#and will be focused on it without another role right away | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

watevermelon · 6 months ago

Text

Practiced Patience | Yandere Jing Yuan x Reader

✧ Summary: Close friends with members of the High-Cloud Quintet, you wished every day was filled with peaceful sunsets and drinks, even if you and Jing Yuan bickered at every occasion. Who would have known it would all come crumbling down?

➳ High-Cloud Quintet!Jing Yuan x Reader ➳ Notes: LONG ONE SHOT; Forced Relationship, Emotional, Dark Angst, Lemon with Plot, dubcon, possessive, abuse of authority, hate sex ➳ Navigation

You knew better than to trust someone like Jing Yuan.

Jingliu claimed he was nothing to worry about.

An ambitious boy with no known birthplace, a thorn in their side as he often bickered with the rest of the Quintet. But you knew what you saw, a quiet tactician more meticulous than the others gave him credit for.

You stood to the side, not as a member of their infamous group, but rather a friend to both Jingliu and Dan Feng. They were both private in their ways, but remained steadfast when their minds were focused on a mission. It was clear that it was working, notching many glorious victories under the belt.

With only one notable issue…

After each triumph, Jingliu and Dan Feng were unabashedly transparent in their feelings, their one weakness that never failed to elicit an amused roll of your eyes.

Nonetheless, you found yourself in the unofficial role as matchmaker of the hopeless High-Cloud Quintet. It was almost amusing, how you rushed to sit in the middle of the table and beckoned Jing Yuan to your side, forcing the two couples to sit together.

Jingliu shot you a withering glare that could have pierced steel, her warning palpable in the air. Meanwhile, Dan Feng and Yingxing exchanged a knowing glance before simultaneously rolling their eyes at your antics. Without missing a beat, they moved to sit together, Jingliu and Baiheng on the other side.

Whatever, at the end of the day, you were the successful one with each couple sat together instead of pretending that the last few days of pining looks and flirtatious quips were nothing. Another night under the moonlight with your friends - it was perfect.

“I must say, watching you scurry around like this is nothing short of amusing.”

Almost perfect.

“Must you, Jing Yuan?”

“What?”

“Mock me if you will, but they will appreciate it in time.”

Fortunately, the man remained silent, content to sip on his drink while his gaze remained fixed on you. Despite your attempts to feign disinterest by gazing up at the night sky, he refused to look away, the unwavering attention in your peripheral unnerving. Enduring Jing Yuan's company was a small price to pay if it meant facilitating the blossoming romance between your friends. Glancing to the side, you couldn't help but smile as you observed Dan Feng leaning closer into Yingxing's space.

You closed your eyes, allowing the moments to slip by as you savored the peaceful ambiance of the night, accompanied by the gentle sway of the breeze and the comforting presence of drinks in hand. Their voices, though soft-spoken, enveloped you in a comforting embrace as you absently listened to their murmurs with quiet reverence.

“And when will you finally appreciate my attention?” A sudden whisper startled you out of your reverie, the warmth of his breath against your ear sending a shiver cascading down your spine.

Time and time again, Jing Yuan had made his peculiar infatuation with you known, yet it remained just that — an infatuation, devoid of any deeper significance. You couldn't help but notice the way his gaze trailed up your form, lingering on the curve of your bosom with a hunger that bordered on unsettling.

“Back off, boy.” You stated clearly, quietly shoving him out of your space.

"You see me as a boy, but it's been quite some time since I've surpassed even you in height," Jing Yuan remarked, his tone laced with a hint of amusement and a touch of defiance.

He was right, undoubtedly so.

Yet, clinging to the image of him as the young boy who first joined the Quintet served as a tether, keeping you grounded amidst the whirlwind of his affections. Despite the low timbre of his voice and the undeniable presence of his newfound muscles, you refused to dwell on such details.

This was Jing Yuan, the boy who often found himself embroiled in arguments with the others — the very same one you staunchly refused to entertain any romantic feelings for.

Jingliu called you an idiot on multiple occasions, stating that there was nothing wrong with getting involved with the now up-and-coming warrior.

Jing Yuan was a far cry from the boy you met eons ago, but even back then he had already made a name for himself. A troop member who had somehow led a bloodless victory aboard the Navis Astriger. It was no surprise that he was appointed quickly to a position of importance within the Cloud Knights.

And while he and Jingliu were not particularly close, they had mutual respect for one another as mentor and student. She had mentioned to you multiple occasions that the warrior was not a bad catch.

Rumor had it that Jing Yuan was going to be named the Arbiter-General of the Luofu Cloud Knights, not that any of that mattered to you.

But your friend did not see it , not like you did.

Beneath the surface, beyond the facade of a valiant hero defending the Xianzhou, you sensed an unsettling undercurrent lurking behind his golden eyes. While he exuded an aura of bravery and strength, there was an undeniable sense of something darker, something twisted, concealed within the depths of his being.

As you held his gaze, peering into the abyss of his golden stare, you could not shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye — a darkness that whispered of hidden desires.

And worst of all, they were aimed at you.

“And yet just a boy you continue to be.” You gave him a scathing reply back, raising your glass to your lips as if bringing that conversation to an end.

But Jing Yuan easily captured it from your grasp, drinking the rest before asking. “And what must I do for you to see me?”

“There is nothing.” You said with an air of finality, standing from your seat and excusing yourself for a moment - not that the others noticed, now in their own worlds.

Thankfully Jing Yuan had not followed, instead continuing to stare at you as he drank from your glass.

There it was again.

You almost regretted rising from your seat, subjecting yourself once again to his unrelenting stare. There was a palpable appreciation in his gaze as it roamed over your standing form, tracing the lines of your long legs and lingering on the expanse of skin you exposed. Sensing his intent to meet your eyes, you swiftly pivoted on your heel and turned to walk away, leaving behind the weight of his scrutiny.

Whatever, asshole.

It was still a fine night, even if he openly leered at you with a clear intent that you decidedly ignored.

These moments were perfect, not even Jing Yuan could ruin them.

And while these nights usually unfolded this way, with banter exchanged between you and Jing Yuan, you cherished these moments with your friends.

You treasured Jingliu's gentle smiles toward Baiheng, like whispers of affection carried on the evening breeze. You adored watching Dan Feng's earnest attempts at being suave, his efforts endearing despite their failure. Yingxing’s soft smile in response, unfazed and full of quiet adoration, was like moonlight gracing the night.

These small interactions, these cherished bonds, were the heartbeats of your evenings together.

And sometimes, just sometimes , Jing Yuan was not so annoying as usual.

There were moments when he would casually throw an arm across the back of your seat and you would allow it. He would lean into your space, a smirk playing on his lips, his presence somehow both familiar and infuriating. Yet, inevitably, he would push the fold too far, his smirk widening just before you pushed him back, reclaiming your space and restoring the delicate balance of your dance.

At times Jing Yuan would surprise you. A cup of your favorite tea, one you had briefly mentioned in passing. The next book in a series you rambled about. A beautiful necklace from a merchant who was in town for only the weekend, one that Jing Yuan did not allow you to refuse.

Once you had even watched him train, watching the sweat trail down his muscular build as his hair bellowed in the wind. It took everything in you to fight down a rosy blush.

But that was…

Something you did not even want to acknowledge.

Anyway.

In the company of your friends, surrounded by the serene glow of the moonlight, you felt an overwhelming desire to freeze time and remain in this moment forever. With a drink in hand and laughter in the air, you cherished the bond you shared with the Quintet, longing for eternity in their companionship.

But nothing ever truly worked out the way you wanted it to.

Baiheng, your dear friend who wanted nothing more than to gaze upon endless stars, would never get a chance to even see the Astral Express.

She paid the ultimate price, sacrificing herself for the others in their fight against Shuhu.

“The so-called heroes of the Xianzhou… And yet we can do nothing for our friend.” Dan Feng complained constantly, “How useless these titles are now.”

You could not shake the worry gnawing at your heart for Dan Feng and his deteriorating mental state. Increasingly, he voiced his anguish over the ceaseless cycle of death wrought by war, his spirit weighed down by the heavy burden of loss.

The spark that once ignited Dan Feng's eyes whenever he discovered a new book or shared a captivating story had dimmed, overshadowed by the relentless pursuit of unattainable dreams. He seemed consumed by a fervor akin to madness, his mind teeming with theories and schemes to resurrect Baiheng into the waking world.

Each member of the splintered Quintet grappled with their own demons, their sorrow manifesting in different ways, hidden behind veils of stoicism. At least Dan Feng was willing to speak to you, Jingliu appeared as nothing more than a hollow shell, her once vibrant spirit dimmed by the weight of her burdens. Yingxing refused to leave Dan Feng’s side.

You turned to Jing Yuan, the usually aloof schemer, now consumed by grief as he withdrew into the confines of his office, reluctant to emerge.

Casting aside your own hesitation, you ventured to visit Jing Yuan late into the night, bearing a steaming cup of tea procured from Tingyun's shop not long ago. At the time, you had hoped to bring it along on a night of victory.

He stood at the window, a solitary figure silhouetted against the backdrop of the moonlit sky, his hands folded behind his back as he gazed into the abyss beyond. The office was devoid of any other presence, engulfed in a palpable silence that hung heavy in the air.

“Jing Yuan?” You broke out the moment, surprised that he hadn’t moved at your appearance.

With a flick of his wrist, Jing Yuan beckoned you over, his expression tight with emotion as he silently invited you to approach. You extended the cup of tea towards him and he accepted it with ease, taking the kettle from your hands and placing it on his desk without a care for the watermarks it would leave on the papers below.

He sipped the tea slowly, his gaze fixed once again on the night sky as you stood beside him at the window. Did he truly need or even want your company in his moment of grief? With not a word spoken between you, a twinge of guilt gnawed at you for not reaching out to him sooner.

“If you need anything Jing Yuan, I’m here for you.” You broke the silence.

His golden eyes cast a glance downward at you, cloudier than you had ever seen them before. Despite the heaviness weighing upon him, a flicker of affection still lingered in his gaze, one that had always been there. Perhaps, in your haste, you had been too harsh on him, failing to recognize maybe he did sincerely have feelings for you.

You could not help the blush that spread across your cheeks, having the unabashed attention of the warrior. “Jing Yuan?”

Setting the cup down on the desk, he enveloped you in his arms, pulling you into a tight embrace that seemed to swallow you whole. Your senses were overwhelmed by Jing Yuan's presence — from his musky scent that surrounded you to the warmth of his touch. Despite the flood of sensations threatening to engulf you, you pushed them aside, focusing instead on returning his embrace, wrapping your arms around his middle and holding him close.

You felt him bury his face into your hair, inhaling deeply as if committing your scent to memory. It was a rare display of tenderness from Jing Yuan, perhaps the longest moment of gentle care he had ever bestowed upon you. It was always silly puns and flirtatious banter, never this new brand of sincere heartfelt affection.

In that fleeting instant, a wave of shyness washed over you, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment.

There was a sudden urge to pull away, but Jing Yuan moved to press his forehead against yours as he whispered. “If anything were to happen to you, I would not be able to take it.”

Your heart raced faster, his unexpected display of care contradicting the image of the young boy you had always perceived him to be. Even now, he loomed over you, his deep, husky voice sending a pang of want within your core.

Jing Yuan's hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently in place as he pressed his lips against yours in a tender kiss. You stood frozen in shock, never having imagined that this unexpected turn of events would transpire when you visited him tonight.

As his lips met yours in a tentative kiss, you felt a flutter of uncertainty mingled with a growing curiosity, unsure of the depths of your own feelings for him. Before this he was the one you refused to glance twice at, but now there was too much -- too much grief to think clearly.

“Jing Yu--!” He interrupted your voice, taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss and swipe his tongue across yours.

Yet, despite your hesitance, Jing Yuan's passion remained unwavering.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. This was not the time to be making moves like this - he was transferring his guilt and his grief into something that needed more time. But as you felt the heat of his touch searing through you, igniting an ignored fire deep within you, you found yourself yielding to the overwhelming tide of desire.

With a soft gasp, you surrendered to the kiss, allowing yourself to be consumed by the intensity of the moment. His tongue danced against yours in a fervent embrace, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. In that fleeting instant, doubts and uncertainties melted away, leaving only the raw, unbridled passion that surged between you.

Jing Yuan lifted you effortlessly by the back of your knees, easily done with his strength. He gently placed you on his desk, the surface cool against your thighs. His actions were fervent, his desire unmistakable in the way he moved. Yet, despite the intensity, his touch remained surprisingly gentle.

He ravaged your mouth with his, his lips insistent and demanding, but tempered with a tenderness that belied the raw emotion of the moment. His hands cupped your face, fingers splayed along your jawline as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the contours of your mouth with a fervor that left you breathless. Each movement was precise and deliberate, as if he was savoring every second of your shared intimacy.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping tightly as you responded to his lips, your own desire growing with each passing moment. The world around you faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you, locked in an embrace of unspoken feelings.

The moment was laced with a gentle urgency, beckoning you to wrap yourself around him and return for more kisses. You leaned a hand on the table as he kissed at your neck, accidentally brushing the kettle off the desk and shattering it on the floor.

“Fuck.”

Jing Yuan's voice dropped to a husky whisper, "What an uncouth tongue. Shall I punish you for it?"

You smiled at his teasing, his usual banter back in full force. “Jing Yuan…”

“Say my name again, sweetheart.”

The moonlight cast an ethereal glow over the warrior, illuminating his long white hair as you held each other in this surprising embrace. With only the soft glow to witness your intimacy, everything seemed perfect.

Yet, you knew the truth.

It was too soon to be acting like this — his actions were driven by grief rather than genuine connection.

Fighting the urge to widen your smile at his response, you placed two steady hands on his shoulders to catch his attention. “You… We shouldn’t have done this.”

His smirk faded, replaced by pinched brows, but his hands remained firm at your waist. “Do you regret being with me?”

“That’s not it at all. Jing Yuan, this is the grief speaking.” You immediately responded.

“No, no it’s not.” He was incensed immediately, running a frustrated hand through his long locs.

You tried to grab his arm, to bring him back to you. “Then let’s wait together. You fought side-by-side with Baiheng for decades, you need more time to grieve.”

“Can you not admit that our feelings for each other have been building this entire time, not just at a time of loss?”

For each other?

You hesitated, unable to refute his question in fear of making the situation worse. Before this moment, you refused to even entertain any romantic notion toward the warrior. It was always him, taking and taking until he hit a boundary you refused to let him cross.

It seemed your words were unnecessary, since the grimace on his visage grew.

“How could I forget? You still underestimate me like the others.” He spit out, frustration mounting in his voice.

“That’s not true, Jing Yuan.’

“Yes, it is. Otherwise, must you think my affection is fleeting? I have wanted to be with you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Then we should wait until after --”

“Why? Because you believe my sorrows have taken hold of me?” Jing Yuan was clear in his words, “Even now you think low of me, a boy unable to even sort out his own feelings.”

“That’s not what I meant--”

“Leave me. And do not return. It’s clear to me now that I love you, but I was nothing more than a passing fancy you enjoyed in your orbit.”

You whispered his name as he turned back to his place by the window, leaving you to sit dumbly at his desk. How had the argument progressed to this? To a nuclear proportion that he did not even want to glance in your direction?

A few minutes ago, you were lost in his touch and now Jing Yuan seemed to want nothing to do with you. Ashamed and saddened, you gathered yourself and left at his request.

Even if you wanted to make this right, to apologize and explain your thinking, the days to come were thrown into absolute turmoil.

To think it was Dan Feng that committed the unthinkable, attempting to resurrect Baiheng and betraying the whole of the Laoufu. And Yingxing, his closest confidant and possible love of his life, had even assisted him. Neither man had warned you of their plans that day, not even as it backfired in one of the worst ways possible.

You were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

You were not a member of the High-Cloud Quintet.

You did not even have an elemental power granted to you by a path.

In the past, Dan Feng would offer to train you in case you needed it. But Jingliu had waved him away with a reassuring smile, saying that they would always be there to protect you anyway.

And yet here and now you were rendered flat on your back, the wind knocked out of you with scrapes littering your body. Phantom pain coarsed through every limb, making you question if your arm was even supposed to bend that way. With effort, one of your eyes struggled to open, but the pulsating pain in your head made it a daunting task. Despite the haze of agony enveloping you, you fought to grasp onto consciousness, struggling to make sense of the chaotic scene unfolding right in front of you.

Jingliu's movements across the Scalegorge Waterscape were swift, but also tinged with a recklessness that you had not seen before. You found it challenging to even breathe, having been blasted in the air after Dan Feng’s failed experiment.

With each passing moment, the burden of his and Yingxing’s failure weighed heavier upon you, pushing your body to exhaustion as it tinged with an unending pain.

There was no doubt about it in your mind.

You were struck with mara.

Why?

Why had Dan Feng betrayed his closest companions?

You doubted you were the only one with this new curse.

Yingxing was never one for the front-lines, usually a presence with the other military engineers. And yet you watched as a savage look overtook his visage and he wielded his hammer against the Cloud Knights.

You barely caught a glimpse of Dan Feng being led away in chains, Jing Yuan declaring his crimes just a few steps behind. To your shock, the Cloud Knights then turned their attention to you, hauling you off the ground and listing off accusations as you were dragged away to prison alongside him.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, the solitude of the prison cell weighed heavy on your spirit. There was no one by your side, no friendly faces to offer solace. The smaller cuts and bruises that adorned your body had been tended to, evidence of some form of care during your unconsciousness. Yet, as you cursed your own helplessness, a sense of frustration and despair settled in your bones. You were powerless here, unable to flee, unable to prevent Dan Feng's actions, and now trapped in the confines of this unforgiving prison.

The guards whispered of the unforeseen events, the heroes of the Xianzhou now a taboo topic - one dead, two in exile, and the catalyst of their ruin in his own cell somewhere in this very building.

And Jing Yuan, somehow now the Arbiter-General of the Luofu Cloud Knights.

The guards of your cell refused to speak to you, ignoring your pleas to even identify your accused crimes or to get in contact with a Master Diviner. This felt surreal, unjust. You had never assisted Dan Feng in his plans, and if you had known of his intentions, you would have done everything in your power to stop him. Desperation clawed at you as you tried to reason with the unyielding guards, your voice echoing futilely in the cold, unfeeling corridor.

Days, if not weeks, passed in the cold, unending prison. Isolation gnawed at you, the silence suffocating. You hadn’t spoken to anyone and your mental state frayed more each day, teetering on the brink of breaking entirely. Despair settled in, a heavy blanket that dulled your senses and made time blur into a continuous, agonizing stretch.

“How pitiful you have become.”

You blinked up at his tall stature.

Jing Yuan.

Of all people to come to your lone cell.

“To think I held love for you in my heart.” He spat out, “You aided the traitor of the Xianzhou.”

“I never helped Dan Feng in his great sin.” You defended yourself, “And if you truly knew me like you claimed to, you would know that.”

"You dare turn on the one willing to hear you out?" Jing Yuan taunted, his voice dripping with cold truth. "There are a few who claim to have seen you assist Dan Feng.”

“That’s not true!”

“So all of them are lying?”

You shook your head and turned, “Of course you would not believe me.”

Jing Yuan scoffed, “Is my presence here not tantamount to my desire to see you? There is no one else here. No one else to turn to. In all your years of loyalty to the Xianzhou, only I am willing to listen to your defense."

His words echoed in the cell, a cruel reminder of the precariousness of your situation. His eyes bore into yours, challenging and unyielding, leaving you to grapple with the bleak reality of your circumstances.

“And what? If I can’t convince you?”

“Then you will be exiled, like the others.”

Exiled.

To work as a slave for the IPC or end up in some other clutches, far from your home.

You felt useless, unable to fight. Unable to defend yourself.

"Nothing to say?" Jing Yuan's voice carried a mocking edge, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

You were always quick with your rebuttals, but now? Now that your life hung in the balance, at the mercy of someone who seemed to want nothing to do with you? He had already cast aside his closest friends; what fate awaited you?

“Then offer me one last favor Jing Yuan -- kill me.”

That was clearly not the response he was expecting. Surprise flickered across Jing Yuan's face, momentarily breaking his stoic demeanor.

Why should he be surprised?

As a Xianzhou native, you were destined to live hundreds of years of this now pitiful life. And to think that now you were struck with mara at such a young age. If you were to get caught up with the IPC, would you become their workhorse for centuries if not all of eternity? How long would it be before you decayed into a shell of who you were with nothing but a debt hanging over your shoulder?

It would mean bidding farewell to the life you once knew, condemned to an existence devoid of purpose, unable to end it even if you wished to.

“What?” His voice broke you, “You would rather die than beg me for your life?”

“You already hate me, don’t pretend. This outcome has already been decided. And if I were cast aside from the Alliance, it would be a death sentence that I would be unable to claim.” You scoffed, one last rebuttal that you could afford.

Jing Yuan remained silent, a storm of emotions swirling behind his eyes. You could discern a few - confliction, surprise, but mostly anger simmering just beneath the surface. Had he not known that you were struck with mara?

He stepped up to the bars of the cell, “I could never hurt you.”

“Someone can.” You refused to look at him, furious at his attempt to capitalize on your lowest point. “Make the funeral private, at least.”

The general remained at the prison bars, his presence looming over you like a shadow. Despite your refusal to engage further in conversation, his imposing figure seemed to fill the room with an unspoken tension. The realization of your irreversible fate struck you like a hammer blow.

If you were to be exiled from the Xianzhou, who else could comprehend the curse that had befallen you? With each passing century, you would grow and mutate, becoming a grotesque monster. Eventually, even the simplest acts of thought would be beyond your reach, leaving you trapped in a nightmarish existence for eternity.

You would rather end it now than be trapped in a body that would never die.

A young diviner was the next to visit you. She made it known she was only here at General Jing Yuan’s request, attempting to scry into your past to help prove your innocence at the Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae.

(A part of you found it holy ironic. The Quintet had served the Alliance for decades as their hero, but now all they would be remembered for is a single person’s moment of weakness.)

And yet…

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing of use for your trial.”

“Nothing?”

“It seems you were rather close to Dan Feng… Including the early days of when he first concocted the idea of his sin.”

“I was always close to Dan Feng.” You argued, “It was not a secret that I was a friend to all the members of the Quintet. What of the people who claimed to see me during the incident? Why are they claiming something they never saw?”

The diviner glanced at the guards briefly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It is a member of the Quintet who is citing your involvement.”

What?

Who?

Forget it, now was not the time to be dwelling on that. You had her attention now, perhaps the only time you would be allowed to speak to the diviner. You had one more question to ask, one more selfish request despite all he had put his friends through.

“What about asking Dan Feng himself, surely he can prove I was not involved?”

Immediately, her face looked conflicted, a frown deepening the lines around her mouth as she considered how to respond to your question. Her eyes darted away from yours, searching for the right words or perhaps the least painful truth.

“Dan Feng no longer exists.”

No.

She jumped at your outcry, a harsh wail contrasting her previously soft tone of voice. You did not blame her when the diviner made a swift exit after. There wasn’t much else she could do anyway, leaving you to wrestle with your anguish alone.

The room seemed to close in on you, each shadow deepening the sense of despair. You were left with your thoughts, heavy and suffocating, attempting not to think of the molting rebirth your friend was possibly forced through.

Dan Feng had been your friend.

And now he no longer existed.

How long ago had it been since you were joking around with him and Yingxing, sharing quiet moments as the sun dipped below the horizon? That memory felt like a distant dream now, tinged with the bitter sting of reality.

You cried endlessly, your tears only a single drop of your despair; how you wished fervently for the clock to strike backwards. To think that the kind-hearted Baiheng had sacrificed her life for her closest companions, only for her noble act to be twisted into the catalyst for one's descent into betrayal and madness.

How could life be so cruel?

Tears flowed incessantly, streaming down your cheeks like a relentless downpour, transcending even the hours that you wallowed in your grief. The guards complained at your wailing, but you ignored them in your unending sadness.

But not even you could ignore a phantom touch that gently caressed the crown of your head. Blinking through the haze of your tears, your vision blurred by the curtain of familiar white hair that surrounded you. His lips brushed against your forehead again, a tender gesture that stirred confusion.

Jing Yuan in all his glory, inside your cell and offering small kisses to your person.

What the fuck was he doing here?

“You could have it all back — your family, your life here on the Xianzhou.” He murmured between open-mouth kisses, “I promise I will do everything in my power to take care of you.”

Jing Yuan.

Presumably the last remaining member of the Quintet still on the Laoufu.

Both Jingliu and Yingxing fled the Alliance the moment they were called to be imprisoned. Dan Feng was long gone. None of them would even have the chance to implicate you.

Jing Yuan.

The one person who could benefit from your imprisonment.

You had nothing to offer - you were not a legendary artisan like Yingxing or a formidable fighter like the others. Jingliu had always joked that you were under her protection, if anything were to come to pass, that she would always be there for you. But now she was gone and Jing Yuan’s authority was unchecked.

The boy they argued with ceaselessly.

The one whom many constantly underestimated, as if he had not already proven the power of his meticulous schemes.

He was the cause of this.

You had no proof, but the warning bell in your gut was at full blast as he attempted to lay more kisses on your person.

The general was the only one with the authority to let you out of this dreary cell. And time and time again, Jing Yuan had made it known exactly what he wanted from you. Except now, you could no longer deny him.

Jing Yuan had truly ripped apart every last defense you had.

Face exile from the Laofu, left to wander the cosmos forever as either a slave and eventually a monster. Or, be subject to his every whim and want.

Everything came with a price.

What must you pay?

You felt the heat emanating from Jing Yuan's body as he drew you closer, your lips meeting with a hunger that spoke of desires long held under the surface.

His tongue met no resistance, roughly exploring past your lips to get you to succumb to his advances. The sound of your shared breaths, ragged and hurried, filled the air between you, punctuated by hungry moans. A hand threaded through your hair, holding you fast as your lips clung to each other, each kiss a promise and a plea.

But how could you forget the true reality around you - this dingy prison cell where the person you felt the most conflicted for held the key. And with each second, he tempted you into this swirling vortex of his carnal hunger, the slickness of your mixed saliva and the dizzying sensation of his lips a constant reminder of what he truly wanted.

It was clear the silent command he was giving you.

He had the power to grant you your life back.

And if you wanted it, you needed to work for it.

That look on his face, the one that Jingliu refused to see, returned back in full force. It was predatory, charged with a lust that had long been at bay. And now, Jing Yuan held the reins, his eyes gleaming as he finally claimed the upper hand.

You hated him.

Why was he the only thing you had left?

Had he planned this all along?

All you felt was molten fury, wanting to spit at his face and push him aside.

You surrendered to his embrace, reciprocating his kiss with a fervent response. Waving that internal white flag, Jing Yuan had all but broken down every last barrier in a total victory. His tongue explored every contour of your mouth, leaving no inch untouched, as if staking a possessive claim over your very essence.

Suddenly he pushed you down with an unexpected force, the impact jolting through your body as you landed flat on your ass, the rough surface grazing your already tattered clothing. Gasping, you barely had a moment to gather your thoughts before the general followed suit. With Jing Yuan’s knees on either side of your hips, he loomed over you, his presence dominating as his lower garments were pushed down further and further.

Your mind teetered on the brink between shock and arousal, allowing only seconds of thought before Jing Yuan had unapologetically held his cock inches from your face.

The veins, engorged and pulsating, seemed to dance beneath his velvety, erect flesh. The prominent ridge glistened with a bead of pre-cum, its presence nearly tangible in the charged air. The sight of it, so close to your face, ignited a primal fire within you. And without thought, you licked at your lips, a reflexive reaction to the sudden craving for the taste of him.

You had rejected him, constantly.

Refused to look in his direction.

And yet here you were, eyes drinking in every nuance and curve of his bold offering.

The general’s smirk deepened, a predator reveling in the sight of his prey's desire. With a firm grip carding through your hair, he roughly forced your head closer to the throbbing, tenacious length of his cock. He was surprisingly gentle as he rubbed his hard dick against your face - the hot, slick flesh slapping against your skin.

For so long you only had biting words and quick rebuttals, calling him nothing more than a boy for decades.

Even if you gave up your body to him, there was still that undeniable indignant look on your face as he rubbed his hard length against your skin. Jing Yuan would give anything to be in your head right now, imagining all the scathing words that you were surely throwing at him with each passing second.

He had broken your defenses, ruined all your plans to keep him at bay.

The general’s eyes glimmered with dark satisfaction at the sight of your submission. The absence of your fiery verbal retorts, the hallmark of your indomitable spirit, struck an unexpected chord within him.

He wanted more.

Jing Yuan wanted to ruin you.

Being gentle and kind did nothing, falling only on deaf ears. It was only when you were cornered, trapped and alone, did you finally take a second glance in his direction.

You could barely manage tentative, small licks at the head of Jing Yuan's throbbing cock. The salty taste of his arousal danced on your tongue. With an unrelenting yet deliberate force, he pushed your head further, forcing you to take more of his length between your lips. The intrusion stretched you, cheeks hollowing as you struggled to accommodate him.

The general’s eyes raked over your flushed features, taking in the rapid rise and fall of your chest and the slight tremor that followed his shallow thrusts. How many nights had he imagined this very sight? From under his desk to the soft sheets of his bedroom, Jing Yuan must have thought of taking you over a thousand times. The dreams of you disheveled beneath his touch was nothing compared to the submissive, wide-eyed expression you were shooting him now.

Jing Yuan knew that your apparent submission to him was nothing but a ruse, glimmers of defiance still shimmering in your gaze. He could almost hear the torrent of curses that must have been flung his way in the privacy of your thoughts. And oddly enough, the knowledge that you were harboring this fierce, passionate hatred for him held a perverse allure for Jing Yuan. He wanted to hear every venomous word from your lips, more passionate than he had ever seen you.

It was better than the cold vacuum of indifference.

“Choke on my cock, sweetheart.”

You let out a small, involuntary moan, embarrassed at how his harshness had ignited a fierce pang of want in the pit of your stomach. The sight of Jing Yuan's triumphant smirk only served to stoke it further, pushing your head down as he forced you to accept his length more fully.

Each time you tried to pull back, his hips would follow, driving himself deeper. There was no fighting his strength, especially as he loomed over you with his cock down your lips.

It was obscene, the guttural sound of his hard length entering your mouth. Your hands flew to his stomach, open palms against his clothes as he overwhelmed your senses. But it hardly held him back, more and more inches disappearing behind your lips.

“Mhmmm—!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to return the favor later.” He murmured appreciatively, enjoying the view.

Unable to resist, you could not help but look up at him, eyes locking as he rushed to thrust impossibly deeper. You regretted the eye contact a second later, since you felt his cock twitch in your mouth at the connection. Of course he loved any amount of attention you would give him.

He was insatiable.

And you had been making him worse and worse, a ticking time bomb until he could forcibly stake his claim.

You could only imagine what you looked like, panting like a whore in need as you choked on his cock, the only one you had ever sucked.

He fucked your mouth like a hole, eyes rolling heavenward as he was relentless in his movements. You could barely move your tongue, his thrusts merciless even in the face of your tears. Even worse, shame pooled in your stomach as you felt slick pool at your cunt, turned on somehow by his rough handling.

The general lifted a knee upward, forcing an even deeper angle down your throat as tears trailed down your cheeks. The sudden, brutal change in position left you gagging, throat constricting in a futile effort to resist the invasion.

You nearly screamed for mercy before he pushed you off entirely, barely catching yourself with outstretched palms on the floor.

“I hate you.” You spit out, unable to stop yourself.

But his smirk only grew, gentle hands methodically peeling each article of clothing from your body. The tattered garments, your last vestiges of dignity, fell like a rain of defeat to the cold, unyielding floor of the prison cell.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

Pride all but shattered, you could only do as he asked as he maneuvered you facing the prison bars. Your palms were splayed out on the rough ground, knees digging into the uneven crevices of the prison.

The bed was for lovers, Jing Yuan was fucking you like a whore.

A cacophony of curses raged in your mind. Your fury, however, faltered at the sound of a throat clearing, the interruption echoing past the prison bars. The realization of the two guards flanking the door, their attention fixed on the wall in the distance, weighed heavy on your heart. They could not see you, but surely they could hear every single moan and movement.

Fear prickled at the base of your spine, a reminder that your forced intimacy was not as private as you had initially presumed.

Truly, there was no one in the entirety of the Xianzhou who was on your side.

Not anymore.

Your eyes, now wide with apprehension, flickered from the guards to Jing Yuan, uncertainty and trepidation clouding your gaze. And, of course, what had the asshole done? The general simply kept on smirking, that infuriating look on his face making it clear he knew about your worry.

“All will know that you are mine.”

He shoved you further, head down ass up as he kneeled down behind you. You expected more rough handling, a vicious cock down your hole at best. But instead a soft, wet appendage rubbed about your clit. You whined in surprise as he licked your lower pearl, fingers trailing circles along your entrance.

The last thing you expected him to do was give you any pleasure, focused solely on him.

His fingers, trailing gentle circles around your now-sensitive entrance, left you on the precipice between shock and arousal. The change in his demeanor, from the strong general to a teasing lover, left your heart racing, your body caught between desire for his touch and the lingering fear that their privacy was a fragile, fleeting illusion.

“ This is my greatest treasure.” He clarified, his breath felt right on your skin.

You groaned once more, feeling him lick and prod at your hole.

You could endure his rough handling and harsh words, but Jing Yuan’s version of love was a torment of another kind. It was a twisted, sinister force, dark and corrupted. Each kiss carried a haunting shadow, every touch a reminder of the darkness entwining his affection.

His love was a cruel paradox, making you question every moment of tenderness you shared in the past.

Jing Yuan cradled the skin of your hips gently, his fingers delving into your velvety depths with a tenderness that was both unexpected and disconcerting. His thumb, circling your engorged clit, teased a sweet, exquisite ache, while his tongue flicked at your entrance in delicate, probing motion, each touch drawing a guttural moan from your parted lips.

The gentle invasion of both digits and tongue, however, was hard to deny. The pleasure that blossomed within you fought against even your mental resistance. Fear and lust mingled, leaving you teetering on the edge of a precipice.

In this quiet moment, the only sounds were your ragged moans, the soft wet suction of his mouth, and the squelching of his fingers entering and withdrawing from you. The tenderness of his actions made you squirm uncomfortably, expecting more from the general.

But Jing Yuan was deliberate in his slow actions, tongue dancing along the contours of your clit, and eliciting delicious shudders through your quivering body. Your thighs trembled, the muscles tensing around his head as he feasted on you, savoring the sight of your body succumbing to the ebb and flow of his expert touch.

“Please--!”

“Please what, my love?”

But you refused to answer further, choosing instead to roll your hips, your body pleading for more of his touch. Jing Yuan reveled in the attention, the desperate plea in your voice only fueling his satisfaction. His fingers moved with swift purpose, exploring your depths until only his knuckles remained outside your messy hole.

“More, more!”

You teetered on the edge of begging, your parted lips dripping with saliva as you struggled to contain yourself. Jing Yuan heard your desperate pleas, but for whatever reason refused to yield to your words. Each repetition of his name escaped your lips like a fervent prayer, punctuated by the rhythm of your shallow breaths. The sound elicited a guttural moan from him, a raw expression of arousal as his tongue danced tantalizingly over your lower pearl.

“Who do you belong to?”

You were keenly aware of the answer Jing Yuan desired and the allure to comply with his wishes was almost overwhelming. He had you panting, your breath hitching in your throat as you eagerly rolled your hips back in time with his fingers, craving every inch of his touch. With each movement, you were propelled closer to the precipice of ecstasy, your body trembling with anticipation. His tongue traced rough circles on your pearl, each stroke igniting a fiery wave of pleasure that surged through your veins. You were on the cusp of climax, your hips rolling in rhythmic harmony with his touch as you chased the elusive edge of release.

“Who do you belong to?” The general asked again.

He had your body.

The only thing you could afford left was your mind, and stupidly you refused to give in.

“ No one .” You barely uttered a response, stubborn even as you panted like a bitch in heat.

“No one, huh?” Jing Yuan chuckled, not surprised by your continued resistance.

He would enjoy making you take that back.

Your whines of frustration filled the air as he abruptly ceased his actions, leaving you dangling on the precipice of cumming. You were on the brink of finishing, the tantalizing edge of release just within reach. His chuckle cut through the silence, mocking your desperate movements as you shamelessly thrust your hips towards him, consumed by a primal need to release the building tension.

With a firm grip, he lifted your hips, pressing your front against the unforgiving ground as you struggled to muster the strength to support yourself. The unmistakable sensation of his cock against your backside sent a pang of short-lived happiness, his arousal pressing against the tender skin of your ass, a silent promise of what was to come.

Your desperate whimpers filled the air as his girthy length continued to evade you, teasingly rubbing against your heated skin. A surge of need flooded through you as he toyed with your clit, his hand wrapping around your front to caress your cunt with tantalizing strokes. With agonizing slowness, he traced the outline of his erect cock against your slick entrance, each time making you moan. The teasing friction left you trembling as you yearned for him to finally plunge into you fully.

“Please more--!”

“Perhaps you can take a lesson in patience.” He murmured against you, leaning in to plant kisses along your back. His white hair grazed your skin, causing an involuntary tremble to ripple through you.

“Need more, please please please…” You repeated absently.

“Then give yourself fully to me.” He commanded.

But you, in your stupid brain, refused yet again to give in.

With calculated precision, Jing Yuan teased the head of his shaft at your entrance, eliciting gasps of pleasure from both of you. The yearning for more was undeniable, a mutual desire to envelop him whole.

His heated moan reverberated in your ear, sending waves of arousal through your body as his free hand explored your form. With a fierce grip, Jing Yuan seized the soft skin of your breast, his touch both demanding and electrifying. With each shallow thrust, his urgency grew, pressing against your skin with an intoxicating intensity.

“Give in, my love.” He whispered in your ear hotly, his deep voice making you clench around nothing. “I am the only one who can make you feel this good.”

You shook your head in denial, but you were unable to convince even yourself anymore that this was the right choice.

“Fine, I can make this night much worse for you.”

Before you could even rethink your refusal, Jing Yuan seized your hips once more, exerting pressure to push the plush curves of your ass together as he slid his hard cock between them.

“Wait-!”

You wanted to scream as he rubbed his cock against between your ass cheeks, the sensation brought little pleasure for you. The only source of arousal stemmed from his wandering hand, which continued to caress circles on your sloppy clit.

“This is enough for me, is it enough for you?” Jing Yuan goaded you, still an asshole even as he slowly lost himself to your body.

His escalating moans filled the air, matching the quickening rhythm of his thrusts against the skin of your ass. The sight of him, sweaty and panting, was undeniably enticing, his deep voice resonating as he indulged in pleasure. The seductive allure of his arousal made you yearn for more, already regretting the decision to withhold your answer.

“Please, I take it back! I take it back…!”

He ignored your pleas and thrust against you with a relentless force, showing no signs of stopping. The general harshly pulled your waist back to meet his hips, rubbing the contours of your ass against his throbbing cock. The controlled rhythm of his thrusts dissolved into frantic urgency, his panting breaths a sign of his hurried pursuit of release.

In a final act of cruelty, Jing Yuan positioned himself at your entrance and prodded the head of his shaft at your tight entry. Immediately you clamped down on him, receiving a moan in response as you wanted nothing more than to be fucked.

Finally were you about to experience relief?

Or was he about to--?

“Jing Yuan…!”

His cock pierced you with little reprieve, the slap of his balls against your thighs as his warm essence spilled into you. You were hardly close to the end, having been denied by the pause of his teasing hands. His hips pressed firmly against yours as he reached the peak of his ecstasy, an uncomfortable wave coursing through you like a sudden tide.

Jing Yuan indulged in a few more shallow thrusts, relishing the sensation of your hot pussy clamping down on his cock. You could not ignore the uncomfortable sensation of his cum dripping out of your hole, surprised at how much he released inside you. Despite the lingering need for more, you doubted that anything less than total surrender on your part would be acceptable to him.

“Have you made up your mind? If not, I’m not against pushing together your tits and making you watch as I fuck your--”

“Fuck me, Jing Yuan.”

The general notably paused, gently lifting you by the waist to face him. You were effortlessly drawn into his lap, his powerful arms guiding you as you instinctively wrapped yours around his neck. Close to him now, his voice was low and intimate as he spoke.

“What was that, my love?”

“My body belongs to you, do whatever you want with me.”

“Uh-uh, that’s not the right answer and you know it.” He tsked at your words, “You know what I want. Give all of yourself to me.”

You pouted at the general, always astute even as he was losing his sanity.

“All of me is yours.”

“And all of my love is yours.” He replied back, connecting your lips together in a much more intimate embrace.

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck as he kissed you, his lips fervently exploring your skin. He feasted on you, leaving red splotches along your neck and collarbone before descending lavish attention to the soft skin of your nipple. A moan escaped your lips at the sensation, earning a reciprocal groan from Jing Yuan as he reveled in the pleasure you shared.

“ Fuck .” The general murmured this time, a wandering hand going to your pussy to rub circles there yet again.

His firm fingers, hard and calloused from battles, circled your entrance, feeling the remnants of his earlier creampie drip out of you. A moan of appreciation escaped Jing Yuan as he pushed some of his cum back in, eliciting a mixture of surprise and pleasure from you. Despite the odd sensation, he silenced any protests with his passionate tongue on yours.

At the end of your sanity, you rolled your hips against his in a desperate plea to finally feel his hard cock inside you. His groan of approval echoed loudly in the room, happy to see you finally take some initiative.

“Fuck yourself on me, my love.”

Not one to be told twice, you aligned yourself with his erect length and immediately shoved yourself downward.

A simultaneous groan of pleasure escaped the both of you as you joined together, throwing your head back as you barely managed to maintain your grip around his neck. Jing Yuan enveloped your nipple back into his mouth, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin as you lifted your waist up and down, setting a rhythm that drove you both to new heights of ecstasy.

“That’s it; lose yourself to me.” He encouraged you loudly, his moans resonating in your ear, yet you reciprocated with equally vocal responses.

You watched as even he arched his head backward in sheer pleasure, his eyelids fluttering as he stared at your bouncing tits. With every movement, you fought the urge to release a scream, the sensation on the verge of overwhelming you completely. Sensing your desperation, he effortlessly lifted his hips to meet yours, assisting you as you rode his length up and down.

It was hard to remember your hatred for him as he brought you to new heights never seen before. His long cock hit all the right places, prominent veins running against your slick walls. It beckoned you to give in, to lose yourself and beg for his cum.

Your body glistened with a sheen of sweat, legs locked around his hips as your core enveloped his leaking cock. The cell was alive with the primal sounds of your coupling, the slap of flesh against flesh punctuating the air in a rhythm that mirrored the pounding of your heart. Encouraged by his support, Jing Yuan intensified the rhythm, urging you to delve deeper and move faster, propelling you both towards the edge of euphoria with each relentless thrust.

“I’m.. close! More more more…!” You babbled without thought, making his dick twitch at your unabashed whine.

“Cum around my cock.” The general urged you on, “My sweet, sweet love.”

The frenzied pace of your hips accelerated, bodies colliding in an undeniable chase of raw want. In that moment, time seemed to stretch and warp, as the crescendo of your climax blinded you like a flash of lightning. The world around you dissolved, leaving your body to writhe and buckle under the euphoric onslaught. The spasms of your orgasm rippled through you, each contraction of your inner walls like a vice around Jing Yuan's shaft.

You felt your essence mix in your belly, spilling out as Jing Yuan continued in his onslaught. You cried out in a mixture of pleasure and new pain, your senses overwhelmed by the stimulation as he continued to fuck your womb with unbridled fervor, treating you like an abandoned, wet hole. Desperately, you pushed at his hard abs, pleading for him to cease, but he remained undeterred, thrusting into your pussy with the unstoppable determination of a man possessed.

“Less, less! No more Jing Yuan!” You begged between tears.

“You gave yourself up to me. Which means I decide when you are done.”

“Wha…”

“Open your mouth.”

You mechanically followed his request, your body bouncing in rhythm with each forceful thrust into your tight cunt. The inches of his hard cock rubbed deliciously against your velvety walls; you barely grasped his movement as he leaned closer, his dominance palpable as he spat down your throat. It was a visceral display of his control, leaving you breathless under his commanding presence.

You swallowed his saliva without question, your mouth opening wider as if beckoning more. His moan of approval reverberated throughout the room. Meanwhile, his cock appeared to swell even larger inside your sloppy pussy, responding eagerly to your submissive display.

Possessed to get a deeper angle, he seized your hips and swiftly flipped you around, placing you on your back on the unforgiving ground. You grimaced momentarily at the sudden movement, but before you could protest, he lifted a single knee to rest on his shoulder, positioning himself for better access. The angle was torturous, his thrusts delving further inside you, amplifying the already heightened sensitivity of your dripping wet pussy.

“Jing Yuan…!” You repeated his name continuously, singing high praises that stoked his ever growing ego.

“What do you want me to do, my love?”

“Cum inside me..!” You screamed out this time, sure that all the other prisoners could definitely hear you.

He smiled like a man overtaken by desire, before crashing his lips onto yours, a hand behind your head steadying you against him. Lost in the overwhelming pleasure, you could barely respond to his open mouth kisses. The harsh slap of his balls against your skin barely registered amidst the cacophony of pleasure coursing through you. All your focus was on the hard length of his shaft disappearing further into your eager cunt, each thrust driving you further into a blissful oblivion.

All you could hear was your name, spilled eagerly from his lips.

It was somehow too much and not enough, all at once.

He maneuvered another one of your legs above his shoulder, ensnaring you in an unyielding mating press from which there was no escape. Drool escaped your mouth as he thrust downward into you, his movements devoid of rhythm as he relentlessly pursued his own climax. Your shared essences splashed disgustingly with each roll of his hips, the slick sounds loud as his cock pierced you. He was a man driven solely by desire, his golden eyes darkened as he fucked you with reckless abandon.

Abruptly, Jing Yuan's body stiffened, his hips jerking forward to press against yours. Once again, he released his hot cum deep within your stuffed pussy, the scorching liquid overflowing into your womb and cascading onto the floor below in a torrential rush. You felt many dribbles down and across your trembling thighs. Despite your overflowing cunt, Jing Yuan refused to part, plugging up your still-quivering entrance.

“I love you more than I know how to love. And I will spend every day reminding you of that fact.” He murmured on your skin, breath warm as he spoke.

Your senses returned to you immediately, a wave of shame and embarrassment washing over you. You berated yourself for succumbing to Jing Yuan's advances, feeling foolish and naive for allowing him to cloud your judgment. There was no way the general would ever let you forget the day you begged for his cock like a whore.

And now, it was highly possible that this coupling would connect your fates together in a future child forevermore.

The weight of regret must have been evident on your face, as Jing Yuan responded by rolling his hips and pressing his lips to your neck in a tender gesture. Despite the discomfort brewing in your lower regions, he only responded with a deep, satisfied moan, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil raging within you.

You were in awe at the sudden realization.

There was undoubtedly still a hard, erect cock inside you.

“Oh my god.” You could not help but comment.

“Perhaps I am better off fucking you within an inch of your life?” He punctuated his question with another shallow thrust, “This seems more to your liking than gestures of my love and affection.”

You hated him.

You hated how well he knew every inch of your soul.

And you especially hated how the veins of his cock felt against your messy pussy.

But Jing Yuan remained indifferent to your pleas.

He was determined to demonstrate just how much he loved and wanted you, his actions speaking louder than words ever could. Despite your constant begging for reprieve, for him to pause and give you a moment's respite, Jing Yuan showed no signs of stopping. He continued to fuck you relentlessly on the floor, heedless of your tears. He lifted you against the wall next, adjusting your legs wide above his shoulder to reach an even deeper angle.

“No! No more please…!”

“I will make you regret ever seeing me as less than a man.” He whispered against your skin, balls slapping against you.

And you cried even more as he brought you to the bars of your prison cell. Your heart sank as you caught sight of the guards stationed at your door, the sole witnesses to the scene unfolding before them. Desperately, you begged Jing Yuan to stop, to consider the audience to his actions, but he remained unfazed. With a callous disregard for your pleas and ears of the guards, he pierced his cock into you against the cold metal bars, his climax marking yet another instance of his dominance over you, uncaring of the audience as he released himself inside your womb.

Jing Yuan claimed he was making you pay for your freedom.

He subjected every inch of your body to his abuse, leaving a trail of red hickies adorning your skin as he claimed your body. From your sopping pussy to your small hands to your bruised tits, his mouth had explored every inch of your flesh, leaving you unable to keep track of the countless times he spilled his cum inside you.

In hindsight, you doubted there would be a single night henceforth that did not end with him emptying his balls in your hot cunt.

Perhaps being sold as a slave to the IPC was a more merciful fate than this.

You woke up in an unfamiliar place, sprawled on a vast bed covered in layers of plush, fluffy blankets. As you sat up, the luxurious feel of fine silks against your skin caught your attention. The loose robe you wore was exquisite, its fabric whispering against your freshly cleaned skin.

Despite the soft, decadent surroundings, the marks Jing Yuan had left on you remained, stark reminders of the previous night's intensity.

Your hair, now free of knots and tangles, flowed smoothly over your shoulders, a far cry from the disheveled state it had been in during your imprisonment. The room around you exuded opulence, a stark contrast to the cold, harsh cell you had endured for a seemingly unending amount of time.

“‘Morning, my love.” Jing Yuan greeted as he entered from the other room.

He had that same infuriating smirk on his face, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he approached the bed. Placing his palms firmly on the mattress, he leaned over to you as he brushed his lips against your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

“Perhaps we can go clothing shopping together today.”

The audacity of Jing Yuan to sport such a carefree smile, oblivious or perhaps taking joy in the turmoil he had inflicted upon you. How could he possibly pretend that everything was alright after coercing you into surrendering your very existence?

Your simmering anger must have been palpable, evident in the tightening of your jaw and the quiet fire smoldering in your eyes. Yet, instead of recoiling at your fury, Jing Yuan's smirk only widened, his demeanor remaining infuriatingly composed as he observed your seething discontent.

“Or would you rather stay here?” He tapped the bed with his fingers, “I’m sure we can think of plenty to do.”

You pushed away the blankets and stood, “I’d rather go out.”

“Without me, right?”

You held your tongue, eyes ablaze with tapered fury. In the face of Jing Yuan's smug demeanor, you feared that silence was the only retort you were allowed to show.

The general leaned over the bed, catching your elbow and shoving you back onto the bed.

“Say it.” He goaded you as he loomed over your body, a hand caressing the cascade of hair that spilled around you.

“What?”

“I can almost hear those scathing comments you once graced me with. I want to hear it.”

“I hate you.”

You seized the chance to finally speak your mind, refusing to hold back as your statement held every ounce of hatred you harbored towards him. Perhaps you would express yourself more in as many ways as he would tolerate.

“Again, my love.” He whispered against your skin, lowering himself to nip at your neck.

“I hate you more than anything and anyone.”

“How passionate you must feel for me.” How infuriating his tone was, if only because Jing Yuan was being genuine. “I’ll be what inhabits your mind for all time. Your love, your hatred - this is enough for me.”

“I will never love you.”

His tongue traced a path along the curve of your collarbone, leaving a lingering sensation that you decidedly chose to ignore. With a slow, deliberate movement, he then brought his nose to your neck, inhaling deeply as if to fully appreciate your scent, the creep.

Foreheads pressed together, your gaze locked with his, unable to look away from his golden gaze.

“And I cannot wait to prove you wrong.”

557 notes · View notes

lupinmoonlight · 9 months ago

Note

Hi! Could you write an alpha prof!remus x omega reader in heat. He gets her to his office after lessons to offer help and she agrees to spend the night( breeding kink)

Masterlist AO3

Alpha, please.

Summary - You are an omega about to experience her first heat. Professor Lupin offers to help and you end up getting railed in the Shrieking Shack (3,416 words).

Warnings - teacher/student relationship, omega verse, alpha!remus, omega!reader, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dubious consent because reader not very in control, age gap, my grammar (english is not my first language), not proof read.

Notes - Throwing this here and RUNNING AWAY. I am SO sorry for the delay, I was hit by a bus (jk lol i'm just burnt out). On a serious note, this was my first time ever writing something in the Omegaverse. Sorry if it sucks :( Thank you to everyone for your patience. I will eventually get to your request!

He noticed your scent before noticing you- a wave of pure, unadulterated omega scent that struck him like a physical blow, a visceral assault on his senses. The classroom, usually a blend of various scents, was now entirely dominated by this scent. Your scent, one of an omega on the cusp of her first heat yet blissfully unaware of it but one that Remus, an alpha, sensed with every fibre of his being. It was rich, sweet, intoxicating, awakening a primal need he had learned to control years ago. An almost uncontrollable need to own, to mark, to protect, to make his.

As an alpha, the presence of an unclaimed omega, especially one as evidently oblivious to their own nature as you, was concerning. Why were you there without suppressants? How could you not know what was about to happen to you? It was dangerous. Both for you and for any other alpha around, yet there you were, looking as calm and serene as if it were just another day.

You took a seat at the front of the class, your eyes glued to him. He was tall, commanding, exuding the authority and confidence of an alpha and you hated to admit how much it drew you in. Deep down, you were not interested in following the traditional roles of your status. You didn't want to submit to anyone. The thought alone filled you with dread...except right now.

The class began and Remus found himself incapable of focusing on his carefully prepared lecture, distracted by the powerful need for something he didn't even allow himself to entertain. It was like all his senses were heightened. He could hear everything, feel everything. Too much.

The lecture drew to a close, and you began to slowly pack up your belongings, your mind unconsciously reluctant to part from your professor. He made you feel so-

"Y/N, may I have a word with you before you leave?" Remus asked. His voice was calm but it held an underlying urgency that he hoped you wouldn't notice.

You looked up to him, your eyes wide and innocent, and in that moment, it felt like you would've done anything this man asked you. What was wrong with you?

"Yes, Professor Lupin?"

He cleared his throat, attempting to appear casual.

"Y/N, I... uh, I need to discuss something somewhat personal with you, and I apologize for the discomfort," he began.

Your brows knitted in confusion, your posture tense. "Something personal, Professor?"

He paused, gathering his thoughts, carefully selecting his next words. "I've noticed...that is, I've sensed...that you might be approaching a significant time that's inherent to your nature as an omega."

Your expression shifted from confusion to embarrassment, unsure where he was going with this. "I- I'm not sure to understand, Professor... what do you mean?"

Remus hesitated, his instincts as an alpha to protect and take charge clashing with his respect for you and your autonomy. "It seems that uh... you're about to experience your first heat, Y/N. It's a critical time for an omega, and it can be very dangerous if you're not prepared or aware."

Your eyes widened, your embarrassment escalating into fear. "My first heat? But... I- I didn't know... I thought I had more time before... before that happened," you admitted shyly.

Remus nodded, trying to appear comforting despite the turmoil raging within him. "It's unpredictable at times, especially the first one," he assured you. "It's imperative that you have a safe place and proper care during this period, especially considering that... well I assume, considering you haven't been on any suppressants."

You looked away, uncomfortable. "No... no I haven't."

"That's okay. That's why I'm offering to help. I can provide a safe place for you, ensure that you have what you need to get through this safely. It's not ideal... but I cannot, in good conscience, let you face this alone."

You suddenly wanted this very much, despite your habit of fighting your inner nature at every turn- no. You were not going to be a weak, vulnerable omega who needed an alpha to protect her. You could manage. You would manage. This was no big deal.

"I can handle it myself, Professor," you said, trying to sound confident but failing pretty miserably.

"I understand, but I assure you, my intentions are solely to offer protection and support. I wouldn't suggest this if there weren't a genuine need."

At that moment, you weren't sure if he was just very good at being persuasive, or if your pathetic omega nature begged you to bend to his "protection".

"Are you sure?" the question coming out more as a challenge.

"Yes, I am. It's my responsibility as your professor and as an alpha to ensure you're safe," he affirmed.

"O-okay, fine."

"Just come to my quarters at the end of the day. I'll have everything prepared for you. We'll make sure you're as comfortable and safe as possible," he instructed and this time, his tone was firm, leaving no room for you to argue back.

You simply nodded and made your way out of the classroom. The conversation had left you disoriented. Your lifelong determination to maintain independence and resist alpha authority was now clashing with an inexplicable trust in your professor.

You had never expected your first heat to come so suddenly. You thought there would be signs to prepare you, like most other omegas. But no. It was just there. And what was more embarrassing was that it wasn't you who found out first. It was an alpha. And your professor, at that.

You seriously considered not going to his quarters that night. Not because you were scared or didn't trust him, but just for the shame you felt. That shame, however, was quickly overshadowed by fear. You knew what could happen to unclaimed omegas who were in heat and who didn't take suppressants. Not all alphas were as kind as Remus. Some of them were vile predators ready to pounce on the first vulnerable omega they smelled. Somehow, you knew- rather inherently felt, that Remus wasn't like that.

Swallowing your pride, you made your way to Professor Lupin's quarters, your stomach an absolute mess from the strange blend of anxiety and odd sense of security.

Remus was already out by the door, a small bag in hand, a gentle smile, albeit somewhat anxious, expression gracing his face.

"Thank you for coming, Y/N. I know this must be overwhelming," he said, trying to keep his voice soft and reassuring.

You nodded, not sure you could trust your voice in that moment.

He offered a small smile, then gestured for you to follow. "We're not staying here. I have a safer place in mind."

You obeyed silently, following him through the corridors and then outside, the only sound being the small vials of potion clinking in the bag and the soft thumping of your feet on the wet grass.

You had no idea where he was taking you, but it didn't matter. In that moment, you were quite literally trusting him with your life, and you hated that.

Stopping before the Whomping Willow, Remus motioned for you to wait at a safe distance, and you watched in awe as he expertly pacified the violent tree, revealing a hidden entrance to an underground passage.

Without questioning him, you proceeded in silence, making your way through some damp, sketchy tunnels. This was definitely not how you had expected to have your first heat and your need to be with him was growing stronger and stronger. In normal circumstances, you should have been scared, terrified even, following a grown alpha to Merlin-knows-where, but you actually were starting to feel desperate, aching for something you couldn't explain.

You finally emerged into an old, creaking building, full of dust and looking like it was about to fall apart. Despite this, fresh blankets were laid out on the bed, candles provided a soft light, making it look somewhat comfortable.

Remus carefully set down the bag of potions and turned to you, looking a bit sheepish.

"It's not much, I know. But this place has been a refuge of sorts during my time here as a student... it's secluded, away from prying eyes and other... influences," he explained, deliberately vague about the deeper reasons.

You looked around, taking in your surroundings. He was right, this wasn't much, but it was safe. "Thank you, Professor Lupin."

"Please, call me Remus here," he insisted gently. "I'll let you settle down. I'll be just next door. If you need anything, just call for me."

"Thank you, Remus."

In the adjacent room. Remus sat rigidly, every muscle tensed, focusing on every breath, attempting to anchor himself to his resolve. He was battling his own nature, his instincts, usually so well-contained, were now threatening to overwhelm him, fuelled by your potent scent. It had been years since he'd felt such a primal pull, and he had never acted on it. So he sat, focusing on deep, steadying breaths. it was all he could do to maintain control.

Meanwhile, you were beginning to experience the torturing onset of your heat. It was a violent assault of unfamiliar sensations, confusing, intense, leaving you feeling profoundly alone yet achingly in need of something- something, specifically Remus. The room felt too large, too empty, yet suffocating.

Unable to bear the isolation and the escalating ache, you called out, your voice echoing a desperation you barely understood. "R-Remus... Remus, please... I don't know what's happening to me."

Remus hesitated at the door, his hand clenched around the frame. "Y/N, I'm here. Tell me what you need," he encouraged.

"I need... I need... I feel like i'm losing my mind. I need... I don't know," you stammered, your confusion and need radiating from you in a way that tugged relentlessly at Remus' instincts.

He stepped just inside the room, his expression a mix of concern and fear- for you, for himself, for the line he was terrified of crossing. "I know, I know. I understand. It's your heat... and it's strong. But I brought something that might help," he said, retrieving a vial from the small bag he had brought. "Drink this; it should ease the symptoms."

You took the vial with trembling hands and drank the potion, your eyes never leaving his as he sat cautiously at the edge of the bed.

"Why is this happening to me like this? Shouldn't the potion work immediately?" you asked, panic evident in your tone.

"It should, but... your heat seems to be very strong. Let's just wait for a moment. I'm here."

"Remus... it's not working. Please, I need..."

"I know what you need, Y/N. But I can't give it to you. We have to wait it out. It's going to be alright."

This wasn't going to do. Being far from him was painful. Being close to him without getting what you needed what torture. You needed him in a way you had never needed anything else before. You needed him to consume you, to take you, to mark you, to breed you.

"Alpha, please," you whispered without even meaning to. The moment the words left your lips, Remus froze, his heart racing as every fibre of his being, of his soul, responded to that word. It was spoken with such raw need that it resonated with the very essence of his being. His resolve shattered, not out of defeat, but out of an overwhelming need to fulfill his role as an alpha.

Before you could react, you were flipped onto your stomach, the sound of a low growl reaching your ears. You were not even in control of your body anymore. Your instincts were controlling you, and you desperately raised your hips, presenting yourself to him in the most intimate way.

The sight made Remus' blood travel south immediately. Already hard, he yanked down your trousers before unbuckling his own. You raised your hips higher, whining pathetically, desperate for him to take you. As he looked down at you, his cock throbbed with need and he knew then, there was no going back.

"Please, alpha," you begged again, your voice trembling. "I need... I need you."

"Fuck..." he growled, reaching down to position himself at your slick entrance. "I'm sorry," he started, his voice trembling, "this is the only way I know to help you."

You closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the pain and pleasure that would soon consume you. "Please," you whimpered, "I need this."

With a grunt, Remus pushed himself into you, your bodies connecting in a way that was both deeply intimate and primal. You gasped at the intrusion, your body trembling as you felt him filling you.

He felt you tighten and tense as you tried to accommodate his size, your body reacting instinctively. "Relax," he instructed, his voice a low rumble. "You need to relax. Let me take care of you."

His words, the authority in his tone, something deep within you responded. You forced yourself to relax, even as you felt his girth stretch you. He hissed in pleasure as he felt you accommodate him, your tightness almost too much.

"That's it, good girl," he rasped out, one hand coming to rest on your lower back to steady you. His hips snapped forward, burying himself fully within you.

You moaned, your entire being blissfully consumed by the feeling of fullness.

"Are you alright?" he asked, staying very still within you.

You could only nod before another desperate plea escaped you. "Yes, alpha... please, more."

At that, he allowed his instincts to fully take over. His hands gripped your hips painfully, and he began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful. A part of him was urging him to be gentle, but the other part, the alpha, was screaming at him to take what was his, to claim, to mate, and it was too strong to resist. He needed to feel you beneath him, to lose himself in the pleasure of your connection.

You clung to the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric as Remus continued to rut into you. Your body rocked with every thrust, and soon enough, the pain began to fade, replaced by a blissful warmth that spread through your body. He knew he was taking a risk. A huge risk. But he couldn't help himself. He needed you, and you needed him.

"Fuck, Y/N," he grunted as he continued his relentless pace. He leaned over you, his chest against your back, your bodies moulding together as though they were made for each other. "You feel so good," he growled low in your ear, his voice deep, rasping, reflecting his unending hunger.

Each of his movement was sharp, controlled yet desperate, a constant rhythm of push and pull and he delved deeper into you, the pulsing throb of him only heightening your pleasure.

"Alpha... alpha, please... I- I'm going to-" you tried to say but your orgasm tore through you with such force that you lost your voice. Remus didn't slow down. If anything, feeling you clench around him only fuelled his punishing pace.

"I'm going to knot you," he announced. "I'm going to fill you up. Mark you as mine," he continued breathlessly. "I want everyone to know you're mine, to see you swollen with my seed, to see you bear my mark."

You whined, barely able to hold yourself up from under his weight, but you managed to keep your hips elevated, desperate to be filled, to be marked, to be owned.

His movements became jerky, sporadic as the wave of his release began to crest, each thrust of his hips pushing you further down into the mattress. "Take it," he rasped, "take my knot," his voice a harsh whisper against the shell of your ear before his teeth latched onto the soft skin of your neck, imprinting his mark on you.

You moaned at the mix of pain and pleasure as his hand traveled down your arm, tangling your fingers together and with a final, deep thrust, he surrendered to the pleasure, his body shuddering as he came inside you. His hips flush against yours, his body draped protectively over yours as he poured himself into you with abandon. Finally he stilled, grunting as he felt the knot at the base of his cock start to swell.

The sensation was foreign, somewhat painful, and you tensed, almost instinctively trying to move away.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," he tried to soothe, still panting from his intense climax. "Stay still for me. It'll subside soon, I promise."

He remained on top of you for a while, the knot locking you together, securing a powerful and intimate bond between you. His fingers stroked your skin gently, before he carefully maneuvered you to your side, spooning you protectively as his knot was still deeply lodged within you.

"I know, it's okay. I'm just making you more comfortable. I've got you," he soothed as you whimpered from the movements.

You stayed like that, your bodies intimately connected, until the knot subsided enough for Remus to pull out. You whined at the sudden loss and the wet warmth spreading between your thigh.

As he felt you relax into him, Remus gently kissed your temple before carefully disentangling himself from you. With a flick of his wand, the wet feeling between your legs disappeared and a blanket was draped over you.

Turning to the potions bag, Remus retrieved a vial, his hands slightly trembling as he grasped the small bottle.

"Y/N, can you sit up for me?" he asked gently, offering his hand to support you.

With his help, you managed to move into a sitting position, your movements languid, utterly exhausted from what had just transpired. Remus handed you the potion, noticing your confused expression.

"This is uh... it's just a precaution... to prevent any unwanted consequences," he explained, uncomfortable from the intimate implications of his words.

Your cheeks flushed with a hint of color as you took the vial, your fingers brushing against his in the exchange.

"Oh, I... thank you."

"I know this looks like... perhaps I had planned for this to happen. But I promise, it is not the case. I simply keep this sort of supply for any students who may be in need."

"I trust you, Remus. And this was bound to happen, one way or another... and I'm glad it was with you."

"Well, I... erm. It's important to stay hydrated, especially after this. Here," he said, trying to change the subject.

You laughed softly, accepting the water from him. He had this way of knowing exactly what you needed before you even knew yourself. You were actually thirsty, and the cool liquid helped soothe your parched throat.

As you sipped your water, a sudden sharp pain caused you to reach for your neck, your fingers brushing against a fresh, deep red mark. You looked at Remus with questioning eyes, seeking an explanation.

Remus, visibly uncomfortable and with a hint of regret in his eyes, cleared his throat before speaking. "That's... that's a mark. My mark," he began, struggling to maintain eye contact.

"In the heat of the moment, it's something an alpha can leave on an omega. It's a claim, a deep, instinctual reaction that seals a powerful bond. I didn't mean to- I should have controlled myself better."

Your fingers lingered on the mark, your initial shock giving way to a different emotion, one of a surprising acceptance and even a hint of joy. "Does this mean... are we mates now?"

Remus nodded. "Yes, it does. And I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't intend for this to happen this way. You're a student. I should have been more careful, more in control. But please know, I will take responsibility. I will take care of you, support you, and I promise, I won't be overbearing. I'll-"

"Remus, stop," you interjected, amused by his words tumbling our in a flustered rush. A smile crept onto your lips, a sense of deep contentment washing over you.

"I'm not upset. In fact, I'm...happy," you confessed.

Remus looked up, surprised. "You are?"

"Yes, I am. To be marked by you, to be your mate... it feels right, despite everything. I don't see myself with any of those young inexperienced alphas..."

"Young inexperienced alphas," he echoed. "Are you calling me old, miss?"

"Yes, maybe I am..."

#remus lupin #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader #professor lupin #professor lupin x reader #alpha remus lupin #omega reader #smut

755 notes · View notes

al1fers-haven · 8 months ago

Note

Hear me out, Alastor x Vox's wife

Basically, the reader was married to Vox when alive and hated him but couldn't get a divorce. When she died, she went to heaven, but then fell and was found by Vox, who promptly forced her back into the wife role

But, one night, the reader runs away and meets Alastor, and she instantly bonds with him over a mutual hatred of Vox, which turns into them falling in love

Sorry if the idea is too harsh on Vox, just a scenario I've been thinking about for a while

NO! Don't be sorry love. Its absolutely perfect.

"Oh Deer,"

Alastor x Vox's Wife!Reader

Nothing could have prepared you for the pain you felt when falling. The harsh searing pain that enveloped you as you hit the ground and heard that snap. Tears stained your cheeks as you glared up at the heavens. Too focused on your anger and pain to take in your surroundings and where exactly you were. Demons stared as you stood up, a loud groan leaving your figure as the bright gold blood dripped down your back, the sticky substance sticking to your palms as you tried to wipe it off of you. Vox stopped in his tracks, eyes a bit wide as he saw you drag yourself down the street. Valentino looked back at the TV man before following his gaze with a confused look. "Y/n...?" You stopped in your tracks, looking over towards the TV man and scowling. "Y/n? Is that you? What are you doing down here-" You yelped, trying to move away from him. One of the wings on your back flares up and makes you yell. Breathing harshly as you stared at him.

"Stay the HELL away from me you- you vile demon!" You held your palms against the dragging wing. Sobs wracking your whole form.

"Y/n...It's me. It's your husband...Don't you recognize me?" Your eyes widened, pure hatred filling your brain as you stared at him. "You- You nasty man! You horrible human! You are awful!" Vox stared in shock, your true feelings about him now out in the open. "Y/n...you're hurt." He reached his hand out and Valentino walked up to the two of them. All eyes turned to the pitiful display. "Come home, love."

~!~

"Do you even understand what I'm telling you, woman? Get my coffee. And make it the right way." You flinched, eyes looking toward the ground as your eyebrows furrowed. A small scowl on your face.

"I should've divorced you before you died. You cunt." You let out a yelp as he grabbed the neck of the shirt you were wearing, trying to keep you to 'today's time he shoved you inside of a tight outfit you hated. "Oh? Well, why didn't you." You shoved the TV man off of you. Fixing your shirt. "Because I thought maybe, just maybe. You'd leave me for another woman so I could raise our child ALONE." Vox's TC screen glitched, walking up to you. "Don't you DARE bring her into this!" You poked his chest, puffing your own out to seem bigger. "You don't understand how happy I was to hear you had died in that shitty bar lounge you always sat in! How happy I was for her to get to live without your influence!" You stepped forward, making the man step back. "I raised her all on my own and until she died and I did a wonderful job! Thanks to you dying she didn't have to witness that boring excuse of a thing you called love!" He grabbed your hand and threw you to the ground. Huffing as he stared at you with wide eyes. You obviously hit a soft spot. His eyes softened for a moment. "It's such a shame she died so young." Your eyes burned, Vox's eyes looking down on you. Pitying you for the death of your daughter. "." You stood up, storming out of the room and running out of the building. Vox's head turned to hs associates. "When did you have a kid?" Valentino broke the silence.

You sat on one of the benches in the more secluded part of the city, Your wings tucked into your back as you sat next to the little antique shop. Sobs left your figure as you sat there. Unaware of what to do in a situation like this. It was like you were alive all over again, crying over the loss of normalcy when Vox had died. "Hm?" A red-haired man zipped through the radio behind you. Leaning against the staff in his hand as you stood up and wiped your eyes, "Do my eyes deceive me?" The static startled you, jumping a bit before turning around to see the man. "Oh." You blinked a couple times at the odd figure. Huffing as you ran a hand through your hair. "Alastor, right? Vox's horrible horrible enemy?" You crossed your arms, trying to make it seem like you still had some control in your life. "Yes! And you are his....Assistant?" He waved his hand a little bit, trying not to hit a sensitive spot and deal with more of your weeping.

"Ex-wife." He blinked a couple times, laughing and grabbing your Backpack so he could sit down and leave you a seat. "Oh? Do tell more." His smile was eerily comforting, a sigh left your figure as you sat down. Obviously still upset. "I left, like i should've when we were living." The words spat out like venom. Eyes narrowing in on the ground. "He was an ass sure but at first he at least tried to pretend he cared. Just like he did here. I fell, he pretended to care for me enough to get me to call him my husband again and then boom. It was back to the same abuse i got out of in our 30's." You leaned back. The radio demon's frequencies stopped for a moment so he could listen. Anything he could use against Vox was a wonderful addition, no matter the baggage it brought with it. "He beat you?" Alastor tilted his head, mildly amused with this information. "Sometimes, not hard but enough to hurt. Slapping, name-calling, kicking. Things that wouldn't leave too much of a mark." You turned towards him. His smile was a bit tense. "When I had our child, my baby girl he changed a bit. Tried pretending a bit more while I was pregnant with her. He seemed to care for her. but just not for me." Your eyebrows furrowed as you continued. "She died when she was 2. About a year after Vox died from alcohol poisoning in that stupid bar."

Alastor put a hand on your shoulder. Now listening intently. "I'm glad she didn't have to deal with his constant fucking whining." Alastor laughed at that, his eyes closing a bit as he nodded. "Why yes, I have noticed quite a bit that he has a knack for whining and crying." You laughed a bit, finally calming down. "My name is Y/n, by the way." Alastor nodded, sitting up straight before sighing. "I'm aware...Alastor." He shook your hand, watching you laugh a bit more. "Y'know he wanted to name our kid Murphy?" Alastor blinked a couple times before laughing more, shaking his head no. It must have been hours, the two of you laughing in the street at all of the stupid things Vox had done before and after he died. Alastor filled you in on all of the stuff he knew while you told him about simple things.

The two of you calmed down a little bit, a smile on both of your faces as you stared off. The radio demon stood up suddenly and reached for your hand. "Well! Why don't you come to the hotel with me! I'm sure Charlie would love a new girl there!" You looked up at him, chuckling nervously. "Well...I don't know about that Alastor." "Cmon! Just for a night hm? Then we can see if we can make a deal." You grabbed his hand and yelped, suddenly being inside a random hotel with a blonde girl staring.

"Alastor! You're back....who is this?" She pointed towards you, a nervous smile on your face as Alastor twirled you a bit. Your laughter filled the room as you stopped spinning and suddenly appeared inside of better clothing fitting your time, an older 1920s-1950s dress fitting you perfectly. "This darling is Y/n! She was in quite the pickle and after...awhile-" You jumped in, hands clasped in front of you in a polite way. "2 hours." Alastor shook his head. "And after some time of talking I convinced her to take a shot at redemption, dear charlie." Charlie squealed, grabbing your hands and hugging you tightly. (Nearly till you died again.) "Welcome to the hazbin hotel!! I'm so glad Alastor brought you here!" Angel stared confused, looking as Alastor let you readjust his tie . A couple blinked of surprise leaving his figure as you walked away and towards the group. Immediately recognizing angel. "Angel!" He blinked. Staring at you. "Mrs? What are you doing here?" He waved his hand as you hugged him, a small frown appearing on your lips. "I left, me and vox got into another argument and I blew up on him." Angel laughed, hugging you again and sighing. "I wish I was there to see that asshole's face! Did'ya give him hell?!" You nodded excitedly. Looking around and taking a deep breath. "Oh, it feels good to be free again! Oh, how can I thank you Alastor!" Husker stiffened in his place, everyone expecting him to ask for her soul. "Perhaps you can tell me more about your dear ex-husband, hm? Seems like we didn't finish our little chat earlier dear." "Oh! Of course! You're such an angel puddin'! Oh, this is going to be so fun!"

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #soft alastor #angeldust #charlie morningstar #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #vox is horrible

685 notes · View notes

sepublic · 1 month ago

Text

So in Willow’s debut, it’s established that Abominations is considered as having better career opportunities than Plants. And in hindsight, it makes sense now; Abominations are valued by the coven regime in the way Blight Industries does them, as industrial Abomatons that can be controlled, as a means of military power and not magitech medicine as Alador shows in the epilogue. Belos buys them from Odalia, he practically assimilates Blight Industries.

This is because Abomatons don’t think for themselves, they’re servants that can replace covenscouts in areas that would challenge morality, and they lack the sapience to be targeted. They’re beings Belos can control without having to learn more of the magic he despises to do so; All of this is in contrast to how Darius or Amity use Abominations as a reflection of their own skill, the individual.

We see how the Abomatons aid the coven regime, and esp see through the Day of Unity; The Abomatons can be programmed, and do nothing without orders; They’re not going to become witches and demons in their own right, they’ll maintain those walls and then do so for the end of time.

They don’t need to be targeted for genocide as victims of the draining spell who would be incapacitated, so they can do their job while that happens. They keep witches corralled because the closer to the ritual, the faster the covenbound die. Of course, those who haven’t collapsed might try and stop the spell by removing the coven heads, which would place them within weakening proximity anyhow…

But that paranoia over covenbound who aren’t yet unconscious is justified; The Abomatons’ own creator rendered their role in the Day of Unity and the regime as a whole obsolete, because he had the strength away from the ritual to help the kids reach the skull, which allowed King to free the Collector and undo everything.

Plus, Belos is loathe to the isles; He depletes its natural resources, he wants all life to die and devastating the ecosystem is another way to do so. Hunter suggests growing Palistrom wood and he’s furious at the idea. So of course Plant magic is devalued, because it’s focused on life, on sustainability, with keeping others alive.

It’s the exact opposite of the cold industrialism that will make the Day of Unity happen and leave the land barren afterwards because the Abomatons themselves are barren in that sense, lacking magic and with little to contribute to the ecosystem, if anything. Plant magic is half of nature, the other being Beastkeeping, I wonder if that is also devalued by the regime?

Makes sense the Demon Hunters have to resort to menial city jobs instead of their traditional livelihood, forced to assimilate into an urban society if their environment has been depleted by colonialism. Adds to Darius and Eberwolf being rebels. And with Terra, it shows how much she’s willing to throw her fellow witches under the bus for utopia.

I remember speculating it since I was a Teenage Abomination; Abominations really is STEM, down to being used for military applications. Given TOH’s critique of the American education system, you can see how this metaphor extends when the work of creating a sustainable society and environment is secondary to destroying enemies and establishing supremacy and capital (As established with CEO Odalia’s motives).

Because it’s fun and easy to destroy, rather than do the banal yet meaningful work of actually building and healing and feeding people, thinking of how society can be sustainable. It’s easy to talk about how you can destroy witches zombies in an apocalypse, instead of how to keep a community of survivors alive; All that talk about how dudes bored with their lives dream about being an action hero at the expense of society’s collapse, without understanding what the world really needs is builders and not destroyers, and that they’d be nothing without the people who do this ‘boring’ work, is so very Belos.

#The Owl House #Worldbuilding #Foreshadowing #Abomatons

272 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 2 months ago

Text

looking through your eyes + nineteen

authors note: this one has....some surprising twists and connections. that's for sure....

cw/tw: angst, fluff, and characters using dark humor to discuss mental health

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist + story playlist + taglist request form

words: 8k

Roman’s never been the type to really push things off. Not important things, at least. And seldom in his life has his to-do list ever really consisted of non-essentials. There’s always something to be done, a task to be handled, body or bodies to drop.

But always at the top of the non-essential list has been his appointments with Dr. Michaels. They’ve always been more annoying than anything, annual routine check-ups that are required with his role as the Tribal Chief. To make sure he’s healthy and equipped for the job. Appointments the Elders are sure to stay on top of, which is also a large reason he hates them.

The Elders tried so hard at the beginning to stop and prevent him from taking his rightful place at the Head of the Table once he turned 18. Questioning his readiness, his eligibility (largely to him being afakasi), and even more, his capability.

To be honest, it’s a major reason as to why Roman will never really respect them. For men who are supposed to uphold tradition, they seemed to throw that out the fucking window and jump through every available hoop to prevent him from fulfilling his father’s role. To stop a generational dynasty.

It’s largely why Roman was so focused and dedicated at the beginning of his reign to prove them wrong. To prove them all wrong.

Something he continues and will always do.

A knock on the door is followed up with the entrance of the man Roman could go the rest of his life without seeing. “Well, congratulations.” Roman maintains his bored expression, mentally going over the next items of his to-do list rather than entertaining his doctor. “You have the sperm count of a man in his twenties.”

That’s another annoying thing. The yearly tests to continue to monitor his ability to reproduce. Something he, like most things in life, passes with flying colors.

“I’m sure the Elders will be thrilled to hear that.” Probably. Not that Roman gives a flying fuck. “What I’m not pleased with is your blood pressure.” Roman is slightly more present and engaged in the conversation at that. “Your numbers came back even higher this time, Roman. And while you’re not in the danger zone just yet, you keep this shit up of not taking this seriously, you will be.”

Yeah, the attention is fully present and focused now. Roman maintains a leveled voice while asking, “what the hell does that mean?”

Dr. Michaels sighs heavily, moving to sit on his stool, explaining carefully. “You have hypertension. It’s chronic, so it’s not going to go away by avoiding it. You have to take your medication as prescribed. That’s the only thing that will keep it managed.”

Roman looks away, rolling his shoulders. “It’s not that I don’t fucking take it.” And that’s the truth. When Roman remembers, he does. Or when he actually cares enough to, he’ll pop the pill in his mouth and down it with one of his energy drinks.

“Every day?” Roman doesn’t bother with a reply, growing irritated at being scolded like he’s a fucking child. “Continue to fuck around with this, and you’re putting yourself at high risk for heart disease or stroke.”

Those two things seem almost impossible, like they shouldn’t even be used in the same sentence or paragraph as him or anything related to him. Roman is in excellent shape, works out at least twice a day, eats relatively well, doesn’t smoke or do drugs. Rarely drinks. All the good shit.

All the healthy shit most medical providers recommend. Isn’t that enough?

It’s like the old man has uninvited access to Roman’s thought process, adding, “Hypertension is hereditary. Your dad had it. Your uncle had it. So, it only makes sense, especially with who you are and what you do, that you got it as well.” Jaw clenching, Roman refuses to comment on that. Refuses to discuss anything regarding his family. “You were technically in the prehypertension stage before, hence why I put you on meds to keep it from progressing. But, now you’re in the stage one hypertension range. Do you really wanna know and see what stage two would look like?”

Thankfully, Shawn doesn’t wait for a reply, continuing his long ass spiel. “You take such good care of yourself physically, but this one thing seems to be an issue for you?” When Roman still says nothing or even makes eye contact, Dr. Michaels goes for a different angle. “If you’re not going to do it for you, at least do it for that wife of yours.” That is when Roman’s sharp gaze lands back on his doctor. “She was a nervous wreck that night you were shot. Imagine what something happening to you that was avoidable would do to her.”

Damn him.

For all intents and purposes, Roman does an excellent job at hiding the fact that Dr. Michaels found it. Found the thing that truly catches Roman’s attention. Solana always worries so much about him, especially this high blood pressure shit. He doesn’t even want to think about how she would react if she knew his numbers had gotten worse, that he’d slacked off a bunch on medication adherence since she’s been gone, since everything went down.

She’d freak the fuck out, be an emotional mess, and it’d be all because of him.

Roman can’t have that.

He won’t.

With a newfound purpose and reason to actually switch this topic from irrelevant to relevant, he relents, “fine. I’ll take the damn medication.”

“As prescribed?”

Smiling without an ounce of humor, Roman nods, reminding himself that it’s probably not a good idea to kill the doctor he’s had since he was 14. Michaels can be annoying, but he’s effective and hasn’t been a problem for the Tribal Chief. For the most part, at least. “Yes.”

Dr. Michaels chuckles. “Thank you.” He then stands up, looking down at his tablet and starts tapping around. “Unfortunately, because your numbers have jumped as much as they have, I need to up your dosage. I’ll send the script over to the pharmacy and make sure they have it filled today so you can pick it up today. Start tomorrow morning. Not next week. Or next year. Tomorrow. Alright?”

Not bothering to reply, Michaels walks over to him, smile almost sympathetic. “Good seeing you, big guy.” Roman scowls with borderline disgust at the light pat on his shoulder. “I’ll follow up with you in a month.”

Roman’s irritation spikes again. “A month? Why so soon?”

Hand on the door, Dr. Michaels shrugs and explains. “Gotta start monitoring your numbers more closely now.” He smirks a bit, taunting almost. “See if you’re as good at following directions as you are at giving them.”

It’s when the door closes that Roman releases the heavy sigh. Always fucking something. Yet another thing added to his list.

Of course.

Roman stays annoyed, even as he’s escorted back into his office, the only thing keeping him from being completely vexed is the reminder that pops up on his phone.

Visit with Sol

He’s scheduled to drive down to the treatment facility and spend the evening with Solana this evening. Something he’d never openly acknowledge to anyone other than her that he’s been looking forward to all week.

Today marks two weeks since she transferred to residential treatment, and despite much more lax policies regarding personal items and even visitation, this will only be his second time seeing her.

And not because he hasn’t wanted to.

No. Solana herself requested they stick to visits once a week versus more. Citing she wants to do this “on her own” as much as possible. The initial wording concerned him. He never wants her to feel like she’s alone in anything, but her follow up explanation provided him clarity on just what she meant.

“You believe in and support me” A light shrug of her shoulders and gentle gleam in her pretty brown eyes as she adds with a determined nod. “I have to believe in and support me too.”

He checks in on her throughout the week, of course. And she keeps him updated on things like her individual and group therapy, even sharing photos of art she creates during down time. It helps that she’s allowed her phone this time around. Not that it would have made a difference if she wasn’t. There’s no way in hell he would allow her to be that far away without a way to directly communicate with him. Sure, Bautista is there, but still.

Not enough.

But, it’s as Roman walks back into his office, any excitement at the thoughts of seeing his wife in person, being able to hold her and kiss her is dashed away.

Replaced with well-hidden shock and irritation.

“What the fuck are you doing here?

There are two people in his office. Two uninvited people. One sits in his chair at his desk. The other sits on the edge of his desk. He recognizes one of them, but not the other. It takes a second for that recognition to dawn. It’s been years since he last saw him. He looks older, obviously, but outside of that, not much has changed.

Including his disrespectful ass disposition.

A broad smile appears on the bearded face of the man who just doesn’t know today is the absolute wrong day to try to surprise Roman. To surprise a man who hates surprises in the first damn place.

“Good to see you too, capo.”

There is nothing good about this. Roman already has seven million other things on his plate. He doesn’t need anything else thrown at him.

Especially this.

“Why are you here?” If there was anyone to come and pop up from the Cosa Nostra, he would have bet any money it would be Dwayne. And that would be a much better option than the bastard before him.

The woman on the desk chuckles. Roman can at least acknowledge her beauty. Breathtaking. Her features are almost too perfect to be real, her deep complexion free of any markings. A fine woman. Not Solana. Not in the slightest but still beautiful. She looks over at her co-intruder and speaks in Italian. “While the resemblance, physically, is undeniable. Personality wise is where it stops. Thank God. His bedside manners leave a lot to be desired.”

If she wasn’t a woman, Roman would have her laid out by now. To speak ill of him is one thing, but to do it in front of him is entirely different. Truth be told, if he wasn't already having a shitty day, a small part of him might be impressed at her balls. But, it’s not a good day. Far from it, so now he has to push back thoughts of murder.

Glare focused on her, he switches to Italian. “You have 1 minute to get the fuck out of my office, or else the only way you’ll be leaving is in a body bag.”

“Careful, Roman.” Matteo’s voice is light and surface level calm, but Roman knows better than that. Knows that it’s also a warning. If only he cared. “This is my wife.”

“What makes you think I give a fuck?” Is Roman’s leveled reply. “I want her gone. Now.” Roman can’t decipher why this man would bring her in the first place. This doesn’t concern her.

Matteo is smart, whispering something to long legs as she kisses his cheek and plops off the desk. Her smirk pisses him the fuck off as she walks past him, completely unbothered, remaining silent even as the door closes behind her.

Smug ass, prissy bitch.

Roman doesn’t waste any time jumping back to the topic at hand. “Answer my question. Why are you here?”

Matteo sighs and sits forward, shaking his head. “Some things never change, huh?” Roman is just about to lose his shit at having to repeat himself when Matteo smartens up. “Dwayne sent me.”

Roman eyes him. “What?”

Matteo sighs, shrugging and rolling his shoulders. Roman’s mind quickly travels back to his last conversation with his cousin just a few weeks ago. Outside of the usual asking when he’ll fly out to Italy, he gave no indication that something was wrong.

And yet Matteo, who Roman hasn’t seen in years, who is second to only Dwayne and lives in Italy full time, sits before him saying he was sent.

“It’s as Dwayne has been telling you. The Administration grows restless of a leader who lives in a completely different continent.”

This is nothing Roman hasn’t heard before a million times, but each time, his already limited patience continues to wane. “Is the business not successful?”

That’s an easy answer. “It is.”

Well then. “So why the fuck am I needed there?”

“Because they’ll do and find anything they can to delegitimize your reign.” A sort of frown falls on his face as he adds in a lowered voice. “To create a case.”

Roman’s gaze narrows, his nose snarling as he catches on to what’s being shared. “They want you to clock me?”

Matteo nods, asking, “you remember our cugino, Luca?” Roman also nods, still trying to settle his anger that these bastards actually have the audacity to want him followed. “Well, he’s not that same scrawny punk anymore. He’s older, stronger, clever. Sadistic. They think he would be better suited to lead.”

It’s not that Roman cares, he’s just trying to get into Matteo’s head, see where his thoughts are. That’s the only reason he asks, “do you?”

Matteo doesn’t appear to think about his answer, which Roman finds a bit surprising. It’s almost as if he’s being honest. “No. Not at all. He doesn’t have the strategic mind to be capo. He leads with his emotions. Is irrational and strong headed. Even more hot headed than you are. He’ll run the business into the ground.”

It’s been years since Roman has spoken or interacted with his cousin, but the description provided seems aligned with everything he’d already pegged. Luca isn’t fit for this role. The weight that comes with being the boss.

He would most definitely ruin the empire.

“How long are you here for?”

“Not sure.” Matteo shrugs, running his hand through his hair. “That’s why I brought the wife and kids.”

The wife thing briefly took Roman off guard, but the kids thing especially surprises him. Not that Matteo is even remotely close to being someone he’s close with, it still stuns him a bit. Then again, most men around their age have a family of some sort by this point. So, it really shouldn’t be that much of a shock.

Matteo must catch on to Roman’s expression. “Three of them. Set of twin boys and a girl. Not exactly something I broadcast. Safety reasons and whatnot.” And that, Roman most definitely gets. Matteo looks down, an almost bitter scoff leaving his mouth. “We both know how they feel about us mixed breeds.”

Another thing they can relate on. In more than just the obvious way. Roman’s mother’s racist ass side of the family hated his father being Samoan but ‘accepted’ him, arranged the union solely because of who he was. Because of the Bloodline. But, Matteo’s Turkish father, an essential commoner, never stood a chance.

His mangled, tortured remains that were pulled from the bottom of a lake was an outcome that was always bound to come.

Roman shakes his head. “And you wonder why the fuck I don’t want to be around any of them?”

Matteo chuckles darkly. “Not at all.” He grabs a paper weight on Roman’s desk and starts tossing it up and down. “You should be lucky it’s me here and not someone else. Dwayne had to fight tooth and nail for them to select me to spy on you. As I’m sure you already know, yet probably don’t care about, there aren’t many on the Administration who are exactly…..fans of yours.”

“And they never will be.”

Matteo lifts his chin, calmly adding. “Of either of us.”

Silence.

It’s not uncomfortable. Not comfortable either. Just….silent.

Until Matteo places the paper weight back down and stands up, slowly walking over to Roman.

“Roman…..” Right away, the Tribal Chief knows he’s not about to like wherever this conversation is going. “I know….I know we’re not close for a lot reasons, but that doesn’t negate the fact that we are brothers—”

Yeah…..as always, he was right.

He doesn’t like this shit at all.

“We are nothing,” Roman snaps, practically growling, Matteo managing to tap into such deep rooted insecurities and so carefully tucked away traumas. “Sharing the same mother makes us biological siblings, but it does not make us brothers.”

For the briefest second, there’s something that flashes in Matteo’s brown eyes. Something akin to hurt. But, it’s quickly pushed away, shoved to the back of the bus. He lifts his head and instead takes a step closer.

“Whether you believe me or not, Roman. My loyalty is to you. You are the rightful capo. The Capo di tutti capi, and I will fight for and with you to the death.”

Roman says nothing, because he has nothing to say. Nothing he wants to say, at least. The statement lays heavy, joining the other pile of weights that have seemed to settle and make themselves comfortable in his head.

And his heart.

Matteo extends a hand, placing it on Roman’s shoulder, giving an almost comforting squeeze.

“You are mio fratello.” The word being repeated, however, is enough to make the Tribal Chief ready to resort to violence when Matteo, wisely steps back. “As I’m sure you’ve figured, while I’m here, I will need to be present for any and all meetings or discussions regarding the Cosa Nostra.”

Yes, Roman’s not a dumbass. Of course he has to. He needs something to report back to those bitches. It’s just how much of the actual truth will get relayed that he’s unsure about.

Roman continues to stand there, anger and twenty different other emotions boiling as the older man walks toward the door, readying to leave, but not without one final departing statement.

“See you tomorrow, brother.”

—-------

“Is it true he’s packing an almost 10inch dick?”

Solana nearly chokes on the water she was in the midst of downing at the most unexpected, wild, flabbergasting question she’s almost ever received.

And her expression of complete and utter shock is shared with the other two women who sit with her.

Cam is the first to speak though, instantly chiding the other woman, “Mickie!”

“What?” Mickie, however, doesn’t seem to see the issue. Pulling one leg up on the sofa, she shakes the bottle of nail polish and starts applying the pretty lilac color. “Remember my ex-friend Layla? She fucked him one time and said it was the biggest one she ever had. That he could barely fit it in.”

“Mickie, for the love of God, shut up.” Melina cuts in, her voice less shocked and more irritated. She motions to Solana with her free hand, the other one in Solana’s lap as she designs the butterflies for her. “That’s her husband.”

“Well, she has to know he’s a hoe. Or used to be?”

Cameron shakes her head, finishing up her own nail polish application to her short nails. “Seriously, Mickie, you’re out of line.”

“It’s okay.” Solana finally decides to make her two cents known as she caps the bottle and places it back on the sofa beside her. “I—I know he….he had a reputation.” That seems like the nicest way to say it, the nicest way to acknowledge that her husband has probably slept with more women than she’d like to ever know.

“That wasn’t an answer tho—ow!” Mickie winces when Melina punches her in the arm. “Bitch.”

Melina just chuckles, focus back on Solana as she jokes. “You see why we’re all here?”

It makes Solana smile.

To anyone else, the scene would be quite difficult to fully understand. Four young women chatting and joking amongst each other like they’re not all currently admitted and receiving treatment at a residential facility for women. They should be sad, moping, disconnected, unstable. And they have been all of those things, hence their current placement.

But, they’re also so much more than that. They’re human beings who hurt and feel like everyone else. They’ve just been hurt a lot more than some other people and have not responded or processed or even healed just yet.

Emphasis on yet. Another thing Solana has picked up in therapy.

“Did you guys do your assignment for Lilian?” Solana asks, partially wanting to redirect the focus from off herself and Roman’s…..anatomy, but also genuinely curious about their experiences completing the homework provided in group therapy.

Cam is the first to answer, shaking her head. “Yeah. It was…..not the best time.”

“Agreed,” Mickie chimes, shrugging her shoulders. “I mean, I tried to not be too depressing but ….considering I’ve tried to, as the kids say, unalive myself three times now, there wasn’t a lot to go off of.”

Solana winces. This is something she’s still getting a bit used to, if she ever fully will. How sometimes dark humor is so easily weaved into conversations. She’s seen and realized it’s a type of coping mechanism, but it’s still a bit difficult, nonetheless.

The assignment being discussed consisted of the ladies being tasked with coming up with at least 10 chapter titles to represent their lives. Five from the past and five for the future they hope to have. Solana can agree that the ones for the past were a bit challenging and definitely sad, but her future ones managed to feed that hope she’s determined to not lose this time around.

“I kind of cheated and used song titles for some of them,” Melina admits with a chuckle.

“I used songs for all of them,” Cam counters with a small, sly smile. Of the three women, Solana seems to relate closely to her. They’re the same age and have the same quiet disposition that’s only shed away ever so slightly once they become more comfortable.

Which, clearly, has already started to happen.

“Have ya’ll ever heard Mama’s Hand by Queen Naija?” Almost everyone says no or shakes their head to signify no being their answer. Melina goes on to explain, “it’s this really pretty song she wrote about her son. I used some of the lyrics for my titles for my son.”

Solana, who was just about to switch to a different skin marker to start on the next butterfly, pauses. “You have a son?”

Yes, they’ve all grown rather close over the past few weeks, starting with their simultaneous hospital stays to where they all now room only doors down from each other in residential treatment. However, Melina having a child is news to Solana.

She nods and pulls the arm back that Solana was drawing on to reach in her back pocket, pulling out a folded photo. Considering Melina only reaches it to her, Solana takes a guess that Mickie and Cam already knew. Makes sense.

A smile naturally falls on her face at the sight of the curly haired little boy playing in the sand.

Melina also smiles, though hers is clearly weighed down with sadness. “I took that just two months ago. We went to Isla Mujeres to go visit Santos aunt. She lives down there.”

“He’s beautiful, Melina. What’s his name?” The mention of the island also captures Solana’s attention. “Roman and I were just there not too long ago, actually. He took me for my birthday.”

“Santos. Go figure.” She rolls her eyes, as Solana giggles. She thinks it’s actually cute he was named after his father. “And really? It’s so beautiful.”

Breathtaking. “It is.”

“Thank you.” Melina’s smile deepens as she takes the photo and tucks it back into her pocket. “We had a good time there. It almost feels too nice to be unreal, huh?”

Solana nods. “My mom used to tell me about it all the time, which is why Roman took us. He bought us a house there, so we can go back and visit.”

“Damn, what’s it like being married to someone so rich?” Mickie almost moans, head thrown back for a second before she gasps. “Could we do like a girls trip there or something? You know, assuming we don’t all get locked up again on grippy sock trips for trying to kill ourselves.”

Cam rolls her eyes but admits, “outside of the suicide joke, that does sound kind of fun.”

“We can stay at your house,” Mickie suggests to Solana. “If Roman is okay with that, of course.”

Solana thinks about it. Something tells her he wouldn’t protest. Not if she really wanted it. He’d probably stay somewhere else, not wanting to be around a bunch of women, but she can’t see him saying no. Matter of fact, it kind of aligns with the idea she had brought up to Roman before the incident. An idea of a girls trip with Naomi and Bayley, who she still needs to talk to actually.

She hasn’t interacted with them since that night. And not for any reason other than wanting to make sure she’s emotionally ready for that, no doubt, heavy ass conversation.

There will definitely be a lot of tears.

“I could talk to him,” she finally answers, looking over at Melina. And she will. It could actually be really nice having all of her now friends together for a nice getaway trip. “You should bring your son too.”

Melina looks surprised by this. “Really?” She then looks down, chuckling sadly. “That’s if Santos trusts me enough.”

Given that their rooms are right next to each other, both here and at the hospital, Solana has found herself talking with and to Melina more than Mickie and even Cam. Melina is also Mexican, fluent in Spanish, which allows them to sometimes converse in the language only the two of them understand. But, in some of those conversations, they’ve gotten deep, which is why she’s slightly surprised this is the first time she’s hearing about a child.

Melina had disclosed a lot of her relationship with Santos Escobar. How they’ve known each since they were kids, shared some of their best and worst moments with each other, how he’s loved her through it all.

Solana can still remember the heartbreaking look in her teary eyes as she shared, ‘he just wants me to love myself as much as he loves me’. And Solana related to that so deeply. It made her think of Roman and how he could never love her back most likely but how the way he cares about her and takes care of her probably feels just as good.

She knows what it’s like to be with someone who thinks the world of you when you can barely find reasons to justify as to why you even exist.

They relate a lot in that regard.

It’s why Solana reaches a comforting hand and places it over Melina’s hand, voice soft but sure. “You’re gonna get better, Melina.” She looks over to Cam and Mickie. “We all are.”

There’s a comfortable silence among the group that is welcomed and moving. A silent agreement between women who were once strangers and now friends. Sisters, even.

Mickie caps the bottle of nail polish and carefully places her foot back on the ground while reaching for Solana’s water bottle, lifting it up as if giving a toast. “To mental stability and finding rich men with big dicks to spend the rest of our lives with!”

“Mickie!”

—-----------

“You’re quiet tonight.”

Solana’s soft voice manages to snatch Roman away from that sunken place in his head where he’s sat deep in his thoughts for a variety of reasons, largely all due to the unexpected things that have been thrown at him.

He’d tried his best to put all of that into his visit to Asylum where he continues to extract his gruesome vengeance against her family and rapists. And it did help. A little, but clearly not enough where he’s able to hide the fact that he has a lot on his mind.

“Come here.” Roman motions her over from where he sits propped up in the middle of her bed and she stands at the edge of the bed, notebook in hand. He watches the almost nervous way she places the book down on the bed and climbs over to him, Roman helping her straddle him. Kissing her exposed shoulder, he murmurs an apology into her soft skin. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes shut when she moves her hand to his hair, fingers almost massaging his scalp. “You want—do you want to talk about it?”

He can’t help but chuckle. The irony. “Isn’t that a bit counterproductive?”

She shakes her head, continuing to provide him soothing relief like nothing else can. “No. I—I told you before, you can talk to me too.”

It’s strange. If the situation was different, if he wasn’t still cautious regarding her mental health and the state of it, he might….he might take her up on it.

The Matteo situation though…..it’s complicated and layered and messy, and she doesn’t need any of that.

“I know.” Roman moves his hands to her hips. “But, I’m fine. Just a long ass day.”

Her eyes light with something. “Wasn’t your appointment today?” Shit. “How did it go? How’s your shoulder? What did he say about your blood pressure?”

Roman hates lying to Solana. He really does. She’s probably the only person in his life he’d prefer to not keep secrets from. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s been through more than enough shit to not deserve it.

But this…..he has to lie.

Roman can’t think of one good thing that’ll come from telling her the truth. Solana seems to be doing well at this place, gradually improving day by day. Laying this on her will only hinder that progress and make her freak the fuck out. He doesn’t want that for her.

He refuses to contribute to any type of regression.

Thus leaving him with only one option.

“It was fine, Sol.” To lie. “Shoulder’s practically healed. Numbers were fine. I’m good.”

That last part isn’t a lie, because Roman is determined this time around to actually do what Michaels said. To take his medication as he’s supposed to.

For Solana.

He owes her that much.

She sighs, clearly and visibly relieved. “Good.” Roman feels like shit lying to her, but it’s for her own good. “C–can I show you something then?”

“You can show me anything, Sol.” Anything to take them off this damn topic is more than welcomed.

He’s also reassured by the relieved smile on her face as she reaches back for her notebook, opening it, clearly looking for a certain page while talking. “One of the things I’ve been working on in therapy is goals. Like….setting goals for myself that are attainable and doable.”

“Okay.” Roman doesn't really know where she’s going, but right off the bat, whatever she needs might as well already be done. He’ll make it happen.

“I…..” She trails off, biting down on her bottom lip, most likely trying to figure out how to say it. “I made a list of things I want to do when I get home. Some….some sooner, and some later.” Handing him the notebook, he starts reading off her neat handwriting, slightly taken back by the first thing on the list.

Get back into training

“Solana…..”

Roman is not opposed to Solana continuing to train. He thinks she should. Believes it’s been good for her. He just doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that it’s the number one thing on her list. Her mental strength, in his mind, should be the priority.

She must detect and pick up on his hesitancy, eyes traveling to meet his. “He tried to take my life, Roman.” She cuts him off, her voice much lower and quieter than before. “In….in more than one way.” Roman can tell there’s another story there, but he won’t push it. Just keep it in mind the next time he’s hacking into her piece of shit father’s body. “He told me that because—because he wanted to break me, but I won’t—” She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “He didn’t. I’m not going to let him take away all the progress I’ve made. I know I—I regressed, but I am going to get better. I am better.”

He respects that. Respects her so immensely. It hasn’t been the easiest thing for Roman to see her go up and down as much as she has over the past month. She’s had her highs and her lows, the lows being so much heavier than most people’s.

And that’s just been for him. He can’t imagine how it’s been for her having to actually deal with all these things.

So, while a part of him wants her to just focus on her mental health, if she truly believes getting back into training will help aid that. He’ll support it.

“Okay.”

She smiles, adding on, “did you—did you find a man for me to train with?” He did. In fact. He just hadn’t thought she’d want to jump right back into that either. “Also, I—I wanna learn how you do that thing you do.”

It’s the way she words it, the almost nervousness in her voice that makes him smile a bit. “Thing?”

She nods, shifting a bit on top of him. “You did it at WarGames. When you like…..ram into people. You knocked out whoever that was unconscious with one hit.”

It’s the added sentence that makes him realize what she’s referring to. “A spear?” And Solana nodding only widens his smile. Her innocence at the whole thing is adorable. “Baby, who you trying to spear?”

She shrugs, pushing some of hair back, cheeks reddening. “I don’t know. It just….it just seems effective.”

“It is.” When done correctly and done with proper training. It’d take her a while to get there, but if it’s what she wants, he’ll support it. “If you really want to learn though, I’ll teach you.”

Her smile is genuine and appreciative. Roman stealing a second to take it in, take in her happiness in this moment before moving onto the next one.

Host welcome home party

At this second goal, Roman frowns, emitting a giggle from Solana. He looks up at her, clarifying, “does this mean you want people at the house?”

She playfully rolls her eyes. “Yes, Ro, I do.”

It was going so well. Training. He could get with. A bunch of people at his house though? Hell no. “Who exactly do you want to invite?”

“Jimmy, Jey, Naomi, Bayley, Melina—”

“Who the hell is Melina?” So far, there’s not a person listed that he’s in agreement with. “Baby, you know I hate people—”

“I know, but…..” She moves her hand to the bottom of his shirt, crumpling it while trying to plead her case. “They’re our friends….our….our family, and that….that means a lot to me.” Fuck. She’s too good at that shit. Tugging at his heartstrings. “Gail has been teaching me a lot about trauma and how it works. How connection is the way to heal. And that….that makes sense because you have been the biggest part of my healing, my connection with you, my—my love for you.”

Roman closes his eyes. Of course. Of course she would drop that word on him. The love word. The word that he can never voice to her and about her but feels with everything in him.

Taking in her heartfelt words, he nods, slowly. “Okay. Just…tell me when you want to do it and what you need. We’ll make it happen.” Thinking about something else, something important, he stipulates. “Jey’s not bringing them bad ass kids though. Or Nicki.”

Solana rolls her eyes again. “Ro…..”

“Solana, I’m not about to have those failed Plan B’s destroy our house. And Nicki is a fucking arsonist. She’ll burn the place down.”

His wife pouting almost as she crosses her arms would make Roman chuckle if not for the fact he’s thinking about the last time Jey brought all his mistakes over to the property. Those little assholes caused over $50,000 in damages. Sure, it was of no financial consequence to him, but it was annoying as fuck to have to have people in his house doing the repairs.

But, of course, his sweet saint of a wife lives up to her reputation. “Roman, that’s mean. They’re just….they’re just kids.”

“No, they’re vermin.” And he means that with everything in him. But, the minute Solana leans over and lays her head on his shoulder, a soft, desperate ‘please?’ leaving her mouth, it’s a wrap.

Damn her persuasiveness.

Or maybe it’s just his lack of resolve that seems to disappear when it comes to her.

Sighing against her, he mutters, “you know I can’t say no to you.”

Solana giggles, hugging and kissing him on his cheek. Meanwhile, Roman makes a mental note to have a shit ton of them kid leashes and fire hydrants ordered ASAP.

Roman grunts as Solana murmurs a ‘thank you,’ and he moves onto the next one.

Get tattoos

This shifts the conversation a bit as he asks, “really?”

Nodding, she gestures to her inner right forearm where the colorful butterflies remain. Something she seems determined and focused to keep up. “I want to get the Hummingbird. For my mom.” She ghosts her fingers over her truly impressive artwork. “Butterflies. And….a semicolon.” Roman is grateful when she explains the last one on her own volition. “It’s….it’s for people who’ve survived depression and trauma and….and suicide.” She swallows, adding. “Something comes after a semicolon just like something comes after our darkness.” And before Roman can even comment on that, voice his agreement, she continues. “I want a lotus too. That’s for….for sexual assault.”

She doesn’t say anything beyond that, and he doesn’t push it. Just brings her hand to his mouth, kissing her palm. “Just tell me when.” He’ll reach out to his tattoo artist and get her scheduled the same day if that’s what she wants. Whatever she needs.

Solana smiles, licking her lips. “I—I want one for you too. I just—haven’t figured out what exactly.”

She’s just full of surprises tonight. He understands all of the desired tattoos that she’s listed thus far. They all have such deep, profound meanings, so for him to be included in that list feels almost wrong. For her to want to put something permanent on her body for him seems wrong. “Solana, you don’t—”

“But, I want to.”

He doesn’t know how to feel about that. Everything else she described was fine and made sense, but this one is a struggle for him. Regardless, he doesn’t push it further. Doesn’t question her.

He just continues to read through the list, the rest, for the most part, presenting no major issue. Things like continuing to work on her confidence, going back to Isla Mujeres, taking up pole dancing (he definitely wants the backstory on that as well as see if it can be moved up the list), moving all of her journals and books into the home library, etc.

However, Roman is a bit confused when he reaches the last numbered item that’s written in Spanish. She knows he doesn’t speak or understand practically any of it.

10) un bebe o una bebe

His confusion is evident, and it grows slightly when Solana almost gently takes the notebook from him and carefully places it on the bed beside them. She swallows, eyes focused on him as she moves her arms around his neck. “Roman…..I….”

Seeing her trepidation, he moves his hands to her hips, holding her. “Solana, talk to me.”

The reassurance seems to help, as she nods and blows out a deep breath. “Just…..promise me you’ll think about it before you give me an answer?”

This, however, doesn’t help him much. It only makes his curiosity grow at just what she’s talking about. Still, he won’t deny her request. “Okay.”

She moves even closer, gaze falling down to her lap. “When…..when I get better and….and more stable, I—” She lifts her eyes, voice steady and soft. “I want to have a baby, Roman.” Fuck. “I want us to have a baby. I—I want to be a mom.”

Of all the things to come out of her mouth this evening, some more than surprising, this has to take the cake. It’s the last thing he expected to hear her say.

Ever.

“Solana….”

“We have to make an heir anyway. I know….I know you’ve been taking care of that for us, but—but we can’t take forever, and—I’m ready. I know I need to focus on my mental health, and I am. I will, but…..Roman, I really want to have a baby with you.” She adds on, almost desperate and needing him to have all of the information so he can make the best decision. “And I talked to Dr. Stratus. She said all of my medications are safe to take while pregnant. We might have to change something if I decide to breastfeed, but she said that won’t be a huge issue either.”

Well, shit. Roman finds himself asking in a low voice. “You already talked to someone about this?”

She nods, almost nervously. “I just—I needed to know what she and Gail thought. If….if I’m stable enough for it.”

“What they say?”

She looks down, chuckling a bit, eyes watering. “They think I’d be a good mom.”

There’s something almost sad about the way she seems almost surprised by this. Like she didn’t think she’d be good at it until receiving their approval.

When, in actuality, he thinks she’d be the best damn mom a kid could ask for. But, she’d have to be…..with him as the father.

Roman is not….he’s not built for that life. He doesn’t know or understand the first thing about kids other than they need and deserve all of the things he can’t and doesn’t know how to give. That’s why he’d have to lean so heavily on Solana, on her soft and gentle nature. And how would that be fair? To give her a child that she more or less would have to raise by herself because any overt involvement from him would probably increase the chances of the kid ending as fucked up as Roman is.

“You would, baby.” He finds himself agreeing, voice still low, gentle almost, even in the midst of such self-loathing thoughts. There’s so many things Solana is insecure and self-conscious about still, but this shouldn’t be one of them. “Amazing.”

The way her expression softens so deeply does something to him. “Really?” Her eyes watering is the icing on the cake as she grabs his hand, tracing the lines on his palm. “Y–you really mean that?”

He’s not sure he’s ever meant anything more. “Of course.”

Solana throws another curveball at him with the next soft admission to leave her mouth. “I think you’d be an amazing dad too.”

Fuck.

Keyword of the day it seems.

Because just what in the hell is he supposed to do with that? How does he tell her that she’s wrong as hell? That someone like him really has no business being anyone’s father. That he’d just fuck up any kid of theirs. That despite recurrent dreams he’s been having about this, about fatherhood, that Roman in the dreams has to be someone else.

Can’t and could never be him.

He’s good at a lot of things, maybe more than the average person, but that?

No.

Just…..no.

But what difference does all of this make when Solana is right about the fact that he has to have an heir. A child needs to be produced, whether he wants to or not, and this discussion is making him realize that while he’s spent his whole life feeling indifferent to fatherhood, the entrance of Solana, of having her be the mother to his kid, has thrown a wrench into everything.

He doesn’t know what the fuck to think now.

So, he expresses as such with as much carefulness as he can.

“I just…..I gotta think, Solana.” About more than just this. About everything. This day has been….a lot, to say the least.

“Of course.” She nods. And if she’s disappointed by his answer, she does a great job at not showing it. Roman welcomes her when she moves her body to lay on top of his, her face pressed against his chest. “I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

It’s a statement that stays with Roman for the rest of his visit, oscillates in the back of his head as he sits in the middle of the SUV while being driven home.

Everything feels like it’s all been happening at once, almost too fast, like the speed is something he’s somehow unable to keep up with. Newfound territory for the man who’s always prided himself at always being so in control.

But, he’s not.

He’s not in control of damn near all the things right now, his emotions, namely. And it’s fucking miserable.

His love for Solana that he can’t act on because he doesn’t know what the fuck that would even mean.

Not being able to help her to the extent she needs and not being there for her when she needed him the most. Not being there to stop her the night she tried to kill herself.

Not telling her the truth about her father and leaving her to find out in the most traumatic way.

Now there’s the matter of his health, his blood pressure that he once thought was insignificant, now a moderate to major issue.

Couple on the unexpected reintroduction of his mother’s firstborn re-entering his life.

And to top it all off, Solana wants to have a baby.

With him.

Fucking hell.

It’s not until mentally listing all of these things that Roman becomes aware of a tightness in his chest, a sensation he hasn’t felt in years. Not since….not since his last panic attack.

Fuck.

Realizing what’s about to happen, Roman rolls down the tinted windows and uses the passing, speeding cars as the source of distraction. He picks the color red and starts counting how many he sees, and when that’s not enough, he switches to cars vs SUV’s, mentally listing those off.

He continues to do that until that dastardly feeling entirely dissipates. But, it’s only when he rolls up the window that he punches the headrest in front of him.

This can’t happen again. Roman has too fucking much on his plate and stands to lose way too much. He can’t experience his own kind of regression. But, that’s exactly what’s happening. The thought of which allows him to acknowledge for the first time, in a long that, that he’s overwhelmed.

Roman feels overwhelmed.

It’s just too fucking much. His head is cloudy as shit, and he needs to just get away from it all.

Grabbing his phone, he puts Rikishi, Jimmy, and Jey in a group text and types out a message.

Roman: I’m going to see her this weekend.

Less than two minutes later, the phone dings with a reply.

Rikishi: I’ll make the arrangements.

Expecting that answer, he moves to the next part of his messages.

Roman: Jimmy, I need you and Naomi to keep Dulce for me. I’m gonna put you and Jey down as emergency contacts if something happens with Solana while I’m gone.

Roman: And if it’s not in regards to my wife, don’t fucking bother me.

Roman switches to his thread with Solana, uninterested in anything else anyone has to say right now. He just needs to communicate with Solana.

He can’t tell her the truth, of course, but he does need her to know he won’t be as readily available.

She deserves that much.

Roman: A work situation came up, so I have to go out of town this weekend. I’m going to leave Dulce with Jimmy and Naomi. If you need anything, call me, and I’ll come back home.

Roman places his phone on the seat beside him and tilts his head back, running his hand over his face.

Then his phone goes off.

Solana: Roman….

Solana: I’m okay. You don’t have to do that. I’m safe. I’m….I’m feeling happy again. Just focus on yourself. You have so much on your plate right now. I can tell. I wish you would talk to me, but I get it….

Solana: Just please take care of yourself. Be careful.

Roman reads over her texts at least three times, really honing in on the ‘I wish you would talk to me.”

He’s starting to wish he could too.

He really is.

Solana: I love you. ❤️

Another ding, and he swallows. It’s getting harder and harder to have her be so vulnerable with him and not be able to reciprocate that. It feels cruel to ignore her, to say nothing when she tells and gives him everything.

It’s why after going back and forth in his head for a good two minutes, he eventually says fuck it and sends out a simple but telling reply.

Roman: ❤️

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

188 notes · View notes

the-daily-dreamer · 3 months ago

Text

The thing about the breakdown of the Rhaenicent relationship that is talked about but I think is still severely overlooked is the key role that both girls/women (specifically Rhaenyra) play in its destruction.

Because the fandom focuses in on this narrative that the relationship broke down solely because of the ambitions of men. And aside from that fueling the annoying idea that all women are inherently passive victims that suffer because men are ambitious and violent, it’s simply wrong.

While the catalyst was certainly Otto’s ambition and Viserys’s weakness (and perversion), Rhaenyra and Alicent’s relationship truly breaks down because of Rhaenyra’s entitlement, self-serving nature, and inability to see outside of herself and her experiences and Alicent’s (in my opinion reasonable) reactions toward this over time.

The beginning of the break down comes from Otto forcing Alicent to comfort the king and Viserys knowing his desire for her is wrong and forcing her to keep quiet about their visits until he decides to marry her without her prior knowledge or consent. And Rhaenyra (and the fandom) sees this as the ultimate betray against her by Alicent. Rhaenyra holds more resentment against Alicent for the engagement than she does against her father. Why is this? Some might say that it’s because she’s closer with Alicent and therefore would expect more from her than her father (whose relationship with her has been broken by the murder death of her mother). But I don’t think that’s fully the case.

While Rhaenyra having a higher expectation of Alicent may be a reason for her increased and unequal resentment, I think the main reason is that Rhaenyra cannot fathom Alicent could do this because she has never been in this position. Rhaenyra sees this as Alicent being complicit in the deceit and seduction because Rhaenyra would simply rebel. She can’t understand why Alicent wouldn’t simply say “no” to her father or betray the king for her. Rhaenyra’s world view is very blinded by her privilege. She simply thinks Alicent should and could defy her own father because…Rhaenyra has and will again. Rhaenyra is able to disobey her father and get away with it so why can’t Alicent? Ignoring the fact that a crown princess has vastly more power than the daughter of the hand, Viserys is a weak and compliant parent compared to Otto’s manipulative and stern nature. It’s easy for Rhaenyra to disobey because the consequences are either nonexistent or very mild. Alicent doesn’t have this luxury and privilege but Rhaenyra can’t conceive of it.

But also, Rhaenyra sees her father as…her dad. Not the king. Rhaenyra sees it as easy to defy him and his orders because he is her father first and her king second. But for Alicent that is the king. The most powerful man in the world. Defying him could have disastrous consequences for her and her father. But because Rhaenyra doesn’t force herself to see things from another’s perspective, she doesn’t see it as Alicent being beholden to the man who could (if he wanted to) ruin her family or kill her and her father but rather her friend not betraying her dad.

After this we see Alicent be the one to continuously try to extend an olive branch and support Rhaenyra behind the scenes. Asking for Rhaenyra to have the option to choose who she marries (a privilege and kindness Alicent, herself, and every other woman in this universe hasn’t had). Reaffirming Rhaenyra as the right choice for heir when Viserys is questioning his decisions. Defending Rhaenyra against rumors that would damage her reputation. And all Alicent gets in return is snark, anger, and lies (leading to Alicent’s isolation and suffering in court).

Which leads to event two that breaks the relationship: Rhaenyra’s entitled behavior and lying. Alicent spends a great deal of her time coinciding her husband in favor of Rhaenyra. But Rhaenyra, seeing herself as exceptional and above the rules, continuously acts out in ways that hurt her standing. Most especially with her decision to go out and try to sleep with daemon and then pushing Criston to sleep with her.

Alicent is the one to be transparent with Rhaenyra about the “rumor” to get her side. Something Viserys would simply not care enough to do. Rhaenyra, knowing her actions being confirmed would be disastrous, tells half truths to Alicent who is all too eager to believe and support her friend. Even worse, she uses the memory of her mother, something she knows Alicent holds incredibly sacred, to further convince Alicent that she’s telling the truth. And this decision by Rhaenyra to lie (over something she knows Alicent holds dear and has used multiple times to try to connect with her) to protect herself directly harms Alicent as her father and only ally in court is kicked out and ostracized. But that’s not Rhaenyra’s concern. While Alicent has given a lot of effort to protect and defend Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra is far too focused on her on wishes and desires to care about the impacts her choices have on anyone else.

And that’s why when Alicent finds out that it was a lie, a lie that got her father taken away from her, she goes full scorched earth and wears the green dress. Because she realizes that Rhaenyra will never stop being entitled and self-serving. She realizes that all this time and effort she has put into fixing things with Rhaenyra and defending her is completely one sided. Because Rhaenyra can only see things from her perspective and can only see things based on how she can benefit even to the detriment of others (herself, her father, Criston, etc.).

Then the final nail in the coffin is the birthing of bastards. At this point Alicent has had her eyes opened to how Rhaenyra will do as she pleases without considering the consequences (to herself and others) and then she watches Rhaenyra flagrantly birth obvious bastard after obvious bastard, pushing the children she was forced to have further and further down the line of succession behind kids who objectively should not have the throne. And it makes her bitter and jealous and as she should be. The fandom is too obsessed with marking Alicent as the reason the relationship was destroyed because she was unnecessarily jealous of poor Rhaenyra who was just so brave to do as she pleased!

But it’s a spit in the face to Alicent. That Alicent was pimped out and forced the have children with a man she didn’t love at the ripe old age of 15 hole Rhaenyra is free to take a lover and birth obvious bastards and get away with it. She has every right to be angry. Not because she thinks all women should be submissive and bend to patriarchy. Because she is watching how privileged Rhaenyra is before her very eyes while she was forced to suffer the way almost every other woman has.

While I acknowledge that Viserys and Otto are the catalyst for the breakdown of Rhaenyra and Alicent’s relationship. Rhaenyra’s flagrant disregard for others and her entitlement are what truly break the relationship until Alicent is no longer willing to be submissive and accepting of Rhaenyra’s behavior. And this in turn, causes her to make choices that service her and her children. The way Rhaenyra has always done and always will.

The breakdown of rhaenicent was always inevitable regardless of which men were involved. Because at their core, Rhaenyra would always put herself first and Alicent would always come to the realization she is no longer willing to be a doormat.

#this was so long #and idk if it makes sense #all I’m saying is that Rhaenyra and Alicent would always fall out #because Rhaenyra is incapable of seeing past herself #and eventually Alicent was always bound to get sick of the entitlement #house of the dragon #game of thrones #team green #anti team black #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti rhaenyra #anti rhaenicent #alicent hightower #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower defense squad

230 notes · View notes

sharkiethrts · 7 months ago

Text

prompt: meeting highschool sweetheart! sunday for the first time. oh, just how charming he tried to be

relations: sunday x reader

notes: this is modern au! with little relation to the actual story. There are NO YANDERE THEMES in this particular work, I'm more focused on picturing the human side of Sunday (without the detrimental effects of the dream master's manipulations).

warnings: none.

He talks a lot. Though you find that every word he says tend to fill with immense knowledge that seemed to peruse all the right places that clicked all the content your teacher had tried to impart upon the class. At this point, he made the teachers' comments seem more like an add on to his lessons. A rendition, almost.

He doesn't seem to have ever possessed a single vacuous thought in his life.

He's resplendent, too. Which added onto the charm, even if the classmate had found the subject particularly boring, they'd have to focus their gaze on him at least. If his charms hadn't worked (how, even), then his commanding presence should do the trick. Even when he wasn't speaking, you found that your gaze often found their way so incredibly naturally to him.

You think he knows of his charm. Otherwise, why would he be so confident in offering to relay the summary of Kafka's 'metamorphosis' so eagerly to you as an accompaniment to your reading.

"Kafka's self esteem has essentially pledged itself upon the approval of his family, which led to the derelict condition of his heart at the post-climax of the story..."

His voice is nice too. If the noises of the library are a cacophony of miserable sounds, his seems to have conducted all of it into an irie melody. You find yourself wondering whether his interactions with you have been a combination of polite passes and a shackled formality to maintain with another. You aren't an idiot, though you can be rather forgiving to details, you certainly haven't missed the unctuous smile and words he gifts to another.

You'd like to think that you'd be able to catch it when his facade starts showing but with the way his golden eyes introduce you to a drowning reverie, you start to doubt it.

It's not your first interaction, since his eager summarisation of Great Expectations two months ago, he hasn't stopped approaching you.

A part of you start to suspect that he had planned this. Every Friday, twelve forty-five, at the fiction corner.

You'd once change your schedule, moving it an hour later and happened upon Sunday impatiently waiting by the non-fiction corner, just two steps away from the fiction corner. When your eyes met, you think you saw a hint of splendor relief. You had quickly turned away. So you missed the rest.

"Are you perhaps tired?" His questions brings you back to reality, your eyes blinking furiously from how dry it had gotten by the past minute of you completing gazing off, "I understand that you had biology just prior to this, so I'd understand if you'd prefer to talk about something... easier to swallow... Macbeth, perhaps?"

There it is again. His not-so-subtle-now-that-you've-caught-on way of leading your time together to become a plethora of unending adventures. He doesn't offer to walk away but rather, a simple remedy of a new book. Sometimes a longer one, he had tried to sneak Harry Potter in once. Sneaky boy.

Seriously though? Macbeth for an 'easier-to-swallow' alternative? Now he's getting sloppy.

You test him.

"How about we part ways for now?" His eyes turned cautious. You decide to push it further, "I don't wish to burden your... already crowded responsibilities," you're certainly aware of his role as the golden boy of the Oak family, "Nor do I wish to force more ingratiating words out of you," You're certainly aware of his hidden affections for you by now, "Now that I think of it, haven't this been going on for... three months? That doesn't sound too fair to you-"

"-Two months," He cuts you off, his eyes now looking slightly strained. His posture taut, "You shouldn't be worrying of anything of the sorts, I'm completely happy to revise any type of stories you're interested in..."

That reminds you, your lie of being interested in Metamorphosis. You're sure that he hasn't read of it, yet, with his superb recounting of it to you? He must have spent his week revising.

"You don't need to be so... genteel," You smile, knowing exactly what a fool you're making of him, "I'm not exactly the most exciting conversation partner."

"Nonsense!" He cuts you off again, suddenly forgetting his manners, "You make me feel excitable things, I can assure you-" His cheeks suddenly turn red. His mouth closes. Then opens. And shuts again.

You let out the cheekiest smile you can possibly muster, "... Excitable, you say?"

You watch his neatly folded collar wrinkle for the first time.

"Nothing scandalous!"

You weren't thinking of such but now you're certainly curious, "I'm not quite sure I believe you."

Oh, did his tie loosen? A new sight to behold indeed.

Best to come at twelve forty-five sharp next week then.

#sunday hsr #sunday x reader #sharkie works ; all honkai #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr x you #modern soft! sunday #highschool sweetheart!sunday #soft!sunday

358 notes · View notes

lvrgirlrey · 2 months ago

Note

Can you make a Ranpo x reader where Ranpo thought that you were dating him(he never said anything about it too) and one day he kisses your cheek thinking it was a normal thing to do since them both are in a "relationship"

Thank you!!

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: hello! this is so cute of course i can do it for you *v* thank you for requesting!

𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: none this is purely fluff

it was a usual day at the armed detective agency, filled with the usual noise of bustling keyboards, phone calls, and the quiet mutterings of people hard at work. you sat at your desk, deeply engrossed in some case notes, oblivious to the figure quietly munching on snacks from across the room. ranpo edogawa was sprawled lazily on a chair, his usual candy stick in hand, eyes half-lidded but never missing a detail.

you and ranpo had become close over the last few months, working cases together, sharing snacks, and engaging in idle conversations. despite his carefree, sometimes childlike demeanor, ranpo always seemed to gravitate toward you. it was sweet, in a way. you admired him for his brilliance, though his eccentricity and arrogance sometimes made him hard to understand.

recently, though, things had begun to change. ranpo’s attention toward you had become more intense—subtle but noticeable. he would stand just a little too close when talking, sometimes brush his hand against yours when passing you something, or give you one of his sweet, playful smiles that left your stomach doing somersaults. but since ranpo was, well, ranpo, you chalked it up to him just being his quirky self. nothing more. at least, that’s what you told yourself.

you’d never considered the possibility of anything romantic between the two of you, though your heart couldn’t help but flutter every time he was near. still, you were too caught up in your work, too focused on your role in the agency to give those feelings much attention.

until today.

it was mid-afternoon, and the agency office was quieter than usual. the team had split off for various tasks, leaving you and ranpo alone. you were scribbling notes, trying to piece together the details of a complex case, when you felt ranpo’s familiar presence standing behind you.

without glancing up, you smiled, assuming he was there to ask about the case. “hey, ranpo. need something?”

he didn’t respond right away. instead, you felt him lean closer, the scent of sweet candy on his breath mingling with the air. then, before you could fully process what was happening, you felt the soft press of his lips against your cheek.

the kiss was brief but gentle, so casual that it took you a second to react. your mind struggled to keep up with what had just happened. heat instantly flooded your face as your heart raced. you whipped your head around, wide-eyed, to meet ranpo’s easygoing expression.

“what—what was that?” you stammered, unsure if you had somehow imagined the whole thing. ranpo blinked at you, completely unbothered, as if kissing you on the cheek was the most natural thing in the world. he tilted his head, popping another candy into his mouth, then smiled in that mischievous way he always did when he thought he was two steps ahead of everyone.

“what do you mean?” he asked, as though *you* were the one acting strange. “i just kissed my partner. it’s normal, isn’t it?”

you blinked, trying to wrap your head around his words. partner?

“ranpo…” you began slowly, “what are you talking about? we’re… we’re not dating.”

his expression didn’t change at all. if anything, he looked more confused. “what do you mean we’re not? we’ve been together for a while now, haven’t we?”

you opened your mouth to respond but no words came out. what on earth was he talking about? sure, you’d spent a lot of time together, and you were close—really close—but at no point had either of you actually said anything about being in a relationship. you felt a mix of confusion and disbelief wash over you.

“ranpo, we’ve never… i mean, you never asked me out or anything,” you finally managed to say. he waved his hand dismissively, as if the technicalities were trivial. “i didn’t think i needed to. we’ve been together all this time. i figured you knew. i mean, i’ve held your hand before, i let you eat my snacks. that’s pretty obvious, right?”

your brain struggled to keep up with ranpo’s logic. his nonchalant attitude only made your own flustered state worse. you tried to calm your racing heart as you replayed the last few months in your head. yes, he had been more affectionate lately. yes, there had been a few moments that made your heart skip. but none of that meant you were dating. or did it?

you stared at him, completely bewildered. “ranpo… you can’t just assume we’re dating without telling me.”

he gave a small shrug, utterly unfazed by the revelation. “why not? i thought it was obvious. we spend all our time together, and we’re close. i thought you liked me.”

you blinked again, this time trying to process his words. you thought i liked you? was he serious? he was incredibly smart, perceptive beyond belief, and yet completely clueless when it came to matters of the heart.

“i do like you,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. “but that doesn’t mean we’re automatically in a relationship. you have to, you know, ask.”

ranpo’s eyes lit up, a small smile playing on his lips. “so you do like me, huh? well, that’s great! then let’s make it official.”

you stared at him, mouth agape. this wasn’t how you imagined confessing your feelings, but here you were. caught off guard and flustered, you felt your face grow even hotter.

“ranpo, that’s not… i mean… wait, are you serious right now?” he nodded, entirely too casual for the conversation you were having. “of course i’m serious. i already thought we were dating, but now we can make it official. problem solved!”

you were at a complete loss for words. how could someone so brilliant in solving the world’s toughest cases be so dense when it came to relationships? still, you couldn’t help but smile, despite your confusion and embarrassment.

“you’re unbelievable,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. ranpo leaned in, his grin widening. “but you still like me, right?”

you couldn’t deny it, no matter how flustered you felt. despite his eccentricities, his arrogance, and his occasional cluelessness, you had fallen for him. somewhere along the way, in between sharing snacks and solving cases, you’d developed real feelings for ranpo edogawa.

with a sigh, you gave in. “yeah, i do.” his face lit up, triumphant. without hesitation, he leaned forward again, pressing a quick kiss to your other cheek. “good. then it’s settled. we’re officially dating now. no more misunderstandings.”

you laughed, a mix of exasperation and affection filling your chest. leave it to ranpo to turn something as complicated as confessing feelings into a matter-of-fact conclusion.

as you sat there, cheeks still warm from his kisses, you realized that maybe this was how it was meant to be. nothing about ranpo was typical, so why would your relationship be any different?

“fine,” you said, shaking your head with a smile. “but next time, *ask* before kissing me.”

he gave you a playful wink. “no promises.”

again, thank you for requesting and thank you for reading! you guys are so sweet :,>

#anime #anime and manga #manga #bsd #bungou stray dogs #ranpo #ranpo edogawa #bsd ranpo #bungou stray dogs ranpo #ranpo x reader #ranpo edogawa x reader

131 notes · View notes

chvoswxtch · 1 year ago

Text

lucky

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt finally gets to take out the girl that's been leaving care packages at his door for two months.

warnings: swearing, slight angst, tooth rotting fluff (might need to call your dentist after this one)

word count: 3k

a/n: the highly requested fluffy sequel to care packages. thank you to everyone that requested this. i hope you enjoy your first date with matty. ❤️ as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[part one]

“I hate you, you know that?”

Matt nearly spit out his coffee as he lurched over the conference table slightly, forcing the lukewarm bitter taste down his throat as a wave of incredulous laughter tore through his chest.

“What? Why?”

“Because it isn’t fair. It’s bad enough you’re so goddamn charming, and it’s borderline offensive that you’re like the most attractive dude I’ve ever seen. Not to mention that whole wounded duck routine you’ve got going on that makes all the girls fall at your feet-”

“Foggy, I don’t-”

“-but what’s exceptionally unacceptable is that you somehow managed to find a girl that knows about the horns, and not only didn’t run away, but still agreed to go out with you. Like the fact that you’re a vigilante and a walking human disaster totally didn’t phase her at all. That’s…like…against the rules!”

Matt couldn’t help but snicker at the disgruntled tone lacing his best friend’s exasperated voice, and the way the edges of Foggy’s mouth dipped in displeasure.

“What rules, Foggy?”

“The rules of the universe, Matt. You’ve had too much good fortune-

“Right, like being blinded and orphaned-”

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m talking about-”

“Guys, please. If you two keep bickering, Matt’s gonna be late. He’s lucky she’s even going out with him at all. Can we finish this?”

Karen glanced between Matt and Foggy with an arch of her brow, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to capture her lips as Matt’s teasing grin faltered into a purse of his lips from that bruise to his ego.

“Wow. Thank you…for that vote of confidence, Karen.”

“It’s true and you know it. Now, both of you sign these damn papers so we can get out of here before she changes her mind.”

Foggy’s expression suddenly turned serious as he focused his attention solely on Matt, staring at him with an accusatory finger pointed in his direction.

“I swear to God, Murdock. If you fuck up my pipeline to those crack cookies, I will never forgive you. You better turn that Matthew Murdock charm up to a million, you got me? I want those cookies, Matt. Cookies.”

»»———　　———««

It had been five days since Matt had asked you to dinner, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. Between the slew of court cases he was elbow deep in and the extra patrol he’d been doing at the docks to bust a trafficking ring, he hadn’t had a chance to talk to you again. He couldn’t feel your presence when he awoke past his alarm in the mornings, and when he finally got home at the Devil’s hour, he could hear you below him sleeping soundly in your bed.

For the past five nights, the harmony of your heart’s rhythm had eased him into a peaceful sleep like a serene lullaby.

But Karen’s words had anxiety filling every single cell in his body as he navigated the bustling streets of Hell’s Kitchen.

What if you had changed your mind?

It had been five days. Five days without getting to speak to you again. Five days without another care package.

That wasn’t unusual, right?

You didn’t follow a strict schedule with them. The drop offs were usually every few weeks. It just wasn’t time for one.

Or maybe you didn’t want to deliver any more of them.

Maybe the reality of who and what he was sank in and gave you cold feet.

Maybe this was over before it began.

“Fuck.”

Matt felt like he was losing his mind playing the role of the plaintiff and the defendant in the case of had he royally fucked this up already. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this nervous to go on a date. Maybe it was because you were the first person he was going on a date with as himself. Not one half concealing the other. Not with a pre-spun web of lies to cover his tracks. Not with a rehearsal to remember to play down his abilities.

All his cards were out on the table, and while he felt an absolute rush of liberation that you knew the truth already, the consequences of that truth were daunting and seemed to be lurking around every corner of his mind. By the time he reached his door, his clammy hands kept slipping over his key, and sweat had started to bead uneasily along his hairline.

Should he call this whole thing off?

He really didn’t want to.

Did you want him to call it off?

He prayed you didn’t.

Had you been thinking about him for the past five days too?

He really hoped so.

»»———　　———««

When Matt finally made it to your door, he was nearly out of breath and his cheeks were flushed with heat. He had changed three times because you had, and he didn’t want to be over or underdressed. He focused his senses intently on you, trying to decipher the materials and textures of the outfit you finally settled on. You had music playing as you got ready, and for a few moments Matt just paused and listened to you hum along. You seemed to be in a good mood, and that eased his nerves considerably.

Was it wrong for him to invade on your privacy like that? The angel on his shoulder was already adding it to the laundry list for his confession on Sunday. But the Devil in him argued that he was going to hear you anyway. It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help what his senses picked up.

Fifteen minutes before he was supposed to meet you at your door, Matt panicked and realized he hadn’t got you any flowers, and promptly ran down the street in search of a vendor. He spent eight minutes trying to pick some out. He didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, and roses felt too cliche and insincere. He wanted to pick something special, something that showed he put thought into them, even if he had run to get them right before he was supposed to pick you up.

The vendor had talked him into a bouquet of violet peonies, and since he didn’t have time to spare, he raced back praying that this was the one flower you didn’t hate or God forbid were allergic to.

Matt took a moment to gather himself outside your door; wiping the sweat from his brows with the back of his hand, attempting to steady his rapid breathing, smoothing his windblown hair back into place, and reciting a quiet Lord’s Prayer for good measure.

When his knuckles finally collided with your door to knock, he didn’t know if his heart was racing from the marathon he had just run, or because of you.

The light patter of your feet eagerly approaching the door caused a smile to grace his lips, and once he tuned out the sound of his own heart raging in his ears, he could hear yours fluttering in your chest like a hummingbird.

You were nervous too.

There was a bright smile on your lips, and a light twinge of embarrassment from how quickly you had flung your door open, and you let out a quiet laugh at your own expense.

“Hi Matthew.”

God, he had forgotten how melodic your voice sounded, and how much he suddenly loved his own name hearing it fall from your lips.

“Just Matt, is okay. Only my priest calls me Matthew. And, well…a few judges in the courtroom. And my partners when I cause them undue stress in the workplace. I mean you…you can call me whatever you want, whatever’s more comfortable. It’s just-it’s kinda formal, and you don’t have to-”

“Matt’s nice. I like Matt.”

“Matt likes you.”

Matt internally grimaced as those words slipped past his lips, and the mixture of disapproval and mortification on his face from his own blunder caused a fit of giggles to erupt from your mouth.

“Well, then we’re on the same page. Glad we’ve covered that base for tonight.”

He let out a breathy chuckle as he dipped his head for a moment, trying to find the source of his usual easy charm to refuel his glaring depletion. He cleared his throat as tilted his head to the side slightly, gazing blankly past his crimson glasses in the direction of your face with a somewhat shy smile on his full lips while delicately handing you the bouquet.

“I uh…didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked, but the guy said these were the prettiest ones he had.”

Warmth spread across the tops of your cheeks when your fingers lightly brushed against his to retrieve his thoughtful offering, your lips immediately splitting into a wide grin.

“They’re beautiful. Thank you, Matt. I love peonies. How did you know purple was my favorite color?”

Matt perked up at that, and he stood up a little straighter as a proud, dimple-showcasing, toothy grin took over his mouth.

“Lucky guess.”

“Do you always get so lucky?”

“I guess we’ll find out tonight.”

Matt’s dazzling grin immediately dropped, and you could see his eyes widen behind the cherry tinted lenses. As his face paled and his lips parted in horror, his brows shot up above the frame of his glasses.

“Oh God, I didn’t-that wasn’t…I swear I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not-you’re not-this isn’t…I meant the date. Not that I’m expecting anything-I wouldn’t-I just…meant I hope it goes well. I didn’t-Jesus fucking Christ.”

You were nearly in tears with laughter as Matt stumbled over his words. A part of you felt bad for laughing at the clarity of his humiliation, but it was so endearing knowing he was just as affected by his nerves as you were. This man that went out every night to take down dangerous criminals, and was arguably the most feared man in the city himself, was standing in front of your door stumbling over an apology about an unintended double entendre.

Reaching out to place your hand on his arm, you gave it a reassuring squeeze, momentarily distracted by the dense muscle you felt beneath the soft material of his shirt, before smiling at him in sympathy as you attempted to control your laughter.

“Matt, it’s okay. Really.”

He let out a deep exhale, his tongue darting out to wet his lips quickly as he let out a short and dry chuckle. Matt nodded his head in your direction, a faint curve of self-deprecation on his lips.

“Is this the worst first date you’ve ever been on?”

There was a teasing tone accompanying the timber of his voice, but layered beneath you could detect a chord of genuine curiosity intermingled with trepidation. The smile on your lips only grew as you looked up at him.

“Actually, it’s one of the best.”

Matt was completely in awe of you. There wasn’t a single falter in your heart’s rhythm. He felt his lips easily mirroring the smile that was on yours, reaching his hand out to lightly grasp your elbow as your hand was still comfortably placed on his bicep.

“What would I have to do to make it the best?”

“Hm. What’s for dinner?”

“Italian. That I know you like.”

A soft noise of content hummed from your throat, and the grin that bloomed on your lips triggered his own.

“Yeah, you’re definitely in my top three right now. But, the night is still young.”

Matt couldn’t help but chuckle at the playful invitation that flowed from your voice.

“Top three? I can work with that. I like a challenge.”

»»———　　———««

The restaurant Matt brought you to was a quaint, family owned spot just a few blocks away from your shared apartment building. It’s a place he had passed by on several instances, the aroma of fresh produce and homemade pasta sauce passed down through generations capturing the intrigue of his senses every time he crossed its path, but he had wanted to save it for a special occasion like a celebratory fifty year old bottle of champagne.

And tonight, he was popping the cork on it with you.

The space was incredibly cozy. Tea light candles flickered romantically on every table and cast an amber glow in the somewhat dim lightning. Collections of sepia and noir photos of large families and historic Italian architecture decorated the walls. The imported Sangiovese was rich in tannins and bold in flavor, caressing your tongue like bittersweet velvet. And the loud personality and thick accent of your waiter repeating your orders off in an alluring symphony of Italian made you feel like you and Matt had somehow been transported straight from Hell’s Kitchen to Italy just by passing through the door.

Both of your nerves seemed to evaporate into the breeze flowing through the open windows with every splash of burgundy against your lips and exchange of exquisite flavor from your dishes. Matt asked you questions with childlike excitement, eager to learn more about you, studying you with the exact same enthusiasm he showed important cases that were of the utmost importance to him.

In return, he found himself answering your own inquisitions easily without having to spare the devilish and more complicated details. It was so incredibly emancipating to not have to pretend with you. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t having to play a character. He could just be…Matt.

You approached every question with genuine curiosity and a respectful distance of where his invisible boundaries might be, and it made his heart soar that you were trying so hard to carefully craft his comfort. Matt had known that he was enthralled with you the first time he met you, but by the time dessert came, he was absolutely smitten.

He didn’t want to get too ahead of himself, but he also didn’t want the night to end.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Hm, I don’t know. You sure it isn’t too out of your way?”

Even if Matt couldn’t feel the way your lips parted into a huge smile, he could hear it in the cadence of your voice. The subtle joke made him chuckle as he nodded his chin in your direction, his own mouth pulling into a charming smirk.

“I’d still offer even if you lived in Long Island.”

The sudden spill of heat across the tops of your cheeks and the quiet sharp intake of your breath had his heart pounding faster in his chest.

“I suddenly wish I did.”

Even though your tone was playful, he could detect the implications behind your words. You didn’t want this night to end either, and that had him soaring up to cloud nine. Feeling emboldened by your indirect confession, Matt reached his hand out slowly to brush his fingertips against the palm of your hand, easily threading his fingers through your own, reveling in the softness of your skin that he had missed. He felt a spark every time your pulse resonated against his own, and his cheeks nearly hurt from how much he was smiling.

“I prefer you living a floor below me.”

By the time the two of you reached your front door, Matt couldn’t tell if it was the electricity from the building buzzing in his ears or the anticipation that kept building the entire walk, growing larger and larger like a snowball ready to plow into his chest to cause an avalanche when you turned your body to face him. As your thumb lightly brushed against the back of his scarred knuckles, a question that had been bouncing around in his head all evening could no longer go unanswered.

“So, as far as first dates go, what’s the verdict? Did I move up at all?”

Matt splayed his most charming smile across his plump lips, and while the flirtation in his voice was evident, so was the unmistakable undertone of uncertainty. The blood rushing through his veins was roaring in his ears like tides crashing against the shore during a storm.

“I’d say you made it to the top two.”

Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, seemingly surprised by your answer, his brows raising above the browline of his glasses slightly.

“Second place?”

“Unless you’ve got a last minute testimony for me to rule in your favor, Counselor.”

Your voice remained soft and teasing, but your heart was fluttering violently in your chest, like the hummingbird was trying to escape its cage. Matt carefully let go of your hand, reaching up to pull his glasses away from his face, baring himself completely before you as he slipped the crimson lenses into his pocket. The slight gasp from seeing his eyes for the first time that caught in your throat caused a bashful smile to appear on his lips.

His tongue darted out to wet them quickly, catching a taste of the tiramisu you shared still lingering on your tongue. He wanted to devour it from your lips. Taking a bold step forward, he did his best to fix his gaze where he thought yours was, leaning in slightly until your noses were merely an inch apart, the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips.

“May I?”

His voice seemed to have dropped an octave lower, coming out in an intimate whisper that you answered all too eagerly.

“Yes.”

Matt couldn’t hold back any longer. He quickly closed the sliver of distance between you, pressing his lips to yours with a satisfied groan, feeling a surge of pride at the way your breath caught in your throat. For a good thirty seconds, you actually stopped breathing. When he reluctantly broke the kiss, he brushed his lips against yours and whispered into them softly.

“Breathe.”

The second the command slipped off his tongue, you exhaled heavily before sucking in a sharp drag of oxygen, and Matt couldn’t stop the smug grin that overtook his entire mouth.

“Well, sweetheart? What’s the verdict now?”

“Yeah…yeah, yeah definitely in the number one spot.”

Matt beamed at the breathlessness of your voice, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you in closer to his chest as he purred into your ear.

“Lucky me.”

tags: @yarrystyleeza @little-miss-dilf-lover @desert-fern @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @danzer8705

#matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock fic #daredevil #daredevil fic

3K notes · View notes