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mypoisonedvine · 1 year

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𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬 | aemond targaryen x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | these were the only times he showed you any affection— when others were watching. when his reputation was at stake. but as eyes from around the room fell on you as you danced, you swallowed down a lump in your throat as you wondered if they could see it all: the truth, that is. separate bedrooms, sparse conversations, silent meals. {aka, an arranged marriage with aemond that’s not as loveless as it seems, once he’s forced to admit how he really feels…}

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 9.4k (WHOOPS)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (virginity loss with some pain due to aemond being… very gifted, breeding kink ft. breeding press, emotional sex, the slightest dubcon if you squint but trust me it's wanted), arranged marriage, angst, the love isn’t unrequited they’re just idiots, innocent reader, slight infidelity (reader has essentially an emotional affair with a stark!oc), touch starved reader and also touch starved aemond but at the same time cocky aemond lol, reader is insanely whipped for aemond (aka self-insert lmao jk but really tho), slight housewife kink? but really just very old school/traditional views of marriage, reader is implied to be some kind of royal but no mentions of her house or origins or appearance

You knew Aemond hated these sorts of things, but you loved them. You loved that he had to treat you like a wife for the evening— putting his hand on your shoulder or waist, smiling at you, talking about you to other guests…

Maybe that was the same reason that he hated them. You really couldn't tell; but on nights like this, you just basked in the fantasy, in the joy of putting on this show for the others so they wouldn't know how loveless and empty your marriage really was.

The banquet was, all things considered, rather uneventful. You didn't make much conversation, opting to stay firmly planted at your husband's side until he invited you to dance. He disliked dancing, too, but he was decent at it; you couldn't stop smiling when he took your hand so gently, guiding you to the centre of the room. His gracefulness and stoic nature reminded you of how you thought of him when you met him for the first time.

You remembered returning home after your first visit, knowing the courtship would be brief for a political marriage and that your next visit would probably be permanent. You spent the night telling everything to your friends, giddy with romantic glee. What's he like? they asked. They say the one-eyed prince is strange— but maybe they all are…

You clutched your hands to your chest as you answered: he's shy, you said, and reserved— mysterious! But I know he has a kind heart, if only he'll let me near to it. He took my hand and kissed it… just the way he looked at me as he did made my heart jump! He's handsome, I think, if in a strange way— he doesn't look anything like the men here. But I like that…

And they all swooned, going on about how lucky you were, fantasising with you about how romantic it would be when he showed you his true nature and fawned over you as his new wife.

For a dragon, for a man made in fire, he was so cold— frozen solid, right down to his heart.

These were the only times he showed you any affection— when others were watching. When his reputation was at stake. But as eyes fell on you as you danced, you swallowed down a lump in your throat as you wondered if they could see it all: the truth, that is. Separate bedrooms, sparse conversations, silent meals (when you ate together at all, which became rarer over time).

Nearly eight months into marriage, with no pregnancy, you knew there were rumours already about why no children were on the way. The kindest of them spoke that Aemond didn't desire children and had you on a strict regimen of preventative elixirs and teas; the harshest alleged that you couldn't satisfy him, couldn't interest him, or couldn't bear for him at all.

Worst of all, you weren't sure which of those were true yourself. He never told you if he wanted children, or if he had a lover already, or if he was like his brother— spending night after night in whorehouses.

You didn't know him at all, really, and it made your eyes sting at the dance came to an end. He let go of your hand to clap for the end of the song like the other dancers, and you knew it could be weeks before he touched you again. You bowed your head and hoped he wouldn't see your eyes getting watery.

When you looked up again, Aemond's attention was elsewhere as a Lord visiting from far away approached him to make conversation; but another set of eyes were upon you, those of the Lord Stark seated across the hall. His stare was dark, but warm, and you glanced away quickly.

"Excuse me," you offered quietly to your husband and his conversation partner, who nodded at you to dismiss you before you left. Making your way to the doors, you saw Stark standing from his chair in the corner of your eye as you passed.

Leaving the party, you walked far enough that you suspected no one else would come by— no one else that wasn't looking for you, that is. And only one man would come looking for you…

He did, as you suspected; you waited under a sconce until you heard footsteps behind you. You turned to face him, and part of you imagined, still, that it would be your husband standing there. Why did you leave, dear wife? Wouldn't you like to dance with me again?

He probably didn't even know you were gone. Instead, you stared at the man standing before you. "Lord Stark," you greeted with a polite curtsy.

"You may desist the pleasantries," he smirked, full lips surrounded by dark brown stubble on his face, approaching you with a gentle touch to your arm. "We are alone, my lady."

Sighing, you watched his fingers pet the sleeve of your dress. What would it be like if Aemond touched your arm, with his delicate touch and slender hands? "That we are," you agreed softly.

"I've waited quite some time to see you again," Philip Stark said thoughtfully, and you smiled up at him shyly, "and I'm afraid you are even more beautiful than I remembered."

"And you are even more flirtatious than I remembered," you returned, making him laugh lightly.

"Quick-witted as always, my lady," he praised, "but it is not flattery— you know I truly adore you, don't you? These nights are all I have to look forward to… though it does wound me to see you with him. Especially now that I know how cruel he really is."

Yes, when you first encountered Philip in one of these empty hallways, you confessed more of the truth to him than you'd ever told anyone. As embarrassing as it was, he never judged or shamed you; in fact, he apparently fell madly in love with you after that one conversation. And now here he was, jealous that Aemond married you first, making you feel terrible for the way you entertained the interest of another man.

"I wanted to ask you for a dance," Philip admitted. "Would you have accepted?"

"Of course," you beamed.

"Then I'll ask now," he decided, extending his hand to you as your eyes widened.

"But there's no music!" you protested.

"Can’t you hear it?” he grinned, making you knit your brows and try to listen more carefully. With the doors to the main hall shut, you couldn’t hear anything. “That’s what it’s like to be in love— you hear music when others don’t.”

As sweet as it was for Philip to imply he was in love with you, you had to laugh. “I think that’s what it’s like to be insane!” you replied.

“The two are actually quite similar,” he winked as you took your hand and pulled you closer, squaring up to dance with you.

For a few moments, it was just that— dancing in the hallway with Philip to silent music. It was fun, romantic even, and you laughed like you hadn’t in weeks. And though you couldn’t quite call it a surprise, with the way he was looking at you, you felt a strange sense of disappointment when he kissed you.

Disappointment because all you could think about as he kissed you was how different it felt from what you thought kissing Aemond would be like.

You'd put a lot of thought into it, actually, since you first met him. Aemond’s lips seemed soft, and the few times you'd seen the tip of his tongue slip out to wet them as he was immersed in thought, you thought of him tasting your lips. His touch was delicate and lithe, those thin fingers might tilt your head back so you would look up at him, or lightly tickle the small of your back. He would be so careful with you, tender and patient as he was in all things, he would savour every moment that your body was pressed to his…

Philip was exactly the opposite in every way. His stubble scratched against your face, reminding you what you were doing and who you were doing it with. His kiss was aggressive and hungry, his tongue prying into your mouth as he hummed in delight and pulled you closer by your hips.

It took all your strength, physical and metaphysical, to push him away. "I can't… my husband—" you began.

"You told me yourself that he ignores you," he sighed, tightening his grip on you to keep you close. "Didn't you say that you thought he was having an affair of his own?"

"W-well, I'm not sure— I just imagine he must be, since he's never… since we never…"

He growled slightly, leaning in to kiss your neck as you shivered. "I still can't believe it," he mumbled. "That the prince has a beautiful wife all to himself and never once bed you. What a waste that is— you deserve to be pleasured, my love…"

You wanted so much to give into it, to let him take you now and finally know what you'd been waiting so long for. You wanted it more than anything— to be loved, desired, cherished. But you still gasped and pushed him away again when he started to grab at your dress. "I saved my purity for my husband," you reminded him with a frown.

"And you still have it!" he snapped. "Isn't it time to give it to someone who wants it?"

You'd told him yourself that your husband didn't care for you, and yet it stung horribly to hear Lord Stark say it so plainly. You dropped your head and bit your shaking lip, sniffling as he awkwardly tried to recant what he'd said.

"I-I've offended you— my apologies— but it is him that should feel guilty, not you," Philip insisted. "He's mad to treat you in such a way… he should desire you, I can't imagine why he doesn't. But he doesn't, that much we can both be certain of. And I do— more than anything, I desire you. I meant all that I said in my letter— and more. I have dreamt of you every night since we first met, since you let me kiss your hand…"

The declaration of love was beautiful, and tender, but it was soured— for it all came from the wrong man. It would be easier to run away with the Lord Stark and be his wife instead, let him give you all the things he promised. But it was not duty that kept you bound to Aemond… it was devotion; real, pure devotion.

You interrupted the Lord's imploring speech by resting your hand tenderly on his cheek. He sighed, shutting his eyes and savouring your touch. "My lady," he whispered reverently.

"I am truly sorry, my Lord," you breathed. "You are handsome, and gentle— and any lady should be so lucky to have your heart, for it is truly kind and just. But—"

"But you can only love him," Stark finished with a sneer, jerking away from you dejectedly.

"I wish I didn't," you admitted with a whimper as you started to cry. "I wish I was the sort of woman who could ignore my marriage and abandon my husband and just love you, but—"

"Say no more," he interrupted firmly. "I see now that you never felt for me as you said you did. You only liked that I gave you the attention your husband does not."

Well, that was sort of true, but it still hurt.

"No wonder he hates you— he knows how wicked you are!"

You reached out for the man but he had already turned to leave you; you wanted to plead for just one more embrace from him, so it would be longer before you forgot how it felt to be held. But you, apparently, had a single shred of dignity left… or maybe it was just that you were crying too hard to speak.

Crumpling to the floor, you leaned against the stone wall, hearing the sounds of the party grow louder for a moment as the doors to the banquet hall opened again. The sounds of merriment and joy felt distant, not just because they were literally far away— you had so few joys left already, and one of them had just tossed you aside with impatience and disgust.

When the evening concluded and you were alone in your bed across the castle, you dreamt that Aemond found one of Philip's letters to you; that he read it and confronted you, admitting he was livid to imagine another man stealing you away. In your dream, Aemond's anger revealed his true lust for you, and he asserted his claim over his wife by violently taking you right there in your bed, all the while swearing to never even let anyone else look at you again.

It may have sounded like a nightmare to anyone else, but you would accept any interest from Aemond by now— you wouldn't struggle or resist him, too good of a wife to ever deny your husband. But that was hardly something you had to worry about: you'd never have to deny him, because he'd never want you. Realising this for the hundredth time hurt just as much as the first; you wept into your pillow for the rest of the night.

"What is it that you hate so much about me?" you asked, voice wavering even though you'd imagined being so tough when you finally confronted him.

You hadn't woken up that day planning to ask him that. You'd woken up that day melancholy as you knew it was your eight month wedding anniversary— and you knew that Aemond didn't care. He didn't join you for breakfast, and you thought about taking your meal to the terrace to look out at the garden while you ate, but then you thought you'd better just wait for him at the table in case he came late and gave you a kiss on the head as he passed by to his seat.

Of course, he did not. You didn't see him before lunch, either— or at lunch! That was when your heartbreak shifted into anger. If he wanted to be aloof, fine. If he wanted to be in a purely political marriage without even consummating it, that was his right. And if he didn't think children were necessary, being the second son and therefore not needing an heir, even though you longed to be less alone and have someone to care for here in this draughty old castle— you could live with all that.

But if he couldn't even think to say hello to his wife, either ignorant or uncaring that the twentieth of every month was another month gone by since the wedding, then he was worse than you realised. Up until now he’d avoided you, sure, but he wasn’t… mean, except for avoiding you, which was mean in itself. It made you think of what Philip said a few weeks ago— no wonder he hates you.

So, that was what compelled you to find Aemond in his chambers, swinging the doors open and blurting out your question.

He sighed, seeming annoyed, as he shut his book and looked at you. Even after seeing firsthand how little he cares about you, part of you imagined he'd be offended when you asked that. Hate you? Darling, of course not! You're my wife, aren't you?

But no, he only contemplated you with an unsurprised frustration as you stood there, shaking hands clenched into fists. You spoke again when he still said nothing. "I'd just like you to tell me, Aemond. Tell me why you despise me so much."

He smiled— fucking smiled— as he tilted his head down and shook it. "Haven't I done enough for you? This is the thanks I get, when I try so hard to be kind to you?"

You choked on your gasp, tears falling down your face already even though you wanted more than anything not to let him see you weep. "Is this what it looks like when you try? I'd hate to see what happens when you just give in and show me how you really feel."

He scoffed. "You would hate it," he agreed.

"You're so cruel…" you whispered, choking on a sob. "How do you do that, Aemond? How are you so horrible to me, without a second thought?"

That seemed to anger him properly, and he finally stood up as rage heated his face. "How dare you come to my chambers and question me? After all I've done for you—!"

"All you've done?" you repeated incredulously. "Ignored and belittled me? Treated me like a stranger, secluded me to another bedroom… are these your mercies?"

He seemed confused— an emotion you weren't used to seeing on him. "Yes!" he answered, irritated. "What more could you want? I can't exactly have you living on another continent, can I?"

You blinked quickly, shaking your head at him. "I— I don't understand…"

"I grant you all that, because I know this marriage was not your choice," he explained, like it was obvious. "It wasn't mine either— we can at least be civil, and keep up appearances, for your honour and my own."

"Honour? Aemond, the court believes I am barren! I haven't the heart to tell them that you're disgusted by me!"

He stepped closer to you, the short distance making your heart race. "Disgusted? You may think me a monster, but I am only a man— even I know how beautiful you are."

Your throat caught. He said it like you should know— but it was news to you, and it made your heart skip. "If… if you think me beautiful, why— why did you never lay with me? Even on our wedding night?" you asked, feeling your face warm to discuss something so crude.

"I'm not like my brother," he sneered. "I have no desire to force myself on you…"

His eye darted to the side briefly.

"W-well, no intention, at least."

"Force?" you repeated, confused as you shook your head. "Aemond, you're hardly making any sense…"

"I'm not making sense, am I? Who are you to question me? You act like a nice, obedient wife— you like to make them think of you that way, don't you? But I let you live as you did before, as much as I can. What more do you want, woman?!" he asked ragefully.

"I… want only for you to hold me," you admitted, voice breaking as you cried in earnest. You felt like a child when he looked at you like this, even more so as you admitted your foolish desires. "I want my husband to love me— I want him to touch and kiss me, and tell me that he can't live without me. I want, even just for one day, to feel worthy of your love— fuck, just your attention! Just your approval!"

He blinked at you, softening, and you almost jumped when his hand reached up to tenderly stroke the back of your arm. "My wife…" he whispered, and your lips fell slack with a sigh.

He leaned in a bit closer then, reaching up to wipe a tear from the height of your cheek with his thumb. In all the months you'd been married, in the weeks you courted, he'd never touched you so sweetly.

"I… I didn't want to hurt you," he promised, "or scare you. I thought you—"

He lowered his voice again, shutting his eye, and you leaned in closer.

"I knew you couldn't love me," he whispered. "You're so sweet and lovely— I'm scarred. And you played the part well, but… I've seen that look before, when a lady is trying to be polite but is upset by the sight of me. I understand."

You reached up to hold his face, biting your shaking lip. “Aemond… I never— you’re beautiful.”

He turned away shyly, cheeks starting to tint in a way that only added to the beauty he was about to deny. “I know you want to be a good wife, but your flattery is inconceivable.”

“I always thought you were handsome, my prince,” you promised, forcing him to look at you so he could see the earnestness in your eyes. “And I don’t just want to be a good wife— I want to be your wife.”

"You always had my attention," he informed you. "And you never lost my approval."

Overcome with joy, you threw yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Though he seemed a bit stunned by your forwardness at first, he returned your hug; you could've sobbed when he embraced you. It was all you'd ever wanted, and it was so simple: just the touch of your husband— just the warmth and strength of him, wrapped around you.

Squeezing your shoulders gently, he sighed beside your ear. “You don’t need to be so excited,” he mumbled.

“Of course I’m excited,” you beamed, holding him even tighter. “I thought you— do you really care for me?”

“Yes,” he assured, and you pulled back to look at his face, just in case he was obviously lying or something. But he seemed genuine— actually, he seemed surprised that you didn’t believe him already.

"I won't believe you until you kiss me," you decided. Smiling, he leaned closer and took one more long look at your face before pressing his lips to yours.

It was sort of like how you'd imagined that it would be, at first. But in a moment, it was better than you could've ever thought.

It was needy. You loved it; your husband needed you. His kiss was still delicate and precise, yes, but filled with heavy sighs and hesitant attempts to pull you closer and press his body to yours. It was teeming with all that suppressed hunger, like he was fighting every instinct so he wouldn't overwhelm you. If only he knew he could do whatever he liked to you; if only you could make him let go and show his true self.

“I care for you,” he whispered into the kiss, almost so quiet you didn’t hear it… but you did, and you had to cling to his shoulders with your knees going weak. He pulled away to speak to you more clearly, as much as you hated being away from that kiss again. “I care for you too much to subject you to my presence.”

“Do you care for me too much to consummate our marriage?” you asked, catching the way his eye widened slightly while his grip at your waist tightened.

“Avoiding you was easier than resisting you,” he explained quickly. “It’s… difficult, even now, holding you like this, and not—”

“I want you to,” you admitted, nearly whining as you clutched at his shirt to pull him closer. “Since our wedding night— well, even before then, I wanted—”

"Don't," he pleaded, voice thin as he looked away. "I… I won't be able to hold myself back…"

"Take me, husband," you begged. "I— I waited for you all my life. I need to feel you, to please you—"

He snarled a bit as he shut you up with a bruising kiss, holding your back tightly.

You hummed into it, feeling heat flood your face (and between your legs) as he kissed you so… shamelessly. Your grip on him loosened, only because all of you went a little limp from the way his teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you pressed your hands flat against the leather in hopes you could feel the warmth of his chest through it. Unfortunately, you couldn’t, so instead you found your hand slipping between two of the fasteners of his tunic, fingers brushing against the bare skin underneath. He pulled away from your lips, but you couldn’t seem to find the strength to pull your hand from his chest— his warm, porcelain skin—

"Your eagerness is unladylike," Aemond noticed with a pleased smirk.

"I-I am sorry, but I can't help it," you whimpered. "I've longed for you— I've dreamt of you—"

"Shh, I know," he smiled softly, petting your hair as you leaned into the gentle touch. "I quite like this desperation on you, anyways. Be careful not to let me enjoy it too much, or I'll make you wait another eight months."

"No, please," you breathed, "you could hold me every day and I'd be just as eager, my prince."

He sighed just by your ear, even something that simple making you shiver. "I'll do more than that— I'll never let you go. I'll hold you for the rest of our lives. Then will you be satisfied?"

Crying softly, you nodded and hid your face against his shoulder, sighing at the relief being close to him brought you.

He reached up slowly to help you unfasten the clothing that covered his upper body; watching him undress was just divine, in your opinion— every nimble motion of his fingers exposed a longer sliver of his torso until he shirked the tunic away from his shoulders and revealed himself to you. Biting your lip, you graced your fingers over his chest, admiring how strong he was and how delicate his ivory skin felt; if it weren’t for how shockingly warm he was to the touch, you’d believe he really was porcelain.

“Do you wish to see me too, husband?” you asked shyly, fishing for a little eagerness from him as well. He hummed as he leaned in to kiss your neck, reaching behind your back to unlace your gown as you held onto his arms.

“I apologise for how many breakfasts I missed,” he replied, not seeming to be a related statement at all until he went on. “Seeing you in your dressing gown was becoming too much to bear… all I could do was imagine how you must look without anything to cover you.”

You smiled proudly, though you couldn’t for very long when his tongue teasing along your pulse made you gasp shakily. “U-uncover me then," you pleaded, as if he wasn't already shedding you of the layers of your dress, down to the thin linen chemise underneath. You were told from an early age that your body was meant for your husband's eyes only, and aside from the occasional lady's maid who helped you dress, you'd covered yourself in modest wear in order to preserve your own dignity and keep your promise to your future husband. Maybe some would protest to such a stricture, but it seemed sort of romantic to you. And now that you were finally here, with Aemond's fingers delicately shedding you of your last layer of clothing, it was more intimidating than you expected— but in a good way, mostly. Really you were just scared that he wouldn't like what he saw; even if he said he was affected by the sight of you in your nightgown, he knew nothing of what laid beneath.

Taking a shaky breath, you held your arms out just enough for him to slide the thin fabric down, and the garment pooled on the floor at your feet.

For a moment, you couldn't find the courage to look up at Aemond, just blinking down at the ground beneath you. But soon, when he said nothing still, you worriedly glanced up to examine the expression on his face.

Before then, you wouldn't have known how to describe what lust looked like. Well, you still couldn't describe it, but you knew it when you saw it. And this? That darkness in those icy eyes, that tightness in his jaw and the subtle smirk on his lips? That was it.

You shivered as he ran his hands over you, a pleasant sort of chill that made you clench inside. You opened your mouth, about to ask him if you were pleasing to him, but he spoke first.

"Lay on the bed, wife."

You were, obviously, already very obedient. But you may have never been as instantaneous in your obliging as that moment. You were on your back on Aemond's bed in an instant, and he was atop you just a second later, kissing you again and breathing in deeply as his bare chest pressed to yours.

His hands returned to exploring you as his kiss became more and more overpowering; he was so warm, almost hot, pressed against you and it was simply the most perfect feeling. You found your legs spreading naturally without much thought put into it, and in the same way, his hand just seemed to move down between them of its own accord, gently rubbing over your mound as you whimpered from the feeling.

"Are you truly untouched?" he whispered against your lips.

"Of course," you answered, "how could I not be? You never touched me…"

He hummed softly. "I longed to," he admitted, "I imagined it…"

He delicately parted your folds with two fingers, making you shudder as his touch carefully discovered every detail of you. "I-is it like you imagined?" you wondered.

"Even more lovely," he replied. "You're so warm here, my love— are you warmer inside?"

You gasped loudly as he slid those fingers inside you. "Shh," he soothed. "It's only to prepare you."

Only to prepare? I feel as if I'm being torn apart already! you thought.

"Soon you'll be ready to take me inside you," he whispered. That was plenty of motivation to get through the pain, and he hummed contentedly as you pulsed inside, more of your arousal leaking out and threatening to leave a puddle on his bed.

"Will… will you keep your trousers on?" you wondered, as you looked down at where the pale skin stopped and the black leather began.

He seemed amused. "I know you're not naïve enough to think we can consummate this marriage with my trousers on."

"N-no! I mean—" you choked. "I meant that… I'm naked, and you haven't taken them off yet."

He raised an eyebrow, curling his fingers inside you and watching your face twist. "Are you that curious, my darling?" he mocked, leaning down to speak closely beside your ear. "Would you like to see my cock, is that it?"

Well, it seemed that the time for shame was well past… so, you bit your lip and nodded slightly, feeling his kiss the side of your face quickly.

"Soon," he promised. "It's easier to keep my patience this way."

Patience? After this long, his concern is patience?

Of course, you couldn't quite understand yet what Aemond was truly concerned with— but you would soon enough.

As much as it had stung to be entered by something for the first time, you were whining in disappointment when he pulled those fingers out of you— until he brought them to his lips and stared forward at you darkly while he sucked your flavour from them.

When he had licked every drop from his skin, he smiled at you and put those wet fingers by your hole again— wiggling and twisting them to fit three inside as your back arched.

"It's too much," you warned, grabbing his wrist. "Three is too many!"

"You'll need to take much more than three fingers, my darling," he chuckled. His free hand grabbed yours and guided it to his erection, firm and hot even though the leather, helping you rub him as he sighed. Your eyes went wide as you felt it, and he smirked at you. "Do you see now? You'll need to be prepared."

"Oh— my husband, you— are you sure it will fit?"

"Yes."

It wasn't as convincing as you'd hoped it would be. It felt so thick, and you were afraid your sense of touch was deceiving you with the length of it! Sure, you had no true point of reference having never even seen a man naked before, but you understand the mechanics of all this to find a sense of fear bubbling up in your gut. Would it hurt you? Would it break you?

And why did that idea, as terrifying as it should be, excite you a little bit?

Pulling him down into another kiss, you found yourself weaving your fingers into his hair, and when he pushed his fingers deeper into you again you couldn’t help but tug on the silver-y strands unintentionally. You started to apologise, before the little wince he let out turned into a low groan that made your walls bear down on his fingers yet again. And that made him sigh as he leaned down to kiss your neck, even biting on you just hard enough to make a whine escape from your throat.

“I should give you more time,” he admitted, “prepare you further, but… my patience is wearing thin, dear wife.”

“You don’t need patience with me, husband,” you assured, surprised by your own voice’s wavering as he kept filling you with his long fingers. “Just… say that you love me.”

He smirked a little, and the pridefulness in his face made you feel sort of foolish— but you sort of liked it. “I don’t know you enough to say that,” he replied.

Well, that wasn’t exactly your fault, was it? And he had three fingers to the knuckles inside you, he certainly knew you better than anyone else! “You don’t have to mean it,” you mumbled, “just say it…”

His free hand, attached to the elbow that he balanced himself on beside your head, lightly pet the line of your jaw as you blinked up at him. “Say that you love me first,” he decided.

“I love you,” you replied instantly, “of course— I love you more than anything.”

Smiling wider, he closed the space between you and kissed you softly. Only when your eyes fell shut did he answer in a whisper below his breath, “and I love you as well.” It seemed like it might be too much for him to say it with his eyes open.

He took his hand away from you and reached down; excitement jumped through you like a shock when you realised he was removing the rest of his clothes. It made the kiss suddenly much more… thrilling, less precise and more desperate as you grabbed onto his shoulders and felt his bare body lay fully on top of yours.

His hands ran up the back of your legs, holding them open wide for him, and his cock pressed against your waiting cunt; it was warm, that was the only word you could think of for it, and you moaned into his mouth as he just barely rocked his hips to slide himself over your slick folds.

Right as he held himself tightly, hissing softly between his teeth, and guided his thick and leaking tip to your opening, a second wind of hesitance startled you.

"Wait!" you blurted out, pushing him away just slightly by his shoulder. You could tell by the fear in his eye that he thought you were about to renege on the whole thing, admit that he was right from the start and you were too afraid of him to go through with any consummation.

Instead, you reached up to the brown leather patch on his eye, gently caressing it.

"Let me see my husband," you pleaded. "I know you don't like to show me— but I want to see you as you are."

You'd only seen him without the covering for a brief moment, on accident; a few weeks into the marriage you entered his chambers without permission, finding him without his shirt or patch, and he covered his face quickly to scold you for your rudeness. You were much too flushed by the sight of his bare chest— that toned, pale torso with scars of the softest pink in a few places— to mind his sapphire eye much or his frustrated rant. He could yell at you all he wanted if he did so in any state of undress! You thought he had the most beautiful body— seeing more of it today only proved your suspicions correct— and as he took off his eyepatch now, you smiled as you finally saw your husband's face.

A moment later, your smile fell into a gasp and a cry as he pushed himself into you. Head falling back onto the down pillow, you whined through your teeth as his cock filled you, and you dug your nails into his shoulders with more strength than you thought you had. "I'm hurting you," he noticed. "I tried to prepare—"

But as he pulled back, you reached down and held onto his hip. "No!" you whimpered. "Don't… don't stop. The pain will fade, yes? I— I want this so much, Aemond…"

He sighed, leaning down to kiss away a stray tear from your temple. "I know— and you've waited long enough, haven't you? My poor wife… I never wanted you to be lonely. I only wanted to protect you."

"From what?"

"This."

He put his hand over your mouth and shoved the rest of his cock inside you, muffling your scream as he groaned in satisfaction. He was so deep, and it burned to be stretched for the first time; you sobbed but wrapped your legs around his waist and tried to keep him inside. Still, he started to move, and you shuddered and wept as the pain seemed to bloom from your cunt and crawl up your back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I can't— I can't stop now, and you feel so warm…"

He looked at your face, twisted in pain, and stared at the hand over your mouth with and heavy gaze.

"I don't want them to hear you. No one should hear my wife but me— in her pleasure or pain."

Even as you shivered from the way it hurt, your heart sang to hear him call you his wife, and to be possessive of you in some way.

"You feel so perfect," he grunted, starting to fuck into you faster already. "It won't always hurt like this— just a little longer, I know you can take it for me, can't you?"

You nodded against the pressure of his hand over your face, hoping he wouldn't mind the way you pierced your nails into his skin to try to cope with the pain— you’d feel terrible if you left any marks on such a beautiful form as his, but then again, wouldn’t it be sort of erotic? Little half-moons carved into his white skin as a memory in the flesh, a way to claim him in return as he claimed you?

Yes, actually, it would be wonderful— and so you held onto him tighter, and he certainly didn’t seem to mind.

Each time his hips collided with yours, your whole body rocked under him and his grip on the sheets beside your head tightened until they threatened to tear. His breaths were fast and sharp as he moved, a lovely flush on his cheeks and his eyes shut (the scarred one only as much as it could be) as he chased his own ecstasy. Even though it still stung for a few moments longer, you loved looking up through your teary eyes as watching him, feeling impossibly proud knowing you were pleasing your husband this way.

He knew something had changed when your grip on his shoulders relaxed and you exhaled a long sigh from your nose that tickled his hand over your mouth (which he took away to admire your face in this moment). "Is it beginning to feel better?" he asked.

"Yes," you whimpered. "Yes, yes, yes—"

He laughed softly. "I heard you the first time," he soothed, "but you may say it as much as you like. Say my name as well, love— it never sounded as nice as it does from your lips…"

"Aemond," you breathed.

It spurred him on even more, deeper thrusts making your back arch and moans jump from your throat quickly. "Such precious sounds you make," Aemond noticed proudly. "Have you never felt this way before?"

You shook your head, and a snarl of twisted pride ghosted over his face. "Never— it feels— oh!"

He had leaned down to capture one of your hardening nipples between his lips, gently flicking at it with the very tip of his tongue until you jolted under him. You hadn't even known of such a thing before, you didn't realise how sensitive you were there or how beautiful Aemond would look with his mouth latched onto your breast. He switched back and forth between them, smiling occasionally when your moans grew louder or you gasped out his name at the feeling. A long whine slipped out when he kissed his way up from your nipple to the curve of your neck, moving his hips harder and faster as his bent arms kept him balanced and caged you in. “Tell me again,” he demanded in a pant, “how much you like this.”

“It’s— you feel so—” you choked, really trying to answer him but losing focus each time he filled you to the brim and rubbed against that one place that made everything light up inside you. Your legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, and your toes curled, and you clung onto him as each thrust made your body— and mind— feel more and more beautifully helpless. “It’s so… deep…”

He purred a little.

“It feels so good,” you finally decided to answer, knowing it wasn’t the most descriptive but not sure how else to put it. “It feels amazing— you feel amazing… I don’t want it to ever end…”

His next sound was a hum of approval, and while it made you feel happy, you felt the urge to press for a more conclusive response.

“Does— does it feel— is it nice for you, too?” you panted out. For all those attempts to ask that question, it still came out sort of needy and pathetic, but he found that amusing and smiled against your skin as he kissed beside your ear.

“Nice isn’t the word,” he admitted. “There isn’t a word for how you feel, my darling. The closest I can think of is perfect.”

You were just hoping for a small compliment; you didn’t expect him to so flippantly say something that romantic, even poetic.

Just after you’d said you didn’t want it to end, he decided to stop and pull out of you. The emptiness was jarring and disappointing; reaching out for him as he sat up, he smiled and gave your waiting hand a squeeze. “Just a moment, my love.”

He sat up enough to lift your legs from around his hips, and hold them up as he pushed them against your upper body. Just when you wanted to warn him that you may not be as flexible as he expected, he slipped his cock inside you again— and when you’d remarked before about how deep he was, you had no idea how this would feel.

Your whole body tightened up and your face twisted in a gasp. “Is it too much for you?” he asked softly, the concern in his voice making your heart swell.

“No, please— keep going,” you insisted, though your back had to arch when he slid the rest of the way inside and you swore the head of his cock was going to go into your stomach or something. But it didn’t— it only stretched you to your absolute limits, a new sensation that wasn’t quite sharp enough to be pain but more powerful than you’d ever known pleasure to be. You whimpered, but braced yourself, ready to give him anything he needed.

"My sweet wife, so devoted," he groaned as he pushed his hips as hard as he could into you, holding you steady to force his cock just that last little bit deeper inside until your eyes rolled back. "You wanted so much to fulfil your marital duty— and look at you, taking it perfectly, even better than I imagined."

"You… you imagined this?"

Aemond laughed, heartily, at your question. "Only every night," he replied quickly, "with my hand around my cock, wanting to call for you but barely resisting each time."

You would've been ecstatic if your husband had called for you in the middle of the night to soothe his aching need; even if he sent you away right after he was finished and went back to ignoring you, it would've made you feel like less of a complete failure of a wife.

"I imagined more than this, though," he admitted. "I imagined kissing you and tasting you and hearing you say how dearly you love me…"

That explained why he’d asked you to say it before. You’d say it a thousand times if he asked— or, probably, even if he didn’t.

"I imagined you pregnant."

To say your heart skipped a beat was an understatement. Your heart skipped so many beats that you might have been technically dead for a couple seconds— except that you felt more alive than ever. There were a thousand things you’d like to say, but rendered totally speechless, all you could do was pant out his name weakly.

"We don't need to make any heirs," he reminded you. "But I could give you a child, if you want one."

Your heart had never been so filled before— finally, your husband's child, inside you: it could really happen. You'd longed to give him one (or many) since you met him and now… now you could finally bear him one. "Yes," you whimpered, "Aemond— a baby, I want one so desperately…"

But then again, you'd wanted a baby so you wouldn't be so alone— someone to keep you company. And now he was here, finally, and you didn't need to be alone anymore.

"I want us to— to be a family," you choked out, and you felt his smile against the side of your face.

"We are," he whispered. "Already, we are. Husband and wife. But, you would look divine carrying a son…"

You hummed contentedly at the praise, feeling his hand rub gently on your belly right where it would swell the most.

"Perhaps I will, then," he decided. "Bless you with a child… if you'd like that."

He was taunting you, tricking you into begging him for it— and you didn't mind at all, happy to oblige. "Yes! Please, my husband, my prince— I long for it, let me have your son, please… if you give me your seed, I promise, I'll do all I can—"

"Shh," he soothed softly, "I know you will. I know— such a good wife you are, a perfect wife…"

You felt warm tears run down your temples, all this devotion to him finally appreciated when you feared it would all go to waste. Clinging tighter onto him, you tried to hide your face in the curve of his neck. But he gently pried you away, cooing, "No, no— let me see you, let your husband gaze on you— oh, what a sweet face. Shall I kiss your tears away? All will be right, my love… you'll have our son. And what a lovely mother you'll make."

Maybe it was a strange thing to push you right up to the edge— but you’d been approaching it for a while, that was just the moment you realised how close you really were. The way he said it, you could somehow tell he’d thought for a while that you’d make a good mother for his children; maybe he thought that from the start, he must have if he agreed to marry you. And at the same time that it filled your chest with pride, it made your gut burn with a need for something you couldn’t quite define but that you knew was incredibly close.

Apparently, he was in a similar situation, though much more aware of what it really was than you were. “It won’t be much longer,” he promised. “If you ask me, I will— are you sure it’s what you want?”

"Please, my prince," you whimpered as you held on tightly to the sheets. "Please! Give me your seed, please—"

"Fuck," he groaned, "once more—"

"Fill me, Aemond, with your child— I'll do anything, I want it so much, I want to be pregnant—"

"My name," he hissed, shutting his eyes tightly as his thrusts became erratically fast. "Say my name again."

"Aemond," you whimpered, losing yourself in pleasure just as his name crossed your lips. "Aemond, my husband, my beloved— yours, m'yours, only you, Aemond—"

It was a feeling so powerful that it felt like you separated from reality for a brief moment— like you were floating in water except less wet and more… hot, more all-encompassing, more pure sensation that filled you from head to toe— and then seemed to rob you of all your remaining strength at once. As you went limp, he whined loudly and his movements faltered. It took you a moment to realise it was finally time: you were finally being filled by your husband. He groaned softly as he panted, silver hair sticking to the sheen of sweat on his face.

He looked absolutely beautiful, even more than usual. And he finally blinked his eyes open and looked at you like he'd never seen anything so perfect.

His thumb gently wiped away a tear from your temple. "Lovely wife," he praised under his breath. "I can't wait to see you with child. I hate how long I waited… if I had taken you as I should have on our wedding night, our son would be almost here now…"

You pulled him down onto you for a tight hug. "None of that matters now," you whispered to him sweetly. "Just hold me, my husband— you said you'd never let me go."

He smiled as he sighed, melting into your arms and wrapping you up in his own. "Yes, my lady," he agreed as he tenderly kissed the side of your face.

He looked up at you when you entered the room, and even just the slight smile on his face made you fill with joy; for someone as stoic as Aemond, you knew it was a sign of incredible affection to be smiled at that way. “Good morn, my lady,” he greeted, standing from his seat at the breakfast table.

“I worried when I awoke without you,” you admitted, clutching shyly at your nightgown.

“I figured you would be used to it by now,” he smirked. “Have I spoiled you with affection already?”

Chewing your lip, you glanced away. “I thought— you said you’d never let me go.”

“Well, I wasn’t hungry when I said that,” he replied, chuckling. “I awoke earlier and was afraid to disturb you… you seemed in need of your rest.”

You seemed worn out from all the fucking, he really meant, but he was still trying to be polite.

“Aren’t you going to sit with me and dine, my love?” he prompted, nodding towards the chair nearest to him— not even across the table, where you used to sit. Feeling like you’d received some sort of promotion to sit so close, you happily bounced up to the table and a servant stepped forward to pull the chair out for you. “Actually—”

You and the servant both stopped, and you worried you were about to get kicked back to the end of the table; instead, he sat back in his chair and motioned for you to step closer. Normally, Aemond wouldn’t sit again until any lady in the room was seated (he was mindful of custom, always), but as you came closer, he patted his knee, and you felt your face warm up.

“You could sit with me,” he suggested, and you tried not to show how ecstatic you were as you perched yourself in his lap. He looked up at you with his uncovered eye, smiling, and draped his arm around your waist. It felt, honestly, a little bizarre to have him be this affection, even if he’d shown you love in the most literal way just last night… you were still getting used to it. And this felt very different, though it made you quite happy. “Would you like a grape?” he offered, gesturing to his plate.

“I was upset before that I felt I didn’t know my husband very well,” you recalled, totally ignoring his innocuous question, “and now I think I knew even less than I thought.”

He tilted his head. “How do you mean?”

“You’re so… romantic!” you blurted out, and he laughed.

“I don’t know about that,” he denied. “But I am rather taken with you. And I must say…”

His voice lowered, as did his gaze, while his hand traced down your back delicately through your clothes.

“...I’m still just as affected by seeing you in your dressing gown,” he finished softly.

“I-I—” you stammered, making him smile amusedly at you. “I’m still just as amazed at how forward you can be, my prince… and to think I thought of you as shy once.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “I am shy,” he assured. “I’ll even dismiss the servants before I fuck you on this table.”

You raised your hand to your mouth to cover it, hoping to suppress your shocked giggle, but he grabbed it and held it tightly as he pulled you even closer, until you thought he might kiss you. He didn’t, yet: he only looked at your face very carefully. You looked back at him, of course, and found yourself reaching up to stroke his cheek as you admired his sharp, harsh sort of beauty. “You… you really plan to take me again, husband? Now?”

He smiled wide, maybe wider than you’d ever seen. “I was going to let you have breakfast first,” he clarified. “Unless ‘now’ is your preference.”

You looked away, smiling to yourself. “I’ve heard eagerness is unladylike,” you dodged his obvious attempt to make you out to be the needy one. Which wasn’t exactly false, but not fair either: you knew he wanted you just as badly, and finally knowing that gave you a little confidence to toy with him instead.

“Maybe you aren’t the finest lady, then,” he accused, which almost hurt before he continued, “but you are the most perfect wife any man has ever had, or wished to have.”

And, in an objective sense, Aemond hadn’t been much of a husband. Last night notwithstanding, he was all but cruel to you— and though he’d finally allowed himself to give in to desire for you, it was not as if his entire personality would change, he was still… whoever he was, an enigma with white hair and an eyepatch.

But he was perfect to you, and you loved him with everything you had.

You knew Aemond hated these sorts of things, but you loved them. He hated the loud guests, the small talk, the awkward customs— but those were the things you liked the most, they seemed to bring life to the empty old castle.

It wouldn’t be as empty soon, though; that was the purpose of this banquet, to announce and celebrate your impending addition to the family. And as much as Aemond generally disliked social engagements, he was obviously glowing with pride as he showed off his pregnant lady wife to the court. Now that you saw it on him, you thought maybe that was what he meant when he said you were glowing… but you weren’t sure, because whenever he said it you just figured it was sweat from having to carry around his massively heavy child all the time.

Not that you minded! You loved it, and he doted on you more than ever, kissing your belly and coming up with all kinds of plans for his son— and he was still sure it was a son, with no proof at all, but you weren’t even going to try to convince him otherwise.

“A toast,” Aemond instructed his guests, who raised their goblets in turn with him, “to my son, Vaegon—”

The guests started to lower their cups, but he wasn’t finished.

“— and his mother, my darling lady wife.”

You beamed as he squeezed your shoulder. Yes, it was no wonder you loved banquets now that you had the most adoring husband by your side for the night.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x female reader #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon reader insert

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kynimdraws · 1 month

Text

INFO POST

Name: Kylee (they/them). 30+

A totally normal Korean American mostly known for my drawings, specifically my Pokemon nuzlocke comics. But I will talk about other things on occasion because I do have periods of being fixated on certain topics. I also am a doctor!

Interests: Pokemon, League of Legends (everything except the game lmao), Fire Emblem, Advance Wars, Animal Crossing, Mother series, Korean history/culture, character design

General FYIs:

General inquiries/commission work/etc should be sent thru kynimdraws [at] gmail [dot] com! Tumblr messaging/asks/etc is not 100% reliable

I will not follow NSFW accounts but I am fine talking/interacting with them. There may be suggestive shitposting but I like keeping my content on the SFW side

I am VERY picky about who I follow/interact with online. Fandom content in particular is a minefield for me aka I have many things I dislike and don’t want to see, even if it might be a popular thing in media that I otherwise enjoy. Therefore, I will unfollow/block/mute liberally. There are times I accidentally block a blog bc I mistake them for bots. So if you got hit with that, just send me an ask or email me

I am very open about what I like and dislike, and none of those things are a direct attack on your sensibilities. I have never gone out of my way to directly send hate or whatever have you if I end up seeing shit I don’t like. My complaints in my little online space ain't a personal attack on you.

My ask/submission box/DMs are open for criticisms if you have any issues you want to resolve in private. No one is perfect and I may have done ignorant shit that needs to be pointed out. I have deleted or edited posts in the past if people tell me what I did wrong. PS I get that some of my stuff may upset you, but try to act civil when pointing shit out please.

I try to tag all my things whenever I can. Again, send me a message if anything bothers you. I am all for good debate but if you send me excessive hate or threats bc I have different opinions about matters that are trivial, I will block/delete them.

If you wish to use any of my hcs, please credit me. And if you are comfortable with it, send me the works so I can check them out! Or @ me if that is easier.

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FIRE EMBLEM FYI: Specifically for 3Houses/3Hopes because I need a separate one for this franchise specificially given how many crazy things I got due to being involved in this fanbase via my fanworks:

DO NOT try to convince me to like or tolerate Byleth/student ships, ESPECIALLY the ones with the lords (aka CIaude, Dimitri, EdeIgard). I already summarized why I don’t like FE3H Byleth ships with student chars here. While the spinoff game FEW3H has now removed that teacher/student problematic situation, the fandom keeps putting the FE3H elements into the FEW3H fanworks (i.e. remembering Byleth from “another life” trope)...so no thanks!! DO NOT SHOW ME IT!!!

As for the Byleth ships with faculty members, my response is here so don’t try to bait me about that topic either thanks.

I do not care whom you ingame S-support. 3Houses limits the dating-sim part of the game to that character, so I cannot care less about how you play the game. The main issue I have is when people treat Byleth the “character” as a legit ship material when I personally think they are a cool character ruined by fans who are too obsessed with badly executed self insert otome tropes bc they self-project super hard onto them. Just to be clear, any FE3H or FEW3H OC/Canon >>>>>>Byleth ships personally. Even Byleth-sonas that remove the teacher/student aspects are better than canon FE3H!Byleth

Please don't drag FE VA statements as some sort of “gotcha” on my opinions like this post here. IDC what other people prefer with ship shit, that’s their problem and not mine. I am not gonna bother them about it. So don’t bother ME about it.

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Links to check out:

Myths of Unova + Episode Grey (Pkmn White/White2 Comic)

Tales of Sinnoh (Pkmn Diamond Comic)

Art Site (Portfolio)

Twitter

Instagram

#psa post #pinned info post lol #updating this for myself and also to use the “do not reblog” feature from the get-go this way

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saltydkdan · 8 months

Note

Hello Salt man! You seem like an unhinged enough weeb for this question:

I’m going to be the president of the anime club in my highschool this year and have no fucking idea what I should do for activities and shit.

Any ideas? If not, that’s perfectly fine too!

(Also thank you for reblogging my Peppy drawing it made my day ^^)

No problem! I loved the art

I think it’s pretty obvious for an Anime club to watch Anime, however that shit is basic, and I have some unhinged ideas.

Trivia (the least unhinged)

—Make a trivia game on PowerPoint, or on Kahoot that feature questions based on various popular anime. Get specific and weird for the harder questions.

Anime Debate Club

—(be careful with this one because depending on the group it may get heated lol)

—At the end of a meeting, choose to random anime characters

—Tell members that they can pick sides on which of the two would win in a fight, then between meetings, bring together their arguments for why, they have to have actual citation and examples of the character’s powers, or reference specific canon material

—Bonus points if one of the debate teams puts together a PowerPoint slideshow on a character’s power set, or the other characters weaknesses

—Have a judge award points for valid arguments, but have them be cracked out of their minds about it (For example, awarding points to “Comedy” characters, like if an Osumatsu-San character surviving a Ki blast could be funny? That’s a point towards them. LMAO)

NOTES: Obviously the characters chosen cannot be Goku, Vegeta, Saitama, or in general overpowered characacters. Also, having completely fucking insane match ups, or wildly specific match ups is recommended. Like Bobobo VS Dio Brando from Jojo. Or General Tao from Dragon Ball VS Gojo.

If the fight is extremely one sided, just make a list of all the ways that one side would fucking dominate because that shit is fucking funny LOL.

Weekly Book Club but for anime

—This isn’t really “unhinged” but I recently did a manga book club with friends weekly and it was super cool to meet up and discuss the chapters of a particular series and such

—You can do this for anime and assign a set number of episodes, OR do manga and provide a way to read it online

—Rotate out series every so often so people don’t feel like they’re focusing all their attention to a single series the entirety of the year

—This could be a fun thing to do casually between meetings and to talk about a little at the start

Pitch your favorite

—Have people make a short presentation on PowerPoint to pitch their favorite series that’s 3-5 minutes each, or whatever depending on how many people you have

—If you wanna make it funny make it so they HAVE to include both Pros, AND Cons about it. (Like for One Piece: PRO would be the amazing worldbuilding, and a CON would be that Oda cannot draw women)

Make an Epic OC

—Force people to design OCs for a specific series for that week. If they can draw and want to, they can draw them. If they can’t draw? Make it a stick figure, or a shitty drawing a child would make. And have them make a small write up about the character and their powers.

—This can easily be taken seriously, or just have them make an overpowered self insert, all of it is fine

Anyway that’s all my ideas! Hope this helps or inspires some of your own unhinged ideas

#saltydkdan #salty asks #anime club #anime

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bones-of-a-rabbit · 1 year

Text

ok so self indulgent putting-my-oc-in-a-dumb-au doodles time, featuring the short song from over the garden wall, 'The Beast'

ok au concept:

takes place in the canon events of Security Breach, but Sun is the one helping y/n or Gregory or whoever. He's doing it partly out of selfishness, though- he wants out of the pizza plex almost more than you do, and he's actively hiding Moon's existence, and his relation to him, from you, even as it becomes clearer and clearer that doing so puts you in serious danger. insert Hazel- in this au, a scrapped concept for a character that would work in the Daycare-section of the plex, in the same way Foxy would've had a space there, too. Her project was cut while she was still in a beta phase, leaving her a bare-bones animatronic, barely above an endoskeleton with a few shell pieces fixed on. Though not infected with the virus, she's been stuck beneath the main plex for who knows how long, seething and spiteful and waiting. Waiting. Waiting. When Sun and Y/n or whoever come along to her portion of the plex (probably by some kind of accident), she lets herself be known, gives her name, chides Sun for not telling his 'new best buddy' about her, then switches to comment that maybe he doesnt even remember her, it sure is EASY to forget little things like that, isn't it, Sun? It's just so easy to let such trivial bits of information slip your mind, Sun? Isn't it? Sun is like 'DONT trust this animatronic, theyre not supposed to still exist, they were put out of commission a long time ago, theyre clearly corrupted and out of order, lets get OUT OF HERE LIKE RIGHT NOW,' and Hazel chooses right then to warn y/n about Moon 'since Sun apparently couldn't baaaare to talk about just what He's Done :) but I'm sure you can trust him <3' and then Hazel just. leaves. and isn't seen again! Does she escape?? Does she stay to burn in the rubble? Is she killed by a falling ceiling tile???? who knows!!! I just like the idea of her being like 'hey whats uppppp dont trust this dude lmao he's killed kids just like the rest of them have, aight peace motherfuckas' and NEVER SHOWING UP AGAIN sdfjsjkdhfsj its just so funny to me

alright thats it ig lmao idk i just like the drama of it all thank u for humoring me by reading this far LMAO

#bones of a rabbit #bones of a rabbit au #fnaf au #liar liar au #hazel the daycare hare #hazy daysy #fnaf oc #oc x canon #fnaf sun x y/n #fnaf sun x oc #canon typical violence #sketches #doodles #self insert #self indulgent #rambles #au rambles #overly long rambling abt ideas that will never go anywhere my beloved uwu

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mukamibabe · 2 years

Note

Hi!

I saw you write for Karlheinz and wanted to ask if you can write a one-shot on Karlheinz overstimulating his wife as a punishment who tried to escape him,like she was forced by Karl to marry him.

So maybe a lemon of him catching her and the "aftermath"?

I CAN'T ON HOW AMAZING YOUR BLOG IS!!! 💜💜💜

hi! thanks for asking!! <3 and thank you for saying that about my blog!!

onto content warnings, uhh. usual diabolik lovers stuff with like. horrible relationships and such.

also, with the nature of this request, i think this would probably be considered dubious consent? the relationship isn’t entirely clear, i wanted it to be somewhat ambiguous but to sum it up, i guess you could say the reader? s/o? is attracted to karlheinz but has extremely mixed feelings regarding him? or even like.. a one sided relationship but the wife is not as.. infatuated with karl as he is with her, if that makes sense? honestly it might even be seen as hate sex?? it gets more dubcon-ish near the end.

and omg bc i can’t stop talking lmao i also made it so it’s unclear whether or not his wife was a human or not. just for more.. like. oc-insert/ self-insert purposes? idk . and because i still can’t shut up, does anyone wanna like?? let me know if these are too long?? i feel like everything is just long and it’s like. .ok?? i mean it is my personal preference when reading stuff like this but like? ? idk ok anywyas

don’t read if any of this may make you uncomfortable, and also please don’t read this if you shouldn’t be because there will be nsfw content under the cut.

oh,,, and like the last scenario/drabble i wrote,, i still feel like my writing is kind of all over the place so i hope this is ok 😳 idk why im always changing povs and whatnot but i don’t think i did for this one? um anyways go easy on me im insecure ok lmao

A game. That’s all this relationship seemed to be. To Karlheinz, at least.

Like the snake the vampire lord was, he would strike at his prey without any warning, and that is exactly what he had done to the new woman he had called his wife.

It was bold of her, honestly- to escape the way she did. Karlheinz could almost laugh at the audacity, or the fact that she actually believed she could get away from him.

Being the sadistic vampire he was, seemingly something his sons had inherited from him, he found amusement in playing with his food, so to speak. While his prey, in this instance, wasn’t entirely just a meal, holding more importance than that considering he has already chosen to be wedded to her. He wished he could say he knew she wasn’t stupid, but considering her choice to run from him, he wasn’t so sure.

So, he allowed her to run. Like a wolf, testing it’s prey. He tailed her discreetly, and, both to his disappointment as well as satisfaction, she was completely unaware. So, when she finally let her guard down? Karlheinz went in for the kill.

It was silent, and his wife breathed heavily, slouched over as she finally got the opportunity to rest, at least for a bit. She couldn’t deny that it was almost suspicious that her husband seemed to have not trailed her at all, but the thought of being free of him outweighed anything else.

“What brings you here, my love?”

Upon hearing his voice, she looked up immediately, blinking rapidly to confirm whether or not what she was seeing was real.

Her mouth had dropped open, after seeing that, and after a couple more blinks, he was not gone, and was instead, getting closer.

“Worry not, my dear. I know this might be a surprise but I assure you, it’s alright. Lets just get you back to where you belong and we can discuss this later.”

Not allowing room for any protests or excuses, Karlheinz, after stopping within an arm’s length, quickly grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer to him before whisking her away.

Despite her having many moments with Karlheinz, including teleportation, it was still something she could never get used to. Hell, she was barely processing the fact that she had been utterly fooled by Karlheinz, thinking she was safe. It didn’t really help that she was already exhausted from constantly being on the move, as well as her own shock at the situation. Really, she couldn’t even think about defying him, as all she really sought was a rest.

After a quick second, within a flash, both were back at the place Karlheinz called home. For his wife, she would never call it her home, but alas, it mattered little to Karl.

Setting the woman down on their large, plush bed, truly fit for a king like Karl, he fixed his hair, letting the locks fall down after pulling it from his bun. His wife only sat on their bed, refusing to look at her so-called husband, tears gathering from the corners of her eyes. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. Unfortunately for her, Karl noticed immediately, stepping closer to her before cupping her cheek with a gloved hand.

“Shhh, shh, you’re alright. I’m not going to harm you, darling.”

Lies.

Sure, the woman could agree that he had never physically harmed her, but she knew who he was. She knew how easy it was for him to slither his way into your mind, to have you bend under his will. Perhaps that was why she felt complied to apologize, but it would be a lie. Escaping from him, albeit temporarily, was one of the best feelings she’d felt since being married to the man.

Regardless, she had to stop herself from moving away from him, or pushing his hand away. Or maybe both.

“Go ahead and get some rest. You’ll be safe here, I assure you.” Karlheinz spoke up once again, looking at his wife with a look of faux concern, but she didn’t know that. The woman only stared at him in response, just hoping he’d leave her alone, at least for a moment. Maybe she’d be lucky enough to get some shut eye before facing the consequences of running away from a vampire lord. The lack of trust was clear here, but what else could she do? Surely he had used some sort of magic to prevent her from escaping once more. The windows, that revealed a shining night sky, were nearly impossible to escape from, at least without causing a complete mess. Accepting defeat, for now at least, the woman let herself relax onto the mattress, though not entirely. Not long after, her so called husband left the room after gathering some scrolls that sat on his desk, allowing her to finally drift off to sleep, after fighting it for a moment- being on the run is definitely exhausting, more so than she would’ve thought.

About an hour or two had passed until Karlheinz returned once more. His wife still slept soundly, unaware of his presence. He had no plans of sleeping, really, but had stripped himself of his heavier clothes, leaving him in a loose, thin dress shirt and a simple pair of breeches. Unusual for him, sure, but he quite literally was trying to climb into bed and start showing his affections for his wife.

Before Karlheinz could actually get settled into their bed, his wife’s eyes opened upon feeling the shift in the mattress. Groggy, she squinted, looking up at the pale man though not having the energy to shrink away from him. Instead, she averted her gaze, laying her head back against the pillow. She really did want to go back to sleep, or at least her body did, but doing so wouldn’t be the easiest thing to do, per se. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t have at least a slight fear of how Karlheinz was going to treat her after escaping.

As Karl made himself more comfortable, inching closer to the woman who had given up on worrying and once again found herself trying to fall back asleep, turning around, her back facing the man. This was cut short, however, instantaneously upon feeling an icicle for a hand graze lightly against her neck, making her stiffen immediately. Karlheinz definitely noticed the way she had to prevent herself from recoiling, but only hushed her, his cold body only getting closer to her, chest pressed up against her back. His lips moved towards her neck after pushing away any obstacles, peppering her neck with delicate kisses. It didn’t surprise either of them that this only made her stiffen up more, but the man did not stop, only speaking quietly after kissing her neck for a bit longer.

“Forgive me for waking you, but can you blame me after all? Chasing after you has made me parched, my dear little wife.” He spoke, before going back to attacking her neck.

The woman felt no need to speak. He was going to bite her anyways, and not putting up a fight would only make it worse for herself. Besides, she had literally just woken from her slumber only moments ago. The vampire took his wife’s silence as permission, not that he needed it anyways, and bit down into her skin, sucking up the sanguine liquid that he’d craved since his wife’s little escapade. As he drank from her, he nudged his knee gently in-between the woman’s bare legs. Which, once she thought about it, she had no recalling of ever changing out of her clothes, but didn’t feel like feeding into that trail of thought. She knew the culprit, regardless of whether or not he did it directly. Letting out a shaky exhale, she squeezed her legs together, to which Karl only pressed his hips against her own. It was to her relief she hadn’t felt anything yet, but knowing him, it wouldn’t be for much longer. To add, Karl had also snaked his arm around her, fingertips playing with the hem of her shirt.

“Karl..” The woman mumbled, eyes clasped shut as she, to her dismay, leaned into his touch, focusing on the movement of his tongue, lapping up her blood, to the cold calf that rested against her own, intertwining their legs, not to mention the icy hand that slivered slowly up and down her waist. That hand was quick to start moving downwards, tickling at her hips before she stopped him, pulling her arm from underneath her to grasp his own. She was thankful that doing so made him pause, at least from getting any lower. It was bad enough his bites already made her feel some type of way, and his other affectionate touches did not help the conflict she felt from actually enjoying the feeling of his fangs biting into her.

Luckily, or at least she wanted to think so, Karlheinz pulled away from her neck, to which the woman then shifted, laying on her back looking at Karl, who was currently licking up the remnant off of his lips.

“Don’t deny yourself, darling. You know you want me to make you feel good.” He said, almost teasingly- and it was true. Partially. It wouldn’t be her first time getting intimate with the man, and even just thinking about the mind-blowing orgasms he’s brought her to makes her shiver, as much as she hated it. Letting out a slight whine, the woman huffed in denial, watching, and feeling, his every move. “But-”, is what escaped her lips before Karlheinz moved in for a kiss, prodding his tongue into her mouth, allowing her to get a faint taste of her own blood. Her hand moved to push against Karl’s chest, but both of them knew it really wouldn’t have an effect. In fact, she was barely pushing at all, slowly succumbing to all of his touch, which seemed to make her body melt.

Karlheinz pulled away from the kiss, leaving a few marks against her collarbone before scooting himself lower.

“I know you’re still tired. Let me take care of you, and just relax in the meantime.” The vampire said softly, moving her shirt upwards to reveal her stomach, allowing him to plant a gentle kiss against the soft skin. She did not at all anticipate the feeling of his fangs pierce into her once more, in such a sensitive place, no less. Truth be told, the king wasn’t even thirsty any more- he saw pain as a fair enough punishment for her actions, despite it being mixed with pleasure as well. After biting her again, his lips then moved downwards as her blood dripped down her stomach. He lapped it up, stopping at the hem of her undergarments and looking up at his wife, who shivered at the touch of his fingers that attempted to pull the underwear down. Raising her hand, she impulsively pushed his head away as she stuttered a protest. He only looked up at her for a few seconds, savoring the conflicted look smeared on her face. Ignoring her words, Karl removed the pair, with her hesitant assistance to shimmy out of them and kicking them off so they could get lost somewhere within the comforter.

A primal glint flashed in the man’s honey colored eyes, smirking at the sight of her, wet and clenching around nothing, again, to her dismay. He wasted no time, sitting up as he ran one finger along her folds, getting his fingertip wet with her slick.

“Please,” his wife cried out, though she really didn’t know what specifically she was pleading for. She wished nothing more for him to both leave her alone as well as to fill her up. This confusion was exactly what Karlheinz loved most.

Letting out a quiet chuckle, Karlheinz, without warning, pushed two fingers into her hole, curving them upwards, thumb lightly pressing against her clit.

“Ah, you’re so spoiled, my dear. Even after running away from me, you still get treated like a queen.. You have it lucky, don’t you think?”

“Fuck you.” Was her response, squirming a bit as she tried to block out the feeling his fingers were making her feel. In retort of her hostile reply, the man inserted a third digit, admittedly getting a bit rougher with her, pressing harder onto her clit. As he thrusted his fingers into her, she felt his fangs graze the flat of her thigh for a second before he bit her. Again. Though the vampire had never mentioned anything about ‘punishing’ his wife, it was starting to become clear that the bites were intentional. Then, after marking her once again, he moved his body back up, still fingering her as he claimed her lips for a second time. His fingers continued to work her up, using his thumb to play with her clit the way he recalled. Although both of them were caught in each other’s mouths, he could hear her breaths growing heavier, trying so hard to not let out any sound.

Abruptly, his fingers came to a halt after he pulled away from her lips, to which she let out an audible whine. Looking at the woman intently, he slid back down giving a tiny nip against her thigh before moving his mouth towards her pubis, biting down there as well. It was quick, and no blood had spilled, but it only added to her theory that this was indeed her consequence for running. Then, he moved down to her cunt and with no hesitation, started to eat her out, lapping up every bit of her juices, nose pressed against her sensitive clit.

Biting back a moan, his wife intertwined her fingers in Karl’s hair, tugging at it slightly but it was no use.

“Enough..!” She spat, though unable to help the way her hips raised against his mouth that continued to explore her entirety, occasionally moving upwards to suck at her clit. As she could have expected, Karlheinz showed no resistance and was completely ignorant against her words as well as the slight tug at his scalp. Bringing her closer to the edge, the pull on his hair only got tighter, hearing a string of curses come from his wife who was eagerly awaiting that sweet release. Following that shortly after was a loud moan of his name, chasing that release like a starved animal.

“Hah...! Karl, I’m close,”

Her words came out breathy, almost like a whisper, and Karlheinz’ mouth only got more and more relentless until she came undone beneath his mouth. Back arched, the woman cried out as Karl continued to lap up everything flowing from her.

“Nngh..! Please, it hurts..!” Letting out a choked cry, she tried to squirm away from the mouth that still attacked at her folds, but he had only held her down, bringing tears to her eyes just at the feeling of the overwhelming sensitivity, to the point where it was uncomfortable.

The vampire did not stop, though continued for only a little longer, savoring every cry and squirm, and every little touch she did against him, trying to push him away and struggling to shove him, fists balled. He let go of her hips, letting her fall back down against the bed, legs shaking slightly as she squeezed her eyes shut, doing her best to catch her breath.

At that point, her mind felt almost blank, not even noticing that Karlheinz had swiftly pulled down his pants, releasing his strained length that throbbed at the sight of his wife who had been brought to tears.

Unfortunately for his poor little wife, her so called punishment wasn’t over with yet. Karl had interrupted her time in which she tried to recover, lifting her up effortlessly, pulling him onto his lap. His hardened cock brushed against her, and before she could even manage to protest, both physically and verbally, he thrusted into her sensitive, sopping core, making her cry out, tears falling from the corner of her eyes that remained tightly shut. A few thrusts into her, the vampire laid her back down against the bed, pressing his forehead against her own as he harshly ground his hips against her. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t get any words out of her mouth. The only thing she could focus on was her husband pounding into her, his pace growing faster with every second. Any words that she was actually managing to form only came out slurred, and were then interrupted by Karl’s lips that resorted to kissing her as fondly as before.

His hips began to stutter after a while, feeling her cunt contract around him, moans and cries being muffled by one another’s mouths. The woman turned her head to the side, pulling away from the kiss as she felt that familiar buildup at her core, squeezing her thighs together but it was no use. Karlheinz was ramming into her roughly, making her toes curl and fingers holding onto the sheets for dear life. Just before Karlheinz was chasing his high, the woman gushed against him, and as she came down, her squeezing walls only encouraging the man’s growingly erratic pace, to which he came inside of her not long after.

He stayed inside of her for a short while before pulling out, watching his seed seep out onto the blankets, from her hole. Karlheinz was quick to catch his breath, at least in comparison of the girl who’s tears continued to fall, mouth agape.

“Hah.. There you go, my love.. Let it all out.” Karlheinz cooed, placing a chaste kiss against her cheek.

“Perhaps this will make you reconsider even thinking about running from me again.”

#karlheinz x reader #karlheinz sakamaki #karlheinz sakamaki x reader #karlheinz #Diabolik Lovers #diabolik lovers smut #diabolik lovers x reader #once again pls be easy on me. im insecure and i hate my own writing ;; naturally so SHhhh

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littlestpersimmon · 1 year

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I actually don't like self inserts (if we are talking about myself, I don't feel entitled nor do I mind if other people do it, I like ppl celebrating themselves) I never write self inserts consciously, but I do like writing ocs as people I'd like to become? If that makes sense. I love writing ocs that are sensible, kind, skilled at what they do and passionate of their goals without giving up, bc I often see myself as the opposite of those things, etc etc and I would like to be more like them. Just that I am easily discouraged, and that I drew my oc Joyful again, it made me reflect once more on this anon hate I got lmao. It did put a lot of shame on me for no reason other than my ocd always puts me into a position of shame and fear, and damper my spirits, but I've recovered, sort of

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miralyk · 3 months

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love the drawings you've been making for desmond and alex, what's ghosts in the machine? first i see them crawling out of your screen and now everyone's angels devils or monsters, i don't know if i'm missing something!

ah man, think it's time to try to summarize everything and apologize LMAO;; ty for asking though, i should've made things less confusing! this will be a Pretty lengthy post for irl context/backstory and "actual au" info so be ready if you want to read everything!

(for starters, the title's just a pun on the philosophical phrase "ghost in the machine" interpreted Literally and taking inspiration from clay in ac revelations, since he Was a ghost in a machine and jokingly called "my guardian angel" by des, haha)

the short version: basically, "ghosts in the machine" is what i've called the au(?) where i just doodle silly "artist talking to her art muse(s)" stuff like these kinds of comics instead w me,, the ""art muse"" is whatever i'm hyperfixated on (currently desmond, the assassin brotherhood as a whole, and alex/prototype lmao):

the Full LONG version: when replaying prototype and ac awhile back, i also posted fanart on LOFTER (china’s local version of tumblr) and made a mainlander mutual/friend who drew fanart too, like her oc w the assassins in an animal shapeshifter 刺客信条乙女向 (assassin’s creed otome) au! as i’m vietnamese-american and she’s chinese, we use translators and send pictures/doodles to talk about the games and our days, and when i was replaying prototype, she started ac2 too and sent me this as commentary:

from there, whenever we’d text or send pics/art, it became a running joke of sorts to also include our ""game companions"" like that fanfiction thing of “author’s note where the author and fictional characters comment on the situation and/or talk to each other”, and my doodles also became us or our computers being accompanied by them LMAO;; that’s pretty much the origin and setting of the particular doodles; just the daily shenanigans and art struggles of an artist (me and her) talking to their art muses (characters from special interests) haunting them and their computers

as for the "supernatural" aspects, at some point desmond and alex got drawn an as angel and devil because i’ve had ridiculous “protected by a guardian angel” luck lately like surviving a car crash unharmed, they’re my favorites and associated with me, the motifs match the duo, etc, it's not really that deep and/or for a "Lore Reason";;

likewise, the brotherhood got drawn as ghosts to emphasize the “we/our computers are haunted by them” joke more, along with how my friend and i are both asian and used to like ghosts and ancestral worship casually being a part of our lives already LMAO (ig in the context of the au then, they’re basically desmond’s ancestral spirits disney-mulan-style that freeload off of his vietnamese protectee (me) for both spiritual veneration or "worship" like staying relevant in this modern age via fanart)

for example, i'm also considering drawing like altair, ezio, connor, and edward as the vietnamese four holy beasts just to play around, things like that! there's no special lore reason aside from just personal thoughts and "oh that'd be fun to draw", they just thematically fit well being four prominent “legends” and being desmond's ancestors, etc,, haha

at the end of the day, "ghosts in the machine" are just silly shenanigans of me drawing what's on my mind, from who/what i'm hyperfixated on (aka impromptu art muses for me), any thoughts/frustrations i have w daily life or drawing stuff,, and "hm this sounds cool, i could draw this design or Cool Thing" stuff. it's not really an au persay (plus i still really cringe and feel self-consciously wary about the embarrassing self-insert aspect of all this, help lmao), it’s just,, just silly personal scribblings that are kind of sharing an inside joke to everyone now, but i'm happy to know people still humor these silly drawings and are curious if there's more to it, thank you!

#ghosts in the machine au #tldr all of this is silly doodling w a mainlander friend but now all of china... AND GLOBAL...... tumblrs know i'm cringe (pain)#i'm honestly surprised that people both on tumblr/global and LOFTER/china like these a lot and want more but yeah dghfdkj #protocreed #assassin's creed #desmond miles #alex j mercer #don't know what else to tag esp if people want to blacklist this... i don't want to clog 'canon' tags like character tags lmao #ask

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boxofthings · 5 months

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Hello! I have a question I want to ask but you don't have to answer if you don't want to.

I'm recently found out about Ghost x Roach ship and looked it up along with others ghostroach fics you and other recommended.

What I'm curious is, what made you ship it? What moments of them made you ship them? What hints have you seen from them? Or was it "I think it's a neat ship"? And I don't play cod nor likely would play it in the future. But I did watch the walkthrough of the og cod mw and still trying to finish it.

If you can answer this, thank you very much!

Hi! Completely happy to answer this and it's nice to see new people getting into ghostroach haha :)

I'll admit, there honestly isn't much in terms of hints in the games/in canon that prove these two would be a good couple/in love, and it's mostly due to the early fandom efforts that helped elevate the likability of ghostroach.

That being said I'm sure me and other ghostroach shippers can agree that a large reason why this ship is so appealing is more or less the "they died together" and the "doomed love/lovers" trope that makes room for so much angst (which we all know fandoms EAT UP) <-- This is the reason why I personally ship them I just love tragic couples

The og MW games came out when I was pretty young and yk how kids tend to hyperfixate on the most random things. Mine just happened to be og Ghost, and since we play as Roach I suppose me getting into GhostRoach was a bit like self insert?

But at the same time I thought of Roach as his own character and the fact that he didn't have a backstory (or really any info), that gave people the opportunity to give Roach any personality/quirks that they desired lol.

He was like a blank canvas for writers/artists to just throw their ideas on, and it's pretty common for people to ship their OCs with the most popular character, who, for MW2, would've been Ghost.

It's harder now to find the older content, but back then I remember GhostRoach being pretty popular (or as popular as a ship from COD back then could be) and I did notice people liked to make Roach out to be Ghost's perfect dichotomy, which seems to have stuck, as a lot of GR writers/artists nowadays, including myself, like to portray these two as two opposites that attract.

And with Ghost having a hella angsty backstory combined with him being a bit of a closed off, cold, soldier, it kinda seemed inevitable that ghostroach would become a thing, with people back them headcanoning Roach as a more optimistic, wide-eyed, type of person (and we all know people LOVE the brooding, hardassed, broken character falling in love with the caring, more lively and human character)

Even tho canon doesn't really offer much, there are still small moments that people love to bring up when justifying this ship. Like when Ghost specifically requests to be teamed with Roach on the op to raid Makarov's safehouse, as well as near the end of the Loose Ends mission where Ghost is the one dragging Roach's injured body to safety whilst reassuring Roach that he's got his back. And of course, when Shepherd betrays them, Ghost screams when Roach gets shot and immediately tries to apprehend Shepherd (him screaming "No!" just sounded so shocked and pained). All these moments made it seem like Ghost really cared about Roach.

The way these two died was pretty jarring, if I remember correctly I think even news articles were talking about this plot twist and their deaths. So these two are pretty well-cemented in video game history.

At the end of the day, though, GhostRoach is a pretty "I think this is neat" kind of ship. It's definitely enhanced by the nostalgia of the old games and the factor of being able to project onto Roach as a blank character lmao, but yeah you can't deny that people are gonna hyperfixate the hell outta the pairing that's always doomed to end tragically.

I feel like I could go on and on about them but I don't want to subject y'all to my messy rambles haha but if anyone wants to add their own thoughts I'd love to see it!

#the two reigning ships of the og cod era were ghostroach and soaprice people LOVED their angsty gay military men #it just makes me sad that roach was mostly forgotten cuz i just know fans wouldve lost their minds if activision brought him back #and gave him a fleshed out personality like how they did with og soap #i always think abt ghostroach and get sad as hell so obv the cure for that is to read fix it fics #also if we were going off canon alone soaproach wouldve made more sense than ghostroach lmao #so yeah the OG writers/artists really paved the way for us current ghostroach fans #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #ghostroach #roachghost #ghost x roach #call of duty #cod #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #box of asks #box of posts #box of words

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luckystarchild · 2 months

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The irony of people jumping your shit for promoting the "Oc agenda". Lol. Lmao, even. Like, yes, we do love Ocs here. Yusuke may not be mine or your or anyone's Oc except Yoshihiro Togashi's, but we do like him. Same with Kuwabara, Kurama, Hiei— All of these wonderful characters are neat *Ocs* and I'm down for you promoting them in your "agenda". Any other Ocs that you throw into the Oc hotpot are like extra seasoning, and if people can't handle the added spice then it's on them to not eat it.

Thank you! Great points!!!

In the end, backlash to innocuous comments about fandom are most often a form of self-consciousness on display.

People come to fandom for validation. When they think they're about to get validation, and then they don't, it makes them feel insecure about their preferences. They take innocuous comments personally because they perceive them as a value judgment, even if they are not intended to be so.

When people mock OCs in front of me, I just mute or block and move on with my life. I don't engage. I see it all the time, but I don't let it impact me. I don't let it drive me away from a fandom. (And I do not reach out to blogs who haven't expressed interest in OCs for recommendations or validation, either.)

We have to curate our own experiences. If people don't like ocs, they are free to curate a fandom space that does not have them in it. It's no skin off my nose, and it should be no skin off their noses if I decide to curate a fandom space that does not include shipping canon characters.

I don't know that anyone's noticed this, but I intentionally left off the shipping tag when I made that post. I did not want to put my opinions into that specific space within the fandom. I have a right to express myself on my blog, but I wasn't about to inject my opinion directly into the tag when I knew I wasn't validating the emotions of the people within it. That's why it's very odd to me that people are interpreting what I said as negative, because I took multiple active measures to make sure I was honoring people who do like that ship, and I avoided talking about the ship itself very much on purpose. But if people want to interpret what I was saying in a really negative way, or as a targeted value judgement of their preferences, that's on them. If they want to commit themselves to anger, that is their right.

I'm just going to be over here writing myself shameless insert fics and letting judgments roll off my back, because as a self-insert writer, that's what you have to do to survive.

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necroromantics · 8 days

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Why are you such a fucking weirdo because you’re literally telling a server with kids in it that you go your girlfriend pregnant or some shit, and not even to mention how much of a dick you are to people. Go get a fucking job and get offline because you’re acting like a pussy

And let’s not mention how you ONLY do this to kids. Like literally you only do this to ppl who are younger than you so you can feel validated because all your fans do is dick ride your awful writing and that awful ticciwork knock off you call your Oc’s

Go get a job instead of being a wannabe edgy 4chaner

Yeesh lots of anger here. I don't think it's worth tryna please or explain myself to people who have spent half a year shittalking me, admitting to stalking me, and wishing death/trauma on me. But I'll unpack this

I don't talk to minors at all online besides in my Discord server, which I'm not very active in. I've stated MANY times that I don't feel comfortable with befriending or DMing anyone under 18. The servers I'm active in are all 18+. The last time I was in a server with minors like that was way back in January, and I've already resolved the drama regarding that with the people involved

I don't know what "this" is that I'm doing to kids cuz once again, ask anyone who knows me, I legit do not regularly talk to minors or feel comfortable doing so. All of my friends are adults, and I like to keep it this way

I have never once asked anyone to validate me, or get involved in my beef, or any of my issues. Everyone who's talked to me knows I'm a grown man and I can handle myself. The posts I make are just me yapping away on my own little online space

My girlfriend and I's OCs are actually self inserts, but thanks for connecting us with TicciWork, it's a personal ship for me that I connect with us too

Also please don't call my followers "fans", that feels parasocial as hell LMAO They're real people, and I'm a real person. If they enjoy the content I put out, I highly appreciate it, and I have no place to call them "fans" and act like I'm above them in any way, especially when they're all talented individuals as they are. I have work, and school, and I have a life that I'd rather focus on than indulging in petty beef with people who don't know me at all. I don't know what you're upset about, but I'm always open for a mature conversation to resolve any issues

At the end of the day, this is the internet, these are pixels on a screen. If you've gotten so invested in one-sided beef that you feel the need to leave comments like these on some random guys Tumblr, I genuinely hope you find happiness and peace in your life. I know what it's like to be angry and indulge in drama all the time, but trust me it's just tiring and it gets you nowhere. It's so easy to be hateful and shit, but it's better for the soul to do the hard thing and be kinder to yourself and maybe others. I hope you feel better soon

#tombtalk

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illegiblewords · 2 months

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I want to take a second to talk about Mary Sues as I understand them. And by Mary Sues, I mean all variants unbound by gender or style.

People used to discuss Mary Sues a lot back in the early 2000's. There were litmus tests all over defined by superficial qualities like hair/eye color, number of love interests, whether a tragic backstory existed, etc. Readers would run up to strangers with hate reviews if an OC didn't meet their standards. It was common to accuse disliked canon characters of being Mary Sues too. There were lists of works that were considered guilty of Mary Sue creation assembled for mockery. The whole thing became a form of public bullying and I think it scared a lot of creators into not trying anymore. I suspect it's a huge part of why we keep getting y/n and other open self-insert fics these days.

At some point, the public shifted. People attempted to defend Mary Sues by equating them with all power or romance fantasies then claiming the only reason such characters would be vilified is sexism toward a female default archetype. By doing this, most people stopped examining the phenomenon altogether--not only in understanding what the actual common factor in Mary Sues is, but why Mary Sues are alienating to readers.

That answer was a cop out. I promise that Mary Sues are just as off-putting with characters of any gender, demographic, orientation, whatever. And frankly it doesn't matter if your character is the most generically designed, unassuming, non-tragic shlub of all time--they are still capable of being a Mary Sue if the structural issues remain.

Mary Sues are normal among developing writers. I've certainly made Mary Sues before. They were cringe af and occasionally I discuss them behind closed doors if I want to make someone laugh. Created them in dead earnest as a teen and holy fuck it was parody level. Everything I talk about is as someone who is 0% free from sin lmao.

Before I give my definition of what a Mary Sue is, I need to explain something about characterization that is often overlooked.

There is micro, individual characterization and there is macro, population characterization. Worldbuilding requires characterization too. You need to look at a group's motives, influences, psychology, resources, etc. the same way you would for individual characters while allowing room for varied experiences. You need to know the cause/effect of societal development. It isn't something you can just wave away as 'because I said so' because that dehumanizes the entire population, which makes the world less believable/immersive. A less believable world in-turn strips individual characters of experiences and perspectives that shape who they are. This has a flattening effect and makes characters less believable and relatable too. Tradition, style, and genre def shape how much detail is needed but some degree of macro-characterization is necessary.

With that said, I'd argue that Mary Sues are characters who (rather than having behavior believably shaped by experiences or operating within the parameters of the world they inhabit) define themselves for how they are exempt. It doesn't matter if the exception to cause/effect is positive or negative. Mary Sues are also prone to being the most at what they do. Most ordinary/boring counts. Mary Sues will warp the experiences, perspectives, and desires of other cast members around themselves like black holes without it being acknowledged as abnormal by the other cast members or the narrative. Cause and effect in relationship building through behavior/choices does not apply, a Mary Sue does not start from zero like a regular person. Lore and stories revolve around Mary Sues exclusively even when it doesn't make any sense for that to be the case. Every significant thought or experience of other cast members ties back to Mary Sues too. Positive or negative, Mary Sues are likely the only and most meaningful relationship characters will have. Design elements (when present) tie to exceptionalism and lack of cause/effect.

Being a chosen one or someone with unrivaled power/influence in a particular arena isn't enough to make a character a Mary Sue if it is cohesive within the world. These things also tie heavily to characterization in response to situations as well as the dynamics with others/characterization of others. The existence of Mary Sue tends to preclude any alternate meaningful relationships or experiences for other cast members, and again--Mary Sue is specifically not shaped by experiences in credible ways. They don't experience meaningful internal change. They're pretty much always right or always wrong. And having an exceptional or rare experience (ex. someone did an experiment with odd results on a character) isn't enough to cause a Mary Sue either if that experience or exception remains consistent within the overall worldbuilding/macro-characterization. So ex. if there were similar experiments being conducted on or by others, that would go a long way to addressing exceptionalism. Isekai characters who come from one world to another are not inherent Mary Sues, because the isekai character still carries and is shaped by both their previous life experiences and the life experiences of their new environment. The source world is still part of the overall setting that shapes them. In-universe reality warpers also don't count as Mary Sues because reactions to reality warping tend to be organic and not normalized by the narrative.

There are degrees in how much a character is or isn't a Mary Sue, but lack of cause/effect, absolutism, and exceptionalism are big. The reason Mary Sues are bad storytelling is because they are not credibly human (figurative), diminish the humanity of other cast members, and diminish the humanity/construction of the entire world simultaneously. They lack believable consequences for any choices made--be they positive or negative. Stakes/tension are skewed as a result. Mary Sues tend to be static and they not only break immersion, they alienate readers because it's a form of destroying a world and cast the audience is invested in. There is no reason for random strangers to love Mary Sues. Mary Sues don't come across as authentically alive in any capacity, but more as poorly done caricatures of life.

And the thing is, they often don't work for wish-fulfillment fiction either. Wish-fulfillment (when the reader imagines experiencing the story in the role of protagonist) gets passes on certain technical elements necessary in empathy-based storytelling (when the reader forms opinions of cast members as distinct people) or intellect-based storytelling (the reader is exploring a philosophical or medium-based concept).

In wish-fulfillment, it is very important that the writer creates a main character who many audience members can project themselves onto. Usually such characters are left somewhat underdeveloped to facilitate this. Whether it's a power fantasy (reader imagines having luxury/influence), a romance fantasy (reader obtains an ideal partner), or even revenge fantasy (reader has an outlet for anger without consequences)--in wish-fulfillment it's important that not only the author but a wide range of readers can share in the fantasy. While it's possible to get limited success with some Mary Sues here, I think the extreme, specific, hyper exceptional nature of Mary Sues often distracts. Again, wish-fulfillment finds strength in how well it shares fantasies with audiences. If the audience is so caught up that they can't effectively project themselves onto the Mary Sue (being hyper aware of the Mary Sue's artificiality), that isn't going to work. If the fantasy doesn't resonate with audiences, it won't go as far either.

Imagine taking James Bond and giving him natural purple eyes and hair in a world where no one else has that. He'd never lose a single fight or struggle to escape peril, never wreck one of the fancy cars he's given, never have a single advance rejected. Bond is a power and romance fantasy character no doubt, but his limits are significant in keeping him from being a Mary Sue. There are plots and relationships that have nothing to do with him beyond details in the mission he was assigned and those keep things immersive.

All this said. If you're telling a story for yourself, and only yourself--doesn't matter if your character is a Mary Sue. Once you bring other people in, you have to think about what you're trying to achieve as a storyteller in terms of interpersonal communication. That includes whether the experiences you're crafting for readers are effectively realized.

Mary Sues are a normal part of learning. They aren't immoral or unforgivable. Mostly they invoke a self-centered mindset supposing the entire world/everyone in it revolves around you in some way. Again, I've made 'em lol--think immaturity is a big part of the practice. But in a story where everything revolves around you, that doesn't necessarily share well with readers who aren't you who are still the heroes of their own stories.

Making Mary Sues is a craftsmanship issue. It's like trying to build a chair only for one leg to come out wobbly. It can be your favorite chair sure, but that doesn't make it well-crafted. Certainly no one owes you money or praise for it. Hell, they wouldn't owe those things if it was a perfectly crafted chair but not the chair they were after.

Part of what motivated me to write this is because I've seen certain creators with wobbly chairs. They've slapped on carvings, stains, and all kinds of features--but the chair still wobbles like a motherfucker. These creators don't understand why more people aren't buying their chair. They think people must hate them personally or the material their chair is made from then fly into rages accusing audiences of moral deficiency. It's hit a level of bullying in its own right.

To people like that I say:

Your chair wobbles. It'll do way better if it doesn't wobble. The wobble is fixable. Strangers are not obligated to fawn over your wobbly chair. There isn't something wrong with them for not wanting a wobbly chair. Wobbly chairs haven't done well historically either. You're not an exception, just one in a very long line of wobbly chair makers. Some of those chairs were made of the same material you're using. Some were different. It isn't about the material or your staining, your carvings, any of that. It isn't about you either. Your chair can't support itself--let alone someone trying to sit in it. Even if your prospective customers couldn't make a better chair themselves, they can tell when shit's unsteady and they don't want that. Of course you're making wobbly chairs before you make sturdy ones because you're still figuring chair construction out. This is just a part of the process you haven't mastered yet. It takes attention and practice. If you spent half the energy you use yelling at other people honing your craft instead, you'd probably have better sales.

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