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flower-cage · 2 months

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To Serve

by @flower-cage Ao3 | Masterlist Aemond Targaryen x Servant!Reader Summary: That morning, the crown Prince entered the young Queen's chambers and changed your life forever.

Words: 3,768

Warnings: explicit sexual content, dubious consent, power imbalance, humiliation kink, voyeurism.

A/N: Here's that random smut I was talking about (two weeks off-schedule rip). It is not as edited as my other pieces, thus much cruder, and I enjoyed not stressing over every single word on it. I just let the story guide my writing hand and had fun with it! I hope you enjoy it too! Minors, do not interact.

Your new role of serfdom started not unlike that of attending to the needs and whims of the Dragons. Up before dawn, you ensured that dresses were washed and perfumed, jewelry and shoes polished. In the late morrow, you served tea to the Queen and her mother. At luncheon, you would have taken the chance, in their absence, to clean and tidy their chambers, had it not been for your newest promotion.

That morning, while his sister and mother broke their fast, the crown Prince entered the young Queen’s chambers and changed your life forever.

He had always paid you close attention. In truth, only seldom were you ever in the presence of the one-eyed Prince, but whenever chance brought you together, you felt his lingering, insistent gaze on the hairs in the back of your neck. Always.

It did not take long for others to take notice of it, too. Often the maids would tease you for the interest you had awakened in the Prince known to be harsh and cold and cruel like a winter storm.

“You are fortunate he does not take after his brother’s depraved malversations,” you would often hear.

This was what the whole of Westeros knew of him back then, before the Dance.

That morning, you had twisted your hands in your apron, standing outside his door and garnering the strength to raise one of them to the wooden slabs.

“It is unlike my son to show interest in a lady,” the Dowager Queen had told you, clinking a silver teaspoon against fine porcelain, “or anyone at all, for that matter.”

Your guts knotted of their own accord. Your spine shuddered cold.

“I would like you to tend to his needs from now on,” she had announced easily, breaking apart a piece of crusty bread. “All of his needs.”

Now, you often wonder if she would have offered you so unashamedly if she had known he would mature into such an unscrupulous man. Or, you wonder most often, perhaps she had always known. Perhaps she had hoped he would satisfy his dormant savagery, then inhibited by a pretense of duty and propriety, if only she delivered him a feast before it fully wakened.

And feast he would, though his hunger would never be sated.

In the end, he would teach you everything you learned of this world of carnal indulgences.

That morning, he had risen leisurely from his seat of leather, strode to you lazily, smiled self-assuredly. You stood stoic, hands fidgeting and sweating behind your back, a half-step past his chambers’ door after courage and fear had finally coaxed you in.

He stalked toward you until his nose brushed yours faintly and your back rested against the cold wood. His eye roamed you freely, his masculine scent of leather and cedar crowded your senses, and your body shuddered beneath his desirous stance.

“I shall not take that which is not freely given,” his whisper tickled the shell of your ear, “and I shall not award what is not yet desired.”

His promise stretched on for days on end.

You tended to him much like you had his sister: tending to his chambers, washing his clothing, learning his habits. You served him wine at supper and tea in the morrow. You dressed him before Small Council meetings and bathed him after his daily practices.

Until you didn’t.

“Prince Aemond requests your services,” a familiar knight announces after rapping on the door.

You rise from where you have been sitting at your vanity table, combing your hair to a shine as is your Prince’s preference. You fix the sleeves on your dress, but it does not grant you any decency whatsoever, not when its translucent, iridescent silk ostensibly reveals the shape and shades of your bare body, not when the slit that travels up your right thigh cuts up to your hip bone.

Such are and have always been your Prince’s preferences.

“Where is your uniform?” he asked you sternly when you met him at the training grounds.

He took the cup of fresh water from the tray you carried, gulping down its contents to then wipe his face and short hair with the towel you brought him.

“M-my Prince?” you asked timidly, breathless at the abrupt inquiry and at the sweat that glistened his pale skin.

“The dresses I gifted you,” he pressed, displeased. “I thought I made myself clear - you are to wear them henceforth. You are to solely wear them.”

His sharp gaze was menacing, surely, but the disappointment was there, too, hidden in the glint of his blue eye to chastise and guilt you. Though mortified at the improper implications of his demands, the thought of disobeying him was what truly shook you to the core.

The White Cloak takes you to a set of heavy doors which he pushes open to reveal King Aegon II’s Small Council. He was once the depraved son of King Viserys I, but he is no longer the exclusive bearer of such a title.

Your Prince sits to the left of the King now, across from the Lord Hand, in a great position of power. The Dance had reshaped many things in the Realm, and he had been no exception.

He doesn’t cover his monstrous gash and sapphire stone like he used to when his mother was still alive. He hasn’t held many habits of propriety since. More scars cut across his milky skin, some even crawling from beneath his collar, and the long white mane he used to proudly maintain in honor of his heritage is kept short to enhance all of his additional, menacing features.

His body is that of a man, now: no longer slim and taut but large and burly from battle, and yet his most striking transformations had not been merely bodily.

You walk toward him surely but quietly, eyes fixed on him whilst he does not award you a single glance. He is engrossed in the scheming that does not halt at your entrance, but you know he wants you when you see his parted knees, when you see leather pulled tight over his stiff shaft.

His jaw is clenched tight and the fingers on his right hand fiddle around thin air, so you know to step silently between his parted legs and descend to your knees underneath the table. The rough fingers that do not worry over it snake around the back of your head to gently thread through your hair. He needn’t say nor command anything else.

You stroke him to full hardness, grazing your teeth against the base and running your nose along the shaft, to then unbutton him quietly.

He is as silky and warm as always against your tongue. He drags against your cheeks when you hollow them and his skin, taut around his swollen tip, pulls back and forth when you suck on it. You don’t recall when you first enjoyed his weight in your mouth this much.

You risk a glance at him. He pays you no mind, and his stoic façade gives away nothing, but his chest moves up and down rapidly and you know it means you’re being good. You suppress a whine at his modest appreciation.

He is impossibly handsome as he towers over you, gaze sharp and jaw tight as he ignores you. You want nothing more than his praise and attention, so you lick and please him slowly, lazily and patiently. He is busy, you remind yourself, and he will reward you when the time comes. He always does.

Between your thighs, your skimpy dress slickens with your arousal as it builds steadily to an insatiable ache. It has become second nature for your body to give in to him in this way, even when he has yet to touch you. He has trained you this way.

“Have you kept it wet for your Prince?” he whispers against your neck each time he comes back to his quarters in the early evening.

The question is often accompanied by a slithering hand, like a snake that seeks warmth, it buries itself in your cunt to confirm it is to his standards. He hums in satisfaction each time.

“When in my presence,” he had told you once, depositing you in an armchair across his desk, “I want to marvel at my cunt freely,” he explained as he hooked your knees over the armrests and bunched your skirts around your waist.

And you awakened breathless, hours later, with his tongue licking inside you and his nose on your pearl of pleasure.

You had stood no chance. To you, he is intrinsically bound to that feeling that crawls under your skin, that under his touch erupts in elation.

Now, you are wide awake and it is you who tastes him eagerly.

When he begins to drip, hot and salted, your fingers grip his thighs harder as your own quiver in a need you haven't been able to control in a long time. You look at him again. His cheeks are hollowed, jaw locked shut, eyes slitted in fury.

The lords in the Small Council haven’t halted their discussion despite your interruption and it is clear what they discuss displeases your Prince greatly. If not, he might have not summoned you.

This is not the first time the Prince has had you in their presence, it is not the first time he has had you in the presence of others at all. If it had been, perhaps you would have been capable of greater shame.

When he took you in and you proceeded to tend to him exclusively, little of your customary routine changed. But when his demands started to reflect his true intentions, his true desires, it couldn’t be said you were a simple maid of the palace.

That first time, you had been brushing your hair at your vanity, as you often now did, and applying to your skin the feminine oils your Prince preferred. In an immodest lavender dress of his choosing and delicate jewelry he appreciated, you tended to yourself as he demanded.

The doors to his sleeping chambers push open to allow a small entourage of maids to set his breakfast - your breakfast. Your jerk reaction is to look away from them, the people who had once been your colleagues, and hide your healthy, pampered face.

Your eyes land on his lavish, sunny balcony where he leans against the railing directly across from you. He loves to watch his beast terrorize the city below with her sky-bound rounds first thing in the morrow. But he watches her no longer.

He shines brightly and god-like under the sun; his messy short hair glows a halo above him, and the sapphire lodged on the left side of his face glints to highlight the cut of his scar like thunder. Despite the warmth of the morning shine, he is cold, white-cold, with his silver hair and porcelain skin, his milky chemise that reveals his milky chest, and his silky pants that bulk to reveal his salacious musings.

Your breathing quickens as you take him in fully, in all his terrifying, improper glory. Your hand holds your brush halfway through its path and your lips hang parted as he holds your gaze intently, as you watch him with a hunger that escapes your agency.

When he pushes off the stone ledge, you let your brush hit the floor. Such is the effect he has on you, such is the extent of his influence.

He drops to frame you within his arms, leveraging against the cushioned seat of your vanity desk, to take your lips in sloppy teasing, giving you just enough of a taste that something within you quivers wantonly.

Behind you, the porcelains and silvers continue to clink against the wood, chairs scrape across the stone, and heavy cloth slaps in the still air.

“What’s this, then?” he whispers and deprives you of his tongue too quickly. You grasp onto his strong arms to center yourself, breathing heavily against him.

Fingers run up your inner thigh and you shiver violently, desiring him violently.

“Are you ashamed of serving your Prince?” he grins maliciously.

“O-of course not my-” you choke on a gasp when he brings his hot lips to your neck, sucking on the spots that have you dripping under your skimpy gown.

He takes your left knee and hooks it around his hip, pulling you flush against him as he presses you down on the long chaise. A yelp escapes you when you feel his hot girth against your cunt.

“Or are you ashamed of how thoroughly you enjoy it?” he grunts against your lips, thrusting his clothed bulge against you. You bite your lips closed painfully as you are painfully aware of the people behind you.

“I didn’t say you could leave,” he barks, glancing upward to your utmost horror. You hear the servants scurry behind you, imagining their bowed heads and embarrassed looks. Your own embarrassment grows until tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

“Not until she comes,” he adds, looking at you, grinning widely, while he snakes a hand between your legs and burrows his fingers deep inside in a swift stroke.

You burn in shame when your eyes roll to the back of your head and a long whine is forced out of your lips.

“It won’t be long now,” he continues, watching your tears spill, fucking your cunt fast, “she is wet and swollen already.”

Indeed, the noises coming from between your legs are excessively obscene. And he is right, he knows your cunt - his cunt - too well.

When he plugs you with his thick girth, you whine and moan in complete abandon. And when he plows you fast enough to make the chaise scrape against the floors, you scream and beg for him before soaking his cock in your unlimited ecstasy.

The first time he’s ever had you in the presence of others was long ago.

Now, you know that when his fingers tighten on your nape you are to release his hard cock quickly. You know to mount it instead.

You make quick, silent work of it not to disturb him and the processes of the court that still unravel behind you. You straddle his thighs, tuck your toes behind his knees, grip his leather vest tightly, and hide your face in the crook of his neck. The hand that had been in your hair now rests on your hip, thumb hooked under the scandalous slit of your dress to bury in the crease where your thigh meets your hip.

You count the time that passes in the drops of sweat that roll down your temple, in shaky breaths you rein against his skin, in the thrums of your blood.

Your cunt, dripping and dripping, quivers weakly around him. Though you refrain from moving and driving yourself to your insanity, it throbs on his shaft as you feel the mere ghost of his touch on your most pleasurable spot.

Your body aches with the effort of keeping composure, keeping quiet, keeping from breaking. And every time your Prince has input on the session that stretches on, his chest rumbles and you must refrain from mewling in satisfaction.

It is not until your mind is hazy with exhaustion and your eyes spill tears of agony that the heavy chairs start to scrape against the stone floors, one by one. Your heartbeats pick up their rhythm from where they had rested in patience.

And when footsteps follow, he pulls your face from hiding by the sweaty hairs on the back of your neck.

A small yet immensely condescending smile plays on his sculpted lips. It makes you aware of your humiliating conditions: a servant, chosen to fulfill the pleasures of her liege Prince, at the brink of insanity from entertaining her own pleasures instead.

You are lost in his mismatched blue eyes, so much so that you are caught off guard when he starts shoving your hips back and forth to grind on his cock. Instantly, it drags a long gasp from you, crosses your eyes, waters your mouth.

“Hm?” he questions patronizingly, looking down with a raised eyebrow that mocks your lustful reaction.

His ministrations are excruciating, his cockhead bullying hard and unforgiving on your most pleasurable spot. In this way, you are violently driven to ecstasy, just shy of peaking with the same intensity, when he halts all movement without warning.

But you are given time to neither cry nor beg for his mercy, for he hugs you tight to his chest, angles your hips up and away from his cock, and thrusts.

You gasp painfully against his leather-covered pecs when he does, and he soon pulls your head back by your hair to place your chin against it instead.

Through your pleasure-hazed eyes, you see his mirth and his composure. And it is always this way: regardless of how eagerly he takes you, no matter how passionately he desires you, you are always the one debauched and he is always the one untarnished, always viciously becoming of his royal status.

“Go on then,” he murmurs when he watches your tears roll the sides of your face, your lips parted in unbearable pleasure. “Go on and cream on it.”

Because his growl electrifies you from within, because you’ve learned to be promptly obedient, because you cannot help it, you do as he commands.

Your cunt contracts so tightly, for a second his cock gets trapped mid-thrust before he repeatedly shoves himself inside you to forcefully ride the surges of your orgasm. Your loose chin bumps against his chest, leaving sloppy trails behind, and your breasts spill, little by little, from the flimsy restraint of the fabric that skates down between your bodies.

He loves to debase you in this way.

He doesn’t stop, and you are unable to determine when your first orgasm ends and the second starts to mount.

But he can.

He hisses when he feels it - your cunt throbbing again, dripping relentlessly - and bares his sharp teeth in a sneer, watching your glimmering, dopey eyes.

His grip on your hip strengthens, the arm that loops around your back to grasp your hair tenses, and he rises to his feet only to drop you unceremoniously onto the stone surface behind you.

“Gods,” he growls, slows his ministrations, and you savor every excessive inch of his, so evident now your cunt is hot and swollen from the long wait, from the incessant grinding. “I would keep you on my cock from sunrise to nightfall.”

He holds onto your hips, forcing them down against the table so that you don’t slide away from his calculated, powerful pushes, and watches his shaft disappear within you attentively.

“I would keep you on it,” he licks his lips, “at tea with my sister,” he meets your eyes again, after appreciating the uncoordinated bouncing of your breasts.

“On my morning flights,” he continues, lowering himself to hover above you, a hand pressed next to your head. “And I would carry you, and display you on my hard cock, all over this castle.”

He picks up his brutish pace again and you gasp and whine unabashedly, and new tears spill from your unfocused eyes, and your bottom lip quivers. Such is the effect of his praise.

“What’s that now, huh?” he coos, forcing a little sob from you, but you are unable to communicate. Instead, you part your lips and plead with big, wet eyes.

He lets go of your hip to support himself fully on his forearms, hovering a bit closer now. You can feel his warmth, now, you can scent his luscious exertion.

His nose brushes lightly against your own, just beyond reach, and you can’t avoid bending your back, tilting your chin, or your tongue poking out between your teeth, desperate for a taste.

His eye darkens significantly and he tuts in feigned disappointment.

“Needy little thing,” he murmurs, only to plunge his soft tongue right where you yearned for it.

His kisses are supple and sloppy and not enough to sate you. When he pulls away and you whine in agony, he lets his drool slide down his tongue and onto yours. And the debauchery of the act drives pathetic moans from your lips and desperate rolls of your hips.

Above you, your Prince moans and hisses, then plunges himself against your sweetest spot with renewed, unstoppable vigor. And yet again you cry pathetically, eyes crossing and mouth hanging open, tits flying and slapping, cunt gushing and thrumming.

“I fucking love it when you get like this,” your Prince grunts viciously behind gritted teeth, shoving his girthy length in and out without mercy for your sanity.

“Wet,” his hand lowers to grope your plump bottom, “hot,” he forces you against his unforgiving plows, “utterly dimwitted for your Prince’s cock.”

He loves to debase you in this way, and the response you manage is a string of blabbering, dimwitted pleas.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he grunts again, panting above you as his crazed movements and your lascivious reactions burn his muscular body, “I’d think you’re falling in love with it.”

“Oh, I am!” you yelp, long and loud, mind entirely lost in the bliss he fucks into you. “I love it… I love my Prince’s cock,” you whimper timidly against his lips and he angles his cock to bully that spongy, swollen button of yours.

“Yeeess,” you moan again. “There, there,” you beg with your cries and beseeching eyes.

You come on a scream that reverberates through the tall, stony walls of the Small Council room. And though your walls contract viciously, your Prince pushes through them determinedly, driving you to an immediate third peak that absolutely floods your cunt before he even dumps his hot seed inside you.

You come on his cock long and hard, and you come still when he too finishes. And when he drops his weight onto you, finally, and his head thumps against the table next to yours, your cunt still flutters from the sensorial memory of the onslaught it endured.

Your skin is impossibly hot and sweaty, and your body impossibly exhausted.

And yet.

“Tonight,” your Prince starts after long moments of silence, raising his head only to meet your eyes, “we will hold a private audience for the King.”

Your body shivers cold, your eyes bulge out, but your cunt contracts around him meekly.

He watches you closely, with his eye delighted and a wide grin, malicious.

“I want you just like this,” he warns, taking your jaw in a firm grasp, “on your best behavior.”

He loves to debase you, and you love to serve him.

#hotd fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fanfic #aemond x you #aemond x servant reader #hotd smut #lol not me posting another one at 3am on a sunday #work is going to suck tomorrow i guess

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pachimation · 1 year

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an 8 page comic about childe visiting scaramouche after the sumeru archon quest

#genshin impact #chiscara #scarachilde #childe #tartaglia #scaramouche #comic #my art #totally forgot to post this on here lol #lololol this took way longer than i expected haha like i thought i could have it done before the friday stream but obviously not :/#idk what kind of demon possesed me and told me to hand letter this shit though my handwriting sucks #im so sad tho i was planning on writing chscr smut fics over thanksgiving break but i ended up working on this the whole time lmao

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eldritch-thrumming · 1 year

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i made this silly little post and then just did the thing myself :)

“I would say that Steve is… relatively smart. For a human.”

“Hey!” comes an irritated yell from the other room.

Robin turns to face the doorway, turning away from the camera. “Zip it, human! I’m doing my interviews. I have important things to say. People are very interested.” She turns back toward the camera again, a smile plastered to her face. “Now, what was I saying? Oh right, Steve. He’s… passably intelligent. I mean, he’s no Einstein, that’s for sure. That guy could party.” She laughs.

“Okay, and how long has Steve, uh, been with you guys?” Dustin asks from behind the camera.

“Um, maybe a year, I think?”

“I’ve been Eddie’s familiar for ten years,” Steve grumbles as he comes into the room with a cup of tea, which he holds out for Robin to take. He turns to Dustin and the camera. “It’s really just a matter of time before he turns me.” He rocks back on his heels. “He said literally any day now.”

Robin smiles placidly, nodding at him until he leaves the room.

“Between you and me,” she stage whispers to Dustin, “Eddie is never turning him.”

“Could you explain what a familiar is?” Dustin asks.

“Well… usually a familiar takes care of you, you know, does the cleaning, shopping, finds you victims.”

“Victims?” Will, another one of the producers, asks. He looks a little anxiously toward Lucas, the camera guy, who does his best to ignore it.

“Yeah, like. Food. You know.” Robin takes a sip from her teacup, waving her free hand in some vague gesture. “Nancy and I are partial to virgins.”

“Uh, right. Better watch out, Dustin,” Lucas laughs a little nervously, nudging Dustin with his elbow.

Dustin scowls, but before he can respond, Robin says, “Don’t worry. Nancy’s forbidden us from eating any of you.” She smiles again, like that’s supposed to make them feel any better.

~*~

“Okay, Steve, can you tell us a little bit about yourself?” Dustin asks Steve, who’s fidgeting on the couch.

Steve pulls at his collar as he answers. “Uh, sure. I used to be a kindergarten teacher. I actually really loved it? But then I met Eddie at a bar. Thought he was, uh, pulling my leg, you know, about the whole…” Steve rubs his palms on his thighs. “Vampire thing? Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Yeah, being a vampire. Sure,” Dustin responds.

“Right. Thought he was joking. Thought it was a line, you know. So I… this is kind of embarrassing.” Steve scratches at his cheek. “Well, I went home with him, y’know. You’ve seen him.” He laughs a little nervously. “Anyway, I found out that he actually was not lying, much to my… absolute horror really.”

“And… what made you stay?” Will asks.

“I dunno,” Steve shrugs his shoulders, eyes darting to the side of the camera, like he doesn’t really want to answer the question. “It’s an interesting prospect, isn’t it? Living forever? Being immortal?” He shrugs again.

“So,” Dustin starts, drawing out the ‘o’ sound. “Are you guys, like… more than friends?” Lucas visibly cringes at the phrasing.

Steve laughs, bright and surprised. “Uh, no. No. Just, uh. I’m just his familiar.”

“But you’ve been here ten years?“ The way the question comes out of Will’s mouth makes it sound like he hadn’t really meant to ask it. Dustin cuts him a look, scowling again.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, looking down at his lap. “Yeah, I have.”

~*~

“Tell us about how you became a vampire,” Dustin says.

Eddie, who’s sitting on the couch in front of the camera, scratches at his neck, just under the collar of his shirt. “Hmm. I was turned in the 80s. Can’t really remember most of it. Was at some concert and some guy offered me some coke or something in the back of his van. Next thing I knew, I was waking up in a field feeling like shit. Thought I’d had a bad trip.” Eddie laughs.

“And have you ever turned anyone?” Will asks.

“No,” Eddie tells them, frowning slightly. “Don’t think I’d even know how.”

“But—“ Will starts, but Lucas digs his elbow into his ribs, cutting off his question.

“What about Steve?” Dustin asks instead.

“What about him?”

“He said he’s been with you ten years. That you’ve promised to turn him any day now.”

Eddie smiles, boyish and sweet. “Well. I say a lot of things. And look at him. Who’d give that up?”

Will and Dustin look at each other. “What do you mean?” It’s Lucas who asks this time.

“A pretty little human who does anything I say based on the abstract promise that I might one day make him a vampire?” Eddie grins.

Next to Dustin, Will lets out a long exhale.

#I tried to put a read more on this on mobile but I’m still so confused I’m really sorry!!!! i really tried but it didn’t work in my drafts #I’m sorry :( :( :( I will try again next time I know this sucks I’m scared to post bc I can’t do dumb basic shit on this stupid fucking app #bc I’m so fuckin dumb I’m sorry #steddie #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #steddie blurb #what we do in the shadows Steddie au lolololol #i didn’t know what else to say so it ends at the most awkward place ever but will wants Justice for Steve looololl #I’m not really funny enough to pull off this au but I tried lol #wwdits steddie au

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tcfactory · 10 days

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This is fully a personal preference thing honestly, but I've been turning it around in my brain why I don't like BingQiu specifically when I'm at worst neutral on almost literally any other ship and I think it boils down to this: it's really important to me that in a ship that's supposed to be lasting and stable at least one character can say "I see you for what you are and I accept you for all there is to you". And that's just not a thing with BingQiu.

Binghe literally can't know a huge part of Shen Qingqiu - the part that is Shen Yuan, the part that wears the scum villain as a mask that it can never even take off completely - because of the transmigration and the System. He also idolizes his Shizun and at the same time puts on mask after mask so that he can be Shen Qingqiu's lovely white lotus which also don't help.

And Shen Qingqiu's head is full of so many bees, so much denial and self-delusion that we watched him actively think himself in circles rather than admit that Binghe might be interested in him for three whole books. I don't trust him to have a reasonably realistic idea of himself, much less of someone else. Especially not Binghe. He will make up a picture in his mind about how things are supposed to be and it has to be an act of divine intervention for him to budge from it. He will deny reality if he has to, so he's incapable of seeing Binghe as anything other than the Perfect Protagonist.

I don't often see Binghe shipped with others (he's so singularly No Thoughts Head Empty Only Shizun that it's hard to put him with anyone else. Shen Jiu sometimes I guess, but he is shipped more with Bingge which feels like a distinctly separate thing to me and anyway, it's usually predicated upon the realization that they are both similar kinds of monsters, even if Bingge outdoes his scum villain by several orders of magnitude) but Shen Yuan has a few choice ships that either challenge his expectations enough that his denial and delusion breaks down eventually (Liu Qingge, Shen Jiu, etc.) or ship him with Airplane who knows him for what he is because he's also a transmigrator and he's familiar with Cucumber bro's acerbic inner self.

Other ships too. QiJiu/LiuJiu/QiJiuLiu any variations of these three tbh thrive on clearing up their misunderstanding and starting to see each other clearly again. MoShang get together once they start to properly pay attention to each other and their respective needs. Airplane in general has just an impossible understanding of whoever he's shipped with as only Author and his creations can have. Tianlang-jun's weird charm comes from it that he can't (or possibly refuses to) pretend to be anything than who and what he is beyond the most superficial disguise.

And BingQiu just doesn't have that. They are both too obsessed with an idealized version of each other to ever see things clearly and that's what makes their dynamic not very fun to me personally.

#svsss #like don't get me wrong #i enjoyed the novel a lot. it's a fun time and I don't mind the ship in that stage #their post canon dynamic is just not something I find fun and that's 200% a question of personal taste #if you love bingqiu I hope you have a great time and find only the best fic and art of your blorbos #it's not for me and that's fine #i guess if I wanted to make it work it would be Shen Yuan getting yeeted back into his own time #and Binghe coming after his husband #but losing the Protagonist Halo so he can. you know. suck in a lot of ways that the universe didn't let him before #and together they can work on bettering themselves and each other #but I would need to get in either of their heads to write it and no thank you. both of their heads are like full of bees or something #i would not have a good time #shut up tc

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presidentbungus · 9 months

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in a similar vein to my last post i very much think demo’d be so good with kids. i don’t know if he’d be a good dad necessarily with all that emotional baggage and undoubtedly enough generational trauma to permanently ruin a toddler within seconds but he’d be a great uncle, godfather, weird neighbor, etc.

consider with me here. uncle tavish with the eyepatch and the peg-leg. he looks scary but he tells great stories about wizards and wars and explosions and he leaves in all the gory bits. he’ll show you how to make a pretty good firework out of the cleaning stuff your mum’s got lying around the house as long as you won’t tell on him. he’ll help you pull pranks on your adult relatives and he’ll take the blame for them. he’ll let you sip on his beer and scrumpy if you swear up and down you’re grown-up enough and when you hiss and stick your tongue out at the alcohol he’ll tell you that means you’re probably more mature than him. he doesn’t seem that rich but he’ll buy you a dirtbike or a pony or a whole set of expensive action figures for your birthday and he won’t even act like it’s a big deal. there’s something so simply enjoyable to him about kids (kids that aren’t his), so kicking with wonder and fierce excitement about the world, and he does whatever he can to give them what he never got—the push to run around and discover and do what they want, and to spit and curse and play-swordfight in the backyard and everything else all the adults in his life never really let him do. really, under it all, at the end of the day he’s got the big dumb heart of an absolute bloody sap and he knows it, and it’s almost relieving to know he’s still got it after all these years. you know? it works out

#i can’t spoil too much of the postcanon fic i’m working on but i think a bunch of the mercs #left with basically no surviving family and very few connections #take up and move after scout who still has his whole huge family and go back to boston #demo comes with. i think it doesn’t take long for him to get just about as close with scout’s family as scout is #and of course they get frequent visits. engie comes up from texas every few weekends.#heavy and medic for a week out of every month with their own gaggle of children and siblings #soldier comes down from wherever he’s chosen to station himself in the midwest every so often #and one time he comes down and just. never goes back up. around the same time him and demo start sucking face in public #there’s so many plans. i have so many plans. you guys are not ready #sorry for writing basically a whole other post in the tags that was not my intention. probably #tf2 demoman #tf2 #bungus headcanons

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wikiangela · 7 months

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seven sentence sunday

tagged by @giddyupbuck @daffi-990 💖💖

finally made some progress on the phone sex fic so here's just a lil bit of it haha (under the cut bc im still so unsure about this one jfc)

prev snippet

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“Shit, Eddie, feels so-” a moan breaks out of him, then a frustrated groan. “My dick is fucking leaking.” he says, which is followed by another picture, a little blurry and angled weird, Buck already lost in pleasure and with only one hand available. It shows Buck’s pointer finger all the way inside himself, but the focus this time is on his dick and his stomach. Eddie swears he can see that dick throb through the picture, so hard and veiny and angry red. It rests on Buck’s stomach, painting it with pre-come, that generously leaks out. Eddie’s mouth salivates.

“I really wanna lick it all off and taste you.” he moans, eyes not leaving the picture. “Bet you taste fucking amazing.” he says, as quietly as he can muster, but it’s taking everything in him not to just scream in pleasure. Or to get in his car and drive to Buck right away. Unfortunately, he can’t – so he does the next best thing and takes a picture as well, hand wrapped around his cock, thumb circling the slit and gathering the wetness there.

“Eddie.” Buck’s tone is pleading, begging.

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no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gayarthur @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @jesuisici33 @diazblunt @911onabc @eddiediaztho @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @fortheloveofbuddie @lover-of-mine @gayhoediaz @callaplums @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @hoodie-buck @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @forthewolves @honestlydarkprincess @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @disasterbuckdiaz @eowon @theotherbuckley

#seven sentence sunday #buddie phone sex smut #listen I have no idea what I'm doing with this one #i feel so unsure about this like i haven't in a long time and i think it must be fall bc i always feel just so awful in autumn #i wasn't even sure about posting this snippet ngl lol #miiiight be trying to do something with buck's praise kink bc dialogue-focused fic seems like perfect opportunity but idk if its working lo #the amount of research i did is crazy but aahhhh idk anything lmao #so my question is: who can I spam in the dms with snippets so you can tell me if it sucks or not lmao #buddie wip #buddie fic #buddie #wikiangela writes #my writing #fic snippet #my wips #buddie smut #smut

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aceghosts · 2 months

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WIP Music Monday

Hey everybody!!! I was tagged by @cloudofbutterflies92, @voidika, and @simplegenius042 to share the music that has been inspiring my wips. Thank you for tagging me!

Tagging (Opt In/Out): @bbrocklesnar, @marivenah, @alexxmason, @captmactavish, @amalkavian, @carlosoliveiraa, @clicheantagonist, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @nightbloodbix, @theelderhazelnut, @direwombat, @captastra, @cassietrn, @strangefable, @katsigian, @inafieldofdaisies, @onehornedbeast and anyone else who wants to do this!

Too Close/Too Late is the one song I have on repeat while working on Rooney's first real conversation with Yorinobu and the fic about their family in their CP2077 universe. It's also one of the songs I've started to closely associate with Rooney, appearing on both their character and ship playlist. To me, this songs represents the dilemma that Rooney faces after their death and subsequent revival. Can you go back to who you used to be? Can you be that same person? Or are you now someone else? And if you keep trying to go back, keep dwelling on the past, are you doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over? (Also sorry, I'm just gonna post the whole song lyrics since they fit.)

I feel alive again Started with the fear of falling Into an hourglass Voices in the void are calling Wrap me in your arms Waterfalls, endless as they drag me down into the dark Of it all, can your heaven help me? Is this the end or is this the beginning? There are stranger things I've learned on the outside Separated by an open door I find it hard to reach the end of my timeline Salivating 'cause I wanted more Is this the end or is this the beginning? Am I allowed again To call out what I need to hear? To be a conduit Conditioned by the fear of fear? Wrap me in your arms (Waterfalls, endless as they drag me) Down into the dark (Of it all, can your heaven help me?) Is this what you want me to be? Perfect and clean Float on a temporary Empire built in a day To throw it away And now I can tell you, there are Stranger things I've learned on the outside Separated by an open door I find it hard to reach the end of my timeline Salivating 'cause I wanted more Is this the end or is this the beginning? I know where I wanna go But it's too close And it's too late this time I know where I wanna go But it's too close And it's too late this time There are stranger things I've learned on the outside Separated by an open door I find it hard to reach the end of my timeline Salivating 'cause I wanted more Is this the end or is this the beginning? Ooh-ooh, is this the end or is this the beginning? Ooh-ooh, is this the end or is this the beginning?

While I've been taking a break from the heavier stuff, I've also been working on some oneshots for Rooney and Yorinobu. This one takes place a few weeks after Rooney and Yorinobu meet each other again, and they've taken the relic case to protect V. Despite the distance between the two, Rooney and Yorinobu still deeply care for each other and this oneshot is a reflection of that.

Your soul is the fuel to my insanity There's no one who can do what you do to me 'Cause you'll be by my side when they turn of the lights And a thousand eyes close and call it a night Our lives burn bright Before your eyes Our lives burn bright Before your eyes When the winds bring me along From the place that I call home I want you to know, wherever I go I'll be forever yours When the lights begin to fade You will always keep me awake I want you to know, wherever I go I'll be forever yours

Again, another song related to a oneshot of a spicier nature. This is more of a vibe-based pick, but I think the following lyrics feel apt:

We feel so good, it's almost frightening Let's try again I don't deserve you, you're a diamond Meet me there where it never closes Meet me there where it's never hopeless All is fair in love, oh-oh-oh-oh Honey, are you coming?

#wip music monday #the rooney fic tag #I won't let fear compromise who I am #Commander Rooney Shepard #OTP: It always comes right back to you #long post #I hope to have some wip snippets on Friday #I have to be in a work conference for the next three days and it SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!#at least I'm off friday

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crybaby-bkg · 1 year

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I went to a wedding like a month ago and started a wip about a wedding meet cute with Bakugou that was supposed to be like 2-3k words but never finished it and I’m so mad bc it should be easy but school was so hard and UGH

but!!!!! it made me think about being friends with benefits with Bakugou and having just finished sleeping with him, rolling off of his chest as you both lay beside each other trying to catch your breaths. and you ask him if he’d like to go to to your friends wedding with you next weekend? that he doesn’t have to come, but you’d like to have some arm candy with you?

and at first, he doesn’t answer. gets kind of fidgety, scratches at his chest, murmurs under his breath that he’s not sure, he might have a shift, he’ll have to check later. and how can you not take that as a rejection? as a show of only being good enough for private time spent together, but unable to be seen together, publicly, as his date?

so you gather your things, quickly and embarrassed, stutter out that you were just joking, just fucking around and playing. you’re scurrying out of his apartment before he can stop you despite his pleading to hear him out.

and do you ignore him the entire weekend of the wedding? how couldn’t you, when you show up, dateless, with the memory of only being filled sexually but never emotionally? and does Bakugou regret it the entire time? how couldn’t he, when he was only tongue tied and nervous because he couldn’t believe the person he’s been in love with for months wanted to do more than just lie underneath him?

#is this angst?#possibly……#I’m so frikin sleepy I can’t this took me like half an hour to write bc I kept closing my eyes #I also feel poopy bc I think I have ANOTHER fucking ear infection UGH!!!!!!!#everything sucks #anyway I’m gonna finish that damn wedding meet cute if it’s the last thing I do #I’ve been thinking about posting long fics on here and like making banners n stuff for it #but for EVERY fic???? omg that’s so much work #okay bye I wanna read a little before I crash #—new treat in the streets! 🍫#bakugou treats! 🍬

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stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 8 days

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k, m, n, t for pd and/or suck!!! >:33333

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

-> you know i gotta say wiwi. i have to. that character was Made For Me i swear to GOD . genuinely i cannot think about prime defenders season 2 episode 39 without feeling physically sick bc i love it so much. its the only one i havent relistened to since i heard it the first time. i KNOW its gonna make me cry again so i genuienly have not touched it even though theres things in there i need to hear again for character research. his arc is so like. narratively satisfying in a way that hits me so fucking deep to my core in an extremely personal way. and like. there were definitely some Decisions that i was REALLY ANNOYING about hating when they were brought up because im used to media with bad storytelling/creators that do not care about their characters but. looking back on it i would not change a single thing about it. i love you wiwi so much.

-> FOR SUCK.... its not over yet. so i cannot definitively say. campaign finale comes out tomorrow so my answer may change depending on that but for right now i think i gotta say arthur. i joke a lot about hating arthur for no real reason in particular but. man his story is just REALLY good. not going 2 give you suck spoilers (hehe) but i also really like how shilo has grown through the campaign. hes my little guy :]

M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend.

-> TIDE. TIDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TIDE TIDE TIDE I LOVE TIDE SO MUCH. thats my dad thats my best friend i love tide so much dude. every time he is mentioned or on screen i am just like :D HI TIDE I LOVE YOU TIDE

-> grefgore :] light of my life this is how i feel anytime i think about grefgore

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

-> CHARACTER STUDIES. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. I LIKE A GOOD SHIPPING FIC AS MUCH AS THE NEXT GUY BUT PLEASE GOD WRITE THEM IN CHARACTER. EXPLORE THEIR THOUGHTS AND EMOTIONS AND WHY THEY MAKE CERTAIN DECISIONS THE WAY THEY DO. this doesnt even go for just pd and suck this is like. true for every single fandom ive ever fucking been in. do you know how hard it is to find character studies in the danny phantom tag on ao3. nobody has even fucking watched the show how are they going to write character studies they just want (<< i cannot legally finish this sentence without getting in so much trouble) I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING MY FUCKING SELF AROUND HERE. ALL I EVER WRITE ARE CHARACTER STUDIES BC THATS THE WAY I THINK ABOUT CHARACTERS. I LOVE THEIR MOTIVATIONS I LOVE TO GET INSIDE THEIR BRAINS LIKE A LITTLE PARASITE AND IT IS ALWAYS SURPRISING TO ME WHEN OTHER PEOPLE DO NOT THINK LIKE THIS. (edit im just now reading through this and realized the question says three things. i did not process that. my three things are all more character studies please)

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

-> oh dude i have so many hmmmmmmm how to choose just one. i have a LOT of feelings about wiwis original death and i might write something about that when i can get over my shrimp emotions about him. dakota cole audhd truther but that ones pretty much canon anyway so i dont think it counts. vyncent and his relationship with growing up in fantasy world and then being thrown into prime and how he adjusted to that. I think he really lies shitty syfy channel type horror movies that are so stupidly bad. and also plays a lot of video games but again i think thats mostly canon already. i think tide listens to dad rock but also like. ocean man by ween. you already know about my william and ashe being each others emotional support at concerts. i think william and ashe should hang out and do emo kid things more. i also have a lot of feelings about ashe and coping with the crippling loneliness of basically growing up alone and how the pd becoming like INSTANT best friends was so much for him in sooo many ways. you already know how i feel about mark i am in the middle of dissecting him like im in a high school biology class as we speak. uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i know im gonna think of something really good after i hit the post button so stay tuned

#ive written like. maybe 2 shipping fics in recent years and one was while i was high on post-wisdom-teeth-surgery drugs #and the other has been in my wips for over a year bc i got to the quote unquote romantic part and ran out of all ideas #<< ive started working on this one again and instead of making them kiss i just went on for like . 4 more paragrapsh #about how the robot character finds it inconvenient to be in a body that visibly emotes. so that explains a lot i guess #the murderbot influence has hit me apparently #I DONT REALLY HAVE MANY SUCK HEADCANONS. as much as i loooove the suckening it doesnt like. grip me quite as hard as #pd and riptide do.#same with bitb! i fucking looooove bitb and i think about it so much but i dont necessarily have hcs for it because i like.#prefer the way canon is??? if that makes sense????#I DO HOWEVER love to say the phrase “arthur bennett is a beautiful name for a butch lesbian” only bc i saw a piece of fanart with #that as the caption after like. epsiode 3. and it got stuck in my mind #oh also idk if ur here yet but arthur and deacon are also divorced father toxic exes in my mind. they totally fuck in a vampire style #(<< which is . ALSO a quote from a piece of fnaart that got stuck in my mind so fucking hard. they totally fuck in a vampire style.#i hate it here)#GODDD THANK U FOR LETTING ME RAMBLE. CAN YOU TELL IM NORMAL ABOUT THIS #asks #intertexts #friends!!!

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