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marthawrites · 1 month

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Could you write smut for Aemond targaryen with the prompts 17,40,44,47,53 and 54 maybe with a targaryen reader? Just something gentle, sweet and soft <3 btw I’m talking abt this prompt list

I absolutely can! Apologies for making you wait since January for this. I hope you're still around to see (and, fingers crossed) enjoy it!

"Vok" (Perfect)

Aemond Targaryen x sister reader

Word count: 2.6k+

About: You and Aemond pledged to each other long ago. Tonight, beneath the blanket of darkness, you revel in each other's adoration.

Includes: SMUT. Featuring brother x sister incest, Aemond is soft but only to his little sister, dirty talk, female masturbation, guided masturbation, praise, unprotected vaginal sex, and a splash of breeding kink

Note: Hello lovely reader! It's been a hot minute since I've wrote Aemond - the posters and trailers have me going (affectionately) insane! Triple warning: this fic is brother x sister targcest. If you do not like that KEEP ON SCROLLING. This is my first time writing this dynamic. Reader is implied to have silver hair, pale skin, and purple eyes. Everything else is up to you! As always, I hope you enjoy this fic! ❤️

To the realm, Aemond Targaryen was the cruel prince. Aloof, stoic, unforgiving.

To the realm, he was an ambitious and willful young man who rode Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in the world–the same dragon who helped Queen Visenya conquer Westeros.

To the realm, he was the second son of King Viserys. And, as such, would play the game of nobility by putting duty above love–marrying outside of his Targaryen lineage to seed dragons further into the world.

To you, his little sister and second daughter of King Viserys, he was your protector.

Your secret.

A poorly kept secret in some corners of the castle; nosy servants and their obnoxious fucking tendencies. But, with Aemond’s less than idle threats about cutting the tongue out of anyone’s throat who would speak about it, it ended up being a well-kept secret.

The second son and second daughter of the Dragon King; who better to love, and cherish, and pledge to, than each other?

Aemond would sooner die than see you marry off to some lowly lord of a “great” House. You were the blood of Old Valyria. Everyone–no matter their feats–was lowly in comparison to you. And you, his sweet sister, deserved only the best.

Barely a year separated your ages. Neither of you remembered a life without the other.

Long before you gave your maidenhead to your brother you gave him your heart. And your heart he held.

The night was late. These dark hours were some of the only unadulterated times you had together. Aemond kissed you slowly, passionately, gently stroking along your cheeks with his thumbs as he did. You were tangled in his bed together. You, stripped down to only your shift, and him, stripped down to only his sleep trousers. One of your shift’s thin straps kept sliding down your shoulder, and each time it did Aemond’s warm mouth kissed over the smooth lovely skin. You panted soft sounds–each feminine simper jolting right to his cock–as he lavished you in affection.

“You’re kissing me silly, lēkia (brother). My head feels full of bees and I’m hot. So, so hot,” you whispered against his kiss-swollen mouth. “Will you not feel for yourself?” He hadn’t yet made a move to touch you where you really, truly, wanted him; something that had you whining and pouting. While his hands alternated between stroking your face and groping your body–waist, hips, thighs–yours were buried in his hair. It was all down and free. The silken sheet of it spilled over his shoulders, spilled over you, and you relished the feel of it inside your hands. Against your bare skin. “Please?”

“Please what, hāedar? (little sister)” He asked, voice mellow with just the right amount of rumble from his chest.

“Please touch me,” you answered, back naturally arching to press your soft body against the hard planes of his own.

Another low sound came from him. He pressed a warm, wide palm up the perfect curve of your back until he squeezed into the nape of your hair. “Such a pretty word from a pretty mouth. Have my kisses made you ache with need, byka zaldrīzes (little dragon)?”

“Yes.” The single word, its single syllable, rolled off your tongue before your brain even fully registered his question. You stared at him desperately. One eye was so beautiful; so ancient in its color and proclamation, just like your own. The other reflected faceted edges of the sapphire he wore in place of his missing eye. You didn’t know which was more enchanting.

“How long can you go, hm? Without me touching you?”

“W-what?”

He laughed. A rumble beneath his pale, taut chest. “How long before you succumb to madness by me not touching your perfect cunny?”

“Aemond…,” you whined. Pitiful. “Not much longer! Please, lēkia, I need you, please.”

A serpent’s grin curved his mouth and darkened his eye as he shifted positions with you. Now, he sat upright with his back against his headboard and pulled you to sit in front of him.

You nestled between his legs, your back flush with his chest, and his stiff cock rested against the small of your back. A blush bloomed beneath your cheeks. You knew lust ran as wild in his veins as it did in yours.

“Tell me, sweet sister…,” he started, whispering by your ear. Both his hands cupped and squeezed over your breasts. Their softness melted against his palms and he groaned at the sensation. Perfect. You were so fucking perfect. “Have you touched yourself to peak before?”

A stammer replaced the little mewl in your throat. “H-how do you mean?”

He laughed again, pinching your nipples. “Mm… are you sure?”

Lust and need and fire roared in your blood to the point of almost drowning everything else out. “I d-don’t understand,” you admitted. But, it was a lie. You knew what he meant. You could only hope he’d go easy on you so you wouldn't have to admit, prove, or say you knew what he spoke of.

“Why are you playing shy with me, hāedar? I think you know exactly what I mean. There is no shame in it,” he spoke sly, hands pushing the hem of your shift up until he held the material in a fist upon your abdomen. With his other hand he tugged your smallclothes down your bare legs, tossing them off. The flats of all his fingers ghosted over your exposed cunt. Testing you. Feeling you. He hissed an inward breath. “Fuck–”, he growled. “‘Tis a good thing I was born a prince. Gods know if I had this wet little cunt between my thighs I wouldn’t get anything done. Ever. For how often I’d fuck myself silly on my own fingers.”

Aemond’s vulgarity sent a coil of tension wringing in your belly. Slick arousal pooled hotter beneath his touch. Your clit throbbed–the little pearl silently screaming for attention. “Yes,” you breathed, shuddering.

“Yes, what?”

Your older brother wasn’t going easy on you. “Yes. I… I know what you speak of. And.. yes, I do. Sometimes…,” you admitted with a wave of embarrassment.

Somehow he grew harder against the small of your back. He throbbed. “Show me,” he demanded.

“What! Aemond, no. Please, please, please no. Don’t make me show you.�� Mortification replaced your previous embarrassment. Yet, your spine quivered with another rush of liquid arousal.

“I would love nothing more than to see how you bring yourself pleasure. Do you think of me when you do, byka zaldrīzes?”

You nodded. Dizziness warbled your brain.

“Such a sweet perfect thing,” he cooed. He'd felt that nervous energy tense you. He also saw the exquisite thrum of your pulsepoint beneath your neck, too. Two sides of the same coin: carnal desire. When he spoke again it dripped with wicked passion. “Don’t be nervous, I'll guide you through it.”

It had been quite some time since you last brought yourself to climax all on your own. Aemond was always more than eager to give you pleasure. Tonight, however, something was different. Idly you wondered what it could be. Before you thought about it too much, Aemond guided your dominant hand to that delicate space between your thighs. You gasped at the sensation of your own touch. Torture never felt so divine. Your little bud sang as you circled it, rubbed over it. You sighed sweetly. “How did you make me so wet?”

It took controlled effort to not spill himself across your back at that very moment. “Spread your legs for me, princess. Let me see and hear what you’re doing.”

You obeyed. With your legs spread wider, now, it was all the easier to resume your previous motions. Flicking and rubbing over your bud felt divine–excited little sounds already spilled from your mouth. You ached inside, too, wanting–needing–to be stretched around something. The memory of Aemond's long fingers pumping into you while his thumb claimed your clit had your face hot. You couldn't reach those same spots he could. You bit your bottom lip, whimpering.

Aemond watched from above with a hungry lecherous eye. Beneath your shift he could see your breasts, slope of belly… and then further below, your creamy thighs spilled wide open. Fuck–he was so hard his back hurt. Your girlish sounds sent his desire blazing. “Your little clit is so achy, isn’t it? I know how much you like it played with,” he said by your ear. “Do you ever go inside?”

You nodded, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder. You stayed on your pearl, still, legs tensing with bliss as it warmed and tingled your blood.

“Show me,” he growled again. “Be a good girl. And afterward? Don’t worry, I'll take care of you. Promise.”

Without hesitation you pushed two of your fingers into your warmth. Your body squeezed around the intrusion, inner walls flexing, trying to pull them in deeper. A gasped moan left your parted lips. “I-I’ve never done this before.” You’ve never shown anyone this before is what you meant. Aemond knew what you meant.

“I know. Shh… it’s okay, I'll guide you through it.” He gently touched the top of your hand and relished your little tendons flexing with the effort of your self pleasure. He pushed–coaxing your fingers deeper, silently urging you along. More.

Soon the wet sounds of your hand against pink swollen flesh mingled with your moans. Lewd. Dirty. You tried to stay quiet. You really did. But it felt too good, and Aemond’s hand on yours guiding you along had your toes curling. Of course he would help you. Of course he wouldn’t let you do it all on your own. “Aem..!,” you whimpered, hips rocking with your movements. “‘M close.”

“I got you,” he whispered, voice heavy.

As soon as your fingers found that little patch of hidden nerves along your walls, you weren’t able to hold on much longer. The bliss, all at once, became too much. Tension snapped in your belly as colors flashed behind your closed eyelids. Your legs trembled at the tip of your peak, and as you crested downwards Aemond held you tighter against him.

“Vok (perfect),” he said as he watched you. How perfect you were with your silver hair framing your face. How perfect you looked when ecstasy became too much. How fucking perfect your eyes were as they opened and locked on his, bright and glassy with excitement.

You carefully pulled your fingers free and began to turn around to face him. Before you could, however, he held you tighter against him. Confusion furrowed your brow and whatever you were about to say was cut off by his impatience.

“I’m greedy, byka zaldrīzes. Go on, one more time. I know you can do it. Show me again how you peak.”

Without arguing you again settled back against him. You planted your feet along the outside of his legs, spilling your thighs open wider than they were before. You angled your hips to the perfect position and this time a third finger joined your previous two. This time you fucked yourself without shame–not that you held on to it long in the first place.

Aemond all but snarled behind you, absolutely ravenous at the sight of three of your little fingers pumping and curling up into your body. He moved a hand downward, too, and the pads of those fingers worked over your clit in time with your pumps.

“Gods! Aem–!” You quivered against him. The addition of his lascivious attention had your hips squirming. Wanton moans, no longer trying to stay quiet, had your mind blanking. Nothing existed outside of you and Aemond. Nowhere existed outside of the spaces in which your bodies touched. Climax found you faster this time. Your second orgasm had you crumbling against him. Sweat sheened your brow. Your face bloomed. Sated. You were wholly sated.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Such a good girl. Giving me exactly what I wanted,” he kissed you, stealing your lips in a kiss that had you floating all over again. You could have fallen asleep right there in his arms and been the happiest thing in the realm. Breaking away, he added, “now I’ve a promise to make up to you, hm?”

Honestly, you’d forgotten about it. But, now that he mentioned it, your belly did a silly little flop.

With great care, Aemond moved from behind you and stood. Offering a hand to you, he said, “take your clothes off and lay on your back.”

And with that, you both finally shed the last pieces of your clothing.

Laying like he said, you leaned back on your elbows to prop yourself up to still see your brother. Spilled messy hair, tall lean body littered with nicked scars, sapphire eye on full display…hard cock blushed angry red with need. They say Targaryen’s are closer to Gods than men, and with the hearth’s orange light reflecting on his ivory form, you believed him to be a God.

Aemond thought the same about you as you laid there bathed in the moonlight and hearthlight.

“Spread your legs for your lēkia, I want to see you.”

As soon as you did–proudly showing off the slick mess of two climaxes, Aemond pumped along his rigid length. Despite butterflies twirling in your belly, your smile up at him was purely feline.

To Aemond’s credit, his voice only broke slightly when he said, “get on your hands and knees.”

You did. You dipped your spine as low as it could comfortably go, propping your ass up for him. As much as he loved fucking you with your legs wrapped around his waist, you knew he loved this position, too. “Māzigon va, lēkia (come on, brother),” you purred. “Keep to your promise.”

In an instant one of his hands squeezed harshly into the fat of your hip while the other spread the meat of your ass apart. He planted one foot firmly on the bed, and the other stayed rooted on the ground. The position gave him more leverage, and power, and control as he loomed above you. With a flex of his entire abdomen he pushed forward; the hot stretch of your body around him had both of you gasping. “I plan on leaving a babe in your belly tonight, hāedar. That way mother will have no other choice than to wed us,” he groaned, pulling backwards only to snap his hips against the smooth underside of your cheeks once again. And again.

You fisted the sheets as Aemond fucked you. You moaned your delight at his words, nodding. “Yes, please,” you panted. “Faster,” you begged.

His thrusts were precise and brutal. The slap of your smacking skin was utterly depraved and you hated–no, loved–how it made you impossibly wetter. Aemond did too. “Already squeezing around me? Fuck–I’m not going to last much longer,” he said, strained.

You began to push back against him, meeting his thrusts halfway with a frenzied need to make him release. “Fill me. Fill me up, Aem,” you still begged, breathing heavily.

He rutted against you with the same need–a primal haze taking over as his stones began to tighten. His fingers dented firmly into your flesh as he continued plunging in and out of you. Instinct to spill his seed built by the moment and soon he became sloppy. He grunted and growled, and with a final shove–cock buried as deep as it could be inside your walls–he spent against your body’s end. Pulse after mighty pulse emptied his spend into you. Stray strands of hair stuck to a sheen of sweat upon his forehead.

You joined him in peak; left boneless and exhausted after three orgasms. Even at the top of your bliss, and his, he never eased until you were both done.

Aemond pulled his softening length out from you and urged you to fall forward upon his bed. You followed his motion and happily laid there. Naked, glowing, and full. You reached a hand out to pull him to you. “Avy jorrāelan (i love you).”

Aemond easily settled next to you, scooping you into him. “Avy jorrāelan tolī (i love you too),” he said between slow, satisfied kisses.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @targaryen-dynasty @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @rafeism @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @connorsui

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond request #aemond imagine

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toji-girl · 16 days

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can we have a merciless sukuna just pounding you for hours and hours to take his cock in front of a mirror and him saying "look how fucked out you are" AKJFHKAJFHKAHFAKH -👺

18+ content only - mdni

this is really short knajge but I'm dipping my toes back into posting! this is not my best writing but I wanted to post this still sknjrtr

tags: fem reader + explicit smut + true form! Sukuna + double penetration in one hole + overstimulation + sukuna is occ because I made him a love-sick fool

"Sukuna! Slow down!" You squealed trying to get the King Of Curses to listen to you as you hurried behind him feeling your heart thud with each step that brought you closer to the kitchen where the servant who tried to put a move on you stood preparing dinner.

He finally stopped when you grasped his robe tugging on it with all your might. With blood rushing to your ears you took a step back when your lover turned around to look down at you. "I'm going to kill him and put his head on a stake so everyone knows." He muttered.

You stepped forward to slide your much smaller hand into one of his four. "It's not even seven am and you're already talking about murder, let's go enjoy a bath together or something, because here soon you will not have any servants left if you keep offing them." You told him.

Sukuna was a man, or monster that most people called him wasn't someone you wanted to argue with but you knew he had a soft spot for you, his wife. You were the only one not scared to step up to him.

He liked seeing the fiery look in your eyes when you challenged him, at first Sukuna enjoyed having you as one of his servants until he made you his wife. "Then they need to stop looking at what's mine, you're my brat, not anyone else's." He tutted rolling his eyes.

"You know The King Of Curses doesn't pout, right?" You teased turning away to make your way down the hallway that brought in a natural light that bathed you in it stopping Sukuna in his steps to watch you disappear around the corner.

It didn't take him long to reach the bedroom in time to see you dropping your robe before stepping towards the bathroom but you were stopped when he swept you off your feet quickly tossing you on the bed gently hearing you giggle and squeal his name.

Your laughter was one of the sounds that didn't grate on his nerves and he wanted to be greedy and lap it up, the man who has killed many and has done unforgivable crimes knows he doesn't deserve you but Sukuna never claimed to be a good man and he wanted you.

The idea of his servants eyeing you made his blood boil with anger and a protectiveness that flared deep within him like a flower under the warm sun after a long reason of rain and cold, the petals blooming and taking over.

Sukuna joined you on the bed hearing it creak to cover your body with his.

That's how you ended up on your knees with Sukuna behind you an hour later, two arms wrapped around your waist, one between your legs to circle your clit, and the other holding the back of your neck when you rested his head on his shoulder feeling both cocks slide back into you with a wet squelch that made you huff.

It was quite a mess really with how he kept pulling orgasms from you like a magician does with scarves out of his hand, Sukuna controlled your body and you wouldn't have it any other way when he made you feel this good. "Look at you, so fucked out." He growled in your ear.

He knew what he was doing too when he made sure that same servant had to pass the bedroom to hear the bed squeaking and your unashamed moans, the same man who wanted you also had no choice but to see it happening with the door open for him to see.

Sukuna caught his gaze as you continued to stare in the mirror at your husband who cared greatly for you before catching onto the silent stare-off between him and the servant.

It wasn't the first time this had happened and while you never minded if people watched you both there was something inside you that snapped knowing that he wanted you, your pussy gushed around Sukuna as he stilled to bury himself deep inside you with a groan.

Later that night when you entered the kitchen for a late-night drink you were met with Sukuna cornering the man from earlier. "Kuna?" He whirled around to see you standing there confused.

The man couldn't be more grateful for you in this moment as he scurried away from certain death.

#💌incoming #👺anon #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader smut #jjk smut #ryomen sukuna smut #Sukuna x you smut

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saintartemis · 8 months

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"The British Museum curators I have encountered in the course of my work – who do not include the man who has been named in connection with the alleged thefts – have been among the most diligent, generous and committed public servants I have ever met. They are also paid shockingly little given the qualifications and skills required for the work at the country’s most celebrated museum. (A highly specialised job as a curator focused on Roman-period Egypt, for example, is currently advertised at £32,000.) The case of alleged thefts is a terrible blow for those working on the ground in the museum, and the cause of fury and disbelief. And yet, no one seems to care very much for the curators, as the media become ever more frenzied, and the culture warriors sharpen their swords."

"The ultimate irony, the elephant in the room? The chair of this foundering museum is George Osborne, the ex-chancellor of the exchequer, now multimillionaire fund manager. When he took a job at BlackRock in 2017, he was paid a day-rate of £13,000 – yes, earning in three days more than that new British Museum curator will make in a year. As chancellor he was behind the “austerity” cuts to public services and cultural organisations of 2010 onwards. That was not a theft. What it was was a withholding – on a grand and unforgivable scale – of care."

#museums #museum issues #the British museum #British museum thefts #museum professionals #museum workers #museum curators #politics

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sukunastoy · 5 months

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NSFW ABCs (A-M) (Heian Era Ryoumen Sukuna)

An anon asked for this, and I'm not certain WHICH Sukuna they're hoping for, but I'll start with Heian Era True Form Sukuna! <3

CW/TW: Its true form Sukuna, thats the warning. Masterlist (N-Z Here!)

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex) Bold of you to assume that Sukuna is going to stick around after he's done making you go dumb from his dick(s). But if he did stick around, he's pushing you away from him (out of his bed, off of his throne), so he can have the space to himself. You can sleep on the floor where pets belong. No cuddles, no pillow talk, (maybe some degrading praise.) You're lucky if he even offers a rag to clean yourself up with. Cause lets be honest, he's going to make a mess out of you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's) Definitely for him, its his chest. His big pecs (beefy man tiddies) are definitely something he's proud of. He either isn't wearing a top, or has it opened/rolled down. For his fuck toy, he loves your neck. Loves kissing it, biting it, licking it, squeezing it. Loves to mark your skin with his teeth, so you know who you belong to. And he enjoys leaving bruises where he's gripped so harshly.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) For one, prepare for the most cum you've ever had or will ever have in your life from this guy. If you're giving him oral, you will be required to take every last drop, can't let any of the King's seed be wasted. Swallow it up like a good pet. He loves to stuff you full of his cum in other places too, and he'll hold your legs and hips up in a way that nothing can spill out of you. (Consider it a form of the King's blessings. Don't waste it.) He's not going to cum onto your body, because he wants to be inside of you when he reaches his climax and wants to see your face when he fills your insides with his unforgiving amount.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) This man is pretty openly dirty, I mean, he's the King of Curses, who is going to say anything about one of his kinks? But, a secret in general, he really enjoys back/shoulder massages, doesn't even have to get sexual, it just feels amazing to him to work the knots out of his large muscles. Since he's so large anyway, you could walk on his back or even use your knees to massage in certain areas if your hands aren't strong enough. It's the only time you notice he's truly relaxed and not terrifying.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?) Forget everything you thought you knew about sex, because he's about to show you what you've been missing out on. Through taking advantage of villagers, receiving sacrifices/offerings in the form of humans for his pleasure, bringing maids/servants into his chambers because he's simply bored... he's had quite a lot of practice to perfect his skill. Though he generally takes care of his own pleasures, he's keen to what others enjoy, even if they deny it. And if you aren't even aware of something you might like, he'll gladly introduce it to you and get you addicted to it. (Loves to see your eyes roll to the back of your head when he's found the thing that makes you lose all control of yourself.)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) He will keep you pinned in the mating press, so he can fill you as much as possible, and to hit every sweet and sensitive part of your insides without mercy. Watching you hopelessly struggle beneath him as he's taking you in a very primal way, it really gets him off. (Plus his tummy mouth is in a wonderful position to provide extra unbearable pleasure.)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) He's definitely serious in the moment. When the king is ready to fuck you, you better be prepared. He won't be in the mood for playing around or being silly.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Since it's the heian era, there aren't exactly many reasons to stay well groomed, nor is it probably practiced at all. You're going to get an au natural bush that definitely matches the drapes. Don't worry, his dick(s) are so large, they're not going to get lost in it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) He's not romantic. You're there simply to be used by him. He enjoys watching you struggle and cry from how rough he is. You could be asleep, in the middle of a task or even eating, and he's going to take what he wants, when he wants it. The only reason he offers the slightest prep and foreplay is so he can push inside of you easier.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Sukuna isn't the type to jack off. That's what his fuck toys are for. If he's feeling particularly lazy, you'll use your body as a fleshlight and bounce on him while he lounges back. He's either enjoying a fine drink or smoking his kiseru while watching you work.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He's definitely into BDSM. In fact, the more terror you appear to be in, the hornier this man gets. He's going to hurt you, no doubt about it. You're going to get bit, choked, tied up and even whipped because he loves to hear you cry out in pain. Don't worry, even if he gets out of control and nearly takes your life, he can heal you right up so he can continue to enjoy himself with your body.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) In his throne, or on his bed. When Sukuna wants everyone to see how he treats his toy, he's going to be forcing you to ride his dick(s) while he's lounging in his throne. He might even hold conversation with some of his servants or village subordinates, but you're going to be falling apart as he uses his arms to keep moving you. When he wants you all for himself, he'll take you to his room and own your body again and again on his bed. A perfect place to tie you up if he wants. It's also easier for when he wants to go to sleep after, he's already in bed. All he has to do is push you out of it when he's finished with you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Anything can get this man going. If you've angered him or appear scared by him, he's going to take advantage of you in a sinister way. If you accidentally bend over in his presence, he's going to keep you bent over while he proceeds to fuck your brains out. When he goes to lay waste to villages, you're his prize when he returns. A personal little gift to himself after ending innocent lives.

|| Hope you enjoyed! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! ||

#sukuna jjk #sukuna smut #sukuna true form #abcs #naughty alphabet #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna

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colourstreakgryffin · 8 months

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Can we get Muzan and Kokushibo discussing Muzan's very menacing bratty spoiled, daughter's behavior towards other demons with Muzan defending her every action and seeing nothing wrong with her behavior (while she torment's Douma and Hantengu in the background?)

I think it would be hilarious, thank you for considering my ask<3~

Aaaa! That’s actually really cute in a weird way! I like this idea a lot, thank you, love!

Kibutsuji Muzan- True Angel

“Lord Muzan…” Kokushibo asked softly, sat on his knees in a respectful manner as Muzan turned to his top Upper Moon and frowned slightly, annoyed as he had another duty to finish. What does he want? Muzan raises his hand without so much as a word, as a non-verbal sign that the six-eyed man can speak freely. “Lord Muzan… you need to… talk to the… young Lady” Kokushibo was planning to explain to his rather unforgiving Master about his concerns over his very menacing, spoiled, bratty daughter’s behaviours towards all the other Upper Moons

“What about my daughter, Kokushibo? I dare you to try tell me my daughter isn’t perfect” Muzan barked coldly, the second his servant mentioned his beloved daughter. How dare he think he could try tell him how to parent his daughter! Those harsh words he spat out couldn’t cut down Kokushibo’s confidence as the demon samurai muscled out a response in very little time, he was barely intimidated by his own Master. He needed to get his point across, the Upper Moons are continuously tortured by you, Muzan’s precious daughter

“I’m not… suggesting that… I just… need you to know… about what she… does to us” Muzan titled his head, displeased and annoyed but since he favoured the brother of his worst enemy severely, he was willing to hear him out. But whatever he may say will be such bullshit, he can already tell. “Okay. What is the problem, Kokushibo. Tell me” The blood reds glared, unreasonable traces of anger already rising. To him, anybody merely mentioning his daughter in a negative light is insulting her and he wouldn’t let any breathing being insult his precious love

“Have you seen… how she… treats us?” Muzan’s stroked eyebrow rose in confusion as he shakes his head no, arms crossed over his chest. What could you possibly do to the five demons coursing with his blood, a lone Hashira could not stand a chance against them. “She attacks us constantly…” Kokushibo remarked in his signature low voice, causing Muzan to be thrown back internally. Shock overflowing him, that claim is just ridiculous

“Attacks you? That’s nonsense” Muzan answered firmly and still deep in disbelief, sitting down before Kokushibo after a few seconds of thought, to meet with his hexa-eyes. Kokushibo shakes his head slowly in response without a word, his hands still curled up and laid in his lap, Muzan simply didn’t believe that his perfect princess pulls mischief and causes chaos behind his back. “She does… she treats Hantengu like… a scratching… post and treats Akaza… like a punching bag” As the two built men spoke in a rather passive-aggressive and firm aura

You laughed mischievously under her breath, your blood red eyes glaring hatefully at the whimpering, whining Upper Moon 4 laying on the floor beneath you as you raised your claws up to be seen by him. Hantengu cried out as you swiped at his face with a delighted grunt each time, blood staining your claws. The surrounding Upper Moons all reacted differently to you targeting one of their fellow Moons, most wanted to get away

Gyokko immediately dropped into the safety of his ceramic pot at the mere sight of you, as Akaza flinched in horror at you, shuffling to the edge of the many block-like building’s roof whilst Douma chuckled at you and your mericless attacking on the poor Hantengu, slowly faning his face with his golden fan. None of the Upper Moons knew Kokushibo was trying to convince their Master that his daughter is unnecessarily attacking them, since she can totally get away with doing whatever she wants

“Are you sure she isn’t playing with them? Dokusha has different ways to play, then most kids” Muzan barked in a meaningful, honest response as he didn’t bother to move, completely interested in hearing all his Upper Moon 1’s arguments over you and your supposedly despicable behaviour to anybody, other than him. But he truly couldn’t seen what the problem is, you are harmless. None of the Upper Moons should be cowering at you, this concept sounds like delusion to him

“No… playing isn’t striking until… we bleed…” “It sounds more like you’re all too weak to handle playing with a child who has claws” “Master… She doesn’t play with… us, she hurts us” “What is the problem with her being able to hone her skills? I don’t get the problem, Kokushibo”

As the argument grew up and the voices rose, you leaped at Douma once you were done with the bleeding and pathetically sobbing Hantengu. Snatching his luxurious fan from his hand whilst you pinned him down as he chuckles at you, not even flinching at you stabbing it right though his eye. Your malicious grin spread as you purposefully twisted the impaled item in the Upper Moon 2’s socket, hoping he’d respond in any form. Their torment was your pleasure, but you hissed annoyed when Douma laughed louder and lifted a hand to pat your hair

He isn’t in pain?! How dare he mock you! You always get what you want and you want him to fear you! You hissed outloud, stamping on the fan as you kneed his stomach firmly. The closed fan dug deeper into his skill and spit out more of his disgusting red blood onto the cloor. Hantengu whimpered, shying into the nearby corner as his wounds healed whilst Akaza avoided watching the scene only a few metres besides him, trying his best to not intervene

If he were to try stop you, Muzan would have his head in a instant…

Muzan, on the other end of the gigantic marvellous open arena, didn’t even notice the way you attacked his Upper Moons as he continued to push back on every piece of evidence of your cruel bratty behaviour towards his loyal soldiers, presented by the most trustworthy man he has. Kokushibo didn’t want to give up, believing he had the most chance to convince his Master into trusting his every word he spoke about you. Muzan truly didn’t want to take his top’s remarks and he was tempted to ignore the concerns. Since his precious baby is a angel…

Why would she hurt anybody?

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catfern · 1 month

Text

rockstar!mizu headcanons

w.c; 700

a.n; this is gonna flop but love my bae mizu

michael green & zionism . palestine m.post . daily click

rockstar!mizu who is the absolutely fawned over guitarist for a heavy rock band, new to the scene but rising fast. patchwork tattoos cascading down her arms, the ink teasing her fingers. she’s cool and collected on stage, her hands steady and oh so poetic in their work, a stark contrast to her bandmates, so swept up in drugs, sex and rock’n’roll.

rockstar!mizu with her baby, a hand painted, azure blue guitar, graffitied lovingly with a tally of how many shows played and how many bras thrown in her direction while performing.

rockstar!mizu who, despite her jaded disposition, secretly adores the attention. sure, some of her dm’s still make her blush, but the girls throwing themselves at her feet fill her with this syrupy, superior high. she scrolls through the #mizu tag on just about every platform, as casually as one checks the morning news when they wake up. a low, rough chuckle falling from her lips as she glazes over the edits, the fanart, the absolute whores on tumblr. she’ll punt her phone across the room when a bandmate peeks at what she’s having so much fun with.

rockstar!mizu who likes to send little nods to her obsessed fans, to give them just enough to keep a tight hold on her curtails. spending a good thirty minutes before the show painting her nails a certain colour because some obscure fan account tweeted that it was their favourite. pulling up her shirt to wipe the light sweat on her brow from the heat of the spotlight, the contour of her stomach a haunting image in the electric darkness of the small theatre. rockstar!mizu who gives a rare, light laugh with an deliriously lopsided smile when she sees the rush in the crowd.

rockstar!mizu who likes to act above the glitz and glamour appeal of fame, but singles out sweet, shy girls at bars, who gives them just enough attention, just the slightest taste of her effortless charm, and watches them fumble under her soft, firm touch. rockstar!mizu who listens as these girls test, a quiet, unsure mumble, “you’re mizu,” and god, that validation is an echo in her blood, an addictive buzz.

“you wanna get outta here?”

rockstar!mizu who’s sweet, in a way. a guiding hand finds its home in the small of your back, a soft push of heat in your stomach as a whispered breath curls around your throat, her perfume, something fresh but overbearing, leading you as you make your way to her car. her hand settles on the bare of your thigh as she takes her place in the driver’s seat, the stolen glances in traffic enough to keep the burn of your timid disposition firm under your skin, in your bones. she knows she scares you, intimidates you, but for her, that’s exactly the appeal.

rockstar!mizu who loses those small kindnesses as soon as you cross the threshold to her apartment. who doesn’t even bother, or rather, doesn’t want you in her bedroom. the press of her kitchen counter against your back hurts, but its so perfectly detached. she didn’t bring you here to have you in her space, to have you learn about her. she wants worship, she wants the absolutely frenetic ichor of her fame to pull you to her feet, eager to please.

rockstar!mizu who is the type to really praise, but only if you earn it. an unforgiving grip on your hair, her voice is breathy, controlled sycophancy as she pushes you down, your tongue servant to her strings. she has to fight the triumphant smile that teases her lips as she looks down at you, oh so pliant, her meek admirer with lips glossy with her taste, eyes wide, forgiving and all-consumed.

rockstar!mizu who adores hearing her name roll off your lips, a mixture of ecstasy and reverence. who teases you with praise offered from the mizu, the idol. you, who should be lucky to be touched by a star, begging for a pleasure only she can give you. it’s all she ever wanted from you anyway, all she brought you home for. to hear you beg.

inspired by this tiktok

taglist; @whore4abby @endureher @beemillss @afraidofheightss @sentimentalyellow

dm to join!

#mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu x fem!reader #mizu blue eye samurai

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 2 years

Photo

The Challenge of Forgiveness

21 Then Peter came to Jesus.

‘Master,’ he said, ‘how many times must I forgive my brother when he sins against me? As many as seven times?’

22 ‘I wouldn’t say seven times,’ replied Jesus. ‘Why not – seventy times seven?’

23 ‘So, you see,’ he went on, ‘the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle up accounts with his servants. 24 As he was beginning to sort it all out, one man was brought before him who owed ten thousand talents. 25 He had no means of paying it back, so the master ordered him to be sold, with his wife and children and everything he possessed, and payment to be made.

26 ‘So the servant fell down and prostrated himself before the master.

‘ “Be patient with me,” he said, “and I’ll pay you everything!”

27 ‘The master was very sorry for the servant, and let him off. He forgave him the loan.

28 ‘But that servant went out and found one of his fellow-servants, who owed him a hundred dinars. He seized him and began to throttle him. “Pay me back what you owe me!” he said.

29 ‘The colleague fell down and begged him, “Be patient with me, and I’ll pay you!”

30 ‘But he refused, and went and threw him into prison until he could pay the debt.

31 ‘So when his fellow-servants saw what had happened, they were very upset. They went and informed their master about the whole affair. 32 Then his master summoned him.

‘ “You’re a scoundrel of a servant!” he said to him. “I let you off the whole debt, because you begged me to. 33 Shouldn’t you have taken pity on your colleague, like I took pity on you?”

34 ‘His master was angry, and handed him over to the torturers, until he had paid the whole debt. 35 And that’s what my heavenly father will do to you, unless each of you forgives your brother or sister from your heart.’ — Matthew 18:21-35 | New Testament for Everyone (NTE) The New Testament for Everyone copyright © Nicholas Thomas Wright 2011. Cross References: Genesis 4:24; Exodus 21:2-3; Leviticus 25:39; 1 Chronicles 29:7; Proverbs 21:13; Proverbs 28:3; Matthew 2:11; Matthew 5:7; Matthew 6:14-15; Matthew 7:24; Matthew 8:2; Matthew 13:24; Matthew 14:9; Matthew 18:15; Matthew 25:15; Mark 6:37; Mark 11:26; Luke 7:42-43; Luke 17:4; Ephesians 4:32; Colossians 1:7; Colossians 4:7; James 2:13

#Jesus #parables #the unforgiving servant #Gospel of Matthew #Matthew 18:21-35 #New Testament #NTE #New Testament for Everyone #Holy Bible

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crystalskiesandcherrywine · 1 month

Text

And all the pieces fall, right into place // Part One

So Feyd Rautha is still on my mind and that’s my second try of writing about him and an Artreides!Reader.

This will get smutty later on, but not in this chapter.

Summary: As the Princess of House Atreides, you don’t shy away from what ever must be done for your family. Your impending union with a Harkonnen, though anticipated, doesn't unsettle you. However, the events take an unforeseen twist, placing your fate on a precarious edge. This sudden shift brings about consequences far beyond what you could have ever envisioned.

English is not my first language.

All feedback is welcome <3

Part two // Part Three

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

There are so many songs that make me think of our favorite psychotic Harkonnen, but I stick with „Found“ by ††† (Crosses) for now.

_____________

Na Baron Feyd Rautha x Atreides!Reader

FxM

1.349 words

___________________

The dim light wandered through the corridor, veiling most of the space into a velvety dark. The earthy brown and green tapestry on the wall illumined ever so slightly by the flowing arms along the wall. But even if there would be no light, you know the way by heart, having followed it more times than you can remember. Your feet shuffled along the floor, finally stopping at a closed door almost hidden at the end of the passage. Before your knuckles can touch the polished wood, a slight gap appears.

„You are late“ Paul says, and pulls you in, closing the door behind you at once.

„Well, you can take it up with our Father. I love him with all my heart, but with him being in the library for so long there was no chance of getting past him earlier“

„He seems to spend an awful amount of time there nowadays“ Paul muses and lets himself fall on a cushion on the floor.

„That’s true. I believe he hides from Mother.“

Both of you cannot suppress a laugh. Since Lady Jessica is with child she seems quite easily irritated with everyone, especially with the Duke.

„Well, at least she will have a new baby to take care of when we are gone“

„Let's drink to that“ Paul says, and produces a bottle of wine and two glasses from a cupboard.

The liquid is the perfect ruby color, reflecting the light on the walls. It feels like all of your home planet has been distilled into the glass in your hand: the sweetness of the sunshine rays, the vibrancy of the hills covered in forests, the deepness of mountain lakes you wandered with Paul & Duncan, the acidity of the soreness after training with Gurney and the light twinge of bitterness of the goodbyes Paul and you were to say so soon.

„We have about a fortnight still“ he says, as if reading your mind.

„How about you stay out of my thoughts, “ you reply, but there is no sharpness to it. He is right, your future is about to unfold, but now you are here still, far away from the harsh and unforgiving Giedi Prime where the man you were promised to awaits.

„I really should go there and tell them off“ Your father sighs, his eyes still resting on the book he has had for half an hour without reading a single word.

„And what good would it do? Let them, they will need the memories to sustain them through what’s to come“ Lady Jessica says with a benevolent smile.

Her hand rests on her belly, instantly protective of the new life. But she feels the same unease as the Duke, with hints of trouble in the air being almost tangible to her.

_______

You regret the last cup when you wake up the next morning. Your mouth feels dry and ashy, your head throbbing. Your handmaidens say nothing, but a vial with medicine is placed wordlessly on your nightstand. You gulp it down and rush to the private dining room, where your mother and Paul are already there.

A servant plates some bread on your plate but is dismissed by Lady Jessica with a stern look.

„No, please. Not now“ you whine „ We practised for so much already“

Lady Jessicas looks at you sternly „And yet there is a need for more“.

Your eyes wander to your brother

„Don’t look at me for help. I had earned my breakfast already“

With a sigh, you sit upright and focus on your mother

„Give me the plate“

Like in a trance, her hands move as she grabs the plate from the servants' hands and puts it next to you.

„Good, now what else do you want?“

_______

Days pass by in training, between the library and the combat space, with afternoons free for you and Paul to do as you please. To sit at the cliff just outside your ancestral fortress, with seagulls rushing over your head, while you look at the waves crashing at the shore is something you cannot believe to be able to leave without. The hours spent in comfortable silence are so precious to you that you almost can’t find back the tears prickling in your eyes. A servant comes running to you one of those afternoons, visibly distressed.

„My Lord, my Lady“ he finally gets out between snapping for air „You are requested at the guest hall at once. Please come“ Paul and you get up, exchanging a glance. In the hall, the fireplace is lit and everything is a buzz with servants carrying silver plates, candles and chairs. Your father stands next to the fire, his hands clasped behind his back with the message scroll he holds so tightly his knuckles are almost white. He turns around, and his expression is carefully neutral.

„There has been news for you today, my children. Paul, you are to leave for Arraki with me in a week. We will meet the Fremen delegation there and your wedding is to take place in Arrakeen. You, my daughter, however, will be gathered by Baron Vladimir Harkonnen and Na Baron Feyd Rautha here. Baron Vladimir and his nephews will arrive the day after tomorrow. They will take you to Giedi Prime after the wedding“

Paul seems as confused as you are. You were to travel as a family to Giedi Prime so that your wedding could commence after Na Baron's Birthday celebrations. But now he and his family make the effort and spice to travel to your home. This news leaves you puzzled and unsettled. „Now go to Lady Jessica at once“ he says and with a bow of your head, you rush to her chambers.

Lady Jessica seems calm, compared to you. But she has years of Bene Desserts training that you are yet to acquire. She holds out her hands to both of you. „Something is not right“ she admits, „but there is nothing to gain in worrying now. We have too much to do“

And with this, your packing begins.

_____

Metal plate touches the ground with a soft thud, revealing a row of Harkonnens soldiers, all in their full combat gear, looking out of place in the middle of the green field their vessel landed on. „Quite a show“ Paul signs to you and gets a „Behave now“ as a reaction from your mother.

They march in unison and behind them a grotesque floating figure is revealed, followed by multiple tubes, connected to dark glass orbs. Baron Vladimir Harkonnen floats, with his drape touching the ground and collecting the morning dew on the edges of it. His face is soft and plump but also full of hardness, small eyes beading at you with a hostility you cannot understand. Glossu Rabban, a mountain of muscle, follows slightly behind him, glancing between your family and the surroundings. Light breeze reaches you, carrying the smell of the sea foam and shells and raising the banners of your House behind you even higher. You lift your chin a bit, trying to mirror it and your gaze falls on the man next to Glossu. His skin is so fair that it looks like snow on a mountaintop, unblemished and almost sparkling. His uniform is tight, with black leather at his shoulders, knees and boots, which only makes his skin more striking. You are aware of his reputation, so his calm pace doesn’t fool you. Behind this facade of tranquillity is a person who is rumored to be the most ruthless soldier in the known universe. His eyes seem to look straight at your parents when suddenly his head turns to you and his dark blue eyes meet yours. For a split second, the corner of your mouth twitches nervously and he catches that, causing a hint of a smile on his face. He doesn’t look away as if to test you, so you try to withhold his gaze with the same amount of pride. His lips form a proper smile now, with the promise of a story yet to begin.

________

to be continued ...

#dune part ii #feyd rautha #feyd rautha imagine #feyd smut #feyd x reader #feyd x you #dune movie #paul atreides #feyd fanfiction #arranged marriage #no cannon in sight #shameless smut #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #austin butler #i can fix him #no but seriously

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rosiemarieyn · 18 days

Text

Lying Love

pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary: You need his sinful love to surround you while you slowly crumble into pieces.

Genre: Angst, lovers to strangers

Word count: 2.1k

Note: The feminine urge to pray and sob uncontrolably.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

You were not a religious woman, no. But at times like these sometimes you have to go out of your belief system.

We, humans, are always dependent on a higher being because we believe we cannot fathom the struggles we go through ourselves.

That is exactly what you were doing at this very gruesome moment, begging and weeping for him to come back, to the very God you left in your past.

Bringing your hands together, holding onto the little hope you had within your soul, being God's servant once again. Being what you feared the most. Dependent on someone, something- anything.

"Lord Jesus, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner…please…bring back my dirty pleasure, The one I can't comprehend to lose, make him crave my touch once again. I need his sinful love, I can bear his sorrows if it means I'll get to spend one more minute with him. Amen."

I'm on my own, again.

Finishing your prayer, you stood up, getting ready to leave. You stopped walking and saw someone walk in through the cathedral's big wooden doors and saw him, the one you needed to guide you into the darkest pits of hell for making you his. He had the eyes that could be described as the "Gates of Heaven", a man with an ethereal beauty, here on earth to seduce his preys to commit the most unforgivable of sins.

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" hearing his honeyed voice could be described as a nice melody you hear once in a lifetime and have it engraved into the furthest corner of your brain. All the memories flooding through your brain once again.

"I can't love you any more," he spoke adoringly whilst waltzing around the room with you in his arms. "I can't live without you." was all you could say, completely mesmerised by his breathtaking adoration for you alone.

you snapped out of your daydream, staring at him with built-up rage inside you. He spoke calmly, making you understand that Thomas Shelby could not be loved, even if someone wanted to love him. He would always push them away, and in this scenario, it was you.

"I can't love you anymore,"

"I can't live with you."

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

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fraugwinska · 3 days

Note

Hhggffffffgg… pweasd.. pweasd more Leap of Faith. Part two of them meeting each other in hell. Pretty sure they’d end up in hell since suicide is a sin, iirc?

Uweh wahhhh. Felt it real deep of losing the only meaningful connection, the big sadness taking over. I’m sobbing. My heart—

Your writing is amazing as always. I eat that shit up.

...The people have spoken. I am your humble servant. Please accept this offering...

Heavy themes, religious trauma, mental/physical torture Minors please DNI

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Like a shooting star.

You looked like a shooting star against the purple, starless sky of the pride ring, a glowing gold and teal line trailing behind you like a tail.

Alastor pushed his shadows faster through the streets of the pentagram, not a care who he pushed, sliced or scared out of the way - he had to get to you, had to catch you and not let you crash into unforgiving ground, like it was mundane, like you were any other meaningless, unimportant, goddamned sinner.

He couldn't allow it. Wouldn't allow it.

Faster and faster your form grew shape, and he realized that the big, heavy radio that was still in your arms - still pressed tightly to your chest - acted like an anchor, accelerating your plunge, threatening to shatter you into the hard, stony streets underneath, or worse: Through.

"Let go!", he hissed desperately to himself, pulling and yanking and gnashing and urging his shadows to work to their limit, whipping them into a speed that could break both, him and the damned radio, if need be, if you would just slow down and gain him a few more crucial seconds to get to you. The distance between you and him shrunk until your fall felt close, so close, too close, as though if you'd only be conscious to just reach out and outstretch a hand to him, his eldritch tendrils could grab it.

"Come on." His dark silhouette growled, partly manifesting and elongating himself more to maneuver around the last alley corner. "Almost... THERE!"

As a streak of blinding light, like a lightning bolt, and with the force of a crashing plane, you smashed into his solid, physical demonic form, as Alastor manifested into an extension of flesh and limbs right beneath your descending trajectory, and swallowed you right there in his arms before both of you hit the ground.

***

The void around you was dark. Quiet. Endless and expanding. You couldn't feel anything other than the feeling of nothingness surrounding you, floating but at the same time... not. No ground beneath, no sky above - you didn't even know when you hit the water. Was it even water anymore? Did it matter?

In the blindness, you registered the vanta black around you fading into white, bright and scorching. And that feeling you previously lacked bloomed to the front of your consciousness: Pain. Like a thousand needles poking out from every corner of your skull, making you yelp out and whimper. You shifted your body, or at least tried, only to cry out and curl up into yourself, clutching whatever the big and heavy thing was in your arms, tight as the muscles in your upper body convulsed, twitched and trembled at the burning pain. Where the hell were you?

"𝓦𝓮'𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵, 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭. 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮'𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽.""

A voice made out of a thousand voices spoke, and it resonated from within you – amplified through every cell of your body, booming and mighty and utterly inhumane. You screamed out the pressure it put on your brain, cried as it felt as though something was pouring into you and flowing out all at once, burning, devouring and replacing every fiber, every strand of DNA. You writhed in agony, wanting to beg for whatever it was to stop, but you were in the hands of an infinite power above you, and so, all you could do was howl and weep.

"𝓘𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓲𝓵."

It was men and women and children, high and deep and loud and quiet and screams and whispers and it overwhelmed you to listen to it.

"𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵. 𝓘𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓲𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵 𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓮, 𝔀𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓻𝓲𝓹 𝓲𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷."

Your throbbing hands cramped around the object in your arms, nails scratching on the surface. Wood. Soft wood, warm beneath your fingertips.

"Alastor...", you sobbed through clenched teeth, memories slowly pushing through the pain to the front of your mind, clawing their way through the thick haze of the booming voice of the entity. "I want to go to Alastor..."

"𝓜𝔂 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭, 𝓭𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮. 𝓓𝓸 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓮𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓵."

"He's not..." A low moan spilled past your dry, bitten lips as another wave of excruciating pain crashed down your spine. Tears stained your cheeks as the radio in your arms felt heavier and heavier, dangerously close to slip from your grip.

"𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷, 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓾𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓵𝓾𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾."

The voice was patient, neutral, not showing any sign of rage or warmth or even condescension. It only held a commanding power, like a pull from gravity, unintentional, elemental, to give in, to accept, to repent. But you couldn't. Couldn't even if you tried. The tears that came to your eyes now weren't out of pain alone, but because you couldn't help the insurmountable longing to leave, to not be held back any longer.

"Alastor isn't evil or wicked...", your cracked voice whispered. "Not to me..."

"𝓓𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽, 𝓸𝓯 𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮. 𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝓲𝓯 𝓭𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓪𝔂, 𝓽𝓸𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓪 𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓪 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓽𝔂. 𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓾𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓷, 𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭."

Torture. It felt as though someone was physically digging through you with dull claws, sawing into your very soul, bending, ripping, breaking and rearranging, molding the picture you had of Alastor to a villain, a torturer, a destroyer, a greedy animal without reason, feasting upon human despair and wailing screams, wreaking havoc and taking lives laughing along the way as he rips fangs into flesh that looked like your own.

"That... isn't him.", you mouthed breathlessly, forcing yourself to focus. "You're a liar."

You fought to come back, with the sound of Alastor's smiling voice, molten with static and spoken with feeling. 'And I can most assure you... pretty is a well fitting word to describe you.'.

"Liar... liar... LIAR!"

The illusion the entity conjured around you began to shatter, as did the images it showed you, breaking and tearing away like rotten paper from the ones you wanted to hold on to... The hours and days and nights spent together, the long and entertaining conversations over meals, his teasing comments and your quick-wit responses, the little things that made his voice lift an octave and a tiny huff, which you learned over the weeks was him trying not to chuckle at your banter. The softness in his tune when he realized you were drifting into slumber. The way he called you his dove.

"𝓦𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮. 𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓾𝓼 𝓼𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭."

the entity said, though their tone had begun to waver, echoing withing the faint sound of breaking glass.

"𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮𝓭. 𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭, 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓪𝓵𝓿𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷, 𝓸𝓻 𝓫𝓮, 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻, 𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓰𝓸𝓭."

You felt heat creeping up your legs, as if your skin was bubbling, burning and it was hard to speak, as the smell of cauterized flesh and blood filled your nose. Bones were shifting, limbs trembling and twisting as if they wanted to turn you inside out, skin color changing and fading into palish white, nails growing into slender blue talons, something rough and rigid sprouting from your back and shoulders. But you only tightened your arms around the radio, eyes pressed close and teeth grit together.

You've had enough.

"Fuck your lies, fuck your salvation and FUCK. YOUR. GOD."

Gravity returned in an instant, like someone cut a hole through space, the air and heat from your lungs gone as it ripped you from the strange white with unexpected violence – malevolence even - body flaying in the sudden wind of the descend.

Purple and red shades swirled before your eyes, wild strands of glittering golden hair fluttered in and out of your vision, barely recognizing them as your own. The heat of the air and the sight of a black pentagram on a red sun, sinking slowly beyond a tumbling horizon were the last things you noticed before unconsciousness reached mercifully out to claim you again.#

***

“Angel! Get Charlie over here, I found 'im!”

Husk stared down the crater, trying to wrap his head around the sight before him. His ears flicked as he heard Angel shouting something unintelligible to the girls, his footsteps quickly nearing the place where he stood.

“She's comin' in a sec, she and Vagina ran ova' to the maneater colony to get Rosie and... what in Satans left ballsack?!”

The spiders' eyes widened when he saw what Husk saw - Down the deep and wide cavity, right in the middle, was a twitching, faintly green glowing mass of tentacles and limbs. A distorted groan rumbled from below, thick and riddled with static feedback as Alastor's corrupted form slowly receded to normalcy – as normal as he was. He was lying on his back, curled around the motionless form of a naked female demon. Her legs were pulled up, a limp hand with short, teal talons pressed against the side of the radio demons wild, madly grinning face, while the other was trapped and hidden in between both bodies.

Both Angel and Husks hairs stood on ends at the sound he made, not daring to move or draw attention to themselves until Alastor had regained full consciousness and, most of all, reason back. The unknown sinner that was pressed against Alastor's chest had gray, crooked looking wings sprouting from her back, various shades of teal staining the ragged tips. Her skin was white, bordering on cream with some spruce and azure specks that traveled over her neck and shoulders. From where they stood they could see blonde locks tangled in Alastor's claws, shimmering in hell's twilight as if they were made out of real gold.

Angel gave his partner a nervous side glance, as if expecting him to say or do something. "Should we... holy mother of shitballs, this is so fucked up... umm... should we get them out of..."

"̷S̷̷ T̷̷ A̷̷ Y̷ ̷W̷̷ H̷̷ E̷̷ R̷̷ E̷ ̷Y̷̷ O̷̷ U̷ ̷A̷̷ R̷̷ E̷."

Husk had only heard Alastor's voice like this on a few occasions and those instances had almost always ended in bloodshed. He shook his head at Angel in a silent warning, gripping one of his wrists when the blackened pits of the radio demon found his, glaring at him with glowing crimson iris'. It sent a shiver down the cat's back, and Angel, feeling the tremble of his partner and sensing that this was a rare occasion where he should keep his usual, lewd remarks to himself, cleared his throat.

"I-Is a'ight Smiles, we're not movin'. Charlies' comin, and she's bringin' Rosie, so just... chill, okay? No one's gonna hurt y-your uh... girlfriend?" Angel forced himself to remain eye contact, swallowing against the growing lump in his throat.

Alastor didn't answer for a good minute or two, eyes shifting over Husks' grim, but wary face and Angels worried one, before looking back down, the flames of anger and fear dying as soon as his gaze fell on the woman cradled in his lap. Her pale, motionless face was partially hidden by her hair, but the features he recognized were much like the ones she had before she did the unthinkable. Her breathing was slow and shallow - but, above all, she was here, right here, next to him, unbroken from the fall, safe in his arms...

He brushed a few stray strands of her golden mane aside, watching closely as her chest barely heaved and fell, transfixed at the movement, the guarantee that she lived. He lifted one his hands to caress her cheek, the motion much more careful and tender than either Angel or Husk thought him capable of, wiping off tiny pieces of debris from the radio she had carried like a lifeline. It had been burst by the impact, splinters of mahogany wood and shards of metal wiring scattered around them both. The top of her left wing had suffered some damage, no doubt the result of the force of his grip as he caught her, little cuts and smears of dried blood covering her sides.

"My dove. My foolish, silly, lonely girl.", his strained voice breathed, his usual filter missing, as he turned her unresponsive face gently with the tip of his claw, hoping to see any indication that the girl that he had driven to the lengths of sheer, reckless stupidity was still here with him.

The sound of steps on the broken concrete made his head turn with a sickening crack. Alastor was now curled completely over you, his arms wrapped tightly around your figure, hiding your vulnerable and exposed body from view. Rosie had arrived alongside the princess and her partner, all of them short of breath and as shocked and confused as the other two demons to find the radio demon and a freshly fallen sinner, locked into an awkward embrace.

He watched her kneeling next to him, her expression was best described as compassionate curiosity. When he didn't move, didn't talk, didn't acknowledge her presence around him, his form only slightly moving to shield your motionless frame away, Rosie, ever the understanding and pragmatic lady she was, carefully reached over to him and set a gloved hand onto his shoulder in reassurance. Her razor sharp smile was soft as she held his blackened gaze for a heartbeat.

"Seems like I will meet your little dove after all, my dearest friend. But now, let's get you both somewhere safe."

***

You opened your eyes to red. All red. Everywhere red. Warm and bright and comforting.

A sensation tickled your head and nose, feathers, brushing the top of them with a barely there touch. You wanted to brush them away, but your arms felt heavy and warped and strange, unable to be lifted. Slow blinks put your eyes into focus, like the lens of a camera that was getting adjusted on it's intended shot.

You were looking at a red painted ceiling, and when you strained your aching head to tilt a little your eyes slowly wandered over luscious, ornate wallpaper in burgundy's and scarlet's, morbid looking horns and skulls mounted on the walls next to slightly askew, empty picture frames. A heavy, dark bookcase on your right was full of tattered tombs, books and magazines, small models of twisted looking skeletons and an old, vintage... radio...

Everything clicked back into place.

Alastor, gone.

The bridge, dark over the water.

The black and the white.

The voice and the pain and the lies and the fall...

Your breath hitched, and your heart started to pound faster and louder, thrumming violently in your ears as you fell into panic, eyes frantically forcing your body to move, to search, until you realized you were stuck underneath the weighted presence of a head that rested upon your sternum, tufts of soft black and red hair draped over your chest, slightly covering a face hidden away in the crook of your neck. A low, quiet hum of white noise came from the person the head belonged to, sitting at your bedside and upper body half-slumped over you... a sound resonating deep within you, stirring up all too familiar feelings.

He was still, but clearly breathing, and he hadn't moved even though your pulse must've skyrocketed. A raspy gasp of relief and astonishment escaped you. It had worked. You really had done it. And Alastor...

You started to sob, loud and violent, your chest burning and heavy, but not out of fear or panic anymore but the impact of a thousand feelings of pure happiness. The sounds woke the creature slumbering on your shoulder, his shoulders twitched, and you could see him lift his head to slowly look up, dark circles under his crimson eyes.

Your name rolled over this demons lips, not a word, no greeting, only a longingly whispered name, spoken with a broken, ragged, familiar voice. It made you finally cry, tears spilling from you uncontrollably, unable to stop, unable to think. You heard him call your name again, saw the widening grin of his mouth through watery eyes, his arm reaching out to brush your tear-stained cheek. He didn't manage to even fully extend his fingers when your shaking hands reached out to grab his lapels, pulling him into you so that you could finally touch him, feel him instead of just hearing him. Finally tangible, finally underneath your fingers as well as your skin.

"It's you... i-it's you right?", you stammered breathlessly, voice wrought with tears of happiness. "A-Alastor. I found you, I'm not dreaming, You're Alastor..."

"At your service, my dear...", Alastor shushed softly, one hand gently caressing your hair as you leaned into the warmth of the touch. His wide smile wavered for a moment, gaze shifting to something sad and mournful as he pulled himself away to look at you.

"But you shouldn't be here, my dove." He sighed, but as he looked back to you and saw the frightened, horrified expression on your face he shook his head, leaning his brow against your own, a gesture of assurance.

"I never intended for you to be here. You didn't deserve this death, and hell doesn't deserve you."

"H-Heaven can take a long walk off a short pier..." You tried to speak with a steady voice, but failed, as your whole body began to shudder in bubbling anger at the mere implication of this cursed entity. The one that claimed to be merciful salvation but had no problem with cruel manipulation. You blinked a couple of tears away, drawing a trembling breath, before meeting his tired eyes.

"I was... in some strange place. I was offered redemption, if I..."

You frowned, sitting up slowly, careful not to make him withdraw more, holding onto the sleeves of his jacket with stiff, aching hands.

"They wanted me to denounce you. If I renounced you they... would've let me enter heaven. When I didn't want to, when I said I wanted to go to you... They showed me things while hurting me. Horrible, disgusting lies."

Your breath quickened and the corners of your vision darkened, and you realized with a shuddering panic that you were close, way too close to breaking down into sobs again. Your claw-like nails dug into the material of his sleeve as you struggled to compose yourself, ripping tiny cuts into it. You took a deep breath, pushing through the memory, reliving it until...

Your shoulders shook. For a moment, you felt him shifting, as if he'd expected you to burst into tears again. Instead, you laughed. You laughed despite your chest hurt, and even harder when you saw his floored, surprised face.

"I basically told god to go fuck himself."

For a heartbeat or two, silence enveloped both of you. Alastor blinked once, then twice, the third time his grin fell slowly. Another beat later he buried his face in the crook of your neck and...

...the boisterous, unmuted laughter, roaring, insane cackling, so deep and resounding, you could feel it in your stomach, erupted from him. Alastor almost toppled over as he tore himself from you, raking a hand trough his hair as his head shook, a manic, wonderfully impish grin tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"You know I don't think you were honest with me about your name, dove. Your initial answer of 'crazy' seems much more fitting."

Alastor was laughing so hard, his whole body was trembling with the effort. You felt yourself giggle, then unrestrained laughing along, but it died in your throat when his lips found yours in a sudden swift moment. It was full of everything. Full of curiosity, of promises and hope, it was the saving grace you sacrificed heaven for. You smiled into it, moved your lips against his, gentle and chaste, before he pulled away too soon and pressed his forehead against yours. You could feel his warm, slow breathing against your cheeks.

"How fortunate for you that I work best with 'crazy'."

Your beaming smile slowly faded, your hands finding his face to make him look at you. There was one more weight you had to lift off.

"I'm sorry.", you whispered, closing your eyes. “I'm sorry for...”

"Don't be, dear. I was at fault, fearing our connection would... weaken me." He sighed. "You might not understand it right now, but I will tell you everything, once you're fully recovered. Can you wait for that?"

You nodded, a small, grateful curl forming on your lips. You opened your eyes to stare into his, crimson, bright and intense, and yet soft and affectionate. Eyes you always tried to envision, although nothing you imagined came close to the real thing.

"Do you... still think it?", you asked, voice shaking slightly.

Alastor hummed a questioning noise, prompting you to continue, which you did, after a second of hesitation. "Me, weakening you. Do you still think it?"

His quiet laughter resounded in your ears, filling you with warmth and making your heart skip a beat.

"My silly, darling dove. With the woman on my side who dared to throw curses at the face of our very creator - What could ever stop me now?"

And, as Alastor's smile grew wide, and your own mirrored it, you were claimed by red claws and a hot, eager mouth once again, kissed again by those soft, sinful lips, the lips of your friend, your savior, your love - the devil himself, whispering the answer to his question unspoken through your skin right into your heart.

Nothing could stop the both of you now.

Nothing at all.

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angel dust #charlie morningstar #hazbin husk #rosie hazbin hotel #angst #fluff #happy ending because WE NEEDED IT #TW: dark themes #religious trauma #for the frauchen #I almost died writing this what even is sleep

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bunny-yan · 1 year

Note

Can we get a glimpse inside the yandere kings head while he vehemently tries to convince himself he’s still sane

yan!king x gn!reader TW: victim blaming, general yandere themes, violence, mentions of death, threats, implied non-con, abs no minors :)

—

It was love at first sight.

From the minute you bowed in front of him, introducing yourself as one of the servants that would be taking care of him, he couldn’t get you out of his mind.

His eyes would watch you as you did simple tasks, following you closely.

Dusting every nook and cranny of his room, serving him breakfast, lunch, and dinner, even preparing baths after helping him undress and redressing him after. Those were his favorite moments.

The feel of your skin against his. He would lean and shift in order for another chance to feel you touching him. But it wasn’t enough.

He suspected it was just passing interest initially.

Servants bringing their children in to train them to eventually take their jobs was common and the head butler was no different. He reasoned that maybe it was just interesting to see how different you were from his father’s cold, uptight butler. The more he watched you, the more he realized that you were nothing like your father. You were quiet, sure, but you held a gentleness your father lacked. Whenever he called your name to get your attention, you smiled at him with a warmth he’d never seen before, melting the frozen barriers around his confusion.

His heart would beat whenever you walked in the room, he’d find his eyes watching you wherever you went, he wanted to spend more time in your presence as each day passed by. This was more than just a passing fancy.

He was in love.

It had to be love. It encompassed everything he felt when he laid eyes on you. Swirling emotions begging to erupt anytime you can near, he finally began to understand the four letter word that the world seemed to be obsessed with.

Gone where the dreary days he lived for the sake of the kingdom, you’d given him purpose. A reason to be alive. He lived to see the light dancing in your eyes, but gone was the warmth he didn’t realize he’d begun to crave. It was replaced with wary, nervous glances, eyes hidden with a bowed head that pierced the floor. You made yourself small, perhaps to hide from the heavy gaze that began to feel like an unforgiving burden.

He had gotten ahead of himself.

He had expectations of overflowing warmth at his heartfelt confession, but surprised eyes that looked away from his happy ones with uncertainty caused cold unrest to rage inside of him. He didn’t want to give you the chance to say something you didn’t mean. Each time he imagined telling you his feelings, you gave him a wide smile before throwing your arms around him and accepting him gratefully.

It didn’t happen like that.

Why didn’t it happen like that?

Why did you avoid his gaze, refusing to look at him‽

His hands grabbed your face, kissing you feverishly before you could finish the damning sentence you began.

In shock, you took a step back, but the arm he snaked around your waist dragged the both of you down as you lost your balance.

It was the first time someone asked him to come to his senses.

All he could do was laugh as he kissed your skin, hands creeping underneath your shirt as he told you that he was perfectly sane. If anything, he said as began to unbutton the shirt you were wearing, ripping it in his impatience, it felt like it was a dream for him to be flooded with so much happiness. He whispered against your skin that he could only imagine how you would feel underneath him or how your skin would taste as he brushed his lips across every surface he could see and now that he was finally getting to experience it first hand it felt surreal. It was a dream come true.

But from the way you looked at him, he would’ve mistakenly believed that you were in a nightmare. After pulling on what little clothes you had left when he was done, you fled from his room before he could say a word.

He understood that he was at fault for ruining your clothes, but you had to have known that he was going to replace them. They were easily replaceable, nothing that should’ve warranted you getting as upset as you did. Remembering the tears in your eyes, he brushed a hand through his hair as he pushed down the urge to chase after you. He didn’t want to stop until he memorized the taste of you, but he could admit when things got a little out of hand.

He hadn’t expected to lose control of himself. He initially planned to confess and court you with intentions of making you his queen, but not everything went according to plan.

He didn’t plan to confess that day, but after seeing how friendly you were with the other servants in the palace, he thought it urgent to make his feelings clear.

He didn’t plan on you hesitating after his confession, brushing it off as shock from the happiness you felt at finally getting a chance to be with the person you loved. You’d rise above your station and others would gaze upon you with envy for gaining this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

He didn’t plan for your to ask you father to be relieved as his companion.

It was then that he realized that you had a wicked sense of humor. It wasn’t that you wanted to get away from him, no.

You must’ve known that it was never going to happen, otherwise those words wouldn’t have dared to come out of your mouth. Not when the two of you shared such intense feelings, no. You were just playing hard to get. He convinced himself that you just wanted to be sure of his affections for you, and he had no problem with assauging your fears. He would show you just how faithful he intended on being. You just liked telling silly little jokes.

And you told them often.

You didn’t want to serve him anymore, the way he watched you made you feel uncomfortable, you didn’t like it when he touched you. It was all ridiculously hilarious. So he decided to tell a silly little joke of his own.

For every “no” that came out of that pretty little mouth of yours, you could kiss one of your family members goodbye.

It still made him smile to this day thinking of the stupefied expression you wore. The look of panic in your eyes was thrilling to see as he backed you against the wall. Hands landed on your waist and he was more than happy to indulge in the little game you wanted to play.

“Stop, your highness.”

“That’s one.”

His thumb swept underneath the shirt you wore, stroking your skin slowly.

“Your highness, I don’t-”

“Two.”

Leaning closer he used one his hands to push at the collar of your shirt as he nipped at your collarbone. You were restless, attempting to shift your body away from his touch, but he followed you. You were caged between the wall and his body and he had no intention of letting you escape.

“Your highness, please.”

You sounded exasperated, worry beginning to creep in your tone and your fear only got worse when he backed away to give you a smug smirk.

“That’s more like it. I was beginning to think I would have to ask you who you wanted to go first.”

He didn’t expect that he would have to go through with his threa- with his joke. It was supposed to be funny. Something to look back on and laugh about. Instead he discovered your disappearance when you weren’t there to serve him the next morning.

After asking the maids it was clear that no one had seen you and although he felt he was overreacting because there was no way you do something so incredibly foolish, the fear in his gut told him to order the guards to look for you.

He couldn’t describe the pit that formed in his gut when you were found and dragged in front of him.

Instead of a soft smile, he had to witness the look of tears streaking down your face after he slapped you in a fit of rage. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry. He didn’t think he’d ever been as angry as he was that day.

It served to remind him of your first betrayal and it became an anniversary that made you increasingly cagey the closer it came.

It was ridiculous. You were being ridiculous.

Lovers didn’t deny each other anything. If you loved him, you should’ve been happy to receive his affection. Grateful that he showered you in gifts and gold, attempting to please you with all that money could buy. Instead you completely changed. You tried to escape from the palace you’d been blessed to work in and it became clear when he had to drag you back that you morphed into a stranger he couldn’t recognize.

You no longer smiled as you regarded him. You became cold and distant, reminding him more and more of your late father with each passing day. He didn’t want to put his hands on you, but you brought it out of him. Sure, he was expecting you to be upset with him after letting his anger get the best of him, but bruises healed. If scars remained from the cuts he inflicted, they would only be a testament to the strength of your enduring love, but your childish antics made it hard to this day.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen warmth in your gaze. Your eyes were lifeless, reflecting only the biting desperation in his own. Couldn’t remember the last time your voice called his name with what he knew was affection and care.

He remembered when you would nag at him for trying to skip his lessons. The two of you were young then, but in all these years you were no stranger to putting up with the endless incessant demands to please him so why was he left trying to understand where he went wrong?

Why did you avoid him? Skulking about the palace, finding refuge in the garden or library when you belonged at his side. Why did you change? Your job was to make him happy. Why was he being punished for making it so there would no end of opportunities for you to do so?

Why couldn’t you understand that the longer you chose to act like this, the less control he would have over his temper?

Pain wasn’t a good teacher.

Even now, as you clung to him and pressed your bruised, tear-stained face to his leg to beg for forgiveness for your second failed escape attempt, he knew this version of you wouldn’t last for long. He would show his benevolent nature and you’d get complacent when your body forgot the pain it endured under his touch.

“I’m sorry.” you repeated over and over again. Your body trembleded, wracked with pain from his incessant blows and fear that he wouldn’t stop. “I’m sorry. Please. I’m sorry.”

He looked at the bruises, familiar marks that seemed to increase each time he saw you. He never intended to put marks on your body, but you were stubborn.

Annoying so.

“How do you plan on making it up to me?”

You looked up into his narrowed eyes, hopeful that he was finally communicating with you, but your heart dropped when his hand came up to rest on your face, thumb sweeping across your bottom lip before pushing it down. It wasn’t hard to figure out what emotion was hidden underneath that cold gaze of his.

“You’re going to apologize properly and then you’re going to make it up to me.”

“I’m, I’m sorry.” you said, choking down the spite in your voice as he momentarily pushed his thumb into your mouth, using it to press against your tongue.

“You’ve said that. What are you sorry for?”

“For trying to leave.” you bit out, looking to the ground, but he deemed that wasn’t good enough. Yanking your head up, you winced from the sharp pain that erupted in your neck as you looked him in the eye.

“And what else?”

You wracked your brain to try and understand what it was he was referring to.

“For-for running away and leaving you.”

“Apologize for forcing me to take time out of my busy schedule to teach you a lesson.”

The words were caught in your throat as you stared into his audacious eyes.

“Do you think I want to hit you? That I wanted the guards to have to track you down? You need to show remorse for your little outburst or the next gift you receive is going to be a golden collar to show others that you don’t know how to behave.”

Biting back a harsh retort, you struggled not to look away from his as shame flooded through your body.

“I’m sorry for making you teach me a lesson.”

“And?”

“...For making you hit me.”

“And?”

“For making the guards track me down.”

His expression softened as a small smile crept on his face. “Good.” he began softly, making you dread what you knew was coming next. “Now you get to make it up to me.”

He never intended to treat you with anything but love and affection, but if that meant he’d get more and more opportunities to teach you what it really meant to belong to him, he would put up with your antics. But only if he had to.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere male #gn reader #ask #king #yandere king x servant reader

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