#.this is also why i cannot stop thinking about writing him though.

[pinkaditty]

Love Type (Tokyo Debunker Ghouls)

hey me again i said id be back quickly and i did mean that.

this will have been queued for an hour at least by the time u see it. rn as i type this im debating using the taglist. i think ill use it. sorry 4 so many tags in a day, i bet ur sick of me

anyways! i had this idea while i was writing the perv!sho x reader thing. i thought about the differences between the ghouls and how they all love differently. at first i wasn't gonna post this, but then my brain wouldn't stop thinking about it so now this exists. its not meant 2 be a useful organization tool 4 the ghouls it's just something i had a little bit of fun with.

note that not every single ghoul is going 2 match the category he was put in exactly. for example, ghouls like luca, yuri, romeo, and even haru could probably fit in more than one of these categories, but i put them in the ones i thought suited them best. wanna discuss? leave a comment or an ask! ill be happy 2 talk it through with u <3.

yes i DID put in hcs about how long they last sexually. no i do NOT regret it. im speaking my TRUTH!!!

The Lover Boys:

Haku, Haru, Sho, Luca, Zenji, Rui

do not last long but recover fast and can go multiple rounds 

prefer switching up their roles (dom→sub, sub→dom) more often 

they love like it's an incurable chronic terminal disease. it's never leaving them.

all-consuming, takes up most their time, they're drowning and falling and losing their minds 4 u

You like to tell yourself you're prepared, but is that ever really true? No, not really. The way his voice drops several octaves into a low purr just from seeing you should've been warning enough as to what you were in for. You didn't expect the all-consuming, suffocating love he'd trapped you in, but were you really complaining? As far as you were concerned, you were also convinced it was meant to be, and if he was a little crazy about it, that was a small price to pay. Of course, you eventually learn why he's crazy about it - he's never had it. The truest feeling of connection, the ability to just let it all go in one person's presence, the time to really feel another person. It's eluded him for so long, and now he has it, but it's threatened by a curse, something he cannot control. It's frightening, and though he tried not to, he ultimately buries you in his love, trying to find a way to make it last. It's okay though. As the threat wanes, so will his suffocation. The love will always be intense, but he will learn how to do it right. 

The Lost Boys:

Towa, Taiga, Jiro, Ed

they last so unbelievably long u don't know how they do it

love in more subtle ways bc 2 them, true love is quiet 

they will do loud and bold professions of it, but the real love is displayed quietly 

prefer 2 stick 2 one role (either dom or sub), not super flexible 

The occasional huge flower bouquet, expensive jewelry set, or new bag were thoughtful, but mostly just for show. He reveled in the attention, the jealous stares, the sucking of teeth, the eye rolls - all of it. Because he had you, not them. But that, of course, isn't all there is to it. While he may be relatively distant in public despite the extravagant gifts, he's rather sweet and attentive in private. He hides it better than a LoverBoy, but in truth, his heart bleeds just like theirs, and he feels the need to consistently strive to win your affections. You're amongst great people, after all. How can he make sure he stands out, all the time, just for you? You understand this, of course, and you're always quick to reassure him. He will give and give and give and give, in so many ways. You almost think he's bottomless, what with how much of himself he offers up, nearly all the time. But it's alright. He will learn to remind himself that he need not give himself away to bits simply to keep your attention, especially when he's already the apple of your eye. The gifts never stop though, and neither does his obvious enjoyment in the attention it gets you. He will never stop showing you off.

The Tragic Boys:

Leo, Subaru, Ren, Kaito, Yuri

love fluctuates. intense then quiet, hot then cold, all-consuming then insignificant 

very transparent ghouls with few layers. what u see is what u get.

often don't last long and take longer to recover 

a little more flexible with role changing, but do have solid preferences 

You are never, ever prepared. He's like a pendulum, swaying back and forth between endless, bountiful devotion and a cold shoulder the following day. He's not sure how to handle this love he has for you. It's unfamiliar, it's big, it's loud, it's petrifying. He's scared he'll do something wrong, and on those days when the fear eats him alive, he closes up, rejecting your presence. But then, he sees how down you are, and knows that wasn't right, so the following day he's at your beck and call. He'll do whatever you ask, just say the word and it's done, for you. His fatal flaw is that he never communicates his deep-seated fears, instead choosing to let them rumble in his gut and disrupt your relationship as a consequence. He wants you, though, and he never wants you to doubt that. He'll communicate eventually, the words spilling out before he can think much of them, apologies and desperate sobs with them. He won't shut down anymore after this, choosing to remain like an open book for you to read at any time. He will learn to hold you the right way, without clamming up nervously when you tell him he's perfect. 

The Silent Boys: 

Tohma, Romeo, Ritsu, Lyca, Alan, Jin

their love is consistent 

never changes, always with immense depth, but never readily apparent 

love is like a pretty serene waterfall with unseen strong currents capable of killing someone 

like to switch it up every now and again (mayyybe dom→sub, sub→dom yk)

last moderately. some might finish fast, some might take a while.

His attitude and demeanor towards you hardly change. He loves you, and he's serious about it, but that won't mean special treatment, extra gifts, or public displays of love. He will love you exactly as he always has, and sees nothing wrong with it. His love is in how he looks out for you, how he worries for you despite himself, how he may allow himself a small smile when you approach, or a sigh heavy laden with devotion, after you wrap your arms around him, and before he pushes you off of him. It's okay because you know how his heart beats erratically in his chest when you approach, which he's strangely good at hiding. You know how his breath hitches in his throat every time he sees you, his eyes glazing over like you're a vision to be committed to memory. You know how he treasures you, his love hidden under his vast sea of responsibilities. Peel the layers back and you'll see he's yours in all ways that matter, but he also knows he can't let that get in the way of his daily life. Once he has the time, and is no longer bearing the weight of prying eyes and overwhelming expectations, he'll build his life around you, to make sure you feel centered in his life, as he does in yours.

well if nobody really likes these at least i had fun. amen!

no blurb 2 put here except that i have a ren fic incoming soon bc my regular [🐟] anon went crazy in my inbox about that boy and his damn collarbones.

y'all have a wonderful day im so tired.

taglist: @cupcakesmoothie @aayakashii @sunskosh @despairingy-obsessed @glamorousspoon @mmy-meow @dailyvahine @diluxama @obscuarysghoulnextdoor @disassociationdive

want 2 join or be removed from the tkdb taglist? let me know!

[tacobacoyeet]

stanfordish!young!art x pregnant! reader

had this in my head during class and typed it out on my phone LOL tw smut!!!!

-you don’t even get the words out properly. you just hold up the test with trembling hands and whisper, “art…”

-he stares at it like it’s a bomb for a full ten seconds. frozen. blinking. absolutely no thoughts behind his eyes

-and then he goes, in the softest, most heartbroken voice, “are you okay?”

-immediately pulls you into him, hands cradling the back of your head like you’re made of glass. “are we okay? are you scared? baby, what do you need?”

-he starts crying before you even do. like not full sobbing, but his face just crumples. “we made a person,” he says with this weird half-laugh, half-sob. “holy shit, we made a person.”

-he icks you the hell out LOL. you tell him he's being fucking weird. i would

-anyway. goes into overdrive within hours. makes a doctor’s appointment, orders five different prenatal books, texts his coach “i won’t be at training today” with no explanation

-so gentle with you in the hours after. tucks you into bed even though it’s 3 p.m., curls up next to you and keeps whispering the sweetest shit

-he’s so emotionally overwhelmed he starts cleaning. like aggressively. it’s the nesting instinct, except it’s his nesting instinct and it’s immediate. reorganizing drawers. researching vitamins. mopping the floor at 2 a.m.

-he starts writing in a little notebook he keeps hidden in his tennis bag. letters to the baby. day one is just: “i found out about you today. i hope you have her eyes. i hope I deserve you.”

-doesn't stop touching you. hand on your thigh, fingers laced with yours, palm against your stomach even when there's no bump yet. just needs the reassurance that you're both real

-you catch him staring off into space later that week, and when you ask what's wrong he just says, "i’m not scared of being a dad. i’m scared of not being good enough"

-he gets super still after that. you pull him close and kiss his forehead. he cries again

-and then, because he’s art, he makes a stupid joke to cut the tension: “this kid is going to be a wreck”

-but later that night, when he thinks you’re asleep, he whispers against your stomach: “I’m so glad it’s you. I’m so glad it’s us.”

-he literally cannot function if you lift even a finger. he will take your shoes off, fluff your pillow, and freak out if you so much as bend over

-“you’re pregnant,” he says with that tortured puppy look, “why would you even think about picking up your backpack?”

-the moment you start showing? he’s done for. like physically incapable of focusing on anything else when you’re in the room. wide eyes, slack jaw, hand always gravitating to your belly like it’s magnetic

-“you’re growing a whole human,” he whispers one night in the dark, tracing the swell of your stomach. “that’s literally god-tier behavior.”

-he talks to the bump like it’s his tiny best friend. “hey, it’s dad. your mom won’t let me feed her pickles and whipped cream at the same time. help me out here.”

-so proud of your changing body. like obsessed. “you look insane right now. angelic. powerful. absolutely unreal.” and then he has to sit down because he’s overwhelmed. just a white boy overwhelmed with the power of female anatomy culture

-he lowk becomes the pregnancy police. “did you drink enough water today?” “have you peed recently?” “i brought you three snacks. no, I insist.”

-also soooooo emo about it. like you’ll find him just staring at the ultrasound photo with glassy eyes, and when you ask what’s wrong he’s like, “nothing. it’s just… you’re my family now”

-once cried during a prenatal yoga class because you looked “so peaceful and maternal” while doing a cat-cow stretch. you had to bribe him with froyo to stop sniffling

-has a playlist titled 'baby bonding'. plays it while reading aloud to your belly like it’s storytime at the library

-constantly kissing your belly. at home. in public. before bed. before class. “you’re already the best thing i’ve ever made,” he tells your bump, and then panics because you heard him and now he’s blushing

-absolutely cannot handle how tired you get. if you so much as yawn, he’s tucking you in, canceling plans, whispering “my poor baby” like you just ran a marathon

-not above weaponizing how hot you are. you’ll catch him staring and be like “what?” and he’ll go “nothing. you just look…really good pregnant. like, devastatingly hot.” (and then trip over something. so sweet)

-insists on being the one to rub your back, massage your feet, bring you snacks. feels like he needs to earn the dad title

-and even though he’s overwhelmed and scared sometimes, the way he looks at you, like you’re the beginning and end of every good thing in his life— never falters

-he gets extra needy at night. being close to you, touching you, kissing you. sometimes he just lies between your thighs, head resting on your belly, whispering nonsense and kissing your skin

-you can tell it gets to him when you moan, even from something simple like a massage. he tries to play it cool but his eyes darken, his voice gets low: “you’re gonna drive me insane”

-the first time you have sex after the bump really shows, he goes so slow it’s almost unbearable. he keeps asking if you’re okay, if anything hurts, if he can keep going. you have to pull him in by the collar and kiss him breathless just to shut him up

-worships your body like it’s sacred. palms sliding reverently over your hips, your chest, your belly. tells you over and over how beautiful you are, how full of life, how lucky he is to even touch you

-sometimes he just wants to watch. you ride him slow while he groans under you, hands gripping your thighs, utterly entranced. “look at you,” he whispers. “you’re unreal. you’re everything.”

-he’ll fuck you with one hand on your belly and the other tangled in your hair, eyes locked on yours the whole time. it always ends in whispered praise, shaky breathing, and him clutching you like you’ll disappear

-can you guys tell i've been ovulating this week

[silverselfshippingchaos]

my favorite thing about having so many y.akuza f/os is knowing half of these guys would fucking hate each other LMAAOO

[ceeaann]

Opposite Attract !? — Being the Total Opposite of Them

Characters - Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika, Viktor, Jayce, Content - 2k words, hcs, contrasting personality pairings, light angst, possessiveness & protectiveness, established & developing relationships, tender moments, playful banter, mutual (and one-sided) yearning, conflicting morals & values, opposites-attract themes, soft/domestic interactions, power struggles, emotional vulnerability, implied past trauma, affectionate teasing, mild language.

A/N - hi im back haha... this one is a rlly short one cuz im writing smth amazing right now huehue (its sooo good trust ill be posting it in a few days)

— Vi

-You met Vi by accident—wrong place, wrong time, and before you even realized what was happening, she had already handled it.

-"You wouldn’t last a damn second down here, sweetheart."

-At first, she thought you were just another fragile little thing that needed protecting. And at first, you thought she was dangerous.

-(You were right. But not to you.)

-Vi teases you constantly.

-"You’re just so soft, babe. It’s unreal."

-"You say that like it’s a bad thing."

-She grins. "Nah. I like it."

-You try to keep her out of trouble. It never works.

-"Vi, maybe we should think this through."

-"Uh-huh. Lemme know how that goes while I punch this guy."

-"VI—"

-Dating Vi is terrifying.

-"Hey, babe, funny story—I may have started a bar fight." "Vi." "Before you say anything, I won."

-She lives to fluster you.

-"You always get so shy when I call you babe. S’cute." "I—I do not!"

-Vi leans in. "Oh yeah? So if I called you sweetheart right now, you wouldn’t get all shy on me?"

-"...Shut up."

-"That’s what I thought."

-You’ve seen her throw herself into fights for you without a second thought.

-"Vi, stop, you’re bleeding!"

-"They started it."

-"That doesn’t mean you have to finish it!"

-She smirks, wiping blood from her lip. "Sweetheart, that’s exactly what it means."

-But then, one time, you actually hit someone.

-Vi had the guy handled—had him cornered, already mid-swing—until he lunged at you.

-And you punched him.

-The guy went down.

-You stood there, wide-eyed, clutching your fist like you couldn’t believe what you’d just done.

-Vi just stared.

-Then, slowly, she grinned.

-"Well, damn, babe."

-"I—"

-She grabbed your wrist, turning it over to check for damage.

-"You throw a punch like that again, and I might just marry you."

-You turned scarlet.

-Vi never let you live it down.

-"Hey, babe, remember that time you punched a guy?"

-"Vi, stop."

-"Nah, seriously, you were terrifying. I was quaking."

-"I am never doing that again."

-She grinned. "Yeah, yeah. Talk to me after your second punch."

-You keep her grounded. She keeps you wild.

-Balance.

— Caitlyn

-Caitlyn despises rule-breakers. So naturally, she fell in love with you.

-You flirted while she was cuffing you, calling her “Officer Cutie.” She pretended not to care, but her ears were so red.

-You broke out of jail just to see her again.

-"You're breaking the law."

-"You're breaking my heart."

-You treat laws like suggestions. Caitlyn treats them like the word of God.

-"No, you cannot bribe an officer, that’s illegal."

-"Then why do they take the money?"

-"YOU’RE MISSING THE POINT."

-Caitlyn has arrested you multiple times, but at this point, it’s just flirting.

-"Back again, officer?"

-"Maybe if you stopped committing crimes, I wouldn’t have to keep arresting you."

-She gets so flustered when you flirt with her.

-"I swear, you’ll be the death of me."

-"Aw, Cait, don’t be dramatic. You’d look so good in mourning black, though."

-You show up at crime scenes just to mess with her.

-"Fancy meeting you here, Sheriff."

-"WHY are you here?"

-"Moral support. Also, I may or may not have stolen some evidence. Oops."

-First kiss? During a heated argument about morality. You kissed her just to shut her up, and she froze.

-“You—you can’t just do that!”

-“Why not? Worked, didn’t it?”

-Caitlyn is constantly exasperated with you, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

-She scolds you like a mother but spoils you like a lover.

-“One day, you’re going to get yourself killed.”

-“Yeah? But at least I’ll look hot doing it.”

-She has never sighed so much in her life.

-You love making her break the rules. One time, you convinced her to steal a single piece of candy from a store.

-She acted like she personally had doomed Piltover.

-"I CAN NEVER SHOW MY FACE HERE AGAIN."

-"Cait, it was literally a mint."

-"A stolen mint."

-She once caught you doing something very illegal and instead of arresting you, she sighed and went, "Just… don’t do it again."

-That’s when you knew she was doomed.

— Jinx

-You the embodiment of "calm down."

-Jinx the embodiment of "I will not calm down."

-The moment Jinx met you, she immediately decided you were her favorite person.

-You did not agree.

-"So, you’re all serious and broody, huh? Like, all ‘I have a tragic backstory, don’t talk to me’?"

-"No, I just don’t enjoy explosions."

-"Pfft, sounds like a tragic backstory to me."

-Jinx tests your patience daily.

-She steals your things just so you’ll chase her.

-"Jinx, give me back my book."

-"Make me, serious-face."

-You tackle her.

-You are the ONLY person who can calm her down.

-You’re incredibly patient with her. No matter how chaotic she gets, you never push her away.

-That scares her. She’s used to people getting tired of her. But you never do.

-The first time she has a breakdown in front of you, she expects you to leave.

-Instead, you just wrap your arms around her and hold her. No words, no judgment.

-Jinx never admits it, but that’s the moment she realized she’s completely in love with you.

-You always pull her out of danger, even when she insists she doesn’t need help.

"Baaabe, I totally had it handled." "Jinx, you were literally on fire." "Okay, but—" "No."

-Jinx is determined to break through your stoic exterior.

-“C’mooon, just smile for me once, yeah? Bet you’d be real pretty when you do.”

-The first time you genuinely laughed at her joke, she melted.

-She was obsessed with making you laugh after that.

-First kiss? She literally caught you off guard mid-sentence and ran away laughing.

-“You should see your face, babe! Priceless.”

-You are the definition of opposites attract.

-You keep her sane, and she keeps you... un-boring.

— Sevika

-Sevika thought you were too soft for the world she lived in.

-“People like you? They don’t last long down here.”

-“Then I guess you’ll just have to protect me.”

-You weren’t scared of her. That pissed her off.

-But she couldn’t ignore the way you made her feel—like maybe, just maybe, not everything in the world was awful.

-You tended to her wounds without question, never expecting anything in return. That scared her more than anything.

-"I can do it myself."

-"Yeah, well, you weren’t, so sit still."

-Sevika would kill for you.

-You’re the only person she’s soft with, and everyone notices.

-“She’s different when she’s with you.”

-“Nah, she’s just scary in public.”

-You make her believe in something more than survival.

-And damn it, she loves you for that.

-If anyone even breathes wrong near you, Sevika is already cracking her knuckles.

-You're basically her emotional support human, and she has no idea how she ended up this soft.

— Viktor

-Viktor never thought he had time for love. He had science. That was all that mattered.

-And then you came along.

-At first, he brushes off your romantic nature as a distraction.

-But then he catches himself listening to you.

-You talk about dreams, about passion, about things beyond logic, and—damn it—he likes it.

"You’re ridiculous," he murmurs, watching you twirl around his lab with a dreamy expression. "And yet, you keep me around." "...Yes. A mistake, clearly."

-It’s not a mistake. He’s doomed.

-You force him to take breaks, dragging him away from his work despite his protests.

"Viktor, have you eaten today?" "I consumed knowledge." "That’s not food." "It is intellectually nourishing." "You’re ridiculous."

-You leave little notes on his desk when he’s too busy to talk. "Reminder: You’re brilliant and I love you." "Reminder: You need sleep, you absolute workaholic." "Reminder: I’m kissing you later, whether you like it or not."

-He pretends they’re a nuisance, but he keeps every single one.

-The first time you kiss him, he’s so flustered he forgets how to speak.

-"I—uh—hmm—well—" "Oh my god, Viktor, just kiss me back."

-He does. And once he starts? He doesn’t stop.

-Viktor is completely enchanted by you. He never knew love could feel this… effortless.

-"You’re a distraction," he mutters one night, watching you ramble about constellations.

-"A good one?"

-"The only one."

— Jayce

-Jayce is used to people either admiring him or challenging him outright. He’s not used to you.

-You don’t hang on his every word.

-You don’t take his charm at face value.

-You argue. You push back. You challenge him.

-And damn it, you’re good at it.

-"You know, most people find me charming."

-"Most people have low standards."

-"Wow. Remind me why I keep you around?"

-"Because you love the abuse."

-He swears you’ve made it your life’s mission to challenge every idea he has. And worse? You’re smart. He can’t even dismiss you because you actually make good points.

-"This is the best approach."

-"No, it’s the most convenient approach."

-"Oh, I’m sorry, do you have a breakthrough invention?"

-"No, but I have common sense."

-"...Touché."

-He swears he hates debating with you, but the way his eyes light up every time you challenge him? Yeah. He loves it.

-At some point, your arguments stop being about proving each other wrong and start being about understanding each other.

-You’re not impressed by his title, his status, or the way people look up to him. You’re only impressed when he actually earns it.

-That makes him work for it. Not because he has anything to prove, but because he likes knowing he can meet you at your level.

-Jayce flirts like it’s second nature. With most people, it’s effortless. With you? It’s a goddamn battlefield.

-"Come on, admit it. You like me."

-"I tolerate you."

-"You love me."

-"I love watching you struggle."

-"Same thing."

-He’s never had to work so hard for someone’s attention, and it kills him. But the first time you actually soften toward him? It’s over for him. Completely.

-He’s never wanted something so badly in his life. And it’s not just because of the chase. It’s because you make him better.

-You don’t just challenge his ego—you challenge his ideals. You make him think. You make him question things he’s taken for granted.

-And despite all the teasing, all the stubborn back-and-forth, all the arguments? He’s never felt more alive than when he’s with you.

-The first time he kisses you, it’s because you’ve finally pushed him past his breaking point.

-"You’re so—"

-"I swear, Jayce, if you—"

-And then he’s kissing you. Hard.

[hexlenx]

EVEN IN OTHER UNIVERSES, I LOVE YOU. — aaron taylor-johnson

In which you came home tired from work and only just wanted to lay down on your shared-bed with your husband. Only to see five different version of said husband.

note: hello! So I have come to write another one shot or fic or whatever you call it because I couldn't help myself but write this new idea I thought of. I do hope you enjoy!

warnings!: none because we fluffy today pookie.

__________________

Sighing tiredly you let out a groan as you took a small break in your car, resting your head on the steering wheel as you closed your eyes for a few moments.

You just finished your work from helping your director write the script for the next movie you're starring. You see, you've been an actress in the industry for a long time now and even though it's tiring you continue to work through it as it is your passion. Plus, it's where you met your lovable and handsome husband. A fellow well-known actor in the industry.

The director asked for your help because you had experience in directing as well as a degree for it. So hence why you also came home late while your husband went ahead after a bit of your persuasion. Thinking of your husband, you smiled fondly. How can you be so lucky to have such a man?

While you were taking a small break from your car, said husband was sweating profusely in the kitchen with a spatula in hand while wearing a pink apron.

Looking at the five males in front of him, Aaron cursed underneath his breath.

"Fuck me."

The gate opened automatically after scanning your car's number plate. Before driving in reverse towards the garage door. Humming a soft tune you put the car on park and grabbed everything you need from the car before coming out of it.

Opening the door connected to the kitchen, you took off your shoes and hanged your coat on the hanger before calling out to your husband with a bright smile.

"Honey, I'm home!" Your smile slowly turned into worry as you were greeted by nothing. Usually you were greeted by a beaming charming smile as well as a giant hug lifting you off from your feet while being spun around by your husband.

Where could he be?

"Aaron? You there?" In slight worry you walked around the first floor of the house searching for your husband, but alas there was no sign so you moved upstairs.

There was a thump in one of the rooms when you were in the middle of walking on the stairs making you feel worry and fear when you heard a voice groaning as well as cursing. Your mind was running in a fast pace as you run up from the stairs towards the source of those noises.

No it can't be, please tell me he didn't—

The scene in front of you shocked you. The noises stopped as the figures looked at you in silence.

"Love, I can explain—" Aaron was the first to break the silence with his hands up as if he was trying not to anger you. And let me tell you, you do not want an angry wife at you.

However, instead of an angry wife. You looked like you were about to cry. You see, another thing about you is that you are quite an open and very sensitive person. Your legs gave up as you collapsed on the floor, tears running down your face as your exhaustion mixed with your anxiety was not a good combination right now.

"I—i thought you were with a w-woman—" you stuttered as your husband immediately went over you to put you in his embrace the moment your knees buckled whispering praises as well as reassurance to you. Desperately trying to calm you down. He knew you were very tired since it's about ten in the evening by now and he supposes that the noises he and the others made, made you think of something else.

His heart broke just by thinking he was doing things to another woman other than you, he cannot and will never do such a thing to you. He loves you too much to do so.

The five other male in the room looked at the scene in front of them, disbelief clear in their faces as they looked at your figure. Hearts beating uncontrollably as the younger looking male in the room muttered a name.

Your name.

This made all of you to snap your heads up to the male. Now that you look at it, they all looked just like your husband. No, actually all of them are your husband. No one can impersonate your husband unless it's your husband himself, his face is too unique to be able to copy.

"Why are there five more of you?"

Now that the situation has calmed down, you, your husband and five more of him sat in the living room in silence. Assessing the situation.

"So you're telling me that you, Dave was getting beaten up almost to death before coming here? James, you got here when you were stuck by Voldemort. Alexei, got here when you fell from your horse at full speed, head first. Tangerine, you got here after getting shot on the neck trying to kill the White Death's child and Pietro, you got shot multiple times by saving Clint from dying? Have I summarized it correctly?" You summarized outloud as the others nodded to confirm your statement. You sighed as both you and your husband looked at each other, not knowing what to do since unlike some of their worlds, you guys don't have the power to bring them back to theirs. But they all don't seem like they're hurt from their explanations. Maybe it's cuz they're in a different world.

"What were you doing before I barged in the room?" You asked your husband who looked everywhere but you.

"I was trying to give them some clothes, Dave, Pietro and James was the only one who accepted it but the other two wanted something that fit their styles." Aaron sighed as he took a sip at the coffee he made since it was getting late. He really thinks that you should rest first and let him handle it though.

"Sorry gentlemen, but it's quite late in the evening and I would like to take a nap and rest. We will take care of this tomorrow." You sent them a tired smile as you stood up from your seat and towards your bedroom upstairs, leaving all six of them in the room.

As soon as you were out of hearing range, Aaron's expression turned cold as he looked at Dave. Even if he knew the kid wouldn't hurt his wife because he played his character years ago, he will still not let loose his guard. Dave flinched from the glare and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while the others stared at him the same way as Aaron, that's weird.

"How do you know my wife?"

This made the men's eyes go wide. Wife? That made them collectively let out a sigh of relief. Wife..

"She's also your wife?" James asked Aaron, it's kind of weird talking to yourself as he looked at the older one in wonder.

"also?" Aaron questioned.

"Yea, I mean. In my universe I married her and had Harry after we got married at twenty-one." James enthusiastically explained as his face brightened up when talking about his lover.

"Uh.. she's my girlfriend in my universe too." Dave lifted up his hand awkwardly. Though you can see that he is also happy to announce that you are his lover.

"I'm also her lover when I have escaped Hydra with my twin sister." Pietro said with a charming smile, his face brightening up whenever he mentioned his wife.

"I'm married to'er in my universe. Doll, was the only one who accepted me other than my brother." Tangerine uttered out as he lit up a cigarette before puffing it out the smoke from his mouth, where he got that from? I don't know and neither does the others.

"...she is my affair, my lover that I intend to protect with all of my soul. The only maiden who saw me for me and not some viscount." Alexei said as his eyes were clouded with the memories of his lover. Ah, how he longed to be in her arms again.

"All of us are her lovers in another universe, huh?" Aaron sighed out, his smile coming out as he thought that even in different versions of himself, he chooses you and is still with you. It makes him sigh in content and happiness as he is assured that no matter what happens, he is still with you in the end.

"Even in every other universes, I love you." All men uttered out, the atmosphere becoming serene as they sat in a few moments of silence.

Warmth filled their chests as the leaned back in their seats as their thoughts only circled in one subject.

You.

[custardtartsfan]

Jason Todd head canons that have accumulated over time

many thoughts about the boy constantly rattle around my brain and i would like to share them ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) nothing hanky panky ish for i do not like to think about that

general bullshit ᝰ.ᐟ

he doesnt trust modern technology. he has a Motorola razr. no he will not upgrade, stop asking

has VERY messy hand writing. straight chicken scratch. barley legible

smoked during his late teens (post resurrection period, he was going through it). tried quitting in his early twenties, he bought a menthol flavour geek bar but threw it out cause Roy made fun of him

it wasnt even one of the cool ones with a screen. smh

he has a weird nostalgic affection for the thrift

it reminds him of being a kid, in the rare moments that his mother was sober enough to take him somewhere. and it was nice, his mom was conscious, all was well

and he could get whatever he wanted! he wanted a toy? sure bud, its only a dollar. why the hell not?

he recently walked into a Goodwill and damn near burst an artery when he looked at the tag on a pair of pants. it was NOT like this back in his day

his hair is like wavy, like not curly but wavy. however, he has no idea how to really care for it. shits dry is what im saying

i think hes very competitive about stupid shit

not like he gets pissy about mario kart, he will race you to see who can fold their socks the fastest

largest of the batfam. vertically and horizontally. hes a beefy dude. a brick shithouse

i think hes also the kind of dude that needs to know someone very well before he could consider dating them. id even go as far to say hes somewhere on the aro spectrum

i think he has a very high spice tolerance. like youll pry his siracha out of his cold re-dead hands. he LOVES African curry (yes this one is based off me) thats like his perfect kind of spice

back to his hatred of technology, he collects cds to listen to instead of streaming

he has one of those hip disk players with the headphones. Red Hood has been seen with a walkman

also hates tv, but will watch the news willingly. he will sit down and watch Wolf Blitzer of his own accord

romantic (୨୧• ꒳ •)=:♡

remember when i said he has the handwriting of an 18 month old toddler? yea well thats a little unfortunate cause he LOVES leaving notes for his lover. when he has to slip out the window for a job in the middle of the night, he writes a little note - “had to take care of something, be back soon. with bagels. love, Jay :)” but its written so janky his lover is spending the whole time hes gone trying to decipher it

dont tell him that though, he might cry

hes not a talker particularly. words tend to come out wrong in his experience. instead, he likes gifts acts of service to show you he cares

shopping with him and youre eying a particular top for a while? guess what’s mysteriously appeared in your laundry basket

lowq doesn’t have motion though..soo it might have been Bruce card. but honestly? money is money who gaf

what he occasionally lacks in funds he makes up for in willingness to let you do whatever you want to him

he will waddle after you in sephora, freaking out the occasional employee cause holy FUCK who invited the punisher, letting you swatch whatever you want on his hand

if you’re concerned about the milk in the fridge being yuck, give it to him to taste. he’ll let you know

there is no mountain to high, no dubious forgotten leftover too unhappy looking

cannot cook for SHIT. but he loves to eat

he will mention wanting food and stare at you longingly until you go to the kitchen

hes not gonna be playing fortnite while you’re cooking though, he can chop stuff. you may not want him within 50 feet of a place where food is prepared but he will offer

bless his heart

runs hot like a furnace. probably because hes a large meaty boy

he will grumble like a pensioner when you tuck yourself into his chest at night when its cold, but we both know damn well hes gonna be giggling and kicking his steel toed boots when he tells Roy about it later

he had pretty mixed, strewing negative opinions, about his little white tuft of hair at the front. hes tried cutting it, it grew back the same. he bought box dye, it doesnt take. so hes stuck with it. and he cant say hes happy about it

until you came along, all full of love and life, telling him you loved it. you though it framed his face perfectly and suited him great. you and your fancy affection fuck you

(he was cheesing for hours)

okay lets get sad now

hes got BADD anxiety about hurting you without meaning to. its a reasonable concern, hes a big dude. and these hands dont do a lot of cradling as a rule, more beating heads in

he needs to be reassured, but would rather roll around in broken glass then swim in lemonade than let that be known. hes more of a stare at you until you sooth him

he likes to be kissed and cuddled and cared for. so what? hes only incredibly ashamed. it doesnt matter how many times you re iterate that he has no reason to be, hes a stubborn bitch

thats all ive got! i hope you enjoyed reading my real time jason todd related word association. most of these were typed in a fury on the mobile web app on the subway so..if the formatting is yucky thats up to god (-.-;)y-~~~

[nightmare-niko]

Routines In The Night [Nicholas Alexander Chavez x reader]

Warnings: alcohol consumption, vague-ish descriptions of clubbing, raw sex (don't do that), completely self-indulgent

A/n: i am just a girl and i cannot help the things my mind comes up with. also this is my first actual smut in years so lmk how I did hehehe

Word count: 2273

Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

It's been quite a long time since you went out with your friends. Life gets in the way sometimes! But tonight, the stars have aligned, and all of your schedules lined up perfectly. You don’t remember being this excited to see your friends, but now you all were in your apartment getting ready for your night out.

"So I don’t know when the boys are gonna get here-“ your best friend; Violet sits on your bedroom floor, curling her hair. “But I think Evan said something about bringing a new friend?”

“Violet you can't just let strangers hang with us! What if he's a weirdo?!" You’re mostly joking. You knew your friends. Realistically you had nothing to worry about.

“What if he’s ugly?” your other Friend interjects.

“Oh my god! Hayley!” Violet chokes out a surprised laugh.

“What it’s a valid question!” She defends.

"I'm sure he will be completely normal." You try to expel the chaos beginning to build throughout your small apartment while the three of you continue to get ready.

•

An excessive amount of knocks on your door makes you jump.

You grumble obscenities on the way to open your door. "You know Evan- You don't have to—“ you stop in your tracks. Sure, there was Evan and your other friend Mike, but there was also a new guy—a beautiful guy. Was it suddenly getting hot in here??

"Oh okay drool much?" Evan jokes and you snap out of your man-induced trance.

“Hi, I'm Nick" he offers his hand for you to shake.

Your hand is quite small compared to his, but unlike most guys you’ve met, his hand is gentle. He certainly isn't trying to crush your hand (why do guys do that?). As the other guys walk into your apartment, Nicholas stays in your doorway with you as you introduce yourself,

“Come in! You have to meet the others!" You take his hand and lead him into your living room.

•

The music was loud, the air was hot, and the lights pulsed and changed erratically. You danced along to whatever generic set the DJ played, you honestly were too drunk to care. This is what you needed. While you and your girls danced carelessly with each other, the guys stayed back at your table.

All of them seemed pretty caught up in their drunken conversations. Not Nicholas though, no. His eyes had been on you the second you clambered onto the dance floor. You loved it.

You felt Violet's arm wrap around your waist, "are you gonna deal with that? " She borderline shouts in your ear to combat the loud music. "Who? Pretty boy over there?" You lock eyes with Nick across the room, he quickly looks away—taking a sip of his drink. "Maybe... you think you can get Hayley distracted so I can lure him ?"

She giggles and pulls away; you don't care how Violet was planning on making distance-- but you trusted her. With a sensual sway of your hips, you walk over to Nicholas. None of your other friends seem to notice your presence, not that you mind though.

"So, you gonna keep on staring or are you gonna dance with me?"

The man before you smirks, he takes you in quickly, "How about both?" He offers his hand to you. You take it gratuitously, even in your heels he had height over you. It was hot. Maybe it was the lights or the alcohol in your system-- or maybe both, but you had to have him.

To say the two of you were dancing was a stretch, to say the least… You wrap your arms around his neck, you were so not remembering this tomorrow at the rate you were going.

“How long were you going to sit there staring at me for?” Your question was light-hearted at best.

"Until I was blackout probably," He laughs shyly.

You laugh along with him, grinding along to the beat of the music, you could live this moment forever. "Usually everyone comes back to mine and sleeps over after clubbing. You down?”

He smiles, "Sure, why not.”

•

Somehow you managed to get all of your drunk friends back to your home safely. Now all you had to do was (try to) relax, you sneak away from all of your friends and into your bedroom.

It took you longer than usual to remove your makeup and change into your pajamas due to the drinks you had tonight, but you managed.

What time was it? You didn't know, your phone was dead!

Back in your living room, your friends lay sleeping (?) scattered around Violet and Hayley both still in their makeup and heels. You didn't dare wake them, they knew where your makeup wipes and extra clothes were. All you needed was your bed.

•

4 am. It was 4 am and you were wide awake. Wide awake with a raging headache, that is. You groan before tugging off your oh-so-comfortable blanket. The hardwood floors were cold against your bare feet-but you didn't care.

Stumbling to the kitchen through the darkness of your home was a situation you found yourself often, but now you had the added addition of staying quiet. The last thing you needed was more hungover zombies.

The moonlight from your open windows lit up your kitchen counter just enough for you to grab the nearest pain relief medicine and a drink in peace. Now here came the hard part-- walking back in the dark. Why didn't you bring your phone?!

The door of the bathroom swings open-- you gasp dramatically. "Jesus Nick! You fucking scared me,” you whisper yell at the taller man.

"Sorry! I had to— uh I didn't think anyone was awake." He flicks off the light and steps closer to you.

The moonlight paints across Nicholas’ face in a way that has you speechless. "Well, uhm-are you -" You stumble over your words. "Do you need anything? A blanket? Water? I can see if there are sweatpants you can wear."

For a moment you think he's going to decline your offer-- “Actually, a blanket and sweats would be awesome… If you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all-- Here follow me.” You continue your path to your bedroom, only this time with the hottest man you've ever seen trailing behind you.

Inviting him into your room! What if he gets the wrong idea? (Is it the wrong idea if you really do wanna fuck?) "Sorry for the mess... You can sit on my bed while I look." You awkwardly point at your bed as if its location wasn't obvious. "It's cute in here, very cozy." Nicholas takes in his surroundings— trying and failing to distract himself from your extremely short pajama shorts. "Thanks, here." You hand him some clothes leftover from friends, "Hope they fit." You hear him mutter a thanks before you go back to searching for a blanket. Why is he being so quiet? When you look over at him, he's staring: again. You bite back a laugh.

”You have quite the staring problem, you know?” You tease. He smiles something wicked, his dark brown eyes dark with want. Why stare when you can just shoot your shot?”

He throws his hands up in defense, "I mean hey, I made it this far!”

“Oh yeah- "You remark sarcastically, "Remind me what base ‘sitting on a hot girl's bed and staring at her ass’ is again?"

"Oh, so that's how we're playing it?" He stands up and takes one big step towards you

“That's how we're playing it.” You tease, standing up on your tippy toes to drape your arms over his shoulders.

His large hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. He hums in acknowledgment of your teasing. He was hard, you could feel him through his jeans.

How did you get into this situation? Were you complaining though?

No, not at alt. Nicholas' large hand cups your face sensually.

The Kiss was electric, not rough, but dominant. You didn't have the energy to fight for control, you just wanted him. Dazed, you pull back from the kiss. "I can't focus with you pressed against me like that." Your hands shoot from his neck to his belt buckle. “Bed, now." You demand, he quickly clambered onto your bed.

You pull his pants down to his ankles, and Nicholas kicks them the rest of the way down. Your heart racing as you follow him onto the bed, straddling his lap. His hands found their way to your hips, gripping them firmly as you leaned in for another heated kiss.

"Are you sure about this?" Nicholas whispered against your lips.

"Absolutely," you run your hands down his chest.

As things heated up between you two, a sudden noise from the living room made you both freeze. You remembered your friends sleeping just outside your bedroom door.

"We should keep it down," you giggled softly, pressing a finger to Nicholas' lips.

He nodded— a mischievous glint in his eyes. He presses a quick kiss into your lip and flips you onto your back. You find your eyes drifting down his torso, his cock tented in his boxers. You snap your eyes back up to his, the air thick with tension.

“Kiss me,” you beg, and he listens immediately. you tug on his bottom lip and he groans lowly. the position you were in made it impossible for you to not cross your ankles behind his back, pushing him against your throbbing core. You whimper, almost pathetic, but you couldn't care less about that right now.

You whine again, this time a desperate plea for more. “Mmm… Nick—please~” You beg against his lips.

“Tell me,” he commands. You whine again as his lip trail kisses along your neck, leaving marks at the base.

“More~” you manage to joke out.

“What do you want, beautiful? All you need to do is say it and I'll give it to you.” His voice is sultry against your ear, his breath leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“Clothes. off,” you demand.

You hear him chuckle sensually, as he leans back on his haunches. You swear all time freezes as you watch Nicholas take off his shirt. He was already the most attractive person on the planet with his pants off, and now here he was. Towering over you in his underwear, while you still had all of your clothes on. That had to change, sit up briefly as Nicholas helps you take off your sleep shirt.

Nicholas kisses you again, pushing you back down onto your plush pillows. In the heat of your kiss, Nicholas takes off your sleep shorts and leans back— he groans at the sight before him.

“look at you~” he tuts, “all fucked out and I haven't even touched you yet.”

“Nick, please-” you whine, bucking your hips in the air, desperate for any kind of friction. “Don't tease!”

finally, Nicholas stands up from your bed. Pulling his boxers down his boxers, revealing his throbbing cock. The tip is red and angry— leaking with precum. your mouth watered just at the sight.

he climbs back over you and back in between your thighs. his hungry eyes, fixed on your core as he runs his tip over your clothed clit. you whimper again— just as you're about to open your mouth to complain, he pulls your panties to the side and pushes into you in one motion.

You bite down on your lip to try to conceal your moan but the noise that you make is still extremely loud. the stretch burned, but god it felt heavenly. Nicholas clashes his mouth back onto yours at an attempt to hush your sounds— not that he wanted to. He wanted the whole city to hear you, but all of your friends were in the next room and that was not a conversation he wanted to have.

The steady rock of his hips has you barreling quickly towards your orgasm. The kiss is sloppy and rough— you couldn't think of a better thing to be doing at 5 am. He trails wet kisses to the sweet spot below your ear, then to your neck and collarbone.

With one hand tightly gripped on your hip, he was close. You knew because his thrusts were getting sloppier and rougher. With one final bite of the base of your neck, he sits up— free hand rubbing circles on your clit as the new angle had him hitting right you needed him.

Your back arches off of your bed in a dramatic display as your orgasm takes over you— you swear you blacked out for a moment. Nick pulls out of you in a hurry, white ropes of cum paint your torso and face and he groans gutturally.

the once cold air in your bedroom was now hot. the only sound was the combined sounds of you and Nicholas trying to catch your breath. sleep takes over you as you feel Nick wiping the cum off you with whatever was nearby.

"So," Nicholas whispered, running his fingers through your hair, "does this mean I get stay here tonight?" he brought a clean blanket over your naked bodies.

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "If that's not what that means I have no idea what does."

Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)

@Nallasstuff @chmpgneprblem @qoopeeya

@lilybellalana @sleepysongbirdsings

[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you getting mobbed at the airport !

pairing: ot13 x reader

genre: fluff, angst?

word count: 949

cw: mobbing/mobs

a/n: request done for anon !! lowkey feels weird to put an exclamation point at the end of this title but that's just how i do my ot13 posts so... IT DID NOT TAKE ME NEARLY A WEEK TO WRITE THIS I'VE JUST BEEN BUSY

scoups - runs straight toward you the second he sees people reaching out at you, maybe even pushing other people out of the way as he does. he's almost furious, and i say almost because there's a part of him that's just worried about you. he hates that the same people who admire him would harass you, the love of his life. and he's most definitely not afraid to be your own personal bodyguard, going as far as to shove people who try to touch you.

jeonghan - to put it simply, he's confused and upset. he doesn't even know something's wrong till he turns his head around to check on you and sees you practically being stampeded. "hey? what's going on?" he would try to call out, but he can only get to you when you've both gone through security. "are you okay? i'm so sorry..." he'd murmur, feeling guilty about not being able to protect you.

joshua - normally, joshua can maintain his composure, but this time, he doesn't even try to hide his frustration. he's serious about his loved ones. how are these people considered his fans? he doesn't try to do anything for the media, not acknowledging the cameras or anyone else but you. "it's going to be okay, love. i got you." he'd whisper into your ear, putting his arms around you as he guides you out of the crowd.

jun - not sure how to word this, but he's physically putting himself in front of you out of pure instinct because he has no idea what to do. does it make it better? well not necessarily, but he'd rather have people harassing him than you. ironically, he’s still checking up on you even though people are shoving and reaching at him left and right. “hey, you okay- ow- băobèi? just making sure- hey!“

hoshi - he really can't control his anger when he sees people start to pull at your hair and clothes. even though he's wearing a mask, anyone could tell he's mad as he pulls you toward him protectively. will probably get upset with himself after he calms down, randomly hugging you hours later, apologizing for letting anyone touch you like that even though you tell him hundreds of times it's not his fault.

wonwoo - wonwoo already has airport anxiety, so this doesn't go well. he literally had an iron grip on your hand, but that was barely enough to prevent you from being tugged away. he's panicked, eyes widened as he holds onto you with his life. but when it's all over and he's calmer, he'll comfort you, pulling you into his chest and he rubs a soothing finger over the bruised area of your wrist as an apology for his tight grip.

woozi - mad, mad, and mad. he really doesn't understand why fans can't just respect people's personal space. would also become your personal body guard, telling the people who reach out at you to back off. his frustrated persona wears off the minute you two are alone, though. he would check up on you before giving you a kiss on the forehead, a silent promise to protect you.

dk - he's probably confused and panicked. "hey, hey, hey. what's going on?" he'd say as he notices a drastic volume change in the crowd. when he realizes it has to do with you, he gets scared, immediately pulling you back so you two are practically stuck together. cannot go on social media after, not wanting to relive the moment again, opting to stay stuck to you instead and make sure you're safe.

mingyu - absolutely heart broken :( at least he's got those arms though, allowing him to easily block the unwanted hands away from you, but after, he can't stop thinking about it. he keeps holding onto you, replaying the moment over and over before you nudge him, asking why he's holding onto you so tightly. you don't get an answer though, he just hugs you tighter.

the8 - frustrated !!! there's really nothing he can do, and it makes him feel useless, but he's irritated over all things. as soon as you're somewhat safe, he puts his arm around you protectively, glaring at the crowd. don't be surprised when he suddenly gets into a scandal because he posts something clearly targeted toward those fans 👀

seungkwan - very very worried, might even yell just a littleee bit out of fear for you. definitely one to make an attempt to shield you from the crowd or pull you out of it. once you're free, he hugs you tightly and doesn't let go till you're both at the boarding gate. he feels really bad after because after all, they're his fans, so he apologizes over and over, nearly crying.

vernon - this is definitely one of those times where vernon can't control his emotions all that well. he's completely caught off guard, just barely being able to use a swift arm to tug you back. and even though he's wide eyed and confused, he rubs a hand down your side as he tries to reassure you that you're safe. "it's okay, we're all good now. it's all good,"

dino - he's part of the body guard line for sure, pulling you close to him and practically guiding you out of the crowd as if he's actually part of the security team. the poor guy is soooo worried after, scanning your body for even a hint of damage. pulls you in for a hug as well, rambling about how scared he was despite how professionally he handled it. "oh my god, you're not hurt right? what just happened..."

[glitter-stained]

Thinking about how some modern comics writers (Tom Taylor) write the batfam and why it doesn't sit right (this post centers around the robins because of their training but some of that reflexion would definitely fit for Barbara and Cass as well.)

The thing with writing a team of people with similar training and strength is you can't take the easy route of "well this one is the smart one! And this one is the flexible one! And this one is the strong one!" .... which is obviously reductive to all of their characters. Obviously, they have interpersonal differences; Dick, being raised as an acrobat, is the most flexible, but that doesn't mean that every single one of these little fuckers doesn't like to bend, twist and somersault to dodge bullets like an annoying worm on a string being flung around in the sky. They're Robins. Obviously, Jason is the bulkiest, but that doesn't mean they don't all go through hardcore conditioning -Tim is only considered "frail" when you put him between Bruce and Jason, this guy would bench-press you any day, come on. (And DC editorial can lie to us about the girls' weights and heights and make them at the limit of ed-territory even though they're doing parkour and hardcore martial arts every day but I know the truth, Steph's strong as hell, homegirl's got bazooka-level guns). Obviously Damian was raised in the League and is proficient in a bunch of martial arts, but they all received training from a bunch of different experts, including, for all of them, the same guy (that they are all so normal and chill about.) Obviously, Tim is the one who used detective work to figure out everyone's identity but you're kidding yourself if you think he's the only intelligent/detective one amongst the robins. Being smart and a detective is a defining part of all of their characterization, and so is being a leader and a strategist. And then of course with that kind of simplified characterization we end up with Steph being "the girl robin" and Damian "the assassin one/stabby one" and Duke "the meta one" (yes this post counts Duke as a Robin. They trained him and also just cause I wanted to. I love him.)

And even if we make an effort and try to dissect it "this one is the detective smart one! And this one is the strategist! and this one is smart in a more techy-way! And this one is the leader! And this one- hey what kind of intelligence do we have left..." obviously doesn't work either. Duke was a exhilarating strategist in WaR already, Jason's strategic work in UTH and detective in Lost Days is thrilling, Damian is a fucking child surgeon (do I need to develop how intelligent that kid is), Dick was the first leader of the Titans and is always doing detective work like, that's an inherent part of his character, Duke was a cute-ass baby doing puzzles and planning to defeat the Riddler himself, Steph literally became Spoiler to stop Cluemaster (girl knows to solve riddles that would make Nygma shit his pants), they've almost all lead a team at some point, etc, etc. All of this is great and cool and a character being great doesn't take away from the skills of another character! Stark contrasts cannot possibly be the only interesting team dynamics, especially since they already have their own teams of contrasting skillset and personalities.

Imo, best robin team-up dynamics is them stepping on eachother's toes with their plans, getting into rapid-fire brainstorming sessions where they're all finishing eachother's sentences, reaching a conclusion and saying it out loud at the same time, one of them having a crazy ass plan and suggesting it to the other and the other saying "i like the way you think" to that person who thinks exactly like them, getting mad at eachother for being stubborn while also being a stubborn little shit, pulling complicated acrobatics together, and just thriving solving a good old complicated mystery with other people who are just as competent and enthusiastic about detective work as them but not a carbon copy, with extremely specific strength and weaknesses and quirks (like Dick's ability to recognise heroin by putting it in his mouth, Damian's uncanny voice imitation ability, etc.)

Of course, this doesn't even begin to touch the family drama, but honestly we get so much family drama angst with no real consequence rn, I'd really love just a robin team-up, relatively low-stakes (aka nothing taking over the city, the world, no past traumas unearthed to haunt them or parental abuse or secret cults etc etc.) Just a very elaborate murder mystery and a good excuse for all the robins to be there and a story that works with their similarities and their potential (both comedic and in terms of plot) rather than erasing it. It would be so much fun!

[mononijikayu]

come back to me — geto suguru.

"I need to tell you something." he said, his voice low, rough with guilt. “It’s... it’s over. Everything.” You frowned, stepping closer to him, concern etched in your features. “What do you mean?” He met your eyes then, and you saw it—the shift, the darkness lurking behind them. His expression was distant, hollow. "I killed them. The village, my parents... I killed them all."

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: dead dove: do not eat, dark fic, nsfw (not safe for work), r -18, angst, hurt/no comfort, toxic romance, character death, murder, guilt, remorse, horror, sorrow, tragedy, lovers, canon related violence, choking, violence, curse creature, ghostly figure, anguish, emotional instability, emotional, haunting, betrayal, unfinished business, depiction of character death, depiction of murder, depiction of emotional instability, depiction of choking, depiction of anguish, depiction of guilt, depiction of sorrow, depiction of ghostly figure, mention of mass murder, mention of death, curse user defector! geto suguru, victim girlfriend! reader;

WORDS: 7k words.

NOTE: this is probably the first time i'm writing something that is a dead dove, because i was curious how i would do when writing something as heavy and as horrific as something like this. i wanted to be able to write it properly, because not only is it kinktober, it is also spookytober. so, i had this in mind. i wanted to participate at least once. so, i hope that even though this might not be your cup of tea, it be something of interest to you. but if you can't read it right now, that's okay too. i'll publish more works soon enough!!! i love you all <3

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HE CAN SEE YOU EVERYWHERE. And it was his own fault. A fault, of course, he does not regret. A fault he incurs with wanting, and greed. You haunt Geto Suguru and there was nothing else but it to last forever. You haunt his existence as though you own it. Everything about was drifting through his every thought like a shadow he can't shake.

He had known this would happen. He had anticipated it ever since that day. The day he crossed the line from the man he once was into something darker, something twisted by hatred, madness and grief.

He had expected your presence to follow him. He had expected that you would never leave him alone. Geto Suguru had always wanted it. He had always wanted you. For you were everything. You were the beginning and end.

You were too important, too loved by him. You cannot leave him. You cannot go astray from him. Because he had made it so. He had made it so and it shall be like that. After all, he was the one that took your life. There was no other way about it. And he remembers. He remembers it distinctly. He remembers it all too well.

It was after the massacre, after he had ended up doing what he had done. Still in his blooded clothes, weary and exhausted, he did not hesitate in all he had done. Why should he? Why should he feel regret now when his heart, his soul, his everything, was corrupted by the greed and indifference of others?

That village had been reduced to nothing but ash and ruin, its people were swiftly slaughtered by his own hand. And all that remained was ash and bone, the dark charred bitterness burning amid the blue flames.

He of course did not stop there. He couldn't. It was as though he was in autopilot. As though no one was home. And yet, he remembers. He feels the contradiction of it all. But he does not need to admit to fault. The result was obvious. It was secured by fate. The fate he had chosen.

He took Mimiko and Nanako and brought them somewhere safe. And all that he could think of his house. It would be empty. His parents wouldn't be home. And he take what he needed and leave. He could leave. But he was a fool for thinking that everything would go swiftly as he planned.

Within an hour of him trying to take everything, he silences Mimiko and Nanako and tells them to keep the TV on, as loud as possible. And no matter what, do not come down. The two young girls agreed, they were smiling too. They would do anything he'd asked. For after all, he was the one who had saved them from these....these cruel creatures that had nearly taken their lives.

Geto Suguru has always had a difficult relationship with his parents. But even then, he had cared for him. He was a filial son, he knew that about himself. Yet he knew that he had gone far already with what he had done.

He cannot let his parents be an exception. Not even if they weren't at fault. Even if they didn't do anything. He can't be lenient. Geto Suguru lets his steps be firm, even if he knows he can't. He could remember his mother's greeting, seeing him. His father's little hey. It was almost like his childhood agaian.

"You staying the night, 'guru?" His mother asks him as she puts down the grocery bags. "I thought it would still be a school night."

"Let him be, dear." His father says, smiling at his wife. "We always work, he's always at school. Let's just enjoy having him around for a little more time."

His mother laughs. "You're right. We might as well enjoy our son being here."

"Oh, 'guru. Is that ketchup stains on your shirt?" His mother gasped, spotting the red stain on his white school shirt. "Take it off, 'guru! Let me clean it. Go and change, you must be tired―"

"You can do it later, dear." His father says, as he starts clearing out the groceries. "I'm sure that you can wash it later. If Suguru wants to spend some more time with us, then wash it later."

His mother pouts at his father's words. "I suppose so."

"Mom, dad." Suguru finally talks, raising his head a little. His eyes meeting that of his mother and father. He catches their attention and he stays still.

For a moment, he could see everything of him in his mother and his father. His mother's purple eyes, his father's tender lips. His mother's long black hair. His father's gentle face. He could see all of him in them. And he's going to destroy it. He's going to ruin it. He has to. There's no other way.

His mother's brows raised a bit confused. "What is it, 'guru? Do you want anything?"

"I'm sorry."

In that moment, maybe they did notice what was wrong with him. After months of suffering, after this whole year, maybe they finally noticed. But they noticed too late. They noticed too late when he already had resolve.

"Hey, son. If there's anything you want to talk to us about, you can." His father says to him, walking towards him. This was the last time Suguru would see his father's kind face. "We love you son, you know that. You can tell us anything."

"I love you too." Suguru whispers, lifting his head whole. He reveals tears pouring from his face. "I'm sorry."

Those were the last words he said to his parents. Those were the last thing they heard from him as his curses took them both one by one and destroyed what remained of who he was.

Geto Suguru sobbed for a long while, looking at the blood. Looking at what he had done. He sobbed and sobbed until nothing could come out. But what was done was done. He needed to move forward. There was only one thing left.

And yet, after all that bloodshed, he went to you. Not out of regret, not out of any moral dilemma, but he was too far gone for that. He had to close all his ties. He had to disappear. Geto Suguru cannot remain. He has to die. And what better way than to end you too.

If Geto Suguru had one thing he was truly happy in his life about, it was you. And you were his everything. You were the one constant, the one person who had always been there.

You, his childhood friend, the girl who had stood beside him through everything. And more than that, you were the love of his life. The woman he'd once dreamed of marrying, of building a future with before everything unraveled.

When Geto Suguru arrived at your house, everything was still. You were sitting alone, your parents gone, much like his had been your entire lives, leaving the house in an eerie silence. You were the last peaceful thing in his world.

And he has to take you away. You weren't meant for this dirty world. You were the purest thing in his life. You can't be here. Not when he wrecks everything whole. You can't, you can't be tarnished more than you will be.

As he stepped into the room, you looked up and your face lit up, just like it always did. You were so beautiful to him. The most beautiful star in his sky. Forever infinitely so pure. His beloved.

You smiled at him like nothing had changed, as if the boy standing before you was still the same Suguru you had known all those years. You were happy to see him, your eyes full of warmth, unburdened by the weight of the horrors he had committed just hours before.

“Suguru!” you greeted him, standing up and crossing the room to meet him. Your voice was soft, affectionate, carrying none of the tension or fear that had filled his life. “I’ve missed you.”

For a moment, in that single heartbeat, he almost let himself believe it—that he could be that man again. The boy who smiled and laughed with you. The one who loved you with every part of himself. He could feel the familiar tug in his chest, the love he had always felt for you, pulling him back from the brink. And for a second, he almost let himself forget.

But deep down, Suguru knew. The path he had chosen was irreversible. He had come too far, burned too much of himself away to ever turn back. There was no room left for love, for innocence, for the life he had once dreamed of with you. He had destroyed it all, and now everything around him had to fall too. Even you.

You didn’t see it coming. You had no idea of the darkness that had consumed him. You looked at him as if nothing had changed—as if he were still the boy who had promised to protect you, to always stand by your side. And that was the part that hurt him the most.

"Suguru, what's wrong?" you asked softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "You look... tired. Are you okay?"

He flinched at your touch, as though your kindness was too much to bear. He turned his face away, swallowing the bitterness rising in his throat. How could he even begin to explain? How could he tell you what he had done, the blood that stained his hands, the lives he had taken?

"I need to tell you something." he said, his voice low, rough with guilt. “It’s... it’s over. Everything.”

You frowned, stepping closer to him, concern etched in your features. “What do you mean?”

He met your eyes then, and you saw it—the shift, the darkness lurking behind them. His expression was distant, hollow. "I killed them. The village, my parents... I killed them all."

Your breath hitched. For a moment, you didn’t understand. You didn’t want to. “What are you talking about?” you whispered, shaking your head, disbelief coloring your voice. “That’s... that’s not possible. You wouldn’t—”

“I did.” His voice was cold, flat, devoid of emotion. “I killed them. They deserved it.”

Your knees buckled, and you stumbled back, eyes wide in shock. You couldn’t reconcile the words he was saying with the boy standing in front of you. “No... no, that’s not you, Suguru. You wouldn’t do something like that. You.... you would never.”

But as you looked into his eyes, the reality of it sank in. You could see it. Little by little, you pieced it all together. You could see the darkness that had swallowed him whole, the monster he had become. And your heart broke, shattered into pieces as you realized what he had done, what he was planning to do.

“I’m sorry, my love.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was no warmth in it. “You have to understand... I can’t let you live. Not like this. Not anymore.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but even then, even as the weight of his betrayal crushed you, you didn’t hate him. You couldn’t. This was Geto Suguru; the boy who had always been gentle with you, who had held your hand on dark nights and made you believe in a future together. Your everything.

Just as much as you were his everything. You loved him. You still do love him. How could you not? He was and always will be the love of your life. You didn’t hate him, but you were afraid. Not of death, but of what he had become.

“Suguru…….” Your voice trembled. “You don’t have to do this. Please.”

He looked away, clenching his fists, his jaw tight. “I do.”

“But I love you.” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I still love you. Even now. Isn't that enough?”

His heart ached at your words, the pain of your love cutting deeper than any blade. He had come too far, done too much. There was no going back, not for him, not for either of you. He cannot stop. If he could do it to his parents, he could do it to you.

But you—you were different. He couldn't kill you like he had killed the others. He didn’t want to see fear in your eyes, didn’t want to hear you scream or beg for mercy. You deserved better than that, better than what the world had given you, even if he no longer deserved you.

So he made a choice. A twisted act of love, the last shred of mercy he could offer.

“I’m sorry, my love.” he repeated, stepping closer, his voice soft now. "You won’t feel anything. You’ll just fall asleep, and... you’ll dream. A dream that never ends."

Your tears fell freely, but you didn’t move. You didn’t try to run. How could you? You were in disbelief. You were in absolute mania, you were in a madness. There was no way you could. You cannot do anything but be still, in shock, and wait for the end. Betrayed, hurt and gone by the one that you loved the most.

Or perhaps, maybe you had always known it would come to this; that the boy you had loved had been consumed by the darkness, and there was no saving him. Maybe it was just fate. Or maybe you were just too kind, too trusting, too good for this world. Suguru would never know.

He held you close, cradling you in his arms, and for a moment, you let yourself believe everything would be okay. That somehow, this nightmare would end, and you would wake up in the arms of the boy you loved, the one who would protect you. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t the case.

He just kept you beside him all through the night, for what felt like hours, maybe longer. Your body was so still in his arms, as though the weight of the world had finally let go of you. You were so quiet, so calm, as if you had already accepted what was coming. 

Maybe you knew, deep down, that the boy you had loved so fiercely, so fully, had become someone else. That he had become this person lost in a sea of hate and ambition, far beyond the innocent dreams you had once shared together.

Geto Suguru wondered if you had always known that it would come to this, that the path he had chosen would inevitably lead you to this moment of no return. That you had always known that he will be your beginning and end. That you would belong to him no matter what, life and in death. Because he didn't. Until now.

“I’m so sorry. I love you.” he whispered one last time, his voice cracking, as he used his curse on you—the one that could curse with a dream that would never end.

You felt yourself slipping away, your body growing heavy, your eyelids fluttering shut. But there was no fear, no pain. Just a deep, endless sleep. Suguru’s heart clenched. He knew what he was about to do. He had already gone too far—there was no turning back. 

You would never have followed him down the path he had chosen, the path of darkness and destruction. You were too pure, too gentle, to walk the same road as him. You would never raise a hand to hurt anyone, even if it meant saving yourself. That was the kind of person you were, the kind of person he could never be.

So, this dream; this was all he could give you. It was the only gift left that wasn’t tainted by his sins.

His curse; a dream that would never end. It was his final act of love, his last attempt to protect you from the reality he had created. With it, he could give you what the real world had taken away from both of you.

He could give you the life you should have had. The life he had stolen from you when he became the monster you never deserved. In this dream, you could live peacefully, forever untouched by the violence and corruption that had consumed him. In this dream, you could be happy. You could be free.

He watched as your breathing grew softer, your chest rising and falling in a steady, peaceful rhythm. And in that moment, Suguru let himself imagine what your dream was like. Maybe it was a simple life, the kind you had always wanted. 

Maybe the two of you were walking through the fields of a quiet village, hand in hand, with the sun setting on the horizon. Or maybe you were sitting beneath a tree, with your head resting on his shoulder, laughing about nothing at all.

He pictured the softness of your smile, the warmth of your touch, moments of joy that you would never experience again, not in the real world. But in this dream, it would be eternal. And most of all, it would be final. It would be the end. And there would be no path to return.

In this dream, the two of you could grow old together. You could have the life that you both had once spoken about when you were younger, before everything had gone wrong. There would be no death, no suffering. Only love. Only peace.

As your body stilled completely, Geto Suguru’s heart ached with the weight of what he had done. He had cursed you, just as he had cursed so many others, but this curse was different. This one was born out of love.

A twisted, desperate love that couldn’t save you, but could at least offer you a kind of peace. It wasn’t enough. He knew that. It was never going to be enough. But it was all he could give.

"I��m sorry, my love." he whispered, his voice breaking in the silence of the night. "I’m so sorry."

He could never undo what he had done. He couldn’t bring you back, not really. But he could give you this, a life lived in the dream of what could have been. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough for you.

But as the hours passed, and the weight of your absence began to sink in, Suguru knew the truth; he hadn’t done this just for you. He had done it for himself. To hold on to the illusion of what he had destroyed. To keep you with him, in some way, even if it was only in the depths of a dream that would never end.

It was all he had left

You never woke up.

“I love you, I love you.” he whispered into the silence, knowing you would never hear him. "Always."

And as he laid you down, letting you drift into the dream he had cursed you with, he knew he would never find peace again.

He had seen it in your eyes when he came to you that night. There was no anger, no fear—just a deep, silent understanding. It wasn’t the kind of acceptance that came from giving up; it was something softer, sadder. 

Maybe you had already resigned yourself to the fact that Suguru could no longer protect you, that the man he had become could only destroy the things he once cherished. He wondered if, in your heart, you had always known that the love you had given him so freely would be the very thing that led to your end.

Or maybe, he thought, you were simply too good for this world. Too kind, too pure. He never really knew. The way you looked at him that night, with the same softness you always had, even after everything. He couldn’t understand it. He had expected fear, maybe even hatred. But there was none of that. Just love, unwavering, even in the face of what he had become.

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HE PAYS FOR HIS SINS WITH THIS. Every evil act has a gift in return. Everything has a consequence. And he knew that you would die with some hatred in you. That you wouldn't go without a fight, without resentment. You would be bound to materialize as the shadow of what life could have been and the regrets he had made it to be.

Because of he had done, your ghost lingers. You were his constant reminder of what he threw away. You were all he wanted and all he had wasted. The person he loved the most and the person he ruined the most. In his mind, he can still feel the warmth of your embrace, still hear the way you said his name with love and trust.

He killed you because he had to. Because his mission demanded it—but the truth is, he didn’t want you to die. He had never wanted that. He had wanted you by his side, forever. But in his quest for destruction, he had destroyed the only thing that had ever truly mattered to him.

Even now, he can feel you. The weight of your absence presses down on him, but so does the weight of your presence. You’re always there, just out of reach, watching him, haunting him.

He sees you in his dreams, in his nightmares, in the quiet moments when he’s alone with his thoughts. He wonders what could have been, if only he had made a different choice. But that world is gone, along with you, and all he has left is the ghost of the life he should have had.

In the end, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve to die. But he had gone too far, and in doing so, he lost the one person who had always believed in him. Now, your love is a memory that torments him, and your ghost is a shadow that will never leave his side.

"Do you hate me?" Suguru's voice trembled as he sat at the edge of the bed where he had last held you.

No one was living here anymore, your parents couldn't bear it. And so he bought the house, with a proxy. And left everything just the way it was. The room still smelled like you. It always will. Everything in this house will be you. Everything in his life is you.

There were faint traces of the perfume you wore, the lingering scent of your skin, and the warmth that used to make this place feel like home. The dresses you liked to wear when you both would go on those rare dates. The smell of your shampoo lingers in your bathroom. He remembered the way his nose would rest against it when you both slept together.

The home had been so abundantly you. Everything about it was you. And now, it was just a hollow space, like a tomb. All his regrets lay there. All his grief resided here. Everything was here. And he couldn't take it. He couldn't abandon it. He couldn't live with it. But he had to. He has to live. He has to live haunted by you.

Because he was sure, hell would be his place. And he would never see you again. He would never know you again. He would only ever live in misery there without you, without traces of you. He could feel his heart beat in his chest, heavy and erratic, waiting for something. Anything. Just a little sign from the presence he could always feel around him.

You didn't answer, not with words. You never did. But there was a weight in the air, a feeling that always hovered when he thought of you. He could feel your sadness, the disappointment that clung to the silence between them. It cut deeper than any curse could.

"I... I didn't want it to be like this, my love." he whispered, gripping the sheets beneath him, the same ones you used to curl up in. His fingers twisted in the fabric, the pressure keeping his hands from shaking.

"I thought... If I let you go gently, it would be enough. It would be kinder. But I was wrong, wasn’t I? I should...I should have taken you with me. Abandoned the world. We could... we could have been together."

There was no reply, but the stillness in the room felt heavier. The silence was cruel. But it was what he deserved. He could imagine your eyes on him, those soft, kind eyes that had once looked at him with nothing but love. Now, he wondered if they would have only looked at him with sorrow.

"I loved you, the most in the world." he said, almost to himself. His voice cracked, the admission pulling something raw from deep within. "I still do. I don't know if that matters now, but I wanted you to know. Even after everything... I loved you more than I loved anything. Even the hate. Even the darkness. But that didn’t change anything."

The words felt hollow, like a confession given too late to a ghost that could no longer forgive. He buried his face in his hands, the weight of the years, of his choices, pressing down on him like a thousand stones. He did this to himself. He did this to you. He had no right to feel sorrow. No right to feel remorse or longing.

"I used to think I could fix it. That somehow, I’d find a way to make everything right. That maybe... Maybe if I succeeded, I’d see you again, and you’d understand. That you’d forgive me." He laughed, but it was empty, bitter. "But I don’t deserve it, do I? I killed you. I killed the woman I loved more than anything in this world, and for what?"

He stood suddenly, unable to sit still any longer, pacing the room. "What did I gain? Power? Control? None of it matters. None of it ever mattered without you."

The room seemed to shift then, the shadows curling in the corners, and for a moment, he thought he saw you. A glimpse, just out of the corner of his eye, like a faint outline of your silhouette. He froze, heart pounding, and for the briefest second, hope flickered in his chest. Could it be?..........

"Suguru......." Your voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it pierced through the silence like a dagger. "Suguru........."

He turned, but there was nothing. Just the dim light filtering through the curtains, the room empty as it always had been. But the voice lingered, echoing in his mind.

"Suguru..."

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, trying to hold onto the sound of your voice, as though he could pull you back into reality. "I'm sorry, my love." he whispered. "I’m so sorry."

For a long moment, there was nothing but the hum of the wind outside, the creak of the old floorboards beneath his feet. And then, in the stillness, something seemed to shift again. The presence was still there, but softer, like a gentle hand on his shoulder, a touch that wasn’t quite there but wasn’t gone either.

"I never wanted this, I…." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I never wanted to hurt you. But I didn’t know how to stop. I couldn’t stop."

There was no answer, but in the silence that followed, there was a warmth—a fleeting warmth, like the last rays of sunlight before nightfall. It wrapped around him, gentle, forgiving, and for just a moment, he thought that maybe you didn’t hate him after all.

But then it was gone.

Just like you were.

Just like everything.

And he was alone again, in the house where you had once lived, haunted by the love he had destroyed with his own hands.

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HUMAN GREED IS THIS, HE LIKES TO THINK. Even though he was the most undeserving being in existence, he wanted to be greedy. He wanted to be greedy when it came to you. He can't help it. He wanted you, no matter what. He yearns for you no matter the case. Even if it's to curse him, he wants to see you again. You became a cursed ghost, bound to him like the shadow of every terrible thing he had done. 

Geto Suguru felt your presence in everything he did, in every step he took. It was unavoidable. When he would wake up, he knows you were calling his name. When he was in his dreams, you would look at him, without saying anything.

You haunted him relentlessly, silently, like a specter of the life he had stolen from you, and from himself. He couldn't escape you. He didn’t deserve to. He doesn't want to. He doesn't think he should. Not when he loves you most.

At first, he tried to ignore it. He tried to pretend that your death had been some kind of mercy, that he had spared you the pain that had consumed everyone else. Because that was what he had thought when he had taken your life. That's what he thought he was doing. He thought he was standing by you.

But as the years passed by, he knew that he was in the wrong. He accepted that he was in the wrong. That he had caused misery beyond compare. Not only for him but the most, for you. You were robbed of everything. Because he willed it.

And you couldn't accept it. He knew you wouldn't. Even if you had not done anything when he had killed you, you resented him. He knew that for a fact. Because you would not have materialized, your spirit wouldn't have lingered if that was the case. You resented him. And you loved him. You wanted him to pay and you wanted to hold him.

You followed him through the days and the nights, never speaking, but always there—watching, waiting. Your eyes, once full of love and warmth, now filled with sadness, sorrow, and something worse: disappointment.

If he was being honest, Suguru hated it. He cannot take how you look at him with those eyes. He cannot understand how it hurt him, how it can put him to the worst of grief. Over and over again.

He hated how tainted you had become because of him, how his hands, once capable of tenderness, had defiled your soul. You were twisted now, corrupted by his actions, bound to this cursed existence because of him.

He had stained you, dragged you into the darkness with him, and now, he could never set you free. You were a cursed being, a remnant of everything pure he had ruined.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you. Every time he breathed, it was like you were just behind him, your breath a cold whisper on his neck. When he fought, when he killed, when he walked among the ruins he had created, you were there, like a silent witness to his sins. You never left him alone. And he had a love and hate for the fact. 

And in the stillness, in the quiet moments between battles, he would feel your sadness radiating from the shadows, like a knife twisted into his chest. The more he tried to push you away, the tighter your curse clung to him, a constant reminder of what he had done.

It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this. You had been innocent. You had been his love, his reason for hope in a world full of hatred. You were the light he had turned away from, and in doing so, he had dragged you into the abyss with him. And now, you were part of that same darkness. A monstrosity of his own making.

He wanted to give you peace. He wanted to free you, to find a way to release your soul from the curse he had placed upon you. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t. He had gone too far, and there was no redemption, not for him, and not for you. This was all that was left of the love you shared—a twisted, haunted existence. You were bound to him in life, and now in death, you were bound to him still.

Suguru couldn’t forgive himself for what he had done to you. He couldn’t bear the weight of knowing that even in death, you had no peace. You should have been free, your soul at rest, away from the horrors of the world he had embraced. But instead, you were with him, suffering, watching him destroy everything, even himself.

"This isn’t what you deserved." he whispered one night, his voice shaking as he sat alone, surrounded by the cold, oppressive air of your ghost. "But that's all I have left of you."

And in his heart, he knew the truth: he had destroyed everything good in his life, including you. Now, all he had left was this haunting, this curse, this twisted version of the love he had once cherished. It was his punishment, the monstrosity of his own creation, and he would carry it with him until the very end.

You began to interact with him, more than just a haunting presence. At first, it was subtle—a cold breeze across his skin when the windows were closed, the flicker of shadows in the corner of his vision, the soft rustle of something moving when no one was there.

But as the days passed, it became more intense. You weren’t just watching him anymore. You were with him, and that made the guilt all the more unbearable. He could tell that you didn't know how to feel about it. One moment, you adored him. One moment you hated him. Each and every time, he took it. He yearned for it. He wants it to repeat over and over.

Suguru could feel it in every brush of cold air, in every movement you made. There was nothing left of the person you once were. You were no longer the girl who had loved him, the one who smiled and laughed, whose touch brought him comfort.

What was left was a hollow shell of your soul, twisted and broken by his actions. The broken body of a ghost that wanted nothing more to be free. To hate him, to love him and to leave him. And yet, despite knowing this, despite knowing that he had destroyed you beyond recognition, he still couldn’t let you go.

It was his greed that bound you, his selfish desire to keep you close, no matter what you had become. Even now, even as you haunted him, as you tormented him with your presence, he clung to you like you were his last lifeline.

He convinced himself that this was you, that this cursed, fractured version of your spirit was the real you coming back to him. He needed to believe it because the alternative; the idea that you were gone, truly gone, was too painful to bear.

In his twisted mind, he told himself that you stayed because you loved him. That even though he had shattered your soul, even though he had ripped you away from everything you knew, you still came back to him. You came back because you loved him the most. And that was enough for him, even if it wasn’t the truth.

But the truth was something he could never fully escape. He knew, deep down, that you hated him. He saw it in the way your spirit lashed out at him at night, the way you hovered over him, watching him with eyes that burned with anger and grief.

Sometimes, when the room grew still and dark, he could feel your hands—those same hands that once touched him with love—wrap around his throat, cold and vengeful, pressing down as if you were trying to choke the life from him. You wanted him dead. He knew that.

There were extreme nights, when you would feel your death over and over again. Where you would feel the anger and the grief and the pain overwhelm you. In those nights, you tried to kill him. Your cold, spectral fingers would tighten around his neck or press into his chest, making his heart race with terror.

He would wake in a panic, gasping for air, drenched in sweat, his body shaking from the closeness of death. And yet, even as he lay there, heart pounding, knowing you had just tried to take his life, he couldn’t let you go. The more you hated him, the more he needed to keep you close.

"I know you hate me, my love." he whispered one night, after waking from another attack. His voice was hoarse, his throat raw from where your ghostly fingers had pressed down on his windpipe.

"I deserve it. I deserve all of it. But… you came back to me, didn’t you? You could’ve gone anywhere, but you came back to me."

There was no answer, just the icy stillness that filled the room, but he swore he could feel you there, hovering just out of sight, watching him with those same cold, dead eyes as you kept pushing over and over again. You wanted him to die. You wanted him to pay. But he could see it too, how you wanted to stop yourself too.

"Even if you hate me, I need you here." he continued, his voice breaking. "Because you love me… you still love me, right?"

The silence stretched on, and for a moment, he almost believed he could hear your voice, your real voice, telling him that it was true. That you did love him, even after everything. That you wanted to say sorry over and over again.

But then, the familiar cold returned, creeping up his spine like the touch of death itself, and he felt your hands again, tighten against his skin. Only this time, colder, harsher, more brutal. More willing to kill. More willing to take his life in revenge. He had never seen you like this before. He had never seen you so angry at him before.

And he knew he deserved it. He knew it is what you should feel. He hurt people, he hurt you. He killed you. You had every right to want to take his life for yours. Even like this. Even after all this time. He would let you. As he had done before, he lay himself defenseless, at your mercy. He was ready to be taken to hell by your angelic arms. Even if he didn't deserve it. You pressed harder, digging into his flesh, as if you were trying to crush him.

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." he gasped, fighting for air, tears blurring his vision as he clawed at the emptiness around him. "I’m sorry for everything! But I can’t— I can’t let you go."

And that was the truth. No matter how much you hated him, no matter how many times you tried to kill him in the dead of night, he couldn’t let go of what little was left of you. You were all he had, even if what remained of you was a cursed, vengeful spirit, twisted by his own cruelty.

You were the only thing in his world that still meant anything. You were the last piece of the life he had destroyed, and he would cling to you, even if it killed him. Because that's the only way he could survive. That's the only way he could continue with this. Life is meaningless if you cannot be there. Even if it's to hurt him.

He hated himself for it. He hated the way his greed had tainted your soul, how his selfishness had turned you into this monstrous version of the woman he loved. The promise he had made was his failure. His eternal mistake. But it didn’t matter. In his broken mind, this was better than nothing.

"I’ll keep you with me, my love." he whispered, even as your fingers gripped his throat once more, sending waves of pain through his body. "Even if you kill me, I’ll never let you go."

For a moment, you were silent.

You just keep pushing on and on.

But he could see it as clear as day.

Tears were falling down on your face.

"I know." He croaks out with a struggle. He could feel his skin turn blue and purple as you kept pushing. "I....I know."

No, he thinks to himself. He will never truly know.

He was still alive.

And you were dead.

▐░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░▌

MISERY HAS COME TO AN END. This was what he had been waiting for since that day he had taken your life. He couldn't wait for it. He wanted for it to be over. He wanted for it to be done. As Geto Suguru lay there, life slowly draining from his body, Gojo Satoru stood above him, his face unreadable but filled with a deep, unspoken sadness.

The air around them felt thick, charged with the weight of years gone by, of a friendship that had crumbled under the weight of Suguru’s choices. But there was something else in that moment, something that Suguru had felt long before Gojo Satoru arrived. There was a presence that lingered, watching, always there. You.

You stood in the shadows, just out of reach but ever-present, as you had been for so long. He could feel your gaze, cold and sharp, cutting through the haze of his fading consciousness. He didn’t need to see you to know you were there; he always knew. Even as his body weakened, even as death crept closer, you were the one thing he could still feel.

Suguru's breathing was ragged, each breath a struggle, but he forced his eyes to focus, searching for you through the mist of pain and regret. And there you were—silent, ghostly, unchanged in the years that had passed since he had taken your life. 

Your face was a mixture of sorrow and rage, just as it always had been since you had become this cursed existence. It was so real, it felt so real. You were here. He had made you this way, and he knew it. The weight of that knowledge pressed down on him harder than any physical pain ever could.

“I knew you’d be here, my love.” he rasped, his voice weak, barely above a whisper. Blood trickled from his mouth, but he didn’t care. All that mattered now was you.

You stared at him, your eyes burning with the same hatred and sorrow that had haunted him for so long. But behind that, there was something else, something deeper that had always lingered between you….love. It was fractured, twisted by the years of torment, but it was still there, in the way you watched him now, waiting.

"I—" He coughed, the pain wracking his body, but he forced the words out, knowing he didn’t have much time. "I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. For everything. For what I did to you. For taking you away. I never wanted it to be like this."

Your expression didn’t change, but Geto Suguru could feel the weight of your emotions. He could always feel it, the depth of your pain, your anger, and the love that had been tainted by his cruelty.

"I don’t deserve forgiveness, my love." he continued, his voice trembling, "I know that. I don’t even ask for it. But… I need you to stay with me." His purple eyes, dark and filled with regret, locked onto yours.

"Hate me. Keep hating me for what I did. I deserve it. Stay angry. Stay hurt. Just—" His voice cracked, and for a moment, the mask of strength he had worn for so long fell away, revealing the broken man beneath. "Just don’t leave me."

You didn’t move, but something in your gaze softened, just for a moment, and Suguru’s heart clenched.

"I need you to keep loving me." he whispered, barely audible now, the strength leaving him with each breath. "Even if it’s hate. Even if it’s anger. Please… don’t ever leave. Stay with me, even in death."

There was silence for a long moment, the world around him fading, the edges of reality blurring. Gojo Satoru’s presence was there, a silent witness to this final moment, but all Suguru could focus on was you. The one person he had loved, the one person he had destroyed.

And in that silence, he thought he saw you nod. It wasn’t forgiveness. He knew that you could never give him that. Not even if you wanted to. So, he didn’t expect that. But it was something, a promise of sorts, that you would remain, that you would stay by his side, even in the twisted, cursed way you had been for so long.

You had no other choice. You were tied to him. Even if you were an angel, you were his to have killed. And you were his to keep. One way or another, you were doomed with him.

As the light in his eyes began to dim, Suguru let out one last breath, his body finally succumbing to the weight of it all. But even as the world around him slipped away, he felt you there, just as he had always wanted. He wanted forever. He wanted you to be bound to him, through love, hate, and everything in between.

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Geto Suguru felt a sense of peace, knowing that in death, you would never leave his side.

As Suguru’s body lay still, life finally left him, your form so long bound to his cursed existence, everything had begun to change. The air around you shifted, the heaviness that had weighed you down for years slowly lifting.

You had been tied to him for so long, your soul twisted by the hatred and sorrow of what he had done to you. But now, with his death, the curse that had held you in this half-life, in this torment, began to unravel.

You felt it—slowly, like a breath you hadn’t taken in so many years. The pull that had kept you bound to him, the chains of guilt, anger, and love, began to fade. It wasn’t quick; the pain was still there, raw and deep, but it was easing, loosening its grip on your soul.

The twisted form you had taken, the vengeful ghost that had followed Suguru through every step, began to dissolve. You were withering away, piece by piece, the curse unraveling like a thread in the wind.

But there was no joy in it. No relief. Instead, as you felt your spirit beginning to break free, something strange and unexpected filled you—grief.

The years of anger, hatred, and sorrow were fading, and with them, the love you had once held so deeply for him, a love that had persisted despite everything. As the curse released its grip on you, tears began to fall, silent and steady, down your ghostly face.

Gojo Satoru stood above Geto Suguru, watching it all unfold. He had always known about you, the shadow that haunted his best friend, the curse that Suguru had created out of his own guilt and selfish love. 

But seeing it now, seeing the way your form withered away, your tears falling like echoes of a past long gone, it struck him in a way he hadn’t expected. He didn’t need to see the full story to understand what you were; what you had been to Suguru, and what he had taken from you.

Your tears shimmered in the fading light, and Gojo Satoru, ever perceptive, caught the faint glisten of them. He could feel the depth of your pain, even now, as you began to fade from the world.

The sight of your sorrow, of your spirit being freed but still weighed down by the lingering grief, hit something in him that he rarely allowed anyone to see. His usual mask of indifference slipped, just for a moment, and he sighed softly.

“Love really is the worst curse, huh.” he murmured to himself, his voice low, almost as though he were speaking to the empty air, to you.

He understood, more than most, how love could bind, twist, and destroy. He had seen it countless times in the lives of others, and now, here, at the end of everything, he saw it in Suguru’s last moments and in your ghostly form, finally free but forever marked by what had been done to you.

You didn’t answer him—you couldn’t. Your form was fading faster now, the last remnants of your curse dissolving into the air. But as you disappeared, your tears fell one last time, a final release of all the pain you had carried, of all the love and hate that had twisted you into what you had become.

Gojo watched you until there was nothing left, just the faint whisper of your presence lingering in the silence. He looked down at Suguru, his once closest friend, and felt a deep, bittersweet sorrow wash over him. He knew that, in the end, both of you had been cursed by love, in different ways. And now, both of you are gone.

With one last glance at the empty space where your spirit had been, Gojo Satoru sighed again, his heart heavy. What a tragedy of a life it all had been.

"Yeah……" he whispered to himself. "The worst curse of all."

[girlnext-do0r]

Jayce headcanons

I need him terribly. Sfw and Nsfw

Jayce who doesn't focus on anything but you after work. Asking if you're hungry, if you're thirsty. Never takes his attention off of you, as if you’ll disappear randomly if he even blinks. ‘Are you hungry?’ ‘Are you sure?’

Jayce who is an AMAZING cook. You cannot tell me he can't cook. If he can make hex-tech he can cook you a big pot of chicken Alfredo pasta. 

Jayce who follows you around like a big ol’ puppy. Big eyes, hands on some part of you. Just wanting the same amount of attention he gives you.

Jayce who has you do his hair and doesn't shut up about it. Even if you just brush it. "My partner did my hair, isn’t it great?” A big fat smile plastered onto his face.

Jayce who is the king of jokes. You’re sad? Jokes about silly things. You’re angry? Jokes about how your brows furrow in a certain way. You want him so deep in you that you’re begging? Jokes about how bad it would be if he just sucked at making you feel good. Anywhere and everywhere. Jokes.

Jayce who is filled with so much guilt when he finds out why you’re upset with him. Even more when you’re mad at him. He sinks to his knees in front of you, big puppy eyes, big hands slipping against your calves while he kisses up your legs asking for forgiveness.  ‘M’sorry… Please, my love, forgive me. I won’t do it again..’ 

Jayce who yearns for praise. Any waking moment you two are doing something together, he’ll ask if he’s doing good. ‘Am I doing this right? Is this good?’ Soft pleas for subtle praise. And loves it even more when you respond and give him everything he wants. ‘You’re doing that so good, baby. That’s perfect, love.’ And he’s a big puddle in front of you. Thanking you every time you tell him how good he’s doing. 

Jayce who is absolutely stupid when it comes to you. Wanting to give you everything. Wanting to make you laugh and smile. But also cry. Not in a bad way, no, of course not. He would never want to make his lover sad. He just wants you to feel good, so good. So good that you’re crying, begging him to keep going. And Most times if he sees you, makes eye contact, he’ll start to cry too. 

Jayce who draws you in his journals, his papers, his chalkboards all of it in the lab. Every hour of every day he’s drawing you. In old clothes, new clothes, no clothes. Every single drawing of you always makes him feel like you're there with him. Though, Viktor teases him, tells him if he doesn't stop drawing you everywhere Viktor might fall for you too. Which for some reason he’s proud of. 

Jayce who’s so proud of you, so happy you’re with him, that he shows you off to literally everyone. Whether it’s in drawings or pictures, writing or describing you verbally, he’s so proud. Praising everything you do, your rights, your wrongs. Outside, how beautiful/handsome you are. Inside, how kind and loving you are.. How good you feel..crying as he sinks in. Voice breaking. ‘M’so.. proud of you- fuc-” 

Jayce who cries when he sinks into you. Whether he’s using your mouth, or something else- though he hates saying he’s “using” anything, especially you. He wants you to feel good too.. So good.. And when he’s close he can barely think, hips bucking, tears streaming down. Hands on you or in your hair.  ‘My love- M’so close.. Please..” Begging you as if you’ll stop as soon as he reaches his high. But let's be honest, you’ve edged him to the point of dumbifacation, I’m sure he can handle it.

Jayce who loves biting. Marking. Bite marks. Sometimes when he’s trying to stop himself from moving he’ll bite your shoulder. Marking it until you let him move. 

Jayce who cries when he cums. Sobbing while telling you how good you feel. Apologizing for cumming too fast, or too slow. 

Jayce who can’t make eye contact with you or he’ll finish right there. Eye contact isn't a no for him, but when he’s needy and embarrassed, looking at you makes him feel so close.

Haven't used Tumblr since like..2016? If this is bad DON'T tell me, let me live delusional.

[bunni-v1]

yes u did write basically this exact thought but thigh riding (absolutely scrumptious btw) but I cannot stop thinking abt riding ifa n him straight up not helping. just him laying back, enjoying the view and teasing you when you start to struggle

You're So Unfair

U made me do the thing where it was supposed to be short and sweet but ended up being a full thing i hate-love you goldie. I also like totally ignored your prompt by the end, but I know your horny ass is gonna eat this up anyway so i don't wanna hear any complaints.

TW: NSFW; Overstimulation; Mean Ifa; Title corny suck my dick; unedited

Info: Ifa x Fem!Reader (fem bodied, use of “ma’am”); NSFW

MDNI (I'm serious)

It’s literally his favorite thing to do. You always know it’s coming too, wether you’re out with friends or quietly working on something in his clinic, the second his hat hits your head you know what he’s got in store for you. While he does do it just for fun and to see you squirm, there’s a pattern of him getting annoyed by something or someone right before he does it.

It’s a subtle proclamation to you and whoever you’re around that Ifa’s going to ruin you tonight, though you really hope Ororon (and certainly not Citlali) never connects the dots. Ownership, not that Ifa’s all that obsessive about it, but sometimes he’s gotta remind people that you’re taken. Sometimes he has to remind you you’re taken, what with how popular you can be, it’s just precautionary. So, he sets the hat on your head with a smug smirk - sometimes he’ll even drop a hint or two of what’s to come, depending on how annoyed he is with the other person.

In the end, it doesn’t matter, you still end up the same as always. Settled nicely on Ifa’s lap, dick fully sheathed inside rubbing all the right places, and he’s just watching. Hands behind his head, still fully clothed, smiling without a care in the world as you try every tactic in the book to get off. Rolling your hips into him, bouncing, circling your clit with your fingers, playing with your tits, different angles, combinations of all of it… nothing worked as well as he did, and he knew it too. It's why he was so damn pleased with himself, eyes crinkling in delight as you tried to get off by yourself.

“Hard time-“ He begins, cutoff by a sharp glare from you. He pulls his hands out from behind his head to show you he means no harm, the cheeky bastard. “‘f you don’t want my help that’s fine, but-“

You groan, “Ifa if you don’t shut your mouth I swear to the archons you’re a dead man.”

You don’t miss the subtle raise of his brow, not that you can be assed to care much more about his teasing right now. Too hot and flustered, just wanting to get off and go to sleep. You readjusted yourself for the fifth time, back into the original position straddling his waist. Your legs were too weak to support much more than that now, thighs practically shaking from all the effort you'd exerted by yourself. Readjusting gives you a second to calm down, close your eyes, and breathe - maybe if you just started over it would be easier. You knew it wouldn't be, not without Ifa's help, but you didn't get to decide when he was done being an ass.

You nearly jump out of your skin when Ifa's warm hands settle on your thighs, somehow hotter than your own flushed skin. He gives you a little squeeze when you peer down at him, face scrunched up in a warning sneer. He squeezes lightly, showing no harm, and you're too tired to do anything more about it - not that you could deter him in the first place. One last deep breath, your final moment of sanity, and you lean forward to place your hands on his chest.

This position makes his dick press up into you at an angle, rubbing just right against your gummy walls. You use him as leverage, pushing off his chest to aid in your steady bouncing. Back and forth, slow and steady, making sure the drags of your walls were just as painful for him as they were for you. You couldn't tell if it was successful, his face was as relaxed as it always was, an easygoing smile ever-present as he watched your expression. The only reaction you got was the slight flexing of his fingers against your thighs, squeezing and rubbing over the soft flesh in quiet encouragement.

You had no idea how he could remain so calm when you were doing everything in your power to drive him crazy. You were going crazy, he felt so damn good inside you, but it didn't seem to affect him. Not the way you were drooling along his shaft, not the way you were clenching around him, and not even your whimpering was enough to get more than a smirk out of him. It was impossible to get off like this, and you couldn't even get him back for it. No matter how hard you threw yourself down, there wasn't enough. You needed his help, you needed him to just flip you around and fuck you into the mattress.

You bunch the fabric of his dress shirt into tight fists, focusing more on the power of thrusts than the feeling. The wet slap, slap, slap of hot skin on skin sounded in the room. Your body was heating up again, skin red hot with fury to finish, breaths shallow, and head fuzzy in your need. Did he really break you by doing nothing? Archons, he was the worst, genuinely the worst. The buttons on his shirt pop open from your angry fisting, and his eyebrows raise curiously at your renewed vigor, but your mind is far far away from here. 'Just a little further, a little harder, a little more and you can finish' you repeated in your head. Sweet little lies to encourage yourself to keep going.

You don't even feel the hat slowly slipping off your head, nor do you realize Ifa's hands are readjusting themselves. Too lost in your desperation to notice until you feel him readjusting the hat with a firm push on your head. It throws you off your rhythm so badly that you sit straight up again, unfocused eyes looking at him in nothing short of confusion. He takes his time readjusting it, though, ignoring you in favor of making sure his stupid ugly hat is settled nicely on your head. The realization dawns on you slowly, that he was more worried about you wearing his hat than he ever was about what you were doing. Your eye twitches when he settles his hands on your waist, squeezing as if to tell you to continue what he had interrupted.

You don't, though. Your chest is heaving, your mind is barely there, your skin is burning hot, and you have this awful tight knot in your stomach that won't come undone no matter what you do. You'd worked your ass off to fuck yourself against a brick wall, and he was more worried about his stupid hat. You wanted to scream, punch his chest, tell him how much you hated him... but instead, you curled over and cried. You were so overstimulated and tired, it was all you could manage to get out. You needed him so badly and you tried so hard and the only thing that bothered him was his dumb hat.

For all it's worth, that got him to react, sitting both of you up and rubbing your back sweetly. You find it in yourself to punch at his chest lightly, which doesn't seem to bother him much. Not when he takes your face in his hands with an unsure smile - seems you'd really caught him off guard with the tears. Good. He deserved it.

"Why're you cryin'?" He asks with hardly restrained amusement.

You give him another firm punch to the chest, "You're a jerk, you care more about your stupid hat than me."

He laughs at you, "That's what did you in, bro. The hat fallin'?"

"You didn't even care until it started slipping," You accuse hotly.

He scoffs, "I wouldn't say that-"

"I was tryin' so hard 'nd I'm so hot and it hurts so bad," you ramble out your woe, Ifa nodding along like he understood it all. You don't know how long you go for, but Ifa hums along diligently like listening to a petulant child. Soothing you so well that you almost forget he was the reason you were suffering so badly.

When you're more level-headed, he tugs on the brim of the hat to get your eyes on him, "You want my help, or are you done for tonight, darlin'?"

"Please?" You whimper, too softened by him to put up a fight anymore.

He smiles sweetly at you, hands sliding down your back to your hips, "Alright, sweetness, whatever you want."

"Take your shirt of first." You say sharply, already tugging at the offending fabric.

He laughs, helping you work it off without any protest, "Yes ma'am."

Once he is uncovered, he leans back into the pillows, chuckling when you look terrified. He doesn't need to verbally reassure you when he carefully takes your hands and pulls them to his shoulders. You brace yourself there obediently, pouting when he takes a second to readjust his hat on your head, then slides his hands down to your hips again. He gives you one last chance to say no, waiting for your nod before he finally gives you the attention you've been wanting all night.

It's much more than you expected after all the sweet cooing and coddling just a few moments prior. The vigor you'd been fucking yourself with earlier had returned, only now Ifa was in charge. His hands brought your hips down on him at a bruising pace, not giving you a second to collect yourself in the flurry of thrusting. It was good though, much better than the nothing from earlier. The head of his cock was bullying your cunt over and over, dragging against each pleasure point and filling you up perfectly.

You could feel the slick leftover from earlier sticking between the two of you, cool against your rapidly warming skin. It made a slick slopping sound with each harsh thrust up into your aching pussy, a reminder of how badly you'd needed him. The harder he goes the louder it gets and the more your mind fogs up. Your body was weak, limbs shaking as they struggled to keep you held up and in position. The only thing keeping you sane was watching Ifa's expression, understanding now why he liked doing it to you.

His eyes were fixated on your body, sliding up and down, unable to decide where they wanted to look most. From the sticky mess where you're connected, to your tits bouncing in time to his rhythm, down to the way your hips sink from his tight grip. Lip permanently caught between his teeth and eyebrows furrowed in concentration, he looked like an art piece from a fancy Fonatainian art gallery. When he catches you staring, the smirk that lights up his face only seems to make it worse.

Your eyes encourage him to go faster, harder, make you fall apart for him. The heat between the two of you makes you feel dizzy, each movement adding to your building pleasure. This time, though, it wasn't plateauing. It kept going and going, climbing and tightening in your stomach, so close. Your arms give out on you, making you fall forward into Ifa's shoulder. Normally he might pull you up by your hair and make you keep going like that, but it seemed he was spent tonight too. Instead grabbing your ass and slamming himself up into you at the new angle. It offered both of you a tighter squeeze, getting Ifa to make noise for once, groaning with each rapid thrust.

The knot in your stomach snaps all at once, pent-up pleasure slamming into your body all at once. White hot pleasure curls up your spine, making you sob into Ifa's shoulder crying out for the archons loud enough for the whole of Natlan to hear.

You hear Ifa mumble, "Hope Mavuika can't hear our prayers."

He continues to fuck himself up into you, prolonging your orgasm enough that you start shaking. Your body was way too used for him to go at it so hard while you were cumming, but that didn't stop him. When you start begging him to stop, he just presses your face into his shoulder and shushes you with kisses too gently for what he is doing to you right now. You dig your hands into his hair, tugging at it almost as a punishment.

Yet, he doesn't stop, just kisses the side of your head, "Just a little more, I'm close, we can stop right after 'kay."

You shake your head wildly as another knot builds up in your core again, and you know you're going to tumble into another orgasm if he doesn't stop soon. He nods, ignoring your protests as he slips his hands under your thighs to pull you along his member. You're drooling into his shoulder now, voice raspy from how loud you'd been crying. The little knot in your stomach was snapping again as his tip rubbed against your gummy little walls, forcing another orgasm out of you. You clench down around him, pussy determined to end the torture as soon as it could, choking his dick until finally, he buried his face into your shoulder. Muffling his moans through wet kisses along your skin, hands coming up to run through your hair.

You are left basking in the afterglow, chests heaving against each other and hands tangling in each other's hair. Neither of you wants to break the quiet atmosphere built up, enjoying the ache between your legs and the warmth of each other. Ifa, always the stickler for aftercare, is the one who finally pushes you up to a sitting position. He smiles at you when your vision focuses in on him, reaching up to readjust his hat for the final time that night.

"Feeling alright, bro?" He asks quietly.

You nod, a little unsteady, but fine, "You're a monster."

He smiles tiredly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple before gathering you up in his arms and pulling both of you up from the bed. "Would a monster draw you a bath and make you a snack?"

You laugh, "My monster would."

[sankttealeaf]

Can I request Tav and astarion but they get trapped together and astarion has to feed but feels like Tav offering isn’t really giving consent since they are trapped and he thinks they feel obligated. Bonus points if they’re also bickering and pining for other

this was so much fun to write! i may have gotten a little carried away but i hope you enjoy!! requests are still open if anyone is interested<3 i'm really enjoying writing these and am open for more ideas!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

trapped

pairing ; astarion x gender neutral!reader

summary ; a wild treasure hunt leads to an unfortunate situation where you find yourself stuck in a cave-in with Astarion. / ao3

other info ; wyll, karlach and gale get special roles in this because i physically cannot stop myself from including other companions in the background. no real spoilers for the game so you're free to read wherever you are in the game!!

warnings ; vampire feeding, blood mention, vague mention of Astarion's past, general conversation surrounding consent (but everything is consensual because that's hot)

word count ; 5.9k (again. went a little wild)

You have no idea how long you have been walking for. It feels like days though you are certain it was only a few hours. The lack of sunlight is starting to get to you and the cramped cave system you are walking through is really not where you wanted to be today.

Was it a little ridiculous to be chasing a lead you found on a note on a dead traveller? Probably. Did you have to convince everyone that it wouldn't be a waste of their time? Yes. But here you are, travelling in the dark to hunt down buried treasure.

Karlach was more than happy to join you, in fact she was the first one who volunteered to be part of the “treasure hunting team”, as she called it. She managed to get Wyll involved and you were happy with this group. As you were getting ready to leave you had a last minute addition to the team - Astarion. Why he wanted to join you trekking through a damp cave, you had no idea. You weren’t going to ask, either.

So, here you are in the depths of a cave system, following a badly drawn map that should lead you all to hidden treasure. It took you way too long to get to this location and the day is already drawing to a close. You are certain you weren’t going to make it back to camp before nightfall. This treasure has to be worth it.

Through flooded areas and tight walkways, the deeper you get into the cave the quicker your hopes that this treasure would be easy to find crumbles. On the map it looks simple, yet the actual cave was difficult to navigate and you are not as prepared as you thought you would be. Perhaps you should have taken the spare rope from Halsin before you left camp. Karlach spends the time picking up interesting rocks she comes across, rushing over to show you with a grin on her face and a list of places to put it back at camp. You have a few rocks she gave to you in your pocket and you are glad that her optimism never falters the longer you travel. Wyll has marked arrows on the walls to keep track of where you have been, which is an idea that didn't even cross your mind until you noticed him doing it. And Astarion is… complaining.

Maybe complaining is the wrong word. It's more like he has been announcing loudly how he thought this would be an easy task to complete. He didn't sign up to be wading through knee deep cave water or scrambling over rocks to get to the next area. Neither did you, but you aren’t complaining about it.

You have managed to drown out his comments for the most part, keeping your focus on following the map and making sure not to get lost. There have been a few times where you almost walked on some loose stone and went plummeting down into the depths of the cave and you really didn't fancy getting stuck down here. You have also noticed the further you went into the cave the more dust and debris that fell from the ceiling. A sinking feeling begins to settle in your stomach and you approach each step with caution.

“Personally I think this map is leading us to a dead end,” Astarion says as he slinks up next to you, ignoring how lost in focus you were. “We should cut our losses and return back to camp before nightfall, don’t you agree?”

The dust from the ceiling drops in front of you again as you pause, reaching an arm out to stop Astarion in his tracks. “Be quiet, would you?”

“Everything alright?” Wyll asks from behind, hand reaching for his rapier in case something jumps out to attack.

Either something was down here with you or the cave ceiling isn’t as strong as you would like. You didn't know which thought was worse. Turning back to Wyll and Karlach, you shake your head slightly. “Be on your guard. Something’s off.”

“This is what I’ve been saying for the past five minutes. Have you seriously not been listening to me?” Astarion asks as you continue walking at a slower pace now, acutely aware of every foreign noise that doesn’t come from your group.

“Not really. I’m trying to keep us alive here,” you reply quietly, eyes darting from the floor to your surroundings in quick succession.

You stop in your steps as you hear the rumbling grow louder, though Astarion keeps talking even after you shush him again. It’s a rolling noise, one that grows the more you focus on it; a sound of rock against rock and a low rumble from above. You cast your gaze upwards and spot the beginnings of a large crack splitting the ceiling. Like pressure on ice, it splits into several off shoots before crumbling beneath whatever weight was on it.

You quickly pull Astarion towards you, dragging him away from the collapsing ceiling as you both fall to the floor with a thud. In an instant, your surroundings grow darker as a wall of stone and rubble barricades you and Astarion from Wyll and Karlach. The dust settles from the sudden upheaval of rock and the noise you have been hearing stops. Shit.

“Are you both alright?” Wyll calls out from behind the rubble and you can hear the sound of stone grating against stone which only cements your idea that this could be an early grave for you both if you didn't think fast.

You glance over at Astarion who is dusting himself off, rubbing at his elbow in a way that makes you assume he landed on it wrong. “We’re alive… just.”

“Does the map show any other ways to get to you? I’m not certain we can budge all this stone…” Wyll asks as you hear the sound of metal against the stone and a disappointed sigh from Karlach. You sit upright, grabbing the map from where it fell onto the ground and frown. It was a one way system, looping back around the way you came once you got to where the treasure was. This pathway is the only way in and out of the cave. You are stuck.

“So, uh… bad news… There’s no other way around,” you reply. The silence that follows on their end is not a good sign, however it is quickly broken by Astarion.

“What?!” He looks at you in dismay, his face falling at the thought of being stuck here. “You cannot be serious.”

“We’ll find a way to get you guys out! Don’t even stress!” Karlach yells. Her voice gets quiet but you can still hear her. “Do you think they’re stressed, Wyll?”

You take a moment to assess the cave-in, trying to budge a few rocks out of place but nothing moves. Perhaps with enough force they could be displaced, but you don’t have anything on that level right now.

“Wyll? Do you have anything that could push the rocks away?” you ask, hoping he has something in or on him that could force the rocks out of place.

“I don’t…” he pauses for a moment, before you hear him click his fingers together as an idea forms. “But Gale does. I know the spell you are hinting at. We can go back and get him?” he suggests, and you run the time it would take for them to get back to camp and back here again in your head. They would be back by early morning at the earliest… Which means you will need to spend the night in a cold, slightly damp cave. You give Astarion a look.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not going to dig our way out. My hands are way too delicate for that,” he says, turning his back to the problem at hand.

“Gale seems to be our only way out, which means we may need to spend the night here…” you tell him.

“Gale? Our only hope? What is he going to do, talk the rocks to death?” He rolls his eyes. “Surely there’s another way out?”

“There isn’t.” You sigh, rubbing at your temples as you begin to feel a stress headache forming. “And he can use spells, Astarion. Gale can shatter the rocks or something. They’re too tightly packed to move them normally. We’re stuck here until he can sort it out.”

“Great. Wonderful, actually. I’ve always wanted to spend a night in a cave. Thanks for this, really!” His voice drips with sarcasm and you have to physically hold yourself back from getting annoyed at him.

“I didn't personally cause this cave in! You think I want to be stuck here with you like this? Gods, you are infuriating.”

Before the argument could escalate, Wyll calls out from behind the wall of rocks that he and Karlach are going to head back to camp and grab Gale. They’ll be as quick as they can, he promises. It gives you some reassurance that you will not be stuck here for too long with Astarion.

The sound of your fellow companions leaving fills you with anxiety as the clock begins to tick on getting you both out alive. This is not how you planned this trip to go and you are starting to wonder if this was even worth it at this point. Astarion didn't seem to think so.

"For your information, I am not sleeping on the floor with no bedroll. This is expensive fabric, I’m not ruining it.” Astarion gestures to his outfit as you begin to set yourself down on the ground, ready to call it a day.

“We’ve camped in worse places, I don’t understand why you’re complaining so much about this,” you say, rummaging through your bag and thanking the Gods you packed some food for yourself.

“At least at camp I have my tent. And all my belongings. And comfort. Do I need to go on?” He shifts in his stance, looking down the tunnel to avoid your gaze.

You glare at him. “Okay, fine, I guess this isn’t an ideal place to rest. But I don’t want to travel too far in case we get lost. And then we’ll probably die down here. Do you want that?”

He sighs but doesn’t make a comment. You take it as a win.

After placing the contents of your bag onto the ground you come to two conclusions. One: the floor is far too damp to start a fire which means you are going to spend the next few hours cold. Two: you have enough food for yourself, but you aren’t sure if Astarion bought anything of use with him. You didn't see him pack much before he said he was joining you. He is still standing when you look over to him again.

“Are you going to stand all night?” you ask as he nods, still avoiding your gaze.

“Like I said. Expensive fabric. I’m not ruining it because someone got us trapped in here,” he replies and you roll your eyes. Wordlessly, you unbuckle your cloak from your shoulders and place it down on the floor for him. The dampness of the floor is most likely going to ruin your nice and expensive cloak, but at least it will stop him complaining. Hopefully.

He looks from you to the cloak and back again, confusion crossing his face and disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “What’s that for?”

“Just sit down. Please.” You start to reorganise the contents of your back, returning the tinderbox and an almost empty waterskin but keeping out the food you swiped before you left. When you look back up, you see Astarion has sat down atop your cloak. You hold back a smile.

The silence that falls over the both of you is broken by droplets of water or the sound of other vaguely ominous cave noises. If your timing is right you are certain it was now early evening. Hopefully Karlach and Wyll have left the cave by now.

“Did you bring any food?” you ask after a little while passes. It’s only when the question leaves your lips that you realise it is a stupid one. The look Astarion gives you only enhances your point.

“Yes, actually. I have three live rabbits tucked neatly away in my bag in case I fancied a snack,” he responds, opening up his pack with a flourish. “Did you want one? I’m so happy to share.” A few books and his trusty thieves tools were the only things you spot before he shoves his bag to the side with a frown. “Of course I didn't bring any food.”

You feel bad holding a stale bread roll in your hand as he tells you that and you lower it down slightly, letting him continue his rant.

“I was considering going to hunt down a cave bat or something. Not what I wanted, but I guess a life of “adventure”-” he says the word with exaggerated air quotes around them, “means that I bury the idea that I’ll ever get a lavish meal again.” He crosses his arms in annoyance.

“You shouldn’t eat a bat. You could get sick. Rabies, or something like that,” you tell him, though you aren’t sure your fun fact is a welcomed sight right now. The look on his face tells you that it isn't. “Halsin told me that after I tried to convince him to keep a family of bats that were living near one of the spots we set up camp a while ago…”

Astarion blinks, unsure of how he is supposed to react to that nugget of information. “Now my meal options have been reduced to nothing. Thanks. You’re truly a beacon of hope.”

An idea pings into your mind as you take in how irritated he is getting, most likely from the lack of food on his part. Not that you have been keeping tabs on when he would feed but from your calculations it had been a while. The last time he fed on you was a week or so ago and you still felt the sting of his fangs against your neck even now. It is an uncomfortable sensation and you were certain that it would only happen again in dire circumstances.

This feels like a dire circumstance…

“You can feed on me if you want.” The words come out quickly before you have a chance to think too deeply about the implications of it. You take a mouthful of bread to stop yourself from taking back the offer.

The irritation on his face dissipates into a softer look, one you didn't recognize. His usual quick remarks have vanished at your suggestion and it takes him a good minute to respond. The minute feels like hours to you as you start to regret even offering. Was it weird? Did you say it in a strange way?

“You don’t… I mean, I’m sure I’ll manage until we get back to camp.” He waves nonchalantly though you are unsure if he really means it.

“No offence but I have noticed you lagging behind a little lately…” you begin, unable to hold your gaze on him. “I just assumed, well, y’know… Plus I have a lot of blood to spare, so I don’t mind.” You cringe a little at that last sentence, wondering why you said it like that.

“It’s really not a big deal, I’m perfectly fine! If need be I can always go and find…” he grimaces at the next few words that leave his mouth, “a cave rat or something.”

You aren’t sure if you should feel offended at how he hasn’t jumped on the opportunity to feed from a person. Maybe it is because of how little you allowed him to feed on you. Maybe he hates you and would rather drink blood from a rat than you. You push that thought away with a frown.

“Astarion, I’m offering this to you if you need to,” you say as you set down your own food. “I’d rather you do it while I’m awake this time.” You see that he is thinking of more ways to put barriers between him and feeding on you and you wish he could be straightforward with you and say no.

“You’re all the way over there and like I said before, I don’t want to get my clothes wet,” he says and you can’t help but laugh at that. “What?”

“You can tell me no, it’s okay. I just thought I’d offer seeing as I really doubt you’ll find many cave rats around.”

He’s quiet for a moment and you can’t work out what he’s thinking. With what little you know about Astarion and his past you can’t help but assume he hasn’t had that many opportunities to say no to things.

He considers his words, opening and closing his mouth a few times before sighing, looking at you with a soft frown. “I don’t want you to feel like you are obligated to do this considering our circumstance.”

You blink in confusion at that, unsure why he feels that way. You wouldn't have offered if you didn't feel comfortable in allowing him to feed, so why was he convinced you were doing this because there was no other option?

“We haven’t built up much of a feeding rapport, that’s all! We haven’t… done this much. It still feels new.” He looks away and it clicks in your head at once - he’s nervous. You are also incredibly nervous about this, but if it means he is at the top of his game afterwards then the pain would be a small price to pay for it.

“I have no idea how else I’m supposed to say this: I’m giving you permission to feed on me, Astarion.” You want to know what he is thinking as your words hang in the air. You want to tell him that this is you telling him it’s okay, you’re wanting this just as much as he needs it.

He waits a moment, like he is expecting you to tell him you're joking or change your mind but it doesn't happen. When he realises you mean this and aren't saying it for the sake of it, he gives you a nod.

"Alright. Only if you're sure," he says quietly, moving over on your cloak to give you room beside him. You move over to sit next to him, glad to be off the cold floor and sitting on something that wasn't as uncomfortable.

"Is this alright? Do you need me to be in a certain position?" you ask quickly, shifting yourself from sitting on your knees to crossing your legs.

"It's easier if you lay down," he replies, quickly adding, "for the blood flow."

"Right. That makes sense." You check to see how much room you have of your cloak behind you before shuffling forward, coming face to face with Astarion for a moment. The sudden closeness causes you to stop in your tracks for a moment, holding his gaze for a moment longer than what is normal.

It's strange how you never really see Astarion without his guard up. Whenever you two bicker it was always with his signature smile on his face and a carefree laugh after each comment. But seeing him here and now with the gentle furrow of his brows and the soft lines etched along his face you can't help but try to memorise it all. Without even realising you found yourself moving a hand up to brush some hair from his face, stopping yourself once it rested ever so lightly against his cheek. You are about to pull away until you feel him lean into the touch, something you had not planned on happening.

The sound of a loose rock falling a little way away causes the moment to break as you pull away from him quickly, ready to move in case there was another cave in.

In an instant, the facade he has is pulled back up. "Are you trying to get me to starve to my death?" he asks once you have realised there was no chance of another incident. You laugh a little in response, cheeks warming up at the moment the two of you just shared.

"Wanted the last thing I saw to be something good. You know, in case you drink all of my blood and I die," you tease, before laying back on your cloak. The reality of what was about to happen is starting to settle in now and you keep your focus on the ceiling above you, not on Astarion.

"I promise you I won't kill you. I don't have any way of getting you back and I'd rather not have to explain to the others what happened," he replies, hands moving to either side of your head to hold himself up. He's at an angle, legs staying to one side of you. It's a little awkward and you can tell it's not ideal for him.

"That's good to hear! I do bring a scroll of revivify with me everywhere so we have a backup plan… just in case." It is hard to keep your gaze on the ceiling now as Astarion leans over you. Your heart pounds heavily against your chest and you cannot work out if it's because you know you are about to lose blood and it was working to keep it flowing or perhaps because of something else you didn't want to admit to yourself.

"Are you ready?" he asks softly, and you can already anticipate the sharp sting of his fangs piercing your skin. You give him a nod and turn your head to the side, exposing your neck to him.

He leans in and you can feel his breath against your neck. It takes everything in you to not turn to look at him, even seeing him so close out of the corner of your eye was enough to redden your cheeks. You hope he didn't notice.

The sudden pain is sharp and takes you off guard, reaching to grab onto Astarion's shoulder tightly to try and take your mind off of it. It's not as bad as the first time he fed from you, but it certainly isn't any better. He shifts positions as you see his legs now straddling you, and if anyone were to suddenly burst down the wall of rock it would be a rather embarrassing encounter for everyone. You forgot how intimate this whole ordeal could be.

You close your eyes as the pain subsides, now giving way to a feeling of numbness that crashes over you. You're very aware of the feeling of his lips against your neck and it would be so easy to let yourself imagine this was something else entirely. But then you move and the discomfort of your blood being removed from your body kicks back in and you have to stop yourself from allowing him to take too much from you. You give his shoulder a soft squeeze, and when there's no response from him you are forced to find your voice.

"Hey…" You mumble, tightening your grip on his shoulder. "Astarion..?"

He does nothing except press himself closer to you, savouring every last drop he could get. Black spots begin to fill your vision and with what little strength you had in you, you smack your arm down into his side to get him to stop.

He pulls away from your neck at the impact, blood smeared across his lips and his pupils dilated - you can hardly see the red anymore. Would it be odd to say that he looked so very handsome like this?

"Shit," he says breathlessly, "might have over indulged there. Sorry."

You give him a weak laugh, feeling your head spin at the sudden blood loss. "S'alright. Just glad you didn't kill me."

His eyes glance back at your neck as you speak, and when he leans you worry that he was going in for round two. You are taken aback when he licks across the area he had just bitten. If you weren't so dizzy you would have questioned him as he sits back, still straddling your waist.

"I'm not about to waste perfectly good blood," he says, noticing the confusion on your face. "Are you alright, though? You look a little pale."

You give him a thumbs up, still laying down. "All good. Missing some blood, that's all."

He nods, watching as you close your eyes again. You could quite easily drift off to sleep right now, the dizziness and the general feeling of not being right only adding to the need to rest. When you don't feel Astarion move off of you, you open one of your eyes to make sure he was okay.

"Are you alright?" you ask, catching him deep in thought.

"Oh, yes, I'm great. Wonderful. Absolutely perfect," he replies too quickly for it to be truthful. You frown, sitting up slowly to be at eye level with him.

"Is there more blood there still?" you ask him, watching as his eyes keep going back to your neck. "If there is, you should get it."

His touch is so soft you cannot discern if he was cleaning up some blood on your neck or if it is a kiss. When it happens again you realise he isn't cleaning up your neck but kissing over the spot he had just bitten. It is a strange feeling and one you didn't expect to feel after being drained from your blood, but as he moves along your neck leaving faint kisses in his trail you wonder if perhaps he had similar feelings towards you as you did him. You have always been happy to push those feelings down, keeping your focus on the main goal at hand. But here, trapped in a cave with no one to bug you to keep on track, maybe you could indulge yourself this once.

Astarion pulls back from your neck to look at you, his lips are still tinted a softer red from your blood and you find yourself staring at them for a little too long. Gently, you place your hand back on his cheek, smiling when he leans into the touch again. His hand moves to cover yours and you are still in shock at how soft his movements are.

The gap between you both closes slowly and you are aware of what this would lead to. Playful remarks and comments about hooking up were one thing, but this was not playing out like how you imagined it would. You didn't picture yourself being stuck in a cave with him, for starters. You want to ask him if this was okay, if this was even allowed.

You opened your mouth to speak and are suddenly caught off guard by the sound of more rocks falling elsewhere, echoing through the cave. The sudden sound causes you to flinch as you both turn to look in the direction it came from, further along the tunnel. At least it wasn't the way you came, you thought.

Astarion looks back at you after a moment and clears his throat, sitting back to put some distance between you both.

"You should get some rest. I'll, uh, keep watch in case the others turn up," he says quickly, climbing off of your lap in a clumsy manner. You can't help but feel slightly sad at the loss of his touch, but sleep was begging for you to join it.

"Wake me if anything happens," you tell him as you lay back down, already closing your eyes. You don't hear his response as sleep greets you with open arms.

Sounds of your name being called over and over again wakes you up from your slumber. Your head hurts and you feel as if you've been fighting fifty different battles and didn't win one of them. There was a pressure on your chest and as you come to you are met with a mess of white hair laying on you, Astarion's arms wrapped tightly around your midriff. You smile softly at the scene, hand moving to brush through his hair slowly. He hums in response but the moment is broken by your names being called again.

"Are you both still alive?" It's Wyll, you note, which only means he and Karlach had either gotten lost and returned back or they had Gale with them.

"We're still here!" you call back, still groggy from sleep. "Is Gale with you?"

Gale's voice is heard next and you have never been so happy to hear him speak. "The one and only!"

"Thank the Gods. Gale, I promise you that I will buy you whatever you want when we get to Baldur's Gate, just please tell me you have a way to get us out of here," you say, hoping that he had good news with him.

Astarion stirs from all the loud conversation, pressing himself closer to you in an attempt to drown out the noise. You move your hand from his head as you try to sit yourself up. It doesn't work.

Gale continues speaking. "I have a way to get you both out, don't you worry. I will need to ask you both to stand as far back as possible. I mean it. Far. Back."

You give Astarion a shake of his shoulder, trying to wake him. "Hey. Get up. We're almost out of here."

"This is not a good time to wake me up," he grumbles, swatting your hand away with a groan. "Too early."

"Gale is literally on the other side ready to blow this wall of rocks up. Wake up." You continue to shake him awake, ignoring the groans of protest.

He turns to look up at you with pleading eyes. "He can wait five more minutes. Please?"

You want to say yes, to give in and allow himself a moment of comfort. But your back hurts from laying on rock for hours and you want nothing more than to sit in your own tent and get some fresh air. You sit up quickly, causing Astarion to lose his place on your chest and sit up with you.

"I cannot believe this betrayal," he exclaims dramatically, giving you a half-asleep but playful glare. "Being this pretty doesn't come easy, you know. I need my sleep."

"You don't even sleep," you mumble, ignoring how your head sways as you push yourself up to your feet. "And you're pretty enough already." You blame the aches and pains for that last comment, though it doesn't seem to go past Astarion as quickly as you wish it did.

He grins. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Shut up and move your things. I want to get back to camp." You begin to pack away your belongings, shoving things back into your pack and waiting for Astarion to do the same. He picks up your cloak and gives it a quick brush off before putting it on himself. You're too busy putting distance between yourself and the rocks to even notice this. He slides up next to you after a moment, arm wrapping around your shoulder with a grin.

"Okay, I think you're good to go!" you yell, hoping Gale can hear you through the wall. You get confirmation almost immediately afterwards.

You feel Astarion lean towards you as you wait. "I think we should get trapped together more often. Who knows what else it could lead to?"

"More puncture holes in my neck, probably," you mumble in response. He laughs, his lips meeting your neck again just under the place where he drank from you hours ago.

"But you're so delectable," he whispers and you glare at him. The blush rising on your cheeks tells him you aren't mad.

With an almighty crash of thunder, the rocks that made up the wall you have been trapped behind suddenly disperse, the larger ones shattering and the smaller ones turning into dust. You cover your face at the impact and when your ears stop ringing you turn to see Gale, Wyll and Karlach on the other side.

Karlach immediately runs over, arms outstretched and embracing both you and Astarion without thinking.

"I'm so glad you both aren't dead. I have no idea how I'd break the news to Scratch and the Cub! Or everyone else, I suppose," she says once she lets go of you both, your clothes slightly singed by the warmth emanating from her.

"Did you find the treasure?" Gale asks when the three of you walk back to him and Wyll and is only slightly disappointed when you shake your head no. "Ah, well, nothing lost then! I'm sure there's plenty of other treasure to be found. Hopefully not in caves, though. Might I suggest avoiding them in the future?"

"Suggestion taken. I miss sunlight," you reply, feeling Astarion's hand move from your shoulder to the small of your back.

"We had fun though, didn't we? A cave-in can certainly bring people closer together. Right, my dear?" Astarion grins, giving you a wink.

"As much as we all would love to know what that's insinuating, we really should get out of here before there's another freak accident," Wyll suggests, gesturing to the way out.

You nod, wanting nothing more than to breathe fresh air and be away from cramped spaces.

The journey out of the cave is long and feels longer due to the woozy feeling of having a little less blood than you started the journey with. You find yourself leaning on Astarion for support every now and then and he is more than happy to wrap an arm around you to keep you up. The two of you are at the back of the group; you didn't want your slow pace slowing everyone else down.

"I never thanked you earlier," Astarion says quietly to you, a look of sincerity on his face.

"Oh, it's no problem," you reply, nudging him with your elbow. "Just don't almost kill me next time."

"Next time?" He raises an eyebrow with a grin. "You'll allow me to go for seconds?"

"As long as you treat me as nicely as you did afterwards, I may consider it." Thinking about the almost kiss that happened after makes you blush and Astarion shrugs casually, though you can spot the faintest hint of pink spreading across his cheeks.

"Maybe. We can always do that without the biting part," he suggests. "Only if you want."

"I'd like that." You give him a smile, leaning over to press a kiss onto his cheek. "Only if you want, too."

The first sign of daylight causes you to pull away from him before he can respond as you rush over to the opening of the cave with Karlach, thankful to get fresh air again.

Astarion watches you go, listening to you cheering and praising Gods you didn't believe in. How quickly his plans could crumble. How quickly you made him feel accepted. There was a knot present in his stomach that was slowly untangling itself the more he thought about intimacy with you. Perhaps, one day, he would want that with you.

[cowpokemythology]

immortal he, return to me.

playlist pairing: ghost!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader word count: 8.8k description: the sea swallowed your heart the day it took your husband to a watery grave, two lives cruelly ripped away by the stranger's greedy hands. but, you should've known, he was too stubborn to stay away for long. tags: angst, smut (18+), lots of grief, mentions of canon-typical violence, gore?, spoilers for fire & blood/s3, lots of talk of death and the supernatural, inconsistent and unclear ghost lore because it's just vibes. a/n: this is my first fic, please bear with me. ALSO first time writing smut, sorry if it's cringe as hell. also, sorry it took me ten million years, life kept me busy. from here on out, i will not tease with false promises of release dates lmao. the quote in the beginning is from paradise lost by milton.

“our state cannot be severed, we are one, one flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself." 

The beaches of Dragonstone crawled with winter’s mist and your Jacaerys was dead.

He had promised you a safe return. 

You’d stopped him before he’d left that morning. Pleading, a hand clasping one of his own. The way his calluses, worn from swordplay and dragon riding than any real work, brushed against your skin is still imprinted into your memory. You do not know why your mind clung to this empty detail. Perhaps, you knew even then, that this would be the last time you’d see your husband. 

Your touch had been gentle, easy for him to break through if he wished to brush past. He’d stopped for you, though. When his honeyed eyes had met yours, they were softened. 

“My love…” He’d murmured, a low lilt. The way he moves back into your orbit almost makes you believe that there’s an invisible tether, endlessly tugging you back into each other.

He raises your hand to his plush lips, brushing them across the ridges of your knuckles. His other slides around your waist, melding to the small of your back and drawing you close. The familiar smell of cedar and dragon smoke envelops you, something so uniquely Jacaerys that he never could wash away. The warm lines of your bodies pressed against each other. Your chemise is a flimsy barrier between the heat of him, the blood of the dragon. You’d always privately thought that if anyone could simply feel how warm he was, that any barb of bastardry would be swallowed. You could still feel it through his thick doublet.

Your heart hurts with his affection, worry carved into every crevice of your face. If you could, you would tug him back into bed. If he was entwined with you, beneath the safety of your furs, he would face no danger. You would keep your sweet boy with constellations of freckles and raw umber eyes and he, in turn, would keep you.

You were too old, now, to hide like children.

He sees this, of course he does. He speaks before you can put voice to the multitudes of protests on the tip of your tongue.

“I must go.” He tells you, the words whispered against the back of your hand. You see the resignation in his expression, the trepidation. But a fire burns there too. One that has been raging since he’d returned from the North to a keep bereft of Lucerys’ laughter. 

He’s been hungry for this, to fight, to avenge his brother, to win back what his mother had had stolen, to prove himself to those who sneer at his parentage. He’s been reeling against the council for months to put him to use. That much, you can understand. You cannot rebuke his going, however you can’t help but lament over the peril of it all. 

“I know…” You reply in a resigned breath, your eyes memorizing everything about his form.

He hums in response. His hand releases yours in favor of cupping your cheek, you can feel his warmth branding your skin. You lean into the touch as if you’re freezing. He gently drops his head to slant his mouth over yours, not yet a kiss.

“I will return to you, you must know that. I do not think even the Stranger himself could keep me from you.” Jacaerys whispers against your lips. It was a promise of the cosmic kind, but uttered with the naivety and assuredness of youth. You were both hardly twenty, you had lives stretched out for leagues in front of you. It did not seem plausible, then, for such strong lights to be extinguished. 

“Do not tempt him.” You murmur in response, a furrow in your brow. You’ve never been pious, but this day was as good as any to be superstitious.

The puff of breath that leaves him is amused and then he’s kissing you. 

His mouth is pillowed against yours. You respond to it eagerly, eyes fluttering shut as you melt into him. Soft hands curl into his padded doublet, pressing yourself so close it seems you’re trying to meld your body to his. And maybe you were. If you could, you’d thought you’d make a home for yourself in his ribs and stay there for all eternity. His hands flex slightly around your waist, a pleased noise leaving his throat.

You try to pour your prayers to him through your lips, to imbue him with safety. He kisses you as he always does; sweet, gentle, and all-consuming. There is a withheld passion in him that sets you aflame. He makes your body buzz and your blood sing.

The kiss does not last nearly long enough. Dark ochre eyes flutter open to meet yours, his lashes like those of a doe’s. Jacaerys has always been heart-achingly beautiful. Every bit of him, perfectly sculpted by the loving hands of unforgiving gods. You wondered if they’d regretted it, if they’d melded his cupid’s bow and carved out sharp shoulder blades and decided that this beauty was to be ephemeral.

“Come home to me.” You breathe out, beseeching him with your gaze.

Jace’s gentle smile in return is woefully disarming. His thumbs brush over your hips, as if he too, were memorizing the feel of you. The way the pads of his fingers catch on your nightdress make you shiver. He presses a final, gentle, kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.” The words are pressed into your skin.

His warm hands retract from you regretfully, like waves receding from a stalwart shore. His eyes take you in for a moment more before, in a turn of red velvet, he’s gone. The thud of the mahogany door shutting behind him is a resounding omen of sealed fate.

-

When the dragonseeds do return, their heads are hung low in face of their costly victory. Your husband was not among them, nor was his steed. It seems the dragons sensed the loss as keenly as their riders. The scaly beasts seemed deflated, mournful. Far less proud than how they’d left, with a true dragon prince at their helm. Their chuffs are low, quiet. Everything was stilted, heavy. The stench of sulfur and the sharp tang of iron that hung in that room has not left you since.

It is Addam of Hull who tells you. He kindly takes your arm, guiding you a short distance away. With your heads bent towards each other; he tells you of your husband’s bravery, his strength, and his fate. Of bolts embedded in tender flesh, numb fingers grasping to ship wood, and the blood of the dragon returning to the salt of the sea. 

Many eyes, draconic and human alike, averted their gazes as a raw cry tore itself from your throat. Your hands clawed at your chest for a heart that no longer existed. It lay at the bottom of the sea, with so many other sunken wrecks and bones.

-

The light has gone out of your life. The world around you is grayed and dull, the fog and winter clouds invade in his absence.

You have not known life without Jacaerys, and that remains true even now. You’d been at each other’s sides since the glow of youthful infancy, to the awkward, jutting limbs of adolescence, to the shining pride of (what you could barely call) adulthood. The yarn of your fates, your souls, were intertwined. Together, you formed a tapestry that was supposed to tell the tale of a prosperous king and queen. You knew him better than you knew yourself. You knew his skin was as soft as downy petals, the smell of the oils you’d run through his curls each night, the way his warmth bled into you, and how his smile felt pressed into your collarbone. 

You knew his kindness in the way he’d pressed daisies into your palms as children, you knew his strength in the way he wielded steel easier than breathing, you knew his frustrations in the tick of a jaw over a comment of dark tresses, and you knew his tears; hidden away in privacy. You knew the way they’d shimmer in his eyes until he could not withhold them any longer, the defeat in a downturned head as the first droplet slid down his cheek. You’d hoped he’d always know the feel of your lips as you kissed them away and kept them close to your heart.

You would never kiss him again. Nor would you ever know him, feel him.

Without him, you’ve withered, more phantom than woman. 

You did not leave your bed for two weeks. It is a sea you drown in. It’s much too vast without another body to keep it warm. You shiver despite the furs piled upon you and you hardly ever find sleep. When you do rest, it is fitful, light, or forced by exhaustion. If you’d had the capacity to think of it, you would’ve been surprised that you did not drown in your tears.

You keep your curtains closed. Gone are the days when you invited a welcome sea breeze to billow through your rooms, there was no longer a Velaryon prince to share in it. You refused to lay eyes upon the endless azure blanket that had stolen your breath from your lungs. 

It was much like a tomb, your rooms. It was shrouded in constant darkness. You did not even permit a lit candle or hearth. You would not feel any more warmth, even should your chambers set alight with you inside. All comfort seemed to be extinguished with the soul of Jacaerys.

There was a constant pain in your chest, an ache where your heart used to reside. It was bleeding, seeping out of your every pore. It was so empty yet the weight that pressed upon you was greater still. It was difficult to breathe without him. This weight kept you lying, motionless, in a bed that was now only yours.

 It took all the energy you had to force some of the food your handmaiden brought you down your throat. It all crumbled like ash in your mouth. 

At first, the sobs that had racked your body had hurt your ribs. No comforting hand of a maester or handmaiden could rouse you from these fits of grief. It felt pathetic but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Who could blame you? You’ve lost part of yourself. You’d never hurt so much.

It came in fits. Lots of your time was spent in a haunted daze. Unseeing eyes gazing at a wall or ceiling, hands tangled in furs drawn up to your chin. It was as if your mind refused to live in a world without Jacaerys in it, therefore it would not take part in it. The passage of time meant little. You would wake and soon it was nightfall again, another day spent bleeding out in bed as you stared at uncaring stone. 

You can see the concern shining in the eyes of your maids. You can hear them murmuring to each other as they prepare your chambers, when they think you sleep. About your ashen skin, your frailing body, of the heartache that has drained every bit of life from you. 

At some point, and you really can’t remember when, you’d drug one of his old cloaks to bed with you. It had been in a moment of haziness in your grieving stupor, a late night when a storm raged not just in your heart, but outside the walls of Dragonstone. Your bare feet had drug across the floor with a soft scrape, leading you to his old wardrobe. A cloak, of deep crimson, found its way into your hands. It was an old one, one he had not donned for some time. But it was soft and weighted in your hands. Sheltered amongst his other dressings, it smelt distinctly of him. Of rosemary oil, old cedar, the smell of Vermax’s scales, and the underlying hint of the specific musk that clung to his skin. The fabric has not left your hands ever since.

You distinctly remember a time, in recent memory, when he’d returned late to your chambers from flying with Vermax. He’d left for the dragonmount with a tick in his jaw and a deep furrow in his brow, frustrated by his perceived coddling by those at the council and his own mother. Sometimes, there was a restlessness in him that not even you could settle. You knew, far too well by now, that it is a burden he must unleash in the sky. When he’d returned; his shoulders were unburdened, his curls windswept, his cheeks tinged with lasting nips from the air, and a small smile revealed a small dimple in his cheeks . A light sparkled in his eyes as he laid eyes on you, his wife.

You’d laughed as he swept you into his arms. You had soon wrinkled your nose and wriggled in his hold as he buried his face to your neck, his nose was still cold from outside. His curls tickled your chin and jaw, the smell of dragon was thick and cloying in your nostrils.

“At least wash first, Jacaerys. Your smell will transfer to me.” You’d huffed, exasperation laced with ever present affection. He’d merely hummed in response, a bright smile spreading against your skin. His arms pulled you even closer, melding your bodies together as he lent over you. He nipped lightly at the skin of your neck in retaliation, making you jolt in his arms. Any additional scolding died on your tongue as he brushed those sinful lips up your throat to smother your face in kisses. 

You would give anything to smell the heavy scent of cinders and sulfur on him again. He could smell of volcanic ash for the rest of your life and you would not care so long as he was breathing in your arms. You lay, prone with suffering, clutching the cloak to your chest. If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could almost pretend he was beside you again. Your tears soaked the fabric like blood seeping through gauze. The smell of him faded by the day, and you still refused to let go. Your face was pressed to the fabric, almost as if you wanted to smother yourself in it.

“Please, please, please.” You mouth into the red expanse, begging for a return of something that will never come.

You could only find sleep clutching the linens, like a child with a prized blanket or doll.

-

It is on the morn of the third week without him that you find the strength to leave your chambers. That is when he begins to come back to you. -

Since rising, you can hardly stand to be in the keep of Dragonstone. It is too empty. Barren. You drift the halls like a ghost, palored and untouchable. The twisting walls and damp darkness feel all too much like a crypt.

You have not seen the Queen since the news of her son’s death. The servants whisper to each other in fear, about the mother who has had all love burned away from her with the loss of her eldest. You do not try to go to her, you fear to lay eyes upon the woman Rhaenyra has become.

Baela is on the back of Moondancer more than ever before, flying the dragon to near exhaustion every day. You understand it, you can no longer stand the stifling labyrinth of the keep yourself.

That is why, today, you’ve taken to the beaches. 

You had scarcely allowed your handmaidens to run a comb through your tresses before you’d been up and moving. You’d thrown a woolen dress over your chemise and some shoes before abruptly departing, with his cloak slung over your shoulders like a blanket. You’d ignored the confused calls of your helpers, you’d apologize to them later. The walls had felt as if they were closing in on you, suffocating you. You’d remained in there too long. A moment longer, and you’d felt as if you’d be buried under ancient rubble. It’d caused a thick panic to seize your throat, you needed escape. You couldn’t breathe that stale air any longer.

You keep your eyes trained on the sand in front of you. You refuse to acknowledge the water, as if that would give it power over you. The sound of the sliding waves, coming, receding, and coming again, seemed to taunt you. You are glad for the heavy fog. It covers you like a shroud, hiding your heavy grief and sunken disposition to the eyes of all, including the gods.

The sea is greedy and unknowable. It has stolen from you, it mocks you. Yet, you cannot help but feel the nostalgia and comfort from the constant white noise. When it was sunny, he used to walk arm and arm with you along these very same shores.

The sand tracks your steps, a reminder of the breath that still fills your lungs and your blood still flowing through your veins. Even if you were missing your heart. The wind blows your hair around you, the occasional wisp of it brushing your cheek. The cold bit at your nose and cheeks, you kept the lower half of your face buried in the crimson cloak around your shoulders.

You do not know how long you walk for, you’re in a daze. You could have made entire laps around the isle and you would not notice. Your eyes flick up once, to gauge your surroundings, that’s when you see him.

And it is him. You know it is. You’d know him anywhere, even at this distance. It’s the faint outline through the fog, tousled curls, a billowing cloak, a lithe form. It makes you stop in your tracks, your breath evacuating your lungs. 

You’re left stunned. Your body doesn’t know what to do with itself. Your stomach drops and your heart hammers painfully in your chest. Your limbs are paralyzed. Your eyes are trained on him, chest scarcely moving with breath. You watch him as… he seems to be watching you. The world has frozen. Your body doesn’t know whether it should be afraid, hopeful, or some other third emotion.

Have you gone mad? Has your grief touched you so deeply that it has irrevocably harmed your mind? Your gut twists with the wrongness of it all, of this. He was dead, you knew this. The ocean holds its breath. You feel a sweat break out along your brow, alarm bells ringing in every section of your mind. And that isn’t right, this is your Jacaerys. That was him. It was him-

The tether that seems to immortally tie you together tugged at your heart, reeling you in like a fish on a line. Every fiber of your being buzzed with the urge to rush to him, to combine his sinews with your own so he might never leave you again. You want to cling to him so tightly that your nails would draw rivulets of fire and blood.

My love, my love, my love-

You shut your eyes tightly, taking three deep breaths. For an instant, the scent of cedar engulfs you so completely that it sucks the air from your lungs. There’s a brush of fingers across your cheek that causes your body to shudder, they are frigid. A faint whisper of a low, regal voice reaches you on the wind.

In a moment, it’s all gone.

 You open your eyes. There is no one around you. The fog is empty of all its secrets. The sea continues sighing as it always does. The smell of something earthy and pungent reaches your nose, the wind is picking up. A storm is on the horizon. 

You stand there for a moment longer, every sense searching for any trace of him.

When the rain starts, you’re forced to turn and pick your way back to the keep.

-

The storm that began when you left has not ceased, that does not stop you.

You keep coming back to that spot. Over and over and over again, hoping for just a glimpse of him, any hint.

You feel as if you’re going mad. You can feel him there, something of his presence. You know him, you would know him anywhere. He’s there, he’s here, somewhere. He’s trying to get back to you, like he promised.

And yet, you do not see another trace of him for a long while. You keep returning to the shore each day. It’s almost an obsession, the search. You pace around the beaches, heading down at dawn and only coerced to retreat at nightfall.

There is one day when you break down. You stare down the Narrow Sea with angry eyes. Your hands and chest tremble with the extent of it. Why won’t it reveal him to you again? Why must it take everything? Why must it withhold him?

You wade into the surf, despite the cold air around you. It laps at your calves. It begs for you to wade closer, to dive beneath it’s all knowing depths to drag your heart back to the surface. The laughing white tops dance and swirl, turning your legs numb only after a few moments.

In the turn of a moment, you snap. You curse, spit, and cry at the ocean. You kick and throw sand like a woman deranged. You hiss out venomous words of hatred and raving disgust. You beg and cry for your husband back. You offer the ocean anything it wants.

The outburst leaves your chest heaving. You slowly slide to your knees, sobs wracking your chest as the rain soaks your clothes… his cloak is heavy on your back. It almost feels like cool arms around you. The waves soak your dress, the push and pull of the tide causing your body to lull to and fro.

A knight of the Queensguard finds you just after sunset, still sitting where you collapsed. He thinks you are almost dead. Your hands tremble, lips blue, eyes glossy. Your whole body is wracked with powerful shivers, yet you hardly notice when he calls out to you. Your gaze is still trained on the dark ocean, waiting for any slight glimpse of brown hair or pale skin. -

Your efforts, it seems, are not in vain. You sense the traces of him constantly after that. 

One morning, you catch the tail end of his scent on your sheets. You spot a red flash of velvet turning down the hall, hear murmurings that sound strangely like his voice when you stand on your terrace, feel a caress on your cheek when you cry, feel the brush of curls under your chin when you try to rest at night combined with a heavy weight on your chest.

He is trying to come back to you, you know it. 

Every day he gets closer. -

You have not dreamt often since his death, but when you do it is always the same thing.

It begins with you falling. The air is so limitless that you think you might be flailing until you turn to dust. It is not dark, nor silent. The air is bright and you can see clouds above you. Around you, the screams of men, the roar of dragons, and splintering wood consumes your hearing. The smell of sulfur and burnt flesh makes your stomach turn.

Then you hit the water. Your body is wracked with pain from the impact, every limb stings. You’re stunned with shock and cannot move, sinking. You will drown here. Up and down are confused in your scrambled mind. When your lips part for air, water invades like a greedy interloper; filling your lungs and aiming to take your life. Your limbs flail and claw towards where the light shines down, reaching for you.

Finally, you break through the waves, coughing and sputtering. Your lungs heave with the exertion of spitting up water while simultaneously fighting to get air in. Legs kick beneath you to keep you afloat, though every movement shoots pain through you. When you hit the water, it felt like hitting hard earth. Your body burns, exhaustion begging you to just cease and let the sea claim you.

Adrenaline burns through your veins like fire. You cannot give up. You made a promise.

A piece of driftwood bumps into your side, a savior amongst the chaos. You cling to it, your hands shaking. If you could just hold on, hold out, you could make it back to her. What else could you possibly do? And Vermax… Oh, poor Vermax-

You don’t have the time to process your dear companions death before you feel some split through your shoulder. It jolts you forward, your chin smacking against the rough wreckage you hold onto. Then, the pain blooms through you- white hot. You grunt, your eyes screwing shut. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before, it reaches deep within you and feels like it’s trying to break through to your chest. The wound throbs, radiating through your whole body. Blood gushed around the crossbow bolt in your back as if it was eager to jump in the water below. Before you can even think, another pain embeds itself in your lower back, making your muscles lock as you cry out. You lose control of yourself for a moment, your body slipping down your refuge. You dig your nails into the wet and decaying wood, splinters embedding themselves under your skin.

Something wet and warm fills your mouth, it tastes like iron, it dribbles down your chin like a drunkard's dribbling wine. It’s getting harder to hold on, your body fighting between survival and giving into the pain. But you must. You’ve no choice but to hold on. Someone will find you, someone will help-

You must make it back to your mother, your family, to your heart…

Something rips through your neck, cruel iron revealing red muscle to the world. Everything goes black. -

You wake choking. Your lungs take a few moments to suck in a full breath. You’re panting, lying on your side, Jace’s old cloak clutched in your fingers. In the darkness, the deep red seeps through your hands like his blood. Your eyes are cloudy with tears, a sob lodged in your throat. The recurring dream rarely lets you sleep through the night without grief. 

When you shift, you feel a warm arm around your waist, a body pressed at your back.

It makes you freeze, your veins turning to ice.

He notices this. He has always been so attuned to you. That remains so, even in death. A gentle shushing reaches your ears, a toned arm tightening around your side. Curls tickle your neck, his nose bumping against the hard bone of your shoulder.

“It’s alright, my love. It’s me, I promise.” The royal timbre of his voice brushes over your skin. And it’s so real… so tangible. You can feel him against you, his voice is right at your ear, and, when you look, you can see his arm around you… As if his death and these past months were all but an extended nightmare. 

Was it?

“Jace?” You breathe, voice wavering. You can almost taste your heart in your throat, your palms becoming clammy. You move to turn to face him but his grip around you tightens, holding you still.

“I don’t-” He stops. When he speaks again, it’s quiet. “I don’t wish for you to see me... like this.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, something like fear gripping your heart. Unease takes hold of you and you shift against him, breath picking up.

“What-” You start, still trying to wrap your mind around what was happening. He’d made his way back to you but what had happened? What did he mean?

Your words are cut off by the brush of lips over your skin, skimming across your shoulder. His lips are as plush as you remember. They brand themselves into your memory once again. It makes you shudder. He begins to press soft kisses to the crook of your neck.

“I am sorry it took me so long…” Jacaerys begins, his arm around you shifts so he can rub circles into your stomach. The touch causes your eyes to flutter shut, it was a familiar comfort. “But I’m back now. I swear, I will never leave you again.”

Your mind fights against itself. You struggle to even wrap your head around how he’s managed to appear like this when you’ve been trying to catch glimpses of him for weeks. On the one hand, you know he’s dead. He is not alive, he has not tried to convince you otherwise. What was he? Should you be indulging in something so… unnatural?

The other part of you begs all rationality to quiet. He was Jacaerys wasn’t he? Your heart, your husband… the person you’ve been begging to return to you. He has granted your wish, has he not? You are in no position to be picky about the way in which he has done it. You would know him even at the end of the world, deafened and blind, you’d know him.

The relief of his return is what ends up winning.

“I’ve missed you.” The words are reverently pressed against your skin, as if you were the Maiden and your body a place of worship. One arm slides under your body to hold you close as his other slides down to your hips, a cool hand brushing over your abdomen. Which was odd… how has the blood of the dragon cooled within him?

His kisses become more insistent, lips trailing across your pulse and your throat. When his teeth nip at the sensitive skin, you jerk against him. You’ve not been touched like this in such a long time, not since he’s left you. You feel the familiar stirring in your stomach, the desire for him. You're dazed, left breathless by his sudden return to you and the heat he is kindling under your skin.

“Missed you too… so much…” You whisper in response, your body being wound by his expert touches. It’s almost overwhelming. You’ve grieved painfully for him and now he was here… touching you.

You suck in a breath as he uses his teeth to tug your chemise sleeve down your shoulder. Jacaerys takes advantage of the open skin, left undisturbed since his absence. You can feel him almost trembling against you as he presses desperate kisses along wherever he can reach. The one arm tightens around your ribs, palm brushing underneath your chest. The other brushes along your abdomen, traveling along your thigh. He toys, dangerously, with the hem of your chemise. Despite the coolness of his skin, his touch brands you all the same. The faint smell of cedarwood and sea salt reaches your nose, filling your lungs. You're surrounded, held, by just him, him, him.

It hits you then, the bittersweetness of it all. He is here, but not as he was. He will never be your Jacaerys again. Here was his spectre, to give you a sliver of what you’d had while he’d lived. Jacaerys’ bright shining light and warmth has been dulled to dim cinders. You cannot help the tears brimming your eyes. It is a complicated thing, the emotions that swirl within you. He has defied the Stranger to be here with you again, but things will not return to how they were.

Your lungs shake with a withheld sob, warm tears trailing down your flushed cheeks. It is an odd opposition to the feelings his touches are evoking. You find one of his hands, the one lingering near your chest, and you bring it up to your lips to press a kiss to his palm. His hands are still soft yet so cold… 

Jace can feel your chest heaving, the quiet sounds of heartbreak you try to withhold. Your heated tears soak into his hand pressed against your plush mouth. He stops his heated kisses, stills his wandering hands. You cannot see it, but his brows furrowed with concern. His forehead presses to your shoulder, a shuddering breath leaving him. Warm breath brushes over bare skin.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, my love. I didn’t mean to- I… I didn’t wish to upset you. I will stop. I’ve only missed you so much, I could not help-” His voice is apologetic, saddened. It breaks his heart to see you so distraught. Jacaerys thinks his advances are unwanted, that you are disgusted by his undead return.

That could not be farther from the truth.

You cut him off quickly.

“No-” Your voice cracks over the words. You swallow thickly, clutching his hand to your lips as if he’ll disappear at the slightest loosening. “Please. Please, stay. I want you. I need you so badly, Jacaerys… Let me be close to you again. Let us be one.” You utter, voice watery and edging on desperation. 

You crave this closeness with him, to feel your husband as yours once again. You have no clue if he will even be able to return to you after this. What rules to the dead follow? You will take all you can of him, let him consume you, possess you.

His fingers mess with the lacy bottom of your nightdress again, testing the waters. He presses his lips to your shoulder blade.

“You are sure?” Jacaerys whispers against you, needing your permission. He wants his wife again. To feel as if he can be hers in the way she needs him again, even if just for a short moment.

“Please…” You almost beg, desire sweeping through your undertones. Your gentle hand finds his own on your thigh, guiding his nimble hand under your chemise and between her thighs. There is an audible hitch in his breath as you guide him to cup you through your small clothes.

You sniffle and gasp, arching into his touch.

Jacaerys curses softly, you feel long lashes brush against your skin as he screws his eyes shut. He shifts against you, hand leaving your guidance only for a moment to grasp your thigh. It’s hitched over his hip, opening you for him. You’re almost surprised to feel that his skin is bare behind you. You ache to look upon him, to cup his face and kiss him till your heart is whole again… but you stay how he wants you.

His hand returns to you again, gingerly brushing over the inside of your thigh. He’s memorizing the feel of you again, of your smooth skin under his own. You feel so alive, so plush, thrumming with the ichor of life. He groans as his hand slips to the apex of your thighs again, feeling your smallclothes are already damp. You wriggle against him, hiccuping with soft cries as your tears refuse to cease. 

He whispers your name, a breathless prayer. His chin perches on your shoulder as he continues to feel you through your fabric. Downy curls brush across your cheek, soaking up the dampness that lies upon it. His other hand moves from your kisses to tug down the neckline of your chemise, revealing your bare chest. You whine as he takes one in his palm, thumbing over it. Your eyes flutter shut, head leaning back against him. He takes this as an invitation to kiss your bare throat. You push yourself back into him, feeling his arousal at your haunches. Jacaerys makes a soft noise of pleasure, hips grinding against you for only a moment.

His hand at your core shifts. Your breath picks up, stuttering over gentle whimpers, as he slides his nimble fingers beneath your smallclothes. He’s murmuring soft words into your skin, yet your mind can hardly process them when his fingers swipe through your wet center. You gasp, pressing back into him as your hips jerk into his touch.

He groans, biting lightly at your shoulder before soothing it with his tongue.

“Oh, my love…” He murmurs, sounding almost amazed. Jacaerys is breathless behind you, massaging your breast in one hand as the other explores your arousal. You can hardly take the perceived teasing, squirming in his hold.

Your tears have begun to slow, your sweet grief overshadowed by pleasure. You had not realized how much you’d craved his gentle intimacy till you had it again.

“Jacaerys, please.” You moan, hand reaching to wrap loosely around his wrist. He shushes you gently, pressing soothing kisses to the crook of your shoulder.

“I’ve got you…” Your husband soothes. His lithe digits press your clit for a moment, making you mewl, before he’s sliding a finger into you.

You gasp at the feeling, you have not felt such pleasure for too long. He’s mesmerized. His kisses have ceased their gentle assault as he watches with amazement, his eyes focused on his hand beneath your nightdress. You’re already slick enough for him to make the slide easy. The way you tighten your hand around his wrist and shift back against him is indicator enough that you need more.

His second finger breaches you easily. Your moan comes louder now, almost a sigh of relief. His fingers have always reached so much deeper than yours can, brushing against the gummy spot within you that he only knew to reach. You roll your hips with every gentle push of his fingers, a slow rhythm being set. He hums, lips skimming across your skin. Every once in a while, he sucks marks into your neck, laying waste to the previously clean slate. His hips buck against you, trying to find some friction. He cannot help it, it’s almost embarrassing. He craves you more than life itself.

Lashes brush across your cheeks as your eyes flutter. Every pump of his digits has you whining. He always stretches you so fully, so deeply. The sounds are almost embarrassing, a slick slide becoming apparent with every thrust. Your body welcomes his touch into your tight heat, wet and eager. Your cheeks burn, mind hazy with the pleasure of it all. Momentarily, you forget every bit of the world around you. You are his again and he is yours. You gladly let him take whatever he wants from you. Your heart is his.

He begins to curl his fingers within you, picking up the gentle pace. His thumb finds your pearl, rubbing it in tight circles. Your plump lips part over a mewl, your hips jerking into his every touch. Jacaerys feels as if he might come simply at the feeling of you against him once again; as your body melds to his, the way you squeeze his fingers tightly, the way you cry and beg for more. It has been far too long. But he never intends to leave you again.

“My poor wife…” He mumbles to you, his voice low and punched out. “Her pleasure has been neglected for far too long… I will fix that. I’ll make sure you never go without a warm bed for the rest of your life.” The undead prince promises. It does not occur to you at the time to think too deeply about his words.

Soon, you're writhing against him. Your eyes screw tightly shut, your throat constricting over moans. Your cunt squeezes and flutters around his digits, brought to release at his expert touches. You ride it out beautifully; lips parted, red marks blooming across the one side of your throat, body flushed, and your grasp on his wrist forcing him still as you take your pleasure from him. He can feel your release dripping down his palm, messy and desperate. It makes his body tighten with desire. He craves to be inside you, to make you his wife again, to feel the ultimate form of connection they can share.

“That’s it… Take what you need, my girl. You can have it all…” He praises, the filthy words curling over your skin. And you do.

You slump back into him, grip growing slack around his arm. He gingerly pulls his fingers from you, shushing you as you whine at the loss. His arm leaves you for a moment… but you hear him licking his hand clean of your release. It makes your gut swirl with heat, your body buzzing with the eagerness of having him again.

Jacaerys’ veined hand keeps working at your breast as he lets you catch your breath. Soon enough, you're shifting against him again. You can feel his cock pressed against you and he’s been so so patient. You press yourself back to him, you both moan in tandem with him at the friction it provides. 

He suckles at your neck, breathing heavily. His hand tightens at your chest, feeling you almost roughly.

“Please.” He utters. Jacaerys was never one to beg easily. But his soft whimper always made your knees weak and heart flutter, arousal flowing through your veins like the wine of the gods. “Let me take you again, my heart… I’ve missed you. I just.. I just need you again.”

You're nodding before he can finish his next sentence. You want to kiss him so badly. You want to lick into his mouth as you let him claim you. You wish to spend all night with him warming your bed and pressing his imprint back into your body till the memory is ingrained into your sinews forever.

“Take me…” You breathe.

That’s all he needs.

Jacaerys moans against you. His nips at your pulse point as his free hand slides your small clothes down your legs. You kick them away swiftly. He hitches your leg over his bony hip once again, exposing your bared core. 

He positions himself at your entrance, almost trembling with the effort to hold himself back. He pants against you, pressing his nose to your throat. Your eyes flutter as you feel his disheveled hair caressing your skin. Your body hums with anticipation, clenching around nothing.

It’s a momentary stillness, almost as if the room itself is holding its breath.

Then, he’s pushing into you.

You’ve never felt so complete. Your lips part over a silent moan, your body trembling against him. He groans loudly into your neck, almost whimpering. He mouths over your skin, as if to distract himself from the overwhelming pressure of sliding home to you once again. His kisses are wet and hot, tongue laving over your throat as if he was trying to eat you.

Your body flutters around him. He moves slowly, letting you adjust to taking him once again. It used to be a nightly ritual for you both, but now… it was something reverent. Your chest heaves, he fills you so completely. He isn’t even pressed in fully yet but it forces your body to make room for him. It’s beautiful. Jace’s hand tightens on your thigh, keeping you spread open despite your fluttering muscles.

Soon, you can almost feel him in your lungs. His hips press flush to your backside. You both pant, breathing synced. His thumb brushes your nipple, causing you to mewl and squirm against him. Your cunt flutters, adjusting to the stretch. You cannot handle the stillness any longer.

“Jacaerys…” You moan. He knows that inflection in your voice all too well. He rolls his hips against you, punching a groan out of you both. He feels almost frenzied, having your perfect body wrapped around his cock once again.

Soft rolls soon turn into gentle thrusts. It feels like he forces the air out of you with every move. The stretch soon becomes intensely pleasurable. His hand on your chest and thigh holds you in place, holding you open for him to take, for the slick slide of his cock. And you’re so much more than willing.

Your eyes flutter closed, your mouth parted with continuous whines and mewls. You sing so prettily for him. He tries to bite back his pathetic whimpers, but it’s little use. He’s soon moaning into your neck, always so loud and needy for you. He can feel your walls sucking him in, pulling him deeper with every thrust. His hips hit your plump backside with every move. He feels as if he’s reached heaven.

“My love..” He whines against your skin, greedily kissing and licking at any skin he can. He nips at your jaw, your throat, your pulse, your shoulder, even your arm. It’s frenzied, wet, hot, desperate.

“I’m sorry..” He rambles on, causing your chest to tighten. You whine, mouth opening to argue his apology but a moan takes its place as he picks up his pace. 

“Broke my promise..” Jacaerys continues, nosing along your jaw. “But not anymore. Not leaving you ever again… My wife… my beautiful beautiful girl… Always so good for me. Saw you mourning me..” As he speaks, his hand moves from your thigh, finding your pearl and pressing mercilessly into it. It causes your body to jolt, your cunt fluttering around him. You’re left almost breathless with pleasure, voice hoarse from crying out to him in bliss.

“I’ll take care of you now.. I promise. Never again, never breaking my promise again… I’ve got you.” He murmurs, an oath formed with a gentle kiss to the thudding pulse beating against your neck. You gasp out, rolling your hips back into him with every firm slide of him within you.

You’re embarrassingly close already, body spasming around his length. He hits every place within you that makes your body light with fiery rapture. His hand has never moved from your chest, firmly holding you against his own as he feels you. The other works mercilessly at your clit, playing you like an instrument made just for him. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” You repeat over and over again, the confession barely made over heaving breaths. Then, you’re pushed over the edge.

You cry out, gasping as waves of pleasure roll through you. You gasp and ramble meaningless sweet things, incoherent. You hear yourself repeating his name like a prayer. You clench tightly around him, taking all the pleasure you can. It makes him whine, arms tightening around you as he finds himself in a similar state.

Jace’s breaths are shaky, raspy as he pleads your name. It rolls off his tongue easier than his own, the sound melting over you like honey. The tight slide of him within you, the sounds you make, the all consuming heat of you against him has him following you over the edge.

A hand slides from your chest to your throat, tilting your head back against him as he muffles his pathetic moans into your throat. He pumps his hips; once, twice more before he’s spilling into you. He fills you to the very brim and you’ve craved that very warmth. You feel so alive, so full, so thoroughly had. 

Panting is the only thing heard in the room, breathy whines reverberating off the stone walls. His hands slacken around you, shifting to a comfortable hold. You can feel Jace practically drooling on your shoulder, no doubt blissed out as he always is after such intimacy. He is pressed deeply within you, kissing your womb. He makes no move to remove himself yet.

But eventually, you whine from the overstimulating feeling and your body’s sensitivity. He shudders as he pulls out of you. You can feel his release dripping down your thighs. You regret the absence but you both know your bodies well enough to know it must be done.

You take advantage of the lull in his guard. You turn quickly in his arms to face him, too swift for him to make a move to stop you.

Jacaerys speaks your name, startled. It’s a protest that comes much too late.

Your heart feels as if it shatters in your chest.

He is your Jacaerys… but he is changed. He looks much like he did before. His skin contains its color, as if he still holds life. His freckles stand out on the bridge of his nose, his curls disheveled across his forehead, his eyes watery as they meet yours. 

But what catches your attention the most is the crossbow bolt through his neck. The wound does not ooze and bleed as it would normally, it is more a stationary part of him now. There is only the red, irritated flesh where the metal enters and exits him. It is a cruel reminder of how he’d suffered his fate.

Jacaerys shuts his eyes tightly at the sound of your startled gasp. He turns his head into the pillow beneath him, almost looking ashamed. He hadn’t wanted you to see him like this… and yet you’d discovered him anyway. 

Trembling hands reach out to cup his face, tilting it towards your own. When his eyes find yours, he finds your bright eyes filled with tears. Your bottom lip wavers with the effort to withhold your cries. He shushes you gently, his own hand coming up to brush away the first tear that falls. 

“Oh, Jacaerys…” You murmur weakly. You're quick to pull him to you, clinging to him so tightly that he thinks his apparition of flesh will blend with your life. As your hands slide around his back to hug him, you discover two more bolts. One in his shoulder, the other in his lower back. You whimper against him, face pressed into his collarbone. You cannot imagine the pain he’d gone through… the fear he’d felt as he felt life slipping through his fingers and bleeding into a hungry ocean. Your warm tears seep into his skin. He holds you close in turn, his hands press their firm marks into your skin, clutching you close like you’re salvation. He buries his face deeply into your hair and shutting his own bleary eyes.

You’ve seen him, the worst of him, and your first instinct is to pull him to you… not to flinch away in fear or disgust… He loves you, more than anything else.

“I’m so sorry.” You sob into him, chest heaving with the weight of it. “I’m so sorry, Jace…”

He shakes his head immediately, pressing his lips to your hair.

“Don’t.” Jacaerys murmurs to you, his voice quiet and shaky. “It is no fault of yours, my heart…” 

He gently pulls away to make you look up at him, his eyes soft as they meet your own. He presses your foreheads together.

“I’ve made it back to you, my love. I told you… the Stranger could not even keep me. I belong to you. Heart, body, and soul… You shall never be without me again. I will crawl back to you if I have to, always.” He promises. You do not comprehend the full extent of it but your heart warms with the words of utter devotion. Jacaerys has defied death and will continue to do so… for you.

He’s always been so stubborn.

Your eyes flutter shut as his lips brush your tears away.

“I am yours… I love you.” You whisper to him, throat tight but your words sincere.

Then, you press close to kiss him. It is all gentle and saccharine. 

That night, you fall asleep with him in your bed. His tresses brush your chin as his face is buried into your neck, you can feel his breath fan across you, his plush lips pressed to your skin. His hand rests protectively over your still beating heart. You cannot feel the beat of his own, but his chest rises and falls with your breaths. Your arms rest around his shoulders, greedily holding him to you, face pressed to the crown of his head. The smell of cedar chokes you but you happily suffocate in it. His old cloak is wrapped around you both.

It is the best sleep you’ve had in weeks. -

The next morning, you wake alone. 

You feel the most rested you have since Jacaerys has passed. The memory of his loving touch, even if just a dream, was a pleasant one you cling to as the Sun coaxes you awake. You are unsure if it was real. The more that dawn lights your rooms, the more unlikely it seems. The storm that has haunted Dragonstone for weeks has seemingly passed. 

Strangely, your immediate grief is stifled as your eyes flutter open, something warm and pleasant wrapped about you like a blanket. Your body hums with the feeling of rest and intimate exertion. Jace’s burgundy cloak is tucked nicely around you, you bury your face into it until your handmaidens come to rouse you from your bed. 

You are groggy, still half-asleep as they begin to dress you.

You are startled when one of your maidens gasps, stilling in her braiding of your hair. 

“My lady! What has happened to your neck?” 

Her hand cautiously brushes along your shoulder and you hiss, the skin surprisingly sensitive. Your eyes sharpen, finding what she’s talking about in the mirror.

Lying stark in hues of red, pink, and purples are violent looking love bites.

[garagepaperback]

What are your favorite drarry fics?

oh. ooooooooooooh oh oh.

here are my staples:

draco, the magic dragon - libbydrew a fic i first read on livejournal (showing off the varnish of my casket here) that i thought about regularly for the almost two decades i fell out of fandom. canon to me tbh. libby invented my draco rubric: proud lil showboat even when everything around him has gone to rancid shit, sarcastic and aloof personality as a poor facade to distract from the big ol' gaping well of hurt.

Potter took a great breath, then let it out slowly – a low whistle between his teeth. "Malfoy, I had no idea. I thought—" "Why are you here?" Draco cut him off before the idiot embarrassed them both. Their shared past was water under the bridge – even if Draco had drowned in it.

nightingale - michi_the_killer

another back-in-my-day fav, even though i can only stand to read half of it. actually even thinking about it is making me stare off in a distance for upwards of three minutes. this one i would hand off wrapped in about a million miles of caution tape. + also a huge fan of michi's gory veela fic.

It was better than fighting, Harry thought, although sometimes he still wanted to rip into Malfoy, to hurt him. Other days, he thought, it was better than anything.

rookie moves - peu_a_peu

what can i say that hasn't already been said - peu is a MASTER. if you somehow know who i am but haven't read this, reassess your life choices through professional means but not until after you dive in.

“Feels kinda big,” Malfoy said, smirking. “For a guy your height.” “My height is average,” Harry said, although he was undeniably glaring upward at Malfoy’s face when they stood so close together. “And it is kinda big.”

stately homes of wiltshire - waspabi another one that crept into my heart and made a home. hard to choose between this and waspabi's other drarry fic, but there's something about the decrepit manor that just does it for me. a perfect harry and draco, perfect soft reaching towards each other.

Draco smiled and dragged Potter from the shop before he could charm any more elderly ladies with his unkept, take-care-of-me-I’m-confused-and-have-nice-shoulders aesthetic. Once outside in the drizzle, he realised he still had his hand around Potter’s forearm. He yanked his hand back immediately.

i wake up falling - warmfoothills

warmfoothills :,) just reading this moniker makes me vision go soft around the edges. their writing has made me out loud, quietly say "oh," multiple times. the prose is darling, this story is such a brief, aching glance. it was also really hard to pick just one (flashback, warm nights i also go in for).

“I love you,” he says, unable to stop himself. Draco blinks, a barely-there flinch, like Harry’s taken a swing at him. “I know,” he says, still oblivious to the reference, oblivious to the way his words scoop right into the meat of Harry’s stupid, hopeful heart. “It’s not enough, is it?” Draco shakes his head. Above, the stars watch unfeelingly on.

the pure and simple truth - lettered no one does dialogue with the mastery lettered does. my GOD. my god. i feel like this fic is drarry perfectly distilled.

“What’s he going to be?” Blaise raised a brow. “Pardon?” “You said he says Hermione should be Minister, and all those other things. What does Malfoy think he should be?” There was something much like pity in Blaise’s eyes. “He thinks he should never, ever be forgiven for the things he’s done.” Harry felt ill. “That’s not fair.” “When has Draco ever been fair?” “I meant―” Harry swallowed hard. “That’s not right.” Blaise looked more pitying still. “When has Draco ever been right?”

far from the tree - aideomai

the writer i avoid talking about the most bc once i start i cannot physically restrain myself from going on about their beauty forever. i sat for forty-five solid minutes frowning, trying to choose between this one and in the hand. and dwelling. okay anyway. i keep a doc of quotes from fics that resonate and it's 50% aideomai.

Draco wondered what Potter thought of this day, in the future the twins came from. If he had told Ginny about it. If he had forgotten it. He couldn’t forget it, could he? It felt burned into Draco’s body already, a final point that he had been moving toward for years without knowing.

i could go on but i think seven is a nice solid number tyvm for this ask!

[koolades-world]

Hello hello I’ve had another idea!! For the bros

Ok so. This MC is a real solemn person. Hardly ever smiles. Loves their demons a lot, doesn’t hide that, but is always so serious about it. Doesn’t really laugh or goof off or play with them or anything…

Except! One day, one of the demons impulsively kisses MC on the forehead/cheek/tip of their nose/on top of their head. Something real quick and innocent like that. A small gesture of affection.

Turns out that has a hell of an effect on their solemn human! It makes them light up like the dawn! They’re all smiley and bouncy and giggly for the rest of the day! They’re all like :D :D :D about it

(Seeing them smile for real like this for once, the demons notice that MC has dimples. They didn’t know that before!)

Write it if you want, no pressure as always, have fun :) also, if all 7 is too many, you could make it Asmo, Beel, and/or Satan. I think they’d work well for this. Do what you like though, your writing is always good! :)

hello!!!! i can already imagine mc's face going from :| to :D. and the brothers reactions. so cute!

enjoy <3

Serious Mc who lights up after receiving affection

Lucifer

he's not one to impulsively give out kisses, since they're usually planned and deliberate

but he's very glad that he did

he wouldn't trade that smile, or anything about you for the world

you demeanor for the rest of the day determines his too, since he also finds himself more happy and smiley than usual

Mammon

he cannot stop thinking about your dimples

i love the idea that he has them too, and obsess over the fact that you're matching

the first chance he gets he snaps a candid photo of you with that gorgeous smile

anytime he feels down, he just looks at it and thinks of you <3

Levi

it took him a while to work up the courage to give you that kiss

and he's sure glad he did

he was initially embarrassed at first, but he warmed up to this bubbly version of you

he will start to blush and try to brush off the subject if anyone asks why you were like that though haha

Satan

he didn't think such a switch up in demeanor was possible, until he met you

he equally loves the usual you and this new side of you

it makes you human, and while he would not know what that's like, that's what he adores about you

although he won't lie, he loves your dimples since they remind him of one of his favorite book characters

Asmo

and he thought he was the most beautiful thing in all the realms!

seeing you absolutely light up at something he gave you made his day

it's like you're a different person

since it's asmo, he'll be making a routine out of this to see that lovely smile more often

Beel

he didn't think it was possible to like you more than he already did

spoiler alert: he was wrong

when he looks at that smile, it's like there's nothing bad in the world and he can forget about what plagues him

he'd do anything for you and that precious grin <33

Belphie

he finds it a little eerie at first

he didn't even know you were capable of smiling

but he quickly grows used to it once he learns how infectious it is

he's got a cheeky little habit of tickling you while the both of you are relaxing as a way to make you laugh and smile at the same time