#( true failure is when you stop trying. i tried. )

[prettyboykatsuki]

touya 🥰🥰

✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader, some titty worship, crassness from touya, vague but established relationships, fucking against a wall, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.6k

✮ a/n ; i have no clue how to write this guy im sorry. i tried my best though

Touya has a tell when he lies.

You'd never tell him about it. The minute he becomes aware is the minute he stops—and the minute he stops is the minute it makes reading him harder than it needs to be.

(You're good at reading Touya though even without the help. You've grown accustom to reading between the lines after all these years spent together. If you hadn't, you doubt the two of you to be together.

Understanding when whatever means please stay and when you're alright means i love you are necessities. The life line to the fragile relationship you call lovers)

It's not every time he lies. It's only when he has something he's embarrassed telling you and when all attempts at shamelessness result in obvious failure.

You try not to let it show your excitement on your face. He'll get pissed at you. He has a habit of being sulky when he's being teased.

You pull back from a kiss, breathless. You smile at him lopsidedly, fingers around the collar of his jacket as his hand sneaks up underneath your shirt. Calloused skin draws along your belly, up your sides and make you shiver.

Touya is always intense but there's something different today. His hand as your leg hitched up and he's grinding into you with such obvious fervor that it's making it hard to breathe. He chases your mouth the minute you pull away, frowning hard as you bite back a smile.

"What."

You're trying to contain yourself. Really. "Did you... miss me, Touya?"

It's there. His tell. A hand on the back of his neck and a look to his left. It happens quickly, gone as just soon as you see it. "Fuck no," And then as if to prove a point. "My dick might've, I guess."

He goes into kiss you again and you appease him and allow it. You let him touch you to his hearts content and keep your amusement to yourself at the obvious desperation. Sex is the one place Touya can't hide from what he wants, though he very often tries anyway.

He's practically frantic as he pushes you further against the wall. His mouth moves along your neck with searing intensity. He's handsy. Grabbing, biting, sucking - he leaves marks where he wouldn't care to normally, all over your neck. Your core is syrupy and hot, like spun sugar melting over the flame of Touya's longing.

He moves quickly, letting your leg down in process. Unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down to your thighs before doing the same for himself. You haven't moved from the door away but it's obvious Touya has no intent of doing so either, until he makes you cum at least once.

"Touch me," He voices it as a demand despite himself. Despite the obvious lust in his voice and the way he's looking at you. You wonder if he's self-aware about the face he makes when he's needy. "C'mon. 's rude to keep me waiting."

So you do. Pushed up against a wall with nothing but body heat like two teenagers all over again - you cup his hard cock, delighting in the way he shivers at the touch and moans into your mouth. You stroke him from in front and let him touch you in return. He strokes your clit at first but moves on quickly to fingering you, slipping further into your panties without taking them off. He likes how the sticky fabric clings to his scarred hands.

(You've learned over the years that Touya likes the mess. He likes when there's evidence of your intimacy in all the places you've ever fucked. Some of it is tried and true perversion.

But like the marks he leaves on your sternum and the bruises on your hips from his hold - you think that Touya likes lingering in your life in whatever way he can.)

"You're going so fast," You mumble. He pauses. Pouting, he goes on anyway. It's not like you told him to stop.

"Isn't it fine? You're already so fucking wet,"

You can feel yourself throb as Touya fucks his fingers into you. He starts with one, but there's not any resistance. Aching, practically pulsing with need, a moan slips past your lips at the sudden thrusting. He slows a little.

"Show me your tits,"

You roll your eyes but you listen anyway, pushing your shirt and bra up haphazardly. You figure he just wants to see them - but your mind changes when trails kisses down your neck and wraps his mouth around your nipples wordlessly. Your spine arches into the touch, a wave of arousal slicking Touya's finger. He adds a second after that, free hand holding the small of your spine as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, making sure to pay attention to each one for a little.

He opens you slowly, stretching you until it's easy to pump his two fingers in and out.

He stares at you with unbreaking eye contact while he fucks your pussy open. It's unnecessarily intense in a way that you find on brand. You stare back unsure of what else to do, a fucked out expression definitely being reflected black in blue irises.

It's a beat after that he pulls away from you. You whine at the loss of contact but Touya swallows the sound with a kiss. His nose nudges your jaw, hot and sensitive.

"Turn around," He hums it against your throat. "I think you can take me,"

He's going too fast, you think again. He likes to draw everything out so much more. Bully you into begging for him, if the mood strikes him. At the very least he likes to drag you into his own depths and feel so needy.

You oblige him by turning around and placing your hands on the wall, cheek pressed against the cool surface. He groans, a sharp noise slipping past your lips as the familiar weight and length of his cock push against the curves of your ass.

And then he gets too close to you. Tucks his chin against your shoulder and drops his weight over your back. He's always close to you but it's rare his clinging is so open as it is now. You decide not to say anything, pushing yourself back like an invitation. He chuckles, the sound is low - the reverb adding to your wetness and making your arousal worse.

"Three week long stake-out is fuckin' ridiculous," He presses a bite to your neck. "What the hell could you need to stake out for three weeks."

You read between the lines. I missed you. You laugh.

"Dunno. Glad to be back," You reply to him in his own language. Missed you too.

There's a brief moment of pause, the ghost of a smile on your back as you feel the familiar stretch of Touya's cock against your cunt. Your hole stretches, flutters at the euphoric sensation. Your stomach flips with a restless wanting as you try not to shove yourself all the way back on his dick too quickly. He groans against your shoulder. "Perfect fucking pussy,"

"You feel so good," You whimper in reply.

"Yeah?" He whispers it against your neck as one hand holds your waist, the other snaking around to toy with your clit as he pushes into your warm, wet heat. "Tell me about it."

"Fuck, Touya,"

His dick twitches at the sound of you moaning his name. You can feel him inside of you, so deep. Your eyes flutter as fullness knocks all the air out of your lungs. He's all in your stomach. Your breatch catches and hitches with each inch he manages to slide into you.

The sensation of orgasm dulls before it crescendos back up again. Somewhere in between that, Touya moves. It's slow at first, a shallow rock of hips before he paces himself and really starts to fuck you.

The way Touya fucks you is a little like him - noisy and invasive, a hard thrust of his hips that makes your ass recoil in reply from the sheer force. You gasp, feeling lightheaded from the intensity. He's deep, too deep - all the way up into your throat. His balls slap up against your clit every now and again and there's not any real delicacy to it, though there is so much precision.

He would never voice it aloud but he prides himself on knowing your body. Knows it inside it and out. Knows all the spots and angles that getting your sweet little cunt soaking with cum, knows how to make you want him.

He always fucks you good, and maybe it's the distance - but god, today he fucks you dizzy. Your voice keeps slipping with the clap of each thrust and you can barely keep yourself upright, knees threatening to go weak on each one. The only thing keeping you upright is Touya's cock spearing into you. Over and over until you feel it build in your gut again.

"Gonna cum," You barely make the words out. "Fuck, Touya,"

"That's it," He huffs, punctuating his words with a thrust. "Say my name. Say my fucking name when you cum for me,"

You pretend not to notice the emphasis on it being for him. You pretend not to hear the shake in his voice, how shattered he sounds with each word like he wants it as much as you.

Maybe more. You'll never tell Touya that part of the reason you cum so fucking hard is because he sounds so fucking wanting when he asks you to cum. Like falling from heaven, your orgasm drags you down to Earth and makes your whole body shake on impact. Your pussy spasms hard around his cock, thighs trembling and toes curling in your shoes at you let it all out.

Touya encourages you with a few sloppy thrusts and the intimacy of your name on his lips, making you ride the high over first before he follows suit. You feel him cum in you and sigh internally knowing you'll need contraception.

"Don't go on such long fucking stake-outs," He tells you. You laugh.

"Okay. I won't."

"We're not done fucking, either."

You laugh a little louder at that and turn around to kiss him over your shoulder. You smile when he leans into so easily "Uh-huh. Sure."

[coolcoolcoolbutwtf]

Fentons family's guide Section on being an evil assistant to a supervillain

_________________________________________

Fentons family's guide to being an evil assistant to a supervillain

Guide by Jazmin Fenton in case of employment with a supervillain.

Being an evil assistant or henchmen is surprisingly a very stable source of an income stream all things considered.

You just need to find a boss. A as in singular it's very important, who is pathetic and or stupid enough to constantly have their large scale plan failing even without the hero's Involvement.

And while their large scale plan for taking over the world with a weapon of mass destruction could be feasible if only they didn't think to actually use it. Using it to threaten the world leaders for sway is the correct way. It is the most unused method the one being used most is the method of actually using the weapon of mass destruction for mass destruction.

You as the evil assistant then have the responsibility to make sure that the villain doesn't/ can't use said device to destroy the world. The heroes can help. Later then take the blame for the failure absolving you of involvement.

Being a good evil assistant is babysitting the evil boss.

_________________________________pg 9___

"Oh man never thought I'd actually need to use the 'Fenton guide' Jazz made me." Danny mumbled quietly and heaved a sigh of relief when he had found it among his hastily packed together bag.

Jazz had been the one making both of their emergency bags when she had told him about the guide. He hadn't appreciated it then now he truly did now with everything going on.

God he missed Jazz so much. He wanted to see her so badly he wanted to hold her hand like when they were kids. He really wanted her hand to squeeze his back in reassurance that everything was going to be fine.

Danny tried holding back his sobs at the thought. He couldn't stop the mist in his eyes or his hands shaking holding the little booklet.

But he wanted her safe and far away from everything even more. He wanted his friends to be safe with his sister. It didn't matter if he had to be far away working getting those crystals every way he could think of. His friends and sister needed money to keep them safe, hidden and taken care of. They needed that money and crystals and if Danny had to choose between his morals and fright he would always choose his true family. Morals be damned.

• • •

He hadn't expected the costume to be so good in quality. That had surprised him the most the second being how easy it would be getting a job with villains. Turns out working as an "meta" henchmen who knew everything from fighting to logistics and machinery was a rarity in this dimension. Who would have guessed it with all the metas and enhanced humans going about? And omg they even have aliens in this dimension!

Getting the money for the crystals had been going surprisingly smoothly. Everything had been going so smoothly that of course it had to be ruined! The villain Danny was working for had gotten noticed and promptly got beat. Which meant he didn't have an employer anymore at least until a breakout was orchestrated. So no more job until then.

And Danny had finally managed his way to the middle hierarchy in that organization! Now he would need to go looking for evil henchmen positions again! It wasn't even a good season to go looking for openings in other organizations.

Damn it that bat furry in Gotham and his flock of birds. Don't they get how hard it is for a henchmen to find descant work!?

Maybe he should go with the duo villain and assistant type next time.

Thank you so much for reading I hope it was enjoyed!

Danny in the lair after having saved his villain boss from Batman after said villain had their scheme blown up in their face. Danny knew the plan would fail miserably but at this point he didn't care. He stopped trying to help when it came to schemes ages ago.

+Some art

Idk if I've posted this idea before but I've had this thing bouncing around in my head for a while.

[aluciahaz]

may i just say that your character writing is AMAZING! i honestly don’t check up on your blog a lot but when i do i’m left SHAKING because your shit is soooo hot.

Anyways i humbly come requesting mommy kink with vox because you know i’m all about that. he’s so desperate for validation and scared of rejection i feel like he’d be weeping at a domme mommy type reader. Anyways, do what you want with this!

once again i love your work! sincerely, bimbo <3

oh my god it's one of my favorite writers on tumblr🦅 thank you so much for the compliment it means a lot 😭 also i loved writing this ive desperately needed more vox asks! hope you enjoy! (kinda went ham on metaphors 💀 mb)

greed never stops

—vox x f!reader

—includes: overstim, tons of crying, begging, light bondage

vox was a walking, living(?) juxtaposition.

he’ll go barking orders to his subordinates, control most situations with smooth, quick thinking, and command his business with an iron fist.

but with you, the other side of his screen is on full display. his vulnerable, attention-desperate, failure-fearful self. you’ve seen it enough times to notice how it seeps into his daily life. how his control is really just a mechanism to take hold of his vulnerability, hiding it behind a mess of steel wires to make anyone who would try and reach it get tangled in its grasp.

but the moments he lets you untangle his facade, allowing you to see his true self, he feels free. even if most of the time it was during more intimate moments in the night. it was where he could truly indulge in his unfamiliar desires, crying and begging for the validation he was always seeking.

and you were the one he needed it from.

your praise was one of the highest in the hierarchy of compliments, making him feel like he was burning up, frying his brain in a way that made him feel like he’s short-circuited, but the feeling of fuzziness was intoxicating. he could never give up the taste of your compliments.

“come on, aren’t you a good boy? you can hold out for a little longer.”

those words were like rich liquor, and vox was an eager drinker. it swirled his thoughts into a never-ending spiral, and he could only cry in response as you touched his face with a gentleness that rivals an angel’s.

“b-but, mommy—!” he sobs as your fingers drive into him for what seems the thousandth time, his voice module starting to struggle as he tries to speak.

“oh?” you raise your eyebrow, feigning shock before narrowing your eyes, pressing him further down the sheets in disdain. is he still being ungrateful?

“but what, huh? don’t tell me you need more already! you’re such a greedy fucking slut,” you spit out, watching his eyes shoot open from the whiplash of your cruel words. “maybe i should stop—,”

“NO! nono, please! no! i’m sorry—!” he keens as your fingers slowly start to slip out of him, the sound so indecent it makes him shiver.

he pushes his hips up into your hand, trying to follow them only for your other hand to shove his hips back down on the sheets, your fingers twisting nearly all the way out before ramming back in, curling in wickedly that seems to shut him up briefly as he catches a breath that ran away.

vox weeps, unable to do anything else as his claws rip into the mattress, his legs shake and tremble as though they weren’t practically crushing you before. he seems so fragile at this moment, yet you knew he could take much more.

he just didn’t deserve it.

he whines and screams at your touch, tears starting to fall down his pretty little face as the small amount of dignity he had seems to get lost, overrun by your torturous fingers and unyielding pleasure that shoots through his body like a current.

“mommy—ha—please jus—zz—t fuck me, oh, god!” his head drops back down onto the pillows as your fingers wrap around his weeping cock, making his back arch as he sobs out noncoherent pleads. it’s beautifully pathetic.

his legs, weak and feeble, were strewn across the bed with previous markings trailing up his inner thigh, his neck even more decorated with a necklace of red, the glimmer of sweat that covers his whole body making those bites shine similar to crude rubies.

his hands, now tied with his own wires behind the bed (he charges there before he goes to sleep) were sullied with crimson from the tightness of the metal around his wrist, but not as bright crimson as his eyes, which flashed with bright red hearts intermittently. it was always a pleasant surprise, and a sign that he fucking loved this. no matter how much he complained at the start, his eyes spoke the truth.

which is why now, as you replace your fingers with his favorite strap, you know he’s absolutely overjoyed as those beating hearts seem to overtake his pupils once more, pulsating with a hypnotizing spiral.

“finally—! oh—zzz—FUCK!” his last word is practically inaudible with the airiness in his voice, his tone starting to distort, yet, your pace was slow. shallow, even. tears of frustration started to form at the ends of his eyes, his whines more pitiful as he tries to fuck himself back on your strap, only to be stopped by your sturdy grip on his hips.

“what do you say, vox?“ you asked, irritation slipping into your voice. how could he still be so ungrateful? but, he catches on fast, looking up at you with round, glossy eyes.

“thank you! thank—thank you, mommy!” he stumbles out before you switch up your pace instantly, brutally ramming into him just how he likes it. it makes him unable to fathom he could have been known to be anything but yours, surrendering his well-built persona to you. all of it, for your praise.

“such a good boy.”

those words were priceless, but he always ends up trying to buy them with obedience. and even though he’s successfully checked out with such praise, they still have the same effect on him every time.

he shudders and wails with ruined pitch, his screen flickering in and out of error messages and his lovely expression as he gets his reward. there was just something so satisfying about earning your praise.

sure, he can buy pretty much anything, and yes, he can get people to kneel at his feet, but he can’t cry without shame, or indulge in his true desires of being completely wrecked with soft words and fast hips with anyone. no, it could only be you. and even if he practically has everything under his hands, he will always be greedy for your affection, begging, screaming for a chance to have it set his whole body ablaze with its foreign warm feeling.

it makes him lost. no matter how much intelligence vox has, he always finds himself unable to search his way out of the feeling of pure lust overtaking his senses when you fuck him with abandon, his need to keep face seemingly never being there in the first place as tears make him short-circuit, and pleads for you to never stop. he doesn’t want to leave this labyrinth of carnality. he wants to stay lost in it forever.

it’s why even after he cums with a high-pitch sob so loud you thought his volume module broke, he kept weeping incoherently as the lights flicker in the room, his legs practically numb. and finally, he looks up at you, sniffling and choking on his words he’ll pretend to regret the next morning.

“m-more. please, mommy—! AH!” his whole body jolts as you heed his wishes, leaving him to fall back into the pleasure that he craves. he babbles on and on with thank yous and nonsensical sentences, the night seeming to become never-ending even with daybreak inching closer and closer.

vox is unable to speak at the end, and god does everything fucking hurt. his arms ache and his legs are definitely going to be an issue when he has to walk. there are marks all over his skin that will never see the light of day, yet be around for plenty of nights.

but you both know he’ll come back for more. his greed is an unquenchable thirst, and your praise is the only fountain that seems to satiate it, even if only for a little while.

(i totally didnt forget to tag)

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @mvskedxrtist @drlucichen @luciferspetduck

[l1tw1ck]

The Perfect Stress Reliever

bottom!Leon x top!masc!boss reader

CW: Blowjob, Cum Swallowing

Leon enters your office with a remorseful look on his face. "I'm sorry I failed you, sir."

"I'm disappointed in you, Leon," You look up from your work. "But I'll forget all about it if you help me out today."

Leon thinks it's too good to be true. You can't possibly mean that he'll help you with your work? That's far too easy compared to his failure. "Yes, sir."

"I've been stressed lately and I need someone to help relieve that stress. I think you'd be perfect for the job." You motion for him to come over, turning your chair around so that you face his body. Leon wonders what you'll have him do. "Kneel." You order. Without hesitation, Leon gets down on his knees. You lift his chin with your finger and smile down at him. "I want you to suck my cock, sweetheart."

Leon turns red. He had an idea of what you wanted but he thought he was just being perverted. "Yes, sir." He replies, voice shaking as he unbuckles your belt and unzips your slacks. Truthfully, he's always wanted to do this. And he hopes he'll get to do more, maybe he'll get fucked on your desk? The thought makes him tremble.

He looks at your cock with hearts in his eyes, you could tear up his insides with it. He licks your cock experimentally before licking it like ice cream. He's never given a blowjob before but he's trying his hardest. He wraps his lips around it and tries to make all of you fit in his mouth. He looks adorable doing it so you don't try to stop him. He attempts to deep throat you with tears pricking in his eyes and globs of saliva running down your cock. He looks up at you for reassurance and keeps going when he sees your expression. “You’re doing great, keep going.” You praise him. “Doing so good for Daddy..” You mutter. Leon shivers and moans, getting turned on from hearing that and speeds up.

You pull Leon off of your cock, making him frown. Did he do something wrong? He likes the way you’re gripping his hair though… “I'm gonna come in your mouth and you’re gonna swallow it all like the good little slut you are, got it?”

“Ye- yes, Daddy-”

You shove his mouth onto your cock, moving his head up and down until you reach your release. You force him all the way down your shaft and paint his throat white. You let go of his hair and he pulls away. His face is red and stained with tears but he clearly enjoyed it.

“Is…is that all, sir?”

“For now."

[gotranting]

The Winter Feast - Part Two

Cregan Stark x Female Northern reader Summary: The last celebration before Winter comes. A time when blessings and protection are sought from the Old Gods. A time of feasting and song before the biting blizzards arrive. A time to indulge in all pleasures before survival becomes the only thing that matters.

A/N: You can technically read this without part one as that was an introduction to the characters. English is not my native language, and any constructive criticism is welcome! ...I think the grammar is in order. Would hope so. *Hides behind the Wall*. Is it too sappy? Warnings: smut at the end, slight breeding kink, fluff, minimal description of reader (red hair, brown eyes). I tried to use Y/N as little as possible. Hope you enjoy!

The Feast was a magical affair. Fire embers lit up the night sky as the sound of drums echoed through the forest.

Sat on a wooden bench, an elderly woman created all sorts of creatures with her hands, as the children around listened to the tales of monstrous beings beyond the Wall. Huddled next to each other, some shivered, others covered their eyes with their little hands, yet they could not stop listening to all the frightening details of each tale.

No matter where you turned, one could hear the chatter about all sorts of subjects. From shared worries about the oncoming winter, to idle gossip about the neighbour next door.

The sweetness of mead was felt heavily in the air as men and women joined together in their merrymaking – singing the Northern songs, their voices complimented the jolly tunes of drums and lutes.

...That is, singing was done by those who had not been defeated by one bottle too many. True, even those who decided to empty their tenth cup, before the Feast even began sang along. Although, many who heard those screeches hoped that the drunken sleep would take over as soon as possible and rid them of their misery.  

A lively affair indeed.

But the largest attraction stood proudly in the middle of the gathering. A massive bonfire, made specifically for the celebration. Its flames danced along with the common and highborn folk alike, all lost in their own music. Children ran around the fire, some folk danced on their own, elders were moving as much as their old bones allowed them to.

The young lovers, who wanted a blessing from the Old Gods, jumped over the blazing flames, hand in hand, as others cheered and wished them a long and healthy union.

And there, far away from the light of the flame, shielded by the deep green branches of the trees, were lovers who wished to dance to their own tune. Either they already jumped over the flames, or they did not care for such trivialities. Some tried to hide from disapproving members of their kin in order to have their own moment of peace, as bittersweet as it was for them.

One last moment of peace before Winter arrived. Last time for the folk to release all of their troubles, before survival became the only important matter in their life. This was a time of songs, dance and spending time with family or friends. For one knew that not all would survive the harshness of the arriving blizzards.

Sacrifices were brought to the Old Gods, in hope that they would protect them all. Food and drink covered the tables, while the rest of it was stored safely for the harsher times.

If there were any mischievous children trying to sneak into the pantry, Aida would welcome them. From then on, their plan was doomed to failure.

Same went for the young lads who tried to snatch away one more barrel of ale to their company. Woe to the man who was caught by the watchful eye of Aida.

„That wench is like a guard dog standing beside those barrels“, grumbled Arnolf as he tried to devise a strategy to get closer to them. At least one.

„You could always try and sweet-talk her dear friend“, laughed Osric taking a swig of his own mead.

„Tried it, and it did not work!“, Arnolf cried out, still in disbelief that his charm did not sway the old crone.

„Well, if you hadn't asked her if she wanted to join you in the forest and taste something far sweeter than mead, perhaps she would at least refrain from hitting you right after the words left your mouth“, Osric added.

„Oh, then you do it. Come on now, show us how it is done Lord Mormont. Let us see the mighty bear come alive!“

„Maybe I will dear friend if only so you would stop whining for a moment." Taking another swig, Osric glanced to his right.

"Or, we could send our Warden to use his wolfish charms on her. Instead of snapping his head to the crowd every time a redhead passes by.“

Cregan averted his gaze from the dancers, at the mention of his title. Aye, he sought the young sorceress, however he should do so with some resemblance of control.

Besides, he wasn't sure if she would even join the festivities in the end. Even though, the feast was the type of gathering she rarely missed out, her plans often changed. It was quite possible that she ended up celebrating on her own.

Or, whispered a voice in his head, she might already have company. Stormy eyes glanced at the darkness beyond the fire, his thoughts creating an image of her sprawled on the forest floor as some inexperienced boy tried to pleasure her in vain.

His grip tightened around his cup as another image appeared of her, only this time with a man – one who knew well how to make a woman cry out their name.

„Dear brother, whatever did that cup do to you?“

Too engrossed in his thoughts, Cregan did not even notice a new member joining their group. He scolded himself once more.

A Warden on whom thousands of people depend on, cannot allow himself to be taken by surprise like that.

Releasing the cup, he turned to his sister, as she beamed innocently at her older sibling.

„Sara“, he nodded, gruffly as she kept on grinning.

„You are looking the wrong way“, she muttered taking a swig from her cup.

„Am I now? And what exactly would I be looking at sister?“

Sara could only snort as her brother tried to seem disinterested.

Nodding off to the left, she watched Cregan's face softening as he noticed the young woman standing by the fire.

„My job here is done“, she turned to their friends, finding their banter far more amusing than her lord brother's incompetence in approaching a woman.

Cregan was in awe. What a sight she was.

Standing at the edge of the dancers, her curls resembled the very flames that surrounded her. She smiled fondly as another couple jumped over the fire, laughing as her friend dragged her into the crowd.

The drums were becoming louder. 

He watched as she twirled around with a black haired woman, both of them picking up the pace at the merry tune. Cregan's heart stuttered, as she threw her head to the night sky, releasing a wild cry along with the rest of the townsfolk.

Perhaps the Southerners were right in calling them savages. No matter. None in the crowd cared for any of the nicknames as they lost themselves in the roaring of the drums.

„You could join them you know? They would be glad to see their lord among them“, whispered Sara as she turned to him once more.

„I am among them, in order to protect them Sara, should something happen. A lord cannot just abandon all of his sense for a fleeting moment of pleasure.“

He could see the annoyance at his answer. His sister never failed to voice out her displeasure, and this time was no different.  

„Cregan, you are not one of those lordlings that cannot lift a finger without being instructed on how to perform each fucking movement. Aye, you are our Warden, but do you honestly think we expect you to be proper all of the time?“

Her tone softened at her next words, as she tried to catch her brother's gaze.

„The elderly here remember the small boy who ran through the town with his leathers all covered in mud. A boy that loved the company of the common folk, who loved to observe as the blacksmiths brought in new material for their weapons.“ A cheeky grin flashed over her face.

„A Northerner. If we wanted a proper Southern princeling, we would have made it known.“ 

As she recalled their childhood, Sara was well aware how fast it all changed after their father's death. Suddenly, most of their freedom was gone. Cregan had to adapt to his new title, as new problems appeared every day. He handled them well. But there was no time left for carefree rides through the northern tundra. No more time for competing in archery with his sister. No time to visit Y/N, as much as he wanted to.

The betrayal of their own uncle hardened the young lord unlike any battle he fought.

Starks valued family and honor above all else. Many Northerners did, no matter their last name.

It was an unbearable pain, witnessing to what lengths his own kin was capable of going to, in order to obtain power.

His uncle now rots in chains. It is still no easy task, to sentence one's own family to such a fate.

Now all grown up, Cregan was as gruff as any Northerner. Sharp with the greatsword, and ruthless to those who tried to use sweet words in order to hide the truth.

He was not as happy as he once was, Sara knew that. His attention was on the Wall, on helping his people to survive, and on ruling his country. Boyish dreams were forgotten.

Alas, she knew her brother was still capable of quick remarks, especially in the company of Arnolf and Osric. Or when he was with her.

Or, with the young woman whom he waited for the whole evening.

A wave of sadness washed over her as she witnessed how her brother kept seeking out her friend. Nudging his shoulder, she nodded towards the crowd.

„Go to them. ...Go to her. Allow yourself one night Cregan. Whatever it may bring.“ 

Cregan thought about his sister's words. His eyes found the redhead once more, right in the moment she leaped over the fire.

The drums thundered as the dance began to transform into something far more primal. He watched her eyes falling shut, as she followed her own rhythm. Curls ruffled by the wind would not stand still, as she spun around.

Sara only smiled as her brother left their table.

.

Y/N was startled to see Cregan walking towards her as she reopened her eyes.

Cloak left behind, it was easy to admire him dressed in leathers, the Stark sigil lying proudly over his chest. He always looked handsome, she thought with disdain. With the firelight as their only source of lightning, it all became a rather intimate scene as the pair met in the middle of swaying bodies.

„I thought you would already be lost in your own celebration somewhere“, Cregan greeted her, as he surveyed the people around them.

An unfamiliar woman had her legs wrapped around her partner, as they ground against one another. Another man's hands roamed over his partner's body as they moved towards the forest.

The children had left the bonfire, as the drums changed their pace. Mostly young men and women remained, as others either succumbed to their mead, or discussed other matters, not paying much mind to the dancers.   

„Later perhaps. I still owe a few drinks if I remember well.“ Although, seeing Arnolf and Osric barely sitting upright, perhaps drinks should be saved for some other time, she mused.

„I did not think you would partake in this part of the Feast lord Stark.“ She never expected him to, knowing that he preferred to keep to the sides.

„I did not plan to. Sara thinks it will do me some good“, he looked around him once more. „I'm not sure I remember the steps of this dance anymore.“

„It is certainly not the kind of dance they teach you in the great halls,“ the girl chuckled under her breath.

„Look around you Cregan, and follow the movements of others. There are no rules to this, one dances how they wish to, that is the beauty of it.“

Truly, each pair moved to their own tune. Cregan sought out someone who danced on their own, and found that only a few twirled without a partner by their side.

„It is not a dance for one person alone it would seem?“ he huffed out a breath as he stood unmoving. The sweat clad bodies around barely left any space between as they glided against one another.

...It was difficult to tell who collided with the young pair, but both were brought back from their observations as his hands grabbed her waist, luckily preventing them from falling.

She could feel each beat of the drum coursing through her as she gazed up at him, only to find grey eyes already boring into her.

He cared little for anyone around, his voice only heard by the two of them.

„Will you teach me?“

She found herself nodding before she had time to think anything through, her hands covering his own. Trying to hide her own nervousness, the little witch smirked at Cregan.

„Think you can keep up Lord Stark?“

The proper titles once more. He could not help but want to hear her teasing each morning.

Another image appeared in Cregan's mind. Both of them laying in his chambers. Him nipping at her neck each time the words lord left her mouth. Not that he would stop once she gave up and used his name. It was only imagination, yet he could hear so clearly each laugh that would escape her as he trailed over her more sensitive parts.

Her hands left his own, lightly trailing over his chest. Breath catching in his throat, he was brought to the reality.

The wind picked up, as the fire blazed behind.

„Dance how you wish to Cregan...“ the girl whispered, as she circled around him, her hands gliding over his back.

As if the vixen was unaware that if he were to move as he wanted to at that moment, he would have taken her without giving a damn who watched.

He had to let her set the pace. Cregan could not trust himself with her hands all over him.

Alas the self control did not last for long.

Hooded eyes met her as she stood in front of him once more. Cregan watched as she threw her head back, her eyes fluttering shut. Mouth falling open, as another laugh escaped her, he watched utterly spellbound as this girl in front of him allowed herself to be free. He wanted to be so as well. With her if she would let him.

Damn propriety.

In one swift motion, Cregan pulled her towards him, his hands wrapping underneath her thighs, lifting her into the night sky. Her smile turned into a gasp, as he watched what little of the brown hue in her eyes disappeared. Smiles fading, both tried to control their breathing in vain. Whatever control was left, it was bound to snap at any moment.

It snapped when the girl made the first move. When he felt her hips slightly rolling against him, as she tried to adjust in his arms. When he heard her gasp as she felt him hardening below her.

Cregan could excuse her the first time.

He could only groan the second time he felt her move against him, his head burrowing in the crook of her neck. His hips responded to her own, the scent of her making him lose what little sanity he had.

„Perhaps you do know the dance after all“, she gasped. Cregan only hummed against her, his lips busy with tracing an invisible line up her neck. She could barely feel his lips on her, as he seemed to enjoy torturing her.

She needed air. More so, she needed to stop him before he did something he would regret.

„Cregan, we can't...“ her sentence was lost in another quiet moan as he left an open mouthed kiss over her pulse point. She would've let him take her in that moment. Gods, she would let him do whatever he wanted right there. But one of them had to think rationally.

Feeling the graze of his teeth, she wasn't sure if she could achieve such a task. Still, she had to try. Cupping the back of his head, the girl pulled at his hair as grey eyes met brown once more. Or whatever little was left of the two colours.

He was beautiful like this. She wanted to see him without breath every day, as long as she was the cause of it.

No. She needed air.

Releasing the stone hard grip on him, the girl lowered herself back to the ground, but Cregan would not let her go, as he tried to memorize each part of her in this moment.

„You'll be the death of me“, he murmured, gently tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Pointless, as the wild mane just fell back where it was.

„A slayer of the Wolf in the North. Now, that is a title indeed“, she whispered back.

The way he looked at her. As if she was Nature herself in all her wildest glory. The word witch never fitted her better, than at this very moment. She could see the adoration in his eyes.

Dare she say, even love.

Her chest tightened in pain. Air. She needed air.

And yet...

„I propose a hunt Lord Stark.“

Cregan narrowed his eyes.

„If you catch me, you win. If not, I take the victory.“

„And when I find you? What then?“ He tried to catch her mouth, but the vixen moved on time, her lips leaving a chaste kiss on his cheek.

„Do not get ahead of yourself my lord.“

With a devilish glint in her eye, she blended into the crowd, red curls the only trace Cregan could follow.

He only stood there for a moment, before heading after her.

.

Moving between gasping bodies, she didn't dare turn in case he was nearby. It was a thrill she had to admit, knowing that he was trying to find her. Wondering what he would do if he did.

Being skillful when it came to hiding in the shadows, she thought herself hidden well enough. After all, she was not the only one with auburn hair among the folk.

Coming to the other side of the bonfire, surely she could stop for a moment to admire yet another couple leaping over the flames.

It was always endearing when they jumped, she thought. The leap itself was a simple enough task, yet it symbolized the trust that lovers held for one another.

By tradition, they crossed the flames together, in order to have their union blessed by the Old Ones. It was a way to make their intentions known, before they took their vows underneath the Weirwood Tree.

A binding ritual of sorts, it was never taken in a light manner by those who chose to go through it.

As she watched another happy pair, she wondered for a moment if such a fate was in store for her. Would she want it?

When she jumped before, it was only with the intention to ask for the blessing of the Old Gods. That she can continue to help her people, and everything around her. But to jump in order to bind herself to another man? Could she do it? Did she want to do it?

Her musings were cut short as two strong arms wrapped around her waist. The chase was over.

„Found you“, he murmured, as he nosed at the sensitive spot behind her ear, tickling her as he did so. She always smelled of fir, and various sorts of herbs kept on her all of the time. Cregan tried to focus on that, hoping that it would help him ground himself.

Her hands came to rest upon his once more, as she leaned back into the warmth of him. Cregan's head rested on her shoulder as they both looked upon the fire.

„Jump over the fire with me Y/N“, he left a soft kiss on her shoulder.

Her breath hitched in her throat at that. Turning her head slightly, she was met with the same warm look from before.

Another painful tug at her chest.

„That is a heavy request Cregan“, her eyes softened, no doubt reflecting the same feeling back at him.

„Mead and the heat of fire can damage a man's mind just as any poison...“

He cut her off before she could finish that thought.

„Tonight, tomorrow, in five years, or ten I would ask you the same question Y/N. The mead plays no role in this, my mind is clear.“ He almost sounded offended that she could even suggest that.

„I was yours when we first went horse riding as children.

I was yours when you taught me which herbs are used in treating the strongest of fevers.

I was certainly yours when we fought side by side a few moons ago.“ Cregan's voice could barely be heard as he nudged his nose against hers.

„I'm yours every time you bicker with me when you worry for my safety. Just as I do for yours.

I'm yours. My mind is clear on that matter.“

And she was his. Surely he had to know that. Cregan could feel her hands trembling as she returned the nudging back to him.

But they could not. If he was to bind himself to anyone, it would be to strengthen an alliance, at least that is what the other houses expected of him. A southern lady, or one from the Riverlands to bring the two houses together.

And she couldn't either. There was no possibility of her abandoning her home or the woods, in order to become a Lady of Winterfell. She was bound to the land. Managing a castle, and bringing up heirs was not her future.

Her smile faltered. „We both have a duty Cregan... you know we cannot.“

„Damn the duty. Tomorrow is not promised to us Y/N. Other lords would come to understand. They know you. And they respect you. They would have a fierce lady protecting them, just as you do now.“

„A Stark forsaking their vows? The world must truly be on the brink.“

He did not smile at her attempt at a jest. Sighing the girl tried once more. „The Northern lords would understand. Others would not. You need alliances Cregan, especially now when there is talk of another war brewing.“

A sad fate. To have them be in love without being able to act on it fully. Another pair jumped, as they got lost in their own thoughts, holding onto one another. As the lovers rushed somewhere into the woods, Cregan nosed behind her ear once more.

„Then let us have this night together. In the morning we will go back to what is expected of us.“

The witch turned in his arms. Another nuzzle.

„Spend the night with me Y/N.“ 

...There were no words for an answer. Only rushing into the shadows as the young lovers laughed breathlessly. If anyone noticed, they were happy for their Warden. Alas, not many did, too occupied as they were in their celebrations.

.

Abandoning the light of the fire, only the Moon lit their path as they ran deeper into the forest. It was truly a joyous sight to witness them so carefree, even amongst all the trouble in the world. Cregan lifted her again, twirling her in the air, as she let out a shriek of laughter.

As soon as the first tree shielded them from the view, her back was met with rough bark as Cregan's mouth crashed against hers.

There was no patience, years of holding back catching up with them at last. Hands fumbled around, as both of them tried to reach any part of exposed skin they could find, letting out frustrated noises as the layers of clothing only slowed them in their goal.

For Cregan it proved even more difficult, as the little vixen tugged at his lower lip, her tongue quickly lapping over the sensitive skin.

Groaning, he pulled back briefly to catch his breath, his forehead resting against hers.

"You're making me lose my mind woman," he rasped, as his thumb traced over her lips. Unable to restrain himself for too long, he pulled her back into a deeper kiss.

"I'm glad of it" she moaned, as he began to leave open mouthed kisses down her neck. "Gods Cregan..."

Cregan hummed at her words, his mouth trailing down to the hollow of her throat. He nipped at her skin, revelling in the taste of her.

It was frightening how she ruined him with only a few fleeting touches. Luckily, it seemed that he had just about the same effect on her.

"You're a sorceress," he mumbled against her skin, "I should lock you up for trying to seduce your lord." He was met with only a deep chuckle in response. She seemed to take it as a compliment.

Without warning, Cregan lifted her up, her legs wrapping around him, as he pinned her against the tree.

No prying eyes to worry about this time. They were free to do as they wished.

She could not help but laugh as he kept stealing small kisses from her, and each time she tried to deepen at least one, he withdrew far enough from her reach.

„You're not playing fair“, her eyes crinkled as he kissed the tip of her nose.

„If I'm to have you for this night alone, then I'll make love to you properly“, Cregan murmured, as he ground against her. She truly hoped no one was nearby, as a loud gasp echoed through the forest.

„I want to know what it would feel like to care for you each morning when you wake up“, another feather-like kiss to her cheek.

„I want to know each sound of pleasure you can make while I'm fucking you“, she tangled her fingers tightly in his hair, as grey eyes met brown ones.

„I want you. Even if it is only for tonight.“

Her hips met his thrusts as she watched him shut his eyes in pleasure. Releasing soft grunts each time her hips rolled against him.

Urging her on to keep doing so, just to hear him rasp her name again.

Putting more force into her next movement, Cregan lost his footing, pulling them both into the soft snow beneath them. He let out a breath as she fell on top of him, both laughing along before they continued to explore one another. She reached for the laces of his breeches, impatient now.

"Slowly little witch", he chuckled as he helped her with unlacing. Or perhaps he was of no help at all - distracting as he started peppering kisses along her neck, deciding right there that he loved how she stuttered when his mouth grazed over a specific spot.

Her turn, she thought. If he is to distract her, she would return the favour. Finally, moving the offending fabric aside, she wrapped her hand around him.

"Fuck, Y/N!"

Slowly stroking his length, Cregan let out a choked off moan, buckling involuntarily under her touch.

"Slowly, little wolf" she teased back. "We have all night". As if to emphasise her point, she slowed down her movements even more, gliding her finger back and forth only over the tip.

She was going to be death of him.

"If you keep that up", he barely ground out, "we won't last through the night."

"Good." she smirked, as her finger lightly traced under the head. Foreheads touching, both watched her hand sliding down his cock.

„Perhaps I want to see you come undone in my hands", she murmured. Each time his breathing became too laboured, she would put a stop to it all, loving to see him chasing after her. Loving to witness how his eyes scrunched shut in frustration, as he tried to control his breathing.

What she did not anticipate was for her skirts to be lifted, as Cregan roughly tugged her into his lap, thrusting hard along her slit. His mouth met her own, silencing both of their moans, as she tried to line him up to her entrance.

Steadying her with his hands, he would not allow her the full satisfaction. Even if it was torture for Cregan to feel her wetness, yet unable to fill her up as both of them wanted to.

They always matched each other, no matter what they did. If she was to tease him, he would show her exactly how that feels.

"Ride me."

A command uttered loud and clear, as stormy eyes observed the beauty above him.

There would be times for soft touches. Times when they would be able to fully explore each curve of one another.

He would come to her, or they would meet in secret once more.

It was foolish to think, they could keep apart after this night, no matter how much they kept lying to themselves.

She obeyed without question. Taking him into her hand, she lowered herself down, gasping as he filled her up completely. Breaths mingling, they clinged to each other, trying to adapt to the overwhelming pleasure.

After what seemed an eternity, two fingers at last tapped her hip, allowing her to set her own pace.

Cregan looked to the stars above them, as she started to slide up. Tightening her cunt every time she did so, his jaw clenched at the feeling, hands grasping her hips, sure to leave a mark on the morrow. Pleasure overtaking him, Cregan pulled her along, as his head met the soft ground.

He was beautiful underneath her. She watched his eyes shut in pleasure, his frown a reminder how hard he tried not to thrust into her.

She wanted him to take control. Wanted him as he was at the Feast. Without holding back.

Grazing her teeth over his ear, the girl mustered enough control to whisper. "Why do you hold back my love?"

With a sharp movement, she slid down until he was fully sheathed in her, leaving him completely out of breath from the sudden movement. „Fuck me Cregan...please. I want you to.���

He wasn't sure what made him buck sharply into her as deep as he could.

Perhaps it was hearing the profanities coming out of her mouth.

Perhaps, it was the fact she called him hers.

Cregan's hands guided her as she moved against him, as he tried to mark every part of her skin exposed to him.

"I want to taste you next time." An open mouthed kiss left on her neck.

"I want to feel you come undone from my mouth alone Y/N." His lips lowered.

When she cried out from the pain of his teeth marking her, he was quick to soothe her, his tongue lapping over the bruising mark.

A sharp tug on his hair, the girl pulled him back to her. Wanting to see him as he made those promises.

"And if I wanted to use my mouth on you lord Stark?"

A sharper thrust into her at the idea of it. As if she had to ask him.

"If I wanted to be the only one to pleasure you like this Cregan? Would you let me do so?"

"I'd let you do whatever you wished my lady." A breathless chuckle, as she limply smacked him in the arm at the nickname.

"I'm yours, and yours alone."

A heavy promise.

"As I am yours Cregan."

She begged him not to stop, crying out each time he hit the right spot, as only noises of skin against skin echoed through the air.

"I'm close" he choked out as she threaded her fingers through his hair, wrapping herself around him, fearing to let go. "Me too", she kissed the side of his cheek, her lips lingering there.

Pressing their foreheads together, stormy eyes met brown ones once more.

„Where do you want me to...“ "Inside...please. Inside, Cregan.“

It was difficult not to imagine what that could bring. At the thought of his seed taking hold in her, Cregan thrusted deeper.

Her arms wrapped possessively around him, not allowing him to spill anywhere but inside of her.

"Are you sure?" "Please."

Hips stuttering, he choked out her name, the sound muffled in her neck as she felt him spilling in her.

The lovers held onto each other, as they shook from their high. Barely any coherent words leaving their mouths, apart from sighs of each other's names.

...She must've whimpered as she clenched around him, for he was whispering sweet nothings to her, fingers tracing soothing patterns on her back, bringing her back to him.

Taking a moment to return to reality, Cregan nosed at the side of her head, urging her to look at him. Capturing her lips, the gesture was gentler than the previous they shared.

As the lust left them, he could not stop himself from leaving soft kisses over her face. From one on the cheek, to one on her nose, not finding it fair to abandon the other side.

Trying to catch her breath, the girl could still feel him inside of her as she moved. Feeling the mixture of them leaking down her thigh, a sudden shyness of what they had done started to grow, urging her to hide in the crook of his neck.

"What's this now?" Cregan murmured, his fingers gently caressing her back. "No need to be bashful, my heart."

He pulled her out of her hiding place, his hand under her chin, trying to catch her gaze. He looked at her for a moment, taking in the sight of her.

The curls were scattered in all directions. Red cheeks from the cold, and puffed lips, she looked completely wrecked. Cregan wished he could see her like that every day.

"Do not hide from me", his thumb traced the line of her jaw. "I want to see you. All of you."

Her eyes were filled with warmth as they met his own. Seeing the softness and love in them as he gazed upon her, she had to let him know. There was no point in holding back anymore.

„I'm yours...whatever may come, know that I'm yours Cregan.“

The words were not hasty mutterings, spoken in the moment of pleasure. He could see she had meant them.

„And I'm yours. From this day until the end of my days.“

Interlacing their hands he laid them between their hearts. The branches shielded the young lovers as they traded kisses, for however long the cold allowed them to.

True, they didn't jump over the fire tonight.

It mattered not.

They were bound to one another after that night, with the Moon as their witness.

It was amusing that both of them thought one night would be enough. They would always come back to one another, whatever may come.

[barefoothighlander]

I looove all the works you've been giving us, sincelery thank you for keeping us fed. So I had this idea lingering in my mind and basically : it's ghost with a reader that's only nice to him. Like they're not the most cheerful person but they're always giving him little snacks or giving him compliments and all that. So ghost think they're kind and like that all the time with everyone, but after one (or many) convos with 141 he realizes that no, they aren't very nice with people and it's just him.......... Anyway I hope this isn't too much, I wish you a good day/night!!!

epiphany

love this, thank you!!! Ghost needs a cute lil significant other that only likes him. Hope this little one-shot fits what you were thinking of.

warnings: mentions of violence, fluff, gn pronouns, reader has codename 'phantom', insinuation of smut?

"LT, please control them," Soap says pointing toward you, you raise your hands in defence

"I didn't do anything"

"You're joking, you almost shot my head off"

"You were in the way"

"Oh really" Soap crosses towards you and Ghost steps between, arm extended in front of you keeping you from clawing at Soap, giving him a glare. Soap huffs a breath and walks away shaking his head, Ghost turns to you, head tilted in question and you smile back at him.

"How was your day?" You ask

"Did you try to kill him"

"If I was trying to he'd be dead"

He quirks his head, "That's true"

"Oh here," You say reaching into your pocket, pulling out a small pack of biscuits. "Found these earlier, remembered you loved them so"

He grabs the package from your hands eyeing them over before the two of you walk off.

A few hours later Ghost hears yelling from the mess, poking his head around the door to see you almost face to face with Soap, finger pointed at his chest, your focus shifting when you see him, anger suddenly dissipating.

"What the fuck's going on"

"Your little pet is saying the mission failure is my fault"

"Yeah, and it fucking is Johnny, you're in charge of demolitions, who else do I blame when the door doesn't blow open"

"Alright both of you stop," Ghost says, "Johnny go cool off"

"Me? They're the one that's always walking around with a sour face"

You huff at him.

"Johnny, go"

You smirk as he walks away, face dropping as Ghost grabs your arm dragging you into the hallway.

"Why is he so mad at you?"

"I don't know, Scottish temper" You smirk

He stares at you trying to read your face, he'd never seen this side of you, truth be told he kinda loved it, but usually you were skipping around your shared flat, dancing to music or nuzzling into him as you cuddled. You were always so kind and soft towards him, making sure he ate when he was home, gently cleaning his cuts, dropping him off books you thought he'd like.

The two of you go your own way after your outburst and Ghost decided to investigate. Knocking on Price's door,

"Oi Captain"

"Whaddu need son"

"Just a question, Phantom, are they ever, I dunno, mean to you?"

"Are you joking, why do you think that's their codename, they scare the shit out of everyone"

"You're joking"

"I wish, I steer clear of them when I can, almost got my head chewed off when I took them off a mission"

"Huh, thanks sir," Simon says as he leaves the room, rubbing the back of his neck before his eyes land on Gaz,

"Hey mate"

"Lieutenant"

"Phantom, thoughts?"

Gaz looks around the halls like you'd be waiting around the corner to strangle him, "Great fighter"

"I mean their personality"

Gaz is hesitant, scared you'd somehow hear him talking about you, "Saw them almost break a rookie's shoulder for talking back, never bugged them after that"

"So you're scared of them too"

Gaz simply nods.

Ghost continues asking people around the base about you, most of them simply tried to stay out of your way others had horror stories and the rest just believed that you hated them. When he left base to go home he was utterly confused, your opposing actions a mystery to him, his confusion increasing when he walked in and saw you moving around the flat half-naked, hips swaying to some old song.

A large smile plastered on your face when you saw him, practically leaping into his arms to welcome him home, planting soft kisses over his face once he removed his mask.

"Did you want a tea?"

He shakes his head and you move from him, continuing whatever task you were up to, he scans the flat, brightly coloured decor on the shelves, blankets all over the place, you had made it so cozy.

"People on base are terrified of you"

His statement makes you stop in your tracks, "What are you talking about"

"Well apparently you've threatened quite a few people"

"Huh" You simply shrug your shoulders and Ghost smiles

"Why are you so nice to me and so mean to them"

"I'm mean?"

"They certainly think so"

You move towards him wrapping your arms around his neck, standing on your toes to kiss him, "Maybe I only like you"

"Mm I like the sound of that," He says kissing you back, "But you can't yell at rookies, that's my job"

"Fine, you can be the scary one"

"Very generous of you"

"I can be generous"

"How generous" His eyebrow quirks as he lifts your legs to wrap around him,

"Very"

He carries you, leading you to the bedroom and shutting the door with his leg as a fit of giggles overtake you.

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Cucking Cato, inspired by @/mothiir ‘s fic. Though it’s less of a true cuck and more of a like, voyeuristic torture.

Relationships: Demetrian Titus/Fem!Reader, Onesided Cato Sicarius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Cato is getting accidentally/partly cucked lol, Voyeuristic kind of, Light breeding kink,

The room is more than elaborate; It seems like it perhaps was meant for dignitaries and planetary officials before being given to him for his temporary stay in this planetary fortress that held their high lords.

They couldn’t have men of the Ultramarines in unsuitable quarters, he assumes. Especially a Captain such as him. They had instantly given him a place to sleep with a view of gardens and fields, far different than the mountains he had grown used to seeing from the height of the Ultramarine fortress monastery. But even if he has no need of the pleasantries, the vehement respect this planet has shown so far has proven, adequate.

Though now that it’s dark, Sicarius thinks that perhaps the dirt on the ground in the gardens he can see from this room’s singular window would be a better resting place than where he currently is.

He's tried sleeping even though he has no need for it, having slept a few days ago, pacing circles, polishing his weaponry and checking it for even the slightest nick or scratch; Praying to it's machine spirit. But each time he tries to whisper the words he remembers by heart, someone interrupts him; Something thumps against the wall hard enough that it shakes the bed he sits on.

“Titus!”

You have to know you can be heard, do you just not care? Or are you too cockdumb already; You’ve been laying underneath Titus for hours.

It has to be underneath, the way the bedframe hits against the wall combined with your mewls and squeals can only be from Titus driving into you like an animal.

“More more more, please! Just a bit harder,”

Sicarius purses his lips and wrinkles his nose at a nondescript painting of an old lord- who is more than likely long since dead - across from him as he hears you. You’re insatiable, you keep begging for him and his cock like some sort of whore, far below the privileged stature Guilliman had bestowed upon you.

It should be him you're begging to, begging for what scraps he might gift you. But instead Titus gives you whatever you ask of him, like you’re a princess instead of a diplomat.

He would right that greediness in you in an instant, have you asking sweetly for him instead of demanding like Astartes aren’t miles above you.

“You are insatiable, you know that?”

Titus sounds like he would be smiling, if Sicarius could see him. He knows he would be; The shamed lieutenant is always trying to hold back a smile when he sees you.

Now he knows why. Two kindred spirits- The failure and the harlot. He doesn’t know why he didn’t see it sooner. Perhaps because he’s been so dismissive about you, taking his duty so vehemently but having little interest in you yourself, that he somehow failed to see the signs.

"It's like you were made for Ultramarine cock, little one,"

Sicarius briefly wonders what you would both do if he hit the wall; If he yelled that he could hear you both, to shut up and stop. He also debates getting up and breaking down that neighboring door himself, scolding Titus for a clear breach in duty and send him tumbling further down Ultramarine ranks.

"Yes! Yes, I love you TItus..."

He hears Titus chuckle and return your sentiment, and Sicarius snarls in his empty room. They're Ultramarines, they should be beyond things like love and lust, and yet Titus is falling for both.

"You're so tight, my sweet girl,"

Sicarius rolls his eyes. Why Titus always insists on being so soft with you- blunting all of his edges - he will never understand. You keened and mewled the most when he told you that you were made for Ultramarine cock, clearly you want him to tell you what you really are. That you want your cunt filled with only the finest of the Emperor’s angels. He would show you what your use should be instead of a prized diplomat, they very reason they are here on this backwater planet with paltry scenery. If not for your presence, they would have covered this planet in ash by now.

It should be him that degrades you, that tells you what you really are. But instead Titus remarks about how wet you are, how ready and able you are to take him. You’re a good girl, you’re strong; Sicarius would never say those things to you.

For awhile the talking ceases, and Sicarius finds it a bit easier to distract himself away from the sounds of mindless moaning, TItus' hips slapping against you and the bed knocking against the wall, though it's as if saying one torture is better than another. He manages to finish the prayers to his bolster’s machine spirit, and then once again finds his mind quickly drifting back to you.

Why is he so invested in this? Why can’t he just block it out and forget like anything else? Is it because the amount of rules in the Codex that Titus is breaking? Is it because it’s you?

“Inside, inside please don’t-“

Sicarius angrily pushes his hand over his hair, flattening it against his head. You just keep begging, you want him so badly. He swears he can hear your nails clawing at Titus’ shoulders and trying to keep him close to you.

Sicarius swears he can feel it, a ghost of that feeling, the raking bite of blunt nails against his already scarred skin. Who cares if he gets a few more.

“I don’t want you to have to explain why you are suddenly with child,”

Titus gently says, strain in his voice. He's close, Sicarius can tell even though muffled.

“Guilliman knows, Guilliman knows I am with y-“

Sicarius’ breath hitches. His brow furrows and his hands rest more limp around the combat knife he’d been vigorously polishing.

…His primarch knows of this?

All of the times Sicarius had voiced his opinion about you, complained about your uncouth behavior and lack of professionalism bringing shame to their Legion, your sickly sweet smile and soft form, he knew you were bonded to Titus? And he has neither said nor done a single thing?

Why did the realization feel like a stab, and why does it ache like one?

"You'll make fine Ultramarines, then,"

Sicarius can't stop the image of you that takes over his mind; Of your jewelry against your skin, elegant dress changed by the swell of a big round belly. No one would know that one of the Ultramarines serving in your retinue is the father of that child, and perhaps if SIcarius was willing to deny reality, he could pretend in that moment that it was him.

It should be him; He is the Grand Duke of Talassar, one of the greatest Ultramarines that's ever lived, and you chose to risk getting bred by Titus? He could give you a child that was stronger than what any other man could give you, that he would help raise to protect you, without a father that has a permanent stain on his name.

It should be him, he thinks as he hears you mewl and cry, Titus' deep voice groaning. It becomes muffled before quickly stopping; He assumes because Titus’ kissed you.

But only now does the noise and the shaking finally stop, both finished. You say something about wanting to sleep, asking Titus to say. He agrees. Sicarius gets up, but somehow doesn’t remember where he was planning to leave to, and just stands in silence

It should be him.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Chapter 2: Reluctant Allies

Pairing: Gojo x fem! reader

Warnings: language, domestic violence, thank y'all for sharing your experience with me, it helped me so much understanding childhood trauma and made me transform it into this fic <3

<- Previous Chapter l Next Chapter ->

„I heard about your failures, (y/n).”

Your mouth reacts faster than your mind.

“Maybe I’d do better if you get me away from that ass school”, you mutter more to yourself than your father.

A brutal slap sends you straight back to reality and your heart into your throat. Fuck, you’re not talking to Gojo Satoru here, your time at Jujutsu High didn’t do you any favour apparently. The man in front of you wearing that dark blue kimono is none other than your father. Or better said, the man who is responsible for your lousy existence on this planet.

Being a father is a wide stretch for that monster.

“Watch how you talk to me, (y/n). I sent you to Jujutsu High in order to become better than that Gojo brat, so that you bring honor to the Zenin clan. But all you accomplished this far is a grade 2”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

The stinging smell of sake sticks to his presence like glue and makes your guts turn almost instantly. When will this madness finally stop? What on earth are you supposed to do when Gojo Satoru is the honoured one? You studied the way he fights over and over, tried to gain as much information as possible regarding his abilities. But still…

“The only way to get better than him is to kill him”, you press out.

“Maybe you’re simply not strong enough, (y/n). I told you right from the start you can’t surpass me, even though you’re older than me-”

“I’m your twin sister, you fucking fool”, you spit at the other man who emerges from the shadows like the frightful little monster he is.

Since the day you were born, you held a strong dislike for Naoya and how he was worshipped in contrast to the way they treated you. The genius, the youngest, the most promising of Nabito’s children who left you standing in the rain, who forced you into Jujutsu High. If there’s a reason apart from the fact that you are a Zenin for your miserable life, it’s him.

Him, who’s now standing in front of you like a statue with a shit-eating grin plastered on his usual so cold features.

“And still, you are the weakest out of this whole clan. I could wipe you from the surface of earth without even blinking, so watch how you talk to me, brat.”

You know all too well that his words aren’t true. No, you trained your ass off these last months, surpassed your classmates by miles. The teachers at Jujutsu High told you over and over how special you are, that you are stronger than any jujutsu sorcerer these last decades. If it wasn’t for him…

Fucking Gojo Satoru. If they wouldn’t constantly compare you to him, they’d begin to see how well you do, that you are just as capable as Naoya is. But instead, they forced a task on you you’ll never be able to achieve. How on earth are you supposed to be better than the honoured one? You clench your hands into fists so tight that blood spills and lift yourself off the ground, cheek hurting like hell. No, no matter how unimaginable the task is, you have to do it, you have to prove them wrong. Even if it means that you need to beat him, even if it means you are forced to spend even more time with that douchebag.

You will beat Gojo Satoru, no matter what it costs. 

“Just watch me surpass you then, Naoya.”

“I can’t wait to see you try, loser.”

-back at Jujutsu High-

“Wait a minute, what the fuck is he doing here?”

All you wanted to do was going to the training field and running your heart out when Masamichi Yaga stopped you mid-way. Your heart is still pounding roughly against your ribcage in sheer anger, cheek hurting like hell from the well-timed slap your father gave you earlier this day. And now there’s him, Gojo Satoru, sitting on a chair with his long legs stretched out onto the table in front of him and Geto rolling his eyes.

Well, seeing that dumb smirk on that idiot’s face definitely makes you wish to be back at the Zenin’s estate though.

“Would you sit down before causing a scene, (y/n)?”, your teacher mutters while squeezing the bridge of his nose in sheer annoyance.

You snort to yourself while crossing the room, carefully avoiding those devilish blue orbs like a plague on the way to the free seat next to Geto. To be honest, you never allowed yourself a feeling similar to affection when it came to your comrades. No matter how many times Yu brought you sweets, no matter how often Geto trained with you. The second a spark of feelings other than disinterest and anger ascends, you do anything in your power to trample it to death. No, in your world, there is no place for stupid things like that.

Not even Geto’s charming smile can change this.

“I’m sat. Now tell me why that douchebag is breathing the same air as me.”

“Douchebag? I hope you’re not talking about me, disgusting (y/n).”

Gojo’s sing-sang voice stings in your ear, annoys you straight to your already troubled core. God, how are you supposed to avoid him when you get forced together by that cursed school every single time? You have already seen him twice this week, way too much for even a month.

“Why can’t you just shut up once, Gojo scum?”

“You calling me a scum when your family is out there murdering? Look at your pathetic self, (y/n). Your cheek wasn’t bruised when I saw you yesterday. What happened, huh? Daddy must have been pretty upset with your dumbass as it seems. I know you went on a little family trip this morning, looks like it was definitely worth it. Send your father my kindest regards.”

Something inside you snaps. Before Geto is able to get a hold of your trembling body, you get off your chair and yank Gojo’s puny figure towards the ground, eyes locked with his dirty gaze. Oh, that asshole knows exactly what buttons he has to press in order to send you over the edge, he knows exactly that your family will always be your weak spot.

And Gojo Satoru definitely has no problem with using that knowledge to destroy you from the inside out.

“Do you really think you can hurt me with your words? Don’t you think I’m used to hearing stuff like this after years of living with that family?”, you suddenly press out.

For a split second, Satoru’s eyes widen in surprise. That look on your face, it reminds him of the day when he met you, when you heard your nanny’s voice shouting after you. A spark of…

Pain. Despair. Anger.

 It wasn’t a secret to anyone how badly members of the Zenin clan were treated by their own family. Fuck, after all he always witnessed those fresh bruises decorating your body when you came back from a trip home. How many times Geto told him to not talk about your family, to not stress you any further when you returned from your family. It was in his nature to make fun of you. You’re a Zenin, right? The worst enemy of the Gojo clan, right?

But for the first time since his childhood, a gleam of sorrow sparks up his usual so cold heart when it comes to you. He really feels…sorry.

Until your eyes get as cold as before. Until his mind snaps back to reality with a shake of his head, back into the word where you pin him against the ground, ready to beat the shit out of him.

“Cry about it.”

The words escape his lips automatically, trained on mocking you at any given opportunity since he was a child.

Without saying another word, you lift yourself off the ground and press him down with your foot one last time before Geto finally gets a hold of you and drags you backwards. Oh, you are so used to his cruel words that they don’t even hurt you anymore. No, instead a numb feeling takes over your chest, drags the wave of emotions that ran over you away. You rip your gaze away from him and return to your seat, wordlessly staring at the teacher in front of you.

“So, what’s the point of this pity party?”, you question.

“I have a mission for you.”

“A mission for me?”, you repeat in sheer disbelief.

Oh, this feeling crawling up your spine makes your guts turn. Normally, getting called in like this and being assigned with an important mission is the best that can happen. After all, a lot of these missions lead to you ranking up to a grade 2. But being in the same room as him…

Your eyes drift over Gojo ever so slightly, catching the way he already stares at you with wiggling eyebrows.

“A mission for all of you”, the man standing in front of you clarifies.

Fuck. You don’t even care about the way he explains the mission, how Geto scolds Gojo for not listening and making dumb jokes. No, all you can do is stare at him in sheer horror. Him, the honoured one sitting only one seat away from you. All this time you were forced into going on missions with others, but luckily it was never him. Somehow you always managed to stay with Yu or Geto. Fuck, why not Nanami? You were supposed to stay away from him, to get better than him. But instead you’ll have to work with him by your side? Him, Gojo Satoru?

“Ain’t no way I’m going with that white ferret by my side.”

You’re already jumping out of your seat, ready to leave the room without looking back. Fuck that mission, fuck the potential of getting better. Nothing is worth spending one or even more days together with that douchebag.

“Even if it means getting ranked as grade 1 if you’re successful?”

Wait…what? Your ears perk up, eyes darting towards the tall man standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. Is he serious about that? Getting ranked as a grade 1 would surely benefit you in your goal, especially since Naoya and your father are special grade 1 sorcerers… You’ve been here for a few weeks, already ranked up to a grade 2. It would bring honor to your family if you achieved getting ranked up just below the special grade so rapidly.

And this would mean you’re finally gaining a tiny bit of freedom, a tiny bit of the appreciation you fucking deserve.

“Come on, (y/n). I will keep an eye on him. We’ll get it done together.”

There it is again, the oh so charismatic smile of the black-haired man next to you. Is this really worth it? Your mind wanders back and forth, head almost exploding underneath the pressure. If you decline an important mission like this, your father will beat the shit out of you. But on the other hand, he’ll punish you as well as soon as he finds out that you purposely spend time with Gojo Satoru. Still…

Your nails dig into your thighs, head lowered. This is the best chance you get in order to become a special grade and beat that douchebag sooner or later.

“Only under one condition.”

All pairs of eyes are set on you as thick silence hangs in the room. You raise your head again proudly, the deadly gleam in your eyes making even Gojo stop in his tracks.

“What is it?”

“Don’t you dare to talk to me, let alone get in my way, Gojo scum”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Oh dear Zenin brat”, the white-haired boy sighs, casually lying back in his chair.

“Don’t you dare to cry for my help, then.”

Tags: @whereismysane @risuola @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @livmarauder @sapphireandange @madaqueue @chilichopsticks @sugurulefttesticle @boba-is-a-soup @jennapancake @kentocalls @mrshlf @byakuya61085

[bexdrey]

READ MORE???

The sun was setting and Drakken had just landed the hovercar. Another failed attempt and this time Drakken was at his wits end. He got so focused in his own thoughts he had forgotten Shego was with him briefly. She'd tried a few times to get his attention but failed. This confused Shego, normally Drakken would go on and on about how next time would be different. He'd immediately try delving into another plan, but this time was different. This defeat felt worse than the others. Drakken found himself walking down parks path, his hands folded behind his back. His eyes fixated on the ground. Until he paused, lowered his arms and looked up at the sky. "I have failed time and time again. I've done countless plans, some... worse than others, but some of them were brilliant!" Drakken suddenly spoke. "And yet every single one of them end in some kind of failure. Heck, I can't even convince you to come with me to Karaoke night anymore." He didn't meet her gaze and only kicked at the ground slightly before furrowing a brow. He didn't even feel Shego's hand start gently stroking his shoulder. There was a good long pause before he finally spoke once more. "Shego... why do you stick around?" He questioned, his tone unreadable. "With every failure, you complain and tell me everything that went wrong, everything I should've done instead. You'd probably take over the world on your first try if you wanted to." His gaze finally lowered. He stared at the ground for a moment before looking over at Shego, who looked stunned and who's hand had stopped moving. "So why do you keep helping me?" His gaze bore into Shego's, desperately looking for an answer, something that made sense. Shego's hand finally left Drakken's shoulder and she began to run her fingers through her hair. She glanced away, her heart racing. What did she say to this? Did she even know why she stuck around? It was true, she probably could successfully take over the world if she wanted... and yet she didn't have the desire. Something about the thought didn't sit quite right. It was almost like some form of Deja Vu when she thought of it. So then why did she stick around? "Well..." She began before clearing her throat and glancing to the ground, a brow furrowing. "Unlike other villains... I can trust you. I can sleep comfortably at night knowing you aren't gonna try and do something to me while I sleep." She couldn't meet Drakken's gaze as she spoke. She wasn't entirely sure why this was so important to him, it was incredibly rare for Drakken to get like this. Normally she'd give some snappy response, such as the pay being good and her having a free room to bunk in every night instead of some shady hotel. She gave a little shudder at the memories of hotel jumping. "Not to mention you give me my own space to sleep." She muttered slightly. "And you know, you're really fun to bicker with. Easy to mock. Someone like... I dunno, Killigan or Monkey Fist either don't give me good responses or just don't respond at all. You make it interesting." She felt herself relax a little as it seemed she was beginning to understand, herself, why she stuck around. "And you aren't lazy. In fact, I'd say you work a little too much. You're creative, so even though plans fail, there are some that even I fully believed would work." She had stopped playing with her hair at this point and was gesturing with her words. "But I think... I think I stick around because I trust you. You think I'd trust someone like Dementor to help pull off a proper heist? He's too loud! And he doesn't think." She finally met his gaze and Drakken looked surprised. His brow was raised.

"I can't trust anyone else." She stated, matter-of-factly. She remained silent for a moment, trying to garner some expression off Drakken other than processing. "Now, are you gonna mope around the rest of the night feeling sorry for yourself, or are you gonna turn around, get back in the hovercar, take us home and start planning the next 'take over the world' scheme?" With this, Drakken blinked and smirked. "Yeah! You're right, I'm an evil genius, not a sad... lazy... erm.. man!" With this, Drakken turned heel and ran towards the hovercar, but not before grabbing Shego's hand and practically forcing her along. "Come Shego, we've much to do." Of course, at this point, Shego expected these sudden grabs. A part of her even liked them. She'd never admit this though.

--------------------------------------

Weee story and picture :D Mindless doodles turned finished lol

[toriangeli]

Do you think armand ever loved louis in the show that was left a little vague especially with this finale.

I'll be controversial: I don't think Armand understands what love is at this juncture. He confuses it with safety, or at least security. Like Assad pointed out, he is primarily concerned with how the other person can help him survive.

Of the few people he might say have truly loved him, he'd list basically everyone who lived under Marius' roof, all of whom were burned to death by the Children of Darkness. Then if he knew the same people as in the books, he'd list Allesandra, his cultist den mom who helped torture him, and maybe Santino, who served the kind of purpose in his life some people attribute to Marius. Bianca, a friend of his in Venice, would also come up. Of those people, I think the only ones who loved him selflessly were those more his own age, like Riccardo (a fellow apprentice) and probably Bianca after a point. Marius tried, but admitted to failure in TVA.

At this point on the show, he can't even list his parents, and I'm pretty sure it was the slavers who told him his parents sold him into slavery so he'd stop trying to escape.

So he doesn't have a lot of very good examples of what real love looks like.

Did he feel great affection for Louis? Yes. But I'm not sure that's the same thing as love. I don't think it mattered that much what Louis' personality was, whether they shared goals or values. Louis was someone. Louis was outside the stagnant world Armand was trying to escape. That was what Armand loved.

I don't say this to mean he's heartless. People as severely mentally ill as, like, 100% of the characters on this show except Madeleine and Claudia, are trapped in survival mode. Survival mode isn't concerned with what happens outside the person. This leads a lot of people to cry pathological narcissism when the self-centeredness is really a symptom of a million different mental disorders.

Now, later on in the books, Armand is able to love selflessly, and loves Louis in this way he couldn't love him before (he mentions loving Louis in Blood Communion). His love for Lestat, as well, is able to make this transition. and he's supportive of their happiness together even if it means he doesn't get either of them. But at this early stage, he isn't able to do that. He's too busy guarding his vital organs to embrace someone unconditionally.

This can also be true of Louis, in a different way. Louis out of anyone has truly crippling depression, always has, and Jacob has talked about how the trauma of his brother's suicide made him reluctant to love. Survival mode.

Mind you, this is all completely separate from Armand's disorganized attachment style. People with a disorganized attachment style can love. Armand specifically can't remember how to do so. Nothing he learned about love and goodness has mattered since he was taken by the Children of Darkness. Those were things actively working against his survival once that happened. All he got for holding out trying to stand for his beliefs and his loved ones was an absolutely harrowing few pages of torture.

tl;dr: it's complicated.

[akutasoda]

can you do a dazai, atsushi, chuuya x reader who is similiar to homura akemi from madoka magica? like, how the reader knew them and their past in previous timelines and has been trying to save them from dying multiple times?

to the ends of time

synopsis - you've tried so hard to keep them with you, maybe this time it works in your favour

includes - atsushi, dazai, chuuya

warnings - gn!reader, angst with comfort, fluff?, mention of death and injury, dazai things, wc - 834

a/n: i actually read this after re-watching madoka magica haha

they were your best friend. practically inseperable and people often joked that you two came as a package, one never straying too far from the other. and it was true. but it was almost comical how fate would rip apart the bond between two people.

the only thing that ever came in between the two of you was their death. it ripped them straight from your arms literally or figuratively. it stripped you of your relationship and left you feeling down constantly, feeling as though you never could see them again. but you were still in denial.

the denial led you to believe they were still out there somewhere waiting for you. and that denial led you to the book. it was your escape, your way into gaining back what you had lost and you'd be dammed if you didn't try and start again.

and therefore you spent ages travelling timelines. each and every time something went wrong, they were ripped from your life again and again. feeling more painful each time until you started giving up. you started feeling as thoigh nothing could be done to change the fate that you feared.

your resolve was tested but as you entered yet again another timeline something felt different. you had lost track of which ones you had travelled and therefore didn't know the one you were in but it felt right in some way. and you were right.

atsushi nakajima ★↷

you had yet again found atsushi working for the agency. however this time you wanted to stay distant as you feared another failure. even if you were absolutely determined to give this one last shot you didn't want it going south.

and soon the very familiar scene replayed in front of you and from time and time again you knew what didn't work. you knew what wouldn't stop atsushi from dying in this mission and yet you were so desperately trying to find what prevented that.

so you gave it one last effort, trying a brand new approach and hoping for the best. and to your absolute surprise it worked. you had saved him in this timeline, you could finally be back with atsushi.

you finally let yourself get close to him again and eventually when he asked why you were always so protective you explained. not the book, just you trying over and over to finally be with him again. and he felt pity, he was grateful you saved him but pity that he had caused you so much struggling. but that didn't seem to matter anymore to you as right here and now you could hug atsushi and know that no time soon wouldhe be ripped away from you.

osamu dazai ★↷

you knew dazai. better than anyone else even though sometimes it did feel like you barely knew him. but you did know him well enough to know how he thought when it came to certain topics. one of which concerned you deeply and when your fears were proved right you never felt so hurt.

and that was why you tried again and again to convince him not to. most thought he was joking but you knew deep down that without intervention he truly would. so you were determined to stop him, stop him from the fate he thought he was worthy off because he deserved better.

and that was a reason you didn't give up, you wanted to save him so much. and now here he was, safely in your arms after you convinced him not to end it. tears flowed from both parties and in that moment you were glad you didn't give up and he was glad you had rescued him.

he knew from the start that you were trying again and agian to save him, so maybe that's why he felt more and more compelled to save himself. to listen to you. as this way he could be with someone he loves and not cause you any suffering or grief. afterall he wants to go without being a burden on anyone.

chuuya nakahara ★↷

you realised saving chuuya was very much a right person, right time kind of thing. what made it that much more painful originally was knowing there was nothing you could do. you hated corruption. you always discouraged him using it unless absolutely necessary as only one person could truly stop it.

so you had tried over and over to gett dazai there in time and you slowly started giving up as you really couldn't bare seeing chuuya struggle until his final moments. but somehow, you managed it. perhaps some small details had changed but it enabled dazai to get there in time.

and dazai knew, of course he did, but you were thankful he left as soon as he arrived. he left you with chuuya as you held his exhausted form as you cried. you had finally managed to save him. you could finally be here with him.

[yandere-romanticaa]

You sat on your bed and let the silence envelope you, the scrunched up piece of paper in your hand giving you some peace of mind but at the same time, if you took the offer, everything you knew could be changed forever. It was hard to focus on anything, not when the smile of that handsome stranger was still fresh in your memory like it was yesterday. A few weeks ago, you went on vacation to Japan for a week or so and it was by far one of the most magical things you had experienced. It was not because of the food, it was not because of the culture or anything related to that.

The absolute highlight of your trip was a mysterious man named Dazai Osamu.

Your meeting with him was accidental but he called it fate. After saving him from a near drowning incident the man stuck by your side like glue, regardless of the dirty looks your family gave him. He proclaimed himself as your make shift tour guide, claiming that who else was better qualified to show you all the amazing sights in the city than a hot blooded local?

There really was no beating that logic.

In the end, Dazai spent the week with you and your whole family as bonus baggage. Whenever he could, he would take you all for himself and have long talks, many of which were an odd combination of silly and soul touching. The man was strange, jumping from silly antics to a profound man who had seen all of the pain and suffering in the world who just wanted to give you some (perhaps not necessarily) helpful advice and show you a good time.

"I see that look in your eyes." said Dazai on your last night in Japan. The two of you were walking and stopped to rest near the river he almost drowned himself in.

How poetic.

You remember turning to him, confusion written all over your face but Dazai's gaze was focused elsewhere. His tone was flat, but not unkind.

"Tired. You look so, so tired."

That summed up your situation quite well. You were tired. Everything, everyone, it was just so much. No matter how hard you tried, nothing seemed to be going your way. College was giving you a massive migraine, in your head the upcoming exams were less like pieces of paper and more like massive tsunami waves, ready to destroy you right where you stood and leave nothing behind. Your social life was no better, having lost a good chunk of friends due to either life getting in the way or you simply drifted apart. Some things just weren't meant to be and that was okay.

When was it all going to end though?

When were you going to be allowed to finally breathe?

Your family was of no help either. The constant fighting and shouting, their words cutting deeper than knives. "You are a failure."

"You are not trying hard enough."

"Why can't you just do better?"

Without warning, you felt the soft touch of Dazai's bandaged hand on your cheek.

You didn't even realize that you had started to cry.

His soft brown eyes held nothing but pure sympathy for you, the thin smile on his lips causing the flood gates to burst wide open as you threw yourself into his arms, full on sobbing into his coat as the man said nothing. One of his hands made its way to your back while the other was still on your cheek, the wetness of it staining his white bandages but he didn't mind. He wasn't going to tell you, but you were pretty like this. In tears, broken, weak.

...In his arms.

He did not know you for long but Dazai grew fond of you over the past week. Was it love? He certainly thought so! Or, at the very least, the beginning of love. He wasn't sure what he was feeling but one thing was for certain - he wanted you to stay.

The universe was kind to him, giving him an angel whose wings were already so damaged. The moment he saw you, he knew that all you wished for was to flee and never return, to move somewhere no one knew you and start fresh, away from everything and anyone that ever hurt you.

Dazai saw the opportunity. He siezed it like a true devil would. He planted the seeds inside your head and you had no clue.

"You know, you can always just stay here." said Dazai, a slight smile on his face. "My workplace is always hiring and I'm sure you would be perfect."

Was this even real? His kindness was otherworldly.

Even so, hesitation ate you up like nothing else before. Do you choose to fight your demons head on or will you run away into the unknown? The paper in your hand was a letter of recommendation which Dazai had written for you, all that needed to be done was for you to commit to the bit.

With feeling as if there was nothing else for you to lose, you grabbed your phone and dialed the number that was written on the other side of the paper. At almost lightning speed a cheerful "Hello!~" greeted you on the other side.

With a deep inhale, you said three words which would change the course of your life from that moment forward.

"Take me away."

You couldn't see it but Dazai was grinning on the other side of the phone. With a click of his tongue, all he said was:

"Consider it done."

You hung up, a smidge of relief washing over you. You were more than ready to leave the demons which haunted you right here, in your old home.

And yet, you had no idea just how horrible the next demon which was going to follow you around was actually going to be.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enomane, @ishqani, @satohruu, @bluepeanutharmony

[shanksbaby]

Admirals with an easy to anger S\O

Sakazuki

let me tell you this man has almost as much anger issues as you if not more. I don't think you can go a week without arguing. He would be angry at you for something silly and you double down because you are mad at him for being mad. It's a vicious circle, in short.

in fact your first meeting with him had ended with a screaming match. You didn't care if he was your superior but you still called him an 'asshole' (and who can blame you, Akainu isn't exactly the nicest)

every marine makes the same comment every time you see you guys together (obviously under their breath, because no one wants to make you or akainu mad, expecially the latter because he is also a very powerful man): "how those two haven't killed each other yet? "

and it's true, it's a miracle that neither of you tried to kill the other. But the truth is that even if you both are so similar that it doesn't seem like a good match, you both understand each other, precisely because of your anger issues.

you understand how much people and their incompetence make you angry, how difficult it is to manage that anger, and that desire to vent it in any way.

marines don't exactly appreciate when you guys are together because sometime both of you starts screaming at the poor marine in front of you, especially if he has shown himself to be cowardly or incompetent during his job

Borsalino

oh boy, he makes you really mad, expecially with that slow talk and how he takes life so calmly. Sometimes he makes you so angry that he starts shaking and your eye starts twitching. This is the sign that you are about to explode into a fit of rage.

Kizaru has learned to interpret your signals very well so when he watches you tremble he simply smirks and says "Seems that I am in trouble ~".

he is a bit of a tease (read: a dick) and therefore many times he tries to make you angry on purpose, for example by walking very slowly or fumbling when pronouncing a sentence, only to see you try and fail to contain that anger.

he just finds you so cute when you get angry, he can't help it! Especially because you are a dwarf in comparison with him: it's like seeing an angry chihuaha.He has to fight the urge to pet your hair every time, probably if he did it at a time when you were about to explode with anger you would cut off his hand.

when you get angry with a marine or other people, he simply observes you amused, however he is ready to intervene if the other represents a threat to you (but he knows that you can handle yourself very well on your own). He especially likes seeing you argue with Akainu, but he intervenes anyway to calm the situation because he knows what his fellow admiral is like and wouldn't forgive himself if you got hurt.

Kuzan

okay he too makes you mad, his lazy attitude makes you mad, when he was still an admiral and you saw him sleeping on the job instead of working or entrusting his work to others (let's specify: you)….You wanted to kill him immediately. instant.

and when he fought sakazuki and left you alone, simply leaving you a letter, you looked for him, found him and gave him a good beating for leaving you. In that moment, he let you do it, accepting your anger.

he doesn't enjoy seeing you angry as Borsalino and he can't understand you like Sakazuki, every time you explode into a fit of anger he always tries to calm you down.

at the beginning he did nothing but get you angry by saying phrases like "relax, it's a small thing, no need to work yourself up", fortunately Aokiji is an intelligent man and understood that this strategy was a failure quite quickly.

then he learned to know how to take you correctly (it doesn't always work but it's already something). Obviously, being a tease (again read: dick) like Borsalino , he can sometimes make jokes about your angry state, but quickly apologize fearing you might strike him.

when you get angry at other people, he always tries to stop you before you do something stupid, especially if that other person is Sakazuki or pirates like Blackbeard.

[fire-lizard-ro]

Aventurine angst/comfort

CW: spoilers for 2.1, Aventurine’s real name, talk of death/genocide, deep seated trauma, trying to heal from trauma, Aventurine's past, talk of slavery (his time as a slave), self loathing, esteem issues, talk of ego and sense of self, identity crisis???, a bit of a character study I think, meandering around because I cannot structure my thoughts whoopsie, there was a single Projecting Moment oops my b

Long post, so buckle up. I might add more later ehe-

No mentioned gender for reader.

Writing under the cut (SFW):

I had the sudden realization that Aven probably doesn’t know as much about the culture he lost as he’d like. Or at least as he’d secretly like to know. For years he was preoccupied with surviving and putting on a mask seared so deep into his ego that he might have forgotten those wishes were even there. But when the dust has settled, and his job is done? Once he’s “slipped the collar” and found his freedom? There’s… a lot less external noise to distract him from the noise inside.

It's just like he said. You must first fool yourself in order to fool everyone else. Aventurine must have tried his damnedest to forget the silly little wishes of Kakavasha. Those wishes needed to be buried in the dirt along with his name. They could never come true, so what was the use of having them in the first place? But that doesn’t stop the heart from yearning for the things it lost.

The longer he’s away from the stage, that place full of dazzling lights where it was always all eyes on him and he was always the circus act of balancing on a tight rope- always gambling on the knife’s edge between life and death… The more Kakavasha seems to remember what he used to dream of. It’s like the slow trickle of water from a crack in the tank.

Once he’s with you and he’s comfortable enough to tell you about his story… Once he’s given time to really trust you. The tank breaks and it’s like he’s a fish out of water, all of his “self” exposed under your gaze. It’s terrifying. But at the same time… healing. You’re his safe space. He’s never needed anyone to save him- that’s not what you are. You’re not some savior swooping in to save their damsel in distress. Sure, maybe it would have been nice had there been someone there for him back when he was just a scared child who had just lost everything he’d ever loved. But he fought, tooth and nail, for what he has now. Clawed his way out of the bodies that littered his past and wiped the blood from his mouth in order to finally gain his freedom. He doesn’t need someone to save him. Doesn’t need someone to fix him. But he loves you because you’re there to hold his hand while he finds his way to the end of the tunnel.

Nowadays he feels more Kakavasha and less like Aventurine. It's a struggle, because he doesn’t know if he should be Kakavasha.

Kakavasha was the name of the coward scared boy who could only run when his sister told him to run. Kakavasha was the name of a boy who lost everything and it was his fault. Kakavasha was the name of a boy made slave who was only seen as a pretty face and a tool it was all he was good for. Kakavasha was the name of a boy who could do nothing to save anyone all because of this damned blessing curse favor. Kakavasha was the name of a failure.

But he also didn't know if he was allowed to be Kakavasha.

Kakavasha was also a child who was untainted by the greed of life.

Kakavasha was an innocent child who knew how to trust people.

Kakavasha was allowed to want and to have. Kakavasha was loved.

Could he ever be loved? Having done what he'd done? Been what he'd been? Been who he'd been?

Was he Aventurine? Or was he Kakavasha?

Who was he, really?

Back then it was so noisy. He just wanted to cover his ears to shut out the screams and the voices of the people who wanted to use him and the chants of those who wanted to kill him-

But now all the noise was inside and he couldn't just cover his ears. It wouldn't help. It wouldn't stop these thoughts from running rampant in his head.

Sometimes it felt like Kavasha was a lifetime ago, detached from Aventurine when his mask he always wore took hold of him again. Both a helper and a jailer. He couldn't stop himself from falling into old habits.

But sometimes Kakavasha was all he could be. Remembering what his sister's smile looked like and how his mother's lullabies sounded and how his father's hugs felt.

Remembering how those last hugs felt and those last goodbyes weren't supposed to come so soon.

Remembering what it felt like to be chained up like some unruly pet dog and what it felt like to kill a man.

Remembering what how it felt to bury his past and his name and his family and everything else he ever loved and become a new person.

Remembering what it felt like and what it took to become Aventurine.

With time, your encouragement and support, and some self reflection (and likely some therapy)... He slowly allows himself these things.

But it gets worse before it gets better.

He learned how to hate himself long before he had the notion that he could love himself.

He learned to love others before he learned to love himself.

He gives away all the love he cannot give himself. To you

(There's the projection help- THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE FUCKING HOUSE-)

With time he learns that he is not the sum of his actions. He can be loved. He IS loved.

You help him find what things researchers have managed to scrounge up from the remains of his people's home- from Sigonia. What they recorded even while they were still around. He sifts through painful memories to find the good ones. Remembers the once forgotten feeling of his people's language in his mouth. Teaches you all the curse words first just for fun but doesn't tell you what they actually mean. Gives you a nickname in that pretty mother tongue of his. Murmurs stories and sweet nothings in your ears while you fall asleep on his chest, the rumble of his voice and the beating of his heart lulling you to sleep.

You help him regain some of what he lost. You stayed and weathered the storm with him. You didn't leave and you made him realize with eyes wide open that you love him. That he's worthy of being loved by you. That being worthy was never even a question in the first place.

And he can never thank you enough for it.

His shoulder to lean on, his hand to hold, his ear to listen.

He is Kakavasha and he loves you.

[softonshanks]

A quiet night

Word count: 980 words

Characters: Marco the Phoenix x female reader

Plot: This one was a request by the lovely @kazenomegaminowanpisu who asked a one shot in which the s/o woke up without Marco on her side and she went to his office and she tried to convince Marco to sleep cause it was getting late, but Marco insisted not to... So the s/o sit down on his lap and sleep (just marco adoring her while she sleeps). I guess it came out a little bit sadder than I wanted, but I hope you'd still like it.

Author's note: Very important thing before you dive in, @kazenomegaminowanpisu is a very talented artist, make sure to check her art and commission her some stuff <3

Y/N woke in a cold bed. Her arm reached out across the blankets to find only air and empty space where Marco had been. The thin and blue moonlight trickled through the slats of the cabin window, casting long shadows over the room. She sat up, brushing sleep from her eyes. It was late—too late, by the look of the moon. Maybe two in the morning. She exhaled, feeling the pull of worry stir inside her. She dressed quickly and slipped through the door, careful not to wake anyone else. The air outside was cool, with a soft breeze pushing off the sea, and the ship creaked faintly with the swells of the waves. The stars above were scattered, sharp points of light.

She walked the deck with soft steps, peering through the dim light for any sign of Marco. The crew was quiet, most of them lost to their dreams. A few kept watch, their shoulders hunched, heads tilted to the sea. She stopped and asked the first one she saw.

“Have you seen Marco?”

The man shook his head. “Not since he came to sleep with you”.

She moved to the next one, a wiry man leaning against the mast, picking at his nails. He shrugged when she asked.

“No idea. Probably off somewhere thinking too much again.”

The girl nodded. She knew that was true. Marco could be like that, disappearing into himself, tangled in thoughts. She crossed the deck slowly, the wood cool beneath her feet. She passed the galley, the medic room, the empty crows’ nest. No sign of him anywhere. It wasn’t until her eyes fell on the faint glow of light spilling from under a door on the far side that she remembered. His office.

She moved toward it. The door was half-cracked, so she pushed it open with one hand. Marco sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair, a stack of books and papers spread in front of him. His eyes were fixed on a worn notebook, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose. He didn’t look up at first.

“Marco,” she said, softly. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

His head lifted slowly, his blue eyes a little foggy with exhaustion. “Hey. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No. You just weren’t there.”

He gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked away again, his hand tracing over the pages of the notebook absently.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, stepping closer to him. Her fingers brushed along the back of his chair.

“Just thinking,” he said quietly. “Whitebeard wasn’t doing well tonight. Worse than usual. I gave him some medicine… it helped a little.”

His voice faded, and she could hear the frustration hidden in it. He stared down at the desk. “But it’s not enough. None of it’s enough. No matter how hard I study, no matter how much I try to learn, I can’t… I can’t heal him. All I do is push it off a little longer.” He clenched his jaw, his hand balling into a fist. “I’m just… delaying the inevitable. He’s going to die.”

The girl watched him, her heart sinking. She understood the weight he carried. It wasn’t just responsibility; it was love, the fierce kind that made it impossible to accept failure. She knelt beside him, her fingers trailing over his arm. “Marco,” she whispered, her voice soft but steady. “You’re doing everything you can. Whitebeard knows that. We all do.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything. She cupped his face with her hand, guiding his gaze back to hers. She pressed her forehead to his. “You’re not a god, Marco,” she said gently. “You’re just a man. You can’t control life and death. You’re here for him now, and that’s what matters.”

He closed his eyes, letting her words sink in, his breath shallow and heavy. She kissed his forehead, soft as a whisper, and then again, on the bridge of his nose, down to his lips, lightly. She lingered there for a moment, her hand still resting on his cheek.

“Come to bed,” she said. “You’re tired. You’ve done enough for tonight.”

Marco shook his head slowly. “I can’t. Not yet.”

She frowned but didn’t press him further. Instead, she slipped onto his lap, curling her body against his. “Fine,” she murmured, resting her head against his chest. “But I’m staying here, then.”

He smiled, this time a little warmer, and his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. She nuzzled deeper into him, her body molding to the contours of his. His heartbeat was steady against her ear, the faint rhythm comforting. Minutes passed, her breathing slowed as sleep started to pull her under again. Marco watched her, his fingers gently stroking her hair. He could feel the soft rise and fall of her chest, the warmth of her body melting into his. The lines of her face were peaceful, calm in the way only sleep could bring. He kissed her forehead, soft and slow, his lips brushing her skin like the lightest touch of wind. His hand cupped her cheek, and he kissed her again, a quiet reverence in his movements.

In the stillness of the night, with the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders, Marco found a small moment of peace in her. He held her as she slept, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on her skin. There were no answers in the books, and no cure for what was coming. But right now, in the quiet of the ship, he let himself forget it.

Just for a little while.

[tenderleavesbob]

Hyrule's era broke Legend's heart. It upset everyone, but Hyrule knew that it hurt Legend the most. No one was sure of everyone's place in the timeline, although Hyrule thought that both Time and Warriors knew more than they let on, but everyone was pretty sure that Hyrule's era took place after Legend's. Legend looked at Hyrule's era, plagued by blood and shadows, and saw only his own failure.

There was so much pain and grief in Hyrule's era, but there was light and hope, too. Hyrule fought hard to show everyone that. People were hurt but healing. The land was poisoned but was recovering. They were leaving Ganon's shadow to walk into the light.

The dangers remained very real, though, and too many wounds bled in a way Hyrule's magic couldn't heal. Hyrule still had to try.

The gash on Warriors's arm was deep and had bled more than Hyrule liked. Warriors wouldn't let him touch him until after the others were healed. He said it wasn't that bad and it wasn't life-threatening. Both were true. Warriors was a selfless man and always wanted everyone else tended first. That was true, too. Neither was the reason that Hyrule agreed and let Warriors sit beside Time until everyone else was healed.

Warriors's shield took the brunt of the hit, but his lower arm was badly bruised and blood still streamed from his upper arm. Time stopped applying pressure when Hyrule returned to them. Hyrule watched Time look at Warriors and raise an eyebrow, and he watched how Time didn't go to check on Twilight until Warriors nodded.

'I'm okay,' Warriors was saying. 'It's okay.'

It reminded Hyrule of all the wounds his magic couldn't touch as he knelt beside Warriors. Time had helped strip Warriors enough that Hyrule could assess Warriors's injuries. Hyrule kept his own hands above Warriors's skin and avoided direct contact. "You're going to need to rest," Hyrule said. "We have time before dinner if you want to take a nap. Sky is already sleeping."

Warriors smiled at him. It would be so easy to think he was fine. "I'm tired but not that tired, Traveler. Thank you, though."

Hyrule smiled back and watched the bleeding slowly stop. It had to feel strange but Warriors didn't show it. He rarely did. "No sword practice for the rest of the day! Don't pick up anything heavy with this arm. I'll check it out again in the morning, okay?"

"Of course." Warriors said it easily. The first time Hyrule had healed Warriors, he had been so tense that Hyrule was afraid he was only going to make things worse. Warriors kept watching Hyrule for sudden movements and only grew tenser if Hyrule accidentally touched his skin. He was better now. Hyrule could even hug him sometimes.

Some wounds only time could heal. Hyrule didn't like it, but he accepted it.

When the gash was healed, Hyrule moved his hands down to Warriors's bruised forearm, but Warriors pulled away. "It's just a bad bruise. There's no reason for you to tire yourself out over it."

"I'm not tired yet, and I want to." Hyrule didn't move, though, until Warriors sighed and relented. He didn't heal without permission. He didn't touch without permission.

Hyrule met some people on his travels who were wounded in ways he didn't understand at first. He didn't understand the whispers or why some people were so frightened of him. He never thought of himself as scary. He didn't understand how the clothes were torn but there were no matching wounds on the skin. He didn't understand why some people looked at other people just like they looked at the monsters.

It took time, but he understood. He tried to learn new ways to heal.

It didn't take long for the bruise to fade from Warriors's arm. Hyrule grinned at Warriors, and something inside him lit up when Warriors smiled back, tired but sincere. "Thank you, Rulie."

"You're welcome, Captain. If you don't want to sleep, Four found some books in the last town."

It was slow going, but sometimes, healing took time. Hyrule hoped that Legend and Warriors both understood that. One day, everything would be okay again.