#glaring at her with such cold hatred

[sexysilverstrider]

look at teratai, the strongest and most famous trainer in paldea and her adorable boyfriend, the dangerous blueberry academy champion for 4 years in a row

[earth4angels]

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

jacaerys velaryon x aunt!targaryen reader ͟ ͟ ͟ friends to lovers, sexual content but no smut, incest (reader is aunt), fluff, semi angst(?), aemond being dumb, jace knows how to fight, i refuse to believe laenor never taught his kids how to defend themselves. slight switch of povs, basically the dinner fight, but added my own take, not edited.

summary: after the accident in driftmark the relationship between y/n and jacaerys became distant, when it came to the petition of the heir to driftmark, feelings came back full force. it took a bloody fight yet again to get jacaerys to act on his feelings before it was too late. but also, to unite the house of the dragon.

a/n: um? this is probably more than 1k words, i really went in. i had so much fun writing this & gosh.. do i have the guts to expand their relationship BUT ANYWAYS ENJOYYYY

somewhat based on this request. jace tag list: @jacaerysgf, @star611, @jules420, @gracexthoughts, @astrxq, @reyndaisy, @hxtd

For as long as Jacaerys can remember, he had always felt deep affection for his dearest aunt who was no more than a year older.

At first, it started with a childish admiration for how she spoke to him, how she would run her fingers through his curls when he would run towards her after sword training, read stories about the doom, or Visenya who she claimed was the best warrior to ever exist. Jacaerys admired her, she was his favorite aunt not that he had many but besides Helaena, she was his favorite. Again, it started with a childish crush. The smallfolk had a joke spread about how if anyone wanted to find Y/N, one had to look for small Jacaerys who followed closely behind her like a pup.

She never minded the talk, she loved her siblings and her nephews, it was one thing that differed her from her own brothers, who grew to despise the Velaryon boys. She loved Jacaerys, the way he always spoke of his growing bond with Vermax, the small adventures they would take to the gardens, or the adventures they took through the secret passages, and the library. She especially loved the moments he would sneak her strawberry cakes during her high valyrian studies when no one was looking. To her, Jacaerys was so dear to her heart, she dreamed childishly how it would be if they married.

She never understood why the hatred grew to the point everything that pointed toward her older sister was prohibited. Her siblings never had a close relationship with their father, but she did, she enjoyed the stories her father told her, but she mostly loved building and painting his replica of the seven kingdoms with him. Her father, King Viserys had always talked to her about protecting their own, as it was said, the House of the Dragon had to stay together to hold the realm united.

"Damn bastard," Aemond muttered under his breath as he rushed past her dusting his now muddy training gear. She narrowed her eyes at her brother, the word bringing her to wince. It was not the first time she heard it, at the age of 6, her mother had prohibited her from spending time with her half-sister and her children since the fight at Driftmark. She understood why, but she could not bring herself to be cold towards her half-family.

"Brother, enough." Y/n had her hand up to his shoulder, Aemond's one eye glared at her, "You must learn to let go of this anger, it is treason to speak of that word out loud."

Aemond scoffed, "Of course, my dear sister, protecting the bastards, you still defend them after what they did to me?" Aemond had snatched his eyepatch from his eye, showing its bright blue glow of a gem towards her.

"Brother... we were all children! Luce was only protec-" She choked as she was now slammed against the wall, a hand tight around her neck, she wildly stared at him, alarmed.

"Protecting? Dear sister, you are more than a fool. You rather protect bastards than the blood of the dragon?" Aemond chuckled in disbelief, "You, the same as father are fools."

He let go of her as she slumped against the wall, her hand clasped around her throat as she heaved, trying to get air back into her lungs. She watched teary-eyed from the loss of air the shadows of her brother grow distant with the further he went down the hall.

"Y/n?" a voice spoke from the opposite side of the hall. She looked back to meet the face of her once-best friend. "Seven hells! What happened?!"

Jacaerys rushed towards her, lifting her carefully as if she were the most fragile jewel to exist. In a sense to Jacaerys, she was.

She blinked, confused as to where he had come from. The last time she saw him, they were children, and he had promised to write her, yet after five ravens, the letters stopped, causing her to believe he had grown to hate her for what happened that night. It was then she realized why Aemond was so upset, why her mother suddenly left her and Heleana from embroidery to attend the council. Her mother avoided greeting her half-sister. Today was the petition of who was going to take over Driftmark. The house of the dragon was united once again, but not in the way she wanted to.

"Nephew?" She asked, confused again.

"Come, sit here. Let me get you some water," Jacaerys had placed her in the comfort of the shade of a tree. He had removed his cloak, placing it on the ground for her to sit as he ran to get her water. She stayed in silence beside her dry coughs that slipped once in a while. Jacaerys appeared again with a glass of water, she muttered a soft thank you before she drank till her throat was once again free from the harsh itches.

She looked toward him, finding him looking at her softly, his eyes burying themselves in the soft lilac color of her eyes. She blushed, coughing to avoid looking at him instead she focused on the grass beside her, picking at it softly.

"So... care to explain why you have a red mark on your neck?"

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek before she focused her stare on the blank blue sky, if Jacaerys was not paying attention he would have missed the soft murmur of her voice, "It was nothing."

Jacaerys opened his mouth to argue when the bells of the castle banged so hard that they echoed through the hallways.

"Don't think I won't let this go y/n," he spoke softly beside her, she only blinked in response. He shook his head as his tongue touched the roof of his mouth and he let go, making a sound that almost sounded like a click.

"You should go, my sister would probably be worried as to why you are taking so long. It is rude to keep your mother waiting."

Jacaerys rolled his eyes, before he lifted a hand towards her, a gesture for her to grab onto it. She stared at his pale hand, taking a moment to admire the changes, he was muscular now, and no more stood the boy who almost looked easy to push around. She followed the path of his hand toward his face, her breath hitching when she realized he still wore the necklace she had made him when they were children.

"You... you kept it?" Y/n stuttered, pointing to his neck. Jacaerys hummed, touching it delicately, his fingers rubbing softly at the soft shells. She had made that the day of Laena's funeral, she went and followed the path towards the beach to find seashells. She made it in hopes for him to feel better. She never thought he would keep it after all those years.

"Why wouldn't I?"

She stood up on her own avoiding his touch in fear she might want to curl into the safety of his hold.

“Go figure. You stopped writing to me.”

“What?” Jacaerys stood in front of her, stopping her from stepping another step further from him, “I never stopped? What do you mean I stopped? I sent so many ravens to you. I never heard from you after the fourth or fifth one.”

Now she was confused. “I sent you ravens too! You never sent me any back, I waited… I figured you just blamed me for what happened,” she muttered.

Jacaerys did another click with his tongue, before he reached out to her, her small hands fitting perfectly well inside his.

“Whatever happened that night, it’s forgotten. We were children, you were not even there for me to blame you. Aemond being your brother changes nothing, I still care for you just as much as I did when I was a child.”

She tightened the hold of his hands between hers before looking into his eyes, all she found was a soft gaze, not anything that was malicious, as she would find mostly in Aemond’s eye.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, she did not want to tell him how she felt for him. It was like Jacaerys had read her mind, though he was one year behind her, he always looked after her, to Jacaerys - she was everything he wanted in a wife, and he dreamed of making her as such.

“I’ve missed you, did you not?” he lifted one hand to caress her braid that was left falling off her shoulder to slowly reaching for her cheek where he held her delicately once again.

Y/n smiled, the fluttering feeling in her stomach making it hard to not release a giggle, she felt home.

“Of course I did Jace, I missed you so much.”

Ser Arryk spoke from the entrance of the garden, his armor glittering with the rays of the sun reflecting it, “Princess? The queen is expecting you in the grand hall.”

She nodded, feeling regretful of not spending more time with Jace, she had so much to tell him, to get caught up on.

“Thank you Ser Arryk, I will be there in a minute.”

She looked towards Jace again finding him still looking at her, a glint of mischief flashed, she narrowed her eyes making him smirk, “I guess you have to go aunt.”

The way he said it made her want to clench her thighs together, she cleared her throat, “I’ll see you soon my dearest nephew.”

He laughed like the word from her mouth was the biggest joke he had heard. His curls bouncing with the shake of his body, he reached down for her hand, placing a lingering kiss, “Princess.”

She watched as he turned, walking towards the grand hall passing Ser Arryk who bowed his head. Her stomach was still fluttering, all she wanted to do was jump and roll in the comfort of her bed, but she needed to meet her family and yet again witness another rift between the family.

"Her children," a long pause echoed through the grand hall, Y/n had her hands interlaced with each other, squeezing them so hard her skin was becoming white. She quickly glanced around the room, noticing her brothers smirking with anticipation, to her half-sister's family. She came across the eyes of her prince, who looked seconds from using his sharp sword to kill. She licked her lips, the anxiety building, she knew what was coming, and honestly, she was looking forward to it.

"ARE BASTARDS! And she is, a whore," Vaemond exclaimed.

Echoes of gasps and murmurs were heard, but Y/n blocked it as it all happened quickly. The blood splattered harshly like a quick burst of wind splashing her dark emerald dress. She gasped, her body being pulled back by Aegon who quickly acted to wipe off the blood off her dress and the little that landed on her face.

She would lie if she said she did not enjoy what she saw, in fact, she was glad it happened. That word being tossed around needed to be acted with a consequence, and she was proud of Daemon for warning those who followed Vaemond in speaking of her family that way.

The court ended and she was left rushed to her chambers, her ladies-in-waiting rushing to prepare a quick bath as her father requested them to have dinner together.

"You all can go," y/n spoke as she untied the laces off her dress.

"Princess-" Elydia, her closest handmaiden reached towards her to help her protested.

"Please, I need to have some moments alone, I will notify when finished."

"Princess."

She sighed, the weight on her shoulders becoming too heavy, she rolled her head side to side to relieve the pain. As she sunk into the rose-covered bath, moaning in bliss from the warmth she was sunken into, a knock was heard from her bed chamber. A familiar series of knocks, one that she missed hearing, sparking a rush of adrenaline.

She rushed to throw on a light blue gown, her hair soaking the silk material, making her breasts noticeable. Her footsteps were rushed as she reached the familiar wall by her bed, she knocked a similar tune before she pushed into it.

Jacaerys stood behind the wall, in his hands laid a wooden box with letters, her letters.

"Hi," he spoke softly, his voice sending butterflies all over her body

"Hi," she moved aside to let him enter her room, her eyes flickering quickly to the door of her room before eyeing the male before her, "What are you doing here? If my guards, see you... the scandal we could be in!"

He smirked, his plum juicy lips - she did not want to stare so much but she could not help observing him - quirked to the side, "That did not stop us when we were children."

She scoffed, "You said it yourself when we were children."

He smiled mockingly before he stopped in his tracks. He did not expect to see her so... vulnerable. The fantasies started to play out in his mind, he recalled all those moments he thought of her late at night. The fire ignited inside of him when he saw her in the garden, her hair flowing through the wind, her soft features to her soft lilac eyes.

Jacaerys wanted to propose to her mother a betrothal, to finally make y/n his, to act out all the fantasies he thought when she appeared in his mind.

"Jace?" She whispered, feeling self-conscious about the way he stared at her. He looked ready to bounce, his brown eyes scanning her up and down, she squeezed her thighs together.

"You... aunt I can see you wholly," he cleared his throat to avoid his voice sounding so raspy.

"Excuse me?" Y/n was confused until he gestured to her body, "Oh... Oh!" Her cheeks blossomed with a deep scarlet red tint; she rushed across the room to grab her robe tightly wrapping it around her body.

Jacaerys cleared his throat again, "Um... I just wanted to stop by before we saw each other at dinner again, the letters you had sent me."

Her cheeks still stained with red walked towards him, gathering the box between her hands, "So what with it?"

"I received and sent you letters y/n. I never stopped writing to you, I even made Mother annoyed with how many times I have asked her if there was ever anything sent to me."

She blinked her confusion, "Jacaerys I always wrote to you, your letters never came but I always sent you updates how things were here - "

"I know of everything, but I am giving you complete honesty on the fact that I never stopped," he stepped towards her, his hand on her cheek with his thumb rubbing soft circles calming her.

"What do you want me to do with that information? Do you know how much our families hate each other? How much Aemond goes around cursing Luce's name, your name? I shouldn't even be talking to yo-"

She stopped when he stepped closer, she felt his breath on her lips, her eyes darted down his lips to his eyes. Her breath hitched, he was so close. So close, she just wanted to taste how soft his lips truly were.

"Tell me to go, and I will. I will never bother you again, but tell me, you never want to see me, and I will."

Jacaerys hoped she never spoke of the words, as he wanted to kiss her, to tell her of the once confession he wrote in those many letters. She was just so pretty; he wanted to steal her and take her to Dragonstone where he wanted to marry her. He wanted to taste the sweetness between her legs, to have her scream, moan out his name, to fill her belly with the future heirs of Westeros.

His hand stayed on her cheek as he continued to stare, waiting for her to speak. Her breaths came out shallow and she began to shake with need.

"Don't go," she whispered, her hands reaching to grab his shoulders, pulling him closer towards her, "Please don't leave me."

"Gods," he wrapped his arms around her as he shakingly asked her, afraid she will finally reject him, but he hoped, "Can I kiss you?"

She gasped, the dazed look in her eyes fading as she began to pull away, "No... No... we can't Jacaerys! We are not betrothed, we are not promised to each other, my virtue could be quest-"

Her rambles were left to the old gods to wonder as Jacaerys placed his lips on her, "No offense, but you talk a lot."

She groaned against his lips at the jab he made but melted into the kiss, a kiss she longed for as the feelings that she did not want to admit surfaced. She only read books about the acts of kissing, yet she felt as if she knew with the way she kissed Jacaerys.

Her core suddenly felt tingly with how he was holding her, his hand deep inside her hair as the other ran down the silk of her gown to hitch a leg around his waist as he guided her down her bed.

"Jace..." she moaned, her throat begging for air as she pulled away, yet he did not stop, his lips trailing down her cheeks, prepping her with soft kisses to finally nipping at her throat. She moaned again.

"I have always wanted to do this," he whispered against her throat, "I badly want to take you, to have you sore, so fucked out of your mind that you forget your own name," he raised his head, his elbow by her head to prep himself just so he can look down at her.

She breathed heavily, "You..." she reached out, "You can't..."

"I would never dishonor you that way, but I will fight to make you, my wife. I will speak to mother, to my grandsire."

"Jace..."

He placed a kiss on her nose, smiling when she let out a giggle, "Tell me you also want me."

"I never wanted to admit it, but I do, I have always wanted you."

A knock disturbed their sweet bubble, and they both scrambled away from each other as y/n pulled her gown down. Jacaerys grabbed his cloak she did not even realize he had removed as he moved to the secret passage again.

"Princess? The queen requests your presence, dinner will start shortly."

She looked at Jacaerys as he whispered, "I will see you soon aunt." Y/n rolled her eyes but still smiled as she nodded.

The wall closed, and as if nothing happened, the room became quiet once again, she gathered her thoughts as she replied, "Almost done, please help me dress Elydia."

The entire time she was prepped for dinner she was smiling to herself. She could not wait to see her prince again. She had even requested for her hair to be loose, just two small braids creating a crown decorated her. She had wanted to look perfect for him.

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Her family was beyond divided, as she sat beside Helaena, it was too quiet, the only noises came from the cooks who were walking around to place the food on the table. She watched as Aemond sent nonstop glares towards her nephews.

She had found out through Helaena that Aemond had lost against Jacaerys during training. Jacaerys had taken his sword one minute into sparring. It finally made sense why Aemond was so upset when she came across him in the garden. Her lips tugged into a quiet snicker at the idea of her brother being put in his place.

As she drank her wine, her father spoke.

"It pains me to see our family divided. As the house of the dragon, we must be united to have the kingdom prosper in peace. All of you must leave behind your childish arguments! Do it for me, your father, your brother, your husband, your grandsire. Leave behind this anger!"

As her older sister stood to make a toast in hopes of making peace with her mother, she made eye contact with Jacaerys who was already looking at her. He smiled softly at her before he looked towards his mother, his mouth turning into a smirk as he hid it behind his glass of wine. Her eyebrows furrowed, and as she was going to question her sister's voice came through.

"... It has been decided for the good of our families, and to make the future of House Targaryen stronger, that Princess Y/n, and my son, Prince Jacaerys be wed. They shall be in the future the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Alicent shot up from her chair, "What?!"

Viserys wheezed but held strong as he banged his hands onto the table preventing an argument once again, "I wholeheartedly agree to this proposal as my dearest grandson himself asked to be wed to my beautiful daughter. They are to be wed as soon as possible."

Y/n couldn't help but smile widely, "Thank you, father," she looked towards her oldest sister, "Sister."

"Har! Har! Har!" Daemon raised his glass with a mischief glint in his eyes, his mouth into a wide smirk, he enjoyed seeing Alicent and Otto Hightower's plans get ruined.

Her mother could not argue against the newest betrothal since the King had officially declared it. She also had made peace with her once close friend as they toasted to each other. However, that did not stop her brothers from having a mind of their own, their mouths ready to retaliate.

As the night passed, and her father was no longer there to hold the peace, she held her breath as she knew, no she felt the anger boiling from her family. Aegon was the first to let out jests, and with that followed Aemond who did not hold back.

Jacaerys stood, his hand slammed into his uncle's shoulders to sit him back onto his seat, "You will keep your mouth shut about my betrothed. Jest all you want about me, but my wife-to-be, you will keep shut. Understood?"

Aegon snickered, satisfied with the reaction, he lifted his hands up in surrender.

She did not want to admit how it ignited such a need for her soon-to-be husband. She has never found him any hotter than what he looked like. His curls covered his dark gaze, his veiny long hands clasped together as to hold himself back.

"Boys. Enough. Let's finish dinner without any more arguments." Rhaenyra spoke in hopes of stopping the tension that was boiling.

It was enough for a moment. As Lucerys snickered at the pig that was placed on the table, in hopes for his uncle to join in the fun, as he believed it was an innocent act of jest. The blood came and what was a peaceful dinner, turned into the dragon's war.

"I dare you to say that again," Jace spoke from beside her, his hand holding hers to calm himself.

"Are you not proud of your house, dear nephew?" Aemond mocked, Aegon snickered, as the adults surrounding them stopped their dinner to hear what was going on, "I thought you considered yourself a strong knight."

A growl-like rumble came from Jacaerys as he rushed to punch her brother over and over. She scrambled towards them, yelling for them to stop, Aemond had gotten two hits through, but Jacaerys had the upper hand as his knuckles were bloodied. The guards had come to pull her brothers and nephews apart.

"Enough! All of you, back to your chambers! Now!" Rhaenyra spoke, sending them to their rooms. Y/n felt the angry tears stream down from the exhaustion of the fights between her family.

She yelped when a hand pulled her into the shadows of pillars. With a scream stuck in her throat, she widened her eyes at Jacaerys who had his hand on her mouth to stop her from screaming.

"Come back home with me, we will marry before the old gods," he whispered.

"But if I leave, I can potentially make mother and grandsire even more mad..."

"You are already promised to me, the realm will soon learn of it, ravens are being sent as we speak. Nothing will be able to stop our union, please. Just come home with me."

She hoped she was not making a mistake, for she loved Jacaerys so much more than waiting around for her family to come between her happiness. She only hoped, this union, would unite the realm and stop any possible war that Helaena had spoken of. As she kissed Jacaerys in the shadows, the said sister smiled as she poked another thread into a gown to continue the embroidery.

"From the blood of red and green, the pain will end as the union will bring peace once again."

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 𝟸

yan light who is the sassiest man you've ever met

yan light who literally looks at Misa up and down in such disgust, it literally its like a popular mean girl looking at a nerd like damn hoe

yan light who wraps his arms around you, and literally says the sweetest things to you but then when it's Misa, he acts like she doesnt even exist

yan light who tells you he has to pretend to be misa's bf crying, like he's actually crying tears, blood, sweat, and everything

"b-babbyyy!! I d-dont wanna be wit-with that g-girl, I pro-promise!!"

"wife, does this mean I'm free?"

"Y/n L/n, leave me and I swear to God, i will roam the fucking earth searching for you."

yan light who even a complete stranger could tell he doesn't like Misa at all compared to you, he literally hugs you in public, kiss your jaw, hold your arm, hand, meanwhile with Misa, the farthest thing he has ever done was pat her shoulder 💀

yan light who in college, spends all his free time searching for you to hang out

yan light who memorizes your schedule, waiting outside your class whenever the bell rings

yan light who now sleep over at your house because he loves searching through your closet, searching for a hoodie that smells the most like you

yan light who literally thinks of ways to absolutely destroy ur TV and phone, he's quite literally only in some tight black shorts and ur hoodie and u don't wanna devour him??? Why tf are you tryna watch Tom and friends when he's literally there suggesting sex

yan light who you don't pay attention to all night, watching some Tom and friends cuz that shit mad entertaining, and light is over here rubbing his thighs together, glaring at the TV

Yan light who grabs you hand and puts it on his thighs, making your hand grip them.

Yan light who looks at you for a reaction, but you were STILL not bothering to look at him,

yan light who was pissed and sassy at you the whole night, turning his back to you and huffing, furrowed eyebrows

"hey, aren't ya gonna hug me? im cold"

Yan light who scoffs but turns around and begins to cuddle you, head between your boobies, forgetting why he was mad in the first place

yan light who wants to cut handcuffs on both you and him so you'll NEVER be seprated from him, literally wanting to bawl and cry at the thought of him without you

yan light who feels like he cant breath without you

yan light who literally thinks about the worst thing happening to you when you dont answer his call or text within a minute, about to start pulling at his hair and chewing on his nails with a crazy look on his face

yan light who memorizes your voice, the way you walk, the way you eat, the way you clean and everything just because hes that obsessed over you

yan light who is so close to using his death note on misa just because she managed to small talk you, glaring at her with such hatred you would think she killed his dog or sum

yan light who always making sure he holds the door open for your and giving you snacks when you dont have any

yan light who buys you things you've been recently talking about, telling you he deserves a kiss for what he did for u

yan light who is ur jealous lil wife <333

SOMEONE HELP NO MORE REQUEST P<LS ITS LIKE I SOLD MY FUCKIGN SOUL OMG I DONT EVEN KNOW WHERE TO START ATTHIS POINT

JKJK SEND REQUESTS IF U WANT

[atlaswav]

CATACLYSMIC ☾

INFO: 5252 words..... dr ratio x fem! reader SYNOPSIS: You hate him, of that you're certain. You hate the man behind the alabaster figurehead, and you want to see him unravelled, but you don't know exactly what you do to him. WARNINGS: um alcohol and one kiss. also some swearing but mostly fine AUTHOR'S NOTE: rising from the grave to bring to you this thing i found this in my drafts from who knows how long when I was obsessed with this man (still am). someone help. i can no longer write this much for one fic. what was i on.

Veritas Ratio made it no secret that he despised those who lived in ignorance. He openly shunned those who were stupid enough to turn their eyes from knowledge – they’d be beggars in due time. They didn’t know how the world was governed, and ignorant fools would play victim to fate’s cruel touch.

With this philosophy of his, you often wondered whether or not his ivory figurehead would soon burst with the tumultuous storm of the man’s self importance. You wondered what would lie underneath. Surely, the divine makers would’ve allowed balance in his creation – surely, his face was horribly disfigured in exchange for such otherworldly intelligence. 

He was both delightfully astute and horrendously ill mannered at once. Brighter than your entire class combined – your entire university combined, no doubt – but his pretentiousness was overflowing, and you believed he was in dire need of being put in his place.

Arrogant and pretentious were two of the words that came to mind when someone mentioned Dr. Ratio, and you were sure you weren’t the only one who refused to worship his word like the gospel. In turn, he seemed to despise your very existence, as if you were merely a faded annotation in the footnotes of an ancient epic. Vandalising a work of art. A moustache on the Mona Lisa. Circe in the Odyssey, if she’d welcomed sailors with open arms, allowing them to degrade her as they would a common concubine, not a descendant of the gods.

Yet instead of sharing the witch’s beguiling, seductive nature, you only shared her mortal voice. Thin, reedy, quiet, compared to the booming voices of gods. The voice of Veritas Ratio. Your achievements could only pale in comparison to his, and it took everything within you to clap politely as he received his third – fourth? (you weren’t intent on keeping track) – diploma.

God you hated that man. You’d muttered as much under your breath countless times.

“Dr. Ratio is fine. No need to worship me.” he’d once corrected. But the attempt at humour was lost on you as your classmates began to laugh. The divine makers likely brought him into existence just to spite you. Oftentimes, you fought your urges to hurl the nearest textbook at his caricature head and watch the plaster crack, fall to the floor, and reveal his disfigured face. 

Not that you’d seen it before – lingered around him enough to see it disappear.

His scorn held no favourites, and certainly not when it came to you. He’d openly dragged your work through the dirt a couple of times before, and it was only a matter of time before he did it again. His words were scalding, leaving burns across your thin skin and leaving your mouth tasting of ash. Your voice, faint and human, fell quiet at his ‘gospel’. 

If it weren’t obvious, the hatred was mutual. He’d never admit it outright – he was far beyond these meaningless, trivial things such as immature hatred – but you felt his scathing glare in your soul, even through that perturbing headpiece, and that was enough. 

“Have you found it?” 

You turn around, meeting the cold, blank, unseeing gaze of his caricature head behind you. It was disconcerting to say the very least, but no one else had asked him about it, so you never pushed him further. None wanted to invoke his wrath, no matter what circumstance. It was a miracle neither of you had exploded at each other yet, but you suspected that he’d gladly put aside any type of loathing he harboured for you so that this project would get done faster. 

You were happy to oblige as he took the lead. A free credit was a free credit. But you did have your limits.

“Nope. The text is ancient. I doubt this library has it.”

“Nonsense.” he clicked his tongue, glancing to the side. “I’m asking the professor. Go work on your part.”

Patience is a virtue, as you keep reminding yourself. 

“Sure. Let me know if you find anything.” you say instead of the retort that sits on your tongue. False niceties and biting, underhanded remarks. This charade was entertaining, at the very least.

How did everyone love him? There had to be people like you who shared your dislike towards that conceited scholar. With a long suffering groan, you took a seat at one of the plethora of tables in the university’s library, clicked your pen and began to write. 

Maybe the reason he despised you so was because of your ideas, arguably the opposite of his own way of thinking. Where his twisted logic, rearranged rationality and pulled apart natural reasoning to formulate new material, you cut and stitched the work of others together to create your own emulations. (Frankenstein's monster. Was that a cliche? For Ratio, it probably was.)

He’d likely scrap what you’d written as soon as he returned, but that didn’t stop you from trying to spite him anyway. You hoped your readings wouldn’t go to waste as you recorded your findings, then started to draft an outline for your project. 

The scratch of paper became white nose, your hand struggling to keep up with the pace of your mind – was it even worth it? He’d likely call it worthless, snatch it from you and throw it into the recycling bin, then start writing his own outline. It only angered you further as you frowned at the page, wondering how he’d approach the project. 

The thump of a heavy tome on the wooden desk snapped you out of your sombre thoughts. 

“Here.” Ratio took a seat at the chair opposite of yours, brushing the dust off the thick text, leafing through its yellowed pages. “I told you they’d have it. You just need to search better.”

You offer him a tight smile. “Noted.” More false niceties, more flat remarks.

Then the figurehead disappears in a blink, and you nearly drop your pen. He barely pays you any mind as he runs a hand through his hair, flipping through the text. You’d heard the rumours of the handsome face beneath the statue, but you’d never have imagined him to be so disgustingly perfect. 

Statuesque. 

His deep violet locks looked unbelievably soft. His crimson eyes showed laser focus as he scanned the text in front of him, ignoring you completely as he noted something down. After a brief silence where you skim over your outline and he presumably attempts to decipher the undeniably unreadable and ancient text which you were opposed to reading in the first place, he turns to you with a sigh. “What did you do while I was gone?”

“I wrote an outline.” you hand the papers to him begrudgingly, fidgeting with the pen in your hand. You don’t meet his gaze, afraid that his calculating gaze might see too far into your soul. 

“This?” his distaste seeps through his tone. You don’t need to look at his face to know that he’s frowning. 

You say nothing as he skims through your work, twirling your pen between your fingers.

“...It’s not the worst thing I've ever read.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. 

“It’s not good, either.”

You scowl at him. 

“I can salvage it.” he nonchalantly throws it back onto the table, returning to the text at hand. 

You want to shove his grotesquely perfect face into the book. He really was put on this earth to spite you.

“Don’t just sit there. Go look for texts on criticism of our stance.”

You don’t know how you’re going to find the patience to survive this project. If anything, it irked you further to find that there wasn’t some monstrosity hidden behind that figurehead. In everything he did, he seemed to be inventing new ways to get on your nerves. However, unbeknownst to you, Veritas Ratio held you higher than you gave yourself credit for. He believed your ideas to be invigorating. Refreshing, almost. A welcome reprieve from the same reiterated, chewed, swallowed and regurgitated approaches that your other classmates had. 

You weren’t like the rest of the mindless, studying machines at the university. You could be brilliant, and it annoyed him that you didn’t know this. He’d admitted as much to himself before, but he’d never tell you. But it was still not good enough for his standards – far better than what the imbeciles in your class could’ve come up with – but still far behind him. Or so he kept telling himself. 

Days passed by without a word from either of you. You were content to write your part in the solitude of your dorm, and he seemed perfectly content mulling over whatever he’d found in that indecipherable ancient text. By the time you’d nearly finished your part, he decided to meet with you once again to share your findings. 

His definition of deciding to meet with you meant simply cornering you after class and asking you to follow him. 

You started to protest, but he’d already turned and briskly walked out of the classroom, so you groaned and followed after him, winding up in the library again. This time, in a secluded corner with the late afternoon sun pouring through the window, illuminating the small table and workspace with a warm glow. 

You wondered how he wasn’t winded after trekking across the entire campus. You certainly were. His muscled build suggested that a mere leisurely walk couldn’t possibly have tired him out. What did he eat? Was he what Nietzsche had in mind when he wrote of the Superman? 

“What are you doing? Sit.” he gestures to the seat across from him, and you sink into the armchair, taking out your papers. His headpiece disappears once again, and your breath catches in your throat. 

His hair cast a faint shadow across his face, and his eyes seemed to glow. As you leaned in closer, you realised there was a thin ring of gold around his pupils. 

“Are you done with your part?” he demands, breaking you out of your trance. 

You silently hand over your drafts, watching his eyes flit across your paper. His eyebrows furrow slightly, eyes narrowing, but he remains quiet. Were his eyelashes always this long? They created an indistinct shadow on his cheeks. His skin was pale, fair. Not the sickly kind of pale you thought he’d be. Did he exercise? You wouldn’t be surprised, with all your classmates always fawning over his broad, strong chest and narrower waist. 

Was it your imagination, or were his cheeks slightly flushed? It might have been the light. 

“It’s deplorable.”

Your heart sinks in your chest as you sit back against the armchair. 

“Your ideas are rudimentary. Have you been reading at all?” he sighs, holding his head in his hand. “No matter. I can fix it. I don’t need you to do anything anymore. You can go.”

You stay seated in shock, unable to move. You’ve heard the anecdotes of people crying over being scolded by him, but was he always this harsh? 

“You know it’s a group project, right?” you begin before your better judgement can decide against it, “My work is just as important as yours, it doesn’t matter if you think my work is ‘deplorable’. I’m in the same class, I take the same course, I learn the same things as you do, you don’t get to look down on me no matter how stupidly smart you are.”

He raises an eyebrow, unamused. “Why not?”

“Take that stick out of your ass, Veritas Ratio. Get off your high horse.” you snatch your papers out of his hands and take your leave, ignoring his calls of your name. 

Were you dramatic? Yes, but not without reason. Given Ratio’s reputation for prioritising academics over everything else, you suspected that it wouldn’t take long for him to find you, either. 

You were so wrong. 

More days passed with no contact. He didn’t seem to be affected by your dramatics, and never once batted an eye in your direction unless necessary. It seemed your hypothesis of him inventing new ways to get on your nerves was on the track of being proved correct. But if you didn’t do something within the next few days, you trusted him to turn in the project without your name on the paper, resulting in a zero. 

He was just as stubborn as you, and though you were nothing compared to him in actuality, you were so close to grabbing his face and forcing him to look at you for who you were.

Seemingly, even in the battle of wits, he seemed to emerge victorious. 

“Ratio.” 

He barely glances up, engrossed in his writing. “What?”

“Are you done with the project?” Biting the bullet stings your teeth and left a bitter taste on your tongue. 

“No. Not yet. Why? You’re finally going to help?”

“Are you going to stop looking down at me?” 

The library is nearly empty. The sun is barely a sliver on the horizon, and the voices of students float down the corridor beyond the grand stacks of books, yet you’re here. Why do you bother? Are you really that desperate for his validation?

“Are you going to keep writing such reprehensible work?”

You glare at him. “Guess not.” you turn on your heel.

“You’re absolutely infuriating.” he sighs, leaning back in the armchair. “You’re not aware of what you can do, are you?”

You glare at him. Your chest stings. 

He looks at you, then. Truly. His complexion relaxes, and he rubs his temples. “Sit. Let’s go through your part.”

“Why?”

“I mulled it over. Your part is brilliant.”

Your eyes widen.

“But your expression and research is appalling. Have you learned how to write academically at all?”

You’d never simultaneously wanted to slap and kiss a man at once until today. “What happened to getting off your high horse?”

“I got off it. Now sit and listen, I won’t repeat myself.”

You supposed that was the closest to an apology he’d ever give you, so you sat. It pained you, but you did. Besides, he had called you brilliant – your part – but still, you couldn’t force the smile from your face as you listened to his instruction. 

“Your ideas in your introduction are well formed, but from there, it all goes downhill. You have to reorder your logic for it to make sense, and we will be deducted points if you don’t elaborate on the principles of your concept first.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “So how would you do it?”

“For one, I’d restart completely and get straight to the point.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Show me, then, if you’re so good.”

His eyes narrow at you, but he says nothing as he motions for you to come closer. 

The librarian was likely too scared to kick either of you out after closing time. Your arguments were heard by all of your neighbouring desks, and whenever there was a break in conversation, it seemed as if everyone held their breath. There was pin drop silence except for the two of you – but neither of you realised it. 

He was blunt, and had no idea what you were thinking, but perhaps this is what entrapped him. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop thinking about how he had called your ideas brilliant. 

You quickly learn how good of a teacher he is. Maybe it’s his forced patience or once-in-a-millenium genuine praise that spurs your decision, but you find yourself so willing to prove yourself, and he finds himself willing to help. 

Maybe this wasn’t so bad. 

“Just fix it, stop arguing with me. I’m right.”

“Why? Do you know every single thing about our topic?”

“No, but I have four degrees and more experience than you.”

“Jackass.”

“Change it.”

You grumbled another insult under your breath, yawning as you scribbled out the section you wrote and began to reword your thoughts. The sudden quietude was jarring, and as you looked around, you realised the overhead lights were off, the only source of light from the lamps illuminating the desks. 

“Is everyone gone?” you ask, sitting up straight and stretching. 

“Who cares? Finish up, then we can head back.”

“Fuck you, give me a break. I don’t write at the pace of a robot.”

“Then learn.”

“Fuck you too Veritas Ratio.”

“Expand your vocabulary while you’re at it.”

“Why are you so intent on irritating me?”

“You get irritated easily. Not my problem.”

“If you know I get irritated easily, why do you keep provoking me then? Do you want me to hate you more?”

He seems to pause. Minisculely, almost unnoticeable had your gaze not been trained on him for the past few hours. He had a habit of pausing and furrowing his brows when you said something slightly out of line. 

“Just finish the paper. You talk too much.”

You sigh and get back to work as he leafs through his own research. 

Amicable silence passes. The night is alive outside, gleaming and glistening with the touch of benevolent gods and whispers of long gone wishes – pearls stitched by fate’s knowing hands. 

“I’m done.”

“Show me.”

You pass the paper to him as you watch his expression carefully. 

Crimson eyes flit across your work, gold ringed irises flickering in the scarce light. If you could capture the way the light reflected in his eyes in a jar, you think wishfully that you’d stare at it forever; Until the light died out, or it decided to escape the ephemeral glass confines. 

But you’d never admit it out loud. It was wishful. If Veritas Ratio could read minds, he would undoubtedly reprimand you.

He clears his throat, and you snap to attention, swatting away your fantasies of stealing and bottling evasive light. 

“It’s good.”

You wait for him to speak further, but he says nothing. “Just good?”

“Well, by my standards, no, but for you, it’s good.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean,” he leans on the table, forearms flexing. “That you’re finally starting to live up to your potential.”

“Huh?”

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“What potential?”

He shakes his head absently, almost in disbelief. Forget light, you’d barter with the lady of fate to let you preserve this moment in a frame so that you could glimpse this expression forever. You’d never seen him so dumbfounded and awed at once – you doubt anyone ever has. He’d always been a man of knowing, and whatever he didn’t know, he would find out. Nothing was ever a “maybe,” or a “probably,” it was always absolute. It had to be absolute in his philosophy. 

You happened to be the one exception. 

“You’re not aware of the potential you have?”

“You think I have potential?”

“Aeons,” he murmurs under his breath, before standing and gathering his belongings. “I’m going to bed. See you in class tomorrow. We’ll finish up then.”

He leaves before you have the chance to question him, but as you slump back in your armchair, you can’t help but smile. 

Potential was as close as you’d ever get to a compliment from Veritas. 

—

The lady of fortune and lady Themis looked him in the eyes and saw their mortal emanator at his birth. He’d never been certain what he was made for, but he never let it burden him. Things like these weren’t made for him to ponder, that was up to the dreamers and inventors. 

He was a being of logic. A doctor of calculations and reason, and everyone knew him as such. 

But he simply couldn’t figure out what it was about you – your naive gaze or that pout that absently curved your lips – that had your words and scent and eyes lingering in his mind like a vengeful phantom. 

You were the being of all chaos and irrationality, but you were so bright. Unhoned, rough and unhewn. A gemstone shining with impurities but shining still, casting a beautiful mosaic cast across the ground with indecipherable shapes and patterns. 

It was deplorable. He hated you for being on his mind, and hated you even more for your wasted potential. He hated how you stared, how his cheeks would redden from the intensity of your gaze, and how he’d have to pretend he was unfazed, because he couldn’t afford any distractions. 

You were the being of his undoing, he was sure. You were brought into existence to spite him, to bring an unaccounted variable into the equation of his being, and present a causality dilemma for all he was. 

He wanted you gone, but he wanted you closer all at once. 

He hated it. 

It wasn’t common for him to sleep in either, so when he woke five minutes before class was supposed to start, he cursed you with all the spite in his heart and rushed to class, clutching papers from the night before, still imbued with traces of your lingering fragrance. Just how long had you pored over those papers for your smell to latch to them? It should be impossible. Fate was clearly against him. 

Fate brought you back together as he entered the brimming lecture hall, and the only vacant seat was the one next to you. 

“Did you get the papers in order?” you asked, glancing at his dishevelled state. The Dr Ratio you knew was never dishevelled, but this was the closest you’d ever seen him to it. 

“Yes. Just write your name on your bits and sign the sign off sheet and it’s complete.”

You take the paper from him, scrawling your name across your work, then handing it back. 

With your project finally submitted, you could breathe easy again – never endure his biting remarks and criticism again. 

But as the class progressed, you realised you were in trouble. 

The professor was merciless. He flicked through the presentation on the new topic with haste, rushing through new concepts, formulae and calculations with record speeds. You’d nudged Ratio, whispering for help, but he rolled his eyes and kept his stare attentively on the presentation. 

You wanted to slap him. 

Was he tolerating you because of the project? Was he going back to cold stares and dismissive glances?

You wouldn’t allow it. Not when you were so close to discovering the man behind the alabaster figurehead. As soon as the professor signalled the end of the lecture, a collective sigh was released from the class. 

You turned to Ratio, and he was already staring at you. 

“What was it you wanted to say?”

“Tutor me please.”

He raised a brow. “Why?”

“Because you’re smart.”

“Pick someone else, then. I don’t see why I should.”

“You asshole, I’ll buy you lunch if you tutor me.”

He frowns at you as he begins to leave. You trail after him. “Please?”

He sighs deeply. Like a man burdened with the weight of his own world on his shoulders. Byron’s brooding, romantic hero, in his melodramatic glory. “Fine. Stop annoying me.”

You smile. “Thanks. Meet you at your dorm after dinner?”

He sighs again. “ Don’t be late or I'll lock the door and go to bed.”

He watched the seconds tick by in agonising motion – a man awaiting his sentence, but also his reprieve. Is this what his classmates felt before they took tests? It certainly seemed like it. Relief was on the horizon, and yet great suffering was imminent. He’d never known the feeling until now.

But as they say, the harder the rain, the sweeter the sun, and he wasn’t about to relinquish his quest to decipher you. 

It seemed mutual as he paced in front of his front door, having eaten dinner at the cafeteria early to mentally prepare himself. 

When your knock finally sounded at his door, he sighed, checked his watch, then reluctantly opened the door. 

You were a picture to behold. 

Hair slightly damp from a shower, drowning in loose, oversized clothing. It was all painfully domestic to see you walk through his doorway, scanning his living space. In the back of his mind, he thought it felt right, but he shook his head. 

You were messing with him again. 

Two could play that game. 

“Take a seat.” He pulled out a stool from his kitchen island. “Want a drink?”

“What, like alcohol?” you huffed. 

“Are you an alcoholic?”

“Only if you want me to be.” you shrug, setting down your notes on the bench.

He sighs exasperatedly, already berating himself for agreeing to this. He never agreed to tutor anyone. Why were you the exception? You shouldn’t be. 

His hypothesis: you were trying to get something out of him. A way to cheat the class, his academic favour, something hedonistic, even. It seemed plausible enough, but you listened intently as he explained the concepts the professor spoke of in the lecture, asking questions and actively engaging with his explanation. 

It didn’t seem like there was any ulterior motive. So why was he letting you break his rules and defy his nature?

“God, why didn't the prof explain it during that lesson? Everyone struggled.”

“You’re not smart enough to understand his concise methods, then.” he huffed. 

“You’re too smart.”

“You’re not smart enough.”

“Smart ass,”

“Get back to work. You did that question wrong, by the way.”

You groaned. “Where?”

He was so caught up in your quarrels that he didn’t notice the time grinding away at the pestle. It was nearly midnight when you’d finally caught up with that day’s classwork, and he sighed in relief. 

“You understand?”

“Yes. You don’t have to worry now.”

“I won’t. Now get out.”

“No drink?” you frowned, pretending to sulk at his expense. He simply stared at you, getting up from his stool and walking to the fridge. 

Remarkably, he pulled out two beers. 

“Don’t speak. If you do, I'll regret allowing you over again.”

A smile befell your lips. “I’m not saying anything.”

“I don’t like the look on your face.”

“Wipe it off then.”

A frown.  His new hypothesis: you were trying to seduce him for better grades, more tutoring sessions, or for his own downfall. 

“Drink and leave.”

“If you say so.” you take the chilled bottle and drink. He watches your throat move, and he thinks of himself as pathetic as he drinks as well, wincing at the bitterness. 

“Do you live by yourself?” you ask, head propped onto your hand. 

“I do.”

“Are you lonely or something?”

“No, people are irritating.” Like you.

“What a ray of sunshine you are.” You’re not much better.

“I don’t have to put up with any idiocy.”

“If you say so.”

Quiet passes as beer fizzes in the bottles, golden liquid sloshing at the sides of the glass. 

One thing you learn that night is that Veritas Ratio, the famed multiple time valedictorian of your university, is an extreme lightweight. His cheeks become red quicker than you can finish your bottle, and he starts to grumble nonsense under his breath. 

“You’re really smart, you know?” he suddenly says after mumbling something about quantum physics.

“What was that?” 

“You’re really smart. Really smart. Impressive.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you idiot, how many times do I have to repeat myself?” he leans on the bench, not entirely aware of his surroundings as he does so.  He squints at the ground. 

He’s a cute drunk, you realise begrudgingly.

“Thanks, Veritas. You’re smart too.”

“I know.” he drinks from his bottle again, swirling the dregs. “But I can’t figure you out.”

“Hm?”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Do you hate me?”

You hesitate for a moment. “Yes.”

“Then why are you like this?”

Your eyebrows raise. 

“You’re making me irrational. I can’t figure it out.”

“...Sorry?”

“You should be. You know, I was nearly late to class today because of you. You kept me awake.”

“Really?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking. Thoughts. And things.”

You laugh at his predicament, draining your beer and gathering your things. Trying to leave before he said anything that could turn the encounter south. 

“Wait. Don’t go.” he slams his palm onto your notes, determination in his eyes. 

“I need to go to bed.” you say as if scolding a child.

“I need to figure you out. You’re still an enigma to me. The anomaly of my behaviour. Is this your intention?”

“What are you talking about? You’re drunk.”

“I can think. I can move. I can see fine. I’m not drunk. Answer me.”

“Maybe I'm just so mesmerising to you.” you joke, but his brows furrowed in thought. 

“Maybe.” he retracts his hand from your notes, and you stow them away into your bag, slinging it onto your shoulder before he can do anything else. 

As you’re halfway to the door, he pushes you against the wall. 

You never realised how tall he was until then. How much of a height difference you had, or how muscular he was. He had to have worked out on a daily basis. The pungent smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, and his cheeks were tainted with deep red as he searched your gaze. 

You decide he’s officially lost his mind, but who were you to complain?

“Are you mesmerising?” he whispers, eyes trailing down your face, examining and analysing, his hand tracing down your body with those slender scholar’s hands.

“You tell me.”

Then he grabs your face and mashes your lips together. The kiss is rough, biting and rushed. You freeze for a sliver of a second before returning it, letting him decide your allure with his own devices. 

He pulls away almost too fast, lips kiss bitten, breath fast. 

“You’re a siren.”

“Am I?”

“You’re going to ruin me.”

“What a weak man you are, if it only takes one woman to ruin you.”

“I hate you.”

“Really?”

“I hate it because I’d probably let you.”

“Are you a masochist?”

“Not in my right mind. I’ll wake up and regret everything, but it’ll all be the same, fundamentally.”

“So what’s your conclusion?”

He still has you pushed against the wall, caged within himself. “You were put into this world to bring about my destruction.”

“How? Why?”

“You’re my opposite. Brash, naive, carefree.”

“Are you normally this analytical of people?”

“No, which supports my point.”

“I see. So you’re going to let me ruin your image?”

“No. I hate you for it.”

“Let me go then.”

He wordlessly steps away, and you stumble to the door. 

“So what are we?” you ask, turned away from him. You can’t see the way he drinks in your visage like a starving man, and the small, sober part of him is grateful for it. 

“Polar opposites.”

“I mean who am I to you?”

He’s silent for a while, so you turn back to him to find him leaning on the wall, gazing into space. 

“Veritas?”

“You’re my undoing. A catalyst, maybe, for my downfall. But there must be balance, right? So what are you?”

“What am I?”

“I don’t know.”

You knew then that he was beyond reason. Was this what you did to him? You took some sadistic pride in seeing a man such as himself reduced to a mumbling, questioning, incoherent mess. You were somewhat pleased with the effect you had on him., but you could never let him know this. 

He crumpled to the floor, back to the wall, clutching his head in his hands. “I’ll figure you out.”

“Sure you will. Goodnight, Veritas.”

“Night.”

Your smile was brighter than the morning as you left his apartment, embracing the night’s welcoming chill. 

written by @atlaswav , published 15th of July 2024

[floswife]

SORE LOSER - T.N X READER

Pairing: Theodore Nott x reader

Summary: Theodore and Y/n learn how to better focus their hate for each other

Warnings: SMUT, oral, dubcon..?

Author’s notes: this is my first time writing smut so I honestly apologise for how inevitably bad this will be 💀

Y/n didn’t know what it was about seeing the anger flash before Theo’s eyes when she’d taunt him, but it honestly was her main motivation when competing against him.

Like now in this quidditch match as she threw the quaffle threw the goal hoops once more, she had to turn to look at Theo for a split second just for the sake of rubbing salt into the wound. She would like to lie and say she was ashamed of her pettiness but what’s the point in that?

She had been out to get him ever since he made her cauldron explode in potions, which prompted Snape to hate her even more than he usually did with Gryffindors. Which was quite a feat, she wasn’t on a Harry Potter level of hatred but on the other hand Snape didn’t have a perpetual hard on for her mother either so that probably helped her too.

In hindsight it was a petty reason to name someone your sworn enemy, but his smug smile when he saw her turn to glare at him was enough to set her eleven year old brain off. Plus she just really liked being a hater for no reason.

After successfully winning the game she went over to Theo who was leaning against the wall, looking like a kicked puppy, she couldn’t lie, seeing him like that really did numbers on her but she wasn’t about to let that get in the way of her favourite thing to do with Theo, gloat.

“How does it feel to lose yet again, Nott?” She called out cheerily, the broad grin he loved hated so much painted across her face.

He groaned in annoyance at the sound of her voice, “leave me alone, l/n, I’m not in the mood.”

He had always been a sore loser, she laughed in amusement “or what? I’m sorry but the last I checked you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Theo glared at her as she stood in front of him, both of them still in their quidditch uniforms, he towered over her but she did well to push that thought to the back of her mind as she had been doing ever since he annoyingly hit a growth spurt in third year. She remembered how ranted about it to her friends later on, pretending to ignore her friends knowing smirks as she’d feel a rosy blush rise to her cheeks every time she had to crane her neck to meet his cold gaze.

“Why do you always have to be such a brat?” He sneered at the girl.

“Oh I’m the brat? I’m not the one sulking like a child because I lost a match.” Y/n’s continuous retorts just made him snap.

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her to follow after him, practically dragging her, and took her under the quidditch stands.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She rubbed her wrist in annoyance at his harsh grip.

“I’m gonna teach you how to shut up.” He pushed her down to her knees and she looked up at him in shock, she looked forward and saw the prominent tent in his trousers, “now be a good girl and listen to me for once.” His voice was slightly whiny as he said that, like he was begging her.

Y/n gulped, really beginning to question her morals, but all her internal monologue silenced when he unzipped his trousers and freed his member from its constraints with a throaty groan, wetness pooled between her legs at the sound and just the sight of his pretty cock. Merlin he was big.

He rubbed the tip along her lips, the salty taste of his precum invaded her tastebuds.

“Open your mouth and put that mouth to good use.” He demanded, she did as she was told and tentatively kitten licked the tip, he threw his head back in satisfaction and let out a whimper? She then wrapped her mouth around his tip and sucked.

He moaned her name out even louder, making her moan around his cock at the sound, she took as much of him down her throat as possible, she gagged when he hit the back of her throat but she powered through, bobbing her head up and down and using her hand to pump at the parts of his shaft that couldn’t fit in her mouth.

“Fuck! Just like that. Taking me so well.”

He was groaning loudly, and she suddenly gained awareness that they weren’t exactly in the most private of places, she tried to pull away to tell him to shut up but he just wrapped a hand in her hair and pushed her back down, he began thrusting his hips and fucked her mouth, tears ran down her cheeks and saliva dribbled out the corners of her mouth as he used her as he pleased. The thought of how blatantly he was using her as just an object couldn’t help but arouse her.

“Being such a good girl for me.”

He held her head down on his cock and she struggled to breath, he twitched before releasing down her throat, he pulled out and tapped her cheek, “swallow.”

He tucked himself away and she got up and stuck out her tongue to show him she swallowed.

He now smirked, “it wasn’t that hard to listen now was it?”

Y/n was still in a haze as she tried to compose herself and have the decency to at least pretend to be embarrassed and tried to pull away but he firmly placed his hands on her hips and pulled her right back against him again, “Shut up, Nott.”

He raised his brows teasingly and she couldn’t help but grow frustrated at how he had switched the tables on her so quickly when she was so clearly set up for a win.

“That’s not how someone who just had my cock down my throat should be speaking, now is it?” His voice was mocking, condescending.

She get that familiar heat pool between her thighs once more and she remained speechless, he smirked.

“Such a shame, you were gonna get a reward for being such a good girl.”

She tried to gain her composure as she scoffed, “like I’d want it.” She really did want it

He leaned in, that stupid lazy smirk on his lips again, “so you’re not soaked right now?”

Her eyes widened and he then inched his hand from her hip to under her waistband, as soon as his fingers touched her wetness that had completely soaked through her panties she moaned lightly, her eyes rolling back at the contact she was yearning this whole time.

“Theo!” She gasped.

He pulled his fingers away just as quickly as it came he pulled his finger and he brought it to his lips to suck her juices clean from it and he hummed, “so sweet.. on second thought, let’s continue this tonight, room of requirements?”

“What-“

And just like that he left her there, needy for his touch.

She really did hate him.

But he was so hot.

Looks like she had plans for the night.

Part two?

[lady-ashfade]

A Son For A Son

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Deamons Bastard!Reader x Yan!Team black. Pt.2

╰･ﾟ✧☽ first fic here.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ summary: the queen has given a order, and craving revenge you expect.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 1k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: blood & gore, murder and death, reader killing, reader being her father, uncanon events, poison, I just needed to make this.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ DONT READ IF YOU WANNA BE SPOILED: reader does in fact kill aemond in this and idk if you are happy about it, I want his head to take to my queen.

“I want Aemond Targaryen.” she stood before the council covered in dirt and who knows what.

It had been two weeks since the letter about the death of Lucaerys had arrived and you all had been the worst for it. and ever since she searched and searched for a sign of truth, desperate to be wrong. that her sweet boy was alive. you knew he was dead and you wanted everyone to pay for taking luke. you wanted aemond targaryen to pay. you took anger out on the ones you could, or roamed the sky’s to get your mind off of things. you would not act without her orders.

The resemblance you shared to daemon was close and terrifying for your foes. just as you had the idea to fulfill her wishes, your father did too.

“I don’t know what you’re planning,” the sound of your voice made his shoulders fall and a smirk appear on his face, one you couldn’t see. a dark cloak draped over his shoulders and matched the same one across your frame. “but I have a better one.”

“No.” you glare at the back of his head. again denied something worth your talents.

“You can’t tell me what do to this time father.” standing your ground as his eyes turn around, a look he uses when he’s serious. and for him it was like looking into a mirror, you carved blood just like he did and loved getting to spill it. even for no reason at all.

“I have waited around for a task, and she has said she wants Aemond. I mourn the loss of my brother too, and you can not keep me from whatever it is that you think you’re protecting me from.”

Hundreds of men died at the end of your blade at night as you slip throughout the shadows. you were a slayer, a assassin who followed your own roles but loved coin and the game. a story to tell children to make them weep and fear the dark. so how could he still think you are not ready.

“I have let you do what you needed, patrol the blockade against my wishes. or fly alone when our enemies wait to make us weaker” he lectures, “and I will not let them take you.” for a moment you saw a regular father begging for his daughter to stay safe. you aren’t just a daughter now but a soldier in war.

“I would never let them take me,” you step closer and give him a smug look, “I am your daughter after all.”

Instead of going himself, daemon sends you, for the head of the copycat prince.

the castle gates are easy to slip passed with the help of a guard who shares your hatred for the hightowers. and many times, you slip into the keep without getting caught.

“Something told me you’d be here,” his eye glanced at you amused from the cough as his fingertips spin a coin. “It’s as if the gods made me stay here.” aemond unfolded his legs and leaned forward on his knees. many years you hated the way he spoke to you like a interest of his to be claimed like his bitch dragon.

“Then the gods agree you’ll die tonight.”

aemond waited for this moment to finally fight you. he wanted to win and keep you forever as a trophy, a wife who was like him and everyone feared without a doubt. he wasn’t a fool, you are a skilled killer and he needed to bring his all. and some skills stayed in the dark.

a slice in his chest, in his leg and cheek aren’t as bad as he thought when he had you pinned down onto the table. the cold feeling of metal as his hands wrapped around your throat was refreshing. you didn’t try and fight back as he took your breath because the fight was won as soon as it started.

And he should have known you couldn’t be this sloppy.

curling lips up into a devil’s smirk, looking into his eye he feels himself weakened and his grip loosen. the power of letting a man win and wiping all power from beneath their feet was riveting and a hobby. Aemond leaned back and placed his weight onto the couch while trying to keep composure. “You honestly think i wouldn’t have a plan? Make my own rules?” you raise a brow and rub the sore skin of your neck, inching closer while standing up yourself.

“Silent reaper is the name they whisper about me, come in quickly without notice. I always kill my enemies without them awake, but you,” you point and lean down as his eyes become bloodshot, “I want to feel the most pain. And I will enjoy it.” within a few minutes his body starts to leak its own blood. he was quickly taken to death of course, you couldn’t hear his pleads but you’ll satisfy with his death.

guards fall silent when they watch you walk through the halls they don’t even announce your name. white locks lace your fingers and the weight of his head was little and you look like your father with the proud eyes of what you did. the sounds of your footsteps cause the council to glance over but stay with shock. non of them expected to see that and much less out of no where. though, your father seemed pleased and chuckled at the sight.

“The head of Prince Aemond Targaryen, your Grace.” Walking past Jace you set the bloody head on the table as people gawk and flinch. “the poison was my idea, hope you don’t mind.” a second later you yawn of exhaustion and boredom. you look at rhaenrya as her eyes glossed with the revenge you took for her.

“If you’ll excuse me, the ride back was tiring and I wish to get back to my book.” bowing down you flash a “polite” smile and walk away to your chambers with pride and a hand rested on your blade. with everyone wondering what else you would do for the queen,

Your mother.

[misswynters]

Toxic Devotion

Jacaerys Velaryon x gn!reader

[warning: toxic relationship, yandere behavior, implied non-con touching, murder

[synopsis: You will do anything to protect jace and so does he. Getting rid of anyone who even looks at you wrong. It should be easy, right?

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

The torches flickered along the walls of the narrow corridor, casting eerie shadows as you moved with purpose. Your blood was still boiling from the encounter, the venomous words of the your once handmaiden echoing in your mind.

"Bastard prince," she had hissed, her eyes filled with contempt. "Not fit to sit the throne, not fit to touch such noble blood like you."

Rage had surged within you, swift and deadly. Without a second thought, you had grabbed the nearest sharp object, a ceremonial dagger, and silenced her vile tongue forever. Now, as you made your way back to your chambers, the weight of your actions settled over you like a shroud, but you felt no remorse. You had done it for Jacaerys, and that was all that mattered. Nothing was more important to you than protecting his beautiful self from any harm. Pushing open the heavy door to your quarters, you were met with a sight that sent a cold shock through your veins.

Jacaerys stood over the lifeless body of your kingsguard, blood dripping from the blade in his hand. Your eyes widened, and you took a step back, but Jacaerys's gaze was fixed on you, a mix of protectiveness and ferocity in his eyes.

"He touched you," Jacaerys said, his voice low and dangerous. He was glaring at the body with disgust. "He had no right."

You looked down at the body, remembering how you had woken earlier to find the kingsguard in your bed, clearly drunk, his intentions unclear. You had been too disoriented to react, but Jacaerys had come in just moments later, his rage instant and deadly.

"He was in my bed when I woke," you whispered, the horror of the situation sinking in. "I didn't-"

"I know," Jacaerys interrupted, stepping closer to you. "I know you didn't invite him. But he dared to overstep, and he paid the price.”

You met his gaze, the intensity of his emotions matching your own. "I killed the handmaiden," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "She called you a bastard, said terrible things about you."

A dark smile twisted Jacaerys's lips, and he reached out to cup your face in his bloodstained hand. "You did it for me," he said softly, his eyes gleaming with a twisted kind of pride. "Just as I did this for you."

The silence between you was heavy with the weight of your actions, but it was also charged with a dangerous kind of devotion. In that moment, you both understood that your love was a double-edged sword, cutting down anyone who dared to come between you.

"We're bound together," Jacaerys murmured, his thumb tracing your cheek. "By blood, fire, and death. No one can tear us apart."

You nodded, leaning into his touch, feeling a strange sense of solace in his words. "No one," you echoed. As Jacaerys pulled you into his embrace, you knew that your love was as destructive as it was passionate. But in this world of treachery and betrayal, it was the only thing you could trust. And so, with bodies lying in your wake and blood staining your hands, you clung to each other, bound by a love that was both your salvation and your damnation.

The storm raged outside, lightning illuminating the dark skies over Dragonstone. Inside your chambers, the atmosphere was equally charged. You and Jacaerys lay in bed, the events of the day replaying in your minds. His arm was draped possessively over your waist, his breath warm against your neck.

"I can still see the look in her eyes," you murmured, staring at the ceiling. "The fear, the hatred. It felt...satisfying to silence her."

Jacaerys tightened his hold on you, his voice a low growl. "They all think they can judge us. They don't understand what we have, the lengths we'll go to for each other."

You turned to face him, your fingers tracing the contours of his face. "They will learn. Anyone who dares to come between us will meet the same fate."

He captured your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "We are unstoppable, my love. Together, we will claim what is rightfully ours." The fire in his eyes mirrored your own, a shared madness that fueled your ambition. "Tomorrow, we must deal with the aftermath," you said, a hint of worry creeping into your voice. "Questions will be asked."

Jacaerys's expression hardened. "Let them ask. We'll have our answers ready. We protect each other, always."

A scream could be heard from a distance, another handmaiden must’ve founded the poor girl lying on your bed, lifeless. The sound of footsteps in the hallway made you both tense. Jacaerys sprang from the bed, moving silently to the door, his sword in hand. You followed, your heart pounding. A knock echoed through the room, and Jacaerys opened the door a fraction, revealing your most trusted servant.

"My lord, my lady," he whispered urgently. "The bodies have been discovered. The court is in an uproar." The servant was shaken up, nervously fidgeting his fingers. In fear of doing anything wrong and that also lead to his untimely demise.

Jacaerys glanced back at you, his eyes cold and calculating. "Well, i guess we don’t have much of a choice now do we."

You nodded, steeling yourself. "Let's face them, it can’t be that bad." You walked towards him reaching towards his hand, your eyes softly looking towards his, which were the opposite. Darker than they usually are.

Hand in hand, you stepped into the corridor, ready to confront whatever awaited you. The court might rage and whisper, but you and Jacaerys were a force of nature, bound by a love that was as fierce as it was toxic. And nothing, not even death, would come between you.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Protector

Paring: Simon Ghost Riley x f!reader

Warnings: torture, canon typical violence, protective ghost, mentions of past trauma, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 6.5k words

Synopsis: You and Ghost were captured and tortured...

This is based on this post that I made a while ago. Basically "touch her and I'll kill you" trope.

EDIT: Here's part 2

“…Get up!”

“…Fucking get up!”

The voice seemed familiar. It was rough, low and resonated in your head. Furious but hidden beneath it was a desperate plea.

Searing hot pain resonated from the back of your head and though your eyes were open you couldn't see a thing through the bright light that burned into your eyes. Something hot rolled down your face and the back of your neck as you stared into the blurry light trying to discern what was going on.

You couldn’t move a muscle, not even your fingers as an intense coppery taste fell into your mouth. It hurt to breathe against the cold floor, your chest and sides collapsing into you causing you to wheeze.

You blinked almost in slow motion. Unable to let your eyes shut despite the pulling weight you felt as if you were going to sink into the floor and fall asleep. You were tired and so cold yet you couldn’t even shiver without feeling pain electrocute you.

“You hear him?” A gruff voice, almost muffled but cold and condescending, called out to you as you felt a nudge on your side. You winced but that’s all you could do as you stared up at the shadow in front of you. “He wants you to get up."

Another voice just as cold said something in a different language you couldn't comprehend in your state. They argued back and forth while you tried to find the familiar person.

You squinted through the light to try to discern who was in front of you. Your vision was too blurry from pain and tears but no matter how many times you blinked them away you couldn't see. It made your heart race but the heavy beating hurt against your chest more than it should.

A swift kick to your gut knocked the wind out of you before you could cry out in pain. You gasped for air as tears ran down your face and more blood filled your mouth. The kick left sharp pains inside your abdomen and every moment you couldn't take in a breath, the more it hurt.

Hands grabbed onto your arms and yanked you off the ground, ignoring the cries you let out as they dragged you across the floor. You were thrown onto a chair and winced when you felt your restraints dig into your sore wrists and ankles as they tightened them around you again.

A hand grabbed you jaw and squeezed, causing you to wince again as you were forced to look ahead of you.

“She’s up now.” The man snickered and your attention moved in front of you. “This is what you wanted, yes?”

Your captor was talking to a man who was tied to a chair in front of you. Now that the light was partially out of your eyes and gravity allowed your tears to be blinked away, you could see.

The man across from you looked unfamiliar. His blond hair was stained with red and his face was bruised with blood as well. Despite that he seemed to have much more strength than you did since he was able to sit up straight when you couldn’t even hold your own head up.

Your eyes widened when you realized that was your lieutenant. That was Ghost.

You were seeing Ghost without his mask.

“Just tell us what we want and you can stop this.” Your captor gestured to your face.

Ghost glared at the man who held your face but said nothing. You couldn’t see how angry he was, how much hatred there was in his eyes and if looks could kill then both of you would’ve been free by now.

Blood dripped from your mouth and your captor let go of you by shoving your head away. He growled something under his breath as he walked away from you. You wanted to see what he was going to do but you didn’t have enough strength to lift your head up. You were glad for that however because almost immediately you could hear the man beating Ghost.

You wished you could tune out the sounds but you couldn’t. Every grunt and labored breath hit your ears, threatening you with an experience you had just been through.

You gathered all the strength you could muster and tried to struggle against your restraints but it wasn’t even enough to make them dig into your skin. You wheezed again and when those few seconds of fighting left you, you were hit with intense exhaustion.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you passed out.

~

Ghost’s chest heaved up and down as fresh blood ran down his face. He wasn’t sure how long his face had been used as a punching bag but he preferred it over being used as a cutting board instead. He would prefer to be anywhere else but in a concrete room, in a building that Price was struggling to find, however that was the risk that came with the job.

A simple recon mission had turned into getting captured by Russian weapons dealers. They weren’t exactly the hospitable type considering his nose was broken and he was missing a few fingernails.

He wasn’t new to torture but this had to be the worst torture method he had been through.

Ghost looked up at you and felt his entire world shatter.

If he hadn’t seen your eyes searching for him, he would’ve thought you were dead. You were covered in blood and bruises of all colors. Your clothes were tattered from having knives carved into your skin and he could see a few burn marks that would surely leave nasty scars. You had lost so much blood he was surprised you were still alive but so grateful you were holding on.

You weren’t supposed to be in here with him and there was no denying that it was his fault you were.

You both had been captured at the same time, a mistake from you both but he took the sole blame for it as your lieutenant. You were separated and Ghost assumed that they were at least keeping you locked up without touching you while they tried their hardest to get information out of him.

He assumed they were just going to keep trying, they were going to continue to beat the living hell out of him and he was going to say nothing to them. But he was proved wrong when they quickly realized they were getting nowhere with him so they brought you in to try to beat it out of you too. And then Ghost made the stupid mistake by opening his mouth and telling them to stop.

It took one word from him to seal your fate. One word and you became their favorite toy to beat, cut and harm in every possible way just to get Ghost to talk.

You were being used against him and as much as he wanted to deny it, to say he was an operative who knew how to handle these situations and was disciplined beyond the nines, it was working.

Every scream, every cry you let out broke down his defenses and it became harder for Ghost to keep his mouth shut. He wanted to tell them everything and that was scary for more than one reason which made him feel sick.

Scary because if they got the right info out of him, he could jeopardize the lives of many and become even more of a failure than he already was in this moment. Scary because if he was willing to break to end your suffering for the sake of both of you, he had to come to terms with how he truly felt about you.

And right now he couldn’t.

Ghost stopped himself by telling himself that once he gave them the info they needed, both of you were going to die. It was enough to keep his mouth shut until the next round of torture came.

All of the torture and pain for you was going to end soon. There was a spot on his restraints that was hidden from the weapons dealers that he had been working on since he had been strapped down. He could feel it start to become loose enough he could break his hand free, he just had to wait for the right moment.

“Sergeant.” He called out to your limp form with a raspy voice before he spit blood onto the floor.

You didn’t respond. You were out cold and his chest hurt more if it was even possible.

This past round of torture had been especially cruel and long. The weapons dealers had been relentless in their beatings, going so far as to toss you on the ground to kick you as hard as they could until you were coughing up blood.

“You better not fucking die on me.” He tugged on his restraint and never looked away from you. “That’s an order.”

It was a feeble attempt to make himself feel better. He worked against his restraint, staring at the bruises on your skin and the blood dripping from your face onto your clothes.

He thought about how you were going to be so much more damaged after this. Your smile was going to be absent from your beautiful face, your laughter would no longer grace his soul, you probably wouldn’t even give him those little touches he thought he hated. They had hurt you so much more than he ever wanted to think about and that made him pissed.

Ghost broke through it with ease. Adrenaline and rage coursed through his veins as he wasted no time ripping the rest of his restraints off. When he was finally free he shot up from his chair and nearly collapsed on the floor.

He was in worse shape than he wanted to believe.

Black spots dotted his vision and his aching muscles weighed him down enough that he had to hold onto the chair to keep himself from falling. His head pounded furiously which made it difficult to even blink as he found himself short of breath even though he had only stood up from the chair.

Everything hurt but he couldn’t let that stop him. He needed to be strong for you. He could rest when you were safe.

He pushed off the chair and kneeled in front of you. His eyes jumped all over you, trying to make sure you weren’t actively bleeding out before he gently cupped your face with shaky hands.

“Sergeant.” His voice was softer than usual as he held your face. “Come on, wake up.”

When Ghost moved your head ever so slightly you woke up with a slight jump. You immediately began to breathe quicker, thinking that a new round of torture was going to start before he spoke.

“It’s me.” He assured you and watched your eyes finally open. He always thought he was blessed by the universe when you looked at him but now he truly felt like the luckiest man to see them after all you both had been through. “It’s Ghost.”

“Ghost…” You rasped out, wincing from the pain as you relaxed now that he was in front of you.

“I’m here.”

He kept a hand on your cheek as he began to undo your restraints, one of his fingers pressed against your weak pulse. You weren’t bleeding out but a few more beatings like the one you had just endured and you’d be gone from him. He had to be quick and extremely careful when breaking out of here.

“I’m getting us out of here.” He explained in a low tone as your wrists became free but you didn’t move to get up. “We’ll have to move quick. I can’t fight and carry you at the same time, think you can walk for me?”

Ghost was prepared to have to carry you if you said you couldn’t. He’d come up with another plan instead of fighting his way out of there.The idea of moving sounded horrible to you, he could see it in your eyes, but you nodded as you gripped the chair tightly to prepare yourself to stand up.

He grabbed your arms as gently as he could and was going to help you up when he heard movement outside of the room.

“Fuck.” He gently set you back down in the chair and held your face so you were looking at him. “Stay.”

He moved away from you, and took position beside the door and listened to the approaching footsteps with bated breath. The silence in his ears was only broken by the loud beating of his heart as he braced himself for a fight he was determined to win.

When the door opened, his eyes narrowed. All of the torture he endured turned into anger but all of the torture you endured turned into blinding hot rage. He barely had enough self control to wait for the man to even enter the room before he began swinging.

The man let out a shocked yelp as Ghost’s fist connected with his face. He had no time to react when he grabbed the man by the shirt and flung him in the wall, pinning him against it as he rammed his fist into his face relentlessly.

Ghost was seeing red. He kneed the man in the stomach and caught his arm when he tried to fight back, ignoring the loud crack that came from it when twisted it as hard as he could. He didn’t care when the man screamed in pain, in fact he almost relished in it before he managed to wrap his arms around the man's neck and started to choke him.

He easily could’ve snapped it. The fight would’ve been over but he didn’t want it to end that quick. He wanted this man to suffer for putting his hands on you, almost wishing he could return the damage but there was no time for that.

The man went limp and Ghost threw him on the ground. He was breathing heavily as he snatched the knife he had from his back pocket.

The man deserved worse.

“Still with me, sergeant?” He rushed back over to you and when you nodded he carefully wrapped his arms around you. “We gotta go.”

You tried not to scream, but a groan left your throat as pain flushed over you when he pulled you up. Your chest heaved up and down as your vision went black, and you fell against Ghost. You felt his protective arms hold you up and close to him as you waited for your vision to come back. You could hardly stand on your own but you gripped his forearms for dear life while you forced yourself to stay strong.

“I’m okay.” You didn’t sound convincing as you tried to push away from him but he wouldn’t let go.

“No.” He bent down and wrapped his arm under your knees before you picked up with ease despite the screaming pain in his muscles. “I’ve got you.”

You were unnaturally cold in his arms. He held you close to his chest to try to warm you up. His heart skipped a beat when you wrapped your arms around him and hid your face in the crook of his neck. He adjusted his hold on you, trying his best not to hurt you as he did, and made his way towards the door.

He hoped that no one had heard the struggle and when he glanced at the body on the ground, it took a lot of self control not to kick it.

“Your mask…” Your weak voice was close to his ear and sent a shiver down his spine.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine.”

He hadn’t even thought about his face being exposed. He didn’t care if anyone saw his face at this moment, the only thing on his mind was getting you out of there.

Ghost peered out of the door down the dimly lit hall. He wasn’t sure how big the building was but luckily for the both of you no one seemed to be around. That didn’t make him feel any less on edge, in fact he was more on edge since he didn’t know the layout of the building or the routine any of its inhabitants had. For all he knew, someone could be coming around the corner and you’d both be screwed.

He stepped out in the hallway, keeping his attention on both sides as he stayed close to the wall. He moved close to the ground, trying to keep his footsteps quiet.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered as he turned around a corner.

“Stop.” He interrupted and felt more anger rise in him “I don’t want to hear any of that. Not now or when we get out of here.”

“Sorry…”

Noise from down the hall made him stop. His heart started to race and he quickly raced back to the corner, hiding behind it as he listened to the approaching chatter of two guards.

His eyes frantically searched for a room to hide in before he noticed what looked to be like a supply closet. He swung the door open and stepped inside, struggling to shut the door before they rounded the corner. He got it to close to a crack before he heard their voices closer than ever.

He stilled and held you closer to him. He felt your arms wrap just a little bit tighter around his shoulders as you both tried to breathe quieter. In the silence of the supply closet he could hear just how bad your wheezing was and it only gave him more motivation to get out of there as fast as he could.

He hoped neither one of your lungs were going to collapse before you made it out.

The chatter from the guards slowly began to disappear but he waited. He didn’t move a muscle even after the guards were long gone from the hallway. He wanted to be sure that no one else was going to show but for the first time since he had been subjected to torture he was able to catch his breath.

The pitch black closet and the silence within gave him a sense of security. He was fine with listening to your breathing in his ear as he shut his eyes for just a moment, just to find some peace.

You must’ve felt the same since your hold around him loosened and your breathing had gone steady. He held you closer to him, making sure you were still secure in his arms.

“They hurt you.” You whispered, causing him to open his eyes.

You were pointing out the obvious but he could hear the worry in your voice especially when your thumb caressed a cut on his neck.

“I’ve been through worse, don’t worry about me.” Ghost assured you as he pushed the closet door open with his foot. “You should see yourself.”

You grunted maybe out of pain or exhaustion when you were reminded of the serious state you were in. Your eyes were barely able to stay open as he maneuvered through the halls again.

“Thought you were dead.”

“Hurts too much for that.”

Ghost clenched his jaw tightly, making a mental note that when you both got out here to find the fuckers. He would request a solo mission when he got off leave just for the purpose of finding the other weapons dealer. They may have been able to capture him this one time but they made the mistake of not killing him before he got out.

He quickened his pace down the hall, hoping to find some sort of indication of where he was going. There were no signs, the walls were so empty that he wondered if maybe he was going in circles. He huffed and hoped that wasn’t the case.

A yell echoed off the walls, not too far from where he stood, and he instinctively tightened his grip on you. You winced and he wanted to apologize but he was now on high alert as he listened to the angry voices that were impossible to tell where they were coming from.

He was an expert at this. It was his job to sweep the halls and be prepared for everything, to know when someone could be next or when he was approaching an enemy. His hyper awareness of his surroundings was second nature and yet he had gotten into this situation and he was struggling to put those skills back into use.

He was distracted by his aching muscles and screaming wounds that stained his dirty clothes. His mind raced with trying to keep track of where he was and keeping you safe.

You were taking up most of his mind too. He was trying to not hurt you, to jostle you around and make your wounds worse while trying to hightail it out of there so you could get the help that you needed. He was being too kind to your wounds in a situation like this, his military training of just getting the person out and dealing with the aftermath completely gone from his mind.

There were too many things on his mind and he wasn’t able to control it like he usually did.

It was going to get you both killed, but he couldn’t do it and that’s how he knew he needed to get out there quick. He wasn’t in any shape to be doing this yet if he had waited any longer then you both could’ve died as well. Overall, the situation you both were in was the worst case scenario that no one wanted to be in while working this job.

“Need you to hold onto me and not let go.” Ghost told you and though you had been doing that already, he wanted to make sure you were going to do it when he would need to run away.

“Okay.” You said through gritted teeth as his fingers dug into a particularly sore spot on your side.

Once you tightened your hold around him, enough to where it made him flinch from the pain, he began to jog down the hallway. Despite his quick movements and being as massive as he was, his footsteps were still light enough that it would be difficult to hear him.

He hoped that at some point he would come across a window or a room he could stop in to look for information. He couldn’t keep going around the base full of enemies who would most likely kill on sight blind. Every moment he spent wandering through the halls he was taking a gamble with death.

His ears heard it before he could register it.

Footsteps from around the corner, fast ones that came up onto him far too quickly for him to turn and run the other direction. He barely had time to react when three men rounded the corner.

One of the men didn’t hesitate to slam his fist into Ghost's jaw even after they were startled by seeing him. Ghost stumbled back and tried to hold onto you but the man practically ripped you out of his arms to throw you on the ground.

He was pushed back into the wall, becoming disoriented by the barrage of punches to his sore head, unable to throw any punches back himself.

You were trying your best to fight one of the other guards who had trapped you on the floor underneath as he laid waste to you but your injuries made it extremely difficult to do anything, all the while the other man carefully watched.

Ghost managed to get one good punch to the man jugular before he pulled the knife out of his pocket. He stabbed it through the man’s neck, jamming in it as far as he could while he choked on his blood, before he threw him on the ground.

He didn’t hesitate to throw the knife at the man on top of you, hitting him right in the neck.

With the last of your strength you pushed the guard off you and sliced the knife across his throat.

“Y/n!” Ghost called out to you when he watched you go limp before he turned his attention on the other man.

He saw red again when he realized it was the other weapons dealer. He clenched his fists and charged towards the weapons dealer. He noticed the gun that was pointed at him but he was too focused on the hidden look of fear in the man's eyes as he sprinted towards him.

The weapons dealer pulled the trigger and hit Ghost in the thigh, but that didn’t stop him. Nothing but a bullet to the head was going to stop him from his determination to kill the man in front of him.

Ghost grabbed the man by the wrist to twist it and the gun went off in his ear. He wasted no time to punch him as hard as he could, the ringing in his ears spurring him on. He slammed his fist into his face as hard as he could, feeling his knuckles crack from the force.

He lifted his good leg and kicked the man’s knee cap in, causing them both to fall to the floor. The weapons dealer tried to roll out from under him but Ghost grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into the concrete repeatedly to stop him.

He was feral, blinded by rage, harming the man in front of him not out of survival but out of passionate revenge. Memories of your screams made him go crazy as he wrapped his hands around the weapons dealer neck. Every cry replayed in his mind along with the image of your damaged body causing him to squeeze hard while the man struggled underneath him.

If Ghost could see himself he would be unrecognizable. Your pain had resurfaced an old evil within him that hadn’t seen the light of day since he adopted his new name. It brought the monster that was obsessed with violence and the death of anyone who dared to lay a harmful hand on him or the one he loved.

There was a reason why this side of him had been put out of commission. He hated the scalding hotness that raced through his veins, the tightness in his throat, and the way he felt out of control. It was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

The weapons dealer’s body went limp. It took a moment for Ghost to realize he was dead but when he saw that he was no longer writhing underneath him, he released his hands.

Ghost was breathing heavily as he stared down at the dead body underneath him. His vision blackened and whitened, hot liquid running down his leg and staining his dirty pants with fresh blood. He felt dizzy from the blows to his head and the rapid blood loss which made it hard for him to get up from the floor.

He clenched his teeth, almost breaking them as he crawled his way to you. He bit back any groans as he came up to you, placing his fingers on your pulse.

It was weak, almost non-existent, but still there. That was enough to keep him going.

He cradled your head with hands that had just committed atrocities so gently. He stared down at the blood pouring out of your nose and the new bruises that were already forming. He hoped for your sake that your face wasn’t broken.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He assured you even though you were unconscious. He carefully pulled you into his arms again and held onto you securely. “Gonna get you out of here. Gonna patch you up, make you okay.”

His words were slurred and he was blabbering. The blood loss was getting to him and he knew if he didn’t try to move now, both of you were going to die.

Ghost braced himself, taking a deep breath and stood up on shaky legs. He couldn’t hold back the groan of pain that ripped through his throat. He took shallow breaths, his skin getting sweaty and cold before he resumed down the hall as if nothing had happened.

He limped down the cold, ugly hallways and left a trail of blood in his wake. Every step felt like the bullet wound grew bigger, ripping his skin apart until there was nothing left.

He didn’t care. The only thing on his mind was you.

You. Just you.

Your poor state. Your conscious body as it hung limp in his arms, covered in dirt, blood, grime. Hours, days worth of pain that would never go away that would forever soil your mind and body with scars. You could be dead in his arms, having bled out internally and he wouldn’t know until he got out of there.

“You’re okay.” He mumbled to push those thoughts away. “You’re okay…”

Ghost kept repeating it to himself like a mantra. It helped him keep the little amount of strength he had to keep you in his arms when he heard rapid footsteps echo off the halls again.

He was prepared to run or try to at least. He was prepared to fight until he was shot through if it meant you would somehow survive.

“Simon!”

He knew that voice. The rough, commanding voice belonged to Price and he had never been happier to hear him bark out his name. He felt like he could breathe again as he stopped in his tracks.

He was lucky that Price had finally found them and he wondered if maybe that’s what spurred on the sudden yelling from the base. Honestly he didn’t care at the moment. You were getting out of that hell hole and neither of you had to ever step foot back in it. He nearly collapsed as he heard his team’s footsteps get closer but he held on as he swallowed thickly.

He blinked the blurriness from his eyes and looked ahead of him seeing the rest of the task force armed to the teeth rushing towards him.

“Take her.” That was the first thing he said to them as they approached him and he held you out.

Gaz quickly took you from his arm, holding you close to him before he raced down the hall following behind Price who was already commanding a plan to get out of there.

Ghost watched after them, missing the comforting weight of you in his arms and finding himself much lighter without you. He wished he had the strength to carry you himself but he could hardly walk forward without stumbling which prompted Soap to wrap his arm around his shoulder.

Soap took most of his weight as they both walked down the hall.

“Johnny.” He weakly said as his vision began to spin, his fingers digging into his shirt.

“I got you L.t.” Soap assured him as he pushed forward.

Ghost suddenly felt too heavy to walk anymore. All of his strength was gone now that he didn’t have to worry about you. You were safe and now he could finally go to sleep. His vision went spotted with black dots before his knees buckled underneath him.

“Ghost!”

~

Ghost woke up with a start. The first thing he noticed was the dull ache he felt all over his body, the brunt of it taken away by what he could only assume were heavy pain meds.

“Morning.” He looked to his right to see Soap sitting on a chair next to his bed with a small smile. “How you feelin’ L.t?”

“Ask me later.” His voice was hoarse and his throat was scratchy, causing Soap to hand him a glass of water with a chuckle.

He drank the water, finding that as soon as it touched his mouth he was incredibly thirsty. He chugged it, finding that even though it wasn’t cold it was the most refreshing thing he had in months.

When he was finished Soap took the glass from him and refilled it from a pitcher that sat on a table next to his bed. He handed the glass back to him and watched with slight worry as he began to chug it again. While he did he looked at the room around them..

He was lying in a hospital bed. The usual hard mattress and uncomfortable blankets were anything but that as he felt himself sink deep into them, finding a safe warmth in them. He was connected to various machines that beeped in tandem with his heart while his body was covered in stitches and sterile white bandages.

His hand was already in a cast and his leg was propped up on a fluffy pillow.

He was in the infirmary back on base. He was safe from harm.

“You're a beast, you know that?” Soap said as he took the glass back when he was finished. “Breakin’ out and running through the base with a bullet in your leg.”

“Had to. If I didn’t, we might’ve died-”

His heart stopped. His eyes searched around the infirmary frantically as he attempted to get out of bed to go look for you but Soap put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Easy. She’s okay.” He assured him before he jutted his chin across from him.

Ghost looked over and his gaze softened immediately.

You were sleeping in the bed next to him. You were hooked up to the same machines as him but you were bandaged up a lot more. He watched your chest rise from your steady breathing, finding himself mimicking it as his shoulders relaxed. You looked peaceful and deep in sleep, most likely from copious amounts of pain meds the doctor gave you.

He laid back on the bed, his eyes never leaving you.

“She was in worse condition than you.” Soap began as he eyed you both. “Broken ribs, other bones, major concussion, internal bleeding. Been sleeping ever since we picked you both up.”

Ghost swallowed thickly. He couldn’t even begin to describe the pit that formed in his stomach as he watched you. As much as he wanted to rationalize that the guilt he felt wasn’t warranted, his mind wouldn’t let him get rid of it.

He had almost indirectly killed you. He wouldn’t forgive himself if that had happened.

“How long?” He mumbled and heard Soap let out a deep sigh.

“About a week.” Soap said and he shook his head.

“Fucking hell…”

It had certainly felt longer than a week. Those long hours of torture and the short periods of recuperation between them had felt like an eternity. He remembered how every hour that passed by had been a month. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Soap had told him that, but knowing that so much damage had been inflicted on you both in a matter of a week made the pit in his stomach worse.

He couldn’t imagine how long it felt for you.

The physical toll this was going to take on you would hopefully clear up and not become long term but he knew your mental would most likely take the biggest hit.

“Price is puttin’ both you on leave for a while.” Soap caught his attention and he looked back at him. “He won’t admit it out loud, but he’s worried.”

“Guess that’s expected.” Ghost huffed and shut his eyes for a moment. Even though he knew it was the right call, considering the extent of the injuries you both had suffered, he absolutely hated the idea of having to stay on base, or worse, go back home. He would be forced to take it easy, to not do anything strenuous which meant he would be stuck doing absolutely nothing. It was the perfect opportunity for him to think too much.

He couldn’t hide himself in his work like he normally did. Hell, he probably wouldn’t be able to hide himself in any of the hobbies he had that he rarely participated in.

A heavy sigh left his chest and he rubbed his eyes. He would have to deal with the hell he was going to put himself through, he was used to it, but that didn’t mean it was going to be easy.

“Here.” Soap tossed one of Ghost’s spare masks on his lap. “Figured you might want it.”

Ghost picked up the mask and looked at the black material. It was just one of his simple balaclavas and in any other moment he would’ve put it on so at least he felt some sense of security in the midst of all of this. However when he glanced at you, something in him told him to wait.

“Thanks, Johnny.” He watched as his friend gave him a small smile and patted him on the shoulder.

“Get some rest, L.t.” Soap stood up and pushed the chair out of the way.

Ghost watched him leave before he turned his attention back to you. You were the only thing he really wanted to look at in the infirmary, finding that you distracted him from the annoying beeps of the machines and the sterile walls that surrounded you both.

This wasn’t the first time that Ghost had found himself watching you as you slept.

Most of the time his attention was elsewhere when you both were on missions. He always took first watch on missions that spanned more than one day since he struggled to fall asleep as quickly as you. His eyes would wander to you when nothing in particular was happening and he was immensely intrigued by your ability to seemingly sleep peacefully no matter the situation.

He almost envied you. It took a while for him to take control of his thoughts when he laid down to sleep and yet the moment you shut your eyes you were gone.

Even now you seemed to be the most comfortable he had seen you in a week or even a month.

It was most likely the meds, but that didn’t stop the sense of comfort he felt as your chest rose and fell slowly.

Ghost toyed with the mask in his hand. His eyes bounced around your relaxed face and he let out a soft sigh that made him sink further into the mattress. He wanted to be awake when you woke up, but his eyelids started to get too heavy for him to keep open.

You had that effect on him and you didn’t even know.

In his sick, twisted mind he hoped he had the same effect on you. He hoped that he gave you a similar comfort and safety that you gave him despite the fact that he was a ruthless killer. Even after all he’d done in the enemy’s base, the cold blood murders he committed, he hoped that somehow you were happy to have him around you.

He was sure the moment you woke up he would too. And when he did he would make sure that you knew you were safe.

He always would.

A/N: Part 2? Also this is way longer than I had expected lol

[pin-k-ink]

push and pull // feitan portor

tw ⇢ hate fucking, kinda rivals to lovers, mentions of violence and injuries, sexual tension, grinding, fingering, biting, cunnilingus, squirting, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cum-eating, implied voyeurism, rough sex, manhandling, overstimulation, feitan spanks you once

wc ⇢ 8.7k

a/n: this man is so difficult to write for 💀

The dimly lit hideout reeked of stale blood and smoke, the dank air carrying the weight of countless atrocities committed within its walls. In one corner, you and Feitan squared off, teeth bared and murder in your eyes.

"You son of a bitch," you snarled, fists clenched so tightly your nails bit into your palms. "That was my kill."

Feitan scoffed, his expression one of utter disdain. "Tch. As if a pathetic worm like you deserves the honor." His lips curled in a sneer. "I was putting that fool out of his misery before you botched the job...again."

A vein throbbed in your temple as you took a threatening step forward. "I'll show you who's pathetic, you arrogant little shit."

Before either of you could strike, a massive figure inserted itself between you, Nobunaga's broad chest blocking your path. "Enough!" he bellowed, dark eyes flashing dangerously. "Unless you want Chrollo brought into this, I suggest you two back off."

You and Feitan held each other's glare for a beat longer before grudgingly disengaging. As you turned away, Feitan spat a glob of phlegm that landed disturbingly close to your feet.

"This isn't over," he promised, voice laced with quiet menace.

Grinding your teeth, you fought the urge to whirl back around and rip Feitan's throat out with your bare hands. The only thing staying your hand was the unspoken rule against infighting - a rule that both of you constantly tested the limits of.

"One of these days..." you trailed off meaningfully.

Feitan's lip curled in a feral grin. "I can't wait."

As he slunk off into the shadows, you turned your frustrated glower on Nobunaga. The samurai met your look with an impassive stare.

"You two need to get your shit together," he stated bluntly. "These pissing contests are getting old."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Nobunaga raised a hand, cutting you off.

"I don't want to hear it. Take that shit outside if you must, but if you compromise one more mission with your bullshit, Chrollo will have both your heads."

Fuming silently, you could only nod in grudging agreement. Everyone in the Troupe knew better than to risk incurring their leader's wrath.

As Nobunaga wandered off, you allowed some of the tension to bleed from your shoulders with a weary sigh. Your eyes drifted to the corner where Feitan had disappeared, cold hatred settling into the pit of your stomach.

The next few days were a tense affair, the air thick with animosity every time you and Feitan occupied the same space. You traded insults and thinly veiled threats like volleys, each one more creatively vicious than the last.

"I heard the bakery down the street got a new shipment of rat poison," Feitan would muse idly, his dark eyes glittering. "I could slip some into your dinner if you'd like to try it."

You responded with a saccharine smile. "Why thank you, that's so considerate. But I ate rat poison for breakfast...your severed head on a platter is what I'm really craving."

The other Spiders quickly learned to give you both a wide berth during these escalating verbal sparring matches. Only Machi seemed unperturbed, rolling her eyes at your juvenile antics with a disdainful sniff.

The tension finally reached a breaking point a week later during a routine mission. Tasked with shaking down a local merchant for unpaid tribute, you and Feitan bickered the entire way over the most effective interrogation methods.

"If you so much as look at him wrong, I'll string you up by your entrails," Feitan hissed as you approached the target's store.

You barked out a harsh laugh. "As if I need pointers from an edgy little runt like you. I'll make this idiot squeal like a stuck pig while you watch and learn, shrimp."

The ensuing encounter quickly devolved into a pissing contest between the two of you over who could dole out the most creatively brutal threats and violence. By the time Pakunoda and Nobunaga arrived to collect you, the merchant was a blubbering, bloodied mess - the money long forgotten.

"This is the third time this month you idiots have fouled up a simple job," Pakunoda stated, her voice laced with barely restrained fury. "I've had enough of your bullshit."

Before either of you could react, her ability slammed into you both with the force of a typhoon. You slumped to the ground, mind wiped utterly blank as she extracted your memories of the incident.

When you came to a few moments later, Feitan was already lurching to his feet with a groan. You shot him a venomous glare, to which he responded by spitting a thick gobbet of blood at your feet.

"Starting to think you actually enjoy getting knocked around like that," you sneered, struggling to stand.

Feitan's eyes flashed with murderous rage. "Why you little-"

"ENOUGH!" Pakunoda's shout shook the room. "The next time you two sabotage a mission with your idiocy, I'll make sure you never remember your own names again. Am I making myself clear?"

You clenched your jaw but nodded stiffly. As much as you hated to admit it, the woman's threatening ability terrified you on a primal level.

In the ensuing silence, you cut your gaze towards Feitan, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. A thin trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, crimson stark against his pallid skin.

Despite your blinding loathing for the cocky little bastard, you couldn't deny the dark flicker of something else that stirred within you at the sight. You quickly smothered it beneath your ire.

One day, you vowed silently. One day, this powder keg would finally ignite.

The hideout was unnervingly quiet when the rest of the Troupe returned that evening. An eerie hush had settled over the dingy space, the kind of stillness that made the hairs on the back of one's neck prickle with unease.

As the group ventured deeper inside, the first drops of blood became visible - dark splatters marring the concrete floor. Nobunaga tensed, hand straying towards the sword slung across his back as they followed the grisly trail around a corner.

What they found then pulled them all up short, eyes widening in a mixture of shock and disgust. You and Feitan were in the center of the room, a tangled heap of flailing limbs and bloodied violence.

A feral snarl ripped from Feitan's throat as he tried in vain to dislodge you from where you'd pinned his smaller frame. In the struggle, his shirt had been shredded, exposing a mottled tapestry of dark bruises across his sinewy torso.

You weren't faring much better. Your face was a ruined mess - eyes swollen, lip split and gushing, vivid bite marks scoring your throat and shoulders. Despite the beating, you clung to him like a rabid animal, hands scrabbling for purchase to finish him.

"You crazy bitch!" Feitan's harsh pants turned your name into a vicious slur as he bucked and thrashed.

In response, you drove your elbow towards his face with sickening force, not caring that his head snapped back hard enough to crack against the floor. Bloodied spittle flecked his cheek as you leaned in close, lips peeling back in a manic snarl of your own.

"That all you got, runt?" You wheezed out a breathless laugh, nails gouging deep furrows into Feitan's straining throat. "I was hoping for more of a fight before I killed you."

A guttural growl bubbled up from Feitan's chest as his hips snapped upwards with bruising force, momentarily dislodging you. The two of you rolled, a flurry of grappling limbs and tattered clothing, each desperately struggling for the upper hand to deliver the killstroke.

It was Machi who finally intervened, upper lip curled in a sneer of revulsion. With a deft flick of her nen threads, she sliced through the melee and bound you both - Feitan hog-tied and you lashed spread-eagle to the floor.

"Enough of this depraved idiocy," she bit out, dark eyes flickering with disgust. "You're both lucky we don't slit your throats here and now for such weakness."

Feitan strained furiously against his bonds, deathly pale except for the mottled mess of his ruined face. His gaze swung wildly between you and the other Spiders, feral and uncomprehending.

You simply laid there, chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. Spitting out a thick gobbet of blood, you turned your head slowly until your battered gaze met Feitan's. A dark, unreadable look passed between you both - something haunted and turbulent flickering behind the hatred and violence.

If the rest of the Troupe noticed, they said nothing. Gathering themselves, they began to disperse - leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage until Chrollo could decide your punishment.

Chrollo's expression was utterly impassive as he surveyed the two of you - bruised, battered shells of your former selves after that vicious brawl. His lips quirked ever so slightly as he took in your defiant glares, eyes flickering with loathing.

"You two have become a liability," he stated, voice devoid of inflection. "Your pathetic inability to control yourselves nearly compromised everything we've built."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Chrollo raised a slender hand, effectively silencing you.

"Normally, I would have Pakunoda wipe your memories clean and be done with it." His eyes bored into you, glacial and unrelenting. "However, I have another task that requires your...unique talents."

Feitan made a rude noise of derision from where he sat slumped against the wall. You shot him a withering glare before turning an expectant look back towards your leader.

"You will attend the DeMario charity gala in two weeks' time," Chrollo continued calmly. "Posing as a wealthy couple, you'll insinuate yourselves into the inner circles and extract information from Marcello Randazzo - rumored to be a prolific collector of rare antiquities."

The implication hung heavy in the air for a beat before the weight of it slammed into you full force. Your mouth fell open in disbelief as you turned an incredulous look on Feitan, who was already visibly bristling with outrage.

"You can't be serious," you sputtered, temper flaring hot and bright. "There's no way in hell I'm playing make-believe as that bastard's lover!"

"Over my dead body." Feitan's low, raspy voice was laced with venom. "I'd sooner claw my own eyes out than be seen on that bitch's arm."

Chrollo's eyes flashed warningly and you felt the slightest prickle of his powerful aura washing over you, a silent threat. "You'll do as I command. Unless you'd both prefer to follow the fate of the hostages we collected from that ill-advised debt collection?"

He let the unspoken threat hang in the air for a long moment before continuing.

"I'm sure Marcello's information is worth playing along for an evening. Unless you'd prefer some...permanent disciplinary actions?"

You and Feitan held each other's murderous look for a moment longer before grudgingly turning your gazes away in submission. As much as you despised each other, neither of you were foolish enough to legitimately cross Chrollo.

"I expect you'll both conduct yourselves with aplomb and professionalism befitting our reputation," your leader stated flatly. "Any further disruptions or unbecoming behavior, and I'll have Pakunoda take away more than just your memories of the gala."

With that ominous warning, he swept from the room, leaving you and Feitan alone to simmer in your mutual resentment and disgust.

Seconds ticked by, taut with palpable tension, before you finally broke the silence with a contemptuous sneer.

"I hope you know how to dance, Portor," you bit out acidly. "I have a strong urge to grind my heel into those stumpy little feet of yours."

Feitan's eyes slitted with murderous promise as he levered himself upright with a pained grunt.

"Keep dreaming," he shot back caustically. "I'll be counting the minutes until I can slit that pretty throat of yours without consequence."

As your vicious glares clashed and held, it was abundantly clear that this mission posing as lovers would be anything but smooth sailing. For both your sakes, you could only hope the inevitable storm wouldn't capsize everything you'd built.

The ornate dressing room was suffused with tension as thick as the heavy perfume hanging in the air. You sat rigidly before the gilded vanity, jaw clenched tight as Machi deftly styled your hair into an elegant updo.

"Would you relax?" The girl's voice held a hint of irritation. "You're as wound up as a clockspring."

You shot her a venomous look in the mirror's reflection. "Forgive me if I'm not exactly eager to play Ken and Barbie with that sadistic little gnome."

A snort of muffled laughter came from the chaise where Shizuku and Pakunoda were laid out, idly inspecting their phone screens. You pivoted to fix them with a withering glare.

"Something amusing?"

Shizuku shook her head quickly, eyes widening innocently even as her lips twitched with suppressed mirth. Pakunoda simply arched one sculpted brow in a look of infinite disdain.

"Must you be so crass?" The blonde's dulcet tones somehow managed to sound derisive. "This is an important mission, not some childish game."

"Tell that to our 'esteemed leader'," you bit out acidly, making air-quotes. "Playing dress-up as Feitan's loving wife is about the sickest joke I've ever heard."

Machi made a soft noise of disgust as she speared another jeweled hairpin into place. "You're both behaving like petulant children. This is simply a job - nothing more. The sooner you and Feitan stop acting like lovesick buffoons, the smoother this night will go."

Her reprimand struck a nerve and you opened your mouth to deliver a biting retort when a sharp rap at the door cut you off. A moment later, Feitan slipped into the room, looking equal parts irritated and sheepish in his elegant tuxedo and slicked-back hair.

Your breath caught momentarily in your throat as you took in his appearance. Despite the permanent scowl etched onto his features, he cleaned up...well. The fine charcoal suit hugged the lean lines of his muscled frame in a way that should have been illegal.

Just as quickly, you smothered the errant thought, sneering at him in disdain. "Well, well, if it isn't Feitan Portor himself, dressed up like someone finally house-trained him."

Feitan's eyes flashed and he opened his mouth - no doubt to deliver a scathing rebuttal - when Machi smoothly interjected.

"Enough, you two." She leveled you both with a quelling look. "The car is ready, so I suggest you get your acts together before I tie you both up in nen threads to keep you in line."

An ominous threat given her prowess with her sadistic ability. You bit back the retort burning on your tongue and forced yourself to take a steadying breath. God, this night was going to be interminable.

Rising fluidly, you smoothed your hands down the shimmering fabric of your evening gown, subtly reveling in the way Feitan's eyes automatically tracked the movement before flicking away. Feeling petty, you allowed your lips to curve into a taunting smirk.

"Well, shall we, dear?" You crooned the endearment like a slur, watching his jaw tense infinitesimally. "I can already smell the misery wafting from those uppity pricks just waiting to be robbed blind."

Feitan's look could have curdled milk, but he extended his arm stiffly all the same. As you entwined yours through the crook of his elbow, his fingertips brushed feather-light against the bare skin of your back, raising gooseflesh in their wake.

"Lead the way, wife" he bit out with obvious distaste. "Try not to embarrass me too terribly in front of the marks."

Your derisive laughter was a caustic thing as you allowed him to escort you towards the exit.

"Oh Feitan, we're way past embarrassing at this point. I'd say this night is primed to be a total shitshow."

His dark chuckle echoed yours as you departed the dressing room - a soft, shared sound that somehow managed to sound equal parts threatening and thrilling.

The sleek town car purred to a stop before the opulent entranceway, and you took a steadying breath before allowing Feitan to assist you out onto the crimson carpet. Despite the months of rigorous training and countless assignments in your bloody career, you couldn't deny the flutters of trepidation in your stomach.

This was it - the moment to see if you two idiotic sadists could pull off playing a loving couple without slitting each other's throats.

Feitan's hand was firm at your elbow as you ascended the grand staircase, his expression locked in a rictus of forced neutrality. Up close, you could make out the barest hint of cologne wafting from him - something earthy and sophisticated that shouldn't have appealed, yet had your throat tightening oddly all the same.

Then you were sweeping through the arched doors and into the spectacle of the ballroom itself. A dazzling kaleidoscope of glittering crystal and jewel-toned decor assaulted the senses. The hum of cultured chatter and tinkling laughter washed over you as you took in the crowd of Yorknew's social elite, all decked in their finest attire.

You felt Feitan tense almost imperceptibly beside you before he was smoothly taking the lead, guiding you further into the fray with a proprietary hand at the small of your bare back. A shiver traced your spine at the contact, though from revulsion or something else, you couldn't say.

"Try not to look so much like a viper about to strike, dear," he murmured against your ear, voice a surprising low rumble. "We're supposed to be the picture of marital bliss, remember?"

You bit back the instinctive need to elbow him in the throat, instead pasting on a sickly-sweet smile.

"Of course, darling. Though with how titillating you look in that dashing suit, I may have trouble keeping my hands off you in public."

His lips quirked in a mockery of a grin, even as his dark eyes remained flat and assessing. For all his bravado, Feitan was firmly in killer-mode, scanning the ballroom with cold calculation.

Playing along, you looped one arm through his, allowing your free hand to roam almost territorially over the fine material of his jacket as you began to mingle with the other revelers. With each new cluster of mark- ahem, guest you engaged, you felt yourself relaxing infinitesimally into the role of the devoted wife on her husband's arm. Feitan too, seemed to warm to the act, his featherlight touches and heated murmurs just skirting the line between play-acting and something darker, more authentic.

It wasn't until you were deep in conversation with one of Randazzo's alleged underbosses that the illusion flickered momentarily. Leaning in conspiratorially, you relayed the crucial details you'd extracted about the mobster's dealings in the black market antiquities trade. But when you glanced up to share a weighted look with your "husband", you found Feitan's gaze was distinctly...elsewhere.

Following his stare, you bit back an irritated hiss at the realization that his attention had been utterly diverted by the low neckline of your evening gown, eyes firmly trained on the swell of exposed cleavage. His tongue darted out to wet his lips unconsciously as he drank in the view.

"Feitan!" You hissed out the side of your mouth, snapping your fingers to regain his focus. "Are you listening, or are my tits really that mesmerizing?"

He startled, gaze snapping guiltily upwards as you fixed him with a heated glare. For a beat, Feitan seemed utterly nonplussed, caught completely off-guard in a rare moment of distracted...appreciation? Honesty? His eyes were wide and molten in a way you'd never seen before - utterly disarming.

Then the mask slammed back into place with a nearly audible click, and he simply arched one brow in response.

"My apologies, dear. You were saying?"

And just like that, you were speaking to the most dangerous man in the room once again, cold and brutally efficient. Swallowing hard, you relayed the rest of the intel automatically, even as something restless took up residence beneath your breastbone - an odd, disquieting feeling sparked by that split-second glimpse of whatever it was you'd seen flickering behind Feitan's eyes.

As you continued to circulate through the crowd and ply your roles, you found yourself stealing sidelong glances at your diminutive partner more frequently than was wise. Each time, it was to find him in typical form - lethal focus etched across his features, not a hair out of place or a single tell to betray...whatever it was you'd witnessed earlier.

The grand ballroom seemed to bleed into a hazy blur around you as the waltz began, the opening strains of the orchestra swelling through the cavernous space. Feitan's hand found your waist with surprising gentleness, pulling you into the first steps of the dance.

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other, the newfound proximity seeming to crackle with a charge you refused to put a name to. Up close like this, you could make out the faintest dusting of freckles across the sharp planes of his cheekbones, the dark fan of his lashes. Little details you'd never noticed - or never allowed yourself to notice until now.

"I must say, dear wife," he murmured, voice a dark rumble that shivered across your skin. "You clean up rather nicely for a miserable little gutter rat."

You arched one brow coolly, refusing to be baited even as you moved seamlessly with him across the floor. "I'm surprised you can recognize 'nice' through that perverse little killer's lens of yours, darling husband."

His lips quirked in a semblance of a grin, though it held no mirth - only the same lingering malice that seemed to follow you both like a sickly perfume.

"The better to watch every tantalizing inch of you with, my vicious little vixen." His grip tightened fractionally at your waist, fingertips brushing bare skin. "Perhaps I'll have to stake my claim more...thoroughly later."

You scoffed loudly, allowing your palm to roam down the firm plane of his chest as you spun in seamlessly for the next figure.

"Trying to whisper sweet nothings won't get you far, darling. I've heard more creative threats from preschoolers."

Feitan simply hummed deep in his throat, a rough sound that inexplicably raised the fine hairs along the back of your neck. His gaze, when you met it again, had taken on a dark, hooded quality that had heat pooling low in your belly despite yourself.

"Say what you will, wife," he practically purred, dipping you in a slow, lingering arc that brought your bodies into sinful alignment. "We both know those pretty little lips were made for better uses than childish barbs."

His thumb caressed your chin with barely-there tenderness as he pulled you upright again, scorching your skin like a brand. For an endless second, you simply swayed there in silence, chests brushing with every stuttering inhale, caught in the molten undertow of his stare.

Dimly, you registered the buzz of an alarmed voice echoing over the sound system, followed by the unmistakable wail of police sirens dopplering towards the estate. Masks began slipping as guests registered the threat, panic seeping into the ballroom like a tenuous haze.

In that moment, time seemed to splinter apart kaleidoscopically, stretching and scattering until all that remained was the unnameable thing gripping your heart in its stifling vise. You turned back to Feitan, already anticipating the vicious string of threats ready to tumble from his lips as your covers were blown apart.

But there was no anger simmering in those unfathomable depths this time - only a searing sort of intensity that pinned you in place, ignited something low and precarious in your core that you didn't dare put a name to. His fingers were still ghosting across the curve of your jaw, a scorching benediction that somehow managed to convey both possession and worship in the same toxic mix.

You watched, utterly transfixed, as he leaned in with aching slowness, lips brushing the softest whisper against the thrumming pulse at your throat. Then he simply held there, breath searing like a brand, driving ragged splinters of sensation rocketing through your body.

"Run," he rasped, the barest brushing of sound against your superheated skin.

Just like that, the spell was shattered, reality cleaving back into your field of vision as distant shouts and shattering crystal rent the atmosphere. Feitan's fingers slipped from your skin, leaving a throbbing ache of loss in their wake as he pivoted and simply vanished through the thickening crowd.

Blinking dazedly, you found your limbs unlocking woodenly as you staggered into motion, following the only directive that seemed to make sense as the ballroom descended into pandemonium. One foot in front of the other as your heart jackhammered double-time in your ribcage, coursing with an unfamiliar feeling that felt a hell of a lot like it was tearing you apart from the inside.

Run. The word seemed to echo inside your skull as you fled through the service exit, a ghost's refrain. Though from what - the explosion of chaos around you or the cataclysm blooming deep within, you weren't entirely sure.

All you knew was that you would never be the same after this night. How could you when Feitan had irrevocably annihilated every fragile barrier you'd constructed between you, leaving your entire world shifted on its axis?

The dank alleyway reeked of rot and piss as you slammed Feitan against the filthy brickwork, fingers snarling in the lapels of his once-pristine tuxedo. A thin trickle of blood oozed from the split in his brow, vivid crimson against his pallid features.

"This is all your fault, you arrogant little prick!" The words tore from your throat in a guttural snarl as you shook him viciously. "If you could stop eye-fucking me long enough to focus for two goddamn seconds-"

"My fault?" He cut you off with a wheezing laugh, still managing to look utterly derisive despite the position you had him pinned in. "If your whorish little act wasn't so shameless and distracting-"

You drew back a fist, fully prepared to break his smug nose, when a peel of distant sirens had you both freezing. After a momentary standoff, you released him with a disgusted shove, wiping a trembling hand across your sweat-slicked brow as you struggled to leash your spiraling temper.

"Forget it, we need to move. Our exit is compromised."

Feitan sneered at you as he straightened his jacket with a dismissive tug, refusing to acknowledge he was just as rattled. His gaze took on a faraway look for a split second before he gave a tight nod.

"Chrollo sent a new set of coordinates. There's a safe house two blocks west."

You fell into step beside him, moving at a clipped pace that matched the jackhammer pounding of your pulse. Every few steps, your shoulders would brush with the barest whisper of contact, reigniting a phantom echo of the way he'd felt pressed against you on the dance floor.

The memory had you grinding your teeth hard enough to make the hinges creak, riling the sickly ribbon of confusion currently squirming through your gut. What the hell had happened back there? One minute you were shredding each other with barbs as natural as breathing, the next...

You shook your head sharply, refusing to dwell on the hunger that had momentarily flickered in Feitan's gaze. Or the way your entire body had sung in response, every nerve alight like a livewire about to detonate. It was nothing - a fleeting second of insanity brought on by the adrenaline and heightened circumstance. An anomaly, meaningless in the grand scheme of your...whatever the hell this sick alliance was.

Shoving the errant thoughts aside, you pushed forward into the overgrown lot Feitan indicated, trampling a wavering path through the weeds towards a squat, nondescript building. Not a word was exchanged as he disarmed the security system and led you inside to the dingy, compact space that would be your shelter for the foreseeable future.

You grimaced as you took in the sparse furnishings and musty odor. "Fucking fantastic."

Feitan simply grunted, dropping his suit jacket over the back of a battered recliner as he began divesting himself of weapons and gear. Only when he reached the buttons on his shirt did he pause, shadows obscuring his expression as he cut you a sidelong glance.

"I'd offer to let you shower first but..."

But there was only one visible door that presumably led to a solitary bathroom. You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the first tendrils of an stress-migraine coiling behind your eyes.

"Just get on with it before I decide to gut you and bleed out in the tub like a fucking woman scorned."

A bark of laughter punched from Feitan at the morbid joke before he could smother it. You blinked at him, oddly thrown by the genuine amusement glinting in his obsidian stare for a fleeting second. Then the moment passed, and he simply shrugged out of the soiled dress shirt, turning to disappear through the doorway without further comment.

You were left standing in the middle of the ramshackle living area, keenly aware of the steady drip of blood tracking from your split knuckles to patter on the cracked vinyl floor. With measured inhales, you attempted to shunt the chaos of the evening into a small, containable box to be unpacked later. Feitan was right, getting cleaned up would be the priority for now. After that...

Well, you'd just have to sort through this tangled web you'd woven like adults. And if violence and bloodshed was the only way to sever the noose cinching around your sanity, so be it. At least that path you understood - that was stable, solid ground to walk upon with him.

This... whatever it was brewing between you like a virulent sickness, was far more lethal.

The pipes clanked and groaned as you twisted the tarnished shower knobs, filling the cramped bathroom with a humid, enveloping steam. Grimacing, you peeled off the tattered remnants of your evening gown, letting the ruined silk puddle at your feet.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the warped mirror above the chipped porcelain sink - hair lank and makeup ravaged, vivid bruises already darkening along your ribs from your rough tumble during the escape. More telling, however, were the faint indents marring the swell of your breast, pressed there by Feitan's fingertips in the ballroom like brands seared into your very being.

A violent shudder ripped through you at the visceral recollection, every nerve ending rekindling with phantom echoes of his scorching touch. Slamming your palm against the mirror, you shattered the refracted image into a thousand fractals, each one reflecting back the turmoil roiling in your expression.

With a ragged exhale, you shed the rest of your undergarments and stepped beneath the mercifully scalding spray, welcoming the harsh sting across your battered skin. Anything to dull the incessant buzzing beneath, the molten licks of pure confusion that had you splaying one palm over your lower abdomen in a futile gesture.

After several long, steadying minutes, you finally felt coherent thought filtering back, shunting the chaos into submission - at least for now. Grabbing a towel, you twisted it around your body and yanked open the bathroom door, striding back into the main room with a cloud of steam billowing in your wake.

Feitan stood in the cramped kitchenette, spine taut as a bowstring as he doctored the split over his brow with clumsy, one-handed stitches. At your abrupt entrance, his shoulders twitched and rolled almost imperceptibly, head swiveling to face you with narrowed eyes.

"About time," he groused, voice sandpaper rough. "I was starting to think you'd drowned yourself in there to avoid facing the cosmic fuckup you-"

Whatever insult he'd been ready to deploy withered and died as his obsidian gaze dropped lower, raking over the exposed expanse of damp skin visible beneath your precariously knotted towel with undisguised hunger. His throat bobbed convulsively as he swallowed hard, suddenly looking anywhere but at you.

"Dammit," he snarled after a strained pause, teeth snapping the crass endearment like a viper's strike. "A little warning about parading around like that would be appreciated."

Despite the multiple layers of ice coating his tone, you detected the barest wobble crack along its surface - an infinitesimal tremor betraying the struggle to maintain his sangfroid. A meandering lick of validation bloomed through you at having caught him so thoroughly off-guard, splitting your lips in a mocking moue.

"What, am I making Lord Feitan flustered?" You stalked forward challengingly, towel slipping lower with every predatory step to bare more glistening skin. "Seems your vaunted self-control has sprung a rather conspicuous leak, husband."

His nostrils flared minutely at the poisonous endearment, fingers tightening around the bloodied gauze until his knuckles shone bone-white. Yet, his stare remained steadfastly fixed above your collarbones, the muscle in his jaw twitching erratically.

"Keep pushing, wife ," he bit out in a strained rasp. "You're cruising for a brutality you're ill-equipped to face tonight."

The unveiled threat landed square in your solar plexus, simultaneously shunting your reckless desire to poke the caged beast and stoking a deeper, infinitely more terrifying burn low in your belly. You felt yourself sway forward of its own volition, every instinct honed on a whetstone of fear and adrenaline screaming at you to retreat, to reassert the fragile barriers before they were obliterated entirely.

Yet you held your ground, searching Feitan's expression for any flicker of the same wounded animality you felt ricocheting through your own veins, your towel slipping another infinitesimal fraction down your sternum in the process. His eyes followed the movement with searing intensity before snapping back up, something dark and unfurling igniting in those obsidian depths.

"Bring it, husband," you heard yourself hissing recklessly. "I'll shove those brutalities so far up your sadistic little ass, you'll be regurgitating blood and teeth for a month."

You could have sworn his pupils blew wide at that, flaring with undisguised relish before he was lunging for you, movements a blur of untamed violence. If you'd hoped to provoke him, to unleash whatever it was roiling between you into the light, you were rewarded a thousand fold.

His hands were iron manacles around your biceps, slamming you back against the grease-stained counter as his lithe body caged yours with arching menace. You crashed together like colliding celestial bodies - unstoppable force meeting immovable object in a maelstrom of jagged breaths and stifling heat.

"Should've kept your mouth shut, dear," he growled against the hammering pulse in your throat. Each consonant scorched like a brand, igniting detonations of raw sensation you were powerless to withstand. "Now you get to take exactly what's coming to you."

His hips rolled into yours with bruising force, crushing your lower bodies together as his teeth sank into the juncture of your neck and shoulder hard enough to reave a harsh gasp from you. Not quite a bite, but a vicious promise all the same - a precursor to the violence he was poised to inflict that would leave no question as to whom you belonged.

You were suddenly lightheaded, nerves blazing white-hot as your body responded viscerally to his provocation. Mortification, anger, arousal - every emotion flooded your senses in a dizzying, inextricable miasma until you couldn't be sure what you felt any longer. Only that you burned feverishly from within, every cell straining towards the brutal inevitability of Feitan's next calculated strike.

When it came, your world whited out entirely, the resounding concussion off the counter rattling you down to your very marrow. There was no pain, only a discordant ringing and an unbearable pressure centered below your diaphragm. A sustained, broken noise reverberated in the cramped space that you belatedly recognized as your own ruined voice.

Feitan remained locked against you with grim triumph, the pads of his fingers leaving livid crescents in your flesh as he drank in your total debasement and undoing. When he leaned in next, you were certain without a shadow of a doubt that anything left unraveled between you would be torn asunder in the next breath.

You glared at Feitan from your sprawled position on the floor, chest heaving as you swiped the back of your hand across your split lip. A thin rivulet of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth as well, stark against his pallid skin.

"You're going to pay for that, you sadistic little bastard," you growled, levering yourself upright with your elbows.

Feitan simply arched one brow mockingly, his tongue darting out to lave at the crimson seeping from his busted lip. The sight of it, so obscene yet undeniably magnetic, had molten anger roiling through your veins anew.

"I'd like to see you try, bitch," he taunted in that raspy timbre that somehow managed to sound both threatening and profoundly unsettling. "Unless you plan on crying for Chrollo to intervene again?"

You were across the room in a blur, your towel slipping loose as you tackled him with bruising force. Feitan met your violence with feral glee, hands snarling in your sodden hair as you grappled viciously. The two of you crashed and rolled, trading blow for stinging blow in a whirlwind of flailing limbs.

At some point, your towel had come undone entirely, the terrycloth puddle abandoned on the floor as your bare skin met Feitan's sweat-slicked torso. Yet neither of you registered the complete state of undress, too singularly focused on the vicious undulations of your battle.

Finally, you managed to pin him beneath you, knees caging his hips as you fought to trap his wiry arms. Feitan thrashed and strained, every sinewy muscle corded to breaking as he bowed against your weight in a futile attempt to dislodge you.

Then, all at once, something within the atmosphere shifted - a subtle charge bleeding the rage from the air in a dizzying spiral. You both stilled as one, harsh pants reverberating between your sweat-sheened forms as you registered your tangled states. Feitan's gaze was hooded, pupils blown wide as they raked over every inch of your exposed, vulnerable flesh with undisguised hunger.

Belatedly, you realized your fingers were fisted in the sweat-damp fabric of his tank top, straining the material to translucence and leaving very little to the imagination. Your lips parted on a ragged inhale as Feitan's hips canted up in a subconscious grind, the blatant ridge of his cock catching you square between your bodies.

Time seemed to slow to a viscous crawl then, the world narrowing to the minuscule space between your labored breaths. Feitan's lashes fluttered once, twice, before his eyes slitted back open - dark pools of naked wanting that had you arching into him before conscious thought could intervene.

His mouth was searing, branding yours with a ferocity that stole the air from your lungs. Yet you returned his onslaught with equal desperation, all nails and teeth as you clutched him tighter against your naked body. There was no preamble, no gentle exploration - only the wild, unrestrained explosion of every unspoken want and need as you finally surrendered to the maelstrom.

Your fingers found the hem of his tank top, tearing it upward impatiently. Feitan's muscles rippled beneath your fingertips as you ran them reverently across every scarred inch of his chest and abdomen. When you flicked a teasing thumb across one hardened nipple, he hissed into your mouth, bucking up hard.

"Fuck," he swore, breaking the kiss with a ragged gasp. His fingers were tangled in your hair, holding you steady as his other hand skimmed up your bare flank. "If I'd known what a devious little whore you were, I'd have fucked you over every surface in that ballroom ages ago."

You arched one brow mockingly. "Is that so? Or would you have been too busy eye-fucking me to notice?"

The words left your lips in a breathless, taunting rush, and suddenly you were on your back again, the wind knocked from your lungs as Feitan pinned you against the floor with an animalistic snarl. He looked wild, utterly disheveled as his hips canted hard between your thighs.

"Perhaps I would have fucked that smart mouth of yours right there in the middle of the dance floor, wife," he practically purred, eyes gleaming as he rocked harder. "Would have had everyone watching how thoroughly I owned you."

Heat bloomed through your lower body at the vivid imagery, even as a traitorous moan slipped past your lips. Feitan smirked, a smug, victorious expression that had you surging up to catch his bottom lip between your teeth. He groaned, heady and deep, as you bit down, blood mingling on your tongues.

Then, abruptly, he was wrenching free, leaving you sprawled against the cracked tile. Before you could recover, his palm was wrapping around your ankle, yanking you across the floor like a ragdoll. Your fingers clawed at the ground, scrambling for purchase as you were dragged inexorably towards the couch.

The rough material was cold and abrasive against your skin as he flipped you over, yanking your ass into the air. Then his hands were spreading your thighs wide, and he was sinking his teeth into the tender flesh at the crease of your hip. You whimpered, hips grinding back against him mindlessly as your nails tore into the worn fabric.

His fingers were rough, merciless as they probed at your entrance, slicking through the evidence of your arousal. A choked moan slipped free at the sensation, back bowing as your spine arched involuntarily.

"Oh, look at how wet and desperate my vicious little whore is," Feitan crooned, two fingers curling inside you as his thumb circled your clit. "This what you've been aching for, wife?"

He punctuated the taunt by leaning in and biting the swell of your ass, sending a violent shudder through your core. Your fingers tangled in the frayed throw, the fibers ripping under your grip.

"Go fuck yourself," you bit out, hips canting back against him.

A sharp crack rang out as Feitan brought his palm down on your ass, a livid welt flaring across your skin. The sudden pain had you hissing, a curse rising on the tip of your tongue before it died as a third finger was shoved roughly inside you.

"Careful what you wish for," Feitan murmured, a hint of danger lacing his tone as his fingers thrust into you at a brutal pace. "I'd be more than happy to oblige, since you're such a cock-hungry little whore."

His words sent an undefinable pang through your core, your muscles clenching around him in a visceral response. He chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers with a final, lewd curl. You heard the jangle of his belt, the rustle of clothing being discarded, and then he was dragging the thick head of his cock through your folds.

"Please," the word escaped in a hoarse, pleading breath, the last vestiges of your pride crumbling away.

Feitan paused, his entire body stilling. A long, tense moment passed, the only sound between you two the rasp of your combined, ragged breathing. Then, slowly, his palms slid over the curve of your hips, thumbs hooking along the crest of your ass as he spread you wider.

"As you wish, dear wife," he replied in a strained whisper.

His first thrust was a violent thing, driving straight to the hilt in one harsh, relentless motion. You keened, fingers tearing deeper into the couch as the pain-pleasure of the stretch burned through every nerve ending.

Then, without pause, Feitan was fucking you in earnest, hips snapping forward with savage, staccato motions. Every inch of you was alight, electrified by the feel of him, the sound of his low, guttural grunts as he ravaged you.

You felt the tension mounting within, coiling low in your belly and spreading through every extremity like liquid fire. When Feitan's thumb ghosted against the tight ring of your ass, a violent spasm rocked you, a choked sob tearing free.

"You like that?" He practically growled, the pad of his thumb teasing the sensitive rim with a wicked rhythm that matched his thrusts. "Such a filthy little thing, you'll take it wherever I decide to shove it, won't you?"

Before you could even respond, the digit was pushing inside, sinking into your ass and stretching the tight muscle in a way that had tears spilling down your cheeks. Everything was too much, too overwhelming, the twin intrusions setting off a detonation of sensations that had you seeing stars.

You came hard, an uncontrolled explosive gush of liquid spraying all over the couch. Feitan moaned, an obscene, animalistic sound that had another aftershock wracking your entire body.

"Fuck, yes," he snarled, fingers digging bruises into your hips as he fucked you through the orgasm. "Soak me, whore. Mark me with every fucking inch of this tight little cunt."

His thumb twisted in tandem with his thrusts, stretching the ring of muscle to an almost-painful extent. It was too much, too fast, but every sensation felt dialed up to an eleven, leaving you helpless to do anything but ride the wave of his brutal pleasure.

When you came again, the scream ripped from your throat was a broken, fractured thing, a desperate, primal noise that Feitan seemed to revel in. You sagged against the couch, trembling uncontrollably as another rush of liquid coated his cock and thighs.

"God, that's it," Feitan hissed, sounding utterly undone. "Fuck, look at you, soaking and gushing all over me."

His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back sharply as his hips lost their rhythm. Then, without warning, his thumb was withdrawing, his grip shifting from your hair to your chin, wrenching your neck around.

Your eyes widened at the sight, the utter wreckage of him reflected back - flushed and wild-eyed, with his lips glistening and swollen from your earlier kisses. He was the very definition of unhinged, an untamed beast unleashed at last, and you'd never been more turned on in your life.

He kissed you again then, tongue plundering your mouth with a feral intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. You felt him throb and twitch, his moans becoming more frenzied, more broken. Then, with a final, brutal thrust, he was spilling inside you, the molten heat of his cum a brand marking you deep within.

You were barely able to catch your breath before Feitan was pulling out, rolling you onto your back and yanking your thighs over his shoulders. Your vision blurred for a moment, mind utterly uncomprehending, before the realization dawned - Feitan was burying his face between your thighs, his tongue plunging into the depths of your core to lap at the mess he'd left behind.

Sensation overload had you screaming, back bowing off the couch as another violent, full-body tremor ripped through you. Yet he refused to relent, his tongue relentless, his fingers joining the onslaught as they plunged into your abused hole to stroke at your oversensitive walls.

A third gush of liquid coated his fingers, and he was moaning, utterly shameless, against your pussy as he drank from you ravenously. The sound of him, debauched and unhinged, was too much, your nerves already rubbed raw.

You tried to push him away, the sensations too intense, too overwhelming. Yet Feitan simply growled, a muffled warning, his teeth closing on the hood of your clit. A sob wracked you, the overstimulation bordering on exquisite pain.

Then, he was sucking, tongue swirling and teasing and driving you mad. It was all too much, yet you couldn't pull away, couldn't escape the relentless tide he'd unleashed. When he slid a finger into your ass, the coil snapped, a white-hot, blinding rush that had you convulsing and screaming in his hold.

He worked you through the orgasm, his tongue gentling until the aftershocks had faded and you were left utterly wrecked, limbs quivering and mind completely obliterated.

When Feitan finally emerged, licking his lips like a self-satisfied cat, his expression was one of utter, smug satisfaction. You were barely able to form a coherent thought, much less an insult, so instead you settled for glaring at him weakly, trying to channel every ounce of disdain and irritation into your glare.

Feitan simply shrugged, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't look at me like that, dear wife. You started this."

You attempted a scathing retort, but only a ragged, garbled sound escaped as you realized the extent of your destruction. The couch was absolutely drenched, rivulets of liquid and cum leaking over the cushions in a vulgar display.

Feitan followed your line of sight, the smirk twisting into a lewd grin. "And to think, we've only just begun."

Before you could even begin to comprehend the implication, he was pulling you to your feet, scooping you over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. The next thing you knew, you were being dropped on the bed, bouncing against the sheets as he stalked after you.

"Now, wife, why don't we continue our honeymoon a bit longer?"

The dim of the Phantom Troupe's hideout greeted you and Feitan like a physical force as you stepped through the threshold. Raucous laughter and jeering whistles erupted the moment you appeared, drawing mortified flushes to both your cheeks.

"Well, well, if it isn't the newlyweds!" Nobunaga's booming voice cut through the catcalls as he swaggered over, a salacious grin splitting his weathered features. "Gotta say, I didn't peg you two for the kinky honeymoon suite types."

"I must admit, your performance was rather...enlightening," Chrollo interjected, the barest hint of a smirk playing across his lips as he leveled you with a weighted look.

You felt your face heat even further at the implication. Feitan shot you a murderous glare, clearly placing the blame squarely on your shoulders for this humiliation.

"You've got to be kidding me," he snarled through gritted teeth as understanding dawned.

"We had cameras installed to monitor your location," Machi confirmed with a longsuffering sigh. "For safety purposes. Though I don't think any of us expected...that level of disclosure."

Uvogin guffawed loudly, slapping his knee. "You mean you weren't hoping for some free live entertainment, Machi?"

The teasing and raucous laughter continued to swell around you as the rest of the Spiders utterly failed to contain their amusement at yours and Feitan's expense. Even the typically unflappable Pakunoda had a glint of mirth dancing in her eyes.

"I can assure you, the footage was quite...comprehensive," Chrollo offered blandly, making no effort to hide his satisfaction at your escalating mortification. "There were no details left to the imagination."

You sputtered incoherently, torn between the urge to burst into flames on the spot and throttling every last one of these voyeuristic savages with your bare hands. Feitan, meanwhile, looked two seconds from detonating entirely.

"You lecherous band of voyeurs!" he exploded, visibly shaking with rage as he whirled to face you. "And you! How did you not notice the goddamn cameras?!"

Seizing the opportunity to redirect even a fraction of the blame, you met his fury head-on.

"How did I not notice?! If you hadn't been too busy eye-fucking me at every turn like a horny mutt, maybe we both would have paid more attention to our surroundings!"

The argument quickly devolved into your typical vicious back-and-forth, insults and profanities flying as the Troupe howled with laughter around you. Eventually, you both stormed off in a cloud of barely restrained violence, hurling threats over your shoulders at the jeering pack of depraved hyenas.

As the sounds of your bickering faded down the corridor, Chrollo's smooth baritone carried after you with a hint of dark amusement.

"Do try and be more discreet next time, you two...unless you're intentionally putting on a show for us."

[kujousgf]

WUNDAGORE. 18+. mdni.

pairing: villain!wanda maximoff + avenger!reader

summary: wanda gets rid of that pesky memory block of yours

warnings: angst, emotional and mental manipulation, mentions of murder, pet names, reader is overwhelmed and confused, one (1) mommy, allusion to smut at the end

wc: 1.6k~

a/n: кошечка (koshechka) = kitty

The wind that blows past is frigid and the rocks underneath your hands are sharp-edged and cold as you stare up at the Scarlet Witch or whatever the hell Wanda was calling herself these days from your place on the ground. You’re tempted to try and kick her feet out from under her where she’s standing above you, catch her off guard and send her tumbling down the cliff, but you don’t. You just glare up at her, knowing that even if you managed to catch her off guard, she would never fall that easily. She would rise up like the most beautiful archdemon you’ve ever seen and deal whatever damage you’d dealt to her tenfold. To anyone who might be watching, lurking in the shadows but not daring to interrupt either of you, the look in your eyes is one of pure hatred, disgust in its purest form that mirrors the look in Wanda’s eyes. But you both know it’s not true, that the hatred disguises something much worse. Something you’d never admit even in the emptiest of places, something Wanda would only ever admit in your dreams. Something that would destroy you both if you’re not careful. 

“You’re disgusting.” You spit, icy and cold. “Destroying those universes like it’s nothing, like they’re nothing.” You finally get your bearings back, standing up and clenching your fists at your side, trying your best not to just hit her, punch her, shove her down, anything. “All for what? So you can get back a man who tried to kill you?” Jealousy. “A man who wanted to destroy the universe and start over to create the perfect humanity? You know, the more I think about it, the more I think maybe the two of you really are meant for each other.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Wanda hisses, and you think she might push you down again, but instead she pulls you closer to her by your collar. You can feel her warm breath against your skin and you have to repress a shiver. “You think that you know everything about everyone, don’t you? You think I’m doing this for that man? You think any of this is for him?” She laughs like you’ve just said the most absurd thing she’s ever heard. “You really are stupid, aren’t you?” It’s almost comical to her that you really think that, that you’re so god damn blind that you can’t see what’s right in front of you. She knows why you can’t see it, of course, but she hadn’t always realized how susceptible you were. You can’t see that she’s been trying to find another universe, any other universe where you don’t hate her anymore, where she didn’t fuck everything up and the Avengers didn’t take you away from her. 

She knows she should stop talking, she knows she should shut her mouth before she makes things worse, but she can’t stop herself. She knows how to play the role of the villain to a T now, and if the only way she gets to be close to you again is to make you cry then so be it. “You think you’re better than me because you kill people in the name of the Avengers instead of your own?” She laughs, her grip on your shirt tightening. “I have some news for you, little hero, you’re certainly no better than I am. What is it that keeps you there, anyway? You know you don’t belong there.” It’s a low blow, but she knows how true it is even if you no longer do, “Is it the Russian? Do you stay so you can see the look of approval in her eyes whenever you kill someone for her?” Jealousy. “But you’d do it even if she didn’t ask. I’d say you and I are rather the same, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck you!” The smirk that curls on her lips makes you nauseous and you push her away from you. You know that she let you, loosened her grip on your shirt so you could feel like you’re even half as strong as she is, but you don’t care. “I think that I know everything? What about you! Acting like you know anything about me besides what my blood looks like on your hands.” Your hands are shaking both because of the look Wanda gives you and because you’re upset that she would ever bring up Natasha. Upset at the possibility that this encounter would taint your relationship with the Russian redhead, that Wanda’s words would burn at the back of your mind like acid. Because it’s not true, what she said is not true. You don’t like killing those people, you don’t like seeing their blood on your hands or seeing the light drain from their eyes. You don’t like it. You don’t. 

Wanda doesn’t have to look into your mind to know what you’re thinking, it’s written all over your face. She knows she hit a sore spot with that comment. “I don’t know anything about you?” She tilts her head, taking a step towards you as you take one away from her. “You always talk,” another step forward, “like you know,” and another, “what you’re saying” and then another, you try to take another step backward, but your back hits the jagged wall of the cave, “but you don’t, do you?” Wanda hadn’t been this close to you since she had nearly torn your heart out of your chest and it was making you dizzy. Had she always smelled this familiar and good? You’re very purposefully avoiding eye contact, not wanting to see the satisfaction in her eyes at having cornered you. Suddenly you feel Wanda’s hand gripping your face and forcing you to look at her, “No, you don’t. I’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

Wanda’s eyes glow red for just a minute and you feel like there’s a fog in your brain being lifted before your memories crash down on you like a tidal wave. Wanda’s eyes go back to their regular green color and her hand moves to cup your cheek, her darkened fingertips tapping against your skin. She gives you a second, knows this is going to be a lot for you. She did just unlock over 5 years of forcefully forgotten memories after all. She wasn’t going to do this, it will result in everything the Avengers have at their disposal being thrown at her for taking away their leverage over her, but they shouldn’t have let you come alone and she was growing rather tired of hearing you hurl insults at her and seeing the way you beamed up at Natasha whenever she caught the two of you together. This was poor planning on the Avengers’ part, that’s all. 

Suddenly you feel nauseous, every memory you’ve ever had with Wanda hitting you with full force. You feel like you’ve just gotten a metal bat to the gut and then again to your head. You don’t know what to think. Was this real? Did Wanda plant those in your head? No, that didn’t seem right. This would certainly explain the way certain Avengers acted around you and the way you felt when Wanda was near. You were explaining that away as anxiety, nervousness over being so close to someone to dangerous and vile. You lean into the warmth of Wanda’s touch before you can even think about stopping yourself. She can see the way your mind is racing, how your pupils are blown as you try to piece everything together. Eventually, you look up at her with those doe eyes you used to use on her and she almost tears up. “Wanda?” There you are. 

“Hi, кошечка. You must be so confused, huh? I know it’s a lot, but I promise things will be better now.” Your head spins at her words and her tone, that tone… everything is too much and not enough all at once. Too much information, but at the same time not enough. Why didn’t you remember any of that before? Why were you ever trying to hurt Wanda? Why was she hurting you back? Was she hurting you back? Why had she been doing all of those horrible things? Your Wanda would never do those things. Except, well, this was your Wanda, so surely that makes it excusable, right? But if she was your Wanda, why weren’t you with her? Wanda taps against your cheek to catch your attention again, noticing how unfocused your eyes are as you spiral in your own mind. “Those Avengers were so mean to take you away from me like they did, trying to turn you against me.” 

“I don’t… I don’t understand. Why would they do that? I thought they were supposed to be nice, why would they take me from you? Why would… why?” You’re slowly putting the pieces together while trying to cope with the fact that for the past two years you’ve been treating your… your Wanda like an enemy. Your tough exterior is cracking and crumbling as each second goes by, no longer being kept back by the mental barrier you didn’t even know was there. “Oh, my sweet girl, because they’re not nice. They’ve been keeping you like a caged animal, using you like a weapon and tricking you into trusting them.” Wanda’s voice soothes you if only slightly, but the thought of being used like that has you so angry and overwhelmed with all the emotions clashing in your head that you can’t help but let out a quiet whimper, tears forming in your eyes. Wanda coos, bringing you closer and holding you against her chest. She strokes your hair, humming softly before she speaks again, “It’s okay, mommy’s got you. I’ll make it all better, don’t worry.”

[potter-imagines]

Jealous Jerks

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Reader x Stu Macher

Prompt: After their girlfriend is asked on a date by Randy Meeks, Billy and Stu remind their girl who she belongs to.

Warning: Light smut towards the end, swearing, mentions of murder, extremely possessive Billy, typically ghostface warnings.

Word Count: 4.1K

If looks could kill, Randy Meeks would be laying guts out on the concrete pavement moaning for mercy at Billy and Stu’s feet as they happily slaughter him. The slasher pair would take pride in inflicting a world of pain and cruelty on their classmate, if given the chance. A thousand thoughts a second raced in his mind as Billy considered all the endless possibilities of taking his ‘friend’s’ life. 

Sidney had her back propped against Billy’s knee, deep in conversation with Tatum who sat between Stu’s legs. Neither girl seemed to notice their boyfriends shared distractions and boiling annoyance. Billy had to constantly remind himself not to kick Sidney off in anger as he desperately tried to focus on anything but the light blush kissing Y/n’s cheeks as Randy ranted on about different horror movies and their defaults, something Billy and Stu took pleasure in discussing. There was a possessive sting tainting his bloodstream watching her share that sweet smile she only saved for the duo. It made his stomach churn in abhorrence.

Forcing himself to tear his sharp glare from the two, Billy found a pair of blue eyes already evaluating him, blue eyes he could recognize in a dark room. Stu smirked, a light chuckle escaping from his throat. His amusement towards his boyfriend’s clear anger at the situation their girlfriend was currently tied up in. 

It was an odd arrangement the three had- odd in terms of describing the functioning. On the outside to everyone who had a viewing seat, Billy Loomis and Sidney Prescott had been in a loving relationship for the past year, while Stu and Tatum had started dating recently. Billy and Stu were childhood best friends who maybe hung around each other a bit too much and Y/n had been Billy’s neighbor and best friend since birth. Friends is what anyone would label a trio, bestfriends. In private however, it was an entirely different story. In private the three could be honest about their feelings together. In private there was no reasoning to bottle the affection they shared. 

However for the time being, until their problem was resolved, the three continued to keep their real relationship underwraps and settled for covers instead. Now, Billy was honest that he felt zero love towards Sidney, although he wasn’t honest with his partners about his deep rooted hatred for his ‘girlfriend’.  To Stu and Y/n, Sidney was their classmate, a nice friend, and that was it. They didn’t know of the constant itch Billy had to slice her throat open and watch her bleed out. They didn’t know Billy consistently dreamed of torturing his ‘girlfriend’ for all the pain her mother had caused him. No, Stu and Y/n had no inkling to his true intentions, all they knew was Billy loved them and Sidney was an easy excuse to blanket the reality. 

Speaking of, Billy’s daydream of murdering Randy died off at the loud shrill of Tatum made his head ache. Tatum gossiped over the latest breakups and rumors spreading through the halls of Woodsboro High as Sidney nodded along, leaving Billy and Stu to steal casual glances at Y/n and Randy. Stu lolled his head to the side in a dramatic roll, making a face of disgust. 

“Would you two quit with the eye fucking eachother? It’s getting old, man.” 

“I’m sorry you’re incapable of having an intelligent conversation with a female without the idea of fucking her tainting every thought that crosses your brain- which trust me, I know there aren’t many that pass by, but we’re actually discussing something if you don’t mind.” 

The cocky grin Stu sported was wiped away in an instant. Billy watched his light hearted stare turn cold in a matter of seconds at being put down. Y/n didn’t seem to pay any mind to her lovers as she hardly moved her body to glance at Stu, which only seemed to frustrate the teen even more. In a twisted way Billy found himself pleased at Stu’s reaction. He knew Randy’s comeback had caught him off guard as no more words fell from his always yapping lips. Instead, Stu sent Y/n a knowing glare, almost as if warning her she’d be paying for Randy’s words later, then turned back to Billy. 

In five minutes the group would be forced back in the stuffy halls and classrooms, all they needed to do was make it five more minutes, then three more class periods, and the trio would have an entire weekend alone at Stu’s home. Only five more minutes. Billy was determined to force a lid over his emotions and keep his cool until the bell struck three. Once they were off school grounds and away from prying eyes and cover ‘lovers’ could he make Y/n pay for the unknowing torture she was throwing on her boyfriends. He was aware it was hypocritical, sure.

Day in and day out Y/n was forced to watch Stu cuddling up to Tatum and Sidney hanging off Billy’s arm, and never once did she snap. However, that cool, calm demeanor she possessed was not a trait Billy or Stu had any desire to develop. Besides, the three had rules set in place to keep eachother from going crazy. Kissing was acceptable as it was mandatory in a way to keep their acts up, although sex was off the table. All three had agreed on that unanimously. If they were that desperate to get their rocks off, they’d simply hangout at Stu’s place and consummate their relationship until the sun rises. 

Now the rule of touching was an unspoken rule, one Billy and Stu had yet to have a reason to discuss, until today. Billy was determined to drill it into Y/n’s head over and over later that he would murder the next man to have his hand resting on her thigh the way Randy did right now. 

A soft weight fell on his shoulder as Sidney turned to him, a concerned look gracing her features. 

“Are you alright? You’ve been quieter than normal.” The sweetness in her voice nearly made Billy recoil in repugnance. She was the last person he wanted to comfort his sour mood. It was as if he was a different person around her- a character in a Halloween mask of sorts. Sidney was like the spring play he worked so hard to perform perfection for, but it was just that, an act. Y/n and Stu, now they were the real deal and there was no need to feign any front around them. 

Lips pulled into a tight line Billy forced a smile as he nodded, 

“I’m fine.” 

This seemed to satisfy her enough as Sidney resumed her conversation with Tatum, and Billy’s attention fixed once again on the movie geek and his girl. His girl who refused to make eye contact since the group had sat around the fountain- hell, her back had been facing the four since she arrived, her full attention devoted to Randy. Billy Loomis was livid. Hell, even Stu who was oblivious half the time was beginning to twitch in annoyance, his gaze shifting between the two like clockwork. 

Y/n popped a handful of green grapes in her mouth, smiling as Randy explained his theory on whether Michael Meyers is capable of death or not.

“I never realized you were so knowledgeable in the world of horror movies. You know, if you don't have any plans for tonight, you could come uh, you could come over and we can watch a few together? And hangout and stuff… if you want.” Randy rubbed the back of his neck, his flooding anxiety seeping through each word. Stu’s head whipped to Billy without warning, eyes wide in shock. There was no way in hell Randy actually believed he could score a date with their girlfriend- well, their non-exclusive exclusive girlfriend. 

Billy’s glare hardened like molten lava forming into jagged rocks. The audacity, he thought to himself. Did Randy truly believe he had a chance with her? If his advances weren’t so obtuse, Billy might’ve found a pinch of humor to the situation. Stu scoffed loudly, already set for a line of low blows and insults when Tatum turned her attention to the pair. Resting her hand on Y/n’s shoulder the blonde sent her a bright smile, 

“Aw, that’s so cute! Randy has a crush!” Leaning forward, her voice turned to a whisper, though not quiet enough for the others to miss. “Believe me, you can do a whole lot better than that dweeb, Y/n.”

A slight tug of a smirk pulled at Billy’s lips while Stu howled in laughter. He slapped his knees, as if he was sitting front row at a comedy show. Sidney pushed on his shoulder signaling to quit his overdramatics, but Stu only stuck his tongue out at her before continuing his public shame on their friend. Randy rolled his eyes, a fresh coat of red dusting his cheeks in embarrassment. 

“Don’t listen to them, Randy, they’re just being jerks.” Yn reassured him, her hand instinctively reaching out to grasp his in an attempt to lighten the load of public scrutiny he fell in line of. Right as his hand grabbed hers, Y/n became all too familiar with the dangerous territory she entered. Slowly stealing a glance over her shoulder, the girl held her breath. 

A shiver rattled her bones from the intensely cold stare Billy gave. Brown eyes that could easily pass as a shade away from black, every racing spark of anger flickering through. They were in a silent conversation, no words were exchanged in fear of exposure although the expression of disappointment twisted with fury was telling enough. 

Tearing her shaken gaze away, Y/n smiled up to Randy in reassurance. Sure, the girl felt nothing more than friendliness towards the boy, however that didn’t excuse a need to be rude. Randy scoffed as he leaned over to snarl at Stu and Tatum, 

“Assholes are more fitting.”

“Bet you love those, don’tcha Meeks?” Stu didn’t miss a beat as he howled with laughter at his own jab. Roughly shoving his shoulder, Randy muttered a disgruntled ‘fuck off’, before looking back to Y/n in suspense. She then realized she had failed to give him an actual answer, but the second she parted her lips ready to agree, Billy was two steps ahead.

“Too bad Y/n’s already got plans.” 

All five heads turned in curiosity at his sudden quip. For not having muttered more than a sentence the majority of lunch, everyone was rather shocked to hear him speak up. Stu chuckled, shaking his head with a smile. He could see his best friend unraveling by the seams, which to him meant the trio would be in for an eventful night at his house. Y/n peeked over her shoulder to Billy, her features scrunched in confusion. 

“Thought you had to babysit this weekend.” He stated plainly. Despite the surface level statement, Y/n could recognize the knee deep hot water she was treading in. 

“O-Oh uh, yeah. Billy is right, I’m nannying for my cousins. I’m sorry, Randy.” She offered a sympathetic smile, trying her best to hide the sensation of fear crawling up her spine. Randy nodded his head in understanding and returned the kind gesture. 

“That’s alright- maybe another time?”

The surrounding conversations resumed back to normal, however Y/n couldn’t shake that strange feeling of being watched- or rather scrutinized. She didn’t need to turn her body to know Billy had his eyes locked on her, nor that Stu was still picking fun at Randy behind her back. 

No more than a minute later had the bell rang singlaing to the group it was time to head inside. As Y/n stood to gather her things, Billy brushed shoulders causing her to stumble forward a step. Stu grabbed her by the waist as if helping to steady her, but it was all part of their plan. A hand entered the back pocket of her jeans then disappeared faster than it emerged. A small folded paper has been jammed into the denim, and before she could question either boy, they were both entering the school leaving her standing alone at the fountain. 

Curiosity got the better of her as Y/n shimmed the note from her backside and quickly unwrapped the paper. In chicken scratch was her boyfriend’s writing, and a warning of sorts,

‘glad to see you having such a great time with randy, sorry to ruin your little date. pack a weekend bag and be ready by four. we’ll pick you up after school.’ 

Y/n hadn’t even buckled her seat belt before Billy was speeding away from her home like a bat out of hell. The moment her skin touched the leather of the cushion, the car was launching forward heading for the outskirts of town where Stu resided. She had hardly muttered a ‘hello’ before Billy’s fuse burst and he allowed all those bottled up emotions to fly wild. 

“You really think we’re jerks, huh? You’d rather be spending your night cuddled up with that fucker, wouldn’t you?” Venom poisoned each word he spat. When it came to the temper of Billy Loomis, the best course of action was reassurance over arguing. His jealousy casted a threatening cloud over the atmosphere in the car. Stu sat smirking to himself in the passenger seat, clearly fine with letting Billy take the wheel. 

Casting her e/c eyes to the passing trees outside the windows, Y/n shook her head softly. 

“N-No, that’s not true, Billy. Randy is our friend-” 

The sound of skin smacking against leather caused Y/n to jump in fright as Stu let out a low whistle. White knuckles gripped the steering wheel and for a brief moment, Stu wondered if he was better off switching seats with the boiling teen.

“Our friend who wants to fuck you!”

“Maybe that’s what our little princess wants-” In a flash Billy threw his hand across the middle console and socked Stu like a ton of bricks in the chest. He hunched over, groaning in pain. “Fuck man! It was a joke!”

The sight of Stu’s remote home- a home one bedroom away from being considered a quaint mansion. Dirt and rocks kicked out from under the tires as Billy sped his way up the gravel path and launched the car to a halt in front of the driveway. Tension filled the silence as Stu turned in his seat, his hand reaching out to rest on his girlfriend’s shaky knee. Smiling over he gave her skin a squeeze, 

“You would never do that right, sweetheart?”

Y/n’s head shook ferociously, desperate to prove her innocence. Both men knew she was being honest, but that didn’t settle the rage burning inside Billy as he recalled the way Randy smiled at her as if he actually had a chance at being with her. 

“We were just going to watch some movies… that was all.” Her voice was a soft whisper, a pitch away from silence. Fear swam laps around her stomach as she carefully looked up. Billy stared straight back at her through the rearview mirror, not shying away an inch from her weary gaze. 

Opening the passenger side door, Stu stepped out of the car with a chuckle. He couldn’t help but bask in the memories of the countless times they had invited Y/n over with the concept of ‘watching a movie’, that never failed to result in her bent over the side of his couch and Billy and him traded places fucking her senselessly. Even before Y/n had joined their relationship the offer of a movie was how Billy and Stu had their first time together. In their eyes, watching a movie typically had a hidden agenda. 

“Yeah, cause everytime we watch a movie together we all totally focus on just the movie” Stu teased. 

Y/n reached out to open her door but it seemed Billy had already beaten her to the hook as he yanked the backseat door open. Grabbing her by the upper arm, he forcefully pulled her out of the vehicle. Stu was already swinging his front door open by the time Billy had slammed the back door shut. His arm remained locked around hers while he dragged the girl inside the house. 

“Billy, please stop! You’re hurting me!” If the situation were any different, Y/n might’ve been embarrassed of the squealing sounds running from her mouth. However the pain shooting through her arm was enough to distract her from the shame. 

Entering the house, Stu was nowhere to be seen. His shoes were messily discarded by the front door, but he himself wasn’t in sight. A sound of bowls crashing in the kitchen gave hints to his whereabouts. Y/n longed for Stu to help her- he had always been less temperamental than his counterpart, and was easier to talk down. Billy on the other hand seemed to have already dove head first in the deep end of envy. 

Kicking the front door, he placed his hand on her chest for no more than a second as he shoved her into the wood. Y/n’s head smacked against the oak as she groaned in pain. 

Billy’s hands moved from her chest to her face faster than the speed of sound. The grip he latched around her face was sure to leave a bruise on her chin, but scolding him for his harshness seemed to be the worst option.

“Now you know how we felt earlier watching you flirt your ass off with that stupid fuck earlier.”

Soft tears welled in her e/c eyes as she clawed at Billy to let her go, not that her attempts did anything to help. Whines poured like a river as she begged and pleaded with him to put her down. 

“I’m sorry! I was being nice, I swear! I wasn’t flirting with him, Billy, please!”

Loosening his hold around her face, Billy dropped his hands to his side, sharp glare studying her meticulously. Y/n didn’t need a mirror to know she looked like a frightened puppy in a thunderstorm, which Billy bathed in. He loved the control he possessed over her and the effect his words had. Intertwining their fingers, he wordlessly directed Y/n to the living room where Stu already had the television on and ready for the first film of the night. Guiding her to the couch, Billy motioned for her to sit as he crouched down in front of her. A sinister smirk kissed his lips.

“I want you to show us how sorry you really are, doll. Want you to show us who you belong to. We’re gonna start our scary movie night a little early, got it?”

Rounding the corner Stu excited the kitchen with a large bowl of popcorn and three cans of pepsi. He tossed one to Billy, then plopped himself on the couch to Y/n’s left. His arm flung around her shoulder pulling her into his side as he planted a kiss on her temple. 

“I’m just in time, eh?”

Billy remained on the floor, his calloused hands massaging her legs, slowly working his way up until he found home in her upper thighs, lifting the cotton of her skirt for more access. 

“Our girl wants to show us how sorry she is, what do you say?” That cocky smirk remained as his attention moved to Stu, patiently awaiting his response, which didn’t take long at all. Pulling his lips from her face, Stu trailed a line of wet pecks down the skin of her neck, pausing every so often to give a small nip. Y/n couldn’t help the moans escaping her lips at the feeling of Billy’s hands hovering over her underwear and Stu making out with her neck. It was all too much at once- but she was loving every second. 

“Count me in!” He hollered. “I don’t think just once will be enough. Might have to make it up to us all night, princess. It's gonna be a scream, baby!" Stu popped his tongue out, laughing. An idea flashed through Y/n's mind and within a split second, she acted on it.

Leaning forward Y/n captured Stu's tongue in her mouth, taking him by surprise. A small gasp sounded as he tried to regain his composure. She darted her tongue against his own and kissed him with a weight of passion Stu was almost certain he had yet to experience. A wave of love flooded through the steam of the exchange making his insides feel warm to the touch.

Billy simply smiled at his loves, more than pleased with the display in front of him. As he watched the two making out, Billy slid his hand in-between the silk material clutching to his girlfriend's pussy. His fingers were cold against her heated body, causing her to jump from the pressure. Stu took the opportunity to regain control as he delved back in to deepen the kiss. His mouth wrapped around her tongue, absorbing every fiber of her being available.

Billy steadily pulled the black thong from her legs, parting her knees as he did so. A small line of slick coated the tips of his fingers, which he happily brought to his mouth for a taste. Licking his middle and pointer, Billy pushed the two digits inside at an agonizingly slow pace, working his way inside her tight hole. Y/n's back arched in reaction, a surge of pleasure washing over. Her legs kicked out an inch at the sensation as she tried to force herself to divide her attention evenly among the two men, but it was impossible. Her body was on fire and there was no calming the burn.

"Stay still, doll." Billy commanded. She could feel the vibration of his voice agonizingly close to her exposed heat, creating shivers in its wake. Breaking from Stu’s lips, Y/n’s head fell back against the red sofa. Her hand reached down to pull Billy’s away, the flurry of emotions all blending together, but Stu was too fast and caught her wrist in his grasp. Clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth he pointed towards the brightly lit television. Johnny Depp was on the screen sporting a cropped jersey and shorts as he lied on his bed chatting on the phone. Nightmare on Elm Street had always been a favorite of hers, yet she had no room left for further distractions, but Stu wasn’t having it. He could see her hazed over eyes practically rolling to the back of her skull hardly paying any piece of mind to the movie. Lifting his reach, Stu sent a light smack to her cheek causing her eyes to snap wide in shock. He chuckled to himself and motioned towards the tv.

"Watch the movie, baby. Your favorite part is coming."

Billy drew a line of faint kisses up her thighs as his fingers continued to pump in and out of her core. A lewd squelching sound took priority over the screams coming from the screen as Johnny Depp's character was sucked through the mattress of his bed. Y/n couldn’t help but squeeze herself around his masterful digits. He curled himself inside of her, eager to soak the gummy texture he longed to be fully buried in. Stu took her pleated distraction as a moment of chance to place her clenched hand on top of the growing bulge confined by the zipper of his jeans. He forced the heel of her hand against the tip of his clothed cock, palming himself against her skin. He could feel her pressing back, causing him to groan at the friction. A sly smile crosses his features as he glanced down to Billy who was nearly head deep in her glistening pussy.

“Told you, princess. No one is focused on the movie, are they?”   

And Stu was right, the three hardly paid any mind to the slasher film playing on repeat in the background, they were far too busy and entangled in each other. As Billy’s hot breath fanned over her pussy, diving in without warning, Y/n was almost thankful for Randy putting her in this position. Maybe she’d have to ignore her boyfriends a little more often.

[cece693]

Not Interested (Jasper Whitlock x M! Reader)

Summary: You never understood the hype over the Cullen family. Sure, they were beautiful, but didn’t anyone at school have enough common sense to notice something was off? Too bad a certain empath is smitten with you and merely finds your open disdain entertaining.

tags: perceptive reader, Jasper is smitten, isn't character canon nor resembles his original description, human reader, reader is a hothead and unfiltered, creative liberties with Jasper

You never understood the hype over the Cullen family. Sure, they were beautiful, but didn’t anyone at school have enough common sense to notice something was off? They looked like marble statues—flawlessly sculpted but lifeless, almost artificial. And then there were their mannerisms, too controlled to be teenagers. It was all a bit too uncanny for your liking.

Jasper Hale was no exception. Out of all of them, he seemed like the biggest walking red flag. He wasn’t an asshole, exactly, but his whole demeanor screamed danger. Every time you glanced his way, he was as stiff as a board, eyes unblinking and hands clenched into fists beneath the table, like he was holding himself back from doing something. There was a reason people said he was the second most unapproachable Cullen, with Rosalie taking the number one spot. Yet, despite his apparent hatred for people, he seemed determined to catch your attention.

He'd linger by your locker, his eyes burning a hole in your back. When you snapped at him to get lost, he didn’t flinch. He smiled. HE FUCKING SMILED LIKE YOU WERE A KITTEN THROWING A TANTRUM. In class, he'd try to strike up a conversation, blatantly ignoring your clipped and cold responses with a patience only a saint could have. Not only did you notice this, but the whole school did, too. Jasper’s odd behavior had quickly become a hot topic.

Jessica, damn her soul, was at the head of the rumor mill, spinning far-fetched stories about you and Jasper being secret lovers. If punching someone—much less a girl—wouldn’t get you expelled or possibly arrested, Jessica would have been target number one. You tried to keep your anger in check, especially when the whole school (students and staff alike) kept staring at you and Jasper like you were part of some soap opera. But one rumor, in particular, pushed you over the edge.

“I’m not a sugar baby!” you hissed at Jessica when she tried to strike up a conversation about the nonexistent gifts Jasper was supposedly giving you. “What bullshit gave you that idea?”

“He gave you a pencil—”

“Oh, fuck off and shove that pencil—” You couldn’t finish that thought as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and the beginning of fourth period. Jessica just waved goodbye and scurried off, knowing your temper wouldn’t be stopped by a bell. Huffing, you made your way to history class, where, lo and behold, Jasper was already seated, a grin on his face.

As the class dragged on, you couldn’t keep ignoring Jasper or the hushed whispers of the other students. His grin never faltered, and neither did the feeling of his gaze burning into you.

Screw it.

Without waiting for the teacher to finish his lecture on some historical battle you couldn’t care less about, you stood up abruptly.

“Out,” you muttered, grabbing Jasper by the arm with a grip that brooked no argument. Jasper, taken aback, allowed you to drag him to his feet. A low murmur rippled through the class, but you didn’t care. You were done playing around.

You hauled him out of the classroom, ignoring the teacher’s confused calls after you, and pulled him down the hallway to the nearest janitor's closet. You shoved the door open, pushed him inside, and slammed it shut behind you. The tiny space was dimly lit and filled with the scent of cleaning supplies, but you didn’t let the cramped quarters intimidate you. Instead, you crowded Jasper back against a shelf, glaring up at him.

“Alright, Hale,” you snapped, eyes blazing. “I’m sick of the staring, the lurking, and the creepy smiles. What's your deal? Are you trying to get under my skin, or are you just that bored?”

For a moment, Jasper didn’t respond. Then, slowly, that infuriatingly calm smile spread across his lips. “You know,” he drawled, his voice like honey dripping off a knife, “for someone who claims not to care, you seem awfully worked up about it.”

“Cut the crap,” you growled, slamming your palm against the shelf beside his head. “You’ve been following me around like some kind of deranged puppy, and I want to know why. And don’t you dare feed me some bullshit line about coincidence.”

Jasper’s smile faded, and for a moment, his eyes flickered with something darker, something almost… amused. “Maybe some of the rumors are true,” he admitted, his voice low but steady. “Maybe I do want to get to know you better.”

The words hung in the air, surprising you. You’d expected deflection, but this was something else. You narrowed your eyes. “Get to know me?” you echoed. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“It means,” Jasper continued, his gaze meeting yours head-on, “that you’re different from the others. You don’t fawn over us like we’re gods, and you’re not afraid to speak your mind. It’s… refreshing.”

You snorted. “So, what? You think acting like a creep is the way to get my attention? Newsflash, Hale: it’s not working.”

His lips twitched, almost like he was holding back a laugh. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “It got you to drag me in here, didn’t it?”

That did it. You reached out, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him closer, your faces mere inches apart. “Listen to me,” you said, your voice a low, dangerous whisper. “If you want to know me, try acting like a normal person instead of some stalker freak. Got it?”

Jasper didn't reply immediately, just stared at you before his gaze briefly flicked to your lips. “Got it,” he murmured, a reverent expression crossing his face that confused the hell out of you. You let go of him, expecting him to step back, but he didn’t. He stayed right where he was, not seeming at all bothered by the confined space or your proximity. “Just so we’re clear,” he added softly, “I’m not giving up. I’m still going to try to get to know you, whether you like it or not.”

Feeling a mix of frustration and something you didn’t want to name, you turned around and opened the door. “Fine, but try anything like this again, and I won’t be so nice.”

Jasper chuckled, that damn smile creeping back onto his face. “Deal, but somehow, I think you like a little chaos.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s get back to class, Hale.” you grumbled, stepping out into the hallway. But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling of his gaze on your back—a challenge silently hanging in the air between you.

[arxxq]

𝐖𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑..

[ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 <3 !! ]

writing for my favorite characters: itoshi rin, akabane karma, sano manjiro

itoshi rin - mentions a guitarist reader,

akabane karma- mentions of rivals troupe,

manjiro sano- grumpy girl x sunshine boy,

: any mistakes will either be left unedited or will be edited when I do so, english is not my native language so be warned, I do not support plagiarism, do not steal my works, mentions of female reader in my head but not to worry it's all gender neutral, if used she/her pronounce it's because I imagine the reader as a female I apologize for that :

"a beauty just like your melody..." :

: itoshi rin is someone who's known to be cold and reserved to most others, some find him to be unapproachable and some find his demeanor is intimidating and some admire him for his talents, achievements and his hard work which makes it hard to believe he had someone to begin with..but he did and it was with one of the most talented guitarist in the whole school [name]. no one knew what was going on between them but some just assume they were just close friends since childhood but little did they know the two of them had a little thing going on,

it was after school, there they were one strumming their guitar while the other listened to their playing. the teal eyed man had his gaze on them so mesmerized at their beauty. once they finished [name] felt like they were being stared at so they giggled and looked at him. "did you enjoy the song or was your mind occupied somewhere else?" rin was unfazed but he let out a small chuckle which was very rare. "yk I love you right?" they were taken aback but laughed. "more than soccer?" the boy rolled his eyes "I hate to admit but I do love you more than soccer" :

"I hate you...I hate myself for that too"

: Everyone knew the hatred [name] held for akabane karma and I think it goes the same way for him as well, they were rivals since junior high even. [name] hated that red headed boy for everything, how he was better than him in most things, how cocky he gets, his behavior. basically everything. what made them hate despise him more was that he was always either one or two above her. it was time where mid years were about to come, [name] was in the library studying and it was late at night, by now no one was in the library except them and the librarian. They were getting tired and their mood was ruined. what made it worse was when they heard that voice.

"Oh well you look at that, it's miss perfect studying" that annoying voice rang in their head. "What do you want akabane?" she said with a hoarse voice. "In fact what are you even doing here," the boy studied [name]'s face and how visibly tired she looked. "Just returning a book...you should get a break you know and try and not get too worked out?" They scoffed. "I'm serious...you shouldn't get worked up," [name] glared at him. "Why the fuck do you care?" The boy was getting annoyed by their stubborn behavior. "Well believe it or not I'm not a dick like how you see me to be," he yelled. Lucky for them the librarian didn't hear "I hate you...I hate you I fucking do. I hate how you always manage to one up me, how you don't care about what people say to you, how you don't care about fitting it...I hate you and I hate myself for that" [name] admitted. The boy was taken aback. "Well believe it or not I don't hate you....I never did so let's start a new beginning for me and you?" He sat down beside you and smiled "I'd..I'd like that.."

"You're always so grumpy cheer up!"

: sano manjiro, [name] did not know how they got together in the first place because in the beginning of the year they were complaining about how immature Mikey is and how he keeps skipping class. they also complained how he is in a gang which isn't really good but now here they are together with him. At first [name] found him intimidating and everything but after getting to know him he was basically just such a big baby and pain to deal with. In their relationship they're basically the grumpy one one in the relationship.

"[Name] let's get dorayaki!" Mikey says ecstatic while the girl was not in the mood at the moment. "No please let's not I'm too tired for this Mikey!" She complains. "Come on loosen up" he drags her to his motorcycle. "Mikey don't you dare drive at an insane spee-! Mikey!" From afar draken and Emma were laughing at their odd relationship. "Those two are really something aren't they ken?" Draken laughed. "they really are"

Authors note:

my favorite characters <3 but if you ask me between all my favorites karma will always have a special place in my heart ngl. You don't know how much I love assassination classroom to this day. It will always have a small special place in my heart and I honestly don't mind that at all.

sincerely your dear author !

-Arxx/Hasinah.

All rights reserved do not plagiarize !

[pinkydevil16]

Dark!Aegon Targaryen x Targ! Reader

18+ non con/rape 

Do not read if this will trigger you.

“Bring her to me!” Aegon screamed as he threw his cup roughly against the wall, wine splattering on the stone as soldiers panicked to try to appease the King.

Y/n ran through the corridors, her boots slamming against the stone as she tried to get to the dragonpit, praying she could get to her baby before the guards found her. Her hands grabbing on the wall as she threw herself towards the stairs, almost falling down as she caught herself and continued rushing. 

“Please please.” Y/n begged to herself as she heard the clattering of armour as Knights, guards and anyone who could answered the King’s demands to bring him his Queen. Y/n could feel the blisters ripping open the backs of her feet, stone scraping against delicate skin as she shoved herself off walls to propel herself forward, anything to avoid being captured. She let out a scream as a Guard appeared, his sword drawn as she heard more footsteps behind her.

“NO! Kill me! Kill me if you plan to take me please.” Y/n begged as she turned, Sir Criston Cole staring at her with a smirk as he stared down Rhaenyra’s daughter, his sword drawn as he twirled it.

“My Queen, we would never think of betraying the throne in such a way. Please come with us peacefully, the King requires your presence.” Y/n could feel her heart sink as she surveyed her choices, she would be damned if she was taken easily back to that monster. She heard a chuckle as she spun, Aemond standing there with a cat-like grin.

“Niece, pray tell what are you doing?” Y/n scowled at him as she stood tall and proud.

“You arrogant pest, you despise your King and yet you stand here returning the one thing he covets instead of allowing me to leave. You are as foolish as you are bitter.” Y/n spat her words, Aemond drawing his sword and pointing it towards her as he raised an eyebrow and walked closer.

“I am returning the one thing that controls him, the one thing that he can control, although if you were my Pet this escape attempt would have never happened.” Y/n grit her teeth as Aemond called her a Pet, she was sick and tired of this charade that everyone in the Seven Kingdoms adored Aegon. She despised him as much as Aemond but where his was out of jealousy, hers was pure hatred. 

“You are a coward.” Y/n raised her chin as she spoke the last word, staring deeply into his eye as she felt the sword under her chin.

“And you are not? You could have thrown yourself from a window or poisoned yourself and yet here you are, running in circles for attention.” Y/n grabbed the sword, throwing Aemond off guard as she held the blade tightly, pushing his balance off and grabbing his long white hair. Dragging him to the ground as his sword hit the floor, Criston Cole holding his hand up as the two tousled on the floor before Aemond was ontop. His eyepatch ripped off as he pinned Y/n beneath him, her body thrashing wildly as he held her hands together and used his other hand to grip her hair.

“You fucking whore.” Aemond ground out as he banged her head against the stone flooring, her eyes rolling as she cried out in pain and her wiggling slowed. 

“Atleast someone wants me.” Y/n whispered as she concentrated on Aemond, seeing the fire in his eyes as he climbed off her and forced her up, his grip on her arm bruising as he pushed her back towards the throne room. 

“I hope he strings your body up and your pathetic mother hears of your death.” Y/n spat on his boots before he threw her down in front of the throne, gritting her teeth as her knees slammed against the stone. 

“My beautiful wife!” Aegon cheered as she glared at Aemond before looking up at Aegon with a blank face.

“Aegon.” The King pouted at her coldness, climbing off the throne where he had been lounging and walked towards her with his hands on his hips.

“That is no way to speak to your loving husband Y/n. I was so worried for you.” His eyes wide and innocent as he crouched before her, his hand coming to hold her face tenderly before glaring at Aemond.

“You have bruised her.” Aemond rolled his eye as Y/n moved away from Aegon’s touch, his eyes filled with hurt at her actions.

“My darling, let us retire and i shall look after you.” Y/n was pulled up by guards much gentler than before with their King watching, Aegon linking her arm with his as he walked her towards their quarters.

“My angel why, why did you run?” Aegon questioned Y/n as they walked, her nails digging into her palm as they entered the chambers. The door closing before she was pushed onto the bed, Aegon’s eyes filled with tears as he crawled onto her and stared into her eyes.

“Why, why my darling?” Y/n could only stare back at him as tears fell from his eyes, his body wracked with sobs as he held her.

“I have done nothing but love you, I love you so much it burns me and yet you spur me so.” Y/n laid still as she breathed deeply, his head in her chest as he pinned her with his weight.

“You do not love me Aegon. You are obsessed with me. You are a spoilt brat who became King by being a Usurper, perhaps in another life i could have loved you but not in this one.” Aegon continued to sob as he shook his head, refusing to believe her words.

“No, no, you love me. You told me.” Y/n clenched her fists as Aegon’s sobs turned into gentle kisses across her chest, her body shivering in disgust.

“You told me, you told me you loved me.” He kept repeating to himself as he peppered kissing along her breasts and collarbone, working his way up until he could stare in her eyes. His confidence in her was restored as he wiped his eyes and smiled down at her.

“You told me, do you remember?” Y/n wanted to cry as she watched him in his madness.

“I was 12.” Aegon did not care as he only widely smiled and nodded, his heart soaring at the thought of her holding the memory close.

“Yes! You told me you loved me and that you wished to stay with me.” Y/n felt a tear escape her eye as she recalled the dreaded beginning of his obsession. It was after Aemond had taken Vhagar, and she had told Aegon she loved him as her Uncle and that she wished they could be friends. Instead he had turned her childish words into a declaration. Now the words repulsed her, she could not think of anything worse than saying those words to Aegon, to appease him in such a way. 

“You never have to wish for that again my wife. You will be with me forever.” His kisses turned harsher as he claimed her lips, pressing her into the mattress as his hunger took over, mumbling her name over and over and he pushed up her dress.

“My beautiful wife.”

His hands pushed her legs apart.

“You are stunning.” 

She could feel his forehead against hers as he gripped her hips.

“I love you.” 

She stared at the ceiling as she tried to imagine herself anywhere else. 

“I know you love me.” 

The pain made her wince.

“Gods say you love me.” 

His body was sweaty as he held her close.

“Going to keep you forever.”

His hands fumbled to grab hers as he kissed her.

“So…so beautiful.” 

She could feel him stutter, could tell his hair would be sticking to his forehead and body would be shaking.

“All mine.”

She wanted to sigh in relief as he groaned.

“Say it.” His voice demanded as he gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were empty and hollow as she spoke.

“I’m yours.” 

Y/n sat on Aegon’s lap, the crown haphazardly placed on her head as he thrust up into her, her hands trying not to get cut on the iron throne as she stared at the metal behind his head. His moans and words not registering in her mind as he held her hips, forcing her further down as she contained the whimper of pain. 

“Gods you were made for me.” Aegon moaned out, his arms moving to wrap around her waist as he pulled her down, cumming harshly as he forced her to stay on top of him. His breathing evening out as Y/n placed her head on his shoulder in shame, one of his hands coming to push his hair out his face.

“Ride with Vhagar to Rook’s Rest, follow Sir Criston.” 

“Of course brother.”

She was trapped. 

[aishangotome]

Gilbert von Obsidian: Even If You Were To Hate Me

From A Hidden Oath: King of the BEAST (2024 Election) - Collection Event

Thank you @dark-frosted-heart for providing the SE video!

—

On a quiet night, even the candle flames hesitated to flicker.

Upon returning to my room, Emma's face bloomed into a smile.

Emma: Gil...!

Gilbert: Heh, you look very happy. Did you miss me?

Emma: Yes, I always long for you–

Suddenly, Emma's face clouded over.

(Did she notice? I thought I had washed it all away.)

Gilbert: Little rabbit, what's wrong?

Emma: No... I always long for you, Gil.

She tried to hide her emotions with a smile as she prepared tea, but her trembling fingertips betrayed her.

(You're good at noticing things, but bad at hiding them, aren't you, little rabbit?)

(You were just told something like that, so you might catch a cold from the temperature difference.)

(... If I said that, Emma would worry even more.)

As Emma suspected, I had just executed a man.

The man seemed to have harbored a considerable grudge, glaring at me until the very end and declaring, "Don't think this is over. I'll tear you to pieces in hell."

(I've been hated many times before, but it's been a while since I've felt such sharp hatred.)

(He must have lived only to hate and kill me.)

(In that sense, he's the complete opposite of Emma.)

Emma: Gil? Is something wrong?

Gilbert: It's nothing. Could you wait a moment?

-

After changing out of my blood-soaked clothes and taking a seat, Emma gently offered me a cup of tea.

Her expression was still worried, but it seemed to have softened somewhat compared to before.

Gilbert: ...Little rabbit, you love me, don't you?

Emma: Of course.

Gilbert: How much?

Emma: I can't put it into words, but my love is enormous.

Emma: Much more than you can imagine, Gil.

Gilbert: Then what would happen if that love were to turn upside down?

Emma: Turn upside down?

Gilbert: Yes. If your incredibly large love were to completely reverse itself.

Gilbert: In other words, if you came to hate me... what would happen to you, little rabbit?

I grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her closer.

Emma's face drew near as well, and I could clearly see her eyes filled with confusion.

Gilbert: Imagine it. What if I were to take away everyone around you, Emma?

Emma: You are a jealous demon, but... you respect me.

Gilbert: What if I destroyed everything you hold dear?

Emma: I would be angry, but you wouldn't do such a thing without reason.

(She's tough.)

I pulled her hand closer and placed it on my heart.

Gilbert: Then... what if I killed someone you loved?

Emma: ...!

Emma's hand on his chest trembled for a moment.

Emma: I will never forgive you. That much... I will never forgive you, no matter what.

Her gaze pierced me with clear anger.

(What a scary face. But, the depths of your eyes still hold love, don't they?)

(I'm used to being hated and it doesn't bother me anymore.)

(But it's strange how much better it feels when it's just love.)

(No... it's not the difference between hate and love, it's probably because of your feelings.)

Gilbert: ... Heh, I made you angry.

I let go of her wrist.

Gilbert: As an apology, you can do whatever you want with me.

I spread my arms out as if offering my body, and Emma, blushing, snuggled up to me.

Emma: Then...

She gave me a quick kiss on the lips and pulled away.

Gilbert: That's all? You can be greedier, since it's a rare opportunity.

Emma: If you say that, I'll want to do something I shouldn't.

Gilbert: Go ahead.

This time, Emma pulled my hand towards her and lightly bit my finger.

Lightly, but with more force than usual.

(Huh...?)

(I thought she was angry because I said, 'What if I killed someone you loved.')

(Could it be that there's also this reason?)

Gilbert: Little rabbit, are you jealous?

Emma: Why do you think that?

Gilbert: Because you have the same look in your eyes as I do.

Emma looked down, as if accepting the truth.

Emma: If love and hate are two sides of the same coin, then the people who hate Gil must also have strong feelings.

Emma: I love Gil more than anyone else in the world.

Emma: My love is much, much bigger than all the hate directed at you.

Emma: So please, look only at me.

Gilbert: ...

Gilbert: Ahaha. More than all the hate, huh? That's really big. It might be bigger than a continent.

(If such a great love were to reverse, it would surely be a terrible thing.)

(Even if you were to hate me, I swear I would continue to love you.)

(So keep directing those feelings at me, so much that I might drown in them.)

Gilbert: My turn.

Emma: Nn...

I bit her neck, and a sound mixed with pain and sweetness escaped Emma's lips.

Emma: You said I could be greedy, right?

Gilbert: Yes.

Emma: Can I... bite you too?

Gilbert: Hehe, yes. For every mark you leave on me, I'll leave one on you too. As proof that you're mine forever.

And so, while carefully carving our love into each other, we drowned together in the deep darkness of the night, enveloped by each other's warmth.

FIN

[johnkahner]

Can I request the Lin Kuei trio reacting to seeing their partner being slapped? I want to see bLOOD

AN: My brain was trying to get this done, but I wanted to get this done before I went to sleep tonight. Also, my laptop's spacebar started to act up a little when writing this rip. I hope you guys enjoy it! Not proof read.

Notes: Gender-Neutral! Reader, Pissed off! Lin Kuei Trio

Bi-Han

Bi-Han is having a conversation with Sektor about Lin Kuei stuff while walking around performing checkups to things around the clan to make sure that they are up to date and whatnot. Boring stuff really. 

They hear some pottery break, and they go to investigate. Bi-Han sees a girl that is the daughter of another clan hoping to form an alliance with the Lin Kuei, and you. You had your head lowered. That infuriated Bi-Han because the two of you were lovers, well secret lovers. 

“Don’t you know that I’ll most likely be your Grandmaster’s wife? You should beg and grovel at my feet.”

The arrogant girl laughs in your face. She grabs your face to look you in the eyes. When you look her in the eyes you roll your eyes, and this pisses her off. She slaps you in the face. However, as soon as she did that her days were now numbered. 

Bi-Han rushes over to you. He grabs the woman’s wrist to only snap it with a single squeeze. He makes his hand cold to gently cup your swollen cheek. 

“Are you alright my heart?”

“Of course, my Grandmaster.”

“Drag that woman away to the dungeon to be tortured.”

That’s how everyone found out about your relationship with the cryomancer. 

—

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang, Tomas, and you were at Madam Bo’s to have a nice dinner after a long day of training. You were extremely tired. You had your chin on the table, arms stretched out. The two men laughed at your actions. While yes they were tired, they were used to this training, but you however weren’t. 

You slowly get up to have your bones cracking, and you sigh at the feeling. 

“I’ll be right back.”

They continue a conversation they were having as you leave your little group. However, there was a commotion. When they get up to see what was happening, Kuai Liang sees you getting slapped in the face by some random man. He sees fire.

“That’s what you get bitch. I was trying to be nice asking if you wanted to go on a date sometime.” 

Holding onto your face you glare at your assailant, and then you feel heat. Not any normal heat either. This was from Kuai Liang. He was furious that a random man would dare to lay his hands on you. 

He makes sure you are okay before he beats the bastard to a bloody pulp. 

—

Tomas Vrbada

You were in an argument with Bi-Han for what seems like the hundredth time. The two of you never got along, and what adds more fuel to your hatred for each other was one man. Tomas Vrbada is his name. Said man is your boyfriend and that gives Bi-Han another reason to hate you because he loathes Tomas. 

As your argument gets more heated than usual, Bi-Han takes things too far by slapping you in the face. Palm of ice style. It hurt like a sonofabitch.  Blood trickling down your face, you hold your cheek as both Kuai Liang and Tomas watch, unsure what to do now. 

Tomas is pissed. It’s one thing to belittle him and insult him and his partner, but to result to physical violence is another thing. He rushes to Bi-Han to fight him for hurting you. At the end of the day both of you are bruised and covered in a little blood, but the two of you take care of each other. 

“Are you alright, Tomas?”

“Yea, how are you doing?”

“I could be doing better, but hey what do you expect.”

The two of you cuddle and laugh with each other.