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townofcadence · 4 months ago

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echoes of the past + artair!

Echoes of the Past

Cold metal. The floors creak and echo with each footfall. He found the key-card for the door. He just needs the pin. If he can find it, he could help. He was so useless so far, had already let too much go wrong. but this is something he could do.

Double doors slide open with a grind and whir, and cold air greets him. It's stale, but at least this room didn't smell of copper and rot. At least his sneakers didn't slip on coagulated blood in thick, dark pools like black-brown sludge.

Artair tries not to think about it. He tries to forget where he found the key-card. Just find the pin.

Searching through the office, he's in luck; there's an archive, and he's able to use the key-card to log in. The last pin update when this place was running is stored in one of the files, and he scribbles it down, stuffing it in a pocket.

Artair makes for the door. He's in the home stretch.

He's pulled up by the hood of his jacket as he makes to pass through the doorway. It makes him choke on his exclamation, and he's thrown back into the room. He hits the wall and collapses on the floor. The radio he had spirals away from him, skidding a few feet away with a clatter.

A boot crashes down atop it, crushing it to pieces.

"Found you...."

Elias has always been a gentle man, and despite his great height, he has never made Artair feel small. Even at his worst, even when he was afraid for his life near him.... it had never been his height that motivated the fear. Elias never weaponized it. He didn't know how.

For the first time, Elias towers. He looms, his soft blues corrupted to violent reds. His eyes are scarlet, spider-webbed with black and aglow like magma breaking an ashen surface. His anchor does not hang from his neck. The temperature in the room is beginning to rise. Elias' voice distorts like it is playing from a radio. It pitches and overlaps and echoes as he stalks closer.

"Did you think you could run? Did you think you could escape what you did?"

Artair presses against the wall, fear squeezing him to stillness. He shrinks, backing closer to the metal he'd impacted moments prior. "Elias....."

Elias darts forward, and Artair scrambles on all fours. He slides along the wall to keep his distance, and he darts behind one of the desks. "Elias! Please!" His voice cracks, strained to a higher pitch. His hands tremble as he pulls himself to his feet with the wooden frame. "This isn't you-- you have to fight this! I don't---- I don't know what it did to you, but you have to remember! We're friends! I know this isn't you!"

Maybe he could--- could help, somehow? Say the right thing, and reach him? It was still Elias in there, deep down. He just had to... find something that brought him back. But at the same time, the sweltering heat made him sure he should keep his distance. Fear is threading his skin like icy spindles, but if he keeps the desk between them--.

Elias phases through the desk. His incorporeal legs move easily through the space, and he lunges forward. Elias' fingers clamp against his neck. "Oh.... I remember....." How something so soft could sound so deadly, he didn't know. Hate saturated the chilling words. They are so cold he freezes in place. "I remember plenty."

He's slammed against the metal wall and it echoes. Again, again, harder each time, as if Elias intends to breach the wall with his own fragile body. He's rattled loose with each impact, feelings it quake through his body. "I remember you did this to me. That you killed me! Well how does it feel, Artair?!"

Artair chokes a noise. His hand grabs for the palm planted tight around his throat. It squeezes until he sees stars. The other hand finds his prosthetic, and pins it to the wall beside him. The palms begin to leave a halo in the air, a waver like a hot summer's day. The temperature continues to rise, rocketing past discomfort and right into pain. Artair chokes on a whimper, feet scrabbling against the wall. He can already feel jolts of pain scalding down the conductive metal of his arm.

"How does it feel, being helpless? Knowing you're going to die and you deserve it?"

"Ghkk--" He chokes again. He tries to kick at Elias, but his sneaker pass through his legs, He's lifted higher up, back scraping against the wall. He can't find purchase. His neck is on fire, and so is what's left of his bicep. Tears spring to his eyes, evaporating as they near Elias. "P---ple---ase--." The heat only rises and he can smell himself burning, feel the agony of his skin bubbling beneath that palm.

He hears a heavy thud. His pinned arm is loose. He can see where the metal is a boiling red-white, still melting in on itself and dripping in molten pools of silver on the floor. Every nerve in him is screaming-- he can hardly see through the heat and the tears. It burns, it hurts it's too much, it hurts it hurts it hurts ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsihurts---

Elias pulls back, but Artair still can't catch his breath. He can't breathe, can't even tell how to. He scrabbles uselessly at the sleeve of Elias's jacket as if to hold on. It burns too much to hold on. Elias has all the hate he deserves in his eyes, jaw squared and teeth bared in a snarl. "You should've know I'd get you back."

Elias' other hand that was no longer needed for his arm lifts. The fingers flex and spread, and in his palm, a fire burns, he brings it close to Artair's chest, and he winces from the heat even now. Elias meets his eyes.

He couldn't feel the pain in his neck or arm, but he is sure the grip was getting tighter, squeezing like a vice. His vision is blackening, and his struggles are twitches. His mouth hangs open, desperate for a breath he can't reach. His eyes are starting to roll back.

Elias' voice is the last thing he hears. It sounds like a whisper against his ear.

"I hope it never stops hurting."

#answering things #ask meme answers #my original stuff #my original writing #artair #artair kingston #elias #elias rivera-flores #deathdvncer #deathdvncer. Eerie #cw strangulation #cw torture #cw burning #ask to tag #cw blood mention #long post #drabble

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aaternum · 1 month ago

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It felt like she’d sat there in the bathroom for hours, every vertebrae of her spine curved and slowly sinking into her chest, hunched over her knees. Blood streaks the tiles, the porcelain much too white with all this red against it. She’d just run that bath water, coaxing and warm to soak off the bleeding notches carved into the softness of her skin. Wants the tense of her muscles to come to harmony in a sigh and relax. But she can’t pick herself off the floor, the squeak of her sneakers slipping against the clotting ichor on the ground. She’s afraid of what’s in the water, what’s come up from the depths of the drain. Whatever she’s conjured in her head, it’s not real. She knows it. Blood loss makes her head spin and blur lines between memory and fantasy– but that pit in her stomach persists.

Reflected within her bleary, heavy gaze she imagines two hands emerging from the water, fingers lovingly cupped over the tub's edge, caressing; waiting and wanting for a hand to hold. They’re attached to arms she can’t see. Stretched too far down; belonging to a body canvasing the length of her tub. She knows it. Feels it like lead in her gut. It might live there. She’d take it’s hand, but she knows it’ll pull her in with it and she doesn’t want to sink so deep. It’s not a monster, but sometimes creatures that burn for touch and love hold too tight, they’d hurt like a monster would. It may pick up the soap and scrub her back of blood, thread through the tangled bits in her hair like mama birds do to their babies. Might even come to caress her cheek – wipe at dried tears. And when it’s arm circles ‘round her waist, it’ll feel like coming home. Until it forgets she doesn’t live in the water too. When the water is no longer warm, lapping and inviting, but they’ve already buried their hands into her ribs.

When the bottom of the tub swallows her whole, it’ll forget her lungs swell and burst under the weight of the water if she sinks too deep. It’ll forget she’s disastrously human and it’s some unliving thing buried somewhere too deep to reach for. She knows it’s not real, but she waits nonetheless, chin atop her crooked knees, tucked against her chest until it’s safe. Or at least until her aches start to feel worse than whatever is down there. She doesn’t want to see.

#━━ Ⅻ ⊰ drabbles / ♡ ❜#i write two things today and they're both sad KFJNFKJ #i think i've consumed a lot of sad eerie thinking things lately #anyway !!!#i close my eyes to this #i do not see

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lucindarobinsonvevo · 1 month ago

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a couple o' drabbles i did for small_fandom drabblethon about Mitchell and Robot!Rodney.

#mitziwrites #eerie indiana #eerie indiana: the other dimension #i vanish for weeks at a time then i be posting drabbles and commenting on fanfics. you know how it is.

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yandere-romanticaa · 4 months ago

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Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

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spookyscarycreepydollgirl · 1 year ago

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Manor “Guest”: *chewing sounds*

Ida: What do you have? Manor “Guest”: *chewing intensifies*

Ida: Spit that out right now!

Manor “Guest”: *Runs*

#Yeah they’re getting vored #In one of my drabbles Bastion brought up that Ida does try to warn people to stay away from the Manor #The results are mixed #In people’s defence Bastion’s food and hospitality are both to die for.#And Ida really does give off eerie pale waif from a horror story vibes #Don’t partake of faerie food guys #My ocs #I could have also done Bastion chewing on a guest but it wouldn’t be canon since he eats in the parlour. Would’ve been funny though.

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animamii · 2 months ago

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lockedup!toji lovessss receiving letters from you. 💌

"Fushiguro, you got mail," one of the corrections officers would knock on his open cell door. Toji always had this smirk tugging at his lips when the guard said those words. Although it was only a mask for the thrum he felt in his heart. He would always be handed a nice little stack of letters, all from you. The envelopes would be different colors, pinks and reds and purples. You'd really put a lot of effort into these [mostly love] letters. Even going as far as buying the cutest stamps you could find. He would never admit it out loud—he'd rather choke— but Toji loves when you put those cute little Hello Kitty stamps on the letters. Toji didn’t seem like the type to care for stuff like that, but those letters? Oh, they meant everything.

His name would be written in your cute handwriting, Toji Fushiguro with a little heart next to it. Flipping over the letter, you'd alway put a cute sticker over the seal. Or a heart if you couldn't find a sticker you'd like. He never rushed to open them, though; instead, he’d take his time, flipping through the envelopes, savoring the sight of your adorable scribbles. Toji loved the scent of them, always smelling like the spritz of perfume you'd put on the paper (thank you for the idea, Grease). He loved it just as much as the lipstick kisses you'd put on every blank space of the envelope and letter. Even if you weren't much of a lipstick user, you made sure to keep some different shades in stock so you can send Toji kisses through the mail.

It was the highlight of his day, pulling open the envelope with a rare softness in his usually rough hands. Always being ever so careful not to rip the envelope or the sticker you so thoughtfully sealed it with. He’d sit on the edge of his cot, back resting against the cold cement wall, eyes scanning over your handwriting. Every curve of your letters, every word you wrote, he soaked in every little thing. You wrote about every little thing; what you ate, what you listened to, what you watched. Your little girlish gossip. Toji preferred to read multiple pages of you rambling on about whatever came to your pretty little head. Made him feel like he was with you again, sitting there babbling to him like you always did.

After reading through one of your letters for the first time, Toji would lean back, holding the paper loosely in his hand, a rare softness washing over his sharp features. His lips would curl faintly at the edges, almost like he could hear your voice through the words on the page. He’d trace over your little doodles in the corners—the hearts, the smiley faces, even the exaggerated stick figure versions of you and him. Toji wasn’t a sentimental man by nature, but these small things? They clawed their way into the part of his chest he thought was hardened long ago. Sometimes, the other inmates would glance his way, curious about what kept the infamous Fushiguro so quiet. He’d shoot them a glare that said, Mind your own damn business. No one dared ask questions.

Toji had a little ritual for your letters. After reading through them, he’d carefully fold them, put it back in its respective envelope, and tuck them into his pillowcase. It wasn’t much, but it kept them close to him, right where he could feel that connection even when he wasn’t holding the paper. Later, when the lights dimmed and the prison settled into its eerie quiet, he’d pull one out again, holding it under the faint glow of the moonlight seeping through the bars. It didn’t matter if it was the same letter he read last week or one you’d just sent—it still carried that same warmth.

"Y’know," he muttered to himself one night, voice low enough not to carry. "You’re making me soft, sweetheart." But he didn’t really mind. Those letters gave him something to look forward to, something worth counting down the days for.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

y'all I wanna write more drabbles like thiss. Also I'm thinking... maybe some letters from Toji himself? Or from reader? both?? o.O lemme know bebecitas I wanna write what y'all wanna read!! xoxo

taglist ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ @psoycy (aka my favee)

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eeriepromis · 1 month ago

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💖 LaDs Magical Girl AU: NIGHTBORN SYNDROME (a.k.a. HOT GUYS WITH CURSED GLITTER) 💖

(A totally serious and definitely not crack-fueled LaDs magical girl anime concept with extra unnecessary glitter sparkles!)

✨ The Premise ✨

In a world where magic is both a blessing and a curse, certain warriors- the Nightborn- carry a terrifying fate. When exposed to extreme magical energy, they undergo a mystical mutation that amplifies their Flair but at a cost.

🌙 Nightborn Syndrome makes them:

✔ Look like they stepped straight out of a dark magical boy fashion catalogue (capes, leather gloves, high boots- the whole aesthetic). ✔ Have dramatic, glowing tattoos that pulse whenever they feel strong emotions. ✔ Gain ridiculous, over-the-top magical transformations✔ Become overly poetic and brooding for no reason. For some reason, all of MC’s love interests are affected. And for even less of a reason, MC is the only one who can stabilize them.

👑 The “Big Evil”: Evermore 👑 (Because what’s a magical series without a looming villain?)

Evermore

A shadowy organization obsessed with harnessing Nightborn power to conquer the realm.

They’re responsible for weaponizing potential in kids (like Caleb, and even Xavier).

Their leader? Has an even bigger cloak than Zayne’s.

What They Want:

Evermore hunts the Nightborn to harness their curses for a dark ritual. Legend says if they combine all that unstable magical energy, they can open the Midnight Rift- a portal to a realm of limitless power.

The Stakes:

If Evermore gets their hands on the Nightborn, they’ll forcibly trigger their transformations to siphon raw magic.

A single meltdown from any one of them is catastrophic. All of them together? World-ending fiasco.

MC’s Role:

As the Celestial Guardian, she alone can stabilize the Nightborn. She also holds the key to locking the Midnight Rift.

Cue tension: Evermore wants to either use her to control the guys or take her out of the picture.

The Conflict

Evermore sends monstrous minions to provoke the guys into full meltdown mode, hoping to extract that unstoppable energy.

MC and the Nightborn LIs team up (despite their endless emotional fiascos) to protect the city- and each other.

Expect monster-of-the-week battles where each guy transforms in the middle of a grocery store, or a park, or a random Taco Bell. (Poor Taco Bell.)

🌟 Full Cast of Nightborn Disasters & Their Suffering 🌟 MC (The Magical Girl Who’s Tired of This BS)

Just a normal girl (haha, just kidding).

Alias: Astral Lily

Astral: Represents the cosmos, destiny, and unseen forces. MC is the only one who can stabilize the Nightborn, and her connection to magic is otherworldly-whether she likes it or not.

Lily: A symbol of purity, guidance, and burdens. Lilies also symbolize rebirth.

Role:

The Celestial Guardian, sole force keeping the Nightborn from spiraling into unstoppable meltdown mode.

Her job?

Keep them from going full cursed transformation mode.

Her life would be easier if her entire friend group weren’t afflicted with the most dramatic magical disease ever.

Her reality?

Babysitting a bunch of emotionally stunted, overly attractive magical warriors who explode if they feel too much.

Goal:

Live a semi-normal life while stopping her boys from demolishing the city every time they get flustered.

New Problem:

Some shady organization called Evermore has appeared, hunting the Nightborn for their potent magic. MC definitely didn’t sign up for a magical turf war- but here we are.

Her catchphrase:"Oh my god, not AGAIN."

❄️ ZAYNE (The Brooding Ice Prince & The Emotionally Malfunctioning Cousin Figure)

Flair: Ice

Alias: Vesper Camellia

Vesper: Means "Evening Star," symbolizing fading light, solitude, and distant beauty. Zayne tries to keep everyone at arm’s length, but no matter how much he withdraws, his presence still shines.

Camellia: Represents longing, perfection, and unspoken admiration. White camellias symbolize devotion without words- Even if Zayne will doesn't say how he feels, it’s obvious to everyone except himself.

The Worst Case of Nightborn Syndrome™.

If he blushes? Instant dark magical transformation.

If he’s annoyed? Dark cape activation.

If MC looks at him too long? “Stop looking at me- ” (cue swirling shadow aura)

Transformation Theme:

His old clothes shatter like frost, revealing a sleek, elegant silver-and-blue battle ensemble, and an unnecessarily large sword that he never actually uses.

Personality:

Acts cold and logical, but is actually panicking internally 24/7.

Spends an unhealthy amount of time glowering in corners.

He copes by being emotionally constipated.

Backstory:

MC was taken in by his family when she was younger, so they were raised like cousins. There’s a 5-year age gap, so half his life was spent trying to be the “cool older kid” and the other half failing at it miserably.

Is allergic to compliments from MC because they make him transform.

MC copes by messing with him on purpose. She figured him out way too fast.

And now she actively tries to make him trigger just to watch the chaos unfold.

Zayne, whispering in horror: "Stop testing me like I'm some unstable science experiment."

MC, smirking: "Oh, my bad. Didn't realize you were this sensitive."

Zayne, already glowing with ice magic: "I swear to god- " Zayne, gripping his face, visibly in pain: "This is a nightmare."

MC, sipping her drink, unfazed: "It’s hilarious, actually."

⚡ CALEB (The Delinquent Who Loves Too Hard)

Flair: Gravity Manipulation

Alias: Crimson Aster

Crimson: Represents passion, defiance, and an unshakable will- Caleb is fiercely loyal (which is fitting since this man decided MC was his ride-or-die at age 12 and never let go) but also a wildcard, challenging fate itself. His presence feels like an unpredictable force that can either protect or destroy.

Aster: A flower associated with love, patience, and remembrance- which aligns with his deep-rooted devotion to MC and the lingering past between them. In some myths, asters symbolize a farewell or a lost love..

Backstory:

Grew up in an orphanage ever since escaping being a test subject at the tender age of 11.

MC met him when she accidentally got into a street fight with him at age 12 and won. Instead of sulking, he immediately declared her his future wife.

Everyone thinks this is a made-up rumor because he’s a delinquent even up to their highschool years and she’s the sweet, innocent MC. It is NOT.

Used to be a delinquent, now a competitive magical boy who refuses to lose at anything.

Nightborn Syndrome:

Triggers when he's angry.

Transformation Theme:

Electricity crackles at his fingertips, static humming in the air as golden sparks arc around his body. His jacket dissolves (for reasons unknown). (And yes, shirtless transformations happen at least once per episode.)

Personality:

Competitive, refuses to lose, but secretly kind of soft.

A tough delinquent vibe, ironically forced into flashy magical boy uniforms

Most people expected Caleb to hold a grudge… instead, he immediately fixated on her and even trained with her.

"Pipsqueak, you're small, but you punch like a damn truck," he muttered, wiping blood from his lip. Instead of retaliating, he grinned. "I like you."

Ever since that day, Caleb has been an absolute menace in her life.

He wasn't a romantic type- no grand confessions, no stupid poetry like Sylus. No, Caleb proved his feelings through pure, unhinged loyalty.

"If I don't like someone, I tell them. If I like someone, I don't let them go."

Cue MC groaning into her hands for the next decade.

🎭 SYLUS (The Walking Romance Novel Who Needs To Be Stopped)

Flair: Energy Manipulation

Alias: Phantom Rose

Phantom: Represents mystery, illusions, and fleeting beauty. Sylus is too charming for his own good.

Rose: Symbolizes passion, secrecy, and dramatic suffering. Every transformation of his is basically a Shakespearean monologue in real time.

Backstory:

MC met him after he literally fell out of a tree while reciting poetry.

He’s usually suave but relatively normal- until the curse hits.

Nightborn Syndrome:

Overwhelming Romantic Energy™ (as if possessed by 1,000 Shakespearean ghosts)

Cloaks billow, rose petals swirl, dramatic spotlights appear out of nowhere.

Dramatic as hell.

His shirt mysteriously being unbuttoned.

Transformation Theme:

"Midnight Prince" aesthetic. His shirt rips open dramatically every single time. His hair sparkles.

Personality:

Normally, he’s suave, calm, and has that whole mysterious princely vibe. But the moment his powers trigger? HE BECOMES A FULL-ON DRAMATIC THEATER ACTOR.

He immediately forgets everything afterward.

It’s gotten to the point where the team just lets him run out of dialogue like a glitching NPC.

His Nightborn curse?

He gets way too charming when it activates.

Shirt ripped? Cloak billowing? Flowers appearing out of nowhere? Check, check, check.

The Absolute Struggle of Sylus & MC

MC: "Sylus, you good?"

Sylus, his eyes slowly glowing as his transformation starts: "Ah, my dear, you mustn't concern yourself with the depths of my torment-"

MC: "Oh god. Not again."

BOOM- Cloak flares. Moonlight intensifies. Roses swirl.

Sylus, fully in his Nightborn form: "The weight of destiny rests upon my shoulders, yet I- "

MC, pinching the bridge of her nose: "Someone get the spray bottle."

Will literally quote Shakespeare at MC while slowly removing his gloves for no reason.

"Oh, my starlit goddess, my moonlit salvation, my divine seraph- "

MC: "Dude, we are at a Taco Bell. Calm down."

The worst part? He doesn’t remember any of it. The next day, he’s like “Why is everyone avoiding me?”

🔥 RAFAYEL (The Tsundere Knight Who Refuses to Admit He Cares)

Flair: Fire

Alias: Ashen Carnation

Ashen: Symbolizes burnt-out embers, destruction, and hidden warmth beneath the ashes. Rafayel burns for others but refuses to admit it. His power flares up when he feels too much- which is why he denies everything.

Carnation: Represents deep emotions buried under a tough exterior. They also represent unbreakable bonds and self-sacrificial love, which is a nice way of saying: "This man will burn down an entire city before admitting he cares."

Backstory:

MC met Rafayel, and - of course - it was in the middle of a dramatic fight.

That was Years Ago.

Fast forward to now, and she’s somehow stuck with him.

Nightborn Syndrome:

Rafayel’s problem? His Nightborn Syndrome is fueled by his overwhelming need to protect people.

So what happens when he sees MC in danger?

BOOM. Instant flames.

BOOM. Armor materializing out of nowhere.

BOOM. Dramatic pose, followed by a desperate attempt to pretend nothing just happened.

Transformation Theme:

Goes full “Holy Guardian” mode with so many sparkles that you’d think Tinker Bell exploded.

Personality:

Grumpy, follows the rules, but secretly the biggest softie. Tries to hide his emotions but that makes them worse. Ends up tripping into his own transformation sequences.

MC, sighing: "Rafayel, it’s fine, I can handle myself- "

Rafayel, blushing violently as the flames swirl around him: "I-It’s not like I was worried! I just- SHUT UP."

His personal hell?

MC being sweet to him.

MC smiling at him.

MC saying anything remotely soft, ever.

MC needing help and actually accepting it.

MC vs. Rafayel’s Denial:

MC: "Rafayel, you're blushing."

Rafayel, covering his face with his hand: "I AM NOT-"

BOOM- Instant transformation.

MC, smugly patting his armor: "Huh. Sure about that?"

Rafayel, face now burning hotter than his actual flames: "I- I was just testing my control.”

🌟 XAVIER (The Quiet One Who Turns into a Glitter Bomb)

Flair: Light

Alias: Noctis Edelweiss

Noctis: Means "Night," symbolizing hidden power, silent strength, and unspoken emotions. Xavier lurks in the background until his Nightborn power explodes into something uncontrollable.

Edelweiss: Represents bravery, devotion, and rare beauty. This rare flower grows in high, unreachable places- just like Xavier, who prefers to observe from a distance until the moment he literally shines brighter than the sun.

Backstory:

Unlike the other Nightborn disasters, Xavier didn't immediately combust upon meeting MC. In fact… MC didn't even realize they’d met before, when he helped her as his Noctis alter-ego self even tho they were classmates.

The problem? He is very, very bad at talking about his feelings.

If Nightborn Syndrome is a wildfire for the others, for him it’s a slow-burning, inevitable supernova- one that will eventually consume him if he ever loses control. And the more time he shares with MC, the more his feelings grow - the less he can control them.

Nightborn Syndrome:

Activates when he gets embarrassed or surprised - which is rare luckily.

No one even knew he HAD Nightborn Syndrome until one day, MC complimented him and he transformed so hard the windows shattered.

Transformation Theme:

A golden halo of starlight flares into existence around him as his eyes snap open, pupils now glowing like twin constellations. Soft motes of light rise from the ground, orbiting him in slow, mesmerizing patterns.

Personality:

Quiet, observant, lowkey terrifying.

If MC so much as praises him, you can guarantee a 50-foot glitter tsunami.

Xavier has spent so long in the background that being noticed- even a little- is overwhelming for him.

Reaction to MC complimenting him: (Silence.)

"..." (immediate glowing transformation explosion)

MC is launched backward into a bush.

Everyone else is blinded for 30 seconds.

Xavier stands there, absolutely mortified, glowing like an actual sun.

MC, coughing up sparkles: "… Bro, I just said your hair looks nice."

Xavier, whispering in horror: "I know."

👄 The "Oh My God, Just Kiss Them to Stop It" Rule

MC literally holds all of their fates in her hands and she is not responsible enough for this.

She figures out that if she kisses them, it INSTANTLY cancels their transformations.

So now every time one of them starts glowing, she’s just like "ugh, fine," and pecks them on the cheek.

Zayne:

Kissing him. He does not recover from this knowledge. The first time MC realizes this: MC: "Fine. Let’s try something." Zayne: "What-" MC kisses him on the cheek. Instantly, the glow fades. The ice dissolves. The blizzard stops. Zayne, staring at MC, visibly malfunctioning: "...What the hell just happened." MC, smirking: "Oh, nothing. Just science."

Caleb:

MC walks into the room. Caleb, immediately tense: "Don’t start." MC: "I haven’t even said anything-" Caleb: "I can feel you thinking. Stop it." MC: "Nice jacket, though." BOOM- Caleb instantly transforms. His cloak billows out dramatically. A wind that wasn't even there before starts swirling. MC: "...Seriously? From one compliment?" Caleb, gripping his head: "I CAN’T CONTROL IT, OKAY?!" MC: "...Just- come here, you idiot." MC pecks him on the cheek. Caleb, blinking in confusion as his transformation fizzles out: "Tch." MC, patting his cheek: "Good boy." Caleb, combusting internally.

Rafayel:

Kissing him. This realization ruins him. The first time it happens: MC: "Fine, you big baby-" (kisses his cheek to calm him down.) Rafayel, immediately de-transforming, standing in absolute silence. MC: "There, that wasn’t so bad, right?" Rafayel, hand touching his cheek where she kissed him, utterly broken. Rafayel, whispering in horror: "… Don’t do that." MC, grinning: "Oh? Why? Because it works?" Rafayel, turning bright red: "I- Just shut up."

Xavier:

Xavier tries SO HARD not to feel anything. But then MC comes along and just casually worships him and he short-circuits. MC: "Wow, you’re actually really graceful in battle." Xavier, internally screaming: "Don’t transform don’t transform don’t transform-" Glows anyway. The worst part? MC realizes that kissing him immediately cancels the transformation. MC: "Fine. Get over here." Xavier, suddenly frozen in place: "Wait, what-" MC kisses him on the cheek. His glow instantly dies down. Xavier, absolutely shell-shocked, staring at the ground like his entire belief system has been challenged. MC, smirking: "Breath, cutie." Xavier.exe has stopped working.

Sylus:

Kissing him. Which is, quite literally, the most dangerous thing to do. Because the moment MC kisses him to stop the transformation, he just leans into it. First time it happens: MC: "Okay, enough of this." MC pecks him on the cheek. His transformation instantly dissolves. Sylus, blinking, processing. Then, the smirk returns. Sylus, voice smooth as silk: "I see. So you’ve chosen to indulge my desires." MC, realizing the mistake: "Wait- NO-" Sylus, leaning closer: "Very well, my love. If this is the path you wish to walk-" MC, already trying to flee: "HELP, I FIXED THE TRANSFORMATION BUT NOW HE'S JUST FLIRTING." Caleb, Zayne, and Rafayel watching in absolute horror.

🌟 HOW MC MET ALL OF THEM 🌟

❄️ ZAYNE: Babysitter Turned Eternal Sufferer

MC was taken in by Zayne's family, which means she grew up constantly annoying him. Zayne, at age 15, when he first met little MC: "She’s small. She’s loud. This is my personal nightmare." MC, at age 10: "HI! YOU’RE OLD. ARE YOU MY BROTHER NOW?" Their dynamic? MC: "Zaaayyynneee~" Zayne: "Go away." MC: "What happens if I poke your Nightborn mark?" Zayne: "Do NOT-" (instant dramatic transformation explosion)

⚡ CALEB: The Rivalry That Turned Into a Marriage Proposal

MC met Caleb when they got into a fistfight at age 12.She won. Instead of holding a grudge, Caleb immediately decided she was wife material. Every interaction since has been: MC: "You mad?"Caleb: "Why would I be mad? My future wife is strong-" (immediately starts glowing and transforming)

🎭 SYLUS: The Living Shakespeare Monologue

MC was minding her business when Sylus literally FELL OUT OF A TREE. Landed dramatically, stood up, and said: "At last, fate has guided me to my one true- " "Wait- who are you." MC: "... Dude, are you okay?" Sylus: "Only now that I have seen the light of your eyes- " MC: "I’m leaving."

🔥 RAFAYEL: The Grumpy Knight with a Soft Spot

She was cornered by an enemy, and before she could react, fire exploded through the battlefield, turning her attackers to ash. A figure in crimson armor stood over her, blade still burning from the strike. MC: "You saved me-" Rafayel, scoffing, looking away: "Don’t get the wrong idea. I was just passing through." And then he literally sprinted away before she could thank him properly.

🌟 XAVIER: The Guy Who Sparkled So Hard She Finally Noticed Him

MC didn’t notice Xavier at first because he’s too quiet. One day, she casually complimented his hair. BOOM- instant magical transformation. MC, screaming and shielding her eyes from the glitter explosion: "WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS."

🌟 Transformation Sequences - Magical Boy AU!

🔥 Rafayel - "Blazing Heart!"

Rafayel snaps his fingers, and a burst of golden-red flames swirls around him, lifting him off the ground. The embers crackle, spiraling upward as his clothes melt away into shimmering light, reforming into a sleek crimson and gold outfit. With a flourish, his coat materializes mid-spin, embroidered with glowing sigils of fire. His boots click against the ground as he lands, flames flickering harmlessly beneath his feet. He smirks, running a hand through his hair, now streaked with vibrant embers at the tips. With a dramatic snap of his fingers, a flame ignites at his palm. "Justice burns brightest in my hands." (🔥 Cue dramatic coat flip. 🔥)

❄️ Zayne - "Glacial Knight!"

Zayne’s breath crystallizes in the air as a cold wind swirls around him, lifting his scarf as it begins to unravel into sparkling threads of ice-blue magic. With a sharp swoosh, his old clothes shatter like frost, revealing a sleek, elegant silver-and-blue ensemble with icy crystalline armor forming over his shoulders and arms. His boots form as he steps forward, leaving a frost-kissed imprint beneath him. A gleaming blade of ice manifests in his grasp, and snowflakes dance in the air around him. He exhales slowly, eyes glowing with a soft, steady frost-blue radiance. "A knight’s duty is eternal." (❄️ Cue very graceful but very unnecessary hair flip. ❄️)

⚡ Caleb - "Stellar Striker!"

Electricity crackles at his fingertips as Caleb grins, sparks racing up his arms. His jacket dissolves into pure energy, reforming into a sharp, star-stitched military-style coat with lightning-infused seams. His boots magnetize to the ground before he leaps into the air, lightning arching between his hands as his gloves materialize mid-motion. With a dynamic midair spin, his weapon - a dual-bladed energy staff - flickers to life in his grip. He lands with a flash, winking as the energy settles around him. "Lightning strikes twice when I'm around." (⚡ Cue finger guns and a smirk. ⚡)

🎭 Sylus - "Moonshadow Mirage!"

A gentle breeze swirls, and Sylus tilts his head, grinning as silver light gathers around him. His coat dissolves into ribbons of moonlight, reforming into a sleek, deep-indigo outfit with asymmetrical layers and flowing midnight-blue fabric. His gloves shimmer into existence as he flicks his wrists, revealing concealed daggers woven with constellations. The shadows around him dance, moving in sync with his movements as he steps into place. With a flourish of his scarf, he vanishes for a split second- only to reappear behind his own magic, smirking as the final glow fades. "The night’s secrets are mine to keep." (🌙 Cue a smug bow before vanishing again. 🌙)

🌟 Xavier - "Celestial Guardian!"

Soft starlight radiates from beneath his feet as Xavier closes his eyes, allowing golden constellations to swirl around him. His coat transforms first, shimmering into a regal navy-and-gold ensemble adorned with celestial embroidery. With a gentle lift of his hand, a radiant staff manifests, pulsing with the light of countless stars. His boots solidify beneath him as he steps forward, stardust lingering in his wake. He opens his eyes, now glowing with cosmic wisdom, and gives a calm, confident nod. "Guided by the stars, I walk the path of destiny." (✨ Cue soft cosmic glow and dramatic cape flourish.✨)

Coming soon to a Magical Girl anime near you! ⸻ Note: Header Image generated with AI.

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classyrbf · 6 months ago

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CLASSYRBF’S JJK KINKTOBER SPECIAL 2024 !

(CANCELLED)

ᯓ★ — welcome to classyrbf’s kinktober special! This is my very first kinktober that I’ve ever done but I’m so excited. I’m doing this a little differently compared to others, so instead of days I’ll be doing weeks instead that way it gives me time to process my ideas and fics and if id like to edit anything. Also, most of these short fics/drabbles will be horror/halloween themed in some way. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

WEEK 1 — there’s someone in the woods w/geto suguru + 7 minutes in heaven w/gojo satoru

— there someone in the woods (stalker!geto x fem!reader): walking home from a halloween party you decided to take a shortcut, but an eerie feelings creeps up your spine and it feels like eyes are watching your every move

— 7 minutes in heaven (ghost!gojo x fem!reader): during a game of hide and seek at a halloween party, you end up locked in a small, dark closet all alone only to find out you’re not the only one hiding in there

WEEK 2 — scream queen w/toji fushiguro + freak on a leash w/choso kamo

— scream queen (ghost face!toji x fem!reader): ghost face!toji is back to make his mark on you, it just seems he couldn’t get enough of you last time (pt 2 of ghost face!toji fic)

— freak on a leash (choso x sucubus fem!reader): choso can’t seem to figure out why he’s been so horny all week, growing frustrated that he can’t properly get off, he accidentally summons a sucubus

WEEK 3 — nosferatu w/nanami kento + bewitched w/ hiromi higuruma

— nosferatu (vampire!nanami x fem!reader): it isn’t everyday where you wander into an old abandoned castle far away from the village, curious of the rumors that’s surround this place, except your quick to find it isn’t abandoned at all

— bewitched (higuruma x witch fem!reader): you have your sights set on hiromi, needy for him, greedy, but you can’t have him, and in order to make him yours forever…you turn towards witchcraft

WEEK 4 — love you to death w/ryomen sukuna + cowboys from hell w/jjk men

— love you to death (werewolf!sukuna x fem!reader): sukuna can’t help the beast inside of him when he lays his eyes upon you, becoming obsessive and seduced by your every move

— cowboys from hell (cowboy!jjk men x fem!reader): what happens when demonic cowboys rise from hell? Well of course they need to get a taste of the very pretty girl in front of them

taglist closed!

CLASSYRBF 2024

#—☆classyrbf #jjk #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #geto x reader #choso x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk kinktober #kinktober #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami smut #geto smut #choso smut #sukuna smut

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rememberwren · 7 months ago

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Just a Ghoap/military!fem!reader little sex pollen drabble for the anon who requested it ages ago :) dub con, fingering. Reader is carried by Ghost but otherwise featureless and without description.

Ghost can take the screams. He can take the cries, the pleas, the begging. He does take it, planting himself outside the singular bedroom door of the safehouse they’re holed up in until the storm passes, his dark eyes watching Johnny pace a hole in the goddamn floor, ready to come between you and the Sergeant should needs must.

But it’s the silence that breaks him.

It’s even caught Johnny’s attention. The man stops his pacing and stands facing the bedroom, his face somber, both of their ears cocked toward the door as they listen for any sign of you on the other side. Maybe the wet sounds of you fucking yourself on your own fingers. Maybe more begging—begging for Ghost or Johnny or both at once to come in and stuff you full with their cocks.

No sound comes.

“Fuck it,” Ghost says, beginning to strip. “I’m going in there.”

“The hell you are,” Johnny says, stepping into Ghost’s space. He points a finger towards your pointed silence. “She’s been compromised; she cannot consent!”

“She’s in there dying, Johnny,” Ghost says, the sound of ripping velcro loud in the quiet of the house. “She needs to get fucked or she’ll die. I’ll take the fucking discharge.”

“She’ll hate you for this.”

“She’ll be alive to do it; that’s good enough for me.”

Johnny grips his bare arm once he’s stripped out of his kit, fingertips digging into scarred skin. “You’re not going in there without me. If one of us has to do it, then the other has to help him keep his head, aye? You’ll do no more than what you have to do to keep her alive.”

Ghost brushes off Johnny’s touch, something which is normally welcome. He’d break Johnny’s wrist for suggesting otherwise if he didn’t think Johnny might need both hands for what’s to come.

When they unlock and open the door to the bedroom the silence is near eerie. You’re not on the bed where they left you, and it takes a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room and find you laying on the floor beside the bed, like you had rolled out of it or fallen in your attempts to make it to the door. Your body is still except for the bone-deep shivers that wrack your figure. Ghost goes to your side and rolls you over onto your back, puts a hand to your forehead and withdraws from the way your skin burns with fever.

“Go start the shower. Tepid, Johnny. Not cold,” Ghost instructs him.

“Aye,” says Johnny, rushing into the tiny adjoined bathroom. The sound of water follows.

“Come on,” Ghost mutters to you softly. He tries to work his hand between your legs, but they are clamped shut tightly, the muscles seized up. It reminds him too much of the stiffness of a dead body. Instead he begins the arduous work of stripping you down, unlacing your boots, working your pants down your wide hips and thighs. It’s good enough.

Johnny reappears. “Shower’s ready. How is she?”

“Brain’s turning into a nice golden chip,” Ghost mutters, standing and hauling you up with him. You’re heavier than you look, especially when your body refuses to go limp in his arms. He steps into the bathroom and takes brief stock of it: the small, dirty porcelain tub, the shower faucet that is more of a dribble than a spray. He climbs into the tub with his clothes on and lays with you, both your bodies filling it to the brim as the cool water rains down on your figures.

Johnny kneels at the tubside. “What’s she need?”

“To cum,” Ghost says. He tries to work his hand between your thighs again, but your body actively fights against him, muscles trembling from the strain. At last he can work his fingers between your legs and he finds you sodden, soaked, dripping from the burning heat of your core. All he has to do is brush his fingers over the swollen knot of your clit and your body seizes against him, your jaw unclenching around a shriek as you cum for the first time. You arch against him like a cat, groaning like the frantic touch is the best thing you’ve ever felt. Pure pleasure to your frying synapses.

“Jesus,” Johnny mutters.

“Good girl,” Ghost mutters, unsure if you can even hear him. You’re still fighting against him, but not as much—or perhaps your body is growing tired, weak. He can work his hand between your thighs now, gathering your slick onto his three middlemost fingers and dragging the wetness up over your aching clit, rubbing in soft, rapid circles. This time when you cum, your knees snap open wide, cracking against the sides of the porcelain tub as your hips thrust upwards, chasing his fingers. The sounds that pour from your mouth combined with the way you writhe against him has his cock hardening against your back. Ghost takes even, measured breaths, trying to leave his body behind and focus on your own.

Johnny is fairing no better, shifting on his knees, cock pressed against the side of the porcelain tub. He reaches a hand down and adjusts himself, but lingers too long, until it’s impossible to call it anything but what it is: playing with himself.

A groan rips from your throat, forming syllables, nonsensical. You roll in Ghost’s grasp, your clothes clinging to your wet skin until your clothed breasts are pressed to his chest. Your eyes are open now but so frighteningly empty, glossy with fever and bloodshot. Your gaze doesn’t focus on him as you struggle to grind yourself against the hardening tent in his pants, fingers stiff and useless even as you grab at and cling to him.

“Give her some fingers,” Johnny insists. Your head turns toward the sound, and you scramble out of the tub, flinging water everywhere as you push him backwards off balance, pin him to the ceramic tile floor, and grind your cunt against his cock.

“Fu-uck,” Johnny groans, hands finding your hips. He stills you, the muscles in his arms straining as you put all your strength into defying him. “Lass, you don’t know what you’re doing—!”

Ghost climbs out of the tub, dripping wet. He turns the water off—hopeful that your fever is already beginning to abate now that they are giving in to your body’s needs—and loops an arm around your waist, wrenching you off of Johnny. Some help his Sergeant is. (Ghost had expected him to be about this useless.)

“Sit up,” Ghost barks. Johnny can still follow orders, sitting up and scooting back until his back is braced against the wall. Ghost puts you between his legs, facing away from him. “Hold her open.”

Johnny grips your thighs, fingers dimpling the soft flesh. His face is pained—whether that pain is coming from his cock or from his soft bleeding heart, Ghost doesn’t know. Doesn’t really care. He searches the soaked space between your thighs, finding your entrance and slipping two thick fingers into you.

You howl, body bowing against Johnny’s. Inside, you are like burning silk, soft and molten, squeezing tight around the girth of his fingers. He hooks them softly, aiming for that spongy area behind your pubic bone and works to fuck you with vigor, the wet squelches of your cunt nearly obscene in the enclosed, tiled space.

Your mouth forms words, simple ones: “Yes, yes, yesyesyesyes,” until you are hissing the word, your head thrown back to rest on Johnny’s shoulder and expose your corded throat, shirt sticking to your skin. When you run out of breath, you can’t draw in more, your body frozen in time, trembling with need. When you cum, you fucking squirt, a rush of wetness that follows his fingers when he trails them out of you and skims them over your clit to prolong the orgasm.

“Jesus,” Johnny mutters again, burying his face against your neck.

“No gods here,” Ghost reminds him. He reaches up and taps his wet fingers against Johnny’s cheek, thrills as Johnny turns his head and opens his mouth to take them, to suck them clean, groaning.

“No,” you shriek, wrapping both hands around Ghost’s wrist. You tug with all your strength, his fingers slipping wetly from Johnny’s mouth. “No—back inside, please put them back, please—”

But Ghost knows that these are only temporary fixes to get you off of death’s doorstep. If he wants to truly save your life, he knows the cost. What’s the use in prolonging your pain?

Ghost should pay up.

“I’ve got something better for you,” Ghost promises. To Johnny, he says: “Help me get her to the bed.”

#ghoap x reader #request

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pellucid-constellations · 7 months ago

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A small drabble dedicated to returning home from Under the Mountain and what that would look like for Azriel.

The second you cracked an eye open, Azriel tugged you closer to his chest in an almost eerie display of sixth sense. You could tell he was still asleep by the even rate of his breath as it puffed over your shoulder, and still, he could tell the moment you woke up.

It had been that way since you returned home from Under the Mountain.

Subtle tells made you privy to the desperation he had felt during the decades you’d been gone. He never vocalized it, always too concerned with the horrors you’d been subjected to under Amarantha’s reign, but you could tell.

You could tell by the way he looked at you, the soft gleam in his eyes so achingly adoring it constantly sent a pang through your chest. You could tell in how he touched you, each pass of his hands soft but determined, as if he were afraid a meaningless touch would send you away again. The way he cared for you spoke volumes—how he pressed you close when you cried over imagined pasts and fended off loud sounds even though they didn’t mean what they used to Under the Mountain.

The first week after you’d returned you swore he was utterly devoted to you simply being able to eat an entire plate of food and keep it down. You were better at that now, more used to the rich spices back home, but you could still feel the way he intently watched as you ate.

You weren’t sure when that vigilance would fade—when he would finally understand that you were safe and by his side once more.

You blinked against the sunlight filtering through bedroom curtains and felt Azriel’s hands curl against your ribs. His wing twitched as it rested over you, and you subtly remembered that he never used to do that. He never slept with you so close and tight and with so much of him covering so much of you.

After lying in his hold for several minutes, your shoulders shifted with restlessness.

Azriel woke immediately, his heart pattering harshly against your back as he breathed in suddenly. He jolted his head up before consciousness reached him, a panic spurring him to look around the room with haste.

This was something else you’d have to overcome together.

“Az,” you called from beneath him. “I’m right here.”

Azriel snapped his gaze down to look upon you, confusion marring his features before unrelenting relief smoothed the lines on his face. He huffed out a breath that was meant to be a laugh before burying his face in the juncture of your neck, his heart calming as he felt you.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled against your skin. “I’ll get over that.”

You smiled softly. He couldn’t see it. “It’s okay. I don’t mind reminding you.”

Azriel slowly unraveled himself from you and turned you to rest on your back. His eyes flitted over your face in admiration, but you could see the way they lingered down the rest of your body as well—examining, ensuring, solidifying your presence.

You brushed your fingers across his cheek and his lashes fluttered in response.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.

Did you have any dreams of her? Of that place? Of the times I wasn’t able to protect you?

You knew those were the questions disguised beneath the veil of casual pillow talk.

“I slept very well,” you hummed. “As did you, it seems. You were snoring in my ear.”

“I do not snore, my love. I cannot snore, it would be an occupational hazard.”

You rolled your eyes. “You never let me have anything.”

Joy shone brightest in Azriel’s eyes, but the melancholy that always seemed to linger was difficult to escape. Because you knew him so well. Because you knew he was blaming himself for so much of this.

“I would give you everything,” he stressed, shaking his head playfully. “But I will not have you spreading lies about me. I do not snore and never have.”

You bit back a smile and pulled him down by the back of his neck, his nose pressed to yours as you replied, “Says you.”

He laughed and then he kissed you, his hands never leaving your body, his devotion never dissipating as it streamed down the bond.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel drabble #azriel fluff #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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dontbesoweirdkira · 2 months ago

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Warnings: Yandere/obsession, power dynamics, creep! Dick Grayson, creep!Barbra Gordon, mentions of implied harassment, dark themes.

A/N: Just thinking about how fucked up it'd be living in the Manor with those hunger crazed lions..(aka horny and obsessed young adults) I need to get this drabble off of my chest. I wrote this open enough so that whatever relation you choose to have to the Batfam is your choice.

Bruce's current lover? Poor uni student who was offered to stay at the manor by one of the many batbrats? Adult bat-sis who's at their wits end? That's your business..

and it doesn't matter because the stalking, the constant harassment masked as "affection", the insane power dynamics and fear tactics...it's all enough to drive anyone mad,,and it's made worse by the fact they are constantly treating you like the family's very own Barbie doll. You're pushed and grabbed and expected to go along with any and every fucked up role-play scenario that they've conjured up.

The mansion feels like a dollhouse, you know the kind that's cut in half so all rooms are on display so you can monitor all your dollies at the same time? Yeah, just like that. You feel stripped of any ounce of privacy or security, even in your bedroom (which you've checked hundreds of times for listening devices and cameras...or a very lost Wayne adoptee hiding under your bed) felt invaded.

You could be locked in a tight storage closet and despite being certain that you were completely alone and away from everyone, you still wouldn't be able to shake the eerie feeling that you were still exposed and vulnerable. Somehow you still felt like you were on display for them to monitor like a doll.

The last straw had to be while you were taking a shower. Despite the family's usual degenerative behaviors, there seemed to be a silent rule to not go into your room unless you were away. Probably for plausible deniability that your missed placed items and gut feeling that someone's been tampering around your room is all in your head...since you've never caught anyone in the act.

Regardless you would lock your bedroom doors, windows and the door leading into your bathroom (even at times barricading them) just to prevent any unwanted visitors...

Admittedly though, you did get startled because just a few minutes after stepping into the running water, you started to hear faint noises from outside your door before going silent only moments later.

The sound was muted and ambiguous enough for you not to fully panic. There were many possible and reasonable explanations for what you just heard. The manor was excellently well constructed, yes, but it was still an old building nonetheless. There were times where you could hear things from far away or rattling in the ventilation system that sounded like it was closer to you than it actually was. Not to mention, no home was exempt from an occasional "ghostly haunting".

You continued scrubbing the deliciously scented shampoo into your scalp and blocked out any worries that tried to anxiously crawl its way into your mind.

As it was time to rise, water ran through out your hair down your body taking all the leftover suds with it.

Suddenly your ears perked up to another sound.

You held your breath for a second to hone in on it to make sure it was just the same one from earlier.

It wasn't.

...there was almost like a sliding sound, close to what a desk drawer would make when you pull it...then what sounded like rustling of clothes, papers, and things on your vanity.

Your heart dropped and your entire body went into a catatonic like state. There's no way someone was actually in your room right now. There seriously couldn't be, your doors were securely locked. You knew it, your constant paranoia caused you to triple check them and then once more for good measure. And out of all the times, why did they choose the one you were completely nude and defenseless? Was this planned? Some sick kind of power play? Did they know you'd be far too petrified to storm out of that bathroom with only a skimpy towel wrapped loosely around your chest and half-empty shampoo bottle to confront them with?

If you didn't think that the feeling of being vulnerably exposed could become all the more suffocating, you were greatly mistaken. Whoever it was that's rummaging through your room and taking full advantage of your helplessness , hit a new all time low.

Fortunately they stayed relatively distant from the bathroom for a while. It didn't appear that they had any interest in whatever you were doing in the bathroom, only to find whatever they were searching for..then leave out before you were done.

The identity of the perpetrator was still unbeknownst to you before they started inaudibly whispering. Well,,more like low talking than whispering, they didn't care enough to fully prevent their voice from being heard by you,,, The voice was feminine yet had a sense of authority...? irritation....? It wasn't exactly clear but the tone was reminiscent of a teacher demanding a student to do,,,or rather not to do something..

It had to be Babs..or..maybe it was Cass?..You weren't positive as when they were both upset, their voice was kind of similar.

The movement of things presumably being displaced or stolen stopped and another voice spoke back to the other. This one sounded masculine with a hint of immaturity in their voice.

Each minute that passed, their voices became louder and louder, clearly an aggravated disagreement had broken out.

The intensity of the atmosphere from your bedroom, seeped through the cracks of the door and flooded the bathroom.. You listened intently trying to get any ounce of clarity as to what they could've possibly been upset over.. If the circumstances had been different, you might've laughed at the absurdity of them fighting over one of your socks or a used tissue..

Even with their voices becoming increasingly louder, and all the more heated...it stayed mostly inaudible, no thanks to the running water and your unstable state that made it a bit harder to process what was really going on..

The only thing you could make out were a few words but nothing that made sense when you tried piecing them together.

The room eventually fell silent again..only for a beat. You thought maybe they'd come to terms with whatever it was that riled them until the masculine voice spoke up again..

This time you could understand him clearly as his voice was all of a sudden alarmingly close to the bathroom door..

"...It's fine..a little peak is fine..."

I don't even need to explain the amount of sheer horror that swept through your body and caused your heart to pound. The two voices were bickering about whether they should open the door to your bathroom or not.. You knew the people that you lived with well enough to know that they were notorious for pushing boundaries and then some just to see what they could extort out of you..but this??

Being only seconds away from being violated,,,possibly traumatized as well for a cherry on top was more than enough to sink a pit in your stomach.. You recognized the voice to be Dick's, and even though all the people you lived with were all just as creepy, he was a different level of disgusting. The only one who says weird things, while doing even wilder things, all with the most beautiful smile you've ever seen. The patterned shower curtain wasn't enough to protect you from him them.. getting a peak would mean pushing past the curtain..and pushing past the curtain would turn into...

fuck. You needed to do something, anything to try and protect yourself but your body couldn't move..

The door knob started being fiddled with. Turning and pulling, Dick was trying to see if the door might've been unlocked.

"Shit. Where did you put that lock pick at?"

The irony.

"Come on, maybe this is going a bit far.." Barbra spoke with

Scoffing would be an under-reaction to that statement.

You didn't need to see him to know the desperation Dick exuded when he finally found the lock pick. The sound of it being shoved into the door pierced through your chest and struck your spine. The hairs on your body stood pin straight, and goosebumps cascaded down your entire body tightening your skin..

"Didn't you say you wanted to do this before? This is our chance."

"Yeah...."

"But...? Aren't you just a little bit curious...? We're just looking. Nothing more..we're not going to touch her.." It was unnerving the way he said those last lines..almost as if he was trying to convince himself more than Barbra.

Tears started to swell your eyes as they both got closer to opening the door and laying their eyes on the lewd sight in front of them..eagerly you kept trying to snap yourself out of it's shocked state. Even the water's warmth had turned into a chilling temperature.. in only something you could describe as the house's cynical way at confirming your impending doom... but the only movement you managed to accomplish was to violently shake..

come, on..move..

your towel is right there, just grab it.

please,,,just fucking move.

Dick had finished cracking the lock and his hand grabbed onto the door handle and twisted it slightly...

"....we just..we need to plan this out better. It's too risky, with Bruce being home. We can't manipulate our way out of this one, not after what was found on Tim's computer..."

There was a long pause before an exasperated sigh was let out.

"..."

"..fine...we'll wait until B takes his trip.." His words gritted out like venom behind his teeth, he meant what he said.

No words were exchanged after that but you could still sense their presence. Dick kept his hand tightly wrapped around the door knob, doing everything in his power not to go through with his desires at the moment. And as much as Babs played the devil's advocate, for a moment, she wanted him to open that door too..

You weren't sure how long they were still standing there in silence, debating their actions before they finally left, you were long disassociated by then.

They were gone but not the damage that they caused. You've never felt so disgusted and dehumanized in your entire life. You weren't a human being to them only a doll. They're far more concerned with Bruce's judgment than your dignity. They couldn't care less that you know that they are going to try to violate you again, and exactly when...Bruce doesn't believe hearsay..and the thought of having to see their faces after this made your blood boil.

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jinxvex · 4 months ago

Note

can we get jinx w a very doting gf :3

♱ gf!jinx x doting (affectionate)!reader ♱

yes!! i love this request! 🖤 oneshot vibes fr!

cw: a bit angsty at first, little snippets of act 1/season 2,SFW & NSFW!!!, smutty drabble at the end, jinx pushes you into a wall once, you're very affectionate (obv), kissing, hugging, dirty talk, tribbing, praise, dom-ish!jinx & sub!reader, etc etc

wc: 1.4K

jinx had nothing; no one.

not after the her attack on piltover.

her unhinged, yet powerful act of rebellion ultimately caused a war between the city of progress and the dangerous underground city of zaun.

and had forced her into hiding…

i mean, what was worse? being caught by the stuck-up, zaunite-hating, piltie goons who murdered her mother and father or being alone?

she often contemplated that question.

she contemplated her future.

was any of it worth it now that her sister wanted nothing to do with her? now that she’s laid her adoptive father to rest in the contaminated murky river? now that she has a bounty on her head?

she wasn’t sure.

she wasn’t sure if anyone even gave a damn about her or whether she lived or died.

“it’s all just… pointless!” she replayed on a loop in her head, the place that has always been too loud and too daunting for her comfort.

jinx was alone.

well, until she met you.

as jinx sneakily roamed the dark and dingy alleyways of zaun in her not-so-discreet disguise, she was met with (almost) complete and utter silence. which casts an eerie feeling of unfamiliarity within her bones.

the lively (although still dangerous) streets of zaun were usually bustling with people. drunks, shimmer addicts, salesmen, crooks, and goons alike typically overcrowd every inch of the sunken city, which used to allow her to go wherever she pleased without anyone noticing her.

since the enforcers started raiding the city and imprisoning the people of zaun, a petty punishment for her own wrongdoings, many zaunites didn’t feel safe. they opted to stay inside, shut themselves out, and draw the blinds closed to prevent them from being taken too.

as jinx continues to walk towards her destination, “home”, a wave of loneliness washes over her, a feeling she so desperately had attempted to rid herself of for years.

she isn’t inclined to speak, though. not out loud to empty space or to the voices. maybe she’d save that for home.

as her head is angled downwards, looking at her dragging feet, she turns another corner in order to make her way back to her humble abode.

and all of a sudden, she bumps into a hard, human-shaped object? as she backs up menacingly after plummeting into something, she slowly brings her head up and is met with the sight of… you.

“a girl?” she exclaims in her head.

“a pretty one.”

“does she live near here?”

“wait! does she know who i am?”

“is she here to kill me? take me away?”

“no. no! i can’t let her.”

“not now…”

“damn it!”

her thoughts overflow with endless possibilities and scenarios that cause her to grip your shoulders and harshly back you up into the hard surface of a cement building without warning.

you gasp loudly, but as you bring your hands up to fight back and protect yourself from whatever is about to come, your moments are suddenly still.

as you look into her pinkish, vibrant eyes, you’re met with fear. you’re met with anger, loneliness, and suffering, which prompt you to freeze. her face is littered with fresh cuts, scrapes, and scars. your heart squeezes in empathy as you look into each other's eyes—jinx not even having the energy to reach for her gun out of concern for herself.

“you’re hurt.” you mutter softly. your caring nature immediately wanting to help her. jinx. and yes, you know of her. that doesn’t matter to you now.

her eyes still gaze into yours, even as she removes her hands from your shoulders.

“yeah, tell me ‘bout it, sweetness.” she laughs almost mockingly, not towards you, but at herself.

“want me to clean that up?” you point your chin up at the wounds on her face.

she blinks at you incredulously before allowing a smirk to grace her features for the first time in what seems like forever.

“damn! take a girl out to dinner first, babe.”

you smile.

… ( mini time skip!! a couple months)

jinx wasn't used to physical and emotional affection. love. let alone romantic gestures. silco looked after her but struggled to give the affection a parent would once he took her in all those years ago.

at first, she was incredibly taken aback by your willingness to help her even though you knew who she was. you knew who she was and still allowed her to lead you back to her workshop to patch her up. after that day, spent cleaning her wounds, you never left.

she was enamored by you.

by your ability to love.

you were moderately affectionate in the beginning, but as the weeks passed, your excessive praise and doting intensified. at first, it was lingering touches on her face after you insisted on "checking" her facial bandages. then it was moving her hair out of her face and caressing the sides of her head when she's in an episode.

once you started coming up behind her as she was working on her gadgets to link your arms around her waist and lay your head on her shoulder, she was hooked on you.

she did initially flinch and curl out of your touch, but as she took in your scent and realized it was you, she relaxed. she accepted you.

...

"just me!" you exclaim happily as you nudge your face into her neck, and she softly gasps when you give her small, gentle pecks.

"hmmph! you're too sweet to me, buttercup! scares me sometimes..." she fluctuates the tone of her voice from happy to unsure and back to happy again.

one thing she is sure of, though, is her love for you.

as you peer up at her from the side of her neck, you tighten your arms around her, "you deserve it. all the hugs, kisses and love!"

you both never felt a need to verbally establish a label on your relationship.

the night you took each other's first kiss, there was a mutual understanding. you were hers, and she was yours.

when she's with you, the voices quiet, and the visions aren't as prevalent anymore. she feels safe. not just because she's in hiding, still successfully dodging piltover, but because you're there.

although that is the case, you still make her crazy for you.

your unconditional affection ignites a fire inside her that loving you could only put out.

...(nsfw incoming!!)

"s-shit, babe! fuck!" her voice echoes throughout the seemingly endless depths of her workshop as she circles her hips and drags her wet cunt against yours.

your moans and little "oh my g-god!'s" adding to the music that is your pussies grinding together to make filthy sloshing noises.

"fuckin' pussy is so so good, bunny! pl-eease!" she begs you, although she's the one above you, her hand pushing one of your legs up to rest on her shoulder and her other hand pressing your leg down onto the couch. her ass is perched on your upper thigh to allow her to buck her hips up into your cunt as close as she possibly can.

"yes! yes! more, baby! you feel so good!" you babble as you lay back, looking up at her through your eyelashes. she's sitting right side up as she continues to hump your cunt with her eyes glued shut in concentration.

she can feel every pulse, every throb of your heat as she chases her high, and it affects her deeply.

"you're perfect, y-you know that?" you question. "fucking perfect. i love you so much!" she almost stills. that "perfect" word causes her heart to beat out her chest. she slows down slightly as she opens her eyes and looks down at you, looking back at her lovingly.

now inspired by your praise, she then speeds up, even faster and rougher than before.

"yeah? yeah? 'm perfect, baby? you loveee me?" she asks you mockingly as she stares into your eyes.

"yes! you feel so good. so perfect! fuckin' love you! need ta' cum! you scream out.

"mhm! thought so. then show me how good you're feelin' and cum all over me." she demands of you. "make a mess on this pussy, toots."

she lets out a "give me that shit, baby" and a "need my sweet girl to cum, so fuckin' nice to this pussy" to urge you on.

"fu-uck! right there! i'm cumming!"

"shit, me too!"

...

as you both come down from your high, she eventually lets your leg down and sits you upright to hug you tightly.

she feels so appreciated, so loved in the moment that she cups your jaw with her shaky hands and kisses you hard.

"i love you, hon. you're so..."

"i love you too, pow."

...

and y'all live happily ever after, and the events of act 3 NEVERRR happen!!! 😜🥳‼️

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