#Sent to Tempest

[mylifeisruined69420]

[dujour13]

💕Hehehe I also must send some more. I must know 4, 18, 24, 34 💕

HAHA YESSS I too have more.

4. Does this change over time? What will always reliably make them melt with how much they adore the other character?

Zrise’s true smile. It always feels like a miracle. Siavash has these before/after images in his mind of Zrise when they first met and Zrise with a lighter heart, and it’s the contrast that really melts him. (He doesn’t take credit for the transformation—it’s Zrise who did the hard work. Sia feels like he was just cheering him on from the sidelines. All the more rewarding.)

Surprisingly, the other thing is this pout he gets. Unfortunately a hold-over from darker days. He frowns and his lower lip sticks out, and his eyes go blank or sharp. It’s a dangerous look that often means he’s about to lash out. These days he’s more likely to fidget or smoke than actually punch somebody though. For some reason it makes Sia a little crazy, like he wants to smother him in kisses until he can get a genuine laugh out of him. It's like there's my Zrise

Also when he’s with Siavash, there’s this innocent, sincere awkwardness that contrasts with Zrise’s Calistrian persona from before. Zrise is new at this. He tries so hard to be romantic and it comes out in a way Zrise thinks is pathetic and cringy, but Siavash absolutely adores. Kind of like watching a baby predator get its legs and wobble over for hugs and scritches.

18. They’re going through something incredibly difficult—perhaps they’re very sick, have lost a loved one, or have gone through a traumatic event. Do they ask for or accept support and care from their partner, or try to isolate themselves?

When things get truly overwhelming, Siavash does lose control of his deflection powers. He cries. These are the moments when he needs someone who isn’t just there for the good times, but who really sees him and gets him like Zrise does. Sia has a lot of friends who do care but would probably panic if they saw the cracks in the façade.

Especially in the Abyss, Zrise shows that he notices and cares and that he won’t balk if there’s a breakdown. I think it’s because he’s been through a LOT himself and became practiced in his own way at disguising vulnerability. He can see through Sia’s persona. Just as Sia recognizes the good heart Zrise tries to hide, Zrise recognizes the self-doubt and insecurity Siavash tries to hide, and they both love that about each other.

24. What would their partner do that would really turn them on, perhaps unintentionally?

To get back to that pout. Yes. And the fidgeting and smoking. When Zrise is bored and starts lighting things on fire or throwing knives. It’s the dangerous nervous energy. Funny because when they first met Siavash was not as put off by it as he should have been (he looks dangerous 😳)

But also practicing bladework. Watching him get sweaty and impatient until he comes over and holds Siavash from behind to correct his stance. Being disarmed and unbalanced. The look on his face when Sia starts singing to try to distract him. I think those lessons were more erotic for Sia than Zrise realized (or than Sia would admit).

The fact that he’s ticklish. Zrise could break Sia in half but Sia has a secret weapon and he will use it.

34. Under what circumstances would they feel protective?

It’s a good thing Zrise doesn’t know how often Sia has come to his defense when people are talking shit behind his back. Zrise has antagonized a lot of people and I’m sure he wouldn’t be surprised at what they say, but he might be surprised how Sia gently corrects them every time.

In some ways Zrise is the face of Siavash’s crusade. The Fifth Crusade embraces some darker, more chaotic elements that previous Iomedean crusades didn’t. It’s what makes it successful. (It’s Lona the Goth Queen who says this in our Dance of Masks fic – a crusade isn’t all sunshine and butterflies.) Calistria is also an Elysian goddess. There are shady dealings and violence, just channeled against a common enemy. Incorporating the collective shadow. In that sense Zrise is a perfect balance to Sia. So anyway I’m off track but what I mean is that Sia is protective of him but not trying to hide his dark side. Trying to get people to see what’s good about who he is instead of distorting who he is.

Siavash is also protective of Zrise’s past wounds. Once Zrise gets the courage to talk about his past and Siavash really starts to understand, he does everything he can to help him heal. And not to reopen old wounds. Someone else might callously tease Zrise for his fear of water (even shallow) but Sia is careful of his tender spots.

And finally. Very few people evoke the Wrath of Siavash. Usually pretty chill. But Zrise’s family (with the exception of Lariel ofc whom he adores)... along with a certain “azata counsellor”... he would go out of his way to severely inconvenience.

Couples questions

[lotrmusical]

My high school did a yearly poetry recitation contest (Poetry Out Loud), so Oh Boy do I know some poems. My favorites are Ozymandias and "the world is about to end and my grandparents are in love," by Kara Jackson. Also in 8th grade we had a Poe unit and had a class contest to make the best music video of the Raven, so I still know a good chunk of that.

i hadn't heard of the kara jackson one! just read through it and enjoyed it, particularly these lines > 'grandma returns to her love like a hymn, marks it with a color. // when the world ends will it suck the earth of all its love? /will i go taking somebody’s hand, / my skin becoming their skin?'

[m1d-45]

well it's been a hot minute since i sent anything in but i saw meme on timeline so i present to you:

death loop!creator: *dies*

death loop!creator: *wakes up again*

death loop!creator:

death loop!creator: ah shit, here we go again

i also think i'm funny

- death loop anon

you 🤝 me fr

[dormiebasne]

mlp x bible crossover...

Elaborate in the tags, maybe even link your fic if you're able to! I like seeing what people's driving force to write fic is, because it always seems to be different depending on who you ask.

[coetusmachina]

The black and red Mech lounged on the couch, clearly in one of his lazy moods, tilting the severed servo within his own. Back and forth, so the digits uncurled and curled. "Aaa..." A grumble, as his helm tilted towards Tempest, red optics staring at him. Thinking in silence, before the severed servo got tossed towards the Mech's faceplates, or chassis, whichever it hit, if it hit. "There, there's your lent helping servo." Not in the slightest mood to work. "You might as well use it to frag yourself off too. Heard it does wonders to one's self."

Tempest had been in a relatively sour mood that day. It was a surprise no one had been sent to see the medic - let alone survive a meeting with the Ex-Gladiator. The champion had everything he had ever wanted while wallowing in the Pits of Slaughter City - save for one thing, one bot. Still, she evaded his reach, and it annoyed him to no end! When would she come to her senses and realize they were meant to be - Primus Blessed!

He walked into his office and raised an optic ridge at the mech lounging on the couch, watching him play with the severed limb. A curious smirk slowly spread over his derma as he tried to recall if any of the servants he'd recently acquired had any limbs missing. His own servo lifted quick enough to catch the limb before it hit him in the face, causing his grin to widen further and a low chuckle to escape.

"My, my, aren't you a feisty one today, huh?" Tempest walked further into the room, setting the limb on his desk before going over to where the other mech lounged. One of his servos went to brace against the back of the couch as the other rested on his hip while he leaned over him, "When I want a frag, I'd rather have a partner - living preferred. And you might as well be fragging me with all the help that was."

[thalwri]

CRISP AND CHARRED!

synopsis: why bake when you can get your back blown by your favourite prince from philos?

warnings: porn no plot, masturbation, teasing, feral!xavier, feral!reader, backshots behind a couch

wc: 998

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

xavier had learned something new today. don’t bake when you’re with someone you’ve missed. you’ll burn the food. and in his defence you probably would have too. in an attempt to try out with creme brulée, you had gotten a bit too distracted.

with what?

you had dropped a spoon on the floor and reached down to get it, not expecting much from that. what you hadn’t taken into account was that the lining of your panties pressed against your shorts that tightly wrapped around your plump ass and hips, emphasising the curve and pulsating puffiness of your pussy lips.

if it wasn’t for that spoon always slipping from your grip until it was under his couch, making you eventually drop to your knees to reach for it. the curves of your back arched, those swollen folds rubbed against the moving fabric of your clothing as you wiggled in search for the spoon. just one more swift shake of that ass of yours and he would have seen your pussy exposed.

the thought of it sent jolts down to his swelling cock. there was already an imprint of his length hardening on his pants. but he didn’t bother hiding it. not while he had a magnificent sight to witness.

his hands had itched to squeeze and fondle those soft mounds of fat and lay kisses and bites all over it. his hand traveled down to his now fully erect cock and gently rubbed it in its clothed state. a shaky silent sigh left his lips as your back further arched, pushing that ass higher up.

his rock hard cock throbbed, leaking globs of clear fluid onto his clothing. but that only egged him on to stroke himself more, to succumb to his body’s needs. a soft moan resonated from the couch, by where you were. another moan slipped out, a result of you stretching yourself to find the spoon.

“xavier,” your voice was like honey, pulling him into your abyss like a tempest dragging him to an endless whirlpool. “hold me.”

“why?” his voice was strained, hoarse and dry as if all the moisture in his mouth went straight down his body. 

“what if i get– ah– stuck?” your pretty ass wiggled again. there was no way you weren’t doing that on purpose. “i need you to hold me.”

reluctantly– that’s a lie, he was overjoyed– xavier knelt down behind you and slowly curled his fingers over your waist, holding you still. he ached to move just a bit closer, to press his length right on your cunny lips. they were just calling out to him. so needy for him. he was so needy for you.

he would have maintained his restraint. really, he would have. at least before you jerked back, pressing yourself right on the print of his cock.

whether or not it wasn’t intentional was a question left for the wind to answer. because now, xavier was balls deep inside your pussy, pounding you into oblivion.

it felt like one of those washing machine porn videos, whether the woman would get stuck in the washing machine and would need help getting out, only to be fucked instead. or maybe it’s like a plumber kind of situation, where some part of her body is stuck or tangled in the bathtub and she gets fucked for a free repair service.

but neither of those stood a chance to the way xavier expertly found your sweet spot deep within your pussy, hitting it over and over again despite slipping his leaky cock into you just moments ago.

“you were doing it on purpose, weren’t you?” his naked torso curved over your nude form, one hand tightly gripping the head of the couch and the other fondling your nipples, twisting and squeezing them like his toys and holding your bouncing tiddies in place.

the only response you were capable of making was a string of incoherent moans. it was true, you had deliberately dropped the spoon and further used your charms to tease xavier. you didn’t really anticipate that he’d be just as aroused and hungry for you like you were for him.

“xa-xavier– i–“ his tongue swiped a wet line up your neck bringing you to a shudder. your head rested on the cushion he had grabbed for you to keep you comfy while he ploughed your dripping hole.

“concentrate on finding that spoon,” he cooed, enunciating each syllable with a sharp, deep, thrust, making sure you felt every vein massage your soaked gummy walls. 

he already came inside you twice, and you three times just in that position alone. you just had missed each other so much, especially after all the missions you had done separately in the last few weeks. it only felt natural to devour each other at some point, even if it was under the guise of a wholesome baking day.

“s-s-so– mmhfuck– so mean!” you cried, stretching your arms around until your finger grazed the cold metallic edge of the spoon you dropped. your gasp of victory turned into the sluttiest moan you’d made in months. even xavier was shocked to hear it.

“oh?” his hands massaged your waist to soothe you. he was shaking, both overstimulated, leaking endless amounts of cum into you and pounding all of the previous round’s back into you while the rest leaked onto the floor. “you’re so mmmuch louder today. ‘s it because you missed me?”

“i think– xavier!” he had already spent so much time edging you, and himself, you were about to explode at this point. and what about the food? “the crème brûlée– it’s burning–“

“let it burn,” you could just hear him grin. “i was probably going to anyway. besides,”

he pushed his hips as deep as your tight cunny could allow him to go. “i still need to take care of you.”

you two were definitely going to order food by the time you were done.

just a little drabble for xavier

[mournthebird]

Stained.

summary: Soldat continues to have nightmares.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD | Nightmares | Minor injury | Flashbacks

a/n: So sorry it took so long for another part. Been super distracted with other blogs and life stuff. There's a few more things I will write about for this 'series' then I will start another one with him. This one's a bit shorter but I have another one almost completed. Anyway enjoy comforting the baby <3 Unedited. ;; wc: 2.7k

His screams were so chilling.

They seemed to pierce through the very walls of your home. The haunting sound reverberated in the air, leaving an eerie silence in its wake that was almost as unsettling as the screams themselves.

Every single night, without fail, they never ceased. You could almost set your watch by their occurrence, anticipating the exact moment when the torment would begin. As the clock ticked closer to that dreaded hour, you'd find yourself tensing, waiting for the inevitable.

Then, right on cue, you'd hear him thrashing violently, desperately fighting against the blankets that enveloped him like a straitjacket. In a frenzied panic, he would scramble to the corner of the room, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. His eyes splayed wide with terror, darting around the room, seeing horrors that only he could perceive. His breathing came in ragged gasps, as if he had just breached the surface after being submerged in the depths of his nightmares, desperately gulping in air as if it were his first breath after a near-drowning experience.

The nightmares were a relentless, unyielding torment that plagued him night after night. They seemed to have a life of their own, cruel entities that delighted in tormenting him, forcing him to relive moments he desperately wished he could forget. These nocturnal demons dredged up memories from the darkest corners of his mind, parading them before him in vivid, terrifying detail, making him relive everything. It was as if his subconscious were punishing him for abandoning his previous affiliations, determined to extract every ounce of pain from his past experiences, leaving him raw and vulnerable each morning.

Just like its old handler had.

In an attempt to provide some comfort, you began a nightly ritual of telling him goodnight every evening. He began to seek out your company, a noticeable shift from his previous isolation, over the previous few days. He would actually spend time with you, choosing to sit by you as you watched TV on the couch. Although he still maintained a certain distance, unwilling or unable to fully let his guard down, he would position himself near your legs, just close enough to feel your presence without fully engaging.

Occasionally, in moments of vulnerability or perhaps seeking comfort, he would lean against your legs. You would gently, almost hesitantly, reach out to touch his hair, those fleeting moments of him actually initiating contact were rare. The contact was brief, barely more than a whisper of touch, before he would inevitably pull away, retreating back into his shell. But even these small moments of connection felt like monumental progress, a tiny crack in the walls he had built around himself.

Tonight had been a bit rough.

The weather conditions had deteriorated as the season switched from fall to winter.

A fierce snowstorm had been mercilessly battering the exterior of the apartment building you lived in for hours without reprieve. The violent gusts of wind sent snowflakes, dense and numerous, into a frenzied dance through the air, creating an impenetrable curtain of white that obscured nearly all visibility. That meant anyone driving was pretty much driving blind, and some places in the city have closed until the storm stops.

The persistent howling of the tempest as it wrapped around the building created unfamiliar sounds throughout your apartment, though these disturbances never bothered you when you slept. You had slept through thunderstorms before, howling wind wasn’t anything to bug you. Soldat, situated in the other room, was experiencing quite the opposite reaction to the weather.

There were things he remembered from HYDRA, memories that haunted him like persistent shadows, but the cold remained the most vivid and haunting of them all. The experience of cryo was something permanently etched into his being, a sensation that lingered long after each freeze. He could still feel with crystal clarity the way the freezing process felt. The gradual slowing of his blood flow, the painful stiffening of his muscles, and the biting chill that penetrated deep into his bones.

The cold would wrap around him like an unforgiving blanket, creating an impenetrable cocoon of ice that sealed him away from the world. In those moments, he became more than just a prisoner of HYDRA - he became a prisoner of winter itself, trapped from which he could never fully escape. Even now, warmth felt like a distant memory, a comfort that his body had forgotten how to truly experience.

No matter how many blankets he covered up in, no matter how hot the shower was, he still felt cold.

You shifted position in your bed, consciousness gradually returning as you stirred from sleep, your eyes fluttering open while your hands instinctively moved to clear the lingering drowsiness from them. You were going to just roll back over, but the unexpected presence of a dark silhouette towering above your bed startled you wide awake. Pure adrenaline rushed through your system, causing you to let out an involuntary shriek as you scrambled away from the mysterious figure. You realized it was Soldat, and you let out a breath you had been holding.

"Fuck...y-you startled me!" You exclaimed breathlessly, your trembling hand pressed firmly against your chest where your heart continued to thunder against your ribcage like a drum.

The man watched you intently from across the room, maintaining his silence. When the wind howled against your window panes with renewed intensity, his cold, calculating eyes briefly darted towards the source of the sound before returning to fix on you again. Before you could break the silence between you, he moved forward and crawled up onto your bed.

His movements were awkward and cautious, like an animal discovering new texture beneath its paws. His every motion was measured and uncertain, acting like the bed was going to fall out from beneath him. The soldier finally settled himself onto the bed beside you, positioning his rigid body so that he was facing away from you.

This was really unexpected but...you weren't going to complain. He was clearly struggling with something so you decided to just be quiet and pretend he wasn't there. Hopefully that would somehow make this fragile moment less overwhelming for him.

When you finally drifted back to sleep, consciousness returned abruptly as his sudden movements jolted you awake. He had jerked and scrambled, pressing himself firmly against the headboard of the bed, his rigid posture betraying his distress. His eyes were wide with an unnamed fear, darting frantically around the darkened room, searching desperately through the shadows for phantoms that existed only in his mind. His breathing came in rapid, shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling with an intensity that suggested he had been running for miles.

His fingers were wrapped so tightly around the bedsheets that his knuckles had turned white and his metal hand was whirring with pressure, the fabric bunching beneath his iron grip. When you spoke his name, his wild gaze snapped to your face, focusing on you with an intensity that was almost frightening. "Soldat...what's wrong?" Your words came out thick with sleep, barely audible against the war raging in his mind.

"What's wrong?" The handler's voice dripped with cruel sarcasm as his boot connected violently with the asset's stomach, sending a spray of crimson across the pristine floor as it doubled over, coughing and choking. "Can't sleep? I told you to quiet down." Its handler had a particular hatred for nighttime disruptions, especially the ones he deliberately orchestrated, taking perverse pleasure in ensuring the asset's nights were filled with terror while simultaneously punishing it for displaying any signs of disturbance.

The asset remained silent, managing only to expel the remaining blood from its mouth as it struggled to regain its upright position. Through its blurred vision, the handler's eyes stood out with terrifying clarity, piercing and unforgiving as they bore down upon the asset with unmistakable malice. His voice cut through the silence like a knife, the handler’s demeanor shifting to become much more threatening. "You stained my fucking carpet."

He shook his head vigorously, scooting away from you until he reached the edge of the bed and lost his balance. "Shit," you moved forward instinctively, witnessing his unsteady stumble and the harsh thud that followed as he tumbled off, he let out a small grunt as he hit the floor. "You okay?" You asked softly, your voice gentle as you carefully made your way down and knelt beside his huddled form.

Your bed was positioned close to the wall but not touching, creating a small, sheltered alcove that provided him with a sense of security. A perfect hiding spot where he could feel somewhat protected from the world, he had ventured from the small spaces in the spare room but he tended to resort back to them when he felt especially anxious.

"Hey, you're bleeding," you noticed with concern as a thin crimson line began making its way down his forehead and along his brow. His hand shot up immediately, pressing against the wound in an attempt to stem the flow. A flash of unmistakable panic crossed his features, causing your stomach to twist with worry. "It's okay, I'll go get something for it..." You reassured him gently, rising to your feet and making your way to the bathroom where you kept a small first aid box, tucked away under the sink.

When you returned to his side, you knelt back down and carefully held out some small pieces of sterile gauze. His lack of response to take them gave you an invitation, you took his stillness as silent permission to help. Your hand carefully guided his away from the injury, replacing his trembling fingers with the soft gauze, which you held there with the lightest possible pressure while maintaining a strong enough hold to stop the bleeding.

As you held the gauze against the wound, his eyes slowly trailed down to the floor by his feet. A deep frown creased his features as he noticed two tiny red droplets seeping into the little strings of carpet, expanding like delicate watercolor paint on wet paper. The crimson spots seemed to grow before his eyes, each fiber darkening as it absorbed the blood. "I...I'm sorry," He rasped, his voice so rough and broken that you almost flinched at the sound.

The words hung heavy in the air between you, and before you could register that he actually spoke to you again or even understand what exactly he was apologizing for, he spoke again, his voice growing more distressed with each repetition. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered, his gaze fixed intently on those small drops staining the carpet. He curled in on himself even more, the apologies falling from his lips over and over again like he were completely overwhelmed with a foreboding sense of incoming danger.

You followed his line of sight downward and observed the tiny marks yourself, finding yourself fighting back an inappropriate smile at the situation. Here he was, clearly distraught over what amounted to barely more than pinpricks of blood on the carpet. The whole concept almost felt ridiculous, that among everything else happening, this would be what concerned him so deeply.

You couldn't understand why he'd be so genuinely upset about such a minor stain, but his distress was clearly real and you didn’t want him to feel this way over something so minor. "Hey, hey. It's fine, don't apologize," you assured him gently, trying to draw his attention away from the floor. "It's just a few drops. No big deal..."

He looked back at the crimson droplets that had dripped down the soft carpet, then shifted his gaze towards you while carefully avoiding direct eye contact. His shoulders hunched inward defensively as he spoke. "I...I stained." The words emerged as barely more than a breath, his voice trembling and uncertain, barely managing to push the confession past his lips.

"And stains can be cleaned." You responded, keeping your voice steady and reassuring. "It's not a big deal at all. I'm not upset - they're just a few tiny drops. And honestly, even if it had been a much bigger mess, I wouldn't be angry that you bled on the floor. Getting upset about something like that would be completely ridiculous..."

"Ridiculous thing you are." Its handler spat with venomous contempt, "Clean this up immediately. The more you bleed, the more you are corrected for staining my goddamn floor."

It wasn't fair.

Soldat shook his head vigorously, trying to dispel the vivid flashback that had seized him. As your words continued in their gentle cadence, so different from those memory-echoes, the sharp edges of panic began to soften and recede. You remained unaware of the depths of his psychological turmoil, but at the same time, your very obliviousness to his internal struggle served as an anchor that helped guide him back from the brink of his mounting anxiety.

If you had known earlier, your choice of words might have been different, more carefully selected to avoid triggering such a response.

However, for the moment, the situation appeared to have stabilized - his breathing had steadied and his trembling had subsided to occasional shivers. You gently finished cleaning and examining the minor abrasion on his forehead, the injury was superficial, requiring nothing more than basic first aid. Once you were satisfied with it, you helped him rise to his feet, "Would you like to try sleeping again?" you asked in a soft, reassuring tone, making sure to keep your voice steady and calm, "I can stay awake and keep watch, if that would make you feel better."

He remained silent, his eyes meeting yours with an expression that seemed vulnerable and childlike, caught between trust and uncertainty. The unfamiliar sensation of feeling protected and cared for seemed to war with his instincts to panic, but something held him back. Perhaps it was the realization that throughout this entire ordeal, you had been nothing but patient and had shown genuine concern for his well-being.

His response came in the form of a single, slight nod - brief but unmistakable. You accepted this minimal communication as a positive sign.

You guided him back to bed, allowing him to settle into a position that felt natural to him. Sleeping in a bed after literal decades of sleeping on the floor, cots if he was lucky, took getting used to again. Taking up your own position nearby, you reached for the television remote and switched it on, being mindful to keep the volume low so it wouldn’t be too loud. He assumed his previous position, curling up with his back towards you, creating a small barrier between himself and the world. The soft background noise from the television seemed to provide a comforting ambient sound without causing him any distress.

After an episode of the show you were watching passing by, he gradually shifted his position to face in your direction. Though his eyes remained closed, you had your doubts about whether he had truly drifted back to sleep so quickly. The distance between you had noticeably decreased as he moved closer and your heart ached with the desire to wrap him in your arms, yet you remained perfectly still, not wanting to make any sudden movements. The fear of startling him kept you frozen in place, patiently waiting to see if he would choose to close the remaining gap between you.

To your surprise, he continued his careful migration until his body was snugly pressed against yours, seeking comfort in your presence. You felt your throat tighten with emotion as you felt the warmth of his body against yours, touched by the fact that he had deliberately chosen to seek out your closeness. Slowly, you lifted your arm and positioned it behind him, keeping it relaxed and loose while he adjusted himself, eventually settling into a position where he used you as an impromptu pillow, his breathing steady and peaceful.

You eventually fell asleep after a while too, unable to resist. By now he had huddled against you, his metal arm draped across your form, the weight of it both reassuring and comforting against your body. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth radiating from his presence definitely helped you grow drowsy.

Knowing he was at last getting the peaceful rest he so desperately needed brought a sense of contentment to your heart and gave you enough comfort to slowly drift off too.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover images from Pinterest. I do not claim them as my own.

Taglist: @millercontracting | @teafangirl | @questionableratatouille00 | @buckybarneswife125 | @hazydespair | @leighta | @knoxic | @ghostlyfleur | @beckies000 | @seventeen-x | @freyjhasdesiredreality | @curlycow01 | @blackstabbath6 | @devilslittlehelper | @regics | @honeybee-hayes | @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger

Let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded anytime.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪ .༯ RUINED BY WAR ?! 🐋

𓂃 ࣪⋆˚ ༘ Paring : God of war Mydei x Goddess of Peace fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪⋆˚ ༘ Warnings : nsfw/smut, vaginal, c*m play, holding orgasm, semi-public s*x, hair pulling, cow-girl, multiple (three) rounds, dark content?, implied dubcon, size kink. mydei is a huge perv here. [GOD OF WAR SERIES] ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

𓂃 ࣪⋆˚ ༘ synopsis : In a world divided between war and peace, you, the Goddess of Peace, find yourself drawn to the one being who defies everything you stand for—Mydei, the ruthless God of War. His touch is rough, his presence overwhelming, and yet, when you're in his grasp, resistance crumbles like ruins beneath a battlefield. He should be your greatest enemy, but in the dark, when his hands claim you. And as he takes you, possessive, unrelenting, you realize that even peace was meant to surrender.

𓂃 ࣪⋆˚ ༘ note : very quick fic also not proof-read & lazy writing. also mydei calls u “mine”. I HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES, I was too scared to post it.

In a realm where war and peace existed in a fragile balance, you were revered as the Goddess of Peace, a beacon of serenity in a world rife with conflict. Yet, despite your divine status, you felt an undeniable pull toward the one being who represented everything you opposed—the ruthless God of War, Mydei. His very presence ignited a tempest within you, a clash of desires that threatened to unravel the peace you fought so hard to maintain.

Tonight, under the glow of the moonlight, you found yourself in the ruins of an ancient temple, the remnants of a battlefield surrounding you. Mydei awaited you there, a powerful figure shrouded in shadows. His golden armor gleamed ominously, framing his muscular physique. As you approached, your heart raced, anticipation flooding your senses.

It was a dangerous pull, an attraction you had no business entertaining—but that only made it more irresistible. You should have fought it, should have turned away, but the thrill of being hunted, of knowing you were just one misstep away from falling into his hands, set your pulse racing. Every time your paths crossed, the air crackled with tension, heavy with something unspoken yet undeniable. And when he finally caught you—fingers twisting into your hair, yanking you closer—resistance melted into something far sweeter than surrender.

“Look who graced me with her presence,” he purred, a wicked grin curling at the corners of his lips. “The Goddess of Peace, all alone. Have you come to plead for mercy, or perhaps to indulge in a more… thrilling escapade?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “I’m not here to beg, Mydei. You’re not the only one who enjoys a little chaos now and then.” Your tone was bratty, a challenge thrown at his feet, and you could see the flicker of excitement in his eyes.

“Oh, is that so?” His smirk widened, and he stepped closer, closing the distance between you. “Perhaps I should teach you a lesson about what happens when you provoke a god.”

Before you could respond, Mydei’s hands shot out, grasping your waist and pulling you against him. His touch was rough, igniting a fire within you. “You think you can handle what I have to offer?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, sending shivers down your spine.

“Maybe I can handle you better than you think,” you shot back, the bravado in your voice masking the thrill of—fear that coursed through you. You reveled in the challenge, knowing it only fueled his desire.

With a swift movement, he spun you around, pinning you against the cool stone wall of the temple. The sudden shift made your breath hitch, and you gasped as he captured your wrists above your head, his strength overwhelming. “You’re going to learn that I always get what I want,” he hissed, leaning closer to graze his lips against your neck.

His kisses sent electricity coursing through your body, and your heart raced with exhilaration and danger. “You don’t own me,” you protested, but the defiance in your words was half-hearted. The way his body pressed against yours, the heat radiating from him, made it hard to maintain your composure.

“Ah, but I do,” he replied, his grip tightening in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat. “You’ve always been drawn to danger, haven’t you? Let’s see how well you can handle this.”

With that, he pushed his hips against yours, and you could feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you, a promise of the raw pleasure that awaited. A thrill of excitement shot through you, and you bit your lip, suppressing a moan.

“Show me what you’ve got, War God,” you taunted, challenging him as you ground your hips against him. “I can take it.”

Mydei’s eyes darkened with lust, and he growled low in his throat. “You’re a brat,” he said, shaking his head with a hint of amusement. “I’ll enjoy breaking you.”

With a swift motion, he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he thrust into you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming—your moans echoed in the temple, mingling with the sounds of the night. “That’s it, Goddess. Let go,” he urged, his voice a gravelly whisper as he claimed you.

You felt every inch of him sliding deep inside, stretching you deliciously, and you gasped, arching your back against the stone. “More, Mydei,” you breathed, relishing the dominance he exerted over you. “I want all of you.”

“Such a greedy little thing,” he mused, his thrusts becoming harder, each one sending shockwaves through your body. His hands roamed your curves, fingers digging into your hips as he took control, but you wouldn’t let him have all the power. You arched your back, grinding against him, trying to take the lead.

“Do you really think you can handle this?” he challenged, thrusting deeper, making you gasp. “You’re just a sweet little Goddess, but I’m a god of war. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Maybe I like danger,” you replied, your voice dripping with mischief. “Maybe I want to see how far you’ll go.”

He responded with a harsh thrust that had you gasping, your walls tightening around him as pleasure surged. “You’re going to regret this,” he warned, but you could see the glint of excitement in his eyes.

As he picked up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, and you moaned louder, feeling the tension coiling in your core. “Please, don’t stop!” you begged, wanting him to push you to the edge, to shatter the peace you’d fought to uphold.

“Not yet,” he replied, his voice low and possessive. “I want to see you lose control. I want to see you begging for release.”

With each powerful thrust, he drove you closer to the brink, a mix of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins. His hands were everywhere, gripping your thighs, pulling your hair, leaving you breathless and wanting more. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then take me,” you urged, your body writhing against his as you chased your climax. “M—Make me yours.”

Mydei’s growl echoed through the temple, primal and raw, as he pushed you over the edge, sending you spiraling into ecstasy. “That’s it, come for me,” he commanded, and you obeyed, waves of pleasure crashing over you as your body convulsed around him.

As you rode the waves of your orgasm, your body trembling with the intensity, Mydei followed suit. With a deep groan, he filled you completely, his body pressed against yours as he marked you as his own. His grip on you tightened possessively, pulling you closer as he buried his cock deep inside of your pussy, claiming you with every thrust. “You belong to me,” he breathed, voice rough and filled with a dark, consuming passion. His hands moved with a newfound urgency, holding you in place as he drove deeper, making sure you felt every inch of him, every part of his claim over you.

Breathing heavily, you both collapsed against the wall, panting in the aftermath of your passion. You felt a rush of exhilaration and vulnerability, your heart racing in the wake of what you had just shared.

“Even the Goddess of Peace can’t resist the pull of chaos,” Mydei murmured, his hands gently stroking your hair. “Next time, I’ll make you beg even harder.”

You smirked, meeting his gaze with defiance. “Bring it on, War God. I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

As the moon hung high in the night sky, the aftermath of your first union left you breathless, your body still trembling from the pleasure that had consumed you. Mydei’s powerful frame pressed against you, his body still radiating heat, a constant reminder of how thoroughly he had claimed you. The feel of his cock still buried deep inside your pussy had you on the edge, each pulse sending waves of raw pleasure through you. Even as you caught your breath, the familiar stirrings of desire began to rise again, an undeniable heat igniting deep within your core, hungry for more of him.

“Do you think you can handle more, Goddess?” Mydei challenged, his voice a low growl as he caught your gaze, a wicked glint dancing in his eyes. “Because I’m far from done with you.”

You smirked, that familiar defiance bubbling to the surface. “I can take anything you throw at me, Mydei. Show me what you’ve got.”

With a swift, dominating motion, he grasped your waist again, lifting you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around him, craving the feel of him inside you once more. This time, there was no gentleness in his approach—he slammed you back against the wall, the stone cold and unforgiving, contrasting with the heat building between your bodies.

“Hold on tight,” he growled, the promise of what was to come sending shivers down your spine. Without warning, he plunged into you again, and the force of his thrusts sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your clit brushed against him with every powerful stroke, igniting a fire that threatened to consume you.

“Gods, you’re so tight,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunted, your voice dripping with challenge as you pushed back against him, desperate for more. You reveled in the way he filled you, stretching you beyond what you thought possible.

Mydei’s eyes darkened with lust, a primal hunger overtaking him. “You’re going to regret that,” he growled, picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming more ferocious. Each movement sent sparks of pleasure shooting through you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the temple as you both lost yourselves in the moment.

His hands gripped your thighs, roughly pushing them apart further, giving him deeper access. You could feel every inch of him, the head of his cock brushing against your sensitive walls, each movement drawing out moans from your lips. Your cheeks flushed a rosy pink, your doe eyes wide with need and submission, gazing up at him as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations. Every thrust sent another wave of pleasure coursing through you, your body trembling beneath him, unable to escape the depths of desire he had awakened inside you.

“Do you like that, Goddess?” he asked, a smirk on his lips. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“More, Mydei! I need more!” you gasped, the pleasure building with each savage thrust, your body responding eagerly to his dominance. You could feel your clit pulsing, desperate for attention, a constant throb that only intensified with every motion. You began to roll your hips against him, grinding harder, seeking that sweet friction that would push you over the edge again. Your breath came in ragged gasps, eyes wild with need as you begged for more, willing to do anything to feel that release tearing through you once again.

“Such a needy little thing,” he teased, pulling back slightly before slamming into you again, harder this time. The impact made your body quiver, a rush of pleasure flooding you as he found that sweet spot deep inside. “You want to come again, don’t you?”

“Y—Yes! Please!” you cried out, feeling your body tighten around him. You wanted everything he had to offer, wanted to feel him claim you again. “D—Don’t stop! Just like that!”

Mydei's grip on your thighs tightened as he plunged into you, the sound of your bodies joining filling the air. The sheer intensity of his thrusts left you breathless, the way he filled you was a perfect blend of pleasure and pain. He was relentless, driving you higher, pushing you toward that precipice once more.

“God, you’re beautiful when you’re desperate,” he growled, his eyes locked on your bouncing tits, your body reacting to every thrust. “I could watch you like this forever.”

You felt yourself getting closer, the coil of pleasure tightening with each stroke. “I’m so close, M—Mydei! Please!”

He responded with a fierce thrust, the sensation sending you spiraling. “Come for me, Goddess. Let me see you lose control.”

With a cry of ecstasy, you surrendered completely, the pleasure crashing over you in a tidal wave. Your body quaked around him as your orgasm surged through every nerve, the sound of your moans echoing in the temple as you clung to him, desperate for release.

Mydei followed you, the sight of your climax pushing him over the edge as he filled you again, his cock throbbing inside you, warmth flooding you completely. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re mine.”

As you both came down from the high, gasping for breath, Mydei still held you tightly against him, his cock softening but still buried deep inside you. The warmth and closeness made you feel alive, electric, a mix of dominance and vulnerability swirling around you.

“Round two, and you still managed to surprise me,” he said, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “But I’m not done yet. You wanted chaos, and I’m going to give it to you.”

Your heart raced at the promise in his words, knowing this night was far from over. You couldn’t wait to see just how deep he could take you, and you were more than ready to surrender to it.

The air was thick with the remnants of your shared ecstasy, your bodies still entwined as you caught your breath. The moonlight poured in through the crumbling stones of the ancient temple, illuminating the raw hunger in Mydei's eyes. He wasn’t done with you yet, and the thought sent a fresh thrill of anticipation through your veins.

“You still think you can handle me?” he asked, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he pulled back, his cock slipping from your warmth. The absence of him left you aching, a void that yearned to be filled again.

“Please, Mydei. I can take whatever you have for me,” you replied, your voice sultry and teasing, the bratty edge returning. You could feel the power shift in the air, the tension palpable as you dared him to push your limits.

“Good,” he growled, grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up, your back pressed against the cool stone. “Because I’m going to make you beg for it this time.”

He positioned you so that your legs were wrapped around his waist, and with one swift motion, he plunged back inside, filling you to the hilt. You gasped, the sensation igniting your senses all over again. “That’s it, Goddess,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “You’re going to take every inch of me.”

“Fuck, Mydei!” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as he began to thrust. Each movement was deliberate, powerful, designed to push you to the edge of pleasure and back. He was relentless, driving deeper, his cock brushing against all the right spots, coaxing you closer and closer to bliss.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he commanded, his breath hot against your skin. “Beg for it.”

“I—I want it so bad,” you panted, urgency lacing your words. “I need you, God of war. Please, don’t hold back. I want to feel you everywhere.”

The title sent a spark of approval through his gaze, and he responded by increasing the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the temple. “That’s my good girl,” he praised, each thrust punctuated with the weight of his dominance. “You’re going to be mine tonight, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Mydei! I’m yours! Use me!” you cried, your body arching against him, craving more of his raw, possessive energy. You felt that familiar pressure building in your core, the sweet, impending release beckoning you.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now let’s see how well you can take it.” With renewed vigor, he thrust into you harder, pushing you against the stone, every thrust sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you.

“Please, let me come!” you begged, your body quivering with need. “I want to feel you fill me!”

“Not yet,” he growled, his grip tightening on your thighs as he shifted his angle, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. “I want to see you desperate for it. I want to see you beg for my cum.”

You could feel the tension in your body reaching its peak, the heat pooling in your core, and you desperately sought that release. “Please, Mydei! I need your cum! I want it inside me!”

“Such a needy little goddess,” he teased, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “Fine, but only if you can take it.”

With that, he thrust harder, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The pleasure built like a raging storm, and you could barely hold on, your body begging for the release you craved.

“Now, come for me!” Mydei commanded, his voice dark and demanding, sending a shiver down your spine. With one final, brutal thrust, he drove deep inside you, pushing you over the edge. Your body erupted in a tidal wave of pleasure, the intense sensation crashing over you like a wave, drowning you in pure ecstasy. Your pussy clenched around him, your back arching as your orgasm tore through you, shaking you to your core. You cried out, gasping for air, completely consumed by the pleasure he had given you, unable to stop the flood of sensations that flooded your body.

“Fuck! Yes!” you screamed, the pleasure washing over you as you felt his warmth spill inside you, filling you completely.

“Good girl,” he groaned, his thrusts slowing as he filled you, claiming you entirely. The sensations mingled—his heat, the remnants of your orgasm, and the thrill of being utterly at his mercy.

You both collapsed against the stone, panting for breath, bodies entwined as the moonlight wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

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[jksarchives]

volume 1

[ 35 / 35 ]

ᯓᡣ𐭩

❖ idealizations concerning real life relations — by @venusiangguk

jungkook loves to be loved, but he doesn’t love in return. — 40.9k [s, a]

❖ wishing for you — by @kookiestarlight

you and your husband decide to finally start trying for a baby. It should be easy enough, you thought. But it turns out getting pregnant is a lot harder than you expected. — 25.4k [s, f, a]

❖ visions — by @trivia-yandere

you’re convinced by your friends to go to a party and let go of the memories of your ex just for one night. unfortunately for you, jungkook doesn’t want to be let go. — 5.1k [s, a]

❖ espresso — by @joonberriess

14.6k [f, s]

❖ perfect — by @readyplayerhobi

Jungkook has always been in your life in some way, the friend that keeps coming back time after time and the one friends and family are convinced is the one for you. Yet despite so many perfect moments, it just never seems to work out between the two of you. — 13k [f, a]

❖ but we loved to young — by @jl-micasea-fics

Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed. — 10k [s, m]

❖ the blue princess and her red rose — by @cutaepatootie

After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. — 34.8k [a, f, s]

❖ rigor mortis — by @readyplayerhobi

A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city. — 28.5k [s, a, f]

❖ sweet apple biscuits — by @rosaetae

a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. — 15.5k [a]

❖ i hate you, i love you — by @jungblue

You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends... and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you. — 19.4k [a, s]

❖ we can’t be friends — by @joonberriess

9.8k [a, s]

❖ do i wanna know — by @joonberriess

“Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for someone new. Now I’ve thought it through, crawlin’ back to you,”. — 19.8k [s]

❖ down bad — by @2hightocare

Despite undeniable chemistry, your guys’ relationship remains undefined, caught between playful teasing to deeper, unspoken longing. — series [a, s]

❖ sweet serial killer — by @explicit-tae

The city is shaken up by the sudden murders going around - all by a man who claims he is doing so in the name of justice. People are divided - those who agree with the mysterious serial killer to do what the justice system has not; and those who disagree and want him captured and sent to prison. — 12.2k [s, a]

❖ pent up stress — by @kissforyouu

? [s, f]

❖ shut up and drive — by @agustdtown1

Anyone could have predicted how bad it is to make a bet with your brother, yet you were hoping the outcome would be different. But alas, you were meant to be taught a lesson tonight; never go behind your brother’s back. — 23.7k [s, a, f]

❖ tempest — by @kooktrash

you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect. — 31k [s, a]

❖ safety net — by @pradaksj

on new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together. — 40k [a, f, s]

❖ rattled — by @gukslut

series [a, s, f]

❖ how long will we fall — by @jiminrings

if it’s fate, it should already be set onto your skin — that’s why jungkook’s initials are already on your finger. he’s always there for you, but not only for you. if you’re his fate, he’d rather not have it. — 14k [a, f]

❖ sweater weather — by @mini-pretzel

You and Jeongguk have that unspoken rule; just sex, no strings attached. And it’s worked well for you for years. But lately, it’s been harder and harder to keep your feelings separate. — 14k [s, a, f]

❖ miracle of the season — by @cybrsan

Cast out of Heaven after a painful betrayal, you find yourself having to navigate the intricacies of human life without any guidance from the Creator or the family you have always known. Things only get worse as the holiday season reaches its peak, with reminders of the life you left behind everywhere you look. When a familiar face pops up, you aren’t sure whether to consider it a blessing or a curse. — 17.2k [a, f, s]

❖ oath — by @bangtan-yeonghon

What if one day everything you ever wanted is taken away and your whole world comes crushing down? If you were to forget today, who would you be tomorrow? — series [a]

❖ pick & roll | la lakers — by @xpeachesncream

being one of the most popular players in the nba, jungkook takes absolutely no shit from anybody. he could give a fuck about the press, what people think about him, serious relationships. it’s a personal hell getting wrapped up with jeon jungkook— and you can’t help but fall into the same trap as every other woman who crosses paths with him. the more you fall, the more you realize that you will never be able to change a man who doesn’t want to change his ways. — 19.2k [s, a]

❖ when she loved me — by @jungkookstatts

How does one live when life is bound to end? — 11.2k [a, s]

❖ aim for the heart — by @writemywaytoyourheart

Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger. — series [a, f]

❖ bedeviled — by @writemywaytoyourheart

series [a, s, f]

❖ will it fit? — by @jeonsweetpea

So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can’t exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom… — 6.7k [f, s, a]

❖ ultimatum — by @parkmuse

Your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed). — 10.3k [s, f]

❖ kaiho — by @99liners

7.1k [a, s, f]

❖ crybaby — by @lavishedinjimin

he calls you crybaby, crybaby. but you don’t fucking care. — 9.6k [s]

❖ commitment — by @eureka-its-zico

Everything seems to be going perfect in your life. Your boyfriend Jungkook is more than you could have dreamed of and there’s been a break in the case that could define your career — one of the members of the most elusive mafia, The Devils has been captured. Heading down to the precinct you couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling: Was everything too good to be true? — ? (incomplete)

❖ what was i made for? — by @spideyjimin

have you ever met someone with whom you instantly clicked? well yes, but never to the extent of how it happened with jungkook. in a matter of days, he made you feel like the prettiest and most special woman. right there and then, you understood what you were made for. — 8.8k [f, s]

❖ a lover’s bond — by @latetaektalk

what’s jungkook supposed to do when he loses you, but go beg the god of the dead and king of the underworld to give you back? — 18.7k [a, f, s]

❖ petals with luv — by @hisunshiine

Hanahaki Disease runs rampant, and Emperor Jeon Jungkook is able to change laws for common folk, but in the palace some rules are hard to change. When his Empress-to-Be arrives, your trysts must end, but when petals begin to be coughed up, someone could lose their head. Yoonstradamus has access to magical items that could cure the disease, but at what cost? Venture back into the past with this classic ‘Be careful what you wish for...’ fairytale. — 6.2k [a, f, s]

NEXT

↪︎ MASTERLIST

↪︎ FIC RECS

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ When you are his arch-nemesis

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia

(Slight tw: mentions of violence and scheming)

✧ The black rook captures the pawn, putting the white king in check. 

For Pierro, 500 years of strife do not compare to the centuries of toil between you and him. Your dissension against the Fatui has swathed the organization in a bigger tribulation than any Heavenly Principles or centuries-old feud could. Yet to comprehend your tactics, it left The Jester to spend innumerable evenings in his office, hands clasped as his pondering ends to further frustration. 

Two enigmatic masterminds, one of the Fatui Harbingers and the other of the Abyss Order. Like opponents of a cunning chess match, you and Pierro quarreled over each piece and pawn, the cool chessboard transforming into your mutual battlefield.  

The white queen moves closer, allowing for the exchange of queens, and placing the black king in check.

To the inexperienced gaze, your whereabouts are unknown, and your moves even more indecipherable. However, to the Jester, whose sharp eye learned to seek nothing but your trail, he learned to dissect your every move like a jeweler appreciating a rare cut gem. He does not shy away from using his pawns wisely, sending out more powerful Harbingers against your Abyssal Heralds. 

And just like him, your hand doesn’t shy to strike his pawns. If he sent the Doctor, you’d retaliate with Rhinedottir. And if he dared to dispatch The Captain, your next knight piece, Surtalogi, would respond. You were no simple competitor, you were the rightful opponent to the Director’s scheming mind, his own talents put to the test as you used the Sinners of his homeland against him. He may sacrifice all his chess pieces, yet to reach you is a most stifling feat. 

Perhaps the longing for a single glance of you is worth the weight of centuries spent plotting. Whenever Pierro pushes the gnosis piece against the familiar chessboard, he imagines your piercing gaze in the shadows of the Zapolyarny Palace. Is your smile one of derision or provocation? Whatever it is, your hand emerges from the shadows, and the opposing pieces shift. The queenside pawns are traded, a rook stands on a 3 vs. 3 on the kingside, and as ever, the futile waltz of trading and jettisoning pawns continues between you and Pierro.

Yet, for over five centuries, this dance has been his greatest anticipation. Even if he must sacrifice everything to reach you, your elusive nature keeps rendering him motionless in awed admiration.

Draw agreed, neither side can make progress. 

✧ The only mutual language between you and Il Capitano has always been the clangorous clash of swords. The sound of steel against steel would reverberate throughout the plains in a tempest of precision, each strike a measured step in your relentless contest. But while the Captain respected you as a rival whenever a duel is foreseen between you two, you abhorred the Harbinger with simmering disdain.

The Captain wore the weight of people's admiration like a cloak woven from responsibility and honor, each accolade another thread in his solemn mantle. You, however, cradled the world’s fear as one might clutch a bouquet of thorn-laden roses. You were not a warrior basked in glory, but a defier of Teyvat’s natural order, remaining in the periphery of shadows as you carried out your tasks. Until he'd show up. The Fatuus would bow to you, knowing soon you two would duel once more, while you stared at him like he's an irksome inevitability one must deal with in their job. 

“Do you have to be present everywhere I go? Please make yourself scarce.” 

“Then we do not have to clash. Our confrontations can avoid bloodshed.” 

But you never heeded him. You despised his calm attitude, how he was cautious with you, how he sidestepped the storm of your onslaught rather than meeting it head-on. Even if his fighting spirit told him to linger closer, to know what it's like to let you dig your fingernails across his back, it was a silent pull he refused to indulge. Instead, he concealed his ambition, his lingering gaze tracing your form behind that pitch-black helmet. 

When you fought, Capitano knew you’d accomplish everything to overwhelm your opponent. You would sooner shatter your own bones than concede an inch. The force you exhibit in a single strike leaves an inhuman impact that crushes mountains into rubble, yet the agony that ripples through your limbs remains buried beneath practiced silence. Never once did you step back when you felt the strain of your legs when Capitano retaliated against you.

It took the Captain a while to find you after your ‘tactical retreat’. As he suspected, each battle leaves you in lonesome dishevelment, clutching your sprained limbs, barely able to drag yourself from your secluded refuge. 

“Do not lecture me on the fragility of life, Captain. Your words would be hypocrisy against your goal to pursue death from the Shade.”

You hissed, stifling your cry of pain when ice was applied to your sprained ankle. Il Capitano listened gravely to you, his hand gently holding your leg while spreading careful doses of cryo against your skin. His armored fingers gently glided across your skin, careful even when you reluctantly allowed him this close.   

“So you knew of my intentions…” 

He sighed. It seems the 1st Fatui Harbinger wasn’t the only one clawing toward the leylines, seeking passage beyond the veil. Or perhaps you always noticed how he clutched his chest. Either way, whether you despised him as an enemy or not - he hoped he’d never meet you in the Leylines of the Night Kingdom. He hoped that, at the very least, once all was said and done, you would find solace in never having to see him again.

✧ Il Dottore loathed you. Immensely. The moment he unearthed the truth of your rare blood and unnatural constitution, his obsession took root. He pursued you with relentless precision, weaving elaborate schemes to ensnare you within his grasp. In his usually imperious tone, he introduced himself at last as the 2nd Fatui Harbinger, his title laced with the weight of infamy. Your first response?

“...Who? Never heard of ‘em.” 

He gritted his teeth silently. Pursuing knowledge requires finding rare specimens as a test subject, but in his hunt for you, his patience and sanity became the test subjects instead. Due to gratuitously absurd circumstances, The Doctor never managed to capture you. You always slipped past his trail, as if casually waltzing off his snares and several ambushes that revolved around Fatui subordinates capturing you. You don’t even break a sweat, forever conveniently escaping his grasp when the 2nd arrives on site. No fights, no arguments, not even a courtesy of a glance. 

…How he wishes to just grip your wrists and cuff you to an operation table to- 

Yet the battle of wits must be omitted and instead, a more physical approach shall be initiated. If you deem yourself so highly that you won't spare the Harbinger a word, then it is time he calls you on a proper fight. 

“I have waited for far too long. If you continue to be a coward, you'll leave me with no choice but to seize you by force.”

You blinked at him, unfazed by the favorably advanced claymore he materialized within his grasp. Your response?

“...ok?” 

Except when you arrived prepared for the fight, you didn't come unattended. A Khaenri'ahn woman stood beside you, far from pleased to be in this confrontation as suddenly this wasn't a private reckoning between you and Dottore. Rhinedottir — "Gold” was now entangled into this. 

“What? Did you assume you were the only visionary scholar out there, trying to sample me? You mad scientist folk are all too boisterous. Rhinedottir, you can beat this Fatuus to a pulp and I will rightfully give you a drop of my blood as a sample. If the Harbinger wins, he shall receive it instead.” 

Why, you smart little- Dottore felt a vein throb at his temple, your audacity driving him to grit his teeth and lash every curse word in 20 languages available in the Akademiya's archives. You dare all this because you couldn't even bother to fight him head-on, utilizing one of the Five Sinners against him out of malignancy. Yet his time of rebuttals was cut short; the Harbinger found himself now fighting one of the most dangerous inventors of a fallen kingdom. And unfortunately for him, the old hag was as cunning as he is. 

Il Dottore swore an oath to do the unimaginable once he wins this competition and captures you. To yank you by the hair and drag you to the deepest part of his lab. You, however, sat there, leisurely at ease, as if indulging in an afternoon picnic while watching the chaos unfold. Young Blood vs Old Blood. The truth is, you know these two would rather annihilate each other to ashes before either of them concedes. 

How convenient for you – killing two birds with one stone. 

✧ Scaramouche's Inazuman origins are known to many throughout the Fatui Organization. However, few are aware of his keen hatred for the holy Narukami Shrine of Inazuma. Alas, who would be better to oversee the illegal distribution of delusions under the nose of the Shogun than the 6th of the Fatui Harbinger?

Thus, here he was, sent to a formal negotiation to alleviate the tension between the Fatui operating in Yashiori Island and the vigilant Narukami Shrine maids. Formal meetings like these are prevalent in the discourse of politics, and unfortunately, the Harbinger was to represent this operation. Luckily for him (or unluckily), it wasn't Guuji Yae who was dispatched from the Grand Shrine. The Balladeer was met with a different high maiden, sitting elegantly by the tatami mat when he arrived. 

“Hm? Just some lowly shrine maiden to bid the fox’s bidding? Let’s hope we’re not wasting each other’s time.”

“And the Ichimatsu doll has returned to its homeland after wandering the foreign theater. Fret not, Harbinger; this is but a formal meeting.” 

Oh, so that's how you want to play this. Clutching his fists against his lap, the Harbinger continued:

“The Fatui are just conducting international trade business with the Kanjou Commission to ship local resources like Crystal Marrow from Tataratsuna. Surely the people of Narukami can comprehend that? Unless the Sakoku Decree shut off not only borders but people’s minds too?”

You showed no discontent at Scaramouche’s tone. Instead, you delicately reached for a parchment paper and ink brush - “We have a rare saying in the Grand Narukami Shrine that aids in dispelling unpleasantries in the presence of evil,”

“Spare me your blessings and ofuda talismans, I do not wish to hear your prayers to the “almighty” Shogun fo-”

“We say “screw off” and the bane of all evil shuts its mouth,” - you lifted the talisman with your handwriting, presenting it with an austere smile. The ink is still fresh in the words 'screw off' you just scribed. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

He sees why they sent you specifically.  

This went on for months. Each time the Harbinger oversaw the discreet operations between the islands, you were there - convenient as ever. Wasting the Balladeer’s time about how it was a shrine maiden’s duty to “perform cleansing rituals around the infested land of Yashiori” or “to ensure the well-being of all common folk, even if they were Snezhnayan soldiers”. Scaramouche was not blind. He knew you were handily posted there under the innocent pretense of a meek maiden - in truth, you were gathering intel, prying into every shadow where the Fatui’s misdeeds festered. 

He couldn’t afford the Shogunate to uncover the truth; that the Fatui were siphoning the wrath of old gods to forge delusions. And you concealed what you knew. Thus, forced to play by your game, the two would end up with passive-aggressive “business talks” 

“Surely the Grand Narukami Shrine doesn’t send lonesome shrine maidens so far off? Unless you are as blind as you are horrible with navigation to wind up all the way here.” 

“Ah, your concern flatters me. But do not mind me, maybe I am not the only one lost here. Maybe a wandering puppet is also somewhere he ought not to be.” 

“Hmph. Watch your insolent mouth. Your Archon will not save you once your pretty face gets decimated. 

“Oh? Is that part of your Kabuki theater performance? I do love performances. What’s the name of your role? Is it still the “6th of the Fatui Harbingers” or the previous name?” 

You were truly more insolent than that pink fox. This is why Scaramouche abhorred low-profile missions. The most demanding aspect of running an undercover operation is stopping himself from striking thunder into your whole body and putting you in place. Perhaps then you will no longer smile so slyly at him. Even if it fueled his fixation to bicker more with you behind a polite cup of sencha. 

✧ “Ancient Moon fragment shard, an inestimable gem, setting for 30 million by Lord Harbinger Pantalone. 30 million mora, Do we have a higher bid than 30 million?”

The auctioneer’s voice rang out in a poised yet urgent cadence, addressing a room brimming with influential faces. Amidst them, Pantalone sat with effortless elegance, a composed fixture among the eager bidders, his assistant sitting nearby as they took note of the ongoing bidding progress. The rare silver debris sat in an enclosed glass casing, displayed in all of its glory to future buyers. They say it was unearthed from the outskirts of Nod-krai. However, tense silence soon settled in the auction hall, for it was clear who the highest bidder was.

“Seems this was faster than I anticipated,” – The Regrator smiled, whispering to his assistants “Get ready to send invoices to the auction staff, we will be leaving so-” 

Suddenly, an unwavering voice rang out from the back – “50 million.”

A wave of hushed murmurs rippled through the grand halls, bustle returning to the room. Pantalone didn’t even register the number at first, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion when the auctioneer announced: 

“50 million, a giant sum! Now against you, sir. 50 million. Do we have a higher bid than 50 million?”

Pantalone's composed demeanor shifted into uncertainty. He cleared his throat and raised his number – “51 million”

“51 million, do we have a-”

“60 million.” – that same voice called out. More gasps of disbelief ensued.

“75 million!”

“110 million.” 

An entourage of ridiculous numbers volleyballed back and forth between the Harbinger and an unknown new bidder. The audience of businessmen and former contenders shot their glances from you to the Regrator. What had begun as an easy acquisition had spiraled into a staggering war of hundreds of millions. All for a single fragment of celestial stone. At last, the auctioneer brought the gavel down for the final closing in your favor – 170 million mora for the Ancient Moon fragment shard, and for the first time in ages, someone outbid Pantalone. 

“Find out who this newcomer is,” – Pantalone whispered sternly to his assistant, adjusting his shirt cuffs to conceal his simmering frustration. How does a first-time bidder easily swoop in with hundreds of millions when none have heard of them? When he stood up under the pretense of making light conversation with his “new opponent” he was surprised to see you wasting no time with trivialities with fellow noblefolk. You just came in, received your auctioned item, and left silently just as you came in. 

"You see, ever since that auction, I had difficulties reaching out to you. And I couldn't leave such a rare mystery escape me with no introduction," - he spoke when you two met at last, his smile suave as he handed you a glass of champagne "Pantalone, the Regrator. With pleasure, dear."

You looked unimpressed but obliged - "Perhaps you mean a rare luxury getting bought right under your nose, mister Harbinger? No need for introductions. Everyone knows your name."

It was a rare crack in his impenetrable veneer. One minute he is smiling politely at you, but beneath that polished exterior, his mind reeled. Negotiations with you were a lost cause. You never entertained his offers, never indulged in polite courtesies, never once left room for cooperation. Instead, you outbid him: on assets, on stocks, and, on rare occasions, even in exclusive dealerships.

An endless struggle of one-upping the other, a silent war waged in wealth and influence; especially when he sought your company whenever you were present. Yet what deal cannot be sweetened by Mora? As a sign of peace, he sent out gifts of gold and luxuries to you. You would respond with an appreciative nod, stepping closer until you could whisper alluringly in his ear:

“I have no need for such cheap trinkets. Save your pocket change next time. You might need it once I bankrupt you.” 

✧ In the days of old, when Tartaglia was a mere merry child in kindergarten - you and him were childhood “friends”. Well, friends, according to his parents. In truth, on the first day of kindergarten when little Ajax greeted you with a big toothy grin - you silently blinked at him and threw a ball in his face.

“Hey! What was that for, you big meanie?!”

“You’re too loud. You could’ve caught my ball instead of standing.” 

When Ajax was still a schoolboy, he had the misfortune of being in the same school and class as you. Probably the misfortune of growing up in a small, Snezhnayan town. Now in elementary, recess was a fleeting paradise of snow angels and playful battles, children laughing as they hurled snowballs at one another. Amidst the flurry of winter playtime, he spotted you peacefully building your snowman nearby. So naturally, he scooped up a small lump of snow and threw the ball at your back, a camaraderie way to invite for play.

What you did is run full speed at the boy and tackle him. It was a good thing that the teachers were nearby when they heard Ajax scream as you two almost rolled off a snowy hill.

“They tackled me first!”

“No, he attacked me first.” 

These were the fond memories of the 11th Fatui Harbinger, filled with mischief and boyish adventure. Occasionally, he sighs with nostalgia whenever he sees children playing in the snow. He wondered how life had shaped you, now that time had pulled you both onto separate paths, adulthood sweeping away the reckless days of youth. Perhaps he could say he even misses those childish fights with y-

Nope, never mind, you are standing right in front of him now.

“Huh? What… what are you doing here?” - he pointed at you in utter bafflement, seeing you in a unique Fatui uniform.

“Hm? Haven’t you received the news? I am your supervisor from now on.”

He took his words back, he absolutely didn’t miss you. He didn’t miss how calm and collected you were, from childhood to current adulthood, as if nothing fazed you. Most absurdly, how in Tsaritsa’s name does a Fatui Harbinger get someone like you as a training supervisor? He is the 11th; associates such as yourself work under him, even if Tartaglia would never enforce such principles.

“Hold that thought, is this a crude joke?! Who even assigned you?”

You reached for the clipboard in your hands – “Uh, someone by the name… Punella… Pulcinella? Chicken?”

“You don’t even know the name of the Harbinger that employed you?!!!” 

This was outrageous. A cruel jest of fate. Why would The Fatui even accept someone for the likes of you in their ranks? Judging by the fact you are sent by the Rooster, you weren’t some lackey either, but one who overlooked formal matters and ensured strict adherence to Fatui standards. Noticing his aghast tone of denial, you crossed your arms.

“Watch your tone, young man. From now on, all your progress as the 11th will be delegated to me. You better show some respect.”

“We are literally the same age!”

Perhaps those two little kids had never truly disappeared, only their playground had changed. Where there were once snowy schoolyards, there were now cold, disciplined Fatui training halls. Whenever you and Childe were in each other’s presence, any semblance of civility or maturity was promptly discarded. Bickering comments and familiar acts of physical nagging always remained. Only Pulcinella, the 5th Fatui Harbinger, stood by the hallway from afar, chuckling with parental mirth.

“Ah, childhood sweethearts. How delightful.”

I am back! Requests are back, feel free to chat or just share your headcanons with me. Otherwise, you may check my art or masterlist with the rest of the fanfics. Thank you for reading.

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

ceo!sukuna x secretary!reader, modern au

tags: degradation, daddy kink, dirty talk, fingering, spanking, true form sukuna notes: minors dni, one sequel to "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘉𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘴𝘴" - you decided to not text your boss Sukuna wc: 1.3k

Sukuna was fuming with rage as he sat at his work desk, eyes glued on his door waiting for you to finally come in. He gave you his private number, a number no one got (since he mainly fucked women at work anyway) and you didn’t call him? Not even bother to sent a message? Did you even save his number? Sukuna's rage was a tempest, a storm swirling within him, threatening to burst forth and consume everything in its path. His fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned bone-white, his jaw tensed, muscles coiling like springs ready to snap. Each breath he took felt like fire searing his lungs, fueling the inferno of his fury.

It wasn't just anger; it was a primal force, raw and unbridled. How could you crawl over to him like a slut and then just ghost him. After he left the bar he couldn’t even get his cock soft – it waited to be buried deep inside your cunt. Suddenly (and finally) his door opened and you walked into the room, your eyes staring at the floor.

“Good morning, sir”, you greeted him sheepishly.

“Lock the fucking door and come over here, now.”

Your boss didn’t even bother to hide his anger and you were smart enough not to question his mood. Without a word you walked over to his desk. His red eyes were burning holes into your skin.

“Why didn’t you text me? I told you to do that”, Sukuna stood up, his fingers tapping on his wooden desk as he moved closer to you.

“I don’t think that would have been appropriate, sir.”

As the words hit his ears, a surge of anger coursed through Sukuna's veins like a bolt of lightning. The sentence struck him with the force of a physical blow. His jaw clenched so tight it felt as though his teeth might shatter under the pressure. A torrent of emotions roiled within him, a turbulent sea of indignation and frustration threatening to engulf him entirely. How could you dare utter such words, he seethed inwardly, feeling his temper flare hotter with each passing moment. Every fiber of his being screamed for retribution, for a release of the pent-up rage festering within him. Yet, beneath the anger, there simmered a sense of hurt, a wounded pride that stoked the flames of his fury even higher.

“Inappropriate, huh?” Sukuna's heart pounded with an adrenaline-fueled rhythm as he pressed you against his workdesk, his palm firmly planted beside you, caging you in. The suddenness of his action caught you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise before a flicker of excitement danced within you. His gaze bore into yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, a silent declaration of desire. The scent of your perfume filled his senses, intoxicating him further as he leaned in.

“You know what’s inappropriate? All the times you went on break just to rub your little pussy after I praised you. The way you press your legs together in an attempt to not cum all over the place after I yell at colleagues who fuck up their work. You think I’m dumb, little one?”

Sukuna's lips grazed your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. The faintest touch of his lips against your skin ignited a fire within you, a wave of sensation coursing through your body like electricity. His kisses were rough and urgent, each one leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His grip tightened on your arm, a rough urgency in his movements as he spun you around, your back now pressed firmly against Sukuna’s chest. The suddenness of his action caused your breath to catch in your throat, your heart racing with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. His touch was possessive yet intoxicating, sending a jolt of desire coursing through your veins. With your back against him, you could feel the heat of his body, the strength of his embrace and his hard cock pressing against your ass.

“You need to be punished, baby, Was waiting for you the night to text me”, he whispered into your ears before taking a step back, “Bend over the desk, slut.”

As you leaned over your boss's desk, the air seemed to crackle with tension. Your movements were graceful, yet purposeful, the lines of your silhouette casting a spell of allure. With each subtle shift, the fabric of your blouse hugged your curves, your skirt rocking up, teasingly revealing hints of the allure beneath. Sukuna, momentarily captivated by the sight before him, struggled to maintain his composure and not just fuck you right there and then.

“You’ve been a bad girl”, all of sudden, without any kind of warning, his hand smacked down on your ass, earning a small squeal, “You a little cocktease, huh? Knew damn well how fucking soaked you got after our simple kiss and then you decided to not text me after?”

“I-I’m sorry, sir”, he whimpered as another blow hit your ass. Sukuna pulled your skirt down to the ground, exposing your behind. Now it would start to hurt.

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, baby. I wanted to fill you up real good last night. I would have come over just to let you bounce on my cock. Beg for forgiveness, slut.”  And once again he smacked your ass.

“I’m sorry” Another blow. “Pl-please…Please forgive me, Mr. Sukuna.” Another blow. Your ass was turning red at this point. “I’m begging you pl–please…ahh.” That moan was everything Sukuna needed to hear – so needy and eager, he imagined you would love for him to manhandle you like this. Such a dirty whore.

You were a begging, trembling mess before him and he loved every inch of the view. Grinning he reached his hand out, his finger grazing over your thong covered slit. “Soaked through your panties already, baby? That’s all it got? Some dirty talk and spanking? Want daddy to help you out?”

Self-respect? Professionalism? Everything left your body as soon as he called himself daddy. “Yes, please help me out, daddy.”

“Now you’re a good girl.” Sukuna pulled your thong down and you groaned as you felt him use his finger to circle your clit. Seemed like daddy knew your body well, knew the pressure and the patterns that could turn you into a stuttering and groaning mess. When he dipped his fingers inside of you, you shifted slightly to make him go deeper. His fingers fucked you open so well, deepening his strokes to rub your g-spot and draw you closer to the edge. You felt yourself give in to him, becoming more wet as he continued touching your clit and pumping his fingers into your sloppy cunt as well.

“You’re so fucking wet for me. Can you hear it? How my fingers ram in and out of your slutty hole, huh? Clenching me so well, sucking me in. Tell daddy what you want, little one, tell me.”

“D–daddy…please, please fuck me”, Sukuna never stopped fingering your hole and restarted spanking your ass, “I need your cock, daddy, ahh– I’m begging you to fill me up.”

You heard Sukuna unzipping his pants, something warm now pushing against your entrance about to replace his fingers.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll call me your god.”

Maybe you were way too horny and desperate, losing touch with reality because suddenly you felt two hands grabbing your waist while two other hands wrapped around your body and cupped your tits. Sukuna rammed his cock into your pussy but you could feel something even thicker and bigger laying on your ass.

“You’re my favorite human, little one.”

[midnight-mourning]

Sweet Seas

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 1💘💘

Starting out strong with some fish! And by strong i mean this is very syrupy sweet/fluffy, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Tempest coming in once again with the fish. How about a scuba diver yn with a houseboat? Fish boys trying chocolate for the first time with yn? Maybe catching special fish for them?

Word Count: 2498

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

The wind sweeps up your hair through the open window, making you clutch onto your hat with your free hand. You glance back down to your map, making sure you're at the right coordinates. You swore this was the right spot. If it's not, you'll be a little more than stressed about it. Though, you're sure that if it came down to it, they'd find you before you'd find them again. 

Still, you'd only been planning on a brief trip back to land, just to refuel, stock up on food, and so on. And get your mail. Which there was lots of. Much more than you'd have thought. Though, it'd been a month or so, and with Valentine's day around the corner, you should have expected it. All your family and friends had sent their gifts early, like to make sure you'd receive them in time. 

One of the initial cons to living out on your little houseboat was the lack of proper communication between you and the outside world, but you'd made it work for the most part. Besides, at this point you don't think you could go back to a normal day job, pencil pushing at a desk all day. No thanks. 

Being out on the open ocean, documenting the sea life you came across up close and reporting back your first hand accounts, you'd take that any day. The crisp sea air, the sparkling waters all around you, the shining stars at night, it was perfect. 

A loud thump on the other end of the boat resounds throughout, just slightly rocking you. 

There was also the added fact of the matter that if you returned to land again, two certain someone's would be a little more than displeased about it. 

It had been an accident, coming across the two mers during your travels. You didn't even know they were real, much less that they could be giant sea creatures. All hiding down below the surface of that vast expanse. 

Why these two had decided to befriend you as opposed to making you a light snack, you still weren't sure yourself. Rather, after the initial shock on both sides, they'd seemingly grown rather fond of you, as you had them. Exchanging stories and laughter and the likes.

Both were rather large fans of affection and the likes, fighting over head scratches and forehead kisses. They loved to bring you things, as well, you'd noticed. Initially lots and lots of fish, though once you explained you had your own food they switched to things like shells or random human things that had sunk below. But also more fish—alive this time—for your research. 

You'd documented this in your own private research, especially their reactions to your reactions to the gifts. They always seemed to be seeking approval for some reason, and you were always sure to give it, but they seemed to be looking for something, more. You just weren't sure yet as to what. 

Another thump pulls you out of your thoughts. You grin to yourself, switching your controls to off so that you're now simply drifting along, and hurry outside. 

At first you don't see any sign of either of them. But then there's another thump, a little larger. This time you wobble on your feet and scowling as you scan around. Off to your left you see the edge of a yellow fin just barely peeking above the railing's edge. Another knock, and you hear snickering. 

You huff, but play along. "Well, I wonder what in the world that knocking could be. I sure hope I haven't run along a reef."

"Do it again, again!" You hear a not-so hushed whisper from the yellow fin's direction. 

Again, the boat rocks. You're not impressed. 

You sigh, turning as if to head back inside. "I guess I have no choice but to turn back then. What a shame, I was so excited to see the boys too." 

You stomp as if to head back to the controls and wait, listening. 

"They're, they're leaving!" Panic now. 

Another voice, harsher in its whispering. "It's a trick! They would never."

You hear an argument begin to form and you make your way to the railing, peeking over with a smug smirk. 

"You know, if you're going to pull a prank, maybe speaking in a language I can understand isn't your best idea. And also hiding a bit better would help too."

Both the mers in the water whip to look at you. 

"Told you." The blue and white one grumbles, though he appears undeniably relieved.

The sunny one ignores him, instead jumping up to grab the railing to meet you eye to eye. It forces you to step back to avoid getting headbutt by his much larger face. Water splashes all around him, and the resulting swells rock your boat, Sun oblivious as ever to his own strength and size. 

"Sunbeam! You're finally back!" He chirps, causing you to laugh. He sets his elbows on the railing, looking at you expectantly. 

You shake your head and reach out to give him scratches and such. You swear you think you hear him begin to purr as you stand on your tiptoes to kiss his forehead. "And you're already begging for attention, color me surprised."

Moon makes room for himself beside the other mer. "To be fair, it's been several days."

"Don't act like you didn't follow me as far as you could." You scoff, switching to give the lunar mer pets now, much to Sun's displeasure. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Moon tsks, but revels in the attention just as much. "You certainly acted like it."

"Oh, did someone have to find food for himself for once?" You coo, planting a kiss to his cheek as he grumbles. 

Sun whines, either from lack of attention or being called out, hard to say. "It was terrible, Sunshine! Just the worst."

"Well you're both still alive and well, so I think you fended for yourselves just fine." 

Their shared grins all but confirm such, and you sigh as you step back again. "You're lucky I like you both so well, otherwise I wouldn't be sharing the candy I got while I was gone."

They watch as you enter the nearest door, snatching up your Valentine's gifts and coming back out to the deck to sit and open them. 

"Candy? Nothing like that sharp stuff from last time, right?" Sun scrunches his features. 

You chuckle. "No, no pop rocks this time,"—You hold up a heart shaped-box—"Chocolate! I think it's fish-safe." You examine the ingredients list, muttering more to yourself. "At least I think so."

You open the package and pop a chocolate into your mouth, savoring it. "Man, I love Valentine's day. Here, go long." You pick out a piece and raise your arm. Sun checks the memo, and mouth wide, you toss the chocolate his way. His jaw opens and snaps shut in an instant, and as he chews the—relatively small piece in comparison to himself—his eyes widen. 

"Good right?" You ask, doing the same for Moon. 

Sun nods rapidly, with Moon humming in agreement. 

You continue to indulge and share, opening your letters and valentine's cards. 

"Why are all your letters red and pink?" Moon asks, features quizzical. 

You snap your fingers. "Shoot! I didn't explain what Valentine's is, did I?"

Both mers shake their heads. 

You briefly give a rundown on the holiday, the traditions, and so on. They listen intently as you explain, soaking up all the information they could, as usual. 

"So when someone gives things like chocolate, cards, and so on, that means they're saying they love the recipient, right?" Sun questions slowly, uncertain. 

You nod, tossing another candy his way and eating a piece of your own. "Pretty much!" 

At this both mers turn to each other, voices hushed as they speak in that tongue you've not even begun to try and decipher. They seem rather excited about whatever it is they're talking about though. 

You're about to inquire as to what they're discussing when Sun suddenly disappears under the water, leaving you with just Moon. 

"Oh, leaving already?" You're surprised, you'd have thought they'd hang around longer since you'd been gone. 

Moon chuckles, there's an atypical lightness to it. "Not quite. How would you feel about a swim, Sweetfin?"

"As long as it's not too cold." You say, standing up with a stretch. "Give me a few to put this all away and change."

"Take your time." He drawls. 

You head inside, put everything away, and get into your wetsuit. When you walk back out on deck, you're flabbergasted at the sight before you. 

In a—rather large—pile are an assortment of 'treasures' as the mers had insisted upon calling them. Dozens of shells, sea glass, and more was piled up on your deck

 Before you can say anything there's a splash and Sun emerges from the water with even more to add to the pile, beaming upon noticing you. 

You're bewildered. "What's all this?"

"You got us something, it was only fair that we return the favor! Though, we've been trying for some time now, but it's good to know that's how it works with humans! Not that it matters now, but still."

Your brows furrow. "...How what works with humans?"

"Courting of course! If we knew it was a mutual exchange of gifts we would have been more patient." Sun chuckles

It takes a moment, then it all clicks into place for you. That's what all the gifts had meant. They'd been, trying to—your face starts to burn. Partly from embarrassment, partly from your own foolishness for not realizing sooner. You're also, incredibly flattered. You'd had a bit of crush, but had brushed it off because it seemed improbable that they'd feel the same. 

You shake your head, nodding as you start putting on your diving gear. "Right. Makes sense. My um, apologies for not responding sooner." You notice then that Moon's missing. "What happened to Moon?"

"He's waiting down below, we have something we want to show you." 

You glance up, eyes narrow. "What's 'something'?"

Sun's smirk reveals nothing. Hand tracing the water as you hop up onto the railing. "Something you'll really like, that's all."

"Well now I'm a bit suspicious, but I guess I'll go along with it." You adjust your goggles and your mask.

Once you're situated, Sun offers his hand to gently lower you in the water, coming face to face with a snicker. "Good. You weren't going to have much a choice, Starshine."

You shoot him a glare, but allow him to lead you down into the depths. You swim across large reefs brimming with fish, around vents and past seagrass forests. It stops being familiar territory after a bit, the terrain becoming rockier, and semi barren. At a certain point, Sun looks back to you and points to your tank, then down. 

You give a thumbs up, and he nods. 

You end up at the entrance to a massive cave, and after a moment Moon appears from the cave mouth. He and Sun chitter back and forth to each other, then Moon takes your other hand and they both take you inside. Upon entering, it's initially pretty dark, save for the glow of their eyes and fins. But going deeper a glow starts to appear all around you, and the cave grows wider until it opens up wider. 

Looking up, you can see there's an air pocket in space above you. You're not too far below the surface, and the boys seem fine as they break the water, so you do the same. Peeking out above the water, you find a massive open space, filled with various trinkets and the likes. On the ceiling above you, various plants emit a soft glow, similar to the glow in the water around you. 

You swim over to the edge of the pool, and with a bit of help, hop up onto it.

With a bit of hesitation, you remove your mask and are—thankfully—pleasantly surprised to take in a bit of breathable air. 

"This is, beautiful..." You look all around you. "How'd you find this place?"

Moon snickers, getting partly out of the water to sit next to you. His arm pulls you into his side and you feel your face warm again. "It's our home. You've shared yours with us for so long, it's only right we share ours."

"S-share?"

"Only if you'd like. Whenever you'd like." Sun rests his head in your lap, grin sharp. "Though we're hoping that will be often."

You put a hand up to hide your face. All this because of some Valentine's chocolate. You're not opposed, but you do feel overwhelmed, and guilty for not catching on sooner. Not to mention having given nothing in return beside a few measly pieces of candy. 

"Is everything alright, Star?" Moon asks. 

You nod. "It's, great, trust me. I just feel awful that you've been working so hard to... impress me, and I've gotten you nothing in return." You put up a hand as they start to take up for you. "No, really. I gave you a couple of tiny bits of chocolate! I'm gonna make it up to you. I promise. Whatever you'd like, consider it done."

"It's not necessary." Moon scoffs.

You shake your head. "It is!"

You bicker back and forth, then Sun clears his throat, grabbing your attention. 

"Well, there is something you can do..." He trails off, then looks but looks up to you with puppy eyes. 

Immediately you know exactly what he's thinking. "Oh, you're serious aren't you? They're an endangered species!"

"You said borderline! Pretty please? I'll give you the prettiest pearl I can find!" Sun takes your hand, kissing your wrist then snuggling into it. It doesn't slip by you how Moon's hold on your waist tightens just a tinge. Neither does the slight grin that flashes across Sun's features for a moment as he continues his actions.

You shake your head at their antics. Honestly, how you didn't catch on sooner is beyond you. 

"This is supposed to be my gift to you, silly. I'm the one in debt here." You sigh, folding near immediately. "Fine. But only a handful, that's it. If you eat them all up, there won't be any left."

Sun cheers, and Moon chuckles. "It's appreciated, Sweetfin."

"Told you they'd give in eventually." Sun snickers and you gasp. 

Moon's laughter rumbles against you. "You were right, I shouldn't have doubted their adoration. Or the tenderness of their heart."

You scowl at the two of them, grumbling as they coo and fawn over you to make up for their deceit. In all reality, you don't mind too much, you feel it's justified considering they've been trying so long to make their feelings clear to you. 

And now, you'd make yours clear to them.

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you @rosescarletful for the adorable little prompt! I had a lot of fun with the environments for this one, and making the fish very flirty and such hehe ^^

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[suguae]

Haunted

part one - part two

જ synopsis. After months of longing and uncertainty, you reunite with your ex-boyfriend Toji and his son Megumi at a nearby diner, where the warmth of their presence fills you with hope for a fresh start and a renewed sense of family.

જ pairings. T. Fushiguro x Fem! Reader

જ a/n. You thought I'd give you guys the silent treatment for month again, probably. But I'm back and I'm going to try my best to upload normal again, keyword TRY.

Six months had passed since the last echo of Toji's voice had graced your ears, each day stretching into an eternity of longing and uncertainty. The memory of his deep, resonant tone lingered like a gentle caress against your skin, stirring a tempest of emotions within you. As you navigated the labyrinth of your thoughts, one question loomed larger than all the rest: was Toji doing okay?

Was he still grieving over his dead wife, or had he begun to heal? And if so, was he ready to love you anew, to embark on a journey of rediscovery and redemption together?

The piercing ring of the phone shattered the fragile sanctuary of your thoughts, jolting you back to the stark reality of the present moment. Your heart quickened its pace as you glanced towards the source of the sound, the glow of the screen casting an eerie illumination in the dimness of your tiny apartment.

Toji's name flashed boldly on the display, a beacon of light cutting through the darkness of the night. A surge of emotions welled up within you—surprise, anticipation, and a tinge of apprehension—all swirling together in a tumultuous whirlwind.

It felt like a sign, as if he had heard the silent echoes of your thoughts reverberating through the ether. Could it be mere coincidence, or something more? The very idea sent shivers down your spine, igniting a flicker of hope within the depths of your soul.

With trembling fingers, you reached out to answer the call, the weight of uncertainty heavy upon you. Was this the moment you had been waiting for, the chance to bridge the chasm that had separated you two for so long? 

You brought the phone to your ear, the anticipation hung thick in the air, each heartbeat echoing the rhythm of your longing. You couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, fate had finally decided to intervene.

Thoughts of Megumi danced on the periphery of your consciousness. Were you guys finally ready to confront the demons of your past and embrace the promise of a brighter future?

The word slipped from your lips like a fragile prayer, carrying with it the weight of all the unspoken hopes and fears that had lingered between you two for so long. "Hello?" you repeated, the sound hanging heavy in the air, waiting for Toji's response to break the silence.

For a moment, there was nothing but the steady thrum of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. And then, finally, a soft exhale on the other end of the line, the faint rustle of movement as Toji gathered his thoughts.

"Hey," his voice came, soft and tentative, yet infused with a warmth that washed over you like a gentle wave. The sound of it sent a shiver down your spine.

you held your breath, waiting for him to continue, the anticipation mounting with each passing second. And then, with a quiet resolve, you spoke again.

"It's been a while," you said, the understatement hanging heavy between the two, a testament to the distance that had grown between you both in the wake of your shared pain. "How have you been?"

The question lingered in the air, pregnant with meaning, a silent plea for honesty and vulnerability in the face of the uncertain future. And as you waited for Toji's response, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, this conversation was the first step towards healing the wounds that had long divided you both.

Toji's words hung in the air like a delicate melody, each syllable carrying with it the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. "I miss everything about you," he confessed, his voice soft yet filled with a longing that echoed in the depths of your soul. The vulnerability in his words was palpable, a raw honesty that stirred something deep within you.

As his plea washed over you, you felt a flood of emotions surge to the surface—love, longing, and a flicker of hope amidst the shadows of your past. The ache of separation had carved a chasm between you, but in that moment, his words bridged the gap with an unspoken promise of reconciliation and renewal.

"I need to see you," he implored, the urgency in his tone resonating with the echoes of your own heart's desires. The longing in his voice tugged at the strings of your soul, igniting a spark of courage within you.

With a steady resolve, you met his plea with a whisper of your own, "I need to see you too." The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all that had been left unsaid, yet brimming with the potential of what could be.

Toji's insistence reverberated through the phone, his words a fervent plea for connection and reunion. "We can meet up, somewhere… anywhere, baby, just tell me," he urged, the desperation in his voice pulling at the strings of your heart. The prospect of seeing him again, of bridging the chasm that had separated you for so long, filled you with a heady mix of anticipation and apprehension.

And then, as if a beacon had been lit in the darkness, he spoke his name—Megumi. Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of him, a rush of emotions flooding your senses. He wasn't your child, not biologically at least, but the bond you shared transcended bloodlines. From the moment you had met him, he had nestled his way into the deepest recesses of your heart, filling a void you never knew existed.

The thought of seeing Megumi again, of wrapping him in your arms and showering him with the love he deserved, sent a surge of warmth coursing through your veins. He was a constant presence in your thoughts, a beacon of light in the darkness that had enveloped your life.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, let's meet." The words hung in the air, heavy with anticipation and the promise of a reunion long overdue. And as you made plans to come together once more, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over you—a quiet reassurance that, no matter what the future held, you would face it together, as a family.

During the aftermath of the breakup, you found yourself spiraling into a dark abyss of self-destructive behavior. Drinking became a crutch, a futile attempt to numb the ache that gnawed at your soul. Overworking became a distraction, a way to bury yourself in tasks and responsibilities to avoid facing the gaping void left by Toji's absence. And as the days stretched into weeks and months, the toll of neglecting your own well-being became painfully apparent.

It was all too easy to place blame on Toji, to cast him as the villain in the narrative of your shared pain. But deep down, you knew the truth—it wasn't his fault, not entirely. You had chosen to entangle yourself with a widower, knowing full well the complexities and challenges that came with loving someone who was still grieving.

Yet despite the turmoil raging within you, a glimmer of clarity began to emerge amidst the chaos. The realization that no amount of self-destructive behavior could mend the shattered pieces of your heart, nor could it bridge the chasm that had grown between you and Toji.

Slowly but surely, the bad habits began to wane, replaced by a newfound determination to confront the unresolved issues head-on. You stopped reaching for the bottle as a temporary salve for your pain, recognizing that true healing could only come from within. You eased up on the relentless pursuit of productivity, learning to prioritize self-care and introspection over the relentless pursuit of perfection.

It wasn't an easy journey, fraught with setbacks and moments of doubt. But with each passing day, you grew stronger, more resilient in the face of adversity. And as you looked back on the tumultuous path that had led you to this moment, you realized that the key to finding peace lay not in blaming others, but in taking ownership of your own happiness and well-being.

As the agreed-upon time approached, a sense of anticipation and nervous energy coursed through your veins. The prospect of seeing Toji again after months apart filled you with a heady mix of emotions—hope, uncertainty, and a tinge of excitement. The void that had loomed large in your heart in his absence now seemed poised to be filled, if only for a fleeting moment.

You arrived at the nearby diner with a fluttering heart and a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind. The familiar sights and sounds of the cozy establishment offered a sense of comfort amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead. The soft glow of the lights, the gentle hum of conversation, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you like a warm embrace.

As you stepped inside, you scanned the room anxiously, searching for Toji's familiar figure amidst the sea of faces. And then, there he was, sitting at a corner table, his gaze locked on yours as if he had been waiting for you all along.

Sitting next to Toji was the little toddler, his bright eyes sparkling with excitement at your appearance. You couldn't help but smile as you caught his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you at the sight of him. Megumi reached out eagerly towards you, his tiny hand outstretched in silent invitation.

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[the-halloween-jack]

Déjà Vu ✢ Jason Todd

Synopsis: When the reader's comms grow suddenly silent, Jason Todd's worst fear takes shape — not just the possibility of losing someone, but the cold, inescapable echoes of a past he could never bury. As he fights his way through the grime of Gotham City, one truth becomes undeniable: some nightmares never cease, they resurface. Jason Todd x Reader, female pronouns.

Warnings: Angst, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of death, mentions of past domestic violence. Masterlist

Notes: This is my first Jason Todd piece after many years of reading them. Hopefully, it is the first of many <3

Words: 3,181k

The first hit split her lip.

The second sent her to her knees.

The third stole her breath, left her gasping, hands splayed in the warmth of her own blood beneath her.

‘Oh, sweetheart.’ He drawled, ‘I have to say, I love the symmetry of this.’ 

The Joker laughed, one hand gesturing to her, the other twirling the gruesome crowbar between his gloved fingers like a baton. Y/N spat red onto the warehouse floor, teeth bared with something akin to a smile, though it was distorted with her wrath. ‘Go to hell.’

He tutted, shaking his head as though he were a disappointed teacher. ‘Now, now, don’t be like that, darling. You should be honoured! Not just anybody gets a starring role in one of my reruns.’

Her knees remained on the glistening crimson concrete as she forced herself upright, muscles shrieking with the exertion. Y/N could feel the blood seeping into the fibres of her clothes; it was quickly turning cold. She was trembling. Weak. But she refused to stay down, to yield. She knew what this very situation had done to Jason, witnessed the wreckage it left in its wake. The man it had turned him into.

She would not grant Joker the satisfaction of her fear.

He sighed dramatically. ‘Honestly… I was hoping for a bit more fight from you; after all, I did a number on you.’ He waved the crowbar, a looming threat. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll keep the rest quick. After all, we wouldn’t want lover boy to catch the show.’

Jason.

Her heart slammed painfully against her ribs. She could not comprehend how he knew what Jason was to her. They had always been so careful.

He was coming. Y/N knew it; she could feel his pending presence like a tempest looming in the ether. But he would not make it here in time. That was the whole objective. The Joker had planned this, crafted it. It had all but nothing to do with her, he stitched it together like a grotesque puppet show designed solely to torment him.

Just as he had before.

Her whole form rattled with each sputtered breath; she swore she could feel her fragmented bones shift within her, but she forced herself to move, to push forward. There was something she yearned to tell him, something he needed to know; it was long overdue. If she could only stall, draw out this awful night, but she could only stretch so far before it would splinter. She could feel it; her life was drawn like a string, taut and thrumming. She feared with one more blow, it would snap under the strain. 

Y/N could not bear the thought of him finding her like this, discovering her body; it left a bad taste in her mouth, it burned bitter; she choked on it. 

The Joker noticed this. His wicked grin stretched wider, more daunting, eyes alight with sick amusement. ‘So you do have some fight left in you. That’s adorable.’

Then, he swung and her vision erupted with stars, they burned with a white-hot agony.

She barely felt herself hit the ground, as though her body was not hers anymore, it was something distant, something leaden, she could already feel reality receding. A small, bitter part of her recognised the poetry of it. Saw what the Joker was trying to achieve, the symmetry, as he had called it.

Y/N had spent so long learning how to crawl her way back from death. This could not be the exception. 

The Joker crouched beside her, his shoes shifting against the concrete, she watched them from her new place on the floor and stared as the newly shed blood glistened from his soles. 

‘Aw, don’t check out on me just yet, peaches. The real fun hasn’t even started.’

He reached out for her face as if in a caress, his gloved fingers grazing ever so gently down her cheek as though he had not just beaten her within an inch of her life. Bile rose in her throat at his touch; it burned like acid. 

She could barely see him now. Her vision was oscillating, black setting in at the edges. But she could hear him. She could feel the suffocating weight of inevitability settle over her like a burial shroud.

Jason was not going to make it; this realisation settled like a cold, unforgiving weight in her chest, smothering each breath she took. The fragile threads of hope she had held onto retreated into the abyss. Her heart ached as the cruel truth settled over her; Jason would arrive too late. He would never hear the words she so desperately longed to convey; the unspoken confession burned in her chest, restricted by time.

She was not going to survive this, the Joker would never allow it. Jason would find her like this, broken, derelict. She would not get the chance to explain. 

He leaned in close now, breath hot against her ear; it sent a shudder down her form. ‘I adore the symmetry I’ve created thus far, there’s only one thing left to do; I want him to see the damage I’ve done.’

‘Y’know,’ he murmured, still close to her face, voice low and sweet like the whisper of a lover, ‘he’s never gonna forgive himself for this.’

She ached to tell him he was wrong, that Jason would endure. That she would be okay. That he would not be unmade by this. But the words curdled in the warmth of her throat, thick with blood, the murk coiled around her like a patient tide; she was already ebbing from the world, conceding to its darkness.

Joker pulled away, sighing. ‘Ah well. C’est la vie.’

He stepped aside, allowing a red glow to seep into her stunted view, steady, unrelenting, and ominous. Her wavering vision had the numbers mangle into indistinct shapes, but she required no clarity. Y/N already knew what they meant. She braced herself, eyes fluttering shut. 

Jason could feel it like a thrum, like static in the air, like pressure boring into his skull. He grew tense, as though a spectre gripped the back of his neck in an unrelenting grasp. The comms had gone silent. Her comms. She never went silent.

His fingers wreathed tighter around the throttles of his bike as Gotham blurred past him, neon lights receding into its gloom as he tore through the streets. The city was too loud, too alive, too unaware of what was festering beneath its surface.

His mind clawed at the last words she had said before the line cut out, ‘I’ve got it, Jay. Don’t worry.’

But he did worry. He always worried. And now that worry had shifted into something sharp and breathless, twisting deep in his chest; he fought for air.

A crackle in his ear. Tim. ‘Jason…’ 

‘Where is she?’ He did not like the desperation in his voice, but he could not quell it.

A pause. Too long. Too weighted.

Then, a sigh. ‘An abandoned warehouse off of Dock 52.’

He was already turning the bike. Already forcing the engine to its limit. He ran red lights and tore through intersections, deaf to the horns, blind to the people, heedless to everything but the address burning itself into his mind, searing to his vision.

A warehouse.

His stomach plummeted. He knew what that meant.

He knew what would happen there.

He knew what Joker planned to do.

His pulse pounded in his ears. His breath turned shallow, quick and useless. His grip on the handlebars was white-knuckled, and his mind — his mind was a reel of tainted memories, a horror film of times gone past. This was not happening. This was not happening. This was not...

‘Jason.’ Dick’s voice this time. Steady. Trying to ground him. It only made it worse.

‘We’ll get her.’

But Jason already knew he was too late. It could never be that easy.

The flames licked and devoured the crumbling ruins around him, their heat pressed against his skin, yet somehow, he had never felt colder. It was the awful crimson that had first caught his eye; her body, once so strong and sure, now lay in a heap, decrepit and ghastly in a pool of her own blood. He did not recall making his way to her beaten frame, but abruptly, his knees had hit the concrete, a hollow, sickening sound swallowed by the vast emptiness of the desolate space. With trembling fingers, he reached for her and pulled her into his embrace.

Blood crept up his knuckles, stark and seeped within the crevices of his pale, illuminated skin.

It crept beneath his fingernails.

Her blood.

His hands shook violently with this foul revelation. The warehouse smelled of rust and rot, of soot and smoke, of something macabre. Shadows stretched against the walls, twisted structures caught in the flickering light of bare bulbs, but Jason could not see them. He could not perceive anything beyond her.

His breath was trapped somewhere in his ribs, clawing at his throat, fighting its way out as a broken, trembling sob.

No. No, no, no, no...

She was still warm.

That was the worst part.

Her body had not yet caught up with the brutal finality of her death. He had been close, so close. The blood that seeped from her skull was fresh, staining the floor, staining him, sinking into the creases of his clothes, into the cracks of his skin, imbibing itself into his very bones.

He glanced unwillingly to his side and saw a joker card weighed down by a battered crowbar. It was left there to taunt him; he felt a stinging pain rise in his throat.

He already knew this story.

He had lived this story.

Jason pressed a shaking hand to her cheek, fingers skimming over the torn skin of her temple. Her head lolled, lifeless, into his palm. His vision blurred. The world was shattering around him, the air closing in too fast, too tight.

This was not supposed to happen. Not again. Not to her. Not her.

A choked sound wrenched itself from his throat, raw and brutal. He wanted to tear the world apart, wanted it to burn, wanted to take everything Joker had ever touched and reduce it to ashes, bone and dust.

But there was no world left to destroy. His world lay broken in his arms.

‘Jason...’ a voice called from somewhere behind him. Distant. Muffled beneath the rush of blood pounding in his ears. ‘Jason, we need to... ’

‘No.’

It came out hoarse, a ragged snarl carved from the wreckage of his throat. Hands were on him now, Dick’s, maybe Tim’s, he did not care, they tried to pry him away, tried to separate him from the only thing that mattered. He wrenched free, curling over her like a shield, as though if he were to hold her tightly enough, he could put her back together, force her into place, will her soul back beneath her skin.

He loved her.

And he had failed her.

Jason felt something unravel within him, something fragile and irreparable. The grief inside him was not humane. It was raw, feral, a grief that gnawed at the edges of reason, hollowing him out until only the cavern of what he had been remained.

‘Jason,’ Bruce said, he did not remember him arriving. Bruce was quieter than the others, as if his words would be enough to stop the sky from collapsing, as though it would be enough to salvage what had already been destroyed. ‘We need to bring her home.’

Home.

The word felt like a mockery. 

He swallowed back the scream rising in his chest. She was his home. His arms curled tighter around her, his forehead pressing against hers, his breath shuddering as it ghosted over her cooling lips. He wanted to wake up. He wanted to rewind time. This could not be real.

But there was no waking up from this.

Joker forced her from him in the same manner he had taken him from Bruce. And this time, Jason had been the one who arrived too late.

History had repeated itself.

And she had fallen victim to it.

He was still holding her hand.

It was cold now, sickly. She looked like stone under the low light of the cave, sculpted into something reverent, something holy. If he were any weaker, he might have prayed. But there was never a god in Gotham, only ghosts, only graves.

His grip tightened.

‘Jason,’ Dick had murmured from over the threshold. He had the tone of someone who knew he had already lost his battle but was too stubborn to walk away. ‘You need to rest.’

Jason did not answer. What was the point? None of them understood. Not Bruce, who had watched him succumb to the same fate, but had seemingly not suffered the same. Not Dick, who had watched on. Not Tim, not Damian. They had not been shattered and put back together wrong. They had all known loss, but none of them, none of them, had lost her.

They tried again, in softer voices. Even Alfred, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder, spoke to him like a wounded animal. Jason did not move. He did not blink. He barely breathed.

They would not take her from him.

Eventually, they left him with her. Hours passed, or maybe minutes, or maybe lifetimes. He did not know. He just stayed, his thumb running absently over her knuckles, tracing circles into the skin. He should have been there sooner. He should have known. He should have...

Her fingers twitched.

Jason flinched, tearing his gaze from the blank, hollow of her face and down to their hands laying connected, both now dried crimson with her blood. The movement had been so slight he almost thought he had imagined it. His chest was hollowed out, a cavern scraped raw, and his mind was cracked wide with grief. He must have been seeing things.

Then it happened again.

Her breath hitched. Her shoulders jerked. A sharp inhale wrenched her back into her body, into the cage of her skin, into the cold and then to him.

Jason scrambled to his feet, the gurney rattling with the force of his pushing away. The world tilted, his stomach plummeting because this was not... this was not possible. His hands shook as he pulled away, as he stared down at her, heart hammering like a war drum in his ribs.

‘What... ’

‘Jason,’ she whispered, barely audible, as though she was speaking through water, through a fog, through the thousand miles that should exist between her and life.

He stumbled back. No, no, this was not... it could not...

She pushed herself up on her elbows, slow, deliberate, blinking the haze from her eyes. Her gaze swept the room before settling on him. He looked wrecked, as though he were unravelling at the seams.

‘I… I don’t... ’ he choked out, but his voice barely worked. ‘I held you. You weren’t breathing. You were dead.’

‘I was.’ Her voice was solemn, yielding. 

He took another step back, shaking his head, trying to force this into something he could make sense of. But there was no logic here, no reason. Only his own past being referenced before him.

She watched him for a moment. Then, gently, she reached for his hand.

‘Let me explain.’ Her voice was soft, pleading.

Jason moved, did not resist, just let himself be drawn back in. The contact burned through his clothes, through his skin, down to the bones that had once shattered against the Joker’s crowbar, just as hers had.

She exhaled, steadying herself, and then began.

‘I was seven the first time I died.’

Jason felt something splinter in him, he drew in a quick breath.

‘My father…’ she trailed off, lips pressing into a thin line. A flicker of something old and ruined crossed her face before she buried it again. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. He was by no means… kind. And he…’ 

She halted her words a muscle in her jaw twitching.

Jason’s fingers tightened in hers. His heart was still hammering, still trying to keep up with a reality that had seemingly stumbled sideways.

‘My… return shocked him.’ Jason did not like the implications behind her words, they made him sick, but he let her continue. 

‘He needed to know how I survived it; he hated the uncertainty. So he…’ She paused again, eerily composed. ‘...experimented. I always woke up. I always came back.’

Jason’s stomach twisted, nausea creeping up his throat like acid. This was too vile. Too raw. The thought of her helplessness, her fear, and the cycle of pain she had been subjected to was enough to debilitate him. The air suddenly tasted like metal, sharp and bitter, but it was nothing compared to the taste of rage searing through his veins. 

He stepped back and stood still, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palms, but still, his breath remained steady, almost serene. The world around him felt muted, like a muffled beat, the edges of his vision fading to red with the sudden weight of this truth. He could not believe that someone meant to nurture and cherish her could cause her such anguish. Anger, raw and relentless, rose, it begged for vengeance. Wherever this foul man resides, he must pay; but not yet. 

He watched as she sat pouting, she was not happy that he had drawn himself away from her, so he stood forward once more and grabbed her still outstretched palms.

She quickly enveloped his hands, grounding him. ‘I was afraid to tell you,’ she admitted, sheepish. ‘I thought you might look at me differently.’

Jason let out a hollow, humourless laugh. ‘Differently?’

Her lips twitched, almost amused, almost sad. ‘I know it’s ironic, if anyone would understand, it was you. I know, it’s a lot.’

A lot. Right. That was one way to describe the phenomenon. All Jason knew was that his world had imploded, that the grief that had so recently shifted him into something unrecognisable, was chased away with relief coiled so tightly in his gut he thought he might shatter beneath it.

But all he did was drag her forward, arms closing around her so tightly he could not be sure where he ended and she began.

‘I was going to bury you,’ he rasped against her shoulder, shaking. ‘Bury you.’

‘I know,’ she whispered, fingers curling into the leather of his jacket. ‘I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.’

He exhaled shakily, pressing his face into her hair, trying to anchor himself to the warmth of her; the solid weight of her in his arms. Alive. But the moment ended too soon as light flooded suddenly into the room. Jason and Y/N turned, eyes narrowing begrudgingly toward the interruption, only to be met with a group of gaping faces that stood shocked beyond the threshold.

Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3 On a side note, the reader's ability to come back from the dead and the father's experimentation that then follows was inspired by a character from a different source material. I'm not going to say who because it is a spoiler for anyone who may end up watching the show, but I wonder if any of you picked up on the allusion.

[misswynters]

Blues

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader

[warning: mdni, mature/explicit (18+), riding, bathtub sex, p in v, slight degrading, let me know if i missed anything

[note | i just got inspired out of nowhere :D just a short one

Deep hues of orange and yellow danced around the room caused by the flickering candle lights. It gave the perfect ambiance for relaxation. The bathing chambers in Dragonstone had transformed into a private tableau of passion and raw desire, the warm water of the bathtub rippled like molten gold beneath the dim, as it laid on your skin. Jacaerys stood at the entrance, his figure a powerful silhouette against the light, every movement conveying a deep need.

You were already in the tub, your body submerged and partially obscured by the swirling water. The sight of you, vulnerable and serene in your repose, seemed to ignite a storm within him. He approached with deliberate, almost ceremonial movements, each step a testament to the tempest of emotions swirling inside him.

"Jace," you started, but he silenced you with a fierce, almost punishing kiss. His lips crashed against yours, his teeth nipping at your lower lip hard enough to make you gasp. The kiss was rough, possessive, and it took your breath away.

"I need this," he growled against your lips, his voice raw with anger and desperation. "I need you." You nodded, understanding the storm raging inside him. His mother's decisions had been weighing heavily on him, and he needed an outlet for his frustration.

Without a word, he lifted you from the water and seated you upon his lap. The contrast between the warm, wet embrace of the tub and the burning intensity of his touch created a scene almost too vivid to be true. Your soaked shift was pushed up around your waist in an instant, and he wasted no time in positioning himself beneath you. His fingers dug into your hips as he lifted you slightly, the head of his cock pressing insistently at your entrance. There was no gentleness, no hesitation.

With a single, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, eliciting a strangled cry from your lips. The water splashed violently around you as he set a punishing pace, his thrusts hard and fast, each one driving him deeper inside you. The sound of water slapping against the sides of the tub mixed with the lewd, wet sounds of your bodies colliding, your breathless moans, and his guttural groans.

"Fuck," he snarled, his hands gripping your hips so tightly it hurt. "You're so fucking tight." You could feel his anger in every movement, the way his fingers dug into your flesh, the way his hips snapped up to meet yours with almost violent intensity. The raw power of his need was overwhelming, and it drove you wild with desire.

"Jace," you moaned, your voice a breathless plea. His name on your lips seemed to push him even further, his thrusts becoming harder, more erratic. He reached around to grasp your breast, his fingers pinching your nipple almost painfully as he drove into you.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice a rough whisper in your ear. "No one else's. I'm going to fill you up, make sure everyone knows who you belong to."

The words sent a thrill through you, heightening your arousal. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, the intensity of his thrusts pushing you closer to the edge. The thought of him claiming you so completely, of his seed filling you, was enough to drive you wild.

"You want that, don't you?" he panted, his voice rough and demanding. "You want me to fill you up, to breed you."

"Yes," you gasped, the idea sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Yes, Jace, please."

"Good my dear," he growled, his thrusts becoming even more frantic. "I'm going to make sure you're dripping with me. You'll be swollen with my child, everyone will know you're mine." His words pushed you closer to the edge, the pressure inside you building to an almost unbearable peak. The idea of carrying his child, of being marked by him so completely, sent you spiraling.

As his thrusts grew more frantic, you could feel the bulge of his cock with each deep, powerful thrust. The sensation of him stretching you so fully was intoxicating, and you could hear the lewd, wet sounds of him moving inside you, each one echoing the intensity of your connection.

"Do you feel that?" he groaned, his voice rough with desire. "Feel how deep I am inside you? I'm going to fill you so full, you'll be able to feel me for days."

"Yes," you whimpered, your body trembling with anticipation and need. "I can feel you, Jace. You're so big."

His pace quickened, the slapping of water against skin filling the room, mingling with your cries of pleasure. The pressure inside you built to an almost unbearable peak, and you could feel yourself teetering on the brink of release.

With one hand, Jacaerys pressed down on your lower abdomen, the sensation of him moving in and out of you intensified by the pressure. "By the gods," he growled. "You feel amazing."

You nodded frantically, the added sensation making everything more intense. His other hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look down. "Watch," he demanded. "Watch how I fuck you."

Your eyes fluttered open, and you gasped at the sight. His cock slid in and out of you with powerful, relentless thrusts, each one making the water around you splash. The sight was mesmerizing, his size and the way he filled you completely almost too much to bear.

He pulled your face to his, pressing your foreheads together. His eyes bored into yours, dark and intense. "You like this, don't you?" he hissed, his voice both degrading and desperate.

"Being fucked like this, so hard you can feel it days later."

"Yes, Jace," you moaned, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "I love it."

"Good," he growled. "Because I'm going to fill you up so full, you'll be swollen with my child. Everyone will know you're mine."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through you, pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing around him, your cries echoing off the walls.

The sensation of you tightening around him was too much for Jacaerys. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his own release tearing through him as he groaned your name.

You felt him pulse inside you, his warmth flooding you completely. He stayed buried deep within you, his body shaking with the force of his release.

For a moment, you both stayed still, panting and spent, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of your coupling.

Jacaerys rested his forehead against your shoulder, his breath hot on your skin. "You drive me crazy," he murmured again, but this time his voice was softer, more tender.

You turned your head to look at him, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. "I know," you replied, your voice a whisper. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

He chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. "Neither would I," he agreed, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close, the warm and gentleness of your shared presence giving way to a quiet moment.

[a/n: (if you don’t wanna be tagged on 18+ things let me know!)

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