#something something the shared guilt of letting down those you cared about and being the last survivor something something

[sybbi]

I see people on tesblr just posting/creating their own rarepairs so fuck it. Erandur/Gelebor.

[maxineryx]

Seeing Dazai without bandages is like winning the lottery, getting struck by lightning, seeing a blue moon, or managing to buy the first three volumes of your favourite manga from the bookstore.

It's a chance close to zero.

Well, none of those things have happened to you yet, including seeing Dazai without bandages. Though, you believe this was even rarer than all those other things listed above because every time you spotted him unwrapping them in the bathroom, he softly shooed you out, or closed the door. You never got an explanation for why, but you had a solid idea of what it might have been.

You weren’t a stranger to Osamu’s past. You knew of all the things he did and who he was, but he was given a second chance, so naturally you put that all behind you and never asked any questions. And of course, most of the things you’ve heard weren’t actually from him. He’s never gone into depth about what used to happen in the Port Mafia. Nor has he ever mentioned any battles, or any struggles he might have faced. However, you were sure that there were some stories to tell under those bandages.

You were also sure that those ‘stories’ might not be as pleasing to hear or to tell, so you never pressured him to talk.

Although, sometimes you just wished he confided in you, because you were together, after all. He knew many secrets of yours, pleasant and unpleasant, and you knew that none of those secrets were even comparable to what he must have gone through.

You just wanted him to tell you, to show you, even if it was a little so that you could lift that guilt off his caring heart to make him feel better.

You and Osamu came home from work a couple of hours ago, when the sun was already set, stars twinkling above. It was dark inside your shared home, the only light source being the bright, white lights around the rectangular-shaped mirror, as you sat on the counter, already showered and face taken care of.

You were watching Dazai apply some moisturizer to his face. His long coat was gone, along with all his other clothes that hid his top half. The only thing stopping you from seeing his skin were the bandages.

“You like to stare, don’t you?” He asked in his usual, playful tone, pausing to take a glance at you before resuming his skincare. “I mean, I don’t blame you. I’m breathtaking.”

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’, to which he started tickling you, your laughter echoing throughout the house.

“It’s getting late. You should go to bed, I’ll join you in a few minutes.” Osamu said, kissing the tip of your nose.

You frowned. “I don’t feel tired at all,” you started, smiling, hoping he’d agree for the first time, “I’ll wait for you, I mean, how long can it take?”

He sighed, though it wasn’t an annoyed sigh. He helped you get off the counter, gently grabbing your arms, before walking you out. You stopped in your tracks, earning a confused expression from him.

“Osamu… why do you never let me stay? Every night, you push me out without giving me an explanation.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” He put a hand softly atop your head. “You know I don’t want you to see what’s under these bandages…I don’t want to scare you.”

“You’ll never scare me, no matter what I’ll see. I thought you knew that.” You replied, not breaking eye contact. You could start seeing the unease in his eyes as he averted his gaze.

“It’s not that.” He whispered, “You haven’t seen me in the Port Mafia. You didn’t know the Port Mafia executive, Dazai Osamu, because you only know the new Dazai Osamu. And even though I am him, my body still represents the Port Mafia executive, and it always will. I want you to know what I am now, not what I was back then.”

There was a lengthy silence as he removed his hand from your head.

“‘samu,” Instantly, you cup his cheeks, bringing his head down a little so that you could stare into his eyes intensely. Dazai’s eyes flashed with uncertainty and slight shame, something you’d never seen him feel before.

“You’re right. I didn’t know Dazai Osamu from the Port Mafia, but I’ve heard of him. You’re the man I love, ‘samu, nothing could make me fear you, or walk away from you. You were given a second chance and second chances aren’t common in life. Even if your body carries horrible memories, it doesn’t mean that that’s the person you are. The man I love is caring, loving, protective, charming, amazing… and all the other positive words I could use forever.

So please, let me care for you.”

His hands were holding your wrists as you never let go of his face. Tears were bubbling up in your eyes, heart racing from all the emotions. His bottom lip was slightly trembling as he looked at the floor, before letting go of your wrists and turning around, walking back into the bathroom. He didn’t ask you to leave.

And this time, it was you who was unbandaging him as he sat patiently, though averting his gaze for most of the time. It would take time to get him to be comfortable, but you were more than happy to go slow if it meant that he wouldn’t feel as much guilt as before.

So no, you didn’t win the lottery, get struck by lightning, see a blue moon, or manage to buy the first three volumes of your favourite manga at the bookstore, but you did get to see Dazai without bandages. All those things couldn’t even compare to that.

————————

A:N - I’m back after a looooong writing break… just a lil thingy to warm myself up before writing anything longer

[7ndipity]

He Forgets Your Birthday

Yoonig x Reader

Summary: You’ve always had a complicated relationship with your birthday, but Yoongi’s always there to comfort you. Until he isn’t.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: angst, comfort, swearing, suggestive at the end

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request, I hope you like it!

Masterlist

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You never really liked your birthday.

For as long as you could remember, you could sense the looming feeling of dread and unease each year as the date drew closer. You don’t know what it was exactly, maybe it was because of how you were raised, maybe it was just a quirk of your personality, but whatever the reason, you could never shake the feeling of guilt, as if you were a burden to those around you.

Over the years though, you had been lucky enough to find a circle of people that, while they might not fully understand your feelings on the subject, made a point to make sure you felt special and remind you of how much they cared for you whenever that fateful day rolled around.

One of the best at this was Yoongi.

Yoongi had always had a particular knack for being able to read your emotions and understood your feelings about your birthday, he wasn’t exactly fond of his either, but that didn’t stop him from worrying whenever he noticed you growing more quiet and withdrawn as it approached.

He never pressured you to share what was going on in your mind in those times, but he always found little ways to let you know that he was there for you and to show how much he loved you.

It was never anything super elaborate; last year, the two of you just went to the movies, because he knew there was a particular film you’d been dying to see.

It never really mattered to you what you did though, so long as you were together, you were happy.

Though, time together had been rather hard to come by the past few months.

Yoongi had been busier than ever, traveling and working relentlessly in preparation for his new album. Most nights he was holed up at the studio til 2 or 3 in the morning working on songs.

You worried about him over extending himself, but he assured you that he had it all under control, that he was able to keep up with everything.

It was another one of those late nights at the studio as he sat hunched over his soundboard when the sound of his phone finally managed to break through his hyperfocus.

Glancing at his phone, he face pulled into a slight frown as he read the text notification from Namjoon.

“How’s Y/n?”

“Fine, I think. Why??” He sent back, confused by the random question.

“Idk, she just seemed a bit down earlier when I sent a happy b-day msg”

“Her birthday’s not till tomorrow-

”Oh fuck.” He swore out loud, checking the date on with a sink stomach as he realized his horrible mistake.

Jumping to his feet, he felt his heart drop again at the sight of the time on his phone screen.

10:02pm.

“Fuck.” He cursed again, nearly running down the hall to the elevators. He couldn’t believe he’d mixed up the days so badly. How could he have fucked up something like this?

Had you realized yet? Most likely, he hadn’t heard anything from you since your usual morning texts. You must’ve been so upset, how was he ever going to make up for this to you?

He practically ran up the stairs to your apartment, knocking frantically on the door and begging that you weren't so mad that you wouldn't answer.

As soon as you opened the door, he tackled you in a crushing bear hug.

“Yoongi, what-?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He mumbled into your neck.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“Your birthday.” He felt you stiffen slightly.

Pulling away to look at you, his heart broke further as he noticed the faint redness around your eyes.

“I got the days mixed up, I thought it was tomorrow,” He explained guiltily. “I’m so sorry, Jagi.”

You looked down, nodding slowly.

“It’s okay.” You said softly, voice still somewhat croaky from your earlier bout of crying.

“It’s not, though. I should’ve been here.” He said, growing more upset with himself.

“You’ve been busy, I get it.”

“That's no excuse,” He said. “I still fucked up.”

“It’s fine, Yoongi, really.” You said tiredly, wanting desperately to just forget the whole thing.

“No, it isn’t-” He insisted, gripping onto your hand as you tried to draw away.

“Yoongi, please.” The last word comes out far more broken than you intended it to, betraying your true emotions that you’d been trying to stamp down all evening.

Before you could help it, the tears you had been trying to hold back broke free, dripping down your cheeks and onto your joined hands.

Yoongi instantly pulled you to his chest, hugging you tightly as he backed the two of you into your apartment.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Jagi.” He whispered over and over, softly stroking your hair as your tears dampened his shirt.

After a few minutes once your sobs quieted, he pulled back to see your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently.

You nodded.

He led you over to the couch, still keeping you close as you sat silently for a moment.

“Are you angry?” He asked quietly.

You shook your head, biting your lip.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” He pleaded, his dark eyes boring into your own.

You thought for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath.

“I know that you love and care about me” You began slowly. “And I know you would never do anything to intentionally hurt me, but… not hearing from you, not even getting a text or something… I don’t know, it just kinda stirred up those old feelings and thoughts of how easily I could be forgotten, what if people don’t actually like me, what if they just tolerate me in their lives...”

Your voice was almost inaudible by the end, not wanting to fully admit the deprecating thoughts that were going through your mind.

Yoongi teared up at your words. He knew he’d asked, but hearing you say it aloud broke his heart; to know he’d scratched those old wounds and caused you to doubt yourself crushed him inside.

“Look at me,” He said seriously, turning to face you. “Those thoughts? Nothing could be further from the truth. You mean more to me than anything in the fucking world. I know I fucked up today, but I need you to know that there is nothing that could ever make me forget about you. You are the first and last thought in my mind every single day. Understand?”

You nodded, wiping away a few more stray tears that had slipped out.

“C’mere.” He pulled you into another tight embrace, kissing your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You muttered, tucking your face in the crook of his neck.

“If you want, we could still do something? Try and enjoy the last couple hours of the day, at least?” He offered

You shook your head. “I just want to be with you.”

He nodded, shifting around on the couch and pulling you onto his lap, holding you close.

“I love you.” He whispered again, running his soothing hands over your hips.

“I know.” You said, equally soft, cradling his face in your hands as you drew him in to connect your lips.

He kissed you deeply, trying to channel just how much you meant to him through the action, hands coming up to hold your waist, pressing you even closer.

He would never hurt you like this again, he swore to himself, pressing you closer to him. He would do everything in his power to remind you how much you meant to him every chance he got.

You sighed, looping your arms around his neck as you let yourself drift in the feeling of him all around you, the scent of his cologne, the soft sounds that left him as his lips drifted down the expanse of your throat, the way his hips twitched beneath you when you tugged at his hair.

Suddenly, he tipped you back on the couch, coming to hover over you, breathing unsteady as he stared down at you with an intensity that made you shiver.

“Happy birthday, Y/n.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0o0o0ooo @universal-travel-er @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Five

Summary - After an intense meeting at the boarder, Eris and Lucien return home tight lipped and unwilling to ruin the night, and you discover something you thought was impossible.

Warnings - angst, fluff, Rhys being a grade A prick, our favourite found family back at it again, drinking, mentions of sex, some Eris background, Lucien being a meddler, a little trip down memory lane

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

HAPPY 600! 🥳

Be careful.

Eris would ensure he was. For you, he would contain his fiery rage, he would conform himself to the mask he had to wear around those from the Night Court. He would do anything to make sure he returned home to you.

Part of him was glad that Lucien had coaxed him away the moment he had secured you inside Fir Manor in the arms of Nesta and Elain, if he saw those rounded eyes of worry, he was sure that he may not have been able to walk away from you.

Sweat coated his brow as his weight crunched at the leaves and fallen branches beneath his feet. Of course Rhys had chosen to meet where Autumn met Winter, Kallias cared little when the High Lord of the Night Court would prowl onto his lands, and Rhys wouldn't dare to stand in Summer or Spring after what he and his Inner Circle had done to both of those courts.

The air had turned cold and the ground frozen a few miles back, the cold shrill of Winter swarmed around Eris and Lucien, and they were glad that they had made the smart decision to shroud themselves in their fur lined coats for what was sure to be a frosty meeting indeed. Though, Eris was glad that he had chosen the Winter boarder to say his piece, it meant that he was as far as possible away from you.

They had winnowed most of the way, hounds in tow bar Willow who had refused him to stay with you, coiling up on the porch and watching her master disappear into the forest. Lucien had groaned when they had landed at the foot of a rather large hill lined with an array of snow-kissed trees, Eris had smirked at the sound but willed his brother onward.

"Promise me that you won't let him get under your skin." There was still an ocean full of unspoken words between the two brothers, ones that voiced Eris’ regret and longing, that voiced all of guilt and desire to make things right.

In a way, it was easier for him to convince Lucien of his true nature now that they had something in common bar their looks, it was the shared need to protect you, to let you grow into your own person and watch on as you drove down your own path.

Eris frowned softly, he couldn't exactly blame Lucien for thinking that such a thing was possible, he hadn't exactly played the role of a loving brother or male in general. "I won't, Lucien. There is nothing he could say or offer to make me even consider it." That being handing you back over to the Night Court.

It wasn't something that he needed to say, neither of them wanted to even think about it as they continued upward.

"I know that you have no reason to trust anything I say after everything I've done to you," Lucien fell to Eris' side and glanced sidelong at him, not knowing what was coming next, "But I hope you can believe me when I say that I won't let any harm come to her. I have abided by every decision she has made, all I wish for is her happiness. I want her to grow and build her own life. All I can do is gently nudge her in the direction she is hesitant to follow, but I would never make her do anything she didn't wish to."

There was a pause, a comfortable silence as Lucien came to a certain realisation and grinned, "You feel something for her, don't you?" Eris felt the heat rise to his cheeks, the cold of the air making the redness more prominent on them, Lucien laughed, "I knew it from the moment you fought me to sit next to her at that dinner," his smile faltered and he stopped walking, he examined his brother, the one whose entire façade faltered the moment he noticed that you were around, "After everything that's happened, y/n deserves a chance to find her own passions away from the influence of anyone."

"I know that-"

"I wasn't finished," Lucien rolled his eyes and continued the ascent, passing Eris who trailed him by a step, "Despite everything, I do believe that she's better off here, with you. It's like you see her like how Nesta, Elain and I do but in a slightly different way, you see her in the way she deserves to be seen, in the most candid and gentle way possible," Lucien looked to Eris with understanding, "She deserves that, to be seen and understood and listened to, to be involved in every conversation, to be able to show everyone who she really is.”

The conversation died at the exact moment when the Vanserra brothers reached the apex of the mound, spotting the three Illyrians through the break in the trees that coiled around their figures, as if in warning to stay far far away.

The mask.

Right.

Rolling his shoulders, Eris was ashamed to drown his soul in the brutal essence which he often forced himself into, and he never wanted you to see just how bad it could be. Whisps of his breath floated from his lips, curling upward and freezing in the air.

"Thank you for waiting. Lucien couldn't keep up," the namesake scoffed in response as the pair approached the boarder, thanking the Mother of that intact shimmer which told them that the wards very much still up, and very strong. Eris folded his arms over his chest, finding the nearest tree and leaning on its rough bark before drawling, "You got me here, Rhys. Better start talking."

It was clear that Rhys was on the brink of losing his sanity, his eyes were cold and distant, more onyx than their usual violet hue, his wings were furled around his sides, and Lucien nor Eris could tell if he meant them to be intimidating. He appeared to them dishevelled, messy black hair, a certain paleness to his skin, an unhinged glare in his eye.

"I appreciate you taking the time to meet with us," he motioned to Azriel and Cassian, the latter of which looked more broken than Lucien had ever seen him, no doubt reeling in the loss of his mate, "I hope we don't keep you for long."

"Tell me what you want, Rhys. I don't have time for pleasantries," Eris plucked an invisible thread from the stitching of his coat and looked toward the High Lord.

The fake politeness was doing little to convince Eris of anything other than that Rhys surely was the most manipulative male he had ever come across, he stole that crown right from Beron's decaying corpse.

Resisting a snarl, Rhys exhaled deeply, unclenching his fists as he began a perfectly practiced speech, "My sister is not quite herself at the moment, I fear that she has made the wrong decision in residing in your court, her mental state has always been rather brittle," he took a step toward the boarder, his toes kissing the edge of that shimmering glare, "Give her back to us so that I can ensure that she receives the proper care."

"If y/n desires to return to the Night Court then she can, I'm not stopping her from doing whatever she wishes," Eris replied flatly, completely unphased to the words that were making his blood boil in his veins, did Rhys really have the gall to suggest that you were insane?

Azriel spoke then, realising that there was no realm of possibility where Eris would willingly give you back, "You stole her from the Day Court. Some would call it war-inducing."

There it was, the threat, Eris smiled, "Is that what you want? Another war?"

"I will do whatever is necessary to ensure her safe return to her home court."

Lucien moved to Eris' side, his muscles contracting with anger, "The Night Court is no longer her home," his voice was stoic and unnerving, his gaze daggered between the three Illyrians, "Eris did not steal her, she decided with her own strength to walk away from you, and she is already better for it."

Then, Rhys grinned, his power rattling against the wards around the Autumn Court, "I think you'll find, Lucien, that y/n belongs to me, she is property of the Night Court, her blood is a powerful tool that we can use to solidify our line. Since she is unmated, with no claim to her hand, it does mean that as long as she breathes, she is mine."

The words were a statement, and Rhys' voice did not falter. It was an old tradition, one marred in hatred and sadness. You were the daughter of a High Lord, and when he died, the archaic responsibility of marrying you into a suitable line fell to Rhys.

"I do suggest that you hand her over, I would hate to decimate your court, Eris. Especially when you've been working so hard to rectify the tyranny of your father," Rhys' hand drifted over his heart in mock sympathy.

There was no way in Hel that Eris would ever do such a thing, and he knew that there was no easy way for Rhys to willingly wage war on another court after what Prythian had only begun fully recovering from.

It was risky, but he couldn't let Rhys think he had him pinned to the frozen dirt like a snow fox to a bunny, "Rally your armies then, Rhysand, because there's no reality that exists where I would ever hand her over to you," then a feline smirk consumed his face, he ran his hand through his hair of fire and struck hard, "It seems to me that you only wish for her return so that no one learns what she is capable of. I intend to let her find out, and perhaps when the others realise too, of her story and what you've done, we may have High Queen on our hands."

Darkness exploded from him, his arms elongated into talons, his wings grew and creaked at the stretch like leather, he roared, an inhuman sound that sent shivers prickling down Eris and Lucien's spines; and even Azriel and Cassian had to step back with wide eyes at the sight of it.

Bingo.

With a graceful bow, Eris turned on his heels, beckoning his growling hounds whose hackles had raised to the skies, "I wish you a safe journey home, Rhysand. Send Feyre our collective regards," he called over his shoulder, not even flinching at the roar that flew threw the air.

They had what they wanted, the reason for Rhys' insistence, he knew that you had the power within you to be granted the highest honour of their world, and he had worked his entire existence to stop that from happening.

If Rhys wanted a war, then that's what he would get. Eris would rain hellfire over Prythian, and he knew for a fact that you would stand beside him smiling the entire time.

Eris and Lucien couldn't have been more relieved to be back at Fir Manor, the warmth of the estate shook their frozen bones back to life and they bristled off the jagged edges left by the words exchanged with Rhys.

Stones clunked together under their feet, but a hand on his arm stopped Eris moving to the house that was glowing with the essence of you. Golden light emitted from the windows and kissed the cobbled path before it, and girlish laughter drifted from the open windows along with the most divine smell.

"Before we go back in, I have to ask you something," Eris tensed and turned to his brother, his hair was unbound down the back of his fur coat, his mechanical eye surveyed him inquisitively, "Did you mean what you said back there? You'd go to war for her?"

Eris could had scoffed at the question, he removed his arm from his brothers grip and turned to the manor, smiling at the sight of you, Nesta, and Elain all dancing before the window, the neck of a wine bottle in your fingers and a sweet melody falling from your lips. Elain was cradling Willow in her arms who looked thrilled to be involved whilst Nesta had her own arms wound around your waist.

"Would you go to war for Elain?"

"Without question."

The sound of Eris' message being received was enough, but he spoke, "I have a feeling it won't come to that though. Call it a hunch."

Lucien hummed, not quite sure of what Eris meant, but followed after him as he paced down the path and up the porch steps, flinging the door open and grinning at your startled state as you fumbled to hide the wine bottle behind your back, "You're back," you whispered to him, the strap of your form fitting green dress falling over your shoulder which you didn't move to lift as you gazed at him.

His face was prickled with cold, his cheeks flush from walking into the heated manor from the wild winter winds; Eris shrugged off his coat and lay the garment over the arm of one of the armchairs of the seating area, pulling his sleeves up to expose his forearms, "I'm back."

"I'm here too, just in case anyone wanted to know," Lucien all but rolled his eyes at you as he passed, pressing his lips to Elain's forehead who fell into his embrace with Willow still firmly swaddled to her body, "Who's been cooking? I could smell it from outside," he delved deeper into the house despite Elain's scolding telling him that dinner wasn't ready yet.

Nesta followed the pair with a groan, taking the bottle of wine from behind your back and muttering something about saving the meal from Lucien's paws, leaving you and Eris alone.

Fiddling with your fingers, you took a step toward him, noticing a strand of his hair fall over his face and watching as his fingers moved to rake it back, such a thigh-clenching thing to witness. "How was it?"

"It was fine," his eyes still held a cold glare to them, one that was waning the longer it was fixated upon you, "We got what we needed."

"Which was?”

The nerves radiating from you were making even Eris feel nervous, he tiled his head to the side and took a step closer to you, his hands at his sides, "Not worthy enough to talk of now. Let's have tonight as a newly formed found family, and tomorrow, we can talk. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

Another step forward was taken by you, the hem of your dress swaying at the motion. You were so close to him that he could feel your warmth seep into his bones, so close that his cold breath made your own cheeks flush red.

It felt natural, to close the gap and fling your arms around him, to bury your face into his chest and deeply inhale his scent like you needed that to know that he had come back to you. There was a single beat where Eris just stood there frozen to the ground, but he slowly ran his fingers up your sides until one of them rested around your waist and the other cradled the back of your head, his nose rested atop of you, his lips ghosting at your hairline.

"I was worried," you admitted, squeezing him closer, thinking that if you didn't tell him that then he would think you weren't appreciative of the position he was now in.

Eris chuckled, it was low and rough, swirls of fire danced around your figures and his thumb rubbed small circles into the back of your neck, "You can't be rid of me that easily, Fawn."

The scampering of steps made you pull back from him, and he yearned to hold you again without a care about who would see and what they would say. Lucien entered the room once more holding a beautifully decorated cupcake in his hand, a raised brow on his face and fighting a smirk once he noted your closeness, "These cakes are amazing, y/n."

"Thank you, Lucien," you swayed back and forth on the balls of your feet, your eyes drowsy with drunkenness.

"I sent for dinner for your three, why are you cooking?" Eris asked, confused, only a fool would turn down food from the Autumn Court chefs.

Nesta shrugged, plopping herself down on one of the deep rooted chairs, licking her fingers free from icing, "Elain sent them away, says she can do better."

"Which you're now all ruining thanks to her cakes," Elain's hands were on her hips and she pointed to you, her apron was coated in flour, her hair was strewn up and messy, and it was clear that she was busy cooking before you and Nesta had pulled her from the kitchen to dance, "They are rather lovely, y/n. You should be thrilled."

Eris' heart fluttered as you turned to him, a hopeful glint in your eye, "Would you like to try one? I think you'd like them," he couldn't speak, he couldn't find the words really.

The firelight made you look ethereal, the golden flames danced in the glistening pools in your eyes, so pristine that he could see himself in them, "I'm afraid that I don't have much of a sweet tooth," your smile faltered, "I'm sorry."

The gaze he felt on his face was enough to make him warm the blood in warning to its owner, Lucien coughed, red faced and watering eyes and you turned to him with worry before he strained the words, "Sorry, crumb," a lie.

"Okay," you whistled, not at all noticing the silent daggers drifting between the two Vanserra brothers, which was odd considering how observant you usually were, perhaps it was the wine floating to your head.

Maybe you were letting your guard down and didn't feel the need to be watching everyone anymore.

Eris watched you retreat into the kitchen with Elain, waiting until you were out of view before he readied himself for Lucien, "I cannot remember a time when you denied yourself a dessert."

"Things change."

"Not with you they don't," Lucien stared after his mate, his eyes full of love and desire, full of possibility and thoughts of the future.

When the news had spread of Lucien and Elain's mating, Eris was truly happy for them, out of everyone he knew his brother was the one most deserving of that happiness, of that type of love. Eris couldn't say the same for himself, he didn't think he deserved any light after the things he had done, after the atrocities he had inflicted over the course of his existence. Having a mate was something he could never allow himself to dream of, everything he touched turned to ask, his fire and mask too cold to allow anyone close enough.

Eris had depleted his worth, he never let anyone touch him, he would cower from it like a wounded animal. Even when he laid with the courtesans, their time together was restricted to just sex, no kissing, no holding one another, just unsatisfying sex that made him bathe in self-loathing whilst his partner relished in the feeling of being fucked by fire.

There was always a part of him that felt unworthy, his father had gone as far to tell him so, multiple times. Every touch sent him spiralling into memories, ones of mutilation and marring, but when you had touched him, when you had wrapped your arms around him and held him close, he didn't feel the need to shrink away or unwind you from his body. All he wanted to do was keep you there forever, and that, that was something remarkable on its own.

You may have been Prythian's darkest secret, but he found you to be the only thing worth fighting for.

His salvation.

It wasn't long after dinner that you had disappeared from view.

It didn't take Eris long to embark on his search from you, excusing himself from the table that had long since gone quiet without your teasing stories of your upbringing and playdates with the High Lord beside you.

Eris didn't think that you would remember your visits to Autumn when you were a child, thinking that you were too young to retain the memories that he had held onto tightly. You were such an innocent little thing back then, and he remembered his wonderment when you had seen the orange ring in your eyes, displaying his own fire to compare the two and enjoying the sound of your giggles far too much.

He was sure that there was talk of a union between the two of you, he remembered the hushed whispers and beaming smiles of pride as both sets of parents gazed at the two of you playing in the corner with Lucien and Rhys adjacent. Though, neither of your brothers could steal your attention away from the other.

It was what he had held onto all of those years apart, in the moment when the light began to dim and the abuse began to accelerate, in the times when he wondered where you had gone. There were gaps in his mind, like memories had been stolen and locked elsewhere because he couldn't truly remember the last time he had seen you before the time he had caught a glimpse of your wingless figure wandering the halls Under The Mountain.

Eris wandered down the halls of the manor, following your scent that clung to the walls, absentmindedly pondering where exactly he would place a portrait of you in the vast home.

The sound of gentle whimpers entered his earshot and he stopped in his tracks, turning his head to the side to listen harder. He knew that the whimpers were coming from you, they weren't scared ones, but ones of pain, and his heart raced in his chest at the mere thought of you being in any form of pain under his roof.

Knocking softly on the door to your room, his old room, the grandest chamber in the entire manor, he waited patiently and listened to the shuffle of your feet and the soft padding of your companion before the door opened to reveal your strained features and a certain hound peeking around the wood, "You left."

Turning from him, you winced, leaving the door open enough for him to let himself inside, "I get these knots under my scars, it feels like I'm being stabbed, and I just need a minute when it starts."

Eris had heard of it, of the pain residing in the bones and muscles of clipped Illyrian females, sometimes so severe that they believe a new pair are pushing their way through the marred crescent moon scars, and breaking a little when they realised that it wasn't the case.

"It's been happening more recently, I think it might be stress related," you huffed out a laugh. It wouldn't be surprising, you had gone through enough to have permanent knots twisting at your shoulders, "Mor or Azriel usually tend to them," your voice was full of longing as you perched on the edge of the chaise lounge before the roaring fireplace. Willow had hopped up onto the plush piece of furniture, spinning in three circles before settling her head into your lap. Eris made a note to scold her for that later.

The tattoo on your arm shone in the golden embers, swirls of shadow and fire intertwining and dancing around your bicep, "I can help."

"Eris," you winced softly as you turned your head to him, "I couldn't ask you to do that, you've done so much already."

"You're not asking," he moved behind you, his fingers hovering over the sheer fabric of your dress that was transparent enough for him to see the muscle contorting under your skin, "If all I can give you is some relief, then I will."

A moment passed as you thought about it, but you nodded, giving him permission to unlace the strings holding the back of your dress together and pull the straps over your shoulders.

Eris' fingers were warm against your skin, you sucked in a breath at the contact, you felt fire spread across your surface as his gently wound his fingers into your flesh, "I want to try something." When you said nothing, he took it as a sign of agreement, he allowed his fire to flow into his fingertips, the heat of them unwinding the knot in your muscles instantly, withering the demon under your skin into the abyss, "Better?"

"Much," you glanced over your shoulder, "Thank you," your eyes were dazed and you smiled at him, your own fingers running down the space between Willow's eyes and down her long nose.

A question had been poking at him the moment he had seen it, the tattoo that glowed in the light, the one that when you looked at it for a moment too long seemed to dance, "That tattoo. It was a bargain?"

A solemn nod, "Yes," you confirmed, "Between Azriel and I," you gazed into the fire and sighed, but you didn't move away from Eris when he took the seat beside you, "We promised that we would always look after one another, that we would never feel harm at the other's hand."

You smiled sadly, "Azriel and I weren't so different, we were both raised by people who didn't particularly want us, burdened with a power we didn't understand. I think we understood one another in a way no one else could, we knew what we needed and when, we basically knew each other better than we knew ourselves," your voice trailed off, "At least, I thought we did," tears pooled on your bottom lids and you blinked hard to rid your vision of their blurry infliction.

Eris watched you shudder, the loneliness and betrayal worming its way into your soul like you had realised the gravity of it all.

Shuffling closer, Eris' thigh brushed against your own, his fingers millimetres away from yours and he gave into his desire to touch you as his index finger curled around your little one. A simple action to show that he understood, and more a singular moment, you let your guard down, the walls tumbled and you felt his power wash over you, kissing your own and sewing together the brittle remnants of your essence.

The room shifted, the world tilted, and you felt a sensation you had never felt before. Looking down, you found black flames licking up your fingers, they danced up your arms and across your connected digits to curl around Eris.

Neither of you moved, you both simply gazed at it, his fire and your darkness moulding together to create a wonderous crackle of flame that didn't burn either of you. It was softly calling out, and you raised your entwined fingers to inspect it carefully.

It was meant to be terrifying, but the personification of your darkness felt more childlike than anything, it was excited and new, and it nestled itself onto both of your limbs.

"I've never seen anything like this before," Eris held your palm atop of his own, his fingers smoothing over your pulse as his eyes found you, examining your face, namely your eyes where the fire in them burnt brightly.

Eris should have cowered away from you, but he loved your touch more than anything, and no matter how fleeting it may be, he would bathe in it for as long as he possibly could. "Neither have I," you tilted your head, realisation was littered on you, "But I've read about it. It's called Carranam, I think." The look in your enlightened eyes told him of the rarity of such a thing.

"You really are a clever little thing, aren't you?"

A sidelong glance and smirk later, you drawled, "You don't even know the half of it, High Lord."

Author's Note

Here she is!!!

Hope you love this and are going just as feral as me right now 🫶🏻

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielsmate3 @ivy-34 @mp-littlebit @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @iamjimintrash @ifonlyiwerefiction @pirana10 @donttellthecats @padbaeamidla

[r0ttenhearts]

I saw you're taking req, hmm I wanted some angst like neglected reader & diluc or kaveh, the story or plot is up to you 🥹🥹

look at me

diluc x reader

warnings: mean diluc, one sided relationship, arguments, angst

another night you found yourself alone in bed, the book you had been reading laid open on the spot that belonged to diluc, or used to. longer nights seemed to be often now, staying up for him. not like he cared for your presence anyway. only giving you a glance when he’d get in bed, facing away from you.

the cold feeling of the sheets on your skin no longer warmed your heart, trying to grasp at the scent of him on his pillow. it was like loving a ghost. if you could even call it a relationship anymore.

dates and anniversaries had been forgotten about for months now, empty promises he’d give you before stopping completely. never giving you anything to hope for. that’s what you believed on your birthday, leaving you alone that night. a thickly frosted cake sitting in front of you, tears in your eyes with his maids somber smiles as you blew out your candles.

you still held hope in your heart, hope that things would go back to how they used to be, to a loving relationship with him. that was until that night. screams and tears being the only thing between you two.

“i’ve told you for the last time, (y/n). i’m busy. can’t you take this up with sucrose or one of your other friends? i don’t have time for this nonsense.” diluc sighed, pressing his thumbs on the bridge of his nose.

“we haven’t done anything together in months, diluc.” you looked at him with hope in your eyes, holding out a flyer for the upcoming windblume festival in mondstat. “we can go to this together! it’ll be like how we used to go to your wine festival’s back in the day, but this time you won’t have to-“

his gloved hand tearing the sheet out of your grasp and ripping it in half silenced your words. you stared at him, wide eyed as he looked to you with the meanest glare he only reserved for kaeya.

“i don’t give a shit to go to some silly festival with you. do you ever wonder why i don’t spend time with you anymore (y/n)? why i’d rather be manning the bar instead of letting my employees do it?” he seethed, getting right in your face as you stood there frozen.

his fiery red hair matched his tone as you felt your love and hope for this relationship slowly wither with every word that came out of his mouth. his piercing eyes not hiding his distaste for you,

“the reason is i simply cannot stand to be here with you. i can’t stand the way you look at me so stupidly. you still believe something is there when i haven’t even looked at you in months.

i don’t love you anymore (y/n). get that through your thick skull. or do you still think i’m kidding? that one day i’ll waltz in here and kiss you like i used to? that i won’t leave you alone here every day with the maids?

nothing will change. i don’t care if you leave me. do what you wish, just stop bothering me.”

he left your shared bedroom with a slam of the door. the glass on your bedside table shaking as silent tears slipped down your cheeks. you were tired. tired of the fighting, tired of him.

the next day you did as he asked, or screamed. with a heavy heart you left his manor, a home you had known for six years. ignoring his lingering stares in the streets of mondstat for the next few months.

every time you’d see him stop and stare at you, you’d shake your head. he didn’t miss you. you couldn’t miss him. nothing was waiting for you back at the winery.

you never knew of the way he’d uncap some of his special wine, sitting at the same table you used to have dinner alone in. gulping down the bitter liquid, he hated every second of it sliding down his throat. but he hated the way he felt without you even more.

the day he told you those words he’d felt nothing but regret. coming home to an empty house solidified that feeling of guilt and pain as he remembered the look on your face as he claimed he no longer felt anything for you. it was a lie. he lied to keep you away, away from his duties to hunt down the fatui. you didn’t know he was the infamous dark night hero, only believing his white lies of being at the bar every night.

oh how cruel could fate be as he watched you move on. you’d refuse to look his way if he stood next to you at a stall, your gaze locked on the merchant. never at him.

eventually your gaze would be locked onto his brother, kaeya. kaeya’s smirk as you held onto his arm made his blood boil. he had taken something else from him. but were you ever his to be taken from?

as he sat on the floor of his cellar, tears in his eyes as he inhaled the smell of grapes and liquids he now found comfort in, he only thought of you.

“hey (y/n).. the windblume festival is coming up soon.. do you want to go together.” he whispered to himself, more hot tears running down his face.

“i didn’t mean what i said that night.. i’ll cut off my own tongue so i never yell at you again.. so please,

promise you won’t go.”

taglist: @samarill @lelemnh

[sarawritestories]

Look Up at the Stars

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: Your refusal to take care of yourself while Cassian is away has your friends worried that you're being too hard on yourself. And tell the General as much so he forces you to slow down and reminds you why self care is important.

Dedicated to @milswrites and @lady-of-tearshed who are always scolding me to take care of myself.

Content warning: overworking, not taking care of yourself,

Cassian landed on the balcony of your shared home where he was surprised to see your two dear friends, Milly and Eve, waiting for him. Brows furrowed as he noticed your evident absence.

"She's doing it again." Eve clipped, sipping her tea. "She won't listen." Cassian let out a sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose.

Milly rose from her chair and gripped his arm, "She's been in the library at the House of Wind for days Rhysand, even when he has given her explicit orders have not gotten her out of there." She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, and Cassian instinctively placed his hand on top of hers.

"You two are good friends, you know that, right? She is lucky to have you both."

Eve smiled, "We're lucky to have her. Now go get her, bring her home."

Before the General moved, he smiled, "Will you two do something for me before you go?" The two females smirked deviously as Cassian began to tell him his idea.

✨️✨️✨️

Guilt laced your whole body. You had yet to turn in those reports you promised Rhys a week ago. What good were you in his court if you couldn't even reach the deadlines you placed for yourself. Worst than that when you saw him last, he only looked worried for you. Was livid when you ignored his direct order to go home. One look into your pleading eyes had him back off and leave with an exasperated sigh and you knew Cassian would hear about it.

The gold thread tying you to your mate was still blocked on his end, meaning that he was still away maybe you would be able to still fin-

"Someone has been busy while I was away." The low timbre of Cassian's voice elicited tears from your eyes. It had been a few months since you saw him last. Turning around, his hazel eyes were bright, and a beard had grown in since he left, and the sight of him alone caused heat to grow in your belly. "Hello, Sweetheart."

You dropped everything and leaped into his arms. He held you close, opening the bond to let his love flood your system. "I missed you." You held him tighter, "I thought you were still away."

"Rhysand wrote to me. He had concerns. Milly and Eve expressed those same concerns when I got home." You pulled away to meet his loving gaze only to find worry there.

"Work comes fir-

"You come first. Always." Cassian's tone was clipped. "In my life, you are my number one priority. You should be making time for yourself, too."

Heat rose to your cheeks. You knew he was right. You two had argued over this multiple times before. "But I-

Cassian interrupted you once more, only this time he sealed his lips to your own. You hummed, not remotely bothered by the beard scratching against your skin. He pulled away, and you pressed your forehead to his own, taking in his scent or the fact he still held you in his arms. "I'm not listening to you being stubborn. We can argue over your work habits another day. I missed my mate. So we're going home. Understand?" You nodded as your eyes fluttered close. "Good." He turned and you watched the stack of papers become smaller as he walked out of the library.

✨️✨️✨️

You walked out of the bathroom post shower and into the shared bedroom where Cassian was out of his leathers and into a black t-shirt and lounge pants. He looked so handsome you forgot these last few months how beautiful he truly was. "Feel better?" He asked, quirking a brow as he met your gaze.

You did feel better to be clean. Cassian had set out his favorite nightgown of yours; red silk and had a bath set up with your favorite soaps and salts. "I feel like me again."

Cassian walked over and kissed your lips. "Good." His wings blocked the view of the balcony, as they were splayed wide. "I have a surprise for you." He held up a blind fold, and you raised an eyebrow. "Not that," though he got low, your noses were touches, "You and I are off for the next two weeks. That's plenty of time to make sure my mate is properly fucked." He winked and your heart sputtered.

Cassian placed the blindfold over your eyes and led you to his desired destination. Your feet hit cold concrete, and the summer breeze of the night air tickled your skin. Cassian removed the blindfold, and you gasped. Your balcony had a mountain of blankets, pillows, and your favorite snacks. Movement in the sky caught your eye as a shooting star flew across the sky. Then another. "There are supposed to be a cluster of falling stars tonight. Watch them with me?"

You turned to the male, smile wide, and your hand cupped his cheek. "Of course! I don't know what to say except." You kissed him, "I fall deeper in love with you, with every day that passes."

"Me too, Sweetheart." He kissed your forehead, "My beautiful, stubborn, hardworking mate." He kissed your nose, and you giggled and Cassian's eyes lit up at the sound.

✨️✨️✨️

You spent the whole evening looking up at the Stars, your head on Cassian's chest as he rubbed circles on your back. He chuckled as you kept pointing to ever fallen star you saw. His smile grew when you moved to your own pillow, your hand finding his, as you looked to the sky in awe.

Cassian could care less about the stars in the sky. Your smile was what lit up Cassian's world.

[artbybyte]

Jacob Alden - Lurking for Love headcanons

(Wholesome + bordering nsfw + other)

(THOSE WHO COME FOR MY EPITHET ERASED CONTENT LOOK AWAY)

Jacob is bisexual(pref towards women) and he doesn't discriminate against whoever it is he has a crush on cis, trans, and he doesn't mind. As long as you give him some form of respect, he'd be delusional enough to love you forever without question

Jacob is a very, very touch starved outcast and would do anything for cuddles, he's the big spoon type, clinging onto you and not letting you out of his grasp for a second thought throughout the night.

Jacob enjoys sharing his interests with you. So much so that he'd actively try and get you into them and help you understand his quirks.

Jacob canonically takes it up the ass sometimes /hj

He'd definitely nap and cuddle with you laying on his barren chest on warm days and would hold you tightly to his chest, he wouldn't care how sweaty you both got— he's a sucker for skin to skin contact.

He'd defend you beyond anything, so much so to the point he'd raise his voice and swear at the person harrassing you. He's insanely protective of you, and as cliché as it is, he would stand up and fight if it means you'd be alright.

His waist down to his thighs are sensitive to touch. He'd probably whine a little if you caressed him there—

He's very gentle with you in general. He'd be the absolute perfect boyfriend to have if it wasn't for how much his obsession of you overtakes him. He gets too carried away and holds himself back and feels immense guilt for the intrusive thoughts he has about you and the people around you.

You could say he's also jealous of you in a way, but it's a subconscious thing, really. He wants you to love him, love him enough that it'll "fix" him and his bad habits. He's jealous of how happy and 'normal' you seem to be, and he craves that sense of normality in his own life without being shut out from others around him anymore. He finds you to be perfect and nothing less than that.

He'd be kinda controlling over what you wear most of the time but he'd just appear agitated is all, he wouldn't force you to change unless he was feeling really insecure that you were wearing something too provocative.

He'd come up behind you while you are doing some sort of mundane task and hug you from behind while whispering everything he loves about you in your ear.

Jacob is the type to grind up against you while cuddling yk— with permission from you first, of course

Ever since he met you, he couldn't stop daydreaming about you to the point it affected his focus in work while he imagined all the ways he could make you his.

You. Jacob. Matching unicorn onesies. /j

(Extra, offical ref sheet of Jacob if you haven't seen it yet :p)

[adnauseum11]

Listening Post (John Price x Reader)

John goes M.I.A, and all is not as it seems at first.

900 words

CW: swearing

feedback welcome!

You’re starting to get worried. It’s out of character for John to ignore you. Even when he was still on active duty, he would tell you if he was going to be in the field. He’d never compromise himself with any details but he’d at least let you know he was away. And he always let you know when he was back on grid, his simple ‘back here’ text enough to reassure you that he had made it home once again. You stand in your kitchen, gnawing a thumbnail and obsessively looking at your phone. 

He wasn’t in the field any more, and he shouldn't be away, you had plans to do Trivia Thursday night this week at the pub. He would have told you if he had left town. If you weren’t dating the wretched man, you would send him a text about being a miserable bastard and try him again the next day to see if his mood had improved. 

You scroll back in your texts, checking the timestamps. He’s never let a text go unanswered all day before. What kind of trouble could an ex-SAS Captain possibly get in to? He can take care of himself. Surely, he’s fine. He’s been in his share of fights. If the cops had picked him up for something, you would have got wind of it, you’re certain. You’re trying to convince yourself to remain calm, annoyingly something that’s normally John’s job between the two of you. 

You realize you’re going to spend the evening standing in the kitchen, agonizing in silence, so you resolve to sort the situation out one way or another. You pull on your jacket, thumbing through your phone to a ride share app. You find yourself in front of John’s flat less than 20 minutes later. His car is there, and instead of making you feel better you get a sinking sensation in your stomach. At least if he was away, you could tell yourself he was busy. Now it looks like he’s just dodging you. 

You let yourself in using the key he gave you years ago, knocking gently and calling for him. Nothing. No signs of life in the kitchen or living room. His neat flat looks immaculate. You’re heading down the hall when you hear low groaning. A flame of anger licks at your belly and you have to keep yourself from stomping the rest of the way down the hall. 

If he’s cheating on you before you’ve even had sex, you’re going to string him up by his balls. If you have to pay to find someone who knows how to do that, you will. It will be worth it – 

By the time you clear the doorway, you’ve convinced yourself of what you’re going to find. Even brace for it, your face screwed up into a wince. So, when it’s just John, sweating buckets and groaning in pain in the middle of his bed it takes you a full ten seconds to reboot your brain.

“What’s wrong?” You’re leaning over him, not bothering with pleasantries or admonishments now, running your hands over his face and chest with anxious movements. You’re instinctively looking for a wound of some sort before you can process your own actions. He squints at you, grabbing your hands and covering his eyes with your palms, curling towards you.

“My fucking head. Holy shit.” His voice is like gravel, and you wonder how long he’s been like this if he’s openly admitting to what ails him. You’re crawling into the bed, moving on autopilot despite never having seen him like this. John’s misery does not like company, thanks very much. But it seems those old rules of engagement for you both are shifting. You’re pillowing his head on your thighs, curling over him protectively and making sympathetic noises softly. As relieved as you are he’s not up to anything nefarious, guilt at it being a thought at all is hot on its heels.  

“A migraine?” 

He confirms with the tiniest tilt of his head, pressing his cheek into your thigh while you gently cup his forehead. He’s burning hot, sweaty to the touch. You’re stroking a palm over his hair slowly, easing him off your lap so you can run around his flat, gathering anything you can think of that might help - ice water in a bowl with a facecloth, a bottle of water, fruit from the bowl in his kitchen. He’s groaning again by the time you get back and arrange everything on his bedside table. 

You spend the rest of the night playing nurse, finally able to get more information out of the miserable man on what might make him feel better. The cool cloth helps, as does the darkness and gently stroking his scalp. You’re able to get him to lightly doze after a few hours of concentrated efforts. Grateful for the small stash of clothes and essentials John insisted you bring over a few days prior, you keep one eye on your sleeping patient while you change into pajamas. The thought of leaving him alone like this makes your stomach drop and your skin crawl, as does the slow realization he’s likely been dealing with these episodes alone for some time. 

You manage to crawl back into bed without disturbing him, resuming your slow stroking passes over his scalp. Your insides are wobbling dangerously, like you might fall into a heaving cry at any moment. You’re supremely grateful when exhaustion takes over, silencing any and all thoughts. 

Next Chapter

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 ꒱ 정성찬

summary : you and sungchan have been in a situationship for some time, and the pot was finally boiling over

genre : fluff, slight angst, suggestive, sungchan x afab!reader tws : language, pet names, kiss, slightly suggestive content author notes : wrote this like 10 minutes after i woke up lmao word count : 0.8k

you were nervous. much more nervous than you ever had been — not even your exams could compare to the feeling of dread inside your chest, caving in your lungs. your hands fought each other subconsciously as you paced the front part of your apartment.

you thought of yourself as stupid, there was nothing else to describe the feeling of embarrassment, that was now mixed with guilt.

you’d seen it. your situationship making out with another girl during your shared physical education class. you’d seen it, and you watched in disbelief until he turned his head, catching your horrified gaze.

you had no right to be making faces at the two. you had no right to be upset. he wasn’t yours, and you made it clear all those months ago that he never would be.

so, why was your heart racing so much?

even the thought of him was enough to make you feel weak in the knees. the sight of him alone enough to make you crumble where you stood. he wasn’t yours, but he made you feel the same as if he was.

maybe this new feeling was too scary and that’s why you called him over. maybe you needed him to say he liked her better for you to break it off. maybe you needed something from him that you were too afraid to ask — that you never could, and frankly, never should.

you knew his reputation. hell, everyone did. he was a player. a womanizer. anything that wasn’t loving and caring… but the way he brushed stray hairs away from your face before kissing you oh-so gently; or the way his hands moved with so much caution against you; or the way he’d call you his baby, his pretty girl, contradicted all the rumors.

maybe, they just didn’t know him like you did.

but did she? did the girl he was lip-locking earlier today experience the same man you knew? did she get the sweet princess treatment, and intimate moments that shouldn’t be shared? did she get butterflies when she saw him, the ones that flew so fast it made you nauseous?

you don’t know why that made a lump clog your throat, and an anger form in the pit of your stomach.

he shouldn’t have been anything special — just another guy — but he was special… special to you. and that terrified something new in you. something you were scared to get close to, but scared to lose all together.

in the depths of the night, when he was curled up by your side, you even wondered if this was what love was. you pretended you knew everything about anything, but when it came to the feelings he instilled in you, you were just as clueless as the rest.

a knock on the door sent you away from the what ifs, and it took a lot of strength to get your feet to move to it.

you shook ever-so-slightly as you opened it, revealing the man that wasn’t yours on the other side.

your eyes couldn’t meet his, “i-i —“

he cut you off before you had the chance, “i hated it.”

“what?”

his hands rested down by his side, and you knew he was looking down at you despite you doing the opposite. “it wasn’t you. it’ll never be you. god, you really fucked me up! do you know that, y/n? do you know that i can’t stop thinking about you in situations where i shouldn’t? when i really fucking shouldn’t.”

“i-i’m sorry?”

he fully came through the door, letting it slowly swing closed behind him. his hands were on your cheeks, forcing your eyes to meet his. this was the intimacy you were talking about. and despite it being so casual to and from anyone else, from him, it felt like a confession every time.

his voice lowered a little bit to resemble a half-whisper, “do you feel the same?” but he already knew the answer. the look in your eyes when you caught him in the act was so endearing to him, engrained in his memory, it had him reading you like his favorite book; which you were. he knew all your signs, and now he knew all your tells. “because i can’t do this anymore, and i know you said we’d never take it further, but i —“

“it’s too late, sungchan.” you admitted, finishing what he was starting, “you already have me.”

his lips were on yours faster than the words left them. he had you going up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck, making the kiss deepen. his palms rested steady against your cheeks, stroking them gently with his thumb through the synchronicity.

this kiss felt different; like something inside you had snapped, setting the waterfall of emotions free. and, this time, it didn’t feel like either of you had to hold back.

he walked you backwards, never once breaking apart from you, until you both hit the couch.

“and i’m never letting you go, okay?”

you fell back first with a huff, and he climbed on top of you, settling between your parted knees. your fingers carded through his hair as you kissed so passionately, it could’ve been considered pathetic how desperate it was in reality.

your night could’ve went one of two ways; he’d love you all the same, or he’d leave you. and, tonight — and hopefully forever — you were glad it wasn’t the latter.

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

[peterspinkrobe]

Revelation - Priest!Miguel x Reader [part 3]

Word count: 2,878

Rating/Warnings: mature. Naughty thoughts and naughty bits. Mentions of parental death, religious content, food, soooo much Catholic guilt.

A/N: I’m so glad you guys are enjoying the series so far! No more money in my budget for commissioned art this month, but I did take this picture of St. Phillip’s Church while visiting my uncle in Charleston. Please let me know what you think of this chapter! If you haven’t read part 1 or part 2, go do that first :p

Tagged peeps: @friendlynbhdzero @ceoofghosts @hoelychildofgod @tayleighuh @luckycandykitten @beebslebobs @milkyardbetter @miaasmf @koimess @miggyswhore (sorry if I missed you in the taglist or if it messed up the tag!!!)

There were two things known about your mother: her cooking and her follow through. She was the delegate for church and community event meals; oftentimes in the kitchen doing the work herself alongside people that respected her and her cooking.

Your mother prided herself in her cooking and it kept her going in times of hurt for you both. She was the one baking casseroles to give to neighbors when dad passed. It was you who had to sit her down to eat something most days.

If God had anything to do with her getting better, it was in giving her that ability to provide in a way some overlooked. She buzzed while she worked her talents in the church’s kitchen now. The previously mentioned follow through evident in her meticulous manner of cleaning right behind herself as she cooked.

That follow through was especially true now as she was making sure you followed the rules she had set in place regarding church and attendance. Not only were you going this Sunday since you missed the last service, but you were also helping with the Wednesday church dinner.

You know she wants the best for you. It took you a long time (and a lot of space) to see that she showed it in the ways she knew how, the ways she was raised. You try to sprinkle the amount of salt she showed you earlier onto the massive amount of rolls. Despite your physical presence where she asked, you know your hearts and values don’t lie within the boundaries of shared faith.

You didn’t mind the service aspect of religion though. In fact, you enjoyed assisting your mother when she helped others in the community. You only pretended to follow the ‘good book’ and ‘walk the righteous path’ to spare her. What you had issues with was the institution of religion itself and some probably never-to-be-resolved personal qualms with the man upstairs. First, why did god have to be a man?

You’d never admit these questions and doubts to her, it would devastate her.

You did, however, admit it to someone.

Your confession last Thursday and the fact that Reverend Miguel was on the receiving end of all your revelations had you waking up suddenly in the night this past week - jolting from the bed, a quickening pulse, and sweat dampening the sheets. The concern in his deep, dark-eyed stare from that day stuck with you. You felt shame, guilt, maybe both, or something else unnamed and it kept you from indulging in the pleasure he had so easily made you feel without even being in the room. You still felt tense knots in your shoulders as you worked.

It was easy to feign sickness when you actually felt feverish and drained after you’d let those inner thoughts become spoken truths.. Your mother worried when you wouldn’t come out of your room. When you missed (skipped) church, she showed her concern and care with homemade chicken noodle soup. Moping, unbothered lasted only another day before she was yanking covers off you and having you run errands around town. ‘Getting back on your feet is the first step to feeling better,’ she retorted to your groans early that Monday morning. No more laying out of church…

You had to think of another way to avoid him. A way to steer clear of any sort of confrontation

You thought about moving away, dramatic, yes, but maybe into the city. Not too far from mom, because she needed help more than she admitted. Tonight was a prime example as her usual kitchen hands said they weren’t feeling well. This was helpful in negating any suspicions your mom had of you lying about being ill. Moving wouldn’t be running away, you were an adult.

You had literally run away though. As soon as the reality of who had taken your confession set in, you ran right out of that booth, back into the bustling city, onto the bumpy bus, and curled up into yourself at home. As you’re thinking about the many help wanted signs and rent postings you saw in the city, you hear chatter that interrupts the flow you two had created in the kitchen.

Mom is being pulled away by another member of the church and she instructs you to make two plates for the people who weren’t able to help her with cooking this evening. You’re pulling the last of the vegetables out of the oven and she hovers a moment, uncomfortable leaving you to the important final preparations.

It’s hard not to feel offended. Five years ago you would have rolled your eyes and commented on how if she didn't trust you, you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place.

“It’s okay,” you assure her as you wash your hands before preparing their plates, “I’ve got this.” You smile gently at her for you know you both need reassurance at times. She pinches her lips together but nods and leaves you alone.

Styrofoam to-go plates were open on the counter, waiting to receive their fill. You eyed the dinner and patted yourself on the back. Mom thought up the meal and did most of the actual ingredient brain power and temperature controls, but you’d done your part as well. It did feel good to do for others even if you still felt down.

A wide pan of meatloaf with a perfect caramelized sauce on top sat as the main course. Alongside it was some cabbage slaw and a broccoli cheddar bake. You make the to-go plates with equal portions and top them each with a roll. Your favorite part were the green onion rolls and you couldn't help but sneak one as the hours of prep and cooking left you famished.

You placed foil over the containers of your mom’s truly famous strawberry cobbler for it to cool when everyone ate. Most of the produce has come from the local farms. You savored the first bite of the fresh roll and marinated on the flavors of home, wondering if you could really leave this behind again.

You’re setting out the plates and silverware for the church members when you hear footsteps behind you. You turn to tell your mom that you’d made the plates, but it’s not her that now joined you in the kitchen.

Tense shoulders, little sleep… you were as tight as a coil ready to spring so you jumped a little when you saw the towering figure as you turned.

Reverend O’Hara’s eyes showed the same concern from last week, but softer. His feet shuffled slightly and he put his hands up as if he had approached an animal in the wild. He had a hesitant, more nervous aura than the suave confidence he usually eluded.

He opened his mouth to speak and you heard him say your name again in that sweet voice…

______________________________________

Standing before you now, Deacon Miguel found himself reflecting on the unexpected confession he heard last week. It was a confession that had stirred within him a mix of emotions and conflicting thoughts.

Miguel had contemplated how to address this delicate situation for it simply couldn’t go ignored. You matter. Your feelings matter. The deacon knew it was crucial that he approach this with compassion and understanding. Faith was a deeply personal journey, and each individual had their own struggles and doubts. Lord knew he’d faced his own in the past and that even if his current standings were solid, they were shaky.

His mind had been consumed by the weight of what he had learned. He couldn't help but feel a profound connection to you when he first placed the communion wafer on your tongue, the tongue that had inadvertently confessed impure thoughts to him. Though your honesty and vulnerability struck a chord within him.

Unbeknownst to you, the deacon struggled with similar doubts and desires. When he heard your confession, his heart weighed heavily with empathy and understanding. Though he couldn’t help the mix of relief in his emotions as well. It was comforting to know he wasn’t alone in grappling with faith, the temptation, and the forbidden attraction that he felt towards you.

Denying his own attraction to you was impossible.

Despite his commitment to his faith and role within the church, he too has found himself captivated by your presence and constantly battled his own desires. Since he’d laid eyes on you that faithful Sunday morning, he’d felt an invisible force bind himself to you. Much like he had bound himself to the service of God Almighty, he found himself wanting to serve you.

Miguel O’Hara couldn’t get that mental image out of his mind. Serving you… The more he tried to control his urges, the harder they became to ignore. He’d been doing what he was told all these many years in the church, abstaining from giving in too much. But no matter how much he tried to uphold the image of chaste, he is merely flesh.

The views of his brothers in Christ were archaic. They forget that the sacrifice of the only Son was done in love, despite our sins. He truly believed that it is natural, God-given even, to experience attraction to fellow flesh. It’s natural to seek a partner in life. He’s human. He’s prone to straying from the path. He is only human. He just hopes that God understands when he asks for forgiveness and repentance.

He struggles with the guilt of falling into temptation when he feels he’ll come undone if he doesn’t allow himself release. He isn’t able to hold back now as much as times prior. Not when you had captivated his spirit.

He also felt guilty for viewing you in the explicit ways that he thought of you. Focusing on the way clothes hugged your body and needing to know what hid in the heaven of your thighs. While Matthew says not to judge others, he also mentions in the Good Book that, “whoever looks […] to lust at someone, has already committed adultery with them in his heart.” If he were to really follow the written word, Miguel would have to pluck out his eyes for his transgressions against you in his mind.

His flesh weakens when he remembers how soft your lips were under the pad of his thumb. The way your eyes looked into his as he cupped your chin.

Cold showers are his usual go-to when it comes to trying to avoid the temptation of touch. His large shoulders hunched slightly when the frigid water fell onto his skin. It’s in vain though each time because his body still radiates heat of passion from thoughts of you. When he looks down at himself, he curses his body’s reaction to thoughts of your mouth. His painfully hard cock begs for your touch. It’s always too much to bear. The tip of him screaming red and leaking despite the cold temperatures.

When he gives in, it’s always too fast. Finally gripping himself the way he’d liked, imagining showing that way to you, he pumped himself with his hand. His grunts steamed the shower even further as he envisioned you with him. Oh, how he longed to feel you and learn you like scripture. His wanton movements force him to brace himself on the shower wall as an image that always brings over the edge flashes his in mind: your legs spread in offering of your own communion. It’s enough to make him see stars as your name echoes in his shower like hallelujahs.

He wishes it wasn’t shame that he felt after. He wishes his comedown was met with comfort from you. He allows the evidence of his shame to wash from himself down the drain, but the feeling is still there. You were more than someone to be lusted over.

While the sexual attraction was strong, he also yearned to know more about you. You’d only revealed little bits of yourself in the confession booth but he was intrigued, nonetheless. He wanted to know more about your conflict with faith, wondered what your childhood was like and what foods you enjoyed, interested in learning your outlook on life. Miguel wanted to learn your personal philosophies as if it were doctrine.

Not seeing you at the previous Sunday service hurt. He understood, given your beliefs, that he couldn’t expect you at church. It wasn’t an attendance issue, which he would not enforce on anyone, but the empty aisle seat in the middle pew made him feel equally as vacant. It didn’t matter to him if you were conflicted or steadfast on Christian values. Matthew 7 held his strongest position on the matter of judgment: it wasn’t his place. He was simply a figurehead of spiritual guidance.

In fact, he had geared his sermon slightly towards you for that Sunday. He couldn’t help the itch to address the issue in a way he was comfortable, through scripture. He didn’t want to convert your faith to Jesus Christ. He wanted to help you restore faith in yourself.

You conjured in him quotes from Corinthians: a book in the Bible that speaks of faith, hope, and love. He carefully highlighted 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 the night of your confession as he crafted his sermon. “[…], our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light, momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” Yes… the Bible is literally referencing heaven as the eternal glory, but it’s all metaphorical. “Unseen” was the key word in this theological message. He knew the congregation visualized pearly gates and mansions of clouds as a reward for the pain they experienced on this terrain. What he had hoped you would have gotten to hear was that there were so many possibilities when one had faith in themselves. He wanted to show you the unlocked potential housed within yourself.

He had a lot to say as he stood before you now. There’s so much you need to know, need to hear.

First, you needed to know that you were wrong.

He said your name to get your attention.

But, there wasn’t a sound after that for a moment, until your mother and a few other members of the church came through the double doors.

________________________________________

You snapped out of the trance Miguel had you locked in with the song of your name on his lips when your mom burst into the kitchen with some of her friends.

You reach to get the cups out of a cabinet and simply ignore the deacon for a moment despite the flush in your cheeks. Easily explainable by the heat of the kitchen.

“Everything is ready! Mom, I’ve got two plates ready to go for later. Come on and eat, everyone!” Your mother’s friends all compliment her on her well behaved child and you catch her eyes. There’s no strictness in her expression. She simply beams at you, her child.

Members of the church start calling out, ‘Let’s eat!’, ‘Smells good!’, and mentioning how they knew they were in for a good meal as it was your mom that did the cooking.

As people pour into the serving area and line up, you hear Reverend Miguel’s voice above the hustle of hungry people.

“Before we enjoy this delicious looking food, let us first thank the cooks and then I suppose we should bless the meal, yes?” He was smiling as he said this, as if prayer before a meal was only a formality. It seemed as though the appreciation for you two was what he was after as you watched the church thank your mother and you for your cooking. You shrugged off the bits of praise you received as it really was your mom who did the majority of the work.

An elder member is selected to lead the church in prayer and everyone bows their head. You’re still riding a buzz from the work, not to mention seeing Miguel again after almost a week. You can’t seem to bring your eyes down.

You scanned the room of bowed heads and smiling faces and found the deacon’s gaze on you again. This time, you smiled at him and nodded in appreciation. The prayer concludes and your mother’s smile at the praise makes your heart feel warm. Due to the spotlight on her cooking she was forced to be first to get her plate of food, something she usually didn’t do until after everyone had gotten their own plate. Sometimes after they’d gotten seconds. She had found her a community of support and love.

As the church members started scooping portions onto plates, you saw Reverend Miguel approach you again. He stands by your side and you watch as the congregation gets their food and he leans to his side a little toward you. He speaks in a hushed tone as he asks,

“Can we go somewhere to talk?” You swallow dryly, but his next word nearly knocks you off your feet.

“Alone?”

[pearlywritings]

Finally... we’ve waited for so long

synopsis: tempting images fill your husband’s mind, when after yet another long day he is relaxing in hot water. He is aching and yerning for your caress, but instead it’s his hand reaching down, because he cares for your your well-being too much.

pairing: Diluc x fem!reader

tw: nsfw, established relationship, masturbating, fingering, bath sex

word count: 3.1k+ words

Diluc sighs in frustration, resting his chin in his open palm, elbow firmly planted on the side of a bathtub. He can faintly hear you right outside the door - moving around your shared bedroom, surely tending to his discarded clothes, sorting through what should be left for maids to wash, what can stay, and what will end up stored away in a jewelry box. Only the golden band around his ring finger is shining brightly, and upon catching how lights reflect in the metal, the guilt twists the heart in the man's chest.

He feels like he is failing you as a husband. Admittedly, it was a horrible couple of weeks, too much happening, with preparation for the festival weighing on his shoulders as well, and he was rightfully exhausted to even talk when his head hit the pillow far later than acceptable. But so were you. You were involved in all these business and preparation things because of him, coordinating and being a mediator in conflict arising situations, which wore you out mentally as much as it did him physically. Many nights only one of you made it to the Winery, the other staying behind in the city and crashing to the hotel room. Maybe you really should consider getting an apartment within the city walls for such occasions. Something small and comfy, enough for two people to spend the night. He'll need to discuss it with you.

Not today though. He groans, straightening his back and realizing how full of pent up stress his body is. Usually he'd ask you for a massage, not forgetting to give one in return, but right now he can do as much as finish bathing to get himself in an appropriate form and get in bed with you to cuddle.

Diluc's fingers twitch at the thought of wrapping his arms around your soft and warm body, burying his face in your neck, inhaling that ever-present scent of fresh fruits that sings of summer, so full and juicy, that one bite can make them leak. A sweet sugary droplet would run down your chin, your bobbing throat and maybe he could catch it on his tongue before it reaches your plump breasts-

Fiery eyes snap open. He didn't realize it but his breathing suddenly became labored, his lungs got into a frenzy, hungrily inhaling the air and almost choking on the bath products' aroma swirling in the air. Why would he have such impure thoughts about you? Of course you are his wife, his lover, the woman whom he's seen in her best and worst, and also neediest, whose body he wants to worship till the rest of his life and whose voice fills him with thrill every time your beautiful lips part open. But…why? Why now? Shouldn't he be too exhausted to even think of your bare skin, of how you'd prettily lay sprawled under him, back arched and fingers buried in his hair? Oh, the sinfully clear details of his thoughts.

The gaze shamefully falls down to the still hot water, temperature unchanged, due to how warm his pyro vision is making his body, and then crimson orbs widen. Shit, maybe those really were long two weeks, with not much but a brief kiss here and there, and even rarer hugs, replaced by holding hands for a few minutes when things got too overwhelming.

Just mere thoughts are making him hard, and it seems like his mind doesn't want to stop fantasizing about you. It's been awhile, he admits, he probably hasn't touched you intimately in a whole month, and it fired back at him with a hard on at the slightest image of your gorgeous body imprinted into his brain.

It wasn't fair to you either, but he wasn't going to ask you to help him now. You've already done so much, and the least he could do is let you rest properly. 

Maybe if he pictures more scenes of when you rocked your bed, it'll bring him to relief in a matter of time, to get out and let you use the bathroom for your own relaxation.

He could keep quiet. It will be quick.

His back meets the tub's edge. Hand immediately goes for the half-hard cock, grasping the pulsing length and applying the pressure. Diluc curses under his breath, when his thumb swiftly swipes over the sensitive slit and sends a jolt through his body. Archons, he is aching, stomach muscles immediately flexing when he moves his palm up and down, pushing the foreskin away, revealing a flushed head.

Another memory resurfaces of when you were helping him relieve stress after a long night at the tavern, kissing his lips and letting your hand play with his leaking length. He traces the starting to bulge veins the same way you did, and even if it's hard to replicate your godsent touch Diluc still shudders again. Flaming gaze turns hazy, glazed over, overtaken by the image of your pretty fingers drawing hearts on his pectorals while your hand never ceased moving, gripping and teasing the hell out of your husband, and the Dawn Winery owner tries his hardest to do the same. But it doesn't feel the same, not with his hand being so rough and calloused that it actually feels a bit uncomfortable without lube - no amount of hot water can soften the scarred palms toughened by hardships. You like them though. You like to hold them, kiss them, have them plunging and curling deep inside of you, soaked in your juices, rubbing again those spongy walls, fuck… 

He has to lift his hips a little to let the precum run down his fully erect cock, to have at least some form of lubricant. Oh, if only you were here…

No, he has to remind himself, you are tired, you deserve a break, not another hour of pushing yourself beyond your limits to deal with his aroused state. 

Just to cum once, he repeats in his head, speeding up the stroking, come once and get out. Just one release, and the bath is all yours, he'll pour new water for you while you take off all your clothes and when he turns around, you'll be standing there in all your naked beauty, folding the garments, hair undone and those plush thighs pressed together, ngh-

Diluc doesn't hear the door open. He doesn't see another person stepping inside, doesn't feel a slight chill entering the bathroom from a window cracked open in the bedroom. His long lashes are kissing the apples of his cheeks, his pants and quiet moans escape those glistening pink lips, and skin too hot with need to be bothered with a meaningless breeze.

He is so close, just a little more-

"Love, you forgot to bring a fresh towel with y-oooooh," your sweet voice and a loud gasp are like a bucket of cold water, making him choke on another prayer of your name. Flaming eyes are wild when they snap open and stare at you, cheeks heating up upon seeing the stunned look on your lovely face. The raging blush coating Diluc's cheeks is apparent on his milky skin, and yours are pink too, but not even coming close to the richest red taking over his face.

The hand, which just moments ago was roughly pumping his thick aching cock, is ripped away by its own owner, previously raised hips hiding under the water, and the big muscular body curling over in embarrassment.

"My flame, I-" it's not even his voice, so hoarse and laced with desire, having dropped half an octave lower. Your husband doesn't even have an explanation for this unbecoming behavior of this. Ah, how much he wishes to sink under this water and die.

"Did you touch yourself thinking about me?"

Diluc Ragnvindr, the sole nightly protector of Mondstadt, the businessman who monopolized the wine industry not only in his homeland but the whole world, almost cries out loud because of your bold question. Guilt infiltrates his body and soul, chewing at his mind, which is spiraling with thoughts of you thinking what a dirty pervert he must be. You've never caught him touching himself before alone, not like he did it often anyway.

He truly is an awful husband.

All he can do is nod, because he would never lie to the woman he holds dear in his heart, and prepare himself for the disappointment in your voice. But what you say next catches him completely off guard.

"Finally." 

Diluc turns his head just in time to see you tossing the towel on the vanity and turning around to close the door. When you return and get closer to him, the man is surprised to find your tired expression from half an hour ago being replaced by excitement, desire dancing in your previously droopy eyes and hands feverishly tugging on your clothes to get it off.

Almost in awe he watches your soft breasts bounce, not longer constricted by fabric. Your thighs are pressed together, just like he imagined, when you drag more clothes off, becoming completely naked in a matter of seconds. Archons he thinks with a lovesick look in his swirling eyes, she is a goddess. My goddess.

The love-stricken stupor ends only when you climb into the tub and in his lap, knees pressed to the white porcelain bottom on either side of his strong hips, arms wrapped around his neck and chests pushing impossibly close.

"Archons I missed you too…" You confess, pressing a searing kiss to the corner of his lips, and Diluc believes you. Muscular arms wrap around your waist almost desperately, drawing your body even closer. The low groan finds its way out of his strained throat when your pussy drags against his cock in the process, and is then swallowed by your eager lips, pressing against his.

Diluc keens on the feeling, immediately lost in it, throwing all the thoughts about letting you rest out of the window. Kissing you again and again, he can only wish for feeding both of your desires, giving you the satisfaction that was ripped away from you because of work.

When you gently tug on the roots of his hair, the man quietly moans, cock twitching against you, making you bite your lip and stop devouring his mouth momentarily, instead focusing on rocking your hips, riling not only your lover but yourself up.

This little pause gives you both an opportunity to catch your breaths. Diluc looks down to take in your shuddering form. From the waist down your skin has turned red from how hot the water is but you seem to ignore it, blissfully mewling and moaning, when the cockhead catches against your swollen clit.

"You are not ngh repulsed?" His question makes you tear your gaze from where you soon will be connected and look back at his face. There is clearly worry etched in his features and still some guilt hiding behind the crimson of his eyes. The strong urge to reassure him quickly blooms in your heart.

"Because you were masturbating while imagining me?" He nods, blush bursting onto his cheeks with new brightness. "Oh, firefly," you breathlessly giggle, cupping the side of his face and making him look right into your eyes, "if anything I am happy to know it's me you think of in the moment of pleasure. I am your wife, am I not? I'd take your horny state as a compliment, it is nice to know you are yearning for me. So don't stress yourself over it, okay? Besides…" your voice turns sultry and the smile seductive. "I didn't lie when I said I missed you much. I too did touch myself at the thought of you."

Something in Diluc snaps. Maybe it's the fact he was too stupid not to think that you are married and it's okay to imagine your partner while jerking off, or maybe it's you admitting he's been on your mind in your neediest times as well, or the notion he wasn't there to properly please you, but all his self-restraint is forgotten.

He kisses you again, this time with more vigor and persistence. Hands are all over each other, touching, caressing, groping, carefully scratching, digging nails in the skin of your thighs and his shoulders.

You don't think you can take it any longer.

"Stretch me, love, please" you murmur between kisses and before Diluc knows it a big hand on your hip pushes you up onto your knees, making you stick your ass out, and two of his fingers are already sliding into your hole. Celestia above you are tight. So neglected and horny, closing onto him with a vice grip, walls velvety under the pads of his long fingers, so warm and slick.

Your sounds though… Diluc thinks he is going to come undone just because of them. He picks a pace to thrust his fingers properly.

"I've waited for so lo-ooh, mmm to make love to you, but couldn't find a moment to initiate any-thi-," you shudder when he curls his fingers against that special spot. You almost collapse on top of him, burying your face in his neck and clinging to his back for dear life. "Didn't want work to interfere in an unfortunate moment. But fuck!" Your voice rings, jumping a few tones higher, sounding so much needier. "I wanted you to take me!"

"I will, my flame," he hurriedly promises you, kissing your temple and pressing a thumb to rub your clit. "I will make you feel so good, I will take care of you…"

"You are already doing it," your muffled cry and how your thighs clench together, sandwiching his hand tell Diluc that you are close. "One more finger, please, please, please, please-"

And he complies, adding one more, pumping three digits in and out, in and out, not forgetting about the sensitive nub. You kiss him again, burying fingers in his disheveled hair, wet strands streaming through your fingers like a river of fire, and Diluc feels that it's him who is being swallowed by the flames of temptation, but if you are the cause - so be it.

Just don't stop wanting him.

"Come on, dear," he whispers, taking his hand off of your hip and bringing it to hold the side of your face, "I need you to cum for me. Get all wet and slick for my cock, right?"

Your jaw goes slack at how fast he starts to fuck your pussy, eyes blown wide and cheeks red in response to his bold words. You might have initiated it, but Diluc is sure to finish it.

One last rough press to your clit and you burst, crying his name and convulsing around his fingers. Juices of your relief immediately coat them, making your pussy squelch as you are guided through your orgasm. Your husband gently shushes you, littering your face with sweet kisses, and carefully working the digits out of your gaping, gushing cunt. You tremble and whine quietly when he helps you lower yourself back in the water, head pressed to his chest and eyes closed, going a bit limp on top of him.

The room grows quiet, save for your shared heavy breaths, and Diluc hugs you tightly, kissing the top of your head. The small heart you draw on his shoulder, too breathless to speak just yet, fills his calming heart with pride and joy. There is no more worry in him over the unholy act you caught him in, not after you took his fingering so eagerly, reassuring him your want for him is just as strong.

Speaking of his want…

He was still painfully hard.

"My flame…" Your lashes tremble before you hum and shift yourself to be able to look up at him. The pretty gems of your eyes shine brightly as you gaze lovingly at the man who's just given you the best orgasm in the last month.

"Yes, 'luc?" 

He clears his throat, reaching to brush a wet strand of hair away from your face. You turn your head and playfully catch his thumb between your teeth, softly nibbling the digit. A smirk appears on Diluc's face. He pries his thumb out of your mouth and instead press with it on your swollen lower lip, locking the rest of his fingers under your chin and tilting your head back.

"Do you think…" he wonders, lowering his head to brush his equally swollen lips against the side of your neck, "...you could help me out?"

And with that he rocks his hips, making you aware of the still remaining problem.

This seems to sober you up, as you are suddenly pushing your body off of him.

"Of course, 'luc, I am sorry, I was so caught up in the moment," you sheepishly chuckle, grabbing the hand that was holding your chin seconds ago, and kissing the wide palm. "Your fingers are just that good."

"I am glad," he smiles, content with your praise and knowledge that he makes you feel this way. He lets you straighten up, wondering what you are going to do next. You wink at him, moving away and to the other end of the tub. He cocks his head in confusion, but it quickly dawns on him, when you turn around to face away from him and grasp the edge with both of your hands, bending your body in a delicious manner. His gaze turns hungry, when he sees your compromising position - legs spread the best the width of the tub allows, back arched, ass raised and lower lips shyly peeking from between your thighs and above the water surface.

"What are you waiting for, Diluc~? Why don't you put it in?" Your teasing voice and a wiggle of your hips spur him into action.

A soft gasp leaves your lips when a big hand slams on the edge near your own and hot lips latch onto your shoulder, sucking the very first mark tonight on your skin.

"Oh, Y/n..." You feel him smirk, clenching around nothing at the way he drags out your name in a rumbling growl. "I am going to take such good care of you… And don't you dare hide your sweet sounds from me."

"Only if- oh yes," you arch even more when a thick head pushes between the lips and nudges your hole.

"Only if what?" Diluc presses, grasping the base of his cock, and pushing the head past your rim, cursing under his breath something along the lines of how tight you are.

"If you promise me to not hold back anything you've got either," you turn your head to glance back at him, but he beats you to it, sliding the hand over your smaller one and threading his fingers between yours, leaning forward and indulging you in a kiss, which ultimately seals your deal.

"Never from you."

And he thrusts his hips forward.

[keenvictory]

"Minor possessive talk, mostly he's just a clingy loser" on the Cove drabble got me so good -- could you maybe do something similar for Derek and Baxter?!

Crazy about your writing, tysm for sharing!!!!

Synopsis: Baxter's life is perfectly, aesthetically crafted. Until it isn't. NSFW drabble.

: ̗̀➛ Featured Characters: Baxter Ward x Gn!Reader

̗̀➛ Content Warnings: NSFW, slight possessive language, very very brief angst (i mean, it is baxter)

̗̀➛  Additional notes: Continuing my loser men agenda with Baxter! I will write a separate post for Derek soon, but finishing two things in a row has me antsy to post this one separately. Theres bottom!Baxter if you squint, but i tried to write him as a switch so take it either direction as you will. Mostly he's just a loser who makes sex way too romantic. I love him.

Baxter wouldn't deign to call himself clingy. He was incredibly independent, really. Your relationship had taken a five year break and survived, he was perfectly content by himself.

But that didn't explain the sick thrill he gets having a clingy partner. There is something so delightfully addicting about being wanted. He loved it when he woke up to you wrapped around him, heart thundering when you burrowed closer at even the slightest twitch of movement, like you were scared he'd disappear.

That was where the thread of guilt came in. Of course you had clingy moments, he'd vanished from your life once, could you really trust him not to do it again? What did his word matter, ultimately?

It was hard not to think like that. He knew his own track record with relationships, and he wanted, more then anything, to not fuck up this one too.

It's never easy to chase those thoughts away. And yet you do it so effortlessly, with just the graze of your teeth, the scrape of your nails.

Baxter is putty in your hands when you mark him up during sex. He's obsessed with the way his pale skin looks after its been ravaged by you, admiring the scratch-marks down his back after he's fucked you, or the hickies and love-bites you've scattered across his chest. He'd let you ruin his neck with sweet bruises if it wasn't shockingly unprofessional.

I mean hickies on the wedding planner, on someone else's big day? He feels a shameful tingle of pleasure he can't deny at the thought. Baxter is so put together during the day that he absolutely falls apart at night, guided by your safe and sure hands. He cries, he begs, he sniffles as big, wet tears fill his red eyes. There was some alarm, the first time he cried during sex. The whole ordeal had been put on hold to make sure he was okay, until he'd shamefully and slowly explained to you that yes, he was perfectly fine. So, so good in fact, the tears had sprouted on an especially breathy moan.

And even though he begs so sweetly to leave your mark sometimes you handle him so tenderly and gently it sparks a whole different kind of need inside him. Love-making, he thinks, with his head nestled between you thighs, moaning with every tug of his hair, is a new world of pleasure. Miles beyond just sex.

But his favorite part of it all is the minutes just after. When he stumbles out of your arms to gleefully assess the damage, take in his tear-stained face, the pink hand prints on his hips and ass, his kissed swollen lips. The sight of it all has his spent cock twitching awake.

Just a little more, he thinks, stumbling back over to you. God his legs ache in just the best way. He's already hard again, cum beading at the tip without a care for his carefully crafted, elegant persona.

He pulls you into another kiss, sweet still, before nipping playfully at your ear.

"You've positively ruined me, dear." He purrs, a shiver of glee running through him as your hands find his hips again. "Want to do it again?"

[jj3llyfsh]

Between Duty and Love

pairing: Kate Bishop x fem! reader

warnings: angst, arguing(?) reader gets mad, fluff at the end (I think that’s it? let me know if I missed something! This is my first time posting here</3)

word count: 921

summary: Kate has been spending all her time at work and has been accidentally ignoring y/n.

——————————————————————————-

Kate Bishop sat at her desk, surrounded by the remnants of her latest mission. Papers scattered, her laptop screen glowed with reports, and her phone buzzed incessantly with notifications. Kate took a moment to rub her tired eyes before diving back into the pile of paper work on her desk. It was another late night of fighting off random criminals, and going back to the compound to finish up stacks of paperwork.

Meanwhile, in the shared apartment that she and her girlfriend shared, the air hung heavy with tension. The clock struck midnight, and the front door slowly creaked open, revealing her girlfriend on the other side of the door, Y/N, with a look of frustration etched on her face.

"Kate," Y/N said, her voice tight with anger.

"You promised you'd be home hours ago. What happened?" Kate looked up, guilt written across her features. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, babe. There was just this last-minute thing I had to take care of but this is important, Y/N.” Kate breathed in. “There's been a surge in criminal activity, and the team needs me—"

Y/N interrupted, her voice rising, frustration boiled over, the pent-up emotions finally bursting forth. "The team always needs you, Kate! But what about us? What about our plans? Every time we try to spend time together, you're off on some mission or buried in work."

Kate's heart sank as she realized the toll her actions were taking on their relationship. "I'm trying to keep the city safe, Y/N. You know that." Her eyebrows furrowed as she huffed out.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood still, the anger and hurt swirling inside you like a tempest. "I need someone who's here for me, not somebody who’s constantly gone. I can't keep living like this. I’m going to stay with a friend for awhile."

Kate's heart sank as she watched you turn away, the pain in your voice cutting through her like a knife. "Wait, Y/N, please. Let's talk about this."

But you were already halfway to the door, your footsteps echoing in the empty apartment. With a heavy heart, Kate sank back into her chair, the weight of your words bearing down on her like a crushing weight.

Days turned into weeks, the silence between you and Kate stretching on like an endless abyss. Each passing moment only served to deepen the rift between you, the pain of your separation a constant ache in both your hearts.

Alone in your friends apartment, you couldn't shake the memories of your time together. The laughter, the shared moments of intimacy, the feeling of being truly seen and understood. But alongside those memories lurked the pain of feeling abandoned.

Unable to bear the weight of your emotions any longer, you made a decision.

You made your way to the Avengers headquarters, where Kate had been spending most of her time lately. The familiar sight of the towering building filled you with a sense of apprehension, but you pushed forward anyways. As you approached a familiar office, you could hear the muffled sound of voices from within. With a hesitant knock, you pushed open the door, stepping into the dimly lit room.

Kate's eyes widened in surprise as she caught sight of you, her expression a mix of hope and trepidation as she quickly shot up from her seat and made her way towards you. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead. "I came to talk, Kate. I’m sorry." For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air. You continued speaking. “I know this job means a lot to you, I know what I signed up for when we started dating..”

Then, with a resigned sigh, Kate gestured for you to take a seat next to her.

The words poured from your lips like a rushing river, the pent-up emotions finally finding release. You spoke of your hurt and your anger, of feeling neglected and unimportant in Kate's life. But beneath it all, there was a thread of love and longing, a desperate hope that things could still be salvaged between you.

Kate listened in silence, her expression pained as she took in your words. And when you were finally spent, she reached out, taking your hand in hers.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I never meant to ignore you. I've been so caught up with work that I didn’t realize I was hurting you.” Tears welled up in Kate's eyes as she spoke, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

With a shaky breath, you reached out, cupping Kate's face in your hands. "I love you, Kate. But we can't keep living like this. We need to find a balance to make time for each other."

A flicker of hope lit up Kate's eyes as she leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours. "I promise, Y/N. From now on, I'll make sure to balance my job and to spend time with you.”

You smiled softly and pressed your lips against Kate’s, which she happily accepted.

-

As the days passed, Kate kept true to her promise. She made a conscious effort to prioritize your relationship, carving out time in her busy schedule for you. Whether it was a quiet dinner at home, a simple stroll in the park, or simply curling up together on the couch to watch a movie. Kate made sure that you felt loved and cherished.

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AAAA sorry this was short 🙏

[mamayan]

Dear Yanny,

I am desperately humbly requesting a yandere Giyuu being yandere, very very yandere, with a relatively willing darling AFAB/fem reader and a side dish of bedroom spice.

I am in tears.

Sincerely, Desi <3

Let’s do a yandere profile then for Giyuu! I’ve been wanting to try out this format for a minute now.

☆Giyuu Tomioka★

YANDERE PROFILE || OPEN TEMPLATE!

cw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Implied kidnapping/imprisonment • Yandere • AFAB! Darling

Type

Overprotective!

This yandere type is obsessive and possessive of their darling, but they believe that their actions are justified in the name of protecting their darling. This yandere type may infantilize or cross boundaries their darling lays down. They intentionally or unintentionally take away their darling’s independence.

Giyuu is constantly in a state of worry for you, he’s thinking of you at nearly every second of the day and when you don’t consume his every waking moment, you appear in his dreams. Did you sleep well? Have you eaten? Did you eat enough? Have you gotten sick? Was someone rude to you? What if you’re hurt?

This type of obsession leads to tailing/stalking/monitoring. He watches you at any and every moment he can, and when he can’t then someone he trusts is. Giyuu learns all your habits, likes and dislikes, fears and dreams, and will insert himself into your life. He doesn’t need to be loud or boisterous, in fact his calm demeanor and presence allow him to seamlessly blend into your world without raising any alarms.

This leads to possessiveness forming. His attachment deepens over time and a sort of ownership forms. It stems from his detailed knowledge of you and even your private life which you’ve never shared with him personally. He sees himself as someone who knows you completely, thus making him the most important character in your life.

He doesn’t understand why you’d spend time with anyone else but him. Those “friends” don’t know you hate that food, but they ignore your indirect ways of steering away from eating it. He knows you dislike it, and he’s happy to eat your favorite food with you, even if he doesn’t love it personally. He’s unafraid of stealing you away too, pretending nonchalantly to have been just passing through with a bag full of your most adored goodies, inviting you away from whatever situation you find yourself uncomfortable in.

Giyuu is a gentleman, even in his most unhinged state of watching you sleep at night in your home you were sure you locked up tightly before bed. He’s not going to be mean or hurtful, his yandere tendencies stem from lack of control in life and deep loss.

Breaking Point

Once “danger” threatens their darling.

Giyuu’s instability would worsen over time, not immediately. It would coincide with his feelings for you. The more he falls in love, the more he begins to stress about that love being taken away in some tragic accident. He’s lost his best friend and sister, how can he lose you too? He’s always being protected by those he cared about, shouldn’t he be the one to protect you then?

Giyuu would ponder and even be consumed by guilt once he realized how powerless he truly is to keep you completely safe. You had a life to live, how could he be so selfish as to tie you to him by a short chain and never let you go?

He won’t take action until a threat is posed… even if that threat is only within his own mind.

It could be a demon nearly harming you, a person that is mean towards you, or even you being clumsy and hurting yourself which could set this trigger off. The longer he waits, the more the line of danger becomes skewed. In the end, he’s giving in to his own paranoia. There’s no way to truly escape this break.

Lucidity

7

Giyuu is actually fairly aware of how wrong his feelings for you have become. What was once innocent and pure has become warped and twisted into something entirely off. He shouldn’t think of you 24/7 nor should he be keeping such a detailed account of your life. It’s completely wrong of him, illegal, invasive towards you, and he feels immense guilt for it.

At first.

At first, he’s consumed with anger and disgust towards himself. He’s one hundred percent lucid at this point and fighting back against his urges and desires. He loves you, how can he be thinking and doing these things?

As time goes on however, his fight with himself becomes a losing battle. He wants you, needs you, has to keep you close. It’s more than he can take really, and in the end, isn’t he pitiful? Won’t you stop struggling? He adores you, he truly only desires your happiness and safety…

In his arms, of course.

Perception of Darling

Complete adoration!

Giyuu is not the sort of man to worship his darling in a religious sense, because humans are flawed and he wouldn’t truly love you if he ignored your flaws right? He loves those too, so Giyuu falls under the category of adoration.

With complete adoration is how Giyuu views you, his beloved darling.

He struggles not to constantly pamper and even mildly infantilize you, though he doesn’t view you as incapable. It’s the opposite in fact, shouldn’t someone as capable and smart as you be spoiled more? He thinks so at least. He wants to take away all your worries and struggles, all of them, because he wants to keep you safe from more than just outside threats.

He wants to protect you from the ones inside too. He knows what depression and anxiety feel like, how they can destroy you from the inside out, and he doesn’t want you suffering from the same thing.

These feelings are pure but his actions can reflect something different.

In his quest to rid you of all troubles, he can unintentionally make himself a trouble, one which he can sadly not rid you of. His simple solutions may even complicate things, like telling you to quit your job and rely on him financially when you complain of a co-worker. He struggles to listen at times, in his desperation to keep you happy at all points in time, and this can be frustrating.

Whether you are screaming at him in rage, crying in fear, or trembling with anxiety… he still thinks there’s no one more adorable and lovely than you. It’s difficult for him to feel anything but love and patience for you, even if he’s the cause of your outbursts.

It’s not that he believes you can do no wrong, it’s just that he could simply care less. As long as you don’t harm yourself, or try harming him (though he understands that much more), then there’s really not much that would cause his perception to waver.

Love Language

Words of affirmation

Giyuu enjoys words of affirmation the most from you. He enjoys all other love languages too, but in a way he somewhat forces quality time (stalking or kidnapping), acts of service (you breathing), receiving gifts (your presence). Physical touch would be a close second, but Giyuu can actually go without it should you not like it.

It’s your words though he cannot receive without you willingly giving it to him.

What he wouldn’t pay or do to hear you tell him “I love you” or “I forgive you” because he does feel guilty taking you. The guilt just doesn’t outweigh his overprotective instincts which drove him to take you in the first place.

Tell him he’s wonderful, compliment his hair or eyes, or tell him you’re grateful for his presence in your life. All will make him melt, his heart softening into silken tofu by your sweet words.

He also loves your voice, so you speaking at all makes his heart flutter. When you decide to utter kind words with that voice?

He’s gone.

Ability/Danger Level

10

Giyuu is as dangerous as he is pretty. Not to you of course, but to any and all who may or may not pose a threat to you. This includes family and friends too. He’s not above harming or even killing for the sake of protecting you, though he’d never reveal his actions out of his own volition.

He likely will get blood on his hands, especially since it becomes easier to take people out without you noticing once he’s kidnapped you. How can he allow someone who has harmed you to continue living and breathing? Even if the damage was only psychological, he views it as a trespass against his own and it will be met with violence or some similar horror.

He really doesn’t feel any guilt either, though he does have a strong moral code, especially for children. But that weird man who tried sexually harassing you?

The world can go without that sort of scum.

Punishment

Light/Non-scarring

Giyuu is likely one of the most patient yanderes out there, but he’s not without some temper. The quickest way to find yourself over his lap with your ass in the air is to try escaping or harming yourself.

His punishments, even when he’s in the worst of moods, will never be anything terrible. The worst you can expect is isolation.

This will seem fine at first, even enjoyable if you truly wish to get away from him, but over time it will wear you down to a sort of fragility you wouldn’t expect. It’s horrible being alone, maddening to a point you may break down and beg. He’s not able to bear hearing it, so he’d either lift the punishment as you having learnt your lesson or hide away.

A lesser punishment he might use is spanking or privilege revoking. He might ban you from the garden or walks you enjoy or put you over his knee and make your poor bum burn for a little. He’d never hit you anywhere else though, and of course, never use anywhere near his full strength in spanking you. It’s honestly little taps to him, but you might disagree when it hurts to sit later.

Giyuu may even be inclined to deny you sexually/or an orgasm if you are sexually intimate.

Reward

Constantly

How can he not? He wants to spoil you rotten, so much you can’t even fathom living without him and all he provides.

Giyuu absolutely rewards you with freedoms as his darling too, and you’ll learn to truly appreciate them as time goes on in captivity. The more accepting and loving you are towards him, the more freely he takes you out and allows you to do things. He doesn’t think you incapable as a human, which means he doesn’t mind TV, books, or entertainment as long as you aren’t using them to escape.

He’s not stupid and proves rather difficult to manipulate. He may let you play your game to let his guard down, but know once you make a move he’s showing you how futile the act is.

He’s happy to spend money on you though, whatever you like too. He’s a simple man and doesn’t really spend much on himself besides the basics and necessity, so he’s actually happy he gets to use his money for something besides collecting interest. Let him decorate you, or get all the fancy tools for your hobby you’ve always wanted. It’s not hard to get him to “reward” you. In fact, it’s harder to make him stop.

Style

Kidnap!

Try as he might to resist it, he wants nothing more to chain you to his side. That’s not possible though, he’s got obligations to attend to, but he can lock you in a gilded cage.

Treatment

A delicate flower~♡

He’s actually a bit hard to read when you first meet him, but he melts like ice on a hot summer day in your presence. Others may complain about his personality, or lack thereof, but you wonder if they’re talking about the same Giyuu that you know.

He never shuts up? He’s always bringing you fresh bouquets, sweets and snacks, any and all items that catch his eye which he thinks you’ll like. He’s detailed and incredibly considerate, and this doesn’t change when you’re taken captive either.

Though he won’t allow you to leave him, he can still give you… space. Your own room if you request it, a little garden, your space, as long as it doesn’t involve straying too far from him.

He’s not controlling in a sense of depriving you of basic human abilities, like cooking or using tools. He knows you are capable of taking care of yourself, and he’s careful not to make you feel otherwise.

He really tries. It’s not always perfect though. When you’re cooperative and willing, he has an easier time letting go of the reigns, but when you aren’t? He’ll lock doors and drawers like one might with a small toddler, his mistrust will show through his actions.

Intimacy

Sexually attracted~

Giyuu’s feelings for you are pure in a sense, but he’s a man with wants and desires…that just happen to all be directed at you.

He craves to hold and caress you, and he’s a bit embarrassed to admit he’s done so while you’ve slept. Your defenseless sleeping expression invokes both envy and adoration. He wishes he slept like that and also wishes you’d never sleep any other way. It’s intimate to him, cradling your slumbering form in his arms, pliant and sweet for him to gaze at until the sun rises. His anxiety for you is quenched when he holds you like so, and he enjoys the peace it brings him emotionally.

If you reject his physical affection, Giyuu is surprisingly one of the few yandere types to respect that boundary.

Don’t be mistaken though, he’s not above manipulating your feelings if there is a chance you’re only rejecting him due to the circumstances you’re in. It’s understandable to be frightened in the beginning, he’s not pushy in asking for anything from you that you aren’t willing to give to him.

But he knows he’s an attractive man, and feels nothing walking shirtless before you, or training while you can see. He’s seductive in how he’ll speak to you, lowering his tone and softening it, making you lean in closer to hear him. That’s when you’ll smell him, a clean and masculine scent that will confuse your mind and body because how can someone evil smell so good?

It won’t be hard to succumb to his advances if you’ve been intimate before you’d been taken. He’s detailed, remember? Confident he knows you inside and out, and that includes your weak points. Where to whisper or breathe to make you melt, where to touch to have you gasping, and how to deep he needs to thrust to make you scream. He’s well aware of how much pressure and time he needs to spend between your legs, how to lick your drooling cunt to have you shake and spasm, where to curl his fingers to make you tear at his locks.

No, Giyuu would never force any sort of intimacy on you. He makes it terribly difficult not crave it in fact.

Freedom

Minimal to none—

While in his presence, feel free to ask for walks, dates, or shopping sprees. He’s fine with taking you out so long as you act normally too.

Otherwise expect nothing. No freedom. Your cage may be luxurious and beautiful but you will never leave it, not without his supervision. He won’t budge either, there’s no convincing him something is safe or acceptable. It’s one of the few times you will see him stern and unbending with you, nothing you do will make him cave.

Begging and pleading may even irritate him enough to punish you as well. Why do you want to leave so badly? Is he so terrible to you?

Habits

Sleep watching

Giyuu spends an abnormal amount of time watching you sleep, even at the expense of his own rest. This won’t ever actually affect you, as he never outright tells you he does this, but if you figure it out or wake up unexpectedly to catch him… it may make you nervous to fall asleep.

Sexual Kinks (for non-platonic yandere)

Marking/Praise/Edging&Overstimulation

Giyuu felt these urges mildly before he met you. He’s aware he likes being told how well he’s performing, holding off an orgasm for him or his partner, or making both himself and his partner a mess with overstimulation.

It’s so much worse now though. He can’t help how desperate he becomes with you, how needy and near feral it makes him to just think of filling your pretty pussy up with his cum. It’s sad almost how you turn him into such a pathetic man. He wants to brand himself on you, it wars with his need to never hurt you too, so he settles by sucking bruises into your skin and occasionally biting you. He’s vocal when you’re both intimate, he tells you how much he adores you, what he adores about you (everything), and how good you are for him. His precious pearl, his ocean and entire heart, he’s not the least bit ashamed as he grits his teeth and cries your name as he comes apart. Giyuu loves teasing you and himself too, working you both so close to the edge before stopping, leaving you both whiny and desperate for one another. He needs you to cling to him, to beg for more, to take it too.

His kinks aren’t one sided. He wants you to mark him up, in the way he wishes he could bring himself to do to you. So drag your nails across his skin, make him wear a collar of your bites and kisses around his neck, pull his hair and bruise him. Anyway you show ownership of him is welcomed, though the amount of dominance he’ll accept from you is dependent on your acceptance of your new life with him. He’s less inclined to release the reigns of control when you’re still adapting, cautious and fearful it may be a ruse to trick him and escape. He’ll relax eventually, and even begin to crave the times you tie him up and torment him like he does to you. Deny his poor aching cock again and again, make him beg for you and worship your sweet cunt as you ride his face, and then deny him again just because. He’d even accept if you just stopped there, leaving him painted red and panting, exhausted but not finished. He’d be entirely grateful if you took mercy too, rode his pretty thick cock until he became delirious and keep going even after he’s cum, moving your hips like a goddess on his lap while he pleads for rest and mercy. He can cum multiple times, but it borders on painful after the third, he won’t complain much though if you test his limits.

He’s happy to return the favor, but Giyuu’s favorite way to overstimulate you both is deep hard sex, holding your gaze as he fills you over and over, your pussy oozing his white hot load each time he pulls out to put you in a new position, before he plugs you right back up. Giyuu likes to cum pressed as firmly against your womb as he can, and he likes when you cum around his cock. It feels to most complete to him, and he cherishes the pleasured look on your face.

If it ever becomes too much, a quick way to make him finish is to praise him too. Tell him how good he makes you feel, how beautiful he is, how you like what he’s doing. His hips will always stutter in surprise, blue eyes widening as he gasps and tenses, cock twitching and threatening to spill just from your lovely voice complimenting him.

Boundaries

The front door—

How can he protect you if you run away? He draws a solid line at the doorway. You will not be crossing it without him or else.

Leniency

Strict

Unsurprisingly for an overprotective yandere, Giyuu is incredibly strict.

You’re health and safety are top priority for him, so from when you wake up to when you fall asleep, he’s got all of it tracked.

Your daily needs are monitored like your exact location in his home. He likes having eyes on you at all times. He won’t enforce specific meal plans, but he makes sure you are eating enough, you’re getting enough vitamins and nutrients, and doctor visits are regular. He even knows your menstrual cycle.

You will be asking him for any and all things, he keeps that under tight control. If you want to bake bread or grow a garden, it will all be done through his means.

Overall Rating

89/100

Giyuu Tomioka is an incredibly dangerous yandere!

While he poses minimal threat to you as his darling, he’s a risk to the outside world and your surroundings. He’s sure in his carnage in the name of protecting you, and he’s lucid about it too, which makes him quite threatening.

You’re chance of escape is little to none, and the punishment following it will surely make your teeth ache.

Snippet

“You’re trying to leave?” His tone is soft, no true indication of his mood to those unfamiliar with him.

You were familiar with him though, and his words made your blood run cold. You weren’t trying to leave, you had only wanted fresh air in fact, but the position you were in now made that difficult to believe even to your own eyes. Balanced on the flat surface of the kitchen counter, you were struggling to open the window due to the cold having frozen it outside. Once you had gotten it open, like an animal you’d stuck your head out immediately. It was an instinctive reaction in all honestly, you just wanted the cool air on your skin.

You should’ve gotten him to do it though, he would’ve, you knew, but you’d wanted to do it yourself. To have the little moment all to your own. A foolish goal in the end, as this was where it took you now. He’s not looking at you, just leaned against the entryway with his arms crossed and a cool expression painting his features, head tilted slightly down.

“I’m not!” It’s too quick a denial to absolve you of suspicion, especially as you scramble down with a face appearing impossibly guilty. “I just wanted to open the window,” you explain, but the nervous rise of your voice and the way you look frightened only make his eyes narrow a fraction. He doesn’t believe you. You need him to believe you, because your punishment for escape is always his silence. It’s damning to your senses that crave company and interaction, his patience greater than your own.

“My love, I swear, I really, truly wasn’t,” you stepped closer, heart rate picking up as anxiety tickled your senses. “I would never leave you,” you whisper, coming up to him even as he gazes down at you with eyes pooling with disbelief and suspicion.

He’s unable to resist pulling you into his arms though, wrapping you up close to him and appreciating your softness in his grasp. It helps as you wrap your arms around his neck, press yourself impossibly closer, and whimper in his ear. His grip increases a fraction, a shiver going down his spine while one hand slips further down to cup your ass and lift you.

His strength amazed you at times, and terrified you at others.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, whispering promises of never leaving his side and loving him forever against his lips before he silences you with a kiss. His soft lips warm and coaxing as he takes you out of the kitchen and towards your shared room in the house. His hold becomes a bit too harsh as you’re laid on the bed, his weight blanketing you. His eyes are darker than usual, deeper pools of blue you worry might drown you as he slips his hands beneath your skirt, calloused fingers running along the soft flesh of your thigh as he spreads them. A burning need deep in his gut to remind you where you belong.

“Who do you belong to?” It’s so light against your lips you nearly miss it.

Until he tears your underwear off, a yelp elicited from you at the sting on your flesh from where he tugged and tore them.

“You!”

He easily slips between your legs, fingers sliding through your folds, finding your puffy nub and applying pressure until you’re moaning.

“G-Giyuu…”

“That’s right. You belong to me, don’t you pearl? All mine,” he’s pressing into you, two fingers opening you up despite your entrance weeping for all of him. Still mostly clothed you grip his sleeves, whining because it’s not enough, his lips hushing you again. He swallows all the little noises you make, tongue invading and stealing your ability to think as he fucks you with his fingers. Each shlick of your pussy has you heating further, the lewd wet noises he elicits making your legs tremble around his waist.

He breaks the kiss, rubbing and stretching your gummy walls before curling his fingers and vigorously attacking your poor g-spot, his lips tugging into a smile as you shatter for him.

You’re left limp beneath him, the orgasm he tore from you too quickly made you dizzy as you pant and gather your mind again. Giyuu is already sliding the tip of his cock through your slick before you can recover, pressing forward once he’s lubricated enough to slip past the tight first ring of muscle into your warmth. His cock spreads you perfectly, opening you up and leaving you gasping for air due to the sensitive inner walls being stimulated further.

It’s desperate and messy how he fucks you, intertwining your fingers and pressing them beside your head, kissing and marking your neck up while repeating under his breath how you’re his.

“Mine too—!” Your airy cry has him sinking even deeper, a groan coming out at your own claiming of him.

“Giyuu—,” he wants nothing more than to brand your soul with himself.

“Yours,” he nods, looking into your eyes as he bullies his cock against your poor cervix, using his thighs to press you up further, almost in half while he fucks you.

“All yours,” he moans, burying his face in your neck while he stuffs you full, the room heating as you did, your core tightening around him while your body edges on the beginning of another orgasm.

He stops just before you can cum. His weight and warmth immediately leaving you as you cry out in denial. Your wide gaze on his cooling expression, his jaw taunt with tension.

“Giyuu…?”

“Not till you learn.” Your confusion must show on your face.

“That you’ll never be safe unless you’re by side.”

He didn’t believe you.

“But I—,”

“Shh… I know, my sweet pearl.” He’s blanketing you again, warmth returning to your body but his eyes remain cool.

“You’ll learn eventually.”

Something dark swirls in those depths, your gut telling you to run but…

There’s no where to go.

Dividers hand drawn by @benkeibear !

[saradika]

— BLEED FOR ME | part iii

[masterlist]

mand’alor!vampire!din djarin x f!reader

rated e - 2.4k

haunted hoedown prompts: vampire!au + “i would burn the world for you.” + vampire has a taste for specific blood + revenge + (one-sided) enemies to lovers (+ 1 to be revealed!)

tags: vampire!au, drinking blood, reader has scar on shoulder, mentions of death, shared memories, light angst, references to seduction, sexual innuendo and thoughts, references to violence

The days until the winter solstice tick down. Early Autumn days start to cool at night.

You sleep under the last warmth of the sun, with windows drawn open after he leaves. The canopy is wrapped around your bed, letting in the afternoon breeze but mimicking the darkness.

And still, you feel adrift. That funny feeling is still settling in your stomach. Rolling with the sway of your step as you follow at the Mand'alor's - Din's - heels.

No longer seating across the room in the throne room. Now next to him, in a golden seat that matches his silver one.

Listening as he conducts his business. Trades and agreements, settled firmly and carefully. A disagreement, broken up without violence.

It’s fascinating.

But it feels... wrong. Your own task seeps into the honor of being at his side, polluting it. You're expected to enjoy it, to look happy, and it's become all too easy to forget what happened - why you were here.

Too wrapped up in the quiet questions he asks, in those moments of dusk and dawn. Half truths becoming whole as you guard slowly lowers. As you begin to learn about him, as well.

Things he tells you. Things you pick up, absorbing greedily without thought.

It feels like a betrayal, later.

How could you forget what happened? How could you forget your promise?

His kindness only extends because you are physically keeping him alive. You should have ended things by now.

But, you haven't.

The guilt gnaws at you. Seeping into your dreams, into those moments of connection, when your eyes can't help but close.

The images so much more vivid, now. Almost a tangibility to them - the quick, blurred edges coming into focus. Repeating, growing longer.

So much seems to focus on that night. You think it's because it still haunts you. Replaying how the shouts had awoken you. That startled feeling as you crawled out of bed.

The shadows on the walls, the weak and watery grey sky. Soon turning red, and then black - with flame and smoke.

A glint of gold. Your grandmother's necklace, lying on the bedside table. A photo of their wedding day inside, painted with such care.

Something you wish you could have saved - one of the few relics from your family, a gift from when you had left them to find your purpose.

You had always wished for a love like theirs. A fated connection.

There’s a throb as you remember the collision - something solid that knocked you to the ground. Fingers coming back sticky, your mouth tasting of copper. The visions always swim, then.

Parts you've never been able to remember, before. Always growing dim, until you'd been woken up under the tree, and it was over.

But lately, there's more. As if you're outside your own body. The limp sway of your arm, dangling as you were carried. The murmur of a low voice, though you can’t make out the words. Dark eyes looking down at you, almost brown in the morning light.

There's a sharp edge of a knife that you always walk.

Torn between pressing, nudging - trying to get get a glimpse of the vampires, the destruction. A way to remind yourself what has happened, why you are here.

And then, not wanting to see.

What if it's something you can't take back? What if it disgusts you so much that you can't help but act in that exact moment - ruining your chance?

So, you don't.

You let the images pass - carefully collecting them. Pressing them lkke flowers between a book, something to come back to layer. Not even realizing that deep, deep down...

You’re really just hoping that you don't see him.

You really shouldn’t have gone down to the kitchens.

A heat still burns in your cheeks at the thought, when you finally made your way back to your room. Your treasure procured - a freshly baked pastry with homemade jam clutched in your fingers.

The food here is the best you’ve ever had. You can admit that, at least. All the Companions are well-fed, with treats and delicacies always left out downstairs.

It’s here, that you had found a few others.

Beautiful men and women, all gathered around a smoldering fire as the sun had begun to rise. Their other halves flitting off to hole up until nightfall.

But just like you - there was a desire to see the sun, at least.

You had joined them, half out of loneliness and half intrigue. They had accepted you quickly, stifled laugher and glances over their shoulder as they had whispered questions.

“So how is the Mand’alor? I’ve always wondered.”

“You don’t have any marks. Does he drink from your-”

An elbow then to her side, her words had cut off with a giggle. A head turned- an aside to her friend.

“Lady Kryze is always so thorough. I haven’t slept in days.”

Someone else had sighed.

“What I wouldn’t give to be Lord Fett’s Companion.”

You had realized there’s desire in their words. That none of them were afraid, that there was a sense of private camaraderie and knowing amongst them.

That unsettling, confused feeling comes back. They were human, like you. Did they not know what the vampires did? Were they so shallow that coin and finery had bought their loyalty?

Their eyes were on you, expectant. You had no choice but to shrug with embarrassment.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

They were quick to set you straight.

“It’s like, a feeling, you know?”

“You have to lean into it. That connection.”

“The first time I tried it, I had marks up and down my thighs by morning.”

There was an eagerness that laced with jealousy, leaving you even more bemused than before. Faking a prior engagement as you had left them, promising to give it a try.

Privately, you told yourself you wouldn’t.

You couldn’t.

Looking back, you can’t even remember the taste of the jam, what fruit it was. All you could think about is this new facet of their relationships.

Wondering if that will be expected of you. Wondering why you weren’t warned.

Wondering if you cared.

Wouldn’t that be a good way to get closer?

The thought makes you uneasy.

You’d put an end to this. But you weren’t so cold-hearted to stoop to seduction. That wouldn’t be fair, to Din.

But as the sun rises, when he comes back.

When his mouth is pressing against your wrist, when you’re looking at the bow of his lips and the wide breadth of his armor, that wondering comes again.

The thoughts creep in.

For he is handsome… the parts of him you have seen. A rich voice and the breadth of his shoulders in his armor. The little upward tick of his lips in a rare smile.

And you are human, after all.

You find yourself imagining marks on yours thighs, on the soft curve of your neck.

How your blood would throb, rushing down to pool beneath heated skin - wet and swollen. The thud of your heartbeat kicks up a notch, as your thighs press together. As you squirm in your seat.

You don’t know his face but you do know his mouth. It’s his teeth you picture sinking into your skin, your mind nudging curiously at the thought.

It sends a jolt down your spine. Pricking at your skin, heat licking at your chest and down to your belly. Then slipping lower. Your breath catches in your throat-

His grip on you tightens, then. It’s almost painful - startling you. A hushed cry rattles from your lungs as he pulls back with a rough gasp.

“Ulyc, cyar’ika.” Din’s voice is ragged, as his hips shift upward - letting go, as you pull your wrist back to your chest, “I’m sorry. But you can’t-”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his thought. A knock at the open doorway, Boba’s face grave as it turns your way.

“Mand’alor.” His voice is low, his brows drawn together. “The city, it calls for you.”

Din’s chest still heaves, his hand dragging across his mouth as he composes himself. The helmet sliding back into place as he stands, but still keeping himself close to you.

“Wolves?” He asks.

Boba shakes his head, “Raiders, from the looks of it. Like before. I can send someone, or go myself.”

You forget about the pain, about everything, for just a second. The thought of the town below in ruins sends you back to a year ago, sorrow twisting through your chest.

It has you half-standing, but Din’s hand is pressing against your shoulder, carefully easing you back down.

“I’ll go.” His voice is firm, “This has gone on long enough.”

A second, as he turns to you, “I need to take care of this. Boba will look out for you while I’m gone.”

Something like worry creeps in. Aware of the weak light that slips through the cracks of your curtains, how soon it will be morning.

“The sun…” You begin hesitantly, and he’s stepping closer.

“I’ll be fine.” His fingertips touch your jaw and that has you looking up - wishing once again that you could see his eyes.

Giving him just a small nod, instead.

From your window you watch him leave. The glint of his silver armor in the morning sun, now - his movements practiced as he swings a leg over the slate-grey horse.

Drawing his sword - the metal dark and gleaming and looking almost alive, even as far away as you are.

Watching as he gallops down the path, racing off to ward away the threat.

Leaving you inside the castle, to wait.

You worry turns into something else, as the hours pass.

Anger, at the thought of him rushing off to save this town, when he had launched an attack on yours. Did human life mean so little?

Did he even think about the bodies that had lied littering the streets, the memories that has been torn down?

Was it only because these humans were complicit, that they were spared?

You had awoken to screams. You don’t know if your town had even been asked.

The mark on your wrist stays red, unhealed. A reminder while he is gone. That you’ve slipped too far, that you need to get over the tender feelings you’ve pretended not to notice.

They fester inside your chest. You dream about him while he’s gone, as the day bleeds into another.

His face bare, features blurry above the lips and nose you know so well. Leaving you to wonder if his eyes are red, like the glimpses you’ve gotten of Lady Kryze? Are they burgundy, like Boba’s?

Replaying the sound he had made, the morning that he left. The edge his voice takes just after he feeds, lasting through the few moments he stays afterwards. That pulsing, thudding beat that leaves you squirming, when you’re alone again.

Leaving you with the urge to sink your own teeth into something.

Those thoughts are ruled by your heart, not your mind, not your logic. Another betrayal, your eyes unable to help flicking towards the window, again and again.

Looking to the others throughout the day, checking for any news or weakness.

A sign that he’s fallen.

None come.

You try not to think about the relief that follows. Or why you feel listless, your eyes dragging over the same words in the books you pick up, in an attempt to pass the time.

Your enthusiasm for the food waning - more in tune than ever with the hours that pass.

Still wondering about the town, below.

You had spoken to some, in your journey here. They had been good people, honest folk.

Maybe along the way, there had been a mistake. An itch in your brain that you haven’t been able to scratch, irritating you since you arrived.

You’ve decided to ask Fennec about it.

Not about anything that would raise suspicion.

Just why the Mand’alor himself would feel the need to go alone. What sort of promise he had made, to go rushing off with such intensity?

Maybe then, you could understand.

You find her by accident - in a large ballroom that you often cut through.

The ceiling painted in a wash of colors, accented in gold. Seraphs lying on clouds and sprawling gardens and somehow always feeling bright, even in the dim room.

Liking the way your feet echo, in the empty room. A swing in your step as if you were dancing too, even if just pretend.

But you’re not alone today - she sits in one of the plush alcoves. Arms bared where her shirt pushes up, a dark jerkin slung over one of the marble statues that line the walls.

"I'm sorry-" You manage, attempting to back out of the room. The moment looked private - your question could wait.

Her eyebrow lifts, looking unbothered, "You can come in, I'm just preparing."

The way she lounges is casual, as if she does this regularly. Propped up against a nest of pillows, a book opened against her bent knees. An arm draped to the side, an ooze of red that drips down to a half-full goblet below.

A jar of that same salve Din had given to you sits in the open windowsill, for after. A means to wipe the mark from her skin, to knit it neatly together again.

The sight makes your stomach turn, even after all this time.

"Are you leaving, too?" Your head nods towards the cup, as you linger in the doorway - thinking about what Boba had said about her ferocity.

Her brows pinch in question, as you gesture to her arm.

"No," Fennec's head shakes, as she understands. "This is our arrangement."

"I didn't know you could do it another way." You say this without thought - wondering if this had been what Din was offering, that first night. An alternative to biting - another small attempt at adjusting to your comfort.

"I tried the usual way." She shrugs, eyes dropping down at the text, "This is better, for us. It's tedious, for certain. But I've never enjoyed the connection. Boba's memories are..."

Fennec searches for the word, as you go still, "...Unpleasant. And I am sure mine are worse."

His memories.

Is that what you've been seeing? Those flashes of thought that blend with your own, when his teeth sink into your skin?

But how can they be, when you are in them?

"But, I am sure that's different for you." Her expression is sly, lips curving in a small smirk. A sharp glimmer replacing the far-away look in her eyes, coming back from her own evocation.

"What do you mean?" You ask, your voice sounding far away.

Dazed, as if the words are taking their time on their trip from your thoughts to your tongue.

That look comes back. As if you're on two different brainwaves, as if she isn't understanding what you're asking.

"Well, I thought that would be obvious. We’re not like you…" Fennec frowns, her head tilting. A breath, as she clarifies.

"Boba isn't my mate."

Ahh and the last Secret Prompt from the list is soulmates / fated mates! 💕 thank you so much for reading! If you’d like a tag for the last 2 parts, please let me know!

Ulyc, cyar’ika - “careful, beloved”

(Tags: @dameron-grant-spector, @sugadolly, @writingsofestella, @spaceydragons, @-ohsolovely-, @survivingandenduring, @queenquazar, @alitaar, @dindjarinsslut, @avarkriss)

[kyleoreillylover]

The Bloodline!Reader x Rhea Ripley x Dominick Mysterio Part 2

A/N: You guys asked and I delivered! This took so freaking long 😭😭 I wasn’t expecting all the love on the first part, so thank you all! Here’s a part 2, lmk if you want a part three as well. This also has more bloodline and reader lore, but Dom and Rhea are in there too, I just needed to continue the bloodline story.

Tw: Manipulation, reader being manipulative, angry confrontations, cursing.

After Dom and Rhea comforted you, you insisted on driving to your hotel by yourself. Even though opening up to them cleared your head a bit, you needed to be alone for a while to process these emotions.

They were wary-torn between wanting to respect your boundaries but also wanting to be there for you-but they didn’t want to overwhelm you, so they let you go.

You promised them you’d come back to them once your mind calmed down, and that made them feel a bit better.

Unbeknownst to the 3 of you, Paul was looking for you under the “Tribal Chiefs Orders” and caught you leaving their locker room.

He sent immediately sent Solo after you, his usual stoic demeanor being replaced by anger as he drove to your hotel.

It all clicked into his mind- Romans’ sudden hostility towards you, the weird tension between TJD and you, you refusing Romans orders. And he couldn’t believe you, his own sister, would be affiliating with your families enemies.

When he came to your room, furiously banging the door and yelling at you once you opened it, you felt your emotions rushing again, but instead of sadness, there was anger- the burning hot anger you tried to push back these past few weeks because in fear of hurting your blood.

But now, you didn’t care. Why should you care when they clearly didn’t share those same fears?

You let that anger run hot, but you didn’t let it burn all your judgment down. You wanted to hurt Roman, to make him feel the same pain you’ve been feeling, but you needed to be smart about it.

“What the hell was that, huh?” Solo shouted at you, and you winced at how loud his voice was. “Is what Paul said true? You been talking to them Judgment Day bitches and helping them? What the fuck? You gonna pull a Sami and ditch us too, uce?

“You know damn well I'd never do that! And I'm not helping them! You just gonna hear what Paul says and believe him, huh?" You yelled right back at him, wiping at your eyes and it was then that Solo looked at you, really looked at you since everything that had happened at the Royal Rumble. Your slumped shoulders, your bloodshot eyes glaring at him- had you been crying? He let his guard down a little at that but continued on. "Then why were you in their room? What were you doing with them?" Your frown turned into a scowl as you crossed your arms, looking at Solo. "I was in their room cause when I was leaving the arena, Rhea thought it would be funny to talk some mess about you guys when I was passing their room. And I was already overwhelmed and tired, so I couldn't control myself and I got in her face-" Solo's anger was slowly draining away as you continued to speak, being replaced by some guilt. Paul was always trying to start something, he should've known you wouldn't do anything without a reason.

“- then Dominick and Finn broke us up, and I left their room and I was just tired and didn’t wanna take out my anger on any of you, so I just went here to chill out and sleep.” You finished, making your way to your bed and sitting on top of it.

Solo didn’t know what to say, he had never seen you like this. You were always the one lifting everyone’s spirit, putting smiles on everyones faces with your infectious energy, the one that comforted everyone. He felt out of his element.

You took his silence as anger and put your head in your hands, and he couldn’t tell if you were crying or not. “Great. Now you’re mad at me, Roman is mad at me. I just fucked everything up today.”

You picked your head up when you felt the bed dip, seeing Solo sit next to you. He frowned when he saw that you were, in fact crying. “What do you mean today? Roman said something to you today?

You nodded, tears still coming out of your eyes. “Yeah, he talked about Paul mentioning something about the Judgment Day and Paul said I was acting suspicious & he just completely went off the rails on me. But this was before I snapped at Rhea, so I don’t know what Paul was talking about. But I’m sorry for worrying you guys.” You sighed, sniffling and about to wipe your eyes again when Solo stopped you, handing you the box of tissues. You gave him a small smile at his rare act of affection.

“Don’t be sorry. You need rest. I’ll talk to Paul. And Roman. What he doing ain’t cool.” Solo spoke, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“You good now, uce?” You nodded at him. “Yeah, I’m good. But wait-” You grabbed his shoulder, stopping him from getting up, and pulled him into a hug. He froze, not prepared for the physical contact.

“Be safe, okay? Don’t tell Roman, but I need a break from all of this shit for a while, but you need to hold down the fort Solo. Just stay safe while doing it.” You confessed, tightening your arms around him. He stayed silent for a moment as he slowly wrapped his arms around you.

“Of course uce. You stay safe too.” He said after a moment, squeezing you a bit tighter. You smirked against his shoulder, you didn’t think it’d be this easy but Solo always had a soft spot for you, his younger sister. You could see the seeds of doubt you planted in Paul and Roman making the gears in his head turn, and it made you smirk even more.

Once he left, you picked up your phone, texting Dom and Rhea and telling them about your plan.

They responded almost immediately, saying they were on board. They smiled at each other once they saw your messages, proud and happy you finally came to your senses and realized how toxic your family members were to you. Rhea couldn’t wait until she could pummel Roman into the ground for hurting you.

You grinned once they agreed, saying you’d meet them after you checked on Jey, which was phase one of your plan. He faced the worst of Roman, being mentally and emotionally abused by him, so you sympathized with him, and felt anger on his behalf. He was your older brother, and while all your brothers cared about you, he always cared a little bit more and tried to protected you from the brunt of Romans anger when the Bloodline first started. You wanted to do the same for him. But first, you needed to get in his head to get to Roman. He was the key to beating Roman.

Roman wants to play with fire? He'll realize that you're more than willing to embrace the flames if it finally led to his Empire and position as Tribal Chief getting burned. And if anyone got in your way, you’d drag them down in the flames with you.