#Hopelessness so that it's easier to control him

[morimess]

FILL ME UP

POUR ME OUT

WASH HER NAME OUT OF MY MOUTH

I AM READY TO BE CLEAN

BURN MY LUNGS AND SHE WAS GONE

LONG BEFORE THE LIGHTS WENT ON

GOD I HOPE SHE'S DONE WITH ME

DO YOU BEG?

DO YOU PRAY?

TELL ME HOW YOU GET AWAY

FROM THE VOICES IN YOUR HEAD

I AM LOST

I'VE BEEN DONE

LONG BEFORE THE LIGHTS WENT ON

SOMEONE PLEASE PUT ME TO BED

Cause I-

I AM NOT WELL

[mishkakagehishka]

Me when i dream of lil Mika but it's another nightmare

[morbific-or-felicific]

-AGNOSTHESIA Featuring Scaramouche

Part 2 Part 3

Meaning: The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behaviour, as if you were some other person

Word Count: 3.5k~

Description: A study session with Scaramouche gets spicy

Edited By: @pretty-princess-peach

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“Are you deaf or just stupid? I’ve been explaining this to you for over an hour. How do you not understand?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! This class is just really hard, and I haven’t really been able to understand anything from the last few lectures. It's all just gotten so complicated.”

“Isn’t this supposed to be your major? Why did you pick something challenging if you’re too stupid to understand any of it?”

“I’m not too stupid! It’s just a challenging class!”

“Why did you beg me to tutor you if you were just going to waste my time?”

You didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wrong, nearly every study session the two of you have had ended with an incredibly frustrated Scaramouche and an equally confused you. It’s not that you weren’t trying. You paid attention the best that you could in lectures, and you did all the readings. You even used up most of your free time studying! But regardless, you were still hopeless.

Of course, having Scaramouche as a tutor was supposed to make things easier; he was at the top of the class, after all. However, it almost made things more difficult, given the fact that during your study sessions you were constantly getting distracted by how pretty the man was and how close the two of you were to your bed. You probably enjoyed the insults he threw at you due to your lack of understanding just a bit too much too. But no way would you ever admit to that.

~♡~

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. It was 1:45pm. Your class started at 1:00pm. This was not good. You burst through the doors, immediately drawing everyone's attention and making your professor stop mid sentence. You were mortified. On this particular occasion, you had spent all night studying before dragging yourself to your school's library to continue studying. You had planned to spend your morning studying before your lecture at 1:00pm. You had not planned to fall asleep until 1:25pm and have to run to a whole other building to get to your lecture. You had been spending all your time trying to keep up with your peers in your astrobiology course, but it appears that plan had backfired, as you had already missed half of your class and would need to beg someone for their notes, perhaps an explanation as well. You looked around for a seat, quickly realizing that the only easily accessible spot was near the back next to Scaramouche. Fuck. Scaramouche was the best student in the class, but he was also notoriously unapproachable and impossible to work with. You had been stuck doing a group project with him before, and he had been a controlling nightmare. Ever since then though, he had occasionally spoken to you if you came close enough to insult. You took a deep breath, swallowed your fear, and started up the stairs. The class had continued on in the moments since your interruption, so you didn’t expect Scaramouche to be staring directly at you when you glanced at him on your way to your spot beside him. You looked away and got to your seat as quickly as you could.

“Well, if it isn’t the smartest girl in class.”

You fought the urge to insult him back, but you knew that if you wanted to get any help from him, you couldn’t risk giving him a reason not to help you. You gave him the nicest smile you could muster; he rolled his eyes at your attempt to be nice. You sat down next to him and set up your computer to take notes for the rest of class. After another half hour had passed and you were hopelessly confused, you turned to Scaramouche to ask him for some help.

“Hey, uh, I’m pretty lost; do you think you could give me the notes you took for the first half of the class?”

“Do you really think that’ll help you? It’s not like you even understand the lectures you don’t miss.”

“I understand them!”

“Yeah, sure.”

He turned his attention back to the professor. That’s when you had an idea that might actually work.

“Hey, do you have any spare time that you could maybe use to help me with the work from this class?"

“Do you really think that I would willingly spend my free time tutoring you? Why on earth would I do that?”

You took a deep breath, silently praying that this would work.

“If you agree to tutor me, I’ll give you Kazuha’s number.”

“You’ll what?”

Yes! He was interested.

“I’ll give you Kazuha’s number, and I’ll put in a good word for you with him.”

“Kazuha? As in Kaedehara? Are you serious?”

He was just staring at you, looking very serious. Clearly, this was important to him.

“Yes, I promise.”

Scaramouche chuckled to himself a little before sighing.

“Okay. Text me where your dorm is. I’ll tutor you on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays.”

“I uh…don’t have your number.”

“You don’t? I have yours.”

“Yeah that’s because I gave it to you. Just text me and I’ll send you my building and room number, okay?”

“Fine.”

You sighed. Why did he have to be gay?

A few moments later, you got a text that said, “Hey loser”. You sent him your dorm information and a list of what times on those days you were free. And just like that, you had a tutor.

When you eventually talked to Kazuha about Scaramouche and how you had given him his number, Kazuha seemed confused, but after an oddly long stare behind you and a glance at his phone, he seemed to understand what you were trying to tell him.

~♡~

“Are you really this stupid? Or do you just like it when I insult you?”

“I’m not stupid! And don’t pretend like you aren’t getting anything out of this!”

“Right, I get to have you meddling in my love life. How could I forget?”

“You agreed to this! I didn’t make you do anything!”

“No, you just gave me an opportunity to spend time with the person I have feelings for, but only if I spend all my free time trying to teach an idiot her major.”

“I’m not an idiot! Stop saying that!”

“You can’t expect me to sit here and watch you screw things up I didn’t think anyone could possibly screw up and not insult you. You’re practically begging for it.”

You huffed a frustrated sigh and went back to your work while your tutor sat there on his phone. How was all of this so easy for him when you could barely understand any of it? You were working so hard but had nothing to show for it except for low grades and a tutor who is the furthest thing from being into you, who also somehow kept getting you all worked up and needy. Part of you wanted to just tell him to stop coming over so you could get through a study session without getting sexually frustrated. However, you also didn’t want to stop spending time with him…because, uh, because Scaramouche was helping you improve! Not for any other reason. Oh nevermind, who were you trying to fool? You definitely had feelings for him, even though you knew they would never be reciprocated. It wasn’t long before you reached another question that stumped you.

“I’m confused.”

“What else is new?”

“Shut up. Can you help me?”

He stared at you and raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for something. You sighed.

“Please?”

“What’s the question?”

“What is a carbonaceous chondrite?”

“Have you been paying any attention in class? At all?”

“I-”

Scaramouche cut you off.

“Even if you aren’t paying attention in class, you have my notes, and you’ve been asking me endless questions. Wait, I forgot. You’re just an idiot.”

“I’m not an-!”

Once again, he cut you off.

“No, you are. At this point, I’m not even trying to insult you. It’s just a fact.”

“Why?! What did I do that was so dumb?!”

“Do you really want to know?”

“...Yes?”

“Do you remember how you convinced me to be your tutor? Of course you do. You gave me Kazuha’s number. Do you want to know why he was so confused when you told him that? Because I’ve known him since I was a kid; we’re best friends. He only went along with it because I had followed you and was a ways behind you trying to get him to check his messages because I had to send him a text explaining that the girl I have feelings for thinks I’m gay and in love with him, and since he knows how dumb you are, he went along with it for my sake. I honestly thought that you would have figured it out by how nice I’ve been to you ever since we did that project together.”

You couldn’t believe it. Scaramouche has a crush on you, maybe even for as long as you’d had a crush on him. And oh my god you were stupid; he was best friends with Kazuha? How had you missed that?! Oh god, that means Kazuha knew you were stupid too…how did you even make such a big mistake?

“You…like me…? And you’re best friends with Kazuha…? What do you mean you’ve been nice to me ever since our project? You insult me all the time! Even before you started tutoring me, you were mean to me!”

“I talked to you. As far as I’m concerned, that’s nice enough. Anyway, I guess I should be going now huh?”

“Wait uh, you don’t have to go.”

“Oh? Maybe you do like it when I insult you, hm?”

“That isn’t important. I just need you to stay because you promised to tutor me, and I still need help.”

That gave Scaramouche an idea.

“Huh, maybe you just need better motivation to learn…”

He smirked at you before standing up from his spot on your bed and closing the little distance there was from where he had been sitting and where you were seated at your desk. He turned your spinny chair to face him and leaned down so his face was in front of yours and flicked your forehead.

“Hey, dummy, want me to fuck you?”

He laughed quietly at your slack jawed reaction. He stood back to his full height and sat back down on your bed. He gestured for you to come sit on his lap. You stared at him blankly, confident that you had misinterpreted his action.

“Come on now. You’re not really this stupid, are you?”

That was enough confirmation for you. You stood up from your chair and were about to sit down on his lap when he stopped you.

“Take off your clothes.”

He didn’t exactly leave any room for argument, so, as embarrassed as you were, you started taking off your clothes while Scaramouche watched you. You got down to your underwear and stopped, unsure if he wanted you to continue.

“Go on.”

Okay then. You took off your bra and your underwear, now feeling awkward with your tutor sitting in front of you fully clothed. He motioned you forward again and you sat down on his lap. He moved a hand between your legs and ran a finger down your slit before laughing.

“You’re so wet already, I guess you liked those insults more than you let on.”

His comment somehow turned your face redder than it already was. You would have made some kind of argument, however, you suddenly became preoccupied with the feeling of him pushing two of his fingers inside of you and fucking you with them. You couldn’t help but let out a few moans at the feeling. He snickered at the sounds you were making, even going so far as to mock the sound of your moans.

“‘Mmf ah oh fuck mmm haah,’ you sound so pathetic.”

You tried to quiet the sounds you were making, but that only made him more upset.

“Don’t stop. I like hearing you whining like a bitch in heat.”

He pulled his fingers out of you then pushed them past your lips and into your mouth. While you cleaned off his fingers like a good little slut, he used his other hand to undo his pants and pull out his cock. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and lined you up over his cock before bringing you down onto it. You heard him suck in a breath and let out a chuckle.

“Hah, shit, you feel good.”

You could only let out a whine in response. He bottomed out inside of you. After you took a few moments to adjust, you tried to lift yourself up, but found you couldn’t move an inch with the tight grip your tutor had on your hips.

“Wha…?”

“You said that you needed me to stay to tutor you, so, I’m here to tutor you.”

Was he seriously going to try to tutor you while he had you sitting on his cock? No, this couldn’t actually be happening.

“But…but I can’t…”

“You will. I’m just giving you some extra motivation.”

He smirked at you once again.

“What role do supernovae play in the origin, evolution, and development of life?”

You couldn’t think. You were far too preoccupied with the feeling of his cock deep inside of you.

“I don’t… I don’t know, I can’t…”

“Come on, you answered this correctly last week.”

Had you? Part of you thought he was lying to you just to make you feel stupider.

“I don’t know it…”

Your response came out as a whine.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!”

One of his hands moved away from your waist. For a moment you wondered what he was doing, but then you felt a hard slap come down on your ass.

“Ahh! What…? Why did you?”

“You need some consequence for your stupidity.”

You tried to clear your head for the next question.

“Why is it more likely that we will find prokaryotes rather than eukaryotes when we finally explore Europa, Enceladus, or Mars?”

“I don’t know Scara-”

Suddenly you felt a sharp pain in your cheek. Did he slap you?

“I don’t want my name in the mouth of a worthless slut like you.”

He paused for a second.

“Did you just get tighter? You really are slut.”

You blushed and looked away from him. You didn’t want to admit it, but you really were enjoying yourself. However, the fact that your tutor still wasn’t fucking you was driving you insane. You prayed that soon enough he would get bored tormenting you and finally fuck you.

“Instead of calling me by my name, why don’t you just call me master, hmm?”

“Okay…”

“Okay what?”

“Okay master…”

“Aw, so the slut can be good! Well, since you’re so stupid, I’ll give you an easy question next. What substances are emitted from cryovolcanoes?”

Oh thank god, you actually knew this one.

“Water, ice, ammonia, nitrogen, and methane…right?”

He just watched you for a moment with a little smile while doubt started to build in your mind.

“That’s correct. But it really was such an easy question, maybe I should continue teaching you…”

“Please Sca- master…”

“Oh? What are you asking for?”

“I want you to fuck me…please…”

He watched you for a few moments, contemplating his decision.

“Beg.”

“What?”

“Beg, and I’ll fuck you. I won’t ask again.”

There was no way you were going to beg Scaramouche to fuck you. That would be humiliating. But if it would get him to fuck you…no. You weren’t that desperate for him, were you? However, all of your reasoning flew out the window when Scaramouche lifted you up his cock and dropped you back down.

“Fuck please master, fuck me, I need it so bad, need to feel you wreck me, want you to use me however you want, please!”

“However I want, hmm?”

Before you could reply, he had lifted you off of his cock and moved you so you were on your hands and knees. He got up from his spot and knelt behind you.

“But master I wanna- mmf!”

Your tutor pushed your head into the pillows.

“Stupid little sluts don’t get to touch me or watch me fuck them.”

With that, he pushed his cock back into you. God, why did he feel so big? He’s short, so why does it feel like he’s in your fucking throat from this angle?

“And arch your fucking back, whore.”

You did as he asked, and all you got in response was him letting out a little laugh. He started fucking you slow but deep, and you couldn’t help the moans that were escaping your lips, but thankfully, they were muffled by the pillows, so he could barely hear them. Fuck, this felt so good. The fact that he tortured you before getting here didn’t even matter anymore, as long as he could make you feel like this.

Before too long, you could feel an orgasm approaching, and though you tried to let him know, the pillows obstructing your mouth caused your warning to come out as, “mhmhfm hm hmhm hmm!” and your tutor continued to ignore you. Eventually however, you felt yourself start to tip over the edge. You really did try to tell Scaramouche, but he just wouldn’t listen. He was far too wrapped up in the feeling of fucking you. When you finally tipped over the edge, Scaramouche stopped moving entirely, effectively giving you a very shitty orgasm. He grabbed your hair and hauled you up to him so he could talk to you without pillows getting in the way.

“Did you just fucking cum without asking, princess?”

His voice was sickeningly sweet, and you were terrified of what would come next. He twisted the hair he had grabbed making you cry out.

“Hmmm how should I punish you? Dumb sluts like getting spanked, don’t they?”

You shook your head the best you could with how he had your hair.

“Aw, of course they do.”

He pushed your face back into the pillows and let go of your hair. There was a moment of silence as you waited for what would come next. You felt a sharp pain as his hand came down on your ass. Was he this strong before? You were confident that there would be a red handprint on your ass now. He landed another smack, causing you to emit a little yelp. He continued your punishment until you were shaking and crying. Finally, he decided he was done and wrapped a hand around your throat before once again hauling you upright. He moved his lips next to your ear.

“Don’t try to act like you didn’t like that. I could feel how tight you were.”

You blushed, but before you could respond to him, he started fucking you again, this time hard and fast. Fuck, how did he feel even deeper in you now? He reached a hand around to play with your clit. Fuck, were you going to cum a second time?

“Can I cum? Please, need to so bad.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Instead of stopping like you had expected, he kept fucking you, and within a few seconds, he had you seeing stars. He kept going this time, fucking you through your orgasm. However, he didn’t stop when you were done. He kept going, looking to reach his own end.

“Do you want master to fill you up with his cum? Hmm? Is that what you want?”

“Fuck, yes please, please!”

Scaramouche leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“No.”

“What?”

Suddenly, he let go of you before pushing you back down and flipping you over before finishing on your stomach. Fuck, you were glad you got to see that at least.

“Worthless little whores don’t deserve to be filled with my cum.”

After he said that, some switch seemed to flip in his brain, and he got up to go search for a cloth to clean you up with. He returned and sat next to you on the bed, wiping the cum off of your stomach.

“Are you okay…?”

You were amazed. He looked like a concerned puppy. Was this really the same guy that was telling you how worthless you were a second ago?

“Uh, yeah, I’m alright.”

You stared back at him. But after your confirmation, he seemed to go back to his usual self.

“So uh, does this mean anything…?”

“What?”

“I understand if it doesn’t. It’s okay, I get it. I was just-”

He flicked your forehead.

“Did u miss the part where I told you I have feelings for you? Why would this mean nothing? God, you really are stupid.”

Yep, definitely back to his usual self.

“Wait, so does that mean you wanna like, date?”

He let out a big sigh.

“I suppose I’m willing to have an idiot for a girlfriend.”

“Fine, then I’m willing to have an asshole for a boyfriend!”

He rolled his eyes at you and let out a little laugh before laying down in bed next to you. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you had your head resting on Scaramouche’s chest, and before too long, you had fallen asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @yourlocal-bunny @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga

morbific-or-felicific.

[starboyshoyo]

Wedding Bells

Characters: Riddle, Deuce, Epel, Silver x fem!reader (seperately)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: fluff, romance

Proposals and weddings with your beloved!

Riddle Rosehearts

Married life with Riddle comes in stages. It’s extremely difficult at times, especially in the beginning, and easier in others. You’d better be ready to take your vows seriously, because Riddle certainly will- even before you’re actually married. Especially the ‘for better or for worse’ part. He’ll outright refuse to hold a wedding until he can be financially and emotionally independent from his mother, refusing to subject you to her tyranny.

One way or another, Riddle will gain his freedom, either from gradually taking back control or from being disowned. Without the shadow of his mother hovering over him, he’ll decide to follow a path of higher education to law school. It’ll be a tough time period for you as a couple. Riddle is always busy studying and working hard, hoping to earn his degree early. He’ll attempt to help with house chores when you move in together, but he never learned practical home skills when he was younger. The combination of teaching him how to manage a household in addition to his school workload means that for a time, you will be doing most of the home duties.

The wedding discussion also has to be put on hold for a while. Your fiance is a perfectionist and refuses to hold anything but the perfect ceremony for you, with the most beautiful ring he can get his hands on. After graduating law school and landing a job, he’ll save up for the ring of your dreams.

He’ll propose after a romantic evening at home, under a full moon at midnight. Not everything went the way he thought it would- the ring was the wrong size (“What do you mean, fingers have sizes? I thought only shoes had that.”) and he burned the food at one point, but the two of you spent year waiting for this moment. Just seeing your eyes light up in disbelief and happiness when he finally gets down on one knee makes everything worth it.

Riddle will ask you to take the Rosehearts last name. He likes the idea of being joined, in life and in legal matters. Having his last name makes him feel like he’s truly your provider and protector. Plus, he’s just a hopeless romantic and wants to hear you being called Mrs. Rosehearts. He won’t complain if you don’t want to, though. Tradition is important to Riddle, but he respects your wishes much more.

The ceremony is small- held at an indoor venue in a courthouse, with just a few attendees. The Heartslabyul graduates will help set everything up, and catering is taken care of, courtesy of the Clover family. Riddle couldn’t be happier when he sees you walk down the aisle, escorted by Ace and Deuce. Deuce will give him a nod before stepping back, while Ace’s gaze will linger on Riddle’s a bit. The message is clear: take care of her, or else.

Deuce Spade

The moment Deuce realized he was in love with you was the moment he knew he wanted to marry you. You are Deuce’s first and only love, and the only person he’ll ever need. The two of you are engaged just after graduation- he proposed on the spot without being prepared. He just saw you running towards him in your cap, diploma in hand and gown fluttering in the wind behind you, and blurted out, Will you marry me?

This was not how he planned the proposal at all, and he apologizes profusely when he realized he didn’t even get down on one knee or give you a ring. In the last week or so of school, he’ll practically be living in NRC’s metal workshop, learning to bend and hammer out a ring for you. And with Crewel’s help and a bit of luck, he’ll even create a small gemstone himself, to add to the ring.

He’ll definitely marry you soon after the ring is done. Like Riddle, you and Deuce have a small, private ceremony. Crowley was generous enough to let you hold it on NRC’s campus, with Ramshackle as the venue. The run-down, homely dorm you stayed in during your high school days was also the place you spent the most time with your best friend, so it’s only fitting you’d marry him there too!

While Riddle, Cater, and Trey agree to be Deuce’s groomsmen, Ace actually requests to be a bridesman instead! He says it’s because “this is the last time he’ll ever get you to choose his side over Loosey Deucey.” He’ll definitely send pictures of your day out to Deuce, rubbing it in his face that Ace got to have a self-care day with you while Deuce didn’t. Deuce can’t be too mad, though. After all, it’s him you’re marrying, not Ace :)

Deuce would actually discuss name changes with you before the wedding. He actually likes the idea of taking your name. He would feel very close to you by being connected to you by name. But he also likes the idea of you being a Spade because it’s like he’s bringing you into the family!

You’ll most likely move in with your husband and his mother for a year before moving to a small house nearby. Ms. Spade absolutely loves you, and dotes on you when Deuce is out working for the day. She’ll try to help you with your own work as well, especially if you’re working remotely or working from home a lot.

When Deuce is home, he’ll spend as much time with you as possible. There’s a lot of sleepy cuddling and long naps in your shared room. Even if he’s busy, he’ll help you and his mother with chores. Grocery runs are his favorites, because it gives him time to go out on a pseudo-date with you.

When on the couch together, Deuce loves placing your hands side by side, looking at the rings on both of your hands and thinking about how lucky he is. He can’t believe that you’re with him now, forever.

Once you finally get your own place, Ace will try to ask for a key. Deuce will give him one, and then change the locks just to mess with him.

Epel Felmier

Epel didn’t even think about marrying you until the two of you moved back to Harveston. The townsfolk don’t have much news to talk about, so a lot of the gossip will be diverted to you and Epel. Every time you go out, expect to have at least three elderly residents asking when your wedding will be! Most of the time, you’ll laugh it off and assure them that you’re happy. But it’s happened so much that Epel begins thinking about it.

He brings it up to you one day in the orchard, lying in the grass with his legs propped up on a tree. This is the first time you’ve discussed marriage, and you come to an agreement- if your relationship in Harveston works out, in a year or two you’ll get married. It’s a simple plan, but people can’t help but notice Epel has a spring in his step now when he talks about his new fiancée.

With his degree in magical chemistry and background as a farmer in Harveston, Epel will always be financially stable. He is one of the few young people in the town and the older residents welcome the help with labor. With extra income from occasional jobs Vil will call in with, you guys are set! You have plenty of time to spend with Epel every day. It’s quite the pleasant life.

Your marriage to Epel will take place in the town hall. Every Harveston resident will attend, as well as many of your friends from your days at Night Raven College. The village elders insisted on doing everything themselves- making food, catering, helping with clothing and ceremony. It’s been decades since they were last able to prepare for a wedding party!

Originally, the gathering was planned to be relatively small, with just friends, family, and locals. But word got out that the Vil Schoenheit would be attending the event in place of the Bride’s father, and security had to be hired. Not only that, but the presence of nobles like Kalim, Leona, and Malleus garnered attention as well. Harveston’s economy got a big boost just from your wedding alone.

Much to Vil’s chagrin, you had hired Neige to be the live performance during your first dance with your new husband. He’ll complain about it for years, even if you reassure him that you would have asked him if he didn’t already have a part in the wedding party.

Epel is secretly smug that so many people are seeing you marry him. You’re his now! He’s yours! Take that, world! Everyone knows you’re Mrs. Felmier now. Speaking of that, Epel wants you to take his last name. He really wants you to be his in that way. He might pout a bit if you refuse but ultimately he accepts your decision. Either way, you’re his wife now! Nobody else’s!

Silver

Two matching silver bands on yours and Silver’s ring fingers are the only indicator to the outside world that you got married in secret, on a humid summer evening before your final year at NRC. Worried about Lilia getting on in years and not being able to see his son’s special day, Silver asked you to marry him in a quiet, extremely private ceremony. Only Lilia, Malleus, and Sebek were present but Silver tried so hard to make it romantic. He promises that once you’re older, you can do it again, properly.

The ring exchange was overseen by Malleus, who had power for every official duty in Briar Valley. For Silver’s own band, he requested the gem on his magical pen to be turned into the centerpiece for his wedding ring. That way, he’ll never be without you or his magic now.

As the only humans in Briar Valley, you and Silver still need protection. Silver would never leave his job as Malleus’s guard either, so you’ll be living in the Thorn Fairy’s Castle for now. As a wedding present, Malleus had a new wing of the castle built just for you and your new husband, complete with a tower. It’s spacious and supposed to provide more privacy for newlyweds, but Lilia has a bad habit of barging into the rooms anyways, gushing about how his little boy is all grown up. If you need a place for more private affairs, the cottage out back might be a better location.

When you return to NRC for your final year, the rings on yours and your husband’s hands aren’t hidden. No one seems to notice, though. Not even the observant ones like Azul and Jamil. If they do, they probably assume that the rings are promise rings. Silver doesn’t bother to correct them- he’s wary of telling people already, lest someone target you for it. Stolen kisses in empty corridors are good enough… for now.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[moonsandmobilityaids]

Poly!Marauders x Disabled!Reader Series Masterlist

Note: if it's on the list and not linked, that's because it's written and queued. I will not list stories that haven't been queued, and I have the queue set for twice a day, 6pm and 8pm BST. Smut is marked with an *

Pre-Poly

When Sirius Fell In Love - Sirius realises he's falling for you.

Hopeless - James is a total goner. And he knows Sirius and Remus are interested too.

The Last One To Know - It's not until he's holding your hand in a muggle hospital that Remus realises he's in love with you.

An Accidental Kiss - Remus kisses you in his sleep. And it breaks your heart.

Main Series

The Beginning (all) - The boys have something to discuss with you.

First Kisses (all) - Your first kiss with each boy.

Bad Influence (James) - A little make-out session with James is the perfect end to the school day.

Secrets Revealed (all) - Sometimes it's easier to walk. One problem-your boyfriends don't know you can.

Craving You (Sirius) - Sirius Black is a tease and he knows it.

To Be Human (James) - James can be a perfectionist, which is alright some of the time but you know full well that this isn't one of those times.

After The Moon (all) - It's the first full moon since beginning your relationship.

Being With You (Remus) - Sometimes, you just need an evening cuddled up with Remus.

Control (all) - While spending a quiet night with your boys, Remus finds something he wasn't supposed to find.

Fraud (all) - Amycus Carrow wants to prove that you can walk.

Here For You (all) - It's a bad day, a really bad day. And your boys have no intention of leaving you to suffer alone.

Honest Conversations (all) - The boys want to talk about sex.

The First Time (all)* - It's in the name.

Disappointed (all) - You're struggling after your first time. Your boys know better.

Battered and Bruised (James) - James comes to see you after quidditch practice.

All Night Long (all) - The boys spend the night with you in your room.

Muggle Pills (all) - The boys learn what your pills do.

Oversensitive (all) - Your body sometimes overreacts to touch, telling you it hurts when it doesn't. So when it happens while Sirius is kissing you, you ignore it. This doesn't go over too well.

Just a Bath (Sirius)* - Sirius wants to take a bath with you.

Blanket Forts (all) - It's been a bad day, but when you return to your room, your boys are waiting.

Still Beautiful (James) - James sees something you don't want him to see.

Let Them Watch (all)* - You have a plan and you won't let the boys distract you

The Plan (all)* - It's the boys' turn to enact their plan.

Deserving (Sirius) - Sirius gets a letter from home.

People Will Talk (all) - News of your relationship gets out.

On Top (James)* - You wake up with James one morning.

Let Me Help (Remus) - The full moon is coming and Remus needs some help with the pain.

Rubber Chickens (all) - The boys want to pull a prank.

To Walk In (Remus)* - Remus learns something about you that you'd hoped none of the boys would ever learn. And then, he proves it doesn't change anything.

[buckysgrace]

Work It Out

Challenged by @sadhours for my first ever Harringrove piece so here we goooo :)

Warnings: Handjobs, masturbation, semi public masturbation, lots of pining

Steve is bad at measuring.

The morning had been slow. The math class he sat in was even more tedious as he continued to find himself staring off towards the back of Carol’s head. He wondered if she knew about the tiny pieces of lint that had settled at the bottom of her red strands. He doubted it.

He’d already finished his assignment for the day, finding it easier to deal with numbers than anything else. He enjoyed reading, but he thought the literature discussions were dumb. Full of fake answers that people thought of to look smarter than what they actually were.

His eyes drifted about, scanning briefly over the various math posters and examples on the board until he settled over the large windows. He stared at them for a moment, longing to feel the warm sun on him once again. He hated the weather now, hated how the sun could look so hot and warm but still be cold outside. He didn’t get it. He missed his home.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a pencil tapping. He moved his eyes in that direction, taking in the messy haired boy who seemed to be deep in thought. He clearly hadn’t knocked his assignment out, as he actually looked to be struggling with it. 

He liked looking at Steve. He knew he shouldn’t, but he did. He liked tracing his eyes over Steve’s moles and soft lips. He liked his dark eyebrows, his strong nose and how he chewed on his eraser when he tried to seek the answers to whichever problem he was stuck on. 

The sunlight dipped in through the windows, lighting Steve into a golden haze that danced off of his warm skin. He was tapping his pencil against his textbook, his lips moving softly as he repeated the question over and over again. 

Billy was enamored with the way Steve’s lips moved. They were pink, curved softly and decorated with the prettiest cupid's bow he’d ever seen. Billy had an urge to trace them, to rub his finger across Steve’s lips until he tired of the feeling. He wondered if Steve would lean against him, if he’d pull him closer. He dreamt of Steve gripping his wrist and kissing each of his fingertips, his brown eyes locked onto Billy’s the whole time.

Steve paused mid tap, shook his shoulders and then quickly jerked his head in Billy’s direction. Billy snapped his head back down to his desk, narrowly avoiding the inquisitive look on Steve’s features as he rolled his tongue around in his mouth.

He pressed his fingertips together, doing his best to keep from shaking as he suddenly felt the dire need for a cigarette. He felt a warmth flowing through him, spreading from the top of his forehead down to the tips of his toes as he felt Steve’s eyes lingering for just a moment. Just a small second. Just enough to make him feel like he was losing his sanity.

Billy couldn’t help the ache that formed in his chest every time he looked at Steve, bitter and angry that he wasn’t able to control his feelings. He couldn’t understand why Steve had such an affect on him, why he was the only person that made Billy feel like he could be wanted.

He’d push him in the halls, shoving him up against walls and lockers as he passed through. If Billy got the chance, he’d tug on Steve’s hair and steal the dessert from his tray with little to no protest from the brunette. Sometimes he’d lean forward in his chair and mock him, only feeling proud when Steve would audibly sigh and roll his eyes. The days that Steve smarted back to him were his favorite. He felt like Steve actually saw him on those days.

It was hopeless. Billy knew it was, no matter how tightly he clung to his hope that he may have some sort of chance. Billy saw the girls that Steve dated, saw how he interacted with other guys on the basketball team. His eyes never lingered, never wandered or became suspicious. He wasn’t interested. He wasn’t messed up in the ways Billy was.

He’d had odd feelings before, but they had never been as strong as what they were now. He felt like he was in middle school again, like he’d just discovered what it was like to have a crush on someone. The way he acted around Steve was the same way he acted around girls when he was too young to know what his feelings meant. He knew what they meant now. It scared him. 

Steve made it hard to concentrate during games, during school; just seeing him walking in the hall made Billy’s heart seize. It was ridiculous. He hated himself for it. It only made him angrier, made him wonder where his lines had gotten crossed.

He was too tired to dip back into his conflicting thoughts on who he liked. He still liked girls, but Steve made him think that he could like men too. That he could be with someone who was who had similar parts to him. He wanted it to be okay.

“What did you get on number four?” Steve’s arm was on his desk suddenly, nearly smearing Billy’s neat handwriting as he lazily rested there. Billy stared at the moles on Steve’s arm for a moment before he found the courage to face him, his mouth suddenly dry in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

His eyes were brown, but in the sunlight they looked like warm honey. Almost golden. It reminded him of the hot sun on the beach, of how he used to just close his eyes and absorb the rays from the sun. 

“S’not any of your business,” Billy piped back, finally able to speak as he pressed his fingertips against Steve’s elbow to shove him away, “Not my fault you don’t know how to count.” He snapped back, instantly feeling his insides crush into tiny pieces at the way Steve’s expression fell. 

He watched, feeling frozen in his spot as Steve gave a shrug of his shoulders and slumped back into his seat. He kicked his long legs apart, spreading them as he brought his pencil back against his desk and began to tap again. He didn’t work on the assignment the rest of class; just avoided looking at Billy the same way that Billy was avoiding looking at him. 

Two weeks passed before Billy had his next bump in with Steve. He avoided him in the halls, in the classrooms. He acted like he didn’t exist during basketball practice. It hurt. It made him feel sick. He missed the warm way Steve smiled, how his eyes lit up when he got excited. He missed watching Steve brush his fingers through his thick hair, how he’d occasionally tug on the locks if he got too deep into his thoughts. 

“You’re doing that wrong.” Billy pointed out as he leered over Steve’s shoulder, watching the way he was incorrectly setting up his geometry problem. Billy tilted his head, sure that Steve had incorrectly measured all of his angles.

“I can count,” Steve replied through barred lips, looking irritated as he spared a glance up in Billy’s direction. Billy felt the corners of his mouth twitch, his stomach fluttering as their eyes met, “I know.” He mumbled as he turned away.

Billy watched him for a moment, expecting him to correct it as Steve kept his pencil pointed at the paper. He felt a laugh bubbling in his chest as Steve quickly dropped his palms onto his paper to hide his work away.

“I don’t think you’re doing anyone a favor there,” Billy snorted, wondering if Steve was the reason that Tommy had failed so many of his classes, “You’re supposed to use centimeters, not inches.” He reminded him, hoping that Steve may realize the error of his ways on his own. 

“Since when?” Steve furrowed his eyebrows together, then squinted his pretty brown eyes as he held the paper up to examine it. Billy paused before he settled his legs over one of the extra stools. 

“Says it right there,” Billy pointed out to the top of the paper as he straddled a stool next to Steve. He stared at the words, trying not to focus on the feeling of his knee pressed against Steve’s thigh, “You’re not labeling your units either. That’s why you got this problem wrong.” 

“Oh,” Steve drew out softly, blinking as he examined the directions again, “Right. I see that.” He mumbled as he took a hold of his pencil, twisting it around a few times between his fingers before he began to erase what he’d already worked on. 

“When you measure,” Billy began as Steve pulled his ruler up to the triangle, “You should start here. The numbers come out more accurate this way.” He explained, his fingers lightly pressing against the ruler to drag it down to the correct spot. He watched the way Steve’s fingers twitched away before their hands could meet, like he was too nervous.

“Alright, yeah, I guess,” Steve mumbled as he shook his head, “Is your mom like a teacher or something?” He grumbled but looked to be more jealous than anything, like he wished that he had something similar. Billy snorted in response, wishing that it was that easy. 

“She’s dead.” Billy said simply, unable to hide the bitterness and anger that rolled off of his tongue. She wasn’t dead. Rosemary was very much alive, he was sure of that. But to him, she was dead. 

“Oh,” Steve’s brown eyes widened, his jaw going slack as he looked at him stunned, “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know.” He spit out quickly, a flush settling over his cheeks as he seemed to be trying to dig himself out of the hole he’d just created. 

“S’fine, it’s none of your business anyways,” Billy brushed him off quickly, “That number is way too small.” He changed the subject quickly, not wanting to linger on thoughts of his mom. It was easier to point out Steve’s mistake. 

“It’s-,” Steve huffed in frustration as he erased his answer hurriedly again, “Funny you say that, considering that’s the size of your dick.” He grumbled to himself, like it was supposed to be some sort of insult. Billy stared at him for a moment, certain that he had heard the brunette wrong. 

“My dick is not that small,” Billy defended himself, “Plus, yours is even smaller than that.” He said quickly, not wanting to be stuck in some rumor over having a small dick. His was not small. 

“I do not have a small dick,” Steve huffed out, his cheeks beginning to burn, “I have a large one. Eleven inches, actually.” He replied proudly, dropping his pencil like that was the last word. Billy raised an eyebrow. 

“Your dick is not eleven inches.” He dismissed Steve as he shook his head. He hadn’t seen what Steve was packing, but he was quite confident in his answer. There was no way. 

“How would you know?” Steve challenged, “Are you peeking?” He asked quickly, looking a little horrified as he moved a hand over his junk. Billy felt his eyes widen, his heart falling to the floor in panic. 

“No,” Billy spit out quickly, “There’s just no way you were blessed like that.” He said at last, suddenly wishing that he hadn’t approached in the first place. Why did he approach? He was suddenly reminded of how annoying Steve was. 

“I’ll show you,” Steve said, then briefly paused, “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant like, I will prove to you how long my dick is. By measuring it with you.” He spit out awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders like it was no big deal. 

“Doesn’t sound very exciting.” Billy replied dryly, though he could feel a certain jolt rushing down  his body. He mentally cursed himself, unable to believe that his body was getting excited over something so dumb. 

“Are you scared that I’m right about something?”Steve challenged, looking like he was quick to defend himself. Billy raised an eyebrow, but kept himself from retorting that he didn’t think Steve’s counting skills were all that.

“You’re on.” Billy said at last, unable to stop himself as he slowly dragged his eyes away from Steve’s amused ones and landed on his pink lips instead. He was fucked. 

They both waited until practice was over and everyone else had left. Billy felt odd sitting around in his towel so long and had hastily decided to redress himself. He already knew how big his dick was, he had nothing to prove. 

“See,” Steve proclaimed proudly, “Eleven inches.” He grinned from ear to ear, looking entirely too cocky as he held his ruler against his dick. Billy looked up at him incredulously. 

“You can’t count the balls.” He pointed out, feeling like it was a known rule to keep from measuring your balls. It didn’t count, not at all. 

“That’s part of my dick!” Steve protested, “It so does count.” He gestured back towards himself, looking a little angry as he stared at his cock. It had been awkward waiting earlier, as Steve had swore that the only right way to measure himself was by getting hard. Billy had waited on the opposite side of the lockers, sure that Steve was probably beating his dick to some old memory. 

“Here,” Billy grumbled as he yanked the ruler free from Steve’s grasp, fully lost in the need to prove him wrong, “You start here and place it here.” He directed him, his eyes slightly widening at the realization that his fingers were brushing against Steve’s dick. Steve lurched forward, a shrill whine leaving his lips at the same time. Billy gulped, feeling his own cock hardening in his pants. 

“I-,” Steve gulped, “I’m sorry, I just-,” Billy cut him off again, his body warming as he slowly wrapped his fingers around Steve’s girth. Steve gasped again, his tone shrill as he jerked his hips forward. He rutted himself against Billy’s palm for a moment, his features wrinkled in bliss. 

Billy felt his heart hammering in his chest, beating against his ribs and nearby organs as he stared down at both of their bodies. He knew it was dangerous, knew that anyone could walk in at any time. He didn’t care. He was too last in the moment, in the thrill of keeping Steve’s gaze on him. 

“What was that?” He hummed softly as he moved behind Steve, feeling his confidence grow at the whiny sounds that left Steve’s mouth. He pressed his chest against Steve’s back, soaking in the warmth from the other boy as he felt his own cock aching in his jeans. He fought the urge to rock his hips forward, to grind against Steve.

“It feels,” Steve gulped harshly as Billy tilted his head, looking at how his eyes grew hazy and his cheeks pink, “It feels good.” He groaned, his eyes flashing in desperation as he turned towards Billy again. 

“Don’t let me stop you,” Billy mumbled from against his mouth, his lips slightly dragging against Steve’s warm skin as he moved his hand from Steve’s cock and towards the other side of his hips, “Go ahead.” He urged the brunette, enjoying the soft croon that fell from Steve’s lips as he wrapped his long fingers around his leaking cock.

Billy watched in fascination, doing all that he could to keep from rubbing himself up against Steve’s soft backside as he slowly began to stroke himself in his hand. Billy dragged his fingers across Steve’s waist at the same time, enjoying the hot sensation that grew from his touch. 

“Oh,” Steve trembled against him, his pink lips pouting out into a breathless moan as he rocked his hips forward to meet the rough movements from his hand. Billy exhaled softly before he pressed his tongue against the crook of Steve’s neck, licking away his sweat as Steve once again let free a whimper, “Fuck.”

Billy felt like the room had grown far too hot, almost blistering as he found his fingers twitching against the skin near Steve’s belly button. He kept reminding himself that he was okay, that he wasn’t actually doing anything. He wouldn’t let himself, no matter how badly he wanted to. 

“You’re such a good princess,” Billy teased, watching the way Steve rapidly blinked his hazy eyes, “Such a good cock slut, aren’t you?” He felt his own desire pooling into his stomach, the lust growing deep inside of his chest. He wanted Steve, in a way he’d never wanted anyone else before. 

Steve turned towards Billy then, his brown eyes shot and filled with lust as he parted his pink lips as another moan fell from his tongue. Billy felt himself digging his fingers deeper into Steve’s flesh, enjoying the feeling of Steve’s warm breath rolling over his features. He smelt like bubblegum. 

Their noses brushed against one another’s as Steve moved his hand faster along his cock, his eyebrows furrowing together as he writhed against Billy’s touch. Billy felt his own mouth parting, nearly feeding the temptation of meshing his mouth against Steve’s. 

He flicked his tongue across his bottom lip, as if he could lick away Steve’s heavenly sounds as he pressed himself closer against Steve’s round ass. He squeezed at his flesh, anchoring himself from moving any closer as Steve continued to rut into his hand. 

“S’yeah,” Steve spit out, looking a little desperate as Billy continued to drag his fingers in the hair underneath Steve’s belly button, “I’m your cock slut.” He whined as he twisted his hand a little harder, moaning at how easily he moved his hand along the length of his cock.

Billy was sure the sounds that Steve was making would forever haunt him. He’d never hear anything as melodic, as sinful and full of want and need again. It was better than the songs that he listened to. He savored the sound in his ears, praying that he’d never forget them as his cock continued to throb in his jeans. 

“Oh, oh,” Steve grunted as he moved his hand faster, his eyebrows knitting tightly together as he cried out, “Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming! Oh fuck!” He hissed entirely too loud, his whole body thrusting forward as he reached his eye.

Billy groaned, watching the thick globs of cum shoot out against the lockers. Steve painted them white as he shook, falling back against Billy’s grasp as he continued to whine and plead. His moans were nonsensical, broken apart as he tried to catch his breath. 

Billy pulled away for a moment, listening to the rough way Steve was breathing as he reached between his thighs. Steve halted, freezing as Billy scooped up a glob of cum onto his finger. Steve’s eyes were wide, shot as he watched Billy bring it up to his mouth.

Billy parted Steve’s lips slowly, utterly in awe with how Steve had such a slutty mouth. He had a craving to feel his lips against Steve’s, but he ignored it. Instead he pushed his spunk covered finger through Steve’s open lips, fighting back a groan at the way Steve instantly began to suck on it.

He watched the way Steve’s eyes darkened, how they gleamed like they awaited Billy's approval. Billy felt his air hitching in his lungs, enamored with the way Steve licked his finger clean. He allowed himself a second to savor Steve’s mouth around his finger, knowing that he’d picture Steve’s lips around his cock later.

“S’not bad,” Billy mumbled softly, unable to pull himself away as Steve seemed to creep closer to him, “You’ve got it all worked out now.” 

[lanitalay]

At sea pt. 2

Rhysand x reader

a/n: I am terrible at naming fics lol

word count:1.4k warnings: none

Part 1

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

You can’t control your face as your eyes widen and your mouth gapes at the news. 

“Oh…” is all you managed to say as an emptiness creeps up to your throat. He was your friend and nothing more. You had never so much as pecked the High Lord. There was no reason for such a reaction from you. It should not have shocked you, either. He would have had to marry eventually and the renegade daughter of an unstable sailor would not do anything to strengthen the court. “She accepted the proposal?” 

“Beron did”

That was another thing to consider. The High Lord of Autumn was well known for his cruelty. You could only imagine the life his only daughter had lived so far. Marrying Rhysand would be a mercy. It would grant her his protection, give her an escape from her rotten father. So being upset by the news was entirely selfish. You could not protest.  It would take every single one of your efforts to move on. But for the sake of the war, for the sake of maintaining peace amongst the courts and for helping a helpless female you would grit your teeth and accept that the attraction you felt to the male standing before you was hopeless.

“Congratulations are in order then, High Lord” you say with whatever smile you could muster. 

“I-” he begins but stops, looking away from you. His eyes remain on the drawings on the book in front of you and the air feels heavy with something bigger than your own sorrow. A few heartbeats later he returns his gaze to yours and offers you a solemn grin “thank you”. 

Weeks pass by as you catalog each new finding from your travels. Paula, your head researcher, was happy with the outcome of the expedition but that only meant more work for you as she asked you to write a meticulous article for each sample being cataloged. By the end of the day your hands were cramped and your writing was barely legible. The exhaustion was also mental, but that was more than welcome because in a few short days your High Lord would be marrying a princess. You were grateful for the fatigue as you reached your bed and collapsed into a dreamless sleep night after night. 

“All I’m saying is that you don’t have to marry her” Mor’s voice bounces off the walls of Rhysands study. 

“There is no other way, cousin. Ever since the situation with Eris the Autumn Court has refused diplomatic relations. We need their fire wielders and their footmen to stand a chance against Hybern” the blonde sighs, exasperated. They have had this discussion plenty of times before. 

“You could hold off the wedding until after the war. Once everything is settled you can break it off” 

“Beron made it clear his compliance is reliant on us getting married before the leaves begin to brown” 

“You don’t love her! She’s basically a child Rhysand and you’d be condemning the rest of your life to be spent with a female who is not right for you” he massaged his temples as he listened to the same arguments she had been making since the announcement. 

“As High Lord I need to make sacrifices for the well being of the court. This is the price I must pay” 

“Cousin, please” 

“Mor, I can’t keep having this conversation” she heaves a breath and leaves the room. The slam of the door rattling the painting and shelves on the walls

“He’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever known, and gods above, I’m Kier’s daughter” Mor rants while pacing the length of your sitting room. She had winnowed to your apartment a few moments ago and knocked so loud on the door that you thought Hybern was invading. 

“He has his reasons, Mor” you breathe, trying to keep your composure. Hiding your unhappiness about the matter was easier when you did not think or talk about it. 

“You should talk to him, he always listens to you more than he does the rest of us” you begin to shake your head in negation but she insists “you were the only one that got through to him when he wanted to get that awful face tattoo”. 

“I only said I didn’t like it” 

“Exactly! He cares about your opinion. Just… talk to him. He won’t listen to me” you give her a stern look and she replies “please, I know he’ll live to regret it”. 

How could you tell your friend, the day before his wedding, that what he is doing is a mistake? He was not doing it with thoughtless intent. More backup was needed and he found a way to get it, at his own expense. What would be a good argument to convince him otherwise? Would he tell you to mind your business? Would this wreck your friendship? 

Three knocks on a wooden door alert him to your presence.

“Come in” 

“Hi, Rhys,” you greet him. Smiling as you see his face for the first time in weeks. He looks up from the paper he is reading and his features soften as soon as he spots you. 

“Hi, y/n” you shift on your feet. He clears his throat and motions towards a chair in front of the desk “sit, please”. When you sit he adds “what can I help you with?” 

The golden buttons of your blouse feel cool against your fingers as you fiddle with them. “I have to talk to you… about tomorrow”.

His jaw clenches in a way you are not used to “what about tomorrow?” 

“Are you positive you want to go through with it?” 

“Y/n I have no interest in debating my nuptials. It will happen tomorrow and I hope to see you there. But if not, then it won’t make a difference”. Burning fills your chest. Stinging warns you there’s tears that are threatening to spill over. He had never spoken to you like that. Not once. 

“Are you sure it is the right thing to do?” You manage to ask. 

“Is there a reason you don’t want me to go through with it?”

“Mor believes you’ll regret it, in time” 

“I did not ask about what Mor thinks, she has made her opinions clear. I asked if there is a reason you don’t want me to marry the princess?” 

You can only think of one. Selfishly, you think he'd be happier with you, in the long run. But confessing you have a crush the day before his wedding is too pathetic. He is thinking of everyone but himself. You are only thinking about him and yourself. So you lower your gaze back to the golden buttons, and say “no, I’m only here because Mor asked me to talk to you but I see you are certain so I’ll tell her I tried”. You stand and leave, refusing to meet his stare as you feel it burning at your back. 

For the second night in a row you hear knocks at your door. This time they are even and heavy handed. You smell him before reaching the knob and your heart sputters as if recoiling from who stands outside

“What is it, Rhys?” You ask, voice meek against the High Lord towering over you. 

“Why don’t you want me to marry the princess?” 

“I already told you” he remains in the doorway, eyes grave, breath unsteady. 

“Answer me truthfully” you step aside and motion for him to come inside, no need for your neighbors to hear about this. He walks in and immediately turns on his heels, you slam your back on your closed door and look up at him. His heart is also uneven, you’re close enough to hear it. 

“Rhys…”

“Y/n…. please… if you think I’m making a mistake I need you to tell me why” it hurts to see him like this. He’s not resplendent as usual, his shoulders are slanted and his head hangs low. 

Low enough you can feel his breath mixing with your own. 

“I…” you think of the war, of Hybern, of the princess and of the chaos that will unfold if this wedding does not happen. But then you think of your friend, of the male you love spending the rest of his days with another female and, thinking of yourself, knowing it is illogical and self centered, finish saying “I want to be the one you marry”.

[gabessquishytum]

Arranged omegaverse marriage with unrequited loveeee…

What about if omega Hob is forced to marry dream, a rich and powerful alpha who will help raise his family’s status, but this time it’s Dream who’s in unrequited love with hob.

Dream fell in love with hob’s scent but also his personality and his beauty from afar. When hob became eligible for marriage, Dream immediately went to hob’s guardian and made an offer for his hand. They’d never even MET.

it was a surprise to everyone that the third son of the endless, practically royalty, chose some minor noble omega who was barely worth noticing. And hob is in no position to refuse.

Hob is scared at first. He doesn’t even know what this alpha wants from him. Hob is a nobody compared to him which means he is entering a marriage with no power and maybe that’s really what Dream wants—a mate he has complete control over. Maybe he’s a cruel alpha who doesn’t want an equal but a bed warmer to use, maybe even abuse.

So he goes to the wedding shaking and scared.

Dream is thrilled, up until he smells how scared hob is.

It’s even worse when they’re alone. Dream is confused and awkward and hob is prepared for the worst.

Dream tries to tell hob not to be afraid but he’s so stilted that hob takes it as a threat—it’s a mess. They don’t even have sex and dream goes to bed sure that the omega he loves has only married him for his money, and he won’t get the great love he wanted.

Still he is determined to provide a good life for hob. Hob deserves it, even if he doesn’t love dream…

But over time hob realizes what a good heart dream has. He realizes dream hasn’t tried to hurt him and has quietly arranged for hob’s life to be easier. He buys him books and never encroaches on his space and has all his favorite things memorized—the wine he likes, his favorite flowers, and he makes sure hob gets the best of everything.

And he doesn’t even touch hob. When hob’s first heat comes, dream sits in the room with him and mops his forehead. even when hob begs, dream doesn’t knot him. He just soothes him with cool fingers in his hole and ensures he has food and water.

It comes to a head when some alpha at a party calls hob a gold-digger and dream straight up challenges him to a duel for hob’s honor. (He wins.)

That’s when hob realizes that maybe the reason Dream wanted to marry him was actually love. And maybe his alpha is just an awkward hopeless romantic.

I love it! Dream takes great pleasure in defending Hob’s honour. He's so pleased to have the opportunity to show Hob how he feels. He doesn't even have to speak or scare Hob by getting in his personal space. Dream can simply show the whole world that he loves Hob and he expects nothing in return!

Hob isn't scared anymore, he's just devastatingly horny about the way he alpha fought for him. Watching Dream get all defensive and growly makes Hob go right into pre-heat, which he cant disguise even if he tries. He sees Dream’s nose twitching at the change of scent and blushes fiercely. His alpha must think that he's so silly, going from a complete scaredy-cat to a drooling slut.

Dream, of course, just thinks that Hob is wonderful. He can't wait to get his omega home. He's fully prepared to do another heat just taking care of Hob with his fingers and soothing him through it. But as soon as they do get home, Hob makes it abundantly clear that that's not what he wants. It's not the heat talking. He's really falling for Dream, and he wants to be with him properly. The best part is, all of these emotions show up in his scent. So Dream knows that it's all true.

Hob gets to spend this heat with his alpha, being made love to and worshipped the whole time. And from now on he knows that he's going to treat Dream like a king, because it's absolutely what he deserves - to feel loved in return, just as he's loved Hob from the start.

[duncebento]

maybe i'll write more about it later but what i really loved about bojack horseman is that its message is ultimately anti-fatalistic, and this stance is determined by BAITING AND SWITCHING with what is meant to be their tragic protagonist-- bojack is supposed to die!! as is the trope of tragedy, the show TELLS us that bojack is going to die before the story even begins; his implied falling into the sea is part of the intro sequence that plays during every episode. and if that wasn't enough, it's a motif throughout the show-- like his painting of one horse standing in front of another horse face-down in the pool, explicitly alluded to as as a representation of narcissus (although, symbolically, the horse in the pool is removed when the painting is destroyed!). like the fact that he's a horse, and you can lead a horse to water... like his idolization of secretariat, who chose to kill himself by jumping off a bridge.

the story has set itself up to have its tragic protag, who is famously reckless and self-hating and irresponsible, drown in a drunken haze. to us as viewers, the environment around bojack gestures toward his drowning, both in its symbolism and in the social environment he has cultivated, which would likely accept his death as a sad inevitability. at times WE may want bojack to die, or at least view his death as a necessary consequence to the way he lives, an easier out for the people around him. and in the second-to-last episode he DOES drown-- but we find out, in the end, that he drowns in the pool, and he's found, and he's rescued and his heart starts again! and some of the last words in the series-- "sometimes, life's a bitch and then you live," embody that subversion. he doesn't get to die, and as much as that is a gift, it entails a the hard labor of responsibility. not wriggling out but standing firm.

our protagonist teeters between taking responsibility and blaming his cosmic circumstance, and we are forced to question what we believe about fate-- is it really always possible to change and to take control of ourselves, or is that childish naivete-- or could it be both? we are given so much to suggest that change is possible-- and then that hope is taken away from us. bojack gets sober and starts drinking again. he decides to tell the truth but lies the moment the pressure is too much to bear. all signs point to his end, so the show could have been brutal, could have been cynical, would have been totally within its right to have its tragic protagonist die his tragic and prestated death, and its message could have been "look at this sad, sad man who spun out. good intentions are not enough."

but the genre shifts at the last moment, and it wasn't a drowning after all but a baptism! and in this shift the narrative ceases to be just a compelling narrative but takes a stance on us, tells us that it is never hopeless to try, even when all of your surroundings seem to point to the contrary, even when you fail so many times that the next failure seems inevitable. and that this IS childish, and that cynicism seems smarter and bitterness more fun, and that, indeed, good intentions are not at all enough. BUT! the illusion that you have been doomed is a powerful illusion, sometimes an all-powerful one, but it does not have to be the case. and thats epic

[the-avengers-ate-my-tongue]

Mrs. Fell (Smut)

Summary: you've been living with Hannibal in Florence under the identity of Mrs. Fell. Although you missed Will dearly, the energy between the psychiatrist and you begin to unfold in different — and intriguing — paths.

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x reader, Will Graham x reader (mentioned)

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence and, obviously, sex. 

English is not my first language, if you see any mistake, let me know!

Word Count: 2280

You jolted upwards on your bed, sweat soaking the silk linens and the black nightgown you wore.

Another nightmare. They were becoming quite common these days. 

You sighed, allowing your body to lie back down, the mattress springs squeaking annoyingly. With unnecessary roughness, you covered your mouth with your hand, trying to suppress your hopeless cries so they wouldn't wake Hannibal up. Even though he was in another room, the walls had ears. You knew he would hear you somehow. He always did. 

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. God, how you missed Will. His touch and soft voice would be exactly what you needed to soothe you, his words of assurance guaranteeing you everything was alright and nothing would harm you, for he wouldn't allow it. 

But things ended up slipping out of his control, didn't they? You weren't with him anymore, under his golden protection. You were with Hannibal Lecter in a fancy house in Florence, Italy. Being held hostage, as much as he would disagree. Kept as a pet, an amusement. A consolation prize. Spoils of war. 

Without your control, your mind spiralled to the night Hannibal took you as advantage in his escape, disembowelling Will cowardly and threatening to kill him if you wouldn't come with him. His last fraction of torture, you remember thinking to yourself while you both rode the motorcycle under those heavy drops of rain that washed all your tears away.

You also remembered how kindly he wiped your tears without saying a word, for he knew nothing he would say would be enough. You were in that position because of him, after all. You had begged him to let you stay, to talk to Will, but he wouldn't have none of it. The flight to Italy was bittersweet, since you had never flown before, the sky being ignorantly astonishing to your pain. 

You still felt the ghost of Will's bloodied kiss before you left him. His breathless sobs still echoed in your ears, clenching your heart painfully. You never were religious, but you remember praying he would survive the wound, so you could be reunited again and forget all about the goddamn FBI, Jack Crawford and Hannibal Lecter. 

You both could live in a small cottage by the sea, fish, swim and sail all day long, raise a few babies of your own. Little boys and girls with dark hair and y/e/c eyes running around the beach, laughing joyfully with nothing to worry about. 

That reality seemed distant, however, at least at the moment. You would linger in the shadows of Lydia Fell, your new identity, until it was safe enough to come to light again.

Time travelled fast while you pretended to be the wife of the renowned Dr. Fell. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and you could feel the energy between you and Hannibal shift mysteriously. It was surprisingly easy to be Mrs. Fell, attending to parties, little soirees vanity allowed Hannibal to arrange. He would pamper you with pretty dresses, fancy food and barbiturates, making days easier to endure, afternoons fun and evenings interesting, filled with culture and knowledge you never got tired of soaking like a sponge. Whenever the memory of Will became too unbearable, you would pop a pill and drink a glass of Bâtard-Montrachet, dancing to old elegant tunes; your head feeling hazy and heavy until you finally gave up and went to bed. 

His bed, after a while. It was more convenient to pretend integrally to be Mrs. Fell. It wasn't so bad, after all, you hated sleeping all alone. Hannibal's presence made you feel safer, and he was ever most respectful towards you. It didn't take long for you to realize the longing stare to his hands when he cooked, or the way his back flexed when he sliced something thick. Started as innocent glances; until you finally acknowledged the lust rising at the bottom of your abdomen with the silliest of things, like when he played the piano, or talked about the paintings and sculptures of the house you were both staying in. 

You couldn't deny how appealing the man was, with his charms, intelligence and sophistication. How easy it was for him to entangle Will and you into his web of lies and sadistic games. You were a mere fly, trapped, waiting — and sometimes even longing — to be devoured.

"Hair up or down?" You inquired with a sly smile, grabbing a fist of your hair and pulling it up while you looked at the mirror, watching Hannibal fix his cufflinks. He directed his attention to you and your exposed neck, and you noticed how his eyes darkened, making your insides twist. 

In silence, he walked towards you, lowering the straps of your red dress a little bit to expose your shoulders, pulling out of his pocket a beautiful golden necklace with rubies the size of berries. You choked a gasp, covering your mouth while he tied the astonishing piece around your neck, allowing his fingers to gently caress the skin.

"Up. It will bring out your eyes even more with the necklace. Allow me." He took a few bobby pins and started to work on your hair with surprising skill, letting a few strands loose to shape your face perfectly. 

"Is there anything you don't know how to do?" You teased, chuckling slightly while you stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked beautiful, and at the same time an entire different person. 

"Yes." His eyes lingered on you with a subtle glow that didn't last long. "You're wearing the perfume I gave you."

"I am."

"It suits you."

"In what way, Hannibal?" You turned to face him with a capricious move, eying him from below. 

"It's elegant and discreet, yes. However, it possesses a hidden flame that only the most skilled men are able to capture."

"And you're one of those men, I suppose."

"Would you say so, Y/n?" 

You hesitated, chewing your lip with anticipation. 

"That was very psychiatrist of you, Dr. Lecter. Directing the thought to me."

"Old habits never die, I suppose. You are avoiding the question, Y/n." He stepped closer, lifting your chin with his index, caressing it with his thumb. "Would you say so?"

You licked your lips and he followed the movement with his eyes.

"Hannibal… I'm Will's. My heart will always belong to him." You tried to push away his hand but he held your chin harder, keeping you in place.

"I've given you every single opportunity to flee over the past few months, Y/n. And yet, you remain here with me. You should face the inevitable" he knelt in front of you, his hands traveling through your thighs, lifting your dress. "You enjoy being Mrs. Lecter more than you would like to acknowledge."

You sighed, allowing your head to drop back, longing to be touched. 

"Mrs. Fell." You corrected, eyes closed. "I am Mrs. Fell."

He lifted one of your legs, placing it over his shoulder while lifting your dress up, a guttural moan escaping his throat once he realized you were bare under it. The soft touch of his tongue in your core was enough to drive you mad, grabbing his locks while he delighted himself with your taste. You whimpered, moaning his name under your breath, biting your lip so hard you felt your front teeth penetrate the flesh, the copper taste of blood invading your tongue. 

Hannibal could smell it, lifting his eyes quickly like a predator, rising only to lick the small trickle that stained your chin. You were surprised with how much that aroused you; he hesitated, staring at your mouth with hungry eyes, and you wondered if he was asking for permission. You granted it with pulling him closer, kissing him with passion, tasting more parts of yourself on his tongue that you could fathom. He held you by your ass, lifting you up with ease while you wrapped your legs around his hips without breaking the kiss. You felt the soft touch of the mattress against your back and the silk linens, focusing on how good Hannibal's hands felt as they explored your body, rough and experienced touches that certainly would leave a few bruises tomorrow. 

He got slightly impatient, then, ripping your dress and exposing your breasts, your nipples hard with the stimulation. You gasped with the abrupt move, raising your arms to cover yourself instinctively, but he held your hands against the mattress with no avail. 

"I liked that dress!" You protested, trying to hide how nervous you were, the feeling of doing something wrong spreading adrenaline over your entire being. 

"Perhaps I should buy you another one, then" Hannibal said while starting to undress, throwing his vests on the ground. "I have the feeling you were never touched the way you truly desire, Y/n."

That single line caused you to paralyze like a doe on headlights, your wide eyes staring at him with disbelief. He was right; you hadn't been with many men in your life, and the longest relationship you had was with Will. He was never too much interested in sex, though, and on the times you actually did it, he touched you like one would handle a fine china. With care and tenderness, as if he feared to break you. It wasn't bad at all, he made love to you every single time, always so intense and intimate that you felt like you would break in tears sometimes. 

Hannibal was right. You were never fucked properly because you never had been with a man who cared about your true desires. Moreover, it wasn't Will's fault that you never showed him your dark inclinations, he had a twisted view of perfection when it came to you. The only light in his life, the only unchangeable good. Being held in that place was exhausting and you had never realized how full of it you were until Hannibal's statement. 

"Tell me what you want, Y/n." He commanded. You blinked away images of Will to the bottom of your conscience, embracing your desire and acting on it.

"I want you inside me," you pleaded, using your elbows to support you while you stared at his remarkable body. "Take me, Hannibal."

A convinced smirk illustrated his lips, his pupils so dilated his eyes were completely black. He crawled over you, nibbling on your neck and earlobe while his hips nested on yours, fitting in perfectly as if you both were built to the purpose by gods. He entered you without a warning, causing you to sink your nails into the skin of his back. He sighed, the feeling of your walls clenching to accommodate him being too good to be true. You spread your legs, allowing him to reach deeper, a state of bliss pouring over you. It was wrong, but it felt so right. You moved your hips in perfect synchrony, one of his hands grabbing your neck, keeping you in place without actually hurting. He used his thumb to caress your bottom lip and you took the opportunity to suck on his finger, the salty taste tickling the tip of your tongue. 

That caused him to fasten his movements without care, a light ache joining your pleasure. The wet sound of his thrusts, your moans and his groans echoed through the bedroom like an unholy symphony, the scent of sex and sweat starting to fill the air. The tip of his cock touched a critical point inside you repeatedly, and you could feel the tension start to build up at the bottom of your abdomen, arching your back while he grabbed your hair, pulling your head to the side to sink his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder, near your collarbone. That sent sparks along your spine, and you sucked the air through your teeth, your nails descending the skin of his back and drawing blood. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you felt pleasure wash over you, release becoming almost unbearable. It was as if Hannibal knew all your buttons, where to touch you, exactly what to do to bring you to the edge of the abyss. And you jumped without hesitation, his breath fastening till a moan escaped his lips and he filled you with his cum, his body trembling in silent ecstasy. 

He didn't leave you right away, enjoying the warm and wet feeling of your cunt for a few more moments before he finally pulled out, trying to stabilize his breathing. You stared at the ceiling with glassy eyes and ajar lips, feeling his cum dripping out of you. Without a word, Hannibal picked you up in his arms with a surprising tenderness, taking you to the bathroom and preparing a hot bath. 

Ah, Will. Forgive me. What have I done? Was the thought that echoed in your mind repeatedly, realization towering over you with an iced shadow. You tried to catch a glimpse of the sun under months of a lonely dark night, but ended up being severely burned. As Icarus flew too close and had his wings melted, you fell to your doom, beyond salvation, beyond forgiveness. You were stained for life; Will would never look at you the same way. 

"Y/n." Hannibal stared at you with his chocolate irises, proceeding to wash your hair, removing the bobby pins himself had placed over your locks earlier. You felt weirdly numb, dissociative, like your body wasn't your own anymore. 

"Lydia" you corrected in a tired whisper, a demented little smile playing in your lips. "My name is Lydia Fell."

[savvyreyes4587]

Soulless, Homeless and such a hopeless case.

PM!Dazai x Fem!Reader

Nakahara Chuuya x Fem!Reader

Summary: The day of the initiation is here but only one problem remains… you and the Demon Prodigy seem to love fighting each other a little too much.

Author's note: Thursday as promised but testing a new publishing time but it might be bad soo… we shall see and hope you enjoy.

Warnings: manipulation… maybe but besides that perhaps none.

Taglist: @v15aexe @hotwomanlythings @zaushimo @mintyymao @destinyisastar

You were walking through the streets on your way to see Keisuke, your initiation was in two hours so your meeting with him had to stay short and quick because frankly you didn't want to keep Dazai near Keisuke more than necessary.

Especially with the fact that you didn't have any sleep last night, finding any knowledge on Dazai was hard but finding info about the Demon Prodigy wasn't as difficult.

Only not that fruitful and you were sure that it had something to do with the Boss not wanting him to be public knowledge but one thing was for fucking sure… Dazai Osamu was bad news, horrifying news even and you didn't want to spend more time than required in the same proximity as him.

Because with him you didn't find yourself feeling the least bit comfortable unlike the way you felt with Chuuya, it had been easier to spend time with Chuuya, the guy was naturally more welcoming unlike the Devil walking besides you right now.

That's away from acknowledging the trail of guards walking behind you to protect him and perhaps you.

"Are we there yet?" Dazai asked for what seemed to be the millionth time since the trip began and you had warned him that at some point you were going to have to walk down the narrow streets.

You told him you could take Chuuya with you but no, he didn't want that and now he was starting to annoy the shit out of you but you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from speaking your mind… not now at least.

So with great effort you bit out. "Almost there."

"You said that an hour ago." He whined and you were one second away from punching him but stopped on the last minute but that didn’t stop you from turning to glare daggers at him.

You hissed, annoyed. "Yeah and another thing I said was send Chuuya but you didn't want that so deal with it."

Something shifted in his eye at the mention of Chuuya and you were now a hundred percent sure that there was some sort of issue between these two because whenever you mentioned one in front of the other, it's like their expression flips a switch and turns sinister.

"You'll be my subordinate, not dear Chuuya's so don't get used to his presence because you won't be seeing him more than needed." His tone was poisonous and you almost flinched at the aggressiveness in it… almost.

Instead, you simply decided to ignore his comment and walk faster to your destination and preferably place some distance between you and him so you don't lose control and choke him with one of your ropes.

Your eyes watered at the situation you were in, how did you get here? Your hand forced to work in a place like the port mafia under a man who was called the Demon Prodigy…

All because of her… all of it because of her.

Her. Her. Her. That bitch.

She gave you this curse… not gift.

Voices around you were muffled but then the switch flipped again and you heard Dazai ask. "Isn't that his market?"

Your blurry vision refocused and you turned to follow where he was pointing and saw Keisuke stocking his newest shipping.

You stood there for a moment, watching the man who saved you… gave you a life and treated you like a human being instead of what you actually were but maybe… maybe Chuuya was right with what he said yesterday.

Your eyes look back to see the man standing beside you and the men behind him… it wouldn't work. You wouldn't be able to keep him within reach while you were in the port mafia.

You may be able to control time but you can't control life.

Chuuya's words ring in your ears and you stood there, unmoving as your mind raced.

You always will be an ability user and the danger will follow you wherever you go and trust me… you can't protect everyone you care about

Tears ran down your face all of a sudden and you started feeling it, the invisible force circling your body and stopping you from doing what you wished for…

If you truly want to keep that man safe… you would let him go and never talk to him again, that's the only way to keep him alive.

"He looks so peaceful… it almost doesn't make sense why he would take you in buy…" You could feel the heat radiating from Dazai's body as he stepped closer to you, his voice right beside your ear as he continued.

"It would be such a shame if he got hurt because of his good heart and intention… don't you think?" You turned your head so that you were looking into his brown eye.

"You wouldn't get it." You whispered, voice shaking with… anger or hate, Dazai didn't know but he couldn't care less because he got what he wanted.

Dazai's empty eye bore into yours and you found yourself hurting so you wanted him to hurt too, he forced you into this. "You're empty… soulless. You wouldn't understand care and love."

He was silent for a moment and you were almost proud that you actually managed to shut him up but then… then he started laughing… straight up laughing.

Unfiltered and hysterically laughter as if you said the funniest thing ever and you swore you were hanging onto a thread before your patience snapped.

"And you think you do?" He asked as his laughter died down and your brows dipped in confusion.

Dazai stepped closer to you, forcing you to tilt your head to look at him. "What you feel isn't care and love, whatever that is. What you feel is obligation to a man who you consider a saviour but do you really care?"

Your brain stopped functioning for a second at his words… his words weren't right… that wasn't true so why weren't you denying his words?

"Start analysing your actions and why you do them and then… you'll understand the difference between care and obligation."

He turned around, his coat draped over him and he ordered. "Let's go, the initiation needs time and Boss doesn't like to wait."

Dazai didn't need to look back to see that you followed him or that you didn't see Tanaka, he saw it when you stood there, tearful and just like that… he won another round, he had you right where he wanted you.

Before the Initiation

"Ready?" You turn to look at Chuuya who just entered the room and you saw he was here to… console you maybe but what good would it make, things were already the worst they could be for you.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and stopping yourself from chocking over the tears threatening to fall.

Chuuya stood in front of the door, halting your leave, his gaze soft the way it usually was around you. "Listen, Doll… I know this isn't what you would have wanted for yourself or that guy but sometimes… we need to let the people we love go."

There it was… a tear escaped your eye before you could stop it and Chuuya's gloved hand reached to your face, wiping away the tear in the gentlest manner.

"Don't cry, Doll. This is for the best and I'm here alright, I won't let anything bad happen to you as long as my influence and power allow it." He smiled at you, the warmth of the smile spreading to you in every way, filling with so much… peace.

You smile back at him. "I'm glad we became friends, Chuuya."

He let out a small laugh and it sounded so nice to your ears. "Me too, Doll… especially with our movie night."

Without a thought you wrap your arms around him, hugging him as your emotions went spiral with the way Chuuya was treating you… not a weapon, not something unknown but completely and utterly human.

He patted your back gently and his smile was obvious in his tone. "Now now, Doll. I appreciate the feelings but we have to go… boss doesn't like to be kept waiting."

You pull away with a nod and straighten your clothes one last time before you both leave to the boss's office where he will see you.

With slow and steady steps you enter the office and Chuuya goes to stand to the side, near Dazai who was the closest to the boss… The Demon Prodigy.

A red head was standing beside Chuuya while another man who had grey hair and one eye glass on, was standing on the opposite side and they all had their eyes on you.

Then your eyes landed on the boss, sitting in his chair, his sinister eyes were focused on you as he called your name, summoning you forward.

Your whole body shook as you took a deep breath and took one step after the other until you were standing in front of him and without meaning to, your eyes catch that brown one.

Dazai immediately moves his eyes down and you took the hint and with even greater force, you bend down and get on your knee in front of the port mafia's boss.

"Do you pledge loyalty to me, to your executive Dazai Osamu and to the port mafia… Time Weaver?" The boss asked, his voice scarier than you imagined it to be but you swallow harshly and look up at him…

Then at Dazai who had his eye on you the whole time seemed to look into your soul and you knew what your answer had to be… it wasn't a choice.

It was your choice… yet it was his order.

Your gaze held that of the scary boss's. "I do pledge my loyalty… boss."

Mori laced his fingers together and leaned his chin on them as he spoke. "We have a tradition for new initiates, the executive who recruits them gives them something that belongs to them."

The executive… Dazai would be the one giving you something of his belonging.

He gave his usual smirk as he got closer to you as you got back on your feet but he still had some good inches on you and he reached into his pocket.

"Well I fear I have nothing that belongs to me that could suit your unfathomable beauty so I went ahead and got you something new." His voice calm and like honey to your ears but you watched closely for his 'gift'

From his pocket came a necklace… one that was shaped as a clock that had half of it broken while the other half was still good and you took a hold of it, touching it and turning it around.

The Demon Prodigy

The Time Weaver

Written below each other on the back of it and you got the memo of the clock, you could manipulate time but breaking it to shards was just as easy and the titles… he wanted fear injected if someone ever caught them on the back of it.

Dazai looked into your wide eyes. "May I?"

You nod with slight hesitance and turn around, holding your hair away as he put on the necklace, clicking it and making sure it was secure.

But it somehow felt that he lingered a second more than necessary or was it your imagination but you swear you could feel his hot breath against the nape of your neck and it made you feel something… something.

Putting your hair down you turned around, gaze wandering over all executives and wondering how you could ever fit in with them but your lost gaze went back to the Prodigy…

"Welcome to the Port Mafia… Time Weaver." He smiled wickedly at you and you could only assume and wonder what he had in store for you but one thing was for sure… it was no good for you.

[alisdarkwrites]

“Marriage contract”

Yandere Sunday, ratio and aventurine fic ♡︎

Tws - heavy nonc0n, coercion, forced relationship, double penetration, spanking

All pain barely any comfort fic :(

Probably all ooc

Sunday had brought you to a small room. You didn’t know why. No matter how many times you asked he just blew off your questions saying you’d find out when ratio and aventurine came back. The room had four chairs. Three were next to each other, huddled up. Then there was one lone chair on the opposite side of the round table. You had been instructed to sit in the lone chair.

Then he came back. Ratio and Aventurine were with him, but there was a giant stack of papers in his hand. They sat down, ratio staring at you, aventurine looking over at Sunday, and Sunday fixing the papers, lightly tapping the bottom on the table to make a better looking stack. “Listen, we have a contract we want you to sign. If you don’t choose to sign it now, we will fuck you until you do.” Sunday leaned his head on his hand, having an amused smirk on his face. “What?” It was all you could say.

“Let’s read the contract now, shall we?” He picked up the stack of papers, starting to read it off.

“If you sign this contract you will belong to Sunday, Veritas Ratio, and Aventurine. You will be forced into a marriage with all three of them. You will not be able to break this contract once signed. Signing this also includes giving up your right to make your own decisions, you must be backed up by atleast two of your husbands. You will only be allowed outside if accompanied by two of your husbands. You must hold hands with both while out, or you will be punished.” He kept going on and on. All of it was so cruel. Signing it would mean they had full control over you. That you would be their wife forever. That you couldn’t do anything without supervision. You started sobbing, and it just got worse the more he read.

The family and friends portion was the best on that cruel contract. You were allow to contact anyone besides your husbands, or Sundays sister, Robin.

It took two hours for him to get done reading off the contract. “So what do you say? We’ve already signed it. Just sign it and make all of our lives easier.” Aventurine had a smug look on his face after he said it. If you did sign it you would be fully under their control. No freedom or anything. But if you didn’t they would just pound you until you signed it.

You weren’t signing that god damn contract

“No! I’m not signing that shit it’s insane! Taking away my rights, my freedom, my everything! Do you really think I would sign that shit?” You yelled.

“Well, you’re just making things worse on yourself in the long run.” Sunday picked you up out of the chair, carrying you to a bigger room. Ratio and aventurine followed close behind.

It was like a fucking asylum. It had white padded walls and a singular white mattress.

They pounded you for days. Anytime you said you felt like you would pass out they would give you the contract and a pen. If you refused? They’d just go until you passed out. It went on like this until the sixth day.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You had cried for hours everyday. Begging them to just stop. Begging them not to force you to sign it. Or atleast you tried to. You were gagged by one of their dicks everytime unless they noticed your eyes close for too long.

“Do you want to sign it yet?” Sunday asked in a fake sweet voice. You nodded your head yes and ratio pulled out of your mouth. They gave you a pen and the signing paper. Their names were already there. You impulsively signed it, immediately regretting it. Before you could tear it up it was snatched from you. You started to just lay there, begging them to just rip it up. Saying you didn’t want to marry them.

“It’s good you signed it now, the wedding is in only a month. We still have to pick out dresses for you.” Your heart shattered at ratios words. You felt so hopeless. So defeated.

The wedding day was horrible. The only person there was Robin who was on the verge of tears seeing you like that. You had your arms tied behind you back, you were blindfolded too. You didn’t even know she was there until she tried to object. “But Robin, you can’t object. The contract out rules objection too.” Sunday laughed. Your blindfold was soaked with tears. Aventurine pulled it off and wipes the tears away. Out of nowhere he kissed you. He wouldn’t even let you pull away. After he was done he pushed you over to Sunday, who forcefully made out with you. Ratio was last, he just gave you a simple kiss. You fell to the ground after it was all over.

Ratio just slung you over his shoulder and dragged you out. Robin asked Sunday to talk. You could hear them screaming at eachother, Robin begging him to let you go while he just told her that it wasn’t happening.

When you got back home aventurine forced you to do it with him. Holding you down and forcing his cock into your poor, poor cunt. You were screaming for help. Begging for one of them to make it stop. But they didn’t. They took turns pounding you, each having an hour until they had to switch. Ratio spanked you repeatedly during his turn. And Sunday had ratio join him, making things worse.

I feel like they would get a lot more gentle after that, waking you up with breakfast in bed n being all sweet.

“Stop. You know you can’t get out of bed until you’ve finished breakfast.”

Overall they went from extremely cruel to extremely sweet after the marriage was finalized. They would usually agree with you on sessions you tried to make unless they were too big, like wanting your own house. Or alone time.

They loved and cared for you, waking you up with kisses and cuddles. They loved you more than anything. Even if they had to force you into a marriage and manipulate you into loving them they still did it.

You loved them and they loved you.

[miserymerci]

Fluffy February Day 11: Quest - The Monkey King and The Monkey

Fandom: Lego Monkie Kid

Characters: Sun Wukong, Nezha, Jade Emperor, MK

(Lots of mentions of MK but actually pops up near the end, Sunburst Duo, Harbinger of Chaos MK, Alternate universe)

Word count: 4971

Summary: (TW: mentions of execution of a child) Takes place after the Samadhi Fire was separated from Red Son. In an alternate universe, Sun Wukong is summoned by the Jade Emperor, who gives him one final task: Wukong is to kill the Harbinger of Chaos before he can lay waste to Heaven— and the rest of the universe. But this has to be a mistake. The Harbinger of Chaos is just a little kid. Wukong’s next decision would be a lot easier if he didn’t want the Harbinger dead, too. (Inspired by The Horse and the Infant animatic)

Wispy indigo reached across the sky; rich, deep, and stunningly royal amongst the full galaxy beyond it. The stars glittered and winked, as if the world’s problems were only a fleeting thing to them. The night slept along. It would have been difficult for it not to, Wukong realized, since the sky in itself seemed to be a lullaby.

He could call it a painting. It had that look after all; like it had been touched up to perfection; like the splattered stars randomly lined up right where they were supposed to be. But Wukong didn’t consider himself an artist. So, then, would it really matter if he thought the night was beautiful or not?

What a strange thing to think. He should be rewarding himself with a good night’s sleep. Instead, here he was mulling over creation. Ridiculous. 

“Wukong, I know I’ve already said this, but thank you,” came a familiar voice.

Wukong snorted to himself and turned to smile at his ex-sworn brother.

“I don’t mind the thanks– this’ll be the only time I get to see this side of you, so I’m enjoying it the best I can– but you were just about ready to go for my throat a few hours ago,” he said.

The Demon Bull King’s sincerity wavered at the tease, but he had always been an honorable opponent. He shook his head to keep the annoyance at bay and titled his broad nose up at the stars.

“This was important to me. Meeting Lady Iron Fan felt like my new beginning– if you’re going to make that face, look at me when you do it. I know you’re a hopeless romantic, simian. Hmph. As I was saying… meeting Lady Iron Fan felt like my new beginning. And now I’m here with it laying in my palms, and I don’t want to hang on too tight or cradle it too carelessly,” said the Demon Bull King. “I want to be tactical with every step I take. The possibility of losing Red Son to the Samadhi Fire… it was… not an ideal thought. I had worried you weren’t taking it as seriously as I was.”

The Mystic Mountain did have a view Wukong could appreciate (when they weren’t in the middle of sealing an inextinguishable fire). But the colorfulness of it all quickly became sorrowfully bland. Wukong frowned at the twisted feeling and eyed the Demon Bull King. He had turned away to somewhere Wukong couldn’t see.

Wukong imagined it would have been where Lady Iron Fan, their son, and the others had spread out their own camps. With the journey too far and the extraction of the Fire too exhausting, it had been a practical decision to stay the night. Even Nezha had stayed; not by any other compelling force other than being a good sport to those who couldn’t simply bounce off to heaven.

The Demon Bull King’s eyes glinted with the surrounding stars. The look on his face was soft, like an old dog born on the streets. 

Wukong remembered distant times where the young Demon Bull King had been eager to crush bones on the battlefield; where he had dreamed of only power and control; when family had been something the Demon Bull King had laughed at. 

He turned away.

“Look at you, being a sap. It’s an… interesting look on you.”

“It’s hardly something I want you getting used to,” the Demon Bull King snapped. “In the morning, we will part ways and carry on with our existences. I have respect for you tonight. But what I do tomorrow and the days after will be separate from your shenanigans.”

Wukong could say a few different things to that. ‘When did things change?’, for one. ‘I can’t understand how you feel’, for another.

“Well said.” he settled on. He picked at a furry knot that had formed on his wrist and then groaned. “It’s not like I’d find any joy being in your inner circle. You’d drive me crazy with your incompetence to boil pasta.”

The Demon Bull King huffed and then grumbled.

“Sorry, what was that?” nudged Wukong.

“It was one time!” 

Wukong’s fur bristled at the tone, but grinned knowingly. This was familiar territory. He was very good at dancing this dance. 

“You boiled it twice as long as we told you to.”

“We put in double the pasta! It should have been double the time!”

“It doesn’t work that way! If you put the pasta into boiling water at the same time–”

“No! That doesn’t make sense. If you cook a thick slice of meat and a thin slice of meat, the thicker slice is going to need more time–”

“–because the heat is spread out! It’s not touching the outside and the inside at the same time.”

The Demon Bull King snorted, glanced back at his family with clenched fists, and then shook them in Wukong’s general direction.

“It is,” he said.

“Okay, it is but the pasta is like a million thin slices of meat so–”

“–it equals one thick slice of meat.”

“It’s admirable that you’re willing to die on this hill even though you’re wrong,” said Wukong smilingly. 

“You irk me with your breathing.”

The Demon Bull King had obviously chewed more than he could swallow. He didn’t enjoy lengthy conversation to begin with, and had only prepared himself to say thank you and promptly scatter. The more Wukong went off-script, the more frustrated the Demon Bull King would become. 

That was one thing that hadn’t changed about him. Wukong hid a fond smile at the thought.

He coiled and uncoiled his tail, sighed quietly, and then said, “I think I’m getting a little tired,” even though he wasn’t.

“Me too,” agreed the Demon Bull King, even though he wasn’t. 

And that was it for the night– maybe even the rest of Wukong’s life. There would likely be no other times like this; a group of these warriors united under the stars; because the “battle” had already ended, and the rest of their lives readily laid in wait. Could he return to Flower Fruit Mountain and get fat off fruit for the rest of his life? It was what he had wanted, before. But the times had changed, and the desires had changed, and the people had changed… 

But he was alone before he could find the words.

‘And that was just it, was it?’ he thought, watching the Demon Bull King return to Lady Iron Fan’s side with certainty. Things were moving before he was ready. He couldn’t pick up the pieces and place them back like pawns. “Forever” was much too long of a time for him to protect.

The last thought twisted in his belly. It squirmed, hissed, and Wukong suddenly felt sick with anger.

“…The sun, the sun,” Wukong murmured through his clenched teeth. He took a peek at the lazing moon and lashed his tail. “You bring us colorful light. You beautify the lovely flower of our soul.” 

Wukong had believed it to be a lousy lullaby when his Master had taught him it. Tripitaka hummed it to himself first, caught the attention of a curious monkey, and sneakily recited the tune to his hyperactive pupil. Now, Wukong glanced at his sleeping form next to Ao Lie and passed quietly.

“Today we grow under the sunlight,” he mumbled, raising his hands and finding his cloud had obediently appeared at his side. Something twinkled on its surface. Maybe stars, maybe just a trick in the moonlight. He blinked the illusion away and settled into the cloud’s weightless surface.

“Tomorrow we will create a colorful world.”

The sky continued to spin.

“Wukong.”

Wukong’s eyes flung open. He shot frantically to his knees, felt the cloud disperse below him, and in the space between him and solid ground, his tail lashed out and sprung him back to his feet.

Nezha’s serious expression didn’t budge. 

“Come on,” said Wukong, “I still got it.”

“Not if you’re letting anyone sneak up on you like that in your sleep,” replied Nezha, helpfully. He gestured his spear behind Wukong, urging him to look.

Ao Lie smiled a cat-like smile behind him and waved. He looked a little pale and might have been sweating more than usual, but nothing to call for concern. Beside him, Sha Wujing sipped what was probably tea from his chipped little cup. Wukong nodded politely at them. 

On the other side of the site, the Demon Bull family had already left– no goodbyes were exchanged, only an air of respect– and Wukong’s twisting belly threatened to rear its ugly head again. The morning was still pink and yellow, young and new. It didn’t surprise Wukong that two warriors had woken up bright and early for the trek ahead.

“What’s wrong?” asked Wukong. 

Nezha glanced back at the two pilgrims, then lifted his brows. “Private business, meant to be discussed privately.”

Wukong sniffled, but Nezha’s facade left little wiggle room; the poor prince’s fingers tapped anxiously against the shaft of his spear, hidden to the untrained eye, obvious to the Great Sage. Something was brewing behind the scenes. If it had anything to do with Nezha, then it had something to do with Heaven. 

“Go ahead,” said Lie, snapping Wukong out of his thoughts. He smiled at him brightly. “We’re only waiting for the Master… err– Sannnzanggg– to wake up. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I left without saying goodbye, but it was a pleasure seeing you again, Wukong.”

“And Bajie,” added Wujing. The fins along his jaw fluttered as he took another long drink of his hot tea. “He hasn’t woken up yet.” 

Lie huffed humorously, probably thinking over the previous day. He blinked at the snoring pig and then said, “yes, well, but it’s not like he did anything but stare the entire ritual.”

Nezha narrowed his eyes expectantly at Wukong and clenched his weapon. 

“Right, then,” said Wukong, “tell the Master my goodbyes for me. ”

Briskly, Nezha turned and began to stride away from the group.

“Wow! Impatient today, huh?” called Wukong. He picked up into a jog to catch up and slipped in front of Nezha, beginning to walk backwards. “I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the pilgrims, but I think you woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Missing your holy, phoenix down-stuffed mattress in Heaven? How’re your joints? Stiff?” 

Nezha wrinkled his nose (likely in warning) before finally stopping just underneath a jutted-out slab of stone; a defect in the site’s structure, perfect for a top-secret discussion.

Wukong tilted his head. 

Usually, Nezha was straight to the point. He knew his duties and he knew how to do them, but something had shifted in the air– and Wukong’s worry shifted with it. 

“Something must really be wrong if you look so… dejected. Cheer up, Nezha! It’s not like the world is ending,” he said. 

“The universe is ending.”

“Hhhphhh… rough night?”

Nezha finally ripped his gaze from the stone behind Wukong and glared.

“Yes, actually. Can you stop being a fool for a moment? As you can probably tell, there’s a lot to say about this, and I’m trying to… find the right words.”

“Right,” said Wukong, “then let me help you out. I have a hunch that Heaven needs help from their old buddy the Monkey King to hunt a scary monster threatening to tear down the heavens. How’s that sound?” 

“It’s more than that,” insisted Nezha coldly. He hung his head, sighed, and then steeled himself. “You’re infuriating, Sun Wukong. The only reason I’m before you right now is by orders from the Emperor. I respect you for your friendship with the Great Monk, but I advise you not to test your luck.”

The dawn shimmered against Nezha’s spear as it rocked back and forth from his fidgeting. Just beyond its point, Lie hovered over Sanzang just as he had when the Great Monk was still under their protection. Old habits die hard. Wukong understood the rigid behavior of Nezha when faced with duty and pride.

“I thought I had already served the sentence Heaven gave me.”

“This isn’t a sentence. You are an ally of Heaven,” Wukong made a face at that, and Nezha continued sterner, “and that means that the Jade Emperor may summon you as he pleases. What he may do if you do not answer his call remains to be unseen.”

Now that Wukong thought about it, maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to reminisce over retired warriors. A threat to the universe simply meant another round for the Great Sage. He wouldn’t have to return to Flower Fruit Mountain just yet.

Wukong leaned back on the stone, twirled his trusty tail, then smiled.

“Fine. I’ll take the bite.”

The perfect, crisp air filled Wukong’s lungs and lingered like smoke.

“We have the enemy contained deep in the palace,” one of the guards was saying, probably someone of high-importance, but not high enough to matter, “where the Emperor will be waiting for you.”

“Seems like extra effort to bring me in if you’ve already got the guy,” said Wukong. He sniffled, caught wind of unripe peaches, and rubbed at his nose. 

Heaven never changed much. The scents were the same, the lights were the same, and even the tiniest of pests couldn’t wiggle their way through security. If anything, the number of guards out in the garden seemed to have doubled the last time he was here. 

Wukong smirked and titled his head up.

“While we have the source of the problem, the universe’s destruction has already been set into motion. The Emperor believes that our captive is our only way of discovering how to place everything back the way it was.”

The marble steps of the palace tapped under Wukong’s feet. His eyes peeked down to catch sight of any blemishes on the floor; smudges, cracks, anything out of place really; and only found his reflection.

Really? Were the floors that shiny? What overkill.

“If I’m not supposed to be finding this universe-destroying demon, then what am I supposed to be doing?”

His escort hesitated. He looked up at the heavens for assistance, fixed his helmet, and then continued with a brisk shrug, “uh, not my department. Sorry, sir. Please just follow me.”

Wukong rolled his eyes.

Heaven had plenty of secrets, but only few could really keep their mouths shut about it. Maybe he should have been more on-guard about the whole thing. This could have been a trap to imprison him, or an ambush behind the Emperor’s back. But that didn’t make sense. Nezha might be a strike to the shin, but Wukong didn’t think him to be deceitful.

The air went chilly the further down they went. Something like fog began to build, dewy on Wukong’s fur and itchy between his chest and armor. Marbled flooring twisted to stone; first neatly placed in a silly little flowered pattern, then turning chipped and askew. 

He stepped over a particularly deep hole between two old stones. For a moment, he wondered if the flash of scuttling legs in the crevice were real or just his imagination– but then the smell of mold and dust washed over him.

“What a cruel place to keep your prisoners,” said Wukong, quietly. He blinked at the rows of torches and let the raspberry hues guide his eyes. 

The guard hummed. Maybe he was still flustered about his close-fumble earlier, because he wasn’t making eye contact anymore. 

They passed through the hall. The cells enclosed them from both sides.

“Only the worst of the worst are here,” said the guard. “The ones who have tried to bring down the Jade Emperor directly receive very long sentences. Not all of them live to see the end of it.”

Wukong eyed what looked like splintered bones between some bars. Then, he smiled.

“Ran out of mountains to use?” he asked.

The guard nervously cleared his throat.

Very little signs of life remained in this deep, forgotten prison. The spiders here would die from empty webs. The bones of past sentences were picked clean and likely crumbly to the touch. Only one other being lurked the cells, far against the corner, just before they reached the arch at the end of the hall.

A demon with bright, orange eyes grinned at him in the darkness.

Wukong slowed. He looked over long fangs and slithering hair. With a blink, he quickly caught up to his escort.

“Go in,” said the guard before Wukong could ask about the strange demon, gesturing to the entryway. He shifted his feet. He looked a little like a board; maybe a penguin; antsy and tense in the newest shift in the air. With a deep breath, he announced into the doorway, “Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven!” 

Something rumbled. Fog blew out like a breath and swayed Wukong and the guard.

Wukong frowned, gave the guard a parting glance, and entered.

Wukong enjoyed biting more than he could chew. Not only was it a fun challenge, but the risk kept his muscles used, his mind spry, and his heart young. It was like eating peppers for the spice and suffering the kick afterwards. Wukong could risk it, because Wukong always survived, and death could never claim him.

Despite that, Wukong wouldn’t say he was “getting old”. It was honestly more of being “forever young”. The Great Sage couldn’t just retire. Retiring was for old people and fighting dogs– but he supposed that if he said that, it would mean that the Jade Emperor would have to retire. And soon.

Wukong looked over the blue-purple ombre cuts that were splitting at the seams against an undefeatable entity and instinctively stepped back.

“What happened to you?” he blurted, and then promptly nipped that disrespect in the bud. “Uhhh– errr– hi.”

The cuts– Wukong noticed stars shimmering in them, almost like a galaxy– warbled and sang like a winding clock.

“Hello, Monkey,” replied the Emperor. He said it almost like he was spitting it out, but Wukong tried not to take it personally. There could have been a number of reasons right now why he was being snippy. 

The great force neared from the opposite side of the room. The fog, chilly to the bone, twisted in the space between.

“Hi,” said Wukong again. He blinked and cleared his throat. “So, what’s the problem?” 

“You are here because Heaven needs your personal experience to help get rid of our prisoner.”

“Get rid of?” echoed Wukong.

“It can’t be killed,” said the Emperor, and Wukong’s eyes gleamed, “not in the normal sense. Yet it is too destructive to be imprisoned. Our only choice is to have it eradicated. As an ‘immortal’ yourself, you would know a thing or two about finding the loopholes in such matters.”

Wukong cocked his head and considered that. Killing an immortal? Just about everyone in Heaven was immortal. He had tried once, failed, and paid the price for it. And then he went on an entire quest to learn how to not kill people. 

But this prisoner– this immortal– was immortal in a way that even Heaven couldn’t decipher it, much like how they couldn’t decipher Wukong’s layers of immortality. Except this immortal was… worse? Worse enough, at least, to not risk even the five-hundred-years-under-a-mountain punishment. 

“What have they done?” he asked.

“Their existence is what threatens the universe.”

‘That doesn’t make any sense. Can you stop beating around the bush and tell me what’s really the problem?’ Wukong wanted to say, but the Emperor was brief for a reason, answering only what Wukong asked, and leaving the unknown unknown. Wukong needed to be clever if he wanted the full story.

“Like a harbinger?” 

The Emperor tilted his chin up and said, “what an interesting choice of words. Yes, I like that. It’s a harbinger.”

“What of?”

“Chaos, I presume.”

“You don’t know?”

“I know better than you will.”

“Who sent it?”

“The Goddess Nüwa.”

That startled Wukong’s train of thought. He cringed, shook his head, and settled his hands on his hips.

“The Goddess of creation? She made humanity and now she wants to destroy it?”

“You fail to understand me, Monkey. My problem is not with Nüwa, it’s with her rebellious children. Will you lend me your aid or not?”

This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. The last thing Wukong wanted to be was a pawn for something he didn’t understand. The Master had urged him to think before he got too cocky in combat, and boy was Wukong thinking now– thinking about how much he was likely missing from this narrative. 

‘The sun, the sun’, Wukong thought.

A deep grumble started in the Emperor’s throat, almost debating with itself. Wukong perked up, interested, but tried not to show it.

“I do hope you know,” said the Emperor, “that the Harbinger threatens all life– all existence– including yours.”  

“…I doubt it,” said Wukong. He blinked– because his reply had blurted out of his mouth without much thought– before adding, “What I mean is that I can survive without food, without water, without air, and no blade can ever fatally puncture me. I can’t die; no name in The Book to change that.”

The Emperor quirked a large brow, then asked, “Do you think you’re exempt from the ‘entire universe’?” 

Oh.

Well, maybe not, since Wukong lived in this universe. But he’s always been exempt before. The thought of something Wukong had never even met ending not only everyone else’s existence, but his as well? Come on.

…right?

Granted, he shouldn’t make it all about himself. His mind wandered to the other pilgrims, who didn’t have the mercy of a long life that Wukong (thought) he had. Then, he thought of his old brothers, and found that that had only been a drop of poison for his growing doubts.

This could have been a trick. The Emperor may have just wanted to use him. Something cold traveled up Wukong’s arm– likely the cool fog catching up to him– and his mind turned to the only thing he could think straight on.

Nothing could kill Sun Wukong.

The Staff chimed and twinkled. It extended from his ear and dropped familiarly into his hand. 

“Where is it?” he asked.

The Jade Emperor’s face didn’t twitch. Part of Wukong had expected a look of triumph, or a twitch in his resolve, but that didn’t happen. The Emperor took two or three long strides (or floated, Wukong couldn’t tell), lifted his cape, and swooped it where he stood. In its fluttering wake, a cradle of leaves and moss popped out from the drab colors of this forgotten room.

Wukong, immediately, wanted to drop his weapon.

“No,” he spat, suddenly very angry, “No! Do you think this is a joke?”

“If you think I’m trying to play tricks, then I can advise you to close your eyes, count to ten, and look again.”

“You’re…,” Wukong started. He bared his teeth, taking in the Emperor’s challenging gaze before forcing his attention down toward the Harbinger. 

The little monkey in the cradle looked up. It had been sleeping innocently, and it fluttered its eyelashes at the sudden light. Now, it was blinking those honey eyes at him. 

“Hi,” it said in a tiny voice, fit for such a tiny thing.

The end of Wukong’s staff clinked against the stone floor. 

“What is going on here?” he said, ignoring the child. He could feel his fur prickling with anger at the stale scent of Flower Fruit Mountain coming from it, weak and caked with something earthy and milky, but there.

“Do not forget what I’ve told you. The Harbinger being a stone monkey shouldn’t influence the facts; it’s dangerous, Monkey, and it’ll only grow to be our enemy if you allow your feelings to complicate.”

“A stone monkey!” cried Wukong, “my stone monkey, even! Born on Mount Huaguo! You’ve stolen it!”

“A Harbinger of Chaos!” shot back the Emperor, and Wukong willed himself to stay quiet. The little monkey shivered at the whipping fog. It reached up to Wukong with little hands, but he was quick to dodge them. “I urge you to think straight, Sun Wukong. Your similarities to it may have been the reason I chose you to meet me here, but the similarities end with your ability to change. You had opportunities, Monkey, but this one is doomed from the start. There is no changing what it will become. If you cannot see that, then you are as foolish as you were underneath that mountain.”

That cold, twisting anger curdled in Wukong’s belly. He ached to give the Emperor a piece of his mind. ‘Find someone else to do this’ he wanted to say, ‘how dare you shove the duty onto me’. But a voice, little but powerful, was chanting; ‘this thing will kill you. It could kill you. You need to kill it first’.

Wukong’s mouth went dry.

The little monkey cooed. Wukong, on instinct, tilted his head at it, and found that it was staring intensely at Wukong’s tail. He flicked it nervously. The little monkey giggled at the way it twisted. 

“Mnkey,” it squealed, proudly, “mnkey!”

Wukong could feel the Emperor’s gaze on him. He was in the spotlight now, not the Harbinger, and whatever steps he took had to be perfect. What he wanted and what the Emperor wanted were quickly becoming blurred lines. Did the staff stay or go? Did he swing now or later?

“You want me to kill it?” he asked, stupidly, just to make sure.

“Yes.”

“I…” Wukong quickly tried to pull anything from his head, “I don’t know how, but if I could just have time to figure it out…”

The Emperor’s wounds warbled. Wukong watched one split further, cautiously, and he feared for a moment that he would just have to start lashing at the little thing. How cruel it would be if he had to force himself to stay here until it perished.

But then, the Emperor said, “Make haste, then. We can’t afford to waste the precious time that remains. Take the thing. Bring it wherever you’d like; the middle of nowhere, under the sea, to your mountain; find a way to get rid of it. I will have a member of my court check in on you daily.”

Daily? Eugh. How was Wukong supposed to relax when all he could look forward to was one check after another? They might as well be trapped down here for all of eternity. 

“Right,” said Wukong, looking at the monkey, “yeah, rodger that.”

The monkey– Wukong didn’t want to call the monkey ‘it’ anymore– must’ve liked something that came out of his mouth. They smiled at him with itty bitty teeth, and Wukong felt cold at the way his heart melted.

“Right,” he repeated. He sent a fleeting glance at the Emperor before removing his cape.

The air here was chilly. The monkey’s fur was raised by the goosebumps forming on their skin, so he wrapped the poor thing with his cape and brought them up to his chest. 

Something like a “thank you” mumbled from the monkey’s mouth. They tried to grasp onto Wukong’s fur, but the swaddle was too constricting, and his chest plate blocked any further attempt.

“I expect to see you soon, Monkey,” said the Emperor.

Wukong only nodded. He didn’t want to be in this foggy room anymore.

The Harbinger likely didn’t understand the conversation that had just happened. They looked too young to formulate too many words, much less distinguish between more than a couple– but sensing the tone was probably different. They were blinking at him as if spooked. Maybe they were clever enough to realize that they might have not been completely safe after all.

When Wukong left the room, the first thing he heard was a soft exhale. 

He turned and glared at the prisoner. 

“What?” he snapped, and the little monkey tensed. They cooed, as if trying to calm him down, and he pointedly ignored them.

“Nothing,” insisted the snake demon. But his voice was bubbly– giggly, almost– and he smiled toothily at Wukong. “You’re just an interesting character, Great Sage, just as I expected you to be.”

Wukong frowned. He couldn’t entertain this demon. He, too, had been a prisoner of Heaven once, but this one would likely go mad before he was freed of his misery. Wukong had gotten lucky. Wukong didn’t feel entirely lucky.

“Are you one of Nüwa’s children?” 

The demon tilted his head. There was a hint of surprise that flashed across his eyes, but it may have been more amused than anything else. He tested the weight of the shackles around his wrists. They clinked, scraped against scales, and then settled.

“Aren’t we all?” he replied. 

The Harbinger giggled. They must have thought his striking, glowing eyes were interesting. The snake demon smirked at them in return, lifting his fingers to wave them at the little thing.

Wukong, suddenly remembering that this whole story was lost to him, felt horribly like a pawn. He readjusted the child in his arms and briskly headed toward the stairs.

What would Wukong do? Was he to head back to Flower Fruit Mountain? That might be the best course of action– to regather himself from this unexpected event. Then again, he had no idea if the Harbinger had powers; like laser eyes, or fireballs. Maybe keeping them in a collapsable mountain wasn’t very smart.

“You bring us colorful light. You beautify the lovely flower of our soul,” he murmured to himself. The Harbinger pressed their head against the cool chest plate to listen. Wukong’s chest tightened. “Today we grow under the sunlight, tomorrow we will create a colorful world.”

[usernamesuggestionsarefunny]

Possibly unpopular opinion (Or perhaps not idk): I love what they have done with Zuko and Ozai's relationship in the live action Netflix Avatar show.

In the cartoon we never get the ~vibes~ that Zuko has a complicated relationship with his father, only that it is abusive and one-sided in the sense only Zuko craves Ozai's approval, while Ozai straight up hates him, wants him dead or has no problem with him dying (Why doesn't he kill him if he has Azula? We don't know, plot has to happen, he sent Zuko to find the avatar in order to get rid of him, probably, or actually canon idk or remember), clearly prefers Azula to him as successor, etc, etc, etc (+ later the comics literally overkilled this trend "she was born lucky while..." omg stfu). Zuko is basically the perfect character to prove the fire nation is not all evil (Oh look, they hate him too, he is inherently their victim too from the very beginning).

So when Zuko switches sides in the cartoon, what I see as an adult rewatching is someone giving up on luxory, physical safety and... that is pretty much it. Sure it is a big deal to give up on those things to do what is right (Few would) and still awesome that he did the right thing in the end, but if you really think about it, he is not giving up that much, he is not giving up anything truly valuable to him. Respect? Honor? Sure he is said to have received it back after Azula "killed" Aang, but we never truly see it. For all intents and purposes his sister has that and wayyy more of it. His father's love and acceptance? Never had it, so he didn't truly "loose it" when he spoke up for those soldiers, got the scar and was banished, it is not really shown to have suddenly popped into existence when he was said to have killed the avatar. He literally had nothing in the fire nation, literally nothing. This could only make "doing the right thing" a lot easier for him, and for the adult audience (At least for me), his arc is just him realizing what is almost irritatingly obvious for us: That no one in the fire nation truly loves and respects him so might as well switch sides (Basically if we weren't also shown that Zuko is compassionate and does care about the horrible things the fire nation is doing, Ember Island Players would have gotten a bit of truth in it).

Now, in the live action, where do I even start? It has been so good so far when it comes to Ozai and Zuko. That man, if he hated Zuko in a cartoonishly evil way almost from birth, he sure doesn't show it. Don't get me wrong, he is just as abusive (Creepily so in many scenes, made me feel so protective of Zuko and Azula), but he is also shown to "care" about Zuko as in having some hope left that he can mold him into another powerful genocidal mini me. Is Azula winning by far? Ofc, she is still the prodigy, I am sure I am going to see flashbacks of favoritism later on. But Ozai doesn't yet seem to favor her in a way that makes Zuko's craving for his approval (Or even Ozai's hope in him as heir) hopeless. It seems, from his scenes with Azula, that Ozai foments the rivalry and competition between the two siblings not only because he personally thinks Azula is the best (Which he also might in this version), but also as a way of control through fear (Especially for prodigy Azula), and to make them (Especially comparatively weaker Zuko) "better", something this version of Ozai appears to think is possible EVEN when he banishes Zuko. Now, he might have done this "to get rid of him" as in the original, but in the live action he seems super open to and genuinely believe the idea that the exile could make Zuko stronger and better, not to mention worthy of the throne if he succeeds. Ozai treats Zuko like the heir despite favoring Azula is all I am saying. Zuko's actions are therefore almost impossible, yes, but not hopeless or even naive. And if this trend of Ozai's respect and "love" (Super on quotes) being achievable continues, Zuko's eventual turn to the good side will be much more powerful. He will have to give up much more after spending a summer with his abusive parent love bombing him for "killing" the avatar. Zuko's choice will be solely based on his findings about the horrors the fire nation has committed and not wanting to be the cause of more suffering even though he could have it all. Even though it was his fate to be his father's "mini me"-> Something terrifyingly likely and not so quickly discarded by the narrative itself as it was in the animated series.

I think the best part about this subtle change in the father-son dynamic (If it was the intention of the writers, I am aware it could have been unintended) is that the scar tm was a direct result of Zuko's compassion for those soldiers and not just the excuse Ozai used to banish him or "final straw" because he preferred Azula sooo much more, as it is pretty much implied later on in the animated series and comics by focusing so much on how much of a perfect victim Zuko was pretty much from birth. The addition of the 41st surviving because of Zuko was also pretty nice, and so is Zuko's relationship with them, he will need fire nation allies when he gets to the throne and this is a good start, something the animated series never touched upon much.

I am on episode 6 btw so my opinion might change. I will edit this post if that is the case. BUT my thoughts on these first scenes doesn't change, they are good imho

EDIT (And spoilers): I just watched Zhao’s revelation where he tells Zuko that Ozai would never let him return and he just wanted to use him to motivate Azula. It does change things and invalidates most of what I said, but taking out just this one scene, as I said, the Ozai-Zuko dynamic is great in this show, and also, Zhao is obviously not the most reliable source, because he was allied to Azula and obviously wanted to hurt Zuko, as he was losing the fight with him. There is also the fact that Azula wasn't watching Ozai and Zuko when Ozai told his son that he was being banished and that it was in part so he could get stronger etc, that was all for Zuko and had little way of serving as motivation for Azula (Unlike the scenes where Ozai praises Zuko in front of her, those could have totally been him bullshitting his daughter to motivate her to work even harder). So all in all this scene doesn't ruin the overall impression I had of the Ozai-Zuko father-son dynamic in the life action show. In fact, it could be taken to confirm one of my impressions which was that Ozai likes pitying his children against each other to push them harder.

EDIT 2: Ozai's reaction to Zuko's possible death is further proof imo that his “test” was very much real (even if almost impossible) and everything I said earlier still stands. He wouldn't mind that much if he died, it would just prove his “weakness”, and he is very pleased with Azula, but he didn't look happy or even indifferent when he learned the news.

[ptsdangeldust]

tw rape / abuse / suicidal ideation / self harm

can i just fucking say that the "poison" scene was just fucking flawless to me. as a survivor of rape and psychological abuse it was so fucking hard to watch and hit on every note i wanted it to. the suicidal ideation, the self destruction, the pain, the torment, the addiction, the hopelessness, everything.

[this got long LOL big analysis of ep4 basically]

also it's a little funny how easily i called it when the pilot came out that angel was gonna have ptsd and cope with it through hypersexuality . like this was obvious from the start to me and they do telegraph / foreshadow it from the first episode pretty well in my opinion. like ALMOST too much. but at the same time i'm kind of glad. like that's what i like about the show is that it *is* so raw and over the top when it talks about this kind of thing. that's why i like campy edgy uncomfortable shit bc where the fuck else am i gonna hear anyone specifically hit the perfect sweet spot of just exploitative-feeling enough to feel palpably uncomfortable in a way that just like. perfectly conveys this message. in my opinion, obviously.

it's like so crazy to me that i had this exact high expectation for the show and adjusted for edginess and got exactly what i wanted and then some. like. god. they hit every note in succession all at once and then tied it off with a beautiful, nuanced but genuinely well paced and well thought out resolution.

"loser, baby" was so fucking perfect as the counterpoint to "poison" in this episode. also charlie coming in and being purehearted but not knowing what she's doing and making it worse. but angel ultimately understanding that she meant to help and it's not her that's the problem obviously. and then husk is ultimately the one to give a shit about angel (with some encouragement, which like i honestly appreciate that he doesn't take angel's bullshit and isn't just the like Token Black Savior who has no character or agency of his own [of course i'm white so don't take me as the authority on this issue but i'm certainly aware of it]) and like not only try to stop him from self destructing but like relate his experience and make him admit he has a fucking problem. sooooo much of abuse is built on making the victim think they're at fault for what they're going through. the way val makes him look in the mirror and say "yes" outloud to himself over and over while literally holding his head and threatening him was such a good way of driving that home. and then we see angel have so much pride poked at so easily when he's called fake because he's SO aware he's putting on an act. he lets himself be exploited because he thinks it gives him a sense of control. can't be called fake if i'm an actor. can't prove i'm ever real. never have to BE real. never have to admit that anything is wrong and come to terms with it.

and so husk comes right the fuck out and says it. you're a loser. you're washed up. you're a has been. you're self destructive. you hurt everyone around you. ..... and you're not alone. THAT'S the important part. that's the real thing that gets you out of abuse. people. not being alone. like not just KNOWING that THEORETICALLY you're not alone but actually having people show up and help you and put in the work and relate to you and listen to you and let you listen to them. that's why abusers chronically work to isolate people. because it's so much easier to exploit someone who has absolutely no support system. who only answers to them. who has no one to turn to if shit goes sour.

ok also the fucking hypersexual self harm? i have NEVER seen that portrayed so accurately and so explicitly before. i feel like basically every single time i see it talked about at ALL in media it's either 1) portrayed as like sexy or ultimately good 2) strays totally the opposite direction and is talking more about cycle of abuse shit (which yes that's also important but not what i'm after) 3) really just hinted at / i have to like extrapolate it from vague hints or 4) exists in shitty media that is not ultimately trying to tell a story about escaping abuse it's just talking about a tragic waif and trying to make you feel sad. which is just another kind of exploitation really. so it was very refreshing to see it made very clear that angel was going around *trying* to get drugraped (which is NOOOOOT the same as consent. but i'm not going to get into that) because he was trying to hurt himself. he knew it wasn't good for him and he sought it out anyway. he could have wound up dead and he did not care. that's how low his self esteem is. that's how little he thinks of himself. that's how absolutely terminal his suicidal ideation is. i like used the word 'passive' at first but no i would not call that passive he is clearly actively suicidal hsuidguhds (ftr passive suicidal ideation is like. 'i wish i could go to sleep and not wake up.' but not actually acting on it. active is when you start purposely not looking both ways when you cross the street. that's basically what angel was doing)

anyway yeah. ep4 was kind of the peak for me i'm ngl HUIDGHIS obviously i'm very excited to see where things are going in general but especially more huskerdust........ i would like live if they didn't actually end up together but it feels clear to me that they genuinely care about each other and at least angel does seem to have... romantic-leaning feelings for him. would be cool if they had some scene where husk is like just cuz i care about you doesn't mean i'm going to be your magic saviour through love or whatever. bc i feel like it would be so easy for angel to immediately want and/or expect that. i did personally coming out of my abuse where i was absolutely desperate for real actual non-abusive love of any kind but i was NOT remotely healthy enough to truly accept it then even if it had actually been handed to me and i wound up in something that was..... better, yes, but ultimately still toxic and not completely ideal. not abusive, no, just not like. healthy. lol. but i do have good healthy happy love now so i'm glad lol <3 but like anyway this is a common thing with abuse survivors and it would *make sense* to see it but like i wouldn't put it past them to just go straight into "and then angel got better immediately and they got together and everyone lived happily ever after the end" HSDUIGSHUID but like idk man. we'll see LOL

also i did want to comment on like...... the fact that the scene was worked on by someone with a legit rape fetish who was like straight up into angel/val as a ship and thought it was like cool and fun or whatever. like. i really don't think the scene itself came off as glorifying rape or abuse. it's blatantly obvious that it's not good and the emphasis is placed entirely on angel's pain. and like it's. it's not porn. it's evocative. it's explicit. but the purpose of the scene is not "look at this hot sexy sex" it's "look at this horrifying abuse". like yes obviously there are gonna be people who get off on it but people can get off on anything if they try hard enough. porn is art explicitly meant for jacking off. not everything about sex is porn. i think if you interpret it as glorifying sex you're honestly out of your goddamn mind. the song ends with angel talking about how he wants to fucking die because of it. is that glorification to you?? really???

ultimately, *I* think it's good. i think, objectively, the team did an extremely good job. give them an award or something. i swear. where's the oscar. my boy angel needs his oscar LOL

... one last note, because this is tumblr: this is very triggering material. probably it should've had a better warning of some kind. but it is telegraphed/foreshadowed like i said and the show is rated 16+ on amazon (i feel like it should be 18+ imo but it's like. it's repeatedly listed as being for adults/"R rated" in promo material at least) and sex and violence are listed right there at the top of each episode where it shows the rating so like. idk man. that's as much warning as is usually given for this kind of thing ngl. i absolutely am not saying it's not triggering. but it is important to portray triggering things. it is important to talk about these things to give people in these situations someone to relate to and to give them the language to understand how to escape abuse, first of all, and like also art in general *should* be challenging. i think they genuinely said important, unique things and said them well. they did wayyyy better than i thought they would. for real. like esp coming from viv knowing her past like. clearly someone in the room actually knew what they were doing lmao (one of the writers for hazbin also worked on the episodes in helluva that covered similar abuse recovery material so. you know)

[ravencincaide]

A second chance at life 

Summary:  You were done with life, done with being trapped and abused. But it was just your luck that you’d try to take your life on the borders with Port Mafia territory. And that there’d be an executive who had opinions. OR the time you found out that not all Mafia are heartless bastards. 

Pairing: Suicidal reader  x Chuuya Nakahara 

Raven’s Special prompt: “Hi Raven, I'm the same anon that asked for the Chuuya x fem reader where she's abused and runs away, I forgot to add that reader is poc (brown skin).” 

Warnings: Dark content with triggers, proceed at your own risk!

This fic contains: suicidal reader (who’s making an attempt- jumping), hint abusive-manipulative past/family, Cursing & mature language, Chuuya comfort/help, I think I didn’t miss anything.. i hope. Hope this brings you comfort and that you enjoy~

“ Oj don’ even think about it; I ain’t got any fucking wish to waste man-power on cleaning up civil splatter” 

You froze in your spot; your hands automatically re-grasped the safety bar of the rooftop,  keeping you upright and steady on the edge you were just about to leap off of. “ W-What?” you asked as you turned your head to the right, towards the stylish ginger haired man who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Instead of trying to talk you down from your suicide attempt however he just proceeded to light himself a cigarette. He took a deep drag of it before he pointed towards the ground below. “ The fucking ledge bottoms out onto Mafia territory. You jump- my men gotta clean that shit up” he answered in the most unbothered tone anyone could master as he took several steps towards you in warning. Something told you that even if you were to let go of the bar, he’d reach you quicker and pull you back to safety than you could accomplish your goal. Then he’d no doubt hound your ass for ignoring him.

You did not have the energy for all that drama. But you didn’t know what to say to him. You were so tired of life; of being a bother. A burden to everyone around you. Not good enough for anyone- in fact it was better if you weren’t around. But were you selfish enough to cause him more work? You glanced back at him; took notice of the dark rings below his eyes. The paleness of his skin made him look almost sickly. A powerful yet exhausted man. “ Sorry” you mumbled as you moved your body into a sitting position in defeated surrender. It seemed you were incapable of even dying right. Silence lingered for a while- you thought he had finished up his cigarette and left. Instead you heard him light another one somewhere above you.

“ So, why aren’t you trying again elsewhere? Packing your shit and getting away from whatever’s driven you up here?” You snapped your head up to face him but he wasn’t looking at you. His body leaned against the railing, his focus onto the city below. An unreadable expression on his face. 

You scoffed at him. “ Please, where the hell would I go? I’m penniless and unlike those pretty white chicks, I won’t get a job overnight. Even as an escort” you didn’t bother saying that your family held onto your payslips with no chance for you to gather even a little bit of savings. You were literally trapped under their control- a puppet to be pushed and pulled at their every beck and call. “ Ehh so you think it’s easier for ‘em?” He sounded doubtful yet curious. “ I know it is,” you answered somberly, “ It took me a year to get the job I have now- had to beg an old classmate for her to recommend me. Still I’m the lowest paid among all my other colleagues with the same title and less experience. And get reminded daily that if I don’t like it, I'm replaceable.” You sighed and rested your head back on top of your knees. “ ‘round here it’s hopeless and I got no money to go elsewhere” In your eyes, you were trapped with no reasonable way out. It left you with suicide as your only option. Your only hope. And even it was stripped away from you, leaving a dull numbness in your body. A defeated surrender to your fate. Silence lingered for a while longer as he finished his cigarette and lit himself another. Clearly not denying your words as if understanding both the said and unsaid implications behind them “ You willing to work hard?” he asked suddenly. You snapped your head up and fixed him with a determined look. “ Harder than anyone you know.” you promised in a heartbeat. You did not care to know what his offer entailed. After all, what did you have to lose? Your enthusiasm amused him. It prompted the man to stretch a gloved hand down towards you. You stared at it for a long while before you finally rested your fingers in it. The leather was cool to the touch, his grip strong as he pulled you up to your feet in a single tug. He shifted his hold and then shook your hand, as though you two had just reached a deal. A mutual agreement. 

“ Well kiddo I got an idea what the Port Mafia’s gonna do with you.” he smirked a boyish grin. An action that should have filled you with dread, but instead, you felt hope. A ray of light amidst the suffocating darkness “ Port Mafia?” you asked instead making him bark out a laugh. “ Damned right. From now on you’re Port Mafia property, and I, Chuuya Nakahara, am your boss”  

Author note:  Sweden is placed in the top four for racial equality IN THE WORLD Still those with non Swedish sounding names get significantly less callbacks for job applications than those with Swedish sounding names. Of those called to interview, how many get rejected because of accent/way of pronouncing words, skin colour or religious expression is something we’ll never know. And the thought of what and how it is in the rest of the world just shows what a cruel, unequal and sad world we live in. Truly it is a heartbreaking reality we exist in. This fic tried to portray that while adding a tiny bit of hope that only Chuuya could gift.. Hope it served its purpose.

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