#RAVEN HAS BEEN GIVEN ATTENTION

[sometimesraven]

I HAVE BEEN BLESSED WITH A RETWEET FROM MASON AAAA

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ STREETS !

summary :: over 20 years of kenji’s life has been spent preserving the surviving scraps of innocence from his childhood. since then, he has been desperately searching for anything to fill the rotten void in his chest. when a news reporter gives him everything he could ever ask for by merely existing, kenji fears the man he may become without them near.

word count :: 8.3k

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!kenji, obsessive!kenji, g/n reader, blood/violence, alcohol, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, nausea/sickness, mentions of sex, use of ‘daddy’ honorific (but nothing sexually explicit occurs).

kenji sato's yandere traits are . . .

nurturing, heroic, & smothering

──── Over the course of his childhood, Kenji possessed the same desires every child had. The same wishes he���d whisper to planes he mistook for shooting stars.

He remembers climbing the blunt limbs of the oak tree in his backyard, pretending to be a hawk and searching the grass for any delicious rodents to sink his claws into. He can still feel the dirt under his fingernails when he’d get lost in the woods, pretending to be a tiger and barring his teeth to any predators after his kin. His only worries would consist of his next meal and where he'll settle in for the night, instead of the loneliness that resided back home.

However, as all stories go, Kenji grew up. As the years passed, though, the more constricting his grip became on this childhood dream. For every candle Kenji blew out, he only wished to be one with the great outdoors and rid himself of the expectations shoved upon him. As any child innocently wanted.

Now in adulthood, every candlelight snuffed out was a silent plea for peace. And so desperately, he is trying to protect the bird nest he intricately crafted. Woven with strands of his young, raven-black hair, chunks of sidewalk chalk, tufts of fur of his favorite stuffed animals — every forgotten, sacred piece of his childhood that still remains unscathed.

Year after year, the relentless abuse of the world and his responsibilities reign down on him, prying their violent, eager fingers into his beloved bird nest. Today, Kenji holds whatever scraps still remain close to his chest, nestling them beneath a canopy of creativity and everlasting hope. Protecting whatever bits of innocence and childlike luster that survive the weight of the world.

When he pictured his father’s role of Ultraman as a child, he imagined perseverance and bravery. Now with that title bequeathed to him, Kenji is anything but. He is clumsy, reckless, and negligent. The very last thing he wishes to do now is follow his father’s footsteps, but alas, he has been given no choice.

The Neronga waltzes through the city streets, exuding chaos with every step it strides. Tossing around chunks of buildings and fistfuls of debris. And begrudgingly, Kenji trails after it like a parent trying to tame their exuberant child. 

A booming roar echoes from the beast's throat, angry bolts of electricity sparking from its horn. One swift punch to its jaw and the creature is out cold, leaving miles of destruction and disorder in its demise. With the threat neutralized, now comes the clean-up. He plucks citizens like they are tiny dolls and drops them to safety, who all thank him profusely for his aid. All except one.

Several bystanders crowd over a pile of rubble, waving their hands in an attempt at garnering the attention of Ultraman. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming, I’m coming…” Kenji mutters, stepping over passing cars as though they’re scatterings of colorful legos. 

Piece by piece, he brushes past the lumps of bricks and metal. Disinterred from beneath the rubble is you. Hauntingly beautiful in your unconscious state. 

“Oh…” He exhales breathlessly, chest rising and falling with rapid pants. 

And there it is. 

That canopy of creativity enveloping him; that bird nest suddenly overflowing with rebirth and life. Everything bursts in colors so prismatic, Kenji finds himself at an impossible balance between feeling weakly heavy and ecstatically light. Never has his soul been so completely satiated before, even in the brightest days of his childhood.

Love, that’s what this must be! Love, warmth, happiness — every inkling of light this world has to offer! How could he ever feel dejected again with this angel now in his-? 

“Your heart rate is spiking.” That familiar, robotic voice interrupts. “You know what happens when Ultraman gets stressed.” 

Like clockwork, his color timer blares in distressful hues of light blue and sharp red. Though, how could Kenji possibly pay attention to such trivial matters when he’s holding you in his hands? How could he pay attention to anything else? 

Unfortunately for his sake, reality tears him away from his entranced state by brute forcd. A blinding flash of white permeates the street and in a blink, Kenji has returned to his normal self. He is back to being the notorious baseball player, worldwide heartthrob, and, most notably, smaller than his heroic alter ego.

When he shifts his gaze up, he finds you descending from the grasp he once held you in. Just like the fearless prince in every child's imagination, he scurries to catch you before you meet the unforgiving ground.

When his bare hands meet your skin, a gasp is yanked from his chest. His heart lurches, obtaining speeds he did not deem possible. Even sprinting from base to base did not garner this physical reaction out of him. You just feel so good against him, so perfect. Like the missing puzzle piece he’s been tearing apart the house looking for, now within its respected place. Bound to be cemented there forever – that sounds good to Kenji. 

“Ken, they can see you!” Mina’s frantic voice interrupts once again. 

When he pulls his vision from you, he finds a collage of people begin to surround the adjacent area. Their mere gaze threatens to jeopardize his identity once and forevermore.

“I’m sorry, ‘m so sorry, baby.” Kenji whispers into your ear.

Pressing a hard kiss to your cheekbone and relishing at the sensation of your skin beneath his lips, he reluctantly guides your limp body atop of the rubble. A few final caresses to your warm flesh and he is scurrying off into the night, completely inconsolable with these brand new emotions. New emotions he fears terribly, but has now clasped all coherent function in his body.

A single week had passed since the city's last Kaiju attack. These several days have proven to be nothing short of torturous for Kenji.

He has been rendered miserable after latching onto the light he’s been chasing for years, only to have it torn from his hands like candy from a baby. All because he’s been forced into a gig he never signed up for. Kenji has lost the love of his life and nothing can reprimand the grief it has left behind. 

Through extensive, but fruitless effort, he has assigned Mina the task of dissecting all of Japan in search of you. With only a description of your face, coated with dirt and blood, there is very little the efficient robot can do. And once again, his desires are left to collect dust in the hollow corners of his soul.

Kenji now resides in his ‘man-cave’, as he so confidently calls it. “Healthy body, healthy mind.” Mina teases, displaying the assortment of coconut water stacked in the fridge. With a sigh of defeat, he takes a resentful sip and cringes at the horrid taste. His efforts to stuff his face with junk food like some heartbroken blonde in a chick-flick were rejected by Mina, as she is always pushing him to pursue greater health. Waving his white flag, he asks for Mina to just turn the TV on, searching for anything to mend the pain poisoning his heart.

“Ken. I wonder if you might consider taking a break.” Mina confesses. 

He stares at the robot, searching her metal face for reasoning.

“From TV?” 

“From finding that citizen.”

His face scrunches in disdain. 

Quit you? Is she serious? How could he ever do that? Could he even survive such a predicament? 

“Give up the one thing that puts a smile on my face?” Kenji questions. “Sorry. No. TV, please.”

Some sincere praise from saved citizens will surely fill the hole in his chest, he assumes. Help him in his efforts to protect that bird nest he cradles close. 

The TV flickers to life and presents Channel 7 News, the place in which Kenji is featured most on. Seeing his most recent work with a bold “WOUNDED NERONGA AFTER ULTRAMAN EXIT” beneath the scene granted no surprise to him. 

What does stun him into a defying silence is when the screen shifts and your face fills up the expanse. Bandage on your scalp and microphone in your hand, you inform viewers at home of the recent neutralized threat and your new status here on the channel.

“Well, this has been quite the warm welcome! I’ve just arrived here in Japan and I’ve already been greeted by the Neronga, evident in this bandage on my noggin’.” 

The coconut water in his mouth spews out like a sprinkler when Kenji spits out the beverage. He chucks the open can across the room, ignoring the stain it will inevitably leave on his lavish carpets.

“That’s them! That’s them, that’s them, that’s them!” He exclaims to Mina. 

Shuffling off the couch, he crawls over to the television as though his legs had completely given out beneath him. His hand caresses the surface where your cheek is. 

“Sources tell us you were rescued by Ultraman himself!” A news anchor speaks. 

“Yes, that is true. Unfortunately, I was a bit too woozy to thank him properly, but he did save my life. It is heroic acts like Ultraman that help keep this city alive.” 

Unbeknownst to you, your words made a certain baseball player melt into putty. Hearing your praises, even when it is probably written on a script behind the camera, is nothing short of heavenly. 

The anchors, third-wheeling between two soulmates, continue to blabber about other fresh events taking place in Japan. Pressing languid kisses to the fuzzy static, all Kenji can listen to, all he can focus on, is you. Every twitch of your brow, every curve of your skin, every stretch in your smile — it all has him mesmerized. Like a siren lulling a fisher into the sea, where he would dive straight into oblivion had it been you in the deep waves.

“This was Y/N L/N with Channel 7 News.” 

Your name sits like honey on his tongue. Sickeningly sweet and absorbing of every word. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” He repeats your name like a magic spell, almost as if you’d manifest into existence had he whispered it enough.

“Signing off.” 

The screen cuts and you vanish from the screen, overtaken by irritating advertisements. As though you were physically there with him, Kenji reaches for you. Desperate to bring you, his Y/N, back into his unwavering embrace.

Now, if there is anything renowned about Ken Sato, it is his charm, which also serves as his most powerful superpower. So, with enough flexes in the mirror to give himself a good ego boost, his “put a ring on Y/N’s finger” plan has now ensued in full effect. 

The foundation of this plan resides in who you are, what intricacies and threadings course through such a marvelous creature. He demands Mina, stronger than he ever has before, to learn every little detail there is to know about you. There cannot be a stone left unturned. Kenji needs to know everything. 

And every fragment of information she delivers to him binds his presumption furthermore: you two were made for each other. You’re like a page torn straight from an ancient fairytale. Crafted by God himself to hold his hand. He’s sunk his fingers into your background, your dreams, your hobbies, and he has nestled them all into his bird nest, entwined with the elements of himself. Bound to remain at one another’s side for eternity.

To enlighten you on these matters, however, Kenji has to find clarity through the whirlwind of emotions overpowering his senses. Then, he is positive he’ll be granted the ability to finally speak to you. However, the thought alone is enough to send a sun-hot shiver down his spine. He’ll need some thorough caresses to his ego before he can garner the confidence to merely stand in the same room as you.

It certainly does not help when everyday is spent battling the intense waves of euphoria, obsession, and of course, the suffocating guilt.

He left you behind. He abandoned the one thing that matters most to him and nothing can atone for this mistake. All because of Ultraman being most imperative, which Kenji had been force-fed to believe. Never again will he choose his occupation over you. Or anything, for that matter. You outweigh everything in terms of vital importance. 

He begins these efforts with baby-steps. To start, he assigns Mina to leave expensive gifts upon your bed. Bouquets of flowers, lush clothing, rich chocolates, luxurious jewelry, action figures and plushies galore! All you have to do is look at something in the store for more than a picosecond and it’s wrapped in a bow for you the following day. You also cannot forget the amount of times you’ve arrived home to find your favorite meals freshly made on the kitchen table.

In your overworked, lethargic brain, you assume everything is left by your sweet, elderly landlord who misses her grandkids and needs a fresh face to spoil rotten. You just choose to ignore how the gifts are impossibly far out of her budget.

Miles away from you, Kenji is tearing himself apart as he assumes your lack of recognition to be rejection. He knew he should’ve purchased those shoes in a different color! What was he thinking buying you roses instead of carnations, God, how cliché can he be!? 

He should’ve known you wouldn’t lend him your heart in return for his riches. You are not that foolish or shallow; you’re far more meticulous than the greedy pigs he’s so accustomed to feeding. 

Kenji will not claim defeat yet, though. He is never one to waver so easily, especially when it is you that is the golden prize. If he cannot flaunt his riches, why not himself? The richest item of all? And if his money cannot slither himself into your heart, he is positive it can push him in the intended direction. 

He’ll leave lumps of cash in the hands of massive corporations, all to cast his face wherever it can reach. On billboards, on buildings, on blimps — whatever place you may possibly be. Inevitably, you will have no choice but to see his gorgeous face and fall head over heels with him. The same way you so easily made him fall for you. 

Unfortunately, though, there are not enough cans of coconut water or buckets of chicken drumsticks in the world to bring you to his doorstep, there to fall into his arms and promise forever at his side. Kenji has failed in claiming your heart as his, once again, but another failure is not nearly enough to get him to welcome defeat. Not when it is you he is promised, never when it is you.

From here, he’ll pursue grander efforts. You’ll be occupied in the studio, skimming through your lines while makeup artists poke and prod at you. A squeal of excitement will permeate through the expanse, shouting out for a man by the name of Ken Sato.

Loud rumbles echo through the city streets as Kenji revs the engine to his motorcycle, complemented by his famous hair-flip and heart-throbbing wink. And feverishly, he scrutinizes every face behind the window, desperate to see those gorgeous features smile and melt at the sight of him. Then, he can spring straight into your studio, gather you in his arms, and race off into the sunset with you. Just like the fairytale dream you deserve. 

But alas, the universe refuses to give him such a privilege. You’re too engrossed with the tasks at hand, not some money-obsessed athlete who adorns the walls of teenage girls across Japan. 

If he could hear your assumptions, he’d assure you are sorely mistaken. Kenji doesn’t want the accolades, the riches, the fame. He just wants you. The one who showed him what it truly meant to be wild; the one who showed him what it truly meant to be free. So desperately, he wants you to know this, as well. To feel it with every beat your heart passes, to feel it imprinted in your skin with every kiss and caress he leaves. He could lose everything, just not you. God, not you. 

The man is speeding off with the pieces of his shattered heart before you can even process what had even occurred.

Kenji, once again, is met with another revelation. If it is not his name that can bring you into his embrace, then maybe it is his second self, the one you so wholeheartedly praise for his heroic acts.

Dressed in these ridiculous garbs, Ultraman leads danger towards your direction to “save” your life, all other innocent bystanders be damned. These efforts do not ever bridge on being dangerous. Merely a quick scare or two. And it definitely pays off, oh, does it pay off. Watching the fear in your eyes ease into relief at the sight of him never fails to get him numb with rapture.

“Fear not, citizen! Kenj- I mean, Ultraman will save you!” 

The last occasion he ever abused his role consisted of an orchestrated car accident. Nearly caught in the crossfire, you ever-so-gracefully dove away from the scene and skidded your knee in the process. A thundering “NO! BABY!” rings through the air. So absorbed in adrenaline, you do not even process the volume of the sound. 

What does grasp your attention is Ultraman taking you into his hand and lifting you far, far away from the ground. You ensnare yourself around his finger in response, clinging to him like a lifeline. Kenji melts from the action, as well as the underlying implications. You, relying on him, your silver-armored prince, for protection — that is everything he could ever wish for sat right in the palm of his hands. 

“Shh… It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay… Daddy’s here…” 

The words, shaky as they are, fall from his mouth like water through a cracked dam. It’s all just so easy, assuring you of his protection and comfort. The only way of preventing him from caring for you is to end his life. And Kenji has a lot of fight in him before he’ll allow himself to be separated from you.

You remain in his hands until an ambulance arrives. For the umpteenth time, he is forced to let go of you again. He cannot hide the perceptible agony it brings him to watch you rely on somebody else for aid. 

One day, it will be him, he assures himself. One day.

In the meantime, your rejection continues to take a heavy toll on him. Kenji is now famished without you, emaciated and starved to the bone. In some feeble attempt at satiating this hunger, he’ll try to find these fragments of you in others. He will drink himself ill then bring a blurry face to bed, all to shake the memory of you out of his head. These efforts, once more, only result in failure.

This time around, a harrowing guilt rots in his chest. There is no one else like you, he should’ve seen it clear as day. Kenji was a fool to ever think there could be. Now, he has cheated on the one who matters most to him. And there is nothing to placate the anguish he’s tormented by.

This perceptible ruination does not go unnoticed by journalists, either, who do not waste the opportunity of an eye-grabbing headline. Articles about him flood the web, detailing his miserable failures out on the field. Crawling to base seconds too late, sprinting directly into walls, and receiving more strikes than anyone can count — Kenji and the famous Sato name are falling apart by the seams.

He examines the glistening trophies and signed baseball cards in another attempt at protecting his ego and its butchered remains. None of it is enough, though. None of this success is notable without you at his side.

In a fit of rage, he throws his Giants helmet against the basement floors, landing with a harsh thud.

“They reject me? Ken Sato!? Best baseball player of all time!? The one and only Ultraman!?” 

His poor helmet is victim to his abuse, once more, as he leans all his might into a forceful kick. 

“Nobody can resist Ken Sato!” 

Another attempt at thrashing around in anger results in his knees buckling beneath him, sending his body to the cold ground. That was the final failure Kenji needed to break down into a sobbing fit. Head buried in his palms, he begs, pleads, for mercy. 

“I… I’m doing my best, okay? God!”

His body curls into itself, like pathetic prey trying to protect itself.

“I buy you everything you want, I save your life again and again, I-” 

Kenji cuts his tangent short by choking on a gagged cry. His fist clenches over his heart, overwhelmed from the sheer pain the organ is enduring. His chest stutters and twitches from the force of his blubbering. Globs of snot and spit gush across down his face, some clumps managing to pervade across his tongue.

“Ken? Are you crying?” A monotone voice speaks. 

“No! I’m… Not crying!” 

His coughing whimpers and wet face reveal the truth. Weakness is something he was taught to be ashamed of, after all. What kind of man would he be if he let himself crumble over such petty matters? Would you ever fall for him after witnessing such a dramatic sight?

“Want me to load up Y/N? That might make you feel better.” 

A few snivels through the silence and Kenji answers her. “Yeah… Yeah, I-I’d really like that…”

Maybe this is what he needs, just a few hits of his favorite drug to keep him in stable condition. Then, he’ll utilize the newfound strength to revive his honor, finally earning your affection in the end.

Pixels unfold in varying colors across the ground, spreading across the walls and ceiling like a reaching wave. The scene overtaking the basement now displays a romantic scene. Cherry blossom trees dance with the warm wind, petals drifting through the Spring air. A grand waterfall descends from a moss-covered mountain and leads to a river, where fish swim along with the stream. As he stands to his feet, Kenji finds himself at an arched bridge stretching over the river as the gentle melodies of nature sing around him.

When his gaze drifts around, he feels his heart practically plummet into the pit of his stomach when he sees you. Leaning over the wicker barrier and tossing out handfuls of kibble for the hungry fish.

Turning over your shoulder, you look up at Kenji with those glittering eyes, causing his breath to get caught in his throat. To make matters even worse for Kenji’s weak self, your face then breaks out into a candy-sweet smile. You are so innocently oblivious to how you’ve reduced his heart rate to an old engine, stuttering miserably. That smile could make even the devil repent, he’s sure of it. With luminosity like that, the greatest evils would have no choice but to succumb to their contrition.

Dusting your hands off, you frolic over to where Kenji stands. A lighthearted giggle escapes past your lips in the process, nearly bringing him to tears from how precious the sight is. Your hand slips into his and he might as well have crossed the pearly gates of heaven. Fuck, why hasn’t he made Mina do this before?

“Come on! Come feed the fishies with me!” You cheer in that captivating tone. That adoring voice could ask so sweetly for death and he’d deliver you buckets of blood. Just keep talking to him like that.

The impact you have on him is so immense, in fact, Kenji falls to his knees. The throbbing ache that his fall courses through his body might as well have been background noise, not when his senses are overwhelmed with how blissful your presence is.

His arms enclose around your legs, burying his face into your fuzzy sweater. With an amused hum, you sink your hands into his dark locks. The gesture makes him dizzy with elation. Spinning around the merry-go-round of devastating jubilation.

“Tell me you love me.” Kenji whines, his sensitive voice muffled against your stomach. 

With another giggle that squishes his gooey heart, you respond.

“I love you, Ken.” 

… Ken? 

No! No, you wouldn’t call him that! 

You’d call him Kenji, or better yet, you’d conjure up some adorable nickname in that witty head of yours. Anything but Ken; anything but what everyone else sees him as. 

And just like that, the fantastical facade shatters and reveals what really lies beneath. None of this is real. As much as he wishes it would be, as much as he’d throw away everything for you to be beside him in this moment, all of this is merely a figment of his imagination.

“No! You’re not real! Y/N- They would never-!”

The tears return and leave his body through broken wails. Once again, he has been forged into a mess of cracked hiccups and ground-shattering sobs.

His clenched fist meets the solid ground, piercing pain invading his entire arm from the impact. The punch was thrown far from where you stand. Even as a hologram, Kenji cannot bear to hurt you. He couldn’t wish violence upon you even if he wanted to. 

The dreamscape stood before him crumbles as quickly as it was formed. Darkness spreads once again and the romantic scene of cherry blossoms and fish kibble fades away. A physical manifestation of what he has become without you present.

Chasing after a sliver of your attention has now thrust Kenji into a staggering state of despair. His sob playlist shakes his house with its ear-splitting volumes, pushing more tears down his face while he stuffs his mouth with donuts. 

The weight of the pain pushes him toward drastic measures, as he is now a hollow shell of who he used to be. Measures he assured himself he would never come to, but has inevitably crashed landed in.

If you do not fall for his riches, his charm, his fame, then Kenji will just have to… “persuade” you towards that goal.

Cameras flash and flicker in his face as he charms his way through another press conference of millions. Only this time, he has ground-breaking news to share. 

“Fans have seen you blow supposed kisses to someone outside the venue. Is there a special someone in your life?” 

Directly across the field is your studio, but he will not tell others this fact. It is his duty to protect you, after all. But, scattering a few breadcrumbs won’t hurt anyone.

“Yes. Yes there is.”

The room erupts in hushed gasps and the rushed scribbling of pens. Another wave of questions tumbles toward Kenji’s way.

“They mean everything to me. I owe all my success to Y/- I mean, my baby.” 

A knowing smirk grows on his face. The Sherlock’s of the internet will surely connect the dots. Netizens will also fawn over how misty-eyed he became speaking of you, while others will rage in jealousy over their dream man falling for someone else. No matter what occurs, he will protect you during your sudden shift to fame. You have his word on that.

Days later, Kenji receives an email. And he almost considers admitting himself into a hospital for the near heart attack he receives upon reading it. 

Signed by none other than Y/N L/N, you ask him to meet with you in order to “clear the air” and “sort out this drama”. 

Several times, he scans the username to find some sort of fault, something that shows him it is just the works of an envious hater. However, his suspicions are never confirmed. The message is purely and undoubtedly you, no online troll or basement hologram in sight!

Without another second to waste, he responds to your email with a place and time, that being two hours from now. Kenji intends on fulfilling his role of the dashing boyfriend and to drive you there himself, flaunting his sumptuous motorcycle in the process. Mina, however, has since been programmed to detect every potential danger in your path, even something as minor as a crack in the pavement. When she displayed the graphic results of recent biking accidents, his heart lurched in his chest.

For now, he will simply have to meet you at the luxuriant restaurant he booked the best table for. In the future, he will convert to safer forms of transportation and your foot will never touch a pedal again. Not with your prince charming around.

Arriving an hour early, Kenji bursts through the bathroom doors and wipes the beads of sweat seeping down his face. All the makeup and detail he put into his appearance, all melted to a mess because of the anxiety you pump through his body. 

It is almost comical. He, Ken Sato, is nervous? He’s done the classic dinner-date over a zillion times, delivering his suggestive pick-up lines and swift winks. Staring at his exasperated face in the mirror, he is at a loss of where to go from here. What will he even say? What famous lines can he use? How can he give you his black card and a copy of his house key without you running away? 

Kenji finally sits down at the reserved table, located on a far balcony and looking over the grand city. His wristwatch blares red and presents the stack of missed calls from his dad, of which he willfully ignores. He went twenty years without his father and survived. Meanwhile, he went one week without you and thought he was on the cusp of death. He cannot bring himself to care about anything else. Not when he’s finally got a hook on you.

A waiter then asks him if he was feeling alright, concerned over the sight of his pale skin, shivering body, and twiddling thumbs. Kenji assures the man he is alright as he restlessly taps his foot, stalking the door ahead for the face he loves most to saunter through. The building could just about crumble to ash and he’d still sit here, waiting for your arrival.

And just like a movie, you pass the threshold and rob all the air from his lungs. 

You merely walk his way, but to him, you resembled a fawn frolicking through a green meadow, an angel wandering across roads of fluffy clouds. Those sporadic nerves die at the sight of you, rendering him to a melted pile of twitterpated nonsense. You tread closer and closer and closer and Kenji does not know how much more his body can handle before you completely dissolve him into a puddle.

“You have five minutes.” 

Your voice perfuses into his ears like birdsong, real and raw this time. That noise greeting him every morning is the only wish he’d ask from a magic genie. 

“Wh-Wh-?” He stutters like a lovesick loser, mentally slapping himself across the head for such a pathetic introduction.

“I said you have five minutes to explain yourself. Then, I will le-” 

“I love you.”

Surprise eases out your scrunched expression. You’ve never met this man before. Yet here he is, spewing out this gibberish. All of this has to be some form of joke, you assume. Where those irritating Youtube pranksters will sprint out from their hiding spots and shove their cameras in your face, cackling like hysterical hyenas.

“I am in love with you.” 

Maybe this is just his way of leading partners into bed with him. A powerful effort to add another name to his lengthy body count. And for whatever reason, he plans to jot down your name on that list.

“And you are worth more to me than anything.” 

You scrutinize his face for some inkling of rationality, something to explain what the fuck he means by that. Your efforts prove to be futile, as those teary, doe-eyes peer into your soul with nothing but sheer, unadulterated devotion. As though you were both fresh newlyweds enjoying the luxury of your honeymoon, complemented by the glimmer of your new wedding rings.

“Okay.” You swallow dryly, unease bleeding through your body. “You get another five minutes to explain yourself. On one condition.”

Kenji perks up at your proposition as though you had offered your hand in marriage. 

“Yes! Yes, whatever you want!” 

The man in question ponders over what riches you could ask him for and how elated he’d be to give you them. Taking you on shopping sprees and serving as your adoring husband, paying every penny and carrying your bags for you while you peruse to your liking. Just say the word, maybe flutter those pretty lashes, and he’ll personally deliver the very planet into your hands.

“I want you to leave me be.” 

If it weren’t for the fact this man was a complete stranger, you’d feel a sting of guilt over the perceptible emotion that washes over his face. Kenji anticipated the demand of clothes, foods, travel tickets, of which he would gleefully fulfill. Not this. Anything but this. 

“Alright, f-for how long? 10 minutes? 20?” 

“Forever.” 

You might as well have surged your fist into his chest cavity and torn his heart out, stomping out the ba-bump beneath the force of your boots. You might as well have climbed the tree behind his childhood home and ambushed his bird nest, tearing apart the array of twigs and squishing the healthy eggs. You might as well have just killed him right then and there, as nothing could pain him more than such a fate. Forever without the one he loves most is a life you couldn’t pay him to suffer through.

His bottom lip begins to tremble, stomach gurgling with nauseated shock. A few gags masked by coughs go unnoticed by you, as you could’ve sworn you saw a bright flash of white in the distance. Did someone… Take a picture? 

“... What’s wrong, baby? What are you looking at, huh?” 

Shifting your gaze back to Kenji, you find his features sheen with sweat and sickly-green from the queasiness you’ve forced upon him. What you especially notice is the accent of smugness beneath it all, etched into the smirk stretched across his lips.

Hushed whispers in the distance accelerate in volume, until the entire restaurant erupts in flashing lights.

Paparazzi!? What the fuck are they doing here!? 

Kenji leans back into the chair and slings an arm around the back post, seemingly posing for the photographers invading your conversation.

“Oh, no! We’ve been caught! The horror! Whatever will we do now that our secret is out…?”

If it weren’t for the sake of your career, you would’ve socked that smile clean off his face. Maybe even knock out a few teeth while you’re at it.

Critics have now officially cleared the name of Ken Sato due to his recent spike in excellent performance. Sports commentators even toss around jokes of how Sato’s new partner has knocked some sense into him.

Another game of hundreds and the cologne of arrogance around Kenji could suffocate the entire arena. A recent report detailed by you is casted on the billboard outside your studio. He blows yet another kiss your way as he jogs onto the field, ignoring the shouting fans who seethe with envy. He has made it official across the nation that his heart is sewn into your hands. And not even God could level the happiness coursing through his body. 

That is, until an uninvited visitor opens his mouth. The Swallows catcher begins to taunt him about his lover on the big screen, unaware of the lethal consequences it would harbor.

“You let the team hit, Sato? Shit, I might talk to coach about a transfer so I can get a piece of th-” 

The baseball bat in Kenji’s hands collides with his jaw before he can finish his sentence. 

Several more plunges into his skull and a swarm of teammates swarm around to break apart the scene. The crowd is alive with excited hollering, drowning out the noise of the blood-stained threats Kenji barks his way, strings of saliva spurting from his mouth like some feral mutt. 

The onslaught of players quickly, albeit with struggle, overpower him, successfully retrieving the weapon from his grasp. The edges of his manicured nails dig into the meat of his palms, forming maroon crescents in his flesh. Blind with rage, more threats that will surely put him behind bars are screeched into the air.

A few harsh yanks from the group of men and Kenji is finally pried from the catcher. He is dragged off the field past the rushing paramedics before he can fulfill his promises.

“And now it looks like there are words being exchanged between Sato and the Swallows catcher... Oh! Oh, no. We haven’t seen a brawl like this in a long time! Both benches have cleared. They’re throwing punches…” 

Soothing his sore muscles in an ice bath, Kenji watches the recording of his public meltdown with trepidation. Your eyes are not far and surely, you will bear witness to the violence his hands are capable of. He fears you daring to think he will treat you as such and his chest aches from the thought alone.

All he wants at this moment is to tear down the door to your apartment, take your precious face into his hands, and speak the utter truth as he assures you he will never bring harm to you. He’ll inform you of the context of the fight and what sparked such a reaction out of him. Then, you’ll thank him profusely for his heroic defense and drown him in your sugar-sweet kisses. Just like he has dreamt of every night, often waking up in the morning with his puckered lips against his knuckles.

Now, however, Kenji has surely destroyed any chances of gluing you to his side forever. You resent him for that stunt he pulled at dinner, and now, you are afraid of what he and his baseball bat may do. The ongoing success of Ken Sato has crashed and burned, resulting in the loss of what he cared for most.

“Ken!” Mina calls out to him. “I have something to show you!” 

Assuming it is another plan of millions to stamp the title of ‘lover’ all over you, he rushes out of the bath and throws his clothes on. Venturing into the basement, he is met with the very last thing he expected.

The containment unit has been raised. Inside is you, fast asleep with a bow on your head. Wearing just his jersey and holding onto a plushie designed after himself. 

“Surprise!”

Mina’s robotic arms stretch out, presenting the gift she captured retrieved for Kenji.

In addition to your permanent presence, the containment unit has been extensively decorated. The adornments are all pink and fluffy, like a cloud draped over a sunset. A circle-shaped bed is strung above the ground, supporting the weight of you and the mess of plushy comforters. It rocks you from side-to-side like a fussy baby who skipped out on naptime.

The scent of lavender pervading the air eases you into a deeper slumber. Tranquil white noise hums from the surrounding speakers, suffusing with the sounds of a light rainstorm. There are even holograms of shimmering stars and a full moon hovering over you, like some colossal mobile strung above a crib. Among the stars is a constellation, of some sort, that reads “Y/N SATO” in glittering letters.

And poor Kenji doesn’t know if he wants to beat Mina into shambles of wires or give her as many HTTP cookies her synthetic heart could ask for. For now, he is too woozy to make a coherent decision regarding her well-being. As he stated before, you always remain of utmost importance.

“My God…” He gasps out through stuttering breaths. 

His heart pounds so violently, he can barely hear the sound of his own voice over the persistent thumping. Kenji wobbles over to you as though he had just stood on his two legs for the very first time. He is almost positive there is a certain air suffusing from your body, entering his bloodstream and choking him with fervent stress. Every step forward renders his body weaker and weaker.

Images then begin to haunt his mind, preceding what may happen in minutes time. Kenji sees your weeping face, crying to release you from this bird cage. He can hear the thundering volume of your voice declaring you will never fall in love with him, how you’ll soon vanish and leave him to forever rot in solitude.

The emotions these thoughts garner stir in his gut like a meal that doesn’t agree with him. Gags poke and prod at his throat, threatening to release the butterflies fluttering around his stomach. A glob of bile then spurts from his mouth and splats against the floor. Kenji, horrified and sick with worry, races away from the scene before he spills his guts in front of you and humiliates himself even further.

What on Earth is he meant to do now?

When you finally awaken, you’re convinced you’ve been melted into jelly. Maybe even restrained in a tank of thick oil. Limbs weak at wet spaghetti, you cling to any fragments of energy in your system as you try and discern your environment. 

“Well, look who woke up!” A female voice greets you. “Do you want to see daddy?” 

Something globe-shaped hovers around the barrier you’ve been ensnared in. If it weren’t for your groggy state, you’d verify it to be a robot and not a talking basketball. 

“’Daddy’? What the hell are you talking about?” Your confused voice protrudes broken and sluggish, still stained with the sleep you’ve just woken from. 

A screen forms above you and before your distorted vision, you find the very last sight you wished to see. Ken Sato, your own personal parasite, sits stiff in the living room just upstairs. Bouncing his leg in an anxious rhythm, he seems to be engrossed by a video on his laptop. As you listen further, the contents become more distinguishable.

“When the moment is right, lean into your partner slowly and tilt your head to avoid bumping noses.” 

The robot clears her throat in an attempt at grasping his attention, but fails to do so.

“Close your eyes and let your lips connect naturally. Match the pattern of your partner to-” 

Another noise of acknowledgment from the robot and Kenji’s attention is finally held. Barely, that is.

“What, Mina?” He answers curtly, eyes refusing to part from the information he is currently absorbing.

“Someone is waiting for you down here.”

In all the years you’ve lived on this planet, you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone move so fast before. Not only did Mina’s words arouse a visceral reaction out of Kenji, but they practically shoved him off the couch from the sheer force of her insinuations. His foot even gets caught behind a chair leg and causes him to land splat on his face, but this is not nearly enough to deter his acceleration. 

The screen you were studying then folds into itself as an elevator descends from above. Through the cyan, blurred exterior, you see the frame of no other than Ken Sato. The doors open a mere inch before the man in question is squishing himself through the tight space. Always the acrobat he is, he gracefully trips onto his face, once again, before clumsily scrambling to his feet.

Now, you’re given the ability to absorb his appearance. Messy locks of black hair lack their normal gelled accentuation. Dark eyes are blown wide as though he were some feral animal. Tan arms are covered in red scratches from the relentless, anxious scratching he abused his flesh with.

The bold ‘ICON’ on his shirt mocks you. Is that what he is? Is that what he expects you to perceive him as? Would an ‘icon’ do such a thing like this?

You ponder over how much time has passed since you’ve been brought into this horrid basement, how much time has passed before friends and family have deemed you missing.

Kenji knows the answer to your questions. It had only been a day; twenty-four full hours of crazed, restless worry. He even skipped out on the championship for this moment, just to ensure you remained safe in the basement. He trusts Mina, of course, but he cannot rely on her to restrain you. The grasp he has on you is dangling by a thread, worn thin by his own stupid antics from before. 

He knows now that if you were to take one step out the door, you’ll be gone forever. And Kenji will die before he allows that to happen. 

Meanwhile, you’re still trying to garner pieces of your memory together. After returning to your apartment from a hectic day at the studio, you allowed yourself to indulge in the hot meals always waiting for you at your kitchen table. Normally, you’d chuck them in the garbage out of distrust. Tonight, however, you were so overwhelmed with lethargy, you couldn’t conjure enough energy to cook yourself a meal. So, the magic dinner-fairy would receive your blessing in the meantime.

One bite in and you were out like a light, oblivious to what exactly is waiting for you once you wake.

What was waiting for you now dashes toward the edge of your dog kennel, as you’d describe it. Kenji places a hand to the surface and his forehead lands against the wall with a light thud. His quickened, gasping breaths fog the glass. He does not leave even a centimeter between himself and the barrier separating both of you. The legs that have scored him more wins for the Giants than any other played in history suddenly grow weak, trembling as they try to support his weight. 

Kenji’s half-lidded gaze is devoted to you only. A curl forms between his brows from the fervency of his emotions the longer he stares. His cheeks go red as two ripe cherries while he just stands and watches, all dewy-faced and blushing.

“Lower the containment unit.” He pants breathlessly, the sheer tone of love drooping from every syllable that parts from his mouth. Like pockets of honey seeping from a honeycomb. 

“Ken. That might be a bad idea. We cannot anticipate how they will react.” 

He presses lazy kisses against the glass as her words go through one ear and out the other. Ignoring her warning, he assures her of these concerns.

“I got ‘em, I got ‘em… My baby…”

To your horror, the walls plummet and grant this monster full access to where you lie. Kenji collapses, again, not realizing he had been leaning his full weight against the walls of the containment unit. This sudden intrusion causes you to flinch and you crawl away from him, attempting to shield yourself beneath the thick covers. 

Body shivering with feverish need, his hand grasps onto the corner of the mattress to stabilize himself. Mere inches away from your foot. His chin lifts to look your way, his eyes only needing to bathe in the sight of you forever. Within his irises, you find swirling pools of darkness illuminated by specks of glitter. Sparkling for you and you alone. 

A smile pokes at Kenji’s lips, bright and formidable, before he addresses your sour expression. 

“Aww, why the long-face? Is my baby hungry, maybe?” 

At the foot of the bed, a fraction of the floor folds open and rises a platter. On this platter is an array of all your favorite foods. Snacks, candies, sodas, juices, whatever your heart could possibly desire. Mina has correlated an all-you-can-eat buffet just for you. Similar to the dishes left for you back in your apartment.

As it spins, displaying every inch and corner of its delicious offerings, you curl further into yourself. You do not want nourishment, you want to leave! To part from this maniac and never hear of his name again! 

With your refusal to eat, Kenji determines the reason behind your dismay to be because of him. Or, in his egotistical brain, the lack of him. The works of an absurdly large ego, you’d surmise. 

“Do you… Do you need… Me?” The hope in his voice is akin to a child in disbelief over receiving surprise tickets to Disneyland.

And Kenji just melts from how gut-wrenchingly adorable you are. By simply existing, you’re yanking at his heartstrings like a puppeteer, guiding him further and further towards the edge of sanity. With eyes peering up at him like that, he’ll welcome the predicament warmly.

“Oh… I’m right here, baby. Daddy won’t leave you.” He coos in your ear, the warm cadence practically oozing into your brain. 

Still overwhelmed with exhaustion, you do not have a morsel of strength left in your body to fight off his affections. Despite how desperately you wish to. Instead, you have to remain pliant as Kenji guides you onto your back, soothing and shushing you as you sink further into the plush surface.

Tearing his shirt from his body, the loss of the ‘icon’ status, he crawls beneath the opulent covers with you. His arm snakes around your waist, while the other cradles your cheek. Hands shuddering and heart pattering as he presses himself against your back, he wonders how he had not simply died right in this moment. You’re too perfect. It’s too much for his poor heart to take. Cupid may as well have discarded the pink-hued arrows and plunged a knife straight into his chest.

Kenji leaves an array of kisses on the back of your neck as you drift back into a tranquil slumber. All those wishes he set on shooting stars have finally returned and placed you directly in his beloved bird nest. All to stay at his side forever.

All to never leave.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ WHY CAN'T I FIND

NO ONE LIKE YOU . . . ? ❞

gif creds .

[twilightkitkat]

Can we talk about the dynamics of Logan "I eat anything and scarf it down immediately" Howlett and Wade "I only eat the same 10 foods in different fonts" Wilson?

Logan is used to living without. Even as a child, he had to get by when he was sick with the food his family could afford. Once he joined the military, he had to survive on the limited rations he was given. He didn't have room to be picky—he either ate what he was given or didn't eat at all. And in war, he had to eat eventually.

His preferences didn't matter. He was always treated as a soldier, a weapon, and his food reflected that. He'd get enough protein and carbohydrates to fuel his power but that was it. Food was for functional use, not to be enjoyed. It didn't matter if it tasted disgusting, he just inhaled it so the taste wouldn't linger.

He's also an extremely quick eater. He's feral and ravenous when hungry, tearing into meat with his claws and hands. He lived in the army, in the mountains, through the Great Depression, and in dangerous situations where he hunted for himself. To him, food is a scarce resource and if you don't eat it while you can, you might not have it tomorrow. So he takes gigantic bites and tears into food no matter how bland and unappealing it was because that's all he knows. His standards for food are just that it has to have nutrients and not be poisoned.

Wade, on the other hand, is more picky. If he had to choose between eating something he hates or not eating, he'd rather just starve. At first, in the army, he did eat what was given to him even if he disliked it, but it was purely for survival. He choked it down even when it made him vaguely nauseous and disgusted. But later, he'd hoard stashes of his own food that he managed to steal or barter for or bet on. It was better to be hungry most of the time than satiate his hunger temporarily only to fight to keep it down and feel sick the entire day.

The second he has the freedom to pick his own food, he sticks to things he knows he likes. That he feels comfortable with. He's picky about brands and specific types of food and how it has to be cooked or made, but he manages. He can normally find something on the menu he's OK with, even if he often has order a kid's meal. But most places have grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken tenders and macaroni, and people chalk it up to him being childish and silly, so nobody pays much attention.

Wade sees food as one of the only things he can control. He's been devoid of true choice for most of his life. He couldn't control getting cancer or being forced to turn into a horrific mutant. He couldn't save his relationship with Vanessa. When everything around him was collapsing, he hyperfixated on the little things he could control like food or clothing.

The two, together, learn to have a healthier relationship with food.

Logan was the first person to truly pay attention to Wade. To see which foods he liked and which he picked at and grimaced towards when nobody was looking. When Logan abruptly said he'd cook dinner one day, Wade was nervous, but nearly started bawling when Logan made homemade chicken tenders and macncheese. He noticed. He cared.

It was the first time Wade could be open and let someone see he was genuinely affected by food instead of him just playing it up as a lunatic. And Logan took him seriously and didn't make fun of him. He learned recipes to make the foods Wade liked but healthier and more balanced. He helped Wade finally get the nutrients he needed consistently without feeling sick to his stomach.

And Wade helped Logan too.

Logan was never allowed to have preferences. To have a sweet tooth or ask for more. To expect quality. But here Wade was, buying him some apple cinnamon-filled pastry just because he looked at it too long in the store.

Logan was never allowed to have dessert. To have sweet food just for the sake of it even after a meal. His eyes become wet as he clutches the pastry between his shaking hands and takes a bite. He's allowed this. To have the comforts in life. To eat just because it tasted good.

Someone cared about him enough to buy him what he wanted just because he'd enjoy them, not just to keep him functioning as a tool. Wade treated him as human. Like he was precious. Like he deserved the nice things in life.

And Wade reminds him of this. He stocks their kitchen with desserts that Logan likes, because he knows that Logan secretly enjoys sweet things. He sees the way he sniffs the air and wanders close to the fresh-baked goods of a bakery. He keeps snacks around the house, so Logan can eat whenever he want. Even if it isn't a "necessary meal."

And Wade learns to be more comfortable and try new variations of foods he likes that Logan makes. Because Logan knows the textures and flavors he hates and is somehow able to create a few new dishes entirely that he likes. He stops dreading mealtime or trying new foods. And Wade feels comfortable just trying the food without pressure, knowing that he can just not finish it if he doesn't want to and that someone else will.

And Logan learns to let himself enjoy eating again. To see it as less of a chore for the maintenance of his body and more as an enjoyable activity. Wade reminds him that he can eat just because he wants to and that it's OK to have preferences and ask for things. Logan feels well cared for. Pampered, almost. And he basks in the feeling of being wanted and loved and being allowed to express it through cooking and food.

[darktrashsoulbear]

The Abyss Of Affection

Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: Aemond discovers the book his sweet wife has been obsessed with and after reading one of the scenes, a plan begins to formulate (fluff)

This was inspired by a conversation I had with the wonderful Hannah @gwaynesprincess

House of the Dragon Masterlist

Taglist

Warnings: Allusions to smut

Word Count: 2308

Divider Credit: @saradika-graphics

Not entirely show canon as Jaehaerys is alive, Maelor exists and people are happy

Any likes, comments and reblogs are always always appreciated :)

His calculated footsteps echoed in the hallways of the keep’s royal chambers, following the elder of the King’s brothers - Prince Aemond Targaryen - back to his chambers after an incredibly taxing day filled with fulfilling duties that were not his own and patrolling the city atop his beloved Vhagar, the Queen of all Dragons. Many would argue a dragon fit for a true king, Aemond would agree. Finally rounding the corner, he greeted the familiar face of Ser Steffon giving a cordial nod as he made his way through the doors of his chambers, removing his cloak as he went. 

The sight that greeted the prince was not surprising yet still brought a small, fond smile to his face. Laying on her side of the feather bed was his sweet wife curled up under the various blankets spread across the bed to combat the chill in the air as the citadel switched black ravens to white and summer turned to winter. Aemond made quick work of stripping out of his leathers and into a loose night shirt and breeches ready to join his wife in slumber.

Just as he was about to blow out the candles beside where they lay, he noticed a book beneath the blankets next to his sweet wife’s sleeping form. He picked it up ready to place it on the small table on her side of the bed before taking a look at the title and realising it was the book that had so often stolen her attention away from him during the nights they spent together before the fire. The prince’s insatiable curiosity, it seems, also extended to what on earth his sweet wife could be reading in the non-academic books she so loves.

Flipping over to one of the pages he remembers her completely raving about with her lady in waiting, he began to read and as he continued, a plan began to formulate.

She was met by a chorus of “good morrow, Princess” to which she responded with decidedly less vigour and an almost petulant expression as she discovered that her husband was in fact not in their shared chambers. This prompted the other ladies in the room to barely suppress their giggles knowing how not seeing her husband in the mornings can dampen her mood - not that the Prince fairs any better himself.

“Do any of you happen to know where my dear lord husband is at such an hour?” she discontentedly drawled.

The handmaidens exchanged uneasy glances with one another which, of course, did not escape her watchful gaze and she probed further with a single raise of an eyebrow. Silence ensued for a couple of very awkward, tension-filled seconds until the Princess’ lady in waiting - Elaena - stepped closer and stated that “we are not at liberty to say, Princess,” adding a slight curtsy at the end.

Again silence ensued only interrupted by her own chortle “what in the name of the seven do you mean ‘not at liberty’, forgive me but I am utterly confused.”

“I’m afraid Prince Aemond has forbidden us to speak of it Princess and he reminded us that if you demanded… well Princess he said for us to remember that his orders outrank yours,” Elaena hesitantly explained, shoulders visibly tense at her admission.

An even longer silence commenced, this one not so easily interrupted. Instead the Princess slightly nodded her head and proceeded to load some fresh fruits onto her plate before biting into a strawberry that was surprisingly ripe given the season. She sat with a contemplative look on her face, her ladies worried she was deeply hurt when really she was wondering what the best way to punish him would be, perhaps… 

She was pulled from her musings by a knock on the chamber doors which one of the handmaidens - Lyla - was quick to answer. She carried a written message delivered by a page boy and with mild curiosity the Princess unravelled it and began to read.

She then very calmly got up, retreating to the sitting chambers with her beloved book and instructed her handmaidens to leave her, and on their way to “inform Prince Aemond that if he wishes to have an audience he may do so in our private chambers, I am not a dog to be called to heel and told to wait in the dragon pit until he finally chooses to descend from the sky”.

Suddenly Queen Helaena turned to look directly into the Princess’ eyes causing her to startle. Helaena grasped her arms in a gentle hold and decided that “you will be very happy with it,” and while not always understanding but being kind to Helaena’s ways, the Princess confidently nodded in affirmation.

“I’m certain I will be sister,” followed by a soft squeeze of the Queen’s hands she quickly let go to ensure she didn’t crowd the gentle soul beside her.

Turning her attention to Maelor, the youngest of the King and Queen’s children, she scooped him into her arms and brought him to her lap where she proceeded to grab the second less than perfect dragon (Daeron’s first attempt) and began to play with him. Entirely encompassed by the babe's soft giggles she failed to notice the shadow of her husband nor feel the piercing but fond gaze he stared at the two of them with - giving him a few ideas of his own.

Finally sensing his presence, his sweet wife turned towards him and pinned him with a markedly less than sweet gaze. After returning Maelor to his mother, the princess stood, brushed off her dress, said her goodbyes to the children with the promise of visiting again soon, squeezed Helaena’s hand and strode straight past her dear husband without so much as a look in his direction.

Aemond Targaryen, the incredibly formidable man that he is, immediately turned and followed (and after speaking with her lady in waiting) trailed a step behind knowing that if he got any closer he may well be subject to a more physical attack.

“Sweet wife - ,” his mouth slammed shut, the sound of his teeth clacking together audible as she turned around to face him and he thanked the seven that they’d at least made it to the hall outside their chambers to give a small amount of privacy.

“How can I be of service to my Prince? Shall I draw you a bath, change your linens, perhaps wash them too? After all, your commands should certainly be obeyed by all who rank lower than you lord husband!” and Aemond’s moment of stunned silence was all she needed to turn and push the door to their chambers open, her hair almost whipping Aemond in the face. After clearing his throat and righting his already perfectly placed doublet, the prince followed after his wife. This time the nod to Ser Steffon was slightly more stiff and definitely less cordial. 

Upon entering their chambers, it became apparent that his sweet wife was just getting started on his torture as she began shedding her day clothes to ready herself for dinner that night as it had become customary for the royal family to dine together per the Dowager Queen Alicent’s request. As he walked in she turned to look at him, again raising a single eyebrow, a silent demand for him to explain himself and explain he did - after he managed to bring his eye back up to meet hers.

Aemond nervously began to describe how he had to go patrol the city earlier than expected that morrow and after his wife’s further probing he let out a sigh as he admitted that he was hiding something from her but he insisted she could not know. Instead he decided to avert her attention by apologising for his blunt and insensitive instructions, insisting his mind was incredibly preoccupied and he meant none of it. 

After a beat, his sweet wife looked back up at him and simply agreed that it was foolish of him before continuing to prepare herself for dinner. With the guilt still weighing down on him, Aemond tried once more to draw a further reaction from her and informed her that “we will not be dining with the family tonight, my heart, it shall just be the two of us so please do not feel obligated to wear something that will placate my mother”. The huff of air Aemond let out could have rivalled Vhagar’s as his Princess finally met his eye and gave a smile of her own.

The Princess very quickly decided that she would never again allow her husband to guide her through the gardens, at dusk, alone with no idea of where on earth he was going. She marvelled at how her Prince had spent the entirety of his life growing up within the walls of the keep while she had only moved here three years past when their betrothal was finalised and yet she knew the gardens a lot better than he did. They walked in silence with the occasional mumble of “I’m sure it was this way”, “perhaps it’s actually that way” and what she is sure sounded like a “seven hells this is so embarrassing”.

Eventually, the Princess abruptly stopped walking causing Aemond to turn back to look at her with wide eyes as though he was expecting her to end the night and head back into the castle (which definitely seems tempting) but instead she drew herself closer to him tracing circles on the back of his hand with her thumb and sweetly asked him to tell her where he wanted to go and she would lead the way. Confusion clouded her eyes when she saw her husband’s gaze darken with disappointment at not being able to keep the location secret before giving a rather reluctant nod and mumbling the area of the gardens.

This again caused her to still, as not long before setting off on their adventure she’d gotten to her favourite scene in the romance novel she was currently re-reading which described the relationship between two lovers from flea bottom snook into the castle’s garden and had a picnic beneath a section where two trees intertwined to look like a heart. She let out a small laugh at the coincidence before leading him in the direction of the garden’s that she learned the trees actually existed in when she went searching after her first time reading the book.

As they stepped through the clearing, fingers interlocked, Aemond’s sweet wife stopped dead in her tracks. The scene before her bringing an onslaught of tears to her eyes and Aemond’s own eye drank in her reaction feeling his chest expand with pride. The scene was exactly as described in the books - granted the royalty version - with a table in the middle of the clearing, the heart trees standing right before it. A small fire was lit as the air was cool and biting and she thanked the gods for giving her a husband intelligent enough to organise for a canopy to be set up over the table. Even the food was some of the meats and fresh fruit described in her book.

After taking it all in, the princess - now thankful for there being no escort - fisted her husband’s nicest leathers and brought him down for a bruising kiss, whispering thank you’s and I love you’s in between.

Aemond’s own heart was beating out of his chest as they finally pulled away from one another and he helped her into her seat before taking his own next to her, never letting go of her hand - not even when they began to eat, opting to do it with his left hand instead, and certainly not as his sweet wife moved from her own seat into his lap, playing with his hair and telling him just how wonderfully he had done.

If you asked anyone who crossed paths with the Prince and Princess that night, they’d tell you that never before had they ever encountered two individuals looking so shamelessly in love. They’d express their shock as they witnessed their Prince, the fierce rider of Vhagar, laugh freely with his lady wife with his arm firmly wrapped around her waist and the Princess’ hand rubbing up and down his back.

As the Prince once again encountered Ser Steffon, he greeted the guard with a slightly more reserved smile than his wife received and instructed him to have a good night while he ushered his giggling wife inside. Once they were out of sight Ser Steffon let out a small chuckle of his own before walking a few paces down the hall, away from the door.

As the very smitten couple climbed into bed the Prince once again asked his sweet wife if everything met her standards to which she simply pulled herself up and decided on showing him how pleased she was instead - but not before ensuring the punishment she decided on earlier was carried out.

[milksockets]

why scan?

scanning is something i've done for probably about 12 years now (i'm ancient, for this site), with varying degrees of regularity, intensity, etc. it has ratcheted up since the dawn of 2023, though, which begs the question: why? why put so much time into what could not-wrongly be considered a passive activity, hunched over a piece of clunky machinery with the express purpose of preserving others' creations? the answers are several, and fascinating (not really).

i am a [sober] drug addict. anything i pursue, consume, create--more often than not--ends up taking on addictive qualities. i'll eat the same specific food item for a month, then never want to see, let alone taste it, again. i'll listen to one song on repeat for days until i'd rather hear nails on a chalkboard than have it shuffle on and assault my ears. one of the reasons that my scanning has increased in volume recently is that i acquired library cards to the 3 nyc library systems: nypl, brooklyn, and queens. as soon as i was able to, i pillaged + plundered those fine centers of learning, leaving any given library with as many hefty scan-worthy books as i could [barely] carry. here, finally, was a *free* way of obtaining more + more + more visual media to consume.

2023 saw me get my first legal, full-time job. as such, my adjusting to that hellish reality resulted in a steep decline in my own personal creative output. collaging, writing, and rapping all fell to the wayside as i slowly acclimated to a life of work that almost everyone else my age has known for over a decade is generally unbearable + detrimental to the maintenance of outside pursuits. in times of famine within my own artistic harvest, scanning, archiving, and sharing others' work is a means of feeling as though i am still contributing to the global oeuvre.

there’s an element of losing my mental self in a series of physical motions that becomes almost automatic after some time. “zoning out” is not something endemic to my daily life; if anything, i’m almost always too zoned in. relief is necessary.  especially considering the shitshow this past year has been in terms of my personal life.

i am a product of capitalism’s cultivating a craving for constant consumption. 

it seems that visual content is only going to continue to get more + more uninspired. has everything been done? did social media ruin it all? in any case, i feel a need to document the past. to a degree, it’s my version of doomsday prepping. (god forbid books go extinct altogether.) 

i have always gravitated towards solitary activities. this topic could be a thesis in its own right.

i thrive on external validation. this reliance is something i’ve improved upon over the past several years, but it hasn’t been altogether extinguished. even though the materials i scan are not of my own creation, i nevertheless feel a vague pride in showcasing them. occasional appreciation thereof satisfies this fixation on others’ attention, albeit in a diluted form. 

i am fortunate to live in a city bursting to the gills with cultural institutions. i am also lucky enough to have some disposable income that can be directed toward fulfilling my ravenous desire for visual media. 

((i keep getting messages about the specifics of my scanner + "process":

i have a cheap ass hp envy 6055e and i just use the software it comes with.

there's nothing special or fancy happening here, and i could definitely invest in a better and/or a large format scanner, etc. but i really just don't care enough and it's not like i'm getting paid for this lmao))

[awkwardarmadildo]

to add on to the humans are space orcs/earth is the universe's australia, sensing. my therapist has recently explained that its not normal the way i know who and where someone is by their footsteps. not just the sound, but the vibrations. if someone isnt purposely walking on light feet, i can tell who and where they are, even with headphones blaring. imagine a human on a ship and the awe-filled terror itd earn from their non-human crewmates.

edit: ive realized i wasnt clear enough in my intentions. im not saying "if you can tell peoples footsteps apart, youve been ✨️ T R A U M A T I Z E D ✨️ d-(^♡^)-b ". its about the inherent panic in Not hearing the steppies and therefore Not having the time to prepare yourself for whoever might be approaching and essentially being ambushed. also, being able to tell if someone is normalTM, happy, sad, et cetera. the combined terror of not being given time to make oneself "presentable" for whoevers coming, And Also whoever has just seemingly teleported is fucking pissed, which is never good. Anyways, enjoy!!! ＼(^o^)／

Gilith enters the library, searching for Human Raven. They seem to be found most often either here or in one of the many gardens on the ship. Human Alex said he'd likely find them here today.

Gilith pokes his head through the doorway, not seeing Human Raven, but before he can move on, a voice calls out from one of the high-backed chairs decorating the library.

"Hello Lithy, what do you need?"

Gilith sputters, "Wha- Human Raven, how did you know it was me?" Gilith makes his way over to the chair that held Human Raven in a twisted knot that, when Human Raven stood up, would surely leave a horrifying crunch Human Alex had likened to a human candy that exploded in one's mouth.

"You've got some loud stompers, Lithy."

"I do not know what that means, Human Raven."

Raven stands, causing Gilith to flinch at many snaps and crackles of their bones settling into place, and smiles up at his towering form.

"What did you need?"

Gilith notices more and more Human Raven's greetings. He thought maybe they could hear him coming, but they greeted him while wearing ear speakers, the volume so loud, Gilith could hear it from a few feet away.

Humans did not have psychic skills, and the only other human who seemed capable of a preemptive greeting was Human Alex. The two seemed to share all of their off-hours, so maybe that was where he could find his answers.

Gilith scoured the many gardens, stopping just outside of the doorway. He could hear Human Alex and Human Raven chattering to each other, but neither seemed to notice his presence.

In an attempt not to disturb them, he walked with what Human Bea had described as "tip-toes". A challenging feat, considering his round flat feet, but he managed.

Both Human Raven and Human Alex had their backs to him, so he coughed in the same way Human Bea often did to get everyone's attention.

The reaction he got was unexpected when both Human Raven and Human Alex flinched so hard their shoulders seemed to lock.

"My apologies! I didn't mean to startle you," he rushed over, but stopped short when they both flinched again. He recoiled his hand.

"It's ok, Lithy," Raven says, voice slightly choked. "Just give us a sec."

"Oh. Okay." Gilith turned his eyes down.

"What-" Alex started, his voice sounding as though it was rubbed raw. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What can we do for you, Gilith?"

"I did not have anything specific to talk to you about. I wanted to..." he trails off. "I wanted to inform you of the new plants we are picking up at the next trade planet."

Gilith feels his face twist with the lie, but now didn't seem like a good time to ask.

His desire to understand, however, doesn't fade after the incident. It only makes his hunger grow.

Instead of bothering Human Alex or Human Raven, Gilith decides to ask Human Bea, who does not sense him before he greets her.

"Hello, Human Bea."

"Yes, hello, Gilith. Is everything okay?"

"I have question."

Bea tilts her head. "Ask away."

"Are you- humans- able to detect someone before you see them?"

Bea's face softens into an aching sort of frown. "Not naturally."

"What do you mean?"

She takes a breath, seemingly preparing herself. "Well, most people are able to live in a relatively safe place. But some people aren't as lucky. Some people have to memorize the falls of others' feet. It's a learned survival tactic."

"I don't understand," Gilith says, his face wrinkling in confusion.

"Some people aren't safe, so for the ones who weren't born with the good luck of a safe home, they have to know who and where someone is. They have to know if they need to hide or prepare themself. They have to know if they're in danger or not."

Gilith feels his whole body go slack as a wave of sadness washes over him at the memory of Human Raven and Human Alex's reaction to his sudden appearance.

"I have loud stompers."

Bea's face scrunches up as though she's trying not to laugh. "You do. You have safe stompers, too."

[violenteconomics]

riddle's birthday is coming up, so ace and deuce buy him a birthday cake from tiana's palace, a famous restaurant on sage's island — it's so insanely busy all the time, it's normally impossible to even step foot into the place.

what they don't realize is that anybody who blows out the candles on the palace's birthday cake will have their wish granted, regardless of the consequences or if they actually meant it or not.

when riddle receives the cake, he jokingly wishes that the first-years would listen to their upperclassmen. deuce laughs and ace rolls his eyes.

the next day, everything starts going very wrong.

ruggie laughs and gives jack a very non-confrontational "shut up", and suddenly, jack loses his voice. he can't speak at all anymore. he can't even growl. the infirmary nurse can't figure out what's wrong, and he has to sit out of alchemy lessons because he can't communicate with his partner.

before school, vil off-handedly tells epel to brush his hair, and now epel physically can't stop brushing his hair. it's so bad to the point that he takes his brush to class, and his brush starts pulling out strands of his hair with how tender his scalp is getting.

cater reminds ace and deuce to paint the roses for the next unbirthday party — a chore that should only take one, maybe two hours tops. trey finds them later at midnight, still outside, still painting the roses. and that's when everyone discovers that ace and deuce have painted the roses red, then pink, then green, then aquamarine, then white, then all the way back to red — and they've been repeating this cycle for 7 hours straight.

sebek, ortho, and yuu seem unaffected at first — sebek follows all of diasomnia's orders, yuu doesn't have much of a say in the matter anyway, and idia rarely ever orders ortho around — but this doesn't last very long.

lilia tells sebek that he shouldn't spend so much time with diasomnia, and next thing he knows, the entire diasomnian student body doesn't see or hear from sebek for literal days.

similarly, idia anxiously and politely asks ortho to stop attracting so much attention to ignihyde with his sheer amount of presence, and ortho just straight-up vanishes. even idia's sensors can't detect him anymore.

furthermore, trein tells yuu to take a break and, quote, "get away from night raven college for a bit". given everything that's already happened, you can probably guess what happened next.

five days after riddle's birthday, most of epel's hair has fallen out and his skin has been rubbed until it bled. jack hasn't said a word all this time, and he's been put on indefinite medical leave for not being able to participate in class (shot in the dark — the nrc system is pretty ableist). ace and deuce have had to be sedated for them to sleep almost every night. diasomnia, ignihyde, and the entire nrc staff have had constant, back-to-back panic attacks.

so in summary: everything's gone to shit.

[waterfae]

Kill My Lord Husband [Part 2]

Summary: Your father has decided to marry you off – and to a Blackwood no less! But you want nothing to do with the famously known Bloody Ben, not when your heart already belongs to another. Your solution? Kill your lord husband.

Pairings: Benjicot “Davos” Blackwood x Reader, Aeron Bracken x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical violence, adult language, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, arranged marriage, house-neutral fem!reader, no use of Y/N, absolute nonsense, no beta

Word Count: 1.9+ K

Part: 1 | 2 | 3

Benjicot continued to quietly observe you, even as Atlanna marched up to pluck you from his arms and steer you towards the rest of the family where you were greeted by Lady Blackwood and Lady Alysanne. Now and then, you would do the same, catching his eyes several more times before quickly looking away after each occurrence, heat rising to your cheeks. A familiar feeling. A cursed feeling. The persistent fluttering within your stomach only further made you feel as though you were burning up from the inside – from sinful hellfire, you decided.

Atlanna caught the flushed look on your features and whispered with a knowing smile, “At least he is pleasing to look upon.”

“It is not a good thing.” You whined in reply, although it was a lie. Who wouldn’t want to have a husband that was delightful to look at and he was indeed a handsome one, but he was not Aeron; you didn’t want him to be pleasing.

His gaze lingered. You could feel the heat of it as you were led towards the castle and ushered into the dining hall for dinner. It lingered still after Atlanna left you to be seated while the servants brought out various dishes to set onto the table. With great effort, you ignored his attentions and withheld your own. It had taken you by surprise, the initial reaction to your betrothed as he held you in his arms. You had felt that jolt only once before; for only one man before. It was jarring. It disgusted you – made you sick with guilt. You pushed the feelings away, just as you pushed the boiled potatoes about your plate. You wanted to hate this man. You needed to hate this man.

“She looks even more like her mother than the last I saw her.” Lady Blackwood’s comment pulled you out from the swarming thoughts of your husband-to-be. You looked up from your plate and smiled politely at the compliment; one you were frequently given.

“Indeed, she does.” Your father said beaming at you as he patted your hand lovingly, “My late wife would have been so proud – so happy to see our families united.”

“You are blessed by the gods.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at Lord Blackwood’s latest remark, unable to control the impulse and catching your actions too late; you hoped no one had noticed. “Fuck the gods.” Was your following thought. You hadn’t believed in the gods since your mother died six years ago; not really – just enough to still have anger towards them. And considering your current predicament, you most certainly believed in them a sufficient amount to be just as – if not more – resentful.

As the evening wore on, bellies grew full and people shifted their seats in favor of conversations. Lord and Lady Blackwood continued to discuss with your father about the upcoming nuptials. Ser Willem and Lady Alysanne bickered over the superiority between his sword and her arrows with Benjicot cutting in as it became more heated to claim his own caliber to be greater than that of his aunt and uncle. Eventually, you found yourself leaving yours to wander over to the balcony, finding no common subject matter to insert yourself.

The clouds above were just as thick as when you arrived, blocking out most of the light from the moon, yet still from where you stood, regardless of the dimly-lit night, you were able to make out the ancient weirwood you had only ever heard stories about; colossal in its size with hundreds of ravens perched against its branches.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Came a voice suddenly from behind. It startled and urged you to search for the speaker. You found Benjicot slowly making his way forward until he was beside you, leaning against the balustrade. “Despite it not having shown a single leaf for nearly a thousand years.” His eyes stayed fixed on the giant, “Poisoned by House Bracken.”

“It certainly is a wonder.” You replied shakily, your heart wrenching at the mention of the Brackens.

“We shall be wed there. Before the old gods.” He said, finally straightening himself to face you, “But you do not seem to believe in the gods.” Benjicot stated it rather than asked.

Your eyebrows raised at his statement. It appeared your reaction earlier at dinner had not gone unnoticed. Had he really still been watching you at that moment? You wondered. His attention span was remarkable, “It’s not that I don’t believe, because I do.” You paused to heave a sigh, “Enough for them to anger me.”

He let out a low laugh, “Do they?” He took a step towards you, “You don’t seem angry.” He scanned your face, searching for what, you weren’t sure, but the look on his was one that hinted at nostalgia, “Annoyed, perhaps, but angry? No.” He shook his head with feigned disappointment, then suddenly smirked, “I’ve seen you angry.”

You sent him a questioning glance.

Before you could voice the query, he explained, “Years ago, I participated in a tourney held by Lord Tully for his nameday. You and your father were there. It was the first time I heard mother and father bring up a marriage between our houses, but your mother had just passed and your father too distraught. Out of friendship and respect, they didn’t pursue the issue further.”

You were taken aback, shocked that as early as then there had already been plans to attempt a match between the two of you; there was never any mention of it before.

“Such a pretty thing, even then.” He added softly, your mouth went dry and gulped as he took another step forward, towering over you, “Prettier all the more when you knocked that Bracken off his feet.” He flashed an amused smile, “Such rage.”

Your jaw fell open as Benjicot continued to speak of it, the memory of that particular time rushing back to the forefront of your mind and it clicked; you knew the exact event he was referring too. That had been the day you first met Aeron – right after you lunged at one of his cousins and struck him over the head with his own helm; retaliation for a remark made about you being half an orphan. Aeron had been the one to pull you off of him and restrain you.

You scrunched up your eyebrows and slowly asked, unsure if you were understanding correctly, “I somehow gained your favor because I was...pretty...and angry?”

He chuckled, “Not so much your anger, but your spirit.” His stormy eyes found yours again and you couldn’t look away, “There was a fire in your eyes and it told me that if my parents wishes were to be fulfilled then you would make an exceptional addition to our house; you were meant to be a Blackwood.”

“You wanted this union?” You breathed as realization hit you.

“I wasn’t against it.”

You suddenly became very aware of how close Benjicot was. Too close. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face and it caused your heart to beat rapidly. You quickly tore your gaze away from his and took a step back, chest heaving, your lungs screaming for air. How long had you been holding your breath?

“I am sorry to inform you, but I am not that girl. Not anymore.” You said in a rush and hoped your words would make him think twice of his opinion of you, “I was young. Still growing, still learning. I’ve matured since then and have become a proper lady.” Distance, you thought as you took another step back, you needed more distance. “I was also grieving for my mother. Not in the right mind. That girl wasn’t – isn’t me. I no longer participate in such uncouth behavior.”

‘I was also not yet in love with Aeron.’ You kept that declaration silently to yourself.

Benjicot tilted his head, studying you for several moments before finally heaving a sigh, “That’s rather unfortunate. For such a flame to burn out.” You noticed him bite his lip before going further, “Mayhaps, overtime, we can reignite it.”

There was something in the way he said it that made your stomach lurch and your head dizzy; you had not even taken another step, yet it still made you stumble. He made a move to try and catch you, but you were able to steady yourself with a nearby pillar, one arm outstretched signaling him to stop and keep the space between you.

“I should retire to my chambers!” You blurted out in a panic.

He blinked at your sudden outburst, “Are you alright, my lady? Have I done something to offend you?”

“I am tired.” You replied while steadying yourself and straightening your skirts, “It has been a very long day.”

“Shall I escort you –”

You cut him off, frantically waving him off with your hands, “No. It’s fine.” You turned on your heel, ready to get as far away from him as possible, “I am capable of finding my own way.”

You weren’t. As soon as you left him on that balcony and bid your father and the Blackwoods good night, you immediately turned the wrong corner exiting the dining hall and had gotten lost. You mentally kicked yourself while you walked around aimlessly for gods know how long, regretful of turning down Benjicot’s offer to escort you to your chambers. You buried your face in your hands at the thought and stomped your foot like a petulant child. As helpful as it might have been to have him, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to withstand another minute. The emotional turbulence, the way your body reacted to his proximity, the things he said and did...it wasn’t love by any means, but it was overwhelming all the same.

“What in the seven hells is wrong with me?!” You asked aloud to no one in particular. In your turmoil, you almost didn’t noticed the brisk footsteps echoing down the hall.

“My lady!” You looked up to find Atlanna scurrying towards you, “There you are!”

Relief washed over you, glad to have been found and not left to wander the halls all night. She stopped in front of you, pausing to catch her breath; she must have been running and searching for you for a long while to be in such a state. You questioned it.

“I was waiting for you in your chambers – unpacking more of your belongings and to help you get ready for bed – when this arrived.” Atlanna held up a piece of parchment, “When you still hadn’t come, I went looking for you. It seemed important.” She scanned the corridor, making sure the two of you were truly alone before whispering, “I think it’s from him.”

For a moment, it felt as though your heart had stopped. You eyed the little scroll in both excitement and fear of what its message may contain. With much hesitation, you accepted and unrolled it. You immediately recognized the handwriting scrawled upon it and a rush of different emotions came to hit you all at once. There was not much to it – the message was very short with simple instructions. You read over his words repeatedly, until you were overcome. You burst into tears without any sort of warning and began to sob violently, shocking Atlanna in the process.

“It’s from Aeron.” You stated the obvious as the tears you held onto for so long finally streamed down your face. Atlanna caught you just as your knees gave way. Unable to carry your weight, she instead guided you to the stone floor. She held tightly onto your trembling form, rocked you from side to side while rubbing your back to soothe you, your cries muffled as you buried your face into her bosom and Aeron’s message crumpled in your tight grip.

a/n: This chapter was getting too long, editing was killing me, and I became too impatient to update. So I broke it up. I made you guys wait too long and simply wanted to serve something. I'm hoping to get the next part out very soon, since it's technically already written. I'm just polishing it up at this point. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡

I accidentally made myself cry. Woopsies! Aeron will actually show up next chapter. Shenanigans will be had.

taglist: @pantheonofbeauty @cregansfourthwife @spicyteaandcrumpets @accidentpronedork @cococrazy18

@witch-moon-babe @a-romantic-twst @flusteredmoonn @nixtape-foryou @flowerprincezz

@trouble-sistar @username199945 @claire-loves-music @lady-dragon-rider @spider-stark

@moonnicole @hardkiddonut

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: dark! Sirius Black x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, dry-humping, yandere themes, non-consensual touching, obsessive and toxic behavior, drugging, don’t read if you’re not comfortable with those things!!!

A/n: this is part 2 to my dark!Sirius drabble, just like promised. Better read it first before starting with this work. Turned out not exactly how I wanted it to be, but it’s better than nothing ig

Sirius has always been handsy, trying to touch you in any possible way at all times. And you almost got used to that, really, but now that you two were officially “dating” his touchiness increased tenfold - it felt like every minute of every day consisted of you swatting away Sirius’ prying hands and him trying even harder to lay them upon your body.

You’d look pleadingly at his friends, eyes watering and bottom lip trembling - Sirius’ behavior was obviously not normal. Remus seemed to understand that too, but still - he did nothing. He’d give you an apologetic look, eyebrows knitted together and corners of his mouth pulled downward in disapprobation, yet still he never intervened. James, as you got to know him better a bit further in your forced relationships with Sirius, was just as sick in his head. Not as dangerous as his best friend was, but certainly just as twisted. You saw how he was with Evans - following her everywhere like a lost puppy (or ravenous beast), suffocating her and everyone around with his heavy presence, attached to her like a chewing gum stuck in her pretty red hair.

So here you were, pressed against the stone wall in empty classroom of a huge castle, where Sirius made sure no one could interrupt you. Sirius’ lips were greedy, devouring you with such longing that made your knees buckle, and if it wasn’t for his thigh delved in between your legs - you’d be on a floor long time ago. Your tried to push at his shoulders, trying to get a boy off of you, but fruitless.

You’ve noticed a few weeks ago that something was off with you - your body became weaker by the day, as if all strength was seeping out of your pores hourly, leaving you a powerless rag barely able to keep up with all your classes. It didn’t take a genius to understand what was happening - Sirius was putting something in your food. You’ve stopped eating in front of him, only having an occasional toast or apple to not attract his attention too much; all the numerous sweets Black has ever given you as a gift ended up straight in trash - you didn’t risk consuming definitely drugged dainties. Madam Pomfrey blamed it all on your nerves and upcoming N.E.W.T.s, ignoring your numerous complains and advising to sleep and eat more. Yet still, continual trembling of your hands and weakness of your legs told that Sirius somehow managed to feed - whatever this shit was - to you, and pretty successfully.

Sirius’ hands snaked their way down your body, resting on your ass unashamedly. You squealed in protest, hitting his upper arms with shaky fists, but to no avail - Sirius just chuckled at your ‘shyness’ into your kiss, giving your butt a loving squeeze.

He forced your hips forward so that your bodies were pressed flush against each other. Sirius exhaled shakily at the feeling of his bulge rubbing against your stomach; he rutted his pelvis a few more times, moaning into your mouth sweetly at the feeling of his throbbing cock humping you through numerous layers of clothing.

- Fuck, I want you so bad, - he murmured softly against your lips, his hot breath hit your face, making you shiver unpleasantly. You gripped his upper arms, feeling his muscles flex under your touch.

- Sirius, please I-

- Shhh, I know, my dearest, I know. But not here. Not like that, - Sirius interrupted you with soft voice, red lips made their way along your jawline and down to your neck, scattering sloppy wet kisses on your skin, making sure to leave marks in all most obvious places.

- You deserve to be lavished, worshipped among finest silks like a princess that you are, not some quick shag on the desk.

You felt his hands moving up you back, caressing your body with tender touches - wide palms glided over your buttocks and up your lower back. One heavy hand came to wrap around your waist, giving it a firm squeeze; the other one followed the path of your spine, softly rubbing in-between your shoulder blades before cupping your nape, craning your head backwards for easier access. Soft wet lips slotted onto yours with such yearning, greedy tongue pushed assertively into your mouth; Sirius moaned as your taste engulfed him once more, he breathed hard and deep through his nose, hand on the back of your head pushed you even further into him.

You couldn’t help a little squeal tearing through your throat at the pressure. A few tears rolled down your cheeks - you were scared to near death; you still couldn’t understand Sirius’ emotional pattern, he was as unpredictable as weather, which only made him more dangerous. You knew he wasn’t all that scared of hurting you. And you were sure he would certainly do so if he deemed your attitude towards him unacceptable. You were scared to try getting him off yourself, especially since he had completely free access to your neck.

- But please, indulge me just this once. You’re driving me absolutely fucking mad, Y/n, I’ve never wanted anyone so bad, - Sirius blabbered, his hips humping against your stomach, strong arms keeping you firmly in place, not giving a single opportunity to inch away.

Sirius grunted and whimpered into your neck, you were sure that it was completely covered in bright hickeys and bite-marks at this point. Black moaned out your name quietly, his hips rutting against you erratically - he was nearing his high.

- I love you, I love you, I love you, fuck… ‘m so fucking close, - he mumbled mindlessly, hot lips pressed aimlessly agains your temple, hands gripping your shaking form as tightly as ever.

With a low growl and final jerk of his hips Sirius stilled; his tense body was trembling slightly, breathing uneven and shallow. He slumped against your smaller frame after a few moments, letting out an airy giggle. He buried his nose deeper into the hair on the side of your head, inhaling lungfuls of your scent.

- Sorry, shit. That was insane. I can use my fingers to make you-

- No, Siri, that’s okay. We’re gonna be late to class, - you interjected, gripping desperately on every opportunity to end all this as soon as possible.

Black-haired only huffed in reply, ducking down to lock your lips in a strong wet kiss. He broke away from you, unraveling his arms from around your body; Sirius did leave one hand on the small of your back though, rubbing your tense muscles with soft touches. His other hand came to fix your hair and askew collar of white uniform shirt, satisfied with the fact that it couldn’t cover all the dark marks he has left on your neck.

After quickly fixing each other’s clothes you hurried out of the classroom and through endless corridors of the castle, finally reaching your destination. Luckily, you came a few minutes before the start of the lesson, so you didn’t have to explain professor the reason of your yet another belatedness. Sirius sat you at the desk at the end of the row, saving himself a seat next to you by dropping his belongings there. He tilted your head up by your chin using his thumb and index finger, placing a what might be seen as loving kiss on the center of your forehead.

- ‘m gonna go clean myself up a bit. I’ll be back in no time, don’t have too much fun without me, ‘kay? - Sirius winked and placed yet another kiss on your forehead. ‘Quite a confidence he has for a guy with pants full of cum’ flashed in your head, but you quickly dismissed this thought.

You noted how Sirius gave a short nod in James’ direction, which, you figured, meant ‘watch over her while I’m gone’. Potter nodded back curtly and with that your “boyfriend” retreated.

You threw a short look around, catching your best friend’s - well, now ex-best friend’s - worried eyes, her eyebrows knitted together in worry as she noted your wet eyes and reddened face. You barely mouthed word ‘don’t’, knowing all too well how vicious Sirius would become if he happened to know about this short interaction between you two. If there was a person Black despised more than Severus, it probably was her - all because she could see right through his bullshit, trying to get you out of that hellhole despite all his numerous threats and blackmail. Her frown only deepened, but she turned away from you nevertheless; you relaxed a bit seeing that James didn’t notice anything.

For now, you were safe. Sirius’ needs were satisfied and he was practically purring with joy, hip pushed into yours as he sat next to you through the rest of your classes and at the great hall, babbling his usual Sirius nonsense. You forced a tight smile on your lips and nodded to his gibberish, your mind relentlessly giving ideas of all the possible nightmares tomorrow’s day may bring.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, they inspire me on creating even more content for you💖

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

half past five high - prologue: when we met in venice (teaser)

pairing: photographer!Joshua x influencer fem!reader

genre: fluff, comedy, smut, strangers to lovers!au, non-idol!au - minors dni.

smut warnings will be added in the actual fic (this teaser has no smut scenes!)

summary: In the world of fashion, social media and influence, you’re one of the game changers. But you never knew that a smaller player in the form of a freelance photographer would be able to change you.

Author's note: hiii <3 this is the teaser for the SVTHUB World Tour Collab by @svthub AND a feeble attempt to revive the hpfh series with some backstory 😭

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2024. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

“Is this what you do on first dates?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I follow.” Joshua smiles awkwardly.

“Are you always such a gentleman towards women?”

“It was never a question to begin with,” he opens the menu and takes a brief look at it, “I firmly believe that women are beautiful creatures who deserve our love and support, no matter how independent they are.”

Your laugh is short and mixed with a heavy breath, your face briefly averted from Joshua’s gaze.

“You’re really serious about the whole gentleman thing, aren’t you?”

“Not to make assumptions about your private life, but it seems to me that you haven’t met a lot of romantic partners who were…..romantic towards you.”

You’re taken aback by the man’s bluntness, but you do your best to not show it.

“I don’t think you know me that well, Mister Hong.” You take a sip from your wine glass.

“Isn’t this the purpose of this dinner? To get to know each other?” He mirrors your movements.

“Depends on how well our personalities will blend throughout this dinner.”

“Given the fact you’re an influencer with such an intriguing personality, I think getting to know you will guarantee me a great time.” Joshua smiles again.

“Not to make assumptions about your private life, but I feel like you’re a little too biased against influencers.” 

“Is it really my fault if they are shallow in nature?”

A gasp escapes your lips as his statement leaves you baffled, but the harsh truth of his words turn that gasp into laughter that nearly makes you fold in half.

“Dear God, you really are more than a handsome nobody.” You fan your face with your hands and it’s Joshua’s turn to be surprised at your choice of words.

“I suppose compared to you, I am a nobody,” he scoffs, “Although after that stunt you pulled in the after party, it’s safe to say that both of us got a lot of attention - for worse or for better.”

“It was only for the worse.” You look him in the eye dead serious, “For me, at least.”

“I still believe it would have been avoided if you hadn’t put up the ‘stuck up bitch’ facade.” Joshua responds while waving at the waiter to come over.

“And I believe that the gentleman thing is your own facade, judging from how bitchy you are right now.” You drop the menu on the table, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

The raven-haired man laughs out loud and he leans forward, just enough to block the rest of your eye field.

“Ever thought I could be trying to match your vibe?”

“I thought you wanted to see if our real personalities match well.”“I do. But I also want to find out who you really are. Because I am not buying the entire bitchy act.”

[styxwanderer]

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished |

〚Twisted Wonderland x Elphaba!Reader〛

[you the wicked witch from the west had died, but to your surprise you had woken up inside a coffin in an unfamiliar world. You had also noticed your magic had more freedom and your power seem to mix to those in this world] < FYI : no Fiyero doesn't exist in your OZ world, you are completly alone, >

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆꒷꒦꒷⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆꒷꒦꒷⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆꒷꒦꒷⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

you had accepted your fate to be painted as the villain and died by a very underhand method such as being thrown water. That pesky girl who has killed your sister, and the con who had framed you the real magician. You had tried your best to help everybody and every creature from a crueler fate, only for those same people to go against you, going as far as holding a witch hunt for you.

Fated to be scorned just for the green hue of your skin, something you had no control over. Such a heinous thing humanity is. you could hear the party that they will throw over your death, No one mourns for the wicked, save for your best friend, Glinda, who had been wiser than to judge based on appearance, a true friend. Unfortunately, she too was unable to save you from your grueling fate.

Yet here you are, trapped in a coffin.

"Have I finally died?" you thought. What more does God want from you, did They think that punishment is not enough for you?

you scoffed at the thought.

You were startled when the lid was suddenly slammed open by a racoon? Cat? looking creature with fire ears demanding your robe?

' Did this creature think this robe on me is going to fit him?'

'Also where did this robe come from? and did he think that by giving the robe he was going to let a woman bare naked? what a crazy guy'

so, you ran, pulling the hood, as you thought it is better for no body to find out that you are horrendious green from head to toe, and finding yourself in an impressive library. The creature had cornered you Just before the headmage trapped him in his leash using his power.

"Ah, i've found you at last. Splendid. I trust you're one of this year's new students." he then went on and on about how you should've controlled your familiar.

" Woah! we never have a student as... green as you.. how unusual." he said upon seeing your hand. You quickly covered your hand with your robe just as you had covered your face.

" that is alright, Here in NIght Raven collage we accept everybody just as how they are as long as they are chosen by the mirror of course."

He then forced you to go back to the room with coffin. There you found a lot of students wearing the same robe as you.

' is this the same type of school as Shiz University?'

The headmage, Crowley end his bickering with some other students before beckoning you to move to the mirror. You had yourself walk foward to the strange talking mirror. As strange as your original world is you had never seen a magical talking mirror. Sure, a talking face, but it is a mechanic created to be an illusion by that horrible con, Oz.

you hated the attention that is suddenly drafted towards you, you slouch as you reached the Dark mirror.

" The nature of your soul is........ unclear to me."

" what did you say?!"

" sure i can sense a magical power residing on this girl, yet it is unfamiliar, strange, foreign.. i have never encounter this sort of power in my whole life. therefore no dorm is appropriate."

Dorm? Magic power? what the hell is this mirror on about.

" Are you suggesting the black carriage went to receive a Girl?! and with a strange magic? Absurd! the student selection process has not erred once in its century of existence! how could this happened?!"

"HMMPH! ME! Let me have this student place!" the creature who called himself Grim had broken free from the leash. He then started insisting and creating a huge chaos.

in a panic you noticed you still have your grimore with you. odd i thought i had given this to Glinda to protect. you quickly flip over the pages.

you found and recite a spell for the target to follow your word for a brief minute just before the little guy breathe his flame towards a red eyed boy.

"Sit boy, down."

to your surprise most of the students and the headmage himself had fallen down to their butt sitting as they looked bewildred.

" a... i meant that creature not you."

"RAGHHHH!! UNHAND ME UNHAND MEE!" Grim shrilled.

" how... HOW DARE YOU? UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT!" said the red hair boy

" impossible..." said the pretty glasses guy.

" How brazen of you to order Me around, I will rip you into pieces." said the lion eared guy. odd he reminded you of that cowardly lion you had saved, such ungrateful creature whomst had blamed his cowardice on you.

" You! How dare you make me touch the floor!" said the gorgeous blind guy with purple tip.

"Whoaa?!! i am on the floor?!! How??" the boy with the bandana wrapped around his white hair exclaimed.

" Wuh WHAAA.. what is this ssr op power?! scary..." the floating tablet shouted.

" To be casted with a spell how unruly the new student this year is. OH, woe is me... Uncast me this instant!!!"

The other students had started to cuzz profanities at you as well making you more nervous. ' Ah its this again, everytime i tried to help.. i get punished..'

you fumbled around confused as usually in your world the enchantment would only work towards the target intended and usually the enchantment you practied were a permanent one, you hoped this won't last long.

" don't tell me you do not know how to unchant your spell?"

"uhhh..."

thank fully in a moment your enchantment is broken as the headmage start to stand up and dust himself, so as the other students.

The red haired boy spring up and start to point his gem pen? towards you.

" OFF WITH YOUR HE--"

" that won't be necessary Mr. Roseheart. Now you!"

The bird feathered headmage ripped oven your hood as he exposed you to the whole school followed with gasps acrossm the room.

" she is green?!"

" i never seen a green person before."

You grow weary and insecure as you tried to remove the headmage hold on you.

"I'm sorry i didn't mean to, But i acted in panic because this cuz is going to fire his flame to that white haired guy!" you defended yourself.

" haaa.. for now throw this creature out of the game. and the ceremony should end here." he said as you saw students following the guys somewhere.

" now you come with me.."

he tried to bring you back where you came from to no avail so he settle for you to reside in the abandoned dorm, of course that is interrupted by the same creature. although, your impression of him seem to falter as he was obedient towards you and you found his catlu behaviour rather cute, so you dont mind to have him as your companion. Crowley explain the situation to you, but since you are a girl you are still exempt from the courses and sadly are forced towards cleaning duty. He of course didn't hear you when you state that you had died in your world and so his agreement are something you can't refuse.

The next day you are met with Ace and his cocky personality trying to get even with the incident at the opening ceremony, you, not wanting to throw another chaos, refrain from using your spells since you had not learn the extend of the effect of this world to your power, but of course, Grim had to assert himself and created the chaos for you.

You are then met with Deuce who had helped you catch the running criminal trying to run away from his job, this of course before the chase went on and you three ended up breaking the expensive rare chandelier and had to find the replacement stone. and the story goes.

that is the story of how you become a NRC student with your trusty companion or familiar, Grim and how you and grim, with your fellow 1st year whom you meet along the way have an epic adventure to deal with overblots.

>> to be continued<<

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

( there will be more parts to this stay tuned, If you wish to be tagged, please let me know)

[stirthewaters]

Bad Mood

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: slightly ooc Wednesday?? angst - fluff, (not proofread I just threw it together 😭)

Summary: Wednesday has trouble figuring out your bad mood and decides to take it into her own hands

Pairings: Wednesday x GN!Reader

Wednesday was frustrated, to say the least. Though she would never vocally express her irritations towards you, you were surely a dilemma, and the fact that she was having trouble solving the puzzle that was you at the moment was most definitely the issue.

You had been moping all day, acting uncharacteristically sulky and closed off. Wednesday would’ve almost liked it if she wasn’t so put off by your sudden change of behavior. Sulking didn’t look good on you, she observed, as you sat beside her during class, not paying attention and absentmindedly twirling a pencil between your thumbs, the wood surprisingly close to splintering as you did so.

No, you had not given any reasoning to why you were feeling this way, and Wednesday did not like the sneaking suspicion that she might have had something to do with it. Though she couldn’t recall ever explicitly saying or doing anything to make you upset she knew that she was most certainly not one to know much about any sort of complex emotional drama, and therefore she was left outside of the tangled barbwire that was your emotions. Why must you be so confusing? Puzzles were supposed to be enjoyable to solve, not frustrating.

Wednesday let you be most of the day, silently hoping some time would improve your mood but you remained either irritable and snappy or moody and quiet, practically telling off Xavier when he came late to class and delayed it about ten minutes. Although the Addams had to admit that she found a sort of amusement in seeing you scold someone, it wasn’t followed by the playful roll of your eyes that you usually gave someone to indicate you were joking. Clearly something had upset you and she was getting increasingly frustrated.

The raven tried easing your irritably by placing a cold hand on your warm thigh, trying to practice the gentle rubs that she typically knew you liked, and though you stiffened as usual under her touch it did nothing to soften your mood as your eyes darkly flitted away.

But that didn’t worry her. Wednesday wasn’t used to being worried, let alone emotions themselves. To the Addams, emotions were a tangled spiderweb that once trapped in became a struggle to navigate, distracting one from common sense and rationality. Yet, she still felt the uncomfortable prickling of sickening worry in her chest when she saw you actually tear up. And it was almost without reason. Nobody had spoken to you unkindly or done anything physically immoral, yet your eyes glistened and you pulled your hood over your head, dark eyes disappearing behind its frame as you did so. You were crying? Wednesday briefly wondered whether or not she’d seen you cry before, most certainly she hadn’t without explicable reason.

Your quiet sniffles seemed to be the only thing her brain would allow her to hear amidst the sound of students around you.

Instantly she gripped your wrist gently yet firmly, pulling you into a dark corner in the hall as she searched for your eyes under the hood. That prickle in her chest started to scratch as you huffed out stiffly, in a voice close to cracking. “What is it?”

Wednesday silently brought her hand up to your hood, pulling it down carefully to see your dark eyes swimming in tears, and she felt her voice soften just slightly at the sight of them as she murmured, “I wish to know what has been bothering you throughout the day. You’ve been distant and irritable.” You tried to look away but she gently pulled your chin back to look at her, feeling you shake under her grasp. “Cara Mia, I would like to know whether or not I have been the source of your…” the Addams struggled for the right word. “Current emotional status.”

You shook your head weakly. God, she could tell you were fragile. It was as if the slightest poke could set you off, and she knew she had to tread carefully. Her brain raced to remember everything Enid had taught her on… comfort. The idea was a personal ick but with you she would make an exception. “Would you like to leave?” Your weak nod was all the confirmation she needed as she laced her pinky into yours to subtly pull you through the crowd. God, she was disgusted by pda but you weakened her, and she despised you for it.

In the privacy of her dorm, the gentle rain slapping against the large window, she watched as you shakily exhaled, clearly fighting off your tears as you closed your eyes and struggled to speak. “Today has just…been… a lot. It’s- I- I can’t-“ your voice finally cracked slightly.

Wednesday stood opposite you for a moment, in thought as the scratching of worry in her heart began to pulsate into more of a pain. Not a pleasant pain that she usually experienced, rather a more unpleasant one at the sight of the tear that fell from your eye, hitting the floorboards and disappearing. She felt as if she’d always remember that oddly specific place on the floor from now on.

Stepping forwards she shoved aside all of her disgust and apathy for touch and wrapped her cold arms around your waist to pull you in, your head falling atop of yours as she muttered into your neck, “from what I do know about emotions I have heard that it is a rather healthy way to deal with them by crying.” 

As if on cue from the touch and soft words she felt you slowly fall apart, quietly trembling as you cried silently, burying your face into her hair that she silently noted to wash later to get any snot out of.

She slowly brought you down to the floor with her, letting you cry as she tried her best to comfort you, tracing small patterns on your collarbone and neck, giving you small and delicate kisses here and there as to show that she was here with you. When your sobs began to ease she felt your weight press against her more, and she quickly put together that you were exhausted. She shushed you softly, letting you burrow into her as much as you needed. God, you were so warm, it was as if you were thawing the ice that she had worked so hard to freeze. 

Although still not inclined to show any major affection, she did press a small cold kiss to your temple, letting you rest in her arms as your head shifted into your lap and her hand threaded its way into your hair, slowly and softly stroking in an effort to calm you down, finally the nagging confusion and frustration easing as you both fell into a calm, the rain providing a soothing atmosphere. 

Perhaps Enid’s teachings had paid off.

[marvelobsessed134]

Can you do a cute Peter Steele one where the reader has a daughter and she meets him for the first time and gets scared

Gentle giant

A/n: This was so cute and wholesome ahhh I love it

Parings: Peter Steele x Fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of teen pregnancy, shitty ex, and I think that’s it.

You and Peter have been dating for a couple months and you were at first nervous to tell him you had a daughter. At 16 years old your ex boyfriend got you pregnant and walked out on you and your unborn baby. Originally you were going to give her up for adoption but when you held her in your arms, you fell in love and just had to keep her. Even though it was hard being a teen mom, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Rosie is only 5 years old but she is very bright and creative, you told Peter one night. And instead of being turned off, he actually was more interested in you and was eager to meet her. So that’s what you’re doing today.

The two of you decided to meet at a cafe in Brooklyn close to where your apartments are. You walked with your little girl hand in hand to the cafe. “Where are we going mommy?” She asked.

“We’re going to meet a special friend of mine. He’s very kind.” You explained. Obviously she wouldn’t understand what dating is so you just kept it simple. To her, Peter is your special friend.

Once you walked into the cafe the smell off coffee beans filled your sinuses as you searched the room for Peter. Your mouth grew into a smile as you spotted him sitting at a table in a corner away from everyone. You walked up to him and he looked up at you and smiled.

Once the raven haired man stood up, though was when Rosie got a little nervous and hid behind your legs. Once you had given your boyfriend a kiss, he turned his attention to your little girl.

“Rosie, this is Peter.” You introduced.

She hid behind your legs, not making eye contact with him. Peter noticed this but was not offended. He’s a big guy, and can come off as intimidating especially to a young child. And right before you were going to apologize to him, he knelt down.

Your daughter peaked from behind your legs as she saw the now shorter man looking at her with kind eyes. “Hey, Rosie right?” The bassist asked.

She nodded shyly.

“As your mother said, I’m Peter. It’s nice to meet you I’ve heard so much about you.” She was still silent but slowly seemed to let her guard down. “She told me that you’re an artist?” Rosie smiled a bit at that, “I play drums.” Shes proud of her drum playing skills. You bought her a toy drum set for Christmas last year and she’s been using it every day.

“Wow! That’s really cool. I have a friend who plays drums his name is Johnny he’s pretty cool he can teach you a few tricks.” Your heart melted at how gentle he was being, how soft he was speaking. Of course Peter has always been gentle-a gentle giant if you will-but seeing this right now, makes your heart leap for joy.

He held out his large hand and she slowly stuck out her small one, putting it on his palm. The size difference was so adorable, and he gently closed his hand around hers. “Now, what do you say about a cake pop?”

[aethon-recs]

Themed Rec List | Tomarrymort Recs with Hemipenes 🍆x2

What is better than one? TWO, of course! I think the monsterfucking potential in Tomarrymort is one of its most unique aspects, at least within HP ships :D If anyone is monsterfucking-curious, this is a great place to start.

I’m so excited to share this delightful smutty nasty dirty and super fun collection of one of my favorite tropes in Tomarrymort: not just snake-like Voldemort, but snake-like Voldemort with snake-like appendages 😏

Standard rec list disclaimers apply: There’s a lot of dead dove in the selection below, so please mind the tags, and read at your own risk. I strive to include a diverse range of fic genres these lists, so you'll come across lighter fare such as crack fics, along with fics that definitely cover darker themes.

*

Tomarrymort Recs Feat. Hemipenes

a dainty lace noose by @mrmxlemons (E, 4k, complete)

Voldemort likes pretty things, and Harry is his favorite, prettiest thing.

A real voyage of discovery by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts (E, 2k, complete)

Harry captures an alien from an Earth-like planet for the spaceship's research division to examine. The alien might have its own agenda.

a snake, an eagle, and a phoenix by @virgil-anon (E, 9k, complete)

Harry Potter is angrier than ever, thrown into a tournament he wants no part of, without any assistance except for his Defence Instructor. But when the Goblet of Fire turns out to be a portkey, he’s in for a surprise.

and make it double by @captainremwrites (M, 1k, complete)

Well, Harry thinks, that answers that question. He's definitely telling Ron and Hermione about this.

Dragon Me Down, My Love by @wolfantlersinspace (E, 2k, complete)

Harry had been a virgin sacrifice, given by the people to appease Voldemort. However, Voldemort had grown rather fascinated after he discovered Harry chose to come here, to take the place of a friend. And now, Voldemort liked him too much to let him go, liked him far too much to use him for his intended purpose.

Ensnared by @loneamaryllis (E, 4k, complete)

After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harriet finds a white snake in the grass. She quickly befriends the poor, lonely creature.

Hands-On Anatomy Lesson by @ivory--raven (E, 2k, complete)

Harry uses Liquid Luck to ask Voldemort himself how snakey he is.

I will follow you into the dark by @i-dream-of-libraries (E, 6k, complete)

Harry loves a good horror book, and this new one about a monster called Voldemort is now his favorite. Unknowingly, he calls out to the shadowy entity, and gains the monster's full attention and appetite.

Inquiring Minds by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts (T, 2k, complete)

Harry has a burning need to know, and Voldemort is just so done with teenagers.

Insatiate by @vdoshu (E, 2k, complete)

Voldemort stole both Harry and the Philosopher’s Stone, and doomed Harry to live a half-life. That was ten years ago.

Love at First Sight by @dividawrites (E, 5k, complete)

Voldemort rises from the cauldron with two dicks and some extra powers. Harry is mesmerized.

Monster Fucker by Destiny_Of_A_Dragon (E, 10k, complete)

During their nightly gossiping session, Ginny poses a question about how snake-like Voldemort might be. They fantasize a bit, then go to bed and assume that that was it. A week later and Harry just has to know.

ovoviviparous by @cindle-writes (E, 5k, complete)

In which Voldemort captures Harry at the Final Battle, and immediately puts him to use as an incubator.

splits your skin from end to end, down the center of the earth by @cannibalinc (E, 19k, complete)

Snape has just killed Dumbledore before Harry’s eyes, and he will not rest until he makes the man pay. But Snape isn’t the only Death Eater wanting to gain favor with the Dark Lord. No, there are ambitions far worse than even Snape’s, Harry learns. Ambitions that deliver him directly into Voldemort’s hands. “I was so very nearly tricked, you see, but Lord Voldemort is not so easily fooled. No, I shall not kill you Harry, not yet. I think I should like to keep you instead.”

Phobia by @katsitting (E, 48k, complete)

“I shall show you just how far you’ve fallen,” Voldemort whispered, breaking the thick silence that had settled between them. Harry wanted to laugh, to bare his teeth at the man like the wounded lion that he was. There was nothing for him to do but snark and snarl at the man that had hidden him away from all prying eyes...save for those he trusted most. His legs were useless, his body weak. “I’d like to see you try,” he goaded.

Preparing For A Legacy by @ellionne (E, 5k, complete)

Marriage, especially with magical folks, required to be consummated to have the legal consequences Voldemort demanded for their treaty to come into effect. And Harry had been terrified. Voldemort's thoughtful proposition had seemed like a godsend then. The consummation of a marriage was a purely physical act; Harry didn't need to be aware for it. Didn't need to be awake.

Research and Development by @cannibalinc (E, 6k, complete)

Primary Objective: Establish with certainty that Subject IS or IS NOT a living Horcrux. Secondary Objective: If Subject is a living Horcrux, determine whether the soul fragment can be extracted intact and transferred to a different vessel, allowing Subject to be terminated thereafter.

Roughly 19 Years Later by @dividawrites (E, 2k, complete)

Platform 9¾ is a nice place for reunions.

thrice-bound, twice-filled by @cindle-writes (E, 4k, complete)

Harry wakes up in the middle of the night to the sensation of a blunt, hard cock slowing pushing its way inside him.

The Arsonist's Lullaby by Saeva (E, 101k, WIP)

It’s Harry’s bad luck that his mate is Voldemort. A possessive Voldemort, giving out the most reassuring scent, a scent Harry aches for. No one can blame him for giving into it... just a little... right? Magic Made Him Do It.

War Prize by @duplicitywrites and @moontearpensfic (E, 6k, WIP)

Ten years ago, in the name of world peace, Harry Potter signed his hand away to Lord Voldemort, Dark Lord of the British Isles, Saviour of the Realm. If Harry had known he would spend his days serving as the man's bodyguard and personal stud... He would have asked Dumbledore to include protection against retaliation in the form of sexual objectification.

Venomous by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 4k, complete)

One would think a famous collector of magical creatures would know better than to set a Naga loose in a room full of people, but Sirius Black was never known for his common sense.

Violent Delights by @katsitting (E, 5k, complete)

Harry was shoved against something hard and unyielding. It scratched along his back, chafing the skin. Harry didn’t so much as flinch, refusing to make a sound when more jeers sounded in the clearing, the words cutting through the rush of blood flooding Harry’s ears— “Fuck him, m’Lord.” “Defile his corpse.”

yer a monster fucker, harry by @exarite (M, 3k, complete)

Voldemort suggests they fake a relationship. It's a reasonable suggestion, so of course Harry says yes. Or: Harrymort Fake Dating AU

you're a parasitic, psycho, filthy creature (finger-bangin' my heart) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (E, 135k, WIP)

Harry keeps thinking about it. The way he smiled, with sharp white teeth. The way that smile had felt pressed to his own, to his throat, to the inside of his thigh. The clutching fingers; the desperate grip. The sweat clinging to his skin, salty on his tongue. The red eyes behind the mask that Harry would recognize anywhere— Harry keeps thinking about it.

*

[lingerina]

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 // day six

PROMPT ➛ aphrodisiac PAIRING ➛ g!p fallen angel!ningning x fem!reader WORD COUNT ➛ 1.1k words WARNINGS ➛ overstimulation, squirting, mating press, creampie SYNOPSIS ➛ after losing her wings, she falls prey to one of the seven sins: lust.

One mistake cost Yizhou her space in heaven.

It cost her connection to her loved ones and her life as she once knew. To look up at them and their ivory angel wings as they shouted for her brought her pain, and it would only hurt more when she looked over the scars on her back in the mirror where her own wings used to be. She would attempt to flutter them out of habit, only to find the barest flex of her upper back and stillness.

Life on Earth is nothing like her old home. The culture is diverse, as she has observed from dwelling amongst the continents. As beautiful as some parts are, Earth is still a dirty and dangerous place to trek. She���s barely assimilating into her mortal life, but her roommate is making it a little more peaceful to stay alive.

You are her peace, her mentor, her pillar. You are more than just her roommate.

But Yizhou still possesses some attributes of an immortal. Notably her strength and stamina when it comes to fulfilling her needs. Ever since losing her wings, she has rapidly succumbed to one of the seven sins–lust. 

She finds it in multiple women, using them thoroughly like ragdolls. Despite that, she still remains ravenous. Running through them is not enough. She needs more. Only now does she realize that the solution to her burning lust may just be the very pillar of support and tranquility that’s been living with her.

From the moment you sit next to her on the couch, Yizhou has her eyes on you like a hawk.

You enjoy tea, and she enjoys brewing it for you. Everyday is a new flavor. A new element. She had just brewed you one of your favorites: lychee jasmine with edible pearlescent glitter. 

You are familiar with the taste: the subtle sweetness, the floral notes, and the aroma of fruit as it hits your tongue. What you’re unfamiliar with is the fiery heat that swiftly overcomes you.

Unlike the warmth that hugs you like a weighted blanket, you’re struck with unbearable heat that runs through your veins and rushes down to your core. Tea has never given you this much discomfort. You have to set it back down on the coffee table and slouch back with a deep breath, unaware of the smug grin that’s marring your roommate’s pretty face.

The effects of the aphrodisiac are setting in much quicker than Yizhou had anticipated, and it’s beautiful to witness.

The change of expression on your face, your frequent fidgeting and shifting, your legs crossing and uncrossing. Your nipples are prominent through your thin, white tee, and she’s blessed to live with someone who is comfortable wandering around the residence with no pants. She’s even luckier that you’re wearing gray panties because she catches a glimpse of how wet you are in the midst of you crossing your legs again.

You sit like that for a minute as whatever trashy reality show playing on the TV has your attention.

And it’s a minute too long for Yizhou, who can’t hide her boner.

A pair of hands forcing your thighs open startles you out of your trance. Yizhou sinks to the floor, settles between your legs, and peers up at you with a smile after peeking at your crotch. “Something bothering you, darling?”

You swallow, not knowing what to do when her fingers press down on your clothed folds. The subtle pressure highlights just how soaked your panties are, and it’s embarrassing. You have never been so desperate for release. It’s gnawing at you, urging you to run to your room and seek relief with your toys.

But your roommate beats you to it.

She peels your soaked panties to the side, and you’re horrified to discover the thick threads of arousal separating the fabric from your skin. How could you have gotten so wet—so worked up—over nothing?

You shudder, your mouth falling open to a low moan as she dips two fingers in and shoves them knuckle deep inside you. Slow and steady pumps are blowing your mind, curling your fingers into a tight grip on the pleather cushion beneath you for security. You have never pictured being so intimate and filthy with Yizhou, but she is all that you have.

You need her.

You need her.

And she has always needed you.

As soon as her name comes out of your mouth, it flips a switch in her.

And she goes into overdrive.

You can’t get enough.

Yizhou has brought you to the moon and back, to heaven and hell and back, an obscene amount of times that you can’t count. The cushions beneath you are slick from the ample orgasms that she’s given you, yet she still has the stamina to fuck you again.

You’re flat on your back, completely used to her advantage and littered with marks and bruises courtesy of her mouth and grip. Your legs are pushed up against your chest, Yizhou’s hands on the back of your thighs pinning them up and practically folding you in half as her cock abuses your sensitive cunt for the nth time.

There is no end to your desire. Every release has you yearning for more, and the pain that should come with constant fucking has never aroused. You have never experienced this sensation before. One that burns so brightly in the pit of your stomach. You only know that no one can put the flames out except for her, and her cock is all that you need.

“So pretty,” she grunts between gritted teeth as she watches your eyes slowly roll back once more. “So fucked out. Because of me.”

Your slick walls close in around her but her powerful hips push through, coaxing broken cries and hitched breaths out of you. The resistance hints at another impending orgasm. 

To be able to bring you to this many new heights inflates her pride, fueling her strength to dismantle you all over again, and the room echoes with your cries as you fall victim to another climax. It spills like a broken dam, coating her cock in your arousal. Watching your pussy going through the rounds of assault from her veiny girth, but still accommodate her so well, triggers her own ecstasy.

She bottoms out, burying herself deep inside you. Her whiny moans mesh with throaty grunts as she draws back, then shoves back in, flooding your walls further with her release. She has fucked your brains out as she had promised because you can do no more than to lay there and be a vessel for her cum. 

The effects of the aphrodisiac have finally worn off because you swiftly doze off after she pulls out of you.

Finally, you’ve reached your ending point.

And finally, she can lay her unending lust to rest.

You needed her.

And she has always needed you.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Alt Assistant AU Pt 6 NSFW

Under the cut!

The morning after their first tryst, anxiety churns in Kara's gut. Looking at Lena's sleeping form beside her, spread and open and relaxed as though she hasnt a care in the world, she wonders if this will be a one time thing. A singular supernova of two bodies colliding before spiralling off into the expanse, never to meet again.

She needn't have worried.

Lena wakes with a purr and a smile, leaning in for a sour kiss before throwing her leg over Kara's waist and levering herself upright. Being knelt over gives Kara a full unobstructed view of Lena's full, rounded breasts, pierced nipples and all. Her mouth goes dry.

"Last night was..." she rasps, not quite sure what word could possibly encompass the experience. All she knows is that she wants more. More and more and more, until Lena consumes her entirely.

A dark eyebrow lifts. "Was....?" Lena prompts teasingly.

"Unbelievable," Kara offers. "Euphoric. Rapturous--"

Lena curls down and kisses her again.

"Intoxicating," Kara sighs when she can breathe again.

Gaze turning soft, Lena regards her from above.

"Last night, you asked me how many times I've thought of this." Green eyes watch her closely. "How often have YOU thought about this?"

"Fucking?" Kara says brashly. "Not as often as being with you. Close to you. I..."

She trails off, suddenly uncertain. Being Lena's assistant, effectively invisible in so mundane a role, has given her confidence. Without having to either hide herself or set an example or embody an ideal, Kara knows she's thrived in a way she never had in the previous reality. But now... being so near to Lena pulls the rug out from under her, leaving her feeling unsteady.

"What?" Lena asks gently. Her head tilts slightly, and Kara thinks she sees genuine care in her features.

"I don't want this to be one time thing."

Lena's lips curl in a barely constrained smile, delight appeared bright and sudden. "Well, then..." she says, her voice all but rumbling. "I suppose it's a good thing I have no intention of letting you go any time soon."

----

Life after that remains relatively the same. In the office anyway. Kara is just as attentive as she's always been, seeing to Lena's every need and many of her wants as well. She brings all of her knowledge of Lena to bear, and she knows Lena is a little surprised at how well she can "guess" what Lena likes and doesn't like.

But as soon as they log off for the night, and go their separate ways at the doors of the LuthorCorp building, all bets are off. They always come back together at Lena's apartment-- Kara uses her speed to arrive before Lena, and simply hides herself a reasonable amount of time before knocking on Lena's door.

They fuck. A lot. Not a single surface in the apartment is safe from their ravenous hunger for each other. For the briefest moment of time, Kara worries that her desire may be one sided, but when she bides her time to let Lena set the pace, Lena's come for her just as ardently.

But as the days pass into weeks, their trysts ease from need to comfort. Their escapades are punctuated by take out meals on the couch in varying states of undress, and light conversation about each other's histories. Kara uses what she knows of herself in this reality and makes up the rest, and Lena reveals what Kara couldn't find online.

Her broken heart at boarding school, her brief shame in her sexuality before she embraced it out of spite for her bigoted mother. Her knowledge of her mother, slightly more than Kara remembers her knowing-- that she'd been a folk singer in a small town before moving to the city to make a better life for Lena. How her mother had died-- cancer, instead of drowning.

Some happy memories too, of her early days with the Luthors-- more than before but still too few-- before Lionel had died in her teenage years.

Her desire to do good, even under the watchful attention of her brother, who sees only profit.

When the weeks pass into over a month, Kara allows herself to believe this might last. That she might be allowed to keep Lena in her life forever. Until one day Lex Luthor himself appears in Lena's office.

She and Lena are just returning from another meeting, and Lena immediately addresses her brother with a warm welcome, preventing Kara from needing to interact with him directly. She pretends not to feel the heat of his glare as she exits to return to her own desk.

As she sits, Kara casts her hearing through the wall between them, listening closely as they exchange pleasantries that seem friendly enough. But it's not long before Lex's tone sharpens.

"I was surprise to hear you'd become a cliche, ace."

The silence that follows is frigid as Lena stiffens.

"Screwing your assistant?" Lex smirks. "Come on."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you and dad had cornered the market on diddling the secretary."

Lena's response is cool and measured, but it kicks Kara in the gut like a mule. She almost misses the darkening of Lex's tone.

"Don't be snide..."

"Oh, but your hypocrisy makes it so easy." Lena huffs. "Jesus Lex. I never gave you grief about Eve, or even Mercy. What gives you the right--"

"I own this company!" Lex barks. "Everything you do is a reflection of me and our name. It's time you remember that."

"As if you'd let me forget--"

"I let you have your little pet projects, let you use company funds for your silly outreach ideas, and you do this?!" Lex takes a breath, letting it out in a huff of feigned sympathy.

"We have rules against this sort of thing, ace, and they're in place for a reason. If you choose to continue, and the board catches wind of it, I won't be able to protect you."

This time, Lena doesn't respond. A quick glance with her x-ray vision shows Kara the inevitable slump of Lena's shoulders.

Lex's senses his victory. "Think about it," he says. "I know you'll do the right thing."

When Lena still doesn't say anything, Lex takes his leave. The smirk he shoots Kara on his way says everything. She's lost.

Later that night, Kara enters Lena's office on quiet feet to go over the next day's schedule. When she finishes, Kara pauses.

"Do you need anything else before I leave?"

A subtle prompt for Lena to leave too, despite the paperwork spread on the desk promising that Lena has no intention of calling it quits.

"I have some proposals to review," Lena says quietly without looking up. "I won't be home until quite late."

"I can stay--"

"No," comes the clipped response. "I have what I need."

Kara grits her teeth, trying not to let her hurt show. She leaves with a nod, forcing herself not to look back until the door shuts behind her. Only then does she turn to peer through the wall, and witness the sad features Lena covers with both hands, elbows resting on the desk.

Scowling, Kara turns on her heel and heads home.