing against your lower lip. You part them, just enough for the tip of your tongue to wet the top of his thumb. There are no further words exchanged between you, just silence, punctuated by your gasping breaths. His hand closes around your throat, not pressing too hard, just enough so you can feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe, just to remind you that he's in complete control of the situation.
Fuck, you've missed it; the adrenaline of his hand around your throat, the adrenaline of knowing he could do anything to you and you'd be defenceless.
"On your knees then."
The command echoes through the room and you feel the wetness seeping between your thighs as you slide to your knees in front of him. Your eyes shine with envy and you look up at him as you did years ago. You know he can't resist the angelic look on your face when you're between his thighs. You know he can't resist the dichotomy between the innocent look on your face and the sinful act you're about to commit.  He revels in your submission, and that's something you've learned to use against him.
Your uncle releases his cock from his breeches, his hand wrapped around the base, and the desire you feel between your thighs becomes more and more unbearable. The head is already glistening with anticipation, white pearls beading at the slit, and it takes all of Aemond's self-control not to grab you by the hair and force himself into your mouth entirely. 
Closing the distance, he rubs his member against your lips to spread the wetness before pushing into your mouth. Your lips close around him. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the hand holding the base of his manhood is replaced by yours to cover what you can't take. Your tongue curls around the tip first, absorbing his salty taste, and you look up at him through your long lashes. He doesn't look away from you.
His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caresses your cheekbone before sliding to the corner of your lips, just where his length disappears between them. It's as if he's hypnotised by the spectacle, by the bobbing of your head, by your hollowed cheeks, by your application and devotion. 
His hands leave your jaw and sink into your thick curls, urging you to take him a little deeper, and he thrusts between your lips with more vigour. You close your eyes, concentrating on not choking as his member touches the back of your throat. You take it as diligently and assiduously as ever, ignoring the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.
"That's it, just like that. Such a good girl, mandianna [niece], such a good wife," you hear him grunt, his movements more erratic, more jerky, and you revel in his praise, sending a new wave of heat between your thighs. "Only for me."
You feel him throb on your tongue. You know it won't be long now, and you prepare yourself to welcome him, to let the salty taste of his seed flood your tongue, but your uncle pulls back reluctantly. 
"I would rather not waste." he whispers, his eyes riveted on the thread of saliva that connects your lips, glistening with saliva and precum, to the tip of his cock. You shudder. Aemond definitely hasn't changed much, you realise.
His hand finds your cheek again and he caresses your lips to spread the mess you've made by sucking him. You know he isn't finished. This is just the beginning and you're both driven by the consuming hunger of passion. You know what's coming now, your core clenching around nothing, and you rub your thighs together, in an attempt to soothe the impatience. 
He urges you to stand. He has that predatory look in his eyes as he closes the distance between you with his determined steps. 
" Undress," he orders, and you do not take your eyes off him as you untie the linen dress you had put on to disguise yourself as a common girl.
The garment falls heavily to the floor, forming a grey puddle at your feet, and you take a step forward.
"Do you not like seeing me dressed in rags, qybor?" you ask in a playful tone, teasing, referring to the time, years ago, when he had rescued you during your adventurous walk along the grim Silk Road where your uncle Aegon had accidentally led you. 
The memory was so close and yet so far away.
Aemond takes a step towards you, his hand brushing aside the long hair that hides your breasts to tuck it behind your shoulder.
"Not when you are meant to be my Queen." His eye glow with desire. He studies your body in detail as his fingers slide down your collarbone to your breasts. His thumb traces their underside before moving up to your nipples, hardened by the cool evening air and desire. He plays with them, eliciting a moan that satisfies him.  He looks at you like one looking at a prize, a long-awaited gift.
"Three years away from my beautiful wife," he whispers, his good eye gleaming as he looks at your breasts.
"You did have pleasant company in Harrenhal though, didn't you?" you hiss through your teeth and Aemond's hand suddenly closes around your throat to make you swallow your insolence.  You're not afraid, not anymore, for you know he won't hurt you. You have this power over him and it's delicious. 
His face is so close to yours that your noses are touching. 
He doesn't let go of you. 
"It wasn't like that." He whispers. "With her." You know he's sincere because he's almost awkward with his words, his explanation. You can see in his eye that there are so many other things he would like to tell you, but you have learned not to rush him.  It has always been difficult for him to open up, to be vulnerable.
His fingers release you. Aemond is a good head taller than you, and as he puts a hand on your shoulder, moving forward to force you back until your knees hit the mattress, your eyes remain fixed on his. 
Your uncle lays you down on the mattress. It's not the comfort of the bed you once shared, but you don't care, you just need him inside you. 
You need him to make you feel whole again. Aemond was fire, and you were willing to burn for him.  You had always burned for him.
In the candlelight of the small bedroom where you spend the night, you see his thumbs slip under the waistband of his breeches. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor.
There's something soothing about the weight of his naked body on top of yours. Once under him, you know you can surrender completely to him and stop thinking, just stop thinking.
His lips on yours, his hands on your body, his broad torso eclipsing your smaller figure.
He places kisses down your neck to your collarbone, sucking your skin between his teeth to leave purple marks that will blossom tomorrow. 
He kisses your breast, his lips closing around an erect nipple which he sucks gently, then around the other.  Your hands are buried in his long silver hair.  You can feel how wet you are between your thighs. You need him desperately, right there.
The confidence with which his fingers slide down your waist, from your hips to your inner thighs, only emphasises his ravenous expression. His touch on your folds sends a wave of heat through your body, causing your hips to move against his hand. Softly tracing the curves of your crotch, his index and middle fingers finally part your folds to collect the wetness that has formed there.
"Is it sucking your husband's cock that has got you so wet? 
Yes, you want to answer, seeking more contact, but the words are stuck in your throat.
"Stay still," he orders in a hoarse voice as you move your hips, his hands gripping your hips to pin you back against the mattress. 
You comply, for once, because you know he won't give you what you want otherwise. And you can't wait any longer, not today, not when you thought you'd never feel his warmth against your body again, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you.
"You see, you can be a good girl." His voice is softer when you obey. And to reward you, his fingers slide to your entrance, where he applies a little pressure with the tip of his middle finger without actually penetrating you. "Now beg your husband to fill you."
"Please, qybor," you murmur, your hand taking his cheek to bring his face to yours. You want him to look at you. "Please, I need you inside."
Oh, the slowness and precision with which his finger plunges into you makes you throw your head back. He begins to move back and forth, his index finger joining his middle one, caressing your spongy walls, his thumb tracing circles around your bud. Curling his fingers, he strokes that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and you clutch the sheets beneath you.
You feel your centre tighten around his fingers, the release you've been looking for so close, so very close. You shut your eyes, ready for the familiar wave of warmth to wash over your entire body, but your uncle pulls his fingers away. You grunt in frustration.
You open your eyes only to see Aemond bring his fingers to his lips indecently, spreading your wetness over his own lips. "You still taste so good," he purrs, and you feel the blush rise to your cheeks.
He leans over to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips. It's indecent.
He pulls back and you see him wrap his hand around his hardened cock, the head angrily red and already drooling in anticipation. He guides himself to your core, rubbing his length between your folds, coating it with your glistening juices. 
The round tip of his member enters you, slowly at first, stretching your narrow entrance as if to give you time to adjust. Aemond pushes and he sinks easily into you until he's fully seated, your warm, wet walls feeling heavenly around him, squeezing him just right.
" You are so tight," he growls against you as your arms close around him, your legs bent and pressed to either side of his body. 
He gives you a moment to get used to having him inside you again, to feeling him so deeply. It's exactly what you need; he stretches you deliciously, with a perfect touch of controlled pain.
You feel whole again and you want to cry.  You never want to lose that feeling. You want to keep him, against you, inside you.
You close your eyes and bury your head in the hollow above his shoulder, clinging to him as if to feel him more deeply, more intimately.
"You can move," you reply, rolling your hips to support your words. Aemond's hand immediately presses down on your stomach to hold you against the mattress and you bite your lower lip, almost guilty of forgetting his earlier command. He always has that need to control. He's the one who decides, you should know it after all these years, and you should stop being so demanding, so desperate.
"I said stay still," he scolds you, and the waiting is unbearable. 
You need him. 
When he finally pulls out and thrusts into you again, you let out a whimper. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his back, leaving crescent marks that will probably still be there the next day.
Once under him, Aemond has the ability to make you vulnerable, and part of you hate him for it.
"You take me so well," he growls after a particularly brutal thrust. "You're such a good girl."
The praise is sweet music to your ears.  You have always needed it, to be praised, complimented.
You feel him hitting that special spot deep inside you, you feel him pressing in so deeply and your grip tightens around him.
"Did you miss me?" you whisper in a voice made weak by pleasure, but all you get in return are the hoarse grunts of his voice.
Aemond lowers his eyes to look at where you are joined, hypnotised by the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. The rhythm he imposes is powerful, deep, and his fingers find their way between your bodies, reaching your little bud at the top of your folds to trace circles on it. You won't last long and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten desperately around him. Your moans grow louder.
"Look at me." His voice barely brings you back to reality, even though your mind is already far away, even though you know you can't last much longer. Painfully, you open your eyes to meet your uncle's icy gaze. " I am going to fill you up." His pacing becomes more erratic, more sloppy, and you know he won't last much longer either. Leaning on his forearm, he continues to stroke your pearl in small circles. "I am going to fill you up and you're going to take it all."
The image of you, belly round with his child, haunts him.  It never stopped haunting him, even on the brink of death, even when he thought he'd exhaled his last breath as he fell into the icy waters of the lake, his heart clenched with regret and remorse. It still is a wonder that he has survived. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Gods still had plans for him.
I'm going to fill you up. Words like that shouldn't bring you to ecstasy, and yet they do. Aemond reaches deeper, and as he feels your whole body convulse with the spasms of your orgasm, he joins you in your release. He spills his seed deep inside you before remaining still, buried against your womb, enjoying your warmth, making sure he's pouring every last drop into you. 
He doesn't want to pull out, not yet, and you close your arms around his neck, your breast pressed against his chest as he softens inside you.
The weight of his body on yours is comforting.  For the first time in years, you feel alive. For the first time in years, the open wound he left seems to be healing.
When he pulls out, you wince at the sensation of his cock slipping between your still too sensitive folds. You immediately miss the feeling of fullness. 
You barely move, your whole body still sore from your lovemaking, but you can feel his cum leaking from your entrance onto the mattress below.
Again, Aemond's fingers are between your thighs that are glistening with the intimate essence of both of you, collecting his own seed and pushing it back into you.  You whimper, still too sensitive, your lips brushing against his, and he remains inside you for a brief moment. He wants to make sure nothing is wasted.
And when he withdraws his fingers, he presses them against your lips for you to clean them.
You snuggle up against him, your head against his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, the fine line of his muscles, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. You enjoy the warmth of his body while you still can. Between your thighs you feel the sticky sensation of his seed mixing with your wetness as it still flows out of you, but you don't want to leave the embrace of his arms.
"I saw you in the gardens. With the child."
When you feel his throat vibrate, you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "It was you, then?" You swallow. "It was you watching me." It's more of an observation than a question, and you suddenly understand that constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At least you weren't crazy. 
He lets out a hm and pauses.
"Is he yours?"
You know where this question is leading. You fear the moment of truth.  You'd deluded yourself into thinking you could avoid it, but you were naive; did you really think you could hide the truth from him for much longer, now that he was back?
"Yes." You answer, looking away. You're nervous, and he can feel it.
"He's Cregan Stark's son, isn't he?"
Your heart clenches. You hesitate for a moment. You should lie.  You know you should lie.  To protect your son and your family, as you've protected them for the past three years.  You only need one word.
You hear him sighing beneath you, taking your silence as confirmation.
"No, he's not." 
The words leave your lips before you can even stop them. You hold your breath. Beneath you, Aemond tenses. He straightens, puzzled, silent.
"A bastard, then?" His voice is dry, almost mocking, revealing a form of irritation. "I did not expect this from you, dear niece." Disappointment.
You feel anger boiling inside you at the thought of him insulting your son, your sweet boy you love so much. You swallow the lump that has formed in your throat and rise on your forearms, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn your hard gaze on him.
You don't know how to express the words that are desperately trying to escape your lips. 
" He has blue eyes," you add, and you can see the confusion on his face. A lock of hair slips from your shoulder and falls around your face. "Your blue eyes."
You feel him tense up. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one seeing eye.  It's rare to see Aemond Targaryen so unsure of himself, so full of doubt. He stares at you as if he's afraid he's heard you wrong, as if he's afraid he's invented the words that have come out of your mouth.
"What did you say?"
You look away. You bite your lower lip, regretting your words.  You want to bury your face in his chest. You breath. 
"He is your son, Aemond." You finally admit it.
It's true that Rhaegar's brown curls could easily make him look like a Stark. Cregan had offered to raise him as his own, and you had smiled at his kindness.
Rhaegar is so much like you. Like you, and like Luke, and especially like Jace as a child, of whom he is the spitting image. He has the soft features of your face, but his eyes make him undeniably Aemond's son.
Your uncle holds you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, his long nose buried in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair.
"My son," he repeats in awe.  It's rare to see Aemond smile with sincerity.  Especially after the war has worn him down, made him more ruthless than ever.
"His name is Rhaegar," you say. "Just as we discussed." There's shyness in your voice.
He straightens, you on top, straddling him, and he seeks your lips to kiss you fiercely. His desire awakens beneath you; you feel him harden against your core again.
And this time, he makes love to you.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 
"I missed the best part." He purrs against you, his hand absently caressing your breast before sliding down your body to rest on your flat stomach, just above where your womb lies. He clenches his hand possessively over your flesh. His voice is almost tinged with regret. Your hand rests on his.
"You shouldn't have left me," you reply, bitter. Deep down, you're still angry with him. Your gaze falls on your stomach, where both your hands lie, yours on top of his, clasped together. "You shouldn't have let your anger dictate your actions," you add, looking away. "But you were blinded by your desire for revenge, by your desire to prove that you could be better than him.” You swallow.
It is his fault, after all, that he missed your son's birth, that he didn't see him grow through the tender years of his infancy.
Rhaegar needed a father, and it was Cregan who raised him.
"Does he even know who I am? Who his father is?"
The guilty look on your face betrays you, and you know immediately that you've hurt his feelings. It may be selfish of you, but he needs to understand.
"You were supposed to be dead. There's still a lot he doesn't know." 
He doesn't say anything. You don't have the courage to meet his hard, stern gaze, you don't have the courage to see the disappointment and pain on his face, because if you do, your heart will tighten and you will fall apart.
"He's still so young. Give him time." You add, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his hand, in an attempt to soothe him. 
You know how much Aemond wanted a son, and you know it's cruel to take that from him.  You know he would have made a good father. You can picture him with Rhaegar on his knee, reading him stories, telling him about the adventures of Vhagar and Visenya, and you love the image that forms in your mind.
You told Rhaegar about Aemond, though he was still too young to understand. You told him that his father had once owned the greatest dragon in the world, that his father was a fearless man for it was true, and you saw his big eyes light up. 
Aemond pulls you closer to him. "I want to be there for him, you know."  Unlike Viserys, but he doesn't have to say it, you understand what he means in the undertone he leaves at the end of his sentence.  He has always suffered from his father's indifference.
You cuddle up to him and he runs his fingers through your long curls. For a moment, you imagine that everything is fine and you search for his touch. He plants a kiss on the top of your head.
"I've missed you," he admits, the words landing on the tips of his lips in the silence of the bedroom, but you're already dozing off.
You know that tomorrow will be made up of choices and decisions. 
But for now, you fall asleep in the embrace of his very real arms, for once, enjoying the illusion of the life you both could have had.
2K notes · View notes
fixyourwritinghabits · 5 months
Text
FINISHED MY MANUSCRIPT AND YEETED IT AT MY LIT AGENT time to get some slee - oh shit NaNoWriMo is here.
Erm.
Right, so if you're like me and you have the opening line of your NaNo project and a vague idea, I'd still like to encourage you to take part in NaNoWriMo. A large number of responses I get at this time are people who drop out in the first week. You have a whole month! If you need some nudging to stay in the game, please consider:
Any writing done by the end of the month is more writing than you had before. The biggest benefit of NaNoWriMo is having accomplished something, be it 50000 words or a couple of chapters. Using NaNo as a tool to carve out writing time can be really useful, and it's worth giving a try if you've had trouble figuring out how to get things done.
You don't have to write a book. You don't even have to work on the same project every day! Whatever needs writing - those fanfic drabbles, that personal essay you really want to publish, those three ideas you can't pick between - can be written during NaNoWriMo.
NaNoWriMo is a great way to connect with other writers, both local and online. Listen, it's hard to find other writers. My current group is spread across the world and we have trouble pinning down Discord meetups. Sometimes finding an in-person group can really help, but how to do that is hard. NaNoWriMo can be a chance to find people you vibe with - or don't vibe with, but can sit next to for an hour to write in silence. Anything helps.
No writing is bad writing. Even if you never look at it again, sitting down to write is like working out. You are practicing and improving your skills, even if you don't realize it. The only way to get better is to keep doing it.
You don't have to win. You don't have to write every day. You can even lower your goals to 300 words a day and still being doing NaNo, because you're putting in the work.
You can jump back into NaNoWriMo at any time. Have a bad day? A bad week? A final exam you must spend all your time and energy on? Don't give up on Day 3, Day 15, or Day 25. Every day of the month can be a new opportunity to write, no matter how many setbacks you have.
If you've never done NaNoWriMo before, give it a try! If you've tried it before and pounding out a novel in a month doesn't work for you, make NaNoWriMo your own thing. A paragraph a day, a drabble a week - whatever keeps your words flowing, this is the perfect month to set goals and try things out to figure out your writing styles.
Good luck!
1K notes · View notes
yanderestarangel · 6 months
Text
HEADKANONS BI HAN | SUB ZERO MK1 WITH S/O
A/N: I'm going to write headcanons about all the men in MK, I'm going to write one shots, fanfic, I'm going crazy and more horny for each one of them... I'm gay as f*ck. Do you want to make a request? Read my blog rules in the pinned post.
TW: sfw, headcanons in general, afab reader, smut.
Tumblr media
He is an aggressive lover. I mean, he's not going to hit you or anything, but he's extremely cold (I laughed after remembering that he's fucking sub zero lol), he's the type to talk the basics, even to you, so don't do it "silly" questions for him, if he's okay or if he ate, he'll answer: "-I'm here in front of you so obviously I'm fine." "-Don't worry, I know how to take care of myself, I'm not a child."
He likes to show his love for you through actions, like buying you something you've been wanting for a while, like giving you a bouquet of flowers, small but meaningful, Bi-Han doesn't know how to express love for anyone, I'm sorry, But it's the truth, but he tries for you, even if it's not the best.
Bi-Han cares about you even if he doesn't express it, he knows that he is a frustrated and wrong man in several actions, even if he wants to lie to himself that he doesn't, you both know that, but if you haven't given up on him, and You're still on his side, it means you love him, and he values that.
Bi Han won't let you work outside of his sight, that is, he will want you at home, you can beg or try to argue, he will say: "-Your job is to be my husband/wife, take care of our house, me and yourself, I can't allow you to go around." -He spoke calmly, but seriously, and that was really his thought, he just wants you to be close to him, he is afraid, terrified, of losing you one day. -
Bi Han is insecure, even if he never admits it, he gets jealous very quickly, he knows that you are a beautiful person, so he knows that many ninjas lust after you, even though you are married to him, so please don't flirt with other men or women, this man is capable of crazy things and the silent treatment he will give you after that will be for an indefinite period of time.
You are always on his mind in every mission, Kuai Liang and Tomas sometimes notice their grandmaster looking into space and perhaps, a transparent smile appears quickly, while Bi-Han looks at the landscape on the horizon, thinking about you. "-I hope (Y/N) is okay" -He said to himself, shaking his head soon after and returning to the mission.
When he notices that you are sad he becomes worried, but he just crosses his arms under his chest, and looks at you waiting for an explanation for such behavior, if you are upset about something that someone from the Lin Kuei clan did to you, consider that person dead, your grand master husband will immediately leave the house forming a deadly ice dagger in his hand, returning some time later, with a determined and blood-stained look. "-Okay, wipe your tears, the problem has already been solved, let's have dinner." -He spoke seriously and calmly, as he wiped the blood from his hands on a cloth, heading to the kitchen with heavy steps and giving you a look, so you could follow him.
Bi-Han lies down on the bed next to you, but he can't sleep for several nights, he finds himself watching you, your face so peaceful next to him, the ninja monster of the lin kuei, you look so good and comfortable next to him, he really wonders why you married him, you deserve someone better.
He covers you more with the sheet, caressing your cheek lightly with his thumb, while whispering on rare occasions, that he loved you.
"-I really love you, you know that? I'm sorry I'm not the best man for you (Y/N), I really want you forever by my side, and I'll protect you from this world, whatever the cost, what do I do and for me and for you." -Bi Han told you while you slept, he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, while looking at the moon soon after, it would be another night that he would be haunted by his own demons.
Bi-Han's favorite couple's activity with you is strolling to a lake on the Lin Kuei clan's estate, sitting with you on the cool grass as the two of you watch nature, the swans on the lake, the cloudy sky announcing an upcoming rain. would soon come, the trees swaying to the rhythm of the wind, as Bi Han talked about his mother, he really loved her, and he is happy to see that you were really interested in listening, as he talked about childhood memories, making little sculptures of ice with his fingertips to represent the story he told, it's these moments with you that make everything he did, even the cruelest things, worth it.
He may not be loyal to the clan, but he is to you. He's the type that if someone comes at him, he has to be held back so he doesn't punch them for such audacity. Ex:
"-Bi Han, are you going to come with us-"
"-I'm a married man"
"-Bi Han, we just asked-"
"-I'm a married man, I told you." -He says pointing to the wedding ring and leaving. They were just going to ask him to drink a little, but as Bi Han said, he is a married man to you.
He doesn't like nicknames, only during sex, other than that he will call you by your name, or "my husband/my wife", he likes the idea of being called "husband" by you too, so if you If you refer to him like that, in public, he will melt inside, and smile slightly sideways behind the mask.
He is a wild man in bed, taking out his frustrations and anger on your beautiful pussy, mouth and body in general.
Bi Han loves blowjobs, if he could, you would be kneeling between his legs 24 hours a day, with your pretty face taking his entire cock in your mouth - I feel sorry for you dear, this man's cock is big and thick, he's literally going to hit it down your throat easily, leaving you breathless while your husband enjoys watching you choke on his dick like that -
He likes to degrade you in sex, it's a way for him to mark you as his and release his frustrations too, he will fuck you roughly, especially fucking you with his dick stuck in your pussy, with him lifting you easily while his hips they aggressively pound against your tight hole.
"-You're a great slut, you know? Taking my cock like a desperate bitch."
"-Oh fuck, you feel so good, don't you? Your pussy was made for me, the grand master lin kuei, and only mine, only I deserve you, do you hear? I'm just going to fuck that beautiful pussy until you can only think about how You want my dick inside you."
"-Do I really have a little whore as my husband/wife? How lucky for me then."
"-I'm going to fill you up... I'm going to fill that tight pussy of yours, and you want that, don't you? You want every drop of my cum, you're a hungry slut."
He loves to call you: "slut", "dirty bitch", "private whore", "nymph", "good boy/girl with a tight pussy". Most of the sex sessions you have with Bi Han end with him cumming on your face, pussy or belly, painting everything with his cum and leaving you panting with your legs shaking - for him, sex really is only good when you are weak from cumming on his dick, and overstimulated, with a swollen clitoris - He loves many sexual positions, but he prefers:
Cowgirl’s Helper: He likes to see you on top of him, your hands on his chest, while one of his hands squeezes your ass, and the other is behind his head. Bi Han watches you get impaled on his dick, stretching your pussy slowly, as your pussy drools on his pulsing dick, he looks at you, smiling smugly when he sees the rise of his dick in your womb. He would just groan in response to your desperate moans, watching your body move as you whimpered to cum - he wasn't going to let you cum yet, and if you did, he was going to punish the hell out of you, giving you at least five painful orgasms and pleasant that night -
Stand and Deliver: He loves seeing you bent over, your waist is sore from being bent over for him, but he loves seeing your ass and waist on top, thrusting into your pussy while pulling your hands behind your back, he would go so hard on your hole that your feet would leave the ground, you could feel the burn of the speed of Bi Han's dick in your pussy, but he wouldn't stop, he wouldn't stop until he left you a trembling mess full of cum - while calling you a desperate slut his cock -
Tumblr media
©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
demonwoman · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
the bunny ears stay on
summary: you unwind from a week of hard work by dressing up as a playboy bunny in your own apartment, just to take cute pictures you’ll never send to anyone. an unknown caller interrupts your fun times however, and the caller is coming from your own home. 
cw: DARK CONTENT. MINORS DNI. EXTREME DUB CON / NON CON. primal play - bunny/predator (reader’s in a bunny costume). voyeurism. yandere behavior. verbal threats over the phone. threats of killing, violence & dismemberment. filming sexual acts on camera. knife play. doggy style sex, fingering, oral (f receiving because he eats it from the back like a champ). mask kink, knife kink implied. heavy praise and heavy degradation. use of pet names (bunny, pretty girl, sweetie, pet). use of derogatory terms (slut, bitch). face slapping (one time). breeding/creampie. using a knife to rip up clothes. afab reader. reader does cosplay as a hobby. reader is implied to be college age (whether that’s undergrad, grad, up to you). inexperienced reader (can be virgin or just sexually inexperienced in general). 
wc: 3.6k // pairing: ghostface x reader, billy loomis x reader (modern au i guess because we’re using smartphones here). tbh this could be any ghostface you want, but billy was the one in mind when writing this
a/n: so i watched scream for the first time 2 days ago. and i uhhh. i umm. i get it now. anyway, sorry for not writing anything for a month and then coming back and writing the filthiest, fucked up shit ever. also sorry to my normie mutuals who don’t read fanfic, just please look away. this shit is messed up fr. i guess this is my one entry into kinktober or masktober. i’ll get back into my wips eventually
dividers by @/benkeibear
Tumblr media
It had been only a few weeks since you moved into your new apartment, living all by yourself. But tonight, you finally had a few hours to do whatever you wanted. All week, you had toiled away at work, taking classes and building furniture in your spare time, so there was hardly any time to do something to unwind. But after receiving a package in the mail, you were excited to try out a new costume you bought a few weeks ago: a playboy bunny outfit paired with a long strawberry blonde wig, pink highlights at the ends.
Cosplay for you was an outlet to escape, an excuse to change your appearance for a bit and pretend to be hot from the comfort of your own home. You stood across the bathroom mirror, humming to yourself as you applied a light layer of concealer, some juicy pink gloss, and a jet black cat-eye, large enough to be seen over the fake lashes you had applied to your eyelids. You carefully brushed the wig out, stuffed your hair in an old wig cap and began to slip on parts of the cheaply made outfit: the tuxedo jacket, the wrist cuffs, the shiny, latex-like bodysuit that hugged your breasts nicely, and a pair of fishnet tights to finish it off. 
You almost didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror when everything was put on - you looked, for lack of a better word, like a bimbo. But a bubbly and happy bimbo, a stark contrast from the person you were day-to-day. You giggled to yourself, as you applied pink, glittery press-on nails with adhesives, slapped the bunny ears on your wig and found a shiny pair of black stilettos to complete the look. 
Once you had everything put on, you set up a ring light and stood in front of your full-length mirror, camera clicks snapping as you took picture after picture. It occurred to you that your living room window was entirely open, and anyone could see in. But all of your neighbors kept their window shades closed, and the natural lighting was too good to pass up. Selfie after selfie, you posed with a peace sign, your tongue sticking out, all sickeningly sweet poses to complement the flirty nature of your outfit. The sad truth however, is that no one would ever see these photos - you did not speak of this hobby with any of your friends or colleagues, and you were too ashamed to post them online. 
That is, until a call from an unknown number popped up across your screen. 
The notification completely took over your camera app, forcing you to grimace. You ignored the call, let it go to voicemail, before taking another two photos, and seeing the same number call you again. 
Well, maybe it’s someone trying to get a hold of me? You thought to yourself. A few seconds passed by, as the call continued to ring. A sigh escaped your lips, as you pressed the glowing green “answer” button. 
“Is this ___?” A deep, electronically modulated voice traveled through your phone speaker, making you jolt. 
“U-um, yes? Who am I speaking to?” You replied, trying to put on a confident, cheery tone. 
“We haven’t met before.” The voice crooned. “But I’d like to change that in a few minutes.” 
The passive threat of entering your residence made your skin crawl. “What is this, some kind of prank?” You half-heartedly chuckled. “C’mon, I can take a joke but…this is kind of creepy. I’m hanging up.” 
“Oh? Trying to cut me off so soon?” The mechanically altered flatness of the voice made it difficult to discern anything. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, miss bunny.” 
Gooseflesh erupted on your arms immediately, and your blood ran cold. “W-what did you call me?” You whispered, clutching the phone tightly in your grip. 
“I can see you prancing around in that silly little playboy costume. Now turn around for me, princess.” 
You heard a clatter as your phone dropped to the ground. Your body moved before you could even think, all instincts going towards the window, to shut the curtains. Fear was rolling off your body in waves, as you tried to peek out of a thin slit between the shades, trying to see if your unwanted voyeur was within eyesight. Nothing. 
Your heels clicked against the hardwood floors as you reached down to pick up your phone. The call was still going, eerily silent on the other end. As your finger hovered over the “end call” button, the voice shouted, scaring you. 
“Don’t hang up.” It barked at you. A whimper escaped your lips, as you sniffled with the threat of tearing up. “Do. Not. Hang. Up.” He repeated himself, accenting every word with vitriol. 
A loud knock rapped against your door, causing you to shout and clutch your chest. “Stay with me, sweetie. Now answer the door.” The voice cooed at you. You scoffed, giving your phone a middle finger it couldn’t see, as you looked through your peephole. 
No one was there. 
You opened your door aggressively, looked around for any visitors, and slammed it. “Stop fucking around with me, bitch.” You seethed on the phone. “I don’t like being messed with.” Huffing, you took the wrist cuffs from your outfit and threw them down on the kitchen counter. You made the mistake of hanging up on him, when the door knocked again, in the same pattern. 
You rolled your eyes, setting your phone next to the cuffs and looking through the peephole again. Again, no one visible to your naked eye. You didn’t even bother opening the door - your hand slammed against it, fighting the oncoming tears threatening to spill. All you wanted was a few hours to enjoy yourself, and indulge in your hobbies - why did this sicko have to ruin it? 
A noise from your bathroom alerted your ears, but your eyes were trained on the door. Once again, you opened it slowly, just enough for your eyes to dart around and confirm that no one was lingering in your front door area. But that was the biggest mistake you could've made, for as soon as you closed the door, a tall, shapeless black form came up behind you and shoved you against your front door. 
“HEY!!” You shouted, trying to kick at him with your stilettos. “Get off of me, you FREAK!” Your eyes came in contact with a white ghost mask, which you instantly recognized from those horror movies your friends used to play to scare you. 
“Ohhhhhh.” The voice was no longer modulated - a rumbly, baritone male spoke with a hint of mischief. “I like a bunny with a little kick in her feet.” He ignored your kicking and screaming, and ran a gloved hand gently across your face. You jerked back from his touch, hitting your head against the door hard enough to make you groan from the pain. 
“Shhhhh, shshshsh.” The same hand that was caressing your face, pressed a finger against your lips, messing up the gloss. He pulled away, a newfound sticky residue tinted pink on his finger, contrasting with the black. “I just came inside to say hi to my pretty girl, my pretty little bunny. All dressed up for me, huh?” That faux-saccharine tone in his voice irked you, prompting you to try and bite his finger, but he pulled away just enough that you were unsuccessful in your attempt. 
“Uh-uh-uh.” You could hear the sinister grin in his voice, as his mask bore into your eyes with no changed expression. “You looked so pretty from your window, I just had to come inside. You were practically inviting me after all with that cute little fluffy tail of yours.” He reached around and squeezed the white pom-pom on your butt, before groping your ass roughly. 
“Let me go!” You screeched, using your knee to hit him squarely in the abdomen. With the force of your full weight, it was enough to knock him off of you just briefly enough so you could wriggle from his grip. Your blonde wig and bunny ears slipped off, along with the wig cap, revealing your sweaty hair that had been trapped this entire time. But your heels caught on the tip of his cloak, and you tripped - tumbling down to the floor. 
All you could do was crawl and shuffle away from him, trying to use your heels to keep kicking at him, keeping him at arm’s length from you. He reached down, and picked up the bunny ears you left behind, kicking the wig away. The intruder brandished a large, silver knife, making your eyes widen, and your heels clattered to the ground. You didn’t want to take your chances with a weapon involved - you knew you would lose. 
The instinct to fight left your system, as reality began to seep in. You were way over your head, having stupidly let some masked intruder into your home, probably to kidnap or murder you. Tears finally began to flow from your face, a thin stream flowing and dripping down your cheek. He towered over you, as he kneeled down and pinned you down to the floor, pressing that long blade into the side of your neck. The tears caught on the steel, leaving an almost ethereal shine. He pulled it up, and nicked your cheek in the process - a wound you didn’t even process until he stopped and gently pressed on the cut until the blood stopped. 
“Listen to me, bunny. You are going to do as I say, and if you follow orders, you’ll stay alive. If you continue to protest, I’ll gut you and leave you to rot in this stinking apartment, until your neighbors begin to complain of the smell.” He chuckled. “I won’t make you answer any trivia questions about horror movies - I’ve never seen you watch one on your own. It would be an unfair game.” 
How did he—the thought of him possibly watching you longer than this night nauseated you, as he continued. “Let’s get your phone back, and take that ring light with you.” He put the bunny ears back on your head, the oversized headband flopping forward and obscuring your vision slightly. He laughed, a cackle that would’ve been cute, had you not been scared out of your goddamn mind. 
You said nothing, as he slowly removed his grip from you, allowing you to stand on your own. After hobbling around and gathering the materials he asked for dutifully, a sullen look spread on your features. You felt hollow and empty, but once you had done what he asked for, he put the knife away. That felt safer, at least. 
“Now take the light into your bedroom and set it up so it’s standing at the foot of your bed. Quickly.” He slapped your ass, earning a yelp from you that pleased him thoroughly, but again you obeyed. “We’re not using your phone. We’re using mine. I’m gonna jerk off to this later, after I’m done killing my next victim.” You glanced at the battered phone, clearly worse for wear. But you obeyed wordlessly, and put it in the slot. “Good girl.” He patted your cheek, before unlocking his phone and opening the camera app. He turned the light on, switched back to video and hit record, angling it so the two of you were in view. 
“Now sweetie, on your knees. Ass up.” When you realized what he was going to do, you stiffened. You had never done this before, with anyone. 
He swatted your butt, and the bed creaked as you got into position. Your gaze locked into the phone camera, and you grimaced. You wanted to run away, to make him leave. But he casually moved his hip, and that knife glinted again, and you whimpered. 
“Look at that.” A slash, and the sound of fabric ripping. And then hands, bare hands fondled your ass. He had ripped a huge hole in your fishnets, and used his knife to cut through the shiny material of your bodysuit. When had he taken off his gloves? You thought, but your questions were interrupted by a casual brush of his knuckle running against your slit. 
“Your job, sweetie, is to sit here and take what I give you. Put those goddamn bunny ears back on, and keep them on while I fuck you into oblivion.” His emphasis on the vulgar word made you shiver. “You’re going to be my sweet little bunny, my pretty pet that I ruin and turn into a drooling, stupid mess. Understood?” 
You nodded, not wanting to make direct eye contact with him in the camera lens. “I know you’re an inexperienced woman, waiting for the touch of a big, strong man to come and make you feel good. I’ve seen you, night after night huddled in this bed, right here.” The mask was muffling his voice, but you heard him loud and clear. “Do you know how many nights I watched, as you would use those cheap toys to fuck yourself night after night?” He pointed to your nightstand, as you gasped at his confession. 
“That’s right. I’ve been keeping an eye on you ever since you moved in. And after you put on that cute bunny costume, I couldn’t take it any more. I just had to do something about it.” You cried out, as a finger slipped into your folds. 
“God.” He muttered under his breath, feeling the warmth of your pussy enclosed around him. “You’re so fucking tight.” He shuddered, as he slipped in a second finger, uncaring of whether you could handle the stretch or not. “So fucking warm.” His voice almost sounded shaky, as he curled in and found your sweet spot, making your knees buckle. 
The bunny ears fell from your head again, and he stopped. “Keep those goddamn ears on, bitch.” He growled, and you scampered to put them back on, opting to get on your elbows so you could hold it in place with one hand. The fingers returned, wet with your slick as your arms wobbled. “That’s a good pet.” He pinched your butt playfully, as he sped up the pace. 
You hated to admit it, but what he was doing was so much more pleasurable than any of the nights spent on your own. His fingers were thick and calloused, as he inched himself deeper and deeper. You tried to protest verbally, but found yourself drawing a blank, as the words you were searching for slipped from your mind. 
“Is my bunny all needy for me, already?” His teasing voice made your eyes roll in the back of your head. You groaned, clawing at the sheets with your free hand, trying to keep those flimsy bunny ears up like he asked. “S-stop.” You protested weakly. 
“You want me to stop? Are you sure?” He chuckled, withdrawing his fingers. You heard him suck on his fingers, followed by the rustle of clothes before he shoved your face into the bed. The command was loud and clear. 
“Because I don’t want to stop. And this isn’t about you.” 
You couldn’t say anything clearly with your head shoved into the sheets, but you felt a warm pair of fingers spread your ass open. He pried your legs and kept them firmly in his grip, as his tongue penetrated your aching hole. Muffled screams could be heard from you, as you tried to wiggle from his grip - the sensations were too much for you to handle. His nose nudged your clit, and you felt some of the contours of his face - but you were too afraid to turn around and see the man behind the mask. 
Your legs kicked uselessly, as he sucked on your clit with a fervor that left you dizzy, and he didn’t give up until your legs gave in, finally going limp. He held you up, keeping his eye on the phone camera as he licked your pussy and ate you out until you came with a cry, legs twitching and convulsing as cum dripped onto his lips. 
His laugh was full of mirth, as he sat back up, and put the mask back on. You nearly fell over and slumped over the bed, but he caught up, and propped you on his lap like a little doll. The makeup had long since smudged from your face, your hair sticky with sweat and you caught the remnants of your eyeliner smudged into your comforter. Your lashes had fluttered to the ground, and you could see stains forming from the gloss and your eyeshadow. Yuck. You’d have to wash that later. 
“You’re doing so well, princess. Look at yourself in the camera.” He pinched your cheeks, and pushed your face closer to the phone. “You’re so beautiful. Such a pretty slut, all for me.” Somehow, the fucked up praise combined with the pleasure endorphins made you smile, and he laughed even harder, slapping your face. 
“Cute.” He chuckled, not bothering to soothe the red mark that appeared across your face. “I want you to beg for my cock now. Feel what you did to me, sweetheart.” He firmly sat you down, hips grinding against your ass as you felt a thick bulge behind you. A gulp escaped your lips, along with an empty sob. 
“Beg for it, or I start making little marks that can’t go away.” He pulled his knife out, and pressed the tip against your chest. 
“P-please.” You pathetically whined. “W-want your cock. I wan’ it.” You weren’t so convinced by your acting, the pleasure mixed with fear muddling your brain. “Keep going, sweetheart.” He got close to your ear. You gulped. “N-need your cock, Mr. Ghost Face, please. I n-need you to fill me up, n’ stretch me out.” Your head slumped to the side, as he seemed satisfied with your pleas. 
“That’s my girl.” He shimmied his pants off just enough for his thick cock to come out, and he wasted no time in gripping your hips and pressing the tip inside. It should’ve hurt, but with the hurried preparation he gave you earlier, it slid in smoother than you expected. 
You both exhaled a groan, as he slowly lowered you until he bottomed out, your back against his chest. You could feel his breathing become shallower, as he set a brutal pace for the two of you. Your mouth hung open, drool escaping your lips as you sat there and let him take his pleasure from you. His cock bullied its way into your cervix almost painfully, as he reached over and pressed your clit with his thumb, jolting you back to reality. 
The veins on his cock throbbed, as he grunted and grabbed your hips, fingertips digging into your sides painfully. “God, you feel so fucking good.” He moaned, hips snapping into you over and over. “You’re so fucking cute, you’re a dream come true.” He dutifully rubbed circles into your clit, making you cry out and try to find something to grip on. “Cum on my cock, bunny, cum until your brain starts leaking from your pretty ears.” He thrusted up into you, balls slapping against your ass. 
You screamed at the top of your lungs as you came again, the masked man resting his hands on your shoulders as he kept thrusting into you. Your pussy was numb, legs wobbling with exhaustion until you heard him shout as well. Thick, pearly ropes of cum shot inside you, making you moan weakly. He leaned over, just enough to grab his phone camera off the ring light, and film himself pulling out. He pried open your pussy with two fingers, just to watch the cum drip out and slowly stream down your thighs. 
“That’s a good bunny.” He cooed, finally taking those damned bunny ears from your head. “Shhhh. C’mere.” He whispered words you could barely hear, as your body gave up from all the adrenaline crashing down, and you slipped into unconsciousness. He slowly rose up, and cradled your body close to him, taking off the mask in full. He thumbed your cheek gently, before placing you on the bed and ridding your apartment of the evidence. 
The next morning, you woke up in clean pajamas, with no trace of the events of the night before. Your mind was groggy - you weren’t even sure that the events were real, until you tried to get up from your bed, and found your legs unable to support your weight. When you finally found enough strength to get up, you hobbled over to the mirror, and spotted an adorable pink bandage on your cheek, where the ghost-faced man had nicked you earlier. If the events of last night had not been so traumatizing, you might’ve found it cute. 
Throwing on a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses, you hurriedly stepped outside your apartment door, locking everything thoroughly, just to go downstairs and check the mail. On your way down, you ran into a person you had never seen before in the building - a tall man, with dark eyes and a blinding smile. You bumped into his back when you turned a corner, making him turn around. 
“Oh, sorry.” You muttered, morning voice cracking from the lack of use. He looked at you, amused as you side-stepped him to get out of his way. 
“No worries.” His voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t place why. You were too busy skirting around him, just to get your usual spam mail before hurrying back into your apartment. What you didn’t see was his fist, gripping your ripped up fishnets in his pocket. 
Tumblr media
@utahimeow you asked to be tagged, however, i'm never writing for scream again, this had to be yanked out of my brain so i can move on and be more normal going forward. if you liked it though, cheers. if you didn't like it, just block me, i don't care lol bye
932 notes · View notes
kedreeva · 1 month
Text
OC Askbox Game
I'm avoiding writing and you probably are too, so let's at least think about our characters while we do it.
You know the drill- send me a number (ONE number, you can come back for more) and I'll answer for an OC of your choice (if you know their name) or my choice (if you don't know their name). Feel free to name some of your OCs in the tags of your reblog, if you want to be asked about them.
How did you choose their name?
Were they created for the story, or was the story created for them?
Do they have a love interest, and was that their choice or yours?
Do they have a best friend? If so, how did they meet? If not, have they ever/why never?
Did they have a pet as a child?
What catalyzed their introduction to the plot?
What attribute of them (some facet of their personality, their history, their look, or whatever etc) would you find most important to somehow preserve if they were transplanted to an AU fanfic?
If your character's financial situation were to suddenly flip (someone poor becoming rich, someone rich becoming poor, etc), how well would they handle it? What would be the first thing they would do?
If your character could have handed their role in the plot to someone else, would they have?
Free Space #1: Which of your OCs would be most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse? Which would die immediately?
Does your character have a pet peeve?
Has your character committed any crimes (per their universe's laws)? If not, which crime would your character most likely commit?
Who is your character's closest (by relation, fondness, or distance) blood relative?
How does your character feel about riding horses (or your world's closest approximation of a horse if it lacks horses)?
Is your character's first instinct fight or flight? Is there something that could force them to do the opposite?
What is your character's favorite leisure activity?
Is your character holding any grudges? Are they likely to stop?
If your character were trapped on a deserted island, what three things would they want to have with them? Which person would they absolutely hate to be trapped there with? Which person would they enjoy being trapped there with?
Does your character having any health issues, whether they're aware of them or not?
Free Space #2: Which of your OCs would you most like to meet in person, if they could become real (or you could visit them) for a day?
Final Question: Ask me your own question about my OC
Remember: play nice! Send an ask to the person you reblogged this from, and try to send a few to folks that reblog from you!
412 notes · View notes
l0vedoe · 1 month
Text
Yandere!Lucifer X GN!Reader
Hi! My name is Kay, and it's my first time posting something on Tumblr (I don't know how to use this)
I've been really obsessed with Lucifer and I saw a Yandere!Lucifer fanfic that I loved a lot, but sadly there's no part 2 :( So, I decided I would write MY OWN Yandere!Lucifer fanfic! (Also without a part 2..) Here is the one I got inspired by! So, have fun! <3
Sorry if it's a little weird at first, english is not my first language and I'm still learning it!
Part 2 here!
Words: 3787
Synopsis: Your friends found a ritual that can bring Lucifer to your world and, unfortunately, you accepted to participate.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
You were sitting on a pile of cushions with your arms crossed, not believing what you and your friends were doing.
A few days ago, one of your friends, Lesley, had found a ritual that could summon Lucifer, the King of Hell, into the human world. You knew that your group of friends were obsessed with those sobrenatural things, ghosts and anything with horror involved. You liked it too, but among them, you were the only one who didn't enjoy getting directly involved with these things. You liked the trivia, the facts, the stories you heard on the internet, but participate in rituals? Ha! No, certainly no. You were sensible enough to know that you shouldn't be messing with these things, whether you believed in them or not. You weren't scared, you just didn't want to disturb whatever exists out there.
Even though you didn't like the idea, you accepted, not knowing why though. Maybe it was because your friends kept insisting...
And there you were, in a dark room in an abandoned house that Lesley had found so that you all could perform the ritual.
You watched your friends as they prepared everything. One of them was making a large pentagram on the floor, while another was placing six candles around it. As soon as they had finished, the three of them stood inside the pentagram, looking at you as if that was all that was missing - and it was.
"Come on, you agreed to do it, remember?" Lesley says, holding out his hand to you.
"Unfortunately."
You said, standing next to your friends.
Lesley took a needle from his pocket and pierced everyone's finger, letting them each drip their own blood onto the pentagram below. Gab, your friend on your left, held out a lighter so that you could light the candles one by one. As soon as you had finished, you all left the pentagram and the atmosphere became more tense.
This couldn't turn out good.
"Lucifer, lord of the red skies, hear my sublime call, show us your true power and appear in this circle!"
When Lesley finished speaking, silence prevailed in the room... for a long time. Since you came here you believed it wouldn't work, but your friends really believed it would, so they were all very disappointed when they saw that nothing happened.
As soon as you thought to say something, the pentagram glowed in a gold so bright that it didn't seem real. It glowed so brightly that if you looked at it for too long, you would surely lose your sight, so you all looked away until the light ceased, and it did. With your vision still blurred, you turned to face the pentagram again and sighed in shock.
There, in the middle of the pentagram, was a short, blond man with pale skin. His eyes were yellow, his teeth were sharp and there was a red circle on each cheek. His clothing appeared to be of high quality and class, a red shirt covered by a white jacket with veiled details, matching his pants in the same color. His hat was also white, with a red band, a golden crown, an apple and a golden snake. A lot of information in a single hat, to be honest.
The man looked confused and annoyed as, with one hand, he was dusting his clothes.
Not only you, but all your friends looked at the man with admiration and amazement. “It worked..." they all thought.
No one said anything, they were too surprised to be able to formulate a single sentence.
"I knew Lucifer was a fallen angel, but I thought the fall would have affected his appearance?"
You say, analyzing the whole figure of the creature in front of you. He was pretty, you had to say.
Lucifer sighed, looking extremely bored with the situation.
"I thought no one knew the summoning ritual anymore, but it seems I was wrong." he says, looking at everyone in the room. "So...?"
He waits, with a judgmental look on his face.
Lesley wakes up from her thoughts and starts talking frantically.
"Oh, Great Lord Lucifer, King of Hell!" Lesley bows, followed by all her friends too, except you. Lucifer smiles. He liked those nicknames. "We're really, really sorry to bother you. We were just curious about whether this ritual would work or not, we didn't want anything to do with you."
Lucifer rolls his eyes. Of course, he had to have been summoned by a bunch of curious mortals...
"You see, I was taking care of very important things when you summoned me, and I am unable to return to my duties unless one of you makes a deal with me." Lucifer gestured his hand gracefully in the air as he spoke. You had to admit: the real devil was not at all what you expected. You expected a tall, red-skinned, goat-legged creature with long horns and a tail, but this...? It was laughable.
But of course you didn't laugh.
Lucifer turned his gaze on you, giving you goosebumps. His gaze on you was something you had never felt before, and it scared you. He was a shorty man and yet he was making you afraid of what might happen to you if you stepped in the wrong place.
You swallowed.
"I'm waiting!" Lucifer raised his voice, making everyone shiver. "Which one of you is willing to make a deal with me, hm...?"
Lucifer had an amused smile on his face as he analyzed each individual in the room. One shaking his legs, another trying to look away, another thinking about what to do to get rid of the blond man and, finally, you, who even though you were afraid, didn't seem to be letting your guard down. You looked at Lucifer with courage, and Lucifer liked that. He really did. When was the last time he saw someone like you? A long time ago, that's for sure. Most of the humans who ended up meeting Lucifer, willingly or by accident, used to be so scared and afraid that they would sometimes beg Lucifer to let them live with their souls in peace.
Souls... Lucifer never cared, really. Most of his deals didn't involve receiving the souls of humans in return, he had no interest in that, he just asked for anything that came to mind. Most of the time, something very silly. He didn't even like making deals with humans, it’s just time he wastes to satisfy the will of mortals.
Seeing that no one would take the initiative, he decided to do it for them.
"Since you guys won't make up your minds, leave it to me. Eeny-meeny-miney..." Lucifer began to choose, and when you saw that he was going to end up with one of your friends, you interrupted him. "Hm?"
"I'll make a deal with you if that's what it takes for you to leave us alone."
Lucifer smiles. He was loving your attitude.
"Are you crazy? You shouldn't do that! He is going to take your soul!" Lesley tried to warn you, worried about you.
"At least it'll help you not to mess with things like that again."
You say harshly, stepping closer to Lucifer.
So that's what you were afraid of? It was nothing new for Lucifer.
"All right, then. What's your name, dear?" Lucifer says, approaching you.
Everyone was looking at you worried and afraid. You liked your friends, but they were the kind who fucked up and left it to you so you could resolve things. Always.
"What do you want? My soul? Possession of my body?" You ignore the question the blond man made, leaving him a little frustrated, but without showing it.
He laughs.
"No, no, no! I don't care about these things, really!" He puts his hand on his chin and closes his eyes, seeming to think deeply, until he snaps his fingers, thinking of something. "Oh, I know! You're going to dance for me dressed as a duckling!"
You look at him with a mixture of confusion and disgust. Was this really the King of Hell that everyone was so afraid of?! You hold in your laughter.
"All right." You reach out to shake his hand, but he interrupts.
"Don't you know how deals work, darling?" he asks in a mocking tone, amused. "You need to tell me what you want in return."
"Oh, is that so?" you ask and he shakes his head positively. Actually, there was nothing you really wanted, you just wanted him to go away and for you to be able to come home soon. You should never have agreed to take part in that. "Oh, I don't know, man... give me a chocolate cake and we'll be fine."
Lucifer laughs softly. You seemed as bored as he was, and your boredom amused him too much.
He grabs your hand, and you automatically felt your casual clothes change into a yellow jumpsuit with a hood that had a duckling face on it.
You sighed. What a humiliation.
You danced a children's dance that you learned as a child, and you could see how Lucifer was enjoying it, his eyes shining, his cheeks reddening and a smile on his face. He clapped his hands frantically.
When you finished your dance, he sighed, snapped his fingers and your clothes returned to normal. A second later, you were holding a plate with a chocolate cake on it. It looked delicious.
"It was a great deal. I hope I never see you again!" Lucifer said, finally disappearing into a golden dust.
Your friends were wide-eyed and dumbfounded. They gave you a quick lecture on how you could have used that deal to get anything and you decided on a chocolate cake. You could ask for thousands of dollars, you could ask to have whatever you wanted, have as much power as you wanted, and you still decided on a chocolate cake?!
You didn't care, saying goodbye and making your way home while holding your chocolate cake. You were sure to devour it as soon as you sat down on your couch.
~
After that incident, your days went by as normal. You wake up, go to work, come home, go to sleep. Wake up, work, come home, sleep.
It was a routine you got used to, and it was good to be used to things, you weren't the type who liked new things.
However, after a week or so of performing that ritual and summoning Lucifer, you began to feel strange. You felt watched almost all the time, it was uncomfortable even to take a shower and this was something that was really bothering you. You've never been sensitive to these things, what was going on?!
In addition to the feeling of being watched, you also began to see figures out of the corner of your eye and hear voices calling you. You could have sworn you were going crazy, it wasn't normal.
You sent a message to Lesley, telling him what you were feeling. Lesley didn't care much.
Lesley Bff: idk, it must be in your head
Lesley Bff: I felt that way too during my first ritual
Lesley Bff: but you know what?
Lesley Bff: Lucifer could be watching you 👻
You laughed.
You: if he's not back in his hole, I'll send him back there myself
Lesley could be right. You've never taken part in a ritual before, so maybe it affected you more than you expected.
You sigh, smiling at the thought of being anything else. "How silly..."
You head for the kitchen to get some water. Opening the fridge, you take out your jug of water and fill a glass with the liquid, putting the jug away again.
As you bring the glass to your lips, you notice a blond man on the other side of the dining table.
You continue to drink your water.
Wait...
You spit out the water, looking back to the front and no longer seeing the man there.
"I need therapy…" you say, putting a hand to your forehead.
"Everyone needs it, dear." When you hear the familiar voice, you're startled and turn around so fast that you drop your glass on the floor, shattering it. "Wow... Do you get that excited just by seeing me?" The blond smiles debauchedly.
"What the fuck..." that's all you managed to say. "I didn't summon you, damn it! Get the fuck out of here!"
You demand, making the demon in front of you laugh.
"It's that way of yours that made me fall in love with you!" he says, still laughing.
What?
You look Lucifer up and down with disgust. How strange was it to have a religious figure, who you believed existed only in your imagination until a week ago, tell you that he's in love with you? Answer: very. ABSURDLY.
"Dude, I don't want any trouble, just do me a favor and leave."
You say, calmly, but Lucifer didn't seem to hear. His smile remained on his face, it seemed to grow with every detail he appreciated about you. It was as if he was hypnotized. You could notice his pupils dilating and his cheeks starting to turn pink.
He moves closer, making you take a step back to keep your distance.
"I'm afraid I can't…" he said, still smiling, but now without showing his teeth and without looking you in the eye. He was analyzing your body, your baggy white T-shirt, your plaid pajama pants and your matching slippers.
Your posture was as if you were ready to run at any moment. Lucifer noticed, after all, he didn't want you to run from him. Why would you run from him?
He took a step forwards, coming closer again, and that was the exact moment you knew you had to run. You weren't an idiot, you ran, you ran as if your life depended on it and, at that moment, it really did.
As you climb the stairs to the second floor of your house, you enter your bedroom and lock the door. You didn't think it would help much since your enemy was a demon who could easily teleport to where you were, but you still did what was possible at the time.
Trying to think of many ways to make the demon go away and get you out of this, you are interrupted by a voice on the other side of the door.
"Darling, please..." the voice was sly. "I don't want to hurt you, I just want to talk to you..."
You didn't trust him. You couldn't trust him. He was the fucking devil!
You didn't answer, and a silence remained. You tried to look through the keyhole, to make sure he was no longer there and you could finally get out. As soon as you put your hand on the handle to open the door, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You automatically turned round and punched Lucifer in the face.
"Get away from me!" You screamed, and before you could run away again, golden chains wrapped around you, preventing you from moving. "What the...!"
"Look..." Lucifer begins, caressing the cheek you punched. "I just want to talk, that's all."
You didn't want to listen, you were just trying to free yourself from the chains that bound you.
Lucifer continued.
"Your attitude that day captivated me, and I found it so attractive how you didn't show any fear. Not to mention, of course, that your dancing was incredible." he smiled. "I couldn't help myself and started watching you ever since. I couldn't stop thinking about you for a second. I've spent the last few days just watching you from hell. I've watched you sleep, you eat, you work, you shower..."
This last part seemed to have had a different effect on Lucifer.
Until now, you really believed that you could escape him, but as soon as you realized that it was impossible to free yourself from the chains, your body withered. You knew there was nothing you could do.
Even so, indignation and confusion overwhelmed you. What was this guy saying? In love with you? Really?
You looked at Lucifer angrily, while he looked at you as if you were all he wanted.
"I've been so lonely these last few years, and as soon as I started watching you I wanted to be with you even more and more..." he said, hugging himself and looking at random corners as if he was fantasizing about a thousand different things. "So I give you the honor of moving in with me! In hell!"
You widened your eyes. That couldn't be real. It couldn't.
Lucifer, the fallen angel, wanted you to live with him in hell?
You laughed. Of course it was a joke. If you accepted, he would steal your soul and you wouldn't be free for anything else. Yes, that had to be it. It was a way of persuading you, tricking you, so that he could get what he wanted.
You took a deep breath, recovering from your laughter, and kept your eyes on Lucifer's hopeful gaze.
"No!" you said, loud and clear.
You didn't want another deal, you didn't want to go to hell, you didn't want Lucifer! You just wanted to get back to enjoying your holiday peacefully watching whatever was on TV, you didn't want anything new.
Hearing you refuse, Lucifer's expression changed from a smile to disappointment. He couldn't believe it. Why were you turning him down? He was the King of Hell, he could make you powerful like him, give you anything you wanted! What was stopping you from accepting?
"Why?! I can give you anything you want! Power, money, comfort and lots of chocolate cake! Please accept it..." he looked sad, but deep down he hoped you would say yes. "I love you..."
His last words made you even angrier. The devil himself was confessing to you, you no longer feared him.
"But I don't love you! I want to get away from you, your hell and everything that surrounds you! I don't want power, I don't want money, I want you to go away!"
You scream, spitting out the words with hatred, not even caring what the blond guy might feel. You couldn't stand it any longer, the chains were tightening your body with each passing minute, you just wanted to go back to your normal life, without demons, without rituals, without anything weird.
You noticed Lucifer with his head down, quiet, and wondered if now he would accept it and leave you alone. Unfortunately, he wouldn't.
As soon as he raised his face, you noticed his eyes filled with a bright red colour, his horns began to appear from his head and his tail appeared behind him. Clearly, he was very angry, and now you felt genuine fear of what might happen to you now.
He began to smile, a fearsome smile that showed his sharp teeth.
His voice was slightly distorted. The chains squeezed you tighter and tighter.
"I am Lucifer, King of Hell, and it is not you who will change that." he approached, still smiling. "I can do whatever I want, and I want you, and I'm going to have you, whether you like it or not."
With those words, the chains disappear and you fall to the ground in pain. They were already suffocating you.
As soon as you calmed down, you looked up to find Lucifer staring down at you without smiling now. He snapped his fingers, forming a portal beneath the two of you.
Before you could fall, Lucifer caught you. You had your eyes closed, afraid to open them and see what you feared. You only felt Lucifer holding you until he finally stopped on the ground and released you. You open your eyes and realize you're in a spacious room, with a large bed with crisp sheets. The walls were dark, as was the floor. There were several pictures of Lucifer with a beautiful woman and a little girl and lots of rubber duckies scattered around the room.
You looked out of a window to see the red sky on the other side.
You were in hell, alone with the angel who had fallen from heaven, with no idea how to get home.
You despair, your breathing quickens and becomes heavy, cold sweat begins to run down your face. You turn around and find Lucifer taking off his jacket and hat and settling down in the bedroom.
You keep your distance as he starts to approach with that same smile as before, until you slam your back against a wall, making it easier for him, who could now approach you.
He came close, standing inches away. His hand caressed your left cheek, while the other took your right hand, bringing it to his lips so that he could kiss it.
"Let me go…" you plead, your eyes filling with tears.
Lucifer looks at you, smiling even more.
"No." he says, in the same tone you used when you told him that. "I tried to make it as friendly as possible, but you wouldn't co-operate. How could I keep the person I love close if I didn't force you to stay here with me?"
"This is not love...!" you say, without looking at him.
"It's your idea of love that's wrong, darling..." Lucifer's face moves closer to yours, his hand still caressing your cheek. "That love you humans appreciate doesn't exist, it never did. Love where the two live happily ever after only exists when one of the people involved makes it happen. And that's exactly what I am doing right now..."
He kisses the corner of your mouth, and you shiver at the touch of his lips.
Why you? What was so different about you that Lucifer needed it to be you? Since Lesley came with that, you knew it wasn't a good idea to do that ritual, you'd never done such things just because you knew it was never a good idea. You didn't want to mess with whatever was out there because you knew you could end up in trouble, and yet you agreed to take part in that damn ritual...
Look at the state you're in now: being forced to be Lucifer's prisoner.
"Don't worry, it won't be so bad." Lucifer says, now hugging you and putting his face into your chest.
You wanted to cry, scream, punch Lucifer until you couldn't, but you were afraid of what might happen if you did. You remained silent, cried silently, without moving a muscle.
Once again, your friends fucked up with things and you had to deal with it.
Tumblr media
Just a quick reminder: This is just a fanfic, I don't like the idea of a yandere in real life. In real life, this is crazy and toxic, I don't support that.
So, if you guys liked it, let me know! You can also ask for me to write something about Lucifer again (I'm not doing other characters yet).
Thanks for reading! <3
517 notes · View notes
avocad1s · 9 months
Note
this is a weird thought but I definitely know that in sagau theres some mfs making fanfiction about the creator. Like imagine the creator visiting whatever nation they go to and they just see a self insert book about them. I know some acolytes religiously read them before bed every night (cough yae miko cough)
Note: Not weird at all Anon! I enjoyed this a bit more than I should’ve.
Mostly a crackfic just the acolytes being delulu
Tumblr media
Without a doubt there are TONS of books about you all throughout Teyvat. No matter what nation you are in, you will always find what you’re looking for if it’s related to the Creator.
People have wrote books about how you created Teyvat, their speculations on how Visions were made, and even your relationship with all of the Archons. Of course there’s no telling which books are true or not, but it’s about you and they’ll consume anything that has your name in it.
That of course includes fanfics.
The fanfics aren’t openly talked about, many people feel embarrassed and don’t want to be judged by their peers for consuming that content. People who write such content always use a pen name, not wanting to attach their work to their true self.
Despite the embarrassment, these books are quite popular in all seven nations.
The Sages in Sumeru tried to ban them for being exported to their city claiming that are extremely disrespectful and sully the image of you. But that doesn’t stop the books from being smuggled in, many people, even scholars within the Akademiya, own at least one fanfic.
Inazuma is of course the main producer of these novels. Under the guidance of Yae Miko, many people have the chance to have their work published. (Yae has no shame whatsoever 💀) The Kitsune proofreads them all personally and critiques them harshly. Only the absolute best will be coming out of her publishing house.
Liyue, the place where all goods come to be traded and sold, are the ones who get the most exports of these products. Of course they’ll say they are simply for profit, which some of them are, but lots of them are for the Liyue citizens themselves. Even the Adepti read these novels but they always comment how odd mortals are to want Their Grace in such a way. (Yeah they projecting cuz they want you too 😩🙏)
Imagine all the arguments people have had debating whether a fanfic characterized you properly or not. Lmao.
Once you’re in Teyvat the fanfics don’t stop, actually they increase.
Now people have the chance to watch you from afar and come up with even more scenarios they’d like to imagine you in.
You mention your favorite food? They’re gonna write fics about taking you on a date to get that food.
You mention your favorite hobby? Yeah, you get the idea…
Of course they never expect you to find out about these books but it’s not like they’re hiding it. Just imagine how awkward that would be to see a self-insert book about yourself.💀
Now no one is reading these books publicly, that’s way too embarrassing for them, but once the sun is down and everyone is going home to rest once again, that’s when the books come out.
You know how some people need the perfect fake scenario before they fall asleep? Yeah that’s them with these books.
They’ll read to their heart’s content and eventually fall asleep having dreams about you hoping that one day they can meet you and make the fanfic a reality. They’re a bit delusional and the fics aren’t helping 💀
-
Tumblr media
© avocad1s 2023
2K notes · View notes
ao3commentoftheday · 4 months
Note
i've usually been in fandoms where the series (or movie, whatever media) has been over for a while, but my current fandom is still ongoing. i'm nervous about writing fanfic for this fandom, since the canon isn't "solid" yet. good characters could turn out terrible, scenes can change entire perceptions and perspectives, stuff like that makes me nervous about writing fic. i don't want to villainize a character that turns out to get a redemption arc, i don't want to write a ship fic about a ship i might end up hating later. idk if i'm explaining this right. essentially, writing fic about a fandom with an ongoing canon makes me nervous, but i want to write for this fandom. what do i do?
Remember that posting a work to AO3 comes with a built in date stamp. It'll be clear to anyone reading the story a year from now or two years from now that you wrote it at a certain point in canon.
If you enjoy writing canon compliant fics, you can even add a tag like "post-ep for s02e04" or "missing moment from s01e12" or whatever it might be. You could provide that content in an author's note or your summary instead, if you prefer.
A lot of fic is written while canon is still up in the air and people are used to things changing. If you write for a ship you end up hating, you can always delete the fic later or orphan it if you want folks to still have access to it but remove your own name. You can villainize a character in one story and proclaim them heroic in another. Unless you put your work into a series, there's no need for every story you write to follow on from each other. Each one can be an independent world all on its own.
And that raises another point: write AUs. You don't have to stick to canon compliant works if that stresses you out. An AU can be as simple as "everything is the same, but these characters met before canon started" and as complex as "these people are now aliens living on a different planet".
Will there be people who point out canon inconsistencies when they read your fic years later? Sure. It's happened to me. But at the same time, they were reading my fic years later. That's a compliment in and of itself.
What do the rest of you think? Have you had to deal with these worries before? How did you manage it?
713 notes · View notes