#of course he would probably see him getting helped as an humiliating form of weakness but just as jin learned in t8 that hes not alone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weakforarwen · 2 years

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Oh Gwen... She was banished, forced to leave her home and friends, and to travel for months until she found someone willing to take her in and give her work (toiling away in the fields all day :/). She'd been alone, walking for days on end, making camp whenever she could, probably eating and drinking very little, scared and heartbroken...

What the fuck did you do Arthur? Was he even aware of the fate he was condemning her to? Almost worse than death. She could've been attacked by bandits, or worse. And she was attacked, by mercenaries or whatever they were, and almost became a sex slave. Luckily, she escaped, but Helios's men and Morgana went after her, so she was forced to flee for her life, again, after she had finally found a place to start over, knowing she would certainly die if she were caught. And she did get caught, but for some reason Morgana didn't just kill her. No, she did one better and turned Gwen into a deer, so Arthur nearly shot her. He missed, courtesy of Merlin, but Mithian didn't and Gwen almost died...

I fucking hate these writers. If Morgana wasn't such a sadistic piece of shit, Gwen would've been dead already. Why have Lancelot ruin Arthur and Gwen's wedding, when Agravaine could've killed just Gwen or found someone else to do the job? Arthur would've been left heartbroken, vulnerable, weak, and Camelot ripe for the picking. In The Hunter's Heart, too, Morgana could've just killed Gwen. Instead, she chose to humiliate and literally dehumanize her.

I wish Arthur had actually shot Gwen (not fatally of course) and I wish Gwen had reverted back to her true form in front of his very eyes. The guilt and horror he would've felt should've woken him right up, but it still wouldn't have been punishment enough for what he did. He deserved so much more, to feel as desperate, hopeless, remorseful, as disgusted and angry with himself, as Gwen did. It wasn't his fault Gwen "cheated" on him, but casting her out like she was a threat to Camelot or had committed murder was appalling. I understood his decision at the time, but to throw her out without any safety net, without helping her find a home or a job? Shame on all her "friends" who let her go without a goodbye, without giving her money or food, without leaving with her to help her settle down somewhere safe, without any word of advice or encouragement, without any kind of help at all. What kind of brother was Elyan anyway? And Merlin was so upset with her banishment, yet the only time he actually helped was in this episode. The writers did Gwen so dirty. There's no excuse for how any of the characters behaved, Arthur included. It was OOC for all of them. They acted like they lived in a perfect world where being banished just meant you couldn't come home again, but you could easily find work and shelter and start fresh. Lancelot and Gwaine were proof that life outside Camelot was hard.

Anyway, knowing how much certain fans liked Mithian made me unwillingly like her less in this episode. She was fine - kind, intelligent, beautiful - but I don't see how she had amazing chemistry with Arthur. Whatever, I don't want to engage in ship wars. Arthur was truly taken aback by how beautiful and nice she was, but it's quite easy to explain his attitude around her. The moment he found Gwen's ring, she became invisible to him, much to Merlin's delight. Merlin was truly one of us in this episode. He felt betrayed and appalled by the very idea that Arthur would marry a non-Gwen. Nothing wrong with Mithian, she just wasn't Gwen. Hard same. He felt so strongly about Gwen and Arthur that he took it upon himself to sabotage Arthur's engagement. He felt it was his duty as Emyrs to stop Arthur from marrying Mithian, because marrying Gwen was Arthur's destiny. Bless his heart.

If only Gwen had personally told Arthur of Agravaine's betrayal, Morgana's plans, and what Morgana had done to her, then maybe Arthur would've believed it. As it was, Merlin didn't have any proof and he couldn't tell Arthur about Gwen, so Arthur didn't trust him nor wanted to. The timing sucked too, because Arthur was so upset after finding Gwen's ring and half-angry at Merlin for being so pro-Gwen. He ignored Merlin's advice the whole episode, since he knew Merlin disapproved of Mithian. That's why he hadn't even told Merlin of the engagement in advance.

In the end, though, Arthur did ask Merlin for advice, because he hadn't actually needed it. He'd already known what Merlin would say. He just needed to hear it so he wouldn't feel foolish for sabotaging a potential alliance and giving away the disputed lands of Gedref, all for a woman who'd cheated on him. I can understand him.

But Arthur's heartbreak didn't excuse his treatment of Merlin. He threatened to banish Merlin twice. He thought as King he could do or say whatever he wanted? "Hurt me personally and I will banish you.". That's the King he wanted to be? He thought so little of Gwen's fate that he casually threatened Merlin to share it? Arthur was a real asshole this episode. The last time I watched it, I gave him the benefit of the doubt, but I felt so bad for Gwen this time that I couldn't.

Mithian: Tell me...who is it that trumps a princess? Arthur: No one. And everyone.

I used to like this bit of dialogue, but now I'm personally offended by it. Who is it that trumps a princess? Mithian, you think you're the first princess to want to marry Arthur? You think so highly of yourself that you can't imagine anyone better than you? You treated Merlin nicely, but you still think servants are beneath you, right? You think you're all that because you're a princess?

And what does "no one" mean? I get Arthur was trying to appease Mithian, but the idea that "no one" trumped Princess Mithian made me feel offended on Gwen's behalf. Was Gwen "no one" because she was "no one", just a servant? Was Gwen the "no one" and Arthur was actually answering Mithian's question, or was he literally saying no one was better than Mithian? I'm too mad to think positively. Wasn't Gwen better than any Princess? Isn't that why he wanted to marry her? "And everyone" meant, what? That he couldn't marry Mithian and everyone was equally unappealing to him, or that Gwen was everyone to him, like everything?

Also, why didn't we see Elyan's reaction to the news of Arthur's engagement? Why didn't Agravaine tell Morgana that Mithian was to become Queen of Camelot? Did it only matter who Arthur married when that person was Gwen? An alliance with Nemeth would've strengthened Camelot even further, so shouldn't Morgana have tried to prevent it? I guess Morgana hated only Gwen for breathing and daring to rise above her rank, right?

I also have a question about the ending. Arthur said: "What's the point of loving someone who cannot be found?". What did he mean? After finding Gwen's ring in the forest, had he sent men to look for her? Is that why Camelot's patrol had been in the forest when Merlin found Gwen?

This episode made me so angry, I almost didn't want Gwen to marry Arthur. But I have to keep in mind that Arthur thought Gwen had cheated on him and the writers fucked everyone over with this storyline. It was heartbreaking to hear Gwen say she deserved what happened to her because she betrayed Arthur. Even if she had truly cheated on him, no one deserved to be abandoned by everyone they knew, forced to run for their lives, and nearly getting killed or raped. But kudos to Gwen for being such a fucking badass. She didn't even look scared when she got taken by Helios. She played his game and survived. She managed to trick his men too, and was only caught because Morgana knew the forests of Camelot too well. She's a real survivor. She's so smart and brave.

#bbc merlin #bbc arwen #merlin #arwen #gwen pendragon #arthur pendragon #morgana #the hunter's heart commentary #the hunter's heart

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wri0thesley · 3 years

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hi! please do not talk to me! i am just as disappointed in myself as you are!

arrangement - naoya x fem!reader (3.7k)

warnings: naoya is just an asshole lmao, misogyny, arranged marriage mentions, degradation, humiliation, spitting, unhealthy ‘relationship’. afab reader, fem pronouns

despite your clan elders’ best intentions, you are clearly not a good match for someone as well placed in the world as naoya. still. that doesn’t mean he can’t have a little fun with you.

You should have known that it was a fruitless endeavour.

No matter how nicely your hair might be set and your clothes might be chosen, how intricately and carefully your makeup applied – how pretty your manners might be . . . This was never going to go anywhere. Oh, your elders might have thought this was a good idea, and sure it would be – if it were possible. If your clan wasn’t hanging on by the skin of its teeth already. If you’d been blessed – if that was the right way to put it – with more cursed energy than you had been.

But you were not. It had been clear to you the moment you had been – cordially, politely – introduced to him. You hadn’t looked him in the eye – you’d been briefed on what he was like enough to know that – but you’d still sensed the flickering of his gaze over your form. You’d still seen the curve of his mouth into a cruel sneer.

“What a pity,” he’d said, tone not belying an ounce of the pity he mentioned. “I’m far too busy for acts of charity.”

You should have left it at that. You should have accepted it was not to be and went back to your own clan with your tail between your legs, just another failure – or perhaps, you should have looked up into his eyes and spat at him and insisted you were worth more than that. If you had been braver, if you had talked back--

But you do not. Inside, you are meek and quiet. You are cowed by what you know is the power that is at his fingertips, not just physically but also in the sheer luck of having been born as he was born. You duck your head. You feel your cheeks warm. Something about the sneer on his face, the mocking tone . . . sends a curl of heat right to the centre of your belly that you desperately try to ignore.

Tripping over your words, you apologise to him.

For wasting his time.

And it’s that which sets these particular events in motion.

Naoya sees how easily you bend under just his words and the weight of his gaze on you – and though, of course, you are not fit to be his wife the way that your clan elders clearly wanted you to be . . . he likes the idea of your eyes, downturned on the floor. He likes the idea of you on your knees before him. He likes the idea of being able to throw you around, and you, deferential as you take it.

No, even though you would walk three steps behind him and be behest to his whims, you lack the impressive lineage and the splendour of a great union that Naoya is looking for in a wife. But that does not mean, he thinks, as he watches you leave, his eyes following the suggestive curve of your body beneath the layers of fabric, that he cannot have a little fun with you first.

You come to his rooms without an ounce of hesitation. You must know, surely – after the way he treated you at your introduction – that he has no pure intentions. Certainly, the servants milling about his estate know as you’re shown to where he wants you.

Good. Your eager acquiescence just cements the fact to him that he has made the right decision; you will be weak-willed and desperate to please, and though he has no intentions of honour when it comes to what he’s going to do to you, he knows you will do it anyway.

“You came,” he says to you, as you stand across the room, where he’s lounging, entirely at ease, against the pillows on his bed. Your entire body fizzes. You know you should not be here.

(There is something about him that your body cannot deny.)

“I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a whore.” You flinch at the word, though that strange curl of heat returns to your middle. You fight it off as best you can. He sees how you swallow, the way you respond to the name – and he is smirking again, rising from the pillows, walking over to you with all of the grace of a predator. His fingertips reach out, tracing the line of your chin (your skin is pleasingly soft beneath them). “That’s what you are, right? Your clan elders sent you here to see if that’s what you’d be for me.”

He tips up your face. It’s the first time that your eyes have been anywhere near his, and he’s delighted to see the flair of panic and confusion in your gaze. Cute.

“That’s not—” You say, your voice very dry. You struggle with the words, knowing despite yourself that part of him must be right – if you were not, surely it wouldn’t have been as simple as him summoning you and you going there--

“You can’t honestly think you’d have made me a wife, hmm?” He lowers his head, too close to you – your entire body feels like it’s thrumming with energy, buzzing with unrestrained tension. “You’re pathetic.” The word is practically a purr, and your body responds in kind – Naoya, seeing how your eyes cloud over, how you have to stop yourself biting your lip, is delighted.

“I-I’m sorry,” you say, desperate, miserable. You don’t understand why your thighs feel slick and your legs feel shaky, or why your head seems to have clouded over with thoughts that refuse to take proper shape.

“Aww.” His thumb slides across your lip – and you find yourself opening your mouth without meaning to, letting him slide the tip of his thumb in and press down on your tongue. “That’s right. You’re cuter when you don’t talk.”

You don’t say anything. You’re not sure you could, anyway – not with how dry your throat feels. Naoya clicks his tongue.

“Suck it, then,” he tells you, with the air of an impatient man giving orders to a puppy dog. You suppose that’s what you are, really – because you do close your lips, and you do lathe your tongue across the pad of his thumb. He’s still smirking at you, damnably attractive if only for the air of self-assured cockiness. “You’ll want to get used to having something in your mouth.”

His other hand comes up and pushes the kimono you’re wearing (too formal of a kind, really – but your clan elders had wanted to show deference to the Zenins, and they had hoped that perhaps you would be meeting your future husband, and everybody knew that Naoya would prefer a traditional young bride--) to one side, exposing too much of your collarbone and chest.

“Not bad,” he tells you. “Not good enough for me, of course but . . . you’ll do for this.”

You hate that you know what ‘this’ is. You hate that you have no protest to give as he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and turns his back on you.

“Take them off,” he tells you. “Be quick about it. I don’t have all day. Women can be so slow.”

Your hands are shaking as you go to untie your obi. Your self-preservation instinct is telling you to run. Naoya stops where he is and turns his head, his lips still tilted as he sees you’re doing as he asked. Oh, but you’re fun – he feels like a cat playing with a mouse.

“Hurry. Up.” It’s a snap, all pretence – he’s rather enjoying the shaking and the trembling. He can’t help but look at you hungrily as the fabric pools about your ankles in your clumsy undressing. “Before I change my mind, and send you back out into the estate like that.”

Why are you still doing what he asks? You finish undressing and shiver in the cool air, standing there, waiting for whatever he’s going to tell you to do next.

He reaches the bed and turns, sitting on it. He’s entirely casual about the whole thing, his elbows resting on his knees as he steeples his hands together and just looks at you. You burn under his gaze.

“Yes,” he repeats. “You’ll do. Come here--”

You take a step forward, only to stop as he holds up his hand. He takes the patient tone of a man talking to an animal once more.

“Not like that. Think about it, come on. Your head is above mine. That’s not very respectful of you, is it?”

He swathes the words in velvet, making them sound like a question – but you can hear the steel inside of them. The order. He doesn’t need to tell you twice, before you’re sinking onto your knees with your throat dry. Your thighs press together, slick friction making you shiver as you crawl towards Naoya. He tips his head to one side and smiles coldly as if his smile is a reward.

(He watches the way your ass moves as you crawl. He can hear your laboured breathing in the quiet room. In the low glint of the light, he can see the hint of wetness between your thighs.)

You’re so eager to please, even knowing that Naoya is going to use you and discard you. Just as you should be. You feel lucky he’s giving you the briefest time of day.

“Stop,” he says, and you jump to his command as if it’s law. Perfect. He takes a handful of your hair and drags it, pulling you forward so that your face is close to the stiffness that you probably can’t tell he’s sporting through the loose fit of his hakama. He jerks your face so that it rubs against his thigh through the fabric. “Well?”

The bob of your throat as you swallow. You look up at him with your eyes filled with confusion.

“As much as the position suits you,” he says, tone clipped, “are you so stupid you don’t know what I want you to do?”

Oh. Oh.

You are still on your hands and knees. You go to bring one of your hands towards the ties and are stopped with a ‘tch’ of impatience, Naoya kicking at it and trapping it beneath his foot on the floor, with little care about how you wince. He doesn’t hold back his strength.

“You’re going to touch me with that after it’s been all over the filthy floor?” He asks, arching one thin eyebrow. “I don’t think so. If you’re going to be as gormless as an animal, you may as well act like one. Your cheek.”

Heat floods your cheeks once more as you realise what he wants. By now, the strange feeling in the pit of your stomach that’s making you wet has become all encompassing, not at all helped by the friction of your thighs or the way that Naoya is talking down to you. You should not be turned on by it. You should be disgusted by him, glad he doesn’t want you as a wife--

So why do you let out a soft whimper as you lean your cheek forward like a docile animal. It presses against something hot and hard, obvious even through the fabric. You don’t let yourself look at him, embarrassed by how easily you let him tell you what to do – if you were looking, perhaps you’d have seen the brief way his teeth dug into bottom lip, seen the softest exhale of his breath. (It’s better you didn’t. He does not like to show weakness.)

He lets you nuzzle against his cock for a few moments, enjoying the sight of you on your knees, your head bowed – but it is not enough for him. Not when he knows you’ll let him do whatever you want.

The hand still in your hair drags you back unfeelingly, letting go of you on the back swing. You almost overbalance – but you have been well-trained in the art of grace. That would have been something he’d have looked for in a wife, if you had been better placed.

Almost a pity, really.

“I’d ask you to undo it,” he says, as he goes to untie his own complicated knots. “But you’re shaking. Are you that eager to suck my cock? Slut.”

He’s right, you are and you are and you are--

There. There’s no going back for you now, as Naoya lets the hakama drop and then rests back on his hands, unconcerned, as if this kind of thing happens for him every day. Hell, for him, maybe it does – surely you’re not the first poor young woman who has been sent by people more powerful than her to try and please the Zenin clan. For some reason, the thought that you’re not the first, that you’re not special, makes another ricochet of heat twist low between your thighs.

“Well?” He asks, mockingly. “It’s not going to suck itself.”

You’re shaking as you approach it, opening your mouth.

“Not too much teeth, now,” he says lightly. “You don’t want to see me get angry.”

(Maybe you do? But you want to please him just as much, so you open your mouth wider, try and let your lips relax--)

He lets out a sigh as your mouth engulfs the head. He tastes salty and musky – you do not have anything to compare it to, but it’s not exactly unpleasant. You experimentally lick across the head of his cock, where the slit is leaking pre-come – and for that, you win a fluid hiss of pleasure. The idea that you’re pleasing him makes you squeeze your thighs together in search of stimulation and friction, a dull jolt of pleasant warmth spreading through your sex. Oh, you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life.

“More of your tongue,” he says to you, and you do your level best to accommodate – your tongue lapping at the veins of his shaft, travelling along the underside. Your jaw feels stretched wide, and you know you are drooling a little. You shift on your knees without being asked to, taking him further down your throat – you sense a twitch in his cock, the slight relaxing of the muscles in his thighs, and a shiver of pleasure runs through you at the idea that he is enjoying what you’re doing.

Pleasing Naoya suddenly seems the most important thing in the world to you – and certainly it feels the most important thing in the world to that emptiness inside you that you feel sure would be filled perfectly by Naoya’s cock. You take him further and further. You hum low in the back of your throat and Naoya’s fist on the bed flexes – you delight in it.

Every time you do something that makes his body respond in even the smallest of ways, you feel a full body thrill run through you that starts in your cheeks and makes it’s way to the junction between your legs, soaking you, making you vibrate and twitch with need. You have never felt so hungry for anything as you do the idea of Naoya touching you--

The crown of his cock bumps against the back of your throat, making you gurgle wetly – tears springing to your eyes at just how much of him is stuffed in your mouth. It’s this that finally spurs Naoya himself to action, once more returning to grabbing at your hair.

His hips begin to piston, thrusting his cock in and out.

“You’re . . .” He breathes, in between great pumps of his hips. “Almost good at that.”

(It’s the closest he’s come to praise so far and the sound of his voice, thick with hunger and lust, is locked away inside some secret part of your mind – you know you will not be able to touch yourself without his voice, the hitch of his groans, coming back to you in a cadence finer than any music you’ve ever heard).

He uses your mouth like he’d use his own fist, pumping fast and hard, his cock kissing the back of your throat with every glide. His breath begins to get shorter, and as you feel the flesh of the shaft twitch beneath your tongue, pulsating, you ready yourself for the salty rush of his release coating your mouth. You’ll swallow everything he gives you, maybe he will call you a good girl for your troubles--

He doesn’t. The hand wrapped around your hair (so neatly arranged, when you’d arrived at the estate – now, a mass of tangles, nothing more than a handle for Naoya to grab onto) jerks.

You cough at the sudden tug. You know he was close, you felt it – so why had he pulled you off of him? The noise that escapes you is half wounded-animal, half confusion – Naoya is sneering down at you, his hand around the base of his cock.

“Open your mouth,” he tells you – and you obey. You want him to come in your mouth! You want to be good for him, you want to swallow down every drop. “Do you really think you deserve to taste my seed? When you’re so . . . inferior, in every way? So . . . inadequate?”

“Please,” you whimper, through the haze of neediness and the ache in your jaw. “Please, I want to, I’ll be good--”

“You’d take anything I gave you, wouldn’t you? You really are pathetic.” You nod, frantically – if you agree with him, maybe he’ll do something about this all, you’re too far gone to have anything close to rational thought. He laughs at you, a sound like a bark – and then, he’s spitting directly onto your mouth, the mess landing on your tongue. “Swallow it.”

Disgusting, you’re disgusting, why isn’t the way he’s acting doing a thing to dampen your desire? You swallow.

The curl of his lip is unfairly attractive. You think he’ll pull you even closer to him, make you open your mouth again and come directly down your throat until you’re coughing all over the floor – but he doesn’t. He moves his hand, pumping his cock – and then, he’s coming, his shaft twitching in his own grip--

And his come spurting across your face, painting your cheeks. You close one of your eyes to stop it getting in there, but it’s a feeble task – you feel it on your face, dripping down your nose, you know some of it has gotten into your hair. Through the one eye still open, you see Naoya’s smug face.

“Did you really think I’d come in your mouth?” He asks, all cruelty. “You don’t deserve to have my seed inside you. In fact . . . Hmm.” He relaxes, looking at you where you’re a mess on the floor. Your kimono and all the ephemera of what you were wearing lies in a discarded pile across the room where you’d taken them off. “You can put on your clothes, I suppose. But . . . don’t clean yourself up. Not even with your sleeve. You should be proud a nothing like you gets to wear it.”

He flaps his hand at you, clearly dismissing you.

“I—I--”

Your voice sounds cracked and strained and small in the room. Pathetic. Just like you. But more pathetic is the heat that seems to cling to every inch of your skin that you know will not go away until you’re touched.

“You . . . you . . . you what?” He mocks you. Your face, all heat, your big blown out eyes darkened by lust . . . He narrows his eyes and smiles, but it’s a smile that’s utterly mirthless, cold as dawn frost. “I’m not going to lower myself to touching you.”

(You think you were expecting it; but still, your sex clenches around emptiness, practically pulsating as he derides you again. Perhaps you are a glutton for punishment.)

You bow your head. You know, if you stand up, Naoya will say something about your head being above his again – so you stay on your knees, crawling towards the pile of clothes. Naoya is drawn once more to the way the slick is dripping down your thighs, the inviting slit of your sex--

“You’re so wet I can see it from here,” he jeers. “Disgusting. You really are a slut, huh?”

Your fingers fumble with the fine fabrics. If your clan elders knew how you had left your formalwear here, on the floor of his room--

You tie the knots. You cannot do anything about the mess on your face, drying too quickly, sticky and uncomfortable – but part of you wants to wear it like a badge of honour.

You finally let yourself stand up, stopped only by a mocking little sing-song of your name, the mocking inflection of the cute honorific at the end that he shouldn’t be using for you--

You turn to him for the final time, too embarrassed, too wet, too hot and aching to meet his eyes. You concentrate on his mouth instead (you know that mouth will haunt your daydreams, blanket quiet night-times when your hands delve between your legs and you have to bite your lip to stifle your sounds.)

“Perhaps,” he says, with the air of a man bestowing a great honour, “perhaps your clan elders need not know I’ve rejected you yet.” A brief flare of hope in your chest, that he sees and takes a fierce, primal kind of pleasure in snuffing out. “Oh, don’t get me wrong – I’ve no intention of lowering myself to marrying you. But . . .”

That grin, barbaric, cruel, cold, heartless.

“It’s only proper for a man of my stature to have a mistress,” he tells you. The idea should disgust you. Why doesn’t it? You need to find a quiet place to hide in the Zenin estate, where you will not be interrupted – where you can press your fingers inside of yourself and imagine they are his. He takes great pleasure in adding; “And I like a woman who knows her place.”

One more flap of his hand – this time, a final dismissal.

“I’ll see you again,” he says, as you slip out of the door--

It sounds like a threat.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #naoya x reader #zenin naoya x reader #not sfw #jjk imagines #i dont fucking know whats wrong with me OR this reader honestly #writing #afab reader #fem pronouns #jjk posting #jjk writing tag

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semischarmed · 3 years

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Clarity

My hot roommate Zach is the perfect man. I think I won the cosmic lottery when we got paired freshman year. “Roommates for life!” he shouted, as he wrapped a tone arm around me in a side-hug. I chuckled, of course. Who knew the cutest guy in our dorm was such a dork. I remember that moment vividly, committed every last detail to memory. In what he likely only barely remembers, I recall to the last detail. I play it back often -even moreso, nowadays: The crisp autumn breeze. The filtered sunlight through amber trees, bathing us both in golden afternoon. The warmth of his touch, and the unintended taunt from his arm pulling me towards him and his jacket ever so slightly wrapping over my back. The slight, dense smell of coffee wafting from him and his minty breath cutting through. Thats how I remember him. Warm. Sincere. Safe. Zach would probably say that was the moment we became best friends. I, on the other-hand, would say that was the exact moment when I fell for him.

We did everything together from then on: Ate together, joined the same clubs, signed up to the same classes- that first year we were inseparable. Best friends to a tee. I’m not even sure what he saw in me- the guy was a hell of a lot more sociable than I was. He could literally find anyone else on campus, yet I had the privilege of being his roommate and friend. I commit that wonderful first year to my life. It is my happiest year to date. I commit that version of Zach to myself as well.

Trouble started early in our second year. He spent all summer back home, hanging out with his high school friends and his brothers. When we finally met back in our new room, he seemed distant. Still, I made the effort, getting closer and closer to him every day. He’d been sending signals too, I think. A stray touch, just a half second too long. A lingering stare in my direction. A gentle smile when I ask him a bout his day. I had to know for myself with certainty.

So, one terrifying October night, I asked him straight up.The fucker laughed. Cruel, hideous, insensitive laughter. I’d never felt more alone in my life than when he laughed at my confession. That broke something in me. I quickly ran to my bed, crying myself to sleep. Without skipping a beat, Zach left the room to grab a bite to eat, seemingly unchanged by my outright confession. I had never been so humiliated in my life, yet only he would ever know. Still I felt him hold that over me in the weeks to follow like a dark cloud. Of course he’d still offer hangouts. He’d ask for help with some dumb assignment or try to get me to open up by faking some issues about himself. He was mocking me. I felt his sneer, ever-present from behind. Thats when I began researching alternative methods to exact what I needed from him.

Why a private university had a book like this is beyond me. It was a spellbook. A dangerous one, at that. All manner of incantation and processes regarding the human soul. I poured myself the next few weeks on its pages religiously. Translation is a massive pain in the ass but it gets done.

“Love cannot be created by spell,” it stated. Leave it to a fucking book to let me down too. I wiped away stray tears until I caught sight of the last batch of spells. I sighed at its contents. Fine. I couldn’t make him love me through magic, but I could have him the next best way. His body. The final section of this book of spells is, of course, the curses and enchantments required to possess another being.

———

The preparations have been made. It’s another late, awkward night in our room, where he just passes by, gives me a nod and a grimace and then heads to bed. This night would be different. I chant the words. The price is steep. Half of my body’s lifespan for the ability to take someone over in their sleep. That’s the one I settled on. Of course, there were more permanent spells outlined, but this seemed to be a happy medium.

The magic is dark in nature, and I feel the cloud over me deepen. I feel myself detach. It’s weightless, but grounded. Makes sense, given the purpose of this spell. I watch my target and lick my astral lips. There he was, happily dreaming without a care in the world. I study every curve, like sculpture. He is muscled, but tone. Zach likes to sleep with his shirt off, so I get to see what powerful chest up close. I watch as powerful lungs, drawn in air before gently dispersing it. Perfection. I watch that beautiful face lie still in a satisfied smile. Angelic. This body is power, incarnate. My power, soon.

I follow closes until I am but inches from his face. I stir around him, slightly. I want him to know it’s me. Bleary eyes open and he gives a weak smile when he sees me. “Dude-” the smile quickly fades to shock. “Wait what the fuck...” in sinful glee I push into my man. He involuntarily absorbs my particles, my spirit. He tries to push me away, to get me off him. Hands are useless to stop me. I phase through them with no resistance. His breath quickens as he begins to panic. This only further brings me into him, as he is forced to breath in the only air around him-me.

Then, he starts choking, trying to force the parts of me in him out. I am unfazed. Instead, in I keep filling into him until all of me is inside. This is the way we were meant to be. He pulses and convulses and chokes while I align myself into him. I revel in Zach. In being Zach. Despite all the shit he pulled this year, he still is perfection. My perfection, now.

I command his lips mine. “Invoke me. Become me. Manipulate this body. Explore us. Stay, in me. I want you here, forever.” They’re not words he usually uses. I rile in a frenzy when these phrases leave his lips at my behest. When his voice becomes my own and I make us moan. When his body complies with my every whim. When Zach’s flesh is mine. It is euphoric. Orgasmic even. I intend to follow through, to reward it. To pleasure it. God it feels good being in him. Being him. He may not love me, but love me he will, even if indirectly. Every waking moment I spend inside this man will be a moment of him loving himself, loving me. Now, And then I feel it. I clutch my head in pain. Zach.

Veins strain in his forehead as he puts every last effort to exorcise me out. Resistance almighty in this body. In tears I feel myself stripped from momentary heaven. He chokes as a dense fog that is me escapes his mouth. He is successful.

When I am kicked out of his body abruptly, I flare in anger. How could he do this? How could he? I look back at my slumbering form. No matter. My resolve is steel. Somehow, somewhere deep inside me, I knew somewhere it had to come to this. I chant the final curse mentioned in the spellbook. The price is the steepest of them all.

I watch as my physical form dissipates. I writhe as I am renewed with newfound energy. Potency. Virility. I’ve put in everything. Everything I ever was into becoming him. Zach would be mine, no matter what.

Before he can readjust, before he can even think about what had just occurred, I flood back inside my man. Inside my body. My one true body, now, given what I had to sacrifice. I make him smile while he takes me in. Smile in preparation of a new, permanent driver. I thrust my astral form inside its new home. It’s warm. Roomy. muscular. We make this body grin, shout, cry, writhing all the way in its sheets in our battle for control. I’m not even sure he knows what he’s doing when he fights me- but he always was a natural in everything he picked up. I feel our shared muscle contract and relax as it is forced to accept its two masters- soon to be one. Soon to be me. Zach’s soul was strong but no one was a match for the full force of an entire human body-turned-spirit. I feel his soul start to lose footing. Jackpot. Immediately fill take its place. My place.

I was far deeper in Zach now than I was before. His essence struggles, trying to escape me but I keep us steady, hold us tight. Our minds begin to connect this time around and we sync. The book said this was a necessary step. I blink away our tears into a satisfied smile. Our face is flush from the fight, flush from my greatest victory. “You’re mine forever,” I think to myself, My words. The verbalization of my invasive thoughts in his head- they’re spoken in his tongue. In his jock-like inflection. I even now think in his voice. Of course, it’s relatively minor in the grand scheme of things. Yet it is undeniable proof. The finality of it all. Proof that my body no longer existed in this world. Proof that for me, forever, Zach would be my default. Just one last step to it all. One last push- I’ve already given this much, there was no going back. I would displace Zach as the true owner of this body. It’s as the final line in the book states: “Encapsulate their soul, devour it, digest it, make it yours. Then, true control at long last.”

Tears stream down our shared cheeks as we both realize the true gravity, the true consequences of my actions. We are synced now, but I haven’t yet completed the process. So, our emotions are a mix. So, it’s bittersweet. He’s mine. We’re one. I’m finally with Zach in a way most intimate. Despite it all, he isn’t fighting back. Why?

I rage inside him, wanting him to be mad, wanting him to hate me, to give me justification my ultimate transgression. He offers none. Instead, I am hit with borrowed clarity. More of his memory floods into me and I begin to cry.

I watch my every worst moment through his lens, relive the demons of my past and yet, from his perspective they never looked quite as dark or traumatic as I had made them out to be. Even my confession itself, my initial catalyst, had merely been a blip in Zach’s mind. If anything, he had been more concerned that his own nervous laughing was the cause of my spiraling. I quickly realize how much wasted time I spent, building up Zach into this god in my head. My god. In the end, he was human after all.

I feel Zach pull instances of himself from my memories in turn. It turns out he had many, many insecurities as well. Many moments where he needed validation or support. Many moments, even in recent memory, where I had never picked up on on his fear and self doubt. An offhand comment here. Some self-deprecation there. Of course, stupid me always there to respond by telling him to quit joking around. I felt the months of torment he felt in my coldness after my confession. He wasn’t making fun of me or being an ass, he wasn’t even patronizing (well, he wasn‘t trying to at least)- he thought he was losing a friend. The guy was just a bit oblivious. God I was so dumb. Of course, he blames himself for my eventual actions. Poor guy. Zach didn’t deserve any of this- he never did. “Thank you” he cries in new clarity.

In mental tears I begin to undo my connection to him. It’s not something he had the capacity to do himself- I made that a reality when I used my physical form as tribute. I know the price which must be paid, for my greatest sin, born from misunderstanding. There wouldn’t be much left for me- the price for the spell was my physical body after all. It didn’t matter. I made that choice for myself when I recited the spell. But Zach... he had no choice at all. He still had a chance at a life. A life well-lived with knowledge and confidence gained from my memory. It was the least I could give him.

I begin to drift away as I balance the cosmic scales. I detach the last of myself from Zach, ready to give him back his body, ready to return him to his life. It’s merely a reverse of the process from before, yet it all feels lighter somehow. I take it as a sign of karmic justice. Of course, I am scared. Who knows what awaits me? Maybe I can find another body to inhabit. Maybe one in a coma. Maybe i’ll be reincarnated. Maybe nothing. Maybe I’ll just vanish on the spot...

Zach doesn’t give me the chance to find out. I feel his astral hand holding on to mine. His face is sympathetic. Kind. Warm. Like it used to be. Like it always was. His body leans up to pull me into a warm embrace. I start crying in spirit. “You, you don’t have to do this-”

“I know” he says. He pulls me tighter. “Roommates for life, remember?” Now he’s crying. “There’s no way to go back- we both know that, but you still got a life to live-we both do.” He smiles as he guides me to himself. I reattach to him. We weave our souls as one. “C’mon man, I told you I grew up sharing a room.” I am a complete mess of emotions at this point. Unworthiness, Love, Relief. I feel his mess too. Neither of us knew where to go from here, but we both knew we’d face it together.

The experience was sobering, to say the least. We cried together that night. We cried at newfound realization. We cried at irreversibility of what I had done. Hell, we even cried at the extra rent that had to now be paid. I had no way of undoing what I did, and Zach wouldn’t let me go. In the end, we decide to just give it a go, a resolve to live as one person. “Zach 2.0,” as he jokingly put it. Dork.

———

“A happy accident,” is what Zach called the events of that night. He always was the optimist. Although, these days, I’m a bit of an optimist now too. I am Zach now too, after all. All things considered, we’ve done quite well together. Zach 2.0 was everything. We were smart, intuitive, confident, compassionate. We’ve made this body the healthiest it’s ever been. Hell, together we even graduated with honors, something neither of us could ever hope to do alone. Both our parents were real proud of that one- he told mine at my funeral that we had been together and we’ve been in close contact ever since. By no means were we the perfect man though. There was no perfect man. We’ve had our share of fights, struggles, times where one of us would take full control of this body we share, shut the other out.

Once in a blue moon, we both dream of what our lives could have ended up as, had I not done what I did or had he let me disappear that night. In retrospect, I really do think my life had a lot of things going for it. Hindsight is always 20/20, as he likes to say. I saw many an opening, so many areas for improvement that my younger self was blinded by in lust and perceived betrayal. There was so much life I could have lived, had I just not opened that stupid book. I don’t dwell on it too much though. We’re both quite happy sharing this body. I’m living in one body with my crush, whats not to like?

The first few months were quite jarring. Our friends and family would see us happy and outgoing at one moment and then flip to quiet and reserved on a flip of the switch. Gratefully, they been patient with us, assuming it was the byproduct of a grieving boyfriend. The more years I grow with him, the more alike we have become. Sharing one body and living one life tends to do that. I’ve probably rubbed off on him a little too. He’s just a bit more analytical now, a bit more perceptive, and I’ve learned to let loose every once in a while. Altogether, we make a great team. We’ve even managed a slew of relationships along the way. Hell, he’s even gone out with some guys-no doubt a byproduct of my soul being a part of him. Of course, in the ultimate cruel twist of fate, they never last- he tells me “none ever match me”. Well of course they can’t. I’ve lived every moment with him, felt his every thought, lifted him when he was up, consoled him when he was down. Ironically, in a roundabout way, the spell did end up causing love, causing for him to fall for me- at the cost of us never being able to be a couple in the physical sense. Guess you really can’t have it all.

In the few years we spent together my love for him has only deepened. I know he feels the same way. We are one person, after all. All things considered, it’s not a bad setup. If love on the physical plane happens, it happens, and if it doesn’t- then we still always have each other. Regardless, I’m sure we’ll find someone out there for the both of us, someday-there’s that optimism again. Of course, we don’t pine for it. Our main focus has always been each other. Growing together. We’ve got a whole life yet to live. And he’ll have me with him every step of the way. And we can’t wait to face it all, together.

-End-

Eh, it’s a bit underdeveloped but I’m not a novelist and I didn’t want to spread this out over parts. Going for something a little different with number 14- hope y’all like it!

#male possession

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diaco1968 · 3 years

Text

Altair x Reader

Warnings! Smut, lemon, unprotected, a bit of choking, bit of humiliation, sounds a little dub/non con in the end

Note: I just realized I've written nothing for my first and longest crush, none other than the arrogant grumpy assassin! Sorry for the slight ooc-ness, I get weird writing about him...

Also amazing art! It's thanks to this, I've been visually crushing over this man for the longest time! *^*

Artist

"Wanna blow off some steam, Assassin?"

He could still feel your hands all over him, the feeling of your touch;

Your fingers running up his abs, tracing his chest, running over his shoulders, nails lightly scraping the back of his neck before they carded through his hair finally coming to a rest in a tight demanding grip on the back of his head.

It was unlike whatever he was used to.

The girls in the garden. They just did what they were assigned to do. Though they were obedient and submissive, they didn't claw at him like they desired him.

It was unusual.

It was exhilarating.

It was wrong.

It had been one of the rare occasions where there was a brief pause in the conflict between the assassins and the templars. A moment of peace that kept you all from jumping at each other's throats while their mentors and your commanders talked out their differences for a mutually beneficial truce. And of course they both had the option of having their choice of bodyguards accompanying them.

That was how he first met you. In person and eye to eye. With a distance of less than a rooftop, even less than a swords lenght, apart.

He couldn't get it off his mind now.

You had heard of him, seen the havoc he had caused in your ranks without even being seen. And he had seen you before as you barked orders at your little pawns and cut through his less experienced brethren with no mercy.

Always from afar.

Maybe that was the reason you colided hard the moment those roles were gone and out of the way. Attracted by the differences like day and night.

So when you cornered him alone with that very suggestion you were met with little to no resistance as you grabbed his collar and crashed your lips onto his. You demanded and you took as you pleased, making him bend to your will and despite his arrogant self, he liked that. He liked being wanted. The way you had him on his back in moments, straddling him so full of confidence. You were quite a skilled rider too.

Had him wondering if he had finally met his match?

Now as he stalked in the shadows waiting for you to make a wrong move, he wanted to take back. He wanted you. He had spent weeks being distracted time and again by the memories of your little encounter, now that he was so close to you again he couldn't help but drown deeper and deeper in his inner conflict. Thess were slightly different times, what if you rejected him? It would be so embarrassing... and he couldn't just kill you off if you did, that would harm the truce...

He shook his head as he caught himself thinking nonsense again.

Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent...

You were a templar though... did you count?-

He didn't have time to measure your innocence as your pawns left to do something you ordered them to and finally you were all alone. All his. Easy prey.

A hand wrapped around your arm, twisting it behind you as he pulled you into the alleyway and slammed you front first into the wall.

"You've become too dull."

"Have I really?"

That was when he noticed you didn't use your other hand to brace yourself on the wall. The little sharp pain in his side from the blade threateningly pressing into him was proof enough.

"You'd still die anyway. So, yes, you have."

He let go of your arm and you turned around to face him in the very little space provided by his arms caging you to the wall, teasingly grinding your ass back onto him. He of course suppressed the little hiss in response, not wanting to give you the satisfaction.

"You think I dismissed my men because I'm dull and not because I saw a certain assassin lurking around in the shadows?"

He narrowed his glinting golden eyes at you.

"You are bluffing."

You chuckled as you wiped at your scraped cheek to ease the stinging.

"What ever helps your ego."

You could see his scowl even from under the hood casting shadows over his face that complimented his features, as he loomed over you, completely silent. His sunkissed skin, sharp bones, haunting eyes, defined scar over his lips.

"You are in templar territory, what do you want, bird?"

His grimace at the nickname had you smirking triumphantly. Why did you have to know their language... it was annoying.

"Don't call me that!"

"But that's your name."

You looked smug and he didn't like that but you didn't have all day for the yarn of his ego to untangle on it's own. You reached up, slipping your hand inside the hood and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down to you so you could whisper in his ear.

"Or do you prefer, Eagle? Am I your poor little prey this time?"

He could feel the goosebumps rise over his arms as he growled in annoyance, your voice rolled over his skin smoothly.

"If you were, you wouldn't live long enough to mock me."

"Flattering."

Your smirk widened, nipping the side of his jaw and pushing him off a whole step before he could react.

"Come, boy."

"... tch..."

Clicking his tongue he wondered if this was all worth it any way as he watched your form striding down the alley, taking his time before he decided to follow you.

To an abandoned building, top floors almost burnt away, leading to a giant hole in the roof opening up to the skies. At the entrance you grabbed his hand cause he was hesitating to step in.

He would have preferred more hospitality... like your own quarters maybe...

He didn't have time to ponder as you pushed him back on one of the few surviving furniture, before straddling his lap.

... a long wooden bench... in a burnt building with cold stone wallls...

"We're in a church!-"

You were already half way through his robes, heavily dropping the weapon belt on the ground as you looked up at his anxious expression, scoffing.

"And? Are you a religious man, Assassin?"

He glared at you but you had a point. He just didn't expect such disrespect from you. Were you not fighting as part of Richard's army?...

"You're shameless."

"Shame is a weakness. You didn't seek me out beacuse I am a weakling now, did you?"

You plopped down on his now not dangerously armed crotch and his hands shot up to grab your hips and steady you.

"Who said I seeked you out? I was just in the area for a job."

"Ouch... you mean you killed off one of my men and came to add insult to the injury?"

He paused as you paused staring down at him. Well maybe he didn't choose his words right. He wasn't good at lying on the spot.

"That's hot."

At this point he had no idea if you meant the things you said or if you were being sarcastic. But he didnt care as you started grinding down over him.

Like last time.

Oh hell no.

He flipped you, so now you were lying on your back looking up at him surprised.

"Not this time. You are mine now."

"Oh? Fine then, show me what you've got."

You almost immediately regretted that as the pit in your stomach deepened not only from excitement but from fear as his fingers wrapped around your throat tightly, nudging your legs apart to settle between them. As you let him discard your clothes, it was probably the first time it downed on you. The danger you were in. He could actually kill you. And no one would know. Kill you and leave you there disgraced and dishonored with no one to know where to look for you.

You wheezed loudly, clutching the wrist of the hand he had wrapped around your neck, your train of thoughts derailed as he unceremoniously thrusted himself into you.

His fingers left your neck, to fist in your hair instead, arching your neck so he had more room as his lips met the delicate skin, his stubble scratching you pleasantly. You grabbed the back of his neck, pressing his face deeper into the crook of your neck and he didn't mind endulging you, sucking and nipping on the skin, combined with shallow slow thrusts had you arching and twisting under him, trying desperately to get more friction out of him. He gripped your hips tightly, pinning you down and restraining your movements.

"I said you'll be good and do as I tell you to."

"That is not what you said."

"Don't test me, (y/n)."

He growled in your ear, his voice rumbling from deep in his chest and you were not about to argue with that as you hummed in response and decided to oblige.

He briefly pulled out of you, only to pull you up and dropping you on your knees on the stoney ground. With a hand on the back of your neck he had you face down, arse up and he plunged himself back into you groaning at the way you twitched around him eagerly with a loud wanton moan.

His other hand grabbed your hip to keep you from jerking forward while he drilled into you, completely different from his earlier pace.

"This is what you want after all. To be fucked like a little bitch with an important audience."

Between your moans and scratching at the ground in pleasure mixed with pain you didnt have time to wonder who, until he grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled you back against him so you were facing the old crushed cross behind the altar.

"...you fucking basta-geh!"

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, down your throat, deep enough to make you choke and gag around them.

"I'd watch my mouth, if I were you."

He resumed kissing your abused neck, fingers thrusting in your mouth, creating lewd wet noises and heavy moans.

You were close, he could tell. You were constricting around him so tight he almost released a few times if not for the way you bit his fingers angrily. But he wanted you to finish first. Wanted you to whimper and beg as you just couldn't anymore.

He sunk his teeth in your shoulder and that was it for you. A high pitched mewl and you were clamping down on him violently as your release shook you to your core, slumping over him as he slowed down ever so slightly.

Then he let you drop on your front and resumed his brutal pace, seeking his own release now, disregarding your half hearted protesting sobs.

It didn't take him long and he finished over your ass, panting heavily as he watched your shaky body, get used to the abuse way too quickly as you rolled over underneath him to shoot him a glare.

Awkward silence engulfed you both as he got on his feet and even helped you up with a hand and you both started fixing up your clothes and putting your weapons back in place.

This was not how it ended last time. The silenece made him wonder if he did something very wrong. If your little forbidden rendezvous had come to an end because of him. If it had, it was probably for the best but... he felt a pang of sadness thinking about it. Oh how he wished for you to open your smug mouth and say something. Anything.

"I think we can both agree, I am better off in charge."

"You wish, Templar."

"...well... yes, I do. That's the whole reason behind our ancient conflict, Assassin."

#altair x reader #altair x reader smut #altair x reader lemon #assassins creed #altair ibn la'ahad #assassins creed imagines

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cinnamonest · 3 years

Text

Yandere Profile - Izuku Midoriya/Deku (BNHA/MHA)

I'm showing up in tags again yay! Time to repost this

Finally I am dishing out MHA content and kicking off with one of my favorite boys nice

TWs: Fem!Reader, Yandere, kidnapping, delusional mindsets, infantilization, mentions of violence/mutilation, mentions of murder, mentions of fake suicide, n//s//fw themes/mentions/brief content, mentions of virginity/sex shaming, dark content, mentions of a high school setting

TWs (n//s//fw section/below the cut): noncon, brief dealing with/mentions of past sex trauma, generally depraved/dark content, pain content, infantilization What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

High key delusional. (I think everyone I've seen in the yan bnha community agrees on this lmao.) But really, he acts that way because he's not naturally that way - he has to make an active effort to lie to himself and to you in order to believe his delusions.

Obsessive. I mean, look at what this boy does to his heroes. You bet he has an entire notebook dedicated to your existence. It starts off simple, an entry regarding your quirk if you have one, or perhaps he feels compelled to write a simple entry about someone he met if you don't. Gradually it turns into a log of all his encounters with you, his observations of your day, his thoughts about you, a strict schedule of what you do. The things you do while he watches - you KNOW the boy is a stalker. He has a folder in his phone gallery of just quick snaps he's taken of you walking around, smiling, laughing, looking at your phone, lots of pictures from the back, sleeping at your desk, and a few more risky ones. The time he accidentally walked into the wrong shower room after a class and just happened to catch you getting out of the shower. Slightly blurry pictures through the window of the girls dorm of you getting dressed, laying in bed, sitting at your desk doing homework. Dark, barely visible images of your sleeping form just barely illuminated by moonlight. You really ought to lock those windows.

He's on the border where he's just comfortable enough to talk to you, but far too nervous to ever confess, or spend as much time with you as he'd like. Of course, preferably he could spend every waking moment by your side, but, he's aware enough to know you need space. He's fine with that. He's technically with you anyway, you just don't know it. And really, he likes stalking, genuinely. He likes the feeling of knowing you're unaware of his presence, the thrill of risk and the giddy satisfaction he gets knowing this is your candid, non-performing self, he can see what you're really, truly like when you think you're alone, and it's just so cute.

Particularly for a quirkless, civilian darling, or if darling's quirk has no combative purposes, he'll be much more protective. He's one to have the delusion that you're too fragile for the world, and that you're inevitably bound to get hurt, it's not safe out there. You're like a little kitten, one that's just a little too curious for her own good, doesn't know how big and bad the world is, how people who want to hurt her are out there. Kittens stay inside all day where they belong, safe to be the soft little housepets they are.

History/info stalker as well. He will find out everything about your past and you in general - memorize things like your height, birthday, grades, blood type, etc. Will also deep-dive through any social media you have, even managing to find anonymous ones, probably by sneaking through your phone as your sleep. He'll learn about your family, how well they treat you, gauges how hard they'll search for you. He'll want to know about any history you have regarding relationships and sex, too. He'll be disappointed to learn you've ever been with and done things with someone else, but that's ok. Everyone makes mistakes, and he can forgive that.

Massive savior complex. This goes double if he did save you from a situation -- he's literally your hero. And he expects that you should at least be grateful enough to acknowledge that. If your family or boyfriend or past boyfriends were abusive or unkind in any way, if you were generally struggling in school or work, if you had any sort of bad life, it will also emphasize this, and he feels he saved you from all of that, and is giving you a better life. And he'll remind you, frequently.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Inevitable, but he's a planner and he takes some time. He's smarter than he seems and he will formulate an extensive plan. If we're talking senior Izuku, well, he's limited, as he only has the dorms and his old apartment where his mother lives. He's likely to wait it out until post-graduation, wait until he gets his own place, which will now be as soon as possible. Whenever you plan to start university or hero work or whatever, well, you'll never actually make it there.

As for how, it depends on your trust. If he's managed to get close to you as he hopes to, at least to the point of friendship, he'll likely just invite you over, one last time before you go your separate ways in life. You walk right into your own imprisonment, not thinking anything is off when he locks the door behind you. If not, if he was never that close to you, or you turn down his offer, well, he'll just do it the old fashioned way. You're a naive little thing, and you'll inevitably be walking by yourself at night at some point for whatever reason, and he knows how to make chloroform. He may look small-ish, but he has a deceptive strength even without the use of OFA, you can't actually hope to overpower him. If he can't catch you out walking, well, once again, you really ought to lock those windows.

Now, a hero Deku, a few years into his 20s and quickly gaining popularity, that sees some poor little civilian getting hurt, he'll just use the excuse of taking you to get help. Clearly you've suffered a concussion, you're not in your right mind, and if you pick up on what's going on and try to call for help, he'll just say so to passersby. People have no reason to distrust him, he's a well-reputed, extremely popular hero, he would never harm someone. So when he says he's just taking you to get medical assistance, no one bats an eye.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

Like some of my previous yans, he's one that will intentionally set up escape opportunities just to see how well your conditioning is going. Leave the door unlocked, but sit and wait outside. Make the bonds just a little bit too loose to see if you wiggle out of them. Leave things that could be used as lockpicks to see how smart you are. It's all a test, though, don't worry. He'll be waiting right outside to make sure you don't actually end up going out into the world and getting yourself hurt. He'll be disappointed in you, but don't worry, he's not too mad - it's just his way of knowing you don't understand yet.

Generally, it's tight security. He's one to invest in electronic security -- a shock collar, tracking anklets, cameras that sense motion, a bracelet that tracks your heartbeat, and all of which send him notifications to his phone if anything is out of the ordinary. The cameras he'll be able to watch a live stream of at any time - he's gotten to where he eats lunch alone in his office so that he can just kick back and watch you.

Now, he has something of an urge to show you off, he would love nothing more than for the world to see what a cute little wife he has, but he restrains this urge for your safety. He has a lot of enemies, and he can't have them knowing about his weakness, he can't stand the thought of you getting hurt because of him. So don't expect to even have anyone who knows about you to rely on.

As for attempts... Should you manage to get through all his measures, well, clearly that means they weren't enough. He's another yandere that, you probably shouldn't try unless you are one hundred percent certain you'll succeed, because if not you likely won't get another chance. Security measures will bump up, and he'd likely implant something in you - a tracking chip beneath the skin, deep enough you can't hope to cut it out. That way, even if you get out into the city, he can easily find you and save you again. If you seriously manage to escape for a while, he doesn't handle it well emotionally, to be honest, he might get pretty upset, but again, everyone makes mistakes, so if you apologize -- and you will, even if he has to resort to unpleasant measures to force one out of you -- he'll forgive you.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Izuku is significantly smarter than he seems, much like his strength. Despite his deluded nature, he still recognizes that, since she's too dumb to comprehend her own safety, she's likely to try and pull tricks to get back out of her cage. He's perceptive and can read facial expressions and tone of voice very well, so if you're a good liar there's about a 75% chance he'll pick up on it -- anything else and he definitely will.

He's likely to go along with it, just to expose your lies or plan in the end. He likes giving you the humiliation because it will hopefully make you even less likely to do it in the future.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Izuku goes out of his way to keep you well-entertained, but it's all very... infantilizing. For example, he gets you streaming services and the like, but puts parental content locks on everything so you basically can only consume extremely g-rated type of content. He doesn't want you watching anything violent, or dirty or vulgar, it's not suiting such an innocent little thing. He won't even let you watch the news, unless occasionally forcing you to watch something that he knows is being aired about him, in which case he wants you to see so you're reminded of how good he is. He'll also be able to see your search history, and know if you tried to look up anything he wouldn't approve of, especially things like lockpicking or "how to disable human shock collar," you know, that sorta thing. Or more... adult things, which are also blocked. Besides, you have him, you don't need that.

He'll let you cook, but only in his presence, can't have you getting hurt without him there to fix it. You'll probably start off restrained to a bedroom -- a very heavily safety-proofed one -- in the beginning, gradually earning the privilege of going to other rooms once you've proven you can be trusted.

He'll also really try to get you almost anything you want, really. Clothes, books, hobby supplies, anything he thinks will make you happy and adjust more easily. You can use this to your advantage, really, if you're willing to settle in for your new lifestyle.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Of course, besides the obvious no escaping, no outside contact, and no attacking him, he's actually still got a lot of behavioral rules. Much like the content he allows you to consume, he expects the same from you -- no cursing, no drinking, no vulgarity. No handling knives while he's gone, and he'll know if you do, from the motion-sensing cameras that will alert him of your presence in the kitchen. He's one to humiliate you. Specifically, if you've proven you can't behave at all, or tried to really fight him, he'll get you a nice big cage to live in until you have learned your lesson. The kind they make for big dogs, short enough to force you on all fours, complete with bedding, a padlock, and a water bowl for you to drink from. You'll stay there until you can understand what you did wrong and are ready to grovel at his feet about it. During that time, he'll also ignore anything you say, acting like you're not there.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

He can't risk anything that would damage his reputation and career, so murder is off the table. Unless, of course, it's not murder, but rather a sort of, how do they call it... suicide by hero. There was no other choice, really. It's sad to have a kill on his record, but people understand that sometimes these things happen.

This changes if someone has hurt you in any way -- in that case, he's not hesitating to actually kill someone. The thought of someone hurting his little treasure is infuriating, not only at them, but at himself for not coming into your life and saving you sooner. He'll be sure they know exactly why they're dying, that they spend their last moments begging for forgiveness for what they did to you.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

Easier than you'd think. Izuku doesn't like his delusions being challenged since, again, he has to put in effort to believe them in the first place. If you're being bratty and having tantrums he won't let it slide - even the slightest step out of line is dealt with to ensure you'll at least hesitate before doing it again. If you are the bratty type and blatantly go out of your way to defy him and his rules to his face, it's ground for immediate and pretty intense punishment. His anger is terrifying in its own way. He's beaming, grinning from ear to ear, talking to you so sweetly, but with just the most subtle underlying tone that lets you know he's furious. It's a warning voice, telling you to fix your attitude or else. He doesn't cease the babytalk or petnames when he's mad, it actually gets worse, it helps him contain his fury. But when you hear him say sweetheart in that quiet, sweet, but low voice you've come to recognize and immediately become afraid, he's pretty pleased when it reaches a point where that alone can shut you up. He believes there's a healthy degree of fear that pets should have of their masters.

The easiest and fastest way to set him off by far, though, even more than being mean or disobedient, is silent treatment. That sets him off unlike anything else, and is most likely to make him snap to actual, unrestrained anger, finally showing his true rage and snarling at you, grabbing you by the throat and lifting you off the ground. It will only last a few moments, though, before he comes back to his senses and lets go, apologizing, telling you he hates doing that, but you really seem to try to make him mad, sometimes.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

He kinda bounces back and forth. He's a bit of a worshipper, telling you how beautiful and amazing you are and how he doesn't deserve you, really no one does, you're angelic, nearly a goddess - but at the same time, you're also his little kitten. A pet to be controlled because you don't know what's good for you. Kept away from a world hellbent on harming you. When you agree with him or do what he wants, it's the former. When you disagree with him, it's the latter, and he talks down to you like you're a child.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He'll try until the day he dies. And try he does, very much so, always buying you gifts, telling you sweet things, reassuring you how much he loves you. Even if you show no sign of ever giving in, that doesn't deter him, ever the optimist. It can become infuriating... and maddening, slowly driving you to the brink of insanity. When it comes down to you trying to break him of his delusions versus him trying to break you into them... he will win, you will crack first. No matter how stubborn you think you may be, rest assured, he's even moreso.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

I have a unique little headcanon... he hints to someone about your existence, and will select someone as a back-up caretaker. See, he's worried about the possibility of being killed in his heroism, and what would happen to his poor little kitten then? It might be weeks before someone enters his apartment, and they would never understand -- they would think he did something wrong, they would try to recondition you to the world, sure they'd have good intentions, but they wouldn't realize they're making things worse for you. So, he gets a very trusted friend, someone he knows would understand and... perhaps whom he gets the feeling has a bit of the same tendencies as himself, and more or less tells them that if something should happen to him, they need to go to his place, because something very important to him is there. As jealous as the thought of someone else having you makes him, he can't bear the thought of you being released back into the world... and you're still in the denial phase, so you still act like he's a bad guy and all that, so you might tarnish his name and legacy with lies. He can't have that. So, after careful consideration, he picks someone to take over as your caretaker, should something happen. He would rather know you're in the capable hands of someone he trusts than left to starve in his apartment or thrown out into the world, even if it means someone else having you.

Maybe an odd choice, but I could see him going for Shoto on that one. His personality may be very different from his own, and he may not be as close to him as some others, but he senses they have the same... tendencies and inclinations (am I implying he's definitely a yandere too? Yes), and be trusts him to care for you but also be able to handle and tame you. And honestly? He's one person he knows without a doubt will actually prefer to follow through and have you rather than disregarding his wishes - anyone else, and he's got a little doubt they might just not understand the situation, not understand your unique case, and take you to the police or God forbid, just release you back into the world. He leaves a little note with you (making sure to detail how you can be hard to handle, be patient with her, ok?) and tells you that should anyone with this physical description (I mean, it's a pretty unique description, not too many people look like Shoto), ever come and tell you that he's gone, give them the note, and be nice to your new owner, he's sure he'll love you too. But never forget, he loved you more.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Horny lil thing. His stalking tendencies result in a lot of perverted shit -- stealing your clothes, jerking off to all those pictures of you he's taken, putting hidden microphones in your room so he can hear when you're touching yourself. He's got a high drive, and jerks off quite a bit. Watching you in class often leads to his thoughts racing, and you notice he gets up to use the bathroom pretty frequently during class.

Prior to abduction, he's not brave enough to be touchy, although he will use his innocent demeanor to try and get a nice full-front hug every now and then that seems to last just a bit too long for comfort. After abduction, though? He makes up for all the touching he's wanted to do since he first saw you, wrapping arms around you all the time. When you're cooking he'll come up behind you and just wrap his arms around you, standing there and just enjoying feeling you. At night he's always very cuddle and wants to snuggle on the sofa or have you in his lap in some way. He also gets very grope-y beyond that point, frequently reaching up to cup your chest in his hands, squeezing your ass or thighs, or just spooning and grinding a hard-on against your ass.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Too far into the delusions to care. Granted he understands why you are so resistant, why you fight so hard - you're just scared, but don't worry, it will only hurt just a little bit. Or you're insecure - he'll tell you lots of sweet things, he would just hate for you to not know how much he worships you, you know.

Or maybe you're just prudish, or traumatized. Repeated resistance with time and failure to quickly give in leads him to this conclusion, he becomes convinced that maybe you were raised in a sex-negative environment, a too-conservative household, and you were taught to think such a thing was wrong. Maybe you had some kind of negative experience in the past. If you confess to either of these being true, that just solidifies in his mind that that's the sole reason you're so resistant. He'll adjust based on whatever the issue is - are you one of the "until marriage" people? Well it's not official, but he'll try to prove to you that you're basically married, even make a fake contract for you to sign, buy you a cute white dress and a cake and basically say this is no different from being truly married, after all, the government approval is a modern convention and in the past people were married just by vows.

Is it trauma? Well, as said before, he's reluctant to murder, but if that turns out to be the case, that knowledge is enough to push him over the edge, and he'll be sure to make them regret it while they die - he'll even be sweet enough to take a picture, show you how much they rightfully suffered, and he'll be so so sweet, reassuring you he's not like them, kissing your forehead even as he's ignoring your little cries to stop and sinking deep into you.

Just a prude? That's ok. He'll teach you otherwise, rid you of that mindset -- all the more reason to ignore your struggles and pleas, because once you feel good enough, you'll stop resisting. Once you understand how good sex is and how nice he can make you feel, he's confident he can turn you into his own little cock-hungry slut. And managing to do so -- making you cum despite how prudish you are -- gives him a massive ego boost. Especially if you did have past partners, because clearly they weren't doing their job well, since you're so frigid. He'll make you tell him how much better he is than anyone else from before.

He's not a patient man, he's far too eager and really there's nothing you can do to stop sex from happening like... probably within the first hour of your new life together. He's been waiting such a long time, you know. If you happened to be a civilian in the situation mentioned previously, and you didn't know each other beforehand, he might give you, say, 24 hours to adjust, but again, he's not patient.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Oral fixation

Just. He likes eating you out. A lot. Even if you don't. Even if he has to restrain you, holding you down so you can't squirm away. He likes the taste and the way it makes you squirm and writhe and whimper. He loves blowjobs, too. Just. Suck him off and he's wrapped around your finger, but be warned, he lacks self control in this area and will definitely end up grabbing your hair and just jerking your head like a fleshlight, forcing you to deep-throat him until he can cum down your throat.

Infantilization/Lingerie, corruption/defilement

Specifically the cute kind. He likes things like the kitty keyhole lingerie, thigh highs, schoolgirl uniforms, that sort of thing. Innocent looking, cutesy, lots of soft pinks and pastel colors. He never really ceases treating you like a dumb baby, even with sex, cooing at you and making you whimper, softly reassuring you everything is ok, and he'll make you feel good. He likes the innocence, even if you're not (convinces himself any past boyfriends "don't count" for whatever reason), and gets off to the idea that he's corrupting that innocence, ruining you, making you his and his alone. His little toy to play with and break and ruin, make sure you're so trained to his body and voice that no one else could ever make you feel as good as him. As aforementioned, he likes the idea of taking a little prude and turning you into a little cumslut that begs and whimpers for him. It's an ego, pride thing for him.

Petplay/D/S dynamic/Worship

Just. Kitten. It's good. He's super into the cat ears and tail, finding cute ears that perfectly match your hair color, and a little tail plug that makes you whimper when he slides it inside of you. Definitely calls you "kitten," or "kitty," and importantly, makes sure you call him your master. And good pets love their masters, worship them the way they deserve to be worshipped for taking care of you, feeding you, doing everything for you. Masters are their pets' whole world, and he will be to you, too. Also buys a collar, a nice thick one with a leash he can use to make you walk around on all fours, or use to yank you back onto him when you're getting fucked on your hands and knees.

Cockwarming

Unfortunately, the part of hero work they don't talk about as much is the paperwork. There's quite a bit, actually, and studying for license renewals. He's got a kinda short attention span and he needs some stimulation to keep him focused. Which is how you end up sitting in his lap at his desk, panties down on your ankles, holding perfectly still with him deep inside of you. He tells you not to move -- you'll distract him too much. Eventually, though, it can get to be too much, so he just ends up fucking up into you right there, but after he's done he'll stay inside, gradually getting hard again and repeating the process.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He likes the idea in theory, but ultimately decides against it for a couple of reasons. See, his little kitten is so... difficult, and he fears you might teach them to resent him. More importantly, people would wonder -- if he's got kids, where's the mom? He can't afford to have people snooping about that. Finally, much like with you, he fears that his enemies might kidnap his kids, or hurt them somehow to hurt him. If darling is especially well-behaved, once she's finally broken in and understands his way of seeing things and becomes more agreeable, there's a chance he'd consider it, but the concern over their safety would likely still stop him.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Definitely spanking and impact pain. He's gonna invest in it, too. Leather straps and hard rubber paddles -- probably gets one of the ones that have a little shaped hole or raised part that puts a nice little design imprint on your flesh. Likes making you count for the added humiliation, or making you choose a number of swats that you feel is appropriate for what you did -- but of course, if you go too low under what he had in mind, he'll go with his number and add extra, being sure to let you know you get more for underestimating what you deserve.

Speaking of the monitoring from cameras and all that above, he also has a firm rule that you can't touch yourself. And he'll know -- the bracelet you have alerts him to any increase in heart rate, and he can look into the cameras and see what you're doing. If you're trying to be sneaky, it's still obvious when your heart is racing while you're locked in a bathroom, or the little movements he can make out from under the covers. It also warrants punishment. You want orgasms that bad? Have some. Too many. He'll make you cum over and over, to the point it's horribly painful and sensitive, tying you firmly so you can't move an inch and can't get away from his fingers, tongue, vibrator, or whatever else he chooses. Keep going until you're sobbing and gasping for air, apologizing and crying that you won't do it again.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Thigh boy. He likes using them as a pillow, feeling them wrapped around his head when he's eating you out, running his hands up and down the soft flesh. He's also fond of leaving little bite marks and hickeys all up the inside of your thighs -- not that anyone else sees, but it's just a little reminder to you of who you belong to.

#yandere bnha #yandere deku #yandere izuku #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #lena's asks

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eliemo · 3 years

Text

Face Down

Summary: Virgil remembers how he was treated and realizes, for the first time, that he didn’t deserve what he went through.

TW: Flashback, descriptions of past abuse, violence, past gaslighting, mental breakdowns, crying, swearing, threats, blood and injuries

Sympathetic Light and Dark sides

Masterpost

Virgil had thought he was going to die.

He remembered when the thought popped into his head, sudden and frantic, screaming at him to get away. It hadn’t been the first time he’d had the thought, but it had been the first time it came from the rational part of his brain, not the panicking part.

Which had been horrifying, especially considering the fact that he was fairly certain Sides couldn’t die. Not completely, anyway.

But it had been one of Wrath’s beatings (those were always the worst), and it hadn’t stopped.

He supposed it made sense. Virgil tried not to think about it too much anymore, but Wrath was the manifestation of the deepest parts of Thomas’s anger, the rage he would never give power to, because that wasn’t Thomas.

He had carried out a majority of Virgil’s more extreme punishments for longer than he could remember.

Which was...fine. It had been fine. It made sense after all, Virgil needed to learn his lesson. The pain was always warranted, always given when he needed to do better, when he’d made a mistake.

Except…

Except it had been different that time. It should have been eye opening, should have been a red flag, but all he’d done was ignore it. He’d forgotten it, shoving it to the back of his mind until it was nothing but a distant blue, identical to all the other memories he wished he could forget.

He’d been on the ground, face down, gagging against the coppery taste in his mouth, trembling and gasping in a pathetic heap. Everything hurt, his clothes drenched in what could have been sweat or blood, the room spinning violently, voices far away and distorted.

He’d long ago lost the strength to raise his hands up to protect his face, and he could barely see through the blood dripping into his eyes. He was almost positive his nose was broken, along with at least a couple of his ribs.

It had all been...unfortunately routine as far as punishments went, albeit a bit more intense than usual. The only difference was that it wouldn’t stop. Wrath had just kept going and going, until Virgil was completely convinced the other side was determined to kill him this time.

He’d been terrified, of course, he always was when they hurt him no matter how often it happened. But this time he remembered being...confused. He hadn’t understood why it was happening.

He was always hit for a reason. Small mistakes, like stumbling, moving too slow, stuttering or taking too long to answer when he was asked a simple question, were met with smaller punishments- slaps, kicks, shoves, a punch or two, occasionally chasing him out of the kitchen when he went to get food. Just enough to remind him of his place, to keep him scared enough to do his job efficiently.

Things like making a mess, dropping something, making a loud noise, breaking or damaging something were met with...more severe punishments. And while he obviously didn’t like it, he knew better than to complain.

He knew it was pathetic how often he messed something up, so he knew how important punishing him was. But this time...he’d had no idea what he’d done.

It had been first thing in the morning- he hadn’t even had a chance to open his mouth yet. And he’d been extra careful lately, still a bit sore from the last beating Wrath had put him through.

So as guilty as it made him feel to admit it, he had no idea what he could have done to warrant this.

Wrath’s beating had come to a stop without warning, and suddenly Virgil was gasping against the pressure of a boot against his neck, keeping him down.

“What the fuck did you just say, Anxiety?”

Virgil had always been nothing but Anxiety to him- to all of them. Years spent together, and they had never bothered to even show interest in his name. (In his dreams, the nightmares that left him waking up to his own screams, they always called him Virgil. Always taking away as much power as they could)

Janus and Remus knew his name- but at the time Virgil thought it was only a reward for them never having to raise a hand against him.

He should have known better. He shouldn’t have been so gullible and stupid.

And apparently he’d spoken without realizing, terrified questions forcing themselves to the surface without his permission, and Virgil could feel Wrath’s anger only grow, and quickly scrambled to take it back.

“I- I’m- I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I--”

“Shut up! Just shut up! God, do you ever stop talking?”

Virgil obeyed, biting his bloodied lip to keep from whimpering when Wrath’s boot was replaced with a knee digging painfully into his back.

He couldn’t see them from where he’d been pinned down on his stomach, but he knew the Others were there, crowded around and watching like it was entertainment.

He could hear them laughing. Why were they laughing? Weren’t they supposed to be mad? What was so funny?

Why did they always seem so excited when he made a mistake?

“Don’t ever ask me that,” Wrath hissed, and Virgil bit back another cry of pain, knowing it would just make him angrier. “Don’t you ever ask me what you did wrong, do you understand? Do you know how stupid you sound?”

“I...s-sorry--”

A hand twisted into his hair, yanking hard enough for Virgil to see stars, choking on his own desperate words.

“I don’t know what you did, Anxiety, but does it even matter? I don’t need a reason, you’ve always done something, haven’t you? You deserve this- you always deserve it, and I don’t owe you a fucking explanation. You’re lucky we put up with you at all.”

Virgil tried to nod, squeezing his eyes shut against the humiliation and the pain, but the motion proved impossible with the way Wrath was holding him down, and he didn’t dare try to talk again.

“Do you understand that?” Wrath asked, suddenly speaking like he was addressing a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Nobody needs a reason to hate you Anxiety, it’s not our fault you’re like this. And I sure as hell don’t need an excuse to remind you exactly what you deserve.”

The hand in his hair tightened, and this time Virgil couldn’t help but cry out, eyes flying open in alarm. He thought he heard someone snicker.

“Do you understand?” Wrath demanded again, a heavy weight on Virgil’s back. “Tell me that you understand!”

But Virgil couldn’t form a response, throat tight and mouth flooding with his own blood and spit, ears still ringing with Wrath’s demands that he stay silent.

And then another voice was calling, somewhere from the other side of the room, but Virgil couldn’t focus enough to make out who it was.

“Remus is coming. Get him out of here.”

Virgil barely had time to process that, the terror that came with the thought of another side seeing him like this, seeing how weak and pathetic he was, another excuse to hurt him even worse. He didn’t think he could handle much more.

(Looking back on it, Virgil would have given anything for Remus to walk in on time)

The weight on his back was gone, and Virgil was suddenly being lifted off the ground, one hand under his arm, another grabbing at his hoodie and yanking him forward.

He gasped in pain as Wrath threw him haphazardly over his shoulder and began walking to the stairs.

“N-no...please, I--”

“Shut up, Anxiety.”

Virgil did as he was told, only able to silently hope his constant trembling wasn’t obnoxious enough to warrant another strike, forcing himself not to whimper when any of his injuries were jostled by Wrath’s less than careful movements.

Virgil tried not to think about how this was the most physical contact outside of any violence that he’d had in years.

It took him a moment to realize Wrath had brought him to his room, only really comprehending where he was when he was unceremoniously dumped on the floor, crying out against the wave of blinding pain.

“Stop whining,” Wrath snarled, and Virgil cringed, waiting for another blow. “You know you deserve this. If anyone tries to say you don’t, they’re lying. And if you believe them you’re even stupider than I thought.”

And with that he was gone, sinking out of the dark room without another word, leaving Virgil a shaking, bloody mess on the floor.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there. He couldn’t remember- everything fuzzy and faded with time and pain.

He did, however, remember with perfect clarity the terror that had shot through him at the sudden knocking on his bedroom door.

He tried to calm himself down, tried to remind himself that no one ever knocked when they planned on hurting him. If they were angry, they would just barge in without warning.

“Anxiety?” It took him a moment to recognize Morality’s voice, deceptively sweet as ever, and he curled up tighter to muffle any sound. “You in there, kiddo? I think Thomas wants us for a video if you can make it.”

And Morality sounded so...nice. He always seemed so kind, so genuinely caring. Virgil had been warned, of course, that none of the kindness extended to him was real. It was a trap, a twisted trick, and if Virgil fell for it he’d be hurt worse than ever before. He was safest where he was.

But that day, half-conscious and bleeding all over his bedroom floor, Virgil had thought about calling out. For the first time, he’d considered asking for help.

Because the beating had finally stopped, but the pain had only gotten worse. He honestly wasn’t sure he could clean himself up like he usually did. He didn’t even know if he’d be able to stand.

Obviously, Morality wouldn’t want to help him when he saw the kind of beating Virgil had deserved. He’d probably only get ridiculed and scolded when the other side saw what kind of injuries had been needed to put Virgil back in his place.

But Virgil would take yells and taunts over slowly bleeding out on the floor. And he could come up with some kind of excuse. He could say he fell down the stairs, and that he just needed help making it to the bathroom to wash up.

And he almost managed to do it, taking in a shaky breath when Morality knocked softly again.

But he couldn’t. Because no matter how badly he wanted to, no matter how desperately he wanted someone to care just a little, he knew nobody would. He was so tired of being terrified, but there wasn’t any other choice.

And he really didn’t think he could handle any more pain. Especially not from someone he hadn’t gotten a chance to see angry yet. He wouldn’t know what to expect.

So Virgil had closed his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the silence to come, and Morality had eventually relented.

“Alright, kiddo,” he’d called, sounding almost disappointed. “I know you’re busy.”

(Virgil would do anything to go back and change it. He’d give anything to convince his past self to give in and call out, to scream and cry and beg for help. Because if Patton had heard him, if Patton had seen what the others did to Virgil, it all could have been over so much sooner)

It had taken Virgil all night to find the strength to pull himself off the floor to make it to his bed, and when he didn’t leave his room for nearly three days, no one seemed to notice. If they did, he doubted they cared.

If Wrath hadn’t stormed into his room and demanded Virgil washed the blood off his face or he’d get it twice as bad, he might have forgotten he existed at all, content with letting himself waste away.

Virgil had no idea when he’d started crying but here he was, leaned against the side of his bed, a hand pressed tightly over his mouth while tears rolled down his cheeks.

He didn’t get it. He didn’t know why he’d let himself sit here almost all night, staring blankly at the floor, consumed by a memory he’d tried so hard not to think about for so long.

He’d pretty much forgotten about it completely, letting it blend in with the rest of the non-stop fear and pain he was put through. It shouldn’t be a big deal anymore. It was over.

But Virgil wanted to scream. He wanted to kick his bed frame until his foot split open, he wanted to throw his lamp on the ground and watch the bulb shatter into a hundred jagged pieces that could tear his skin open with a single touch. He wanted to yell and bite his skin, tear into his own flesh with his teeth until he couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t feel the hurt in his chest trying to suffocate him.

Because...because it wasn’t like all the other times. It was so much different- so much worse- and he’d just been too stupid to realize.

He’d thought he’d deserved it. Every time, no matter how bad it had gotten, he’d really, truly believed it was for the best. He’d understood, even through his pleading for the pain to stop.

There had always been something, some reason or excuse for why he needed to be punished. He’d been too loud, too disrespectful, too annoying, always an obnoxious nuisance everyone wished would just go away.

He was clumsy, he knocked things over or forgot where certain dishes went. He stumbled over his words or occasionally tripped if he moved too fast.

They were normal things. He’d seen everyone make small mistakes like that before and had never once gotten angry, never once felt the need or want to hurt them to make them better.

But Virgil had to be hurt. He would always be less than everyone else, always weak and evil and pathetic, so he deserved it. It wasn’t something he should question, it was just the way things were. And he’d believed it, every time.

Even after things had gotten better, even after the light sides had constantly shown him otherwise and Janus and Remus had proved to him over and over again that they would never, he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

But that time…

That time he hadn’t done anything. He’d done nothing. He’d been awake all of five minutes and it had been one of the few times he’d thought they were genuinely trying to kill him.

And they...Wrath hadn’t even denied it. He hadn’t had a reason to punish Virgil, and he hadn’t even bothered to come up with one. He just hated him. He just wanted Virgil to die.

And he’d known...he’d known Virgil wouldn’t fight it. He knew he would just lay there and take it, convinced after years of conditioning that no matter what, he deserved it. He deserved to be scared and hurting.

Virgil suddenly wondered how many other beatings he’d gotten for no reason at all. How many times they had tormented him just because they’d wanted to, trusting Virgil to come up with the reason all on his own.

And he always had, because that was what he'd been taught to do. Lock onto the smallest mistake and expect the worst. And even now, even when deep down he knew he was safe, he couldn’t stop.

It was never about punishment. It was never about helping Thomas. It had all been for entertainment.

It wasn’t...fair. It wasn’t fair.

God, what was wrong with him? Why was he so stupid? His whole life he’d let them do what they wanted, let them hurt him, manipulate him, twist his mind until he thought that it was normal. They’d had him convinced that the people he now loved more than anything in the world would do the same without a second thought.

They’d barely treated him like a person. They’d practically brainwashed him into believing Anxiety was lesser, that he didn't deserve things like safety, or privacy, or sometimes even food. They’d gotten him to believe he didn’t deserve to be loved. To be happy.

And Virgil had never tried to do anything about it. Not once.

Because...because it had never crossed his mind. He’d never let himself believe that anyone could be so cruel. He didn’t know, even after all this time, why they hated him so much.

Maybe it was to take back the power Thomas refused to give those parts of himself. Or maybe Virgil really was that irritating. Maybe they just found it funny.

He’d never know. He’d never know and that...somehow that was so much worse. Suddenly, he wished he could go back to believing he deserved it.

He hated this. He hated this.

This time, he didn’t fight against the angry, impulsive thoughts that popped into his head, desperate for any kind of relief from the swarm of emotions he couldn’t even begin to sift through.

Virgil pushed himself back, kicking out against the metal bed frame as hard as he could, letting his crying morph to ragged sobs against the vicious combination of pain and panic.

He felt pathetic as he kicked out again, slamming the top of his socked foot onto the edge of his bed. He felt small, and weak, and scared. Everything he didn’t have to be anymore.

But he’d never actually stopped. He couldn’t. He wondered if he would ever be able to.

He curled forward, sinking his teeth into his sleeve and finally letting himself scream, a muffled, pathetic noise that sounded more like broken wailing than anything else.

He didn’t care. For once, he didn’t think twice about it. He just let himself fall apart, let himself feel the hurt and anger, screaming and sobbing wordlessly into his arm, free hand tugging ruthlessly at his hair.

Just like Wrath had always done to get his attention.

He barely registered the frantic knocking at his door, everything completely drowned out by his own cries and ragged breathing.

“Kiddo?” It was Patton’s voice calling to him from the hallway, faint and panicked. “Can I come in? Virgil?”

Virgil almost wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation, how everything had come full circle. He could call out this time, no longer afraid of Patton wanting to hurt him. But once again, he couldn’t find the strength to speak.

Thankfully things were different now, and Virgil managed to raise a shaky hand to unlock the door for Patton, courtesy of the special lock Roman had conjured up for him after the unfortunate misunderstanding they’d had over Virgil’s need for privacy.

“Oh, honey.” There were footsteps, quick and soft, and suddenly Patton was kneeling beside him, close but not yet touching. “I’m here, I’m right here. Can you hear me, kiddo?”

Virgil didn’t respond, just curled further in on himself and shut his eyes. He didn’t have the energy to try and muffle his sobs anymore.

“Virgil--” a hand grazed his shoulder, and Virgil flinched back before he could stop himself. “Ok! Ok, I won’t touch you, kiddo. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Virgil forced himself to breathe, pulling his knees up to his chest and digging his nails into his scalp, wishing he could just get Wrath’s voice out of his head. He wanted to forget, wanted to block out the laughter that always came with his pain…

Laughter. Someone had always been laughing. It had always just been entertainment to them.

“I-I didn’t--” God, he could barely talk. He just wanted everything to stop. “I d-didn’t do an-anything I didn’t do anything--”

“I know,” Patton said, even as Virgil furiously shook his head. “I know you didn’t, baby, it’s ok--”

“No it’s not!” He hadn’t meant to shout, he’d never meant to shout at Patton- at any of them, but it felt like he was barely even here. Everything was too much. “I- I didn’t- they always...Pat I- I could have just opened th-the door!”

He could barely breathe, chest aching with each ragged sob, but he couldn’t seem to stop, everything spilling out all at once.

“Kiddo--”

“Y-you were right there. You...you were right outside the door and I didn’t...I let it- I...I hadn’t even done anything and he--”

“Patton? Is he alright?”

That was Logan’s voice, more footsteps making their way to the open door, and Virgil quickly fell back into a fit of uncontrollable sobs, hoping it was enough to block everything else out.

“What happened?” Roman was there too, all of them clearly woken up by the commotion from his room.

Virgil wanted the floor to swallow him up, to disappear forever until everyone forgot he existed. He wanted to sob and scream until he could never speak again.

He wanted to forget everything that had happened and just be ok. He wanted to stop being so scared.

“I’m trying to calm him down,” Patton said quietly. “I think he just had a bad dream.”

Virgil shook his head, breaths nothing more than hiccuping wheezes, pressing his head against his knees, refusing to see the looks of pity and confusion.

“It- it wasn’t...I wasn’t dreaming. It...it was- y-you were right there. I th-thought I was- I was dying and you were...I-I wasn’t ignoring you, I just c-couldn’t--”

“Virgil,” Logan said, calm and steady as ever. “You need to slow down. Try and take some deep breaths to--”

“No, I- I...R-Remus almost saw, they- they had to take me to my room and Pat...Patton was right outside. It- it hurt so b-bad and I...I was so scared.”

“Oh, god.” Patton sounded so small, but Virgil knew the moral side suddenly understood what he meant. “Virgil, I--”

“I thought I was going to die.” Virgil took a shuddering breath, the admission leaving him dizzy. “I thought...I-I wanted to ask for help so bad.”

This time, Virgil didn’t pull away when Patton reached for him. He fell into his embrace, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, clutching at the other side’s pajama shirt like a lifeline.

“It’s ok,” he heard Roman say somewhere behind him. “It’s ok, Virge.”

“It’s not. It- it’s not...I-I never did anything. It- it was never a punishment they...they just hated me. They just liked h-hurting me and I don’t- I don’t know why. It’s not...i-it’s not--”

“It’s not fair,” Logan finished for him, when Virgil couldn’t seem to form the words. “You should never have been treated like that. And as hard as it is, recognizing the abuse for what it was is an important step.”

Virgil just tightened his hold on Patton, choking on his own sobs as they just grew louder and louder while he made no effort to quiet them.

He didn’t want to keep taking these steps, he didn’t want to have to recover. He wanted it to be over. He didn’t want to do this anymore.

“I’m so stupid.” It was muffled by Patton’s shirt, but he felt the moral side tighten his hold. “I’m so fucking stupid!”

“You aren’t--”

“Yes I am! All the- all the shit they said to me and I never...I never...why couldn’t I have just asked for help?”

There was another hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles in between his shoulders, the movement slow and precise.

“Because you had been gaslighted and meticulously conditioned your entire life,” Logan said carefully. “You believed we would hurt you just as badly, if not worse. You had no reason to think otherwise.”

Virgil didn’t respond, suddenly too light headed to think straight, focusing instead on Patton’s steady breaths in his ear, gasping in between desperate sobs.

After a moment Logan spoke up again, quieter than before. “Could you two get him some water, please? Perhaps an extra blanket?”

At first, Virgil thought he was talking to Roman or Patton, who Virgil currently had no intention of letting go of.

But then there was shuffling by the doorway, and Virgil glanced up just enough to see two familiar, blurry figures watching from just outside.

Janus nodded, grabbing Remus by the arm to guide him down the hallway, and Virgil’s heart sank when he caught a glimpse of the look on the Duke’s face.

He wondered how much they had heard, if Remus had realized just how close he’d come to catching the others in the act. If he realized how careful they’d been to make sure he never saw.

Judging from the panic and regret he saw in Remus’s eyes as he was practically dragged away from the room, he probably did.

But he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on it right now, not when it felt like the whole world was crashing down around him.

“I’m tired, Pat,” he muttered, voice still trembling and weak. “I’m tired, I’m so fucking tired.”

“I know, baby. I know. But you’re safe with us.”

Virgil let out a humorless laugh, the sound more like a pitiful whine, his soaked face pressed against Patton’s collarbone. “I get why he didn’t- he didn’t kill me. This is...god, this is so much worse.”

He felt Patton freeze against him, Logan’s hand on his back abruptly stopping its soothing motions. He heard Roman take in a shaky, panicked breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, an old habit he still hadn’t been able to grow out of. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Stormcloud,” Roman said, and Patton began gently rocking him back and forth, Logan continuing to rub his back as quickly as he’d stopped. “You don’t need to apologize.”

He held on tight, squeezing his eyes shut. “I just...I don’t...I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to be better.”

There wasn’t a response, but Virgil knew there wasn’t much that could console him right now. Not when everything was spinning, voices of the past too loud to make out much of anything else.

But they held him, letting him cry and fall apart in their arms, wrapping him in a blanket and helping him drink water when Janus and Remus returned, careful to give them space.

He appreciated it, though Virgil hoped one day he could have a relationship with Janus and Remus where he felt comfortable having them with him when he was vulnerable.

They’d get there. It was just one more thing to work on.

For now...for now he didn’t want to think about the future. He didn’t want to think about how he’d probably wake up terrified, paranoid and jumpy, expecting anger and resentment for waking everyone up.

He didn’t want to think about how it might never stop. How he might never get better. How he could be like this forever.

He would dwell on all of that later, whether he wanted to or not. And he could already tell his nightmares would get bad again, memory after painful memory replaying over and over again in his head.

But he’d see it in a new light, a much darker motive behind the treatment. He wished it made it better to know he really hadn’t deserved it. It didn’t- it made it so, so much worse.

For now, he let himself melt into Patton’s arms, shuddering and gasping, frantically trying to copy the other’s breathing before he passed out.

The others had been wrong. The light side’s kindness wasn’t a lie, it was the only real thing he’d ever known. And he knew, no matter how bad it got, that his family would hold him together for as long as he needed.

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#sanders sides #abuse tw #violence tw #sympathetic janus #sympathetic remus #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #patton sanders #ts patton #logan sanders #ts logan #polysanders #prinxiety #analogical #moxiety #fanfiction #writing

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dinner-djarin · 3 years

Text

dar'manda (Mando x f!reader insert)

Prologue

(Inspired by this scene)

Summary: You've been working as a merchant on Nevarro for years now, only out of necessity. Life really wasn't going your way. At least until the Mandalorian came by your booth. Now he's all you think about, and soon he'll be even more.

Warnings: Probably some swearing (real and in universe), violence (eventually), smut (eventually), No use of Y/N, slowburn/fluff (for the first little while)

Notes: Takes place at the end of season 1, and will mostly take place between season one and two. I have been sitting on this for a while due to some fear about reception by the fandom, but honestly I just need to stop thinking about it so here we go. She's going out into the world, and I hope you enjoy. (Also I wrote this prologue like 2 months ago so it isn't quite where I'd like it to be but if you read this please just stick with me, I swear my writing gets better lol)

You don’t know how long it’s been since you last saw him. Weeks? Months? But you can’t get that damn tin can out of your head.

You really have no reason to be this hung up on him. He’s barely spoken to you, you’ve never even seen his face, so it should be easy enough to move on from whatever childish infatuation you have over him. Right? Maker, what kind of person crushes on a mask and a suit of armour?

But there’s something about him, something that keeps him planted in your subconscious. You’ve tried to find the words to explain it, but nothing ever comes close. You can't even begin to understand how this man has completely overtaken your every waking thought.

He used to come by every couple of weeks, and you’d savour every delectable minute of the interaction, but that was all before shit hit the fan of course. You weren't there to see it but when you came back to work the next day it was all anyone could talk about.

“Apparently the metal man broke some Guild rule, and practically all of the other bounty hunters tried to kill him for it.” You heard over your shoulder. As much as you liked to keep to yourself, you couldn’t help form eavesdropping on a conversation between merchants. You did have a guilty pleasure for drama, probably to fill the uneventful void that your mundane life had now become.

“The Mandalorian? He broke their code then!” one exclaimed.

“I heard he went back for a bounty,” someone else whispered.

“What could make someone do something so stupid?” questioned a merchant lady you already didn’t particularly like.

“He doesn’t strike me as stupid,” you interrupt, trying to stick up for the man you were currently enamoured with. “If he did it, there must be a valid reason.”

“If he did it?” She sneered. “Do you not see the damage he left behind? People will be out of business for sure. It’ll take weeks to clean up the mess he made.”

“Then I guess I hope it was worth it. That it wasn't in vain.” You state, putting an end to the conversation. You hoped the man – that you already liked against your better judgement – wouldn’t cause so much harm without some justification.

In the wake of his rebellion, a covert of other masked hunters revealed themselves, shot up the town, and then vanished without a word. And so did your Mandalorian.

Woah hold on. Not yours. Just one random Mandalorian that you’ve said a handful of words to and have harboured a secret crush over.

From the second you saw him you pretty much knew you were screwed. Between the husky modulated voice, and the broad as hell shoulders, there was pretty much no way to quell the instant attraction that rose up in you. His presence alone was suffocating. Nothing could stop the way your vocal cords tightened to the point of forcing out a soft squeal at his sight. The whole time he talked to you, you could feel his visor latch onto your body – pinning you to the spot.

You thought you might find some relief when he left. Quite the opposite. You couldn't help but gawk at the way his body moved, like he knew he was hot shit. He took your damn breath away. And you were glad to know that he couldn't see your lips part to let out a soft moan, or the way they pursed back together as you unconsciously swallowed the suddenly copious amount of saliva pooling in your mouth. Fucking delicious, you thought, shamelessly.

Maybe it was the fact that you knew he could take anyone down in milliseconds. He was untouchable, and this latest defiance proved that. No one crossed the Guild. Well, no one crossed the Guild and got away with it. But if anyone could, it would be Mando.

And there’s another thing. You don’t even know his name. Which means that you’re forced to call him the colloquial slang that is commonly used by outsiders of the Mandalorian culture. “Mando”. You couldn’t help but think about how it almost sounded like an insult, especially when slurred from the mouth of other criminals. You hated the way people spat the word out at him, obviously trying to get him worked up; to see what he was made of. It made you desperately wish that you had a better name to call him, his real name. An intimate piece of knowledge that you could hold on to, something of him that no one else had.

Maybe that made you selfish. Even so, there was so much you wished you knew about him. He was a complete mystery.

To be fair, he probably didn’t even know your own name. You can't recall him asking for it, or if you ever introduced yourself. You were pretty much a bumbling mess the first time you met him. To the point where even if you had tried to say your name it probably would have sounded like you were speaking Huttese. Although, who could blame you. It wasn’t very conventional to introduce yourself to every customer. The people on Nevarro usually kept to themselves, especially the bounty hunters. There wasn’t much room for ‘customer service’. But damn you wish you had tried to make some sort of introduction. Even if it had come out as incoherent nonsense, you think it may have made talking to him later a bit easier.

However, none of that matters if he never comes back, and you bet he won’t. He’s smarter than that. To pull what he did, he’s probably on the other side of the galaxy right now.

Even so, you’ll miss the shared awkward silences and stolen glances that came with each of his visits. Whenever he’d come into the shop, he’d list off what he needed to stock up on, using the most deep and captivating voice you think you’d ever heard. If he hadn’t had that helmet covering his face, you’d swear he stared right into your soul as he did so. It almost made you weak in the knees every damn time. You’d then rummage through each supply crate and gather the best quality of every item, and finally – just to bring your humiliation to an all-time high – you’d give him a discount for absolutely no discernible reason. He took notice of the reduced price the first time and thanked you, only for you to be berated by your boss once he left. Eventually, to your dismay, the niceties came to a halt. Maybe he forgot what full price was, maybe he just couldn’t care less.

Either way, it looks like you’d risked your job for the last time. It’s a shame. For a planet full of bounty hunters and hardened criminals, there’s actually not a lot to entertain you. A shootout here, an escaped bounty there, but nothing that satisfied your desire for an exciting lifestyle.

The closest you got to that would be each time some wide-eyed, eager, wannabe-bounty-hunter strolled through town looking for a chance to weasel their way up the ladder of the Guild. They definitely thought they were more important than they actually were, and they always made a point of showing off for you. Not that you were anything special, just the closest thing with cleavage usually. They’d probably brag about their rank and their kill counts, things you could not care less about. A few of them actually had the balls to ask you out, but it usually only ended in a free meal or drink. To be fair though that was very intentional on your part. It was fun to play the part of a flirtatious girl from the market for a while, and almost exciting to think about how you were completely screwing over those assholes.

Over the time you’ve spent alone in the galaxy you learned exactly how to read those kinds of people. You knew just how far to go, just what to say or do until you got what you needed. As much as you weren’t a fan of physical affection, you often brushed your target's arm or thigh, played with their hair, or if the situation really demanded it – madeout with them behind the cantina. But you always made a point of stopping before things got too far. You may not be a complete saint, but you knew none of the scumbags you met were worth your time.

You wouldn’t have allowed things to go any further. Not with them. Going any further could only be a letdown, and you were fine to take those matters into your own hands…. literally. You may be a complete flirt, but only as a skill to survive in this grimy and dangerous galaxy. You learned early on that being young and female was a vulnerability. That was at least until you discovered how that vulnerability could be shaped into one of your most valuable strengths.

When you think about him though… well something about him made your entire badass facade disappear into thin air. You lost any cool you had the minute he walked past your vendor. Not to mention that there was something else about him that told you he’d see right through it anyway. Maybe it was the visor. Some special setting to read the level of bullshit.

As far as you’ve seen, he doesn’t take anyone’s shit. He definitely isn’t the type to make others feel comfortable in a conversation. He says precisely what he needs to get his point across, nothing more. Never once had you heard him use more than 10 words at a time.

On a few occasions you were lucky enough to end up in the cantina at the same time as him. Whether you were on a break or entertaining some dead-beat for free lunch, you remember how fast your heart would beat when the glint of his helmet met your vision. You wondered if he noticed your presence, or if he even recognized you away from your vendor at the market.

One time you were in the next booth over. Your spine straightened, and your whole body shivered when he slid into his seat and placed himself directly behind you. The proximity was electrifying. It made every neuron in your body fire rapidly and your blood vessels pump impossibly fast. You were probably supposed to be listening to the slimeball buying your drinks drone on about how impressive his last capture was, but the baritone emanating from behind ensnared every ounce of focus you had.

“I’ll take the highest pay” he muttered through the modulator.

“I do have other hunters, Mando. I can’t always guarantee you get the best of the lot.” replied his employer. A smile maintained on his face even when confronting an unforgiving barricade.

“I’m sure you do. But high price means high risk.” Mando responded. His employer’s confused silence forced him to continue. “Those skilled enough to take on the bounties know better than to do so.”

The Guild leaders' laughter bounced off the walls making many patrons turned their heads, while others continued their business, obviously being used to this behaviour.

You were left puzzled in that moment, completely baffled by this interaction. It wasn't until much later that night when it finally clicked. Although you didn’t know exactly how ranking in the Guild worked, you knew Mando was up there. He had the status to strike fear into almost every other bounty hunter he outranked. Mando had staked his claim long ago, and no one in the Guild was stupid enough to try and take a bounty from him. If he wanted something, he was going to get it.

You’d remember that interaction vividly. Not only because of how close you were to the Mandalorian as you overheard it, but also in service as a reminder to you, proving just how dominant he was in this world. He held power over every member of the Guild, including its leader, whether he wanted to admit it or not. You felt idiotic for not instantly understanding the control he wielded wherever he went. Sometimes it's a wonder how completely oblivious you could be.

Although you certainly were not oblivious to the drastic upgrade he got just before leaving. If you thought Mando was intimidating before, his new head to toe silver armour was sure to strike fear into any of his prey. You remember thinking you saw his reflection pass by earlier in the day, but he quickly dissolved into the shadows, as he often found a way of doing. However, later that night when you had just gotten off from work, he strolled back into the cantina for a new batch of bounties and all eyes were drawn to him. Most eyes were filled with jealousy since – as his employer made clear – he completed the job none of them could. They were probably even more enraged by the fact that he wore his reward back into the room, when most of them would have gladly taken that metal to the highest bidder and sold it for a hefty profit. However, you saw him differently than the rest. Your eyes were fixed on him in fear and in wonder. This metal man, already a force of nature, just became that much more impossible to defeat. As if anything could get to him before, it was clear now that no one could reach the Mandalorian.

But again – it doesn't matter. Not a single soul on Canto Bight would bet his shiny ass walks back into this sector. Not unless he has some kinda death wish…

Turns out he has some kinda death wish.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1 is up now!

More notes: Hello there! I hope you enjoyed this lovely mess. I'm not the most proud of it, but I do want to continue this story (which I know we've all read 100 iterations of by now). Either way, I'm having fun writing it, so I might as well post it!

I'd love a like or comment if you'd be willing to share, I'm very new to writing so I'd enjoy any constructive criticism (especially on the first few parts, I know they need work, but at this point I just want to stop thinking about it and continue on with the story). Also this will be ongoing, so if you wanna keep reading feel free to drop your @ in my inbox or in the comments and I can tag you when I update!

So long for now my fellow helmet whores!

#mando x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin #fanfic #pedro pascal #mando #din #the mandalorian s1 #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x you #din djarin x you

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mirohlixie · 3 years

Text

"On your knees and suck." (Prof. Lee Know)

Teacher! Lee Know x Student! Reader (gender-neutral) Genre: Smut, College AU Words: 1,5k Summary: Before they knew they'd be professor and student in the same class one day, Y/N and Lee Minho had a one-night-stand. No Y/N is failing his class and needs to find a way to fix their grade. Luckily, they have an idea in mind...

Content Warnings: Degradation, Humiliation, Oral Sex (Male Receiving), Face Fucking, Unprotected Sex, Spanking, Dom! Lee Know x Sub! Reader

----------------------------------- o --------------------------------------"L/N, one moment please," Mister Lee said as he stopped Y/N from leaving the room. "We need to talk about your grades." Y/N stopped dead in their tracks, turning around with an indifferent look in their eyes, sucking on the sucker they'd just opened seconds before. God, what could it be about this time? The skirt that was too short? The knee socks that were too high? It wasn't their fault men couldn't keep their eyes off them. "Yes, Minho?" They taunted, looking at their professor with a challenging look in their eyes. They knew they weren't supposed to use their professor's first name, but after that one night stand they'd had before Y/N found out they were their teacher a couple of days later, they couldn't help it.

After they found out Minho had clearly told Y/N that it would be that time only and that nobody could ever know they’d had sex. If it came out, he’d probably be fired, if not arrested. Y/N found it a shame, considering they’d had a lot of fun that night.

“It’s Mister Lee to you and you know that,” he snapped, seemingly uninterested. Y/N rolled their eyes and sighed.

“Fine, Mister Lee. What did you need me for?” They sat on the desk, waiting for what their professor had to say. Minho also rolled his eyes and pulled some paper out of his bag.

“You’re failing this course,” he said matter-of-factly, his eyes trained on the paper. “So far you’ve had bad grades for all your assignments and I also never hear you in class. Therefore, your participation grade is also insufficient as we speak,” Y/N hated the way he spoke about them. So business man-like. As if the two of them hadn’t shared the bed only weeks ago. He hadn’t cared about them at all, which strangely kinda hurt. However, Y/N decided to push that thought away for now.

“So?” They asked instead.

“So? You’re not going to be able to graduate at this rate,” Minho said, clearly frustrated.

“Why do you care?” Y/N asked. “Not like you showed any kind of worry the past few weeks.”

“You know-” Minho stopped himself, lowering his volume. “You know I cannot give you any special treatment because we slept together once, Y/N. Don’t play dumb now. We’ve been over this,” he sat on his desk too, looking at them expectingly.

“Well…” you paused. “How am I going to fix it, then? You gonna tutor me?” Y/N played with the sucker in their mouth, swirling their tongue around it absent-mindedly.

“It’s too late for that. The final exam is in a week,” they looked at their professor, sighing. How the hell were they going to get that grade up then? Tutoring was the only thing that crossed their mind in this instance. “Besides, I don’t think it’s a good idea to put you and me in the same room after school, all alone,” Minho muttered, straightening the collar of his dress shirt.

“Why not, Mister Lee?” Y/N asked, making their voice sound seductive. “Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off of me?” They leaned into him slightly, whispering the last part in his ear.

“Don’t say shit like that around here,” he grunted. “If we get caught it’s over.”

“Oh but professor,” a devilish smile played around their lips. “How will I ever get my grade up? Maybe I could do something for you… A little… something,” Y/N licked their lips and looked their professor in the eyes.

“A little something?” He questioned, visibly shifting in his place. “Like what?” Y/N strutted to the door and closed it, turning the key in the lock before closing the shutters. Minho bit his lip, looking at the student in a mixture of surprise and arousal.

“Oh well I don’t know, I mean…” Y/N started palming their professor through his dress pants. “I know some options that are definitely not authentic, but you tell me, Mister Lee,” they bit their lip, watching Minho’s reaction in anticipation. They needed to get their grade up and this wouldn’t be too bad. Even better, they were very willing to do a little something for the hot professor.

“Fuck,” Minho cursed. “Fine, have it your way,” he grabbed the student’s neck and pulled them closer to him before smashing his lips on theirs. Y/N was a little taken back by that, but feverishly kissed him back after a short moment of realization. Minho’s lip swiped over their bottom lip and they opened their mouth as the professor’s tongue forced its way into their mouth, fighting for dominance.

Y/N moaned quietly, feeling their knees go weak at their professor’s dominant demeanor. They hadn’t seen it since that one-night-stand weeks ago. Y/N fumbled with their teacher’s buttons, but he withdrew. His eyes had turned ten shades darker as he watched them.

“On your knees and suck,” his voice boomed. When Y/N didn’t immediately give in, due to the shock, he pushed them down to their knees. “Do I need to repeat myself? Princess knows daddy doesn’t like to repeat himself,” Y/N quickly shook their head and unbuckled his belt, pulling the man’s pants down as fast as they possibly could.

His large member was already erect and slapped against his stomach, making Y/N gasp. They remembered him being big, but not this big. They hesitantly took the cock in their hand and started pumping it quickly, regaining confidence as they did so.

“Don’t be shy darling,” Minho grinned. “Nothing you’ve never done before is it?” His attitude had gone through a total switch and Y/N was not complaining at all. They nodded quickly and licked the tip teasingly before sucking on it slowly. They loved looking up and watching the professor’s reaction to their mouth. His eyes squinted for a moment and his face relaxed when the tension in his member was finally being relieved. By the looks of it, he had wanted it as bad as they had.

Y/N wrapped their mouth around the cock and started bobbing their head slowly, making sure to swirl their tongue around it in their movements. The quiet moans they elicited with this simple gesture were already enough of a reward to keep going. Minho tangled his fingers into the baby’s hair and softly tugged on the roots while Y/N sped up, hollowing their cheeks to make sure they were applying a lot of pressure.

“Fuck-” the professor exclaimed, biting his lip to stay quiet. Y/N giggled a little around him before speeding up even more, swirling their tongue around him faster as they lightly grazed their teeth over the shaft. “Like that kitten,” Minho’s grip on Y/N’s head became more firm before he slightly started to buck his hips into their mouth. The poor brat gagged as the tip hit the back of their throat harshly, the suddenness of it making them moan. Minho saw this as a sign to keep going and started thrusting, fucking his subby student’s mouth roughly.

All they could do was hollow their cheeks and swirl their tongue around occasionally, completely overwhelmed by the large object that was shoved into their mouth over and over again. Not much later, Y/N felt that familiar twitch; he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Shit-” Minho groaned between gritted teeth. “I’m close, doll. Are you gonna be a good one and swallow it all?” They couldn’t answer, but nodded their head to their best ability and hummed around Minho, indicating that they could.

A couple of rough thrusts later, hot spurts of cum shot down their throat and Y/N choked as they tried to swallow every single bit of it. When Minho pulled out, they gasped for air shortly and licked their lips.

“You taste amazing, sir,” they smirked a little, satisfied that they’d managed to convince their professor to do this. After all, this was a treat to both of them. “So… that will be a B?” Minho chuckled and shook his head in disbelief.

“Fine, I’ll turn that F for your most recent assignment into a B,” he stated, pulling up his pants and looking at the flushed baby in front of him. “But only that one,” Y/N frowned a little, knowing that wouldn’t be enough to pass the exam and the overall course in the end.

“And maybe I’ll have to consider tutoring you the coming week, to prepare you for the exam, after all,” a small smirk formed around his lips. “How about my house at seven each night, starting today?”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. Did that mean he was finally admitting that he wanted to see them again? They nodded briefly before getting up and fixing their outfit.

“I’ll be at your place at seven tonight,” they confirmed before grabbing their bag and unlocking the door, leaving the classroom without looking over their shoulder. This was going to be interesting.

----------------------------------- o --------------------------------------

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

Text

Not without my pillow

Jiang Cheng feels like he‘s dying. There’s a steadily pounding pain behind his eyes and it’s overwhelming him, drowning out everything else.

Jiang Cheng already took more pain killers than is probably advisable, but they don’t seem to help at all and at this point Jiang Cheng would really prefer it if he could just die.

Certainly that would be easier and less painful than whatever he’s living through right now.

Logically, Jiang Cheng knows that it’s a migraine; something that will pass with time, but it doesn’t help in that moment.

In that moment Jiang Cheng feels like death and he’s very well going to wallow in it. Not that there’s much else he can do, seeing as every single movement hurts.

Which is really bad, because even with closed eyes, the tiniest movements send new waves of pain through him and Jiang Cheng groans pitifully into his pillow.

He thought sleeping it off might help, but sleep won’t come to him and by now Jiang Cheng also feels really damn nauseous. He figures he probably should have brought a bucket with him to bed, but the thought of getting up now to retrieve one almost makes him weep.

Jiang Cheng will simply die in his bed and then Wei Wuxian will find him here once his quarantine ends and he remembers that he even has a brother. It’s what he deserves anyway for abandoning him for Lan Wangji and getting quarantined with him and Lan Xichen instead of with his own brother.

Jiang Cheng frowns at his own thoughts, distantly aware that he’s not making all that much sense, but the frowning spikes a new wave of pain and Jiang Cheng quickly smoothes his face out as best as he can.

He knows he has a cool pack in the fridge, could probably put that over his eyes and alleviate some of the pain but that too is far away and Jiang Cheng is in no condition to move.

Which is the only reason he stays in bed when he hears a key turning and then the door opening. If it’s a burglar, he’s welcome to anything Jiang Cheng owns as long as he makes this suffering stop and if it’s Wei Wuxian who broke his quarantine Jiang Cheng is going to recover instantly out of sheer spite just to kill him.

“Wanyin?” Nie Mingjue calls out and Jiang Cheng actually opens his eyes at that, because that he did not expect.

He groans in response, can’t manage to form any kind of words at all, but Nie Mingjue must have heard him, because he enters Jiang Cheng’s room mere seconds later.

“Oh boy,” Nie Mingjue mutters and then he’s kneeling besides the bed in an instant. “What’s wrong?” he asks and he puts a blessedly cold hand on Jiang Cheng’s forehead.

“You don’t seem to have a fever,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng reaches up to take Nie Mingjue’s wrist in his hand and pulls his hand low, until it’s resting over his eyes.

It’s not a cool pack but it’s working for now.

“Migraine,” Jiang Cheng gets out when the pain briefly lessens and Nie Mingjue makes an understanding sound.

“What do you need?” he asks and Jiang Cheng has several things he would like to have right now, but the only thing that makes it out of his mouth is “New head”.

“Yeah, no can do, I like your head like it is,” Nie Mingjue says, his voice coloured by amusement and Jiang Cheng thinks that highly unfair, given that he’s bound to die every second now.

“You need something cold for your head?” Nie Mingjue asks eventually when Jiang Cheng makes an unhappy noise as he realizes that Nie Mingjue’s hand is rapidly warming up.

“Please,” Jiang Cheng whispers and when a new wave of nausea hits him he also presses out “And a bucket.”

“Alright,” Nie Mingjue says and then he leaves Jiang Cheng alone.

Jiang Cheng can still hear him in the apartment but keeping track of Nie Mingjue makes the pain worse so he stops and simply trusts that Nie Mingjue will find the things he needs and will bring them back to him.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t get migraines often but he does know that it will all pass eventually. He just has to make it there, and that seems unreasonably hard right now.

The nausea is getting worse by the second and Jiang Cheng is so busy swallowing and not vomiting all over himself that he briefly forgets about the pain behind his eyes, but he thinks he’d rather have the pain back.

When Nie Mingjue comes back, cool pack and bucket in hand, Jiang Cheng cracks an eye open and then immediately makes grabby hands for the bucket.

Nie Mingjue hands it to him just in time, and then Jiang Cheng is losing against his upset stomach. He heaves into the bucket, tears pricking at his eyes and his head feeling like it could shatter into a million pieces any time now, but thankfully it doesn’t last long.

“There you go,” Nie Mingjue whispers as he holds the bucket steady with one hand and keeps Jiang Cheng’s hair out of his face with the other.

Jiang Cheng didn’t eat anything today, so there’s not much coming out of him anyway, but it leaves the worst taste behind.

“Drink a small sip,” Nie Mingjue urges him once Jiang Cheng stopped heaving and Nie Mingjue takes the bucket to the side, replacing it with a glass of water. “And then you’ll lie back down.”

“Doesn’t help,” Jiang Cheng argues, because he’s been laying down for most of the day now and it hasn’t helped one bit.

“We’ll see,” Nie Mingjue says as if he could personally wrangle Jiang Cheng’s migraine into behaving and knowing Nie Mingjue, he probably can.

Once Jiang Cheng drank a few sips, Nie Mingjue pushes him back down again and puts the cool pack over his eyes.

Jiang Cheng sighs, because it helps almost instantly, but he already dreads the moment when it turns too warm to bring him any kind of relief.

“You need some painkillers?” Nie Mingjue lowly asks him and Jiang Cheng wishes there was anything left that he could take.

“Took some,” he gets out when Nie Mingjue expectantly waits him out and Nie Mingjue hums at that.

“Alright, try to get some sleep then,” he whispers and cards his fingers through Jiang Cheng’s hair.

“Can’t,” Jiang Cheng groans out, because no position is comfortable, and his head is still pounding and nothing helps.

“Give me your pillow,” Nie Mingjue suddenly says and Jiang Cheng frowns under his cool pack.

“No,” he says, because he will not give up his pillow.

It’s one of the last few comforts he still has.

“Just for five minutes,” Nie Mingjue cajoles. “If it doesn’t work, you can have it back,” promises and Jiang Cheng is in too much pain and he trusts Nie Mingjue too much to argue with him.

“Fine,” he gets out and lightly lifts his head so that Nie Mingjue can take the pillow from him. “I want it back in five minutes.”

“Sure,” Nie Mingjue says and his tone implies that he’s not giving Jiang Cheng his pillow back but then Jiang Cheng’s head hits the bare mattress and he’s too busy thinking about how uncomfortable this is, to argue with Nie Mingjue.

When Jiang Cheng wakes up, he still doesn’t have a pillow, but his migraine is mostly gone, only the last remnants of pain lingering and he blinks up at the ceiling.

He turns his head, only to find Nie Mingjue sitting next to his bed on the ground, a book open in his hands and Jiang Cheng turns on his side, curling towards Nie Mingjue.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, because Jiang Cheng realizes that he forgot to ask that before and Nie Mingjue closes his book.

“Do you feel better?” he asks instead of answering him and Jiang Cheng nods, because he does.

“It’s mostly good now,” he tells Nie Mingjue and then raises an expectant eyebrow at him, because he still didn’t answer Jiang Cheng’s question.

“Wei Wuxian was worried,” Nie Mingjue explains. “He called me because you didn’t write him all day and he wanted someone to check up on you. But he and Xichen and Wangji are still in quarantine and so he couldn’t come himself.”

Jiang Cheng is going to kill him. Wei Wuxian could have asked anyone to come check up on Jiang Cheng but of course the gremlin opted to send Nie Mingjue. Jiang Cheng doesn’t allow the fluttery feeling in his chest to take root because Nie Mingjue didn’t come quite willingly and Jiang Cheng prefers to concentrate on his anger for Wei Wuxian.

There was no damn reason to send Jiang Cheng’s crush after all.

“Thank you, but I’m good now,” Jiang Cheng mutters, desperately not thinking about how Nie Mingjue saw him at his worst and even cleaned up after he threw up.

Jiang Cheng’s face burns with humiliation at that memory and he wishes he still had his pillow so that he could smother himself with it.

“How did you know about the pillow?” Jiang Cheng asks when Nie Mingjue makes no move to leave him and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“Huaisang tends to get migraines, too. I just did what I usually do for my little brother,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng has to hide the bitter twist of his mouth in his mattress.

Of course. Nie Mingjue only ever sees another little brother in Jiang Cheng and he is so goddamn stupid for ever hoping for anything else.

“Can you leave now?” Jiang Cheng asks, because for all that he can usually deal with his feelings for Nie Mingjue better than that, he feels kind of raw right now, and he doesn’t want to see him for longer than absolutely necessary.

“Nope,” Nie Mingjue says and when Jiang Cheng turns his head to glare at him, Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

“Mo Xuanyu is over at our place right now and you know he has a weak immune system and so when I offered to check on you, they practically kicked me out. I’m not allowed back for a few days, just to make sure you or I don’t have the virus.”

Jiang Cheng blinks at that, too stuck on the fact that Nie Mingjue apparently offered to check on him and Nie Mingjue’s look turns gentle.

“Wei Wuxian didn’t have to ask me. He said he was worried about you and I offered,” Nie Mingjue confirms and Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“Why the hell would you do that? You’re stuck with me now,” he bitterly says, because not even Wei Wuxian wanted to be stuck with him.

He rather decided to stay with Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen who—seeing as they are teachers—are much more likely to go into a full quarantine than just being mostly at home due to a lockdown like Jiang Cheng is.

“You really think I want to see Huaisang and Xuanyu be all lovey-dovey with each other?” Nie Mingjue teasingly asks but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

He knows that Nie Mingjue is happy for them, likes that they are together, so this really shouldn’t be reason enough to make him flee his own home.

“Fine,” Nie Mingjue sighs out when Jiang Cheng so very clearly doesn’t believe him. “Maybe I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“Yeah, right,” Jiang Cheng mutters and finally sits up. “You don’t have to lie, you know.”

“Good thing that I’m not, then,” Nie Mingjue gives back and gets up to sit on the edge of Jiang Cheng’s bed. “Wei Wuxian didn’t choose to stay with Wangji because he can’t stand you; he chose to stay with him, because he’s madly in love and they are still at the stage where he can’t bear to not see him for too long,” Nie Mingjue explains, as if he could look directly into Jiang Cheng’s brain, who flushes when he realizes that Nie Mingjue can read him so easily.

“And maybe that’s the reason I’m here, too,” Nie Mingjue then tacks on and puts his hand to Jiang Cheng’s cheek.

“What?” Jiang Cheng asks, rather dumbly, but his heart is going into overdrive in his chest and his stomach is fluttering and Jiang Cheng fears he might be sick again, before he realizes that it’s kind of a good feeling.

“Maybe I can’t bear to not see you for too long, either,” Nie Mingjue says and lightly tucks Jiang Cheng closer, who very willingly follows his motion until Nie Mingjue can rest their foreheads together.

“Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because he can’t quite understand this, his brain is not working correctly and he needs to hear him say it.

“I’m in love with you,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly knowing what Jiang Cheng needs from him. “And I know you think I have never looked with anything but brotherly love at you, but believe me when I say that you couldn’t be more wrong.”

Jiang Cheng shudders at that, because it is what he has been thinking all this time; that Nie Mingjue looks at him like he looks at Nie Huaisang, only sees him as a younger brother, someone to dote upon but out of a familiar feeling and nothing more.

To think that Jiang Cheng has been wrong all this time—

“I’m in love with you, too,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and then stops himself at the last second from leaning forward, because he remembers that he had nothing but one sip of water after he threw up and then slept the whole night and he really does not want to subject Nie Mingjue to that.

Nie Mingjue huffs out a laugh and leans forward himself, gently pressing their lips together.

“Anything else will have to wait until after you brushed your teeth,” he says when they part again and Jiang Cheng flushes at his words.

“You’re really going to stay?” he then asks and Nie Mingjue shrugs, slightly pulling away from Jiang Cheng.

“I brought a bag and everything,” he says and Jiang Cheng smiles at him, feeling very warm and content, especially when he sees the slight flush on Nie Mingjue’s face.

Maybe he does not have to kill Wei Wuxian after all.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mingcheng #modern au #migraines #caretaking #fluff #hurt/comfort #getting together #love confessions #first kiss

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

Note

For the kink ask - a/b/o?

I love your style and would really like to read your take on it (the pairing doesn't matter to me, though if you feel Eskel for this, I wouldn't be opposed 👀)

If it's not your thing that's of course alright too, then I'm just sending some love ❤

Thanks for the prompt, anon! 💖 I took this and ran, but I had a lot of fun with it. I have a feeling this isn’t exactly what you were thinking but I’m not personally into the a/b/o dynamics, so I messed around with it a bit and present to you: Eskel goes into heat during the full moon, when Geralt finds out he’s more than happy to get him through it. cw for dry sex, come as lube, and a whole lot of self-shame surrounding Eskel’s heat

After so many years on the path, time sort of ceases to exist. Most Witchers have some sense of time (the seasons continue to pass and their memories keep them from forgetting much) but Eskel has always been particularly fastidious about paying attention to the time of year, the time of the month. Unlike most of his brothers, he can tell you exactly how far away they are from the next full moon at any given time. When they were kids, it was an amusing trick for the other boys; they would all make guesses and whoever was the closest to Eskel's prediction would be able to hand off his chores to someone else. For them, it was a game, but for Eskel it was a necessity, knowing when the next full moon would come so he could seclude himself for the night.

No one else knows what happens to him during a full moon - if they did, they'd probably suspect some sort of lycanthropy and who knows what would happen to him then. But it's not like that. Eskel doesn't transform in the light of the full moon (although some days, he would prefer that), but suffers through unending, unquenchable lust. By the time most of the other boys were only starting to discover sexuality, Eskel had already been sneaking out of the keep at night to keep his secret from being found out.

And he got very good at it. For years, he managed to keep his secret and his sneaking around secret even from his closest friends. Which is why, a few weeks before they're supposed to be setting out on their own for the first time, Eskel is relieved. He no longer has to worry about lying or sneaking around or keeping things from his peers and advisors. Just a few more weeks and he'll be free. But, like everything in his life so far, it's not as easy as that. Two nights before he's due to leave Kaer Morhen, the moon is full.

Eskel works himself up to it, preparing his escape in advance as he does more frequently these days. The once-clumsy boys who grew up with are now strong men with proper control of their senses and escaping is not so simple as it once was. But he makes it out of the keep without any trouble. He's had to use axii on another boy more than once and he feels terrible about it even now, so getting out clean is the most favourable option. But once he gets off the grounds, he has a bigger problem facing him.

Over the years, Eskel has tried everything. At first, he tried ignoring it all night, but when that proved maddening, he'd give in to every whim but that was exhausting and painful after a couple of hours. His newest method seems to work the best: staving it off for as long as possible and then, once he's made himself come, sleep for as long as he can manage before the need creeps up on him again. It doesn't always work and a lot of the time, his own hand isn't enough to satisfy the need, but it's better than his other options.

Tonight is bad. Bad enough that he doesn't think he'll make it to the watchtower before giving in, but he grits his teeth and pushes forward. The longer he holds out, the better the night will be for him.

He makes it up to the watchtower and settles himself on the ground, leaning back against the wall with his hands clenched at his sides. His cock is already hard and aching, pressed firmly against the front of his trousers, and he refuses to look down, but he can feel the wet patch forming in the cloth.

Even after all these years, it's embarrassing to be like this. His entire life he's been trained to have control over every aspect of his body and yet, he still can't control this. His only solace is that no one has ever found out about it and he doesn't have to bear the humiliation of anyone seeing him like this.

Then, of course, that too fails. He doesn't hear the footfalls until it's too late to hide.

Eskel's breath catches and he's so overcome with terror that for a moment, he's totally numb to the need coursing through him. All he has time to do is pull his knees up before he catches a scent on the breeze.

Fuck. Geralt. Why does it have to be Geralt?

Of all the pupils and all the mentors in the keep, the very last person he wants to know about this is Geralt. As long as Eskel can remember, he's been closer to Geralt than anyone; they were friends from the day they arrived, but Eskel had grown overly fond of Geralt over the years. If there was ever anyone he might tell about his situation, it's Geralt, but Eskel's feelings for the other man get in the way every time. He doesn't anticipate anything ever happening between them, but he knows Geralt finding out would ensure nothing ever does.

A million things run through his head at once, but he knows it's already too late. If Geralt followed his scent, there's no way he could avoid noticing the arousal wound through it and Eskel knows he smells different during the moon than he does any other time. He should tell Geralt to leave him alone, tell him to turn back before he gets too close, but his voice isn't cooperating.

Feeling lost and hopeless, Eskel drops his head to his knees and grits his teeth. Having an audience isn't going to deter the feelings and he's hit by an overwhelming wave of humiliation as he imagines having to get through this while someone watches. Realistically, he knows Geralt wouldn't, that he would give him space, but he also knows that if Geralt knows something is wrong, he won't just leave him alone. Normally, it's one of the things he loves most about Geralt, his absolute devotion and protection of those he cares about, but tonight it's not working in Eskel's favour.

He's so caught up in pushing back the arousal, that Eskel doesn't realize when Geralt is sitting right in front of him. He's speaking, but Eskel can't understand through the blood rushing in his ears. It's not until Geralt touches him that Eskel's focus snaps into place and it takes all his strength to keep from shoving Geralt back against the ground.

"Go away," he rumbles and Geralt does exactly the opposite.

"What's wrong?"

"Geralt, just go." The ache is getting stronger now and Eskel is sorely tempted to rub himself off through his trousers. He thinks he could do it without Geralt catching on too quickly, but the longer he thinks about it, the stronger the feeling gets and he chokes on a moan as he shifts and his trousers rub against his sensitive cock. It's almost enough for him to come just like that, but he manages to hold back, some horrible combination of shame and disgust holding him back.

"Eskel-"

"Go," he says but his voice shakes and it's so hard to keep himself steady.

The thought of asking Geralt for help worms his way into his mind and he's so overwhelmed fighting against that and the urge to touch and the scalding humiliation burning up the back of his neck. Before Eskel can stop him, Geralt crawls forward, kneeling before Eskel.

"Tell me what you need," he breathes and Eskel is so tired of fighting. He whimpers and he doesn't want to ask for help, doesn't want to show weakness in front of another witcher, but he whines out a desperate please and Geralt doesn't hesitate.

"Let's get you out of this," he whispers, leaning in to tug Eskel's shirt up over his head. Immediately, the cold stone feels good against his back, but then Geralt is pressing between his legs and another rush of heat sears through him. "Come on, Es, let me get you out of these clothes."

Reluctantly, Eskel slips down, allowing Geralt the space he needs to tug his trousers down over his hips. He hisses as the cold air hits his cock, but there's a spike of arousal from Geralt and everything else is forgotten. Eskel reaches for him instinctively and Geralt settles next to him, pressing up against his side.

"Can I?" Geralt asks and when Eskel nods, he slides a hand down his stomach. Eskel is already thrusting up to meet him before Geralt even touches his cock. He hates himself for it, but Geralt just hums softly, winding his fingers around the base of him like it’s nothing.

Geralt barely even has to do anything because Eskel can't keep himself from thrusting up against him, grinding into the tunnel of Geralt's fist. He comes too quickly, spilling all over Geralt's hand and his own stomach and he's barely over the rush of his orgasm before the shame sets in again.

"Hey," Geralt huffs, "don't you dare." He presses right up against his side, pressing his nose into Eskel's neck. "You always helped me," he whispers, "let me help you."

Eskel's erection hasn't subsided in the slightest and he nearly cries out when Geralt touches him again. Geralt is slow and gentle and Eskel has to hold back from fucking up against him hard. It does feel better than on his own hand, but it's still not going to get him through the night; already, even the stroke of Geralt's hand is feeling less and less satisfying.

Eskel squirms under Geralt's touch, desperate for a firmer touch, for something more but he fights against it. He knows he has to slow this down because he knows how he inevitably winds up and he can't ask Geralt for that and he doesn't want Geralt seeing him do it to himself. He gets a hand around Geralt's wrist, trying to keep him from moving too quickly and when Geralt shifts, his cock presses into Eskel's hip and he's hard. Geralt squeezes around the head of Eskel's cock reflexively and that's all it takes to push Eskel over the edge again.

He throws an arm over his face, but when he comes down this time, Geralt moves his arm, looking down at him. His eyes are dark and Eskel can smell the lust rolling off of him now, but Eskel knows well enough that it's just a natural reaction. Geralt wouldn't want him in any other situation. But Geralt's chest is heaving and he looks so fucking nervous, looking anywhere but at Eskel's eyes.

"Can I-" he whispers, "I just- could I... kiss you?"

"Why?"

Geralt looks taken aback. "Because I... want to?"

Eskel opens his mouth to ask why again, but Geralt shifts to straddle his hips and he's struck dumb. He nods and Geralt leans down over him, barely brushing his lips against Eskel's before kissing him properly. Immediately, Eskel draws him closer, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck and pulling him down to him. He doesn't have the strength to hold back, pushing his tongue between Geralt's lips and rocking up against him. If Geralt is hesitant, he doesn't show it.

He presses against him, rolling his hips in low, languid motions and while Eskel is currently in favour of quick, harsh movements, he finds himself lost in the movement of Geralt's body against his own. He arches off the ground, grasps at Geralt's neck and shoulders, moaning desperately into his mouth. He's never had someone with him for this, never even considered finding his release in someone else and for the first time in years it feels good.

Geralt shoves a hand between them without breaking the kiss, shoving at his trousers until he can pull his own cock free. He shifts to align himself with Eskel, using his hand as a guide to keep them pressed together as he rocks his hips a little harder. His breath is hot against Eskel's skin and the little gasps and moans that drop from his lips are almost enough to make Eskel think he could want this too.

Then, as Eskel is arching against him, Geralt's thumb slips up under the head of his cock and Eskel comes with a shout, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead to Geralt's. He's only vaguely aware of Geralt grunting and then he collapses onto his chest.

Geralt has a hand wrapped around his side, brushing his thumb against Eskel's skin and it's the only thing that keeps him from getting up and running away immediately. Because a friendly hand is one thing but this was... more. He can hear his own pulse rise and he tries to slow it, evidently not quickly enough. Geralt nuzzles under his jaw, shushing him.

"'M not gonna go anywhere," he mumbles. "You didn't ever leave me."

Geralt shifts to the side and curls up around Eskel, running a soothing hand up his leg. It proves more than Eskel's hypersensitive body can handle and it's only a few minutes before he's hard again. He holds out as long as he can, focusing on Geralt's soft touches instead of the want coursing through him, but it's not enough to keep it at bay.

He smells more than feels when his cock leaks against his skin and he groans knowing that Geralt can smell it too.

"Fuck," Geralt mumbles, "it really is bad, isn't it?"

Eskel just groans in response but Geralt is already moving, rising to his knees again and kissing Eskel's chest. He's disgusting; sweaty and covered in dried come, but Geralt seems unconcerned as he makes his way down to the smear of pre-come above Eskel’s hip. He wraps his lips around the head of Eskel's cock and that's the end of coherent thought. All Eskel can even think about is the wet heat of Geralt's mouth around him, sucking hard and sinking down on him. He runs his fingers through Geralt's hair, gripping and tugging when his cock hits the back of Geralt's throat.

He comes startlingly quickly like this and Geralt follows almost immediately, jerking himself between Eskel's thighs.

The next hour passes in much the same way. Eskel holds out as long as he possibly can, but Geralt catches it every time. He licks and sucks and strokes and even gets his fingers into him and it's good. It's the best he's ever had if he's honest, but inevitably, it's not good enough. He's not oblivious to his body's needs, but usually fingering himself is enough to get him through the remainder of the night.

Geralt has three fingers in him and his mouth around Eskel's cock when he sighs and withdraws, sitting back up and running his hands up Eskel's thighs.

"It's not helping anymore, is it?"

Eskel groans and shakes his head, dropping it back against the ground. He stares up at the crumbled floor above him and wonders if he can hold out till morning, but Geralt is already moving. He shifts up close and he's naked now, bare skin pressed right against Eskel's and it's overwhelming and not enough. He can feel Geralt's cock against his hip and he's still hard, but Eskel doesn't have the energy to help him out. He shuts his eyes with a groan and he's contemplating sending Geralt back to the keep rather than face the alternative, but Geralt interrupts his thoughts with a kiss to his hip.

"It's okay," he whispers, "we'll figure it out."

Eskel knows they won't. He knows at this point there are only two things that will get them through the remaining hour or so until dawn. He's never tried fucking someone or letting someone fuck him, but he knows nothing else is going to work. If Geralt can't get him off, it's the only option. He can't say it though, so he just grumbles and shifts to try and get comfortable.

"I could... if you want you could fuck me?" Geralt offers.

Eskel lets out a helpless laugh. He lifts himself as well as he can manage and offers a hopeless grin at Geralt.

"I'm exhausted," he huffs, "I can barely sit up." It's not strictly a no, but it's not a yes either and he waits for Geralt's response. Geralt doesn't say anything, but he crawls up over him so he's straddling Eskel's hips.

"What if you didn't have to do anything?" Geralt takes himself in hand, stroking his cock where Eskel can't help but watch him. His own cock twitches with genuine arousal and Geralt rocks back against him.

"Geralt," Eskel chokes and Geralt just leans down over him, nuzzling into his neck.

"It's okay," he whispers, "I want to. I- I've thought about it before." That certainly catches Eskel's attention.

"What?"

"I-" Geralt ducks his head and Eskel can see just the fainted dusting of red across his cheeks. "I think about you sometimes."

"Not like this, though."

"No," Geralt admits, "but I thought about touching you."

"Yeah?" Eskel encourages. His cock twitches again and he wants to reach down and stroke himself off before the feeling goes away again, but he has a better idea. "Tell me." His hands slip up to Geralt's hips, pressing him back onto his cock and he groans as the head catches against Geralt's rim.

"Oh," Geralt groans and he sits back a little harder. It doesn't make any sense to fuck him; Eskel's already prepped and ready and he's going to ache tomorrow as it is. They don't have oil and he doesn't want to hurt him, but Geralt seems determined.

"I touched myself," Geralt breathes, "thinking about you. Imagining your hands on me, holding me, pressing me into-" he cuts himself off and his eyes snap up to Eskel's, but his scent flares hot and lusty. Pressing me into the bed. And gods, Eskel thinks, they may only have two days left, but he'll be damned if he doesn't find time to fuck Geralt into whatever surface he can find after this. Now, though, is not the time.

"I will," he promises, "I'll fuck you anywhere, any way you want me to, but you gotta do something for me first."

“Anything.”

“I need you to fuck me.”

"Eskel-"

"We don't have any oil and you already did such a damned good job of making sure I'm ready." Geralt preens at the praise and Eskel gets a hand around the back of his neck, tugging him into a slow kiss.

His whole body aches for release, but he lets himself linger, brutally aware of the time they've wasted. Geralt is the one to draw back, shifting to sit between Eskel's legs. Just the heat of his body, the way Geralt pushes his thighs apart sends shivers up his spine. That's a good sign, he thinks.

Geralt slips a finger inside him, then two, ensuring he's ready. Eskel appreciates the effort but it doesn't matter much either way. Geralt slicks his cock with the come still cooling on Eskel's chest and it's not ideal, but it makes some difference as he pushes into him. Geralt is cautious, but he keeps himself steady and the first proper thrust has Eskel's entire body lighting up.

Oh, this is what he's been missing all these years. The painful ache fades until he's left with nothing but his own want for Geralt, pure and real. He's still exhausted, but he musters up the strength to haul Geralt down against him, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him.

"Fuck," he breathes, "fuck, Geralt, you feel-" he's cut off by his own moan as Geralt thrusts sharply into him and Eskel's limbs shake. He doesn't try to talk again, but when Geralt kisses him, soft and sweet, despite the pistoning of his hips, Eskel thinks he understands anyway.

This time takes longer, but when he comes, it's with one hand around his cock and the other over Geralt's shoulder. Please, he hears and it takes a moment to realize it came from him. He doesn't plead, doesn't ask for anything during sex, but then again, nothing about this is normal. Geralt follows moments later, collapsing onto his chest and pressing soft, exhausted kisses along his collar bone. For the first time possibly ever, Eskel feels satisfied after a full moon.

Dawn finds them huddled together amongst soiled clothes and loose bits of stone. Geralt is lying almost entirely on top of him, but Eskel is warm and content. He doesn't dare move, lest his muscles scream of overuse, but there's no need to move anyway; he's through it for another cycle and, he suspects, the future will be easier. He runs his fingers through Geralt's hair with a soft smile on his face and watches in silence as the sun climbs up over the mountains.

kink prompts

#geralt x eskel #in heat #v spicy #bottom eskel #prompt fic #rex writes #anonymous #lmk if i should add tags #i'm terrible at tagging for tumblr

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riddlessbasilisk · 4 years

Note

Hi I’m a fellow tom simp 🥺 I really love a mean Tom but a nice one gets me in the feels when he starts realising he cares and gets that guilty feeling. Do you every see your self writing a Tom x innocent reader who he accidentally hurts and then feels guilty for but doesn’t want to admit it but for some reason her cuteness rules over him😭😭💖 I’m tryna turn his lil agressive ass soft but I wanna see how you could make that work 🙏🏽🥺

Hey 👀 Yeah, I've got you. Gotta love a bit of conflicted Tom, Man is a trainwreck when he has f e e l i n g s

Why is this gif of Tom so- 10/10 *chefs kiss*

Y/H - Your house

×××××

On your first day at Hogwarts, you were considered average, a halfblood with no real reputation on either side of the family. You had a few friends, sure, and you did eventually get sorted into Y/H, which helped people believe more in your kind-hearted nature. But you were still just that, average, plain, unrecognizable in a crowd.

By your Second Year at Hogwarts, you had established some sort of name for yourself. Not all good of course, more than one of the Slytherins had called you too 'soft', but it wasn't enough to overlap what everyone else seemed to think of you. That you were a good person to go to for help, that you were a good person to rely on, that you were a good person.

By your Third Year at Hogwarts, you had been noticed by a certain Riddle, Tom Marvolo Riddle, to be exact. You had heard the rumours about him, girls swooned, guys wanted to be him, and a few, a small few, absolutely detested him - and neither you nor any one else knew why.

By your Fourth Year at Hogwarts, you had been often seen around the said Riddle from before, despite whoever protested to it. Though the name Riddle fitted Tom far too well, and perhaps you should've realised that some Riddles can't be fully solved until the last minute, and sometimes the answer isn't as nice as you'd been made to believe, and sometimes it's so much better than you ever imagined.

---

Your fingers felt frosted as you sat on your cloak against the crisp grass of Autumn, the courtyard was barely visible other than the lanterns splaying the walls. The sun went down at 5 usually now, and as much as you loved the stars sparkling up in the sky, the chill was much too noticeable - but it hardly compared to the chill that had turned into a layer of ice around your heart, and maybe that's why you continued to sit there and let the wind take over your body and the moon take over your mind

You didn't know why Tom had did it really, you didn't have the answer to why you had seen him flirting with a Pureblood Witch from your Astronomy class, but you had an idea, and it was that she was in higher classes than you, just like Tom was, and that's probably where they met, and that's probably where he had realised that she's better than you academically, and much more regal and proper.

And as much as you wished he had turned around and apologised when you caught him, he didn't, you swore he had glared actually. But you didn't mind, it's not like either of you had ever declared any sort of relationship, or said you had loved eachother - but it still hurt, really bad, and as much as you wanted to believe that those days at hogsmede, or honeydukes, or when he would let you, and only you, sit with him in the library while he read, meant something, that seemed unrealistic.

Because you had swore that you had seen him take her into the library with him earlier.

Looking up at the stars felt bitter, because they were like him, twinkling, brilliant, and yet incased in darkness only brightened by the moon, and while you wanted to believe you were his moon, it was far too obvious that you were only a shooting star who went as quick as they came.

But the ice around your heart was thawed only by the woes that Tom had told you so many times before, about how he didn't understand himself as much as he wished he did, about how Abraxas and Avery were annoyances more than they were conveniences. Things he had never told anyone else, things you doubted he would even tell her.

And the ice frosted over again when you remembered the time you saw him pin a third year muggleborn against the wall for something so minimal, or when you saw Avery come out of the Slytherin common room one day with bruises along his arms that you were sure weren't there the day before.

Tom Riddle was a bad person

And you were a good person

People had said it before, so why did it hurt you to realise,

And why did you still want him so so badly.

It was because you wanted to be the moon in his darkness, you wanted him to be next to you with frosted fingers imagining you in the stars, you believed you could be the moon to his darkness.

Which is why you were going to the library, because you knew he would be there, and you knew he was a good person, and you knew that Sienna Bowcan only wanted him for his looks.

Pushing open the library door, your confidence slipped away, there he was, there they both were. Tears pushed up against your vision but you blinked them away, taking comfort in the smell of old books that invaded the space around you.

Pushing yourself forward reluctantly, you stopped in front of them, Tom didn't even glance at you, Sienna seemed to be seething.

"What do you want, L/N?", The pureblood spoke through her teeth, an amount of jealousy seeping through, and you noticed Tom stiffen at that, which thawed your heart again, even though you weren't entirely sure it was her that stiffened him.

"Can I speak to you, Tom?" You spoke quietly, trying not to let your nerves show through, because you didn't know if rejection would hurt more or not, "Alone?", you glanced at her again, and the hate surrounding her made you shiver.

The man himself closed over the book he had been reading, a potions textbook, which seemed a little off for him, considering he was perfect at potions, but you didnt comment. His brown eyes looked up at you with a cold glare, which made you almost sure of rejection,

Until he didn't, standing up,

"Where to, L/N"

But perhaps being referred to like that by him of all people hurt like it was rejection, and suddenly you wanted to cry again, "The astronomy tower?", your voice was meek, and it felt humiliating.

The first half of the walk up there was uneventful, but you could feel him looking at you, analysing you as if you were that potions textbook from the library, "Why do you look sad?", His voice was neutral, but Tom Marvolo Riddle didn't ask questions without reason. That in itself made you think that maybe it wasn't all just a facade.

Forcing yourself to look at him, you couldn't help but smile, that face, that face of his right now, the one that was somewhere between frustration and confusion. He had made it before when he was ranting about his feelings to you, "I'm hurt", you admitted.

Suddenly, halfway up the tower, he stopped, prompting you to stop with him,

"Why are you hurt? Who hurt you, I can talk to them, if you'd like", you felt stunned for a second, confused, talk to them? He would do that for you? Of course, unless he planned on talking to himself, that probably wouldn't work today, "You hurt me, Tom" you looked down, not wanting to look at him, but you could only imagine the whirlwind happening in those eyes of his.

You felt your chin being grabbed softly and pushed up, but you didn't register it until you saw him again. Annoyance swirled in his eyes, prettier than any stars that could be born, and yet his annoyance hardly seemed directed at you, "How...did I hurt you?", All of the confidence that was Tom Marvolo Riddle was still there, but he seemed confused, vulnerable almost. Your smile weakened a little, "I just, thought there was...something between us, but then you started..pursuing Bowcan", You shifted away from him a little, prepared to run so be it he laughed, or mocked you.

You hoped he wouldn't, because you didn't believe he was as bad as people made him out to be.

Yet, he just seemed confused when you looked into his eyes again, "I do like you." He stated in an almost factual tone, as if it were the most clear thing in the world.

"But Bowc-", Tom cut you off quickly, not just with the look he gave you but with the pull he had gave your arm before he interlooped it with his own and led you up the stairs and into the astronomy tower, guiding you towards the edge of the rail and looking up at the stars, "Bowcan means nothing", his voice interlapped with the wind.

"Does that mean we...do have something?", as much as you wanted to say, 'are you mine?', or, 'are we together then?', you knew that that was far too blunt for him.

For Tom, however, he looked up at the stars to avoid your gaze, because he didn't know what he was doing. He had you beside him, he had you, he always had, considering anyone else who got near you romantically ended up with some sort of visit off of him (indirectly or not). Yet he had hurt you, and that hurt him, and nothing was allowed to hurt him, or make him weak, and if you were anyone else he was sure he would've threw you over the railing, or atleast debated it.

But if him being with Bowcan hurt you, despite her being little more than a pawn in the game he played, then he would stop. And even though this encounter had absolutely ruined his match, he hardly cared, because it was you

He didn't hesitate to squeeze your arm, "Yes, apparently so", and as much as he wanted to say so much more, he couldn't, because you didn't know half of the things he did, and he didn't want to ruin that innocence - and feeling you press yourself closer to him in some form of content filled him with emotions he hardly understood.

Maybe the stars told him all he had to know. He was the darkness and you were the light within, both the stars and the moon - because the light in his heart, small as it may be, was reserved for you, and you had all the light in the world to offer to everyone else.

#this is p bad ngl #and i kinda went away from the ask tbh #but give me some time 🖖🏻#tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle

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deejadabbles · 3 years

Text

Yu-gi-oh x Avatar:TLA

Been re-watching Avatar the past week and when I searched for it I legit couldn’t find, like, any Yugioh Duel Monster x Avatar The Last Airbender content??? I mean the search feature sucks here so maybe I’m just not seeing it, but, now I have a mighty need for this cross over, so I guess I’ll do it myself! (if anyone knows any other posts about this though please link me to them!)

So first off, Yugi is the Avatar

I don’t care if most think Yami is the main protag it just makes sense to me that Yugi is the Avatar

Much like Aang, Yugi is an airbender, but instead of being raised by a group of monks he was actually raised by his nomadic grandfather, who is also an airbender.

Yugi is basically what everyone thinks of when they think of the stereotypical airbender, he’s intelligent, prefers pacifism, would give a stranger the shirt off his back, fun loving and worldly due to his travels, etc.

On the other hand Grandpa, while kind and not prone to violence, isn’t exactly a “monkly” airbender. He’s way too familiar with gambling halls, tomb raiding, pirating, and pretty much every other seedy side of the different nations you can think of.

While grandpa definitely toned down those..*ahem* less than virtuous adventures when he started raising Yugi, he did not shield Yugi from these things during their travels. Yugi's safety was always his priority, but he also knew it was important for Yugi to learn to take care of himself if he was going to travel the world.

Plus, I mean, when Yugi beat a pirate captain at pai sho at age 12, and won them an ancient water tribe artifact, grandpa knew his bright young airbender could handle his own.

Oh also, Yugi’s flying bison is a brown fluff-ball named Kuriboh. Kuriboh was the runt of his littler, much smaller than most male bison, but that didn’t stop Yugi from bonding with him almost immediately when they met near the air temple (in fact if probably helped them bond more), and the two are now inseparable <3

Grandpa took Yugi against the wishes of the council in charge of the Avatar. The council wanted to shelter Yugi and deprive him of a normal life (much like the monks wanted to with Aang), but grandpa basically said “F all of you” and took Yugi with him so he could have a fun, free life away from all that...at least for awhile.

When Yugi turned 16 the council tracked the boys down, finally told Yugi he’s the Avatar, and demanded he come with them to finish his airbending training and start learning the other elements.

Yugi was honestly, understandably, pretty devastated, his whole life was being stolen from him in the blink of an eye, but, he’s also heard tales of how important the Avatar is for the world and how people would suffer without the avatar, and he couldn’t handle the idea of letting the world down.

Yugi whet with the council, unknowing of that was about to come.

Okay so for Atem I have two possibilities for his role in this AU that I really like, so I’ll just list them both:

#1 is that Atem was the Avatar before Yugi, born as the son of Fire Lord Aknamkanon.

He grew up in the lap of luxury, but never took it for granted thanks to his father, the most peaceful Fire Lord the nation had seen in a long time.

His father dedicated his life to improving relations with the other nations and maintaining peace.

Atem’s uncle, Aknadin on the other hand, was an authoritarian jerk-wad, who thought Fire Lord Aknamkanon weak and unfit to rule the Fire Nation.

You can see where I’m going with this. Aknadin hatched a plan to assassinate both Aknamkanon and Atem, and put himself on the throne, using the death’s of the Fire Lord and Prince as cause for war.

What he did not count on though, was Atem being the Avatar.

Atem didn’t even know he was the Avatar at this point, they were going to wait until he was 16 to tell him, like most Avatars. Atem had no idea he could bend other elements besides fire, let alone realize he had the power of the Avatar spirit.

Even still, when Atem was attacked by his uncle’s assassins, and he was on the verge of dying, his Avatar sate kicked in.

Well, not quite. It began to kick in just before Atem was overpowered by the assassins, but not quick enough to save him. You know that whole thing about “if the avatar dies while in the avatar state, the avatar will cease to be”? Well, this was a strange In-Between.

The avatar cycle was not broken, since the avatar spirit wasn’t fully awoken, but now Atem’s soul, that incarnation of the avatar, is in a strange form of limbo.

It was only 16 years later when the new avatar, Yugi, went into the avatar state for the first time, that his soul was finally brought out of limbo. Only now he and Yugi have a strange bond. Instead of residing somewhere deep inside Yugi’s soul like the other past avatars, Atem seems to be one with Yugi, able to commune with him like a constant companion, and even take over Yugi’s body in times of need.

In this version the new Fire Lord waited years to launch his war, gaining the trust of the other nation while slowly changing and manipulating the ideologies of his own people through propaganda and fear mongering.

Yugi fled the air temple when the firelord finally launched his attack on the air nomads in an effort to kill the new avatar, and during that tramtic ordeal is when Yugi went into the avatar state for the first time and awoke Atem’s soul.

Now Atem’s main focus is helping train Yugi to save the world from Fire Lord Aknadin, who’s hell-bend on world domination.

OR!

If the whole “Atem dying in a half avatar state that affected his soul” plot doesn’t work for you, I also think we could just simplify things and say that Atem is a Fire Bender dedicated to helping the avatar defeat the tyrant Fire Lord.

In this version Atem would still be a Fire Nation Prince, whose father was dedicated to peace. Only in this version Atem’s father died unexpectedly, and Atem was deemed too young to take the throne, so they put Uncle Aknadin on the throne in Atem’s place.

Atem watched for years while his uncle slowly, meticulously dismantled all of his father’s hard work for peace and was powerless to stop him. All Atem could do was train, improve his firebending, and hope that he could challenge his tyrant uncle to an agni kai for the throne someday.

During that time Atem also found it hard to hold onto his own morals, as his home was every-changing under it’s new Fire Lord, becoming more and more authoritarian and xenophobic. He became a bit harsher during that time, but deep down still held on to his core belief in peace and mercy that his father taught him.

So, when he found out that Aknadin was making plans to wipe out the Air Nomads, and thus, the new Avatar, Atem had to take action.

He fled the Fire Nation to warn the Air Nomads, and he did manage that, but it wasn’t enough to save everyone. Yugi was still too young to fight an army, or the Fire Lord, he hadn’t even begun to learn waterbending let alone anything else. So, when the Fire Lord’s soldiers attacked the temples, the monks insisted Yugi and Atem flee together, live to fight another day, and become strong enough to fight the Warmongering Fire Lord.

No matter which version of Atem we go with everything else stays virtually the same. In the version where Atem is just the spirit of the previous avatar and Yugi’s guide, the Fire Nation still attacked the Air Temples, hoping to kill the new Avatar, he just waited longer to do this, accumulating support and maybe even some alliances with other nations. But either way, Yugi escapes (after a LOT of arguing against leaving any one, let alone everyone, behind) so he could start his avatar training and defeat this new threat.

In this AU I believe most of the gang’s time would be spent trying to train Yugi in the next elements, but also avoiding capture by the Fire Nation, who’s put a big bounty on Yugi’s head. They also aren’t sure who to trust, as sides are often picked and alliances formed during wars and they have no real way to know what nation would aid them vs the Fire Nation. Unlike the original ATLA show, this is a new war unfolding before their eyes, not one that’s been known and ongoing for 100 years.

Now on to the rest of the cast! Honda is a non-bender, but don’t underestimate him, in a world where he constantly has to avoid the Dai Li and thugs who can earthbend, he’s learned to take care of himself.

Jonouchi is an earthbender, and Yugi actually met both him and Honda while traveling the world with grandpa (before learning he was the avatar).

Jou and Honda were both street kids who joined the gangs in Ba Sing Se in order to survive. Their fellow thugs tried to mug Yugi, thinking him an helpless monk. Peace-loving Yugi didn’t attack them, of course, but used his airbending to dodge their attacks with ease and grace... and ended up humiliating them all when he blew them into a fountain.

While Jou was initially against mugging Yugi (even when he was a thug he always went on about facing opponents who at least stand a chance against you, not picking on the weak) after that incident Jou basically made it his life’s mission to make Yugi’s life hell the whole time Yugi and Grandpa were in Ba Sing Se. He’d track Yugi down pretty much every day to harass him, trying to get Yugi to “fight him like a real man” and just generally being a bully.

Yugi always refused to fight him, even the few times Jonouchi actually landed a hit on him with his earthbending. Grandpa intervened a couple times, but ultimately left it up to Yugi to handle.

Right before Yugi and Gramps made to move on to the next city though, Yugi came across a frantic and injured Honda.

Turns out Jou spoke out against their gang stealing from a family that was already down on their luck and said thugs decided they had enough of Jou’s mouth and wanted to “teach him a lesson”. Honda tried to stop them and defend Jou, but was overpowered just by sheer numbers.

Yugi couldn’t stand by and let this happen, of course, and together he and Honda found where the thugs had taken Jou. Despite the fact that Yugi still refused to strike a damaging blow on anyone, his and Jou’s opposing bending styles actually worked pretty well together and they were all able to escape.

That was the turning point for both boys, but especially Jou and he finally realized that he mistreated Yugi and that Yugi was someone to be admired, not mocked. They unfortunately did not get a chance to make amends then, however, since Yugi and Grandpa were gone the next day.

So about a year later, when Yugi returns to the city after escaping the raids on the Air Temples, Jou and Honda are eager to help him and insist on joining Yugi and Atem, “as the avatar’s bodyguards” if nothing else. And despite being against the idea of endangering them, Yugi had to admit he teared up at the mere thought of friends joining him on his journey.

Next, we of course have Anzu, a waterbender, and Mai, a firebender.

Anzi and Mai have a traveling act together. They combined their bending with intricate dances and make a marvel of it, sometimes doing synchronized performances that focus a lot on how their opposing elements can compliment and balance each other, other times they do solo numbers that are just as mesmerizing with Anzu’s captivating grace and Mai’s mesmerizing passion. They also wear full, intricate face paints (or sometimes even masks) while on stage to help keep them from going unnoticed when traveling.

Anzu also knows a bit of healing with her waterbending, and as they travel through towns/cities, Anzu often uses her time between shows helping heal those who can’t afford medicine. Mai sometimes goes on about how ppl will take advantage of Anzu is she isn’t careful, but secretly really admires Anzu’s kind heart.

Don’t ever underestimate these girls though, their bending isn’t just for performance, they can and will kick your ass with their bending and have held their own again a whole crew of highway men. You don’t travel the world without knowing how to defend yourself, especially if you’re women thugs think they can take advantage of.

The boys came across Anzu and Mai soon after leaving Ba Sing Se. The first glance they got at them was one of their shows and were impressed to say the least (Yugi was particularly captivated by the waterbender, like the big-hearted bi-disaster that he is).

What really impressed them though was that night, when Yugi was taking a walk through the town to clear his head. Once again he was seen as an easy target by his “weak” appearance (season 0 anyone?) and some thugs ambushed him. Before he even had the chance to defend himself though, two women came to his rescue, water-whipping and fire-blazing. It didn’t take much for Yugi to put two and two together and realize they were the dancers from the show, and, being thoroughly impressed by their bending skills, he begged Anzu to teach him waterbending.

Anzu was actually interested in the idea from the start, when they heard about the attacks on the Air Temples and the Fire Nation declaring war, she was outraged. Anzu is nothing if not compassionate and all that life being burn away gave her a slowly growing need to take action, and now the avatar himself was asking her to teach him!

Mai on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with Yugi and his “band of do-gooders” and insisted Anzu turn him down. Mai grew up in the Fire Nation during the rise of the tyrant Fire Lord Aknadin, she knows first hand how ruthless his soldiers can be, and sees it as loosing battle to resist them. In her mind, her and Anzu have a good life going for them, why change that to fight a war they aren’t going to win?

The girls argue about this for awhile, to the point that Anzu actually thinks about leaving Mai to go with Yugi without her, despite the idea of leaving Mai behind tearing her up inside.

Then the town they’re staying in is attacked by Fire Nation soldiers. Everyone, including Mai jumps into action to defend the towns people and together they’re able to fight them off. In the aftermath, having the war’s carnage brought right into her lap, Mai sees that the ruler of her homeland has to be stopped and agrees to join the gang too.

I haven’t thought a ton about the other characters honestly, and I’m especially having trouble placing Ryou in all this, but here are some half developed/misc headcanon:

Seto is a firebender and the son of Fire Lord Aknadin, making him and Atem cousins.

In the version where Atem is just a regular firebender and not the previous avatar, Seto and Atem grew up together. Atem tried his best to convince Seto to leave with him when he set out to warn the Air Nomads of the attack, but Seto refused, already being drawn in by Aknadin’s power-centric teachings.

In the version where Atem is the previous avatar and shares a body with Yugi, Seto was only a few years old when his older cousin Atem was “mysteriously killed” and Seto grew up hearing stories from his father about how they could avenge the young prince and the previous fire lord.

In both versions Seto is similar to a Zuko character. He’s sent out by his father to capture the avatar, but eventually he comes to realize what a warmongering monster his father is and turns on the firelord, joining Yugi and the gang. He’s still an egotistical ass though and is basically constantly criticizing the whole gang the entire time he’s with them. The rivalry between him and Yugi/Atem is still there, because of all the times Yugi whipped him with his airbender while Seto was trying to capture him. Also, Seto honestly believes that he’d make a better avatar than Yugi and thanks to @readerinsertfanfiction now I can’t get the thought out of my head that Seto would try to science his way into becoming a second living avatar 😂

I really want to include Mana and Mahad in this AU as well (since they’re my fave side characters) and thought maybe they could also be firebenders who grew up with Atem and were his close friends. Then when the tyrant Fire Lord took over they started plotting behind the scenes and formed a rebellion within the fire nation. (for real could you imagine the version where Atem was killed by his uncle and now an older Mahad and Mana, who’ve been waging a rebellion in the name of their prince and best friend, meet Yugi and can talk to Atem again and how heart wrenching a scene like that would be??)

Another possibility I thought of for Mahad and Mana was that they’re spirits of deceased airbenders who have gained some power in the spirit world. They commune with Yugi and help guide him and even step in to save him a couple times. This idea play more on the whole “Dark Magician/Dark Magician Girl Duel Monsters” side of things. Heck maybe we could do both these ideas since DM and DMG are usually considered separate entities from Mahad and Mana.

Duke/Otogi, I could image being a character similar to Jet (a charmer/flirt, who’s cunning and vengeful, at least at first? Come on I know you can see it) and maybe even having a similar story of tricking the gang into helping him do something horrible in the name of fighting the Fire Nation, then redeeming himself later.

I’m still a little unsure of Ryou’s story in this AU, but, I think I have an idea brewing involving Ryou being a waterbender who’s been processed by an evil spirit. Said spirit is thriving/feeding on the carnage of the war and often takes over Ryou’s body in order to stoke the fires of said war. This could lead to some interesting stuff involving Ryou wanting to join Yugi and the gang, but the evil spirit always stabbing them in the back. The gang, especially Yugi, would see it as a personal responsibility to save Ryou from the evil spirit and Yugi tries to learn more about his spirit powers in order to help Ryou.

I have some more vague ideas floating around my head, but I think that’s it for now. Boy, these are the longest headcanon I’ve had in while lol. I’m really loving the idea of this AU and I’m even really tempted to write an actual series surrounding it. I’d love to hear your guy’s thoughts about any of this or whether all this is even appealing at all. Please feel free to invade my inbox if yall wanna talk about this AU! <3

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thorns-and-rosewings · 3 years

Text

Additional Owl House/ Gargoyles AU Info: OCs

Here we are with some more information regarding the AU, only this will time it will be focusing on the 3 OCs whose pics I posted a little while ago since I didn't think anyone wanted the bios jammed onto their pics.

Hope y'all think these are interesting. :)

-----Rhiannon Frostflame

Nicknames and Aliases: Rhyan or Rhya (Default nicknames) The Wyvern Witch, Ice Queen, The Best Healer on the Isles, Cruel and Fearless, Frozen Flame

Age: Roughly the same as Eda

Palisman: A Wyvern named Wisteria

Magic Specialty: Healing Magic, but is a master of Ice Magic and has created a unique spell of burning blue fire that inflicts awful frostbite and severe necrosis on anyone it comes into contact with...

Friends/Associates: Eda Clawthorne (Best friend and drinking buddy) Raine Whispers (A close friend who in spite of falling out of contact with, Rhiannon still holds them in high regards) Shaelyn Silverstone (Apprentice and Ward) Warden Wrath (Occasional Employer) Fiadh Stonespire (Grandmother figure/deceased)

Background: Rhiannon was born into one of the larger clans of the last name 'Stonespire' that still chose to follow the Gargoyle Way of communally raising their children and protecting their estate and other landholdings. They were also extremely prideful of their skilled members they contributed to the Construction Coven. From a young age, Rhiannon was considered strange due to her shunning of the clans expectations and rather developed an interest in becoming a member of the Healing Coven. Although in her youth she was particularly bad at anything involving healing, having turned several small animals inside out in her attempts to mend their injuries. Her lack of skill and stubborn pursuit of her dreams led her to be alienated from nearly all of the clan who began to treat her as an annoyance if not an embarrassment. The only individuals who showed her any affection were an older female Gargoyle named Fiadh, who Rhiannon viewed as her grandmother and Saoirse, the only rookery sister who cared about her and supported her goals.

Her fierce dedication to studying and mastering healing magics eventually paid off and she not only excelled, but grew to master every healing spell and even learned a myriad of techniques all aimed at helping others. Of course on the flip side of this, through her studies of how to heal she also learned how to inflict immense pain on others. Knowing to attack certain points where an opponent is weak in order to defeat them in a brawl, as it seemed to Rhiannon that most witches and demons had forgotten how to fight without using magic and thus a physical fight is something she can use to her advantage... And she got into fights A LOT.

When she finished her education and applied to the Healing Coven she found that she was denied membership due to her clan contacting the head of the Coven and warning him against letting her join due to her poor skills as a healer... As they had not paid attention to her enough to know of her improvement and eventual mastery of the art.

Denied her dream, humiliated by her so called clan and filled with an anger that could not be put into words, Rhiannon lost her temper and broke the jaw of the Coven Head and fled. Stating she was now going to live her life as a Wild Witch and never give a damn about anyone else ever again. She was promptly disowned by her clan, which was fine with her. She gave herself the last name of Frostflame after the spell she had created and has become synonymous with her very existence.

Personality: Rhiannon is a bit of a contradiction. At first she comes off as cold, calculating and selfish. She is extremely sarcastic and tends to believe that someone 'Can get away with anything, as long as they are useful to someone else.' Which is how she, as a Wild Witch, doesn't have a bounty on her head nor any warrents for her arrest. As she is a freelance healer whom people come to see when they either can't afford to go to the Healing Coven, or do not want there to be a record of the visit... But also members of both the Emperor's Coven and town guards bet on her in the underground fights and thus overlook that she is not in any coven... She is also not above blackmail and is currently holding a massive gambling debt over the head of Coven Head Darius. As further insurance to keep from being arrested or have the Covens forcing her to join.

However... If someone truly gets to know her, Rhiannon is a very devoted, kind hearted person who has been so burnt by the world she no longer desires to be a part of it. She has sympathy for those less fortunate than her and does genuinely wish to help the people who seek her out in need of help. She has an special soft spot in her heart for kids. Especially since in the depths of her ice cold heart she truly longs for a family. This is somewhat evident in how she took in Shaelyn and has done her best to watch out for the younger gargoyle. However her own bias's can be detrimental to the relationships she has... As she has repeatedly told Shaelyn to forget about finding out what happened to her family and missing memories. Arguing that if she forgot them there's probably a good reason for it. Which has led to a rift between her and her apprentice.

-----Shaelyn Silverstone

Nicknames and Aliases: Shae, (Default Nickname) Lyn-Lyn (From Luz)

Age: Roughly 15

Palisman: None at the moment

Magic Specialty: Is attending both the Plant track and the Oracle track in Hexside. As she has unusual visions... both while she is awake and in her sleep. These visions often warn of dark events yet to happen or strange unknown things from a past she cannot remember. While not being taught healing at Hexside, Shaelyn is receiving training in healing magics straight from her guardian Rhiannon. Due to the talent of her mentor, she doesn't believe she could learn more from the school in that subject. As for the plant track... She is in that to both hang out with her friend Willow but also to help with Rhiannons garden which tends to grow out of control more often than not. As well as helping maintain the health of the tree Rhiannon's house is currently sitting in...

Friends/Associates: Willow Park, Gus Porter and Luz Noceda (Best Friends) Rhiannon (Guardian)

Background: Little is known about Shaelyns past beyond her name. Try as she might the young Gargoyle cannot remember much of her life prior to her being found in the wrecked hull of a ship that was brought ashore by a bad storm. While she has 'Shadows of Memories' she cannot remember where exactly she was from or even the faces of her parents. Rhiannon found the girl when she was looking through the wreck and happened upon her buried underneath several heavy cargo boxes with a broken wing and a very bloody head wound. Rhiannon took her back to her home, deep in the woods and healed her. Upon realizing that the girl had no family and no memories and that she would be left in probably one of the orphanages on the Isles, Rhiannon took her in as her apprentice and Shae has been living with her for the last five years.

Although Shaelyn is in awe of her mentor and greatly admires and respects her, she often feels like a burden. Their relationship is not like that of a mother and daughter, but is probably closer to that of sisters. Or of an older sister attempting to be a mother to a younger sibling in the absence of any parents... Shae also has gone through several different means to try and find out what happened to her family... but her search has led to nothing but dead ends. It doesn't help that Rhiannon often tells her to let the subject of her family drop as she would not have forgotten them if they were close... And how she might not like what she finds if she ever does find anything.

Nonetheless, Rhiannon has done her best to take care of Shae and has enrolled her at Hexside, so she can learn other magics that Rhiannon cannot teach. It was here that Shaelyn came across the sight of Amity and Boscha bullying Willow... And using the other skills Rhyan has taught her, Shae started throwing punches and beat up both of the bullies and warned them to leave Willow alone lest they receive another beating... This was how she initially met Willow and later on Gus and the three formed a very close friendship. Some time later Luz would be introduced and Shae grows to be just as protective of her as she is of her other two friends.

Personality: Shaelyn is quite friendly and outgoing with her friends and is the first one to come to the defense of a kid that is getting bullied. Due to her training with Rhiannon she is actually pretty good at fighting physically... Unfortunately in earlier times this put Shae into direct conflict with Amity as she was often quite mean to Willow... Unaware of Amity's true nature, let alone the bullying she received from her family. Like her mentor, Shae can hold a grudge and has a long memory of people who wrong her and her friends... Only unlike Rhiannon she is more willing to give someone a second chance or allow them to make amends... This lets her and Amity to eventually become friends... Although she and Boscha will never get along and Shae will continue to administer black eyes whenever the other girl starts looking for a fight. But when it comes to complete strangers, Shaelyn can be very wary... As was evident when she and the others were looking at booths set up by the Covens for recruitment and she was approached by Hunter as the Golden Guard. Now Hunter, with his very lackluster social skills was attempting to just talk nicely and give Shae a few compliments... Unfortunately for him he came off as aloof and mocking her. This resulted in two punches to his helm and three into his ribs. The blows to the mask dented it so badly it became stuck and the blows to his ribs made it difficult to breathe... Resulting in him passing out and needing to be carried away by Steve.

Undoubtedly when she learns more about Hunter, she will be remorseful for kicking his ass.

-----Saoirse Fireglass

Nicknames: Saer (General Nickname) The Glass Maker, The Crystal Witch, Firebender and Wannabe-Matchmaker (From Rhiannon)

Age: Same as Rhiannon

Palisman: A unique serpent with four eyes and a golden moth shaped hood named Amaranth

Magic Specialty: Construction magic with the specialty of glassmaking and crystal working. She is also capable of using fire spells in a fight.

Friends/Associates: Rhiannon (Rookery sister and best friend) Eda Clawthorne (Friend) Lilith Clawthorne (Friend) Shaelyn (Niece-figure)

Background: Saoirse was born into the same clan and was even from the same clutch as Rhiannon, born with the family name of Stonespire. However unlike her Rookery sister, Saoirse was considered to be one of the most magically gifted gargoyles that had ever been born into the clan. She displayed immense talent in the construction track and was even able to master a very difficult branch of the track that dealt with glassmaking and crystal working. In spite of the heaps of praise and accolades she received amidst her family, she developed a close friendship with Rhyan and was always deeply off-put when she witnessed how she was ostracized by other members of their clan. Still upon completing her schooling she was quickly brought into the Construction Coven and was even taken under the wing of the Coven Head for a time.

But when Rhiannon was cast out from their clan, Saoirse was livid. One of the few times anyone could truly remember her getting angry. She was pretty much told by the clan leader that Rhiannon was a disgrace and that Saer was always special and brought a great deal of respect and admiration to their entire clan with her talent... so she needed to stop defending that lost soul and continue to move forward and possibly become the next Coven Head...

Saoirse formally cut ties with the clan right then and there.

She gave herself a new name and while still formally a member of the Construction Coven, she chose to renounce any Coven status she had an instead opened her own business. She did so with the blessing of the Coven Head, who remains her good friend to this day.

When it comes to her wayward Rookery sister, Saer deeply worries about Rhyan and would love to see her find a place in the world rather than trying to live outside it. Although she knows that the stubborn Wild Witch is unlikely to ever change her ways without reason...

Personality: Unlike Rhiannon, Saer is a bubbly, friendly and outgoing individual who always looks for the good in people... In fact she is probably one of the few people who believes there just might be some good inside the Emperor's heart. (When she voiced this Rhiannon laughed so hard she swallowed the cigarette she was smoking.) Due to this kind nature she has, Rhyan frequently worries about her being taken advantage of... Fortunately Saoirse also is quick witted and can pretty quickly tell if someone is trying to pull a fast one on her. She also has a weird gift for matchmaking, as she can just tell when two people are right for each other. It's something that Rhiannon frequently teases her about.

...Until she finds one stranger who seems to be just perfect for the Wild Witch...

#The Owl House #Owl House #Owl House OC #OCs #my ocs #TOH #Owl House AU #Gargoyles AU #Gargoyles #disney gargoyles #disney's gargoyles #Gargoyles OC #Wild Witch OC #Stoneheart AU #TOH OC

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tobis-world-andstuff · 3 years

Text

Warlord

Pairing: Warlord!August Walkerx Female Character

Warnings: NSFW!! CNC!! Bondage, Degradation, Temperature play (Ice), Knife Play, Bodily Fluids

Tiny hint of fluffy August

It had been a long day hunting. I was so ready to slip into my bed, curl a blanket around me, and drift to sleep. I sighed and smiled as I got under the blankets, leaned over, and blew out the lamp next to my bed.The texture of the sheets on my skin was soothing. Leaning back in my bed, stretching out my shoulders, I ran my fingers through the blankets around me, imagining that I were floating in the clouds as I drifted to sleep.

I woke up with a start, my heart racing. Had I heard something in the room? Shh, breathe, I told myself. It was probably just someone stirring in the neighboring room, as usual. I breathed slowly for a few moments, listening. I had somehow gotten into an uncomfortable position in my sleep, but I stayed still for a moment, listening.

A panic rushed through me as I realized that I could hear nothing from the room beside mine. It's alright, I thought, you're overthinking this. I'll just relight the lamp. I figured that if I did that, then I could comfort myself, knowing my deepest fears would not be realized.

And then I stopped dead, my heart racing again.

It hit me.

I couldn't move.

My hands were immobile. I ran my fingers over my wrists, only to feel that they were held in some kind of thick vine. After a beat, I began thrashing around, trying to get myself out of the bed. All my thoughts were on getting to the door.

"Looks like someone's awake," a cold voice taunted me. The voice sounded familiar, but i couldn’t place it.

I should have yelled, screamed, but the words stuck in my throat. I was still flailing, somehow tangled in my sheets.

I heard the man get up from the corner of the room. A large man with a thick beard covering most of his face was sitting over me on the bed. Lying below him, I felt pathetic. All he had tied me with were handcuffs, and yet I was frozen in place, I wished he would relight the lamp so I could see the mans face

He reached down, rummaging through something on the floor, and pulled out a blindfold.

Finally I found my voice. "No no no no you can't do this!" I screamed. I sat up and tried to kick him. In an instant, he had pinned me down on my back and was on top of me. My hands were stuck behind my back because of the handcuffs, and he pinned down my legs with his knees. I shook my head back and forth so he couldn't blindfold me. Suddenly, he grabbed my face and I felt two strong, rough hands on my cheeks, insisting that I stay in place, controlling me. I gazed at him. His eyes were fierce, intense, and I knew then that he would have his way with me.His eyes were the only thing I could see properly, the intense colour, bore a hole into my soul.

Then I glanced down, and my eyes widened as I saw the outline of a tent forming in his jeans, larger and more threatening than I could have imagined. I was now partially thankful for the lack of light, the outline of his package in the dark was more than I knew I could ever handle.

And it was the last thing I saw before he veiled me in darkness. I could feel him lying on top of me as he snapped the blindfold in place over me. His breathing was heavy on my chest and rapid, as if he were hunting his prey—me. As he was leaning over me, I could feel his hardness pressing against my stomach.

I whimpered.

"What's that?" he spat out, his voice close to my ear.

"Please," I croaked. "Please don't hurt me."

I felt his hands on my shoulders now, pinning me in place.

"I won't hurt you," he whispered in my ear.

I exhaled.

"If you do what I say."

I whimpered again, louder now, but no words came out.

He pinched my nipple and I yelped. "You beg me not to, but I think you're a little slut," he taunted.

"Now. I'm going to take your clothes off. The first thing you'd better do," he continued, gliding a finger over my lips, "is keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut while I expose you. Don't say a word. Nod if you understand."

Shaking, I nodded.

"Good, little slut."

I wanted to scream. My teeth clamped down on my lip.

"Now stay still."

He dismounted me for a moment, and then got back on me. I felt something cold and thin on my stomach, and heard the rip of the fabric of my shirt as my attacker cut open my shirt. I flinched when I felt the tip of the knife touch my neck, causing the blade to nick my neck slightly. The air was cold on my breasts and on my stomach.

"Mmm," he moaned, his rough hands making their way over me. I was panting, trying to keep silent.

He flipped me over onto my stomach to view me from behind, I felt so vulnerable, so weak, my face crammed into the pillow. Still, I stayed frozen.

And then slowly, gently, I felt his fingers hook into the waistband of my underwear. I don't know what came over me, but as I started to feel my underwear slip off, I screamed. I screamed at him instead of for help.

"No! No! You can't! Just leave them on! Leave those on!" I started kicking, my legs flailing around, trying to get him.

"I don't respond to no." He grabbed my legs and tucked one of his over mine, immobilizing me. Then he put a hand on the small of my back, pushing me back into the sheets. I was over his knees now, and I felt exposed and humiliated.

"What did I tell you, slut, about making noise?" His tone was almost mocking.

I moaned and whined, but said no words.

"Answer me," he demanded.

"Keep my mouth shut."

"Good. Or else?"

"Um, I don't know."

"Sluts who don't follow rules get punished, you know." The singsong tone was back. And with that, he continued pulling my underwear down, and now there was nothing I could do. With his other hand, he took hold of my face, pushing it into the pillow. "Keep quiet. If you're too loud, I'm starting over from 1."

Meanwhile, below my waistband, I felt his cold hands massaging my cheeks. All of a sudden, I felt a slap land on my exposed behind and I yelped, the pillow swallowing my spit.

"Please, no!" I shrieked, muffled.

He slapped me again and I squirmed, trying to free myself.

"Sluts who don't listen get punished." His hands massaged me there again.

Then his hand came down on me.

I moaned and yelped. The pain was coursing through my legs, stinging.

"Quiet, slut. We're not stopping until 10. If you're good."

The next one was harder. Then three times in a row. I let out a whine and I started to feel wetness between my legs.

He stopped. I could feel myself panting, and my body was tense. I had lost count, so I wondered if my punishment was up. I took a deep breath and tried to relax my body.

Suddenly, he hit me harder than he had before. I shivered, and the stinging sensation crept through me.

"Does this feel good, slut?"

I shook my head violently, but even then I doubted myself.

"Last two," he said, and then delivered them, massaging me in between each one, torturing me with the anticipation of each one.

For a moment, we were silent. Exhausted, I inhaled slowly and absorbed the moment. I listened to the rise and fall of his breath, listened to the ticking of the clock on the wall.

I felt him turn and mount me from behind, so his body was in line with mine, but I was still on my stomach. My breathing was clamped, his body pressing heavy on me. "Did that feel good, slut?" he repeated, whispering into my ear.

"No," I panted.

"Really?" he teased. My body tensed as he reached around, his hand sliding down my stomach, down, down, between my legs. I shuddered as his fingers played with the wetness he found there. "It feels like you did enjoy it."

"No, no," I whimpered, sparks flooding through my body. "Of course not."

"Alright," he indulged me, "of course not. But how about this, then, little slut?" he asked, his fingers relentless on my clit.

I was shaking and I couldn't answer.

He kissed the side of my face briefly, holding me there, whispering in my ear. "Good little slut. You know it feels good. Mmmhmm. You're mine right now, little slut. All mine. To tease and to play with as I like."

My whole body was shaking, limp. The sensations on my clit were too much.

"Guess what I'm going to do to you? I'm going to take your pretty little legs, and hold them apart. And then I'll put my cock in you and fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you again and again and again and again, in and out and in and out, and you'll take all of me, no matter how much you scream, I won't stop, I'll keep going."

I moaned, my orgasm nearing, so close.

And then he stopped.

"Please, please," I moaned. No response.

I whimpered as he flipped me over, laying me on my back again. My body limp, I felt him adjust the hand cuffs, and I realized he was spreading my arms out. I heard the bed frame react as he got off the bed. He grabbed my feet, one by one even as I kicked around, and cuffed them, spreading them out. I was spread-eagle on the bed.

When he climbed back on me, I felt him lean over me, close to my face. "Open your mouth." Too tired to resist, I complied. "Good slut." I felt a piece of fabric enter my mouth, and his hands reach around me to tie it behind my head to keep it in place in my mouth. "This should keep you quiet."

My insides were on fire with the orgasm that hadn't come to me. I flailed, pulling on the restraints. Nothing gave. He dismounted me, and I started shrieking and crying through the gag as I heard him leave the room.

After what felt like an eternity, I heard him come back into the room.

"Miss me, slut?"

I resented him. My insides wanted to fight back, to destroy him. I stayed silent, indignant.

"Oh, so now you don't react. Still sad about that orgasm, are you?"

I made no sound.

"This should help."

I shuddered, and I realized he had put ice on my clit. I recoiled, squirming, trying to get away, but he held it in place, relentless, his hand with the melting ice over my clit. The cold water trailed down between my legs and I couldn't stop flailing.

I didn't miss my orgasm anymore.

After he decided it was enough, he removed the ice. I was just slowing my breathing and panting when I froze suddenly, hearing the sound of a belt opening and a zipper opening. He put his body on me, his weight pressing me into the bed again. Between my legs I could feel him, hard and angry and ready, and my heart was racing. I felt his hand wrap around my throat, choking me just a little.

"Here's what sluts like you get," he taunted into my ear. Slowly, I felt him enter me. I whimpered and moaned because I could feel that he was too big, too much, and this was going to hurt.

I tried to scream "please, no," but it sounded like gibberish through the gag. He laughed, continuing to make his way inside me, and I could feel tears forming under my blindfold.

I was full and I felt split open and he was all too much. I was thrashing around, but his body on me was relentless. "Here's what sluts like you get," he repeated, and I felt him slowly pull out of me. I exhaled.

Suddenly, he thrust himself inside me, and the pain flooded through me all over again. I screamed into the gag, spit foaming at the edges of my lips. He thrust again and again and again, and I screamed and screamed and screamed, muffled by the gag.

"I think you're enjoying this, my little slut."

I shook my head violently, responding as he kept on forcing himself inside of me, tearing me open. I clamped myself shut as if I could eject him, but he thrust with even more force.

"I think you like this." He ran his fingers over my throat, and then gripped it again, pressing me into the sheets.

The truth was that my clit was throbbing. He wasn't touching it at all, and that was torturing me almost as much as the pounding I was taking.

Suddenly, he let out a small moan, and I realized he was breathing more heavily and tensing up. Would he cum inside me? I panicked, moaning and screaming into the gag.

"You're very good, slut—" he let out between heavy breaths, "I'm gonna—I think I'm gonna cum."

I tried to kick him off me, but I was no use against the restraints and his body weight. Instead, I endured the thrusting, feeling him in and out and in and out, my body igniting again, unable to stop or control him.

I screamed and his grip on my throat tightened as I felt him shake and ropes of his cum pour into me.

I squirmed as I felt him thrust, one, two, three last times, slower but with more force.

He lay on top of me, spent, both of us panting, for a few moments.

My clit was still throbbing.

"Good girl," he whispered, kissing the side of my neck, and pulling out of me. "Let's get you a reward, huh?"

His fingers delicately reached down, tugging on my clit. He pulled his fingers back and forth, then in circles, massaging me. I started shaking. "Sensitive, huh?" he asked. I nodded. Then he picked up speed, his fingers back and forth and back and forth on my clit, bringing me back to where I was before.

I whimpered with pleasure into the gag, feeling my body shake. I tried to resist the sensations his fingers were bringing me, but I could feel my clit begging his fingers for more, sending ripples through my body. He was relentless, and no matter how much I thrashed around, his fingers drove my clit hard.

"Go on, you can cum for me," he whispered. I moaned as my orgasm rolled over me, in wave after wave after wave, and he kept his fingers pressed to me until he felt me fall back into the bed, my breathing heavy.

We lay there like that for a moment, him over me, us both spent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Let's get these off," he said, gently pulling out the gag. I gazed at him as he undid my wrists and ankles. Once I was free, he pulled me into his embrace. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, trying to collect his warmth.

"How was that for you?"

"It was really good. I love how you choke me a little. And I was not expecting the orgasm denial. Nice."

"You didn't forget the safe word?"

"Of course I didn't."

"Okay. Sometimes I get worried when you say 'no' in these scenes. That's why I said 'I don't respond to no.' I wanted to remind you that that wasn't the word here."

I touched his face. "Thank you for looking out for me. But I got it—you don't need to worry. You know that when I actually want you to stop, I say the safeword."

"Yeah," he smiled. "Yeah." He inhaled. "So how are you right now?"

I smiled, looking up at him through a haze. "I'm okay. I feel really out of it right now, but that was really good."

He kissed my forehead. "What would feel good right now? I can hold you here for a bit, and then maybe you can have a warm bath?"

"Yes, I like that idea. Can we get something to eat after?"

"Of course."

I smiled. I was glowing, radiant.

“August?”

“Yes?” he mumbled gruffly in my ear

“I love you…” Neither of us had said it before but now felt like the time “I’m glad you didn’t marry that brother fucking whore”

“Who knew the one I really wanted was my right hand woman? The woman I had treated like one of my foot soldiers, the woman I let fix up any wounds” I felt him smile as he spoke “I love you too Eleanor. My red haired slut” He placed a kiss to the back of my neck as I slipped into a peaceful sleep.

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megastarstriker · 4 years

Text

✰𝙃𝙄𝘿𝙀 𝘼𝙒𝘼𝙔✰

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{ℕ𝕀𝕂𝕂𝕀 𝕊𝕀𝕏𝕏 x ℝ𝔼𝔸𝔻𝔼ℝ}

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𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: Cussing and Drugs

Contains: FLUFF AND ANGST

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Nikki Sixx x Female Reader

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩:

𝙍𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙: by @metalheartofgold {Hey sweetie, I was so happy when I saw your request were open because I love your writing so much 🥺 So I wanted to request a Nikki Sixx one shot (Mötley Crüe) where he is protective off reader during a party in the Motley house. He knows reader's body has negative reactions to drugs, due to a condition reader had since she was a child, so when someone tried to force reader to take drugs, Nikki stood up for reader. (reader is his gf). Can you make it fluff and angsty? Please don't rush yourself,take your time and publish it whenever you want. I know us writers still have a life outside writing.thank you so much 🖤}

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @metalheartofgold, @ginny-rose-sixx, @xxqueencolourxx, @littlemisscare-all,

💕 LOVE YOU GUYS AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA GET TAGGED 💕

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★ ──⭒─⭑─⭒── ★ ──⭒─⭑─⭒── ★ ──⭒─⭑─⭒── ★

MÖTLEY HOUSE , 1981

“Wow.....”

I whispered lowly as I looked at the whole crazy and wild chaos that was going on around me.

Sitting in the sofa I couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable and out of place as I watched everyone having fun, as I held a drink of whiskey in my hand that was not entirely full as I wasn’t planning to get wasted unlike the others who were at the moment shitfaced from the booze they had. People from one side drinking or entering the apartment by the shattered window next to the door that gave anyone entrance to join the party inside and that was still left unfixed from prior incidents and on the other there was people making out or sniffing drugs that were neatly formed into lines with a straw or just doing a bountiful amount of outrageous and animalistic things altogether in a crowd.

I slumped even deeper into the sofa as I saw someone puke right near me on the floor causing me to cringe a bit in disgust and worrying concern for the person that did. Scooting away I held the drink that had a bit tighter, obviously uneasy about what could go wrong right about now. Don’t get me wrong I was used to this kind of thing mainly because my boyfriend was the one that held these types of parties along with his bandmates, Vince and Tommy. For Mick though not so much as he was no were to be seen along with the other two who were both probably doing there ‘normal crazy stuff’ as usual....

There was a bunch of girls who were doing drugs along with some guy that was currently staring at me, obviously interested in me. I simply of course shrugged it off and decided to pay attention to something else. I then saw my boyfriend, in the middle of the room, Jet black dyed hair, gorgeous green hues, a perfect yet devilish and sexy smile that adorned his handsome features that any woman or groupie would fall for, a well defined and muscular body that accompanied with his various sexy looking tattoos, that man was Nikki...

‘Nikki and I have been dating for quite awhile, after his previous bands that went to waste. He has also dated a few other girls before me and when we were still just friends. It surprised me how we were even a couple to begin with, even more when he asked me out.

We had things in common, like our love for rock’ n’ roll and other likes and dislikes as well, but different in our own ways. I was there to support him in every way I could of course when he told me about wanting to become a rock star...

I knew Nikki was into drugs and was overall a wild rock star when it came to the parties and such, but he could also be his loving self when we were both alone and told me everything because he trusted me and loved me in his own way when he tried his hardest to show it.......

But I on the other hand couldn’t because of my condition I had since at a very young age....

On our first date, I had let him known about my condition and the fact I couldn’t take drugs, which took me awhile to even talk about as I felt very insecure if he would actually judge and leave me because of my negative reactions to them if I took any drugs that weren’t good for me (those reactions could result dangerous for my body system and mind if I did happen to have them) considering many of my previous ex’s did when I brought it up to them, causing them to abandon me without any remorse for it....

He shockingly of course didn’t and respected me when I told him about it, quietly listening to me. But even now as he kept telling me that it didn’t matter if I had a condition or not that he still loved me, I couldn’t help but feel doubt and insecure about myself...and what he said to me....really didn’t help with the anxiety I had as negative thoughts started to flood my mind leaving me a bit depressed...even hating myself for the way I turned out to be.....as I watched him.’

Nikki was currently drinking a bottle of whiskey while also checking in on me every once in a while to see how I was doing, I never understood why he would considering I new how to take care of myself against anyone that tried to harm me or offer me drugs, but he was damn well stubborn and protective off me enough to not take my answer and leave, but he also respected my space and that I really appreciated from him.

He gave me a warm smile as his gorgeous green eyes met mine, I smiled in return to let him know I was fine, as he kept talking to the guy in front of him. Smiling and feeling a warm feeling in my chest as I did, I felt the weight of the sofa shift as someone sat right next to me and damn right- It was the guy who was doing drugs from earlier, currently eyeing me up and down, holding a small tray of drugs with two straws.

“Hey there babes wanna do a bump with me?”, He flirted as he held the small tray towards me. “Um, No thanks. I’m good.”, I said as I hesitated the offer ,my smile turning smaller each second I would stare at this guy next to me, but kept myself firm and cautious of the situation.

“C’mon, hun. Don’t be such a party shitter come have a little taste of this.”, The man said obviously very insistent as much as I declined. I d-don’t want any can you please stop bothering!”, I confidently said as I put up a brave front telling the guy to go fuck off, but then I was interrupted as he gripped at my hand tightly catching me by surprise and wince in pain at the tight hold he had on it. “Let me go you asshole!”, I said as I stepped on his feet with force only for him to slap me across the face, my cheek burning red and stinging from the impact it gave me.

“ You bitch, if you’re not gonna take any of this. Then why even bother be here. You’re just another goddamn lame ass whor-”, He said as he spat those words at me like dripping venom, I couldn’t help but cry my cheeks staining as my mascara also mixed with the salty tears that flew and traveled down my chin and unto the dirty stained floor on the ground.

‘What if he is right?’ If I’m just another fling to Nikki. Another one-night stand that luckily got to be with him longer than the other chicks he had banged. ‘What if he is just using me? And he actually thinks I’m a useless, miserable, pathetic girl.’ I thought with a heartbreak as I sobbed silently the tears and sadness increasing more with each thought, as I choked on my cries. ‘No I can’t think like that. I know Nikki. He is an asshole but he wouldn’t hurt me like that or in any way. Right?’

I then saw Nikki walk towards us both as he punched the guy square in the jaw ,at the same time he said those hurtful words, with full force as his face was contorted in rage and anger,” Hey! Get your hands off my girl, Asshole. If she said she doesn’t want any then get your ass up and leave.”

The guy of course wasn’t a coward but stupid enough to pick a fight with someone like Nikki,” What did you say to me, jackass-” The guy then got pushed onto the wall.

“Listen to me, dickhead. You either leave her the fuck alone and show some respect or get the fuck out.”, He said as he looked at him dead in the eye his green eyes cutting through his entire soul, as he gripped his shirt like claws prying at his neck with a dead glare. “Fuck you guys! I’m out of your lame ass game-”, He yelled at him pushing Nikki off of him, as he stumbled his way out of the scene, everyone around us was quiet, either whispering stuff, or looking at us in shock at what just happened right in front of them. ”That’s it.” Nikki then shove him away forcefully as he kneed him on his groin causing him to crouch in pain, only for then to grip him by the shoulders and push him towards the door and outside of the house, causing him to fall.” And I better not see your ass here ever again, motherfucker!”, He then closed the broken door as he said that not caring at all whether it fell apart or not.

I, of course propped myself up from the floor still crying from earlier, as Nikki looked at me his eyes turning soft with concern as he heavily breathed. Not wanting to say anything and feeling humiliated, embarrassed, even ashamed I quickly got up and left the living room, wanting to be alone and away from everyone’s judgmental view. I then went into mine and Nikki’s shared bedroom, seeing that it was unoccupied and that the bathrooms were being used at the moment for private reasons. I then made sure to close it as I sunk to the bed crying as I let every teardrop out of my eyes that I have been holding in for so long. ‘Why?’ I thought as I broke into sobs gripping at the bed with anger ‘Why me?’ ‘Why did Nikki pick me?’.

As these thoughts flooded into my I couldn’t help but look down at myself for being this way, for letting my sad emotions get the better of me and not fighting them off. For not being strong, but weak.

All I wanted to do was just curl in a ball, and hide away from everyone....

From the band....

Vince, Tommy, Mick...

From the world....

And From Nikki....

I then heard a strong knock at the door only for then to hear a voice,” (Y/N) its me, open the door.”, Nikki said as he knocked his voice reaching my ears. “Go away, I wanna be alone.”, I said in between breaths as I cried. “I’m not leaving you, Damnit!”, He responded only for him to re-correct his speech knowing it wasn’t going to help if he acted that way as he muttered a little ‘shit’ at his choice of words before talking again this time in a much softer tone as he leaned against the door,” Please....just let me in.”

It took me a few moments before I could muster the courage to open the door, as I opened it I saw Nikki standing at the doorway only for him to wrap his two strong arms around me, in a strong and comforting embrace. Startled, I then relaxed as it was only Nikki and not the asshole from earlier. I then cried into his chest letting every tear fall.

“Shit...I’m sorry, babe.” Nikki muttered into my hair softly as he rubbed soft circles around my back, trying to ease my breathing,” Don’t worry that crazy fucker isn’t coming back any time soon and I’ll sure as hell make sure of it.” Hearing this from him made me relax a bit but not entirely as I still had that thought in my mind.

“Nikki...”, I whispered quietly but loud enough for him to hear.

“Yes, baby?”, He responded as he gave me his full attention and held me and separated me away from his chest but close enough so that he could still have me in his arms.

“Why me?”, I asked him sniffing a bit at my stuffed nose that was red and a bit stuffy at the moment from all of the crying I did.

“Hmm?”, He asked obviously confused as to what I meant by that.

“Why did you pick me?”, I said again in frustration as tears flooded into my eyes yet again, “You could’ve picked any other girl to love or use and leave me behind. You didn’t have to deal with a girl like me. You could’ve dated someone who was good enough to have the same life as you do. So why-”

I then was cut off as Nikki’s soft and rose colored lips met and connected with mine softly in a passionate kiss, not filled with lust but with love. I closed my eyes as I tasted the Whiskey on his lips A few seconds, later he let his lips disconnect from mine gently, as he then looked at me right in the eyes.

“Because I fucking care... about you, I don’t give a damn or a single fuck about what people think or say about you, me, or us. If any asshole has a problem with that they can either suck someone’s dick and kiss my ass for all I care. I know I’m not one to say corny and lovey-dovey shit like this, but...If you really wanna know why you instead of some other groupie or whore then.. fine.”

“You are ....someone important to me, and I ....don’t care whether you can do drugs and bumps or not. No person in this ...entire world can compare to you. Because you are someone that actually cared for me and for once has supported me when no asshole could for all my fucking life. Whatever that guy said to you was complete bullshit. You aren’t some one time thing for me and you will never be....”

He said as he gripped my face softly as he let his forehead gently touch mine as his eyes gazed lovingly in mine, letting out a few curses every one in awhile when he tried to tell me what he truly felt about me, knowing it was pretty difficult and torturing at him to even say as he broke his hard walls and cold front. This was the real Nikki.....

the man behind the stage.... the guy without the harsh exterior.... This was him....

My Nikki....

I smiled at him as my tears turn to happy ones, knowing what he said was truly genuine. I was shocked the first time he showed me his true soft and loving side, but seeing it now it didn’t really faze, rather make me want to love him more and further.

I pulled his face down for another kiss, his warm and tender lips meeting mine as we both lingered in the moment. We then let our lips depart as he hugged me tighter. He then pulled me to the bed, taking of his shirt to reveal and expose his muscular and toned, body along with his attractive tattoos that grazed and covered his skin and body. His long and strong arms pulled me to his chest as he peppered my forehead with small yet feathery kisses. Sniffing, I felt a warm feeling in my chest as I looked up at Nikki smiling a bit and having a funny idea a bit as the silence in the spacious room started to grow....

“Hey Nik.?”,

“Yeah?”, He asked softly as he propped his arm to rest and lean his head next to mine and face me as I saw his bright hues met mine, despite the darkness in the room and his messed up, soft and poofy crazed hair that was sprawled around a bit at his eyes, covering them slightly.

Laying down still looking at the ceiling in deep thought I felt a smile creep as I decided to tease him and whether or not he would get pissed off for it...

“Can you say that whole thing one more time for me?”, I asked him as I looked at him trying to hide the smirk in my face.

“Don’t fucking push it.”, He muttered with a bored tone his expression changing from serious to happy as he gazed at me, laughing....

“Sorry....”, I said as I scooted closer to him on the bed my laughs calming down as I reached for his warmth letting my arms fall on his warm chest and skin,” I appreciate what my nice and handsome boyfriend had to say.”

“Whatever..”, He answered simply with a sarcastic laugh only turning into a real one with a big smile on his face as he rolled his eyes and ruffled my hair kissing me in the forehead tenderly as he did.

Still smiling, I couldn’t help but say the loving words to him as I melted into his arms....

“I love you.”

I said in a hushed whisper but loud enough for him to hear as I cuddled with him, feeling each other’s warmth as we basked in the silence surrounding us in the room away from the loud and ruckus outside of it.

Relaxing into his embrace and feeling very comfortable in it I couldn’t help but feel sleepy as all my energy was left and drained out of me.

Whether it was the whiskey, his calming scent, or him right next to me, I hadn’t had a clue nor time to figure out as I dozed of into my slumber.

I then felt a tingle next in my ear as I swore I could’ve heard this last part as he softly breathed it into my ear in a whispering voice as he noticed me sleeping. With a small smile, he said...

as his rosy and slightly chapped lips parted and forming those words he never thought he’d said to anyone or to himself before nor he ever believed to ever hear them coming from himself or anyone... almost feeling like an illusion if he did say it.. almost like he wasn’t the one speaking it....as he said those ‘three damn forbidden words’ as he would like to call them, next to my soft ear in a hushed tone......

“I love you, too”

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{AUTHOR’S NOTE}: This was one of the requests I got from @metalheartofgold which was such an honor to write and receive from. Absolutely loved the idea and able to write it down here for you, sweets. I hope you enjoyed it, and that it was to your satisfaction, really. Love you💕

🖤I HOPE ANYONE THAT’S READING LIKED IT AS WEll AND LOVE YOU.🖤

IF ANY ONE WANTS TO ASK ME FOR SOMETHING TO WRITE WITH THE MEMBERS OF MOTLEY CRUE OR THE DIRT VERSION OF IT. HERE’S THE LIST FOR ANYONE THAT WANTS TO REQUEST SOMETHING FROM ME.

REQUEST LIST

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#nikki sixx x reader #nikki #nikki sixx #nikki sixx x reader oneshot #motley crue #motley crue x reader #motley crue fanfiction #nikki sixx x reader fanfiction #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx fanfic #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars

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