#those allow me to be free in a way. from my own restraints. from my own cage. so to not. be able to do that too rlly makes me forget myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tojirights · 3 months

Note

Okay this is going to sound like really bad but I did read your rules and saw that dubcon/noncon could be allowed so

please begging for a dub/noncon (up to u which) crumbs where Alastor is tired of reader's stubbornness and thinks it's time to really let her know her place (al owns her soul) and okay thank u bye pwosjdjeidnsj *runs and hides under a rock in shame*

a/n: HAAA YESSS. no this is amazing 😍😍

tags: 18+ smut nsfw, NONCON‼️, alastor is a demon fr, forced penetration, dacryphilia, choking, slight throat fucking

"good morning, would you be a dear and run this to rosie for me?" alastor pops into your room unannounced, as usual. you're tired, he had you up all night on another shitty errand, and you just want to sleep a little longer. "alastor please, can't anyone else do it?" you sigh, irritation bubbling in your chest. he never lets you rest.

alastor raises an eyebrow. "no one else is available." his tone is harsh, and when you meet his eyes, they're darker than they were a moment before. "this is the part where you're supposed to submit, say 'yes sir' and get out of bed." he leans on his staff, glaring red eyes staring through you. "or did you forget?" your eyes widen when you realize what he's about to do. there's a flash of green, and you feel the clasp of that shitty metal collar around your neck.

your deal with alastor backfired, just as he intended it to, and he ended up not having to do a god damned thing in exchange for your soul.

with a sharp tug of his chain, you're forced to sit up. the pull around your neck makes you cough, and you glare back at him. but when you do, you're quickly filled with a certain level of primal fear. alastor was no joke when he was angry, eyes glowing red and those antlers growing from atop his head.

"you need to learn, my dear, that the word 'no' is not a part of your vocabulary anymore." alastor walks with slow, determined strides towards your bed before his knees hit your mattress. he tugs once more, pulling you up and onto your knees. "alastor don't..." your breath catches in your throat. his hand grips onto your jaw, squeezing you uncomfortably. tears prick in the corners of your eyes, and you let out a shaky sigh. "don't?" alastor repeats, laughing. "have you forgotten the fact that i own you?"

you reach for his wrist in an attempt to remove his hand but he's far stronger than you. "i-i'll go, i'm sorry." you hiccup, but alastor has already made up his mind. "mmh, i don't think so. i don't tolerate insubordination, darling." your heart hammers in your chest when alastor's fingers find his belt. "you’re going to learn one way or another." he growls, freeing his half-hard cock and tugging your restraint.

you clench your teeth, and try to look away but alastor's grasp is too tight. his thumb drags along the bottom of your lip before prying your jaw open. "listen and be my good girl, this won't be so bad." you shut your eyes, the only thing you can think to do to cope with alastor forcing the head of his cock between your lips. there's only a moment of hesitation, a sigh from the demon above you, before his cock is being slid further down your throat.

every groan from alastor earns another tear running down your cheek. his hands hold your face steady as he pumps his cock faster, fucking the back of your throat. "so pretty, darling. look at me." he grunts, pulling your eyes up to his. they're glassy with tears, and its almost enough to make alastor cum down your throat in that very instant.

his cock pulses and he's forced to pull out of your warm mouth in fear of releasing before getting to take your cunt too. he taps your cheek gently, watching you cough and recover your breath after having your airways restricted. "strip, then i want you ass up on the bed." your lip quivers, and your body refuses to move even after you tell it to. alastor sighs, shaking his head. "must i do everything?" his words are somehow gentle and harsh enough to pull a sob from your chest.

before you can stand, alastor reaches for the hem of your sleep shirt and tears it straight down the middle to expose your tits. on instinct, you try to cover yourself but alastor's shadow circles both your wrists and pins them to your side. "please alastor... i promise, i-i will do anything you ask. please just don't do this." you plead, but alastor just clicks his teeth with his tongue. "you should've thought about the consequences before this, my dear. i've found that making an example out of someone typically gives the best results."

he does release his shadows, freeing your wrists and watches carefully as you follow his previous instructions. you kick your shorts off with a muffled cry and turn to shove your face into the mattress. ass up, you prepare for whatever alastor has in mind. his fingers find your slit, delving into the wet heat between your thighs. the laugh he releases sends a chill down your spine. "wet as can be darling!" without giving you another moment to process, his cock is pushing thick and hard into your unprepared pussy.

your scream gets caught in your throat, heat coursing through your body in an overwhelming way. "n-no, too much alastor, please stop." you cry, muffled into the mattress as you try to scramble away from him but you feel alastor's shadow come back to pin your arms. you're trapped at this point, completely under alastor's control. there's no choice but to give in, your body going limp as alastor pumps his hips into you.

"good girl." he coos, raking his clawed hands down your back. angry red marks follow in its trail. "see how easy it is to just obey?" every inch of his cock pushes you to your limit. "such a good cunt..." he sighs, his hips stuttering before he pulls out and you feel each thick rope of cum hit your ass. you finally open your eyes, letting every emotion flow through them as alastor empties his balls all over you.

there's a moment of silence while alastor catches his breath. "now... will you be a dear and run this to rosie for me?" he reiterates, and your whole body tenses. is he not even giving you time to recover? to clean up? fuck...

"y-yes sir..."

#tw: noncon #tw noncon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor x reader imagines #hazbin smut #alastor x you smut

2K notes · View notes

roseykat · 7 months

Text

KINKTOBER DAY 3 - FELIX

TITLE: Marzipan, Cherries, and Whipped Cream

PAIRING: Felix x reader

SUMMARY: A scene that takes place between you and soft-dom Felix!

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

TAGS: soft-dom Felix, sub reader, bondage, orgasm denial, teasing, edging, swearing, squirting, reader is wearing a collar, use of the word 'slut', use of a vibrator, praise, aftercare.

KINK: BDSM

KINKTOBERLIST - MASTERLIST

The rope dragging across your skin leaves a burning sensation every time you try to move. It’s inevitable to feel it when you’re shaking and shivering from the orgasmic torture that Felix has been putting you through for nearly an hour now.

He spent a few minutes before the scene binding the top half of your body with gorgeous lengths of white rope and fitting a spreader bar below your knees to keep your legs open for the vibrator that he comfortably slotted in between.

It had been tortuously pressed against your clit for the past twenty minutes, barred from ever cumming by Felix who sat back watching you squirm with impatience while he sucked on a lollipop. These types of scenes are his ultimate favourite pastimes.

Sometimes he’ll set you on the bed and bind you with rope. Then he would have all of your holes plugged with something - a ball gag for your mouth, a buttplug for your ass, a dildo, and vibrator that he would bind to your inner thigh so that it reaches your clit. After that he would return back to his desk to play again while you cum your brains out in the meantime.

Only after Felix has finished playing will he return to a mess on his bed from between your thighs. That allows him to then seize the opportunity to fuck you.

This time around, it’s a bit similar except he’s engaged fully in the scene. He wants to actually see you slowly lose it from being edged at a high number of times.

“C-Can’t I just cum, please?” You beg desperately, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“But you’re being such a good girl for me for holding out,” says Felix, petting under your chin and adjusting the collar around your neck so that the loop sits at the front of your throat. “I know you’ll be even better if you keep going though. Maybe I’ll reward you, yeah?”

You slant to one side when you hear that you’re not going to be cumming any time soon. It’s enough to actually start making you cry.Tears slowly start falling from the corners of your eyes while you shudder at the cold news. Felix looks down at you, pouting.

“Why are you crying my love?” He asks softly, looking down at you with such warm eyes.

Your arms strain viciously against the restraints, “s’too much, please I can’t take it, please.”

Felix melts. Whether they’re crocodile tears or not, he’s fallen for it either way because he doesn’t like seeing you cry as a result of his own actions. So he leans down, his free hand coming up to the base of your throat before he kisses your lips tenderly. The strong strawberry flavour from the lollipop lingers on his tongue that it makes you want to kiss him for longer.

It’s mixed in with the salt from your tears when he pecks you a few times on the lips before he slowly pulls back to look at you once more. Felix pops the lollipop back in his mouth and engrosses himself in how fucked out you look right now. Your red bitten lips look more kissable when they’re wet, and your damp eyes blinking up at him innocently.

“So pretty,” he mutters quietly. “You wanna cum, hmm? Want to be a good little slut for me don’t you?”

“Y-Yes, just for you,” you whimper in a pleading voice.

Felix smiles softly as an idea comes to his head. He takes the lollipop out of his mouth, holding out the sweet to your lips before pushing past them for you to suck on. He pulls in and out a few times, gliding it over your tongue, and getting you to lick and suck on the ‘tip’, replicating a blowjob.

While he's letting you replicate a blowjob, Felix takes the remote to the vibrator out of his pocket and kicks the toy up a few notches until you peel back from the lollipop.

"Y-Yes...fuck - thank you, thank you, thank you," you suck in a breath of air when the pleasure starts overflowing.

It's been building up for a while that when it spills, so do you, literally. You reach the crest of your orgasm, chest heaving up and down while you cry out Felix's name. The euphoria starts to evolve over the long moments that the vibrator is still pressed against your clit. It sends shockwaves throughout every cell in your body, causing your vision to become patchy.

Felix watches your thighs tremble while he gently pushes some of your hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear, "good girl."

It all feels too good and ascending higher than you think it could ever reach and Felix hasn't let up on the vibrator as of yet. He pushes your body and mind beyond the brink of just a usual orgasm that's been built by edging. Felix makes you sink into sublime pleasure, causing you to squirt. It's not the first time it's happened, but he always reacts as if it is because that man can never get over witnessing it.

It splashes on the floor beneath you to which you can't help but feel embarrassed even though you're at the tail end of your orgasm. Felix dons a sick grin just watching it all happen in real-time. His level of need to see it is always insatiable.

"Baby," Felix purrs in a sweet voice. "That's my girl."

When you've just about doubled over from the intensity of your orgasm, Felix finally turns off the vibrator and helps you upright after discarding the lollipop nearby. Even though you've fully submitted to your restraints, he is quick to untie them and the spreader bar. There's only a short period of time before the very end of the scene where aftercare is needed.

Felix cannot and will not allow you to go descending into a sub-drop under his watch. So he helps you to your feet, dries your legs with a towel nearby and lies you down on the bed with him for a few moments.

"The floor..." you mutter weakly as Felix covers you in a warm, fuzzy blanket before scooting up in front of you.

He needs to take these measures before just throwing you in the shower. You'll both do that once he is satisfied that you're fully cognisant of things going on around you.

"I'll handle it soon, okay baby?" Felix assures you. "You just rest with me for now, yeah?

The warmth of his skin is enough to make you sleepy, and whilst your body is still buzzing, the sound of his steady heartbeat against his chest begins to calm you down. It's an incredible, timeless moment that you both want to live in forever - hoping that there's a chance for 'forever' to actually be real.

But you always both pretend that it is in order to combat the idea of being apart one day in this life or after. Just small times like these can get Felix choked up which is why he is so appreciative.

"Love you so much," Felix whispers to you.

A/N: just about made myself cry at the end??? Also, this is a work that was meant to be uploaded the other day for those who are wondering why I posted twice!

TAGLIST: @kbitties @luneskies @mal-lunar-28 @kibs-and-bits @aaasia111 @fairy-lixie @dreamingaboutjisung @lizzetmv 🩷🩷🩷

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut

550 notes · View notes

jasmines-library · 4 months

Note

batfam with the youngest robin (prob 12-13) who gets kidnapped by the joker during a mission and a year or so later the joker reveals the kid who is now brainwashed to be the joker jr

i was thinking like maybe how they’d react and maybe that they can rescue y/n and un-brainwash them and like comfort them and stuff

if not that’s fine i don’t mind!!! i can also like explain better if needed lol

The Stranger In The Mirror.

Note: You guys literally send in the best requests, I took inspo from Batman Beyond where this happens to Tim but I also added my own little twists as always.

Warnings: Torture (graphic), brainwashing, manipulation, drugging, breakdown basically hurt not comfort (poor reader is going through it all in this one.)

Word count: 2.5k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“Help! Somebody please!”

You heard the cry before you saw what was happening. A female voice begging desperately for help, pleading for mercy as the two men backed her against the wall of the alley. They stalked towards her menacingly and you could see the way her face contorted with a fear that gripped her so tight as she moved feebly in an attempt to get past the two men. But they were large and between them took up most of the alley so that it was nearly impossible for her to slip past, and even if she did they would be on her in a second.

Using your grappling hook to secure a line on a nearby railing, you propelled yourself down from the rooftop. Before your feet hit the floor, you took the crooks out with a well placed blow that sent them crumpling to the ground like a sack of flour. Resheathing your hook, you turned to the woman.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

She smiled, looking at you from under the brim of her hat with an all too familiar smile “Much better now you’re here.”

A brief flash of recognition crossed over your face, obscured by your mask as you realised who those brown eyes belonged to but you had no time to act on it before she hit you on the back of the head. Hard. With a manic laugh.

“Night night, Birdy.”

When you awoke, you were laying on something cold. A piece of metal that you had been bound to by ropes that burned against your wrists and feet as you struggled to free yourself. The table was tilted at an angle that allowed you to squint against your throbbing head to take in your surroundings. The room you were in was well lit and seemed surprisingly sterile given the situation. Strange concoctions of colours that made you grimace hung on the walls and bubbled away in tubes on one of the many workbenches across the room. The tools made your stomach churn. But then you saw him.

Perched all high and mighty in a chair opposite you the Joker had sprawled himself out across a chair, flashing you one of his sickening, signature grins.

“Hiya, Birdy!” He stood with glee, making his way over to you with a spring in his step-almost like he was skipping.

“Why the hell am I here, Joker?” You spat at him, baring your teeth.

“Can’t a guy just hang out with his favourite vigilante?” He mused, turning away from you as he began organising things on the desk that you couldn’t see, you tugged in the restraints to try and catch a glimpse of them.

“Cut the crap.”

“You all really are no fun.” He rolled his eyes “Not to worry that’ll all change soon when I morph you into the perfect weapon. Me.”

“What?”

“Well, what’s better than one of me? Two of me. And you little bird, know all the ways to destroy your pesky family.”

“I’m not going to tell you shit.”

He shrugged, turning back to you with a pair of jump leads in hand. “We’ll see.”

Walking towards you with a grin he attached them to the table before reaching towards the dial. You thrashed desperate to break free but the ropes securing you in place allowed no leeway for you to move. When his fingers brushed the dial and the voltage came flooding through the wires, you let out a blood curdling scream. The pain was everywhere as your body arched, twitched and writhed against the rope. It burned at your skin, drawing blood and forming blisters against your wrists and your ankles. When the current finally stopped and you fell slack against the restraints your diaphragm jerked and spluttered against each pain filled gasp.

“Are you ready to talk now?”

They realised very quickly that you were missing. You hadn’t returned home after your patrol. They tried not to let the worry get the best of them, but this was Gotham. They waited, watching the seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours, but there was no sign of you. You were gone.

Everyone was on high alert. For three, agonising weeks they searched every inch of Gotham, using every possible connection they had but no one found any leads. Tim was growing frustrated, hacking into every database he could find as Bruce and the other boys scoured the city. But you were gone without a trace. That was until one tedious Wednesday morning, the batcave received an urgent call.

Your head was fuzzy. Whatever the Joker had dozed you with this time was really taking a toll on you.

Your head hung low resting against your chest as you breathed slowly, trying to push away the fuzziness in your brain. Your entire body had grown numb; now too used to the pain it had been put through, too weak to hold yourself up as you lay slack against the table and although all dosed up now you may not be able to feel anything, you would never be able to forget the endless torment he had put you through; that would forever be etched into your mind.

The screams still seemed to ricochet off of the walls, burying themselves into each crack just to resurface once it went quiet. The feeling of your skin being torn apart still lingered, the pinch followed by the burn as the Joker slashed you with his weapons, screaming at you to tell him all that you knew about Batman. Of course, you refused at first. Oh how you were so brave trying to hold your tongue. But you couldn’t help the screams that ripped from your mouth and left your throat raw and soon when they layers of your mind had been peeled away by the cruel hallucinations he put you through with his serums and his words, you soon began to crack; your fragile body unable to take anymore of this torture.

Your wrists had been burnt red raw; the trails of blood tracked down your arms and mixed with dirt and blood, showing where it had beaded down your forearms as you struggled. Burned with tears your anguish was clear amongst your struggle and you were pretty sure that you had at least three broken ribs and four missing fingernails. Maybe more.

But you were growing to like the pain somewhat. Because it meant that you were still alive. It meant that your family was on your way…or… had they stopped looking for you.

The Joker's cruel words rang through your hazy mind. He had told you about the video he had sent to them. How there was no response. They didn’t care. None of them did or you would have been home right now. He had injected you with something as he said it, but you swatted off the prick of the needle as though it were a pesky mosquito bite.

“Soon,” He told you as the drug settled into the numbness of your body. “You will realise that I am helping you. That I am the only one that cares for you. Not Batman. Not any of those pesky Birds. Me.” he hovered in the doorway just before he left. “I’ll be back, Junior.” Junior. He had stopped calling you by your name recently.

And as much as you didn’t want to agree with the man who had put you and your family through so much…you were beginning to believe it. The Joker had dragged you away from a life cycle of patrol and ending crimes. He was giving you a place to stay when your family had so clearly given up on you. The Joker had confided so much in you in your time together that you felt like you almost knew him personally. And it had made you think that… he was misunderstood. Lonely. Much more similar to you than-

No.

No. No. No. You shook the thoughts from your head. ‘They’re coming.’ you told yourself. ‘But…’

Your mind was fighting itself now, conflicted between what you knew and what you were being told. Fighting between your family and the man who stood constantly before you. It fought until one side finally inched free and you realised something.

The Joker.

The Joker was right. He was helping you.

When he returned to you that night, you greeted him with a dumb smile. He was glad to see that his plan had worked. That he had broken you down enough to mould you into exactly what he wants.

He grinned manically. He could now move onto phase two: training you to kill The Bat. This stage would be considerably easier. You already knew Batman’s weaknesses; you had admitted that during one of the electroshock sessions. He just had to convince you that Batman was the real enemy. The only thing left to do besides that was lure him over to you. Which should’ve been easy enough.

Tim shot up from his seat the moment your face flashed up on the screen. Somehow, someone had overridden the computer’s controls and he was now staring at your bloodied and beaten face lolling against a metal table.

“Bruce!” Tim cried, scrambling to grab the attention of his father.

Bruce had never moved faster across the cave than he did to reach Tim, his stomach dropping when he saw the screen, with him came the rest of his sons who too were alerted by the shout.

Tim didn’t have to say anything else as they all gathered around to look queasily at the screen. You weren’t moving as the live stream played and this only worried your family more, but then an all too familiar green hair came into frame walking towards you menacingly.

Bruce felt sick when he saw you flinch and try to squirm away from the Joker’s touch.

“Smile for the camera.” He said, gripping your hair so that they could see your face. You blinked slowly permanent tears scarring your face amongst the blood and dirt.

“I hope you’re watching Batsy. You’re about to see the end of your little bird.”

Dick, who bit his lip anxiously as he observed instinctively gripped Damians shoulders and tried to push him away as the Joker reached for the dial again. They saw your body react despite its weakened state; legs kicking and trying as you tried to scramble away. But Damian refused to leave, especially when his little sibling was in this state. It was horrific, but he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the screen so he watched shell shocked. That was until your first scream cut through all of them and he turned away. Dick pulled him close as he screwed his eyes shut and Jason clenched his fists.

“Tim.” Bruce ordered “Turn it off. Find a signal.”

“I’m trying.” He said “But…there is no signal and something is overriding the controls.”

Bruce ran his hands through his hair until after an agonising few minutes, your screams stopped.

The Joker moved swiftly for a syringe which you didn’t even react to as he injected it into your system. Not good.

“They’re not coming for you, birdy. They don’t care.” The Joker taunted before turning back towards the camera. With one manic laugh he gave a final bow and the signal fizzled out.

The five of them stood there in complete silence. All silent. Most angry. Most heartbroken.

“Suit up. We don’t stop until we find them.”

By the time the vigilantes arrived, you were ready. Poised on the top floor of Arkham’s abandoned asylum cafeteria.

You had seen Batman arrive, sauntering furiously into the open room to where Joker had positioned himself. You had seen the other four sneak in too, wrapping themselves around the room and slinking throughout the asylum in search of you.

Once Joker had riled up the Bat enough to send him on a chase to him around a loop of the asylum, you jumped down from the bannister with a conniving grin.

“I know you’re all in here.” You laughed. And soon, one after the other your brothers appeared from the shadows gawping at the stark contrast of your appearance. You were skinnier and clearly injured from head to toe, but what struck them the most was the purple and green that the Joker had donned you in.

“R…” Red hood warned as he stepped toward you. “We don’t wanna hurt you. We just want to take you home.”’

You raised your weapon. “Liar!”

“No kid. We wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.” Red Robin said.

“You left me. You didn’t come back for me and you left me here to rot!” You gritted your teeth.

“That’s not true. That’s the joker talking.” Damian.

“He is helping me! He is helping me reach my full potential- I am already so much more than I was before.”

You raised the pistol. It was loaded and you knew that it would do damage. That was the intention. And that's what you were going to do. You were going to take them out one by one until they get what they deserve-

“R…” Dick said as you raised the gun your finger inching towards the trigger. “You know us Little Wing. We’re your big brothers.”

You moved swiftly, dodging them as they moved closer in sync. One of them reached out to try and grab you, but you gripped his arm and threw him over your shoulder. The five of you tussled until everything paused when Batman burst back into the room.

Your gun was pointed at him in an instant, locking in on him as you readied your stance and poised your finger on the trigger. no one said anything. No one even dared to breathe. Bruce just looked at you from behind his cowl as you grinned at him, sickeningly mirroring the villain who appeared behind him sending him keeling to the ground. You laughed.

“Do it.” Joker urged.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Your hand trembled as you looked down at him pleading at you. He looked so…vulnerable. And your mind screamed at you. Wrongwrongwrong. You were torn again. This was Bruce…your father. Your family. Your enemy-

“Do it, Junior.” He pressed. Your lip trembled.

Do it. No. Do it- You wanted to scream.

“R.” Batman uttered one single letter.

You pulled the trigger. No one moved. A cry of pain rang out across the room. The Joker dropped to the floor.

You let out a sob and dropped to your knees realisation catching up on you. A pair of arms wrapped around you and pulled you to their chest as you completely broke down.

“It’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. We’ve got you now.”

Everything hurt. Everything was so disgustingly wrong. You had tried to kill Bruce- you had given away your secrets… you let out an unholy sob.

“Shh.” Jason cooed. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean it.”

“Everyone is okay, Little wing.” Damian promised, taking your bloodied hand gently and tracing circles across the back of it. “We can fix this…”

Batfam Taglist:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

275 notes · View notes

wearyeyebrow · 1 year

Text

Worthy In Blue

Summary: You’ve been working on a little surprise project for Lucifer involving navy blue rope and a mahogany chair. You know Lucifer has a penchant for ropework, so what if you gave him an evening to put those skills, and your own, to good use?

Tags under the cut.

Tags: submissive lucifer, dominant MC, rope, restraints, MC is in rope, Lucifer is restrained, pegging, cunnilingus, gn MC, afab MC, mutual possessiveness, romance, established relationship, pre-nightbringer

Tonight is the long awaited Grimte Banquet where all the noble houses gather. Relationships are maintained, new ones started, and it’s all Lucifer can do to keep his brothers in line. Luckily, he has you to keep Mammon by your side and Beel full of food.

The night drones on spent managing many noble advances. He spares you a weary glance and you wink at him from across the hall. He can’t help the quirk of his mouth, a slight smile amidst everything. You’re impossibly charming.

A few moments later and he hears your voice in his ear. “Meet me in the coat room, I have something to show you.”

You slip away and disappear somewhere in the crowd. Eventually he manages a moment alone, horribly curious as he finds his way to you.

You close the door behind him, nearly hidden amidst coats of all sizes. “Hi gorgeous,” you wrap your arms around his waist.

"A coat closet?" He muses.

“I won’t keep you. Pretty sure Beel is looking for me too… Here.” You hold up your phone, “What do you think?”

You’re showing him a picture of… rope? “This is what you wanted to show me?”

“I could hardly send it to your phone right now, what with the entire royal court surrounding you. Plus, I’d rather explain its implications in person.”

“Implications?”

“Mm. Are you free next Friday night? Around 10pm?”

“I…” he allows himself a small smile, “I might be able to spare you some time.”

“Oh might you?” You smirk, “Well, if you’re too busy I completely understand. I’m capable of appreciating my own hard work.”

He acts affronted, grabbing you by the waist and kissing your hand. “Would a willing participant not please you more?”

“Isn’t that why I asked you in the first place?” He’s captivated by the crinkle of your nose, by the warmth of your smile.

“You’ve caught me,” he chuckles, “I’m all yours.”

“Then it’s a date. Do you like the color?”

You show him your phone again and he hums appreciatively. "Did you get it from Cloven Boutique? I didn’t think they stocked colored rope."

“They don’t, I dyed it myself."

“Truly?” He looks closer, in want of his glasses. “It looks like a professional job."

"Well, I had to get the color just right - I love the look of you in blue."

"Oh?" His tone softens.

“Mhm…” You appreciatively sweep your eyes up his body, lingering the gold peacock tie-clip you got him last month. You reach out and adjust his collar, “I love seeing you in things I’ve bought.”

“You have good taste.”

“Do you really think so?”

He frowns. “I wouldn’t wear something if it didn’t suit me.”

You laugh, “I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m charming.”

He fondly rolls his eyes. “I suppose both descriptors are accurate. I will look forward to it all week.”

“I think it’ll be worth the wait.” You lean up and brush your lips against his, “Don’t dance with too many nobles now.”

“Haven’t you noticed? All eyes are on you tonight. It’s taken everything in me not to whisk you away.”

“Likewise, darling.” You wink at him again and his heart certainly doesn’t flutter.

Lucifer knocks on your closed door, waiting for you to beckon him inside.

The first thing he notices is an old mahogany chair in the middle of your room, stolen from the hallway. It sits odd against your comfortable furniture.

You make a show of locking your door, brushing against his shoulder as you pass by. Then you cast a noise canceling spell - nothing but an emergency could disturb you now.

When you meet his eyes you're delighted by his wanting expression, unguarded and open in his desire. "I wonder…" you walk over to him, "how much you've thought about this night, curious about what I've planned?" You straighten his tie, close enough to see him swallow.

"It has been on my mind." He takes your hand in his own and kisses your knuckles, looking every part adoring.

You chuckle fondly, "Especially in the evenings, when you think of me?"

His cheeks heat up but his gaze is steady. “I won’t deny it."

“Honesty suits you." He goes in for a kiss just as you pull away. "I want to show you something."

He makes a curious sound and you leave him to open your dresser drawer. "Now, you knew I'd be using rope tonight, but for what exactly I didn't tell you." You gather the rope in your arms, "It might not seem like much of a deviation."

"Oh?" He eyes the rope you've picked.

"You still like it?"

He turns the rope over in his hands, "It’s richer than I remember. How did you do it?"

"Blue mangled beetles - kind of like carmine, but the process is simpler. When dried and crushed they make a beautiful dark navy dye that doesn’t bleed."

"You did your research."

You chuckle and take the rope from his hands. "Only the best for you. Gloves off."

He slips off his right leather glove, finger by finger - wait. “Blue?” You look at him inquisitively. His nails are a rich navy blue, perfectly manicured and glossy.

His eyes flicker behind you, cheeks dusting pink. “I painted them a few days ago.”

You're confused for a minute, then it hits you. “Wait - because of me?”

His voice drops, “You - you mentioned-" He clears his throat, "I thought you might like them.”

"I love them, Lucifer…" You kiss his knuckles, his palm, his wrist, before pulling him in for a proper kiss. His hand cups your jaw and he makes a small, plaintive sound. He really had been thinking about your words all this time.

You pull away with reluctance. "It's time I tell you what we’ll be doing tonight. Shall we start the scene?"

He clears his throat again and sweeps his own magic over your door. "Let us begin."

"Any titles are allowed tonight, you can address me however you’d like. Red to stop the act, yellow to pause, and green for all good. Fire if you want to stop the scene entirely."

"Understood.”

“Then…" the glint in your eyes makes him a little weak in the knees. "I know you have a penchant for ropework. And I know how much you enjoy earning my praise. So, I had a thought - tonight I’d like you to use your ropework skills and tie me up, but I want full range of motion, you know, a design strictly for aesthetics.” You pull the rope taught in your hands, “And then, if you do a good enough job, I may reward you with some rope of my own. What do you say?” You hold out the rope to him.

You smile and oblige, settling into the cold wooden seat. He eyes you and then the rope, contemplative, before loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves. He circles you, and you admire the focused, pointed look on his face as he carefully plans an intricate design in his mind’s eye. He’s completely in his element and you love to watch him work.

“What an intriguing idea...” He takes the rope from your hands with soft reverence, feeling the rough texture between his fingers. “You really got such a nice shine to it,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. He breathes out slowly and gestures to the mahogany chair, “Please dear, relax.”

“Ah,’ you suddenly realize, “This might help.” You lift up your shirt and drop it next to the chair before shimmying out of your bottoms, leaving you bare before him.

“Yes…” he murmurs as his eyes roam your skin.

You feel a pleasant tingle up your spine when he brushes his fingers through your hair, gently gathering until he can put it up properly above your neckline. Your body relaxes under his touch.

The first knot is an anchor tie just below your bust, he uses four strands and divides them into two, slipping each half over your shoulders and back down to meet your back. The rough texture warms you from the outside in but his careful touch is cool against your skin.

You watch him as he works, loving the interplay of shadow that falls across his sharp features. He catches you staring.

“Am I pleasing to look at, Madam?”

“Yes, very much so.”

Your pact mark sings and you chuckle, bemused at the sensation. “You like it when I compliment you, don’t you, my little black bird?”

His cheeks heat up and his eyebrows furrow, as he’s put off by the pet name, but the humming in your chest only continues. “I can feel it, you know? Honesty really does suit you best - your face is much prettier wearing it.”

The tips of his ears turn pink but he circles you, wrapping his arms around your midsection to finish fixing a knot in place. Suddenly his warm lips press into the crook of your shoulder. The deep undertones of his voice make you shiver as he whispers in your ear. “You will be the death of me.”

You turn to meet his eyes, coy mischief in your own. “I think you’ll survive.” He chuckles and you kiss him once, twice, just to make him simmer. He almost goes back in for a third but you brush your thumb over his bottom lip. “Not yet.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He kisses your shoulder once more.

Time passes in a lovely, hazy sort of way. Lucifer relaxes into the process as you'd hoped he would. It’s a gentle sort of focus where his mind is set on something, a place where nothing else can bother him or tear away his careful attention. He loves taking your direction, easing him out of his mind, constantly wound too tight.

Finally he kneels to finish the job, gingerly maneuvering one of your legs up and over his shoulder to wrap a strand around the back of your thigh. His eyes wander this time, following the line of your body until he lingers between your legs. As if he can’t help himself he kisses your skin, leaving a delicate trail up the inside of your thigh.

You cup his jaw in one hand and he kisses your palm, eyeing between your legs. “After you finish,” you murmur, “You’ll have to earn what you get tonight.” His eyes flicker to yours and he continues moving, finishing the tie he started.

“I believe I’m finished, will you stand?”

You do so, feeling the bend and flex of rope. Nothing feels too tight, everything is snug, hugging the curves of your body. You admire what lacing you can see, particularly the delicate design around your hands and wrists. He truly had taken his time, a glance at the clock proves that an hour has passed.

Finally you turn around and examine his work in the mirror. Your eyes light up at his intricate ropework. You’re beautiful, elegant, fully mobile and yet covered in faux restraints. You admire yourself, making a show of your appreciation. His chest puffs out and the pact mark on your chest rumbles. You gently circle your clit with one finger and enjoy how he shifts uncomfortably behind you.

You want more from him. Your body aches from an hour of foreplay.

You cup his jaw with one hand. “Kneel.”

“Yes Sir,” he murmurs, almost breathless.

His willing, almost eager demonstration of your power over him, of his own lack of control, further spurns you on, and you know he can hold your weight.

"Show me, then, devotion to your work." You prop one leg up on the hard mahogany seat, exposing yourself for him. Rope hugs your thighs, indenting and highlighting what he wants most.

His eyes flicker between your face and your clit. He licks his lips. "Thank you, Sir."

You run a hand through his hair and brace the other on the back of the chair. As soon as his tongue touches your clit you gasp, unable to help yourself. You’ve been on edge for so long now, throbbing at every new rope and delicate detail. You savor his mouth, rocking your hips into his face gently. "Yes…" he sucks and licks as you drip onto his tongue and he moans softly at the gentle tug of your hand in his hair.

You'll come quickly and you know it - you rock against him faster now and he wraps his fingers through the ropes on the back of your thigh before squeezing your ass and petting between your legs.

You look down at him, at his disheveled appearance, tousled hair, and too-tight pants. “Lucifer, darling, you - ah - you don’t have to say anything, no thoughts, no control, just take what I give you."

He groans and claws at the backs of your thighs, pulling you forward against his mouth.

You tilt your head back. "Good man, good job-" he whines and flicks his tongue with renewed vigor, "fffuck, right there…"

You fuck his face, shivering and shaking, chasing your orgasm. He holds you upright and supports your body, grasping at his own ropework. You moan and twitch. A glance at the mirror brings you closer still, “Look baby, look at you, making me feel so fucking good… shit-” Your grip on his hair tightens as you twist your hand, pulling him forward. He moans, high and breathy, harshly breathing through his nose.

His right hand supports your waist while his left squeezes your ass. Just a minute more, a second more, finally, finally his palpable desire sends you over the edge, and god how it fills the air. He takes it all and you don't fall, even as your legs lock and your grip falters. You shake and shiver in his tight grasp, palms holding tight to his shoulders. He keeps licking, just enough to keep you there until tension dissipates and you’re overstimulated. Only then does his grip loosen, following your body as you stand on your own, knees shaking.

There's an unspoken tenderness in his eyes - your baby takes pride in service.

You step away from him when you can, fixing his hair and cleaning your cum from his lips. "Sit on the chair, darling."

His knees crack when he gets up, stiff from his place on the hardwood floor. He sits, bulge straining against his trousers, watching you with rapt attention.

"I think…" you turn around, "You've more than earned your reward - as if there was any doubt in my mind."

“Oh?” He practically glows at your praise.

"And…” you walk over to your nightstand once more, "I'm not done with this yet." He swallows, gaze fixated on the rope in your hands. You smirk, "You like that idea?"

He shifts again. "Yes I - very much."

You reach into your nightstand and pull out a matte black silicone dildo, smaller, elegant even. You hold it up. “What about this? Are you up for it tonight?”

“Yes,” he nods, “I prepared myself for the possibility.”

“Perfect,“ you breathe, already excited. “Then…” your smile is nearly wicked as you regard him and his cock throbs in earnest. “Clothes off. Hands behind your back - hold your forearms.”

He acquiesces, knowing exactly what you want.

Soon he’s sitting naked on the chair, hands held behind his back, willingly at your mercy. Your ties aren’t nearly as elegant, but they restrict his movement and hug his body. You restrain his arms behind his back with a chest harness, carefully distributing the weight of the rope, adding just a touch of flourish. Even in such a simple design he looks lovely. Blue really is his color, you think, admiring him. He catches your eye.

“I was right,” you say, tilting his chin up for a chaste peck on the lips, “You look lovely in blue.” He groans and chases your lips this time. You let him, just once, and deepen the kiss yourself, before grabbing him by the hair, wrenching his head up. “Not yet, darling.”

“As you wish.” He’s breathless and kiss bitten.

You leave him and stack two large pillows on top of each other. You motion for him to stand before grabbing him by the restraints. “I will help you get into position,” you chuckle darkly, “I want you face down.”

His cheeks feel hot but he nods, “Yes Sir.”

“Good man. Lie down.”

It takes a moment since he can’t move his arms but you finally have him exactly where you want him, chest pushed into the bed, hips and ass raised by the pillows beneath him.

He tilts his head to look at you with one eye, eyebrow raised as you appear with more rope.

‘Can’t have you squirming too much, now can I?” He groans into the pillow beneath him and nods.

“Tell me if you’re ever uncomfortable or need to readjust, this position might get tiring after awhile.”

“I’m sure I can take it.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m not asking. Tell me.”

He shivers. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Good.”

You uncap the lube on your nightstand and snap a glove on. He shivers at the cold feeling of your lubed finger rubbing against him, but as your hand warms so does his body and he slowly starts to meet your gentle thrusts as you enter him. You love this part. It’s incredibly intimate, almost more so that the ensuing sex, because anyone else would have been thrown out long ago - he has only ever done this with you.

Once you’re up to two fingers comfortably you withdraw your hand and replace it with your lubed up strap. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready.” You smack his ass and he gasps.

“What was that?”

“I apologize, yes I - I’m ready.”

“That’s better. One more remark like that,” you murmur, pressing in slowly, “And I’ll rethink your reward.”

He hisses, wiggling his hips, “A-Apologies - it won’t happen again.”

‘I know it won’t,” you smile, “because you love this too much.” Finally, finally you move your hips, slow at first, until finding a gentle rhythm. You use his bound legs as leverage, pushing deep inside of him as his low, desperate moans fill the air.

As his body strains against the rope it holds tight, digging into his skin - this heat, this pleasure, your power over him is dizzying. For a few blissful moments he can’t think, all he can do is feel you surround him and hear your haunting voice in his ear.

It is easy to admire him, Lucifer Morningstar splayed out before you, rocking his ass into your hips, wanting more, more. You grab the rope holding his forearms tight against his back and pull, arching his back against the sheets. He cries out, and you lean down, pushing all your weight on top of him.

“That feel good, baby? Heh, you love it don’t you?” Your hips are slow and deep, grinding on his favorite spot, “You love being fucked like this. Wrapped in my rope, under my hand-” He moans, long and debauched. “I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this, you belong to me, don’t you?”

“Yes-!”

You’re breathless above him. “We belong to each other, right, love?”

His eyes open and he gazes at you in the adjacent mirror, “Yes…” You dip and kiss the back of his neck, soft and sweet, "Hnn…" he takes in a shuddering breath and lets his head fall forward.

“That's right, no one else deserves to touch you, no one else is good enough, worthy enough.” You whisper in his ear.

He gasps your name and pushes his ass against your hips, pathetically fucking himself on your strap. Every slap of your skin sears welts into his body. You grab his hair and jerk his body up.

“Eyes open, look at yourself.” He didn’t think he could get any redder, but the sight of you behind him, fucking his ass with slow purposeful thrusts, restraining him while tied in his own ropework, it's too much, he can’t - he’ll -

You wrench his head up, “Keep looking,” you pant, “look at the face you make when you come for me.”

He can’t help it, he comes fast and hot, hips stuttering, mouth open and gasping. You slow but you don’t stop. He whimpers but dutifully stays, taking it all.

“Good man,” you praise him, “So. Fucking. Good-” you punctuate your words by digging your nails into his back. You slowly drag them downward and tiny specks of blood bubble to the surface. He hisses but his cock jumps beneath him. “You like a little pain, don’t you?” You slap his ass with an open palm. “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes Ma’am -”

“Yes what?”

"Fuck - more, please-!”

“Filthy.” You bite, before indulging him with another slap on the ass.

You run your nails gently over the welts and he sighs in bliss. In this moment of calm you use all your strength to hoist him upward again, until his back is flush against your chest. You wrap a hand around his throat and start to bounce him on your cock. His eyes roll back and he groans, reaching around to grab your hip as he rocks back into you.

“When I cut you loose,” you pant, “I want you to lie down on your back, legs spread, waiting and ready for me again. Do you understand me?”

He swallows breathlessly and nods.

You lean him forward and gently pull out. You untie his legs, and then his arms before dropping the rope next to the bed. His body is tinged red with slight rope burn, just how he likes.

He rolls over onto his back, finally making eye contact with you. You smile at him, gentle, and his pupils pin. “Spread your legs for me.”

Lucifer grabs his own knees, and spreads his legs while you refuse to let him lose eye contact. His red flush is delicious, and so is his twitching cock, clearly enjoying this.

You grab more lube from the nightstand and quickly reapply before holding one of his legs to your chest and slipping back inside. He groans and rocks his hips forward, savoring the feeling.

You slowly snap your hips forward, reaching deep inside him, you keep repositioning until he gasps and then you hold there. Little thrusts of your hips grinding against his ass. He gasps low, moaning sweetly in his deep voice as sweat trickles down his temple.

“Kiss me-” he croaks, reaching for you. You melt into him and grind against him as his hands roam your body. He doesn’t realize he’s whimpering and shuddering, or if he does he doesn’t care.

You continue like this for a while, enjoying his gasping deep moans in your ear, his lips and teeth on your neck. Finally, at your mercy, you gently trace your fingers over the head of his cock. The noise he makes is agonizing, and you have half a mind to continue neglecting him. But he has your heart as you keep up that gentle, light contact, and he doesn’t ask for more. His head is spinning, filled with thoughts of you, you, just you.

You speed up your hand as your hips get tired and he grips your back, rocking into you. Finally you feel him tense, feel his blunt nails dig into your back.

“There you go, my pretty bird,”

He gasps, light and beautiful, shuddering as he comes, keening as each slow, deep thrust of your hips milks another dribble of cum out of him.

You kiss again and again, covered in sweat, cum, and specks of blood, ignoring the passage of time.

Darkness blankets your bedroom, barely lit in deep navy shadow. Your fingernails fall up and down rhythmically over the rope burn on Lucifer’s back.

“I heard you were approached last week.” He murmurs.

“At the Banquet…? Oh, did Asmo say something?”

Lucifer chuckles, "He said something akin to "Everyone here is itching for their chance, don't let them out of your sight."

You feign exasperation. "And what did you do, you let me out of your sight. Now I'm in bed with a demon."

Lucifer snorts, "The very same demon you propositioned in a coat closet."

"What can I say? I know who I want," you kiss his temple.

Lucifer leans into you further, draped across your body. "Don't you have plans early tomorrow morning?"

“You yawn again, “Solomon said he has something important to talk to me about. What exactly, I’m not sure… he can wait until I've had breakfast.”

“That sorcerer…”

“He wants you so bad,” you chuckle, “I mean, it isn’t up to me, but I enjoy acting as if it is.”

“Rest assured,” he kisses your shoulder, “he’ll never have me, not like you do.”

Your smile is gentle. “I love you, Luci.”

“And I you.”

Lucifer closes his eyes and relaxes his sore body, satisfied and calm. He resolves to make you breakfast in the morning before seeing you off to Solomon.

Truly, he thinks, there's nothing he can’t face as long as you’re there when he wakes.

#lucifer obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me smut #sub lucifer #dom mc #my writing #wearyeyebrow #teeny tiny bit of nightbringer angst at the end #dom!reader #sub!lucifer #sub obey me

431 notes · View notes

vigilskeep · 3 months

Note

not sure if you've been asked this before but how do you think the bg3 companions would fit in thedas? like. i can totally picture talvashoth lae'zel, grey warden wyll, astarion as a runaway from tevinter enslavement, etc.

oh!!

yeah qunari lae’zel checks out, it’s the same archetype. warrior, champion subclass, maybe throw in a little templar. i could go either way on grey warden wyll but he’s for sure a spirit warrior relying on a desire demon’s help. i’d love him to be a rogue with those abilities. and the duellist subclass too. and a free marcher!!

i simply couldn’t see astarion as an elf in dragon age. he’s just. so fundamentally upper class. i have to human noble-ify him, sorry. i could see him as a nobleman turned orlesian bard by an abusive master. so rogue, bard and assassin subclasses. (as an aside, i think he could be inspiration or a jumping off point for a really fun mage character: privileged human noble apostate son of a bitch who gets caught by the templars, has the worst possible circle experience anyone can get, gets free, and is pretty damn sure he doesn’t owe the world even a sliver more restraint than what it takes to keep becoming an abomination from ruining his hair. that’s a completely separate idea i’m getting carried away with. he’d kill it as a blood mage though.)

as for the others... gale is a tevinter mage, for sure. sorry for the baggage my love but his character hinges on an unashamed appreciation for magical ability, both his own and experienced from others throughout his life. that kind of value would only be placed on it in one place in thedas. mage, and a subclass like necromancer or rift mage that pushes the boundaries a little on what’s allowed or possible, without going all out maleficar. shadowheart on the other hand, i could see as an elven/elf-blooded circle mage? a prodigy of loyalist circle politics, plus it would set off the dynamic with qunari lae’zel perfectly. mage, spirit healer/arcane warrior. and karlach... hmm, screams city elf or dwarf commoner origin to me. maybe starring the blight as her terminal condition, or her engine as some kind of dwarven botched attempt at recreating the golems. warrior, berserker subclass obviously, maybe reaver too.

those would be my initial thoughts

108 notes · View notes

khaosrealms · 6 months

Note

oh, EXCUSE me? your writing is spectacular and i'm not exaggerating!! - the way you wrote and described the first meeting between syzoth and the princess was so good that it left me wanting more!

i beg and still on my knees for more!! 🥺

LACERTA’S GEM. (PART THREE!) / SYZOTH X PRINCESS! READER.

a/n: thank you so much for the receptive response! you beg and what am i to do but give to you more content? your wish is my command! also, for any of those who see this without reading the previous parts, here you go! the first two parts + the intermission and the conversation with the princesses !

- It's been a whirlwind, the ascension from jailer to free man-- but every step of that way for Syzoth, you are there. His closest ally, his first friend, his princess. Of course the gossip is plenty even before his induction as emissary. Whispers aplenty of the moment you two had shared at the end of the battle for Outworld and the Empress' acceptance to allow a Zaterran to hold a court position. Insistent on screeching and yelping about matters that held no importance to them. Of your relationship with Syzoth and the matter of the green shifting fabric wrapped around your right arm. But you don't allow their words to poison you. You have two wonderful sisters-- and they are there for you as Syzoth is given the honor of emissary for Mileena's court. There to look amongst the court and speak of his achievements; and to challenge anyone who might speak ill of someone revered by the Empress herself.

- Pulling Syzoth and yourself away from one another becomes an impossibility from that point onwards-- in equal measure intentional as it is unintentional. Drawn to one another like song birds. Sharing your walks in one another's company, spending his nights at the door of your chamber, never entering, but leaned against the door frame. Minutes turning to hours as the two of you conversed. Wasting the time you could spend sleeping instead talking with the Zaterran whom you'd never would have met had you not parted into that alley that night of the festival. Not wasting, no, reveling; the both of you.

"It's getting late, Princess." As if either of you care. He's smiling as he speaks it; arms folded over his chest where he stands. He knows it distracts you. Brushing past him to grab your tomes for the small touches it gifts you of his biceps, gently slapping his forearm when you laugh; innocent gestures of hidden desire. Syzoth indulges it. He indulges it knowing it brings your touch, your warmth. Even now, as you gently shove his shoulder at his words, rolling your eyes, he doesn't move away. He anticipates it. You'd be blind not to notice. You've never been more thankful for the privacy your Umgadi guard has gifted you both-- or, well, was rather ordered to.

"Late? I see no sun on the horizon, Syzoth." To a nearby window, you gesture and his eyes remain on your own despite it. Not allowing himself to rid himself the sight of you for even a second to look away. It makes something hitch in your throat; and even as you laugh to cover your pause, it does nothing to hide it. Warmth swimming itself up to your cheeks as he stays there in the silence between you two. His verdant gaze briefly flitting to your lips and back up to your eyes. "Is that so?" Even when he whispers, Syzoth's voice rumbles. Resonating off his chest and into your ears; and straight down to the bottom of your stomach. "I hadn't noticed, Princess."

- Syzoth can't take his hands off of you when you finally take the leap and pull him into your chambers, shutting the door behind you both with his tail. Tossing every bit of formality and restraint in his body out to meet your hungry lips. Desperate for his touch, his taste, his cold skin, his everything. Even as his hands slip as they clutch onto the fine fabric of your bed, your body laid across, he catches himself. Standing over your willing body, gaining his breath back.

"You're beautiful, Syzoth." Shifting between his Outworlder and true form above you, his tail wrapped around your thigh, his sharpened teeth and tongue. All stained in the dark green hue of his beating lifeforce. You might just be the first person in all the realms, so full with so many lives, who has ever called him beautiful. And you might be the first person, in this cruel terrible world, he'd ever believe was telling the truth with such honeyed words. "Be true for me." "Are you sure, Princess?" He could hurt you, Syzoth thinks. His acid, his size; but all you do as he despairs is capture him into another kiss. Melting his worries, dissolving away his shifted form-- and parting to meet his crimson eyes. His scaled chest rumbling with a hissed, deep groan. "Certain."

#mortal kombat x reader #syzoth x reader #syzoth x princess! reader #mk1 imagines #mk1 #syzoth #khaosrealms #HIIII #it's 6 am and i'm taking my ass to BED #i'm so excited 2 drop this on y'all #you all deserve it :heart:

173 notes · View notes

argisthebulwark · 26 days

Text

A Taste of the Divine

summary: just hornyposting on main. giving my favorite skyrim men some sexual interests/kinks. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Vilkas, Miraak warnings: explicit sexual content. minors should not read or interact with this. includes: (all consensual) overstimulation, biting/pain play, choking.

Overstimulation

"Feel that?" Brynjolf's voice was raw, a rough mumble against your skin. His cock pulsed deep inside you, hips flush with yours. Strong hands kept your legs wrapped around his shoulders and he flashed you a victorious smile. "That's what you do to me." "Bryn." His name was the only word your mind could summon. He thrust again and gods, that guttural moan was enough to nearly send you over the edge. Your body was on fire. He'd kept you here for ages; skin slick with sweat and sheets torn half off the bed, your throat ruined from pleading for more. "What's that, love?" Mock kindness colored his tone, head cocking as his hips stilled once more. You knew he was going to be sore but he insisted on keeping you right on the edge of orgasming, senses overstimulated simply by all of him. "Please." You begged once more, tears pricking at your eyes when he throbbed deep inside you once more. Your thighs shook with every tiny move he made, skin too hot. "Please what, darlin'?" He grinned, hips grinding into yours and dragging a filthy moan up your throat. "Gotta tell me what you want."

Biting/Pain

"Fuck, yes, gods -" Vilkas choked on his own words. Your teeth sank deep into his shoulder, goosebumps raising along the skin. His hips slammed into yours, all the usual restraint gone. You hadn't known what you would unleash with that first playful nip at his throat - the dark flush across his face and desperate way he buried his cock in you. With fingers twisted into your hair he kept you there, guttural moans that went straight to your groin every time you bit him. "Harder." "Honey, I'm going to make you bleed -" "Gods yes, please just fucking bite me again." His deep voice rumbled through his chest, a neediness you'd never heard before. You kissed the sensitive skin, reveling in the crescent indents you'd already left behind before placing your teeth on the skin of his throat. He was already buckling from the smallest touch; hips shuddering against yours, cock twitching deep inside of you. "Fuck yes, gods I'm yours." Vilkas muttered deliriously, thrusts uneven. Your nails dug into his back, only spurring him on. "I don't care if I bleed just fucking mark me."

Choking

Gods, he looked pretty. Miraak's gloved hand wrapped lovingly around your wrist, eyes rolling back in his head when you applied just a touch more pressure. His hips rutted into yours with each gasping breath he took past the hand clasped around his throat. It was exhilarating; all those moments spent as enemies melted away when he allowed your fingers to wrap around his throat and squeeze. Never enough to harm, just enough to excite. You weren't entirely sure what was more arousing - the sight of Miraak in your grasp or the inherent trust of such a display. "For the First Dragonborn, you don't appear too scary now." You grinned as pink crept up his cheeks. His free hand wrapped around your hip, a broken groan rumbling under your palm when he thrust into you once more. Those intimidating green robes were spread under your bodies, mask forgotten somewhere off in the distance. "You lay bare before me, Dovahkiin." You couldn't help yourself - he looked too pretty when flustered. Miraak groaned something akin to your name, hips grinding into yours but he didn't tap your arm, he didn't ask you to stop. "Strong, scary Miraak pinned so easily by the Last Dragonborn." "Yes."

#writing #brynjolf #miraak #vilkas #nsft #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #skyrim fanfic

69 notes · View notes

katnissmellarkkk · 6 months

Text

I did a lil search for all the times Katniss talked about Peeta’s blue eyes. Or called them those blue eyes. She was so mesmerized by his eyes lbr 😭. Anyways, enjoy!

The shock of the moment is registering on his face, you can see his struggle to remain emotionless, but his blue eyes show the alarm I’ve seen so often in prey. Yet he climbs steadily onto the stage and takes his place.

It’s not until we enter the City Circle that I realize I must have completely stopped the circulation in Peeta’s hand. That’s how tightly I’ve been holding it. I look down at our linked fingers as I loosen my grasp, but he regains his grip on me. “No, don’t let go of me,” he says. The firelight flickers off his blue eyes. “Please. I might fall out of this thing.”

“Do you mean you won’t kill anyone?” I ask.

“No, when the time comes, I’m sure I’ll kill just like everybody else. I can’t go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to . . . to show the Capitol they don’t own me. That I’m more than just a piece in their Games,” says Peeta.

“But you’re not,” I say. “None of us are. That’s how the Games work.”

“Okay, but within that framework, there’s still you, there’s still me,” he insists. “Don’t you see?”

“A little. Only . . . no offense, but who cares, Peeta?” I say.

“I do. I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point?” he asks angrily. He’s locked those blue eyes on mine now, demanding an answer.

I look up into those blue eyes that no amount of dramatic makeup can make truly deadly and remember how, just a year ago, I was prepared to kill him. Convinced he was trying to kill me. Now everything is reversed. I’m determined to keep him alive, knowing the cost will be my own life, but the part of me that is not so brave as I could wish is glad that it’s Peeta, not Haymitch, beside me. Our hands find each other without further discussion. Of course we will go into this as one.

Peeta rinses the pearl off in the water and hands it to me. “For you.” I hold it out on my palm and examine its iridescent surface in the sunlight. Yes, I will keep it. For the few remaining hours of my life I will keep it close. This last gift from Peeta. The only one I can really accept. Perhaps it will give me strength in the final moments.

“Thanks,” I say, closing my fist around it. I look coolly into the blue eyes of the person who is now my greatest opponent, the person who would keep me alive at his own expense. And I promise myself I will defeat his plan.

The laughter drains from those eyes, and they are staring so intensely into mine, it’s like they can read my thoughts. “The locket didn’t work, did it?” Peeta says, even though Finnick is right there. Even though everyone can hear him. “Katniss?”

“It worked,” I say.

“But not the way I wanted it to,” he says, averting his glance. After that he will look at nothing but oysters.

I wish I could meet with Peeta privately. But the audience of doctors has assembled behind the one-way glass, clipboards ready, pens poised. When Haymitch gives me the okay in my earpiece, I slowly open the door.

Those blue eyes lock on me instantly. He’s got three restraints on each arm, and a tube that can dispense a knockout drug just in case he loses control. He doesn’t fight to free himself, though, only observes me with the wary look of someone who still hasn’t ruled out that he’s in the presence of a mutt. I walk over until I’m standing about a yard from the bed. There’s nothing to do with my hands, so I cross my arms protectively over my ribs before I speak.

Through the water in the glass, I see a distorted image of one of Peeta’s hands. The burn marks. We are both fire mutts now. My eyes travel up to where the flames licked across his forehead, singeing away his brows but just missing his eyes. Those same blue eyes that used to meet mine and then flit away at school. Just as they do now.

#everlark #thg #hunger games #Katniss everdeen #Peeta mellark #bookcomb ♥️🔎

53 notes · View notes

maxwellatoms · 1 year

Text

I don’t know why more people aren’t watching this show, but it’s worth a peek.

This particular episode touches heavily on storyboards and animatics, and while these guys are all talking about feature films, just about everything they’re talking about applies to animation (half of any given superhero film is animation anyway).

Animatics are such an incredible tool that I’m shocked that they aren’t an industry requirement. We literally weren’t allowed to have animatics on Billy & Mandy due to “budgetary restraints”, and since I’d never utilized them before I didn’t realize what I was missing. Now, I basically board right into animatic. If I have a line of dialog for a character, I’ll just temp it in. That way I’m both writing and directing (essentially) at the same time. As I go, I know more-or-less how much time everything is taking, what’s working, and what drags. If I hit ten minutes and I’m still not into Act 3, I know I need to cut something to make room. I can make a version of my movie or show for (essentially) free and share it as a blueprint for others to follow or give feedback on. Why would you NOT do that?

There’s some good stuff in here too about the insane pacing of Television production, the amount of stuff you somehow have to hold in your brain when you’re dealing with all of these moving pieces, and the importance of having a plan for everything. As the director, you’re the only one who is really capable of keeping track of the project from the microscopic to macroscopic scale. Everything from overall tone to the tweak you want to make to line 236 is your responsibility.

I’m not a huge fan of Snyder’s body of work, but Zack Snyder films are Zack Snyder films. His stamp is all over them. The Russos come from a much more Disnified, collaborative background. And lest that sound too noble, the collaboration is all directed toward making a product engineered to be enjoyable. In a very real way, it’s The Auteur vs. The Machine. Listening to this episode, you can tell that no one ever say Zack Snyder down in a room with a bunch of lawyers and research executives to talk about whether or not he was accidentally delivering fascist messages or how many girls aged 8-12 were into Steppenwolf. Whereas that would be Day One at Disney, and every day after would involve some other checks-and-balances meeting, a number of high-level sign-offs, and the upkeep of an intricate company-wide roadmap.

Snyder and the Russos both found themselves making superhero movies for two very different companies in two different very ways. The ways those movies were produced are as much a result of the studio culture as it is the personalities and desires of the directors. As much as Jellystone has reminded me how much I love deep collaboration, methods of production are often not my choice. Depending on the studio, I’ve occasionally felt either overwhelmed by too much “support” or left alone in the woods to die. Neither situation is exactly ideal, but both present their own unique challenges and opportunities. The Machine is efficient, gets things done, and will protect you -- as long as you’re in its good graces. The Auteur is laid bare -- flaws and obsessions on display for anyone to see. Neither Snyder or the Russos go too deep into the studio culture at either studio (oh to be a fly on the wall when the pizza is gone), but is one really superior to the other? Learning to work within the confines of a studio’s culture is a whole different layer on the onion, and I wish they talked about it here.

It’s cool to see that from the simplest cartoon short to the summer blockbuster, the struggles in the entertainment industry are all the same. The pay’s way better on the blockbuster side, though. In case you’re trying to choose.

youtube

#animation #animatics #directing #pizza film school

175 notes · View notes

sha-bae · 1 year

Text

The Knights Pet

Chapter One

Kylos POV

I scanned my surrounds as me and two of my Knights made our way inside the dimly lit club. Multiple women made there way around the room, some entertaining men others serving drinks. Red velvet booths lined the walls of the large room and the smell of sweat and desperation was stagnant in the musty air.

Patrons of all different races filled the clubs seating areas, speaking amongst them self's and enjoying the female workers. Vicrul made his way over to a booth and took a seat, resting his elbows against the hard surface that now sat in front of him. Trudgen and I joined him.

The table was strangely low, with steps that went from the floor to the edge of the surface. Lights lined the the booth, adding to the erotic mood inside the club. "I'm sure we will find what we have come for, Ren. We had the owner reserve a girl that I thought might satisfy" Vicrul said, his mask distorting his voice as he spoke.

This entire plan had originally been Vicruls.

"Not a slave, a companion" he had explained to his fellow knights. He had expected to get shut down quickly by the supreme leader but I sat there quiet, waiting to hear more. "No more whore houses, we would have access to the girl whenever we wanted." He sounded so confident in his plan. "That's the definition of a slave" Ap'Lek replied, rolling his eyes as he spoke.

"She would have freedom here. Much more freedom then they allow the girls at those places." Vicrul shot back, obviously annoyed by his fellow knights attitude. "And if she was to hate it here, what would be done with her then?" Trudgen asked, leaning back in his chair as he awaited further details. "She would be set free. As I said, she would not be a slave... Aren't you sick of the tired of the overused women we seek for service?"

I was pulled from my thoughts as i turned my mask covered head to see a line of girls, leather collars wrapped around each of there necks. The sound of the chains wrapped around there ankles erupted as they all made there way to there assigned tables. A girl, long dark hair, wearing blue lace approached our table, her head hung low as she dragged her restraints along.

She carefully bowed before lifting her head to examine us. A look of fear crept over her features as she stared at us, eyes wide with shock, we must not have been her usual type of guests.

She quickly noticed the large weapons that sat in the booth with us and averted her gaze, forcing herself to look at something else, anything else.

Slowly she made her way up the steps and onto the table. Her steps where shaky and her hands were balled into fists at her sides as she tried her best not to trip over her chain. She sank to her knees slowly on top of the table, now on full display for everyone in the booth to admire. She straightened her back and lowered her shoulders, attempting to look as confident as she could.

Despite her fear, it was clear that she was eager to please. It was hard to tell If the reason was purely her own or if she was simply following orders. Trudgen leaned back against the velvet upholstery, taking a good hard look at the girl, eating up her presence. She sat still, her hands resting on the top of her thighs as she chewed her bottom lip.

I had to admit, she was stunning. Her brown eyes wondered, curiously examining me and and my knights. "I trust everything is going well here" a man said as he approached the table. He was an older man with greying hair and a wrinkled face. His silk black dress shirt hung open just enough to expose all of the golden chains that hung around his throat, resting against his wooly chest.

Trudgen nodded still hungrily admiring her. Vicrul gave a half nod, he found the interruption from the man to be exceedingly obnoxious. "Well when I heard Kylo Ren was to be in my club I didn't believe it" the man snickered. "But here you are, in the flesh." It was obvious from his voice that he was a heavy smoker. The lingering smell of tabac that followed him around didn't help much.

"I made sure to have something special ready for you, Supreme leader." he continued stepping closer to the girl. "She is a beauty isn't she, my newest one. Just in from the wasteland. Doesn't speak Basic yet." The man smirked. "What language does she speak" Trudgen questioned, his mask never wavering from the girl.

The older man shrugged. "No idea, she hasn't said a word since she got here. But it's pretty clear she doesn't understand me. Isn't that right doll?" He chuckled. The girl didn't answer, just stared at him with her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Ya" he continued, patting the girls head. "Well I'll get out of your hair supreme leader, let you get a look at the merchandise. Please alert me if your in need of anything." The man smirked as he walked away.

I almost felt bad having her sitting that way, on top of a table, like a show animal. Her head jerked around, her eyes fixating on Vicruls leather gloved hand on her bare leg. She looked him up and down as her heart pounded rapidly inside of her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

"Don't be afraid," he assured her as his large hand traced up to her hip, making her shiver from the contact. "It's only a mask" the girl stared at him scrunching up her face. "A Mask?" She mimicked, her voice no louder then a whisper. "Yes that's right." Vicrul praised her.

He picked up her hand from where it sat against her leg and pulled it to his face, resting her fingers against the metal of his helmet. "Only a mask" he repeated. A chill ran down her spine as she touch the cold metal. A tiny smile forming on her face as she relaxed a bit.

She's exactly what we came for.

Don't be to hasty. If you aren't satisfied we can surely find another

I don't wish to see anyone else.

Then It is decided.

#kylo ren x reader #knights of ren x reader #knights of ren smut #kylo #kylo fanfic #kylo x reader #kylo ren #star wars #Knights of ren #snoke #supreme leader snoke #ren #ben solo

143 notes · View notes

chromaticramblings · 10 months

Text

book review - ecotopia by ernest callenbach

Ecotopia, written by ernest callenbach in the 1970s, describes a world in which the land regions previously known as northern california, washington, and oregon secede from the rest of the united states and create their own nation, the nation of Ecotopia. the principles of sustainability and circular economy are central to this new nation.

here are my thoughts on some things covered in the book, i hope that this reaches someone else who's read it and we can share thoughts!

(this will include spoilers. however, the nature of the book is not a narrative, and is rather a presentation of ideas. therefore reading this post will not ruin the book for you if you choose to read it)

one of the greatest thought experiments Ecotopia undertakes is that of ideal urban planning. in that respect, the book is pretty cool! they hypothetical nation of Ecotopia describes San Francisco as a central city hub, from which spokes of public transport emerge and run to smaller city towns. these towns take the place of suburbs, which were razed during the country’s Independence / reconstruction era. (wooooo!!) public transport abounds and runs at a high speed of 30 mph, which is all you really need since the urban centers are so densely built and multi use. Between city towns are managed forests (actual forests! not monocultures) as well as natural land which has been allowed to restore itself.

people live in flexible communes that typically work together to produce something, whether that be a farming commune, fishing commune, artist communes, or business / science communes that invent things. everyone has a universal base income that is just minimal enough to reasonably get by, allowing people to pursue art or a risky startup without fear of dying. which i think is really cool! necessity breeds innovation yes but you need security too. work culture in Ecotopia is also vastly different, as the boundary between work and leisure and personal time is eroded, which may seem like a bad thing but the consequence of the UBI system means that most Ecotopians actually Like their work and choose to do it of their own free will. crazy huh.

houses are typically made of wood, which to me raised a suspicion flag, cause this is the Bay Area we’re talking about, which is Humid as Shit, and the Ecotopians have phased out paint due to it containing heavy metals. which good for them i guess but those houses are gonna rot lmfao. i took the liberty of imagining they are proofed with sealant made from the biodegradable, non petroleum based plastic the Ecotopians had developed and manufactured. while wood is the building material of choice, houses are also built from large tubes of insulated bioplastic, which are joined at the whim of the family or commune creating the house. (there are no architects, everyone builds their own houses themselves to suit their needs.) these houses are cheap and accessible, and zoning laws seem to be nonexistent, making homelessness a nonissue.

in terms of materials, everything in Ecotopia is renewable and has a full zero waste lifecycle. wood is the material of choice. the only metal Ecotopians use comes from scavenged cars and machinery of the pre seccession era. Ecotopians still manufacture plastic, but most kinds of it are fully biodegradable in a few days. when a lasting material is needed, a different type of plastic is used; this kind will not degrade until it is in full contact with soil. given how important disposable plastic is for applications such as research, i'm glad this was considered and accounted for in this book instead of throwing it off as a "we don't need plastic anymore kumbaya" kinda vibe.

culture wise, there is a lack of emotional restraint which the book’s narrator, a visitor from NYC, frequently comments on. hugs and physical affection between all relationships and genders are normalized. there also seems to be an insistence on small talk as a way to humanize those working “lesser skilled” jobs. honestly i found this a bit annoying, as i don’t think small talk is necessarily indicative of human connection, and that a truly emotionally attuned people would be okay with giving space when necessary. but i thought it was nice to acknowledge that all people are people, even while working “subservient” jobs.

ok so those were the things i liked.

criticism #1.

WILLIAM WESTON STOP BEING A FUCKING MISOGYNIST CHALLENGE

alternatively:

ERNEST CALLENBACH WRITE ONE (1) WOMAN WHO ISN’T A SEX OBJECT CHALLENGE

NO, THE WOMAN WHO YOU DESCRIBED AS UNATTRACTIVE WHO ALSO HAPPENS TO BE IN A POSITION OF POWER DOES NOT COUNT

god jesus christ

over the course of his adventures, journalist William Weston encounters many fellows (men) and new friends whom he talks around the fire with (men). he also encounters Marissa, a beautiful wild woman, exotic and mysterious who runs through the forest, cares deeply for trees, stares into his soul with her plain face and round dark eyes, and has sex with him twenty four hours three hundred sixty five days a year.

he also encounters Linda, an attractively sarcastic yet caring nurse, who nurses his injuries, jacks him off, and consumes him with thoughts of when he “will be healed enough to fuck her properly”. (direct quote)

in addition to the misogyny, there appears to be a fair amount of gender essentialism in Ecotopian society, something I found disappointing. Ecotopian clothes are sharply gendered. (from my understanding of Ecotopian values, i’d expect everyone to be wearing skirts due to the ease of manufacture and resulting ease of movement.) women are described to have an “air of fertility” (yes, actually). the governing party is made up of women, due to womens’ “natural competency regarding cooperation and diplomacy rather than competition”. the only sport in the country, the ritual war games, is barred to women. (it’s actually remarked later in the book that in Ecotopian psychology offices, it is often women who come in with issues of untamed aggression, and attributes it to their exclusion from the games. i wonder what a solution could be 🤔) thankfully work is not gendered, but it appears the social spheres of men and women rarely intersect, as Weston socializes and discusses ideas with a fair amount of men, and no women. perhaps for the better, as he’d be too distracted trying to fuck them to have a discussion of any substance.

queer pairings are also mentioned offhand, but they serve the purpose of emphasizing the Ecotopian's open attitudes towards sex and intimacy. queerness is treated as a sexual quirk rather than as an orientation.

in addition to the disappointing sexism / heterosexism, there's a good amount of racism. different races live segregated. although this is a conscious choice by the inhabitants, it still strikes as somewhat odd that there wouldn't be a way for humans to maintain their culture while living in an integrated society. many of the barriers to race equality in our current system are abolished in Ecotopia; the cheapness of the bioplastic houses makes it accessible for anyone to own a house anywhere, and the ease with which people can start their own enterprises reduces employment barriers significantly. therefore i'd expect integration between races to be a significant achievement of the Ecotopians. the writing itself is also racist. callenbach makes distinctions while describing the cultures of the nonwhite populations that make it clear that white is the default of Ecotopia, and all other cultures are side notes. also, callenbach makes no mention of an Ecotopian prison system (an aspect of society that no doubt merits analysis) until he mentions the Black community. sir what is up with that 🤨

there's also a lot to be said of callenbach's treatment of Indigenous ideas. the Ecotopians take a lot of inspiration from classic Indigenous principles, such as living in balance with the earth's natural resources and respecting nonhuman life, and Indigenous clothing styles. however, this feels rather appropriative rather than appreciative, and there are no actual Indigenous characters in the book. i would expect that such an empathetic society which takes direct principles from Indigenous culture would appreciate and honor the Indigenous people within that society rather than just shamelessly taking their culture, especially given the context that Ecotopians are ex citizens of the united states, the country which caused the Indigenous communities in that area so much harm.

overall, i think this book's strengths lie in its rethinking of what society could be like without work as its central focus. i love the UBI system, the reduced work week, and the attitude of work as something to enjoy rather than something to get over with. i also love that the nation's economic fall wasn't skipped over. i think its important to realize that many policies which would improve human health and quality of life would also lower our GDP, and that maybe that's perfectly fine. maybe human lives matter more than how rich a nation is. despite all these strengths, however, the sexism and racism cannot be overlooked; they made me almost put the book down several times. this book is clearly a product of its time, written by a white man. in keeping with good critical thinking practices, its important to recognize what ideas are good to keep and what needs to be thrown out.

tldr: great ideas about an alternative structure for society, unfortunately sexist and racist as well. 6/10

#gonna spam tags in hopes that it finds someone who's read it •_•#ecotopia #ecopunk #solarpunk #urban planning #utopia #sustainability #ecology #sci fi novels #sci fi #environmentalism #currently reading #books #bookblr #politics #public transportation #ernest callenbach #UBI #book review

41 notes · View notes

megumichanxxx · 26 days

Text

Zayne: Tender Respite

I feel weak, cold, and hungry. The streets were already empty and I could only hear the siren of an ambulance in the distance.

A mild wind blew, sending thrills down my spine. I slowly walked to the nearest source of light – a barely lit bus stop. I kneeled close to its sign in search of shelter from the piercing frost. It provided a bit of comfort. It was not enough for me as the cold had settled into my bones. My eyes have become fuzzy from hunger and extreme exhaustion.

I felt the unexpected presence of someone standing close to me and I stared at them.I could see a silhouette of someone I assumed was on a medical mission that wouldn't be completed until the end of the month.

It couldn’t be him.

Time appeared to stand still as he approached me. I caught him raising his hand, almost as if to pat me on the head. A gesture only he and Caleb would make. He paused a little. But without saying anything, he placed his coat around my shivering shoulder. Then, I felt his hand on my head. The warmth of him seemed to chase away the chill that had sunk deep within me.

I was about to remove his coat, but he gently stopped me.

"You're shivering. Keep my coat on. You should go home. We... should go home." His voice was laced with tenderness and concern.

I remained silent, too drained and worn to even form words. I didn't budge in my spot. He held my hand and urged me to get up. With open arms, he invited me into his embrace.

I hesitated for a moment.

"Come here." he encouraged, arms still open.

I took a deep breath and closed the distance between us. My arms found their way around his waist as the first tears began to fall. I clung to him. My sobs broke free as I felt the steady rhythm of his heart. The tears I'd fought to keep at bay now freely flowed. My tears poured without restraint. My body shuddered with each sob. I’m holding onto him like he is my lifeline.

"Zayne, Tara's gone" I choked out, each word laden with pain. My face was buried in his chest. My tears soaking his shirt. But at that moment, neither of us cared. I allowed myself to fully give in to my grief.

“I was able to save Jenna. I was there for Xavier when he needed help. But Tara—" My speech was interrupted by sobs. It made it hard to breathe. My eyes burned with tears.

"I couldn't save her. I tried." As I cried, he held me closer.

Zayne held me tighter. He rubbed my back gently.

"Sshhhh... I'm here for you" he said.

"I succeeded in rescuing those who were important to me. I managed to ensure the safety of the civilians. I supported them... Why couldn't I prevent her fate?" Tears streamed down my face as I spoke. I’ve struggled in voicing my emotions.

Zayne gently placed his hand on my cheek.

"Stop. Please don't blame yourself. You did everything you could." he reassured, locking eyes with me as his gaze met mine. He tenderly kissed my forehead then lightly grazed the tip of my nose and finally brushed the top of my lips.

"I wish I could have saved her," I murmured, burdened by guilt.

"That's enough." he insisted firmly.

"But-"

"Stop blaming yourself. It was beyond your control. What happened to her was an accident."

"But I-"

"Enough. That's enough, Love."

Zayne planted kisses on my cheek wiping away each teardrop.

"You saved lives. You protected the ones you cared for. You did well. You did well, Love."

Zayne kissed me on the lips. His warm and soft lips felt like heaven. Gradually my sobs subsided as I found solace in his embrace.

We stayed locked in our embrace until our lips separated. I gazed at him, taking in his every detail. The comforting heat radiating from his body. The strands of his hair cascading over his eyebrows. I absorbed the intensity of his gaze that made me feel secure and cherished.

I embraced him again tightly. He enveloped me in his arms. He planted a kiss on the crown of my head. It was just a simple gesture but it reassured me, in its own subtle way.

"Zayne..." I looked up. He wiped away my remaining tears with his thumb. "You are here. You are not leaving?" I asked in a hoarse voice.

"I am right here," he replied. "I won't leave."

I sighed and rested my head again in his chest. We stayed like that for a while, taking in the cool night air. My heart warmed up a little bit more.

He was right. He is here. He is not going anywhere. I won't lose him. He won't be gone.

"We should go home." Zayne said.

I looked up at him and gave a faint smile. He brushed the stray hair from my face.

"Let's go home." I whispered.

He gave a nod and gently took my hand, leading me away from the bus stop.

As we drove away from the no-hunt zone, the memories of the events began to fade. I felt my body relaxing. I turned to look at him. His eyes were fixed on the road. I took in his profile and felt his hand intertwine mine.

Zayne caressed my thumb with his as our hands linked.

"Everything's going to be alright" he assured me, giving my hand a comforting squeeze.

I squeezed his hand in return and gave him a slight nod.

I believed him. Everything will be okay.

I will be okay.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The car ride home was silent. I was tired. Exhausted. I wanted to forget about everything and go straight to bed. Upon reaching our home, Zayne led me to our bedroom.

"Go take a shower. I'll get something for you to eat" he suggested.

I shook my head slightly.

"I'm not really feeling hungry" I whispered.

"But you haven't eaten yet."

"A drink might be okay. I just... I just can't eat right now."

"Alright, then. Just shower and get some rest" he responded, handing me towels and fresh clothes.

I undressed in the bathroom and stepped into the shower. I’ve let the comforting warmth of water wash over me. As I scrubbed away the day's blood, sweat, and dirt, a sense of physical relief slowly enveloped me. It felt good but it still couldn't dissipate the lingering chill of my emotions.

I got lost in thought. I remembered what Tara told me when I was in a slump.

“You are a strong person. You have the power to achieve greatness. Remember that. Don't fret about the future. Focus on now.”.

A slight smile found its way onto my face.

She was right.

The here and now is all that I truly have. It’s invaluable. I am still alive.

My friends haven't left my side. Zayne is still here.

And there’s still the future, I vow to live as fully as I can.

Exiting the shower, I quickly patted myself dry with a towel and wrapped it around myself. I slipped into my pajamas and.returned to our room. I feel slightly refreshed.

Zayne was sitting on the bed, waiting for me. He was gazing at a photo from our engagement party on the nightstand. The joy on our faces was a stark contrast to the day's events. He looked up as I was approaching him.

“Zayne, I’m done. You can take a shower now.”

“Later.” He stood up and hugged me. "Are you better?" He asked.

"Yes, thanks to you" I answered.

"Good.” He kissed me. “Try to get some rest. It's been a tough day."

"Will you stay with me?"

He smiled.

"Always. I'll be here until you fall asleep. And when morning comes."

I settled into bed, pulling the covers around me. I turned to face him. He pulled the blankets over my shoulders and tucked me in. He laid down beside me. I moved closer to him. Resting my head upon his chest, I was lulled by the regular beat of his heart.

I felt safe. Comforted. Loved.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head.

“Okay, Rest for a while.”

I closed my eyes and let the exhaustion take over.

I was almost drifting off when he started humming a melody. I knew it but couldn’t remember where I’d heard it before. I listened intently to his soft, gentle voice. It was calming. I feel relaxed. The song he hummed sounded like a lullaby. I could feel myself getting drowsy.

“I love you.” I whispered.

“I love you too.” He replied.

"Goodnight, Zayne" I murmured, already succumbing to sleep.

"Goodnight, My love," he replied softly, kissing my forehead.

As sleep took over, I felt his arm wrapped around me. He is holding me close, and I smiled.

#zayne love and deepspace #zayne x oc #love and deepspace

16 notes · View notes

lovefairymina · 1 year

Note

Hi Mina! I'm Random Anon with a Question! I was wondering which elves have what interests 😅 I can only seem to remember which ones are more like soldiers and prefer activities like sparring...

Then there's Erestor who I think hangs out in the library or mostly quiet places?

I think Thel likes the flute???? 🤔

But I can't quite remember what the interests of other characters are 😅😅😅

Are there any that enjoy painting, healing, dancing, traveling (not for a life threatening reason)???

I hope this isn't too big of a question! I hope it's not too bothersome...

A/N: I attempted to add as many as my brain allowed me to :) forgive me if some seem a bit too jumbled up.

Travelling — those who enjoy hunting are also those who would not hesitate to embark on a quest or adventure of their own. Sometimes, they would be missing for weeks or even months. When looking for them, they are somewhere over the rainbow, trekking through the forest or climbing a mountain's side.

◈ Celegorm, Amrod, Amras, Fingon, Finrod, Elladan, Elrohir

Hunting — there is no better day for them than chasing after a deer or rabbits in the forest. Hunting trips are important and a must for them and can range from a week to even a year. It's a vigorous activity that requires all their attention, and not for a second would they spend it any other way.

◈ Celegorm, Amrod, Amras, Fingon, Beleg, Elladan

Reading/Philosophy/Science — spending a day in the library learning and filling their brains with unlimited knowledge about the world is where you can find them. With their heads in the cloud and books, turning pages faster than their brain can comprehend, they are absorbing everything the world has to offer. Even when they aren't found in the library, heated discussions or debates are another way to spend their day.

◈ Fëanor, Maedhros, Curufin, Fingolfin, Turgon, Finarfin, Finrod, Thingol, Elrond, Gil Galad

Arts and Crafts — from playing music to singing to spending days and months slaving away in the forges to create the most perfect masterpiece, these elves are dedicated to ensuring their creation comes to life. It doesn't matter what area of the arts they professionalize in, to them, it is their life and passion and dealt with serious care.

◈ Fëanor, Maglor, Caranthir, Curufin, Celebrimbor, Finrod, Ecthelion, Rog, Maeglin, Lindir

Sporting Activities — horseback riding, rock climbing, sparring, archery, swimming, etc., are just some of the activities they spend during their free time or most of their time indulging in. It has become a part of their daily routine and is easily incorporated into their lives. They are joyous activities for those who rely on them to break free of the restraints of royal duties as well.

◈ Celegorm, Amrod, Amras, Fingon, Argon, Angrod, Aegnor, Glorfindel, Egalmoth, Gil Galad

Medicine/Healing — saving lives are their life's mission and task. They believe they were gifted with healing hands to create medicine and whisper words of enchantment to keep someone within the land of the living. A job taken seriously with delicate care when treating patients. When they aren't healing, they can be found searching for new herbs or creating a new concoction for injuries.

◈ Galdor, Beleg, Elrond, Elrohir

56 notes · View notes

dyrewrites · 3 months

Text

In Fog -- 8

Coiled in the back of a train car, the talk of any foolish enough to notice us, I had the monster’s complete attention. It did not look from me save to glare at those whispering of our closeness, of the way it draped itself over me.

It wanted me to know it, my love, and delighted in the teaching. Yet refused to answer what I wished to know; what it was, what it had done to you, why it needed your skin...why it could not die. Those questions were laughed away with the lilting song it had made of your voice.

“Oh, darling, no, no, no,” it would purr, fussing with my hair as it spoke in echoing whispers, “those answers you must earn.”

“Why the blood then,” the eyes bothered, my love, as they did when you and I dared hold hands. But this was no childhood gesture, your hand was holding far more than mine...and I confess my want of it. It claimed me as its own on that train, in front of so many, without a hint of fear. No restraint in anything but its answers. “Surely there is some other way to sustain yourself than death?”

“With you by my side I have fed on so much more than death,” lascivious, that was its tone, when not angered it dripped desire, sometimes even then.

“Then you need not kill?” My question was simple, I thought, understandable even.

But instead of answering it made a show of me, pulling ever closer, tickling my neck with your lips. The other passengers began gasping and murmuring, burning me inside and out, but it did not stop. Your hands danced along every inch of me, your lips locking to my own. It owned me, my love, and it wanted everyone in that car to know.

There would be no refusing its advances, no pushing it away. I could have, it would have allowed it…it did not need force. And aware then, completely, that you were not inside that shell I should have.

Oh, but to be desired so openly, so free, if only it were you that you might have felt it with me. We were never so fortunate, never would be.

They called security, one or more of the passengers ahead of us, beside. But when the men came, with their short sticks and shorter tempers, your sweet voice was all it took to dissuade them. One returned to the front car while the other was whispered to. Quiet, it was always quiet when it performed its tricks, so that I could not know what it played at. The guard moved the other passengers, complaints were barked at...they left their luggage, all of it.

Dumbfounded again, so often with that thing, I sat utterly baffled but it had not finished its game. It was not through with the guard.

It was hungry.

But it spared me the sight of its bite for one far worse. It took him on a bench toward the front in such a way that...my love were it, were it you it would have, it would have been right, made sense even. As it was I, I feel only shame in the retelling. It made me jealous. To see you wrap your arms around another’s neck, your lips so close, the flirtatious wink your eyes gave me before sinking into that bench.

It did it on purpose.

I know it did.

To inflame me, and it worked, of course it worked. Even the memory of it burns with anger, shame, jealous rage. I wanted to hurt him, the guard, for touching you...

But it was not you.

I, why, my love, why was it so difficult to hold that, to know that? Why did it slip so often, was it a trick, another of its games? Or me, am I so easy to sway, to fall for whatever holds your face even when all else is so glaringly wrong?

Questions for another time, perhaps...or questions with no answer.

My question was answered, in that feeding. Not fully, no, it preferred half-truths and riddles. But it made clear that it would continue to kill to feed, whether needed or not it left open.

I was grateful for the lack of other passengers when it finished. For what followed, always, smearing me in all it ate, as if it needed to share the life it suckled so ravenously. The act itself was not why I was grateful, however. I was grateful none were there to see me in the blood-soaked heat it shared. Jealousy made me crave its touch, not yours, my love. I never would have held you that way, pinned you as I did it. Nor would you have smiled, laughed, bid me hold you tighter, take you harder.

That was not our love...it was its.

I learned three things of any use on that train.

One; It killed to eat, requiring one, sometimes two people a day—adults, specifically, I never saw it feed on a child...but I could not say if it would.

Two; I belonged to it, whether by choice or trick, it owned me.

Three; I was changing...and I was unsure if I minded.

#writeblr #snippet #writing #maybe #we're calling it that till it breaks the limit #in fog #horror romance #tw: blood #tw: suggestive #i mean it's not overly descriptive about it #but there is definitely the sex happening #so be warned #novella #horror

6 notes · View notes

poptimus-prime · 8 months

Text

Something I wrote to stretch my writing muscle out today bc I’ve been job hunting and/or bedridden all August and I have a commission and a zine piece to finish. (This work is related to neither.)

Miko walked down the aisle of drinks with wide eyes, seemingly overwhelmed by her choices. Jack followed, mostly disinterested as he waited to pick up his usual drink–a Redbull–so it wouldn’t get warm while he waited for Miko to make her selection.

“I still don’t understand how you can drink those.” Stormy signed to him, their voice stuck in the back of their throat. “They kinda taste…bad to me.”

“Yeah, well, I like the way they taste.” Jack shrugged. “I have a refined palette.”

“If by refined you mean a hankering for battery acid.” Miko stuck her tongue out. She stole a sip of his drink at one point, and immediately regretted it. She paused and her eyes widened as a can caught her attention from her peripheral–a pink one. She immediately opened the fridge and reached for it. She tilted her head, having difficulty reading the writing at the bottom due to its font spacing. “I want this one. The…Strawberry Dreams Monster?”

“I’ve had that one. It’s pretty good.” Stormy summarized while they held an Ultra Watermelon under their arm, and Jack interpreted for Miko. The girl flapped her empty hand a little, excited to taste her new treasure. Stormy smiled at her antics before turning to Raf, who had tugged on their sweater sleeve while holding his selection. Stormy had to hand it to him that he knew exactly what he wanted every single time–lemonade flavored Bug Juice and a black bag of sour gummy worms. They were convinced that if 7/11 stopped selling either, he would simply wither away.

“Can I get these?” Raf asked quietly, and Stormy nodded. They had offered to pay for Raf and Miko, and he really wasn’t asking for much. They let him hold onto their sleeve, and he trailed along behind them as they continued to make their own selection. They were having difficulty making a choice, standing in the chip aisle with their free hand on their hip. Raf shyly waved at someone else who had just come into the gas station, immediately hiding his face in Stormy’s arm.

They turned to see Jack standing next to them as he picked up Takis–the ones in the wildest shade of blue Stormy had ever seen. Jack could take spice deceptively well; he was banned from using hot peppers while cooking for the Darby household because his spice tolerance was that much higher than the rest of the family.

Stormy sighed and took a bag of cheese Chex Mix. Eventually, Miko returned to them with her drink and a bag of sour candy straws Stormy swore this gas station stopped selling, but nevertheless they would buy for her. Now that they were all ready, Stormy proceeded to the checkout, allowing Jack to go first as he was paying for himself.

The gas station attendant, having seen these kids time and again, greeted them all with familiarity. By now, he knew enough about them, he thought. Jack was the one that tried way too hard to be cool and inevitably fumbled right at the end. He knew that Stormy didn’t talk (at least, never to him) and Raf would hide behind them; Miko, however, would gladly run her mouth to him without restraint. He didn’t regret it–she was the only other person in this backwater town who enjoyed Slash Monkey.

Once they exited the gas station, they walked to the park, occasionally pausing to look into shop windows and gawk at the items for sale inside. Miko asked constant questions, and the others answered them with ease. By the time they got to the park and began tearing into their haul, it was still light out, but cooler as the afternoon turned into the evening. In the corner of the park, far away from the street, was their favorite table under a tree. It was perfectly shaded at this time of day, and provided some peace for the four of them.

Of course, this doesn’t mean that their antics end.

“These chips are so spicy, Jack, what the fuck?” Miko whined, taking another sip of her drink to try to wash the heat out of her mouth. The boy offered her one, and just like the Redbull, she regretted partaking.

Jack just laughed quietly, his fingertips and mouth an unnatural shade of blue from his snack. He had to slam his fist against the park bench to let something out, and Miko responded by flicking the back of his head.

“Shut up, Jack.” She huffed.

“I didn’t say anything, dude!” Jack replied, and the two began their lighthearted squabbling. A near daily occurrence.

Stormy and Raf watched quietly from the other side of the table, the older giving the occasional piece of pretzel to the child. He munched on it, his gummy worms long gone. The sun was setting, and Bulkhead would be there soon to pick them up.

But it was an afternoon well spent.

#the oc tag #stormy #the butterfly au #TBQH I think all the kids should get to hang out more without the bots #I used to buy snacks at a corner store with my friends when we snuck off campus and loiter in drugstores #And we’d all just hang out in the lawns on campus

11 notes · View notes