#i live for dark possessive characters now...

[angstigone]

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 (𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲) (𝟐/𝟒)

the title is a lyric from the song 'give me everything' by pitbull (feat ne-yo and afrojack)

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 (𝟭): 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗲 (𝗶𝗳 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱) 𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 (𝟐) 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮) 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝗚𝗼𝗷𝗼 𝗦𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗼𝘂 𝘅 𝗛𝗮𝗶𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗮! 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 (𝗕𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗼𝗻 𝗔𝗨)

(A/N): hello there, lovelies!

alrightie, not going to lie. I have had a brainrot for this fic since I first published so you get an update ahead of time. the next chapter might take further time as I have started to work in full and I have a conference next week (so my time to actually get any writing done will be abysmal).

as always, though, I'd appreciate any reblog or comment coming my away as they get me writing faster and with more ease!

tagging @ffsg0jo (hope you'll enjoy this as well, gojo's redemption arc is starting)

have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: a duel for love or a duel for honor?

«… if nothing happened why are you both so reticent to marry? I thought… well, I thought that you liked him!». There was no absolute need for Haibara to air out your dirty laundry exactly like that, as your eyes sought out Gojo’s own above the table and upon finding them you flustered as he didn’t look smug nor confident, if anything he seemed taken aback coming a few steps closer to where you and Haibara were childishly fighting.  He gentlemanly and almost paternally put a hand over Haibara’s shoulder although his gaze wandered to your own. «I can’t marry lady Haibara out of respect» he commented solemnly. «Then we duel»

WARNINGS: slightly suggestive (mention of hardons and what happens on the first night of marriage), insecurity, possessive! gojo, period-typical misogyny, nanami being there and being the best, haibara being too overbearing, unrequited requited love, secrets, slightly toxic dynamics, regency au, she-her afab character.

You hadn’t ever thought that you’d be glad to know where lord Geto lived as you knocked at his door right in the middle of the night after the scandal had happened.

After having caught you and Gojo in the garden – and thankfully not a moment before – Haibara had acted like an idiot, incensed by what he thought was the biggest betrayal: his best friend tarnishing his sister’s reputation in a dark garden.

You had been halfway through explaining to him that such a thing wasn’t what he thought, when he had screeched while turning to Gojo:

“You now need to marry her, now”.

Obviously you and Gojo had promptly protested such a thought, insisting that neither of you had done anything badly:

“You were in a garden. Alone” Haibara had promptly reinstated as if you weren’t painfully aware of your situation and the way it threatened your reputation. 

Still, if only Haibara could shut his mouth before he gathered any attention, you’d all live happily ever after with you making sure to stay the farthest away from Gojo, after the shitshow in which you had just been caught.

There was no way, though, that anybody you’d be unlucky enough to marry would ever amount, in passion, to the brief moment that count Gojo had offered you and such a thought had you pained and aching although there were more urgent matters to be solved.

“Brother, you don’t have to… it truly was but a coincidence!” you had insisted while Gojo trailed after you.

“Haibara, you know that I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t desecrate your sister like that!”.

Oh the damn rake!

“Well, I do appreciate your earnesty, Gojo, but believe me” and taking a deep breath, Haibara settled your Fate “... you either marry my sister or we duel this out”.

Hence why you were knocking on lord Geto’s household after Nanami, to whom Haibara had entrusted you - the whole ‘never let a male with my sister’ seemed to only stand with less than respectable matches - had driven you here as you had pleaded with him to do so.

“You know that Haibara will get himself killed” you had insisted pleadingly still in disbelief that your brother would duel his best friend for your honor, as they had rushed immediately somewhere more privately as Gojo had suggested “... and I doubt that you want such a thing on your conscience”.

Nanami had agreed begrudgingly as you had thought it good to get the last member of your quartet so that he could try to dissuade Haibara and Gojo from doing something downright foolish. 

You felt a tight grip in your chest as guilt filled you wholly and you almost risked knocking on Geto’s pretty face as he wretched the door open wondering who was bothering him at such a time.

«What’s wrong with … baby Haibara?» of course, the silly nickname would stick around, you thought as you huffed lightly.

«Gojo and my brother are about to duel themselves over my honor and I need your help to stop them» you’d have handled the reprimand for being dubbed still ‘baby Haibara’ later, as you saw Geto’s eyes brighten and widen before he simply uttered with an annoyed huff.

«When I told Gojo to go and take you, I didn’t mean to give out a scandal».

«Well, you know how he… wait… come and take me? What… what is going on?».

You didn’t understand fully what lord Geto meant although as he brushed past you after grabbing your coat, you resolved yourself to not receiving an answer. At least in the immediate.

There were more urgent matters as Geto saluted Nanami before helping you get onto your own horse and waking up the carriage rider to get his own ready.

«He caught us in the garden» you, in the meanwhile, revealed «We… well… there was no scandal as we were simply there… I… Haibara is too protective of me, as you must know… for sure».

«I am sure».

Why did Geto have that sarcastic smirk on his face and why did his voice sound equally not convinced.

«Well, it’s better that we rush. Haibara can be quite.. headstrong when it comes to you, my lady».

«… don’t tell me about it».

Thankfully as you had rushed through, you didn’t lose much of the bickering that was going on between Gojo and Haibara in a secluded part of town, as they were promptly distracted by your arrival with your brother moving immediately closer to you and Nanami.

«I told you to bring her home, Kento!» he promptly protested, shielding you from seeing Gojo, whose bright eyes settled upon you in a confusion that quickly became worry. 

Was… was it possible that this man truly… cared for you?

One more reason to avoid this entire scene.

«And I told you that you are over exaggerating, brother» you insisted promptly  «… you first got mad that I was caught in the gardens with a man and without a chaperone and then you allow Nanami to escort me back home. Alone. What’s the difference?».

«The difference is that I trust Nanami with you, utterly» your brother reiterated, as you felt a brief sense of annoyance at the obvious implication behind his words: he didn’t trust Gojo. 

He didn’t trust him, at least, with his beloved maiden sister and somehow this extended to her as well: he didn’t trust her not to fall head over heels for Gojo, and although it was in part true, it didn’t give him the right to assume the worst out of both of them.

Gojo might be a rascal, as she wrote as lady Murasaki, still Haibara wasn’t that much better than him; she knew he enjoyed brothels and drank expensive wine. 

Courted women because it was fine with no intention to settle down. 

He wasn’t that much better of Gojo simply because he had you as his sister.

Protecting your maidenhead didn’t erase the stain on his own honor.

And it felt more like two children fighting over their toys.

«… you don’t trust me, my dear friend?».

Gojo’s tone was venomous to the brink although it held his usual amability, but both you and Haibara noticed it with the latter gritting his teeth.

«You know that I… I wished for her a good match» your brother insisted «… and now…».

«Nobody needs to know!» you insisted promptly, lightly pushing on your brother’s chest «… you are just dragging this further along than it needs to!».

«What I need is for Gojo to marry you».

Oh the thought terrified you simply. 

Not just the thought of having to marry who had swiftly become from your childish crush to your biggest enemy but also because you knew exactly what it’d have entailed to become the countess Gojo.

 It was a life that you didn’t wish for and neither wanted.

«… if nothing happened why are you both so reticent to marry? I thought… well, I thought that you liked him!».

There was no absolute need for Haibara to air out your dirty laundry exactly like that, as your eyes sought out Gojo’s own above the table and upon finding them you flustered as he didn’t look smug nor confident, if anything he seemed taken aback coming a few steps closer to where you and Haibara were childishly fighting. 

He gentlemanly and almost paternally put a hand over Haibara’s shoulder although his gaze wandered to your own.

«I can’t marry lady Haibara out of respect» he commented solemnly.

«Then we duel» Haibara said with resolution, slamming off the hand on his shoulder with a shrug while you inched forward, stalled only by Nanami to whom you sent a kind smile. 

You were truly sorry he had been caught in the crossfire of the night. 

After a few weeks of courting, you had resolved yourself to marry him, by the end of the season: he was kind, gentle and didn’t spend half the time an husband should in his house, hence you’d have had a better shot to continue your adventures as lady Murasaki without raising too many suspicions. 

And who knows, you had thought back then, you might grow to love other than simply care for Kento.

Still, such a thought was disrupted as you recounted the way that Gojo had touched you in the garden. 

That man had known what he was doing exactly: he had wished to ruin you for the other men.

«Haibara!» you called out but your brother refused to hear you as both his friends, Ghetto and Nanami, moved closer to him and you were, again, left with Gojo.

He sent you a small smile, tired and definitely as worried as you before making a turn as well, although he must know that he could do little convincing towards Haibara, as he had always been too stubborn for his own good.

«… please, I… if I can’t get through him, I…».

Gojo stalled and turned to you, again, his eyes looking lightly shadowed by the moonlight that had by now fallen, making this whole thing feel far more illicit, as you shivered lightly.

«What… what are you asking out of me, my lady?».

If your brother wouldn’t have conceded, then… maybe bloodshed could be avoided by persuading the other opponent; you knew all too well that if Haibara and Gojo dueled, things would have gone badly for the former. 

Your brother hadn’t ever shot anything that wasn’t a silly rabbit and even in that case with some help.

Gojo mastered anything swiftly and magnificently.

«Marry me» you pleaded, as you felt truly desperate. After you had come to the realization that Gojo and his friend regarded you as nothing but a puppy for their own amusement, you had sworn to never entertain them again, but here you were pleading for him as back then.

«W… what?» Gojo shot back, as he took a few steps aback and you felt the immediate rejection. Still, you persevered.

«Haibara won’t relent, so you must be the one» you stated clearly, highlighting the situation at hand «… if he won’t be the one agreeing, you must do it in his stead».

And after a long moment of stalling silence, Gojo spoke again.

«I can’t… I can’t marry you».

The pain at such an obvious claim was enough to show on your face; you hadn’t entertained yourself with the thought of actually being liked by Gojo after your small rendez-vous in the garden but… had you seriously just been used?

«I… it isn’t just you that I won’t… that I can’t marry» still, Gojo continued and somehow he made it better, although the sting still hit your chest «… I can’t marry anybody, I… you see I have sworn never to have a family or…».

«But you’d let my own be shattered because you had to show me passion in that garden».

You knew that you had hurt him with your inquiring words exactly as he had done refusing your childish proposal. 

You were now even, although both wounded on the ground.

«… from this point I don’t… I don’t see why you don’t simply agree. Whether this vow you speak of is true or not. I’ll lose a brother if you go through this while… while you’ll gain a wife, if you listen to me».

And like that you were the first one to turn your back to him this time, not to let him see the pain that you felt: this night you were either going to lose a brother or acquire a husband and either way you’d lose something that you had always wanted for yourself.

«I am an idiot, am I not?» Satorou spoke while Suguru checked his guns for him; he had stopped by his house to procure the weapons for the duel, although he had doubted he'd use them. 

He should have better valued Haibara’s own protectiveness towards you.

«Your sudden motto of humility is due to what, exactly, Satorou?» Suguru simply shot back as he put down the gun after having slipped the safety on «… I constantly hear the fact that you are an idiot whenever we talk».

«Actually» he was sprouted on by his friend’s sarcasm «… you are at fault here».

«Me?» Suguru looked at him bewildered «… what have I done to get you to taint baby Haibara’s innocence?».

He felt a growl right in his chest at the obvious implication underneath Suguru’s words.

Still, he held his leash tight: if he had ruined you the last time he had meant to be jealous, he didn’t want to imagine what he could have done now.

Not after the way you had pleadingly asked him to marry you and how easily he had wished to say ‘yes’.

Satorou Gojo, who had promised a long time ago that his dynasty would end with him, was now happily thinking of making a life with you.

 He had thought that he’d feel this way as a smug feeling of entitlement over winning you over Nanami, but he had felt cross and aching when you had treated him so harshly after his rejection. He did deserve it, still…

… still, he had no right to feel that way.

Effectively, he was actively ruining your family.

He knew that Haibara wouldn’t have accepted his explanations nor his apologies. Stalling the duel was useless and it was impossible for him to simply shoot in the air. 

Not when he knew that Haibara would have seriously had his head.

«I am an idiot, because I swore that vow so long ago» he muttered to himself as his eyes wandered to where Nanami was cleaning Haibara’s guns and you prayed surrounded by your dress and a thick mantle that he guessed must have been Suguru since you hadn’t worn anything like that in the ball. 

In the garden.

You looked so small and frail and he wondered whether a simple gust of wind might have swept you away.

He had reduced you like that and hence your life would be terrible with him.

And yet, if he didn’t marry you…

«You are considering it» Suguru’s voice startled him out of his thoughts «… you are considering marrying her, aren’t you».

Caught right in the act.

«I won’t ever give her what she wants» he voiced his own doubts.

«I don’t think that you have noticed it but marriage isn’t about what either of you wants» Suguru spoke thoughtfully, probably for the first time in a long time «… it’s about mutual gratification in some cases. In the best ones, it’s about love, my dear Satorou».

He didn’t love you, that much Gojo knew, but he felt like he cared for you in a way that made him want to be a bit selfish and at the same time generous, as he thought that he could offer you a vow of his own.

«Haibara!» it was adorable the way you both turned to his shouter «… you won, I’ll marry your sister».

He just hoped that you wouldn’t regret such a thing, as he knew that he certainly wouldn’t once a bright smile appeared on your pretty face.

Although it was said that marriage was a woman’s finest day, it didn’t feel in the slightest like that for you as you stayed perfectly still while a chatting maid applied your rosy blush and adjusted the elegant tiara in your hair. 

Pure sapphires which had belonged to the dowager countess and now were fit atop your heavy head.

What had you been thinking when you had asked Satorou to marry you? 

You had laid the night after he had agreed in bed, thinking that you hadn’t only forced his hand but effectively pushed yourself onto an adventure that you didn’t wish to be on. 

You’d be his countess and you doubted that such a title came without heavy tasks, such as the one of bearing an heir to the dynasty and…

… and you had stuck yourself in an undoubtedly loveless marriage.

Although you weren’t such a romantic to think that you’d be actively marrying for love, it felt clear that between you and Gojo, there wouldn’t be anything of the kind with him merely visiting you once after the scandal to ensure that you’d know that everything would be taken care of by him. 

Even the precious tiara had been delivered by a servant, having your mother coo softly in your ear about ‘how proud she felt for you’.

You felt disgusted with yourself, in all truth, unable to even write a small pamphlet while your trusted publisher pleaded with Lady Murasaki for an insight as to why count Gojo would be marrying lowly lady Haibara, a childhood friend’s sister.

The rumors spreading around - that you had trapped Gojo, cruelly - weren’t that far off from the truth and such a state weighted upon your head, far more than the embellished tiara, enough that you were glad when your mother excused the maid, insisting she’d attend to her daughter, herself.

“Brides can be such fretting creatures. And I do know what an hissy baby my sweet daughter used to be”.

«I… you are exaggerating!» the easy banter with a woman that you didn’t share much with felt comfortable as you adjusted your hair back, promptly swept on one shoulder by your mother «Haibara was the spoiled brat! Still is!».

«Don’t speak of your brother with such harshness» your mother joked «… although, it is indeed true. He’s outside regarding count Gojo with the utmost suspicious gaze of somebody who expects him to run away at the first occasion».

You couldn’t help a slight frown: neither of your parents were the more aware as to why count Gojo had agreed to marry you out of the blue when the season wasn’t even that far along; your mother had simply clapped happily while your father had expressed ‘what an honor’ it was to have his family interlaced with the one of your husband-to-be. 

Yet, you doubted that your mother wasn’t the least aware of what the rumors around such an union were, her own sarcastic remarks being a clear indicator that she knew all too well.

«Mother» your voice was a squeak as you looked at the mirror and saw a pretty woman but felt like a child «… I… I don’t… I don’t know whether this marriage is a good idea».

You expected to be chastised for being so ungrateful for what she had brought for you. For the honor you’d be receiving by becoming a countess by the end of the day. 

Still, your mother surprised you gently by caressing your head softly and kissing your forehead.

«Are you scared, my little one?».

You nodded and swiftly you were brought in her arms as you did when you were but a child, pleading for comfort and care.

«I… I trapped him, mother, I… he agreed just to spare Haibara and I… I am not stupid enough to believe that marriages are born out of love and I…».

«Let me… let me summarize your thoughts, my love» your mother interrupted your ramblings «You… you are scared to enter this marriage as you fear there might be no love between the two of you?».

You nodded, not trusting your voice, worried it might reveal far too much, although you were startled when your mother chuckled gracefully.

«Oh, my sweet darling girl! You are so naive!».

«I.. mother, as I told you I am not… foolish enough to believe that I’d have married for love!».

«And yet, you are» your mother’s comment startled you enough to hush you in your protests «… it might not be… the all-consuming love that you read in books or the domestic one we share in this household but I… I do believe that there’s something between you and the count. Has always been since you were children».

«He dreaded my presence. He probably thought I was similar to a dog he could domesticate» you muttered grimly.

«Maybe» your mother conceded «… it was your time to be in love with him. Smitten even, but I have also seen the gaze of the count beside the ones of your brother and it is of a man who’s suffering the wait. I… I think he’s impatient… as now it’s his turn to be in love with you, my darling girl».

Part of you knew that your mother was speaking as a hopeless romantic but at the same time, another was willing to believe her at least for the delusion of a love that could bloom between you and count Gojo.

«… but what if… what if we aren’t… in love at the same time?».

«That’s nothing that a marriage can’t fix» your mother commented gingerly, kissing your cheeks and lightly pushing away as she still read a doubt of unease in your eyes «… what ails you, my darling?».

«I am scared» it went unsaid the reticence you felt for what you were scared of, as your mother’s expression softened again and she regarded you softly.

«He’s a kind man, my sweet. I doubt that he’d ever be able to hurt you. Truly».

And yet, he had already been proved capable of. 

The passion shown in the garden taunting you each time you thought about it with red cheeks and a slight warmth in your belly, wondering whether this was what it took to be a wife.

«I hope so, as well, mother».

The wedding ceremony had been… peculiar to say the least: starting with the fact that Satorou had thought that he’d never truly marry. 

Still, it was you - little Haibara - who walked down the church nave in a dashing mixture of light blue and periwinkle that sparkled fittingly with your sapphire tiara that had been his mother’s own.

He remembered the haughty way his mother would wear it while he spied from his chambers, being oftentimes caught in the mirror and reprimanded softly.

“Mother, mother, you are so pretty!” he’d chant as a child to pacify her, and she’d always answer back:

“Not as pretty as the woman that you’ll marry Satorou”.

And here you were being the prettiest sight that Satorou had ever laid his eyes upon, confirming his mother’s promise although all the others were forgotten. 

Before she had left the crown of sapphires for his future bride, she had also promised him that she’d get well soon and more importantly that she’d give him a little sister; she had died with a child for a fever after the birth and since then Satorou’s father had pushed all his expectation and grief onto his son.

Such bittersweet memories for such a lovely day, Satorou thought as he noticed that you looked as happy to be there as Haibara was calm in giving you away.

A grimace still graced his feature and Satorou didn’t know when his friend would forgive him for having tainted his sister, although he had agreed to marry her.

And while he thought that your brother was ridiculous, he didn’t resent you for your own bad mood. 

Why should he? 

He had given you no reason to prove that he loved and cherished you and he was the reason why you were there that day. 

Hadn’t he been so jealous and so enamored with you, he might have not dragged you along in this sham and maybe you’d be happily married with Nanami by the end of the season.

Not in a compromise with your brother and attached to him by rotten mangles while rumors spread that you were already pregnant and your brother had forced Satorou to marry you.

And yet, in all his selfishness he still was glad that if he had to marry, it’d be you.

Afterall two married people didn’t make a family, he thought back to his father’s and mother’s relationship, although to give you such a cold environment… it seemed almost like a sin, against your joyful but reserved nature. 

Still, he had made a vow and he’d have to respect it although it entailed the sacrifice of your happiness.

What a selfish man he was.

And how beautiful you looked in the distance.

 Throughout the ceremony your mind had seemed elsewhere and in the celebrations after you had been swept away by respectively, his friends and your own family with Haibara guarding you as a loyal dog while Nanami trailed gently after you.

“She’s my wife, not your own” Satorou longed to say, in a primal way. It was the effect that you made upon him by greeting him coldly and shyly, throughout the whole reception and although he couldn’t blame you, he’d have much preferred your usual banter.

Especially as he knew that by the time the night would have fallen, you’d be left alone in a carriage with your unresolved feelings on the way to his own residence as you’d have to be presented to his staff and collaborators, as the new countess.

The thought thrilled and depressed him greatly as he accepted the umpteenth glass from Suguru.

“It’ll be fine, she always had a crush on you and is just playing the blushing bride” his friend had tried to cheer him up bawdly but Satorou had an inkling that it had been a long time since you had last had even an inkling of feelings for him “Let me know how marriage suits you and I might just take it upon myself, if it’s so thrilling”.

“You, my dear friend, are a shithead” he downed the glass in one go, as he noticed that your mother and you were saying ‘goodbye’ and pointedly he felt Haibara’s gaze upon himself, explicitly stating ‘don’t fuck with my sister, Gojo’.

«I’ll take care of her» he promised to your mother before bowing to your father and he helped you in the carriage, being struck by the fact that after a whole days, he was finally touching your hand again. 

Touching you. And as if cursed with the same revelation, you turned to him right as he slipped beside you in the carriage, making the whole thing far more awkward than he had ever thought this trip would be.

It’d be a long one, undoubtedly.

«… and if you need anything, my lady, don’t hesitate to send for me».

The whole discourse of the woman in front of you was useless to your ears as they were already set on the bathtub laid out for your and the fireplace, as while traveling to the Gojo’s county, you had been surprised by a thunderstorm and to process in such a weather was impossible for you and your chariot rider relenting to take refuge in a tavern nearby where they had heard of your marriage and were more than glad to host you.

While you were simply glad for the heat as in the small travel from the carriage to the tavern, you had gotten utterly drenched. 

Throughout the entire walk - or better run - you had been startled to discover that count Gojo had always held your hand in his own, gently and tenderly. 

Was it possible that what your mother had said might be truthful? 

You didn’t want to delude yourself, when you didn’t know yet whether you even loved him that way.

Your past crush had been fascination and the passion you had felt lust, but when he held you so gently…

Still, the contact had been disrupted when he had entered the tavern and asked for two - separate - rooms, raising a few brows as you were a newly-married couple. 

Although it’d be better if you didn’t expect anything from count Gojo: he was your husband after all and whatever you owned was now due to him. You’d have to find a new way to continue on being lady Murasaki, though, as it was the sole thing right now that in your life brought you joy.

Alongside the heated bathtub and lighted up fireplace.

Thankfully due to the amount of times you had dressed and undressed yourself to play lady Murasaki throughout the city, you had been unable to undress yourself from your travel clothes and switch into a comfortable nightgown the woman had brought for you. Hair left loose and makeup by now disappeared.

You felt so silly observing yourself in the mirror in such a cozy ensemble especially after the knock on your door. 

«It’s me» of course, who else could it be but your husband, you thought as you’d have to get used to it «Wanted to see whether you had settled alright».

«I did, I… the place is comfortable» it felt silly to talk through doors but you doubted that you’d have done so much different from now, with both of your walls raised up high around you «… thank you… for the concern…».

«You are my wife» he stated it as if it was an universal truth «I… of course, it’d be… it’d be my first thought to have you… comfortable. That’s all».

That wasn’t evidently all, but you were glad for this moment as it gave you a truce between your feelings and all. Still, you had spoken too early.

«Would you… would you mind if I… if I came to check you?» and as if it wasn’t clear he added «… in the room».

Considering the last time that you had been close - alone - you shouldn’t have allowed such a request, especially as you were undressed and in your night clothes, and although the thick nightgown held little to no heat, you still felt like this was an outfit in which Gojo had never seen you.

Still, maybe with a bit of spite you swiftly agreed to such a thing.

«… of course, my lord».

And just like that count Gojo entered your room and you couldn’t have mistaken for anything but folly the heated gaze in his eyes, as if he was a beast who had been kept in a cage for far too long, now released and set upon you. It should have scared you but you just felt your back became straighter as you feigned a confidence you didn’t own while his eyes raked over his own.

«Don’t… you should call me Satorou» he muttered, as the beast receded for a moment, his eyes promptly going to your face.

«Not even my brother calls you that» you protested lightly in disbelief.

«Well, your brother is my friend. Not my wife» he commented with a slight smirk as he settled, without asking in the chair nearby to the fire, forcing you to trail after him «… I dread formalities and if you are to be my wife, you shall match my own disposition».

«Which other disposition shall I match, now that I am your wife?».

You had meant to say it underneath your breath bitterly but Gojo still caught upon it as a slight tinge of hurt appeared back on your face, before he regained his usual mellow expression.

«… well, there are many you see» and he first feigned a thinking pose and then smirked lightly «… you shall wake up only in the late noon and dread the courtly gossip but feign interest for the sake of appearances».

«The former seems a delight and the latter is my disposition already».

Gojo seemed almost childishly delighted by you playing right into his games.

«Oh and sweets are absolutely all that shall be served».

«It’ll rot my teeth and then you’ll have to kiss a toothless mouth».

You couldn’t help but immediately fluster as the words left your mouth; the sole mention of a kiss was enough to stir something that went unsaid between you and Gojo, although you didn’t wish to bring such a thing up.

«A pity» he commented gently as his gaze turned to you since you had come to be at his shoulder, standing right behind the chair he was sat in «… I enjoyed kissing it so much».

And here it was what went unsaid to you.

You flustered, readying yourself for a protest that never came as Gojo spoke further:

«Oh God, my lady… I hadn’t realized I had stolen your only chair, please sit!» and he patted his lap as if they were the chair itself, with your cheeks growing bright red. 

How could you trust such a man, you thought to yourself: he wasn’t serious and he took all of this as a joke. 

You had been right in your first impression after all this time: Satorou Gojo wasn’t somebody who might do good to your heart.

«I prefer to be standing».

«My lady, please don’t make me beg!».

«I am usually the one doing such a thing» again another whisper that reached his ears as he turned promptly to you and this time his usual comfortability was gone; he looked serious, almost scarily so.

«What do you mean?» he asked harshly as if you had just insulted his honor, although you doubted he’d care for such things.

«… you know what I mean» you grew harsher «… you have let me beg after a scrap of you since I was a girl and now… now you agree about this upon my pleading I just… at least don’t belittle me with these grand gestures of caring!».

You didn’t know why the outburst when he had obviously been trying to make the whole situation far more comfortable. Maybe there was something in receiving his pity that was reeling inside of you.

«I… I don’t understand your anger» Gojo muttered right back slightly seething and scalding as he got up from the chair and turned to you, till he was right in your face «… I am simply making the best of an objectively bad situation».

«Oh so you admit that it’s a bad situation?».

How low had you to stoop to be stuck with the man that you had liked throughout your teenhood, just because of a plead you had shoved his way? 

The hatred you felt for yourself and the way you had shackled yourself was enough to be anger that was shot on Gojo’s way.

«Because you got stuck with me! It’s why it’s bad!».

It took you aback, the way that although Gojo’s voice was thundering as loud as it was outside, his whole body language seemed to shrink in itself as you felt a strange endearment towards the man that looked right now so much as a boy.

«I know that I… I am not what you wanted and it’s my fault, partly if we got caught in the garden».

«Partly?» you asked confused «… I do remember expressively having told you to move away and leave me be».

«And yet, you didn’t run away when I first touched you».

The heat that licked at your stomach wasn’t anymore due to the fireplace as you felt that you had unwillingly backed yourself into an angle of the room with Gojo - no, Satorou, your husband - backing right into you as well, till there was so little space between your bodies. 

You could feel the slight aroma of the red wine he must have been offered by the owner of the tavern and the way his eyes darkened now that the flame was far. Or was it something else, as he licked his lips looking down upon you.

«I am sorry that I have been dealt to you as an unfair pair of hands at a card game» he spoke slurredly and slowly and you felt a necessity for such words to be always spoken that way when he talked to you. 

It was strange how the whole of your negative feelings evaporated whenever Satorou was this close to you.

Your rationality did as well, as you couldn’t help but slightly direct your gaze on his pouty lips and he noticed as a hand adjusted a few strands of your loose hair behind your ears to assure himself that you’d have a full visual of him.

«But I swear to you that I won’t be such a bad husband».

If he said such things you had no choice but to believe me as you realized that he was, indeed, your husband and that if he had your stomach turn like that, it wasn’t all that bad. 

Love might not be there yet but…

You didn’t know why but you pushed yourself onto your toes and kissed him, chastely and insecure as you retired immediately afraid of your inexperience and insecure of your innocence, but he chased after your lips, backing you till you felt the coldness of the wall a comfortable experience against your heated skin as his hands went to your waist, grabbing the loose fabric of your nightgown as if to shape you against it. 

To bring out your body.

It felt thrice as heated as in the garden as his tongue caressed your lips, his teeth bit down gently and he opened your mouth with his own, caressing you softly as his tongue licked inside of your cavern. And you felt yourself fluster, as your hands went to his chest. You should have pushed him away, but he was your husband now.

He had a right to this, and for the first time, you didn’t feel scared.

You were almost disappointed when he parted.

«We… we can’t… I… I should go back to my rooms…» no, you couldn’t handle another rejection, you thought as you tangled swiftly your hand with his own to bring him back as you pleadingly looked at him.

«Do you still see me as the girl I was at fifteen? I… I have grown… I… am sorry for my words, before I… please don’t go».

You were pathetic as you felt like the furthest away from lady Murasaki, and yet, you felt like being soft, like going back to that fifteen year old you had stashed so far away thinking that it’d be better to be harsh than soft. A cruel pen, instead of a gentle brush.

«Don’t… never apologize for that, my darling» you flustered at his gentle name as he came close to you, enveloping you gently in his arms «I won’t go, if you don’t want me to… but…».

«I know what’s expected of a wife» and refusing to let go of a bit of your usual spite, as you realized he delighted for that, you added «Don’t tell me that my brother scared you into not wishing to bed your rightful wife».

He growled and the thought should have made you shiver. 

Which it did, although not for the reasons you thought, as you felt something molten between your thighs, shifting lightly to relieve the pressure against them and resulting in just a slight pleasure. 

You wondered whether this was what it felt like to be in the presence of somebody whose arousal you could feel. 

Was it dirty? 

Because it didn’t feel like that. 

Not at all. 

«Don’t… don’t mention Haibara. Not right now» Satorou was speaking with a bare constrain «Though… I’ll be delighted if you called yourself my wife, again».

«Your wife, Satorou» he pressed himself against you and in your startlement you felt something.. decidedly heated poking at your thigh as you flustered. 

You might not be well versed in the acts of the bedroom and yet… you had sneaked lessons of anatomy.

«Your wife, only».

«I want to be gentle» he pleaded softly «You deserve gentle so much, my sweetheart».

You flustered again at the petname, wishing to push him away but he crowded you further although not so much to be overwhelming. 

It was almost… pleasurable.

«I am your wife, you should… you should take what you want» it’s what you had always been taught, because as much as ladies weren’t taught certain things, there were always… hushed conversations among darkened corners around the duties of the bedroom. 

And in all truth, it delighted you in part that Satorou saw you as his wife and not the awkward teen girl you had been trailing after him.

Although in the end, you did get him, didn’t you.«I shall do so» he promised gently suddenly retracting himself from you and from a moment you were again crushed by that fear of rejection till he gently offered to you the hand that wasn’t already in your own as he brought you to bed, letting you lay softly before he moved beside you his hands gently going to bunch up the fabric of your nightgown as you fretted with anticipation «…  but I want to be gentle, as that’s what my wife deserves».

credits for dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[imtrashraccoon]

here’s a drabble idea!

Nightmare sans x dog monster! reader

so the premise is that the dear reader is a dog like doggo, greater dog, lesser dog, etc

and if we want to get REAL specific the dog breed reader is a konoki dog!

Hi! Thank you for submitting this idea!

I was shocked how quickly I managed to think of something for this prompt. I hope you don't mind that I made it a fantasy and soulmate au. I actually haven't written this sort of thing before and I am still buzzing with ideas.

I never heard of a Konoki dog before this and they look super cute! I haven't written this type of character before so I hope you like them. I certainly have fallen in love with them! (I affectionately call them Koko in my notes!)

By the way, I renamed Nightmare (and a few others!) for this to make him a more unique character. There's a note at the bottom for the meanings of their names too.

The Dark Fortress

Nightmare x Kokoni!Dog Monster Reader

Fantasy & Soulmate AU

Word Count: 6, 219

You woke up to the sound of rain softly pattering on your tent. The light was rather dim so you estimated the sun wasn't up just yet. Still, it couldn't hurt to get up and do some quick exercises before your day properly started.

The rain made the air smell good - slightly earthy with a hint of the harsher scent of ozone. The only bad thing was that you didn't like having wet fur, especially when on a mission, since it stuck to your armour and meant your weapon was harder to hang onto.

The scent in the air reminded you of a reoccurring dream that you'd been having your whole life. While the circumstances were different each time, there was always a distinctive smell present. It was earthy and sweet with aromatic undertones similar to liquorice or fennel. It was also slightly spicy or maybe salty was a better description? This smell seemed to belong to someone but you'd never been able to see what they looked like.

Not everyone believed in the concept of soulmates but you couldn't find any other explanation for why you kept dreaming about this one smell. There were instances where a few dogs had been plagued by a particular smell and then ended up finding their soulmate, but this was always in real life and never only in a dream.

With a sigh, you meticulously fastened the straps and buckles that held your armour together. While many of your fellow soldiers preferred full plate, you liked the mobility that light armour provided. This combined with your smaller size and slight frame made you the perfect scout or assassin for the Royal Guard.

You didn't have time this morning to contemplate the possibility of meeting your soulmate. You had a duty to perform and any distractions could put the lives of both you and your comrades in danger.

Your mission was to investigate the dark fortress that had appeared overnight a few months ago in the neighboring Kingdom of Shiftingtails. The kingdom's forces had apparently been completely overrun and destroyed in a matter of days. Word on the conditions inside the country had been scarce but the handful of refugees that had made it out all told harrowing tales of their escape.

Whatever magic that had created the fortress was dangerous. It corrupted the land, killing both plants and animals alike, so that nothing could survive. It was said that it could kill people as well but no one knew exactly how. There were also accounts of the dark horde and their master but no one could decide on what they looked like.

Some claimed that an army of the dead suddenly came to life and raided their homes. Others claimed there were only three skeletons responsible for the destruction. Yet there were other accounts of a single skeleton covered in the dark fortress' corruption with black tendrils. No one wanted to talk about this one any more than they had to though.

You hadn't known what to make of the accounts at first, but the deeper you and your comrades pressed into enemy territory, the more truth they seemed to hold. Thankfully, the Royal Scientist had found a way to counteract the majority of the corruption's effects, so as long as the protective coating on your armour remained intact, you would be safe.

It didn't ease your anxiety though and you knew that your comrades were also suffering from restlessness. It had been days since you had even been in combat, even longer since killing anything, and you just wanted to get this over with.

You weren't particularly bloodthirsty but even you had to admit that you secretly enjoyed the rush that came whenever a person died by your hand. It wasn't something that you went out of your way to do, even though being a soldier often put you in those situations. Everyone knew that while sometimes unavoidable, gaining EXP and especially LV, was a slippery slope to insanity. And so during basic training, it was stressed that it was preferable to incapacitate your foes and only kill as a last resort.

You emerged from your tent and stretched your limbs. It seemed like a few of your fellow soldiers were already up and about, which meant another day of marching was upon you. At least you were within sight of the dark fortress now. It wouldn't be long before you would be able to hear the satisfying sound of your meteor hammer crushing bones and inhale the scent of fresh blood again.

~ ~ /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\ ~ ~

Breaching the gate had been difficult but not impossible.

There had been a small horde of tall black skeletons but against the heavily armoured likes of your fellow guardsmen, they were soon cut down. While the skeletons had also been heavily armoured and wielded greataxes, a well placed blow was pretty much all it took to fell them. Even you managed to take one down, although its body didn't turn to dust and simply faded away, and you didn't even get any EXP from it.

That was strange but not unusual if they were merely summons and not actual monsters. Still, whoever summoned them must have an immense mana pool, especially if they were also the one who'd created the dark fortress in the first place.

The moment you and your fellow soldiers entered the courtyard, you were suddenly set upon by three assailants. They were fast, and with how easily they could dodge attacks or appear behind you, must have some form of instant teleportation ability.

You were forced to fight back to back with Sir Draco, which meant your ranged attacks were less effective since you had to be mindful of your meteor hammer's arc. Your own mana was limited so you were forced to fend off blows with your trusty dagger, which you normally only used for finishing off your enemies.

The three skeletons looked similar, like they could be cousins, but at the same time they were quite different from each other. They were on a whole other level from the dark hordes earlier and you were starting to worry that this could soon turn hairy.

Greater and Lesser Dog were currently taking on a giant of skeleton who had half his skull caved in, a blood red eyelight in his left socket, and wielded a massive, wicked-looking greataxe. He wore a suit of mismatched armour of various materials and styles that had been pieced together seemingly at random. It looked to be mostly plate and hide armour though.

Captain Undyne and Sir Bunbun were holding off a wiry skeleton, who had what looked like corruption pouring out of his eye sockets, a crimson glowing target floating above his chest, and wielded nothing but a cruel dagger as well as his own magic against them. He wore a form-fitting suit of black leather armour that was reminiscent of what the former Shiftingtails Kingdom's scouts used to wear.

You and Sir Draco were focusing on a shorter skeleton who was constantly switching between bone attacks and trying to stab both of you with a well-polished shortsword. He had red eyelights but the left one also had a ring of blue and he wore a red cuirass with a hood and dusty chainmail over top.

"Fall back!" You heard Captain Undyne shout. "We can't let them separate us!"

You and your comrades began shifting towards the gate in an attempt to keep them from attacking your flanks. Although, you'd only taken a few steps when your nose caught a particularly familiar scent. It was sharp, earthy and yet sweet at the same time - the exact scent from your dreams. But where was it coming from?

You noticed a flicker of red out of the corner of your eye and just managed to dodge yet another strike from the hooded skeleton. He scowled and you bared your teeth in response before he darted out of your reach again. He smelled like smoke and death so it certainly wasn't him.

"Come on, pup. If we don't move now, they'll cut us off from the others," Sir Draco rumbled as he blocked another volley of bone bullets with his shield.

You sniffed the air intently, barely hearing what he'd said. That scent...they were here somewhere... Your soulmate was here!

Without really thinking, you darted off in the direction that you were certain the scent was coming from, disregarding the fact that you were also running away from your comrades. You just managed to dodge a bone bullet the hooded skeleton summoned, although it did graze your side. You could hear Undyne shouting at you to return but you didn't listen and kept running. It seemed like no one was actually chasing after you but you could still hear the clash of weapons at the gate, so maybe your comrades had kept them occupied?

The scent was coming from further inside the fortress and only grew stronger the further you ventured, until you managed to slip into a dark building and close the door behind you.

Your paws were great at muffling your footsteps and thanks to your nose, you knew that you were close to the source of the scent. You stepped cautiously around furniture and through passageways until you entered the largest library you'd ever seen.

There was light here, from various lanterns and candles peppered throughout the room, which you were grateful for since you couldn't really see in the dark, although you couldn't help but feel uneasy. You slipped between bookshelves and your ears twitched as you strained to hear the slightest sound. Other than the clinking of the length of chain in your paws and that of your own armour, everything seemed quiet.

Too quiet.

The scent was everywhere and you were starting to have a hard time pinpointing which direction to keep moving in. The fur on the back of your neck suddenly stood on end and you quickly turned, only to come face to face with another skeleton.

He was covered in corruption and four tendrils undulated restlessly behind his back. He wore no armour but underneath the black ooze he seemed to be wearing fancy clothing. He had a gold circlet on his skull and a single cyan eyelight in his left eye socket, as his right was covered by the ooze.

You had barely registered his appearance when he lashed out with his tentacles, slamming you against a nearby bookshelf. You let out a yelp from the impact and heard your meteor hammer clatter to the ground as you lost your grip on the chain.

"Who let a mutt into my home?" the skeleton hissed.

You squirmed but your attempts to escape only caused his tendrils to coil tighter around your body, until it was difficult to breathe.

He drew closer until you were only a few inches apart and narrowed his good eye socket at you. "Are you even a soldier?"

Your eyes widened as it occurred to you that the smell that had haunted you for years was from him. He was your soulmate. Him...the one who'd overthrown an entire country singlehandedly was your one and only.

You pawed at the tendrils around your body. "You're... You're the one..." you managed to gasp.

His smile widened and he let out an amused chuckle. "I'm what? I assure you that whatever you're about to say, I've heard it all before." He let out a sigh and loosened the grasp his tentacles had on you ever so slightly. "But I suppose I can humour you a little bit..."

You couldn't help but cough the moment you could breath properly again. After taking in several lungfuls of air, you looked up at him before trying to explain.

"You're the one I've been dreaming about all my life. My soulmate..."

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity but in reality was probably only a minute. He raised his bonebrows slightly but otherwise showed no further reaction to this revelation.

"Well... That's actually a new one." He chuckled and stepped back a bit but noticeably didn't let go of you. "My apologies, it seems I underestimated you slightly. You're amusing at the very least..."

You huffed and crossed your arms. "I'm serious! I've been looking for so long and now I've actually found you."

He rolled his eyelight before giving you an odd look. "I don't believe you. I don't have a soulmate," he muttered.

"Of course you do! I wouldn't have sought you out if we weren't meant to be together!"

"It's not possible, alright?"

"But-"

His tendrils suddenly constricted once more, although your ability to breath wasn't as impeded this time. You couldn't possibly break out of his hold now and you were all but forced to stay still.

"I mean it," he growled. "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to tell me the truth, understand?"

"Yeah, okay. Just, not so tight please?"

He pointedly ignored your request as if you hadn't said anything at all. "Why are you actually here?"

"My comrades and I were ordered to investigate this place and if possible, take down the source of the corruption. Although, it seems that's you, isn't it?"

"Yes, I am. My name is Lord Donovan, the new ruler of this land." There was a twinge of pride in his voice and he puffed out his ribcage slightly. "Where are your comrades?"

You didn't like how ominous his tone sounded but there was no reason to lie to him. "They're probably still fighting your men at the gate, at least they were before I caught your scent and sought you out."

He gave you an incredulous look. "You broke rank on the off chance that I was your so called soulmate? What a foolish thing to do, almost as foolish as coming here in the first place."

You wrinkled your nose and let out a frustrated huff. "You are my soulmate!" you growled. "How many times do I have to tell you that before it gets through your thick skull?!"

He abruptly yanked you closer until your foreheads were nearly touching, but so that he was leering down at you. "Listen well, mutt. I am not your soulmate. I am an entity of pure hatred and spite. I am incapable of love or any remotely positive feeling for that matter."

"S-surely there's a way to find out?" you whimpered.

He sighed and ran his hand over his face. "Yes, there is a divination ritual that can be performed, but such a thing takes time, something you don't have right now."

You squirmed in his grip. "I don't need some fancy ritual to prove that you're wrong. If you just, let me go for a moment, I'll show you."

He eyed you warily before taking a glance around the library. "Fine, but don't try anything. I would prefer if you didn't ruin any of these tomes with your useless dust."

You gave him a curt nod, although the casual threat wasn't lost on you. "Same goes for you."

He released his tendrils, dropping you unceremoniously to the ground but you managed to land your feet. After straightening your armour and retrieving the weapon you'd dropped earlier, you turned back to him again.

Lord Donovan stood with arms crossed and a critical expression on his face. "I'm surprised that you would risk turning your back on an enemy," he commented.

You chuckled, "Well, you just said that you didn't want to ruin these books."

He narrowed his eye socket. "I could've lied..."

You snorted but chose not to needle him further. Instead, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes before pressing a paw against your chestplate.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm baring my soul to you. What does it look like?" you retorted.

You could feel him judging you but he made no move to interrupt. "You're a fool," he finally stated.

You ignored him and drew your soul out, letting the upside down white heart float lazily in your palm. It wasn't perfect like it had once been but the faint cracks spoke of the many battles you'd survived to get to this point. You could even see your stats, which was only further proof of your strength and the deeds you'd committed for it.

When you met his gaze again, you noticed that he looked a bit uncomfortable. His permanent grin had fallen and he was doing his best not to look at your soul directly. He actually reminded you a little of a bashful child at the moment.

"How does this," he vaguely gestured at you, "actually prove anything?"

You had to grit your teeth to keep from laughing at him. Had he never been taught how these things worked? Even an eight year old could understand the significance of baring your soul to your fated.

"The frequency of our souls are the same and that means we are soulmates," you responded.

He scoffed at that. "I'm not showing you my soul."

"Come on... If you'll just do this one thing, you'll know that I'm right!"

He frowned and shook his skull.

"Please, I'm not trying to trick you..." When he made no move to respond, you sighed and held out your paws. "I understand that you don't trust me; I probably wouldn't either if I was in your position. You can hold my hands if you want, I promise I won't hurt you."

He eyed them for a moment. "Fine...but on one condition..."

You nodded vigorously, "Of course!"

"If you really want to see my soul, then I can't have you leave, at least not alive... Are you actually willing to give up everything, including your friends and family, on something as improbable as being soulmates?"

"With all due respect, I am a soldier. I live each day as if it were my last, as does my family. When I was ordered to come here, I did so knowing that I likely wouldn't return and if this is the price I must pay to find my soulmate, then I am willing."

He seemed to consider your words for a moment before meeting your eyes again. His cyan eyelight flickered for a moment before a new look crossed his face. It almost seemed like one of respect but you couldn't entirely be sure.

"Very well then, if you're certain you won't live to regret it."

He hesitated for a moment but when you didn't pull away, he stepped closer and coiled two of his tendrils around your wrists. His grip was firm but surprisingly gentle and he lifted your paws over your head, so there was no way for you to attack him. In this position, your height discrepancy was much more obvious and you felt rather small next to him.

You felt completely exposed like this, even though you were still wearing your armour. Having your soul floating freely with no way to shield it from anyone else's eyes was honestly a little terrifying. He could strike you down in an instant and there wouldn't be anything you could do about it.

Lord Donovan brought his hand to his ribcage, mimicking the gesture you had made earlier. He focused for a second before pulling his own soul from his body. It wasn't shaped anything like you'd expected, instead it was more oblong than heart-shaped, much like the cross section of an apple. It was jet black with a cyan flare around the edges and seemed like it too was coated in corruption like the rest of his body.

You couldn't help but find his soul oddly beautiful but you kept your comments to yourself for a moment. Instead, you watched him calmly for what he'd do next.

He seemed to be contemplating something before gingerly bringing his soul closer to your own. You were thankful that he didn't let them touch, instead holding it a few inches away.

You waited with baited breath.

At first, your souls simply floated there, slowly thrumming with latent mana.

Suddenly you felt an intense pulse pass through your soul.

It was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, although slightly similar to the high that you'd experienced a few times when your LV increased, except way better. There was a rush of power but also a strong euphoric feeling that made all your uneasiness ebb away.

Donovan seemed utterly stunned. His cyan eyelight had shrunk down at least two sizes and he stood stock still like a statue.

"You felt that?" you whispered, although you couldn't keep yourself from grinning like a maniac.

He seemed completely at a loss for words and it took him a moment to even register that you'd asked a question at all. "I... Yes...I felt that..."

"Do you believe me now?"

"You were right about the frequency being the same..." He finally tore his gaze away from your souls and gave you an intense look. "You can't leave me."

You chuckled and tried to move your arms, only to remember that he still had you restrained. "A deal's a deal. I saw your soul and we're soulmates now; seems fair to me."

"Indeed..." he murmured, before guiding his soul back into his ribcage. You noticed that he hesitated to do the same for you.

You chuckled softly at his apparent awkwardness. "I can do it myself if you'd rather not, you'll just have to let me go first."

"No, it's fine..." He took great care not to graze your soul with his claws as he returned it to it's proper place in your chest. His movements were rather stiff though, almost like he was handling fine china and was afraid of smashing it.

His hand lingered for a moment, as if he was debating if he should actually touch you or not, before pulling away. "Forgive me...but this is a lot to take in at the moment. I never thought-" He cut himself off and changed the subject. "I never even asked for your name..."

You smiled and told him your name as his tendrils around your arms loosened, allowing you to lower them back to your sides, but not actually letting go just yet. The tips wound softly through your fingers like they were curious or maybe they just wanted to hold you like a lover might.

"I suppose there is still the matter of your former comrades." He looked off in the direction you thought the gate was in before asking a question. "How would you prefer I deal with them?"

You felt your heartbeat quicken. "I'd prefer they leave with their lives, but knowing Captain Undyne, she wouldn't give up until every one of her men got out safely."

"That poses a problem," he hummed and tapped his mandible thoughtfully. "As my own won't quit until they eliminate all resistance."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Maybe I could talk to my comrades and convince them to leave?"

"No." His expression darkened and he turned back to you. "They won't leave if they see that you're alive."

"So what do we do?"

He thought for a moment before turning to leave the library, tugging you along with his tentacles. "I have an idea, come with me."

You let out a small yip as you nearly stumbled over your own hind feet while trying to follow him. He spared you a glance over his shoulder but kept quickly moving through the dark passageways. He did mercifully let go of one of your arms so you would have a bit more balance though.

He led you into a room that, from the shelves of tonics and the racks of drying herbs, reminded you of an apothecary. The various herbs and ingredients all melded together into a slightly musty smell that you weren't fond of.

Donovan pulled a specific vial down from the shelf and brought it over to the work bench. You walked over and leaned against it to see what he was doing. After adding a few ingredients and swirling it together, he turned back to you.

"I need you to trust me..." He trailed off and glanced away before muttering, "Not that I've done anything to deserve your trust so far..."

You gave him a gentle smile and stepped closer to put your paw on his arm. He inadvertently jumped at the contact but didn't pull away.

"Of course I trust you. Whatever your plan is, I'll go along with it."

His bonebrows furrowed and he lightly stroked the fur on the side of your face with his claws. "Can I have your dagger?"

"I'm surprised you even noticed I had one," you chuckled as you drew the blade from its sheath and held it out to him.

He hummed and took it from your grasp. "I think you'll find that there isn't much that escapes my attention." He eyed the sharp edge for a moment before glancing back at you. "How attached are you to this?"

You frowned slightly. Your dagger wasn't too special to the naked eye but it had served you well ever since you'd been gifted it after your first successful mission. Even though it wasn't your primary weapon, any of your comrades would recognize it as yours if they saw it.

"It's just a dagger," you answered. "It's a small sacrifice to be with you forever."

He watched you for a moment before nodding. "Very well. This will hurt, but I'm only going to do what's necessary for you to be free of them."

You felt his tendrils coil around your body, cradling and holding you in place. He caressed your face and seemed to study your eyes for a second longer. You took a steadying breath and nodded.

And then he ran you through with the dagger.

You should've found something to bite down on before agreeing to this but your scream of pain was cut off when he abruptly yanked you into a kiss. It was a rough kiss and, if he wasn't holding you in place, you might've fallen over from the forcefulness.

He pulled away quickly and pressed the vial to your lips. It had a harsh taste but you managed to get it down without choking. Almost immediately, you felt an odd warmth flood your body and your eyelids began to grow heavy.

Lord Donovan laid you down on a bed that hadn't been in the room and you wondered if he'd brought you somewhere else. You knew he'd just inflicted what would normally be a mortal wound but somehow your body wasn't falling to pieces. If it weren't for the pain and sudden exhaustion, you probably could've run a mile. Whatever was in that tonic was obviously far stronger than any healing potion you'd ever been able to afford.

Your gaze met his own and when you held eye contact, he seemed relieved. He still held your dagger but it was thoroughly coated in what you instinctively knew was your own dust so that not even the handle was spared. He then took it in two of his tendrils and snapped the blade in half, as if it were nothing but a twig and not hardened steel.

Your shocked expression must've been concerning as he frowned and moved closer to you again. He combed his claws through the fur between your ears in a comforting manner.

"I'm sorry, but this needs to be as convincing as possible if they are to leave and not return in some foolhardy attempt to rescue you."

You swallowed thickly and managed to nod.

"Rest now, I will deal with them myself. You have my word that they won't be unnecessarily harmed."

You were out before he even left the room.

~ ~ /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\ ~ ~

You awoke to the sound of several unknown voices. There was a loud voice that spoke the most and the fastest, a softer and more raspy voice that occasionally answered the first's questions, and then there was a third much deeper voice who only spoke in clipped one word answers. They immediately fell quiet as soon as they realized that you were awake.

When you risked cracking open your eyes, you came face to face with one of the skeletons from earlier, specifically the one that had corruption leaking from his eye sockets. His skull took up most of your field of view but you could just barely make out the other two skeletons near the doorway.

"well well, look who's finally awake~" he teased.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I suppose so. Now can you back up a bit?"

He smirked but mercifully stepped away from the bed so you could sit up. Your armour had been removed at some point although you were still wearing your tunic. You would likely need new gear after Donovan stabbed you anyways, but you didn't like being in the same room as three very dangerous people while unprotected.

There was still some pain but you seemed perfectly fine otherwise. Maybe later you'd have to check where the wound had been to see how it had healed. You could feel that a bandage had been wrapped around your abdomen but that was all that seemed to have happened.

"so, word is you and the boss are thick as thieves all of the sudden..."

You glanced up at him sharply. There was no point in denying it but should you really tell them why he'd spared your life?

He chuckled and glanced over at the other two, who seemed like they could care less. "we've just been dying to meet you, haven't we?"

The large skeleton huffed and the hooded one merely rolled his eyelights.

He didn't seem phased by their lackluster enthusiasm and soon turned back to you again. "you got a name then, cutie?" he asked way too sweetly.

You raised your head and squared your shoulders before introducing yourself.

"aw, it suits you!" He grinned, although it was a tad too wide. "i suppose introductions are in order then..."

"the big guy goes by maul," he said and pointed him out to you. He bent down to whisper in your ear, "he doesn't talk much, but between you and me, it's rumoured that he used to be the headsman during the coup in the horrur kingdom."

You believed it. The way you'd seen him swing that greataxe was proof enough of his strength. You were curious how he got the head wound if he was just the executor, but you weren't about to ask.

Maul's single red eyelight observed you coolly before he nodded slightly. At least he didn't seem like he wanted to tear you apart right away.

"mr. broody goes by reven." He directed your attention to the skeleton in question before repeating what he'd done earlier. "pretty sure he still wears his old paladin armour, despite breaking his oath after his brother got dusted. he's the one responsible for the crimson stabbings, didn't you know?"

You pulled the sheets slightly closer and swallowed nervously. You remembered how afraid everyone had been during that time and how at a loss your superiors had been. The murders had gone on for years before just stopping without any conclusion being reached.

Reven narrowed his eye sockets suspiciously but he seemed to like the effect that his supposed reputation had on you.

"it's actually kinda impressive you held him off for as long as you did back there~"

Reven scowled at his loud mouthed compatriot's words and crossed his arms. You certainly didn't feel proud of yourself and if it wasn't for Sir Draco, you knew he would've overwhelmed you quickly.

Trying to distract yourself, you turned to the last unnamed skeleton in the room, who was still a bit to close for your comfort. "And who are you?" you asked.

"You can call me Dirk, or anything else you feel partial to~" He practically beamed at the revelation that you were even remotely interested in his backstory. "I used to run with some brigands and we made a decent killing for a while. Although, I was always meant for something more than that boring life so I killed them instead."

You didn't know what you had been expecting but how flippant he was about committing murder was more than a little unsettling. You really shouldn't have been so surprised though.

"Your armour doesn't belong to you, does it?" you asked carefully.

"oh yeah." He grinned before adding, "i stabbed a guy for it!"

You ran a hand down your face and sighed. "Of course, why did I think you would've done anything otherwise?"

In an effort to change the subject, you glanced at the others and asked a different question. "What happened to...my companions?"

Neither Maul nor Reven seemed interested in answering although the latter suppressed a small chuckle.

Dirk pulled a face and shook his skull. "they ran like cowards," he muttered.

You frowned. "That doesn't sound quite right. Are you sure?"

"well... the fish lady got pretty mad when the boss revealed that you were 'dead'..." He made finger quotes and chuckled. "she actually tried to fight him but he taught her a lesson real quick."

Reven chuckled as well. "she had to be hauled away by the rest of them..." he muttered under his breath.

You felt your heart drop. Donovan had promised that he wouldn't kill them, but you still couldn't help feeling concerned. What if she succumbed to her injuries before getting to safety?

"hey."

You glanced over at Dirk and immediately noticed that his permanent grin had fallen slightly.

"how do we know that you didn't just trick the boss into thinking you two are... what's it called?" he paused for emphasis before continuing, "soulmates, or some other dumb crap?"

He took a step closer to the bed and you inadvertently tried to back away from him. Seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that the other two had seemed to take interest as well. Maul stayed by the door, although his grin widened in an unsettling way and he crossed his arms. Reven narrowed his eye sockets and took a few steps closer.

"Of course not! I wouldn't-"

Your protest was cut off when Donovan suddenly materialized on your other side. The boys paused and turned to look at him, although at first he said nothing and shot each of them a look of displeasure. Without saying a word, he wrapped your body up in a few of his tendrils and pulled you closer to him.

"If any of you so much as look at my soulmate wrong, I will not hesitate to strip your souls from your miserable bodies and torment you for eternity," he growled quietly.

You felt a shiver run down your spine but his threat seemed to have an effect on the boys. Maul glanced away and Reven seemed to visibly deflate. Dirk seemed to grow uncomfortable but outwardly didn't appear intimidated.

Donovan eyed each of them for several long seconds before he turned to you and seemed to visibly relax. He gave you what was supposed to be a comforting smile but it still looked a little scary on him.

"I didn't go for a killing blow but holding back is a little difficult for me. She'll probably just lose an eye if treated properly," he stated. His tone came across as pretty ominous but you did feel some relief that he'd at least attempted to keep his word.

"Thank you, I appreciate that you still tried."

~ ~ /⁠ᐠ⁠｡⁠ꞈ⁠｡⁠ᐟ⁠\ ~ ~

Later, once you were properly healed, Dirk approached you in the common area while you were attempting to salvage what you could from your old armour. You inadvertently tensed up but he flashed you a smile that was probably supposed to look friendly.

"so, i've been thinking," he started to say.

You raised an eyebrow. "That's worrying," you responded with an awkward laugh.

Across the room, you heard Reven snicker but he didn't bother trying to join in.

Dirk's smile grew wider. "heh... anyways, each of us has a place on the team. maul is the muscle, reven is good with both melee and ranged fighting, and i'm the assassin but i dabble in ranged attacks too. so, what do you do?"

You took a moment to think it over. You wanted to get along with them and if proving yourself a competent teammate would help, you were determined to do your best.

"Well, I'm generally a forward scout but I'm more than capable of holding my own in melee combat."

Dirk nodded, "fun! i guess we'll have to eventually come up with a nickname for you." He held out his hand and tilted his skull all the while smirking at you. "welcome to the dark fortress."

You grasped his hand and smiled. Maybe you'd like being here a lot more than you originally thought.

Notes:

A meteor hammer is kind of like a flail. It is a weapon with one or two weights attached to a length of chain. It may be impractical, but I had a distinct mental picture of MC swinging it around that I loved.

Donovan is an Irish name and means dark warrior.

Maul is actually named after the weapon of the same name (although the verb is kinda fitting too!).

Reven is short for revenant and a nod to one of the coolest characters in Star Wars (Darth Revan).

Dirk is named for a type of dagger.

Did you catch what kingdom was taken over by Donovan and his gang? I had a hard time coming up with one that made sense so Storyshift it was. In this world, each AU is its own kingdom, meaning pretty much every major AU can and probably does exist somewhere or somehow.

[shakingparadigm]

what is the theory that ivan manipulated the event where till and mizi met the wagyein?

It's not a theory, actually! It's confirmed that Ivan orchestrated the whole event. The true reason as to why however is still unknown. The information provides more context to this scene, though:

During the earlier times of ALNST the most rational explanation for this scene was that Till ran after a flower crown (presumably Mizi's) and Ivan followed him in out of curiosity. Now we know that Ivan was conveniently just standing there because he was waiting.

Side note, I find it heartbreaking (and maybe a little funny, sorry) that Till most likely didn't notice Ivan in this scene. That's just like him, isn't it. Always too busy running after Mizi while Ivan trails behind, an ever-present shadow.

I'm not sure how Ivan manipulated the circumstances for both of them to end up there, but it is confirmed that everything was intentional. What strikes me most is how they describe this particular scene:

I can't copy down what they said word-for-word (Patreon info), but they described Ivan watching "creepily" as Till and Mizi are faced with danger. We know that Ivan was familiar with the Cerberus wagyein beforehand, enough to touch its teeth and even to rest himself inside its maw. To Ivan, the wagyein is not dangerous, but to Till and Mizi, it could be. Ivan prepared the wagyein, led them there, and watched "creepily" from afar as Till fell on his knees, seemingly injured.

The closest I can get to making sense of Ivan's "scheme" is that he wanted to see how other children would react in a dangerous situation. Ivan's always been an observer, after all, and he's learned to survive by copying the more "normal" behaviors of his peers. This situation occured when Ivan was still young and had not yet developed his more charming mask, so perhaps he staged this encounter to study a situational response, to learn and mimic the emotion of fear. And what better subjects for the experiment than two of the most expressive and reactive humans of their batch? It helps that he was already fixated on Till beforehand, too. I think Ivan became irreversibly obssessed after this incident, especially since it's framed as a turning point in Ivan's life, comparing Till to the stars.

This is just my attempt at an interpretation, though. It could very well be for another reason. He most likely chose Till and Mizi specifically for personal reasons, not just for reaction. I'm still not sure on the purpose behind the whole thing.

The team wanted to capture Ivan's "dark emotions" through the shot of his stalking, which could relate to his more sinister intentions. His gaze can be read in a few different ways, though. Curiosity, interest, fear, etc. Maybe that's why they decided to redraw the shot in ROUND 6.

I think this better sells the feeling they were trying to convey.

[necroromantics]

🪓 — Canon Facts About Ticci Toby

all of these are directly stated by kastoway himself in deviantart posts/comments, instagram stories, or tobys canon story

I. Toby has a split eyebrow from the car crash

II. He only attended grade school for a short time when we was 12 before being homeschooled due to bullying

III. Kastoway describes Toby's eye colour as "dark brown/black"

IV. Kastoway created Toby as a fan character when he was 12 just for fun. He never expected him to get the attention that he did

V. Toby was stated to be 19 in 2013, which means Toby was born on April 28th, 1994. Today he'll be turning 30 years old

VI. In Toby's age chart, he is shown to be in a straitjacket at 30 years old, and described to "not have much time left on his plate", "any bit of sanity in him is probably gone", and "lives out the rest of his days in a mental asylum and/or gets put down"

VII. He has little to no memory of his life before becoming a proxy

VIII. When he was a toddler, he'd carry around a cow stuffie and put bandaids all over it

IX. Toby was killed by Clockwork, who was possessed by Zalgo, sometime between ages 19-25 (presumably 20-22). Kastoway had vague plans for Toby to "miraculously survive" and live up until around 30 years old, with no contact to the others

X. Toby chews his hands to the point of eating his own flesh, which is why he wears gloves

XI. He is born and raised in Denver, Colorado, USA. He has German ancestry

XII. His theme song is noted to be "I'm Not Alright" by Shinedown

XIII. His personality is described to be, "volatile, friendly at times, sarcastic at times, natural born trouble-maker, mostly up-beat"

XIV. In an older, outdated reference sheet, his friends are listed as "Jeff The Killer, BEN, BOB, Smile Dog, Slenderman, Splendorman, Mr. Widemouth, Ragface, Eyeless Jack", and his rivals are listed as "The Rake, Masky, Enderman, Zalgo"

XV. His mask is a mouth guard, like the one Hannibal Lecter wears

XVI. He is canonically shipped with Clockwork

XVII. Toby has "big ass eyebrows" (Kastoways words himself)

XVIII. Toby doesn't hate Masky, he just acts like an annoying little brother around him because he's jealous that Slender favours him. He's chill around Hoodie, but they don't talk much

XIX. Kastoway was inspired by Marble Hornets to create Ticci Toby

XX. Toby's tics are described as to "uncontrollably crack his neck, twitch around, bend over backwards"

XXI. In his updated appearance (the sketch made by Kastoway in 2014 with the cheek gash), he's described to be in his early 20s. He also said he was thinking of having the cheek gash be caused by the fire, but said that Toby eating through his own cheek was "a really good idea"

XXII. Toby was originally going to be a cannibal before Kastoway put the idea on the back burner, though he says "he'll eat some of the things he kills kind of like Eyeless Jack"

XXIII. He had CIPA, Tourettes, Schizophrenia and PTSD after the car crash

XXIV. His older sisters name is Lyra, his mothers name is Connie, and his father is canonically unnamed (though he's typically called Frank by the fandom, this is not stated by Kastoway)

XXV. He was originally going to be 5'4....... But ended up being made 5'6 (lucky bastard)

Thats all I can think of right now... Happy Birthday Toby

[dilftaroooo]

Not sure if your requests are closes right now sorry if they are-

But you should do Yuji fucking fem!reader or eating her out and Sukuna switching with him in the middle of it 😊

nonnie im so happy to breath the same air as u

★tags: aged up characters + afab reader + she/her pronouns + spanking + oral (f. receiving) + fingering + implied piv sex (very brief tho) + praising + sukuna bashing yuji smdh.

Your beloved boyfriend always manages to find himself emerging in the sloppy heat that rests between your thighs. Salmon fields adorned with restless digits splay across the top of his head as he licks and laps at you desperately. It's good pussy for the soul and he would hate if he would've missed this opportunity to have you sing out his name while you involuntarily send pressure to the sides of his head with your rigid thighs.

Your chest heaves and ho's at the heavy mass of passion with each inconsistent breath you take--jagged whenever Yuji coos at your hard clit, telling her how he's obsessed with her and her owner before giving her a light peck.

"I want you to fuck me already, Yu." You croak impatiently, wiggling your hips to emphasize your desires but Yuji gives you a quick slap to the side of your ass and squeezes it right after.

"Not now, baby. Let me enjoy what's in front of me first. Can I get that?" He watches you under the rise of your pelvis. His words are soft and whispered in a tone he always uses with you whenever he wants to feel you clench. Honey-glazed globes look at the feast upon him amorously. Your previously shaven hairs start to grow into stubble as it retrieves itself back to its original state; wet and coated with your juices. He buries his nose further.

A moan was a good enough answer for your boyfriend and he keeps doing what he was born to do. You continue to plead for him as he eats you out. "I'm right here, lovely. Not going anywhere." He'd respond with each fervid call.

His sucks at your cunt arouses you tenfold once you feel yourself coming to that edge at the tippy top of a mountain as gusty winds roughly kiss at the apples of your cheeks and the lids of your closed eyes. It's easy to tell you're close as Yuji hums into wet folds causing you to rattle.

"Oh fuck, Yuji. Keep going, sweet boy. 'M gonna come soon..."

Your nails cautiously dig into his scalp, not enough to hurt him severely, and your legs wrap around bulging muscle for support of your incoming orgasm. His body glistens under the light of the living room and blesses you with each defined section of muscle to pop under dark shadows.

But the devil is a conniving bastard for your reach to climax was interrupted when you flinch at the harsh bite gnaw at your clit, sending you to scurry backward away from the abrupt pain but strong arms keep your legs in place to force you into more torture. Looking down, you noticed Yuji's canines were sharper than usual. His skin was tainted in elongated markings, ones Yuji had never worn. His nails were painted in a deep violet and you think to yourself, 'Yuji couldn't have possibly put that on so fast,'.

"That sappy shit was starting to churn my stomach. How about you do that whenever I'm not possessing you? I already get nauseous knowing I'm living inside a fucking idiot." His voice was deeper too.

"Y-You're Sukuna, right? Yuji told me about you." You've never seen eyes glaringly red like his--four of them. They all watch you with a look of interest paired with a cunning smirk.

"That's right, dollface. Very good. Glad you know of me already, so we can skip the greetings." He resumes his host's previous ministrations but turns it up a notch by adding a finger or two to your drooling pussy. He teases a glossy, purple tip along the quivering hole before pushing in deep. As soon as he learns you can perfectly take one, he puts the second one in. A grin remains still on his face when hearing your moans crescendo.

"My, my. You're already soaking my fingers, dove. Guess that brat is doing something properly for once. Slobbering all over the couch, fuck, can't remember the last time I've seen pussy like this." His index and middle fingers dance across the gushy ridges in you, he moves them in ways Yuji knows you love and that feature shocks you.

He gorges on your clit and eats your pussy out like it's his last meal on earth before being sentenced to death. Saliva runs down the length of your labia, bubbles forming along the way by his boisterous lapping. Your hips can't resist gyrating against his face, ruby red remains settled on your helpless figure as you revisit that same high as before. You bathe his fingers with cum til they prune and you're too overstimulated to feel sorry.

The couch dips and you're instantly turned around on your stomach, facing the decorative pillow you believed matched the aesthetic of your living room.

"Hey, what're you-"

"You said you wanted to get fucked remember? Your cunt is still drooling cus she's hungry. Didn't give her enough." The smacks he gave your ass were harder than Yuji's and that just goes to show how rough this curse really is but you writhed nonetheless.

He was gonna fuck you good. You already figured much as hands grip around the fat at your hips and his cock carefully grinds into you.

[gamorxa]

RESTLESS NIGHTS •°. *࿐

PAIRINGS— paul atreides x valkyrie!reader

SUMMARY—from a young age you’ve been paul atreides’ personal apprentice, your duty being to remain professional in protecting the life of the heir to the house of atreides. however, things change after a rainy night of comforting paul after he awakens from one of his terrible visions.

NOTE—this is my first time writing and publishing anything like this for a character, but after seeing dune two i just had to. expect more creations from me in the future. Constructive criticism is welcome, just keep it nice and kind. let me know how i did!

word count: 1.2k

Valkyries are very protective beings. In battle, their ultimate purpose is to carry the fallen warriors that perished in combat, and were worthy of eternal paradise, to Valhalla where their souls would reside in blissful harmony. However, there wasn’t just one type of valkyrie. A heroine valkyrie is what you were — the kind that only guarded the lives of those dearest to them. Your dearest was no one, but the son of the duke of atreides.

When you were first assigned to the house of atreides you just barely reached the ripe age of seven years old. In those times, your duty merely consisted of being the only company around his age the young boy had in his life. Innocent soft exchanges of giggles escaped from dimpled cheeks that ached from continuous smiles. Small pieces of grass littered the wild heads of curly hair the two of you possessed from previously rolling in the freshly cut grass the maintenance keepers recently trimmed. Within years, the grass turned to responsibilities, and the dimples into abstract bruises from the numerous sparing lessons shared between the two of you. Thus, your years of childish assignments were gone.

Now, you reside in the chambers next door to the young heir in case of any and all emergencies. You lie awake in your pristine silk sheets staring at the ceiling. The thunderous Caladan rain pelted down onto glass windows surrounding you, keeping you awake. This was your first night back from your annual trip to the emperor's headquarters where your sisters remain. No other planets you’ve ever visited didn’t have rain as loud as Caladan’s.

A loud groan breaks the song of raindrops singing along the windows.

You bolt out of bed and grab a dagger with the valkyries signature emblem on the hilt. Your hands turn white in contrast to your usual brown skin from how tight you hold it. Raising to the balls of your feet to remain as silent as possible, you trudge over to the door, leaving the comfort of your room. The marble flooring in the hallway tickles the bottom of your feet, but you barely notice due to your desperation to find the source the sound came from.

More thunder cracks. Another groan.

Your head sharply turns to the left toward Paul's room. Your body turns rigid.

Oh no.

Sprinting, you throw open his mahogany dark wood door making it slam into the back wall. There in rumpled sheets lies the source. His limbs are tangled in his blanket as he thrashes around in his bed, his face scrunched up in an expression of pure anguish. Wild brown curls surround him like a halo while the moonlight shines on his pale skin. He looks like an angel. A fallen angel.

“Paul,” you mumbled, letting your dagger slip from your hands.

He stirs in his sheets, letting out another low groan.

Rushing to the side of his bed, you dropped to your knees and cradle his face scanning the rest of body. Just in case.

“Paul!” you repeated.

He bolts up abruptly making your hands fall onto the bed. He’s panting as he looks around frantically before resting his eyes on you. His expression softens.

“Y/n?” His voice is raspier than normal due to the hours of restless sleep.

“It's okay, it’s okay,” you cooed. Your face filled with concern as you brush some of his wild hair out of his face. “I’m here.”

He sighs out the majority of the tension built up, rubbing his face from sleep with his trembling hands.

“More visions?” Your voice is so soft it tickles his ears creating a blanket of comfort. He doesn’t understand how a strong warrior could possess such a comforting voice, but that's one of the reasons he liked you so much. You never failed to make his worries disappear — not with a voice like that.

He only nods.

“Want to talk about it?” You rise from your spot on the floor to sit on the side of his bed making you at eye level and in closer proximity to the stressed boy. His eyes are slightly glossed over, and he’s avoiding eye contact as if he’s embarrassed.

“No,” he looks down in his lap before locking eyes with you, “I thought you were on your trip?”

You shake your head, “I came home early.”

Home. You saying it so casually almost makes Paul visibly melt.

“I missed you,” he whispers. His words hang in the air like a forbidden secret. Well, it was forbidden seeing as the relationship between the two of you was meant to be strictly professional. However, you two managed to lay on the thin layer of gray area in the matter.

You could only bashfully turn your head away towards the window. You hated how he’d say things like that in random moments. More so, you hated how much your cheeks would turn warm and your lips would scrunch to the corner of your face showcasing a deep dimple in the apple of your cheeks. The rain was still coming down harder without any plans to stop for the night.

The boy grabs your chin with his pointer finger and thumb and redirects your attention to his face. You could only look down at your lap before eventually looking into his eyes.

Desire. Burning desire is what his eyes scream as he looks at you.

You escape his hands and rise to leave a painfully lingering kiss on his forehead.

“Get some rest, Mr. Atreides.” You say, slightly teasing as you move to get off the bed. However, he reaches for your hand stopping your movements.

“Stay,” he pleads with desperation laced in his tone.

You hesitate.

“Please, Y/n, I need you.” His eyes are low and bright from the moonlight still coating the inside of his room. His blanket lies low on his waist hiding his boxers, and showcasing his chest of lean and faint abs from his weeks of training. He looked so…

“Fine,” the words slip from your mouth before you realize. Before you know it, he’s scooting over and raising the covers to allow you to easily slip into his sheets. They’re warm from his body heat making you release a sigh of breath you didn’t know you were holding.

He looks at your chest before shyly looking you in the eyes, “Can I-”

You tiredly nod your head and open your arms out welcomingly. The boy immediately goes to rest his head on your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and tangling his legs with yours. This position feels completely natural and comforting from numerous other nights just like this one in the past. Your hands go to his curls and start massaging his head.

“Thank you,” he rasps out, barely staying awake, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Always,” you started, “I’ll always be here.”

You look down to find that the tired boy has already fallen asleep. With a small smile on your face you look up at the ceiling as more lighting cracks outside. You close your eyes assuming he missed your words.

He heard them. He always does.

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | oneshot

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

[Part 2]

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, implied Cregan Stark x Reader (you can interpret them as lovers or not). Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral m receiving, praising kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, Alys Rivers (but no cheating), Reader has a child, grief, light choking, not proofread.

Words count : 7600

Author's notes : Hi everyone !! Sooo I’m posting my first ever fanfic on here, my first x reader and my first fanfic for Aemond. I’m very anxious haha But well, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a RP that has been going on for months with my wonderful gf <3 She writes Aemond so well I swear and now she’s making me fall in love with Cregan too haha oops whatever. Some of Aemond’s lines in this fanfic are hers so of course the credits go to her 💕 Long story short the reader’s backstory is inspired by my OC! The plot doesn't make any sense but whatever

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met The night we met - Lord Huron

The snow had covered the landscape of Winterfell in a thin white layer so similar to ash, and the image tugged at your heart for a moment. Ashes. Fire. War. It was strange, the stillness that had followed the fury of screams and blood, of fire and ash, the constant anguish and pain of loss. It was like a long howl and then sudden silence. Life had resumed its course, the earth and the grass nurtured in red, as if nothing had happened, and that still irritated you sometimes, three years later.

For this peacefulness was a constant reminder of your life before. Before the war, before your own family ripped itself apart from within, before you lost him. There was something bitter in the thought that, in an alternate reality, you would have been happy with him by your side. The night brought its share of sweet dreams, lulled by the embrace of his arms, and you closed your eyes with ease, hoping to see his face again, which was fading day by day, desperately clinging to the details that made him.

It had been the best solution, you knew. 

For there was no reality in which he could live as much as you wished for. And you had accepted your duty by straightening your shoulders, silencing your heart, digging your thumbnail into the inside of your wrist. Your stepfather had said he was dead; he had seen Vhaegar fall from the sky, wounded.  He had seen the huge dragon crash into the water with all its weight. He had waited, and no silver hair had returned to the surface. He had searched and no body had been found.

So, he had returned, triumphant, with the conclusion that Aemond Targaryen was dead.

The room had swayed around you, but your fingers on the hard, rough wood of the table had kept you grounded. You had nodded, unsure, your ears ringing, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your tongue to hold back the tears that were beading at the edges of your eyes.

You knew it was inevitable, perhaps even fair. But it still hurt.  It sill fucking hurt.

Daemon had reassured you by pointing out that you were now released from your marital obligation.  A marriage to him that you had hoped for, waited for, dreamed of in your younger years. A marriage you had despised, once forced into, once made captive, a prisoner to be used against your own mother. And then a marriage that you had loved, cherished even, when he had opened up to you, when he had changed, when he had revealed that soft side despite his rough edges.  And you loved him, truly. The childhood love, the shy love that had blossomed between laughter muffled behind the curtains, hand-in-hand runs through the Red Keep and reading session hidden under the library table, had been rekindled.  Raw, devouring, bruised by war, but more powerful than ever.

Out of the corner of your eye you had caught a glimpse of the comforting gaze of your mother, the Queen, her gentle eyes searching for clues that would betray what you were feeling. It was she who had stroked your hair that evening, her presence welcome and soothing.

During the war, events had made you more uncertain than ever; blood and cheese had broken something in you. Suddenly shaken by the horrific actions of someone you hardly recognised, by the actions of your own family and the father figure who had raised you as his own daughter. You questioned your loyalties more than ever. Of course, you'd been devastated by Luke's death, your beloved little brother, so innocent, so sweet, and the despair you'd felt, the sadness, had gradually turned to anger. 

Your desire for revenge had fed on your rage, on your anger.

And in your quest for revenge, you had grabbed the dagger hidden in your bodice when you had kissed him, when you had poisoned him with your lips and your body pressed against his. Perhaps it was cowardice to do it on your wedding night, right after the pitiful ceremony in which you had been forced to exchange your vows of fidelity, the humiliation of the white, blue, red and green cloak around your shoulders.  Perhaps it was cowardice to wait for him to surrender to your touch, hard with desire, before plunging the blade straight into his heart.

But you didn't do it, in the end, the humiliation of your failure burning in your cheeks, and you had seen the horrible reality in the icy eye fixed on you: he was expecting it.  He knew. He had anticipated you, as usual, one step ahead of you, ahead of your plans. And the humiliation was all the more bitter.

First he had defied you, knowing full well that you couldn't do it, despite your momentary hesitation. Then he had wiped away your tears, the sound of metal echoing off the floor as he captured your lips with his own. 

And both you and he had sought to release the accumulated tension in the comfort of your naked bodies, in the rough, demanding thrusts.

You weren't quite sure when your relationship had changed. When he had become more forgiving. When he had trusted you. When he had become gentle. When you had felt him slipping away, subtly, almost imperceptibly. When you had begun to seek comfort in his arms, to seek the warmth of his body, to seek his love on his lips.

You loved him.

So you spent the nights lying awake in fear. Fearing the moment when you would have to make a choice. Fearing the moment when you would have to betray.

Which side would you choose when both armies were coming towards you, carrying the same flags, the same weapons, both calling your name?

Anxiety had spread its roots in the pit of your stomach, crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You felt as if you were losing your mind.

But the choice had been forced upon you without you having to make it. You had accepted it, as your duty demanded, as your loyalty to your family demanded.

Life at Winterfell wasn't so bad, quite the opposite in fact, despite the cold and snow you weren't used to. Cregan Stark was a good man. He had given you time and space to grieve, and had opened the castle gates to you with kindness. You had decided that you could get used to the cold and the snow, to the stone and the rustic wood, so different from the refineries of the capital, but infinitely warmer.

It was your choice, your departure for Winterfell.  Dragonstone was still haunted by the ghost of Luke, by the ghosts of Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys and Rhaenys and all the family members you had lost.  King's Landing was haunted, too. By your sweet aunt and her cries of despair, by Aegon's descent into madness, by the humiliations you had so gracefully endured, by the recurring announcements of deaths, by the smell of the innocents’ blood, by the pitiful looks of Alicent, who had seen in you the image of herself a few years earlier, powerless and manipulated.

But above all, it was haunted by him.

The weight of the memories had become unbearable and you needed to leave.

You chose Winterfell, hoping the cold would help you forget. And Jace had come with you, his thumb caressing the back of your hand with affection, always the protective, reassuring big brother he was to you.  Probably glad to see his friend again, too. Your friend, to both of you.

But forgetting was something you'd never really been able to do, even less with the last memory he'd left you.

Now, just over three years later, you felt ready to return to King's Landing to visit your parents, to face the demons of your past and to mourn once and for all. It was inexplicable, perhaps a little strange, but you felt the need to go back.

On his first dragon ride, Rhaegar clapped his hands along the way, nestled into your arms in front of you, closing his eyes as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Midnight, your dragon, as pleasant as ever, as easy and gentle as ever, took care to be careful with the two of you on his back.

When you arrived, Rhaenyra hugged you as tightly as she'd ever hugged you, her nose buried in your thick hair, before bending down to take her grandson in her arms.

"I've missed you, sweet girl." she said to you. You smiled and reached for her arm, glancing at your son who'd grabbed one of your mother's long silver curls: "Daemon has missed you too. You know he doesn't show his feelings, but... he missed you." 

You smile, your eyes dropping to the floor.  You missed them, too, terribly, despite the frequent letters.

"And of course... we’ve missed you too, little one!" Rhaenyra added, catching the child's nose with her thumb and forefinger, causing him to burst into laughter.

It felt good to be back.  It was good to have regained some sort of routine in your daily life with your family. It was good to see the walls of the Red Keep return to their original familiarity, chasing away the ghosts you feared you might see again.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Perhaps you should have listened to your stepfather and not stray under any circumstances from the knight who has been following your every step with concern, afraid to lose sight of you. 

Five years earlier, it was Sir Erryk's vigilance that you had deceived when you had carelessly followed your eldest uncle into the dangerous streets of the capital.

The streets of King's Landing offered you a freedom you had missed. But now you almost regret sneaking through the crowds to escape the vigilance of the knight who had escorted you. You decide to take a shortcut, the hood of your cloak pulled down over your forehead.  It must have been your imagination.  You aren’t on the worst side of the city, not like five years ago, and the streets have become safe, much safer now that your parents are in power.

Your footsteps led you to some stone steps, which you climb at full speed, your heart pounding in your chest.  Glancing behind you, you disappear like a shadow around the corner of an alley, but the feeling is still there. You feel as if you are being followed.

At the Red Keep you already had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. In the gardens, with your son. Along the ramparts, enjoying the sea breeze on your face.

But you blamed it on your body's automatic response to the anxiety that had built up in all the years you'd spent within the walls of the Keep.

You slow your pace as you spot the dome and towers of the Great Sept at the end of the alley. From there you can easily find your way back to the Red Keep. All you had to do is keep moving, staring ahead, pressing your pace, wrapped in the thick wool of your cloak.

One step after the other. Breathing deeply. Half-moons in your palms.

The Great Sept growing closer give you a strange kind of reassurance.

And then suddenly, one hand closes over your mouth, the other around your waist. Your back bangs painfully against the cold stone wall of the winding alley into which you have been dragged. Fuck. Fuck.

You are too paralysed to struggle, too paralysed to bite the hand of the stranger holding you prisoner between the wall and his own body.

"You obviously learned nothing from my advice, Lady Strong," the icy voice whispers in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes widen. 

That voice. It couldn't be.

Lady Strong. Lady Strong. Lady Strong.

It can’t be.

That is your sick mind playing tricks on you again.

"As reckless as ever, hm, aren't you? You could easily get yourself killed."

The stranger releases you and you look up again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, searching for that icy blue, tinged with lilac, that have read through you so many times before.

It is impossible.

He has died three years before, falling from Vhaegar's back into the deep waters of the lake at Harrenhal.

Is it a ghost? Is it a hallucination?

"You are dead. You were dead," you whisper, more to yourself than to him, still in shock from the feel of his body against yours. You feel the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes roll down your cheek, and your little fists pound his chest.

You have so much to say to him. So many things to reproach him for.

His hand cups your cheek to turn your head and force you to look at him, his thumb wiping away your tears. 

The way he looks at you hasn’t changed; it still makes you shiver. You still feel that your uncle could read through you, that he could discover your deepest secrets.  And there is still that hint of desire, too, that gleam in his one seeing eye.

You want to kiss him. You want to slap him.

He clenches his jaw as he pulls you against him, burying your face in his chest, his arms around you. He rests his chin on your head. One of his hands strokes your dark hair as you stifle sobs into the wool of his cloak.

The situation takes you back to your wedding night, when he had comforted you in the same way after you had told him that you couldn't hate him, even if you had tried.

"I know," you hear him whisper, the vocal cords vibrating from his throat against the top of your head.

He is standing there, in front of you. You cling to the fabric of his clothes with all your might, as if you're afraid he'll slip away again.

"How?" you ask, eyes closed, head against him. If he is to be taken from you again, you intend to enjoy every moment in his company. 

He clenches again. You step back to look into his eyes, to search his enigmatic gaze for answers, for clues, for signs that would explain how. Why.

He doesn't answer you, but he is filled with desire as he grips your chin between his middle and index fingers, as he captures your lips with his own. You rediscover the possessiveness you've been missing. He pushes you a little harder against the wall behind you, as if to remind you who you belong to. Who you were married to.

A familiar warmth blossoms between your thighs, a warmth you haven't felt for too long. You're trapped, right there, your uncle towering over you, trapped between the wall and his body. His fingers close around your jaw and you kiss him back hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

You're perfectly aware that the situation is surreal.  You're perfectly aware that you're making a mistake, that you shouldn't respond to the kiss of the man who used to be your husband, not when he's technically still your enemy, not when he's technically dead. 

But you shut out the voices in your head begging you to stop.

"I still want to hate you, you know," you breathe between his parted lips. He merely mutters hm in reply, trying to shut you up again, his hands wandering under your cape, tracing the ribs of the body he'd missed so much. He reaches for your waist, your hips, which he grabs meanly. 

There's no one in the alley around you, but the hood over his head hides his long silver hair anyway. 

"Three fucking years." Your lips leave his, a mixture of anger and desire bubbling up from your lower belly. Aemond stares at you, his jaw clenched. He knows you need to unleash your emotions when you don't read an ounce of regret in his gaze. "Three. Fucking. Years. And you've told me nothing. You never sought to -"

"I couldn't," he retorts harshly. He seems to be searching for words to explain something you could not possibly understand, but his gaze does not soften. You know he needs time, you've learned to know him.  You've waited three years, what's another moment? But you're tired, and your patience isn't as strong as it used to be.  You look away, a mocking laugh escaping your lips as you repeat his justification. "You couldn't." 

"And risk your mother executing me?" He forces you to look at him again, and you feel the lump form in your throat. You know you are perhaps being unfair, but you were alone for those three years while you mourned him, so alone, and in a way, you want to make him pay.

"You were dead to me, qybor." Uncle. You feel him twitch at the mention of your family tie, at the nickname he used to love to hear on your tongue. "I had to live with the idea that you would never come back."

The tears that had dried on your cheeks threaten to flow again, pooling at the corners of your eyes. Aemond sighs. 

"I thought I was dead too," he whispers. You can feel the tension in every one of his muscles. There's a moment of hesitation, a silence that hovers between you.  You have so many questions, but you don't know where to begin.  Not a sound leaves your lips.

"She tended to my wounds," he adds, and you frown in confusion. "Alys."

Alys. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he keeps you pinned to the wall.  Alys, you remember the rumours whispered in your ear by that rat of Larys - those false rumours, you remind yourself -  but you can't help feeling your heart clench.  You don't trust your voice enough to speak, to say anything.

"There's no one left in Harrenhal but her," he adds, as if you need that clarification, as if you need to know where he's been all this time. 

You say nothing. Your throat is tight. If you speak, if you look at him, you'll cry again and betray your feelings all over again. You refuse to make a fool of yourself, not now.

"She's the one who saw you. In Winterfell." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice as he mentions the place where you've spent the last few years rebuilding yourself, trying to forget him.  A bit of anger, perhaps, too.

"Cregan Stark welcomed me indeed," you reply curtly.  Perhaps you want to hurt him as he hurt you, but you are deliberately vague in your answer. "I have mourned you, qybor."

Everything is so confused in your mind.  A paradoxical blend of desire, anger, sadness, jealousy.  Of love too.

You want to strangle him and melt on his lips at the same time, and you know that after all this time you should be used to feeling this paradox of emotions with Aemond. Your uncle was a set of contradictions all his own.

"I saw you. On Midnight. That's how I knew you were here."

You nod. Words don't work between you, you know that. It has always been like that; the habit of letting silence speak more than words. The habit of communicating through the carnal acts of your bodies against each other. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond pushes you against the wooden door as soon as you enter the mediocre room of the inn. He is demanding, more than ever, as his hands run along your hips to your thighs to lift you up and press you against the door, your legs closing around him. He watches you with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You can't stop a moan from escaping your lips. 

There's something feverish, passionate, urgent about the kiss. And when his tongue begs for an opening, your lips part to welcome him. There is only you in this room, an interlude where nothing else exists, where you don't have to worry about your duties and loyalties, where you are guided by nothing but passion.

His hand slams against the wall next to your head and with a movement of his hips he lifts you a little higher onto his waist, your legs locked tightly around him. He grunts into the crook of your neck at the friction of your crotch against his.

"Tell me to stop." His hand which isn't against the wall to support your weight slides up to your jaw. He lifts your chin, his gaze locked in yours, searching for clues, anything that would betray your desire to end whatever it is you're doing. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."

You don't want to stop. You should, you know you should, but you silence the little voice in your conscience that's begging you to pull yourself together, to end it all before you've even started, before you've even gone too far, and you kiss him with more vigour, with more fervour.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop, qybor," you whisper against his lips. "You know that."

His hardened member twitches beneath you at the mention of the High Valyrian, at the mention of that nickname he's so fond of. It's his weakness, you know, and despite the three years he's been away, he hasn't changed.

It's so good to feel him against you again, to feel his lips against yours, along your jawline to the junction with your neck. In one sharp movement, he rolls his hips to meet yours, pressing you a little harder against the wooden wall, and he catches your moan between his lips.

You know that tonight there will be no shy touches between you, no awkward explorations like in the early days of your love, when it wasn't tainted by war, blood, and death yet. You and he will both be consumed by the burning fire of passion.   You both need to release that tension and frustration, to make up for lost time, to drown, drunk with desire, in the most carnal of acts. All that matters now are his hands on your body to ease the pain pulsing between your thighs, the desperate need to feel him inside you. 

The barrier of your clothes frustrates you. You need to feel his skin against yours, to feel all of him, and your hand runs down his body to pull at the cord holding his breeches together. Immediately his fingers close around your wrist to hold you back. He wants to be in control, you know. But it has been three years and something about you just isn't the same.

"Let me worship you like I used to, qybor," you whisper against his lips, your forehead pressed against his, and you feel his jaw tighten. There's a moment of hesitation in his eyes, clouded by desire.

His thumb caresses your lips, pressing against your lower lip. You part them, just enough for the tip of your tongue to wet the top of his thumb. There are no further words exchanged between you, just silence, punctuated by your gasping breaths. His hand closes around your throat, not pressing too hard, just enough so you can feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe, just to remind you that he's in complete control of the situation.

Fuck, you've missed it; the adrenaline of his hand around your throat, the adrenaline of knowing he could do anything to you and you'd be defenceless.

"On your knees then."

The command echoes through the room and you feel the wetness seeping between your thighs as you slide to your knees in front of him. Your eyes shine with envy and you look up at him as you did years ago. You know he can't resist the angelic look on your face when you're between his thighs. You know he can't resist the dichotomy between the innocent look on your face and the sinful act you're about to commit.  He revels in your submission, and that's something you've learned to use against him.

Your uncle releases his cock from his breeches, his hand wrapped around the base, and the desire you feel between your thighs becomes more and more unbearable. The head is already glistening with anticipation, white pearls beading at the slit, and it takes all of Aemond's self-control not to grab you by the hair and force himself into your mouth entirely. 

Closing the distance, he rubs his member against your lips to spread the wetness before pushing into your mouth. Your lips close around him. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the hand holding the base of his manhood is replaced by yours to cover what you can't take. Your tongue curls around the tip first, absorbing his salty taste, and you look up at him through your long lashes. He doesn't look away from you.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caresses your cheekbone before sliding to the corner of your lips, just where his length disappears between them. It's as if he's hypnotised by the spectacle, by the bobbing of your head, by your hollowed cheeks, by your application and devotion. 

His hands leave your jaw and sink into your thick curls, urging you to take him a little deeper, and he thrusts between your lips with more vigour. You close your eyes, concentrating on not choking as his member touches the back of your throat. You take it as diligently and assiduously as ever, ignoring the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

"That's it, just like that. Such a good girl, mandianna [niece], such a good wife," you hear him grunt, his movements more erratic, more jerky, and you revel in his praise, sending a new wave of heat between your thighs. "Only for me."

You feel him throb on your tongue. You know it won't be long now, and you prepare yourself to welcome him, to let the salty taste of his seed flood your tongue, but your uncle pulls back reluctantly. 

"I would rather not waste." he whispers, his eyes riveted on the thread of saliva that connects your lips, glistening with saliva and precum, to the tip of his cock. You shudder. Aemond definitely hasn't changed much, you realise.

His hand finds your cheek again and he caresses your lips to spread the mess you've made by sucking him. You know he isn't finished. This is just the beginning and you're both driven by the consuming hunger of passion. You know what's coming now, your core clenching around nothing, and you rub your thighs together, in an attempt to soothe the impatience. 

He urges you to stand. He has that predatory look in his eyes as he closes the distance between you with his determined steps. 

" Undress," he orders, and you do not take your eyes off him as you untie the linen dress you had put on to disguise yourself as a common girl.

The garment falls heavily to the floor, forming a grey puddle at your feet, and you take a step forward.

"Do you not like seeing me dressed in rags, qybor?" you ask in a playful tone, teasing, referring to the time, years ago, when he had rescued you during your adventurous walk along the grim Silk Road where your uncle Aegon had accidentally led you. 

The memory was so close and yet so far away.

Aemond takes a step towards you, his hand brushing aside the long hair that hides your breasts to tuck it behind your shoulder.

"Not when you are meant to be my Queen." His eye glow with desire. He studies your body in detail as his fingers slide down your collarbone to your breasts. His thumb traces their underside before moving up to your nipples, hardened by the cool evening air and desire. He plays with them, eliciting a moan that satisfies him.  He looks at you like one looking at a prize, a long-awaited gift.

"Three years away from my beautiful wife," he whispers, his good eye gleaming as he looks at your breasts.

"You did have pleasant company in Harrenhal though, didn't you?" you hiss through your teeth and Aemond's hand suddenly closes around your throat to make you swallow your insolence.  You're not afraid, not anymore, for you know he won't hurt you. You have this power over him and it's delicious. 

His face is so close to yours that your noses are touching. 

He doesn't let go of you. 

"It wasn't like that." He whispers. "With her." You know he's sincere because he's almost awkward with his words, his explanation. You can see in his eye that there are so many other things he would like to tell you, but you have learned not to rush him.  It has always been difficult for him to open up, to be vulnerable.

His fingers release you. Aemond is a good head taller than you, and as he puts a hand on your shoulder, moving forward to force you back until your knees hit the mattress, your eyes remain fixed on his. 

Your uncle lays you down on the mattress. It's not the comfort of the bed you once shared, but you don't care, you just need him inside you. 

You need him to make you feel whole again. Aemond was fire, and you were willing to burn for him.  You had always burned for him.

In the candlelight of the small bedroom where you spend the night, you see his thumbs slip under the waistband of his breeches. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor.

There's something soothing about the weight of his naked body on top of yours. Once under him, you know you can surrender completely to him and stop thinking, just stop thinking.

His lips on yours, his hands on your body, his broad torso eclipsing your smaller figure.

He places kisses down your neck to your collarbone, sucking your skin between his teeth to leave purple marks that will blossom tomorrow. 

He kisses your breast, his lips closing around an erect nipple which he sucks gently, then around the other.  Your hands are buried in his long silver hair.  You can feel how wet you are between your thighs. You need him desperately, right there.

The confidence with which his fingers slide down your waist, from your hips to your inner thighs, only emphasises his ravenous expression. His touch on your folds sends a wave of heat through your body, causing your hips to move against his hand. Softly tracing the curves of your crotch, his index and middle fingers finally part your folds to collect the wetness that has formed there.

"Is it sucking your husband's cock that has got you so wet? 

Yes, you want to answer, seeking more contact, but the words are stuck in your throat.

"Stay still," he orders in a hoarse voice as you move your hips, his hands gripping your hips to pin you back against the mattress. 

You comply, for once, because you know he won't give you what you want otherwise. And you can't wait any longer, not today, not when you thought you'd never feel his warmth against your body again, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you.

"You see, you can be a good girl." His voice is softer when you obey. And to reward you, his fingers slide to your entrance, where he applies a little pressure with the tip of his middle finger without actually penetrating you. "Now beg your husband to fill you."

"Please, qybor," you murmur, your hand taking his cheek to bring his face to yours. You want him to look at you. "Please, I need you inside."

Oh, the slowness and precision with which his finger plunges into you makes you throw your head back. He begins to move back and forth, his index finger joining his middle one, caressing your spongy walls, his thumb tracing circles around your bud. Curling his fingers, he strokes that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and you clutch the sheets beneath you.

You feel your centre tighten around his fingers, the release you've been looking for so close, so very close. You shut your eyes, ready for the familiar wave of warmth to wash over your entire body, but your uncle pulls his fingers away. You grunt in frustration.

You open your eyes only to see Aemond bring his fingers to his lips indecently, spreading your wetness over his own lips. "You still taste so good," he purrs, and you feel the blush rise to your cheeks.

He leans over to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips. It's indecent.

He pulls back and you see him wrap his hand around his hardened cock, the head angrily red and already drooling in anticipation. He guides himself to your core, rubbing his length between your folds, coating it with your glistening juices. 

The round tip of his member enters you, slowly at first, stretching your narrow entrance as if to give you time to adjust. Aemond pushes and he sinks easily into you until he's fully seated, your warm, wet walls feeling heavenly around him, squeezing him just right.

" You are so tight," he growls against you as your arms close around him, your legs bent and pressed to either side of his body. 

He gives you a moment to get used to having him inside you again, to feeling him so deeply. It's exactly what you need; he stretches you deliciously, with a perfect touch of controlled pain.

You feel whole again and you want to cry.  You never want to lose that feeling. You want to keep him, against you, inside you.

You close your eyes and bury your head in the hollow above his shoulder, clinging to him as if to feel him more deeply, more intimately.

"You can move," you reply, rolling your hips to support your words. Aemond's hand immediately presses down on your stomach to hold you against the mattress and you bite your lower lip, almost guilty of forgetting his earlier command. He always has that need to control. He's the one who decides, you should know it after all these years, and you should stop being so demanding, so desperate.

"I said stay still," he scolds you, and the waiting is unbearable. 

You need him. 

When he finally pulls out and thrusts into you again, you let out a whimper. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his back, leaving crescent marks that will probably still be there the next day.

Once under him, Aemond has the ability to make you vulnerable, and part of you hate him for it.

"You take me so well," he growls after a particularly brutal thrust. "You're such a good girl."

The praise is sweet music to your ears.  You have always needed it, to be praised, complimented.

You feel him hitting that special spot deep inside you, you feel him pressing in so deeply and your grip tightens around him.

"Did you miss me?" you whisper in a voice made weak by pleasure, but all you get in return are the hoarse grunts of his voice.

Aemond lowers his eyes to look at where you are joined, hypnotised by the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. The rhythm he imposes is powerful, deep, and his fingers find their way between your bodies, reaching your little bud at the top of your folds to trace circles on it. You won't last long and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten desperately around him. Your moans grow louder.

"Look at me." His voice barely brings you back to reality, even though your mind is already far away, even though you know you can't last much longer. Painfully, you open your eyes to meet your uncle's icy gaze. " I am going to fill you up." His pacing becomes more erratic, more sloppy, and you know he won't last much longer either. Leaning on his forearm, he continues to stroke your pearl in small circles. "I am going to fill you up and you're going to take it all."

The image of you, belly round with his child, haunts him.  It never stopped haunting him, even on the brink of death, even when he thought he'd exhaled his last breath as he fell into the icy waters of the lake, his heart clenched with regret and remorse. It still is a wonder that he has survived. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Gods still had plans for him.

I'm going to fill you up. Words like that shouldn't bring you to ecstasy, and yet they do. Aemond reaches deeper, and as he feels your whole body convulse with the spasms of your orgasm, he joins you in your release. He spills his seed deep inside you before remaining still, buried against your womb, enjoying your warmth, making sure he's pouring every last drop into you. 

He doesn't want to pull out, not yet, and you close your arms around his neck, your breast pressed against his chest as he softens inside you.

The weight of his body on yours is comforting.  For the first time in years, you feel alive. For the first time in years, the open wound he left seems to be healing.

When he pulls out, you wince at the sensation of his cock slipping between your still too sensitive folds. You immediately miss the feeling of fullness. 

You barely move, your whole body still sore from your lovemaking, but you can feel his cum leaking from your entrance onto the mattress below.

Again, Aemond's fingers are between your thighs that are glistening with the intimate essence of both of you, collecting his own seed and pushing it back into you.  You whimper, still too sensitive, your lips brushing against his, and he remains inside you for a brief moment. He wants to make sure nothing is wasted.

And when he withdraws his fingers, he presses them against your lips for you to clean them.

You snuggle up against him, your head against his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, the fine line of his muscles, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. You enjoy the warmth of his body while you still can. Between your thighs you feel the sticky sensation of his seed mixing with your wetness as it still flows out of you, but you don't want to leave the embrace of his arms.

"I saw you in the gardens. With the child."

When you feel his throat vibrate, you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "It was you, then?" You swallow. "It was you watching me." It's more of an observation than a question, and you suddenly understand that constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At least you weren't crazy. 

He lets out a hm and pauses.

"Is he yours?"

You know where this question is leading. You fear the moment of truth.  You'd deluded yourself into thinking you could avoid it, but you were naive; did you really think you could hide the truth from him for much longer, now that he was back?

"Yes." You answer, looking away. You're nervous, and he can feel it.

"He's Cregan Stark's son, isn't he?"

Your heart clenches. You hesitate for a moment. You should lie.  You know you should lie.  To protect your son and your family, as you've protected them for the past three years.  You only need one word.

You hear him sighing beneath you, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No, he's not." 

The words leave your lips before you can even stop them. You hold your breath. Beneath you, Aemond tenses. He straightens, puzzled, silent.

"A bastard, then?" His voice is dry, almost mocking, revealing a form of irritation. "I did not expect this from you, dear niece." Disappointment.

You feel anger boiling inside you at the thought of him insulting your son, your sweet boy you love so much. You swallow the lump that has formed in your throat and rise on your forearms, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn your hard gaze on him.

You don't know how to express the words that are desperately trying to escape your lips. 

" He has blue eyes," you add, and you can see the confusion on his face. A lock of hair slips from your shoulder and falls around your face. "Your blue eyes."

You feel him tense up. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one seeing eye.  It's rare to see Aemond Targaryen so unsure of himself, so full of doubt. He stares at you as if he's afraid he's heard you wrong, as if he's afraid he's invented the words that have come out of your mouth.

"What did you say?"

You look away. You bite your lower lip, regretting your words.  You want to bury your face in his chest. You breath. 

"He is your son, Aemond." You finally admit it.

It's true that Rhaegar's brown curls could easily make him look like a Stark. Cregan had offered to raise him as his own, and you had smiled at his kindness.

Rhaegar is so much like you. Like you, and like Luke, and especially like Jace as a child, of whom he is the spitting image. He has the soft features of your face, but his eyes make him undeniably Aemond's son.

Your uncle holds you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, his long nose buried in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair.

"My son," he repeats in awe.  It's rare to see Aemond smile with sincerity.  Especially after the war has worn him down, made him more ruthless than ever.

"His name is Rhaegar," you say. "Just as we discussed." There's shyness in your voice.

He straightens, you on top, straddling him, and he seeks your lips to kiss you fiercely. His desire awakens beneath you; you feel him harden against your core again.

And this time, he makes love to you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I missed the best part." He purrs against you, his hand absently caressing your breast before sliding down your body to rest on your flat stomach, just above where your womb lies. He clenches his hand possessively over your flesh. His voice is almost tinged with regret. Your hand rests on his.

"You shouldn't have left me," you reply, bitter. Deep down, you're still angry with him. Your gaze falls on your stomach, where both your hands lie, yours on top of his, clasped together. "You shouldn't have let your anger dictate your actions," you add, looking away. "But you were blinded by your desire for revenge, by your desire to prove that you could be better than him.” You swallow.

It is his fault, after all, that he missed your son's birth, that he didn't see him grow through the tender years of his infancy.

Rhaegar needed a father, and it was Cregan who raised him.

"Does he even know who I am? Who his father is?"

The guilty look on your face betrays you, and you know immediately that you've hurt his feelings. It may be selfish of you, but he needs to understand.

"You were supposed to be dead. There's still a lot he doesn't know." 

He doesn't say anything. You don't have the courage to meet his hard, stern gaze, you don't have the courage to see the disappointment and pain on his face, because if you do, your heart will tighten and you will fall apart.

"He's still so young. Give him time." You add, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his hand, in an attempt to soothe him. 

You know how much Aemond wanted a son, and you know it's cruel to take that from him.  You know he would have made a good father. You can picture him with Rhaegar on his knee, reading him stories, telling him about the adventures of Vhagar and Visenya, and you love the image that forms in your mind.

You told Rhaegar about Aemond, though he was still too young to understand. You told him that his father had once owned the greatest dragon in the world, that his father was a fearless man for it was true, and you saw his big eyes light up. 

Aemond pulls you closer to him. "I want to be there for him, you know."  Unlike Viserys, but he doesn't have to say it, you understand what he means in the undertone he leaves at the end of his sentence.  He has always suffered from his father's indifference.

You cuddle up to him and he runs his fingers through your long curls. For a moment, you imagine that everything is fine and you search for his touch. He plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"I've missed you," he admits, the words landing on the tips of his lips in the silence of the bedroom, but you're already dozing off.

You know that tomorrow will be made up of choices and decisions. 

But for now, you fall asleep in the embrace of his very real arms, for once, enjoying the illusion of the life you both could have had.

[aajjks]

nowhere (m)

synopsis. breaking up with him is not possible- ever.

warning: yändèrè bèhâvïöür, töxïc rèlätïönshïp dynämïc, töxïc!bf!köö, nön-cön kïssïng, sêxïst bf, cräzy bêhävïöür, ünhëälthy rèlätïônshïp.

disclaimer: this fic contains really triggering dark themes which can be triggering for a lot of people and honestly if you have a significant other that’s like him in the fic then please I’m begging you to leave. This is not something you should have to endure. Please leave. Also reminder that this is completely fictional and this doesn’t represent jungkook at all. This is just a toxic character that’s not him.

How do you tell your, frankly, crazy boyfriend that you want to break up?

You don’t know why you got with him in the first place maybe it was because he was really charming and soft? Respectful and patient? So how did everything change?

Why did he change? It’s like being with him now it’s suffocating you. he’s really clingy and he doesn’t know how to take a no. He does what he wants and you cannot bring it in you to deny him.

Because then the guilt tripping starts.

You don’t understand how a grown man can like him can manage to cry within seconds. You’re tired, it’s been two years- he’s a changed man and you don’t like it at all.

And now you want to break up with him. But you’re not sure on how to go about it. He’s going to be home soon, so you’re feeling really anxious.

Jeon Jungkook is a really sensitive man when it comes to you and your relationship with him, he clearly loves you but his love feels really toxic now.

You love him too but you just can’t ignore the obvious cracks in your relationship- you have to leave before it’s too late. Just as you are pacing around your shared homes living room, you hear someone entering the home code and you’re not surprised because you know who it is.

Ask the door unlocked and he answers you stop pacing around the large room, and before you can even greet him or look at him with focus, he’s calling out your name.

“Yn!!!! my love I missed you so so much!!”

There is the man you’ve been waiting for, and you don’t feel excited to see him, but rather you feel a burden on your heart. Jungkook looks good, he’s always looked good. He’s really particular about his fashion and how he looks.

Something you used to like him but now it’s kind of annoying. Maybe it’s because of the fact that he always wants you to praise him.

You force yourself to smile as he walks closer to you, before dropping his car keys at the nearest table. You wait for him to come to you because that’s how it always is.

He loves it when you welcome him, Jungkook immediately wrapped his arms around your body, his favorite part of your body is definitely your waist. His hands are always resting on it. His grip is definitely possessive..

When he leans in closer to kiss you, you actually manage to dodge it, you can’t help it you don’t want to be with him anymore and what is the point in beating the bush around..? The fear will just keep on fucking with your mind at this point.

Jungkooks gaze changes from affectionate to anger and a small glare is sent your way. You sigh, looking at him.. “jungkook..” you don’t even call him kook or kookie like you used to, and he notices that because he’s tilting his head like he’s confused.

“Yn.. what is going on with you? Why would you refuse my kiss?” Before you can speak. He asks you a question instead, he likes his lips looking like he is genuinely confused and clueless.

He knows how to play dumb.

So before you reply to him, you try to get his hands off your waist, you are actually not sure if you’re going on the right track by doing this but it’s now or never.

“Listen to me.” You look straight into his eyes, but you fail to get his arms off of you. “Jungkook I want to break up.”

You blurt the words out, your heart is beating like crazy right now, because he’s so close to you and his reactions are always over-the-top and unpredictable.

Nothing is the same anymore and it hurts.

“I don’t think we are right for each other and it took me some time to realize that but I’ve given this a lot of thought and I think that this is the best thing for us.” You breathe out when he doesn’t respond. He’s just staring at you with a blank expression.

His eyes are suddenly empty, and his lips are pressed in a thin line, his hands are tightly wrapped around you, it’s like he froze.

“Ugh… I’m so sorry to do this so suddenly, but I cannot be with you anymore” you feel a little bad that you’re being so rude about this but you have to be really blunt because if you’re not, he’s gonna think that you’re just joking.

Because he doesn’t want to take things that he doesn’t like to hear, seriously.

You have to be blunt with him, because he’s always gonna find a reason to dodge your questions or completely avoid what you’re saying.

“can you let me go please? I have to go pack my stuff up… I didn’t do it because I just wanted to tell you first.”

He is still not speaking and it’s getting even more awkward and intense because it’s like you’re talking to yourself, you try again to break out of his grip, but it’s futile.

When you give him a weird look, Jungkook begins to laugh, taking you by surprise. It’s your turn to be confused.

Your soon to be ex-boyfriend, laughing like you just told him a great joke. And it’s starting to piss you off because this is not a joke.

You want to be free.

“Jungkook!” You call out his name, and he just leans more close to you if that’s even possible and all you can smell is expensive perfume, and the scent of cigarette coming from him.

Jungkook doesn’t reply to you and you actually feel like you’ll go insane. If he doesn’t want to reply to you that’s fine why doesn’t he just let you go?

Your questions aren’t answered, but he takes you by surprise once again by pulling you in for a kiss- he immediately shoved his tongue in and you let him because you’re so shocked to even comprehend what just happened.

What the fuck is he doing?

You just broke up with him and he’s kissing you, like his life, depends on it. He’s rough, running his hands all over your back, sloppily kissing you, swallowing your breath away.

You try to push him off of you, but then you just give up when he doesn’t budge, maybe he just wants to kiss you for the last time?

So you let him.

His touch is really familiar and you’re definitely going to miss it. You won’t even lie about that but.. you remind yourself that this is for the better and you shouldn’t melt.

After what feels like hours, he finally pulls away when you try to push him away once again, because he’s forgotten that he hast to stop.

You feel like you’ll actually suffocate, because you are unable to breathe at all, “o-oh my God.” You pant out, finally managing to push him away because he’s also panting, so take the opportunity to remove his hands from you, and you immediately start to back away.

“ what the fuck is wrong with you? I just broke up with you and that’s what you do? You are not allowed to do this anymore… and I’m going away.”

You’re gonna stay with your friend for a while because you don’t have an apartment of your own because you have been living with your ex-boyfriend for the past two years.

This relationship was rushed. You did things with him way too fast. And now you’re regretting every single decision.

“what the fuck are you talking about? Yn… are you fucking stupid? Ha.” he suddenly takes your attention, and you watch him wipe the corner of his lips.

“we’re not breaking up. What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you think this is funny because it’s not- I just came back from a long day work, and this is what you do to me?” He stalks towards your direction.

You back away, and he takes a step closer to you.

“you don’t hold the reins of this relationship- I do.” he scoffs, looking at you, like you’ve grown two heads. “you cannot leave me.” he runs his hands through his long curly locks, looking all frustrated.

“Now shut the fuck up” he smirks, trapping you in. “ do you want me to punish you?” The wall feels so cold, and you actually feel terrified of him.

The look in his eyes right now is animalistic. He looks murderous.

“don’t piss me off- the only way you can break up with me is by dying and I won’t let you die so easily.” do you want to speak but no words come out of your mouth.

Not when he speaks in that authoritive tone, but it’s pissing you off because you’re not a child and he is speaking to you like you you’re one misbehaving child, and you deserve to be scolded.

He’s toxic.

“you don’t own me. I’ve had enough.” You try to argue back but it’s no use really because your words are falling on deaf ears.

He doesn’t even deem you important enough to listen to what you’re saying. “Shut up. You’re really asking for it.” He looks like you with a sickly, sweet smile.

“now… I am hungry, so serve me food. I had a very stressful day and don’t make it even more stressful by talking bullshit.”

you want to scoff but what is the use? There is really no way out of this relationship.- you want to cry right now… this is not the man you fell in love with.

Right now you see a monster standing in front of you, who has got you trapped between him and the wall.

There is really no way out.

“there is no way out yn. Make your stupid little brain understand that. Before I make you.”

[makingqueerhistory]

Spooky Queer Books

Since spooky season is starting, I thought I would share a list of my favourite queer books that are great for this time of year.

Some of these links are affiliate links.

It Came from the Closet: Queer Reflections on Horror

Joe Vallese

Horror movies hold a complicated space in the hearts of the queer community: historically misogynist, and often homo- and transphobic, the genre has also been inadvertently feminist and open to subversive readings. Common tropes--such as the circumspect and resilient "final girl," body possession, costumed villains, secret identities, and things that lurk in the closet--spark moments of eerie familiarity and affective connection. Still, viewers often remain tasked with reading themselves into beloved films, seeking out characters and set pieces that speak to, mirror, and parallel the unique ways queerness encounters the world.It Came from the Closet features twenty-five essays by writers speaking to this relationship, through connections both empowering and oppressive. From Carmen Maria Machado on Jennifer's Body, Jude Ellison S. Doyle on In My Skin, Addie Tsai on Dead Ringers, and many more, these conversations convey the rich reciprocity between queerness and horror.

Into the Drowning Deep

Mira Grant

The ocean is home to many myths, But some are deadly... Seven years ago the Atargatis set off on a voyage to the Mariana Trench to film a mockumentary bringing to life ancient sea creatures of legend. It was lost at sea with all hands. Some have called it a hoax; others have called it a tragedy. Now a new crew has been assembled. But this time they're not out to entertain. Some seek to validate their life's work. Some seek the greatest hunt of all. Some seek the truth. But for the ambitious young scientist Victoria Stewart this is a voyage to uncover the fate of the sister she lost. Whatever the truth may be, it will only be found below the waves. But the secrets of the deep come with a price.

The Devouring Gray

C. L. Herman

After her sister's death, seventeen-year-old Violet Saunders finds herself dragged to Four Paths, New York. Violet may be a newcomer, but she soon learns her mother isn't: They belong to one of the revered founding families of the town, where stone bells hang above every doorway and danger lurks in the depths of the woods. Justin Hawthorne's bloodline has protected Four Paths for generations from the Gray--a lifeless dimension that imprisons a brutal monster. After Justin fails to inherit his family's powers, his mother is determined to keep this humiliation a secret. But Justin can't let go of the future he was promised and the town he swore to protect. Ever since Harper Carlisle lost her hand to an accident that left her stranded in the Gray for days, she has vowed revenge on the person who abandoned her: Justin Hawthorne. There are ripples of dissent in Four Paths, and Harper seizes an opportunity to take down the Hawthornes and change her destiny--to what extent, even she doesn't yet know. The Gray is growing stronger every day, and its victims are piling up. When Violet accidentally unleashes the monster, all three must band together with the other Founders to unearth the dark truths behind their families' abilities...before the Gray devours them all.

Tell Me I'm Worthless

Alison Rumfitt

Three years ago, Alice spent one night in an abandoned house with her friends, Ila and Hannah. Since then, Alice's life has spiraled. She lives a haunted existence, selling videos of herself for money, going to parties she hates, drinking herself to sleep. Memories of that night torment Alice, but when Ila asks her to return to the House, to go past the KEEP OUT sign and over the sick earth where teenagers dare each other to venture, Alice knows she must go. Together, Alice and Ila must face the horrors that happened there, must pull themselves apart from the inside out, put their differences aside, and try to rescue Hannah, whom the House has chosen to make its own. Cutting, disruptive, and darkly funny, Tell Me I'm Worthless is a vital work of trans fiction that examines the devastating effects of trauma and how fascism makes us destroy ourselves and each other.

[kiiwiigii]

Mine

Jasper x Vampire!Fem!Reader 

Summary: You make the mistake of wearing someone else's hoodie. 

Warnings: 

NSFW 18+ 

Smut 

The Major *wink, wink* 

Possessive sex 

Oral (F. receiving) 

Cream pie 

Word Count: 2.8k+ 

Requested?: For Kinktober! 

Intense and angry possessive sex with jasper pleaaaaaase 🙏 

A/N: A special thank you to @alecvolturi and @demetris-cocksleeve who both encouraged me to not bin this. This was the most frustrating one I have written so far. But I hope you enjoy!

I honestly should have seen it coming. 

It would be just my luck to be left alone with Jasper while the family had decided to take separate vacations. 

Coming out of the newborn stage at 2 years, I still didn't feel comfortable enough to be out in the world just yet. Alaska was a safe haven for me until I felt I was ready. So, Jasper had stayed behind, essentially playing babysitter. 

And it was awkward as hell. 

I think it was obvious that I had a crush on him. 

Obvious to everyone in the fucking house. 

Including Jasper. 

And I knew he could feel it. Which was as embarrassing as it sounds. And it was quite obvious that he didn't feel the same way, since he had never acted on it. 

We were just friends. 

And as awkward as it was, I sucked it up and enjoyed his company instead. 

At least he couldn't hear my thoughts, unlike poor Edward. 

Jasper made sure that we had something new to do every day, but he also gave me space when he sensed I needed it. In a weird way, it felt like we had been growing closer, and I had caught him looking at me often, something flashing in the back of his eyes. And like me, he would look away quickly.  

It was like a sort of dance that neither of us would admit to. 

I sat on the kitchen counter, watching the snow drift by in thick flurries through the large windows. Alice had given us the heads-up that a storm was rolling in during one of her daily check-ins. Jasper and I had just returned from hunting a few hours ago, and despite being cold-natured now, I was still uncomfortably cold. I held a cup of hot water in my hands. Not to drink, but it made me feel somewhat normal, and it warmed my hands fairly well. 

I let my mind wander. I should go sit in the living room where the fire was, I'd be much warmer. But Jasper was in there. And every time I even looked at the fire all I could think about was him taking me right there on the floor in front of it, the plush rug soothing against the skin of my back- 

I squirmed a little at just at the thought of it. 

"Darlin'?" 

I blinked up at Jasper. I had been so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn't even been paying attention to my surroundings. He had only taken to calling me 'darlin' recently and it practically set my body afire. By God, if I could blush, I would be beet red. Quickly clearing my thoughts, I smiled up at him. 

"Hey, Jazz." 

"What are you wearing?" 

I looked down at what I had on. Shorts and a hoodie. 

"Clothes?" It came out as a question. 

"Yes, I can see that. But why are you wearing Emmett's clothes?"  

I started at the anger in Jasper's tone, surprised and wary. I eyed him quizzically. 

"Because. I wanted his hoodie. I like it."  

 Jasper scowled, and disappeared before reappearing a moment later, one of his own hoodies in hand 

"Here. This is much warmer, and I know you're cold."  

"Why do you care?" I raised a brow at him in challenge. 

This was completely out of character for Jasper and to say that I was confused was an understatement. 

We had a mild stare-down until Jasper actually growled at me. I sucked in a breath, heat shooting straight between my legs, and I squeezed my thighs together again.  

Fuck.  

That was playing dirty.  

And given my current state of emotions, he absolutely had to know it. 

"Just get rid of it." He demanded. 

"What?" 

"Emmett's hoodie. Get. Rid. Of. It." 

I gulped, a little uncomfortable with Jasper's sudden mood swings. I quickly took the hoodie from his hands. It was his dark blue one, my favorite one to see him in. 

He continued to stare at me, waiting, and I cleared my throat. Finally, he raised a brow at me, and I rolled my eyes, trying to fight the bit of embarrassment rolling through me. 

"Well, if you insist on me putting it on right here and now, Jasper, I'm going to insist that you turn around." 

His brows furrowed adorably. "And why would I need to do that?" 

I looked away from our little staring contest, biting my lip. "Because I don't have anything else on under it." 

Jasper straightened up and his eyes darkened as he looked at me, and if I'd had a beating heart it would have leaped at the burning look in his eyes. 

"What?" I said defensively. "It's soft. I like how it feels! Most of my clothes are scratchy!" 

He turned around quickly, his hands coming up to massage his temples. Keeping an eye on him I quickly discarded Emmet's hoodie and slid my arms through the sleeves of Jasper's, zipping it all the way up. I discreetly buried my nose into it for a moment. It was so much softer than Emmet's, and it smelled significantly better. Like Jasper. 

Fuck. 

I could feel the wetness beginning between my thighs. 

I needed to escape. 

Like, now. 

I couldn't exactly hide it, but it was way better than creating an uncomfortable atmosphere for the both of us. 

"You know, you wouldn't feel so cold if you put more clothes on." He was facing me again. 

I felt embarrassment flood through me. He had a point. And it was also the perfect excuse to escape- 

"Not that I really mind," He continued with a smirk, his eyes raking up and down my form. "I like what I see. And I like  how you look in my clothes. Especially in my clothes." 

My brain screeched to a halt, my lips parting in shock. His southern drawl had suddenly gotten deeper. This sounded like the Major talking. I had only met the Major once, right before Victoria's army came for Bella. That had been… an experience to say the least. And if that part of him was coming out, then that explained his sudden shift in mood. 

"And I have to say that I also prefer you wrapped up in my scent."  

He was practically purring. 

I gulped, suddenly on edge. "Why?" 

Jasper's eyes were predatory, nearly black. "Because darlin', you're mine." 

My eyes widened at his words. He approached me slowly, hands reaching out on either side of me on the counter, my legs falling open unconsciously and allowing him into my space. He leaned in, eyes watching me with such intensity that I forgot how to breathe. Perhaps it was a good thing that I didn't need to breathe because before I knew it, I felt a wave of lust roll through me, and it wasn't just my own. 

I gasped as he leaned in, claiming my lips with his own, and my legs wrapped around him without a second thought. He groaned, cupping my neck as he tilted my head back, while his other hand gripped my waist possessively. He tasted like mint, with a small tinge of copper from hunting earlier in the day. He swiped his tongue along my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth obediently, letting him in. 

After a moment he pulled back and buried his nose into my neck, his hands sliding down to grip my thighs. I tried to catch my breath, despite not really needing it. 

"You taste so much better than I thought you would." His voice was low and husky, muffled by the fabric of his hoodie. 

Goosebumps erupted across my body, and I could practically feel the wetness begin to drip down my thighs to the counter.  Jasper must have caught on to my confusion and doubt because he gripped my thighs even tighter. 

"Oh, yes. You have no idea how many times I've thought about you, darlin'." He pulled back to look at me. "Of all the ways I could have you. In my bed. On the couch. On the floor. Against the wall."

I gasped, thighs squeezing together around his waist. 

"That's right, darlin'. I've lost count of how many times I've thought of making you mine." 

"Yours?" I squeaked. 

"Mine." 

Oh my.  

Oh fuck. 

I really, really liked it when he was possessive. 

I moaned, clutching his shirt, a bit dazed as he swooped in for another kiss. 

"Oh," I gasped as he kissed his way down, lightly raking his teeth against my neck, his hands tracing invisible lines over my curves.  

I could feel every inch of him pressed up against me, and it was almost too much. I rolled my hips up against him and he pulled away, breathing heavily. 

Before I could comprehend what was happening, I was being lifted off the counter. One of his arms wrapped around my waist while the other slid under my ass to hold me up. I held on for dear life as he carried me to the living room and sat me down on the couch. I stared at him as he kneeled in front of me on the floor, spreading my legs open slightly. 

Jasper suddenly paused, looking up at me with dark eyes. 

"This is your one and only chance to tell me no. Otherwise, I will have you, right here and now, and there will be no going back." 

I gulped but said nothing, choosing to nod instead. 

"Use your words, darlin'. I need to hear you say yes." 

"Y- yes." 

"That's my girl." 

He smirked before reaching up and tugging at the zipper of the hoodie, the fabric slowly falling away to reveal my nakedness underneath. I automatically went to cover my breasts when Jasper grabbed my wrists with a warning growl. 

"Don't you even think about it darlin'. You are mine. And I want to admire every inch of you." 

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt a thrill of pleasure and submission at his words, my body betraying me as my nipples hardened. 

Jasper let out a purr of pleasure and slowly let go of my wrists, pulling my arms away from my body and exposing my breasts to his hungry gaze. 

I gasped when he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around my waist, splaying his hands across my back beneath the hoodie, and pressing me to him, sucking one of my nipples into his mouth. My hands automatically came up to twist themselves in his hair, my back arching at the wet sensation of his tongue on my skin.  

I couldn't help but moan as he nipped and licked before biting down lightly, teasingly. I gasped as the pain and pleasure mixed together, creating a delicious sensation that had my pussy practically pulsing. The sensations were overwhelming, and I couldn't keep still. I started to rock my hips against him, moaning. 

Before I knew it, he was pulling away, leaving me to whimper at the loss of his tongue.  

Jasper slowly began to peel my shorts down my legs, exposing my soaked panties. 

I squirmed at the way he took in the sight of me before traveling back up to my face. 

"Mine." he purred, his eyes never leaving mine as he hooked his thumbs into my panties. He gave them a little yank, and I felt them slide down my legs. "Fuck. You're gorgeous."  

His hands trailed up my smooth, silky legs and I quivered as his hands got closer to my heated center. I couldn't help but whimper as one of his hands traced the apex of where my thigh met my pussy, right along the panty line.  

"Please." I begged softly. 

I gasped in surprise at how quickly he moved, one hand gripping my ass to pull me closer, and the other quickly shoving his face into my soaked pussy. 

I had to bite back another moan, my back arching as he slid his tongue along my folds and began to lick me. 

"Holy fuck," I managed to croak out, my eyes nearly rolling to the back of my head. 

The feeling of his hot tongue along my slick folds was almost like an electric shock, hitting me in the base of my stomach and sending sparks throughout my body, ending in my fingertips, which had tangled themselves in Jasper's golden locks. 

I had completely lost control of myself, practically squirming with each swipe of his tongue. Jasper grasped my thighs to keep me still, relentless in his assault. He started swirling his tongue around my clit, teasing me, and slowly driving me closer to my climax. The feeling of his mouth finally deciding to suck on my clit sent me right over the edge. 

I let out a cry as I came hard, gasping for breath. Jasper didn't let up, continuing to viciously lap up my juices as he sent me spiraling into yet another orgasm.   

By the time my breathing had returned to normal, he had somehow managed to escape from my hold and was standing in front of me. 

"We're not done yet, darlin'." 

I swallowed thickly. He smirked, watching me intently as he slowly unbuttoned his jeans, making me even more aware that I was unable to get rid of my burning need for him. He slid his jeans down and kicked them off before stepping close to me. I could smell the faint scent of me on his breath and I licked my lips in anticipation as he inched closer. 

"We're not done until you can't walk." 

I sucked in a surprised breath, pussy practically pulsing with need. 

Jasper chuckled as he pushed me back on the couch and spread my legs wider. His touch was soft and gentle as he spread my pussy open and slid two fingers inside me, stroking them in and out yet again. This man had magic fingers. And if he had me coming undone with just his tongue and fingers alone, it made me wonder what he was able to do with his cock. 

"I have to make sure you're nice n' ready for me darlin'." He murmured. "Here, put your hands up under your knees for me. Just like that. Now, don't let go." 

I obeyed, chest heaving and now fully exposed in a way I never thought possible. Jasper grinned before leaning in and kissing me deeply, tugging at my bottom lip with his teeth. 

I could taste myself on his lips and it only made me more aroused. He slowly slid his fingers out of me and replaced them with his hard, throbbing length. 

When had he lost the underwear?? 

I didn't have much time to think about it before he was pushing himself inside me, filling me up in one smooth thrust.  

I let out a ragged breath in surprise. 

"Jasper!" I squeaked. 

I was so full that I could feel every inch of him, so thick and hard. 

Jasper barely stopped to pause, bending down to nip at my ear in admonishment before he started thrusting in and out of me, a slow, steady rhythm that had me moaning and gripping the underside of my knees for dear life. 

Fuck. 

He was hitting that spot again, and I had the feeling that I wouldn't be seeing only stars this time around. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to another orgasm, the pleasure building up inside me until I couldn't take it anymore. 

"Jasper," I gasped out, my nails digging into my thighs. "I'm gonn- gonna come." 

He grinned before driving himself even deeper into me, his pace picking up as he started to drive me closer and closer to the edge, feeling my walls practically strangling his cock. 

"Come for me, Darlin'." He purred.  

My toes curled in pleasure as the coil building in my belly snapped, and I came hard, my body shaking and my pussy clenching around him. Jasper followed suit a few seconds later, his body going rigid as he came inside me.  

"Don't move." He ordered. 

Jasper paused before pulling out, looking down at me with a satisfied grin, eyes still dark and intense. I was panting, doing my best to catch my breath yet again while holding my legs up. I could feel his seed dripping out of my pussy and onto the couch. 

He licked his lips, taking in the sight of me and I nearly moaned at the thought of what he was seeing. I must look like a wreck. Completely ruined. Half dressed in his hoodie and completely defiled, his cum running down my pussy and ass. 

Jasper smirked. 

"Oh, darlin'. You look perfect that way." 

{Kinktober} // {Masterlist}

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[deadsetobsessions]

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

-

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

-

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

-

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

-

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

-

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

[thecuriousquest]

Dirt Bag (Daddy Loves You Part Two)

Yan!Step Dad Toji x Fem!Reader

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @murderofravens

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, rape/non con vaginal sex, rape/non con anal sex, heavy spanking, possessive tendencies, guns, death threats, pot references, degradation kink, Daddy kink, all characters are 18+

Master List

Part One

My Ask Box is currently closed while I catch up on requests. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

—————————————————————————

OR

You guys do not get along with each other AT ALL, and he takes this out on you by being petty as fuck. If you’re not going to be his good little girl, then he’s going to be stern as fuck until you can get your fucking shit together.

He tells you this every time you try to argue about curfew, every time he sees you’re about to go out dressed in those snug jeans and a crop top.

Honestly, he couldn’t give a fuck about what you wear, but he’s petty, so he’s going to order you to go back upstairs and change.

You got a problem with it? It just means he gets to spend more time keeping you at home while arguing with you. Argue too much and he might just pull out a wooden spoon and smack your ass with it a few times until you back out of his reach and shoot up to your room about as fast as a bottle rocket.

Damn. The power a wooden spoon holds, huh?

It makes him feel bigger than he already is.

But he isn’t in the mood to argue when he sees you walking inside with a boy. Neither of you get even five steps in when he rolls his eyes and stands from the living room couch. Fuck, work was hell. Killing for money today was just awful. Now he has to deal with you and some fucking idiot?

He pushes you towards the stairs, roughly. You fall on the fourth step on your ass, hitting your elbow on the hard wood.

“What the fuck’s up your ass, old man?!”

He doesn’t even bother with you as he fixes his eyes on the asshole in his doorway.

“Out,” is all he says as he points towards the screen door that just shut a few seconds ago.

“Whoa, man, who even are you?”

He looks stoned. Of course he looks stoned.

“I said-“ he grabs his gun, the same one he took on his mission earlier. “Out.” He cocks the gun and points it straight at the guy wreaking of pot. “Now.”

And that sobers him up pretty quick because he’s out the door in less than two seconds.

You watch your step dad put his gun back in his waistband, and you scream at him.

“Why do you ruin everything for me?!”

His eyes finally turn to you, dark and cold like a moonless sky. He grabs you by your jaw, pulling you in close while keeping your ass on the steps.

“I hafta protect you from scum like that because you’re a fuckin’ idiot.”

That’s the only reason he gives you as he tucks you under one arm, keeping you close to his hip.

“You kick, I’ll start spankin’ you.”

But you don’t listen to his warning, so you thrash and beat on his bulky thigh through his sweat pants, never relenting until a firm palm comes down on the pocket of your jeans.

You elicit a guttural cry from the impact, feeling fire blossom across the cheek he just smacked.

“Oh, you asshole! Fuck you, Toji- OW!”

It only gets worse from there. He walks to his bedroom that he shares with your mother, and as he walks, he roasts your ass. The jeans make you feel like you have zero protection because it just hurts so fucking much.

“Toji!” you cry out as he throws you on the bed, bending you like one of those art dolls made for posing.

He manhandles you onto your stomach, giving you your real punishment as he tears your jeans off of you.

“You’ve been a real bad girl, ya know that? Disregardin’ Daddy like a fuckin’ bitch.”

And it’s so much worse now to feel his hand, which could be just as bad as a belt, bite into your supple skin. You break down, snot dripping from your nose as tears spill over your lashes. You grip the shitty comforter, kicking every once in a while when the burn gets so bad that you just can’t control your limbs.

“Toji, stop!”

All he hears is a demand, and nobody orders Toji around. Especially not his dirt bag daughter.

It takes a while to get you there, but you finally lower your head in acceptance, submission as you murmur “please, please” while crying so terribly.

And Toji can’t help but palm the meat of your ass, the doughy flesh now sporting a horrible scarlet.

“Damn, that’s gotta hurt, hon,” is all he says as he massages your raw skin.

You hear rustling coming from the bedside before there’s a presence in between your legs. You’re quick to try to turn over, but one large forearm across your lower back keeps you right where he wants you.

“This is kinda yer own fault, ya know? Such a filthy little slut.” He impales you, splitting you with his piercing cock. “Damn. So fuckin’ tight. Who would’ve known? Thought you’d be loose with the way ya act and dress.”

You feel like your soul has left your body, not even hearing your own screams as your step dad fucks you on the bed he shares with your mom.

“Stop it! I hate you!” you wail as you pound your little fists into the pillow.

Toji coos at you. “Come on, hon, don’t be like that. Want me to fuck yer ass instead?”

The shock of his words still you, and you whimper and plead for him not to.

“Then tell me ya fuckin’ love me so much. Tell Daddy ya love ‘em.”

This is the sickest kind of “love” imaginable.

Gasping for air through a sob stuck in your throat, you feel your stomach roil as you repeat the words he wants to hear.

“I love you, Daddy.”

“Yeah? Yeah, love ya too, hon.”

The control he has over you is strangling as he bullies that little spot that has your hips bumping into the mattress. He reaches underneath you with one hand, supporting himself with the other. Just like that, he fiddles with your clit, pinching and twirling the puffy thing.

You stiffen as something builds and continues building until you just can’t keep still anymore. You let go of the tension, and Toji can feel your juices all over his thigh-slapping cock.

But Toji isn’t a nice man. No, Toji is a terrible man who kills people for money and fucks his dirt bag daughter until she breaks as a punishment.

He pulls out of your throbbing pussy and lets his wet dick nestle against your asshole. Your eyes widen when you feel him pushing inside.

“I told you I loved you!”

“Yeah, I heard ya. Daddy loves ya too, baby girl.”

He pumps deep inside of you, skin-on-skin contact so rough it sounds like clapping. Your freshly spanked ass so raw and bruised that you cry every time he pistons into you.

And finally, finally, the moment he’s been waiting for, you collapse into the bed in a heap of sobs and messy whimpers. Oh, it’s so good to watch you no longer hold yourself up on your elbows. With your face in the scratchy pillow case, he pulls you back by your pony tail and whispers the worst things into your ear.

“I’m all ya got, hon. Don’t worry. Daddy will take such good care of his baby girl. Yeah, no more bein’ bad for Daddy. Next time ya act up, Daddy’s gonna think you want it real bad in that cute little pussy and tight ass. Ya got me?”

And you’re so distraught you can barely respond, but you somehow find the capability to say, “Yes, Daddy!” because you fear what he might do if you call him anything else.

The laughs from above you confirms your suspicion that you made the correct choice in calling him “Daddy”. He pounds your fluttering little asshole, calling you “his bitchy little brat”, saying that you won’t be like that anymore though, telling you he’s going to be a lot more firm with you from now on because he doesn’t like the dirt bag you’re turning into.

And he’s starting with the friends and boys you hang around. Whispering in your ear that he’ll kill them all before he lets you officially turn into one of them.

You tighten up in fear, crying because doing that makes it worse for your poor, squelching hole. You nod along, agreeing with him for now.

And when your step dad is on the edge, he jizzes inside of your asshole, filling you up. When he pulls out, he’s fascinated by his white hot come spilling out of you, dripping between your scarlet cheeks, disappearing between the folds of your pussy.

“Atta girl. Knew ya could take it.”

A final clap of appreciation to your sore bottom has you sobbing a fresh round of tears.

He rolls his eyes and rubs your back, pulling you in close to him as he lays his head on the pillow. What’s even worse is that you’re so tired you actually fall asleep on his chest.

[dilfartist]

Yandere JJK Headcannons

Kidnapping, dark themes, abuse, talk of killing, stalking, obsession, the usual yandere warnings, yandere tendencies.

Notes; {Sorry if any of the characters seem out of character, just started season 2. Please enjoy. I know this isn’t the best work but I want to get back into the writing game.}

Reader description; Female/GN

Not proofread

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Gojo Satoru

When it comes to Satoru Gojo’s love life, it’s quite lonely. Although Gojo is a very attractive man, he lacks a relationship for two main reasons: Gojo’s lack of commitment and his status as the strongest (implied in the mangas.)

So when you catch Gojo’s eye he is taken aback by his feelings. Why have you altered his brain? Usually, he meets a girl/guy and they’ll be the ones to swoon over him, or he’ll be interested in them for a while until his responsibilities have overtaken his mind and the person fades away into a forgotten memory that lingers in the back of his mind. However, with you it's different. He is the one swooning over you, kicking his feet and giggling like a schoolgirl with a massive crush. The thought of you never leaves his mind. He’s conflicted.

He doesn't mind hurting or threatening others for you.

Not a day goes by without at least a mention of you in his mind. When he’s cooking, he’ll think, I wonder what ramen they like. When he’s in the shower, (Name) smells like [favorite scent], I wonder what shampoo they use. When at work, I should check by their house today, just to make sure no cursed spirits are rooming around.

Whether you are a civilian or another teacher, you are most definitely weaker than him. This fact makes Gojo so possessive over you. Gojo knows what happens to weak people; they die by his hand or others. He worries for you, a lot. He is a very busy man even if he does send his students to complete his tasks. Not to say time for himself is nonexistent, no, it's just he can’t check on you the amount of times he’d like to. He is The Gojo Satoru; most curses and people have it out for him. If anyone were to notice his obvious attachment to you, you’d be killed, most likely, immediately. So as a result of his uncommon paranoia, he snatches you up.

Once you’re in Gojo’s care, Gojo will try his best to make you feel at home. He knows that taking you away from family, friends, and overall having your own freedom isn’t fair, and if he honestly had no one after him, he’d allow you to live your life as you please. Of course, as long as he is a part of it as well. At first, he buys all the snacks and foods he knows you like and once they’ve been eaten or wasted, he’ll take you grocery shopping with him for anything you’d like.

Megumi has 80% of an idea of what is going on between you and Gojo. He most definitely has an idea of what is happening. You never seem too pleased to be in Gojo’s house and the way Gojo talks about you makes him do a double take. It doesn't seem normal; but then again he’s Gojo, he isn’t normal. And although Megumi wants what’s best for innocent people, he’s known Gojo for too long and he doesn't believe Gojo would kidnap someone for selfishness or any reason he deems corrupt. So Megumi puts his judgments aside thinking Gojo and you are just weirdos.

Gojo is very touchy with you,(but then again he’s touchy with anyone he deems a friend or is on good terms with.) At first, when you first are kidnapped, he is less handsy, only touching you occasionally. But as time goes on he grows more comfortable with touching you since you’re beginning to deem his touches as a regular part of your day. However, that doesn't mean Gojo will put his hands on you against your comfort just because he wants to. If you state you’re uncomfortable with his touch, he’ll immediately retract, sometimes with a small pout. The only time he will not listen to you is when he is putting you in your place. For example: you attempting to run away.

Now, for your punishments. He doesn't really do those. Usually, he acts like a preschool teacher dealing with a naughty child, clicking his tongue in disapproval, folding his arms when you give him attitude, and trying to reason with you in a gentle way. Gojo doesn’t baby you. He doesn't see you as some adult acting like a child, unlike some yanderes would. Then again occasionally you will have a tantrum. Gojo understands your frustrations and so he handles them with a calming approach. Still, he will match your energy if he decides need be. If you attempt punishable offenses like running away, attempting to murder him, or trying to get Megumi to help you, Gojo will not be so kind the majority of the time.

Honestly, Gojo is 5/10 yandere. He’s understanding and not delusional. Besides him kidnapping you and being the master of annoying yapping, you’re better off with him as your yandere.

Nanami Kento

Nanami wants a normal happy life but his job interferes with his dream. So when he meets you, he’s a bit more pleased with his life. He loves everything about you. You understand him and that's all he wants.

Nanami most likely met you after work, looking for a bite to eat. You worked there as the cashier just as tired as he was. As part of your job, you make light conversation, however, you and Nanami talked longer, maybe about five minutes before he finally left.

After that interaction, Nanami visits your job more In light hopes of seeing you again. Nanami convinces himself that he just wants a bite to eat again, he isn’t coming here for you...but seeing you again would be nice. The more often he comes by your job the more his obsession with you grows. Similar to Gojo, he will think about you constantly throughout the week.

Nanami Is such a laidback Yandere that you won’t detect, and most likely never will. Nanami isn't the type to kill someone because they flirted with you or breathed in your direction. And he isn’t possessive of you. The only yandere tendencies he has is obsessing over you in his thoughts and being only a bit possessive. He watches you through the day, he has a little camera in the house to watch you. You don’t know that though since it’s up so high on the top of the cabinets. He has your phone tracked with life360, you don’t know that because he has it hidden on your phone. You don't know after he finally realized he liked you, he followed you around in his free time to stalk you a bit and find out more about you.

Other than that, Nanami Is pretty laid back. Well, unless you decide to run away or leave him, then his true nature will show.

If you run away for whatever reason then you won’t see him coming after you. You may have an Idea because of the few alarmed texts he sends you before you block him. You won't see Nanami for a while until you just minding your own business, maybe grabing a bite to eat, and suddenly standing behind you In line with you is an unenthusiastic Nanami. You won’t even try to run at first because seeing him look at you with a warning in his eyes makes every escape plan fade away. You’re terrified. You’re as terrified as a child who has yelled at their mother.

You find yourself back In Nanami’s home, now having alarms, locks, and a couple of cameras around. You aren’t allowed out the house until Nanami considers you worthy.

As a yandere, Nanami is rated a 4/10.

Geto Suguru

Geto’s behavior really depends on whether you are a normal civilian or a curse user. If you’re a curse user you’re treated far better than a normal person. Geto would treat his civilian darling like a pet. Like a dog of sorts.

For now, let's focus on a civilian darling.

To understand Geto’s point of view, I will give you an example: Geto is kinda like a hunter. Geto is like a hunter who hunts animals because he thinks all their good for is being food and they are inferior to him. Now imagine a hunter coming across a cute bunny rabbit. The hunter learns about the bunny a bit, finding its little quirks endearing. The Hunter decides to take home the rabbit and keep it for himself as a pet, but he still thinks all animals are inferior to him. This bunny is just a bit more likable than others.

Now I don’t think Geto will act like other Yanderes and actually treat you as a pet but he will act like you are in ways. Sometimes he’ll relax and have you lay your head on his lap as he pets you. He’ll beckon for you as If you’re a dog. He expects you to be loving to him as soon as he enters the room. Wants you to follow him and not wander off anywhere else. He even calls you a pet sometimes. However, you don’t have a collar nor do you have a dog crate.

Geto most likely, just like the others, found you by mistake. What really starts the obsession is If you make a comment on his beliefs. Disagreeing or agreeing with his beliefs, he starts to look at you differently from the other humans. There are two ways you came across the belief Geto holds since you’re a normal civilian. One, you found a source online speaking of this belief: A YouTube essay, a sketchy online website, a theorist. Two, you overheard Geto speaking to no one, since civilians can’t see curses, and decided to put your two cents in for whatever reason.

Like a hunter, Geto will set out a trap. He’ll offer to take you out on dates, ask for your phone number, seem like a normal man that has taken an interest in you. And if you accept any of these, you’re nothing more than a little mouse approaching the cheese bait in the open mouse trap.

Once he kidnaps you, and he will, you mainly stay in the room you share with Geto unless Geto is home and requests your presence. You help around with his daughters and make dinner for him, just as he requests of you.

Now if you are a fellow curse user, you aren’t treated as badly as a civilian darling.

You aren’t expected to follow him around everywhere, you aren’t called a pet (only at times.) No matter how strong you are, Geto has the upper hand. You will be pressured into a relationship with him, by him, and by a few other curse users. Escaping isn’t a possibility for curse user Darling or civilian Darling. He will be on your tail in no time. You could make a couple of blocks away from the house if he’s being lazy. If Geto is out then he’ll send someone out for you. You have more of a chance with others coming after you than with Geto coming after you.

Geto has no problem disciplining you, especially if you’re a civilian darling. Pets must be disciplined when attempting to run out of the house. His punishments include starvation (depending on how many days he deems the punishment worthy), flogging, and breaking a bone. Nothing too terrible. Well, not as bad as you could have it.

Overall, Geto as a yandere is an 8/10.

Ryomen Sukuna

When it comes to Sukana, he is a manipulative and masochist yandere. He enjoys watching you suffer. He loves hearing the cries of pain slip from your sweet lips. Not only because he enjoys human suffering in general but also the fact you make him feel crazy. He isn’t used to romantic obsession. He hates- no despises feeling weak because of you. He takes out his frustrations on you, breaking fingers, hurting you, verbally abusing you, and playing with your feelings. Anything to feel the pleasure he gets from the frown that settles on your lips and the tears pricking your eyes.

While inside Yuji, his thoughts are full of you. Despite the way he treats you, he does adore you. Although, he’ll never let the words be said. He finds himself missing you, wanting to be near you. And he isn’t always hurting you, sometimes you sit together in a peaceful silence. Sometimes you have nice conversations.

Sukana is possessive. He hates when someone is stealing his time away from you. And if you were to be flirted with, he’d curse at the person from Yuji’s cheeks. If he’s railed up enough, he might even attempt to come out of Yuji.

The only way he is able to communicate with you and spend any time with you is because there are sorcerors watching over you guys in his domain. If he ends up hurting you in front of them, then you immediately come out and won’t visit him until you completely heal. Which is why is such a rare occurrence for him to hurt you physically. And if you think you’d be able to avoid him, you’re wrong. He will have tantrums. It gets to the point that you are obligated to stay with Sukana for at least an hour in his domain for the sake of everyone having a headache.

In general, he is a 6/10 yandere. He really can’t do anything. Not much to speak about.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji hasn't had an interest in relationships since the death of his late wife, so imagine his frustration when you come into his life. Sweet, loveable, you.

Laid back Yandere

When you two first meet he could care less about you. To him, you’re just another annoying person. However, when he gets to know you better, he warms up to you. Then as weeks pass, he feels familiar feelings he used to experience with his wife, it irks him, even frightens him slightly. When Megumi’s mother had died, Toji believed he’d never love again. He wasn’t interested in relationships. Now imagine the frustration he feels when he catches feelings for you. Toji attempts to ignore your existence because he isn’t looking for love and has more important events to worry about, but you won’t go away. Toji takes these feelings out on you, making it seem you caused him to feel this way on purpose to piss him off. You don’t hang around him like an annoying fly, you both just come across each other a lot. Toji likes to act like that isn’t the case. Toji will suck his teeth, grumbling about how you must like him since you’re near him all the time.

It takes about a good two months until Toji starts to really accept the fact he is obsessed with you. And you can start the see the signs when he calms down with the asshole act and begins to put on a soft act around you. He’ll act like you guys are already dating just without affection.

Toji will kidnap you, no doubt about it. Toji has already lost his first wife, he won’t lose you. The loss of his first wife is ultimately the reason he is a Yandere. You’re better off meeting him before he meets his first wife, he won’t be as protective and possessive.

Punishments really depend on his mood at the moment. When it comes to punishments his go-to is silent treatment, starvation (you’d probably starve anyway since he’s a broke ass bitch), and being forced to stay locked in a room for hours. Now hurting you for punishment is a different story. Toji will do anything in his power not to cause you harm. Hurting you might cause something major to happen and Toji hates knowing the fact that he was the one to hurt you. If it has to come to that point, Toji acts as if he could care less about hurting you. He acts like he doesn’t mind doing so. But if you observe closely you can tell that he is beating himself up for harming you.

Murdering, hurting, and threatening other people is easy for Toji. In fact, it’s his immediate reaction to someone he feels is a threat to your relationship. So if you’re not careful and piss Toji off enough, he might just kill your family. Best if you listen.

Home life with him isn’t bad. For the most part, Toji is a laid-back Yandere. It feels like you too are roommates, but your roomate likes kiss up on you and forbids you to leave the house without him by your side.

Overall, Toji is a 5/10 Yandere.

Mahito

Mahito is a fun yandere to think about.

As a yandere, he is a sadistic-possessive yandere. His obsession begins when he finds something interesting about you. Maybe you're a tourist who can’t speak Japanese very well and Mahito finds it adorable. Or maybe you bumped into him and saw him, making others look at you crazy since most humans can’t see him. You intrigue him more than other humans and he won’t let you out of his sight.

Mahito enjoys messing with you, all your reactions are endearing. He just adores the flush of embarrassment on your cheeks when others stop and stare at you after he a mountain of cans beside you. Giggles when you embarrass yourself yet again because you sometimes get so fed up with him that you go off on him in public areas. You humans can be so fun to play with!

He is now your roommate, like it or not. Follows you around everywhere, even the bathroom. He never leaves no matter how much you beg him. Loves to misplace your favorite foods because he knows it pisses you off and gives him a good laugh.

Literally gives no fucks killing off anyone posing a threat to your relationship. Hell, he’ll kill anyone for the sake of love. Mahito uses the threat of killing to keep you in check most of the time.

Punishments include anything sadistic that comes to his mind. You either get no punishment or the worst punishment you can imagine. After the punishment is over, Mahito always coos at you, kissing your booboos better. He claims he hates doing such vile acts to you when he teases you.

Overall, he's a damn parasite sucking out all the joy in your life. 1/10.

[cordeliawhohung]

Hiii! I've just binged mafia Price again, as one would, and now I desperately wanna know their first time together 😍 Was it after dating some time, ot much longer or maybe right away? How did they felt? Nervous I bet, but what was anticipation like? Did he make it a planned occasion, or was it casual? Was it quick rough, or slow and sensual, or something else? Like 🤯🤯🤯 My mind's gonna blow thinking about all these. Give this girl some insight, pretty please 👉🏻👈🏻

ugh i answered an ask a few weeks ago that was sort of similar to this but about them dating and i was trying to find it to link with this post but alas, tumblr search is dog water lmfao. anyway it's been a bit since i've written something proper for him so enjoy a drabble to answer your question (:

mafia!141 masterlist

cw: alcohol, smut, mutually possessive sex, (maybe slight technical dub-con due to the alcohol but both parties are awake and aware i'm just putting this here just in case)

When John got home, he found you in the kitchen.

Quiet music hummed through the speaker on your phone as you worked on serving two big plates of food like you had predicted his arrival. You greeted him with a grin as you gestured to the food in front of you on the island, proud of your work. Its fragrant aroma was mouth watering, almost to the point he found it difficult to think about anything other than eating. Your smile was contagious and John found himself chuckling as he approached the other side of the island.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"Dinner, of course," you replied.

John scoffed slightly at his rather poorly worded question and your cheeky response. "Alright, well what's the occasion?"

"No occasion," you said. "You've been at work all day, and I felt like cooking, so..." You paused to pick up one of the plates and held it out for him to take. "Dinner!"

In the last few months that you had been staying with him, you had cooked plenty of times, but never anything quite like that. A part of you felt a little guilty for not being able to show your appreciation as much as you wanted to, for taking you in and keeping a roof over your head, but more often than not he wouldn't allow it. There were few chores he would allow you to do as a guest in his home, and if you wanted to cook or clean for him, you often had to do it under his nose when he wasn't home.

And still, instead of telling you how you didn't have to do all that, how you didn't have to waste your evening cooking a lavish meal, he took it without complaint and allowed you to lead him into the living room. That evening was full of good food, a very expensive wine that you attempted to convince John not to open but he did anyway, and an old slasher film that was more humorous than it was unsettling.

Something was different about that night. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was something else, but you seemed to smile and laugh more than you had for the last few weeks. And you were beautiful. The way the dim glow of the TV illuminated your face as you took a sip of wine, the way you laughed and pointed at the screen when one of the characters died; you were perfect.

"Thank you. For taking care of me," you suddenly spoke up.

John had stared at you for so long he didn't even realize that the movie was over, but you didn't seem to mind his unwavering gaze. Yet he was a bit confused by your sudden comment. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the truth, but he felt like he didn't deserve it.

"Your gratitude is wasted on someone like me," he muttered, eyes refusing to leave your face.

"What makes you say that?" you asked.

"I'm not a good man."

"I know."

While it wasn't the answer he expected, John was glad you knew that much about him at least. He gave you a breathy laugh as he looked down at the remaining wine left in his glass. The dark red liquid swirled around as he leaned forward to place it on the coffee table.

"How do you know?" he questioned, hoping you would indulge him.

"I've always known," you said as if it was obvious. "If you were a good man, you'd be dead by now. Good men don't live long in your line of work."

"So you've known I'm a bad man this whole time?"

The expression on your face contorted and it wasn't long before your hand rested on his arm. He didn't dare look down to where your fingers brushed against his skin because he feared you would retract if he did, like someone who didn't want to get bitten by a dog.

"You're not a bad man," you retorted as if the very thought had offended you.

"How do you know?" John challenged.

"Because you are kind."

In that moment, John swore he had always known you, and maybe he did. He had known you as the chief's daughter when he was a child. He had known you and your laughter as you sat next to him in maths as a teen. You had always been there, lingering in the back of his mind, finding him when he least expected it.

So when you leaned into him, he didn't stop you. And he didn't stop you when your hands rested on his chest, or when your lips pressed against his. In fact, he savored every moment of it. Your skin on his, your teeth sinking into his flesh; it all felt so familiar like your body was the only one he had ever held that way.

It all happened so fast he felt dizzy, but all John knew was that when he saw you laid out naked on his bed there was nothing in the world that would ever take you from him. He couldn't stop the way his lips were drawn to your chest where he kissed a gentle trail between your breasts and down to your navel. He couldn't stop the way his mouth latched onto your cunt like it was the only sustenance he would need for the rest of his life.

And it was the most love you had felt in your entire life. The way he gently pawed at your body not in greed, but because he needed you to be closer, to feel every inch of you. Every moan that left your lips was carefully fished for, and if one thing didn't work he would try another. The way he crooked his fingers inside of you and swiped his tongue over your clit was all done so carefully, only aiming to please you.

When he eventually pulled away from you, got you so worked up that your legs quaked, you wanted to return the favor. Wanted to thank him for taking you in, for treating you as well as he had, but when you tried to sit up his hand firmly kept you pinned against the mattress. He reminded you that you were under his roof. You were his to take care of.

He continued to remind you of that fact with every pump of his cock inside of you. Each thrust had you repeating his words back to him with pitched moans, how he would take care of you, how good he was to you, how you were his to take care of, you were his, you were his. By the time he emptied himself into you with a heavy grunt and a needy kiss, you knew there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

After that night, you only slept in his bed, and eventually it wasn't just his bed, but yours too. It happened slowly, and all at once, that he had become yours and you had become his, and yet at the same time, it was like it was never any other way to begin with.

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

Made by me

The Masterlist

CRAZY OVER YOU

[HYBRID AU]

[FINISHED]✅

Side Characters: Namjoon/doctor, Seokjin/doctor, Taehyung/Hybrid Tiger, Jungkook/Bunny Hybrid, Hoseok/assistant.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of blood, sharp objects, rut, beast behavior.

Genre: Fantasy, hybrids au, smut.

SUMMARY》 Yoongi is a black mamba hybrid one of rarest species of hybrids, who’s about to be put down due to his lack of interest in living. But everything changes after the new medical assistance (y/n) takes a liking to him. Meeting after meeting he realise his feelings for her are not the only thing growing.

INTRO - In the books they say

ONE - Love at first bite

TWO - Bath me with your love

THREE - Hungry for your love I

FOUR - The truth untold II

FIVE - Bitter taste, Jealousy and bites

SIX - Take Me Home

SEVEN - The last bite OUT NOW

SET ME FREE

[MAFIA AU]

On Going

Side Characters: Min Yoongi as Agust D/Mafia boss, Jung Hoseok as Jack/Concierge, Namjoon/Police detective, Jungkook/Police detective, Park Jimin/thief and gang leader, Taehyung/Mafia member FBI Mole, Paradise owner. Jin/unknown, Busan/Mafia boss.

Warnings: This story contains nsfw content (descriptive blood, gore, etc.) as well as sexual content. Mentions may include violence, consumption of alcohol, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, description of injuries, themes of major horror and also explores obsessive behaviors and codependency, robbery, killing, guns, torturing, fire, toxic yandere men, violence, possessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships.

SUMMARY: You made it. Now a police intern as you always promised to your father before he died, you were more than happy to finally be able to help people like he did. But the law was not what you expected to be like. You did not know how lonely it would be for a young woman to grow her career in this kingdom. Having to take care of your 18 year old brother wasn't easy too and things just got a lot worse when you've met Agust D. The king of the mafia Min. He sure knew how to make a life turn into a hell hole.

INTRO

ONE - Red Chopsticks

TWO - I’ll find you in a dark Paradise

THREE - A deal with the devil

FOUR - Welcome to my world

FIVE - Good girl gone bad COMING SOON

SIX - Dance with the devil COMING SOON

7 FINAL DESTINATION - LILITH

BREATH OF FIRE

[HYBRID GODS AU]

On Going

Side characters: Park Jimin/White fox hybrid.

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, violence, sharp objects, suggestive words, smut, alcohol, killing.

Genre: Fantasy, romance, strangers to lovers, R +18.

SUMMARY: Did you know a fox only mates once in their life? For almost 400 years Min Yoongi never mated before, all theses years of emptiness and loneliness. He had tried so many times to end with his own hands. Until one night a hint of sweet and fire blows towards his nose, the smell was something he never felt before. And blood. Running for your life you felt hopeless in front of a lake, two man following you behind. Their disgusting smiles and eyes savoring your female body, you knew what they would do but you'd rather die. It all started with fire.

INTRO - Run little girl

ONE - Wood, cinnamon and honey.

TWO - Please wash away this blood on my skin

THREE - A taste of honey and dreams

FOUR - A rise from the shadows (coming soon)

FIVE - Lost in two words (coming soon)

SIX - coming soon

SEVEN - FINAL BREATH coming soon

BUNNY BUNS

[HYBRID AU]

COMING SOON

Side Characters: Yoongi/black cat hybrid, Hoseok/human, Taehyung/golden hybrid.

Warnings: Smut, violence, mentions of blood. And finally some fluff.

SUMMARY: Jungkook needed to hide. He was on the run. And what better place for a bunny hybrid to hide then a Bunny coffee shop? How could he resist? You smelled sweet and looked nice. All it took was one smile of yours and a bunny bread and he was on all fours for you.

INTRO - Bunny on the run

ONE - Bunnies don’t like water ( coming soon)

TWO - Carrot Cake 🥕(coming soon)

THREE - Bunny in the kitchen coming soon

FOUR - I’ll take care of you coming soon

FIVE - Bunny on the run coming soon

SIX - The last Bun. Coming soon.

ONE SHOTS

Coming soon

YOONGI

My Best Friends Crush

Characters: Min Yoongi/music theory Teacher, Jung Hoseok/dance teacher, Jungkook/art and design student, Jimin/danc student, reader/art student.

Genre: strangers to lovers, forbidden love?

Warnings: mentions of explicit language, sexual references(smutty material), consumption of alcohol, age difference.

Summary: “my whole life I always hated rules and protocols, growing to fin comfort on art as I could express myself unapologetically and freely. But there was one rule I made with myself; never fall in love with your friend crush.

With my rebellious nature, it was bound to be broken but I just never meet someone who would take that seriously.”

HOSEOK

JIMIN

JUNGKOOK

JIN

NAMJOON

TAEHYUNG

[psychwxrdd]

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ dark! donnie darko scenarios

warnings: 18+, dark! donnie hc, reader and him are both 18, light choking, possessive/ stalkish behaviour, perv! donnie, creepy, breeding, gaslighting

🎀 - lmk if i forgot anything. also just a quick reminder that this is only fiction for entertainment and about characters we love, i don't fw with ppl like that in real life! if you ever go through something like this, please know that you're not alone and there's so many people out there willing to help you! feel free to dm me too, don't hesitate to seek for anyone to help you

dark! donnie loves you a little too much. let's just say he wouldn't have a problem following you everywhere without your acknowledge, cause he didn't thought much of it. he was just making sure you were safe, he just wanted to protect his little princess.

dark! donnie who is also a perv! donnie, creepy to say the least. he was always watching you in class, every small thing you do, as if it was the most interesting, extraordinary thing in the world. he would always notice if you let something behind, like a pencil, a paper, a lip gloss...and he would take it home with him. making sure no one was around to see him feeling the scent of the paper you touched for several minutes. then things would only got more and more extreme, when you two started being close (naturally, of course, not as if he would force situations to make it happen) and he started going to your house.

dark! donnie who get a hard on just by being in your room. feeling your scent all over it, seeing so much of you, being so close to you. it was overwhelming, the boy couldn't help it. when you weren't around, he would steal your panties, those he would be using to jerk off later. it was so hot for him, wrapping your panties around his cock so slowly that he was throbbing, whimpering. he would absolutely lose his shit when he finally had the chance to fuck you, oh boy would he.

dark! donnie who has a bunch of pictures of you in a small box, that he would daily just stare at and feel his heart melt. it was like seeing a religious person praying to their gods. you were his god, his biggest source of hope, the wonder in the world, the one thing he could never live without.

dark! donnie who would gaslight you into pushing your friends away, cause they were all fake. but not him, he was a true friend. he always made sure to show you how amazing he was to you, always made sure to remind you no one else would ever do this for you, because his love was true and anyone else were just...superficial. you should only rely on him, should only hang out with him, should only see him.

dark! donnie who would threaten any of your possible love interests and blame it on frank. you would always feel sorry for him, never mad. it wasn't his fault, it was frank.

you would slowly become more and more submissive to him, and he was always very possessive towards you. always hugging you tightly, having his hands around your waist. and when you guys finally started dating, things would only get worse. now that you were officially his, he wouldn't give you time to breathe. he always softly forces you into sleeping at his house every week, only going out with him, and when you were at home, he would be constantly calling you to make sure you were fine and at home. your parents started to notice something was off about the boy.

"my good girl..." he almost whispered, while you were rolling your eyes in pleasure as he pounded you in a mind numbing speed. "mine. all fucking mine. say it"

you were too cock drunk to pay attention to anything he was saying, but the sudden grab in your jaw and neck made you aware. "come on princess, tell me you're mine" he grunted in your ear, breathing heavily and closing his eyes wide shut with how good you felt.

"yours...i'm yours, donnie" you cried, feeling so good it was almost making you pass out. he choked you slightly, and your walls squeezed him at the feeling.

"shit...do that again" he says out of breath, staring at you dead in the eyes now. "look at me, i'm gonna fucking cum inside that pretty pussy. you heard me?" you stare at him in disbelief, but can't really bring yourself to say anything. you wanted to push him, but it felt too damn good to stop. it was overwhelming, he already made you cum twice, this was too much. "gonna make sure everyone knows who you belong to...gonna be the prettiest mom in the world, huh? my girl...forever mine."