#I wanna know what he said to Shadow before he died

[miniscrew-anon]

Dead on Revival

I just put out 2 funny vampire ficlets so here’s an angsty one in the Count Darkula Verse to balance it all out. Takes place about a day or two after the alley incident from St0rmys last snippet

—-

At a distance, Dark can almost think he’s sleeping.

Four is dressed in his favorite oversized hoodie and tucked beneath a heavy comforter. He’s laying on his side with a pillow tucked under his arm like he always does after a feeding. His face is serene and he looks comfortable in Shadows bed.

He looks asleep. But he’s not.

He’s dead.

If Dark got close he bet he could see the pallidness of his skin. The absence of warmth. The stillness of his chest. The gaping hole in his sternum where chunks of vital organs and spine were blown out the back of his chest.

Or maybe Dark wouldn't find that. It has been over two days now. It might be closed already.

Dark isn't willing to get close enough to check. Just stepping into the room was already risky enough.

The wall behind the bed has sprung to life when Dark walked in, pulsating and writhing. A dark, shapeless mass stretches floor to ceiling. There are no visible eyes but Dark can feel it watching him, ready to wash over him in a wave of fury if he dares get any closer. The edges of it whip and lash, a clear warning.

Dark crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe casually. "Hey, Shads. How's it going?"

The mass doesn’t dissipate. But it does creep down the wall to curl around the bed instead. It wraps its tentacle-like tendrils around the bedposts and loosely curls into the blankets. Hovering over Four’s body and hiding him from view.

"Leave."

The voice is distorted, stringy and full of echoes. A deliberate choice or merely a consequence of having no vocal chords in this form, Dark doesn’t know. It has a certain intimidation factor to it that would probably scare off most mortals, so Dark figures Shadow is doing it on purpose.

"Sorry, but I can't go. I just got here." Dark keeps his tone light but his body firmly planted where he stands. "And we have to talk."

"No."

"Yes. It's important. It concerns Four."

The black mass surges at Dark. It wraps around him and consumes what little light there is, swallowing the pale yellow that comes in from the hallway. Dark is swallowed into the belly of this beast, surrounded by an abyss of pure blackness. It’s only the feeling of solid floor beneath his feet that remind him that he’s still in the physical world and not the emptiness of the void.

Shadow's voice is a mere hiss that comes from everywhere and drips venom, reverberating through Dark like the bass at a rock concert.

"What about him?"

Dark blinks calmly, deliberately not letting his hackles rise. "Man, you're tense. Relax, I come in peace. Pinky promise. I just want to know what the plan is for when he wakes up."

The darkness swirls around him, agitated.

"You know, the plan. Your plan. For his first feeding.” Dark kept himself casual, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’d like to talk about it with you but I’d also like to be able to see. Because as cool as the visuals are, they're a bit distracting. You mind backing off a bit? Like I said, I’m not here to start shit.”

There is a moment of stillness. Dark stays relaxed as he’s assessed.

Then the room begins to reform through the darkness. Like a thick fog is lifting. Floor, walls, furniture all reappear.

“Thanks.” Dark shifts back to lean against the wall and face the dark cloud that still hovered heavily over the bed. "Anyway, I wanna know what you’re going to feed him when he wakes up. Because he's going to be hungry, Shads. Newborns always are. I’m sure you remember your first time."

The shadows shift around in thought. They coagulate closer to the floor, gaining something like weight to it. It’s still inhuman, but it appears almost solid enough to touch.

"It'll be worse for him thanks to that hole in his gut." Dark continues, daring to take a step into the room. When Shadow doesn’t lash out, he takes another. "I don't know if you've ever healed from something like that. But it takes a lot of energy to mend a wound like that. Especially since he got it as a mortal."

“I can pull someone off the street,” Shadow finally speaks up. His voice sounds more normal now, just a twinge more raspy and hoarse. “Or you can. Not like it's something you’ve never done before. I don’t know why you’re even bringing this up.”

Dark stops a mere foot away, just outside Shadows form. He narrows his eyes in ire. "I bring it up because I don't know how in control he's going to be when he feeds for the first time. He might kill someone, if we're not careful."

Shadow scoffs quietly, putting on his usual snark like a mask. “So?”

Dark exhales sharply through his nose. “I’m serious, asshole. If he’s hungry enough, he’ll be like an animal. He’ll tear his meal apart.”

"So I get someone no one will miss." Shadow waves him off. “I’ll clean up the mess and dump the leftovers. I’ve done disposal before. It’s not a big deal.”

Dark almost snaps at the dismissive tone. He forces himself to breath a lungful of air he doesn’t need and unclench his fists. Relax his posture and ease his tightened jaw. Tempers the urge that’s been building since the alley to grab Shadow by the throat and beat some sense into him.

Shadow has tunnel vision right now. Dark reminds himself. He’s scared. He’s young and he’s stupid and he’s scared. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand. You know it, you saw it. In the alley. He just doesn’t understand.

Dark is going to make him understand.

So he takes another breath and keeps himself from yelling. "Clean up isn’t the issue. I’m talking about what happens after.”

Shadow stills. His form shrinks even more. Now Dark can see a shadow of his real body among the darkness, glowing eyes cast down to stare at the body buried between the sheets. One of his newly formed limbs, blurry like physical static, lightly wraps around Fours limp wrist.

“After?”

Dark nods. “Yeah, after. Because he’s going to snap back to his senses sooner or later. And once he does, he’s going to realize what he’s done. And I don’t know him as well as you do, but he doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who’d be okay with killing an innocent bystander."

Very few people would be okay with something like that. Plenty of the undead Dark has met over the centuries regard their first kills as their first step into full blown depravity, willing or not. Freshly awakened vampires can act like animals - tearing open veins and ripping flesh from bones. The hungrier they are the more brutal the kill. It’s usually fatal and it’s always messy.

It’s a hard thing to live with, and even harder to come back from. Even experienced killers flinch away from brutal murders like that.

Dark swallows thickly, phantom copper tang in his mouth.

“You don’t want that for him, Shads. Trust me,” He murmurs. “You cursed him with immortal life. Don’t curse him with eternal regret, too.”

The darkness shutters, a barely contained gasp of pain.

It swarms and coalesces, revealing Shadow in his true form, sitting at Four’s bedside. He holds Four’s hand, brushing stray hairs behind Four’s ear with a touch so tender it makes Dark want to avert his gaze. But he doesn’t. He watches the two of them, regret aching like a physical stake in his chest.

“This is a responsibility, right?” Dark prods quietly.

Shadow quietly readjusts the blankets he moved when he sat down. He tucks Four back under the covers, covering him just like Four always liked. He swallows thickly.

“Right. Yeah.'' Shadow says. “My responsibility.”

He stands, shakily shoving his hands into the front of his blood stained hoodie. He turns his red-rimmed gaze up at Dark, eyes lost and distant.

“So,” He asks shakily, “What did you have in mind?”

——-

I took some liberty on vampire transformation. A bit of borrowed lore from Buffy on it taking a while for the change to set in. And a little from Demon Slayer about going feral for food upon awakening. Plus the whole Shadow having shadow power was too much fun to not include.

I kinda of love vampire Dark. like a whole lot. I feel like he’s a lot more mature than HSH or lmtcoy Dark because he’s so much older. He’s got more control to him. He might not really get mortals but something like this he understands completely.

And I don’t think I’ve really covered Shadow past being a snarky shit. I don’t get the chance much because there’s so few things that’ll actually break down those walls. But this specific situation is ripe for shadow actually being and feeling vulnerable for a change. For a whole variety of reasons like guilt for letting Four get killed, guilt for changing Four despite Fours initial wishes, fear at almost losing his partner, worry for what comes next, worry over how Four will take the change.

And I’m so hecking hungry for vampire angst

#townhouse au #count darkula #hsh shadow #hsh dark #I NEED more count darkula verse #I need to know how the other boys are taking this/going to take this #I need to know how Four handles being undead #I wanna know what he said to Shadow before he died #I wanna know why all the vampires were in one convenient alleyway #was it vampire hunters? I hope it was vampire hunters #that’d be cool

[baby-yongbok]

Backseat

Boyfriend!Seungmin x Afab!Reader

♡ Genre - Smut ♡ Word Count - 4.1k ♡ Summary - Your open relationship with your boyfriend has one rule. What happens when you break it? ✧ Masterlist ✧

♡ A/N: Seungmin's look at the Chanel pop-up event killed me. That's it. That's the tweet. I hope that you enjoy! 💕+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ MDNI ♡ Warnings: Themes of open relationships, very light degradation - blink and you'll miss it, spit play?? - like, not really? but just to be safe, Dom Seungmin vibes & Seungmin is hot [I think that's all]

“Where did you even meet that guy?” The beeping of the microwave punctuated Sarina’s sentence and the other two girls all hummed in curiosity. It’s a typical girls night for the four of you. Sarina brings the drinks, Isa brings the snacks, Winter provides her Netflix password and more snacks and you allow them all into your apartment to listen to stories about your latest intimate escapades. 

“That restaurant downtown, Gammeeok. I dropped my keys and he chased me down to return them.” You drop the steaming bag of popcorn into the bowl, handing it off to Winter to take care of. “How charming.” Isa teases with a laugh and you all follow.

“So, like, Seungmin won’t be mad that you slept with some stranger? He really doesn’t care?” You nod as you stuff your mouth with a fist full of popcorn, humming and shrugging to save yourself time. “He doesn’t care. The only rule is that I can’t sleep with his friends and he can’t sleep with mine.”

“And you don’t tell him about the guys you sleep with?” 

“Mm, nope. He tells me about his hook-ups sometimes but he doesn’t really care to hear about mine. He just likes to know when they happen. He’s watched me fuck someone before but it was a one time thing.” A collective ‘oh’ echoes around the group of you as the girls exchange looks. “That’s hot.” Winter mumbles as she flips through the Netflix options and Isa shakes her head.

“My boyfriend would actually explode if that were our dynamic.” Sarina scoffs and the other girls agree before falling off into a new conversation of ‘what if’s’.

 Your phone buzzes under you as you all break out into a fit of hysterics. Your laugh dies in your throat once you read the message on your screen. The black letters typed by your boyfriend read, ‘I’m outside’, and you can feel your heart start to hammer. You weren’t supposed to see him until tomorrow morning.

 You text him back quickly, letting him know that it’s girls night and your friends weren’t leaving until the morning. Your phone buzzes with a reply seconds later, surely he said that he’d just see you tomorrow right? You can feel a shadow of anxiety as you read the new text. ‘You can leave them for a sec. Don’t you wanna see me?’

That text seems innocent right? Then why is your leg bouncing like he just sent you a ‘we need to talk’ text. I mean he did just get back from a family vacation today, maybe he just really missed you. Yeah, he got excited to see you, that’s it. 

“Helloooo, earth to y/n.” With the snap of Winter’s fingers your head snaps up to the girls across from you. “Everything cool? We were talking about rewatching Thirty-Nine or are you feeling something different?”

You open and close your mouth once or twice before you manage to look down at your phone and type a quick ‘coming’ to Seungmin. You pull yourself up from your armchair and grab a hoodie that you think is yours but you’re really not sure right now and you honestly don’t care much either.

“That’s fine but I - I have to - I’ll be right back.” 

“What’s up?” Isa asks and you sigh before doing your best to reassure them that everything is A-ok. They tease you as you unlock your front door, telling you that if you’re gone for more than five minutes that they just know that Seungmin is ruining you. You brush it off with an eye roll and make your way to the lobby of your building. There’s a comfortable breeze that you're thankful for since you’re only in your loungewear.

You look around for any sign of Seungmin’s car for a second before your phone buzzes again. ‘4 cars down to the left.’ 

You follow his direction, walking a couple of steps before his car comes into sight. You notice that Seungmin is absent from the driver's seat and as you get closer you can faintly make out his figure in the back seat. You open the door and slide in next to him once you reach the car, closing the door softer than usual in case you’re wrong about the reason for his impromptu visit. 

“Hey, baby, welcome back.” You lean into him, planting a chaste kiss on his lips that he returns with no problem. “This is a surprise.”

He’s not making any faces, his eyebrows aren’t furrowed like they usually are when he’s upset and he’s smirking at you though you can’t say that it seems entirely friendly. “I had to see you. Missed you.”

Your heart plays hopscotch inside your chest for a moment though you can’t tell if it’s because he’s being sweet or because of your looming anxiety. “You were gonna see me tomorrow, did you get too excited to tell me about your trip?” You try to relax into your seat. Maybe there’s nothing wrong, maybe it’s all in your head.

“Mm, not really, no.” Fuck it, something is up he’s too laid back. “Actually there was something that I was dying to tell you about.”

Bingo. You look over at him, wide anxious eyes boring into his dark ones. “Answer this for me, sweetie.” He pulls his phone from the pocket of his leather jacket. You hadn’t even noticed that he was wearing the gift you gave him this past year for his birthday. He looks damn good in it as always.

 Okay, wait, stop gawking. Focus. 

“Do you recognize this guy?” A bright smile parts his lips as your jaw goes slack. You stare at the picture on his phone screen, eyes darting between Seungmin and the guy next to him. The guy you fucked a day ago. “Gotta use your words.”

“I- well, yeah.” You blink up at him, worry plastered on every muscle of your face. Seungmin takes a moment to rest his hand on your bouncing leg, soothing circles into the clothed flesh. Okay, so he’s not really that mad. “I did something bad didn’t I?”

He tsks, huffing a short laugh as he locks his phone and slips it back into his pocket. “Mm, I mean you fucked my roommate from college so, you tell me.” You whine, covering your eyes with your hands.

“I had no idea, baby, really.” 

“I know, I don’t think that you did this on purpose.” The pads of his fingers dig into your thigh and he pulls you closer to him. “Just imagine my surprise when Hyunjin picks me up from the airport and starts raving about a girl who sucked his soul from him.” You groan again, wiggling a bit as he pulls you into his side, throwing his arm around you. 

“I was even more surprised when he showed me the video.” You gasp so loud and fast that you nearly choke. You forgot about the video.

“Oh fuck, oh no, I fucked up.” There’s a burning at the back of your eyes that matches the feeling in your chest. You should’ve been more careful but you aren’t exactly the type to vet your hook-up’s like a gun shop doing a background check. “I’m so sorry, Seungmin. I swear that if I would’ve known I wouldn’t have gone home with him.”

“I already told you that I believe you, baby.” He draws circles into the bare skin of your shoulder, it sends a chill up your spine. “But, I must admit that a punishment is something that I find appropriate for this situation.” 

You peer up at him through your thick lashes, trying your best to blink away the tears threatening to fall. A punishment? You can do that. 

“Anything, Min. I truly am sorry.”

“Show me, don’t tell me.” You move to unbuckle his belt, swallowing hard as you fiddle with the metal. “Nuh uh.” 

You hum, confused. There are a couple of punishments that are commonly used by Seungmin and fucking your tiny throat to the point of tears is usually his favorite. “I have something else in mind.” 

He gently places his hands on your hips, pulling you into his lap so that you're straddling him. You rest your hands on the back of the seat, more than familiar with this position since he’s taken you in the back seat more times than you can count. 

“I already heard everything from Hyunjin. He recalled the scenario in grave detail.” Seungmin keeps his eyes on you as his nimble fingers twirl the string to your pajama pants. “Now what I want you to do..”

He pulls at the string, undoing the bow. “Is tell me your side of the story.” Your breath catches in your throat.

“What do you.. mean?” He pulls at the waistband of your pants gently. 

“I wanna hear it from your point of view.” He smiles at you, that teasing gleam in his eye that you know means trouble. “ I want you to tell me how he felt, how he sounded, how he tasted.” 

You involuntarily grind into him as you start to recall the events of that night. “But… you never wanna hear about that stuff. Are you sure?”

“What did I just ask for?” His large hand squeezes your thigh and you jump at the pressure. “Does my puppy think that I don’t know what I want?” 

“No no, I’m sorry. I’m just - just nervous I think.” He grins up at you, there’s a softness to it that relaxes you. 

“Don’t be nervous, I just want you to tell me all about it, okay? I won’t think of you any differently. I won’t love you any less.” His lips brush against yours, slow and soft as he teases a kiss. “I just want you to tell me how he fucked you.” He plants the kiss, soft and rough, hungry and gentle. A contradiction. 

“Can you do that for me?” He whispers against your lips and you shake your head. You’re already getting hazy and he’s barely touched you. “Say it.”

“I can do that. I’ll tell you how he fucked me.” He slips his hand down the front of your pants, the tips of his finger grazing over your pubic mound in a tickling touch that makes you buck into him. 

“Go on, pup. Speak.”

“Okay- uh where do you want me to start?” He hums, looking up in false contemplation.

“Start from the moment that you got to his place. I’ve already heard the beginning. He told me all about you sucking him off in his car.” He grins, clearly enjoying the effect that that sentence had on you. You nod your head, trying your best to block out his tantalizing touch lingering inches from your clit. 

“Well, he offered me something to drink… we shared a bottle of soju.” Seungmin’s gaze is burning into you as you speak. Attentive with a hint of something unrecognizable. He tongues his cheek a bit, something that he does when he’s thinking or listening. “ I was complaining about finishing my share of it too quickly so he offered me some of his… he said that.. He, uh..”

Seungmin’s finger crawls down your mound brushing against your clit and drawing your attention back you him. Your nervous gaze meets his steady one. “Focus on me.” He applies a bit more pressure and you squirm in his lap. “Speak, baby.”

“He said that he’d give it to me if he could feed it to me.” 

“He poured it into your mouth?” You shake your head and Seungmin starts to ghost his finger back and forth over your bud, you sigh at the feather light contact. 

“He put it in his mouth and tipped my head back then he spit it into my mouth.” A heavy breath escapes your boyfriend, flaring his nostrils as he processes the information. “Then he kissed me.”

“With tongue?” You nod and he presses firmly against your clit. Your hips grind into the touch before you can fully process it but Seungmin’s free hand grounds you to his lap. “What did he taste like?”

You moan, the mixture of smooth circles being rubbed into your aching bud and recalling the nasty memories of the night before is sending a surge through your system. “Soju, mint, a bit of- a bit of - cake.” He lets up, returning to his featherlight touch.

“Cake?” You nod, sucking in a long breath. “We shared some before we got to his place.”

“How romantic.” He teases, rolling his eyes. “Did he fuck you on the couch?”

“Nuh uh, his bed.” Seungmin, removes his hand and dips his pointer and middle finger into his mouth. You watch as his tongue laves over the digits carefully before his hand snakes back into your pants. “We made out on the couch, he undressed me and sucked my nipples. He fingered me a bit and I jerked him off.” 

That delicious pressure is reapplied when you give him more details. He rubs tight circles over you with his spit slick fingers. So that’s how you win this game? The more details you give the more pleasure you get. A moan erupts from your chest, echoing through the car and dying in the stuffy space. 

“Did you come when he sucked your nipples?” You shake your head and he tsks, a faint grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “So sensitive.”

“He said the same thing. He told me he’s never met a girl who could cum from that. He kept sucking them and they were so s-sensitive.” You’re gushing at this point, ruining your flimsy panties and dampening the crotch of your pajamas. “I jerked him off while he did it. He was moaning and he - he sounded..” 

Seungmin slows down his ministrations when you seem to get lost in the pleasure. You look down at him, desperate eyes pleading for more but his stern gaze tells you exactly what you already know. You have to earn it. “How’d he sound, baby?”

“He sounded so.. So pretty, Min. I told him he sounds as pretty as he looks.”

“Prettier than me?” Is he teasing? Or is he jealous? Is it both? No matter, you shake your head, sating any sprout of jealousy that may be budding in his chest. 

“Never. No one is.” Seungmin smiles, you’re so pretty like this. Glazed eyes staring into his in a desperate attempt at proving that you’re the good girl that he knows you are. Your drooling cunt pulsing against his fingers, silently asking to be filled. Desperately begging to be fucked.

“Go on.” 

“He picked me up and carried me to his bed. He bent me over it and fucked me like that.” He taps your clit, prompting you to give him more but that’s not what does it. It’s the tight feeling of his cock straining against his jeans underneath you that gets you to start rambling. 

“He didn’t fill me up like you do though. You’re thicker than him, you make me feel so much fuller.” You get the pressure you were craving, wide sloppy circles leave you chasing the stimulation. 

“Tryna suck up to me, pup?” You deny it, shaking your head frantically. “ I don’t need you to tell me that I fuck you better. I know I do.”

“Okay, s-sorry.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, your breathing is starting to pick up and Seungmin decides to allow your hips to chase his movement. That decision was more in his favor than yours since the grinding of your hips gives him the stimulation that he’s dying for. He’s never found himself interested in the details of your sexual escapades. Just the knowledge that you’ve been with someone else was enough to get him off but this is different. It’s delicious and finds himself hanging on to every single word that leaves your lips.

“He fucked me from behind and he - he was spanking me. He spanked me and I moaned - oh my god - I moaned for him just like t-that. He told me - told me that I was dripping and making a fucking mess. He called me his messy baby and he wrapped his hand around my hair and - and pulled my head back - Fuck, Min, fuck fuck fuck.”

This is exactly what he wanted. Your tongue peeking from between your lips and your eyes hazy with need. He wanted you fucked out and pliable. He wanted you to relax. He can know anything that he wants now and selfishly he wants to know more. He wants to know everything.

“Mmm is that right?” His fingers dip between your folds, collecting your slick and spreading it over your clit “If my messy baby tells me more she can feel my fingers fill her up.”

“God, yes, please. Need it, need it.”

“Gotta speak, pup.”

“Okay - uh uh after he fucked me like that I got on top and I rode his cock and - and he felt deeper like that and he looked so so pretty under me and I- Oh fuck, Seungmin.” Your head fell back in a moan as his digits sunk into you. He sighed as your tight walls squeezed him as a literal warm welcome to his favorite place on this earth. 

“Tell me how you rode him while you ride my fingers.” His free hand trails up your stomach, his larghetto touches a clear contrast to the pornographic moans and squelches filling the small space. His fingers wrap around your neck once he reaches your clavicle, his nails digging in ever so slightly.

“Eyes on me, lemme see you.” Your lids flutter open revealing your hazy orbs to your lover. His cock twitches at the sight. “Tell me.”

You gulp, there’s too much spit in your mouth but at the same time your throat feels dry. You want to cry, it feels so good. So dirty. “I pinned his hands above his head - fuck.” 

Seungmin could’ve lost it there. That could’ve made him bust but he kept his composure. The mental image of you grinding on his friend's dick while you pinned him to the bed made him feel things that he never imagined. 

He scissored his fingers against your clenching walls, encouraging you to give him more. You blinked, once, twice before trying to regain your composure. “And I was grinding in a circle, he was looking up at me like I hung the fucking stars in the sky and I felt s-so fucking good. So fucking powerful. When I started fucking him he was praising me.”

Seungmin’s cock is leaking, dripping and making a sticky mess in his briefs but he couldn't care less than he does right now. Not when he has you bouncing over his fingers with the most filthy memories being recited from your plump drooling lips. “What did he call you?”

“Pretty. He said ‘m so pretty and - and he said - he said that I’m the best fuck he’s had in so long. Said I use his cock so well. He - He said -” He fucks his fingers deeper into you and you can’t help but pause, gasping for air as you struggle to keep your eyes open. 

“What’s the matter? Hyunjin got your tongue?” You cry out, panting as he fucks you deep against your g-spot. “Did you like when he praised you?” You shake your head so fast that it nearly looks like you’re throwing your neck in a circle. Seungmin chuckles, how cute.

“Does my girl want me to praise her more?” A drooling whimper escapes you and Seungmin leans forward to lick the dribble from the corner of your mouth. Planting a kiss on the spot. 

“Does she want me to tell her how good she feels when she opens up for me?” A rush of arousal floods out of you and for a second you can swear that you’ve never been this wet in your entire life. Seungmin is the only partner who has ever left you feeling completely satisfied yet right now you feel like this is so much more. He’s unlocked a new level. 

“Such a good dumb pup.” He rasps, darkness clouding his tone. “You’re such a pleasure to use.” He kisses you, it’s sloppy and rough. “Is that how you want it done?”

Words don’t make sense anymore. Not with Seungmin’s fingers fucking into you so deep that you could see stars. The fuzzy streaks of the streetlights hypnotizes you as he fucks you closer and closer to the release building up in the pit of your stomach. “How else did he fuck you?”

You snap back to reality, tongue hanging from your open mouth. You attempt to refocus your gaze but to no prevail. “Against the… the wall.” You’re breathless, spent, you’re close.

“Baby.” Seungmin growls, calling your attention as he thrusts into you especially rough. “Did Hyunjin cum inside of this cunt?”

Your anxiety would be creeping up your spine again if there wasn’t already a thick sheet of pleasure encasing it. Fuck, you forgot about that rule. “Answer. Me.” His words are punctuated with a punishing thrust, effectively drawing an answer out of you. 

“Yes, yes h-he did. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m s- Fuck, Min, Seung - Seungmin, fuck.” This is the part where it feels like a punishment. The way that Seungmin’s fingers hammer into you  while his thumb rubs at your clit is dizzying. The stars littering your vision get brighter with every thrust. 

“I’m sorry.” You cry out as a tear escapes the corner of your eye. He kisses it away. A gentle action that is a stark contrast to the way that he’s pounding you.

“You thought you could get away with that, huh?” He rasps, leaning you forward so that your back is resting on the seat in back of you. His free hand supports your lower back while the other abuses your cunt. “You know better.” 

Your moans and screams do little to deter him from ruining you. Your palm lays flat against the foggy window giving a clear indication of what the two of you are doing on this warm Tuesday night, if your screams weren’t enough of a sign. “You know that only I get to fill this pussy. You know that.” He pulls away from you abruptly, leaving you panting, empty and spasming around nothing. You whine as you try to catch your breath. 

He gives himself a second to take you in but really it’s a second for him to avoid busting in his jeans. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” You’re breathless but he knows you mean it. His eyes don’t show it but he’s already forgiven you. He slips his hand back into your pants and feels around your soaked cunt. 

Seungmin closes his eyes for a second, taking in every beautiful inch of you. He can see it if he closes his eyes, he’s spent so many hours between your thighs that he’s got it memorized. 

“You’re so fucking wet.” He groans, losing himself for a moment. “Are you wet for me or him?” 

“You.” He leans you up so that your forehead rests against his. He starts rubbing at your clit again, gradually building up speed. 

“Say it again. Tell me my puppy is only this wet for me.” His free hand guides your hips against him and he moans at the friction. His cock jumps - or tries to jump - against the tight fabric. 

“Your puppy is only wet for you, baby. Only you.” His fingers move faster, the knot in your stomach pulls tighter, you’re close. So close.

“Again, baby, you only get this dumb for me right? Only get this wet for me.”

“Only you, Min. Only you.” Your rhythm falters as your orgasm starts to spill over. 

“Tell me you love me, pup. Tell me.” He breathes and you inhale deeply, exhaling with a shaky declaration of love as your orgasm rips through you. 

“I love you, I love you, I love -” He cuts you off with a kiss, groaning against you as he busts in his jeans. You grind against him as he bucks up into you and the two of you ride out your orgasms together. His tongue explores your mouth in a feverish kiss, moans tumble from the both of you and you only pull away when the burning in your lungs starts to become unbearable. 

“I love you too.” 

Thank you reading! Please like and share, it makes my day!

ALSO, please follow my back-up acct. @minniee-verse 💕

#seungmin x reader #stray kids x reader #kim seungmin x reader #skz x reader #skz #stray kids #seungmin smut #skz smut #skz imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #kim seungmin #kim seungmin smut #seungmin #skz seungmin #seungmin stray kids #stray kids seungmin #skz seungmin smut #stray kids seungmin smut #kim seungmin skz #skz scenarios #seungmin scenarios #stray kids x y/n #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines

[bluerosefox]

Gothamites Never Really Rest

Small warning in this: very light swearing, light mentions of deaths, and tw light touching on the subject of abuse, like very light. But still an fyi.

Danny was used to his main Rogues (Boxy, Ember, Skulker, etc etc, you know those guys) showing up randomly and at odd hours, causing some chaos around town due to their own boredom or just wanting some fun (the more deadly ones were rare to show up and his main Rogues do at least respect him enough to give him the rest of the day off when they sense a ‘big bad’ fight), he fights them, wins, before he send them back to the portal. Then they rinse and repeat this for the next day.

So as he really wasn’t expecting, especially since he had just sent his ghostly quota for the day back to the portal a few hours ago (Boxy of course, and Youngblood (dressed as a Firefighter this time, though the ending for their fight actually ended on a good note. YB had been asking Danny about space, Danny kinda hoped YB will be an Astronaut next time cause that would be fun)), Johnny 13 (and Shadow) to phase into his room as he was heading to bed.

Honestly (he groaned when he realized who it was, dealing with Johnny, Kitty (and Shadow) during a ‘break up’ or ‘lovers spat’ always was a pain) he was expecting Johnny to just start attacking but before Danny could demanded to know what he was doing in his room Johnny hesitatingly asked if they could talk.

Now Danny, talking to his main Rogues, like legit talking was a very rare thing. But it has happened a few times.

With Johnny asking if they could talk, his face nervous but not in a 'I pissed off Kitty and idk where she ran off to again', Danny nodded and agreed.

"Hey, so like I know we all kinda agreed not to go roaming too far from Amity because of the whole government suits guys and bringing unwanted attention to us ghosts in the names of the Super Dorks but is it alright if Kitty and I head across the state for a few days? I promise we'll be back and stay under the radar..."

"What?! Why would you guys need to something like that?!"

"....."

"Johnny, look dude I know Amity can get boring sometimes but-"

"Someone killed Kitty's abusive waste of space father three weeks ago, you know that fucker that killed us in cold blood when he found out Kitty and I were enloping. Yeah him. We felt it, we felt him die and... kid I can tell you how our cores SANG about it when he croaked. Whoever ended him, they did so for us. It was a revenge kill... It felt amazing. Its why you havent seen us too, we... we needed time to process that." Johnny quickly explained and that shut any protest Danny had up, he knew a bit of the story how Johnny and Kitty died, and it was respectful to allow one's fellow ghost to talk about their deaths should they talk of it.

With a melancholy smile and a hand petting a chirping Shadow who sprung up to comfort his other half, Johnny then said "Kitty's been avoiding returning to Gotham for ages since we woke up in the Realms and whenever we found a natural portal back to it. She's always been terrified of running into him and even being a ghost she's still can't. But he's gone now, we felt his life end and he isn't a ghost either! Like legit, if he became a ghost we'd still be able to sense our murderer you know!... Anyways she wants to visits her old haunts and maybe see if we can find some old friends, see how they're doing you know. We won't mess with them or anything, just a small pop in..."

"We... We also kinda wanna find the guy who did it too... We could feel his emotions when he ended Kitty's old man and firstly let me tell you, rage. Like a lot of it. But also we felt his need for justice and... he felt familiar... like someone we knew and he knew us. That's how we know it's a revenge kill. Someone did that for us and well.... Kitty and I wanna thank him you know."

-x-x-

Meanwhile in Gotham about three week prior.

A budding Crime Lord had crossed out the face of a older man from a photograph pinned onto a corkboard, below and connected by red strings was two other papers as well. One held the newspaper clipping of two bodies being found in a ditch with the remains of a busted up motorcycle, a young male and female were reportedly found halfway buried in it. The male was reported to be a trouble maker from Crime Alley, knowen for stealing tires while the female was the daughter of a suspected mob boss.

The other string however, lead to a small, yellowed from age and tiny bit damaged photo of three people. The photo held two older, nearly out of their teens, male and female both looking like rough city street kids. A motorcycle could be seen behind them an it was missing a wheel. The young man with blonde hair was kneeling on the ground, his hands holding onto a tire iron and he looked rather proud, the young female was wearing red and had some dye in her hair and was smiling as she held the camera taking the picture in a selfie as best as she could.

In between the two was a young kid, blue eyes and black hair, a beaming smile on his face as his own hands were on top of a tire wheel. A wheel he had finally learned how to take off in record speed thanks to Johnny teaching him.

Green eyes that shifted for a second to teal stared at the photo for a moment before saying

"Hope you both are resting easily now. Kitty, Johnny."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #blue rambles #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #jason todd #kitty #johnny 13 #Johnny was a Crime Alley kid #Kitty was the daughter of a mob boss #Jason meet them around the time he was homeless #Johnny taught Jason how to steal tires #they were Jason's friends despite being older #they know how rough surviving Gotham and Crime Alley could be #so they taught him some things #and bonded with him #but it wouldnt last sadly #I headcanon that ghosts can sense their murderer is alive or not or if they turn into a ghost #and can sense if someone takes revenge in their name too

[bluebellhairpin]

Katsuki Bakugou X Secretary!Reader

Summary: Working as the secretary to the famous designer Katsuki Bakugou hasn't been easy - however you find out you have it easier than most. Soon after that, you find out why.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Power Dynamic (VERY inappropriate boss/employee relationship). Swearing. Smidge of making-out. Bakugou probably gives off manipulative yandere vibes. Reader; wears a skirt, is called 'baby', otherwise is g/n (unless I've missed something T-T).

Listening to: 'Donatella' by Lady Gaga - "I wanna dress you up in silk taffeta, tailor these clothes to fit your guilt, what's your size?"

Masterlist || Ko-Fi || Art inspired by the fic

The Bakugou brand was known all over the world. From Gucci to Balenciaga, Bakugou was a name everyone in the fashion industry respected - and when it came to the man behind it all, it was also a name to be feared. 

Katsuki Bakugou, with his grown wealth, fame, and the power that went with them, was practically a god on earth. 

You were the one lucky (or pitied) person chosen to work closely with him. A secretarial assistant job to none other than the man himself was a job so many people would die for. It was also a job many before you had almost died while enduring. No one had lasted longer than a year. It barely took a week for you to figure out why. 

Katsuki wasn’t just a diva, or a bitch (although he certainly was those things too) - he was the devil in Christopher Goodyear Welt’s. 

By three months working under the blond tyrant, you had decided your life could be worse. You weren’t sure why all his previous assistants weren’t able to handle it - not until you walked into work this morning. 

Katsuki was already in his office - a situation you hadn’t come across yet since he had a strict nine-to-five schedule he adored - and was practically roaring at someone down the receiver of his landline. He had a temper on him, sure - he was as famous for it as he was for his designs - but you’d yet to see him quite this angry before. 

“You wouldn’t know corduroy if you spent your nine months in the womb with it!” you heard as you set your bag aside and hooked your coat up. “Get me Eijirou you shitty prick!” 

You settled at your desk, eying his shadow through the frosted glass as he paced back and forth as you powered on your computer. Your eyes flickered down to the phone on your desk - if you picked it up you’d be able to hear the person on the other end - however if Katsuki caught you eavesdropping more than you already where (not that you had much of a choice right now) you would be in a whole new world of trouble. 

“Put me on hold, I dare you.” Was the final thing Katsuki said before slamming the phone back down. It became eerily quiet. You barely dared to breathe. 

Hearing his footfalls softly stalk across the carpet of his office, you tucked your head down and opened a random email to look busy. 

“Where the fuck have you been all morning?” Your eyes rose to meet his vermilion ones. He had on that black button down that made his shoulders seem extra wide. For a moment words failed you - but you kicked your brain into gear quickly. 

“Sir, it’s only eight thirty?” 

“I’ve needed you here since six.” he said, leaning forward with a hand sprawled across your desk, looming over you in a way you had become quite accustomed to, and sending a dizzying waft of his cologne in your direction. 

“I was very unaware of that,” you said, almost apologizing, but then thinking otherwise. You had been learning quickly the things Katsuki liked people saying, and the things he liked less so. “What can I do now?” 

“Absolutely fucking nothing. You’re useless now.” he leant back, waving you off and sighing. “I need a coffee.” he said, turning on his heel back into the office. 

“Useless my ass - who else gets you coffee?” you mumbled, quickly clicking through the email so you didn’t forget to later. Katsuki could be an absolute bitch, but at least he hadn’t yelled at you specifically - yet. 

The little kitchenette across from your desk made coffee runs very easy - the only issue was that it still took a while. No instant or pod coffee’s for the great Katsuki. 

Ten minutes later and you were pushing the door to Katsuki’s office open with one hand full of cayenne pepper infused coffee, and the other holding the latest Vogue magazine that had just been dropped at your desk. 

You wordlessly placed the coffee on a coaster, and the magazine went from the table into his hands before you could even put it on the table. He likewise silently started flicking through the pages - but you had things to talk about. 

“What was the issue this morning?” You asked, straight to the point. He didn’t look up at you when he answered, instead stayed focused on the pages as he fingered through them. 

“Some extra who can’t get his head out of the twentieth century.” He said, taking a large mouthful of his drink. If he liked it he’d say nothing - often the only time he gave his opinion on things was when he didn’t like something. “He won’t call back.” 

“They always do.” You said, standing firm until you had the answers you sought - coming back to ask the same thing twice was such a hassle for the both of you. “I’d appreciate knowing what to say when he does.” 

“I don’t care,” he said, flicking the magazine down in exasperation to look up at you with a heatless scowl. “If it’s Eijirou you can patch him through, everyone else is a complete waste of time.” 

Your eyebrows raised in something akin to surrender as your hands smoothed down the fabric of your skirt. 

“Don’t forget your meeting with the seamstresses after lunch.” You said, then left to return to answering your emails and phone calls.

You always took your lunches with Hanta - a seamster two floors below Katsuki’s office. You found him extremely chill after having to deal with your whirlwind of a boss. He was like your lifeline - better yet, he could keep secrets like it was nobody’s business. 

“I walked in this morning and I swear the glass for the whole floor was rattling.” you said, looking down into your cup of canteen-supplied orange juice. “If I wasn’t so sure he wasn’t going to hurt me I’d probably quit.” 

“You know I’m like ninety percent sure you’re his favorite.” Hanta said. Your eyes shot up to his, but he wasn’t looking at you.

“I doubt that would be hard,” you said slowly, “His past secretaries sounded super incompetent for a job this fast-paced.” 

“No, not just a secretary, but a person. I think your his favorite person in the whole world.” he said, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. “He can scream at me, hell he’s thrown punches at Kirishima, and he’s Kirishima - you though? He acts like you’re porcelain.” 

You felt your face scrunch up into a frown, and a huge smile cracked over Hanta’s face. “I can see why he likes you - you look just as scary as him when you make that face.” 

“Hanta Sero, you take that back!” You said, voice almost too shrill besides the hum of the lunchtime cafeteria rush. 

“I will do no such thing,” he said, leaning back in his chair, and crossing his arms and legs in a slow, cat-like manner. “I think it’s hilarious. Needed something new to tease you over anyway.” 

“I am simply going to ignore you then.” you said. You felt your face scrunch even more, before you took a deep breath to relax. “You don’t deserve my attention right now anyway.” 

Hanta huffed a laugh, leaning forward on his elbows. “I think we both know who really wants your attention, and I’m not going to be the person to fight him for it.”

Katsuki’s afternoon meeting had gone smoothly - you thought that it must mean some catastrophic hurricane was due later that afternoon. Or maybe you’d get hit by a car on the way home. Either way, the pleasant meeting meant Katsuki was either in a really good mood - or a really bad one. 

On his way back into his office, he threw an order to call Eijirou at you over his shoulder, before throwing the doors open and entering his office. 

“It’s important.” he said, and that was where the conversation ended. When you dialed the number only to be met with the receptionist - not even patched through to Eijirou’s assistant Denki - you practically rolled your eyes. 

“I’ve got Marcel!” Silence was the stern reply. You’d spoken to him a few times - not the nicest guy in the world, so in your opinion Katsuki’s hatred of the man was valid/ You didn’t want to speak with him either, so you hung up. 

Then there was a call of your name. 

“Come here!” You sighed, but obeyed and walked around your desk and into Katsuki’s office. You were met with a sight that wasn’t foreign to you - but it made your heart stutter all the same. He was leant back in his chair, a large drawing pad against his folded knee, and a pencil pressed into his cheek. He was watching you closely as you walked in, red eyes partially covered by a set of half-rimmed reading glasses. 

Your boss was mean, but his looks could make the devil cry. 

“I am… Promoting you.” he said. You felt your mouth fall open in shock. 

“I - Sir, I don’t -”

“Katsuki.” he said, voice now as hard as his stare. “No more ‘Sir’. You call me by my name. Understand?” 

“Okay…” you said, voice breathless as joy swirled in your chest (finally, your hard work and patience had paid off!), “Katsuki.” 

At the sound of you saying his name, he declined further back in his seat, and smiled - wide and showing off both canines. 

“That’s much better,” he said, as if he’d been waiting for the change of title formalities, “Now sit down, we have a lot to talk about.” 

You went to sit at the chair in front of his desk but he shook his head, almost jumping to his feet like he’d had hot coffee spilled on his lap. His suddenness had you freezing. 

“No no, not there,” he said, waving the chair away with disgust, “Over there.” He pointed over to the chaise as if it was the most obvious place in the room to sit, then sat back in his own chair again. 

Turning, you took a tentative seat on the sofa, and looked across at him expectantly with your tongue between your teeth. His pencil had found a new home on the open page of his sketchbook, and you quickly realized he was going to be multitasking this impromptu meeting. However he was making little to no effort at starting this ‘talk’ he seemed so urgent to begin only moments ago. 

“So is there anything else to this promotion besides being able to call you ‘Katsuki’, or is that it?” you asked. His eyes flicked up at you, pencil stopped, and the side of his mouth quirked up, before his expressions changed completely to one of disapproval again. 

“There’s more.” he said. You could see how tempted he was to not say more, if only to push your patience and see just how far it went. “You probably should know about it, considering just how personal things are going to get around here.” 

You felt your heart beat pick up as he stood to stalk around the desk. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re going to need to find a new you, let's start with that.” he said, and pushed your shoulder back with the eraser end of the pencil. You fell back against the couch, and the pencil moved to guide one arm across the back of the chair - then crossed one leg over the other - then moved your other hand on top of your knee. Before you knew it you had been moved to pose like a sketching doll. 

Katsuki gave you a once over, looking very pleased with himself (or how easy you were to manipulate), then walked back over to his desk. The pencil started again. 

“You want a new secretary?” You finally heard yourself ask, voice coming out far too weak for your liking. 

“More like you need an assistant.” he said, attention clearly divided between whatever he was designing, and your conversation, “Your schedule is going to be a lot busier as of now.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked again. His head shook.

“If you ask that question again I’m going to have this conversation with you some other time.” 

“You do know how badly you’re explaining this ‘promotion’, right?” you asked, voice coming out a little harsher than you knew was appropriate. But being proper can be damned, you wanted answers. 

He just looked at you for a long moment with a knowing, albeit smug, smile. The sketchpad was dumped on his desk, pencil and glasses dropped on top. 

“I’ve been hit with a new wave of ideas.” he said, “They’re amazing. New. Iconic. These designs fly off magazine racks and clothing store hangers like nothing else before. I couldn’t tell where the inspiration came from, not until I thought of when it all started, and the only thing notable about that was you starting to work for me.” 

As he explained he stood slowly, came to stand before you again, now with the side of his leg pressed to your knees. Katsuki’s hand rose, and the backs of his fingers trailed across your cheek in a manner that was almost too soft, and too shy, to be an action coming from the harsh man before you. 

“I need you with me, everywhere, from now on.” he said, voice low, softer than you’d ever heard it before. “I need you with me, and I don’t know how else to make sure of it besides making it your job.” 

“Everywhere?” 

“Of course, what use is an artist without their muse?” You had to admit, that forked tongue of his was making your knees weaker by the second. Was he truly saying you inspired  him? 

“You couldn’t have just asked?” 

“I don’t need to ask,” his hand came down to grip your chin, thumb momentarily pressing on your bottom lip, “I get what I want.” Where his voice was getting stronger by the second, yours was sounding even weaker.

“Maybe I don’t want to.” 

“You don’t want to?” Katsuki asked, hand slightly releasing pressure on your chin - as if shocked at the thought of someone willing, and unafraid in telling him no. “Everyone wants to. Don’t you?” 

“No,” you said quietly, completely letting your heart take over, no matter what could happen after. “I do want to.” His face broke out into that same wolfish grin as before - his hand snuck around to the hair at the base of your neck and found a firm home there. 

“Then why not get paid for it while you do.” he said, an air of finality about the matter, and then leant down to capture your mouth in a searing, hard kiss. Hard enough that you could almost feel his teeth and jawbone trying to meld into yours - searing enough that you could feel heat swelling in your stomach and knees at how fierce and needy it all was. It took your breath away completely. 

After a few long moments - long enough to have your eyes fluttering closed and your lungs burning - he pulled away. 

Katsuki didn’t even look at you as he walked away, acting as if what he just did was a casual kiss on the cheek - while you were left feeling flushed on the sofa. Only once he sat down again with his sketchpad and glasses on did he look up at you. He licked his lips, as if making sure to taste whatever of you was left. His smile this time was very smug indeed. 

“See baby, now you look perfect.” he said, then went back to drawing. 

“What?” you asked, still breathless with your nails digging into the fabric of your seat. 

“The lighting in here is foul, absolutely horrendous.” He said, “You needed a glow about you. Now you’re all flustered. it's perfect. With you finally in front of me, these designs are going to be breathtaking - just imagining them on you -” he looked up at you, quite suddenly stopping his train of thought, before wordlessly returning to his sketch. 

From the way your heart felt like it was going to beat right up and out your throat you guessed he accidentally said too much. Had been too sentimental. Maybe Hanta was right - perhaps you were his favorite person. 

You took a deep breath and stood to leave - only to be stopped. 

“Where are you going?” Katsuki asked, voice almost a bark. “I need you here - you can’t leave now that I have you right where I need you!” 

“I need water.” you replied, awkwardly pointing towards the kitchenette with wide eyes as if you were a child caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. He shuffled in his seat, huffing. 

“Be quick,” he said. You could swear you saw the skin of his cheeks flush a tinge of pink as you turned away. He liked efficiency, and it was something you were pretty good at, but you hadn’t moved quite that fast before.

When you had agreed to your ‘not-so-little’ promotion, you were sent home with a whole new list of Terms and Conditions and - the more alarming of the two - an NDA. 

With your lips still tingling from your apparent kiss from Katsuki, and your knees still weak, you weren’t able to do much more than graze your eyes over bits and pieces before deciding it was all okay. You should’ve taken the time to read it all. 

You should always read the fine print when making deals with the devil. 

The next day, almost as soon as you stepped into the building, you were met with Katsuki’s not-quite-other assistant, Mina, and whisked away to the seamstress floor. There you met Hanta, who himself had been up for the most part of the night - slaving over the newest design Katsuki procured as of just yesterday. 

When you were told to get into a change room and strip - the carcass of a new dress in your hands - you were just shy of shocked. 

“What - why?” 

“Like I know how the mind of Bakugou works.” Hanta said, waving his hand around tiredly, trying to push you to close the curtain. “You know normally I have models in for this sort of thing - I mean you definitely fit the bill. The measurements, the dress is practically made for you. But it’s weird to me too that he got his secretary to do this job instead.” 

“I’ve never done this before.” You whispered, clutching the covered mock-up to your chest.  

“You’ll be fine,” Hanta replied, just as quiet, with his hand ready to close the curtain on you, “I’ve seen it on a mannequin - it’ll look fantastic on you. Just be confident.”

You tried your best to be confident - as pretty as the dress was, even unfinished with an unfinished hem and seams half-done - but it was leaving you feeling more exposed than you were used to. 

The small changing cubicle had a mirror on one side - what for you weren’t sure. You’d seen plenty of models walk out of them only to have most of it adjusted with pins and cut off with scissors - often by Katsuki himself. You supposed it didn’t matter how bad it looked - you’d get manhandled until it looked the way it was supposed to. 

With your hands smoothing the fabric on your hips - a nervous habit you showed too often - you took a turn in front of the mirror. It did look nice, even if it was only ivory muslin. 

“ - Taking so fucking long!” Quite suddenly Katsuki’s voice could be heard - and even more suddenly you felt a great need to curl up somewhere and hide. He’s going to see you like this. He’s going to hate it. You are not prepared for this. 

Your heart felt like it was going to beat right out your chest and leave a little blood trail all across the floor. 

A hand curled around one side of the curtain divider and pulled it back. You let out a small startled yelp, bringing up your hands to cover your chest as if someone had dropped glass over a marble floor.

It was him. 

“Oh shut up, no one else can see you.” Katsuki said, rolling his eyes before they laid on you in a hard stare up and down. He was right, besides the half-open curtain, you couldn’t see anyone through his broad chest and shoulders - not to mention the cheshire grin that was taking up half his face. “But I wouldn’t blame them for wanting a peek, give me a turn.” 

You stood gobsmacked - where you seriously still processing what was going on? - and watched as his hip cocked to one side and his hands landed on his hips below the huge coat over his shoulders. 

“You are starting a habit of forcing me to do things for you myself.” He said, taking hold of your hips and turning you slowly. His hands were warm as  they moved you around in a small circle, leaving almost a burning trail behind over your hips, lower back and stomach. “I’ll let you know that’s not why I decided to fuckin’ like you.” he said. 

His voice was soft, almost completely without its usual rough baritone. It shocked you, and as you looked over at him he wasn’t meeting your eyes - instead focusing on how a seam at your hip wasn’t seeming to sit how he wanted it to. 

“What?” you asked quietly, aware there were probably others outside - Hanta even - and you supposed both yourself and Katsuki didn’t really want to let other people know exactly what you were talking about. Especially since it definitely sounded more personal than Katsuki ever had been. 

“You did things for yourself. I liked that.” he said. Then, as if you didn’t just share what was most likely the most intimate moment of Katsuki’s adult life, he pushed the curtain back fully and grabbed you by the hand - exposing you fully to the handful of seamstresses waiting. 

With a few barked orders, a flurry of people were at your sides, making adjustments. The neckline loosened, waist was made tighter, the blade of a scissor made another slit up your legs on the opposite side to the one existing. Your hands almost rose to clutch at the fabric at your chest in case it all fell away. Katsuki's hands rose to knock yours away. 

“Don’t get in the way,” he mumbled, standing back. The others backed off too, apparently all taking a moment to look at what remained of the dress. “What do you think?” he asked, looking you right in the eyes. Your mouth parted, as if to answer, but the look in his eyes said he wasn’t even talking to you. 

“One of your best.” Hanta said, barely needed to look up from where he was taking final notes to read his long-time associate. “Probably will be once it’s done. Beautiful.” 

“You mean fucking divine.” 

“You’re joking.” you said, carelessly holding the new dress in one hand as you stood angrily looking down at Katsuki. 

“Does it look like I’m joking?” he asked, looking at you over the rims of his glasses. 

He’d brought you back up to his office after the fitting downstairs, only to demand you change into another dress. The reason this time was completely unknown, and he was refusing to elaborate yet - worse, there was nowhere to change up here. 

You’d have to strip and change here (with him in the room), or out behind your desk (right in front of the elevator anyone could use). 

“I can’t believe…” you said, scoffing, now slightly gobsmacked along with your anger. “I’m not doing that.” 

“If you think it bothers me, you’re mistaken.” He said, standing slowly and leaning over his desk. “Get changed. If you’re so protective of your modesty you can run along into the kitchen, see if I care. Just whatever you do, do it quickly. You’re making me wait long enough as it is.” Then he reached across and squished your cheeks between his fingers, pulling you closer so you leant over the desk too. 

“If you really thought I was the kind of man to mix pleasure and professionalism then I’ve got news for you.” he said, wobbling your chin back and forth in his hold. “The only time you have to worry about that is if I invite you home, okay baby?” 

While half of you was wanting to continue to defy Katsuki, you knew you were treading a fine line. 

Letting out a huff, you pulled away, turned on your heel and held the dress out in front of you. It honestly wasn’t much more than a silk slip, but you’d had enough of an interest in fashion over your time to know this was very tame compared to many other dresses. Even compared to the one you wore not even an hour earlier. 

Grinding you jaw in thought for a moment, you thought ‘fuck it’. Katsuki said so already but you knew someone getting almost naked in his office wouldn’t bother him - why should you let it bother you too? 

The dress was thrown onto the chaise, and you pulled off your shirt as you slipped out of your heels. Your skirt shimmed off, and the dress came on. Despite refusing to look behind you to see what Katsuki was doing, you couldn’t help how your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. 

At least your underwear was matching, thank god. 

You were about to do up the zipper when he made it clear he had indeed been watching you. 

“No, take that thing off.” Your head whipped over your shoulder. 

“Excuse me?” If looks could strike someone dead, a lightning bolt would’ve shot right through that window into Katsuki’s back. “I am not getting changed again.” 

“No you bitch, I mean the bra. Take it off, it’s making the dress look daggy.” The way he said it made your face heat up. Duh. 

“You could’ve said that before I put this much on, you’d think you’d have known that before now.” You grumbled, shoving the sleeves down again to unclasp your bra and toss it aside. Turning around again as you did up the zipper, you looked at Katsuki again, and the red of his eyes seemed darker than ever. You wondered if you’d said something wrong. Then his lip quirked up a bit. 

“There’s my favorite secretary.” he said, and imminently tilted his head down to start sketching.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugo x reader

[sukunas-wife]

Can you do a story where the reader died? And sukuna’s reaction

As Jesus once said “Someone has touched me”

In this case, I was working on “Sealed” when I got hit with this. I refuse to be moved until I finish this ask There's another question similar to it and I wanna do it also but I was inspired after reading an article on a man whose wife died. I was moved, inspired! My heart ached and for that we all need to ache 😔🤍

Inside the temple Sukuna had built himself for your family, it took him years to perfect every room, every arch, every window until he was pleased to bring you here. It was a flat mountain top he had carved using his own technique, it was beautiful, secluded. Far away from the dangers of humans and sorcerers, you had finally convinced him, your soft voice, laying on his chest in the middle of a summer night. Fingers pulling at his robes in a nervous fidget, his arm tucked behind his head the other wrapped around you. One foot hanging off the hammock pushing you both back and forth when you spoke up “Ryomen… what would you say if I said I want to move away from here, from the village, to someone where no one can bother us.” You sat up looking down at him with a smile, his face was straight but his eyes were amused following you, “we could start a family far far away so no one could ever hurt them! We could have a son or a daughter! Or two boys or two girls, or one of each, or if you want three or four I wouldn’t mind but…” you looked around before you looked at him feeling his hand on your side, thumb rubbing slowly against your side, you smiled at him “ I just want a family with you, I life with you.” He closed his eyes letting his head fall back against the cushions you’d brought earlier, “I’ll see what I can do.”

————-

It wasn’t long after Sukuna was levelling a city for pure enjoyment, that he saw a ridge of mountains. He thought of you, coming home to you to tell you that he found the perfect place for you to have your silly little family… he stopped his attack on the city waltzing over to the ridge, he spent weeks away from you, away from his home to perfect the biggest mountain behind the ridge. Levelling it, carving out land to give you a little stream he knew you’d love. Pulling together everything, making the survivors of the village work for their lives bringing him the material to build a home for you. Every time he came home to you he never let a world slip of his endeavours instead he’d hold you close listening to the things you’d done in his absence. Finally months had passed and he woke you up early one morning taking you with him on what he called a very special day. You assumed he would be conquering another city and that he just wanted you by his side. Yawing you leaned against him wanting to just sleep where you stood. Sukuna rolled his eyes supporting your weight before he picked you up entirely, “‘m tired kuna.” He held you tighter against his chest, “I know, we’ll get there soon.”

It was early afternoon when Sukuna made it to your new home. Uraume was behind both of you, Sukuna tried to wake you up only for you to bury your face into his chest. He hummed amused, bouncing you in his arms, “y/n, get up or I’ll drop you.” You groaned trying to get out his grip, he let your legs drop supporting your back as you steadied yourself. Looking up you were blinded by the sunlight, holding up your hand you tried to block out the sun. Sukuna moved you into the shadows and you saw it, the big wooden doors and the white marble walls and pillars. You moved closer up the stairs touching the door pushing it open. You turned around, the big smile on your face and your teary eyes led you to run at Sukuna and jump into his arms. He held you against him letting you cry against his chest and neck, “Ryomen” he was confused why you were crying so loudly. But he held you rubbing his hand on your back. “Ryo…” your whispered cries against his skin made him hold you tighter. He tilted his head pressing his nose to the top of your head, “What’s wrong princess?”

“I need to tell you something,” you let your hands slide down his chest when you slipped from his hold. He held your face in his hands looking down at you, his eyes were searching yours for anything before he leaned in closer his lips ghosting yours, “Tell me.” You did your best to smile “I’m pregnant.” Your smile dropped when you saw the way he looked at you, eyes wide and his mouth was open just slightly, his forehead met yours and he closed his eyes. His hands slid down to your sides, he squeezed you slightly, you brought your hands up to his face wiping the stray tears away with your thumbs, you laughed lightly “Ryo…”

————-

“Y/n, cmon.” Sukuna tried to pull you out of bed, your body was weak as you tried your best to get up. Sukuna ended up dragging you with him to get you into a chair. He was scared shitless, ever since the bump in your stomach started to show you looked pale, weak. You couldn’t walk on your own and you slept more.

He’d take you out to the sun to sit in the grass by the stream. Your trembling fingers picking flowers talking to Sukuna about how you couldn’t wait for your child to see these beautiful flowers. Your tears had found a permanent place in your eyes, never falling but always present. Leaning against him, you never saw how he’d dig his hand into the dirt trying to get a grip of life, his reverse cursed technique no matter how often he tried to help it never really helped. You didn't need Jujutsu healing, you needed human help.

He felt hopeless but he decided even if he had to hand carry you over those mountains he would do it. That night he bundled you up in a blanket laying you on the bed. He told Uraume to pack anything they would need, that night when you were asleep he picked you up bridal style the way he carried you into your house he carried you out. He held you close, never letting you shake, making sure you never felt cold. He did his best taking a worn path that went around the mountain ridges. It would be days before you made it to the city, but he held on tight, looking at your face, how your eyes would just barely open to see him, that faint smile on your lips, the tears in your eyes finally falling. When you told him you were sorry, he was enraged it wasn’t your fault, his throat was tight and he fought back the tears in his eyes. Chest shaking when you fell asleep that night in his arms, he refused to rest pushing forward for the third day. It was sunrise when he found an opening by a river, he settled down helping you sit on a large flat stone. Your hand came up to touch his face, he closed his eyes feeling your cold fingers rub the dark circles under his eyes. He brushed the back of his hand over your cheek before brushing stray hairs back out of your face. He dropped to his knees pressing his head against your stomach, he could still hear the heartbeat. You guided his face up, kissing him and telling him, “You’ll be okay Sukuna, let’s just go for a short walk please.”

He helped you up, both of you moving slowly up the beaten path to the top of a hill. There was a willow tree and stone around Sukuna’s height at a pool of water that trickled down the hill side. You moved closer to it, “look you can see our home from here.” You leaned against him and he held you tight in his side, “Our home.” His chest had that same ache and sickness when your breathing evened out and eventually stopped. He slowly felt your bodily slipping in his hold, the tears forming in his eyes as he slumped to the ground holding your body. You were just coming near 4 months, there was no doubt in his mind it wouldn’t make it even if he had the heart to pull him out. He slowly folded over, hugging your body while he trembled. His eyes were forced closed, jaw clenched and tears started to fall, he started to scream, a raw horrifying scream that scratched his throat and vocal cords. His nails pressed into your skin when he took in air and let out another scream Uraume was standing a ways off head bowed, his open eyes staring at the ground, Sukuna was emitting emotions of distress so strongly he could feel them resonating inside himself. His Lord's screams were desperate, full of angst and rage. He watched how his Lord’s face changed, how the cursed presence around him became far more intense. He watched Sukuna lay your body down carefully tucking your hair away. His hand running over your stomach, that was the last time he ever saw Lord Sukuna look at any woman without malice, without annoyance, without intent to kill.

He watched as lord Sukuna was quick to take his anger out on the mountain ridges that separated you from the city, IT SEPARATED YOU FROM THE CITY, IT WAS THAT DAMN HOUSE HE BUILT ON THAT MOUNTAIN IT WAS THE FAMILY YOU WANTED IT WAS HIS CHILD THAT KILLED YOU IT WAS HIS HANDS THAT BROUGHT YOU YO YOUR END IN THE END

He was screaming and tearing the world to its core, he levelled the city that night he levelled the entire mountain ridge. The beauty of this forsaken land wouldn’t be allowed to exist if it took your life. The land was left in shambles and the city was in fear they would be next when they saw his hulking figure standing on the hill where he left your body staring down at them. It was an elderly woman who tried to approach before Uraume stepped in threatening to end her for getting too close. She saw how Sukuna held your body against him, your stomach bump was evident in your robes. He sat back against the stone, the old lady didn’t leave. She watched how Sukuna cradled you, a hand never leaving your stomach, he looked dead, he was tired, his hands were bleeding.

“It happens all the time, people die travelling to get around those mountains looking for some form of help. There is no consolation for death, you’ll only ever mourn when you think of her young man. But if you do love her, remember her in every instance even if it brings you pain. You don’t know this but in one day you’ll have managed to save more generations to come by levelling those forsaken mountains. What’s beauty at the price of death?”

Sukuna never looked at her, he sighed. He sat there for days. Sending Uraume in his way to the temple, the old lady never returned. He buried you under that willow tree. And he carved your figure into that stone opening the water way so the trickled became a waterfall, in your stone arms he made sure there was a bundle hugged to your chest. He stood under that tree the droplets of water running down his face from the vines mixing in with the tears that fell from his face, void of emotion he truly had nothing left. He went without eating, every time Uraume would urge him to head he’d say he wouldn’t eat without you he’d rather starve. Inside your broken him he sat in the same chair slouched staring at the fireplace in your shared room. His fingertips tingling at the memory of tracing your skin when you’d sit on his lap hugging him whispering your plans to the future. When he walked the cold halls he saw everything you’d used to decorate. The wilted Sakura branches you put in a vase long ago now dry twigs in vases. The flowers outside being overtaken by weeds, it made him sick seeing the nursery you had persistently decorated even in your frail state.

He never starved to death because that day he had become a full fledged curse he ripped out his heart burying it in your chest when he buried you. You were the holder of his heart, the only, and you would only ever be the only one.

————-

Centuries had passed when Sukuna found himself reincarnated in the iconic teenage boy Yuji Itadori. He materialised on his cheek to insult the boy for stating a young woman for too long. “Hey brat do you really think staring a woman like that…” until he saw her, his voice went quiet. Eyes wide mouth agape, if we’re in control he’d have run over to see if it was you. It was almost an exact copy of you, that same damn smile that made him slip into madness all those years ago, those eyes that held a light even in death. But her scent, there was a hint of your sweet scent but it was almost non existent, she had to be a descendant of your family. Aside from that hint she smelled putrid like every other human. Every memory of the years you spent with him, he thought to himself ‘she reminds me of better times when you were alive…’ he quickly disappeared from Itadori's cheek, leaving the boy puzzled. There he sat on his throne, slumped, head resting against his fist, one leg kicked out the other resting normally. His face was void of emotion, except for the single tear his free hand caught with his pointed nail, “After all this time it’s you who haunts me hm?” He let out a dry laugh, the stray tear clinging to the tip of his nail, watching before it dropped over his chest where he had so brutally ripped out his own heart.

Permanent! Tags: @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @dolliira @ilovemybabies378

#sukunas wife #sukunas wife speaks #sukuna ryomen #daddy sukuna #jjk anime #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #🤍mail time #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader angst #Sukuna x reader hurt #true form sukuna x reader #true form sukuna #sukuna x wife reader #sukuna x you #sukunas wife’s ask #dadkuna #soft sukuna #sukunation #Sukuna nation #sukuna thirst #yuji and mom reader #yuji x mom reader #son yuji #jjk sukuna ryomen #jjk ryomen sukuna #jjk asks #jjk angst

[ronwestbreeze]

you’re gonna go far | 1

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human!reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 7.k

read on AO3

15 October 2146

Dear Joan Reeds,

Hi Mom.

I know we’ve been sending video diaries to each other since you went to Pandora a year ago and this might be a little strange, but I thought writing this to you would be a lot less impersonal than sending a video. I don’t know, watching myself emote on camera has always made me uncomfortable—so when I respond to your video diaries, know that I’m actually excited to see them and not incredibly bored as I appear.

If that’s why you’ve stopped sending videos, because you think I’m bored of them, I promise you I’m not. And I miss your videos…

Year 2150

“—Unfortunately, your mother, along with the rest of the twelve other scientists had died before we were able to get them into quarantine.” One out of the three in military uniforms said.

You don’t quite remember how you got here.

Last you checked, your mother, Joan, was leaving for a huge project located on a discovered moon in the Alpha Centauri System. Pandora. An inhabited planet that the human population hoped to relocate. To find a newer home. Instead of the dying planet they created.

Joan had been accepted into the Avatar Program, a branch of the big project that had less to do with taking and more so giving. She, an esteemed scientist herself, would get to work with others like her. To explore a planet you only saw in dreams.

Dreams that would remain that way for a while.

You were only an apprentice at the time, ten years before 2150. Therefore, unqualified to accompany your mother on this new adventure. All you could do was be happy for her, even if she would be gone for a long, long time. But it was hard to be angry at that fact, remembering vividly how your mother looked before she left.

Identical eyes staring lovingly and worriedly back at you. Manic worry if anything.

“I want you to watch over the forest while I’m gone.” Joan laughed at your stunned expression. “You’ve been studying under me for years now, don’t be so shocked! You’ve followed me like a loyal shadow. My little shadow. You are the Head of the Amazon Division now. I trust you’ll continue my work.”

“Mom—I—are you sure?” A younger version of you asked. Ten years earlier you. “What if—how do you know? That I’m even ready? Surely there are more qualified scientists—”

Joan grinned, another identical trait you shared with her. “You have as much love for the Earth as I do. You have this determination, unlike any, to save it. To save what is left of this dying world, our home. Some might find it naïve. Others might discover a whole new planet to live on.” You smiled as she chuckled at that. “Yes, you will work with my second-in-command, he will show you the ropes—not like you already don’t know it—but he will be by your side until you are old enough to officially take over. But I have no doubt you can do it. And I need you to believe it too.”

There was a certain glow in your eye that matched your alight and determined face. This childlike wonder. This unyielding ball of hope that was you.

You nodded surely, holding her hand tightly, “I’ll do it. I’ll keep it safe for you.”

“Promise?”

You pressed your lips into a line, “Do you wanna pinky swear on it?”

Joan gasped, her face lighting up instantly. “I thought you’d never ask!”

Rolling your eyes at her excitement, you locked your pinky with hers. Tight and sure.

“I haven’t done this with you since I was five.”

“You’re never too old to make a promise!”

Joan then pulled you into a tight hug. Small drops of wetness fell onto your shoulder.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

She finally pulled away and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll come back for you. My little shadow.” That was her promise.

Then she walked out of the door. And all you could do was smile for her. You couldn’t even be sad.

The woman in uniform spoke up next. “Dr. Reeds? I know this is difficult information to process—"

You still didn’t remember how you got here.

Last you checked, Joan had been on Pandora for nearly five years now.

During those years, you managed to keep your promise in the beginning.

There were more trees planted, the water was becoming cleaner as the days rolled by, and you managed to gain some military protection for the forest—along with more researchers joining the cause.

During the first year of her in Pandora, your mother would send you video diaries of her time on Pandora, which prompted you to send videos back in reply. Showing your progress so far and everything you have accomplished.

One time she sent a video of her crying dramatically while holding up a picture of you as a toddler.

“Look what I found in my suitcase—sniffles—you were so small and cute back then—sniffles—guys look how cute my baby is!”

You remembered cringing and smacking your head against the table. Some of your colleagues also enjoyed a chuckle or two.

Tell me about the creatures and the plants. Take me on one of your treks through the forest in your avatar body. I enjoyed those videos the most. I always looked forward to them, even if you think I thought it was boring or too much of a lecture. I promise you it wasn’t.

I wasn’t mad about the baby picture by the way. Yes, maybe embarrassed—I was fourteen, Mom—but it’s nice that you took something with you to remember me by.

Also don’t worry about the forest, everything’s fine here. I saw all your emails asking about it. And I don’t want you to worry too much, not so much that it would ruin your experience up there. I have everything under control, Mom…

Sometimes the videos had nothing to do with talking. Joan one time sent a video of her sleepily talking to you about anything until she eventually fell asleep. The rest of the video would be of her sleeping.

You told her she didn’t have to send videos when she should be resting.

“I just want to see you, honey.” She would respond back. “Plus, talking to you is always a perfect end to my day.”

So you didn’t complain. Talking to her, seeing a new video arrive in your inbox always made your worst days just a bit brighter.

After the first year, Joan stopped sending videos. You didn’t think anything of it at first. All you assumed was that she was buried in her work. Which meant that whatever she was doing, must’ve been important. Life-changing even. And you weren’t going to interrupt that.

One year turned into two.

Two turned into three.

Four.

Four years of radio silence.

Scarily, you allowed yourself to wonder if she forgot about you.

And before you knew it, that thought abruptly left your mind in place of another.

The forest was on fire.

You remember rushing around the lab, grabbing every research hard drive, journal—anything important and belonging to your mother’s long hardworking years of work before it could be destroyed by the fire.

But. But none of it mattered.

The forest burned to the ground. Everything your mother worked for. Gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

“Dr. Reeds?”

Your hands were covered in ash and blisters.

She was dead. Her forest burned down a day ago.

Now the three in uniform stood with you in what was left of the forest. The grey daylight haunting in the smoke.

The mask you wore protected your facial expressions. “When did she…?”

One of the men cleared his throat. Two men and one woman. “Four years ago. A few months after she first arrived on the planet. Their lab was compromised with a deadly toxin—”

“You said that already.” You pointed out impassively.

The male nodded, “Right—We were sent straight after, unfortunately, the journey from Pandora to Earth takes…”

You turned away from them. You wanted to throw up. You want to scream and call them liars.

But you were older now. Emotions controlled. Face restrained.

There was a certain dullness in your eyes that matched your worn and solemn face. This beaten and bruised resolve. This unyielding wave of resentment that was you.

Your mother had been dead for four years.

Without you knowing about it until now.

Everything you had thought. Had assumed. It meant nothing.

You thought she had abandoned you. You thought you were alone.

Turns out she was already gone.

And you were still alone.

Blinking away ash—tears maybe, you couldn’t tell—and looked back at the three in uniform. “Alright. You told me. Thank you for coming.”

With that, you begin to walk away and continue cleaning the spot you’d been working on before the uniforms had approached. Dumping the burnt bark and ash of what used to be trees into a plastic bag.

“There’s one other thing, Dr. Reeds.” The woman spoke next. You tried not to scowl in irritation and reluctantly turned back to them. “Before your mother passed, she asked that you take her place.”

Your heart lurched and your body grew stiff.

“The late Dr. Reeds had made a lot of progress on some research that could’ve been beneficial for our organization and project.” The woman tucked her hands behind her back, back straight as she continued in a matter-of-fact tone. “We need someone like you who can continue the work without fail and who knows Dr. Reeds…particular work ethic.” You frowned at the wording. The woman—she seemed to be leading this small crusade. “We have an avatar waiting for you. All you need to do is come with us to Pandora.”

And there it was. Anyone would’ve seen this as a second chance. Another opportunity to fix your mother’s legacy. To keep your promise.

But all you saw was something else you could screw up. Something else for you to destroy by fire. Another way to fail her. The forest was gone. You had killed the forest. Now they wanted you to take your mother’s place—possibly to work on something shady that they have full control over. When was it enough?

When would people stop expecting you to be Joan Reeds? When would they see that you were nothing like her? That you weren’t their savior, that you weren’t someone to turn to whenever the original goal didn’t work? You were nothing. Everything you touched ended up destroyed. So why?

Why would your mother want you to take over her perfectly structured sculpture? When all you were was the hammer that shattered it down to pieces.

You tightened your jaw, “I’m good here. Again, thank you for coming.”

Once more, you tried walking away.

“Unfortunately, Dr. Reeds, it is not a request.” Now you were scowling at the woman, not bothering to hide the expression this time. “We’re in dire need of your mother’s expertise. She can identify resources that the RDA has collected—better than anyone. And we could use these sources to put those…our enemies in place. Heal poisons we have little information about. Your mother—”

“My mother, it seems, had no idea what she was getting into when she accepted that job for the Avatar Program.” You sized all three of them up with a quick resolve. “You’re RDA, correct? Hmm, my mother may not have seen it but I do. I see right through you all.” With that, you raised your chin and steeled your back. “So, for the last time. Thank you for coming. Now if you’ll excuse me, I just learned my own mother’s fucking dead. I’d like to take the time to grieve if you don’t mind.”

As you turned to leave again, your mind wandered. Your eyes stared bleakly at what used to be a beautiful forest. It used to be so life-like. So, so beautiful.

Your mother was gone. And so was her forest.

Maybe you should’ve seen it as a sign.

Mother dead. Forest gone.

And where were your tears?

You stopped walking suddenly when something sharp hit the back of your neck.

Instantly, without warning, your body crumbled to the ground with a thud.

Breathing was difficult. Your body couldn’t move. Black shoes filled your vision.

“Apologies, Doc. But I did say it wasn’t a request.”

Slipping from your control, everything went dark.

If you must know, your forest is making amazing progress. We planted exactly thirty more trees in the past two months and they’ve grown healthily! I’ll send you pictures of them once I’ve sent this letter.

But as I said before, there’s nothing for you to worry about here. If I wanted your help, I would’ve asked and you know this. You should be focusing on making life-changing discoveries on Pandora. Also, have you met Dr. Grace Augustine yet? I’ve just finished her book and I have many questions! Can you, possibly, maybe relay my questions to Dr. Augustine? If you’re not busy of course…

Year 2155

It had been a good day for Jake Sully.

A long and grueling hunt had ended with many other warriors succeeding in their finds, just enough to feed their families, enough to feed the entire clan.

His pride only swelled more when his mate and the current Olo’eyktan grinned proudly at him as they started their way back home.

“You’ve gotten better, ma’tiyawn.” Tsu’tey had said with a smirk.

Jake’s heart warmed, “Well, I had an amazing teacher.” Tsu’tey looked even more smug then until Jake added. “Tell Neytiri I said thanks.”

A huff left his mate's mouth and Jake laughed at his reaction. “Tell her yourself, skxawng!”

When they both returned to their new home—a new location after the Hometree was destroyed last year—it wasn’t long before their third mate, Neytiri made her way back from a hunt as well. And Jake was right. She had to be one of the best hunters of the clan as she came carrying back a rather large sturmbeest at her tail. Large enough for tonight’s celebration. She yipped loudly, raising her bow up in a cheer as she returned to the clan.

Jake and Tsu’tey couldn’t take their eyes off their mate.

Once she managed to get to them, Tsu’tey was the first to meet her in a warm and tight hug—careful to watch for the baby carrier strapped to her chest.

“And how was our boy’s first hunt?” Tsu’tey smiled down at the one-month-old child, their firstborn, Neteyam, who smiled at the sight of his papa. His smaller hands grabbed onto one of Tsu’tey’s fingers.

“He will make a great hunter.” Neytiri smiled down at him, grabbing Tsu’tey’s other hand. “And you? Did you find anything?”

Jake chuckled, looking back at the sturmbeest a few warriors carried by. “Not as good as you, babe. Let’s just say if we had made it a bet, you would’ve won easily.”

“What’s a bet?” Tsu’tey questioned, with a furrow in his brow.

“I’ll tell you later.”

When they made it back to their hut—Jake did a quick look around to find that it was empty. Sending a silent prayer to Eywa, which he found himself doing a lot more recently, he was relieved to find that Tsu’tey’s mother was nowhere in sight.

Artsut, who had been a frequent visitor to their home ever since Neteyam was born. Before then she had steered clear of their hut—not wanting to go anywhere near Jake. He was a demon, a false body, the stain on their clan. Jake was fine with her being away from the hut—that was when he could tolerate her the most.

But after Neteyam was born, after the perfect Na’vi baby had come out of Neytiri, Artsut came around more to care for her grandson. Which meant Jake had to deal with more of her comments and sneers—and he would. For his son.

Forcing Artsut to not see her grandson would’ve been too cruel—not just for his son but for Tsu’tey as well. Tsu’tey—who wanted to keep the peace between his mates and his mother. Tsu’tey, the only male in his family who is able to stand up to her and not take any of her shit.

So, Jake wasn’t worried for the most part. Artsut would play nice for Tsu’tey—her favorite son. Omatikaya’s rightful Olo’eyktan. And Jake would ignore her presence. A fair compromise.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about seeing her now. Otherwise, his very good mood would be ruined.

“I went to see my mother today,” Neytiri said as she took Neteyam out of the carrier and gave him to Tsu’tey who was standing right next to her.

“For more training or something else?” Jake questioned, analyzing her body in a quick scan for any injuries he might’ve missed. “Are you okay?”

She smiled softly and pressed her hand to her stomach, “She told me that Eywa has blessed us with another child.”

Tsu’tey’s eyes widened and Jake’s mouth hung open. Neteyam watched them all quietly.

Neytiri looked down shyly, her ears fluttering, “I wanted to tell you at the celebration for a surprise but I couldn’t wait so—”

She didn’t get to finish as Tsu’tey launched himself at her, wrapping her in a tight hug, earning a joyous laugh from her. A large smile Jake hadn’t seen for a minute. Not since they first discovered Neteyam was coming.

Jake rushed over after placing his hunting equipment down, “You’re pregnant?” Neytiri nodded as Tsu’tey pulled away with a smile of his own. A grin broke out on his face as he pulled her in for a loving kiss, “Oh baby, I love you so much.”

All three of them joined together then—including Neteyam who giggled at their smiles. Sharing kisses, long hugs, and large smiles that they couldn’t contain.

Happiness was simple. That was what Jake believed.

He never thought he could achieve something like that. Not on Earth. Hell, no even on Pandora. Not after everything—but he worked hard for it. He kept going, wanting to prove to himself and his mates that he belonged there. That he was one of the People. That he would be a good mate. A good father.

And not something that destroys everything by a single touch.

Happiness was as simple as it was rare.

Whenever it came, Jake grasped onto it as tightly as he could. Because he never knew when he’d ever have it again.

He held on tight when Tsu’tey survived the battle against the Sky People. Nurtured it when Tsu’tey soon joined him and Neytiri in their union as mates. Loved it when Neteyam was born with his eyes and Neytiri’s markings.

But even then, even if he had a well-adjusted life a year into being on Pandora, Jake still had a long way to go. A long path to make up for all the strife he had caused.

For now, he would enjoy this night. He would enjoy being with his mates. He would enjoy this joyous celebration of the sturmbeest and the new life that would be here in nine months’ time.

It had been a good day for Jake Sully.

That night, Neytiri laid between Tsu’tey and him. That night he watched Tsu’tey’s body carefully as he usually did during the other nights. That night he couldn’t shake the warmth in his chest.

Happiness is simple.

At some point, Jake turned onto his back. His eyes trailing up to the sky. Stars. There were always stars here. And every night, Jake counted them until he fell asleep. Every night he had one arm around Neytiri. Every night he reached his hand out just enough until his fingers brushed against Tsu’tey’s bicep. Every night he would be the last out of the three of them—or four if he counted the heavy sleeper that was his son—to fall asleep.

Only this time there was a moving star in the sky. For a moment, Jake thought he was dreaming.

But the star kept moving. Closer and closer toward Pandora. Until Jake knew that it wasn’t a star anymore.

A body shifted, Jake instantly got up and placed gentle hands on Tsu’tey’s shaking body, trying his best to calm his mate down from the nightmares. Not knowing what he would do if he had to tell him—to tell Neytiri—that they were about to wake up in one.

It had been a good day.

Until it wasn’t.

Do you think I’ll like Pandora? I still dream about it. Being there with you. Do you still want me to come one day?

You woke up on a ship.

“Hold her down boys.”

At the moment, you hadn’t realized your body jerked roughly or that you were now being held down in your seat by a bunch of hands, far stronger and firmer than you. Never mind the tight seatbelt across your lap, no, they wanted to make sure you couldn’t escape.

So, you screamed. A horror-filled cry that sucked in all sound in the ship. Leaving the rest of the passengers with nothing but silence and your scream.

“Calm down, Doc.” The woman sat across from you spoke. The very same woman that approached you in your mother’s forest. “We wouldn’t want you harming yourself before we even get to the planet.”

With as much strength as you could muster, you tried pulling away from the two men sitting on either side of you, whose grips were practically steel. “What did you do?! Where the hell am I?!”

“I already told you five years ago, it wasn’t a request.”

You didn’t need to ask what she meant by five years. Your mother had told you about the process that got her to Pandora in one of her video diaries. You didn’t have to figure it out in your hazy state without getting pissed.

“You stole five years off me! What the fuck is wrong with you people!?” You seethed.

The woman looked unconcerned toward your outburst. “Your mother’s work is too important to give up, Doc. She and her group of scientists were close to probably giving us the one edge we needed against the Na’vi. The inhabitants of Pandora. With your mother gone along with the rest of her group, we were desperate for a replacement. Which is why we needed you. Which is why we wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Why the hell would I help you?!” You snapped, still fighting against the two male’s hold on you. “Get off me!”

“Boys.” The woman gestured for them to let go. After a pause, the hands were gone from your arms. And that was when you began to notice your surroundings.

Yes, you were on some type of ship with a few other soldiers. All of you strapped down to seats. And instead of your ash-covered clothes, you were now in a simple grey tank top, borrowed camouflage pants, and black combat shoes.

Slight groans and whines along the walls told you that the ship was still flying.

So you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. You had been practically kidnapped by the military—the RDA.

And you were trapped.

That is, until you reach Pandora.

“Now if you’re done throwing a fit,” The woman brought out a tablet and held it toward you. “I’m Captain DeVoe, by the way. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Doc.”

You didn’t take the tablet.

Captain DeVoe sighed before pulling the tablet away and began typing on the screen. “Your mother had been close to finding a way to create an antidote for the neurotoxin those savages use on the tip of their arrows. It’s dangerous for us humans. And our goal is to get this small obstacle out of the way in order to proceed with our mission.”

You let out a short laugh, your body still tense and trapped. “Like I said. Why the hell would I help you? What my mother does has nothing to do with me.”

“Oh, but it does, honey,” DeVoe smirked while you scowled. The captain had to have been in her mid to late twenties. Her hair was cut short into a blonde buzzcut. Toned muscles underneath her long-sleeved shirt. She looked like she could break you in two without even breaking a sweat. So there was no point in trying to fight her. At least not in this confined space.

She held out the tablet to you. And again, you didn’t reach for it. Instead, you pressed your back against the wall behind you. DeVoe didn’t lower the tablet. From your spot, you could see on the screen a light blue rectangle and a digital lock above it.

“She’s kept everything we need behind a lock. Her last words were for you to unlock it and finish her work.”

You raised a brow and crossed your arms, “Those were her last words?” Another brittle laugh left your lips. “Wow, you all must be very desperate.” You continued to laugh, unafraid of the glare the captain sent you. “Fuck you. Fuck everyone on the ship and fuck the RDA! I haven’t even gotten to see her body yet—did you even bury her? Or did you toss her aside when you didn’t find any use for her anymore?”

DeVoe blinked and frowned. She then sighed, “I am sorry for your loss, Dr. Reeds. Really, I am. And I know emotions are quite high right now—”

“Fuck you.” You snorted humorlessly before leaning back against the wall again. The two men on either side of you shifted. You ignored them.

“Yes, you’ve said that already.” DeVoe tucked the tablet down next to her right thigh. You glanced at it briefly before directing your scowl back to the woman.

A speaker suddenly came to life above all of you. “We’ve entered the atmosphere. Landing in twenty.”

You sat up straighter as everyone suddenly began placing what looked like advanced oxygen masks on their faces.

Through all your righteous anger, you hadn’t truly realized it until right then. You were on Pandora. You were going to land in the place of your dreams.

And you refused to be happy about it.

DeVoe handed you a mask as she grabbed bags from under her seat. “Quaritch was always good at being persuasive. He’ll convince you. He always—"

A loud boom rattled your ears.

The ship suddenly flipped—if not for the seatbelts, you would’ve flipped too—and then it felt as if you were falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

You put on the mask in hopes of helping bring the air back into your lungs.

Falling.

Falling.

Thud!

Do you remember your second-in-command? JJ? Well, he retired recently. We threw him a really big party. Plus, he just had a baby too. I think it’s a girl last I checked, I’m going to have to ask Cheryl about that—you know her. Always being in the know with her coworkers…

There was no light. Heat closed in all around you, suffocating you and fogging your mask—or was that your quick breaths? No, that was the smoke.

Your ears rang terribly. People were moving but you couldn’t see who. Someone suddenly grabbed your arm, cut the seatbelt from your lap, and practically hauled your body from the seats and through the smoke.

You weren’t walking. A striking pain in your thigh prevented you from doing so.

Suddenly there was light. Lots of it. Your vision was somewhat clear enough to see that you were now outside. Enough for you to see that the one dragging you was a feral-looking DeVoe.

“Shoot them all down now!” She screamed. There was a long gash along her toned arm. “Contact base! We need backup ASAP!”

Finally, you realized what was happening.

There was fire—why was there always fire?

The large, winged creatures flew above the damage with people riding them. There were yips and hollers from the people on the creatures mixed with the explosions and shouts from DeVoe.

As your senses began coming back, as the world began to set around you, your instincts finally kicked in.

While DeVoe was distracted giving orders, you searched the ground until your eyes landed on a nearby rock. Quickly, you lunged for it, grasped it, and smacked it in the back of her head without wasting another second.

And the impact was hard too. You were sure you heard a loud crack from it.

When DeVoe ducked and stumbled, her grip on you loosened, giving you the chance to run. Or rather, limp through the wreckage and away from the fight happening around you.

But because of your leg, you didn’t make it too far.

A sudden weight knocked you down, a cry leaving your lips as you hit the ground. Wincing in pain from the burning in your left leg. When you tried getting up, the weight kept you pinned down. Whatever landed on top of you made sure you wouldn’t be able to move.

“I already told you!” Roughly, you were turned onto your back. DeVoe was on top of you, snarling. “You have no choice! Not when it comes to saving your race!”

“Get off me!” You cried out, trying to push her off. But DeVoe remained as firm as iron.

“That was a cute little stun you pulled back there. But make sure to remember this.” Instantly, she yanked your mask off.

Your eyes were wide and a loud gasp left your lips,

DeVoe grinned, a mad glint in her eye. “Your life is in my hands! That means I protect it or take it just like that! Don’t be stupid, Doc. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. Pick! I protect you or you die!”

You held your breath. More booms sounded around you. More winged creatures flew above you. More yips. More hollers.

Briefly, you glanced at the mask in her hand and considered everything leading up to now. Because you didn’t have much of a choice.

None but one.

Finally, you stopped fighting. Your limbs fell loose against her.

DeVoe nodded with a smirk, “Good choice.” She gave you back your mask and stood up. You kept holding your breath. “Back up should be here soon. We’ll have enough numbers to take down these savages—”

She abruptly cut herself off when you slammed the mask down on your good knee, shattering it.

You then started breathing in the air.

“What are you doing?!” DeVoe screeched, grabbing you by the front of your shirt.

You grinned now, struggling to breathe, “You need me. I don’t need you.”

To them, you were valuable. DeVoe knew this. Which was why you knew she wouldn’t go through with killing you herself. It was like they said on the ship. You were too valuable. And they were desperate.

And that value would be lost once you’re dead.

“Damn you brat!” DeVoe growled as she took off her mask. “Selfish bitch—”

Blood splattered across your face when an arrow found its way through DeVoe’s head.

She slumped against you, the mask falling from her hand and skittering onto the ground a few feet away from you.

Your mind had not realized that DeVoe was killed. Was dead now. All you cared about now was grabbing the mask.

So once you got the dead weight off of you, you began crawling toward the mask. Your breathing becoming a struggle with every passing second.

You hadn’t realized—just like with DeVoe—that someone was watching you. Curiously and quietly following you as you crawled. You didn’t realize you weren’t alone until blue feet appeared in your line of vision. Until four fingers took the mask off the ground and away from your grasp.

A whimper left your lips through hollow breaths as you looked up to find a tall, blue alien woman standing over you. With guarded, yet silently curious yellow eyes.

A Na’vi. You had seen them in your mother’s videos. You had seen her avatar.

“Mom.” You rasped, lying on your back. You didn’t know how much time you had. Might as well stick to the original plan then.

Become invaluable.

But Mom…

“I-I just want my Mom.”

The Na’vi woman just stared at you. Her fierce gaze turned into something somewhat contemplative. You weren’t even sure if she understood you.

Black spots covered your vision.

There was barely any oxygen left to grasp for.

“Demon.”

The Na’vi woman hissed just as you lost consciousness.

This had to be the second time you’ve woken up from passing out.

Only instead of a ship greeting you, it was a white ceiling. And somehow instead of lying dead in the ship wreckage, you were instead lying on a cot. With a bandage wrapped around your injured thigh.

It was slow—slower than before—but everything came back to you. You were on Pandora. DeVoe was dead. At least that’s what you remembered happening. The arrow through her head certainly wasn’t a hallucination.

But why weren’t you dead?

For a while, you just say on the cot. Trying to figure out what exactly happened.

The Na’vi woman. Did she…Did she give you the mask?

No. She’d have no reason to. Something must’ve happened while you were passed out.

You were in some type of cell—perfect—no bars but no doubt some type of impenetrable glass in front of you.

A groan left your lips, dropping your head into your hands.

How the hell did it get so much worse?

A door opened further away from your cell. A thin-looking man stepped through it. A human man.

You watched him carefully and silently. The human male nodded to you. “You must be Dr. Reeds.”

Instantly, you tensed and the words tumbled out of your mouth, “I already told DeVoe I’m not helping the RDA. So torture me all you want but you’re not getting shit from me.”

He raised his brows both curiously and observantly. “The RDA hasn’t been allowed back on Pandora for a year now. Not after the war.”

War? You carefully stood from your cot, “Then why am I here?”

“Because you were on an RDA ship—” You move to protest, “Before you say anything or curse me, I already know about Joan Reeds and your supposed arrival. But unfortunately, you arrived at a pretty bad time. The People are skittish. They think it’s best to keep you here for now—”

“What the fuck?!” You screamed. The resolve was broken. There was no composing anything anymore. Your face was heated. Your muscles ached. Your throat hurting. “I didn’t even want to come here! Those fuckers kidnapped me and now I have to be imprisoned in a cell because of them?! I’m not RDA! I have nothing to do with this! All I want to do is see my mother who I couldn’t even bury!”

Toward the end of your rageful sentence, your voice quivered.

“Is she even buried yet?” You asked him, your voice now quieter.

After a pause, the male nodded. “She was buried. She…She was one of the few humans the Na’vi got along with. They gave her a burial years before. She—I’m sorry for your loss.

Everything was so—heavy. You were just exhausted.

You hadn’t even been able to grieve for her. Cry for her.

“I didn’t even know she was dead.” You sunk back down on the cot. “Not for four years. I didn’t she was dead for four fucking years. And now I’m here. On a planet I’ve been dreaming about since I was young. But now it’s just some fucked up nightmare.”

There was a long silence between the both of you. The male rubbed the back of his neck before saying cautiously, “Yeah, this isn’t ideal—um, I’m Norm, by the way. Norm Spellman. I work in the Avatar Program. I—well, I didn’t know or meet your mother personally but she was an amazing and intelligent scientist. Her work here and on Earth is very admirable.”

You almost scoffed at that but said nothing.

Norm moved to say more but stopped instantly, pressing a hand to his ear. For a beat, you watched him bleakly, as if he were listening to something.

He then turned to you, “Hold that thought.” And as soon as you blinked, he was gone out of the room.

For a moment, it was silent.

And then you cried.

And cried.

And cried.

And cried.

And cried.

Until your eyes offered no more tears left to give.

Do you remember your second-in-command? JJ? Well, he retired recently. We threw him a really big party. Plus, he just had a baby too. I think it’s a girl last I checked, I’m going to have to ask Cheryl about that—you know her. Always being in the know with her coworkers.

I had to clean up cow shit yesterday. And I’m definitely smiling when I tell you this. It’s progress but you probably get to see and interact with creatures we don’t even have here. So, at least you’re up there…

Norm came back a little later after that. He approached your cell, typing something against the wall. A second later, the glass came down.

You straightened.

“They want to talk to you.” He said.

“Who?” You frowned tiredly as you slowly got to your feet, wincing at your thigh.

Norm thought for a bit, “Some representatives of the clan nearby.”

Reluctantly, you followed Norm out of the cell. He led you through a hallway until you approached a door where Norm grabbed a mask for himself and you.

“They’re right out there.”

When you walked out the door, you were startled to find three winged creatures and tall—really tall—Na’vi waiting at the landing strip where you were sure ships would’ve been. But instead, it looked a bit abandoned.

“Dr. Reeds this is the chief of the Omatikaya Clan, Tsu’tey, that’s Neytiri, and the last one is the clan’s Toruk Makto, Jake Sully.”

You analyzed all three of them. The Na’vi woman—Neytiri—you recognized from the crash. The one that had been standing over you before you passed out. Long braids, warrior paint on her face—matching her body posture she instantly took as soon as you came out of the building, and a bow clutched in one hand with a fierce expression. She was sizing you up. Same as you did.

The next one—Tsu’tey—watched your movements carefully. Out of the three he looked like the one in charge, a leader, someone that of importance. His snarl was severe, even making Norm shift uncomfortably despite it not being directed at him. He gripped a spear tightly in his hands, his eyes following every slight movement you made. As if readying himself to take you down the moment you step out of line. Dangerous beast.

Then there was Jake Sully. If you hadn’t learned his name, you could instantly tell that he stood out somewhat among the three. Compared to Neytiri and Tsu’tey, Jake’s stance was different. More human-like. Like a Marine—which you had been around back on Earth. They were mostly the ones hired as military protection, so you were around them often. Jake was exactly that. But it didn’t make him any less fierce or severe.

Then of course there was the gun that he held—another huge thing that stood out among the three of them.

“And this is Dr. Reeds. She was supposed to replace the late Dr. Joan Reeds, a friend of Grace—”

“Why is she here now?” The leader, Tsu’tey interrupted with a scowl. “We need no more demons here.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek but didn’t say anything. Norm, fortunately, continued talking so you didn’t have to. “The timing’s off, I know, but it’s on record that she was supposed to arrive here upon Dr. Reeds' last request. And confirmed by Dr. Augustine herself. She’s only a scientist, that’s all. We even have an unused avatar waiting for her.”

Tsu’tey didn’t look convinced, not surprising. Neytiri’s eyes never wavered from you. Jake’s tail swished behind him, but his expression was unreadable.

Norm cleared his throat, “If Grace approved of it—”

“Where’s my mother buried?” You asked. All four eyes snapped to you. Norm gave you a look that you ignored. “Spellman told me she had a burial here. I just want to see her. That’s all.”

“And then what?” Jake questioned, eyes narrowed. His face was still guarded.

You didn’t care for it. “I don’t know. Maybe then I’ll go back to Earth and die with the rest of the planet. Does that suffice?”

Tsu’tey frowned, clearly not liking your response while Jake lowered the gun slightly. Neytiri slowly eased out of her defensive stance.

Norm chuckled nervously—attempting to save your sardonic response, “You hear that? She said she’ll leave.”

You breathed out a sigh. God, you were so tired. “I just want my Mom. Please, that’s all I ask.”

Another beat went by before Jake, spoke first but in another language. Tsu’tey didn’t look happy at whatever Jake was saying, his ears were pinned to the sides of his head. Neytiri, on the other hand, looked contemplative.

Eventually, Jake turned back to you with a stern frown, “We’ll have a few warriors take you to your mother’s burial.”

“And after you do not return.” Tsu’tey hissed, his violent eyes pinning you in place. If I see you on my grounds again, I will kill you, demon.”

Jake breathed out through his nose, closing his eyes. He then looked at you, “Understood?”

You huffed, “Loud and clear.”

You’re far away from this mess and I think that’s good. Not that there is a mess, I’m just saying metaphorically….You know what never mind. I hope you’re having fun, Mom.

Please respond. I miss your videos. And it’s getting pretty lonely down here.

I still want you to have fun so don’t put too much energy into trying to respond.

I’ll leave you now.

Love,

your little shadow.

PS.

Remember how you said I accomplish more stuff than you could ever imagine? I kind of get the feeling you were only saying that to make me feel better. It’s pretty clear by now that out of the two of us, you’re gonna go far. Farther than I can reach.

Okay, bye now.

yes, another series! this time i'm going full force with the poly than i do with my other fics. and you guys have this beautiful fanart to thank! also i listened to you're gonna go far by noah kahan the whole time i wrote this chapter so it's probably obvious i was inspired by that song. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this new mini series of mine for anyone that's still out there in the fandom lol. i hope you guys will give this a chance--and tell me your thoughts when you're done! i love hearing from y'all. full rants and everything!

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar jake sully #avatar jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #avatar jake #jake x reader #jake sully #neytiri x reader #neytiri fanfiction #neytiri #neytiri avatar #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #neytiri sully #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey te rongloa ateyitan #tsu'tey x y/n #dilf!jake sully #atwow #avatar 2009 #neteyam #angst #avatar angst #[you’re gonna go far]

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Ask me, my prince. What a storm is to a dragon.❞

[ Aemond can only breathe through your lungs, through your adoration and love. But when betrayal is nigh, what does it truly beget? ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 6,935 ] | Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader, minor, sort of (not really) Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers.

THIS IS A DARK FIC. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

contains— angsty, smut - DD:DNE: kidnapping, coercion, manipulation, possessive & obsessive behaviour, power imbalance, violence (not to reader) (a little bit to reader... i wrote this too close to book canon!aemond), murder, death, massacre, war - canon typical targcest, canon character deaths, canon divergence - dark!aemy - pregnancy, child, allusions to infidelity, mentions of bastard - i took liberties with canon (as i usually do) - #ripellyn you (sorta) will be missed shshs - the only specific reader descript. i did is the baratheon dark hair ok? ok - nsfw: male masturbation, dubcon/noncon, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— there was this villain playlist on yt that was slowed and sexy, and my brain just. clicked. here it is if you wanna check. the real reason this is long is cos i can't help but add backstory ok? ok. lol. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

Storms have always been your favourite view in any window.

It is cliche to say, a proud daughter of the Stormlands, of course she enjoys the dark skies! But you do. There is nothing short of comforting in the rolling, fat clouds darkened in shadows. Occasionally, if the weather moved to your whim, lightning danced between plumes before you hear the boom and crack of it striking.

"It is a privilege to enjoy weathers such as these," your father once said, a hand on your darkened hair, a bluer tint to it, but Baratheon through and through. "It is our might that holds us at paramount, and thus, our privilege beckons warm fires and strong, stone fortresses to watch it all in comfort. To find enjoyment in the dark skies."

"Ours is the Fury," you replied immediately. Your father smiled.

"That, precisely. The paramount of our might and power is one we have taken and given with fury. Never forget."

"Even better than the Targaryens?" Your father's displeasure crumpled his face, and you were at an old enough age to understand his displeasure was not something you enjoy. But you had been learning all day, and the topic that day with your septa had been House Targaryen. You had learned the King's name, that he had a Queen that died, and that his heir is a girl.

His hold on your shoulders was heavy, but you do not flinch. Eyes bore into your own as if he was speaking the words into existence.

"We are the blood of the Kings too, my daughter. The White Hart proves our mark in the world, long before the dragonlords ever whispered in these lands. And what are dragons against the dance of storms?"

You had been little then, no more than six. The smallest of your sisters; Floris, though short in stature, looked elongated. A beauty. A fawn in the making. And your father is not the cleverest of men, but his words shelved itself in the corners of your brain. It eased and assuaged your fears like a quick spell.

Your spine straightens and your chin tilts upward. You are made of fury and storms, the blood of kings of old and solid, impenetrable fortresses.

You fury is your own, and 'neathe your fingers, under your very being, is a storm.

A good reminder, as when you had exchanged childhood for girlhood, a missive had been sent by the Queen Alicent Hightower, requesting for a daughter from Lord Baratheon's Four Storms, as companion for the Princess Helaena.

"Cassandra would do well."

"She hungers, husband. I am afraid of what might happen if we send her to the courts at her age. I do not yearn for a scandal."

"She would not shame her family so, do you reckon?"

"She is the eldest. You know how she is."

A sigh. "If she had a cock, she would be a good heir for my seat."

"Borros!"

"Apologies. Very well, mayhaps a good husband with no grit to him would do her well. She will lead the Stormlands by the hold of his— er, well, yes. Maris? She is clever."

"Far too clever. Even her tongue irks you, no. Definitely not. Her brain works too fast for her mouth. She will say the wrong thing and end us in war."

"You exaggerate, surely."

"I bore them, Borros, but they are your daughters. They live and breathe with your name and your House's banner under their own. What do you think? Bad enough they take so much of your heritage with them, and their looks, but they also plucked and chosen parts of you I'd rather not have for lady daughters."

Your father grumbles incoherently, you laugh under your breath.

"... Floris is too young. So..." The last one. You. You press your ear harder against the wood of your father's study, heart in your throat.

"She will be best," she says softly, insistently. She knows in her heart of hearts that though her husband is a hard, proud man, he has a softened heart for you. "Though she is clever, she minds herself well. Polite. Kind. She will do well with the Princess and her, er, eccentricities."

"Bloody weirdoes, the lot of them." A sigh. Another chastise from your mother, but she too, sounds exhausted. It has almost been a moon since the missive has been sent. Another one is bound to arrive, more order than request. It is all a political game. Princess Rhaenyra had no Baratheon ward under her court when she still resided in Kings Landing, for you and your sisters had been too young and your father had no sister. It is by chance that gives the Green Queen advantage to take a ward under your father's banner now, with a daughter she seeks to be Queen Consort.

"Send her then," your father announces. Though defeat clouds his voice, the Lord in him speaks each vowel clearly. "She will do best to represent the House out of them all. We might have a betrothal in our hands soon enough."

"She is pretty enough for a prince."

An angry snort. "She is more than pretty enough for a prince. Far better than the lot of them."

Softly, "That is because you like her best."

"Why would I not?" your father replies gruffly, making you smile. "A storm grinds and brews inside of her, wife. Even Maestre Loes, the old gnat that he is, sees my bloodline thick in her. Even if the King asks for her hand at this very moment, I would refuse. I would throw him off Storm's End with a smile on my face and a boot on his back."

You fight off a snort as your mother grumbles about treason and Maris.

"She is far better than the best of them." Another sigh. Heavier. "Why are we sending her?"

Your mother sighs. "Because as she is the best of them, she is the best of us. She will survive far better in that cesspit they call a keep than any of our daughters. Her storm can tame dragons."

You would argue that that too is treasonous given the context, but your father merely laughs. His laughter is a crackle and a boom.

"I would upheave our coffers to witness that."

Though you find her odd, you enjoy spending your time with the Princess Helaena. Mostly, she is quiet, in her own little world. Though it took time to get used to her many-legged friends, you soon realised the best times you spend with her are when shipments and gifts of pinned butterflies and books that have reached as far as Yi-Ti, to get to Kings Landing about bugs, and undeniable excitement unfurls in the Princess' face. More like a girl, a sweet one.

It makes her already cherub features appear more child-like, and she grasps your hand voluntarily as she points at each and every critter she recognises. It is so very rare to see true happiness in the princess' visage, and in her enjoyment, you see your sisters.

That is how you meet him, the Prince Aemond.

Princess Helaena had gone for tea with the Queen. It had not been planned. Though she often spent tea with family, either the Queen or the Lord Hand, or either of the Princes. Something had occurred, so now that Princess was having tea with her Queen Mother and her husband. If you had to guess, it was likely that Prince Aegon was being punished in some way.

Though there is no love lost between siblings, it makes you sniff at how blatant the prince's obscene indulgent for vices are. Princess Helaena didn't mind, rather, she didn't care unless they needed to spend time together, a clockwork patch of routine, and that was when you usually came in— you later realised, your primary job — soothing her nerves and distracting her thoughts before she had to enter her marriage chambers.

There is a resigned defeat in her, a woman's duty bearing down, looming like the Mother, and it makes you want to soothe her harder. Make her laugh.

With the change of plans, it was up to you to check for the new shipments of the Princess' things. A dictated note in your hand of the princess' handwriting, you were going through her boxes when a hand, gloved, rests on your shoulder.

"Do not move," a cool voice says behind you. Far too close for propriety.

You freeze. "Pardon?"

"I do not want to scare you, my lady, but there is a critter atop your head." The cool, calm voice waves off a steady rhythm to your heart, calming it further from the earlier panic of someone laying a hand on you (although this, is still not better. You are a lady and unmarried after all). "I will rid of it immedi—"

"No."

"... Pardon?"

"Where is it? Just atop my head?"

"... Yes?"

"It maybe poisonous, pease do not touch it." Before the owner of the hand and the calm voice could react, you pat your head until you touch a hairy, small thing with many legs. Relief spreads. "There you are."

"There you are?" The voice says, almost mocking, incredulously.

You huff, taking the spider in both of your hands, before you tilt your chin behind you, only seeing the gloved hand. "Please take your hand away from me."

The hand retreats. You turn.

Valyrian features are most uncommon than your own, and the jolt of recognising the pale, white hair is a strike to your being, a gasp falling from your lips. It is the one-eyed mask that tells you immediately who it is, but you string everything else you know of the prince.

Prince Aemond had been travelling to Oldtown, a visit requested by the Queen in the guise of seeing family, his brother. But there had been whispers of something more, as the chatter of the maids who cleaned up in the King's quarters talked about how ill he got day by day.

You had seen flashes of him before this, but fate had kept you two apart. You were not there when he visited the princess— on another errand or two, and he starkly ever looked at the ladies surrounding his sister with a vehement light as their voices, high pitched and dreary, tire him so on a good day, increasingly irritating on a bad one, and anyway, the silence that falls in a stone room just from his arrival is enough to irk him.

But here is he now, with one eyebrow rose, a good eye of icy blue iris, and the very visage of a warrior in black leathers, a braided hair pulled to one side, and pursed lips in both amusement and annoyance.

He hums. The sound kicks back your manners, blushing lightly at having gaped at him for far longer than pleasantry dictates, and you pull yourself into a bow.

"My apologies, my prince, I didn't know it was you. I was scared you were going to hurt the Princess' new friend."

"They are bugs," he says steadily. "Not her friends."

"Like so, but just because they have many a legs do not mean we cannot befriend them." A small smile plays on your lips before you place back the spider in the cage he got out of. It is something you had once said to the princess to make her laugh. You feel his stare burn at the side of your face. "Is there a matter, my prince?"

"You are the Lady Baratheon, are you not?"

"I am." A small, ironic smirk tugs at your lips. "Is it the hair?"

He makes a soft sound that exhales like a laugh out of closed lips. He's still quite close, you can feel his warmth and idly wonder if all Targaryens truly do have the blood of the dragons in them for you can feel the contours of him, burning at the edges of his being. Like a comforting little furnace.

"Hm. And the princess has taken quite the liking to you. You are all she talks about during sup."

You can't help it, you're smiling. So many rumours concerning the young prince, not all of them good, but there is a certain novelty in basking under the attention of a prince of the realm. A Valyrian beauty that brought an ethereal glow to him. As so intently stares, catching pieces and niches as if you are the most fascinating creature.

The attention makes you feel like a blushing lady.

"My apologies then, my prince."

He cocks his head, the braid dipping and you catch the movement in your peripheral. "Whatever for my lady?"

You turn to him, unable to curb the cheek to your smile. "For interrupting better conversations with the topic of my name plaguing your sups so."

His mouth twists into a smirk. In Aemond's mind, it is not oft that ladies, especially Helaena's ladies, would care to... flirt with him. Because this is you flirting, is it not? The coy gaze, the curl at the edge of your lips? Aemond has seen these faces in ladies and maids alike, but directed at others. At Aegon.

Directed at Aemond... bereave to keep their conversations to themselves, and though it is not always a fault of theirs for his stoicism is his most valued armour, one would resign oneself of an arranged marriage that will take long moons before his lady wife would see the truest him, that he would not be able to experience such... coy conversations with the opposite sex.

Yet here you are, a light dust of red in your cheeks, a quirk in your mouth, and the playful joust in your eyes, daring him into a swords' dance.

It is thrilling.

"Plaguing is too harsh of a word to say so about a lady of your stature, Lady Baratheon." He steps closer, aware of propriety standards of how close two unwedded people should be, but he feels intoxicated of the whiff of life exhuming from your visage. A light citrus, oranges? Lemons? Tart and sweet, with a powdery finish. It is so very ladylike.

Addicting.

The perfect smell for a lady wife, a musing thought.

"Is that so?"

"Intriguing, I would say, would be the better word."

You laugh, low and sweet. It sends a pleasant warm to his centre. "I'm afraid my memory is failing for I do not remember any wily adventure or conversation the princess and I had for a prince of the realm to say I intrigue him so."

"It is less... about wily adventures or interesting conversations that pique my interest, but the lady herself." His eye, though lone, the other remaining hidden behind an eyepatch with hints of scarred, twisted skin underneath, bore against yours as if he wished to gather all your strings and see what each would give him. What you would show him.

"I'm afraid to disappoint you, my prince, but I still fail to see how I can ever so pique your interest." You meet his gaze, smirking. "I am just me."

Before he can answer, step forward— whatever, he is staring at the curve of your lips so, at the enchanting shimmer of your eyes, and Aemond Targaryen felt breathless — your named is called, and the spell is broken. The prince steps back, taking more space between you that is more appropriate.

His hand flexes.

But that is not the last you see of the prince, nor the last time you are able to hold a conversation with him. It seems that since then, you find yourselves orbiting each other in the fringes before one steps forward and engages. There seems to be a band that tightens either of you so obsessed with seeing the other in the periphery, the topic whatever may came, even as inane as the weather.

It is a dance of swords, kissing blades of sharp quips and interesting parry. You are interesting. Beguiling. Devouring. Aemond searches for you in most places now, unable to stop himself from asking his dearest sister about you— even his mother and grandsire have taken notice, eyebrows rose between shared looks.

"House Baratheon is of a Great House," his mother hesitantly brought up, too focused on her soup for it to just be idle chatter above sup.

"It is." His forced passivity is not as apathetic as he can make it. For any mention of you and your origins thrums his heart in a dance.

"And the Lady Baratheon has many admirers, a kind and dutiful lady, and Helaena likes her so."

He turned to his mother then, humming. At the barest hint of a smile in her son's face, Alicent beamed.

But others from court also soon took notice, and when Aemond realises the wagging tongues had come to note your name— unkind whispers besmirching your person, he disappears from you altogether.

The differences become stark to him; realising what a foolish endeavour it is to want you. Though he is a prince, he is mutilated, a monster that will ruin you. You are too good for him, a warmth he had forgone in the face of misery, apathy, and hatred. The urge to conquer your every thought and sound, from your fingertips to the top of your hair... it is a gasping thought, one he shamefully sins at the blackest hours, tugging at his cock desperately to the thought of what you had looked like that day. The sound of your laughter, the pull of your lips when you smiled, the gasp you let out when you touched water that had been too cold— his mind bends and moves, and images of you, images that he will have to pray for the in morrow but cannot stop—

Moves him to completion, a strangle grunt of your name from his lips.

And yet, every night since, it happens again and again.

The more he pulled away from you, the more he wanted you. It is a debase urge, one more fit for his drunken cur of a brother than he, more creature than man.

But he cannot stop, so the torturous cycle continues.

Until you've had enough.

You know that during hours of inky night, the prince prefers the sanctum of the library. Not always, and lately, not often, but if there are a few things you learned in the hunting trips your father brought you that your mother never approved of, is that lying in wait, patient, deals a hand much better.

And on the fourth day of your waiting, your hair in a braid, a book on your lap, and a small candlelit close by as to not alert any spooked princes— the door opens at the Hour of Eel, the familiar and sorely missed footfalls of a quiet but sure-footed prince enters.

You admire him for a moment, hidden as you are, your stare drinks in the ever smooth of his twilight-spun hair, those pursed lips and straight lines. He's lithe but you know, having been offered his arm on every walk, he is made of hard muscle. Aemond always walks so smoothly, like a panther, or a gazelle, with the barest hint of austre he can never hide.

It's the prince in him, you giggle to yourself.

A sweet pang in your chest is the reminder of how much you missed his presence. And that ends tonight.

With his back turned, perusing a shelf, you shuffle and make yourself known with a soft, almost admonishing voice.

"Good eve, my prince."

He stiffens, hand poised against a spine of a tome. He barely turns, only his head to the floor, in the general direction of you. "My lady. I did not expect you to be here."

Frustrated, you sigh loudly. "Have I offended you so horribly? Dishonoured you in some way?"

"What?"

"Why can't you even look at me, Aemond?"

A sharp intake of breath. When he speaks again,his voice is changed. "You forget yourself, my lady."

There is an ache to your being, pursuing your lips. "You had given me permission with your given name, my prince, or have you forgotten?" Anger overcomes propriety. Fuck propriety. You charge toward him, heavy, angered steps until you're close enough. "Can't you at least look at me, look at me as you push me away as if I amnothing—"

He turns abruptly, one eye flashing as he grasps your elbows in a grip. His eyes zero in on your lips as a gasp falls, eyes widen— if you could see better, you'd notice the darkened gaze drinking you in. Your widened eyes, your open lips— and Sevens, only a robe hides your nightgown, the smooth expanse of your skin is more bare to him than ever before.

His beautiful, beloved stag.

"You have never been nothing to me, nēdenka riña brave girl," he hisses. "Konir sagon se drīve That is the reason."

"Prince A-Aemond?" you say. He is against the shadows of the moonlight, only his hands holding your own is illuminated.

A wrangled exhale falls from his lips. You follow the sound, worried.

"Are you? Injured? Are you okay?"

"I have not been okay for the moment I met you," he rasps, hands bruising in his hold.

"Well. Gods. I'm sorry. If it's such a offense—"

"It is an offence!" he growls, pulling you abruptly that you yelp, bathed in shadows and darkness together, your eyes adjust as you scramble to have thoughts apart from just being this close to him. Hearing a voice you had never heard of him before, untethered from his princely visage, from manners and proper, and it makes you burn.

The thoughts of wanting him close, of taking more of that space until you are chest to chest are blushing thoughts.

But there is honour still, for he holds you at least an arm's away.

"I have wanted you the moment I have laid eyes on you," he whispers, voice rough, exhausted. "And each day I spend with you, each hour— my honour stands in shambles, in ruins at my feet for I want you as a man wants a woman. Honourably and... and carnally."

You swallow, and he follows the movement like a predator tracking his prey. The blush in your cheeks, the way your lips press together as if you are just as starved of him as he to you— oh, you want him too, don't you?

One hand moves from your elbow to slowly reach up. Your arms, your collarbones, your neck. A thumb brushing your cheek and your eyes flutter.

Aemond wants to devour you.

"You plague me so, and I crave you."

"Then have me," you sigh.

His eye closes. "I cannot sully—"

You grasp his neck, bringing your mouth close to his. "You cannot sully what is freely given. If you crave me, I want you."

Honour unbound, a snap is tightened by the hunger that uncoils from a dragon that wants you. Aemond had grabbed the back of your head, tangled his fingers, and made a mess of your mouth.

Gasps and teeth, touching skin from where you can feel it— touching skin from where you unbuckle, tear through hem and push against cloth. When he slams you again the shelf, a moan so lewd falls from your lips that he groans, pulling your nightgown until he feels the heat from your very womanhood, and so, so wet, that when he flicks his thumb, curious and entranced, moving it around experimentally, you are a mess of sound and feeling, gasping his name, A-aemond, oh gods, please, and he is whispering, forgive me, f-forgive me, like love letters, like penitent, like a kiss from a traitor so wrong but so tasteful against your skin as he pulls himself from his confinements, holds you steady, and breaches your tight cunt.

Just before a scream tears through your throat, he devours your sound, holding you steady, until the pain bleeds pleasure and you are holding him like an anchor in dangerous seas. You cannot think or feel anyone else but him; what you are and who you are do not stand a chance as Aemond Targaryen swallows your senses.

It is harsh and fast, it is sweet and devouring, and more, more, more, you don't know what you're begging him, you feel like a devout and he feels like a god, grunting against your skin, biting through anything his teeth grazes. When he shifts you at an angle, finding a spot that feels like a lightning striking through your entire being, you are screaming, twitching, reaching a high so blinding it feels like white death.

"Is that it? That sweet spot?" he purrs, a breathless laugh, shocked and delighted drinking in your trembling and pleasure. "Your cunt is tight against my own, holding me like you never want to let go." You cry out when his cock hits that spot again. Your combined wetness makes an obscene squelch, just as pretty as the sound you utter. He smirks. "Can you hear that? Not even a whore can make a sound so sweet, hm?"

His teeth grazes your lips, sending shivers through your body as he licks the roof your mouth. "I want more of that sound. As your prince, you would grant me this, yes?"

But he isn't waiting for an answer, planting his feet and holding you steady, angling you back to that spot until he is snapping his hips, fucking into you as you can do nothing but beg and cry and tremble in the arms of a dragon taking what is his.

And you are.

You are his.

Maybe you had known it since then.

You definitely do when his seed floods your womb.

You want to say that that night was a fluke, a mistake that must be regretted. But once your gaze meets another, the fire burns, flickering and dancing, and it repeats. In quick fucks in dangerous spots, to slow, sweet love making in his room.

You are his, in mind, body and soul.

"Death is nothing but a friend," he murmurs against your neck, holding you close. Sweat cooling between your naked bodies. "It cannot stop me from finding you."

"I hope you say that to my father well," you tease.

" Marrying you is but the next step, my love. You are already mine as I am yours." He plays with your hair, brushing it past and kissing a bruise he made on your breast. "In face of every god and more, they will understand that we are but one soul."

You can plan the future in rose-coloured gaze for as much as you can, but the truth of marrying into a family with war brewing inside of it, held together by a dying king's hope and corpse fingertips— it is another matter entirely.

It all comes to a sharp clarity when Viserys I dies... and they keep his rotting corpse a secret.

And then they crown a whoremongering drunk.

"Aemond," you break into the silence, your entire being too cold for comfort. You had just come back from a privy council, a Green Council where the Queen had ordered you and your betrothed to reach Storm's End before the night fully breaks.

As if she knew where your loyalties are.

As if there is no question you will support the usurpation.

You turn to Aemond, busy with packing his things for they have bared the maids and people the of Keep. Because they are making Aegon as king and they know a revolt is underneath the floorboards.

"Aemond!"

"What? What has happened?" He looks confused, irritated. "We must make haste, my love, if we are to beat the storms at—"

"Princess Rhaenyra is Queen," you whisper but it could have been a scream. Saying it aloud gives you confidence, strengthening your resolved. You turn to him. "She is the King's heir, no one else. Aemond, this is an usurpation, unlawful in the eyes of—"

It takes little strides for him to reach you, for him to hold your neck in a tightened grip of warning.

"She," he spits, slow and careful as if you are a simpleton in need of teaching, "is a whore who is attempting to place her bastards on the Iron Throne. Rhaenys Targaryen held no chance of it, just as she. My brother is the firstborn son. He is king." His fingers dig into your skin. "You will do well as my wife to not speak of such blasphemy once more, do you understand?"

Your shock and fear melt from your visage, making way for compliance. You nod once. "Yes, my prince."

"Husband," he corrects, holding you much gentler but the weight of his hand is still there on your neck. A reminder. "Have you forgotten? We only come to Storm's End to officiate our union and your House's loyalty to the King. Once done, we will marry, yes?"

You nod, hands fisting. "Yes."

When he kisses you, harsh and needy, imprinting his will unto you— you close your eyes and plan how you make known to your Queen of their plots.

But Storm's End doesn't go as planned, does it?

Lucerys Velaryon, the Queen's son who had come as nothing more but an envoy for the rightful heir, and Aemond—what you thought to be your Aemond but a monstrous man who needed his revenge, who needed to draw blood for a grudge so deep, for an existence he finds so abysmal — had chased after him and came back to you bloodied, tearing up your dress, rutting in you in harsh, rough thrusts, as you listen to the storms from your window and think,

The Queen will never find his body. Her poor, sweet boy. Half in the belly of a beast, the rest spread and sunken into the water.

"I will not allow any marriage until the realm is at peace," your Lord Father rumbled with finality. He is not a smart man, truly, but he is a father. His gaze meets yours, full of meaning, of promises, before looking back at the seething prince. "You will have my bent knee for your king and for your war, but my daughter's hand shall be her own until the realm is at ease."

Your mother steps forward, her courtly smile on her face. "We want for her to have a grand wedding, my prince. She is the first of our charges to wed, and to a prince of the realm no less! By sure, at the time of war, we must err on the side of caution, as our coffers will no doubt focus on our troops. A future princess of the realm must be mindful, of course."

She bows in deference, your sisters following suit. Maris is the first to look up, defiance burning in her eyes.

You remember a conversation with him, feeling like a lifetime ago.

"Ask me, my prince," you teased. "What a storm is to a dragon. A creature is a creature. Even you must acquiesce to the way of nature for she has bowed to no one since her existence."

Aemond may be blood of the dragons, but he is surrounded by storms on all sides. The fiercest.

And your father will never marry you to a Kinslayer.

Yet you stay beside him, your duty now clearer than ever. Every new information you can grasp is sent back to the Queen and her council. In a courtier of the Greens and Traitors, you are the sole Black Stag. You use Aemond's adoration for you, his possessive obsession of what he thinks is love, as a protection and guise.

Any time he beds you, you sneak in moon tea. His bedding of you is just as much his hold on you and his defiance against your father's refusal. Once caught, you remind him he would not enjoy a bastard child. Especially at a time of war. Not after what they had done to his nephews.

"Do you want for me to suffer as your sister does?" The tears in your face then had not been a folly, for your heart broke for sweet Helaena and her sons. For Jaehaera. The world bleeds and bleeds, and all who die that reaches your ears are nothing more but innocents.

Aemond does not bed you after that, but he keeps you in his chambers, pulls you close as if he is trying to mould your skins as one. Times like this, your heart stutters. Your love to him and your morality as a person is at a test of swords.

You are in love with him,

He is a monster,

He has lost his nephews,

He has killed his own.

And it makes you wonder if you are a monster too, lying beside him as his bedmate, caring for him, wanting him still as his heart beats as your own, so connected to the umbilical of fate and chance while war rages, bodies falling all around you both, most from his own hand and word.

The war rages, and Harrenhal comes to view.

With it, a slaughter and a witch.

The worst of the massacre is the steely, lulling silence.

No one tells you that most of what an execution is that silence. That it amplifies each scream, each shout, each thick drop of a head as it falls on cobblestone. The sound is wet and a mouthful. Then it is nothing, consumed by that silence again.

You are locked in a room with a window that doesn't face the horror of what Aemond is doing. As if this is enough to shield you from what he is, what he truly is doing to win this war.

The worst part, committing genocide of an entire house is nothing more but a horrific grudge.

Strong blood spills, enough to make a lake.

By the time that night bleeds and a maid had entered with dinner to light a fire— your body is still so cold. No food has touched your stomach since the day before yet you retch.

Does loving a monster meant that you are just as monstrous?

Mayhaps it is still worth it, you muse in your silent madness, tears tracking your cheeks as the heaviness of your being stays. For who can say a monster can love you so monstrously? Who else can?

When Aemond comes back to you, freshly cleaned and a reminiscent of the prince that you loved, and he is making excuses of wanting you as you are, pawing at your clothes, you let him. You make love in the silence suffering from the massacre he had just finished. You hold him and kiss him in a desperation as you know this will be your ending.

That your Aemond is gone, or worse. He had never truly existed.

When you are both spent, satiated in a sweet glow, your head pleasantly quiet, he speaks about a plan.

A woman, a Strong witch, that promises him an assurance of winning with her sights and blasphemous magic. He had spared her among others, and that itself makes you look at him, truly look at him.

In exchange of what— for such things do not concede so easily as gratitude to mercy of one life, yes? Because desire devours itself. A snake eating itself.

"A child," he whispers against your battered head and bruised heart. "From my blood."

"A bastard," you murmur as he stiffens. "From a bastard Strong. Surely the irony is not lost on you? You have started this war by killing your bastard nephew, and you plan on ending it by fathering—"

"Do not question me," he says softly, grip tightening against your arms. Your eyes close, heavy with the weight of being a spy. Of loving him. "I will fuck a babe in her how many times it takes, and when the war is won, I will kill her and it. For your womb is the only place my lineage will live. I am doing this for the good of the realm. For us."

When he thinks you are asleep and leaves— you take your things and make haste to leave. Not once has your people left you in the arms of the kinslayer. Always one maid, always three guards from your father's army, loyal to only you.

You bundle up quick, and rush for the passage, you are blocked by a woman. Pale skin, dark hair, and eyes greener than wildfire. You know her before she speaks. You hold yourself to fight, and the witch of Harrenhal laughs.

"You have changed the tide of destiny, my lady." Her head tilts as if she can see past you and through you. "Once your choice has affirmed, your thread chosen, I cannot stand in the side of the One-Eyed Kinslayer without the Stranger coming for me. So instead, I will grant you one gift. One that will require no sacrifice."

"I do not want it."

"Ah, but it is a gift." She nods at your torso. "Your belly will soon take size, in it, his heir. You will not escape him as soon as he knows." Her head twists to the window. A raven flies. A storm grumbles. The sound comes first before the lightning strikes. A false storm. "Time is flowing, changing and twisting. He may have betrayed his kin, but he is still a prince. He will know soon."

Her green eyes glint as if she is seeing now and tomorrow. Now and a moon. Moon from a year. "You must run now. Hide and hide well."

You hold your stomach, bile rising in your throat. "Where? Where am I safe?"

A faint smile rises to her lips. "Your heir looks more like him than mine did. You will not escape him. But go north. As far North as you can. The fjords can hide him for a while. He will grow well there."

She moves away, letting you pass.

You never look back.

Dark locks. Baratheon hair.

A tuff of silver lock atop his head.

And the rest... his nose, his eyes. With your fingers, you pull his lids. Bloom in mullish blue with the faintest tint of iridescent violet. You know from your histories, that faint tint will overpower the blue.

Oh, he is utterly beautiful. Utterly yours. And utterly his father's son.

Rough breaths strangle out of your raw-bitten lips, brushing blood away from your babe's face, his head, his wet, silvery hair. Few they maybe, unmistakably Valyrian features they still are.

"Oh, he is beautiful," your mother murmurs, tears stain her cheeks. "Quiet as you were, as a babe. Looks just as much as you."

She is weighing his Valyrian features too. Your blood tried, but it seemed as if Aemond's grudge grasped your womb and affected your shared blood.

"We cannot stay," you say, still staring at him, admiring him. Your heart locking in place, steeling itself as you prepare to do your utmost to protect him. "We will have to travel posthaste."

Your mother swallows her grief. She had almost lost you. She will lose you again, now along with her only grandchild. "Where?"

"North. As far as North as we can."

Your mother nods. Ever a lady. "I will send a missive. The Lord Stark is loyal to the Queen and knows by how much you have sacrificed for this realm. He will protect you on his honour or he is no Stark."

You will need to hide. You will need to hide well.

You pull him close to your chest, hot tears freshly spilling from your eyes.

The witch had not lied, for your boy grew up amongst ice and warmth. He grows up with love from you, from the Lord Stark and his people, and love from his father in the way that he resembles him.

The slope of his nose, the sweet purse of his lips.

When your boy had gotten angry once, nothing but a quick burst, it shocks fear and tears from your eyes for you had seen the prince.Nothing more than a flash.

You pull him close and wound him to your heart as he cried, apologising for scaring you.

The North had granted you reprieve from the war as it came and went. Your betrayal to the Greens had mounted to the Black Queen's win. The betrayal of House Baratheon as House Stark and their bannermen joined the fray had squandered any rebellious thought on which sovereign will preside.

The last you heard of what became the Prince Regent was his surrender at the Battle Above God's Eye.

When you had cried that night, you did not know if it was from relief. Or fear.

But a black stag on white snow is easy to spot.

It takes years, yes, but the Stranger is but an old friend.

For when the day of your wedding to the Lord Stark arrives, a familiar screech of a dragon that your marrow will never forget— tolls the bell of death.

And when you looked up, snow swirling, holding onto your son that looked up in awe at the man who looked so much like him—

Aemond is smiling.

Sweet came the word— dracarys! — as Vhagar split her mouth opened and obeyed her rider.

What have I told you?

You are mine as I am yours.

In face of every god and more, they will understand that you and I are but one soul.

#dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond #aemond smut #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒 #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond angst #aemond dark #hotd smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfic

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Buddy Daddies x Delinquent Teen Reader (1)

You’re home was on the streets 

Practically abandoned by your parents, you relied on one of the local gangs for your family

Working to join them for some semblance of protection against the world

And as it would happen it helped 

Despite your teachers and guardian-having friends warning otherwise

Thanks to them you were eating

A far cry from what you were left to before

But past aside your doing well 

Gaining experience and becoming more of an asset to the gang before your saddled with an unlikely obstacle

“Hi there! My name’s Miri, what’s your name?”

Suddenly this bubbly smiley kid is following you around

Somehow finding you in dark alleyways and shadows of buildings 

This kid just won’t leave you alone 

No matter how much you reprimand, sneer, or blatantly insult this kid 

“Kid! Didn’t I tell you to kick rocks? Now if you don’t leave I’ll steal your shoes.”

“W-what, don’t take my shoes my papas got them for me!”

“Then. Leave. Me. Alone.”

she just won’t leave you alone and it all comes to a head when she approaches you when your with your friends

“Well well look at this little tyke!”

“Oh my gosh, they're so small! (Y/n) I didn’t know you had a baby sister!”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah! My name’s Miri.”

And despite your protests they all invite pressure Miri to join you all on a…midnight stroll

Along a train track

It goes as expected and your crew successfully go along the train track until you hear the dreaded sound of the train

And as it would have it Miri’s shoes get caught

“Is everyone off the tracks?”

“Whooo that was close!”

“Where’s Miri?”

Your group resigns to stand by and watch horrified as she struggles with the track and the oncoming train approaches 

Way too close to the train you’re able to yank Miri from the tracks narrowly missing the train hurling by

“Whoa that was clo–”

“See what happens?”

“What? What are you talk–”

“See what happens when you hang around me?!”

“W-what but I love be–”

“You! Almost died! Can’t you see?! You don’t belong here so GO! Go home before you really get hurt.”

She goes home that day with tears in her eyes

While you wordlessly turn back to your group to head back to base

hoping that you don’t see her ever again

For awhile you don’t and things are back to normal

And while you’re spray painting the gang’s sign on a wall a burly woman knocks you to the ground

“Hey watch it, punk!”

“You wanna go pipsqueak!”

Apparently she was from a rival gang, looking to contest this area

Sending a quick call to your team, you prepare to fight this lady 

Narrowly ducking her first punch 

You throw your own 

Standing victorious as she buckles 

But you too would fall to your knees

after a whopping hit in the back of your head

It was an ambush 

And easily you found yourself at their mercy 

Only being released when you hear the separate thuds and the released grip from your arms

“What the–ooomf!”

Your original attacker is silenced by a guy with blonde hair 

Who punches them into a headlock before pulling a gun with silencer

“H-hey-”

Before you could stop him he pulled the trigger, nonchalantly reaching to the sky in a stretch

“Ah man after so long it seems I’ve still got it!” 

You shakily stand holding your arm that stings in pain

You try to limp away while he continues flexing 

But he notices

“Ah ah! (Y/n) don’t run away!”

You sneered, “How do you know my name?”

“Uh…not important. But look, you need to come home with me! Miri misses-”

“Ugh are you Miri’s daddy or something?”

“Papa actually–” “Look old man, what I said to your kid is true. She needs to stay far away from me and you know what? Maybe you should try watching her better.”

“We did. And we were.”

The tired voice was right above you 

Close enough to your back that you could now register the warmth teeming off them

You jump, despite the pain you back away against the brick wall

The man that spoke had black hair pulled back to reveal a pale guy with a grave look on his face

“Ah-! What he means is: we’ve been watching after you and Mirin. And we’ve decided that we’re going to be the papas you need!”

“What?!”

“Ahem we’ve decided–” “You're coming with us.”

“What?! Huh?!”

“Rei! You can’t just say that they're not going to understand!” 

“They’ll understand better when we get them home.”

“No no but there’s a method for these things and with someone of their age–”

The blonde kept talking to the one identified as Rei seemingly dividing their attention

You took the chance to limp as far as you could away reaching into your pocket to retrieve your last line of defense

“That’s enough of that.”

In a flash of black your pocket knife was out of your hand

Briefly squealing in pain at the pressure point being hit near your neck

Slumping into Rei’s arms he moved to cradle you rolling his eyes at Kazuki’s musings

“Rei!? They obviously weren’t ready!”

“They would’ve never been ready.”

“But we did the whole save-them-be-the-saviors-routine!” 

“Does it really matter now that we have them?”

“...Mmmm….Mmmmm!...I still would’ve preferred my way.”

The sounds of tires screeching and the sound of modded engines coming to halt

Had them both perking up

“Oh! Those bad influences actually came!”

“That was unexpected. The broken brakes should have kept them busy.”

“Now here’s the question: do we handle them now or later?”

“Did you throw your back out yet?”

“Hah! Not yet, yours?”

“...”

“Then I say we give ‘em a show!”

When you next awake 

You’re in a well furnished room

All patched up and nursing a sling for your arm

Immediately you get up finding yourself at the top of the stairs before you spotted them

“Hiii (Y/n)!!!” “Ah, good morning (Y/n) did you sleep well?”

There words don’t reach you as you register the blonde man from before and the little girl who’d been following you around

Why were they acting so calm?

They kidnapped you!

And the little girl was in on it too?

“Welp, we're heading out for preschool.”

 “Yup bye (Y/n) later I can’t wait to cele–mmmf!”

The blonde’s hand goes over her mouth sending her to get her shoes before waving to you

“I’ll be back soon! Breakfast is on the counter!” 

Not long after they disappeared from sight you heard the slam of the door

Good now you can–

“Going to have breakfeast?”

Once again that voice rang from behind you

Turning to see the same man with the grave face but this time with scruffier-relaxed look to him

His eyes were still intense and they held you in place all the way to the kitchen 

While eating some regretfully delicious french toast with Rei watching diligently 

Guess this was your life now…the newest unwilling addition to the family

#yandere buddy daddys #yandere rei suwa #yandere buddy daddies #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere buddy daddies x teen delinquent reader #yandere kazuki kurusu #yandere harem #yandere family

[multifariousqueer]

Can you write Miles 42 being like really super duper protective and like controls her, he doesn’t let her go out by herself and stuff like that and is like always watching her. They argue about his over protectiveness but he could care less

Ofc babes!!!

warnings: toxic behaivor, miles being annoying, angst, references to robbery and murder, strong language, INCREDIBLY TOXIC BEHAVIOR!!!!!!, brief mention of drinking, lmk if I missed one or two

A/n: Send more miles 42 reqs pls

730 days. Thats how long you were with this man. Thats how long it's been since you got leave the house alone. Miles was very overprotective since his dad died and he saw the world for what it was. Evil and it was filled with nothing but scum. Miles determined that this world wasn't good enough for you and you needed to be "protected" and kept away from this disgraceful universe. So, he took it upon himself to protect the only two things that mattered to him, you and his mom and he did a good job at it.

Miles would walk you to school, work, home and if you needed something, he would be the one to get it for you:

"Miles baby, I can get it myself; its right outside." you pleaded.

"Nah, Mami. I don't want you outside by yourself. People are fucked up and they will hurt you." He said stoically.

"But-" you started

"Cállate, Y/n. Before I make you” he said, stepping closer

You knew Miles well and you knew to stop pressing because he would just shut down and you hated when he shut down. Miles would just put his hand on his braids and kick something before giving you the same speech:

“Y/n you saw what they did to my father, do you want that to happen to you too? Because if I let you go out by yourself, you’re at risk for that to happen and if it does or if anything or anyone touches you, I will kill them; and that’s a promise, Mami. I will kill anyone that lays a finger on you and not bat an eye. Don’t fuck with me, y/n. Stay close. Let me protect you and we will be good. Aight?"

“okay.” you would say. Miles had a way of making you seem two inches tall in these situations.

You never left his side. For two years, he would watch your every move(he put small cameras in your home. You didn’t notice until three months ago); he would take you shopping but never posted about you just in case a villain would use try to use you as his weakness(because lets face it, you’re his weakness), he would kiss you and be sweet in private but he would act hard when anyone else was around.

It was a cold winter’s day when you decided you had had enough. Your friend y/f/n(your friends name) had invited you out to a party. You had never been to one because of Miles but you decided enough was enough and you were gonna go. So you slipped on a small dress, cute heels and a jacket that made your tits look nice and left:

“I’ll be home soon!” You told your parent

“Okay, y/n. Tell Miles I said hi” they exclaimed

“Okay!” You shouted back. They knew how overprotective Miles was but they knew he was a good person overall so they left it alone.

As you walked to hail a taxi, you felt your phone vibrate:

Miles: Wanna go out?

You: No it’s okay, imma just stay in for tonight

Miles: Nah fr. Let me take you out

You looked down and debated answering the text, but ultimately decided not to. You got in the taxi and went to the party when you saw a shadow dash across the roof.

You walked into the party and greeted your friend:

“GIRL OMG YOU LOOK SO GOOD. WHERE’S MILES?” They shouted over the loud music

“He’s not here, it’s just me. Let’s go grab a drink!” You replied

“Oh Okay!!” Your friend said

As you were walking over, you could’ve sworn you saw a man that looked exactly like your boyfriend but he vanished when a man walked past. You brushed it off and grabbed a cup of jungle juice and went to dance. You grinded against your friend who caught it during the beat drop. You were having the time of your life until you checked your phone:

Miles: I know where you are, y/n. Come home or I’m coming there.

Miles: I should’ve known you’d lie to me. You’ve been acting real shady lately, wanting to go out and shit. Just wait till you get home, we’re gonna address this shit immediately.

Miles: I see you

Miles: Stop ignoring me, y/n. You know you fucked up

Miles: Imagine wearing the chrome heart necklace I got you while dancing like a slut on your friend

Your stomach dropped as you surveyed your surroundings, looking for a sign of him. When you couldn’t see him, you hailed a taxi and went home.

You fidgeted and fiddled the whole way home. The driver looked in his rear view mirror at you:

“You good, Mami?"

The name sent shivers up your spine as it was your boyfriends name for you.

“Oh! I’m fine, just cold haha” you laughed it off

The driver turned on the heat and sooner or later you were home.

You approached your doorstep and went to your room. Your parent was asleep and you walked in your room, thinking his threat was empty, until you went to shower and saw him behind the door:

“MILES” you screamed both in shock and horror

“Y/n.” he said, closing the door, encapsulating you both in the small room together

“I’m so sorry-“ you started

“you should be. What did I tell you, y/n? I do all of this shit for your safety but you continue to fight me and pull these stunts” Miles lectured as he closed in on you. Your height difference becoming more and more apparent

“Stunts? Fight? Miles I have been nothing but obedient to you which I shouldn’t even have to do if you treated me like a person instead of an object. That’s all I am to you isn’t it? An object. A doll. Just something you don’t want other people to have or see?” you argued

But your pleas and your confessions meant nothing to the man. He simply looked at you and said:

“yeah, actually.”

“what?” you said

“You are an object to me, you’re something I have to protect otherwise the world will take you from me like they did him.” Miles said, as stoic as ever

“STOP USING YOUR DAD AS LEVERAGE IN THIS, MILES. THIS ISN’T ABOUT HIM, ITS ABOUT YOU AND ME AND IF YOURE JUST GONNA KEEP TREATING ME THIS WAY, I’LL FIND SOMEONE ELSE.” You shouted, exasperated and on the verge of tears.

“do it, y/n. I dare you to find someone who will care for you and spoil you as much as I do.” Miles said, briefly breaking his nonchalant nature

“Fine I will!” you said reaching for the doorknob.

You left and put on clothes as you made him leave.

“You’ll be back.” Miles said, nonchalantly

“Fuck you, Miles Morales.” you said

It had been a week and you were sulking and debating getting back with the man when your family and friends told you were doing the right thing:

“I’m glad you left him, y/n. I heard he’s the prowler.” Your parent said

“Yeah I’m glad I left too.” you mumbled

As you were enjoying your fifth night of freedom, you saw a woman get mugged on the street:

“GIVE ME YOUR PURSE NOW LADY” The masked man shouted

The woman did as told and the man escaped but not before looking at you and running in your direction. With Miles, that man would’ve never even had the though to look at you.

You ran as fast as you could until you lost him in an alley behind your apartment. You decided you missed him too much and he was right so you pulled out your phone:

You: Miles you were right. I’m so sorry

Miles: typing...

Miles: its okay, I knew you’d find out soon enough; so what happened, Mami?

You: Some mugger saw me and charged at me and he had a knife

Miles: What did he look like

You: Beanie, knife, blue shirt and black pants

seen

You went home and went to sleep. The next morning you heard the news blaring in the house, along with the smell of bacon wafting through the house

“What happened?” you asked

“some mugger got killed.” your parent said

You had a stinging sensation in your gut and prayed that it wasn’t what it looked like when you heard the woman on the TV:

“It seemed like there were claw marks In his chest and he had been blasted with a ray gun."

Oh God...

You went to text Miles when you saw his text:

“You don’t gotta worry about that guy anymore, Mami. I’ll be at your house at 10.”

#mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #marvel #miles x reader #miles morales headcannons #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles morales #earth 42 #earth42!miles #across the spiderverse #prowler!miles #spiderman #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse spoilers #i need him #marry me #for you #dark!milesmorales

[avensthetic]

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐄, 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 (max feat. huh yun-jin of le sserafim)

let's get married in vegas we don't need guest list i don't wanna think too much let's get matching tattoos i don't wanna think it through baby, I'm so stupid in love book a flight to paris only one way what'd you think about sharing our last name? let's get straight to "i do" i don't wanna think it through baby, I'm so stupid in love

𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙎 𝙏𝙍𝙐𝙇𝙔

aventurine stood at the doorway, the gloom that hung over him highlighted by the moonlight. his eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were clouded with exhaustion, his body slumped with a weariness that went beyond the physical.

the moment he staggered through the familiar doorway, every fiber of your being screamed his name. but the words died in your throat, replaced by a gasp as he collapsed into your arms. his grip was so tight, almost frantic, like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline. for one terrifying moment, you feared you held nothing more than the ghost of the man you loved.

"aventurine," you finally choked out, your voice shaky, "are you okay?"

he made a choked sound that might have been a laugh, but his eyes - usually bright with mischief - held only shadows. "depends. are you going to yell at me?"

anger sparked, bright and hot, but blanked just as quickly under a surge of worry. "are you injured? can i get you something?" you rattled off, tracing the wrinkle of his furrowed brow, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion.

he shook his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck. his next words were barely a whisper, laced with a familiar vulnerability. "just... hold me for a little while."

you did, sinking to the floor with him, wrapping yourself around his trembling frame. his familiar scent, mixed with sweat and blood, was a harsh reminder of the ordeal he'd endured. he had always shielded you from his true battles, from the real risks he took. now, those risks were undeniable, bleeding out of his usual bravado.

minutes stretched into eternity. you didn't speak, simply held him. gradually, the tension in his body began to ease, replaced by an exhaustion that made him lean all his weight on you. it was then you noticed the subtle tremble in his breathing, the way he kept one hand tucked deliberately behind his back. he always did this when putting up a front, in front of his opponents, sat in front of mountains of chips, cards stacked high, risks in every bet.

high risk, high return. all in. the phrases he always mutter under his breath once irked you. with no regards to his life, it made you fear that he'd one day leave you, that he'd just vanish. masking his fears with his left hand clutched tightly behind his back, aventurine lived life on the edge, unable to put his trust in his luck, much less believe in himself.

"aventurine," you murmured, gently pulling back, "your other hand..."

he stiffened, the usual cockiness abruptly gone. before he could evade your gaze, you captured his wrist, tugging his hand into view. his fingers were clenched - tightly, painfully so. you carefully pried them open, gasping softly at the sight of the simple silver ring nestled in his palm.

"what...?" your voice faltered, a mixture of confusion, joy, and a flicker of hurt. you'd waited so long, endured so much uncertainty, radio silence broken only by his haunting absence.

"marry me," he blurted out, the words raw and unfamiliar. clutched tight within his fist was the simple ring, simple and lacking the usual shallow glamor of diamonds, a silent offering of everything he couldn't yet put into words. "it's another gamble at life, i know," he added, the cocky smirk returning, a fragile shield against the vulnerability he'd just revealed. "but the odds of you saying yes seem pretty damn good..."

"idiot," you said softly, tracing the outline of his trembling fist, "would it kill you to ask me normally?"

mistaking your words for anger and rejection, aventurine flinched. he had pondered over it for a long time, thought of you when he watched you sleep peacefully, and even when he was out facing death. and he realized then while in penacony, that if there was something he can't leave nor let go, it's you. "i...i mean it. marry me, i swear i'm serious. don't let me go, don't leave, i swear i'll-"

"silly," you hushed, a finger on his lips. "don't hide your hand. this isn't one of your big bets, not one where you'd lose, because my answer to you will always be yes."

relief washed over his face, so intense it made your heart ache. his eyes, when he met yours, brimmed with unspoken emotion. he leaned forward, burying his face in your hair.

"i went somewhere so far, somewhere so dark... i nearly didn't make it back," he confessed, voice rough with emotion. you shivered at his tone, the bleak despair etched into his words.

"you came back," you whispered, cupping his face and tilting his chin up. "that's all that matters."

he kissed you then, with a desperation that stole your breath away. it wasn't the soft, playful kisses you were used to. this was raw, desperate, filled with a hunger that took your breath away. his hands sought purchase in your hair, against your skin, as if seeking reassurance you were real, that this wasn't some dream conjured by a lonely, weary mind.

you responded with the same pent-up intensity, fingers tightening in his shirt, needing that tangible proof he was back, he was safe. there'd be time for questions later. for now, just the heady scent of him, the rasp of his breath against your skin, it was enough.

breaking away, he leaned his forehead against yours. "penacony was...." he faltered, the usual confidence in his voice cracking. "you, this..." his gaze swept over you, over the safe haven of his penthouse that you made a home for him to return to, "you kept me going. the thought of you, i held onto it like a lifeline."

tears welled up in your eyes. so many nights spent staring at your ceiling, the deafening silence with his absence driving you insane. you brushed his unruly hair away from his brow, his warmth a reassuring presence.

"i love you kakavasha," you said, the words thick with emotion, "and i'm so, so glad you're home."

he closed his eyes, a kiss pressed to each tear that fell down your face. "you deserve better than this," he murmured, voice barely a whisper.

"i deserve you." you were firm, leaving no room for argument. aventurine...kakavasha — your kakavasha, was many things - reckless, calculating, infuriatingly difficult at times. but he was yours. he's here, he's alive, and he had chosen you. right now, with a ring he slipped into your finger, this was more than enough.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕 - 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - 𝐄𝐍𝐃

#💌. from me to you #aventurine x reader #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x you #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr imagines

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Apologies — Lucifer X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of tragic death, mentions of assault, insinuation of a mental breakdown, Angel being a caring and kinky bestie, Fat Nuggets being an absolute sweetheart, Lucifer being a mess, fluff, brief sexual innuendos.

Word Count: 1.3K

Summary: You got into an argument with Lucifer and it ended with you walking out.

It had been a stupid argument that caused you to walk out before you could say something you'd regret. It hadn't been stupid to you, but rather Lucifer described it as stupid.

He realized his mistake the moment your eyes widened, filled with tears and you walked out the door without another word. He followed you, but it was too late. You were gone from his sight and you could be anywhere, especially with your long list of contacts and insane ability to hide in the shadows.

You opened up to him about the way you died. Ten years you had been in hell and told nobody how you met your tragic end. Nobody asked. Not until Lucifer, not until today.

The details of your captors drugging, breaking, and killing you slowly to avenge their friend who you accidentally killed, to save you and your best friend from being assaulted, came out.

Kicking. Screaming. Turning your throat raw with emotion, they came out.

You weren't even sure how it had turned into an argument, when your boyfriend of a year was the one who wanted to know.

Before you knew it, you found yourself at the hotel. It was the safest place to go, you thought. Charlie was thankfully out for the day, having mentioned over breakfast that she was taking Vaggie to the only art gallery in the Pride Ring.

The doors slammed behind you as you attempted to reign in your emotions. It didn't matter what you did, hot tears streamed down your face and your hands trembled with every step.

Angel reached you just in time for your legs to give out. He caught you and held you close, having never seen you like that before. His first instinct was to question you on what happened, but he could feel your sobs becoming heavier.

He scooped you up easily and got you upstairs to his room, asking that nobody says a word about you being there. If asked, nobody had seen you since breakfast.

Angel Dust rubbed circles on your back, like you had done for him many times, as he waited for you to calm down and regulate your breathing enough to speak clearly.

For him, it felt odd being the one to give comfort, rather than receiving it from you.

"You wanna tell me what happened, Toots? Coming in like that, you got me all worried."

You turned your head to the side and sniffled, embarrassment creeping in at the fact that your best friend had just seen you have a breakdown. And you had cried into the fluff of his chest so easily, as if you had done it a dozen times.

You stayed silent for another couple moments, not yet trusting yourself to speak without a trembling voice.

He kept rubbing circles on your back, just like you always did when he needed an extra moment or two to compose himself after a particularly rough session at the studio.

"I told him how I died." You said. Your voice was so quiet and defeated that Angel almost missed it. He would've, had he not been waiting to hear your voice.

It didn't take a rocket scientist for him to know that you meant Lucifer. After all, you spent most of your free time with him and the rest of it was helping out at the hotel (mostly keeping an eye on Alastor).

"It didn't go well?" Angel asked. You shook your head and inhaled a shaky breath.

"We ended up arguing — I couldn't even tell you about what, but he said the argument was stupid. . . I guess he was right. The argument was stupid and so am I, for even thinking —"

"Hey, you're not stupid." Angel firmly cut you off. His tone of voice caught you by surprise. "You're one of the smartest sinners I know, and that's saying something because I know some real dumb fucks that would blow your fuckin' mind, Toots."

You went silent again. Angel sighed.

"Listen, you don't have to tell me how you died. I'd never pressure you to, just like you never pressured me to tell you. . . But as your best friend in all of hell, I'm obligated to tell you that you shouldn't hide from your problems."

"That's kinda my thing, though." You sighed.

"I know. But you'll have to talk to him eventually." He untangled his limbs from yours and gently lifted you so that he could lay you on his bed. "I'm gonna grab something from the kitchen for you, alright? Get some rest. You cried for like an hour."

You adjusted yourself until you were in a comfortable position. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'll be back." He scratched Fat Nuggets head before he slipped out of the room.

The plump little pig easily maneuvered the bed, grunting with each step until he landed in front of your face and licked your nose. You couldn't help but smile at the adorable creature.

"Hey, Nuggs. . ." You cooed, allowing the little pig to lay himself against your chest.

You didn't even notice that his warmth lulled you to sleep until a glass of water and a pastry of sorts being set on the bedside table roused you from your light slumber.

"Hey, you." You stretched your stiff muscles as you greeted your friend. How much time had passed? It couldn't have been more than five minutes, right?

Angel didn't hesitate to get straight to the point as he saw you were feeling far better than you had been when you arrived.

"The short king is here. He wants to see you, doesn't believe you're not here."

You groaned and sat up, reaching for the water and pastry. The water chilled your throat and the small fruit pastry calmed the hunger that had apparently been there all afternoon.

"What do I do?" You ask once you've finished.

"Suck his dick or let him eat you out, I don't know, somethin'. You do better with this therapy shit than I do."

You groan once again as you stand from the bed, finally deciding to talk to him. Angel was right. You were better at the therapy shit than he was. He was there for you and tried his best. That was all that mattered.

You purposely took your time getting to the lobby, trying to go over what you wanted to say in your head.

But once you got down there and Lucifer laid eyes on you, he sprung into action, rushing over to pull you into his arms.

"[Y/N]! Honey, baby, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for any of that to happen the way it did! I don't care — I mean, I do," he stuttered nervously. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry and I love you. Please forgive me! I never want to see you look at me like that again, I'm sorry. . ."

The words came out so quickly that you barely had the brain power to understand what he was saying, but it clicked soon and you wrapped your arms around him.

"I forgive you. . . I shouldn't have walked out, so I'm sorry too. . . I love you so much. . ."

Lucifer released his hold on you enough to get a good look at your face. "Never apologize for something you have the right to feel some way about."

You smile softly and cup his cheeks with both hands, pressing a quick kiss square on his lips.

He groaned the moment you pulled away. "Then you do the same, Luci. . . Can we please discuss murder plans over dinner from that place you told me about that just reopened down the street?" You ask sweetly.

"Absolutely we can! Anything you want, honey, it's yours. Anything at all." He promised with a broad smile. He had a feeling that he knew which murders you were planning, especially since he had been planning them the entire time you were telling him your story.

You knew he was already two steps ahead. That was good enough for you.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin x reader #fem reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel

[princekeerys]

Hi! I was wondering if you can do a Alastor x paralysis demon fem! reader (basically reader is like Freddy Krueger and can haunts peoples dreams and kill them. If the person they kill in their dream dies, they also die in real life.) The reader can always be tired since when the reader themselves fall asleep they’re transferred to someone else’s dreams so they don’t get sleep. Like none. So it’s just some fluffy stuff with Alastor and very sleepy reader! Extra points if you include reader having a demonic sheep pet with them. (Like how when people sleep they count sheep 🌝)

— my first piece of alastor literature! i’m very nervous that this isn’t accurate but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy :)

☾. °.   ࿐  ` , •

oatmilk flavoured coffee, the type of beverage that comforted you and filled you with a sense of warmth and comfort. a yawn escaped you as the bags under your eyes were becoming more prominent with every night that ended up sleepless.

it was yet another tiring night of drifting off to someone else’s dreams and adding pure nightmare fuel to the peace and quiet of an innocent victim, only to off them and add them to your kill count — you didn’t mind. it was entertaining to watch them try and escape and think that they’ve won, only for you to be the last thing they see before everything goes black.

but oh boy, was it exhausting.

you were sat on one of the sofas in the main entrance of the hazbin hotel, your legs resting to the side of you on the plush cushions as you rested against the arm rest, warm mug in hand, sipping peacefully.

you really wanted sleep. even a simple nap would do. but that was never going to happen, and you knew it.

“heavens, my dear, you look exhausted!” you look up from your outer-space-daze on the floor to see alastor. he’s got that usual smile on his face; you’re happy to see it. you give a meek grin in response. “you know me, always tired”

your feet are on the floor now as you give alastor a place to sit beside you. something about his presence beside you makes you feel warm; just like the coffee your drinking. that’s almost cold by now, but it’s fine.

“oh trust me, my dear, i’m well aware of how exhausted you’ve been as of late,” you take small glances at alastor as he cleans his monocle with his red coat sleeve, the way his oh-so fluffy hair flops with grace atop his head. perhaps it’s the exhaustion taking over your body as you begin to feel fuzzy on the inside.

yeah, definitely exhaustion.

“these hotel walls are missing your lively personality, sweetheart”

“…you’ve noticed?”

he doesn’t wanna admit it, bites his tongue as to not speak of such a thing. he wants to use the excuse of ‘his shadows see everything’ — which wasn’t half a lie in this particular scenario. but he has been noticing your tiresome self a lot more. he rolls his eyes “i’m the steadfast hotelier, i have to take notice in some things, don’t i? otherwise this establishment would be an absolute mess!”

“damn, too bad you didn’t take notice sooner, maybe i wouldn’t be an absolute mess right now” you take a sip of your drink, hiding your now blushing face behind your coffee mug.

oh, you really shouldn’t’ve said that.

“hmm, are you saying that you wanted me to take notice of you?” he takes up another space closer to you. of-fucking-course he’d do that. teasing bastard.

“i’m tired, al. i have no idea what i’m saying. what did i just say?”

you hear alastor chuckle as he stands up from his spot beside you, his presence now cold air beside you.

“perhaps try counting sheep tonight, darling. at least it would put that… pet you have to good use” you stop mid slurp, looking up behind your mug at the radio demon in front of you with scrunched eyebrows. cute.

“you leave lambie out of this”

like/reblog/comment if you liked my work, i greatly appreciate it!

#❥ lexi’s daydreams #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor fluff #alastor angst #alastor imagine #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel blurb #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon

[pinkeoni]

This moment keeps me up at night—

because it doesn’t align with what we’re being told the entire season.

The point that they tell us explicitly in the dialogue in season one is that Joyce was right about everything.

She wasn’t hallucinating, she wasn’t out of her mind, she was right.

So then, if Joyce was right about everything, if she wasn’t just hallucinating Will in a bout of hysteria, why then choose to show us a clear example where she is hallucinating Will?

Unless she wasn’t.

I will admit that there is a chance that this is just a dream or a hallucination. Joyce is very sleep deprived and was just told that her son had died. I wouldn’t put it past her to have dream visions of her newly dead son. The scene is also presented as if this is the case, with Joyce shown sleeping before seeing Will and then sharply waking up after the fact.

So okay, case closed, maybe it’s looking like this really is just a dream situation after all 😂 but I wanna just entertain the harmless idea that maybe the audience is being mislead with the dream allegations.

So the scene above actually happens right after we get the first confirmation that Will is still alive, when El is able to find him singing over the radio.

So we learn that Will is still alive at the top of the episode, the title sequence plays, and then we get a scene where Will appears right in front of Joyce. The sequence of events should be enough to at least raise an eyebrow.

At the end of the episode, Joyce recieves the verification for herself when Will is able to make contact with her. I want to point out that Will is able to do so while screaming for his mom, exactly the same thing that “dream” Will was doing.

So what do I think? That Will was actually physically in the Rightside Up? That he some how got through and then decided to go back in?

Well, no, not exactly, but he could have been doing some form of shadow walking— or his consciousness travelling to the other plane.

Of course since I’m a Will has powers truther I think that his powers are at play here. Shadow walking is brought up by Dustin in the subsequent episode—

And we see this very type of thing in season two with Will’s true sight.

Was Will just seeing into the Upside Down? Or was there a projection of himself that was physically in the UD? I’m going to say in the latter option, considering that the Mind Flayer was able to physically enter Will’s body during one of these true sight episodes.

Bringing it back to the scene at the very beginning of the post, I’d like to propose that this is what Will was doing, using his powers to shadow walk into the RU from the UD.

I don’t think Will waa be aware that he was using his powers. He was thrown into a high stakes situation, scared, and desperately wanted to get back to his mom and his powers were running amuck without him consciously knowing. This instance of him shadow walking to reach his mom is similar to what happens with the lights, his powers are activating as a way to reach his mom. It’s also implicated through dialogue that the thing with the lights is because of Will.

It would make total sense for his powers to activate in this way, even if he wasn’t conscious it was powers, based on how we know powers work in the show. It’s when El remembers the strong love that her mother feels for her that she is able to unlock her ability to open gates, a unique power that El herself probably didn’t even know she had.

So all of this being said, while made to be believable that Joyce was just dreaming, there’s still enough evidence to suggest that this image of Will was a manifestation of his powers.

Think about it this way, if you wanted Will having powers to be a twist, then you would want to write it in a way where the hints are all there, but there’s enough room to believe that the opposite is also true, so you aren’t playing all of your cards all at once. If Joyce was undoubtedly awake and seeing a vision of Will, that would be way too obvious right off the bat.

#will byers #will byers has powers #el hopper #terry ives #joyce byers #stranger things #stranger things theory #my theory #byler #<- target audience

[leahrintarou]

🎃 Oikawa Toru - Sounding

Warnings: sounding, bdsm, sub! Oikawa, fem reader, usage of sounding rods, Oikawa is trying something new. Word Count: 3.7k

"toru, i have a question" y/n asked, legs stretched out across the boy's lap as they sat on the sofa of his home. they were in a comfortable silence and y/n's question was the first thing that was said between the two within the last hour. "which is?" he questioned, still deep into the book that he was reading.

y/n sat up, eye's noticing that he wasn't exactly focused on what she was about to say. she rolled her eye's, laying back down before opening her phone to send the brunette a particular link to a particular video. his phone vibrated against the arm of the sofa and he glanced at it before looking over to y/n. "why did you text me? I'm right here."

y/n mumbled a "just check your phone." which only struck more confusion in oikawa. he placed his book down onto the coffee table before unlocking his phone, the illumination of the screen creating shadows on his face. there was some silence and y/n watched as oikawa's eyes widened when he opened the link. "why the fuck did you send me this?" he questioned, flipping his phone to show y/n the explicit video that she'd sent to his phone.

"i have an offer." she started, smiling when oikawa's attention was now on her. "no" he immediately said. "toru, what the fuck?" she frowned, almost whining at his sudden rejection. "don't 'what the fuck' me. if you're about to ask what i think you are, the answer is no".

"how do you know what i was about to ask?"

oikawa sighed, shutting his phone off before resting his hand on y/n's leg, slightly turning his body to face her figure. "you want to try sounding and you want me to be the person you try it with. am i right or am i right?" he says, knowing the answer to his hypothetical question when y/n visibly deflated at his words.

"please, toru?"

"y/n, can't you ask one of your many clients who are actually into bdsm?" he questioned. y/n sighed, reluctant to give him an answer but since she was the one who needed his help, she realized that it's probably not a good idea to have secrets. "i have a client this weekend who wants me to sound him, but i've never done that before and i don't wanna hurt him"

"okay, so I'm your lab rat and you're willing to hurt me?"

his tone was full of offense and y/n thought about how badly she worded it. "no, no, no. you're just…less likely to sue me if something goes wrong,"

he glared at y/n, making her finally sit up to complete her defensive claim. "not that anything will go wrong. but, you've let me try other things on you so what's wrong now?" she questioned, noticing how he was tapping at her leg with anticipation. probably fidgeting from this whole situation. "well, i don't know y/n. there's a pretty big fucking difference between wanting to tie me up and wanting to shove something in my di-"

"TORU!"

"what, y/n?" this time he sighed leaning his head agaisnt the plush of the sofa. y/n was one of his closest friends and due to her small side hobby of being a camgirl/dominatrix, he'd always help her out with practicing or making sure that she was doing things right off camera, rather than making mistakes on camera. overall just talking her through what feels good and what doesn't from a guy's perspective.

this however, was something that he never tried and from the looks of it, something that he was glad to miss out on. "can you just watch the video later and then give me your final answer. i know you're not completely opposed to it, you're just nervous to try something like that"

there was a small silence before she spoke again. "right?" she questioned. he rolled his eye's, sighing before mumbling a small "whatever."

----------

oikawa had been trying to get some sleep for the night for the past thirty minutes, but since y/n had returned back to her home, he was now left alone with his thoughts. everything in his body was telling him to not reach for his phone but before he could even deny the urges, he found himself going to he and y/n's exchanged messages. his thumb hovered over the screen before closing his eye's and clicking onto the link.

it brought him to an adult sight and once he clicked the play button, he was met with a couple who's faces were a mystery to him the camera was focused on the semi-hard erection of the guy as the woman applied lube to the ridged metal rod and some extra on her partner's member.

oikawa visibly winced as she was inserting the ribbed rod, receiving a moan from the guy in return. he was expecting anything but that. maybe a scream of terror, him grabbing her wrist to stop her movements, or maybe even the video ending right there and then. but no. instead, pleasure filled moans errupted from the guys voice and oikawa sighed in annoyance. he hated how his body was finding this whole video intriguing and exciting. his body was reacting on it's own so oikawa decided he had enough and clicked off the video, going back to he and y/n's shared messages.

oikawa --> y/n: when is your appointment with that sounding guy?

y/n --> oikawa: lol, change of heart?

oikawa --> y/n: shut up. just answer my question

y/n --> oikawa: it's two nights from now :)

oikawa --> y/n: okay, I'm free tomorrow night. does that sound okay?"

y/n --> oikawa: ha ha, sound. anyways..of course. what made you change your mind? did u watch the vid i sent?

oikawa --> y/n: yeah. either that guy's really into pain, or it's not as bad as i thought. if it's the first one and this whole thing is like a torture mechanism, then im never letting you do anything to me again

y/n --> oikawa: lol, you'll be fine, toru. get some rest, i don't want you to be tired tomorrow. <3

oikawa --> y/n: alright, goodnight, y/n.

y/n --> oikawa: goodnightttt <33

oikawa sat up from his laying position on his bed before staring down at his lap, letting out a frustrated groan.

'cold shower it is'

----------

"you can head over now. i'm back home from the store" y/n said through the phone line. oikawa mumbled a small "okay" before the call was dropped. he'd just gotten out of the shower which is why the loosly hung towel that was around his waist was soon discarded to his bed. he walked over to his closet, grabbing a pair of briefs before pulling them onto his body. he followed after with a t-shirt and some sweatpants, not overthinking about what he wore since it'd most likely be off the minute he arrived at y/n's home.

he grabbed his phone and wallet, pocketing both items before grabbing his car keys from the kitchen counter to head out of his home. he closed and locked the door behind himself.

----------

"TORU"

y/n smiled happily when she saw her bestfriend standing at her door. he walked in, being abruptly stopped when y/n gave him a warm hug and a small peck to his cheek. he pulled back, looking at her since her overly excited state was a bit unusual. "why're being so affectionate?"

"can i not give my bestfriend a small kiss?"

"well we do more than just kissing so im sure that's the least of our worries" he shrugged, kicking off his shoes before walking to y/n's kitchen to grab a waterbottle from her refrigerator. he downed the entire thing within seconds and y/n let out a small snort. "why are you so nervous?"

"wow y/n, i have no fucking clue. definitely not because you're about to shove a fucking stripper pole into my dick?"

y/n turned away, trying to hide her laugh and oikawa rolled his eyes at her inability of being serious is serious situations. "i didn't order the huge ones. i realized that wouldn't be a good idea for neither of us. i got the thinner sized one" she reassured. he sighed staring at y/n as she smiled back at him. "i'll be gentle, i promise."

she reached for oikawas hand, bringing his figure to the sofa so they could take a seat. there was room temperature water on the coffee table and the tv was at a low volume, displaying their favorite childhood cartoon. "what are we doing?" he asked, confused as to why she wasnt bringing him to her room and/or undressing him. "you're too tense. you gotta relax so lets chill out. no need to rush anything" she explained, turning up the volume of the show.

he took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a small second. y/n was used to this process of making sure her clients or in this case, bestfriend; was comfortable before starting anything relatively close to intimacy. he rested the back of his head onto y/n's shoulder and she snaked her hand around his waist. a silence fell upon them as they comfortably admired the display of the childish show.

oikawa was appreciative of the given silence that y/n allowed them to have and the ooccasional 'no way's and 'what the hell's that fell from her lips in a whisper, were strangely comforting.

at some point though, oikawa become hyper aware of just how close they actually were. his sweatpants hung loosly on his waist since he failed to tighten the strings before he left his home in a haste. his v-line was exposed just underneath his shirt and y/n drew light circles against the area with her chilled digits. oikawa readjusted his body just the slightest bit to get a good look at y/n.

just as he did so, y/n met his eyes too and with some unspoken want, they were drawn to eachother, leaning into a shared kiss that only became sloppy from oikawa's neediness. the night when he even texted y/n to plan this upcoming event, she gave him strict instructions to not touch himself for the remaining days so his time with her could be a little bit more fun. a few cold showers later, he had a lot pent up and was honestly grateful to finally get some release.

"are you ready now?" she asked, pulling back from their kiss when he hesitantly nodded. y/n smiled and he followed her down the hallway and into her room. there he saw how she'd propped up a few pillows for him and on a small table next to her bed, there remained a fluffled towel. on top of the fabric was a pair of black nitrile gloves, a bottle of lube, and a thin stainless steel rod with a ring at the end. this one was smooth in comparison to the one in the video that he watched and y/n noticed how his gaze focused on it for that very fact.

"i don't want to go overboard, so we'll start off a bit easy for now" she says, motioning for him to remove his bottoms and lay on the soft fabric of her bed. he did so, only his straining briefs and t-shirt remaining on his frame. y/n pulled the glove over both her hands, before taking a seat on the side-edge of the bed. "okay, were sticking to our traffic light system..same as usual." she clarified, making oikawa nod. his knees were pulled to his chest and y/n smiled before turning back around to make sure everything was in place.

she heard some movement behind herself and without even glancing to look, y/n mumbled a strict. "you better not be touching yourself, toru." she felt him stiffen and still behind her and once she turned around. she saw that a palm was over his lap, clearly doing what she'd infer he was. "do you always have to tease during these things?" he questioned, sighing when y/n gently removed his hand from it's place over his prominent print.

"it's not a matter of teasing. I'm making this easier for the both of us. it's harder to sound if you're fully erect so for now, no touching unless it's my hand. got it?" she waited for him to nod and when he did, y/n smiled before leaning closer to his pouted lips and giving him a quick peck thats soon merged into a makeout. oikawa immediately allowed himself to drown in the action, letting out a soft moan when the pads of her gloved fingers grazed the tip of his forming and clothed erection. her hand then rested on his thigh as she swiftly crawled atop his figure. she seated herself on his thighs to keep his movements minimum with a restraining straddle while her hand reached under the fabric of his shirt, caressing the warmth of his toned abdomen.

"don't space out too much. i need you to listen to me throughout the whole thing."

oikawa hummed, leaning closer to y/n's lips to get another taste before she unfortunately pulled away. "y/n" he called, annoyed by her constant teasing that was now driving him up the wall. "i have to start now or else you'll get too riled up" she reassured, left palm sliding down his abdomen to abruptly stop at his restrained erection. fishing two fingers into the elastic waistband of his briefs, y/n pulled it down, revealing all of his length. as she pulled down the article of clothing, she simultaneously reached over to the table next to the bed-side.

grasping the bottle of lubricant into her hold, y/n popped open the cap as she hit it with the heel of her palm. she dispensed some into her gloved palm, focusing down at the amount before taking a glance up to oikawa.

"toru" she called. he questioned a small "hm?" before she continued. "what's your color?" just as he was about to answer, y/n dribbled a bit of the clear liquid to the tip of his erection, making him shiver from the unpleasant temperature. he bit down on his cheek as y/n's hand suddenly grasped him into a gentle hold.

she evenly spread the gel-like liquid all around him, only stopping when she still didn't receive an answer from her bestfriend. "color..toru?" she reminded. humming when he managed to voice a calm "green".

y/n reached over to the table once again, now bringing back the metal rod. oikawa's breath hitched and y/n's eye's darted up to his own. he nodded, urging for y/n to continue. with the slight reassurance, y/n applied a bit more of the lube to the rod itself, evenly spreading it along the length of the tool. she held the item in her left hand, palming his groin with her right. "relax…"

y/n released her palming hold before gently grasping oikawa's length into her hold. he watched intently as the cold metal was met with his slit, the anticipation practically eating him alive. y/n slowly inserted a few centimeters of the rod into his erect member, simultaneously drawing a whine from his voice. his chest rose an fell at a quickened pace when y/n pushed it in a bit further. "breathe, toru." she says, stopping her movements so he could recollect himself.

"i'm not going to force you to take more than you can handle" y/n looked up at his tense features, before his eyes met with her own. "I-it feels weird" he said through a strained voice. "do you want to stop?" y/n smiled when he shook his head almost immediately. "see? that means it's not as bad as you thought."

oikawa's closed his eyes, allowing his head to fall back onto the pillow when y/n continued to push the rod just a bit further. "you're half way there." she smiled, feeling proud that her bestfriend is doing so well at this new experience. oikawa let out a strained moan when she used her other hand to slowly pump his now sensitive member. he tried to call her name but his voice came out at a needy whine when her movements started to speed up. he reached for her wrist, trying to stop her overwhelming gifts of pleasure, but his hand quickly went over his lips as he tried to muffle his noises.

y/n knew that oikawa was one to try to keep his sound to a minimum but on this particular night, he was struggling to do so. he was quite vocal and honestly, y/n was all for it. he sounded angelic almost. voice gradually getting more hoarse as the straining and muffling continued. y/n inched the remaining length of the rod into oikawa's fully erected member and it took everything in him to not finish right there and then.

y/n released the ring of the rod, letting it fall before focusing on jerking slow, yet skilled movements around the sensitive length of oikawa's member. "fuck.." small babbles of swears fell from his lips as her suttle moments continued to drive him up the wall. she felt how he fidgeted under herself, making her press a firm palm to his thigh to secure his stillness.

y/n reached for the ring that was at the end of the rod, giving it a slow pull before she reinserted it back into place. "y/n, s-stop. you're gonna make me cum.." he said, a panicked tone heavying through panting breaths. she didn't slow down her movements at all and just before oikawa could get the satisfaction of release and relief, y/n let go of his member all together, leaving him a twitching mess at the lost contact.

"y/n, please. don't do that tonight. i cant-" he breathes, his voice whiny with need. y/n smiled, tugging on the ring of the rod once again, erupting a whinper from his lips. she slowly pushed it back in, his pre-cum finding its way to spew out around the object. y/n was shocked to say the least. despite how much oikawa complained and denied the act of sounding at all, here he was, completely losing himself within the sensation of just that alone. y/n wasn't even directly touching him, yet he was still receiving enough pleasure to feel partially satisfied.

"…'m so close, y/n." his warning brought some anticipation to y/n as his slick now coated the rod to allow her to pick up the paced pattern of her given pleasure. y/n noticed how oikawa's hand slowly reached for himself and she swiftly stopped his movements by moving his hand away. "you don't need it." she said.

she wanted him cum untouched.

on any other day, he would've claimed that the whole situation was seemingly impossible, but with the way that he was currently feeling, oikawa was suprised that he'd even been able to hold out for as long as he has up til now. "i wanna cum. please. " he whined, eye's shutting tightly when a singular push of the rod into his erection finally sent him over the edge. his hips stuggled to lift from the bed due to y/n straddling him and his body involuntary jolted against his will when y/n began to gently slide the tool out from its secure place.

his arousal spewed out from around the metal object and it was accompanied by his heavy and hoarse pants that failed to come out as moans due to his ruined state. his body shivered under y/n and his erection twitched when the rod was fully removed. y/n reached for his length, taking it into her grasp before giving it an expiremental pump. oikawa's hips rutted up, desperately trying to get some friction as the evidence of his previous orgasm still continued to leak from his member, dribbling down y/n's gloved hand.

"you did so good, toru" she smiled, leaning down to give a lazy kiss to his slightly parted lips. "i'm never doing that again" he managed to say, catching y/n off guard. she asked for his reasoning behind his sudden statement and as he tried to steady his breeath, oikawa mustered up a bit of energy. "i've never felt so f-fucked out. ever"

y/n smiled at him, releasing his softening member from her hold before standing up to grab her previously prepared wash cloth. y/n made quick movements to the bathroom, wetting the fabric with some warm water before wringing it out in the sink. she returned to oikawa's figure who's eyes were beginning to heavy from exhaustion. she wiped up the arosal that was spread throughout parts of his body whether it was intentional or not.

oikawa let out a soft moan when y/n's hand made contacting with his overly sensitive member. she smiled at the familiar sound as it soothed her ears for a small second. "what's your color now?" she wiped off some residue from his thighs and groin before discarding the washcloth to the nearby table. he mumbled a quiet "yellow" as he pulled his briefs back up to his hips, going limp against y/n's pillows after he was beginning to settle down. "you want anything to drink?" she asked, pulling the gloves off of her hands with a sharp snap.

he shook his head, curling up on his side as he pulled his knees to his chest. y/n reached for a folded blanket, tossing it over his figure as his eye's began to heavy and close, unable to keep up with y/n's awoken state. she tried to be her quietest as she cleaned up the items that were resting on the table by the bedside feeling nothing but satisfaction at their expiremental session.

"y/n" oikawa called. she looked over at him from her place on the couch, waiting for him to continue. "later tonight…can we…" he made a motion with his hand and somehow, y/n understood him, giving him a nod, along with an "of course".

"another thing,"

"which is?" she asked, attention now focused on the frame of her bestfriend all around.

"can you sound me.. again?"

AUTHORS NOTE - tysm for reading! i hope you enjoyed day one of kinktober :) leave a note to support!

#haikyuu #hq smut #kinktober #haikyu x reader #haikyuu oikawa #haikyu smut #haiyuu!! #toru oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa tōru #oikawa #oikawa smut #oikawa x reader #hq oikawa #anime smut #haikyuu smut #x reader #fem reader #bdsmplay #hq fanfic #haikyū!! #anime #hq anime #smut stories #smut smut smut #oneshot #haikyuu imagines #oikawa imagine #oikawa torū #oikawa x y/n

[violet-catsarelife]

red hood Tim aus get me so bad bc in why on earth does this privileged dead guy care about crime alley? what weight does it hold to him???? it only makes sense to have steph be the second robin realistically.

It kinda feels like I'm inviting discourse by replying to this, so lemme just do an obligatory disclaimer: people are free to create what they want, and they're allowed to have different tastes and interpretations. That's what fandom is. Okay? Okay.

That said.

Personally? Red Hood Tim is... yeah. Does not spark joy. Aside from the Rich Boy in Crime Alley aspect, I guess I'm just not a fan of people making up trauma for Tim so he can be the Saddest Boy, especially when they're taking traits from Jason (which, actually this might be a gripe that spilled over from other fic tropes and not something I have against rr aus, specifically.)

In my opinion, reverse robins is a great setup for us to explore not only the differences but also parallels between the Robins. In that sense, Steph, with her background similarities to Jason, has so much more potential for a Red Hood story.

I wanna know how her morals would play out, how they'd differ from Batgirl!Steph's or RH!Jason's. What are her views on criminals and crime? Does RH!Steph hold the same contempt against her dad like Spoiler!Steph did? What ties her to the city and its community? I wanna see what her dynamic with Batman is like, when she isn't pushed into the shadow of another 'failed' robin, but is instead the First Robin Who Died. How would the effects of her death differ from Jason's, given that she's neither an orphan nor adopted by Bruce? I'm also curious about her relationship with Damian, if it mirrors the mentor-sibling style Batgirl!Steph had with baby Dami. Do they bond over being the few people who knew Batdad before the Tragedy, as opposed to canon where they only ever got to know the post-robindeath version?

So much story potential!

In short, Red Hood Steph is an awesome concept and I wish there are more fics with her. Thanks for coming to my ted talk I guess

#my asks #ramblings #stephanie brown #red hood #jason todd #reverse robins #dc #not really but #anti tim drake #<<for curating purposes in case any tim fans don't wanna see

[shorelinessightlines]

He ended up doing it on a Sunday. Race weekend. Daniel put his fist through the drywall after his first DNF of the season, and Max broke up with him on the spot.

It had felt very 2018, their argument. Max's head fills the blank spots in his memory with old footage from their pre-Renault days. Daniel, for better or for worse, has not changed so much—it makes it easier to substitute the finer details.

Details have always been difficult for Max, which makes him feel shitty. People think he can't remember because he doesn't care, but he does, he swears he does. There's a lingering, near-permanent part of Max that aches for the smell of Daniel's burnt eggs and charred toast late at night, one that hurts more when he wakes up in the morning to the sound of birds and not the smoke alarm going off.

Caring makes no difference. He's unsure if they were still in their racesuits, or if they'd changed out of them in the few hours it had taken for media duties, debriefs, and post-race apologies slash unfollowing-sprees to wrap up.

The particular characteristics of their argument fade away to this: Daniel had said, "Fuck you, Max," innocuous and unsurprising, but it had brought him back to days at the karting track, the other kids flitting around and shouting swears they only just learned how to say.

Max had run them into a barrier, they complained to their parents, but he would already be sprinting over to Jos, holding up his helmet like, Did you see that? I was brave. I didn't back out. I did exactly what you told me to do.

"That is unfair," he had responded, feeling not very much like himself, and Daniel had looked at him like he had two heads.

"You're dumping me."

Daniel, likely, had never been dumped in his life. Why would anyone dump Daniel? Daniel was fucking perfect and this—this was just another thing Max had managed to fuck up.

"I am not dumping you, Daniel, always you use such ugly words, it is—"

"Max, oh my god, shut up. You're dumping me, and I get you're having a rough time right now, but this is—god, this is just crazy."

Max sniffed then, maybe, sad and angry and violent-feeling. Boiling inside. Hating Daniel in the moment and knowing he would miss him in the morning.

"You—Daniel, you know. Fuck you, this is not fair."

Max told Daniel about the karting tracks. Max told Daniel everything, like his crush on Mark Webber growing up and when his dad died. His hands had been shaking from the weight of his phone in the middle of their Monaco apartment and all Max could think to do was tell Daniel, because he told Daniel everything and Daniel would surely know what to do.

"You wanna talk about unfair? I just had one of the shittiest races of my goddamn life and—" Daniel swiped a cheap lamp to the floor. The bulb shattered. "—my boyfriend is breaking up with me at the racetrack not four hours later. Fuck, isn't that unfair, Max?"

Max's voice tembled when he talked. "You punched the wall. You are so violent, Daniel." It comes out wrong, but it's true. Daniel is violent like Max's father. So is Max, most days.

"I am not Jos," Daniel spit; he knew what Max meant, he knew Max better than anyone and it was still so angry. Daniel hated Jos, and god, Max never used to think like this before but it's so easy, these days, to be reminded of his late father. Last names, misplaced shadows, bruises that had purpled unevenly on Daniel's knuckles—familiar and disgusting and angry. This is not fair.

It was a regular spat—Daniel yelled and cussed Max out and punched a wall and broke a lamp and it was all normal. But fuck, all Max could do was be reminded of the karting tracks, of his dad, and that made Max feel even worse because everything reminded him of his dad and racing reminded him of his dad and Daniel reminded him of his dad and the hole in the drywall reminded him of his dad and—

Max remembers (details, details, details—) the distant way he had said, "I will not do this with you anymore."

It's only been a few days since Max and Daniel broke up. He thinks he is already starting to regret it.

---

Max has taken to imagining a life where he is, perhaps, a fish.

It would fit the empty, white nature of his apartment—if it were in reality a fishbowl, and he just swam in circles endlessly. If Daniel were his fish-friend and they lived their fishy lives together. Nothing could be so bad, of course, if there was Daniel.

But, this is not possible. Jimmy and Sassy would simply eat him.

"Nah, mate," Not-Daniel materializes on the couch. Max doesn't question it; Not-Daniel has been showing up on his couch a lot as of late, to fill the vacancy Real-Daniel left behind. "Nah, Sassy wouldn't eat you. Jimmy, now... that's another story."

"You underestimate Sassy."

"Oh no, far from it," Daniel's voice is strange and round because he's gaping his mouth open and shut to imitate a fish. He looks silly. "Sassy's too cunning. She's waiting for Jimmy to eat you so she can tell me what happened and I'll throw Jimmy out the window. Then she'll have the apartment all to herself. It's quite the plan, actually."

Max laughs at that and blows imaginary bubbles to Daniel, which he catches and throws back at him like a baseball. Then Max throws a pillow, and Daniel laughs too.

"I wish we were really fish," says Max. "I don't care if Jimmy would eat me." In the perfect world of his daydream, Daniel responds:

"Yeah, we'd make the best fish couple, don't you think?"

Of course, Max broke up with Daniel two weeks ago, so he has taken to telling these things to Lando instead. Lando has much less interesting responses, like, "Are you sure you don't want to see a therapist?"

Max scowls.

"I do not want to see a therapist. Why would I need a therapist?"

Lando raises an eyebrow, then both eyebrows. A strange habit.

"Your dad died, like, a week and a half ago," Lando ticks off on one finger. "You broke up with Daniel after five years together, you drove possibly the worst race of your life last weekend, and now you think you're a fish." Lando wiggles four fingers in front of the camera. Max wishes Lando were here in real life so he could shove Lando's dumb fingers into Lando's dumb face.

Then he reminds himself that Lando is his friend, and then Max feels shitty and angry and just like his dad. (Everything these days reminds him of his dad.)

"How lovely."

"Nah, I wouldn't say as much." Lando has a strange expression on his face, the grainy quality of the phone camera merging his eyebrows together into a caterpillar. "Mate. Get help."

"I do not need help."

"That's exactly what Daniel would say." Fuck you, Lando.

Max feels a sudden, sharp pang of anger and regret at just the sound of Daniel's name—wrong on Lando's tongue, marred by a British accent and a chaotic friendship that always managed to make Max insecure. Fuck you fuck you fuck you. You don't know him better than me.

"Daniel would not say that," he says instead of screaming. His voice sounds odd and strained. Mean. Angry. "Daniel is—Daniel would not say that."

Lando says, "Maybe not when you knew him, but you two haven't been teammates for five years. That changes more than you might think.”

"Daniel—"

"—didn't tell you when he got fired, did he?" Lando raises his eyebrows again, because he knows he's right and he is a smug dickhead.

No, Daniel didn't tell Max when he got fired. Max found out through Instagram of all places, and it had felt especially strange back then because they lived together and Daniel told him everything.

It was an exchange—Daniel would spill all his insecurities and his break with Michael and the way the car felt more like a death trap than a vehicle most days, and Max would tell Daniel about how much he missed eating breakfast with Victoria on Saturdays, about the dumb photoshoots Red Bull made him do now that he was a world champion, about Jos and the moment he died and the way Max felt shitty and free and so violent.

But Daniel didn't tell Max when he got fired, and he didn't tell him about his eating problems, and he didn't—fuck, Daniel was so kind and so gentle and sometimes he punched walls so hard the plaster crumbled from the power of his fists.

Daniel was one of those things that hurt more that it healed. Soft and tender in the right places—if Max pushed too hard, he would bruise him. If Max touched his shoulder he might scratch himself on Daniel's sharp edges; might break, like the walls did, under the force of Daniel's anger.

He feels like he's breaking, now. He needs Daniel, all the time, bruises and scars and plaster and all. (He needed his dad, too, and he has come to wonder if needing vicious things has been written into code, much like racing has. If his dad taught him brutality with the braking zones, at the karting tracks all those years ago.)

"I can recommend you a therapist," Lando is saying in this coddling kind of tone, the one you would use on a baby.

Max had never been coddled. It feels odd to hear it now, at his grown age, by a friend two years younger than him who probably found out Daniel was fired exactly when Daniel did.

He says, "Fuck you," and doesn't really mean it.

Lando responds, "Can't do that if you're a fish."

---

Jos's funeral is on a Sunday. Race weekend. The Australian Grand Prix.

Max is convinced Jos wrote that specifically in his will just to screw Max over one final time. Unnecessary, really—Max still jumps at his own shadow, when he mistakes the rigidity of his own shoulders for his father's.

Max catches a glimpse of his silhouette on the grass, bulky and stiff next to the thin lines of other attendees. He grimaces.

It's too sunny out, for a funeral. Max feels overheated in his black suit. Victoria stands at his side and wipes sweat from her brow, equally uncomfortable in a black dress and heels. Jos's other children, most of which Max honestly forgets exist some days, stand ramrod straight and look appropriately sad, sweating through their Sunday-best while their perfect blue eyes and slightly chubby faces scrunch up in grief.

Max tries to imagine Jos yelling at these kids and thinks bitterly that to them, Jos was maybe a good father. A good man, husband, citizen. They must miss him so much, they must be so sad he is gone.

Max tries to find an emotion within him that is not confused or afraid, and comes up empty.

His half-sister finishes the eulogy abruptly—it's wet-sounding, something guttural and painful clogging her throat. After that, the rest of the service passes by quickly. He stays behind with Victoria while all the guests file out and his half-siblings get ushered to the car by their mother; it would probably look bad if Max were the first to leave his father's funeral.

When the last guest has disappeared into the parking lot, Max flops down beside his father's freshly-dug grave and puts his head to his knees. Victoria sits down much more gingerly, careful not to ruin her dress.

"He was a weird dad," she says, unprompted. Max supposes this is the part where they are supposed to mourn him. "I don't remember too much of him. He always took you places and left me home with Mom."

"He took me to the karting tracks."

"Yeah, I know." She sighs. "You missed a race for this. He would've hated that."

Max supposes he would have. He can't decide if that makes him sad or angry or—or vindicated, somehow. Max is sure that if Daniel were here, some more prominent emotion would have risen to the top, just to pick a fight with whatever Daniel wanted to say.

They could never seem to settle when it came to Jos Verstappen.

"Do you think Daniel would have missed the race to be here?" The words bubble up, unbidden. Max practically chokes on them. To be with me, lies unspoken between them, solid like a rock in Max's throat.

Victoria looks at him with something like pity. "He had a habit of doing anything for you," she says like it's a bad thing, "if only you would ask."

Max does not say anything to that. He's not sure there is an answer to be had.

Victoria nudges him with her shoulder. "He won today, you know."

"He did?" The fondness cuts its way out of him. Home race. Big deal. "That's good. He deserves it, of course."

"Hm. He wouldn't have, if you'd been there."

Max bristles at that. He used to like being better than Daniel, being compared to Daniel. He used to like it because Jos liked it, and he wanted Jos to like him.

"Daniel is a good driver."

"No championship, though."

"You sound like Dad."

Victoria smiles, wry. "Fuck, don't we all somedays. You know, I yelled at Luka at the karting tracks the other day to brake later. It was like something came over me, you know? It felt like—like this is what we were born to be. And that felt dumb and ugly and I fucking cried in the bathroom when we got home."

Max gets that feeling. "I broke up with Daniel because he punched a wall," he offers, and it's so stupid, the way Jos has wormed his way into the best parts of their lives and rotted there, like a dead dog in the town well.

"Ah. I was wondering why you didn't ask him to be here."

Max shrugs. He is silent for a while, trying to pick out the right thing to say, and then:

"Do you miss him?" Victoria asks. "Despite the violence?" He wonders if she means Daniel or Jos.

He says, "Is it bad, if I do?"

---

Max is not all that surprised when he wakes up on Tuesday morning and finds Daniel on his couch. It used to be their apartment, after all, and Daniel still has the key.

Daniel is awake when Max stumbles into the living room. His stubble makes him look more tired than he actually must be. He says, "Howdy," in an exhausted and sheepish tone, and Max says, "I was going to drop off your things, I promise."

Daniel blinks.

"That's not what I'm here about."

"Oh." Max blinks too. "How was Australia?" He’s pretty sure he’s already had this conversation with Daniel at least four times in the past week since the funeral. Well, there's no harm in trying again.

"It was great. I won."

"That is good, for the team. I knew you could do it, of course, I told them so."

Daniel shakes his head. "You would have won, if you had been there."

"You sound like my dad," Max blurts out. It is true. You do sound like my dad. Victoria sounded like my dad. Everyone sounds like my dad.

Daniel narrows his eyes and doesn't say anything. Please do not look at me this way. It is not my fault he is haunting me.

Max scrambles to find something else to talk about. "I will make us breakfast," he says, already shifting away from the couch. “Cereal is fine, yes?”

"Uh. Sure. Sounds nice."

Max escapes to the kitchen, which is, in reality, only a few feet away. Still, the separation of the counter and the couch enforces a sense of distance—protection.

Daniel, of course, does not obey the invisible boundaries Max has outlined in his head. He rises, takes a few steps, and now he is in Max's space; lingering like he doesn't know what to do with himself, purposeful and aimless and intrusive.

"Do you—do you need help?" Daniel is peering over his shoulder. Max looks at him, their faces close. Then, he looks back at the two bowls he had laid out on the countertop and frowns.

Max's shadow splays itself across the countertop, and the broad line of Jos’s shoulders stares at him, aloof and alone. For a second, he wonders if the silhouette is Daniel’s, and it is Max who is the ghost.

He feels his heart sink, like the other four times Not-Daniel has woken up on Max's couch since Jos's funeral. Not-Daniel is still saying: “I can help, if you want me to.”

Max feels inexplicably angry, at that—wants to scream that of course he needs help, he has always needed Daniel’s help—Daniel used to char the toast and burn the eggs and make coffee that tasted like burning rubber. Max has not yet learned how to make breakfast without Daniel fucking it up.

Jos used to fuck up the breakfast too, a traitorous voice whispers in Max's ear, and he tenses.

It is different, of course, Max knows this. Jos burned the toast because he didn't care if Max ate ashes. Daniel burned the toast because he loved Max, and he couldn't help but ruin some things.

Max remembers to reply, trance-like, “No. I am okay. Sit back down.”

He turns to look at Daniel, and finds he has magically appeared on the couch once more.

The first time this happened, Max had freaked out, had thought he was going crazy. Now, it’s more disappointing than anything.

Logically, Max knows that he dropped off Daniel’s copy of the key a while ago, along with Daniel’s hoodies and knick-knacks and journals. Daniel has not actually been in their apartment in a very long time, and Max knows this because he has not had to replace a dented pan or nicked glassware in a decent amount of time.

He asks Not-Daniel, as he preps two bowls of cereal: “Do you remember what we were wearing, when we broke up?”

Daniel has always remembered little things like that. Small, tiny, minuscule details that Max could never seem to grasp.

“Nah, mate. I forgot.”

Details. Max was never so good at them.

#raine.fic #dr3 #mv33 #maxiel #ln4 #daniel is probably not this angry irl tbh