red-phantom-0 - Tumblr blog

red-phantom-0 · 2 days ago

Text

New Beginings

-> Arlecchino (genshin) inspired reader ( reader is also addressed as arlecchino) aka ur basically arlecchino in this imagine

-> Jason todd wakes up in a forest , abandoned and confused as he comes to terms with his painful resurrection until he's adopted by someone named 'father' . All goes well until his adopted family finds him and wants him back.

Platonic relationship!!

Jason’s POV

Blood . Blood and the smell of burnt flesh sticks to me like a plague , it follows me like a predator and tightens its sharp fangs around me . I feel utterly hopeless and I wander around aimlessly. Trees as tall as the sky surround me and the only living creature here is myself and death himself . Twigs and leaves stick to my bare feet as I trudge through the greenage . I roamed for god’s know how long but my swollen feet carried me to a lake. I collapse onto the ground and hover above the water - and that's it

That's when I saw him. Dead green eyes stare right back at me , his skin is pale like the dead and his hair - his bloody hair had a mocking white tuff at the front . He - no I scream , filled with pain , anger , confusion , frustration . That is not me - he is not me . My once boyish innocence was robbed and replaced with more manlier features , chubby cheeks replaced for high cheekbones that could surely put any male model to shame but he looks so dead .

His eyes and his complexion are that of the dead maybe because he was supposed to be . In his screaming agony he slammed his hands into the water resulting in him recoiling , the excruciating pain practically ate him alive . He looks down at his hands and he almost vomits . His palms were covered in a deep purplish bruise that practically stung . He lets out another scream mixed with a cry , why - why must it be him ? What did he ever do to deserve such a cruel faith , a faith meant for those condemned to hell ? Maybe this is hell - his own personal living hell . He cries into the grass like a pathetic child as he recalls the distant yet agonizing memory of a bomb ticking and the overwhelming feeling of fire consuming him .

So why - when he was finally put out of his misery did nature drag him back from the depths of the abyssal darkness into this hell . He was just angry - at himself , at the world and at batman. Why must only he suffer ?

He continues crying until he hears a twig snap . Like a wounded animal , he immediately seized his movement and began looking around frantically . The air around him grew cold and quiet . His frantic eyes scanned everywhere until it landed on the figure in the distance . He watches as she approaches him with deliberate steps . He could feel his own anxiousness bubble up within him but still - he gets up , relentless in backing down now . He stalks her , shooting her a glare yet she gives away nothing wearing a blank face.

She stops at an arm length poised. Her white hair dances in the blowing wind yet her eyes - piercing black eyes with a haunting red ‘x’ for an iris - a promise of a terrifying demise . Silence envelopes them both as they observe one another . “ You’re hurt, “ she says with a deadpan tone . Anger consumes him , she is just like him - just like bloody Bruce Wayne , his so-called father , cold and unmoving as if they were above everyone else.

He snarls and lunges at her but she swiftly kicks him in his chest , her sharp heel digging into the sensitive flesh of his back. “ Let go of me you bloody wrench” he curses as he squirms - he couldn’t give up not yet , not ever - he refused to give in. “ Stand down child you are hurt “ she says and to push her point further she presses her heel further into his back. He lets out a cry but manages to grab ahold of her leg and throw her into a nearby tree.

She manages to balance herself by using her heels to ground herself . Jason , seeing this, starts running in her opposite direction . He weaves in and out of the prickling branches - not minding the way they claw into his back and face leaving behind raw marks . He huffs as he jumps over a fallen log but is cut off guard when he hears footsteps behind him . He risks a peak and no doubt - she is following after him .

He huffs - frustrated , tired and frankly done with this ordeal but he continues to dart in and out between the trees . Jason makes a move to dart behind another tree when she leaps in front of him - absolutely startling him to death . He attempts to turn around but she delivers a swift kick to his head and suddenly , he feels himself go under.

Arlecchino's POV

She watches Jason’s crumbled form laid out on the red velvet cushions of the car through the rear mirror . She has no shadow of a doubt that the young boy is a mess but that doesn’t deter the parental instinct of protecting him . This wasn’t her first time meeting a child in such a roughed up state - her orphanage is filled with them but she has never ever heard a child scream in such agony . Before all of this - she was simply driving back home - her children eagerly awaiting her return to start dinner but something in her gut told her to pull aside and investigate . It was highly irrational and utterly dangerous but she was glad she did it because when she stared at the sweet boy laying in her backseat - she knew that she had to take care of him.

It wasn’t too long after Arlecchino arrived at the house of hearth - a mansion carefully tucked away into a tall mountain , vines practically climbed on the limestone walls of the castle-like mansion and its black gates while the black roof wore crow trimmings . Arlecchino carefully manoeuvres her car around the fountain , parking the car in front of a sea of cobblestone steps . She steps out , carefully fixing her coat as a crow flew down and landed on her shoulder .

“ Inform the children that we have a new guest” she says calmly . The crow nods at her before flying off . Moments pass before Arlecchino opens the back door and carefully picks Jason up bridal style . She leaned his head into the crook of her neck and began ascending the stairs . Despite the dreary , abandoned look the House of Hearth adorned outside - the inside was filled with laughter and warmth.

As soon as she stepped into the threshold , she can hear plates and chairs being rummaged around and the sound of children laughing and talking . She ascends another flight of stairs before stopping in front of a door . She lets out a gentle hum and the door is opened by another crow , wordlessly , she enters the room and lays Jason onto the bed . The crow perches on the bed post as it eyes her tucking a blanket over him .

“ Watch over him and summon a healer to treat his wounds ….. When he wakes up please alert me immediately “ she orders . The crow croons as it watches her leave .

Jason’s POV

He grumbles as he sinks further into the warm , soft feeling under him - he feels ease for some reason and then that's when the memories of last night jolts him awake . He sits up - still groggy from sleep as he examines his area . He determines he’s in a bedroom as he observes the dark green wallpaper that covers his room , an antique wooden desk and chair is tucked away in a corner and a matching antique wardrobe and vanity sit opposite the room . The room had wide , white windows that were framed by golden curtains - this was definitely something from those dark academia books he used to read in his youth and he hates to admit it but it's all nice .

Jason examines himself - his arms and torso were wrapped in bandages and he was only dressed in grey sweats . So this wasn’t some sick concoction of his mind - all of yesterday did happen. Jason felt lost - he felt so unsure of what to make of the situation anymore , of his feelings anymore - he’s now stuck in a body that doesn’t even feel like his - nothing doesn’t feel like his anymore - he feels like a puppet just being stringed on by his cruel master .

His inner turmoil is suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door . Jason holds his breath for a moment as the door opens and the same person from last night walks in - Jason observes her , she’s dressed down in a black work shirt and black slacks but her white hair cascades down her face and he finally realizes that she has streaks of black and red peaking through , her hands were black as if they were stained with ink but something tells him it’s more to it , he observes that she wears minimal jewelry and makeup not like she needed any - the woman before him looked ethereal .

“ Good Morning “ she greets him as she sits at the edge of his bed . Jason straightens but makes no move to attack her “ My name is Arlecchino or The Knave but the children of the Hearth call me Father “ She introduced herself . Jason nods , he’s heard of the Hearth , an orphanage for children determined to have no hope or home . “ Jason Todd but I …..used to be Robin “ he trails off . Arlecchino nods . “ I figured you were a vigilante with those reflexes last night “ she says. Jason just nods .

Silence envelopes them. “ Look if you’re going to pawn me off to Batman -” but she cuts him off , “ I’m not pawning you off anywhere Jason , if you choose to stay here or go back to him that’s fine with me , all I ask is that you recover “ Arlecchino says with finality. Jason stills - he feels everything crumble around him - she’s supposed to be fighting no ? supposed to already be gutting him open and delivering him to batman or holding him hostage or hell experimenting on him . Arlecchino stares at him . “ If you are wondering why you’re not in a body bag or what not - that's because mother is no longer in charge of the hearth anymore , although I am not better person but I would not harm a child - albeit enemy or not “ Arlecchino says as she plays around with the singular ring on her hand.

Jason gives her a perplex look , he remembers back in his old Robin days - Arlecchino’s name was #4 on Gothams most wanted - her gruesome murders kept the media buzzing all month around especially when she was allegedly suspected of killing a wealthy pharmaceutical president . He eyed her wearily - she could kill him , he could run away - run away where ? Bruce thinks he’s dead - he was dead - now he's alive and suddenly all he feels is anger.

“ Jason “ Arlecchino calls out as she senses his unease . Jason glares at her . “ What do you want from me - you people resurrect me to do what threatens Batman ? He wouldn’t bloody buy into it because he is a monster that leaves children to die “ he spits out in distaste . Arlecchino looks at him . “ I didn’t resurrect you Jason , I don’t know who or why they resurrected you but I found you and I intend to take care of you until you can take care of yourself .” Arlecchino says firmly .

Jason stares at her . Moments of silence passed between them until he finally asked , “ Why ? Why care so much ?” .

“ Because that's what a good father does , he cares, “ Arlecchino explains . Those words hung heavy in the air . “ Breakfast would be served to you , you are free to explore though it is advised you rest , if you do need me ask one of the crows and I shall come to you “ Arlecchino says before walking out and closing the door to his room softly.

True to her word - food did arrive to him , by a crow , the little guy squeaked before he curled up next to Jason while he ate - he would admit it’s very Harry Potter and it shouldn’t be making him happy . Jason reminisces over Dick , Bruce and Alfred - does his family miss him ? Do they look for him ? Think about him anymore ? All questions but no answers . He munches on his sandwich as he also ponders on the earlier conservations . Does she care about him ? Why should she when he’s a nobody ?

Jason gives up but decides to take a walk . He opens the door and is greeted by a hallway , decorated in an off -white wallpaper and covered in vintage paintings . He carefully walks into the hallway , observing through the same white , wide windows that showcase the delicate greenery outside . The crow eagerly follows him , landing on his shoulder and affectionately rubs against his cheek.

Jason wandered off a bit but ultimately sat on a windowsill and admired the outside for a while - he was just contempt with being alone . He didn't know how long he’d been but the crow began to squawk at him and flew down an opposite hall . Jason follows after the crow down the hall and is introduced to a dining room . A large chandelier hung above them , the room had large open windows that let in light , there were rows and rows of tables filled with kids ranging from all ages eating lunch .

Jason awkwardly walks in . People stopped eating to wave at him or even smile , some even greeted him with a ‘ good afternoon ‘ . Jason approaches a table at the front of the room and there , Arlecchino sits at the head table enjoying a sandwich while being surrounded by a bunch of crows . , his own crow landed next to her and squawked . Arlecchino looks up from the crow , to him and beacons him over . “ Jason, come eat with me “ she invites him . Jason walked over to her and sat in the seat directly next to hers . A plate of pasta appeared before him and Arlecchino beaconed him to eat. Jason eyes it but eats it anyways and god did it taste good .

Arlecchino allows a little smile to show on her face before she resumes to her own meal . “ Jason , this is my son Lyney , Lyney this is Jason our esteemed guest “ Arlecchino introduces Jason to the boy opposite him . He flashes Jason a toothy smile and throws him a card of red 8 hearts . “ Welcome Jason it’s an honour to have you here “ Lyney says animatedly. Jason smiled and nodded . “ Likewise “ he responded.

“ So Jason, what are your plans after recovery ?” Lyney inquires . Jason stills and glances at Arlecchino’s way . “ I plan to stay here …. If that's okay with you “ he asks . Arlecchino raised her brow . “ Jason I already told you that you’re welcome to stay as long as you want “ she says with a matter of fact tone . Jason nods , “ I don’t want to be a burden to any of you “ he explains . “ You aren’t and will never be a burden to any of us “ Arlecchino says with certainty . For the first time in a long time - Jason smiles .

5 months later

Arlecchino POV

It has been five months since Jason has come into our lives , it's been a change - a good change for all of this , I watch from my office window and Jason and Lyney play football in the garden with the other boys of the orphanage - safe to say Jason has adapted to us . He’s still closed off , still a bit awkward but nevertheless doing much better than when he came here . Since the five months per his request , I’ve been looking into his resurrection and so far nothing but dead ends , I’ve heard nothing from his father - or should I say batman ? I’m not entirely sure but last week Jason approached me in my personal office and told me about his family’s vigilante life in detail .

At first I thought he was kidding about the robin thing but it turns out that batman has a habit of having multiple robins and he was one of them . I recall him crying after it thinking I’d kick him out of the hearth - being a criminal and all and the fear of him betraying me but I reassured him that I didn’t care about his parentage or his past , that I only cared about the present.

We made some progress on our relationship and he has taken to calling me ‘ dad ‘ which made me happy . I sipped on my tea as I observed the boys until a crow landed next to me . “ Mr.Wayne in front “ It croaked . I spared it a glance as worry course through me , “ Summon for Jason and order the children to their rooms , all crows on guard “ I ordered .

This leads to now - the Hearth was empty save for Jason and myself in my work office . “ Dad - I don’t know what to do, “ Jason confessed as he paced up and down . I observed him . The moment he came in my office and I overlaid the message my son has been a wreck and it breaks my heart . “ Jason , no matter what I won’t let you get in harm's way “ I reassured him . Jason looks at me for a moment before he nods . “ Okay Dad - I’ll face him". He says before sitting next to me . I nod and gesture to a nearby crow to allow Bruce Wayne in.

Jason’s POV

I watched nervously as Dad ordered the crow to let Bruce in . I was shaking , nervousness and anger course through me at the same time , for once my life has been going well since my resurrection and now - now he wants me ? Now he cares about me ? I observed Dad’s face and I could tell she’s worried and I hate worrying about her because she’s always working so hard and she's always making sure all of us are well loved and cared for . I side hugged her as I eyed the door .

“ Dad, I love you “ I confess. I could feel her freeze under my hold and then I began to feel scared because what if she doesn't want me -

“ I love you too son “ she answered back and squeezed me and I smiled at the mention of ‘son’.

The door opens and lord and behold - in walks Bruce Wayne and two other young boys. Bruce looks at me in shock and worry before he looks at Dad and gives him a nasty glare and I swear it takes everything in me to not punch him. “ Welcome , Mr.Wayne to the House of Hearth , I am The Knave, how can I help you ?” Dad says in a deadpan tone . Bruce is still glaring at her but takes a seat in the chair in front of her huge mahogany desk . The younger of the two boys looks around with a snare while the other just stares ahead in boredom.

“ Let’s get to the chase shall we Knave ? You have my son and I want him back “ Bruce states matter of factly. I growl in anger - Now I'm his son ? I release my hands from hugging dad , ready to punch him but dad places her hand on my shoulder . “ Mr.Wayne , while I do agree that he is your legal son , I found him abandoned and lost in a forest and likewise as a parent myself I took him in “ Father said in a deadpan tone . “ According to the house’s clinic reports Mr.Wayne , Jason Todd was found with third degree burn mark on his palms , a concussion and a fractured rib and severely underfed “ father continues . Bruce shoots her a glare . “ Given your track record Knave , I won’t put it past you for inflicting those onto my son “ Bruce says with a glare . I seethe in my seat . “ You bastard, how dare you accuse my father of abusing me -” I shouted angrily .

The younger of the two boys growled at me , “ Are you stupid ? You are being held hostage by a wanted criminal and you want us to believe she wouldn’t hurt you ?” he questioned . His father gave him a look but made no move to correct him. Dad rubs my back and I look at her - scared because I feel like I’m being taken away from her - from my own family and I begin to feel like the same hopeless broken little boy she found in that forest. I want to beg her - beg her to just take all of us away to a far away land where we can all be happy and together but I know it’s not gonna happen - Bruce will not let it happen.

“ Putting aside our opinions , It is purely up to Jason on what he wants and wishes “ Dad says with finality. Bruce pursues his lips at that . “ I want to stay here with you Dad “ I say as I hug her . She hugs me back and runs her hand through my hair - attempting to soothe me . “ My son has made his decision; you may now leave “ Dad says . Bruce angrily slammed his hands on the table . “ Stop manipulating my son you - wench “ he curses out he says angrily . I let go from hugging dad and immediately slap Bruce , “ Don’t you ever fucking cuss my dad you piece of shit “ I say angrily . Bruce looks at me - really looks at me and I can see the anger brewing inside , threatening to spill over . “ Jason, if you don’t come home I won’t hesitate to lock her in Arkam’s Asylum. “ he threatens . The other two boys next to him nod in agreement - and finally I realized their plan - we were outnumbered and I won’t let Dad go there of all places - I need her , we all need her here . I sigh and look at Dad . “ Son don’t do this I don’t care what happens to me but I can get you and the other’s somewhere safe -” Dad starts but I cut her off , “ No dad - I can’t bear to know you get arrested and tortured in there because of me “ I say , somber . Dad shakes her head , “ It’s my job to keep you safe Jason -” she starts but I just embrace her for the last time - my mind already made up , “ Da I love you , goodbye “ I say as tears run down my face . Dad embraces me back “ I love you too and I will see you soon son “ she says softly , her voice laced in vulnerability . Before I knew it - I was ripped out of her arms and was being dragged down the halls by Bruce .

Dad chased after me but the younger boy threw a smoke bomb at her and then we vanished.

40 notes · View notes

red-phantom-0 · 5 days ago

Text

Sharing a cigarette with them

He arches his back against the railings, his lean torso leans over limply - no care about how high up he is . His slender fingers drag a cigarette between his swollen pink lips . His face turns slightly, and his molten gaze finds you in the distance as he blows out a puff of smoke. His lips twitch a bit as he catches your stare . He takes a drag again before beckoning you closer with his other hand.

Hesitantly , you approach him , the smell of cigarettes and his musky cologne burn your nostrils as you approach him. " Come closer, pretty thing " he calls out to you . You hesitate and approach him even closer now at his torso .

He just stares at you for a moment before pulling you towards him , practically pressing his hot lips onto yours. You let out a squeak of suprise, allowing him to slip his tongue into you and blow his hot puff into your mouth . His warm fingers trace the bare skin of your arms causing you to shiver in his hold.

He deepens the kiss even more he dominates your own tongue . He pulls away from you, both of you panting . " Mhmmmm.. these lips are way more addicting pretty, " he praises before he smashes his lips onto your once more.

-> Azriel , Eris Vanserra , Jason Todd , Bruce Wayne , John Price , Diluc , Tartaglia/Childe , Xiao, Wriothesley , Sunday , Draco Malfoy, Coriolanus Snow , Gojo Satoru, Suguru Geto , Ryomen Sukuna

14 notes · View notes

red-phantom-0 · 5 days ago

Text

words to use when writing

Appetite:

craving, demand, gluttony, greed, hunger, inclination, insatiable, longing, lust, passion, ravenousness, relish, taste, thirst, urge, voracity, weakness, willingness, yearning, ardor, dedication, desire, devotion, enthusiasm, excitement, fervor, horny, intensity, keenness, wholeheartedness, zeal

Arouse:

agitate, awaken, electrify, enliven, excite, entice, foment, goad, incite, inflame, instigate, kindle, provoke, rally, rouse, spark, stimulate, stir, thrill, waken, warm, whet, attract, charm, coax, fire up, fuel, heat up, lure, produce, stir up, tantalize, tease, tempt, thrum, torment, wind up, work up

Assault:

attack, advancing, aggressive, assailing, charging, incursion, inundated, invasion, offensive, onset, onslaught, overwhelmed, ruinous, tempestuous, strike, violation, ambush, assail, barrage, bombard, bombardment, crackdown, wound

Beautiful:

admirable, alluring, angelic, appealing, bewitching, charming, dazzling, delicate, delightful, divine, elegant, enticing, exquisite, fascinating, gorgeous, graceful, grand, magnificent, marvelous, pleasing, radiant, ravishing, resplendent, splendid, stunning, sublime, attractive, beguiling, captivating, enchanting, engaging, enthralling, eye-catching, fetching, fine, fine-looking, good-looking, handsome, inviting, lovely, mesmeric, mesmerizing, pretty, rakish, refined, striking, tantalizing, tempting

Brutal:

atrocious, barbarous, bloodthirsty, callous, cruel, feral, ferocious, hard, harsh, heartless, inhuman, merciless, murderous, pitiless, remorseless, rough, rude, ruthless, savage, severe, terrible, unmerciful, vicious, bestial, brute, brutish, cold-blooded, fierce, gory, nasty, rancorous, sadistic, uncompromising, unfeeling, unforgiving, unpitying, violent, wild

Burly:

able-bodied, athletic, beefy, big, brawny, broad-shouldered, bulky, dense, enormous, great, hard, hardy, hearty, heavily built, heavy, hefty, huge, husky, immense, large, massive, muscular, mighty, outsized, oversized, powerful, powerfully built, prodigious, robust, solid, stalwart, stocky, stout, strapping, strong, strongly built, sturdy, thick, thickset, tough, well-built, well-developed

Carnal:

animalistic, bodily, impure, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, libidinous, licentious, lustful, physical, prurient, salacious, sensuous, voluptuous, vulgar, wanton, , coarse, crude, dirty, raunchy, rough, unclean

Dangerous:

alarming, critical, fatal, formidable, impending, malignant, menacing, mortal, nasty, perilous, precarious, pressing, serious, terrible, threatening, treacherous, urgent, vulnerable, wicked, acute, damaging, deadly, death-defying, deathly, destructive, detrimental, explosive, grave, harmful, hazardous, injurious, lethal, life-threatening, noxious, poisonous, risky, severe, terrifying, toxic, unsafe, unstable, venomous

Dark:

atrocious, corrupt, forbidding, foul, infernal, midnight, morbid, ominous, sinful, sinister, somber, threatening, twilight, vile, wicked, abject, alarming, appalling, baleful, bizarre, bleak, bloodcurdling, boding evil, chilling, cold, condemned, creepy, damned, daunting, demented, desolate, dire, dismal, disturbing, doomed, dour, dread, dreary, dusk, eerie, fear, fearsome, frightening, ghastly, ghostly, ghoulish, gloom, gloomy, grave, grim, grisly, gruesome, hair-raising, haunted, hideous, hopeless, horrendous, horrible, horrid, horrific, horrifying, horror, ill-fated, ill-omened, ill-starred, inauspicious, inhospitable, looming, lost, macabre, malice, malignant, menacing, murky, mysterious, night, panic, pessimistic, petrifying, scary, shadows, shadowy, shade, shady, shocking, soul-destroying, sour, spine-chilling, spine-tingling, strange, terrifying, uncanny, unearthly, unlucky, unnatural, unnerving, weird, wretched

Delicious:

enticing, exquisite, luscious, lush, rich, savory, sweet, tasty, tempting, appetizing, delectable, flavorsome, full of flavor, juicy, lip-smacking, mouth-watering, piquant, relish, ripe, salty, spicy, scrummy, scrumptious, succulent, tangy, tart, tasty, yummy, zesty

Ecstasy:

delectation, delirium, elation, euphoria, fervor, frenzy, joy, rapture, transport, bliss, excitement, happiness, heaven, high, paradise, rhapsody, thrill, blissful, delighted, elated, extremely happy, in raptures (of delight), in seventh heaven, jubilant, on cloud nine, overexcited, overjoyed, rapturous, thrilled

Ecstatic:

delirious, enraptured, euphoric, fervent, frenzied, joyous, transported, wild

Erotic:

amatory, amorous, aphrodisiac, carnal, earthy, erogenous, fervid, filthy, hot, impassioned, lascivious, lecherous, lewd, raw, romantic, rousing, salacious, seductive, sensual, sexual, spicy, steamy, stimulating, suggestive, titillating, voluptuous, tantalizing

Gasp:

catch of breath, choke, gulp, heave, inhale, pant, puff, snort, wheeze, huff, rasp, sharp intake of air, short of breath, struggle for breath, swallow, winded

Heated:

ardent, avid, excited, fervent, fervid, fierce, fiery, frenzied, furious, impassioned, intense, passionate, raging, scalding, scorched, stormy, tempestuous, vehement, violent, ablaze, aflame, all-consuming, blazing, blistering, burning, crazed, explosive, febrile, feverish, fired up, flaming, flushed, frantic, hot, hot-blooded, impatient, incensed, maddening, obsessed, possessed, randy, searing, sizzling, smoldering, sweltering, torrid, turbulent, volatile, worked up, zealous

Hunger:

appetite, ache, craving, gluttony, greed, longing, lust, mania, mouth-watering, ravenous, voracious, want, yearning, thirst

Hungry:

avid, carnivorous, covetous, craving, eager, greedy, hungered, rapacious, ravenous, starved, unsatisfied, voracious, avaricious, desirous, famished, grasping, insatiable, keen, longing, predatory, ravening, starving, thirsty, wanting

Intense:

forceful, severe, passionate, acute, agonizing, ardent, anxious, biting, bitter, burning, close, consuming, cutting, deep, eager, earnest, excessive, exquisite, extreme, fervent, fervid, fierce, forcible, great, harsh, impassioned, keen, marked, piercing, powerful, profound, severe, sharp, strong, vehement, violent, vivid, vigorous

Liquid:

damp, cream, creamy, dripping, ichorous, juicy, moist, luscious, melted, moist, pulpy, sappy, soaking, solvent, sopping, succulent, viscous, wet / aqueous, broth, elixir, extract, flux, juice, liquor, nectar, sap, sauce, secretion, solution, vitae, awash, moisture, boggy, dewy, drenched, drip, drop, droplet, drowning, flood, flooded, flowing, fountain, jewel, leaky, milky, overflowing, saturated, slick, slippery, soaked, sodden, soggy, stream, swamp, tear, teardrop, torrent, waterlogged, watery, weeping

Lithe:

agile, lean, pliant, slight, spare, sinewy, slender, supple, deft, fit, flexible, lanky, leggy, limber, lissom, lissome, nimble, sinuous, skinny, sleek, slender, slim, svelte, trim, thin, willowy, wiry

Moan:

beef, cry, gripe, grouse, grumble, lament, lamentation, plaint, sob, wail, whine, bemoan, bewail, carp, deplore, grieve, gripe, grouse, grumble, keen, lament, sigh, sob, wail, whine, mewl

Moving:

(exciting,) affecting, effective arousing, awakening, breathless, dynamic, eloquent, emotional, emotive, expressive, fecund, far-out, felt in gut, grabbed by, gripping, heartbreaking, heartrending, impelling, impressive, inspirational, meaningful, mind-bending, mind-blowing, motivating, persuasive, poignant, propelling, provoking, quickening, rallying, rousing, significant, stimulating, simulative, stirring, stunning, touching, awe-inspiring, energizing, exhilarating, fascinating, heart pounding, heart stopping, inspiring, riveting, thrilling

Need:

compulsion, demand, desperate, devoir, extremity, impatient longing, must, urge, urgency / desire, appetite, avid, burn, craving, eagerness, fascination, greed, hunger, insatiable, longing, lust, taste, thirst, voracious, want, yearning, ache, addiction, aspiration, desire, fever, fixation, hankering, hope, impulse, inclination, infatuation, itch, obsession, passion, pining, wish, yen

Pain:

ache, afflict, affliction, agony, agonize, anguish, bite, burn, chafe, distress, fever, grief, hurt, inflame, laceration, misery, pang, punish, sting, suffering, tenderness, throb, throe, torment, torture, smart

Painful:

aching, agonizing, arduous, awful, biting, burning, caustic, dire, distressing, dreadful, excruciating, extreme, grievous, inflamed, piercing, raw, sensitive, severe, sharp, tender, terrible, throbbing, tormenting, angry, bleeding, bloody, bruised, cutting, hurting, injured, irritated, prickly, skinned, smarting, sore, stinging, unbearable, uncomfortable, upsetting, wounded

Perverted:

aberrant, abnormal, corrupt, debased, debauched, defiling, depraved, deviant, monstrous, tainted, twisted, vicious, warped, wicked, abhorrent, base, decadent, degenerate, degrading, dirty, disgusting, dissipated, dissolute, distasteful, hedonistic, immodest, immoral, indecent, indulgent, licentious, nasty, profligate, repellent, repugnant, repulsive, revolting, shameful, shameless, sickening, sinful, smutty, sordid, unscrupulous, vile

Pleasurable:

charming, gratifying, luscious, satisfying, savory, agreeable, delicious, delightful, enjoyable, nice, pleasant, pleasing, soothing, succulent

Pleasure:

bliss, delight, gluttony, gratification, relish, satisfaction, thrill, adventure, amusement, buzz, contentment, delight, desire, ecstasy, enjoyment, excitement, fun, happiness, harmony, heaven, joy, kick, liking, paradise, seventh heaven

Rapacious:

avaricious, ferocious, furious, greedy, predatory, ravening, ravenous, savage, voracious, aggressive, gluttonous, grasping, insatiable, marauding, plundering

Rapture:

bliss, ecstasy, elation, exaltation, glory, gratification, passion, pleasure, floating, unbridled joy

Rigid:

adamant, austere, definite, determined, exact, firm, hard, rigorous, solid, stern, uncompromising, unrelenting, unyielding, concrete, fixed, harsh, immovable, inflexible, obstinate, resolute, resolved, severe, steadfast, steady, stiff, strong, strict, stubborn, taut, tense, tight, tough, unbending, unchangeable, unwavering

Sudden:

abrupt, accelerated, acute, fast, flashing, fleeting, hasty, headlong, hurried, immediate, impetuous, impulsive, quick, quickening, rapid, rash, rushing, swift, brash, brisk, brusque, instant, instantaneous, out of the blue, reckless, rushed, sharp, spontaneous, urgent, without warning

Thrust:

(forward) advance, drive, forge, impetus, impulsion, lunge, momentum, onslaught, poke, pressure, prod, propulsion, punch, push, shove, power, proceed, progress, propel

(push hard) assail, assault, attack, bear down, buck, drive, force, heave, impale, impel, jab, lunge, plunge, press, pound, prod, ram, shove, stab, transfix, urge, bang, burrow, cram, gouge, jam, pierce, punch, slam, spear, spike, stick

Thunder-struck:

amazed, astonished, aghast, astounded, awestruck, confounded, dazed, dazed, dismayed, overwhelmed, shocked, staggered, startled, stunned, gob-smacked, bewildered, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, horrified, incredulous, surprised, taken aback

Torment:

agony, anguish, hurt, misery, pain, punishment, suffering, afflict, angst, conflict, distress, grief, heartache, misfortune, nightmare, persecute, plague, sorrow, strife, tease, test, trial, tribulation, torture, turmoil, vex, woe

Touch:

(physical) - blow, brush, caress, collide, come together, contact, converge, crash, cuddle, embrace, feel, feel up, finger, fondle, frisk, glance, glide, graze, grope, handle, hit, hug, impact, join, junction, kiss, lick, line, manipulate, march, massage, meet, nudge, palm, partake, pat, paw, peck, pet, pinch, probe, push, reach, rub, scratch, skim, slide, smooth, strike, stroke, suck, sweep, tag, tap, taste, thumb, tickle, tip, touching, toy, bite, bump, burrow, buss, bury, circle, claw, clean, clutch, cover, creep, crush, cup, curl, delve, dig, drag, draw, ease, edge, fiddle with, flick, flit, fumble, grind, grip, grub, hold, huddle, knead, lap, lave, lay a hand on, maneuver, manhandle, mash, mold, muzzle, neck, nestle, nibble, nip, nuzzle, outline, play, polish, press, pull, rasp, ravish, ream, rim, run, scoop, scrabble, scrape, scrub, shave, shift, shunt, skate, slip, slither, smack, snake, snuggle, soothe, spank, splay, spread, squeeze, stretch, swipe, tangle, tease, thump, tongue, trace, trail, tunnel twiddle, twirl, twist, tug, work, wrap

(mental) - communicate, examine, inspect, perception, scrutinize

Wet:

bathe, bleed, burst, cascade, course, cover, cream, damp, dampen, deluge, dip, douse, drench, dribble, drip, drizzle, drool, drop, drown, dunk, erupt, flood, flow, gush, immerse, issue, jet, leach, leak, moisten, ooze, overflow, permeate, plunge, pour, rain, rinse, run, salivate, saturate, secrete, seep, shower, shoot, slaver, slobber, slop, slosh, sluice, spill, soak, souse, spew, spit, splash, splatter, spout, spray, sprinkle, spurt, squirt, steep, stream, submerge, surge, swab, swamp, swill, swim, trickle, wash, water

Wicked:

abominable, amoral, atrocious, awful, base, barbarous, dangerous, debased, depraved, distressing, dreadful, evil, fearful, fiendish, fierce, foul, heartless, hazardous, heinous, immoral, indecent, intense, mean, nasty, naughty, nefarious, offensive, profane, scandalous, severe, shameful, shameless, sinful, terrible, unholy, vicious, vile, villainous, wayward, bad, criminal, cruel, deplorable, despicable, devious, ill-intentioned, impious, impish, iniquitous, irreverent, loathsome, Machiavellian, mad, malevolent, malicious, merciless, mischievous, monstrous, perverse, ruthless, spiteful, uncaring, unkind, unscrupulous, vindictive, virulent, wretched

Writhe:

agonize, bend, jerk, recoil, lurch, plunge, slither, squirm, struggle, suffer, thrash, thresh, twist, wiggle, wriggle, angle, arc, bow, buck, coil, contort, convulse, curl, curve, fidget, fight, flex, go into spasm, grind, heave, jiggle, jolt, kick, rear, reel, ripple, resist, roll, lash, lash out, screw up, shake, shift, slide, spasm, stir, strain, stretch, surge, swell, swivel, thrust, turn violently, tussle, twitch, undulate, warp, worm, wrench, wrestle, yank

43K notes · View notes

red-phantom-0 · 8 days ago

Text

funny tweets I think Damien wld unironically post

Unedited/original tweets

#damien wayne #batfam #dcu #dc universe #batfam memes #damien wayne meme #fluff #meme #this is unironic btw #incorrect tweets #funny post #funny shit #unironically #incorrect quotes

25 notes · View notes

red-phantom-0 · 9 days ago

Text

The dead haunts me

Pt.3 of Damien x Tokyo Ghoul sib. Reader

-> Read part 1 , part 2 here

──► after the death of his beloved sibling , Damien Wayne sets out hellbent on seeking his rightful justice even if it means betraying the world , betraying his family , and betraying them .

Tw : mentions of human abuse , mention of animal abuse , attempted self-harm , blood , gore , dark obsession

April 7th 2009 ,

help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help mehelp me help me help me help me help me help me help mehelp me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help me help mehelp me help me help me help me

April 8th, 2009

Today, I was allowed to peak through the window again , I got to see a Robin !! I wish I had wings as beautiful as the Robin. It's such a pretty shade of brown like the hot coco mama used to make on Christmas. If I were a Robin, I would fly as high as the clouds, and I'd never fly back down ! I only got electrocuted five times today , maybe because of yesterday ..... but hey, at least I got to see a Robin today !

April 9th , 2009

kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me kill me .

April 10th , 2009

I failed another test yesterday . I couldn't do it , the dog was innocent, and she had little heartbeats in her tummy . I didn't wanna kill her , she was someone's best friend , someone's mum, even if she was a stray dog. The dog looked so scared, so I hugged the dog ! But I don't think they liked that because they hit me a lot . But it was okay because I kept hugging her because I didn't want them to hit me . Then he shoved me off her - I promise I tried , I tried to get up, but he pushed me down with his foot . He then.... ate her .....he ate her, and her blood was all over me . It's my fault she's gone , it's my fault she's dead - I'm so sorry, mummy , daddy, I didn't wanna be a monster .

December 15th , 2016

I made a new friend named Damien ! He's really cool . He has two awesome katanas, and he let me touch one ! I accidentally cut my finger, but that's okay ! We've been good friends for a while , apparently, he's Mr. Wayne's birth son, which is really cool. Imagine having batman as a dad ! Anyway I have to go on patrol with my new friend now !

February 4th, 2017

I cried on my new friends shoulder today , was pretty embrassing, but he hugged me back, and he was super warm !! I accidentally stabbed a suspect - it wasn't supposed to happen, and it was reflexes I swear because he came out of nowhere . Tim called me a monster because of it as the suspect was gurgling and bleeding but honest it wasn't my fault, and plus, he had an assault rifle ! Thankfully, Damien was there to back me up, and he told Tim off but still I feel so bad I didn't want to be a monster but Damien hugged me and promised me that we aren't monsters , we just grew up differently than them .

These entries are the property of Y/N Wayne .

Damien couldn't tell you the last time he slept . Everytime he closed his eyes , the vivid memory of y/n's dead form laying there bleeding in that field replays before him liek a broken record - sometimes in the dead of the night he can hear them calling out to him for help only to but immediately cut off abruptly like that night.

Whenever he's not pouring through countless articles about Arima or what happened that night, he's pouring through Y/n's life entries to the point he's memorized every page since its the one thing that has him grounded to earth anymore.

It's been a year . A year . And nothing, he couldn't find anything about Arima , nothing about the organization he works with , nothing about what happened to you that night, and he's bloody gone mad . It's like whatever happened that night vanished .

He asked - no begged Bruce on his hands and knees , till they were bloodied and bruised to help him search for you and even he - even he couldn't find anything about you . He feels so incredibly useless , mad , angry, somber, and tired, but his mind won't rest until he knows - until he's has avenged you.

Damien finds himself in their room again - like clockwork , his body unconsciously takes him here everytime , he doesn't know why but his body always guide him back here , to a home that's no longer here . He crashes on your bed and sobs loudly.

He sobs and screams his heart out before his lungs burn, and he has no more tears . Bruce stands in the doorframe as he looks at his son's disheveled form . He steps in carefully and approaches his sullen form. He doesn't know if Damien wants his company to begin with, but he shows no signs of being disturbed .

" Damien, we will get to the bottom of this, and we will arrest the culprit. It's just gonna take time -" Bruce says as he rubs Damien's back in a soothing manner . " Arrest them ? I'm going to bloody murder whoever it is, " Damien seethes out as he clutches onto the bedsheets in anger.

Bruce scowls . " They wouldn't want that," he muttered out . Damien stills underneath him before kicking him square , sending Bruce flying into a wall . " YOU DON'T GET TO SAY WHAT THEY WANT," he screams back.

Hearing the commotion , Dick runs into the room and makes a beeline to his father . " Damien what the fuck -" he curses as he helps pick up his father . Damien seethes , red is practically all he sees at this point .

" Damien - we both know they don't like death - what makes you think they'd like it if you took another's life " Bruce says between coughs . Damien shoots him a glare. " DON'T PLAY SAINT WITH ME BRUCE , THEYRE DEAD , THEYRE GONE BECAUSE SOME SICK FUCK AND IF YOU HADN'T HELD ME BACK THAT NIGHT THEY'D BE HERE WITH ME " Damien shouts as he punches the wall next to him.

Dick sends him a glare . " You're absolutely gone mad." Damien gives him a sick smile , " I've gone mad long time. You're just now realizing it." Bruce's shakes his head as he leans against Dick for support . " Don't do this, Damien , don't go down this road," Bruce pleads with his son. Damien shakes his head. " Because of your - no our incompetence , following your pathetic morals , trying to be nice , trying to be diplomatic, they're dead so no father. I WILL BE JUSTICE , I WILL BRING IT , I WILL FORCE IT UPON GOTHAM AND YOU ALL SHALL BARE IT , Damien promises before vanishing off into the night.

Blood stains his shirt , his hands , his face as he moves through the night skillfully, leaving a bloodbath in his wake. The once quiet night of Gotham was now filled with pleads and screams of criminals. Damien decided that since he couldn't find out who did it , he might as well eliminate all possibilities...permenantly.

Bodies were left bleeding out , some were twisted and mauled beyond recognition as Damien carried out his reign of justice . Damien had just finished dismembering a child predator when he heard someone approaching from behind him .

Without any hesitation, he spun around and threw a knife at them. Silence filled th air before the figure emerged from the shadows , knife caught skillfully between their fingers with a stark face . Arima stood before Damien with a cold look.

" You're as messy as a ghoul , almost like them," he states coolly before throwing the knife back Damien's way . Damien dodges it and sends the man a glare . " You," He seethes as he unsheathes both katnas . " Me," Arima confirms as he pushes his hands into his coat. " Why?" Damien spits out . "Why them.." he pleads.

Arima stares at him blankly. " They're like any other ghoul in my world. They're monsters that deserve to die , a monster that had to be put down, " he finishes. A breeze blow between them, and Damien feels himself giving in to blood thirst.

" THEY WERE A GOOD PERSON," he said defensively as tears began slipping down his cheeks. Arima says nothing for a moment and just stares at him . " Damien , sooner or later, they'd become a danger to your universe when they eventually gave in to their urges " he says with a matter of fact tone.

Damien lunges at him , ready to dehead him, but Aima kicks him into a building with heavy force . Damien let's out a pained groaned as rubble crumble upon him like a tidal wave . " They would never eat humans," Damien says as he struggled onto his feet .

Arima simply adjusts his glasses . " They won't but that ghoul inside them would of." Damien lunges after him again, but Arima blocks him with his hand. " People like them are made into monsters." Arima starts as he blocks another one of Damien's jabs . " People like them would pray to God every night and cry their lungs out asking the world why they are the way they are," he continues as he continues dodging Damien's attempts to kill him.

Damien gets angrier the more he speaks and the more he dodges and attempts to pierce Arima in his eye like he did with them but arima simply holds his blade in a tight grip and kicks the other out of his hold sending it flying elsewhere. " There is no hope for people like them but death," Arima says as he stares into Damiens' eyes . Damien curses him out, but Arima ignores him.

" Tell me , you claim to love them so dearly, yet you hurt them more than I ever could that night." Arima finshes before he throws Damien against a wall . This time , Damien couldn't get up , he's too tired, too sore, too beaten - all he could do was cry pathetically.

" I didn't - I never hurt them i-" he stammered. Arima stares at him , " You did , you kill all of those people - curse them for cruelty they never deserved - tell me - you loved them so dearly - you know they hate seeing death so why taint their soul with the death of so many , " Arima finishes before he disappears into the abyss leaving Damiens broken body to weep alone .

" I didn't- I did it for them , I did it for them , all for them - I- love them - i still do - I- y/n my beloved you know I mean good - your big brother was just protecting you , I still am - my precious sibling I'll fix everything -" Damien says between broken sobs . In that very moment , his bruised hand picks up his discarded knife and pierces his own eye with it .

" Don't worry sibling - they don't understand my intentions - they don't get what I've done for you " He stammered as his blood bleeds down his figure . Damien lays there broken , swearing to avenge them over and over like a broken record .

At that moment, Batman landed on the nearby building before his gaze lands on Damien's broken father. Batman immediately grapples to his son - immediately phoning Alfred for an ambulance. " Damien, what have you done " Batman questions as he picks up his son's broken figure.

" Justice, father," Damien replies with a smile . Ambulance wails in the distance as they approach closer. " No , Damien, you became something they would never want , a monster," Batman says as he grapples them away .

Pt. 4 or do yall want more on their relationship???

#possessive yandere #yandere platonic batfam #platonic batfam #platonic yandere #siblings #yandere damian x reader #male yandere x reader #male yandere x y/n #platonic yandere batfam #damien wayne #damien wayne x reader #dc universe #dc x reader #yandere dc #neglected reader #neglect

142 notes · View notes

red-phantom-0 · 12 days ago

Text

I 'hate' Cats

──► a random stray cat adopts our precious boy .

Jason leans against the cafe wall as he he blows on his coffee before he takes a sip. It's a normal day today - that's funny considering there's always something to do like maybe cleaning his guns or sharpening his knife, but today he just feels lazy.

Jason watches the bustling streets of Gotham go by with a poker face on until he felt something brush up on his leg. Jason screeches , his coffee spilling all over himself before he looks down to see a small fluffy ginger kitty rub against his leg.

Jason scowls . He hates cats because they're so much work to take care of and so bloody hard to bond with . Jason shoots the cat a glare as he begins walking away furious , his slow afternoon ruined by some feline .

The kitty eagerly follows after him through the busy crowd , their little ears perked at him. Jason groans at the sight . " Look, I don't have any treats," Jason says dismissively. The kitty meows in response as they rub against his leg.

Jason groans in annoyance, but he can't argue with the fact that the kitty was cute . Before he could even do anything , someone from the crowd accidentally kicked the feline while they were walking past, causing the cat to whimper in pain.

Jason saw red and literally scooped the kitty in his hands and kissed them all over . " It's okay baby , daddy's got you," Jason coos at the cat. The kitty purs and rub their furry face on Jason's cheek. Jason smiles . Okay, he still hates cats it's just that this one is cute and lovable .

I wrote this bcz I miss my cats sm shout out to oreo , ranni and Bubba my beloved cats.

Also yes Jason is a cat dad .

#cat #cats #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #jason todd #dc universe #dc x reader #dc comics idea #dcu #batfam #fluff

83 notes · View notes

red-phantom-0 · 13 days ago

Text

The children are dead

pt 2 of Damien x Ghoul.sib reader

──► as the two siblings grow ever so closer bonded by the cold love of their 'adopted' family and the monstrosity of their past , life throws them another unyielding cruelty that breaks them both entirely.

Tw : major character death , child neglect , revenge

Edit ty for 42 likes !!

part 1 , part 3

I'm done dreaming.

ACT I

It was late December , the air around the manor was grim and chilly , nothing but haunting and a grim reminder that life was harsh and would never be easy. Damien clenches his fingers within his gloves as he attempts to soak up what little warmth he had.

Bruce and his other siblings stood before him in the patio , discussing events pertaining to last night's stake out. Damien tunes out their annoying , scratchy voices, but his eyes trained to every other possible corner of the room searching for them.

The grandfather ticks by, and the conversation turns dull , he had to hold himself exactly ten times from clawing Dick's eyes out whenever he'd call him a demon spwan or ask him who he's planning to kill. He's at his bloody wits until he see y/n's figure limping in.

Damien pushes back his chair and immediately launches himself towards them. They didn't have to convey words as his eyes already gave away how bloody worried he was with them. He can hear Bruce and the others calling him back, but he can't give a bloody damn about them right now.

He watches as y/n's bloody form lean against the doorframe as they slide to the ground like a limp leaf . Damien kneels with them and place his hand on their bleeding stomach - it was a big gash like a vicious creature took a bite out of them.

" Oh my God, we need to get them to a doctor-" he could hear Stephanie say from behind him, and Damien has never unsheathed his sword any faster . " Shut the fuck up and leave them alone " he growled.

The last time y/n went to a doctor , the medicine they used on them caused them to turn into a ghoul for three days straight - for three days his precious sibling was forced to be driven to insanity as their ghoulish form fought with what little human control they had left to suppress themselves from consuming humans.

His poor sibling wore ghoulish scratch marks on their arms and cheeks for months after their attempt at manhandking themseleves . He can see in the distance Tim opening his big trap to give his unwanted opinion, and Damien sneered at him . His sibling couldn't heal from their medication in his own world , hell - no medication could heal them , they had to hope to God they regenerated fast enough.

" Fuck off Drake " he sneered before crouching before y/n once again.

" What happened ?" He questioned them as he pressed him hand onto their wound to stop the wound from gushing even more blood. " Ran into another ghoul - no - he was an investigator from my world that kills ghouls like me - the undefeated ghoul investigator , Arima," they explained through coughing fits.

Damien stilled. He now knew the gravity of how extremely grim the situation became , the white reaper of his siblings' universe has come to end their demise . He remembered y/n talking about him , about how Arima possessed superhuman strength and his immense 'hatred for ghouls' lead the man to kill hundreds if not thousands of ghouls in his 18 years of occupation.

Y/n gave him a small smile . " I'll be okay," they reassured him . Damien just held them as he ignored the outside world.

Oh, how he wished he didn't believe them that night .

ACT II

January 6th , the night was quiet, and still , the moon casted its opulence across the streets of Gotham. A simply routine was instilled tonight , everyone had a simple stake out tonight .

It was the first night in years Damien and y/n hadn't been with each other on a mission for years - something he'd live to regret later . He found it suspicious, but Bruce insisted he needed to join him tonight to test him out as Robin and y/n had persistently encouraged him to go.

So here he was following Bruce from rooftop to rooftop as they stalked some of Joker's henchmen . For the last hour or so , Damien had checked in on y/n , and they reported they were doing okay and had just arrested some petty thrives for the night.

The hour was coming to an end , and so far, everyone but y/n reported in . Damien grew anxious , and y/n was always a timely person, so for them to be late was entirely unheard of.

Bruce reassured him that they were fine but that didn't stop the nagging feeling in his stomach and it's not like Bruce ever cared about your existence to begin with - only cared you did what you had to do and the thought of it pissed him off.

Damien was now finishing up wrapping up his grappling hook when y/n's frantic voice buzzed through his intercom . " Help me - he's - come quick " came their frantic voice through the static. Damien felt dread weighing like lead through his veins as he clutched onto his own intercom.

" Y/n are you okay ? Where are you ?" He asked frantically but was only left with static. Damien immediately began to leave when Bruce stopped him.

" Damien y/n isn't important right now we have more important things to worry about " Bruce or rather batman says and he held his son by the shoulder . Damien harshly yanked it off . " Leave me the fuck alone - I am going to them and you aren't stopping me " He yells as he grappled off the roof.

Batman calls after him, but Damien ignores him as he grapples his way to the other side of Gotham city . His heart beats heavy in his chest as he appraches your last known location only to see the building left in ruin.

Blood splatters were everywhere, and ruins were left anew . " Y/N !!!!" He shouted as he grappled around the area , eyes frantically looking for your figure . He begs , prays to whatever God out there that you're safe as he continued further as he observes more buildings left to ruins.

Ruble covered the area as far as the eye can see , not a living soul in sight. Damien kept calling your name out , tears practically falling down his face as he continued searching.

Minutes ticked by dreadfully until he finally spots you. Your bloody figure lays there in a bed of red spider lillies. Damien lets out an ear, piercing scream at the sight . With shaky legs and arms, he approaches your figure . Your figure layed still as a gentle breeze blow, causing the spider lillies to brush up against your form like a warm blanket .

Damien holds your form with shaky hands as he keeps repeating no's over and over. Your dead brown human eye stared at him , soulless and unmoving while your beautiful red eye had a jaggery, long sword piercing right through it . Your right arm and both your legs were missing , but still - in the moonlight , you looked calm.

Damien grew quiet as he layed his head on your chest , no longer can he selfishly listen to your heartbeat and relish in the familiar love you bestowed upon him. No longer would he be able to share a laugh with you , your pain , your burdens , your bitter coffees to your exhilarating training.

He would no longer have any of those as now you lay dead , robbed from his safe embrace because life was too cruel and unforgiving and had to take away the one good thing he had his life.

He no longer felt angry at the world. No, he felt awake and mad . Be prepared , Gotham , for tonight two children died and your long awaited recogning is comming with nothing but cold , bitter , unforgiving blood shed.

A crow in the distance let out a war cry as Damien kisses your forehead one last time before the spider lillies cover your form one last time , shadong your innocence from the raging hell Damien is about to bestow upon the world.. A gentle breeze blows, and Damien unsheathes his sword, ready to bring destruction and ruin to the world.

dreaming world

prepare to be

awaken.

Part 3, anyone ?

302 notes · View notes

red-phantom-0 · 14 days ago

Text

Damien Wayne x Tokyo Ghoul Reader

imagine!! : Damien Wayne is a complex character on his own , he has his own complex emotions and feelings that not many people can understand, que in a ghoul like sibling whom can comfort Damien in his hard times by reminiscing their own experience with them.

Edit : ty for the 48 likes!!!

part 2 , part 3

Damien knew from the beginning that he was difficult . He knew that if it wasn't for the fact that he was Bruce's only blood child and the fact that he's bloody good at handling a sword that no one would bat him a bloody eye.

It was no one's fault in the family, really. He couldn't blame them honestly. Not one of them fully grasp the concept of being a living breathing weapon . A tool only made to bring destruction and wrath to others . Simply a tool. They won't understand that his angry outbursts was just him trying to come to terms with the fact that he was human and humans don't result to anger for everything.

But grasping that concept is easier said than done . Not when he grew up not knowing the warmth of a mother's embrace or the loving scolding of a father when he ate cookies for breakfast . He grew up only knowing that he had to kill to live .Not everyone in this family can grasp that but one .

Y/n is an enigma . At first, he found them absolutely weird when he first met them . He always thought their one red eye was repulsive - absolutely monstrosity. He hated how quiet they were , the bloody fact that he was a trained assassin, and he couldn't hear nor detect them entering the same room as them absolutely pissed him off.

He hated the fact that they were way too good at offense and defense . He always recalled the first mission he went with them and observed how they had somehow skillfully unarmed ten of Joker's henchmen with a bloody rock. He hated them alot you could imagine until one faithful night.

It was after one of his many tantrums , honestly Bruce and bloody Dick were getting on his nerves by calling him a child, and it only escalated when Bruce threatened to send him board school . He was so pissed he just straight up left the mansion himself and sat out in the garden.

He hadn't expected them to follow him though and at first he wanted to bloody stab them - so he did , he threw a knife at them and instead of dodging or catching it , Y/n allowed to knife to pierce their shoulder.

They hadn't even wince just gave him a smile.

" I understood why you're mad, Damien." They voiced as they sat next to him.

Damien only scowl . " You understand me - that's hilarious " .

" I do, Damien . Do you think I wanted to be what I am ? I am only what I am because people want a weapon . They were far too weak and fragile to fight off their own problems for themselves so why not let an innocent child do it for them " they said as they ripped the knife out of their shoulder and threw it behind them.

Damien shared a knowing - an understanding look with them as he finally grasped what they meant . They were a weapon like himself. A shared silence consumed them .

" These twats don't get how - how angry I am " Damien finally muttered out.

Y/n shook her head in agreement .

" They don't understand the anger we carry is not just our own but the anger of an innocent child begging for their stolen youth back " y/n muttered back.

They turned to him and held his hand with a little squeeze . Damien looked at their intertwined hands with a little smile.

" Human contact feels nice," he muttered as he squeezed their hand back . Y/n only smiled back and from then on the two were inseparable.

Wherever Y/n lurked , Damien was right next to them and wherever Damien went , Y/n went with them. Whenever Dick took away Damien's swords , Y/n would always steal it back for him. Whenever Bruce was being a bit harsh on y/n for being blood thirsty , Damien would always stand up for them.

Thus the family was shocked to see Damien , a man of fury and blood lust bond with someone . Safe to say, many of the siblings were jealous of their strong bond .

So when Dick brought up the fact with Damien one day . " So you're allies with a weird ghoul who probably murders for fun -" he was met with a knife piercing his kneecap.

#batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #batfam x y/n #batfamily x reader #batman x reader #damian wayne #damien wayne x reader #platonic batfam #neglected reader #yandere batfam #yandere platonic batfam #damien wayne #male yandere x reader #platonic yandere #dc comics idea #dc x reader #dcu #batfam

339 notes · View notes

red-phantom-0 · 16 days ago

Text

Dark Azriel imagines

nsfw content and dark themes mentioned .

crds to @reagan10108 for inspo

Edit : ty for 78 likes !!

Azriel is the type of yandere to fall in love with his darling very hard and fast .

Azriel is the type of yandere to learn everything and anything about his darling no matter what : from the time his darling took their first steps down to the fabric softener they use.

Azriel is the type of yandere to follow his darling anywhere they go . He is an overprotective male by nature, so of course, he has to protect his innocent darling from the dangers of the world.

Azriel is the type of yandere to get easily jealous when his darling talks to anyone , even a little kid on the road . His darling is his and his only he doesn't need anyone monopolizing their time other than him.

Azriel is the type of yandere who has his shadows follow you when he can't. His shadows are equally if not more obsessed with you than their master and eagerly follow his darling wherever they are and report everything to him .

Azriel is the type of yandere to leave little presents and gifts in his darlings home in an attempt to court them . Presents and gifts are but not limited to the hoodie you where eyeing in the shop the other day or your favorite food for dinner or the finger of the guy who accidentally brushed up against you in the checkout lane.

Azriel is the type of yandere to have pictures of his darling in his wallet and pockets, so whenever he misses them, he can take them out and admire them.

Azriel is the type of yandere to cuddle with a stuffed plushy you had laying around in your apartment to sleep thinking it's you.

Azriel is the type of yandere to decorate his home in the color of his darlings' eyes because it's his favorite color.

Azriel is the type of yandere. Once he has his darling in his clutches, he's immediately locking them in a secure location far away from anyone because he needs to keep them safe.

Azriel is the type of yandere to cuddle his darling even when they are kicking and screaming at him.

Azriel is the type of yandere to lock his darling in a dark room when they're being bratty.

NSFW 🔞 content

Azriel is the type of yandere to overstim his darling to the point of passing out .

Azriel is the type of yandere to overstim his darling with his shadows as punishment.

Azriel is the type of yandere to eat his darling out on the sofa whenever they are watching a movie/show.

Azriel is the type of yandere to leave dark purple hickies on his darlings chest , collar bones, and neck to mark them as his.

Azriel is the type of yandere to brand his name on his darlings chest while fucking them into oblivion .

Azriel is the type of yandere to fuck his darling in public especially if some random that flirted with them is nearby .

Azriel is the type of yandere to choke his darling when they moan too loud in public because only he's allowed to hear their lewd noises.

Azriel is the type of yandere to fuck his darling in the torture dungeons when they're being bratty.

Azriel is the type of yandere to punish his darling by chaining them in a cell and having his shadows overstimulate them with no breaks for days on end.

Azriel is the type of yandere to cum inside his darling in attempts to breed them.

Azriel is the type of yandere that goes feral when his darling wear his clothes , fucking them into oblivion everytime.

Azriel is the type of yandere to have his darling suck him off whenever they're being mouthy or he's doing paperwork.

Azriel is the type of yandere to buy his darling expensive , silky lingerie only to rip it off their body .

Azriel is the type of yandere to have his darling tigh ride him because he loves how lewd they sound.

Azriel is the type of yandere to finger fuck his darling with four fingers with no preparation.

Azriel is the type of yandere who will fuck his darling in front of someone he's actively torturing only to kill them off later .

Azriel is the type of yandere who swears his darlings breathy moans are the only taste of heaven he'll ever experience.

Azriel is the type of yandere to just sit back and watch his shadows play and experiment on his darling .

#azriel acotar #azriel smut #azriel x reader #azriel x you #dark acotar #dark!azriel #obsessive yandere #possessive azriel #possessive yandere #yandere azriel #yandere x darling #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #acotar smut #acotar imagine

114 notes · View notes

red-phantom-0 · 22 days ago

Text

ch.4: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

tw: self-esteem issues, alcohol abuse, allusions to self-harm.

"baby bird, i know i haven't been talking to you much as of lately. but i just want to let you know that we miss you alright?"

not delivered.

"i really regret ignoring you, we all do. i'm-"

he hesitates, then deletes the last word of his message.

"—we're the ones in the wrong for everything, alright? you blocked me, i'm sure you did for everyone else too, i get that, but we care for you now and that won't change anytime soon. please remember that."

not delivered.

"and it pains me seeing that you're not replying to my messages at all, baby bird. but i promise i'll-"

dick bites his lips at the mistake of addressing himself only rather than that of the family, but a greedy part of him wants you to read the messages and to see only him in spite of everything rather than them, feeling a sense of... need to be the first and only one you see when you think about accepting their apologies, even if he's writing to you whilst simultaneously trying to get his family in your good graces.

dick doesn't know it. why he's suddenly obsessed with you. you? yes you, his stupidly precious sibling, the one who looked up to him, frail and wronged by the world, with so much drive behind that stare. third child of bruce, yet second youngest in the family. the one that got away, the one he has never once saw outside that one memory of glinting, awe-inspired eyes that told more stories than poets, drew more emotions than artists.

nobody saw you outside of your status as the manor's ghost— but compared to your other siblings, he knew you the most. he wants to be the only man good enough to be considered your brother, your oldest brother; an obligation he's willing to uptake just for you. he wants to be the only one with the authority to call you his baby bird. he doesn't know why, despite the thirteen and a half years, it's him wanting, no, needing to see you again.

you, just you.

every bits and pieces of you.

in his mind, it's just him and you. in your tiny little bedroom, with your dozens of sketchbooks and diaries, with only your brother, dick, to accompany you. in your own little world, as you speak to him of your dreams and passions with nothing else in your mind. you'd look up at him with sparkling eyes, look at him like he means everything in the world to you, and he'd see you as his world.

when he thinks of that, the more he hopes of the possibility of you reading his messages; his declaration of never leaving you alone anymore. and with hope comes along this dread that you'd reply with a nasty reply, or that... you'll never bat an eye him anymore.

dick doesn't take a second glance to correct his mistake again this time.

"i promise i'll be better for you baby bird. my little hatchling, my little one. i discarded you, someone so precious. you must've felt hurt, no? i get that, i'm so sorry you have to go through that because of me. but look! you have me now, we have each other now! and that might not be enough yet to mend the bridge i left to fall, but if you just, please reply to me, or anyone else, then we can fix this. i promise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"you won't ever feel hurt anymore, or sad or lonely. hell, even bruce is getting you a new bedroom fixed up, isn't that great!? i'll even convince the old man to make sure your room is close to my old one so you can visit me anytime. i'll even stay over at gotham for even longer, just for you! and i'll spend my time with you, with just the two of us, okay? nobody else can disturb us. i'm sure you'd like that too."

not delivered.

"and we can hang out anytime you want, no? sleepovers, movie nights, journalling— all the cool stuff you wanted to do with me in the past, we can do now! and it'll be fun with you, i can see it happening alrrady, i just know it. you can't convince me otherwise, baby bird."

not delivered.

"that's why i'm begging you to unblock me, little one, or to at least read all my previous messages, please? :( i'm still so sorry over how i treated you in the past. i've nothing to defend myself over how i acted towards you. i was so delusional, ignoring you when all you clearly wanted was to spend time with me, with the family."

not delivered.

"we can even have that dinner together, remember?! at that fancy restaurant you talked about, yeah? my treat, of course. you can order the entire damn menu and i'll leave you room for seconds and desserts. i can even make arrangements to get bruce to rent out the entire restaurant so it would just be the two of us plus the family, but mostly just us— that would be good! then you can sleep at my room after we get home to the manor since we're turning your old one into an atelier just for you! i'll even carry your cute little figure up any flight of stairs whenever you get tired."

not delivered.

"i promise i'll really make it up to you baby bird!!! <3"

not delivered.

"for all the times we neglected you, left you thinking you didn't deserve a spot in the manor (which you truly do, it's us to blame for never seeing it that way), made you feel negative emotions towards us— i'll take your pain and turn that into joy, i promise."

not delivered.

"and if you do manage to read through all this, please remember..."

not delivered.

"i love you so much, alright? we'll find you soon, and you'll be happier with us, i'm sure of it. i love, love, love you so much my baby bird."

not delivered.

he sighs, resigning his thoughts all to himself as he checks his phone every minute for a simple ring of notifications just from you. he prefers to leave his phone in silent mode from the multitude of other contacts bothering him, but god forbade if that means he'd scroll past to a single reply of yours, then he'd rather burn in hell.

and anything is better than the pain inflicted on him when it comes to the thought of you ignoring him.

because after all, he does mean it when he says he loves you, his baby bird, his adorable little sibling.

he'd rather hell than you seeing him any less of an older brother.

what takes longer? is it a seed growing into a bud, a bud into a bloom, or a flower to fully shrivel and die?

how long does it take for it to be considered worthy? deserving of attention and the rightful spotlight to attain its needs for life?

what takes its time? what other variable does it need for it to survive in such harsh conditions? if it's forcefully pried open as a seedling, as a bud growing in a field full of weeds sapping, draining it of its nutrition, or in a scorching, desolate desert, or pestilent lands; would it still be considered a flower?

what does a seed need to grow into a flower? beautiful, treasured, with vibrant colors reflecting off the surface of each petal, growing pollen for every pollinator to spread its bountiful success you call development?

what does it require?

everyone knows the answer, some could only be ignorant enough to turn the other way and reject the idea altogether.

it needs care, nourishment — healthy soil building a strong foundation, its home with roots carefully embedded in the ground, then it also requires water, a source of life given to it in specific times with just the right dose, and sunlight kissing its stems and petals warmly — and finally, love.

lots of love, attention, and patience from mother nature herself and its caretakers we call humans.

but how could a flower receive any, if not, all it needs, if it's raised under a marshy, overgrowth rainforest that speaks of death and cruel poachers that could step on the bloom of any moment?

how could a flower live, let alone survive, if its careless caretakers who took it away from its fertile lands neglect it of its requirements to grow and bloom into its rightful imagery?

just how?

you are a flower.

and you will wilt soon the longer you live in what you once thought was your home.

growing in cracked, dry soil, with no water nor sunlight aiding your growth.

you are a flower.

who had been loved by your creator, mother nature herself; your mother. but you've never once felt the care nor love of your cruel humans you call family, your father had never once saw your budding petals, kissed it, patiently watered or spent time outside in the sunlight with you. your brothers don't notice your dehydrated pets, shriveled leaves and bent stems, nor do they tend to it. your sisters don't decorate the pot you reside it, they don't talk to you every time you sag down in loneliness and isolation as you are forced to stay in the same place and witness the same scenarios over and over again.

not much knows it, but flowers, much like any plant, can communicate, they can feel. and when they do, they do deeply.

and you are a flower. a flower worthy of being pressed into books, storing your beauty forever. a flower worthy of being situated into a stunning arrangements of bouquets, worshipped through birthdays, dates, weddings, and even funerals.

you're a flower, and you're beautiful and deserving of praise and honor from your stages in life as a seed, from a bud, to a blooming flower. yet you're neglected the same way ignorant trespassers would step on growing blooms, uncaring for sabotaging their life completely, and oh-so easily.

you're a flower, a symbol of nature's fertility, resilience, and tranquility.

you symbolize your mother's long standing determination to care for a child whose father looked other ways but her. who raised her seedling with care, watered them with stories of fairytales: fantasies about prince charmings who take their flowers away from barren lands to spoil them with rich soil and neverending sunlight, about princesses who stop by flower shops to awe at the arrangements of bouquets, eyes glazing with fervor as they recount each and every symbolism every unique flower shares.

your mother places you in your favorite, decorated pot: your shared bedroom with her, and she kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your chubby little fingers, the same way the illuminating sunlight kisses at your flushed body whenever you two would go out for your walks.

she was your mother nature, and you were her precious flower.

you were once a blooming bud then, and you wished you would still bloom now.

how could you grow into what you're worth, when even you couldn't grow without the love that was taken from you?

what about the care, the patience, the determination she once held in her warm gaze, now cold and fading with life the last time you saw her; would it all be a waste?

how could you grow now?

and yet you don't even need to ponder for solutions. the answers were clear, clear as the water your petals used to bathe in, clear as the rain that pitters against alfred's car windows the same day you were taken away from your mother's hold—

you simply wilt.

8:31PM.

your friend said she'd pick you up quarter to nine, so you'd at least have the time to prepare and make yourself look good. but right now...

god, right now, you don't feel anything good, not even a wee bit of it at all. ever since he texted you, you feel like shit, utterly repulsed. vile, like the image of you vomiting every contents of your stomach— and now you're going out drinking with an empty one. you can already feel the bitter taste of heavy alcohol mixing in with the acids of your stomach.

you can already feel the breakdown you're having right now as you remember how fucking broke and useless you are for having to ask your friends to treat you to drinking because you have nothing left to offer beyond the fucking taxes you have to pay and the nearly due rent and bills.

you have nothing to offer. you're so shitty. you deserve to die.

the more you stare at the mirror, the more your eyebags seem to deepen, your lips began to dry, and the pit in your chest sunken.

and that makes you exhale even deeper, ignoring the way your throat constricts on itself in instinct.

your eyes flitter to your fingers, nails bitten, skin ripped at the seems with dry blood staining chipped cuticles.

when you looked back at your reflection, you want to cry even more, seeing an image of a moving pile of flesh. all puffy skin and sagging eyes.

you don't remember the last time you felt pretty about yourself.

whether it was in the manor, or back when your mother was the only one raising you— it seems like your memories are in shambles right now.

you don't remember the last time you looked in a mirror, looking healthy, fresh, and proud of yourself for dressing up in your style. in the back of your mind, there will always be hatred, resentment for how you look. and right now, you hate how you every bit of your appearance because...

because you look exactly just like an image of your mother and bruce wayne. a reminder, your punishment for your parents' beautifully tragic affair with one another. a billionaire who courted the lowly dirt-class slut of gotham.

yet you're uglier because you're not them, you couldn't be them. you're not picture-perfect brucie with slick-black hair and a face like fine-aged wine, or the image of your sultry, "man-eater" mother in her lingerie. you're just, you— you've inherited all the stupid flaws you wished you could shave off your damn body.

you remember seeing your father's face in television with your mother beside you by the couch, combing your hair and giggling when your eyes had lit up at the sight of the rich man. you haven't once took your eyes off the news channel whenever he appeared, looking at bruce, always enamored with his aesthetics, only to never notice your mother's tired eyes, or how shaky her fingers would sometimes become.

"momma, that's daddy, right?!" you asked her whilst the side of your body was pressed against hers, with all the enthusiasm a child could muster. your grin was wide, eyes peeled to the screen, enough to ignore the flinch in your mother as you had once thought it was her igniting with the same excitement as yours.

she simply leans down and kisses your cheeks, her eyes, a beautiful shade of your eyes color, albeit lighter in hue, never once left the crown of your small head, ignoring the headline for the news about 'brucie's new fling caught on camera!'.

your mother was so glad you were still illiterate at your age. she wish she could never break off the illusion that it was her who simply birthed to you, with no face for a father. maybe you would've never ask her about why he had never once came to visit your small family, why you could never meet your other siblings, or why he's seen with multiple other women by his side every time you open the television.

you ask at frequent intervals; it makes her wish to strip away the past in which she chose to tell you who your father was. you would've experienced less heartbreak, she would've never seen the way your eyes would dim at her every excuse, or the way she felt your heart crack at the seams, only further breaking hers.

yet after a while, she replies and buries her thoughts, ignoring the tears that lid her eyes. with not so much enthusiasm in her light voice, with the undertones of guilt and sorrow digging deep throat her throat, but it was enough for young, little you to jump on your springy couch with her response.

"... oh, yes, that's your papa...! isn't he so nice looking—?"

"and handsome! i'm so lucky to have such beautiful parents! i wish i was as pretty as you, momma, and daddy too!"

when you had looked up with haste, glinting eyes staring up at her with a wide grin, some baby teeth still present, others absent from your gums, yet you displayed admiration no less; your mother just as quickly wipes her red eyes and sniffling nose with the worn sleeves of her sweater and reciprocates your beaming energy with a small smile.

she wishes you'd dismiss her previous melancholic expression, replacing it with the same fond, yet tired gaze she always offers you, wishing you'd be as oblivious to the pain it brings her to see your hopes and dreams of meeting a father you could only admire through a screen or article. yet you're always so perceptive, so interlinked with her reactions that she's sure that one of the few positive traits your father had given you. she should've expected your words, yet her broken heart finds a path to heal whenever you sense her pain and soft a bandage to the cracks of her bleeding scars with your kindness.

you would always be her little flower. the one she'd nurture in a garden filled with rosy bushes and scarring thorns.

"—you're so beautiful, momma, even if you cry because daddy isn't here with us, or you're too tired taking care of me. you're beautiful because you're my mother, and i'll take you over everything in the world..."

and you tell her, an inaudible whisper to your voice, with eyes that were once wide, beaming with joy, now gazing at her with softness like the wind kissing blades of grass in a gentle dance. you look at her, and she stares back, eyeing your chubby cheeks and lips the same shape of hers, the ends of your lashes curves the same way as hers, and your voice matches her like a lullaby when you speak every vowel in a soothing lilt.

you calm the hurt in her chest, replacing it with a mellow warmth. she even forgot the tears that slowly dripped her eyes, all replaced with the comfortable softness of her precious child's palms, smooth and cozy, resting on both of her cheeks as you pepper her crying face with kisses.

she holds both your palms caging her, and allows the your hold to linger for longer. the silence ensues, yet you both embrace the unsaid assurances.

it's times like these where she realizes you encapsulate the beauty of both worlds.

it's moments like this, she sees herself in you, and maybe she could lead herself to believe that she is beautiful, because she sees her beauty through her child, her grace.

the memory only further deepens the guilt in your heart.

if there's one word to describe you now. it would be disgrace. to your father's honor, and your mother's legacy. for easily letting yourself go, for being so weak, for being the line that jumps between two polar opposites of one another; trying to traverse their path of belonging.

you're a disgrace, a mistake, and you deserve to be treated as such.

it was why you never find yourself beautiful. a person such as yourself would always find allure, worth in all things chaotic - you live in gotham after all - but never find that same value in yourself as you look at your reflection that distorts your image even more, making you uglier and uglier the longer you look.

split ends everywhere, hand tangled, reddish eyes from nearly crying again.

even if you beat at yourself, erratic and impulsive, even if your skin is colored an ashen blue and purple, rotten shades of yellow and red, you think of yourself ugly and repulsive.

no matter how much color you try to bring into your bleak, repulsive life, at the cost of hurting yourself to become pretty— every part of you will always be that ugly, little duckling in comparison of your siblings who always outshone you.

dick with his playboy body, jason and his towering one, tim with soft boyish features, damian's silky tan and smooth skin, and duke's baby face.

you couldn't even have your hair frame you as perfectly as steph's light blonde hair does, or share barbara's proportionate face, or look as gracious yet deadly like cassandra.

you're nowhere near as special, you're not like them. you have features too unique, yet out of place, and you couldn't bring yourself to be conventionally good-looking.

you hate yourself so much. you hate every little mole, every little pimple, every damn imperfection that litter your body, making you even lesser than what you already are.

your family; mother, father, brothers and sisters, god, even your fucking friends! every time you sit by them side-by-side, you'd feel insecure, imperfect, an eyesore and you just want to strip away every part of your limbs one by one if that meant replacing it with even better ones; all for the sake of at least feeling pretty.

you remember the first time you tried to find a sense of style, and damian's comment and– god fucking damn it—!

your hands found its way to your brushed hair, tangling itself through already fragile strands to rip at the seams. you don't care, you don't fucking care, you pray to any god out there to get them out of your head, pleas unheard, you're always left to hurt.

"what are you trying to achieve with that, huh? what even are you trying to think with that horrendous color combination? what are you, a clown? even that damned joker has more coordination than you think you could achieve."

in front of his friend, jon kent, with a scowl on his ever-so angry face and his hand already making a way to grip his sword; an absolute threat to dice you up shall you ever bother being in the same room as him.

he said that to you... you're older, you could've been stronger, could've at least found a semblance of fight in your bones. but no! god, no. your life was ruled with fear with damian wayne being the demon haunting you in the manor, always making living harder, making breathing a heavy task.

how could you ever fight back? not when you've conditioned yourself to tear up at the slightest bit of noise, feel goosebumps prick your skin when you hear someone raise their voice at you, and your heart rate hasten at the slide of a knife against any surface?

you! you who's so fucking weak to even make a comeback. you, who ran away with wide, traumatized eyes. because you're scared, so fucking fearful of an even bigger cut to your skin marked by damian— even if you're accustomed to cutting yourself with even deeper gashes.

because it's him that you fear, not the pain, not anymore. just him and his contempt at you for ruining his pure bloodline just by you being his half-sibling.

you don't want a repeat of your first meeting, or any meeting with him at all. not when you'd drown even deeper in a pit of fear every time you stare at his glaring, emerald eyes. one that tells you he chose to merely not kill you out of the goodness of his heart. but he will, god he will if he feels you've been too comfortable in his presence.

every damn time, everytime you feel fear, you see green. you hate green, any literal meaning of it, every implication of itx even seeing it, and fuck! your outfit has green embellishments.

you feel even uglier, yet the twinge of fear immediately overpowers any concern your had with your appearance. it's as if eyes were suddenly on you, and it's not only yours staring at you in the mirror.

your lips wobble, snot began blocking through the passage of your nose.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

why?! why can't you just forget about them all. why, why, why?!

you bite your lips harshly to conceal the pained whimpers from the back of your throat, but it doesn't work. it only makes the fear worse.

tears rim at your eyes, you merely wipe them away. your heart attempts to beat out of its gilded cage, yet you swallow your quivering chokes and proceed to continue staring at yourself in the mirror, dressed in a rush, with nothing to conceal your ghastly eyebags and sunken skin.

and green. you'll see it everywhere now. fuck, would dick send out damian to kill you now? you don't know, you're scared but you can't chicken out, not when your friend is already near to your apartment. god you wish you had beer in your cabinets instead, but you're broke and unprepared for life and your hair's all in a tangle and you just fucking want to die.

your hands grip at the edge of your sink, you look at your mirror and see the blood on your already bitten lips.

not even concealer can cover the damn scars all over your face all through the neck.

calm down.

you stare even deeper at yourself and ignore the green, trying to think of something else—

something less emotionally scarring, like your appearance. even if it brings you great pain, too, you'd rather that than your family. no more of them, fuck, no more. even if you stare at your eyes and see that familiar mix of colors of your mother and bruce's eyes. the shape of your face, even the curve of your brows all resembled your late mother— and you miss her, her captivating beauty that you never saw aged like fine way before she was taken away from you. you see bruce in the strands of your hair and the way it sometimes fray when too stressed. you see them in every image you wish to erase of yourself.

yet your genetics are nothing to them, not when you can't even care for your tangled hair or ashen skin.

even the dead looked more lively than you ever could.

with a pale complexion, with scars that litter all over your shoulders, wrists, and hidden parts of your body, one you're too ashamed to show anybody— it was no doubt that you looked pathetic and erased the beauty that both your parent's cultivated. and it makes you wonder; would it really be worth it?

would it be worth it if the people around you see you?

you with your melancholic eyes, trying to find an escape in a maze you call your mind? you can picture yourself drinking alcohol until you reach the domain of death, sitting in a stool, alone, as you nearly empty the contents of your stomach remembering the sole reason why you're there in the first place.

would it be worth it if all eyes suddenly were on you? they turn to you to gaze at the ugly bruises on your body, they mock your appearance, call you names, look at your sniveling, red nose and warm cheeks intoxicated from all the heavy liquor you'd down, and whisper. they'll whisper insults, slurs, and every known jab until it's all their words that pierces through your eyes, until the loud bass becomes mere background chatter for all the gossips that ensue.

are you actually going to do this right now?

you don't know, you don't know and you wish never cared as much.

all you could really focus on was your eminent goal of getting out of your stuffy apartment, to rid of the paranoia that somehow, you're being watched over in the confines of your four walls and that the familiar image of green will come attack you. the more you think, the more the hairs on your skin start to raise with every known intention to signal you of your anxiety.

eyes, they may be everywhere.

eyes, eyes, eyes. as you stare at your eyes, you try to ignore emerald eyes, they dilute even further. you gulp, yet your focus remains distorted. images flash at the mirror, and suddenly they're here, with you, with their eyes. bright blue for some, dark green for another, and they all gaze at you with contempt. one's hand claws at your throat, the other pins your wrist down on the edge of the sink. the eyes glare, and they never soften. yours merely shook, unblinking as your breathing becomes heavier; trapped in the cages of their wanton staring.

you yelp, then blink. when you did, they're gone. and you're back to looking at the same image of yourself. you grimace slowly.

ugly, with dry skin and falling hairs. the worst version of you, the normal version of yourself— there was never a best version for you.

as long as it's you, you'll never be enough.

all you wanted was to drink with your friends at a club; some working nightshifts at the location you're going to— yet you want to back down. want to take your phone by the corner of your vision and cancel your sudden plans.

but you're scared, you're so fucking scared of any new messages.

hell, even finding the contacts for your friends was a task in itself you wish to never repeat. with jittery fingers trying to type of messages and blurry eyes navigating through the screen of your slippery, glass screen protector.

you're scared, rightfully so.

you're scared to find his message once more suddenly popping up, your fingers accidentally pressing on it like the clumsy swine you are, and rereading that damn heart over and over again.

you slam your dominant hand against the tiled sink, hard and uncaring for the pain it induced all throughout your body. the tremors of the impact shook you to your core, yet you seethe in your breath and don't allow yourself respite to let the tears flow freely from your already red eyes. you feel your heart beating erratically through your chest, the shivers controlling your body, the shrieks that you contained within you— and you enchain them all with no respect for yourself.

you deserve this. you deserve to be hurt, to be punished for your actions, for your mistakes, for your sins.

even if your hand became swollen, splotched with varying shades of disgusting purples and yellows, you won't treat it with medicine. even if the sharp edges of the sink broke the fragile layer of your already scarred palm, and bled profusely with that familiar shade of red; you won't rush to wrap it with gauze or even spare a droplet of betadine. even if by the next day you'd have to write out your overdue assignments with that specific hand, then you'll force yourself to learn through the other and punish yourself again if you fail once more.

you deserve this.

and as your phone pings, lighting up to show you a notification of one of your friend's messages about being ready to pick you up by the lobby of your apartment's ground floor, you ignore your injured hand and the bruises on your knees from falling so abruptly on tiled floors just moment's ago. you dismiss the ache of your head, the soreness of your eyes and the disgusting beat of your heart.

you ignore the pain that wrecks at your entire body, in favor of destroying it even more, just as you deserve.

you don't recall how many shots you had before you're nearly passed out by the bar, sitting on its stool with your head leaning on one both your arms crossed, drool close to slipping out of the corners of your mouth and heavy eyes lidded, about to fall into the depths of sleep.

you're sure you looked wasted, absolutely drop-dead drunk with no thoughts circulating in your head other than the pleasant buzz in your ears and the flash of colors in the disco balls blanketing the entire room with its neon lights. your face must've been an unearthly shade of red, and you can already feel just how blazen it is, and how your fingertips are ice-cold to the touch (probably colder than the marble you lay your arms upon). in other words, you're actually wasted.

and it's so worth it if it means it gets you to forget. and forget you did, because you can't even dig deep into your head to even remember a single memory of whatever grief you went through earlier in your apartment. not even the throb of your head from when you pulled your hair from its roots, all to the way you slammed your dominant hand on your bathroom sink, bruising it with unnatural shades of purples and yellow.

it makes you omit every type of pain, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. it doesn't cure you of your ails, but god forbid you if you just want to savor moments where nothing but a mind numbing headache is the only feeling present in your current state.

the remix of songs were long forgotten in your mind, they all become an amalgamation of miscellaneous sounds. your body is so inclined towards the flat, rectangular cool surface of the marble glass of the bar that you can guarantee you could sleep here, especially since black behan to cloud both your vision and your mind.

everything feels so hazy, and pleasant, and straight-out peaceful that the screaming tandems of equally drunk clubbers and the occasional sobers holding up their friends who sang along with whatever remix the dj comes up with, or the forming crowd as people began to rock and dance to the bass that shakes up the entire floor to the point you can feel vibrations run along your spine— didn't register within the crevices in your mind.

all you can focus on, is the gratifying pleasure ll alcohol induces in your body. gone is the feeling of fear that emanates off of every inch within your body. your bones don't feel as if it's locking up everytime you feel eyes on you, and your throat doesn't certainly feel constricted with the lack of flow of blood anymore.

god, this is why you've never once regret drinking right after the moment you turned eighteen— not when it's positive effects outweighs all the negative emotions that rule over your body.

you couldn't even notice a man with shades (seriously, who wears that to party? isn't the club dark enough?) sitting beside your drunken form in the corner of your eyes, raptured in the thin line between focusing on reality and drifting off to dream world. you don't even bat an eye to his muffled giggles and the way he twisted his stool just to admire the view: you.

you're oblivious to the entire commotion happening within the depths of his mind because you couldn't feel any aptitude to danger right now— thanks to the effects of the hard liquor overtaking whatever fear you've felt being watched long ago.

or maybe you just felt safe beside the stranger. or, you're merely drunk. you don't know.

fuck, you're so close to passing out.

you don't know where your friends are, where they came running off to but you know you won't be getting out her sooner or later and you definitely don't have a ride home. so your only way back without getting ambushed as a completely vulnerable citizen of gotham, is by a safer, more convenient means of a ride— but that certainly wouldn't be safe if your friends are as equally drunk, or even more so, as you. but does your hazy mind care? no. not when you flip your head to rest on the other side once the other side became hotter that you notice a conveniently attractive man staring right back at you with an entertained grin.

as if your existence alone makes him happy. as much as your mind keeps blanking out, that mere implication made your heart pang just a teensy bit. of pain, or pleasure, or mere joy, you don't know. but you do know that it triggered some unknown feelings and you don't want to feel.

you want to drink some more, feeling solemn all of a sudden just from staring at him. you're sure the obvious frown on your quivering lips and the heavy, hot sigh

and it doesn't help that his face seems similar. the longer you stare, the more his grin seems to sharpen. confidently? or shyly? you can't seem to gain a clear image of him; what when rainbow lights are blazing out through the holes of the disco ball and your eyes recently just opened to your near journey to traverse through sleep.

all you can make out to be is his jet-black hair, side bangs framing the left side of his face, a faint outline of an eyebrow piercing

you also took note of his spiky jacket— yet what draws you the most to him are his sunglasses that he chose to wear conspicuously in a damn club of all places.

he's attractive, to say the least, but he triggers a set of emotions deep into the cages of your imprisoned heart that sets itself free. he gives you a sense of nostalgia, of familiarity that you can't pinpoint but feel; like you've seen him before but don't know when. your eyebrows furrow in and your eyes squint at him, unknowing to the judgement you're subjecting him in. your lips wobble, though, because his presence just makes your heart feel something, akin to pain but not quite, and makes your head buzz that you just want to cry as a reaction.

he, the stranger, don't know it, but he makes you all sad, primal emotions overtaking any drunkenness you feel as deep tremors buzzed into the confines of your chest, until all you're doing is staring at him with pouting, downturned lips and sad, puppy eyes; rimming with salty tears.

you don't know why you feel sad all of the sudden, and you can faintly see through blurry, watery vision how his face shifted from entertained to worry, eyebrows raised and eyes wide open at your sudden mood shift.

maybe you or him could've spoken up, you more so, but you're just so emotionally drained and overwhelmed today that you began sobbing silently without breaking eye contact with the man.

despite you wanting to say anything: an introduction, a question opening up as to why he's staring at you, or even a mere phrase telling him to "back off"; the only words that came out from your parched throat, all from trying to reason in your head on what a proper sentence should be, were:

"you're hot," and if you were sober enough, you would've felt sheer embarrassment and shame from eyeing the boy, but you're not— and because you're not sober, or any bit sane, the next few sentences you spewed out were all coherent, yet wonkily pronounced utterances paired with teary eyes and sniffling nose, as you can't seem to control the feelings of melancholy in your heart and the sudden emotional burst from your ramblings.

"thank you, you too, actually— but are you alright-"

"you're so hot, god, please. i don't know..." you gave him no time to speak as you hiccupped, lips wobbling even more than you can imagine. and you're trying your damn best to rid of the urge to punch at your chest as a coping mechanism through the multitude of emotions eating you up and away. but you never realized you were trying for an absolute stranger, palms fisting into itself as he stares at you worriedly all of a sudden.

"like... you're familiarly attractive, i—" the next few sentences were incoherent as your words bubbled around you like detergent soap. your fingers found itself into your face as you try to wipe off both tears and nearly dripping snot as you continued rambling drunkly.

"you just! you're hot, for me, i don't know... i'm just, we all—eughh... i don't know, i'm so sad..." and you truly are, for no reason at all other than seeing the man. poor him, must've felt so ashamed that he's the reason you're crying but at the same time... nothing can really stop you from ceasing your tears.

at least, that's what you've convinced yourself to believe in. that you're truly incurable of the ailment of being constantly depressed with nobody to aid you with your troubles. not even your friends, nor past therapists that you've consulted.

you've nothing to comfort you, and that makes you even more solemn than ever.

the simplest of emotions felt, the deeper and complex you take it out to be. sadness, or moreover depression, the horseman of apocalypse that destroys any hope you've tried to kindle with your life.

it makes you all the more burst into a wave of even more tears.

"... okay, okay, wait here for me, alright?" he suddenly stood up, hurriedly, probably unsure, or disgusted by you. you're unsure about what he's saying, too caught up crying that you simply nod to whatever he said and continued on with your episode.

as you're left alone, you allow your tears to dry only cry once more. when he left you, you weren't aware but you just felt even more lonely. at pushing away the only company you had after your friends left you in the dust, you feel depressed and regretful and all emotions related to grief and you just want to drink some more but you don't know if you can take it anymore!

god, it all returns to pain. pain you thought you could bury deep once you took multiple swigs of alcohol.

pain that makes you want to bang your head against the marble of the bar—

and you're so close to doing so, but only stopped when your blurry vision sets itself on the man returning with a handkerchief and a cold glass of ice water. at his kind gesture, you simply teared up even more, pouting when he walked your way and looked at you with a sheeping grin.

when he sat right back up on the stool seated to your right, he hesitated with his hold on the handkerchief near your face. but the moment he gathered up his pride and pressed it against the unnatural blaze of your cheeks, you merely leaned closer to his palms, eyes closing as you can feel the tears cease itself finally at the blind comfort he's unknowingly providing you.

"there, there... be careful, 'kay stranger?"

he mutters, a light chuckle accompanying him. it's only now you can finally focus on the cool churn of his voice and the , with your eyes close and the haze of your thoughts washing away, leaving you breathless in your respite— not restrictive, nor lonely, but still short of breath.

this reminds you of the times alfred had to hold you in his arms everytime you threw a tantrum at the manor.

it made you realize that the months, a near year even, after leaving the manor, made you crave physical affection. making you feel like a husk of yourself when not given. you feed off of the scraps of physical lovez to the point that even this man who's wiping away the tears from your cheeks makes your heart beat faster, in a comfortable manner.

sensations. he once told you that if you feel too deeply within, then to ground yourself you must feel beyond interior ranges of emotions.

and that's the technique you've been willing away from your head for so long. because it always requires another person in the room to comfort you, to simply touch you softly, gently like you're porcelain the same way the stranger is pressing damp fabric against your tearstained cheeks and hollowed out eyes.

the pain you've felt was because you're merely touch starved. alone, in a space where everyone has someone, and a no one can't have anyone.

but now that you do have a someone, no matter how dangerous he could've been outside of your impression of him, you feel the pain lessen, the heavy burdens become featherlight at his kind gestures of wiping all the salty tears from your face, the runny snot from your nose with no rush whatsoever.

"feel better now, hon?"

"mhm..." a long, drawled out yawn emits from your mouth, yet you're too comfortable with him to even care, suddenly feeling a wave of drowsiness after your emotional episode.

after he finished wiping your face, and felt it considerably cool down from the damp fabric, he placed it on the bar, one hand on your face keeping you stable. yet his other hand promptly went back to your cheeks.

he chose to do this of his own volitions, even leaning closer as your head finds itself slowly dropping to his clavicle (careful to avoid the spikes from his peculiar designed jacket), looking up at him and staring at his gray eyes.

the man looks down at you as you now realize he's cupping your face. at the implication of your entire ordeal with him, you might've felt flustered sober, but you're just so drunk that any spacial awareness for the proximity between your bodies just disappeared and left you with the need to sleep within the confines of the safety this man left you with.

you don't know it, but yet again the man smiles down at your adorable antics, finding the way you're absolutely trusting of a stranger both stupid, yet endearing. because he's no more stranger, and heaven bless him because he's so glad he's the person who approached you rather than anyone else because you looked so cute, and his crush on you may have lead him to stalk you occasionally just to ensure you're safe— that doesn't erase the gesture that he did it purely because gotham is too dangerous for your own good. and he's glad he trusted his human side of intuition, rationalizing with himself that today just seems to be the day you'd bump into danger if he's not there.

you're so stunning up close... how come tim never once found interest in someone as admirable as you is a mystery. but you trusting a stranger in your vulnerable state is much more.

and he's grateful he's that stranger.

because he may be a stranger to you, but a familiar one. and you feel safe, a feeling you haven't felt in so long that you simply just melt against him like clear putty; because you're transparent with what you feel right now.

and right now you feel warmth. not the uncomfortable one that blazes through your (now) cool face when you were drunk, nor the burning one whenever you thought of your family— but a pleasant one. like sitting near a fireplace as you watch the embers crackle, drinking hot cocoa whilst a quilt covers your body from the cold of the winter. you feel this way at his kindness, at his efforts to help you contain your emotions to a reasonable degree.

"what's your name, kind stranger?" you mutter on his chest (how come your head is laying on it, actually?) hearing the soft thumps of his heart. it's warm, he's warm and every bit of comfortable, as he does his best to move slightly back to remove his jacket and drape it over your body before he could reply to you, chuckling whilst doing so because you looked up at him with your eyes conveying every damn emotion that made you feel soft.

"it's conner, conner kent. call me kon, though. or yours if it's you." he purrs. it took you a minute to register his obvious flirting but what comes after is an absolute flush on your body and you recoiling from his hold as you look back at him, mouth agape. the tips of your ears were warm, and every bit of

an overexaggeration to his flirting, sure. it makes you look less appealing in your eyes, extra sure! but it's been so long since someone last attempted to flirt with you; but most were under the guise of when you were still a wayne and... and not as yourself. you! you who sports so many imperfections that—

"haha! is it strange to say that you look so cute whenever you look at me with wide eyes in the short span of time we just met?"

he slides in through your train of thoughts before you could delve even deeper through self-deprecation. and you're glad that he did because... god, he makes you want to shamelessly gloat as a reply. you've never had someone complement your eyes before, actually...

"i'm..." you look back at him after you stared down at your palms, heat overtaking your entire body. yet again it wasn't uncomfortable, and just the right temperature. you stutter your name afterwards, making sure it's your mother's last name that you highlighted implicitly and not bruce's.

he seems to grin even wider when you introduce yourself. that's when his next reply generally warranted you to nearly burst off your seat out of sheer diffidence.

"well," he says your name, tasting every syllable in his pierced tongue. "your name tastes sweet, dove. but i think your face is even sweeter now that you're not crying — not saying that isn't cute too but you're so stunning now that i look closer at you without any barriers. your eyes, especially, they're like some mix doe and siren eyes, or whatever my other friends talk about in social media. point given, you're drop-dead gorgeous in my eyes."

it all comes naturally from him that your brain merely shortcircuited and fried itself comprehending his message, forgetting you were drunk in the first place replacing it with a flush in your heart, the pit of grief and despair replaced with the lighthearted need to banter or reply meekly at his shameless flirting right after he comforted you.

this is the first time you felt something for someone's romantic gestures, instead of that wave of nausea that accompanies you.

he makes you feel... pretty about yourself. in a good way, in a way you don't feel the need to hide your insecurities for once and instead allow his eyes to flitter around your entire face, analyzing your features because... because he simply makes you feel pretty the more he stares at you.

yet all you did was take his hand on your own, a sudden burst of confidence even you couldn't explain, and played with it, as you pouted in reply before thinking— using his hand-now-turned-fidget-toy — of a good enough response.

you simply said, coughing before continuing, "i don't take back what i said moment's ago. you're hot too, even if my vision was obstructed by my tears."

"oh, really?" he smiled gently and allowed your hands autonomy to play with his. it's like telepathy, he knows it's automatic that you crave physical affection and attention and he's willing to provide you that solace.

"now that you're not crying— you think i'm even more handsome?"

you snort at his question, then took a step back with your thoughts to properly study him. neat, yet messy hair, piercing on the eyebrows and on his tongue (hot), sunglasses and spiky jacket draped upon your shoulders— goddamnit, of course he's hot! and you made it efficiently clear that he is, with your hands fiddling pattern against his soft, yet calloused hands, by squeezing it.

"yes, you are even more handsome, kon..." brief and concise, just how you like it. even if he gave you an entire essay describing you in his eyes, for you, you prefer actions; and you did so by simply being affectionate with the stranger, now acquaintance you have a slight crush on.

you'd never expected this turn of events, but it was a pleasant one and one you'd never really want to trade with anything else now that you've met kon.

so when he opened his mouth to spew something else, your ears perked up to listen and your mind, albeit slowly sobering up, prepared itself to reply to whatever flirting, conversation topics, and anything random it is that he wishes to talk about to you.

you smiled at him whilst he talked, he reciprocates as always.

yet this time, you weren't afraid to hide just how joyous you feel, for once, having a person interested in you not only physically but with your interests, too, as your conversations kept shifting to things about you.

it made inclined to learn about yourself, too. and that makes you happy, and fuzzy in the insides the more he asks you questions beyond your favorites. like in movies, he didn't simply just ask your favorites and you replied with an answer and moved on, no! you both discussed the emotional depth it impacted you with, why symbolism matters so much, and why in the near future you'd both inevitably meet up, you'll both watch it together.

that makes you feel excited.

you even forgot the main reason why you're here in the first place; to drink. now, though, it seems like you just wanted to talk to kon all night long.

fortunately for you, that's how the rest of your night went. with a pleasant buzz in the background, the sounds of remixes all drowned out in your ears as you favor the chatters of the man beside you, with the tremor of his voice a comfortable volume and his tone laced with freshly made honey.

when your friends finally ran back to the bar where you all collectively agreed to meet up at once everyone's shenanigans were finished, they giggled drunkenly whilst some sober ones whistled at seeing your hand unknowingly massaging his palms like a stresstoy and the jacket draped upon your shoulders.

the moment you returned it to him, he joked about wearing it every second now since it reminds him of you, and how it's his favorite piece of attire now beyond all his other clothing. you merely blushed and ignored the cooing of your friends behind you.

you didn't feel concerned over not seeing him anymore, as he had given you a slip of paper with his number on it in through a tissue with paracetamol pills wrapped around it (like the thoughtful gentleman he made himself out to be when he excused himself a second time to get those items, since you'd left your phone with one of your friends; you swore you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and heating the tip of your ears), you instead felt a pang of longing and furrowed your brows, looking at him as if asking if you'll see him around anytime soon as he reciprocates with a sure grin that makes you feel a wave of feather like affection.

he left shortly after, striding to you as your group recollects all your stuff and whispering a, "text you later, dove. stay safe for me, alright? don't let any other strangers get to you."

you're glad this night would end on a good note, willing away any prior doubts towards spending the night in a completely foreign street and expecting fir criminals and thugs to break in but no! you can't help but admit that your new... interest, conner, made your night a thousand times better.

and his little nickname for you... haha, you're so flustered thinking about texting him tonight. you'd neglect your assignments for now if it meant messenging him right after you get home, safely, for his sake.

when your group all came outside though, that's when things shifted.

time is a construct. it's complicated and structured like that as well. it can either be too fast, or too slow. when your friends had taken their sweet time to spend the night dancing about the dancefloor, when you'd taken the precious time to flirt and talk to kon; that's when you all collectively realized that their damn cars were stolen.

the air suddenly shifted to this thick atmosphere when you all stepped out, one that can be sliced through with a sword, and you swore—

god, you swore this night couldn't have been any better with the turn of things, but now. right after you got out the club, it all took a turn for the worse.

this is it.

you're going to die today.

you're going to die, in some dirty ditch, your friends nowhere to be found, with nobody to save you.

nasty bruises already began to form on your skin, one with harsher colors of purple, blue, and yellow on your wrists and other patches of skin; way harsher

the man in front of you was gnarly, but you've no time to judge as he kicks you in the guts.

matted brown hair lay atop his head like a bird's attempt at a near, he has an odor that reeks of sewer rats, piss, and feces, and an unruly beard that houses bits of his leftover.

he holds a weapon whose shape you couldn't make out with your hazy vision, body nearly cramping in on itself once he kicked you again.

straight in the abdomen, with brute strenght accompanied by his worn leather boots decorated with glinting spikes that sparkle under the moonlight's glow.

in the abdomen, spikes.

blood first, then curdling pain next.

no noise rips through your ears, only wringing ever present, but your mouth opens, and you can feel its tender chords crack as a scream erupts from your throat, shrill and resounding from the deepest depths of the cockpit your mouth has to offer you; uncaring for the man in front of who who suddenly covers his ears and grits his teeth, who looks at you like you're mad, yet unlike same way his two other lackeys from behind look at your like you're the creation of carnage itself.

pain shot throughout your body, most especially at the core of the holes that pierced through your clothes and right inside your skin. and as your bulging, teary eyes try to look down with an agape, whimpering mouth, his shoes still connected to your body; you could only hold off so much of that familiar taste of acidic bile paired with that lingering scent of cheap booze.

tears were a byproduct of the misery, as it began to escape from your already puffy eyes. when the man released his legs fron pinning you down, your sobs only worsened as your unpinned, shivering arm try its damned best to cover the already leaking blood.

six holes, the diameter of the more than half of your finger, was what you could make out in your line of sight. the blood that leaked from them looked black, you couldn't find where the gradient of black and red connects, your only certainty in this situation was that you'd bleed to death before help could come to you.

the spikes were as long as a toothpick, a crimson puddle lay dripping on the floor.

your legs were shaking against your will, your eyes frantically search around you yet your pinned once more, his larger body framing against your own, providing no room nor qualms for an escape.

but the only escape you wanted was one from the pain of his pressing against your injury, even more blood spilling out of its confines. your tears only hastened its descent from your shaky eyes.

when your mouth opened for the nth time to wail out, he seethed in a breathe and threatened you, with his breath as vile as his entire being, that smells like every mix of synthetic chemicals from cigarette flavors, all expired, with teeth rotting and sporting yellow and black wallpaper.

gross, so gross. you want to die when the stench hits your nose. you shrivel in yourself, you couldn't breath.

"listen here, little bitch, you quiet down or i kill you. and 'ya either give me everythin' you own in your damn possession, or i'll kick you even more until a thousand little holes will fuckin' make you bleed to death, hear me?"

hearing his statement only made the adrenaline pump even more fight of flight into your heart. but you can't do either, you can't, not when you're still hazy from the fucking alcohol and the self defense tools in your tiny pouch were thrown a few feet away from you.

you've nothing to defend yourself.

oh god, oh shit, fuck.

you want to die, you want to so fucking die than go through the same pain of nearly being abducted or held hostage again.

yet your eyes could only close, your teeth kissing your bottom lips, biting hard to drown out another pained scream. whimpers, god, they're so loud yet you can't help the whimpers and the broken faucet from your eyes. even if you beg your own body to stop, it doesn't listen to the pleas of your mind.

the only thing it can focus on is the pain. recreant, volatile pain.

a moan escapes you, shaky and prolonged. the only other emotion that you could experience after is sorrow.

you didn't expect your pleasant night to end off in such a tragic note, but as your attacker held you by your throat with one hand, a knife pointed against your face, the next that happened was your head slammed roughly against the wall; a dull, beating ache lulling the back of your head after the momentary spark of pain— you're reminded that this is reality, and you're close to losing consciousness quick.

you're going to die.

bloody, a sobbing, dissociating mess, with your thoughts spinning around the same way the stranger and his lackeys laugh — bared yellow teeth, with the smell of ichor prevalent in their clothes, predatory eyes leering at you like you're prey — at your drunken moans of pain.

you're going to die.

"well, you gonna answer me or what, bitch? you wanna die!?"

he shouts you with spit that sprays all over your face, flashing you a grin and by extension flashing you his ugly, bared teeth. some missing were in his gums, others were artificial, most rotten like him.

you're going to die.

alone, in a ditch. bloody, laying in a pool of your own crimson the same way you saw your mother drowns in a puddle of hers.

you'll die like her—

what an honor.

the more you think about the situation, the more you're led to believe that the only way to solve this was through death alone, with no restrictions, no buts or ifs. you've no fight left in your body, or any weapon to fight. you're drunk, defenseless and if you actually managed to escape, you'd still bleed to death in some unknown alleyway. if you're lucky, a stray police may find you and give you a proper burial. but you remember you're in the living incarnate of hell in america, you'll never have a proper death.

this was night in gotham. your death alone only adds to the already astounding high percentages of all the other lives lost to the same twisted fate. you were no different. and to die early than to suffer from torture is better.

i mean, who would give a shit if you die tonight, right? your family— wrong! alfred would panic at your disappearance, but he'll forget about you like he did others, you're sure of it. that's why he still chose to fucking serve the wayne's instead of fully taking your side. if he had to choose between saving you or the people he swore his loyalty onto, he wouldn't hesitate. you're sure. even if the thoughts made the doom in your heart heavier. even if you know your story would never be covered nor acknowledged, you still year

but life is unfair, everything is. that's why you're here now, in a dark fucking alleyway with men who'll more than take advantage of your dying body and leave your corpse in the dump after. life is unfair, yet it's even more cruel in gotham. you should've expected this, should've known that a turn of events could be possible. you'll feel regret in the afterlife, only for a life that could've been well-lived, but never for the choice of living through the torture you call being a wayne.

so you came to the conclusion; confident for once after living for thirteen and a half years walking on eggshells around a manor.

this is not as bad as their neglect.

you smile in response to the guy, genuine and filled with grace as your heart that once pounds against your chest now slows down to a calm pace, finally at peace. with no other intention than to rattle him even more, to the point of choosing you to kill with his own hands as brutally as he likes— so you finally take a well deserved rest from life.

you gather saliva at the center of your tongue, ignore the taste of blood that swirls, nor the soreness of your throat and the crimson dripping down your nose.

when he looks down at you, disoriented at what you're doing, you spit at him, all the beating in your heart hastened, yet slowed down as quickly as you heave in a final breath.

... you're finally going to die.

"FUCKING HELL, YOU DAMN CUNT—!"

you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the knife that would hopefully stab you in the face, or the chest, and think of your last thoughts. you thank alfred for caring for you for those thirteen years, you hope you win your mother's graces in the afterlife even if she discovered your deliberate choices for killing yourself in the spur of a moment, and you wish your old family a happy life living without you, even if they already did so for so long.

all you needed was seconds to conclude your prayers.

but they weren't answered as you wanted them to be, not when you open your wide eyes to what was supposed to be a glint of silver piercing through the middle of your face was replaced by a bullet, quick and precise, shooting through his cranium without mercy, body immediately laying limp within those seconds.

the other two behind him were good as dead, too, your savior not wasting any moment to end their lives then and there.

and as you stumbled from the grip released from your body, your torso nearly crumpling in on itself, a flash of familiar, metallic red enters your vision when you'd look up from your savior who's huge form now meticulously acts as your shield from the brutal carnage that lays upon your line of sight and a pillar of protection trying to help you stand from the pain that shot through your lower abdomen.

but you don't want to stand, you want to drop dead right now. you don't want this, you didn't want this to happen.

instead of gratitude, dread fills your lungs with water and your fingers were left to tremor.

he looks down at you, you couldn't make out his expression, but you could feel the anger coursing through his body, the same as the day you first met him when he was still newly rebirthed, like it's telling you of his unadulterated rage at witnessing the scene before him. his body shakes, heavily, and his grip on your hands tighten, a mechanical groan drawling deep from his automated voice banks that changes his voice.

yet all you feel was fear overtaking your entire body prior to the comfort at the prospect of death.

you'd rather die than this.

even you couldn't believe the whimper of his name from your wobbling lips, as your body, out of instinct despite the pain, tried to push itself against the wall, away from him.

he only moves to hold your waste protectively, like a... brother suffocating his younger sibling with blankets when they complain it's cold. overbearing, disgustingly affectionate; you don't want it.

you feel cold.

this day could've been any worse— and it took a turn to the all worse scenarios you could imagine.

"jason...?"

"angel..."

a single familiar name was spoken, yet a new nickname was introduced. angel: the same way jason swore what you looked like when he sped through his motorcycle after hearing a shriek from all across the streets, finding you, bleeding and beaten to a pulp, with your attacker almost stabbing you.

of course, who wouldn't hesitate pulling a gun against someone trying to kill your precious? jason doesn't even need to choose.

and whether he did it in the name of justice and respect to his moral code, or because finding someone with a familiar face, sharing the same hopeless, yet death-accepting expression as he did back when he died— it all doesn't matter in the heat of the moment now.

what matters is that his angel is hurt and the madness in him festers the longer you bleed out in his arms, defiant and fearful all the same.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

PLEASE READ: 11,000+ words. AND I LITERALLY HATE THIS CHAPTER (new least favorite fr) 😭 this decision is so impulsive i gonna regret it soon. chapter 5 will be released after a few days and i promise it has more action than this I SWEAR. first parts are always boring. anyways, there're so many song references in this chapter and for the next chapter. if any of you could guess what they are, i'll be rewarding all of you with something special. otherwise, please leave comments for this chapter! what motivated me to write was reading everybody's comments and inputs, about the love they have for this series as much as i do. interactions, asks, comments, they're all important and dear to me and i heavily appreciate it. so more interaction = more content. after all, i'd rather a post with little likes but with no interaction than a post with no interaction but all likes.

otherwise, i can't add anymore to my taglist so taglist requests are closed!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku , @okaybutfullhomo , @trasshy-artist , @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa , @ilovvmyhusband , @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony , @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts , @darling006 , @starringyau , @samanthahanes, @rosecentury , @jaythes1mp , @pi1nkl0ver , @i-thirsty-boy, @sharks-are-cool-l, @silverklaus, @traumaramacenter , @maddimoon , @anxrq, @thedarknesslord , @h0rr0r-10ver-69 , @lazy-idate , @cupids-pretty-boy , @alishii, @mel-star636 , @sitepathos , @freakyotaku059-blog , @dirtydiavolo, @sunbleachedantlers, @24hrsoflanii, @ceramic-raven , @une-lueur-dans-la-nuit , @tdickensstuff4 , @thickerthanthieves , @arlandvery , @distressed-lezbo, @bunbunboysworld , @bellethesleepypotato, @nebuluma, @alliwantisadonut, @alishii, @kusakiguzen, @sirenetheblogger, @emmbny, @ryukyuin, @solkara, @starsdotalk, @nightstarblue, @huhuhhuhh, @shadowpup163, @sunshine-skz, @24hrsoflanii, @bazellawrites, @pato-spoiler-27, @harumy07cat, @rains-mae, @funnybunnyxxx, @littlelilithspost, @howisgroguthiscute, @yuyuzi-ling, @tullipam, @coldcrusadehideout, @princessloveweird, @hybridcon

4K notes · View notes

red-phantom-0 · 24 days ago

Text

Claimed Prey

18+ Content

Dark Azriel ff ( ft.Eris Vanserra)

TWS : Possessive & obsessive behavior, stalking , dumbfication of a human , predator/prey relationship , yandere like behavior, shadow play , choking , fingering , oral play , jealous fucking , f×m×m , p^ssy slapping , attempted murder

Edit: ty for all the likes !!

Part 1

summary : a certain little fox thinks he can steal his little prey, but the little fox doesn't know is that this prey is claimed and her owner isn't scared to show it ~

my darling prey, let me show them how much you belong to me with my tongue

Azriel hates many things in life , to the squeaky tap in his little prey's apartment to the queasy feeling of sand in his shoes. Though azriel hates one thing with every fibre in him , people touching things that clearly fucking belong to him.

He watches in the shadows as Vanserra has the audacity to twirl his little prey around and flash her his little coy smile. Azriel fucking seethes. Azriel isn't a dumb owner , he's a good owner always labeling things with his name , thus the pretty little purple hickies prettily covering his preys neck .

Or maybe the fact that she reekes of his scent because maybe he sent his shadows to finger her while his high lord was giving his speech but can you blame azriel he was bored and the sight of watching his little prey squirm was way more entertaining.

Azriel doesn't give a flying fuck about how this ball is to improve diplomatic relations with the courts, frankly doesn't care that Eris is the next High Lord or that Eris is the only 'ally' the Night Court had at the moment .

All he cared about truly was the fact that Eris signed his death away when he fucking touched his little prey. Azriel watches as the pair twirl around on the dance floor , he watches as Eris whispers pretty little nothingness into her ears that has his little prey giggling.

Himself and his little prey knows that cutsey vanilla shit isn't for her , that cute picket fence dream with a loving normal lover wasn't meant for her . She can try all she wanted to fit that mold but he knew that she felt the fucking best when he's claiming her raw and hard against a wall in a alleyway or marking her neck in hickies while his shadows play with her cunt.

It's okay, little prey , your owner knows best, so don't worry, he'll take care of everything. Azriel watches as their little dancing comes to a stop , watching Eris lean close to his prey, probably asking her to go somewhere more private.

Like fucking hell that'd happen. Azriel watches as they leave to go down a hallway and follow after them silently . He watches as they both enter an empty room, and all hell breaks loose in Azriel's restraint.

Azriel winnows himself into the room causing his little prey to gasp in both horror and shock . Eris flashes Azriel a mocking grin but is met with Azriel's fist as a response . Eris groans in pain and falls to the ground and his shadows immediately hold the male hostage.

" You thought you can touch what's mine ?" Azriel groans out in fury as he approaches the male . His prey only gasps and attempts to run away, but it's too late for her as his remaining shadows wrap around her neck in a choking hold, stopping her in her escape.

Eris snarled , " It's not my fault she wanted me more than you " . Azriel practically began seeing red but opted to kicking Eris in his stomach as a response.

" I'll show you how much she wants me " Azriel says as he approaches his prey. His little prey was practically shaking but he could fucking smell her arousal a mile away. Azriel presses a chaste kiss to his preys lips.

" Mercy or punishment ? " He whispers to her , his pupils practical dilated . His prey , every so bratty told him to ' fuck off " earning a laugh from Azriel. " Mhmmm you haven't earned my dick for me to fuck you yet love " He drawls as his hands worked her dress off her.

His prey practically curses him out , ' Eris is better than you ' which earned her the shadows tightening their hold on her. Azriel only laughs at her little show of defiance before he practically pinned her to the nearby couch into a sitting position.

His prey squealed and attempted to run away but the shadows bounded her immediately. " Stop being a bratty slut before I seriously do something you won't like " Azriel threatens . His prey had the audacity to laugh at him along with Eris .

Azriel watches his prey dead in the face before he summons a knife that slices Eris' left ear clean . The lordling practically screamed bloody murder . Ignoring his screams he pushes his preys tighs apart and entered his tongue into her his warm cunt.

It was practically overflowing with her neediness and Azriel ate her to his full. His little prey began moaning once she snapped out of her shock , practically bucking her hips into his mouth . Some shadows trailed down and began tugging at her nipples while others began playing with her clit.

His prey kept screaming his name , over and over, and she practiced came , but that didn't stop Azriel as he kept going, not giving her a break whatsoever no matter how much his little prey begged.

" Disobedient little sluts don't get breaks they get used by their owners " Azriel says as he slapped her soaking cunt until it was pink. His prey let out a choked moan as she came undone for the third time this night. Azriel grinned as he watches his prey lean back into the sofa , too tired , too utterly fucked out of her mind to do anything .

It's okay , he's a good owner , he always takes care of things that belong to him . Azriel licks her cum off his mouth and orders his shadows to fuck her cunt. His prey let's out a whine and a broken moan as his shadows enter her and fuck her senseless.

His prey can only moan his name over and over like a broken record, which causes azriel to only smirk. Azriel walks away from her and walks towards Eris with a psychotic look plastered on . Eris tries to back away but the shadows surrounding him tighten around him causing him to cough his lungs out , desperate for air .

Azriel grabbed Eris by his hair , forcing the male to meet his gaze .

" Next time, Vanserra, don't touch things that don't belong to you " Azriel says with a grin as everything goes black for Eris .

Uhm idk anymore what this is 💀

#male yandere x reader #acotar smut #acotar x y/n #azriel x reader #obsessive yandere #dark!azriel x reader #dark!azriel #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #azriel smut #yandere azriel #possessive azriel #possessive yandere #yandere smut #dark acotar #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n

105 notes · View notes

red-phantom-0 · 25 days ago

Text

Desperate Males

1k celebration request!

Pairing: Poly!Batboys x Fem!Reader

Summary: Morrigan convinces Reader to indulge in her fantasies with the three winged Illyrians, the ones that the reader resents for the way they treat her home court, the hewn city.

A. Note: Thank you my lovely Lex (@lexluvswriting) for helping me finish this because I was STRUGGLING but I’m happy with how it turned out in the end :)

8.1k words .. half of it’s smut, whoops.

Rita's was packed full of lusting fae and grinding figures, every single body in the pleasure hall was glistening with sweat beneath the dim lighting as they continued to rut against each other.

I was sat in the corner of the building, at a small booth I was sharing with Morrigan, gossiping about our relationship issues over a few too many glasses of wine.

Mor was one of the only people I could tolerate ever since Rhys dragged me out of the Court of Nightmares and to Velaris. I hadn't had much of a choice, the moment he found out I was his mate, he felt some form of entitlement to me, he was fortunate he wasn't ripping me away from anything special, less fortunate when he realized I held the mating bond with his two best friends as well. All three of them, sanctioned to me, a female who had no intention of ever accepting any of their bonds.

Mor was from the hewn city as well, born and raised in that wretched court. It made it easier to talk to her, she understood what I meant when I said it felt like I was living a lie, too good to be true and she knew what I meant when I tried to explain my fear of the ever-imposing threat that it'd be ripped out right from under me at any moment. No one could truly understand the way she could, and though my resentment towards the inner circle was much stronger than hers, she made an effort to relate and be there for me.

"So, how are the boys?" Mor grins suggestively before taking a sip from her drink. I groan, slumping into my seat as I think about the three very annoying males she was referring to.

"Desperate," I grumble and she chuckles into her glass.

"How so?" She smiles, leaning onto her hand propped up by her elbow. "Give me some examples," She urges.

I shake my head with an eye roll, saying, "I don't have any." She gives me an undefeated look, a raise of her brows telling me she was waiting for me to go on. "The stories are too long," I argue but she still remains unwavering.

"Good thing we've got time," She leans back in her seat, getting comfortable as if she was prepared to stay in the pleasure hall with me all night. "Start with Rhys."

Rhysand had a tendency of showing up to the house of wind unannounced, quite a lot. So much so that the male has probably been in this house more than his own. To be fair, he was the one paying for it so I suppose this was just as much his house as any of his other residences, but ever since I started living here his visits began to grow personal. I've only been residing in Velaris for a few months now but he still made it his mission to see me at least every other day. Each time he welcomed himself into the large house he'd have some sort of gift with him, tonight was no exception.

I didn't startle when I heard the front door open, and I barely even flinched when his baritone voice crooned from the direction of the couch as I entered the sitting room. He had his long legs stretched across the couch, his head tilted back against the armrest, and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Evening, darling," He drawls and I look at him with an indifferent expression.

"It's the middle of the night," I grumble, going into the kitchen and grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

"I knew you were awake," He intoned and I rolled my eyes, filling my glass up with cold water.

"I'm about to go to bed," I claim, approaching the sitting room to look at him. He angles his head to meet my gaze, a sloppy smirk on his lips.

"Can I join?" He bats his eyelashes dramatically and I debate splashing my freshly poured water into his face. I decide not to, instead silently turning on my heel and retreating down the hallway. He shuffles off the couch and follows right behind me but I pay him no mind. I push open my bedroom door, leaving it open for his entry, because even if he agitated me it'd be a lie to say I disliked his attention. I was a simple female, and making him chase me like this so successfully was amusing, if not a little cruel.

"I have a gift for you," He informs in a sing-song tune.

"When do you not?" I say, placing my water down onto my nightstand and crawling into my large bed, Rhys had insisted on the size when we went furniture shopping so it could fit his wings, I had ignored his foolish assumption that he would ever sleep in my bed, but let him buy me the most expensive mattress anyway.

He reaches into a pocket dimension and removes a flat, rectangular, velvet box, one made for holding tiaras.

"I don't want your money Rhys," I sigh, watching as he situated himself on my bed, his long legs on either side of my hips, encasing me as I practically sit in his lap. "It's not money," He puts a hand up, waving me off. "I don't want your jewels or crowns either," I huff as he places the velvet box directly in front of me.

"It's not— just open it, will you?" His eyes plead with me more than his words. I stifle a curse and pick the ornate box up. It was heavier than I had been expecting, my brows crease as I slowly tilt the lid open, revealing what was inside. It wasn't money or gems, or even a fancy tiara, but a sleek dagger.

The hilt was solid obsidian, embellished with gold detailing, so well crafted it almost felt wrong to be in my hands. Deep red rubies adorned the top of the hilt in a teardrop shape, pointing up to the blade that's been polished to an impossibly sharp edge, Illyrian steel based upon the rich color of the metal. It was utterly elegant, in such a lethally arresting way.

I take the dagger from its confining box, my touch is delicate as I admire it from all angles, the blade moves so fluidly like the steel morphed into liquid when moving through the air. "You like it?" Rhys' voice breaks me from my trance and I grip the hilt a little tighter, looking up at him with an innocent gaze.

"It's unlike anything I've seen before," I murmur, still entranced by its beauty and the way it moved. He smiled at that, proud of himself for finding a way to impress me.

"It's an heirloom," He confesses and my expression drops, looking up at him.

"I can't take this," I immediately say, attempting to shove the dagger back into his hands.

"Sure you can," He sighs. "I have no use for it, and I heard you have a collection of pretty blades," He says, leaning back on his palms and ignoring the way I was haphazardly thrusting the dagger toward him.

"No, Rhys," I declare and his ears perk at the use of his nickname, he's been only Rhysand specifically for the last few months. "I can't, you're only doing all of this because we're supposed to be mates," I say. "I'm not worthy of your gifts, you're just blinded by the effects of the bond,” I say but my explanation must’ve failed to reach his ears because his smile simply remains.

"Darling, I'm a powerful male, if I didn't want the mating bond to affect me I wouldn't let it," He says cockily and I struggle to keep my eyes from rolling at his pride. "I'm doing this, because I want to, it's that simple," He places his large hands on mine, closing my fingers around the dagger. "But, if you don't want it then—" He starts and I shake my head hurriedly. "No, no I do want it," I grip his hands tighter and his brows raise a fraction. "Perfect," His smile returns, but his hands don't let go of mine and maybe for a moment I let myself indulge in his comforting touch.

"And you're telling me the two of you didn't fuck after that?" Mor questioned, an appalled look on her face as I ended my story about the High Lord.

"He gave me a blade, it wasn't exactly getting me hot and bothered," I scoff and she smirks.

"He could've given you another blade," She murmured under her breath but it wasn't quiet enough for me to miss. "Mor!" I look at her with wide eyes but she only snickers.

"Okay, I'm not totally convinced you dislike him, but tell me about Cass," She urges and I deadpan.

"Are you going to make sex jokes again?" I raise an assuming brow.

"No promises," She croons. "Now tell me about him."

Cassian loved to strut around half-naked. His shirt was often absent when I was around. It was an obvious ploy to swoop me off my feet, to get me drooling over his more than impressive abdomen and his arms that could crush my head in. And perhaps I did drool over him in the solitude of my bedroom, but I'd never let him know that.

I was sitting at the kitchen table enjoying my dinner when I nearly choked on my bite of food as Cassian strolled in, clad in nothing but pants and glistening in sweat from training. His hair was tied up in a messy bun that sat at the back of his head, a sword half the size of me slung over his shoulder in a sheath. I swallow my food with effort, my eyes unable to avert from every expanse of skin starting below his neck.

"Hey sweetheart," He says, kicking the front door shut. I snapped my gaze to his but the smirk on his face made it evident that he caught me staring. "Did you make dinner?" He asked, propping his sword up against the side of the counter. I didn’t make dinner, he knew that, because if I had I would be retroactively accepting the mating bond, he just wanted to put the idea in my head.

"Az did," I say through bites, the shadow singer beside me, silently reading a book, successfully not paying Cassian any mind unlike me.

"Is it any good or do you miss my cooking?" He asks with an amused smile, earning him a glare from the spymaster.

"It's delicious," I say, taking another large bite. I hadn't meant to indirectly compliment Azriel but he slightly smiled at my insult on Cassian, then returning to his reading.

The other male grumbled beneath his breath like a toddler throwing a fit as he made himself a plate that seemed more like a feast fit for a starving man, walking to the table and sitting down directly in front of me.

"You're not going to change?" I ask and he raises a brow and looks down at himself.

"Do you, want me to?" He said, slightly confused.

"Well, what if I started showing up to dinner shirtless?" I cross my arms with a scowl, Cassian's eyes light with amusement and Azriel begins to choke on his own air, muffling his coughs as he stuffed his face into his arms.

"I don't think we'd mind," Cassian winked at me and I looked down at my plate, silently cursing myself for walking right into that one.

"I just think it's bad table manners, is all," I murmur, leaning onto my hand as I roll my food over with my fork, playing with it aimlessly.

"If it has that much of an effect on you, I'll go change," He begins to stand and I whip my gaze up, staring at him with creased brows, not wanting him to think I was entirely bothered by it.

"It doesn't have an effect on me," I blurt out and a smirk curves his lips.

"Then I won't change," He sits back down.

"Fine," I say.

"Fine," He agrees.

Dinner went on a regularity from there, that was until I was clearly done with my food and I hadn't retreated to my room like usual, instead, I was far too distracted analyzing all the scars on Cassian's tanned skin, the ones that had stories behind them that I'd most likely never hear, the ones I would've never seen if he hadn't come home without a shirt.

His chest was on full display, rippling in muscle, a tight abdomen that would have me lying if I said my mouth wasn't watering when I stared at it for a moment too long. And gods, his arms made my thoughts wander beyond just arousal, it was more than a craving. My hands were practically shaking in my lap and I was just grateful they were beneath the table.

My eyes snag on a particular scar cutting across his ribs and up to his sternum, it must've been a mess of blood and gore when he got it, only for it to heal over as a simple line slightly darker than his skin tone, beautiful.

"I got it in a duel," Cassian said and I whipped my head up, locking eyes with him.

"What?" I say, my back ramrod straight, visibly embarrassed by the fact that I was just caught for staring so unabashedly.

"My scar," He places a hand over it, tracing two fingers down the raised skin with a practiced, rehearsed movement like he's down it thousands of times before. "It was from an angry husband, his wife neglected to mention she was married and he took some offense towards our, familiarity." He explained. "Insisted on a duel," He shrugged, and I blinked in slight shock.

"You, lost a duel?" I said like the idea was obscene. "Aren't you considered one of the best swordsmen on the continent?" I raised a brow and he shrugged.

"Seemed like the right thing to do," He flashed a charming smile that's guaranteed to have dropped panties before. "You're ridiculous," I said, standing up and grabbing my plate, walking into the kitchen to place my dishes in the sink. The Illyrian followed after me with his own plate, reaching over me and placing it in the basin beside mine.

I whirl around, which turned out to be admittedly a mistake. His bare chest was so close to my face that it was an effort to crane my neck up, keeping eye contact and not letting myself crumble beneath his gaze. "What do you think?" He asks and my eyes regrettably flick down to the scar, and I can't help myself as I reach forward, my fingers brushing over the rough line of skin and I swear for a moment both of us stop breathing. I tentatively pull my hand away, looking up at him with a smirk.

"I think you have enough testosterone to fuel an army," I hum, patting his chest before pushing past him and removing myself from the kitchen, attempting to ignore the way my hand remembered the feel of his skin against it.

Cassian turned to Azriel as soon as I was out of earshot. "That's a good thing, right?" The male mutters with a line between his brows. Azriel's eyes flick up from his novel to look at his brother. "I don't think so, no." He shakes his head, then returns to his page while Cassian's shoulders slump in defeat and he retreats to his room to find a shirt.

"You're telling me, you had your hand on Cassian, the male pushing seven feet, skin to skin and you didn't immediately surrender?" Morrigan says, her brows creased as she grows increasingly worried about my well-being. "Are you sick or something?" She reaches over the table, pressing a hand to my forehead and I scoff, the annoyed sound turning into a laugh as I push her hand away.

"I'm not sick," I claim. "Just a female who has no interest in large, muscular, beautiful, tan males," I grumble, taking a sip from my glass, my voice trailing off as I go on about how truly magnificent they are.

"Right," She settles back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, unconvinced. "So," She smirks. "I know you've been saving the best for last," She leans forward, her grin uncontrollable as she rests her elbows on the table while she insists, "Tell me about Azriel."

My experience in Velaris so far was enjoyable— despite the three winged males, the people were kind here, the men didn't stare, the children weren't sickly, and the women held more value than the curvature of their bodies. It was nice here, like some false paradise.

A small part of me would forever hate Rhys and all the others living in his secret city for blindly living their perfect lives, while innocent people dreaded waking up every morning— because the best time they spent was unconscious, in their horrid city just below the mountain, only a short trip away. Such a drastic shift of atmosphere.

Sometimes when my guilt of being happy began to grow too unbearable I found myself in the library. The first and only place so far I've felt entirely safe. It was quiet here, enough to clear my thoughts, but not enough for unwanted ones to creep in. Priestesses bustled around the building with carts and stacks of books, keeping the tenor lively and welcoming.

So it was a shock when my safe space was suddenly and harshly ripped away from me when I saw a familiar winged Illyrian sitting in the spot I always chose. It wasn't mine by any means, but the bastard must've known this was the alcove I selected every time I came here, there was no way he just so happened to favor this spot as well with the amount of floors alone this place had.

"Move," I was particularly upset this morning due to lack of sleep from incessant nightmares. He only smirks, his eyes slow as they left the book he was so engrossed with, and dragged up to my features. Hazel pools flickering with amusement as he meets my gaze.

"Oh? Is this your spot?" He tilts his head mockingly and I grip my book harder.

I disliked Rhys for how he acts in the Hewn City, and Cassian for his overtly boisterous and arrogant behavior, but Azriel— no one quite got under my skin like Azriel. I couldn't exactly pin down why he made me so frustrated, perhaps it was because he would be the easiest to like, or maybe it was because I always thought he was the prettiest whenever they'd make their annual appearance in my home court, something about that particular fact made me hot with both rage and excitation.

"Well, I haven't exactly seen you sitting here before," I argue, clutching my book to my chest with furrowed brows.

"Fair point," He hums while scooting over and offering me a few more inches of space. It wasn't exactly the largest amount of seating area but he was kind enough to move, and I was far too tired to continue arguing. So I settled in beside him.

The spot I favored over all the others was nestled in a carved-out alcove, hidden from any peering eyes, located between shelves full of various hardback spines. The only viewpoint was from the balcony upstairs, or straight ahead. It felt safe, and I've yet to find any other place I liked as much as this one, so I was open to sharing as long as he kept to his book and I kept to mine, silently.

But the olive green couch wasn't big enough for the both of us and I quietly cursed his insanely large wings for taking up the entire area, one of the dark limbs spread out behind me while the other hung off the edge of the couch, the one behind my back however forced me closer to him, my side pressed against his, and my legs that I had pressed to my chest leaning onto his lap, so much so that I might as well have just been sitting in it, we must've looked ridiculous.

Nevertheless, he opened his book back up and offered me the peaceful quiet I craved. I did the same, cracking my book and finding the page I was on.

It was nice for a moment, the awkward silence morphing into something more comfortable as it grew familiar between us. I had even gotten a few chapters in before I reached a much more, graphic, chapter. The descriptions were downright erotic, and suddenly everything the male did stopped mattering because I was now entirely consumed by the book I had randomly picked off the shelves this morning.

"What are you reading?" He was so very close to my ear that I felt his breath against it, and I snapped my book shut, the sound echoing off the shelves of the quiet library.

"None of your business," I retort, whipping my head to him with stern brows, he narrows his at me suspiciously. "What about you?" I jerk my head towards his closed book like it's been neglected for more than just a few seconds. "Is it a guide on how to kill your brothers? Because I might be interested in reading that one next," I say with a smirk and he mirrors it.

"I wish, Cass practically kicked me out this morning with his atrocious singing while he made himself lunch," He grumbled and my lip quivered upward, my amusement unmanageable at the scene he put in my head, and I cursed myself because, of course, he notices.

"Oh, you think I'm funny?" He says and he was so damned close that one inch closer would result in noses brushing.

"Shh." I press my pointer finger to his soft lips. "No talking in the library." I smirk at him teasingly, removing my touch from his sensuous lips, dragging the bottom one down only for it to spring back up when I let go in an oddly satisfying way.

"We don't have to talk," He suggests, catching my hand before it can fall to my lap. My cheeks grow hot as he interlaces our fingers, palms pressing together, soft skin against scars. He notices my blush and moves that lethal inch closer, the tip of his nose ghosting against mine. "You want to kiss me so badly," He continues his taunts and I scowl, but I don't dare move away.

"Shut up," I bite back.

"Are you going to make me?" He arches a perfect brow and I grit my teeth, deciding I won't play his stupid games. I detangle our hands and turn away from him, but I can still feel his eyes on me.

"You're just as bad as your brothers," I claim, opening my book again.

"You wound me," He gasps in faux pain and I roll my eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be the quiet one?" I huff, attempting to find the page I was on.

"Just because they're loud doesn't mean I don't speak too," He states, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Whatever," I grumble, and his wing curls around me a little tighter. He stayed silent for a moment, just a moment of relieving peace, but it was over as soon as it began and I was grateful for the second, but the opposite of gratitude came over me when he spoke again.

"This is filthy, love," He runs his finger down the edge of my book and I close the novel again, this time quietly so it doesn't reverberate throughout the library again.

"I'm not shaming you," His voice is deep and seductive as he speaks, so very close to my ear I swear with every word I could feel it vibrate down my spine. "Just wanted to let you know I'm open to recreating it," He suggested and I sighed, deciding I'd had enough of his banter, and stood up, clutching my book to my chest as I looked back to him.

"You're relentless," I say and he shrugs with a coy smile.

"No goodbye kiss?" He hums and I only shake my head and storm out of the alcove, leaving the library more frustrated than I was when I arrived.

"And?" Mor gestures her hands, demanding more.

"That was it," I shrug.

"You didn't go back and make out with him?" She creased her brows like I was insane.

"No, because I don't need a male to enjoy my life," I say. "You are one to understand that," I suggest with my brows raising and she simply rolls her eyes with dissatisfaction.

"Yeah, but— that doesn't mean you should strip yourself the pleasure of having all three of them," She wiggles her brows and my cheeks grow hot. "Or you could just pick one and miss out with the rest," She adds, before taking a sip from her glass, the liquid inside nearly gone.

I thought it might've been impossible to just pick one. They all had their own personalities and unique qualities, and what if I somehow chose wrong? What if my decision came between the three of them? Then again why can't I just have all three of them? They're all so kind to me, and they're funny, and so very gorgeous, and— "Oh gods, I'm in love," I gasp quietly, my hand cupping over my mouth at the devastating recognition.

Morrigan only nods with a wide grin, like she's been waiting for me to realize since we sat down in this booth. "What do I do?" Suddenly I don't know how to think, or how to act.

"Put them out of their misery and feed those poor bastards," She proposed and I groaned with defiance.

“I’ve been working so hard to ignore their pathetic acts for the last five months, I can’t just give in now.” I practically melt onto the table, my head falling into my arms dramatically.

“Hey, listen to me,” She grabs me by the face, smushing my cheeks as she emphasizes every word. “Do you want them to fuck you senseless?” She asks and I sigh, but inevitably nod with a pitying frown. “Then go." She releases my face and shoos me with her hands and I smile as I stand up. “You’re the best Morrigan,” I claim and she winks at me. “I know,” She shrugs and I blow her a kiss before winnowing to where the tether between the three men felt the strongest.

Which landed me in a cabin I'd never been in before, the sitting room warmed by the crackling fire in the hearth.

Whatever conversation the three males were having halted when I showed up. They all looked at me with analyzing eyes, raking up and down my figure, still in my party dress from Rita's, the material tight, hugging every curve and dip of my body and ending high on my thighs, showing off the entirety of my legs and an obscene amount of cleavage, which the males definitely didn't miss.

Cassian and Rhys were sat on a sofa in front of the fire, Azriel was situated in a large leather chair that he claimed like some sort of king, distanced from the fire I notice. All three of them had short crystal glasses, a matching decanter sat on the coffee table halfway filled with an amber liquid.

"Hey, sweetheart," Cassian was the first to speak. "What brings you here?" He hums and I clench my jaw. What was I doing here? Silently I whirl on my heel and walk towards the kitchen, finding a bowl of fruit situated on the counter. I grabbed an orange from the variety, taking my time to peel the rind off, the three of them staring at me curiously as I approached them again, splitting the pieces of the fruit into thirds, handing each of them a slice without a single word.

"Are oranges supposed to pair well with whiskey?" Rhys held the fruit up, staring at it confused as if the High Lord truly didn't understand what was going on. He wasn't seriously going to make me say it, was he?

"Eat," I demand but they only stare at me with blank eyes and I sigh, my shoulders sagging. "Whoever's orange is gone first I'll make out with," I say and within the blink of an eye all three of their slices of fruit were gone, but I caught Azriel swallowing first so I approach him and take the liberty of sliding over his lap.

He wastes no time before putting his hands on me and pulling me into him, his lips immediately finding mine.

I smile at the citrusy taste still ghosting his tongue as he pushes it into my mouth, tasting every inch he can find like a starved animal, craving more. My hand goes into his hair while his scarred ones slowly slip beneath my dress, gripping me tightly and pinning me down onto his hips, allowing me to feel just how hard he was beneath me.

Desperate, indeed.

"Az," I whine softly and he groans at the sound, his kisses turning sloppy as he loses himself entirely in the taste of me.

"Alright," Cassian's voice calls, familiar, large hands coming to my waist and pulling me off of Azriel's lap with ease, throwing me over a broad shoulder.

"Is this what it's going to be like mated to you three?" I say, still upside down as Cassian's hands roam the backs of my thighs, then higher. "Passed around between you three like some doll?" I say, secretly not minding the idea.

"If you don't want to be passed around," He tosses me down onto a large bed. "We can always share at once," He hums and I had an unshakable feeling that I would be split in half if I took all of them for the first time, at once.

"No, I like being passed around," I say with bright red cheeks and he smirks, guiding me up onto the bed, my head meeting the pillows.

"Then who do you want first?" He hums, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Rhys," I look to the high lord. "I want Rhys," I say and the violet-eyed male raised a brow, his smirk uncontrollable as he approached the bedside. Cassian moved off of me and Rhys took his place over me, his lips finding mine with ease.

He kisses softly at first but that only last so long before he's leaving my mouth and beginning to nip and suck on my neck, licking over it to soothe the marks. I writhe beneath him, my hands in his dark hair as I ache for more. I reach for his pants, unbuckling his belt with one hand before moving to the ties confining his hardened bulge.

"No darling, you're going to ride me," He says breathily into my neck and my hand halts on his pants. He smirked at my reaction and flipped us over so I was on top. He unzips the back of my dress with ease, helps me slip it off with gentle hands as I straddle over his hips, now completely bare for all three of them, but it was only Rhys' eyes I was focused on at the moment.

I rut my hips down over the imprint in his pants, releasing a soft sigh as the action puts friction on my clit. He smiled up at me and how needy I was for him already.

He takes his pants the rest of the way off, his boxers along with it and I can't help but smile at the sight of him, his tip pulsing and red, and the length of him was intimidating enough on its own. "You think you're ready for me?" He asks, ripping my panties off with an ease I marveled at, but before I could reply to his question he swiped his fingers through my folds and my breath hitched at the stimulation, my arousal soaking his fingers, he pulls them back for me to see and I flush in embarrassment at how wet I already was.

"Oh, darling I've barely touched you," he smirks and I look away from his eyes, attempting to get my blush under control. "There's no need to be shy," He guides my face back to look at him. "Be good and take all of me, yeah?" He arches a dark brow and I nod, placing my hands on his chest as I rise on my knees while he helps align himself with my entrance.

He looks at me pointedly and I nod, then sink myself down onto him, ever so slowly.

"That's it," He grunts out as my cunt swallows around the head of his cock. He throws his head back into the pillows as I sink deeper, reaching the halfway point and clenching around him hard.

My nails scratched down his chest as the unfamiliar stretched, his eyes gleaming with pure lust until eventually my hips pressed against his and I let out a sinful moan as he brushed up against that bundle of nerves deep inside of me, kissing it softly.

"Rhys," I sigh, my nails digging into his abdomen as my cunt twitched around him. His hands come to my hips, slowly guiding me back and forth, manually making me grind on him.

"Fuck, taking me so well," He grits between his teeth, already restraining himself.

My back involuntarily arches as he kisses up against that sensitive spot again, moans tumbling from my lips as I begin to bounce myself up and down on his cock. He smiles hazily, his hands leaving my waist in favor of cupping my breasts, rubbing his calloused thumbs over my peaked nipples. My breath hitched at the sensation, clenching around him tighter as he groped them, tweaking them between his fingers, making my release barrel closer.

"So good for me, getting yourself off on my cock," He admires and I nod, a whimper slipping from my lips as I pull myself out to his tip then let gravity slam me back down onto him, the head of his length pounding into my sacred spot, making me release a lewd moan, screaming out his name as I clamp around the width of him, a ring of white forming around the base of his cock.

"Feels so, so good darling," He says breathlessly. "Such a good girl," He murmurs and I throw my head back at the praise.

"I'm close— Rhys, I can't," I pant out, unable to catch my breath with the way he relentlessly pounded into my cunt. "Me too, fuck— keep doing that," He grunted. "Keep squeezing me so tight, just like that," He instructs and I nod, my pussy taking all of him as he twitches deep inside of me, signaling that he was close.

I go faster, my thighs burning with the movement but I ignore the pain, delighting in the pleasure he was giving me. He pounds into me relentlessly, both of us teetering along that edge, and the moment his hands find my nipples again I'm left helpless, and suddenly I rise to my climax, coming to a crescendo as I meet my peak of pleasure.

I gasp as his warm cum seeps into my cunt, spurting out of his cock with one last clench of my core and he released a thick white liquid. "Gods, such a good girl," He sighs out, his large hands groping my breasts one last time before they dip down to my waist, and help guide me off of his length, laying me back into the bed.

"Cass," I murmured, keeping my legs together in order to hold Rhys' release inside of me. "Cassian, I want you next," I pant out, still not entirely over the high that Rhys left me with but I already wanted more, and lucky for me the male was there quickly, switching with Rhys as he hovers over me, his pants already absent and his cock leaking a milky substance, the sight making my mouth water. He was noticeably wider than Rhys, and I debated whether or not he'd tear me in two.

"Flip around, wanna feel your pretty pussy from behind," He hums and I do as he says, turning onto my stomach and hiking up onto my knees. His calloused hands find my hips, helping me guide them up higher, my back forming a perfect crescent as I keep my face in the pillows and maximize my arch.

"You ready for more sweetheart?" He asks and I nod, tears welling in my eyes as his heavy cock slaps against my soaking folds, my arousal dripping onto him as Rhys' release cascaded down my thighs. He lathers himself in my liquids, his pre-cum adding to the mixture.

"Want you, Cass," I murmur. "Don't hold back," I add and I can practically feel the way he was smirking. His tip prodding against my pulsing entrance.

"Tell me if it's too much alright?" He kisses my shoulder softly, his rough voice gentle as it meets my ear. I nod, but before any more words are spoken he grips my hips tighter and thrusts inside of me.

I gasp, breath being lost on me as I fist the sheets beneath me. "Cass," I cry out, the width of him stretching against my walls, molding me to him.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," He sighs out and I gripe, writhing beneath him as he pushes deeper and deeper, forcing my legs wider so he could enter more comfortably.

My breathing is labored as his hips finally snap against my ass. He groans at the feeling of his cock entirely sheathed inside of my cunt, stretching me beyond capacity like a sleeve made just for him.

"Please, Cass," I whine and he leans over me, my back bowing against his chest, his lips coming beside my ear.

"We only just started, sweetheart," He taunted, nipping at my shoulder.

Ever so slowly he pulls out, removing himself only about halfway before slamming back into me with an outmatched force. I screamed at the switch of pace, his thrusts coming quickly, pushing me up the bed.

I reached forward, gripping the headboard to stop my body from unconsciously running away from him. He drove his hips forward harshly, his balls slapping against my folds. His hands left my hips in favor of my ass, handling me roughly as I arched beneath him, feeling his width deeper the lower into the pillows I went.

"Good girl.” He throws his head back, sweat glistening as it rolls down his chest, into the groves of his abdomen. I mewl loudly, incapable of forming words as he fucks me beyond sentences.

"Such pretty noises you're making for me," He hums, his lips ghosting against the shell of my ear. "Am I making you feel good?" He whispers and I swallow thickly, tears brimming my eyes as I nod helplessly, defenseless under him like this. He smirks at my unsolicited actions as I grip around his shaft tighter, delighting in how good it feels as he stretches me.

His hands returned to the curve of my ass, gripping the plush skin in his large hands, loving the way it left red imprints, marking me as his, as theirs.

"Pull my hair," I murmur.

"What was that, pretty girl?" He leans over me and I flush shyly, I knew he heard me the first time.

"Pull my hair," I repeat and he smiles.

"Yeah? You want that?" He wraps his hand around my locks, gripping the back of my skull before tugging on it and I moan, my release catching up to me as he manhandles me, just how I wanted. His grip tightens as I squeeze around his cock, his heavy balls continuing to clap against my neglected folds. "That's it, baby, just like that," He assures, watching as I lose myself in the heat, fire blooming over my skin as my release barrels closer and closer.

"Please," Tears slip down my cheeks. "Let me cum, I’m close," I mewl, gripping the headboard tighter, my nails denting the wood.

"Already?" He teased and I nod, pushing myself back onto his cock and he grunts, twitching inside of me and brushing against my elastic walls. "Go ahead, make a mess sweetheart," He allows and I immediately follow his order, my orgasm ripping through me for the second time tonight, his following soon after, shooting his load of cum into me, filling my every crevice and mixing with Rhysand's inside of me.

I grip at the sheets as he pumps into me one last time and I clamp down on him, milking his cock as he slowly removes himself from me and collapses down onto the bed beside me.

My legs ache as I sink back down into the mattress, my intense high slowly fading away as I flip over onto my back.

I jolt as a cold sensation runs up my thighs, skidding across my waist and meeting my breasts, shadows swirling around the peaks of my nipples, slowly tightening and beginning to tweak the hardened buds.

"Az," I sigh, shaking my head. "I can't," I murmur, far too overstimulated to even think about taking another round.

"You can." He comes between my legs, shadows forming at my thighs and prying them open, forcing them to stay even when I try to close them. I can make out the way Cassian's cum seeps out of my cunt and down my ass, the feeling making my mouth water for Azriel's cum too, wanted all of their release to mix in my womb.

"There's so many things I've wanted to do to you," He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my collarbone. "Things I've imagined doing to you," He confesses, beginning to place soft pecks up the side of my neck, to my jaw. "Which one of us do you think of when you touch yourself?" He asks, his lips ghosting over mine and my brows bunch because it'd be a lie if I said I ever thought about just one of them.

"I asked you a question," He purrs, his hands coming to my wrists, gathering them up above my head. "Be a good girl and answer it for me." The tip of his nose runs along the side of my neck before his lips make contact with the side of my throat, teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh.

"All of you," I confess, pulling slightly at my wrists as he lets go but shadows have them pinned down too.

"Yeah? Do you like to imagine all three of us ruining all your pretty, wet holes at once?" He croons, his mouth just beside my ear and I writhe, unable to even grind against my own thighs since his shadows were holding me open, leaving me desperate and vulnerable for his own pleasure.

"Az," I whine.

"Tell me," He demands. "Tell me what you think about when your fingers are stuffed in your needy cunt," He hums and my brows crease at how humiliating this all was.

"I think about all three of you, fucking all my pretty holes," I confess and he smiles proudly.

"Yeah? Does that get you off?" He hums and I nod with a whimper, murmuring a pathetic, "Mhm."

His fingers are barely there as he drags them up my figure, then back down to my hips, keeping me restrained as I clench around nothing.

"I need you inside of me, please," I beg and he manically grins, kissing along my jaw, nipping at it as I continue to pull against his shadows.

"Such a needy little thing aren't you?" He taunts and I nod, agreeing with whatever he wants me to as long as he pushes himself inside of me. "Yeah? Don't worry baby, I'm going to ruin you." He said, his grip tightening on my hips as he pressed his tip to my entrance, and without another warning, pushed inside of me.

I screamed his name loudly at the intense feeling, he didn't waste time and he most definitely wasn't gentle like Rhys, or kind like Cassian, he was fucking me like an animal, and I loved every second of it.

Maybe it was because I was overstimulated but he felt so fucking long inside of me, and when his length was fully sheathed in my cunt I swore he was up against my cervix.

Shadows released my thighs for only a moment so that he could adjust my legs, pulling them up to my sides and putting me into a mating press.

"Gods, you're taking me so well," He admires, staring down at me with low-lidded eyes as I let him withdraw everything he wants from me, his cock nestled deep inside of me as I take him deeper and deeper while he fucked me into the mattress, unrelenting and so very stimulating.

"That's it, so fucking good," He throws his head back at the feeling of my puffy cunt squeezing around him torturously tight. "Gods, I'm going to fuck this wet pussy until you beg me to stop," He groans and I moan at his lewd words, and the sounds of his hips slapping against the backs of my thighs, his full balls smacking into my ass as he continued his rough pace.

He looks down at me, sweat lining my forehead and a permanent blush over my cheeks, tears running down the sides of my face as he uses me.

"You look so pretty tied up like this," He smirks, analyzing my every breath, as if needing to remember this for later.

My mouth is open, moans escaping the base of my throat with each of his thrusts, the head of his long cock kissing my cervix and I scream, my nails digging into my palms as I fight off my orgasm, feeling my encroaching climax grow closer and closer.

"Az—" I start, barely able to get his name out before I'm cut off by another moan. "I have to—" I can't even say it, tears blurring my vision as he continues to pummel into me and I deflect my third release. "You already have to cum baby?" He smirks down at me and I nod, so grateful he understood but my gratitude dwindled away with his next words. "You wanna cum? You think you've earned it?"

I nod fervently, my body aching at the position he had me stuck in. I convulse around the base thick of his cock, the back of my head buried in the pillows as I plead for my climax but he wasn't allowing it until he came too.

I force my legs open wider and he hits into me deeper, earning a grunt of pleasure from him.

"I can't Az," I plead. "I promise, I'll be a good girl just, let me cum," I say and he groans at how I sounded begging for my own release, the sounds of my moans pushing him closer to that edge.

"Alright baby, go ahead, come all over my cock," He commands and I obey without another thought, my release slamming into me hard, resulting in me shaking beneath him, my legs jolting as he slowly unpins them and lets me wrap my legs around his torso, riding out my high as he presses into my cervix and with one last harsh thrust he grunts and releases his seed into my womb, mixing it with Rhysand's and Cassian's.

My cunt is left red and swollen as he removes himself from my entrance, I close my legs as soon as he was gone, not letting any of their releases escape me, keeping it tucked inside. The mating bond affected me so much that I wanted to feel this fucked out all the time, have them fill me at every moment, drunk on their cocks.

"You did so well for us," Azriel hums, sinking into the bed beside me, my ass up against him as I flip onto my side and face Cassian, his lips finding mine, biting at my lower one while Rhys' hands fondle my oversensitive breasts. "Poor baby, she thinks we're done," Azriel hums, his cock hardening again, pressing to my ass.

"Please," I whimper but none of them stop their movements.

"It's time to take us all at once, darling," Rhys said and I gasped as I felt his hand cup my heat.

"You ready, sweetheart?" Cass asks and I can only nod helplessly.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters@joshysloshy@username199945 @ivy-34 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @mmg777 @andreperez11 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna

Comment a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

Comment a “🖤” to be added to the Azriel taglist!

940 notes · View notes