#dark readers only | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hencheri · 3 months ago

Text

▸ 18+ mdni.

| pairing. bf!anton x fem!reader

| warnings. noncon, misogyny, physical abuse, toxic relationship, loss of virginity, anton is really really mean legit overly mean im sorry.

based on this request. sorry for the long wait </3

seeing you laugh with that man, someone he doesn’t know and he’s never seen before, anton feels his stomach tying into knots. it hurts as he swallows, the lump in his throat refusing to go away. he watches from afar, his eyes following each one of your movements; your hand curling around his arm, fingers lingering too long for this conversation to be considered friendly. that’s not a friend, anton tells himself.

the words of his friends replay in his head. he wants to forget about them, ignore how brutal they sounded, how it made him question everything about you. he can’t help but wonder if eunseok wasn’t right, if the reason why you refuse to let him touch you is because you’re sleeping with someone else.

as he sees you so close to that guy with this pretty smile on your face he loves so much, the accusation of your infidelity only echoes louder in his head. he remembers wonbin’s mocking grin, agreeing with eunseok and adding salt to the wound by painting the horrible picture of you having sex with another man in anton’s head.

he told them to go fuck themselves before storming off and leaving eunseok’s apartment. he walked back home thinking his friends were just assholes, and it’s not so far from the thruth, but maybe they figured out what anton couldn’t.

he stays hidden until the guy leaves and he waits for you to get inside. when he pushes the door to your apartment open, you’re sitting at the dining table, slipping your shoes off, that same smile you offered to that stranger on your lips as you greet him.

anton only hums, quickly removing his jacket and getting his sneakers off as well. he’s silent, looking a little grumpy, glancing everywhere but at you. he walks into the kitchen that’s open to the dining table and you rise up from your seat, a frown on your face.

“you came back early,” you say, your voice soft as always, making it harder for anton to believe you could do such things to him. “it didn’t go well with the boys?” you ask and it bugs him how you read him so well.

he shrugs, “it’s whatever.”

“i’m sorry,” you pout, looking at anton with big eyes.

then the room falls silent.

his eyes land on you and you just look so sweet and small, like touching you would break you. you’re his, you’re his girlfriend. he can’t bring himself to imagine you with anyone else but him, can’t accept the idea of your virginity belonging to someone who isn’t him.

he closes the gap between you two and kisses you, his mouth immediately taking control of yours. you’re taken aback and stumble backwards, but he keeps you from falling, hands tightly gripping your hips. this kiss is nothing like the ones he usually gives you. it’s not a quick, soft peck on the lips, it’s the opposite—there’s teeth and tongues, groans and moans, grabby hands fumbling with your clothes.

anton wants to prove that eunseok and wonbin are wrong—tonight, you will let your boyfriend touch you, you will let him take you because you’re not fucking someone else behind his back.

his hands roam over your body with a lot of impatience, hungrily moving his mouth over yours and leaving no time for you to breathe. he has to catch up on all the times you refused him before, he needs you to give yourself up to him, needs to know you want him, too.

but just as he thinks you’re finally ready, you push him back and back away from him.

“anton,” you call his name breathily, your chest heaving up and down rapidly. you lightly shake your head and he understands you’re rejecting him again.

he decides to ignore you—maybe you need just a bit more convincing. anton pulls you back against him, leaning down and connecting his lips to your neck, kissing and biting. he feels your hands pushing his chest, he hears your noises of disapproval and he doesn’t stop, but then you use more force than expected, pushing anton off of you.

“what the fuck?” he says, sounding harsh and offended.

“anton, i’m sorry, but i’m not-”

you try to explain yourself to him, but your voice is only background noises to him. all that’s playing in his head right now are his friends’ words again.

‘gotta hit her, put her in her place’, wonbin had said. ‘when a bitch acts up, that’s all it takes to make her listen’, eunseok chimed in.

as anton looks at you, wet and shiny eyes on him, begging him to calm down, he simply goes mad. he lifts up his hand and your whole expression changes, fear passing through your eyes and for some twisted reason, it pleases him.

he backhands you across the face and your head flies to the side, mouth opening in shock, but you have no time to recover until he puts his hand around your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“you fucking listen to me for once,” he spits out, an amount of anger you’ve never thought him capable to hold driving his actions. “i’m tired of you treating me like i’m a goddamn fool, denying me basic fucking needs just because you wanna act a prude.” his words come out like venom, like a punishment, hitting as hard as the slap he gave you.

you’re crying now, tears after tears falling on your cheeks, dipping down to your neck and pilling over anton’s fingers. he doesn’t care, though. it doesn’t compare to the constant rejection you made him go through, the humiliation he felt because of that, his friends’ mocking laughs directed at him.

and so he puts you in your place.

panties stuffed in your mouth so you can’t tell him what to do anymore, so you can’t cry and tell him no again. legs thrown over his shoulders, cunt swallowing his cock for the first time, pounding you into the mattress, no care for your nails digging into his back or muffled screams of his name. he doesn’t care like you never cared about his feelings.

“you let that guy fuck you, don’t you?” he grunts into your ear, his hand belonging around your throat, threatening to tighten at any moment. anton’s hips are relentless, using you like you’re just a hole, and that’s how he wants you to feel. dirty, soiled… well-fucked. “why else would you always reject me, huh? you’re just a fucking whore. great at pretending, i’ll give you that,” he scoffs.

it doesn’t matter if you don’t know what he’s talking about. it doesn’t matter either if he doesn’t make sense. anton has to make sure you never disrespect him like this ever again.

#★hencheri: dark writings #im embarrassed mean is the only type of man i can write #— ☆ starring riize #w/ anton !#riize x reader #riize smut #riize hard hours #anton x reader #anton smut

631 notes · View notes

jane-the-good · 5 months ago

Text

SYLUS: letting go

WORD COUNT: 3.8K

SUMMARY: You're really upset with Sylus, and he reassures you that everything will be okay and you both will get through it

TAGS: smut, angst, fluff, Sylus loves to praise ♡

WARNING: smut, oral sex, mentions of throw up

AO3 sylus masterlist

The mission is over. The Wanderer lies in ruins, nothing more than a smattering of dust at your feet. And yet, even as the weight of victory settles over you, something else lingers, something dark, something clawing, something you don’t want to name.

The air is heavy, thick with the kind of silence that precedes a storm. It’s the silence of two people bound by something deeper than fate, something older than memory. Something that has bled into every life before this one and will stain every life after.

You slam the door behind you, the force rattling the marble floor, but it does nothing to shake the feeling that festers inside. Your chest rises and falls with the remnants of adrenaline, your skin still buzzing with the memory of battle. But beneath it, beneath the heat of combat and the sharp edge of exhaustion, there is anger, raw and unrelenting.

You were ready. The moment had been yours. Your blade had been aimed, your hands steady, your soul set. The final strike should have been yours to deliver, the last act of vengeance to carve its name into history through your hands alone. But he had taken it from you. Again.

Sylus, with his unshakable presence, with the weight of his choices pressing into yours, had stepped in like he always does. As if he knows better. As if you need him to protect you.

But you don’t.

Not from this. Not from yourself.

You didn’t need to be the one to kill the Wanderer, but you wanted to be the one to end it. To be the one to make the choice, to claim the closure. That should have been yours. This wasn’t just about now. This was about lifetimes, about all the lives that had come before, all the suffering that had accumulated in the rusted chains around your soul.

Revenge was stitched into your being, woven so deeply into your existence that you couldn’t untangle yourself from it even if you desperately wanted to. And you don’t.

But Sylus? He doesn’t get to decide for you. He doesn’t get to steal this from you just because he cares.

The shower doesn’t wash away the anger. It only sharpens it, hones it into something colder, something more precise. You let the water scald your skin, let it turn your breath ragged, but it does nothing to quiet the war raging inside you.

Sylus sits on the edge of the bed, his expression unreadable, the same implacable calm armor wrapped around him. It’s always been like this with him, always a fortress, always untouchable in ways you will never be. His dark eyes track your every movement, unwavering, unflinching.

On the nightstand: soup, tea, medicine.

Your heart twists violently.

You don’t want this. Not from him.

Not from the man who has killed before. Not from the man you shouldn’t trust, shouldn’t want, shouldn’t love.

But you do.

And that love is centuries deep, carved out of blood and sorrow, built on foundations of ruin and regret. It is the kind of love that is a wound as much as it is a salvation. The kind of love that is a trap, a noose, a promise that neither of you will ever break free from.

And yet, despite everything, despite him, despite you, Sylus does this.

Soft things.

Kind things.

Things he shouldn’t be doing because he shouldn’t be this way. He’s a criminal. A murderer. A man who has bathed in blood, who has ruined lives, who should not know how to be gentle.

You stare at the nightstand, then at him, and the words that leave your lips are sharp, jagged, broken.

“I didn’t need you to step in for me, Sylus.”

His gaze doesn’t waver. He doesn’t rise to your anger, doesn’t flinch at the venom in your voice. He just watches you, as if he’s waiting for you to understand something you refuse to see.

And that only makes you hate him more.

He doesn’t flinch. He never does. “I wasn’t stepping in,” he says, voice rich and steady, the kind of voice that uses silk as threads, too smooth, too sure. “I was saving your life.”

The words are simple, but they crack something inside you, something you don’t want to name.

You want to snap back. To tell him you can save your own life. That you didn’t need him, or his 8 spindly legs, that you could have finished the job. That his hands, the same ones that have shattered bone, have no right to hold onto yours.

But the words don’t come. They catch somewhere deep in your throat, tangled in a history that neither of you can rewrite.

The tension is suffocating. It stretches, pulls, until your breath feels too tight in your chest. And when you finally move, it’s not to lash out, but to sink onto the bed beside him, stiff and sharp-edged, keeping distance between your bodies even as your soul aches for something closer.

“I had it under control.” The words sound hollow even to you.

“Is that so?” His voice is insulated with cotton and fiberglass, soft but edged with something unyielding. “You were thrown into a wall so hard you threw up on the spot. You didn’t look like you had very much control.”

You wince. The memory slams into you harder than you’d like. The Wanderer had been faster, stronger. You had barely managed to stay standing, let alone finish the fight. You remember the way you watched the ground as it spun, the way your legs had nearly given out, until his hands steadied you. Until his presence anchored you.

"You were swaying on your feet," Sylus continues, gaze unreadable. "I wasn’t going to let you get yourself killed. Not when we’re in this together."

The words cut deeper than you want them to. Not because they’re wrong, but because they hold a weight you can’t deny. Because part of you, some foolish, aching part, wants to believe them.

But he shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be helping you.

You shouldn’t want him to.

In a mantra you repeat: His hands are stained, his heart is entirely twisted and everything he’s done should make you hate him. And yet, against every ounce of reason, you don’t. You never have.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, voice quieter than you’d like. “I didn’t mean to put you in that position.”

Sylus exhales slowly, measuring his response. And then, his fingers brush against the back of your neck, not to restrain, not to control, just there, steady, grounding.

“I know,” he says simply. His voice is calm, unreadable, but underneath it, there’s something softer. Something that makes it worse. “But you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

Your chest tightens. You’ve spent lifetimes fighting, burning, chasing vengeance because it’s the powerful enough to tether you to this world.

“I didn’t want to take that moment from you.” His voice is quiet now, edged with something you can’t place. “It was yours. But I have more experience with this kind of thing. And I’m glad you don’t.”

That makes you pause.

He presses his lips together, as if weighing his next words. “That means you haven’t had to be.”

There it is again. That unbearable weight in his voice, that quiet sorrow that makes your stomach knot. He doesn’t just see you, he knows you. He knows what you’ve lost, what you’ve suffered. And he still wants to keep you from sinking as deep as he has.

“I didn’t do it because I think you’re weak.” His voice is steady, certain. “I did it because you matter more to me than whatever point you were trying to prove.”

A tether, somewhere lost within you, snaps.

He steps back then, giving you space, but his presence lingers.

“Next time, don’t waste time feeling like you have to match me,” he says. “You have nothing to prove.”

His words settle at your feet, firm and unshakable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, and this time, the words carry weight. “I didn’t want to be so stubborn. I know you were trying to help.”

For the first time, the teasing glint in his eyes softens. Just a little. He brushes his fingers against your hand, a quiet gesture, but enough.

“I know you hate it,” he murmurs, voice almost gentle. “But sometimes, we need help.”

He pushes the soup and tea toward you. A silent insistence. A small offering of care.

“Drink this.” His voice is softer now, but unrelenting. “Let me take care of you.”

And for once, you don’t have the strength to argue.

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the cup, but exhaustion makes the choice for you. You lift it, let the warmth be what it is, though you don’t drink just yet.

“The twins are your help, hm?” you murmur, almost as if reminding him.

“They’re supposed to be.” A shadow of a smile tugs at his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And they do their job well.” His gaze flickers over you, not judging, only seeing. “Most of the time.”

“And Mephisto.”

Sylus exhales through his nose. “Mephisto hardly counts as someone to lean on.”

You glance over your shoulder. “Sylus,” you whisper, just barely audible. “He can hear you.”

He chuckles low, warm and familiar. A silent understanding, a truce.

Once the soup is gone, Sylus finally leaves to shower. When he returns, you’re already asleep, curled up on the bed. He hesitates in the doorway. Watches the steady rise and fall of your breath. He should let you rest, knows you need it, but still, when he finally climbs into bed beside you, he pulls you close. His hand settles against the dip of your spine. His breath evens out with yours.

You wake before him.

Sylus is sprawled out, half-lost in sleep, his shirt undone, you’re usually the one to button it for him. You leave kisses across his chest when you do, but last night, you never got the chance. His skin is warm where the fabric parts, golden in the morning light.

“Are you really just going to stare at me?” His voice is thick with sleep, eyes still closed. “And not say good morning?”

You smirk. “Well, you haven’t said it first.”

He groans softly, rolling over, arms pulling you into his warmth.

“Good morning, kitten.”

“Good morning, Sylus.”

His fingers trace slow circles against your back. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod. “Yes. I appreciate you helping me.”

You let your hand drift along his chest, tracing absent lines over his skin.

“Are you sore?”

“All over.” You hum, pressing closer.

“You’ll have to sleep it off today.”

“Mm.”

You lean down, pressing a kiss where you hadn’t the night before, soft at first, lingering just enough to feel the heat of his skin beneath yours. The scent of him, familiar and comforting, fills your senses, and you can’t help but deepen the kiss, your lips molding against his with a quiet urgency.

Feeling his warmth seeping in, you press yourself fully against him, every inch of you aching for something more, something steady. Your fingers find their way into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you tug him closer, the kiss growing more heated with every passing second. You feel his pulse against yours, steady and strong, as if he's anchoring you in this moment, what you want and what you fear.

But the tightness inside you hasn’t gone. The tension that makes it impossible to relax, to just be. You pull back, just enough to breathe, to see his face, but the words come out anyway, rasping and raw.

"Sylus... I’m not able to relax, please help me." Your voice is smaller than you want it to be, vulnerable and unfamiliar, but necessary.

He chuckles softly, a low, almost teasing sound that echoes through you in a melody you’re still learning to dance to. There’s something in it that makes you shiver, not with fear, but with the weight of the connection that lingers.

"Kitten," he murmurs, his voice rich and knowing, "you’re such a quick learner. I’m so proud of you."

His words send a jolt through your chest, but it's not the discomfort you thought it would be. There's something grounding in his praise, something that reminds you that maybe, just maybe, you’re not as lost as you sometimes feel. His hand brushes your cheek gently, his thumb sweeping across the curve of your skin, as if he’s trying to erase the remnants of all the chaos that had once made you feel so alone.

“You’re safe with me,” he whispers, his eyes locking onto yours, dark and steady. "Let me help you feel it."

He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, lingering kiss, savoring the moment. His hand glides down your body, fingers tracing the curves of your waist and hips with deliberate care. A soft moan escapes you, your body instinctively arching into his touch, drawn to the warmth of his hands.

His mouth trails lower, lips and tongue leaving a heated path down your neck, his breath warm against your skin. When he reaches your collarbone, he lingers, pressing a kiss there before continuing downward. His hands move to your chest, fingers teasing, coaxing shivers from you with every precise movement.

"Sylus," you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper, your body trembling beneath him.

He chuckles, the sound low and indulgent. "You're incredibly frustrating," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin. "But I could never resist you."

His hand continues its descent, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. His fingers move with ease, teasing, exploring, drawing out every reaction as if he’s memorizing the way you respond to him.

His lips follow the same path, trailing lower, his tongue leaving a warm, electric sensation against your stomach. He pulls your pants away with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes dark with something unreadable, something intense.

His lips find you first. A kiss, soft, yet claiming, as if sealing an unspoken promise. His movements are patient, controlled, the heat of his breath sending a ripple of anticipation through you before he deepens the pressure.

Your legs tighten instinctively around his shoulders, but he catches them, strong hands holding you in place. His grip is firm, steady, grounding.

"You were doing so well, darling," he murmurs, glancing up at you. His voice is smooth, teasing, but there's something gentler beneath it. "You said you’d let me take care of you."

Before you can respond, his lips are on you again, and the words dissolve into a breathless moan. Your fingers dig into the sheets, your body trembling against his hold. His rhythm matches your breath, slow at first, exploring, savoring, until he finds exactly what makes you fall apart.

The pressure builds, overwhelming in its intensity, a delicate balance of wanting more and never wanting it to end. His grip tightens as he feels you teeter on the edge, his pace unrelenting, guiding you toward something inevitable, something shattering.

"Sylus," you gasp, voice unsteady.

He hums against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure coursing through you. "I've got you," he whispers. "Let go.”

Relief crashes over you in waves, rippling through your trembling body. For a fleeting moment, you feel suspended in a stillness only possible in a moment like this, your body weightless, mind blank, utterly lost in sensation. Your breath catches, then escapes in shallow, ragged gasps as aftershocks pulse through you.

When you finally regain enough clarity, your gaze drifts downward, drawn to the sight of him. Sylus is watching you, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes filled with satisfaction, admiration. His chest rises and falls with labored breaths, his lips parted as if he’s about to speak, but he doesn’t. He only watches, mesmerized.

His tousled hair is damp, strands sticking to his forehead, making him look even more devastatingly undone. But it’s the shirt, the one he never took off, that suddenly pulls at your focus. The fabric clings to his torso, wrinkled from where your hands had clutched at him, damp in places from sweat and the heat of you.

You want to take it off him. You need to. The urge is almost visceral. Not just to see him fully, though you ache for that too, but to strip away that last remaining barrier, to feel his skin against yours without anything between you. Your fingers twitch, already reaching before you can think twice.

“Why are you still wearing this?”

He chuckles, a low, satisfied sound, and leans in, brushing his lips over yours. “You can take it off me, darling," he murmurs against your mouth, his voice an invitation, a challenge. and you do.

you’ve seen him like this, bare and so willing, too many times to count. Right now feels different. Yiu shake your head, barely able to form words. "I just—"

His breath warm against your skin, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Please, tell me what it is that you want," he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his fingers still moving inside you with slow, deliberate strokes.

Your breath hitched, pleasure clouding your thoughts as your body tensed beneath him. "You… Sylus, I want you," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with need.

His grin was dark, full of heat and satisfaction, his eyes flickering with something primal. He moved over you, his body pressing you into the mattress, solid and warm, surrounding you. The hard length of him pressed against your thigh. His hands cradle your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he kisses you, deep and lingering, pouring silent praise into every movement.

Physically, he told you how proud he was, how much he cherished you. He wasn’t just taking; he was teaching, guiding, showing you how to ask for him, how to trust him enough to need him. And he adored that trust. He thrived on the way you depended on him, he needed you just as much.

His hand slid between you, aligning himself with you as your lips continued to move together, breathing in each other’s gasps. Then, with aching slowness, he pushed inside, drawing a sharp inhale from both of you.

"Take a second, darling," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours. His voice was steady, grounding. He waited, giving you time to adjust, to feel every inch of him, his grip firm but gentle as his hands traveled down your body.

One hand slid down your thigh, coaxing it around his waist, his fingers kneading the sore muscles, working out the tension with care.

"If you’re hurting, please tell me," he said, voice low, his concern laced in the desire in his tone.

You shook your head, biting your lip. "No—I'm just… too sore to match your pace. I—I really need you to lead."

A slow smile spread across his lips, something fond and reverent. "I've got you, darling," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You’re getting so good at telling me what you need. I'm so proud of you."

With that, he started to move, slow, controlled strokes, giving you time to adjust, to melt into him, to understand exactly where you needed to lean on him. His moans against your lips were beautiful, each one sending shivers down your spine. His grip on your hips tightened, steadying you, holding you close as he built a rhythm.

And then, gradually, his pace quickened. The friction, the heat, the way he filled you, it all became overwhelming in the best way, each thrust drawing a sharper cry from you. Your fingers dug into his back, clinging to him, feeling every ripple of muscle beneath his damp skin.

When his hand slid between your bodies, teasing, adding to the intensity, your breath stuttered. "Sylus—" you gasped, your body trembling on the edge.

He chuckled against your neck, his breath hot and uneven. "Let go for me," he murmured, voice laced with command and adoration, his fingers working in tandem with his movements.

And then, it hit, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your body tensing before unraveling completely. A cry tore from your lips as you clung to him, your body trembling with the force of it.

Sylus groaned against your skin, his pace stuttering, his own release finding him in the wake of yours. He pulsed inside you, his grip tightening for just a moment before he let out a deep, sigh.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, only the sound of your shared breathing filling the space between you. Then, slowly, he collapsed beside you, his body slick with sweat, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you close.

"Thank you," you whispered, your body warm, sated, and blissfully drowsy.

He let out a soft chuckle, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. "Anytime," he murmured, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jawline with lazy affection.

And as your eyelids grew heavy, sleep tugging at you with a quiet insistence, you felt it, the safety, the warmth, the quietness in your head wrapped around you like a soft blanket. It wasn’t just his presence in the moment that you felt; it was him, in every sense of the word. Sylus wasn’t just beside you physically, he was there in a way that went deeper and flew through your breaths and the rhythm of your heart.

There was something about his calm, unwavering certainty that made everything else fall away. The tension in your body seemed to melt with every touch, every whisper, every reassurance. The weight of the world didn’t feel so heavy when he was there, grounding you, even in silence.

You could feel his steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips, his chest rising and falling with a rhythm that mirrored your own. And as the soft hum of sleep began to pull you under, you heard his voice again, low and soothing, just as you were drifting away.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” he murmured, a promise wrapped in warmth.

He was here. And when you opened your eyes again, he would be waiting.

With a sigh that carried the last remnants of the day, you allowed yourself to let go, surrendering to the peace he had given you.

480 notes · View notes

just-some-user-hunny · 3 months ago

Text

Gushing to your friends about your fiance, Nikto/Andre, and them curiously asking to see a picture of him. He's been such a mysterious and elusive figure in your life, from their understanding he's just an introverted guy who doesn't get out much.

You giddily swipe through your photo album and pull out a slightly blurry selfie of his the only one he's sent that doesn't look like rushed Bigfoot sighting photography.

And whilst you're smiling ear to ear, gushing about how sweet and kind he is, your friends just stare in horror because IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER??!!!!

#its blurry and he's standing in a dark hallway covered in speckles of snow because he just jogged home #it's taken from a low angle so he looks like a massive leering creature #and his black hoodie is draped over his face #his black medical facemask allowing only his frosty blue eyes to show and they're glowing red from the flash #he looks f terrifying but to you he's your cute little handbag dog #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto cod #mw2 nikto #call of duty nikto #nikto #mwii nikto

380 notes · View notes

buttercupshands · 1 year ago

Text

can you even call it a warm up if I'm going to bed without drawing anything big

and a sketch I made while sitting in the park today

#sketch #my art #bnha #shigaraki tomura #tenko shimura #all for one #midoriya izuku #bnha manga spoilers #only after I finished basically polishing this sketch did I notice how it's basically dark and light mode #also the first one is basically a redraw of illustration from vol 11 #I know that translation of Tenko's words is different in official but eh #fanart #I've kind of recovered from recent chapters #and I was analysing those chapters all morning #I'm still thinking but otherwise the chapters are so good #also did you notice that AFO actually talked about how his other him didn't use that 'last thing' yet and that was in ch 410 #and in ch 419 he did so it's real and it's still sad #but still AFO was never hiding it enough #from Tomura maybe but we as readers actually saw his plans play out #in any case I'm still just sitting with those two Izuku and Tenko interaction chapters #I waited long enough #and if you don't count AFO's return Izuku DID save Tenko and it's so interesting #since he now has to save his OTHER origin that was in ch 237 taught to kill whatever he wants #Tenko and Tomura both had 'origins' chapters and for now we only worked with 235 and 236 #and even if Izuku helped with the start of 237 there's still AFO #in any case it was a hard week #also the second thing actually had them holding hands #and then I was like 'but at that point Izuku's hands are gone oh no'#and it was just Tenko holding air where the hand was destroyed #in any case that scene.

2K notes · View notes

caramelarrowswife · 4 months ago

Note

Can you do more of the Dark Cacao headcanons? I really like reading your short stories :)

THE DARK CACAO FAMILY x READER

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

Including my Dark Cacao family HCs this time yay!

Father!Dark Cacao Cookie x GN!Child!Reader

─── ∘°❉°∘ ───

You’re pretty much unsupervised. Dark Cacao is home about three hours a week, and your siblings are busy and important figures to the Dark Cacao Kingdom.

That is, however, not to say important events won’t be celebrated. As the Kingdom’s beloved heir, every birthday is a big deal. Dark Cacao made the mistake of wanting to work on your fifth birthday; auntie Hollyberry tied him to a chair while you blew out your candles.

Caramel Arrow and Crunchy Chip, your older siblings, can be just as protective as your father. They have secretly followed you on various dates. It is safe to say Caramel Arrow’s disguises are a lot more discreet than Crunchy Chip’s.

Stoicism is a hereditary trait of the Dark Cacao kids that Crunchy Chip did not inherit. You and Caramel Arrow find great joy in teasing him everytime he flushes red in the presence of a certain Hollyberian bodyguard…

Dark Cacao’s expressions can be seen as incredibly apathetic to anyone who doesn’t know him. You, who has hung around him for your entire life, can read him like an open book. He looks a lot like his remaining son when he sees the monarch of the Pure Vanilla Kingdom.

Dark Cacao gets really upset when your friends or partner playfully insult you, as he has trouble distinguishing real slander from friendly slander.

I’m not accusing you of anything, but… autism certainly runs in the family.

Dark Cacao sleeps VERY lightly, so whenever you and Crunchy Chip/Caramel Arrow pull all-nighters and giggle just a little too loudly, there’s a grumpy, half-asleep king banging on your door.

You and Crunchy Chip try literally everything to set your dad up with a new queen, but he’s so picky! She’s too submissive, her magic is too weak, she doesn’t have the bite he’s looking for… the two of you realise what you’ve been doing wrong when he starts smiling like an idiot during Pure Vanilla’s stay at the castle.

You and Caramel Arrow will often bake, usually far past midnight. While the two of you are extremely careful and Caramel Arrow has extremely good reflexes, you once dropped the steel bowl you were mixing dough in on the hardwood floor.. What did I say about Dark Cacao being a light sleeper?

Dark Cacao cried when you snuck when you were about six, thinking you got abducted.

Living under 24/7 observation and constant protection of several bodyguards and the King himself has made you quite sneaky. At this point, Caramel Arrow is the only one who can see you snake out of the Citadel late at night.

You and your siblings sometimes do those youtube challenges, like ‘eating Hollyberian candies’ or ‘try not to laugh with water in your mouth’. You once got Dark Cacao to participate. He threw up after a bite of a Spooky Muffin.

While Dark Cacao, Caramel Arrow and you can handle horror movies very well (at your own degrees, of course), Crunchy Chip is TERRIFIED. He’ll cling onto whoever’s next to him at the time, claiming he’s ‘protecting them from nightmares’.

Dark Cacao does actually suffer from nightmares - not because of scary movies, but because of the large amount of trauma he experienced throughout his life and his inability to deal with it mentally and emotionally. He’ll sometimes wake up screaming and sweating like a dog; fifty percent of the time, the nightmares are about Dark Choco’s betrayal. The other half is about his remaining children.

Following the headcanon above, Dark Cacao has to check on every single one of his doughlings after a nightmare, which can take a while. You and your siblings have learned to get to his room immediately after loud, anguished cry coming from the royal bedroom.

387 notes · View notes

polydeuces · 9 months ago

Text

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯 ; Dexter Morgan x Fem! Reader (Cult Leader)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; You linger in Dexter Morgan’s shadows, close enough to feel the darkness he hides so well. You know his secrets, his rituals, the thrill he keeps hidden from the world. Silently, you wait for that perfect moment to step into his path—so he can finally see that he’s been hunted all along.

𝔠𝔴 / 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ; (688words) mentions of cults, stalking, potential violence, intrusive thoughts, and elements of psychological tension.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

He was supposed to be the predator.

You’d watched him for a year now, the man who walked through the world with an all too familiar blend of invisibility and quiet command. Dexter Morgan, a blood–spatter analyst by day and something far more dangerous by night. But those were his surface-level disguises. You’d begun to peel back the layers, unraveling the nuances of a man who navigated life in the shadows, just as you have for so many years now.

It started innocently enough—fleeting moments when you’d caught sight of him on the crowded Miami streets, merging into the sea of faces like he belonged there. But you knew better. You knew what it was to wear masks, to walk amoung people undetected, unseen and unnoticed. There was something about him, the way he looked at the world, made him all the more intriguing.

So you watched. Carefully, hidden, with a patience you’d honed over years of practice, you observed him as he slipped out of his office at night, slightly tense in his gaze, focused, distant, as if he were listening to something only he could hear. Often times, you’d follow him to the places he frequented; his home, abandoned warehouses, places where the thin line between light and darkness blurred. You learned his routines, the way he’d pull his signature black gloves onto his hands, the way his eyes would sweep across the streets with a meticulous attention to detail before stepping into his own hidden rituals.

It fascinated you.. his dance, this performance between worlds. His life was a careful balance of precision and secrecy. And then there were his victims. You’d seen him work, watched from the edges as he sized up those he deemed worthy enough. You hadn’t intervened— after all, it wasn’t about them. It was about him. You needed to understand his purpose, what drove him and what rulebook or code tethered him to this life.

You began to study his life beyond the night as well, picking up pieces of Dexter Morgan, the man, the father, the blood-spatter analyst, the widower, the mask. You’d slip into his world unnoticed, lingering at places he went during the day; you listened to his colleagues, his sister and the casual comments that painted a picture of someone, friendly, yet distant, the “nice guy” who kept to himself.

You learned his patterns, his preferences, even the small, old habits he indulged in when he thought no one was watching. You uncovered the Dexter he showed to the world, the façade that kept his true nature hidden.

But you could see it—the subtle tension in his jaw, the guarded look in his eyes that surfaced when someone got too close, the small tells of a hidden life. The knowledge inside you—the kind of intimacy that was both exhilarating and forbidden—you knew him in a way no one else did, knew him not by the lies he told, but by the silence he kept.

So, you kept waiting, biding your time. You wanted him to know that he been seen, that he wasn’t as invisible as he thought. You wanted him to understand that he was no longer the only one who lived by a code of shadows. You watched him for countless nights—slipping in and out of his world like a phantom, leaving a sense of unease that you knew would begin to gnaw at him.

Until finally, one night, you decided it was time.

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024.

note; i have a taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added !

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the tv show.

422 notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 7 months ago

Text

Zandy speed-walking to your room wrapped in his blanket whenever he got nightmares wasn't anything new.

In the beginning, he felt guilty for bothering you in the middle of the night, but ever since you found out the child had bad dreams once in a while, you urged him to come find you no matter what time it was. Thankfully, they had significantly decreased since he met you, but there were still times he woke up scared and sweating, as if flames had nearly licked him. Admittedly, a part of him wished you could sleep in his room every day so it wouldn't happen, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to you.

At first, Zandy would knock on your door and wait for you to open before intruding, but eventually, you managed to convince him to just let himself in and onto your bed. During these instances, you'd wake up to the child cuddling to you, sometimes with Foxttore squished in between. It was healing for both of you. And tonight, Zandy thought as he tip-toed to your room, would be no different. Quietly twisting the doorknob and entering the room, he already felt a bit more at ease, especially at the sight of your silhouette. The boy walked to the bed and began to climb on it when suddenly a hand shot out to grab him, and he was faced with none other than fellow blood-red eyes.

Quickly, Zandy figured out the situation, when he noticed that you were actually on the other side of the bed, this person was none other than Prime Dottore which he didn't realize in the darkness, and that he had accidentally woken him up. It was only natural that Dottore would be woken up at the slightest noise - he had never been a deep sleeper.

But more importantly, the situation had turned awkward once Dottore had removed his grip from the boy, realizing it was just him. Immediately, Zandy tried to shuffle off the bed - he and Prime had been on way better terms lately, no longer being ignored, which was wholly thanks to you - but he was still hesitant to interact without you. But Dottore wasn't going to let him off that easy of course.

"... What are you doing here?" The boy's eyes nervously flitted from your sleeping body to Prime, hoping you'd wake up to get him out of the situation.

"W-Well..." Zandy's voice came out louder than he wanted, "I wanted to... to..." he then drifted off as he tried to think of a reasonable excuse. He could tell Dottore wasn't particularly impressed, moving to get up when suddenly a new voice entered the conversation.

"Zandik, what's wrong?" You yawned as you began to sit up in bed. "Usually, you aren't this noisy when you're sneaking off to go do work instead of sleep-" You stopped your sentence slowly and rubbed your eyes, as you now realized someone else was in the room too. "Zandy? Is that you?"

"Yes..."

"Another nightmare again? Poor thing, come here," you cooed, stretching your arms open. Dottore remained silent but quickly pieced together what happened. Well, it made an awful lot of sense - you somehow always managed to be soothing after experiencing the terrors of the mind. He too remembers the times he rested his chest on your chest after his own nightmares. Logically, when the scholar thinks about it, his child segment's nightmares were probably similar to his too.

However, Zandy didn't seem very certain of the idea anymore, more interested in heading out the door. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before you quickly remembered that Dottore was likely causing his hesitation.

"There's no need to be shy. You can stay, we don't mind," you said softly, moving to the edge of the bed and grabbing both his hands. "Right, Zandik?"

"... Go ahead. There's only a few more hours until I get up, anyway."

"See? Now come here." With only a bit of persuasion, the child was in between the two of you. Well, he was mostly attached to you while Dottore was just on the other side, but it was still sweet. You gently patted Zandy's head as you began yawning again, sleepiness still coursing through you. At that, Dottore pulled up the covers, making sure you (and the child) were warm.

"Good night, Zandy, Zandik..."

"Good night, [Name]... fa-" The word quickly softened and dried up on the boy's lips as he realized that he was still not brave enough for that yet. Zandy swiftly shut his eyes and willed his body to sleep as fast as possible.

A little while later, after Dottore was sure you both had dozed off, he sighed at the sight that was mostly covered in darkness, but he could still make out his child self's body wrapped by your larger one... as well as the rather wide and palpable gap in between his and his segment's.

Briefly turning over, the Harbinger glanced at the time. It would be time for him to return to his work soon, this break only a haven you begged to grant him. Dottore looked back at you, reaching out to caress your cheek, letting out another sigh. He moved his body closer, to where his own was only a little bit from touching Zandy's, and then wrapped a protective arm over you, and by extension, the child.

He would be gone soon enough, anyway - this wouldn't hurt for now.

It was moments like this that made what the future held hurt even more.

#smooches talks #dottore love notes <3 #zandy bb <3 #dottore x reader #this is inspired by how my friend sent a tiny kitten in the dark at the door and was like #“this is zandy when he has a nightmare and goes to reader n dottore for comfort and gets cuddles w them”#i love and hate how everything i write has to turn out long #LIKE THIS WAS ONLY MEANT TO BE A FEW PARAGRAPHS #divider by cafekitsune

328 notes · View notes

mariskiii · 2 months ago

Text

James vocals on Loverman !!

168 notes · View notes

sickwhispers · 11 months ago

Text

PLAYING FAVORITES

Pairing: Dandy x reader

Relationship: romantic

Warning: no warnings surprising, are you guys shocked

Type: headcanons + drabble

It's no secret that he picks favorites

"Dandy, I appreciate the sentiment but..." you stare at the medkit in your hands, a confused look on your face as you attempt to understand just why he had given it to you. You definitely didn't need it, and you certainly had all your hearts intact. The only wound you had received during the last floor you had ventured into was a tiny scratch you had made yourself. Which had been a complete accident when you found yourself tripping over a capsule and onto the floor. "I don't need this..."

"Nonsense! Take it, free of charge! We don't want our greatest friend dying any time soon, do we?" He winked, nudging the first aid further into you. It seemed like he wasn't taking no for an answer.

"Hey, uh- I need one too." Oh god, Vee looked terrible. Normally, only one of her antennas would be bent. But, this time, it had looked like a twisted had tried to forcefully rip the other one off her head. And when that didn't work, decided to scrunch it up and tug at it until sparks came flying out of its base. The left side of her screen had been cracked, a long line running down from top to bottom with tiny strands breaking off near the edge. Just one look at her and it was almost obvious that she had lost a heart, and probably would've lost the last one had she not gotten into the elevator on time.

Dandy took one look at her, his smile never wavering as he spoke. Although, if you looked close enough, you could see the strain behind it. "Two hundred tapes."

Safe to say the others would catch onto this little trend after a while

He pretended he wasn't biased when it came to you

Acting dumb like there was no difference in the way he treated you, compared to how he treated everyone else

Sure, he would smile and wave, act nice just to keep the tapes rolling in

He was still their friend, he couldn't just be mean

But, he couldn't doubt how special you were compared to them

Day one he was practically at your beck and call, even before everything had turned to ruin

He knew things were different now, he knew you probably wouldn't let him do all the things he used to back when you didn't have to worry about the possibility of having some corrupted version of your friends tear you to pieces

But, he could still dream, couldn't he?

He couldn't help but indulge in fantasies every now and then

Letting his head rest in his hands as he watched you interact with the others

Sure, he would've preferred if your attention was on him

But, he could pretend he didn't mind sharing

Although, sometimes he wasn't so good at it

He'd miss the days when you'd let him just lay beside you

His head on your stomach as he'd pick at the floor beneath you both, mindlessly staring up at you in an almost dazed like look

The others used to tease him about it

About how well known his feelings for you were, and yet he never wanted to admit it

After all, what would happen if he did?

There were risks he had to consider when it came to telling you how he felt

And he never liked any of them

He almost preferred keeping them a secret, letting them fester inside until they were practically pouring out of every crevice in a desperate attempt to keep himself sane

Maybe you were the reason he hadn't gone crazy yet

But, if you kept your attention straying from him for a bit too long, there's a good chance he might just lose it

Make sure to talk to him every round

Say hello, tell him about the twisteds you encountered, share how you made a mistake when extracting ichor from a machine and almost run into a wall while trying to hide

Anything. Just anything.

He needs it.

#I'm so sleepy right now and it's only 5 pm where I am #(almost 6 pm)#man I had such a cool title for this but it was too dark for the more fluffy theme of this post #maybe i'll use it next time #I'm not good at titles if you can't tell #dandys world #dandy's world #dandy dw #dandy dandys world #dandy's world x reader #dandy dw x reader #x reader #dandy x reader #dandy dandy's world #I'd grammarly this but im too tired #I apologize for any mistakes

661 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 21 days ago

Text

Members Only 4

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, cheating, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

The next morning, you arrive to a quiet house. You let yourself in and set to your usual routine. Mrs. Shelby has a latte for breakfast and a digestive biscuits. The house cook doesn't touch the fancy espresso machine and so it is off the few culinary tasks you handle yourself.

Almond milk and sugarless vanilla syrup. You serve it in a stemmed crystal mug and carry the biscuit on a floral saucer. You make your way upstairs and down the hall.

You put your handful on the small corner table nearby. You knock and wait for an answer. You're unsurprised when none comes. Given the late night and the state you left Mrs. Shelby in, you don't expect an easy morning.

You try again. Still silence. You will only leave her coffee and cookie and let her wake on her own.

You open the door and peek inside. Mrs. Shelby is on her side, a pillow over her head. You turn back and take the cup and saucer. You creep over the floor and place both at her bedside.

You're startled as she shoves away the pillow and sits up. She snarls as she grabs the cup and flings the contents in your face. You squeak at the shock of hot liquid.

"Leave me!" She roars.

He face is puffy and her hair is tangled. You reel back in silent horror. You didn't mean to disturb her. You were only being considerate.

"Now!" She swings the mug and it hits your jaw.

Another way of shock crashes down on you with the sudden pain. She drops the cup and it shatters on the floor. You cradle your face and back away.

"Sorry, Mrs..." You taste blood as you slur through the throbbing.

"Grace!" The booming voice has you spinning. "Are you not a lady?"

Mr. Shelby storms across the room and his blue eyes trail between you and his wife. You drop your hand from your face and blink. You get down on your knees and carefully start to gather the shards.

"Sir, she only dropped--" Each word aches until you have to stop to soothe it.

"I am aware of what she's done," he snarls as he waved you away from the mess. "Leave that be. She might clean her own messes if she insists upon making them."

"Thomas," Grace gasps, "I've a headache and she --"

"And she brought you your breakfast. I did see her in the corridor, diligently doing your bidding. As she did last night."

"Last night?" She breathes.

"What--"

"Oh surely you don't think she could carry you herself. In your stupor," he growls. "I will not pay for you to abuse the staff." He wraps his hand around your elbow. "You've forgotten what it is to be a person and I've forgotten how it was to have a wife."

He tugs you and you have no choice but to let him. He takes you out of the room, reaching back to close the door with force. You once more cradle your jaw.

"Sir," you lisp. "I woke here--

"No more excuses," he hisses.

He does not release you. Instead, he marches you down the hall to his office door. You've never been within. You never read reason to be.

He ushers you inside and puts you on a cushion bench between two tall bookcases. The room is as grand as the rest of the mansion. He lets you go and stomps to the desk that stands as centerpiece to the space. He opens a draw then snaps it shut.

He returns to you with a zip up case. You watch him as your face thrums. You save away the tears you notice only then.

"Cruel," he mutters. "I apologize and yet how can I make this right. This abuse."

He unwraps a sterile wipe and presses it to your cheek. It stings. You try to feel beneath it with your fingers.

"I'm...bleeding?" You say dumbly.

He frowns as he brings a knuckle under your chin to keep your head up. You stare at him. As his eyes stray from his tending and meet yours, you flinch. You didn't mean to gape.

"Sir," you say softly. "Am I fired?"

He is quite. He presses then pulls away the cloth. He turns your head gently then rescinds his touch.

"You will no longer be in the employ of my wife." He stands and tucks his hands into his pockets.

"Sir," you wince again.

"You will be in mine," he faces you. "Your first task is to wait here while I fetch ice. It will swell soon."

You nod and hold your cheek. It hurts terribly. He leaves you.

You ponder the carpet in his absence. You could not have seen the morning going so poorly. Or painfully.

What could you do for Mr. Shelby? Tea? Breakfast? Certainly he has those needs. But does he need you in the corner while he does business. You don't expect he has stylists bringing him racks of expensive dresses.

He returns and you lift your head. He has an ice pack in hand. He gives it to you and stands over you.

"You should reclined. Rest your eyes." He girds.

"Thank you, sir. But I could bring you tea--"

"You will pay down. Here." He turns and struts across the carpet. He grabs a pillow from an armchair. He brings it back and puts it at the edge of the bench. "I will work. Silently. And be sure you do not worsen."

"It is only blood," you press the pack to your cheek.

He looks down at you and exhales sharply. He reaches into his chest pocket and pulls free the square of fabric. He reaches for you and you flinch. He drags the cloth up your chin as the taste of iron costs your lips.

"I will find something for you clean your mouth as well. You should swish salt water." He says and takes your hand, putting it around the pocket square. It smells like him. "When I return, you will be as I've bid."

"Sir," you murmur into the fabric.

#tommy shelby #dark tommy shelby #dark!tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #drabble #au #the club #series #members only

114 notes · View notes

dreamyblanket · 4 months ago

Text

Just a lil doodle today ^^

#dreamydraws #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run x reader #dark choco x reader #sorry only a little doodle today ive been super tired recently and ive just got a lot of personal stuff going on atm -.-u #born to draw sili selfship art and make comics #forced to be alive

321 notes · View notes

undirmanjarpakdingo · 4 months ago

Text

Bridgeton era LADS brainrot.

Slightly Yandere- but come on its Caleb.

Caleb is nasty with it sorry.

He's seething when he finds out. The letter crumpling in his palm with such cold anger, it makes his roommate take in a laboured breath. His grandmother had seemingly planned this, made sure she paid his commission for the army so he was out of the way. And once he was, the next second she pushed you in front of the queen.

He was so isolated on the field that he wouldn't even have known if it wasn't for your excited letter. Despite his best efforts, it seemed his grandmother wasn't unaware of his intentions.

You weren't related by blood, a matter that was known but hadn't been discussed in that sense before. Everyone overlooked it, brushing past the morbidly obvious thought, finding content in watching you two play pretend family. It was suffocating. The only person who had the guts to hint at it was actually lady Whistledown.

Dearest Gentle Reader, We often say, blood is thicker than water, this surely rings true in the case of young miss Y/n, and her surprising debut this season. A long line of callers flank the gates of their home, but their bright faces dull as they walk out, egos bruised and hearts shattered. It is because her tight lipped colonel is back from the ranks, here specially to see his dear MC's season through. Keeping aside the lingering glances between them that tread the line of what would or wouldn't be appropriate, one is left to wonder if his harsh protectiveness over young miss MC is out of familial love, or something else entirely.

The thought of it is was so scandalous it sends shockwaves through the ton. Yet it still isn't enough to ward off potential suitors.

The baron was painfully stupid, the viscount a raging misogynist even that Marquis his grandmother was so dead set on, wasn't worth you. None of them were. He was the one who knew you, saw you like none of them ever could. They would just take you away from him, from home. The thought of separation consumed him entirely. Twisting in his bed, he grew more and more desperate to somehow stop this charade.

But he couldn't just walk up and propose. It wasn't that easy, he had to find a way so that no one would have a choice but to accept his proclamation. The gut wrenching realisation made itself placidly obvious. He had to ruin your reputation. Make it so no one else could have you. He had to make sure they caught you with him, but you'll understand right? You have to, Its the only way! He would never hurt you otherwise. But it has to be done, your reputation has to be compromised. That way he can stay by your side forever, that way you don't ever have to leave home, never leave him.

It'll be fine. Caleb thinks, You'll be happy. You have to be.

#Lads Bridgeton AU?#IM SOORY IF THIS IS TOO DARK THAT'S THE ONLY WAY I SEE CALEB #love and deep space #loveanddeepspace #lads caleb #caleb lads #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb #lnds caleb #caleb x mc #caleb x you #caleb x y/n

153 notes · View notes

circeyoru · 5 months ago

Text

Freedom in The Darkness

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Royalty!Reader - Royal Fight AU]

*Implied Female Reader (it’s just the titles)

Deception. Manipulation. Blood. Pain. Betrayal. Assassination. Death.

Such things were the normality within the walls of the royal family that everyone seemed to admire. A fight for the title of crown prince or princess, to be the next ruler of the empire. It was the biggest succession fight in the world. Why? Because whoever wins this scrabble essentially rules the world.

Only six princes and princesses remained among the 13. There were various deaths: poison, assassination, falling, disease, drowning, heart attack, and malnutrition. Within the six were three princes and three princesses. Because the fight hindered the standard functionality of the empire, the emperor sent the six candidates for the throne to six different domains. Each got to pick their domain according to their birth order.

There were a few reasons why the emperor sent his children to different places. (1) Of course, it was for peace to return to the royal capital since the beginning of the royal succession made the people split into groups. (2) It was for the remaining children to seek allies outside of their comfort zone―namely those in the castle. And (3) it was for said children to try and rule over their chosen domain within 7 years.

You were one of the three princesses and you were sent to the lawless domain. You survived solely because you had a knack for hiding and living like the dead in the palace, so no one paid attention to you until the cease-fire was announced. Of the remaining children, you were the youngest and none of your elder brothers and sisters saw you as a threat. In fact, they bet you would be killed within the week in your new domain.

The lawless domain was where adventures and criminals mingled since even the emperor could barely pay it any mind or attention. It also served as the barrier between the empire and the dark forest, so no one cared for this place. Thus, the infamous nickname ‘Lawless’ is used.

Initially, you’ve given up on living since there was no light in your dark world. All you’ve known was how to survive. Turns out it was the same deal here. To your luck, although the people of that domain were notified of a royal arriving to rule over them, none knew what that royal looked like. So you have forsaken your clothing and identity for money to have someplace to stay.

Throughout your time here, you’ve built bonds and connections, ones you never wanted to drag into your royal fight. One of which was a boy named Sung Jinwoo. He was the older brother of a younger sister, he and his family were adventurers and they have been the ones to help you with your life in this lawless area. There was once when you thought Jinwoo died in an expedition. You, who have unlocked your magic, set out to search for him after his team came back to town with tears. When you found him, he was still breathing, so with your last breath, you teleported him back to his home and collapsed.

When you woke up, you were met with a Jinwoo look-alike exercising in your shared room. The moment the two pairs of eyes met, he gave you that soft smile, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning… Jinwoo?”

“That’s me.”

From then on, Jinwoo was obsessed with growing stronger, and he did. Every day, he goes above and beyond to train his physical body and enters the forest like it was a mere training ground. There were times when you could join him, and other times when he preferred to go alone, those times you’d be with his family or other parties you’ve made connection with.

Jinwoo never came back with any scratches or injuries, making you curious as to how strong he has gotten. You confronted him and he showed you what he was capable of. The powers of shadow and an army of undead so long as he stood strong and alive. When you heard that, you gave him quite the lecture on safety and worrying others. He was kneeling on his knees with his hands raised, looking like a kicked puppy. Meanwhile, any passerby would snicker and tease Jinwoo for angering his partner.

You took up the role of being his exclusive healer and was by his side every time he went to some sort of battle. In turn, Jinwoo set aside some soldiers of his to protect you since he’d be focused on the fight and you’d be focused on him. It was a unique partnership, you’ll admit. You’d never tell anyone that it was comforting to know someone would depend on you and you could rely on someone, especially when that someone was Jinwoo.

At some point, you slipped up and your secret as a royal was known to him. It wasn’t a big deal since you didn’t care for your title anymore after living outside the palace for so long. You have long abandoned your royal title and privileges after being sent away to your new ruling domain. You found a new life and you treasured it more than what the stupid palace could offer. This was the freedom you never had; no one treated you like royalty, and no one expected anything of you. It was true bliss.

Until Jinwoo had this idea. “Say, why not take over the throne?”

“What?!” You spit out your drink and started a coughing fit that Jinwoo tried to relieve by patting your back. When you did, you glared at him and questioned, “Why would you suggest that?”

“If you hate this royal succession so much, why not become empress and demolish it?” Jinwoo calmly spoke his mind. “You have my full support and the people of this city.”

You slumped, playing with the cup in your hands. “But, I’m not fit to rule… I didn’t receive any education like my brothers and sister. It’s not like one city; it’s a whole empire! I can’t handle it…”

Jinwoo cupped your hands in his larger ones, making you look up into his grey-coloured eyes. “Hey, I’ll be right by your side. So will the others in my shadow. We’ll all help you.” At your silence and uncertainty, Jinwoo hummed in thought. “How about this? Kill them and raise them from the dead to act as the ruling power?”

You blinked and stared at Jinwoo, bewildered by his new idea.

“That way, you’re not the figurehead to rule. They are. You’ll be behind the scene controlling them. You have me after all.” He let go of you and came over to his side, kneeling down on one knee as he took your hand and kissed your knuckles with a confident smirk. “Just give me the order, your majesty.”

After that conversation, the atmosphere in the city changed and people started acting like they were preparing for war. Whenever you were around, they would give you a nod and go back to their work. You realized they were prepared to act as your army when you fight for the throne. You couldn’t help but smile and cheer them on with your thanks.

You had no idea when it started. The lawless domain that outsiders shunned and despised was just an unpolished diamond in the rough. It only took the right person to come along to change it to one of the more fearsome domains that could give the warrior, knight, and armoury domains a run for their money. Though you probably had a hold over its people because you never waved your royal card in their face like your elder siblings would. They respected you for your ability to survive and care for others no matter the circumstance, though it also had something to do with you being a two-faced cunning fox against your enemies. A story for another time maybe.

You gave it some thought. Jinwoo was right, if you were standing at the highest, nothing could stand in your way of implementing changes. Plus, you wanted to protect this city you grew fond of. Contrary to the rumours, this place was like any other; if not, it would have been more peaceful and human than your home in the palace. You wanted to have the power and authority, but you also wanted your own freedom. It was greedy and selfish of you, you know, still, you wanted no rules and obligations that could separate you from Jinwoo and those you care for.

On the day the time was up, the royal carriages arrived to pick you up. Jinwoo and Igris followed behind you, acting as knights and close aids of yours. Igris’ full armour appearance made the story more believable while Jinwoo appeared to be a mix of a butler and assassin, if that made any sense. Either way, the countdown began.

The closer you were to the palace, the more your heart beat like mad. Jinwoo took your hand and gave you a tight squeeze. You looked away from the window at his soft expression, and you gave him the best smile you could. “I’m nervous…”

“Don’t be. You’re not alone now.” Jinwoo spoke melody to your ears. “Everyone can move at your word.”

You looked down at the shadows. Millions of glowing eyes looked back at you while the shadows wavered, showing you support in their unique way. “Yes, I’m not alone.”

The carriage stopped, and the door opened. Jinwoo got off first and held out a hand for you. You took it and the edge of your dress as you stepped out of the carriage. The scenery of the majestic palace didn’t change a bit, but the memories of all the squabbles for the throne rushed back like a storm. Screams and cries of agony you’d try to shut out to keep your sanity when you hid and witnessed murders and betrayals of all kind around you. All for the seat to be the top. Unconsciously, you squeezed Jinwoo’s hand to ground yourself.

“Oh my, what’s this?” A high-pitched voice rang to your side. You and your companion looked over and saw one of your older sisters. “You’re still alive? I thought you died! And what are you even wearing? No class?”

“Don’t be so mean.” A deep and rough voice sounded above; it was one of your older brothers. “Being sent to that lawless trash area must be hard. You should be applauded for even appearing here, but my hand is tired from all the work I’ve been doing.”

“Dying there would be better than here.” Another brother of yours scoffed as he headed up the steps to the entrance of the palace.

“Right.” Your eldest sister snickered as she purposely bumped into you before walking up the steps.

“Poor thing.” The last of your brother muttered.

You waited until they were all gone, and then unclenched your fist. Your eyes glared at where your siblings were. Whatever sympathy and affection you held for them just because they were your family, all gone. You were hoping they would have changed over the years and join you in thinking this fight was insane, maybe wanting to grow as a family instead.

But no.

Now you have your answer.

“I think the invasion and turnover can happen after dinner.” You coldly stated, all emotion drained from your face.

Jinwoo grinned while Igris bowed his head with his hand over his heart area. Jinwoo led you up the steps by the hand while he chuckled, “I feel like it’ll happen earlier. Want to burn down just the palace or the entire capital?”

“...Only the royal family is at fault…”

“So, if I secure the innocent, then~?”

“Yeah.”

“As you wish, My Empress.”

Note: One of my older works. Decided to post it now cause I'm a bit too busy with IRL stuff. Anyways, I saw the poll for {Shadow and Void} and the next update would be Arc 3 I believe, the parts would be back to back (a bit like the Christmas update). See you guys then!

Hope you liked this one!

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST

*(regarding requests, check the Masterlist to see if it’s opened or not and other info related before sending one. Thanks.)

Taglist: @rozuburedo @ariseverdark @skylar896 @o-qi-shisme

#Circe's Nighty Writings #Solo Leveling #Only I Can Level Up #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo #yandere sung Jin woo #yandere sung jinwoo #yandere jinwoo #Yandere sung jinwoo x reader #yandere sung jin woo x reader #Freedom in The Darkness

378 notes · View notes