#but that you’ll make him vulnerable where it’s still hidden

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #62

[niki-phoria]

there's a brown hue in your eyes / how pretty it is / i think i'm in love

gojo, geto, nanami, and choso boyfriend headcannons!

notes: gn!reader, each one is 400ish words, this is just a polished version of ramblings from @ffinnamon and me lmao, geto's is really angsty whoops, mentions of blood in choso's, mention of pads in nanami's, title from wave to earth - bad

━━ boyfriend!gojo who sucks at showing his feelings. his affection comes in waves of tugs at your sleeve and jabs at your shoulder to make you pay attention to him

━━ boyfriend!gojo who is stunned when you confess to him. his entire body freezes when you hand him a handwritten letter, sheepishly smiling at the ground as you ask him out to dinner. he can only accept with a shaky nod. the words he so desperately wants to say die in his throat, still too vulnerable to be spoken aloud

━━ boyfriend!gojo who never takes his teasing too far. he watches your reactions and takes note of any insecurities. the second your smile drops he’s by your side, showering you in apologies and begging for forgiveness

━━ boyfriend!gojo who is constantly watching over you. he worries about your safety more than his own. he insists on joining missions with you and scolds you when you rush into danger

━━ boyfriend!gojo who barges into the infirmary, much to shoko’s dismay. he all but breaks the door down and collapses into the chair next to your bed. he holds you like you’ll shatter in his grasp, hoping you don’t notice the way his hands are trembling

━━ boyfriend!gojo who lets his infinity down when you’re alone. his shoulders relax when you crawl into bed beside him; your arms snake around his torso as you lean yourself against his chest, using him as a makeshift pillow

━━ boyfriend!gojo who rubs his hand against your back as he watches your eyes slowly grow more tired. he massages areas where he knows you’re more sore. his hands slip underneath the thin fabric of your t-shirt to trace miscellaneous shapes against your bare skin

━━ boyfriend!gojo who brushes stray strands of hair away from your face. he takes the time to admire your beauty. his gaze lingers on your acne scars and freckles. the parts of your body that make you human

━━ boyfriend!gojo who whispers “i love you” in the middle of the night when no one else can hear. his arms rest gingerly around your waist, listening to your quiet snores and the rhythmic pattern of your breathing

━━ boyfriend!gojo who recites a mantra in his head, praying to gods he doesn’t believe in to keep you safe. he traces his calloused hands against your soft skin, memorizing every detail about you

━━ boyfriend!gojo who only relaxes when he can hear your heartbeat. it’s only when he’s sure that there no curses hiding in the darkness that he lets the rhythmic pattern slowly lull him to sleep himself

━━ boyfriend!geto who never seriously considered confessing, claiming sorcery is too dangerous and it would be too uncomfortable if you rejected him. despite months of prying, he keeps the secret well hidden from everyone around him. it’s only after a particularly bad slip up that gojo discovers his feelings for you

━━ boyfriend!geto who ignores gojo’s relentless teasing until he finds himself shoved into a storage closet, tumbling into you in the process. he sheepishly confesses in a quiet whisper, holding his breath and squeezing his eyes shut in the process

━━ boyfriend!geto who only relaxes when you rest your hand against his face. you trace your thumb against his cheekbone, smiling softly at his flushed cheeks. “kiss me,” you say quietly. he does, but not before swearing to kill gojo

━━ boyfriend!geto who only wears his hair down around you. he lets it fall free from the usual half-bun he keeps it tied into, allowing you to twist the strands between your fingers. even when you begin using him as a mannequin to test out different styles, he can only find it in himself to softly sigh and relax against your touch

━━ boyfriend!geto who is always thinking about you. he buys snacks and small gifts from nearby shops he thinks you would like. your room is decorated with small trinkets he has given you over the years, covering the shelves and your desk. even when lying on the cold, hard ground, slowly feeling his consciousness fade away, he’s reminded of your smile and how desperately he wants to see it again

━━ boyfriend!geto who only cries with you. you have to ensure that shoko has all but left the jujutsu high campus before he pulls you into a tight hug, resting his head against your chest and hiding his face from view. he doesn’t say anything when you stroke his back and play with his hair, only closing his eyes and letting the tears finally begin to roll down his cheeks

━━ boyfriend!geto who begins talking less and less. he starts spending more time in his room and only leaves to go on missions. he sneaks snacks and ramen packets out of the kitchen to eat and has accumulated a collection of energy drinks and half-empty water bottles

━━ boyfriend!geto who asks you to leave jujutsu high with him with tears in his eyes. his trembling hands grip onto the fabric of your uniform as he pleads, “i can’t do this anymore. please come with me”

━━ boyfriend!nanami who can’t stop thinking about you while completing his office work. as the days go by, filled only with the monotonous and never ending grind of marketing, he finds himself thinking of better, happier times. despite his best efforts, his deepest fantasies always seem to include you

━━ boyfriend!nanami who freezes in place when he sees you for the first time since he graduated from jujutsu high. his hand grips the paper bag holding the fresh baguette he had bought minutes earlier a little tighter when you notice him, waving him over with a soft smile

━━ boyfriend!nanami who is confident while asking you out to dinner. he’s sure - both of his feelings for you, and of yours for him

━━ boyfriend!nanami who shakily admits that he is thinking of returning to sorcery late at night. he relishes in the feeling of you leaning your head against his shoulder as you both share a bottle of cheap wine, debating the pros and cons of the decision well into the early hours of the morning

━━ boyfriend!nanami who doesn’t use pet names for you, preferring to use a nickname instead. he swears he hates it when you call him anything besides “kento,” but the way his lips curl upwards and how his ears tint the faintest shade of pink is undeniable

━━ boyfriend!nanami who is nothing but a gentleman. he keeps his pantry stocked with snacks you enjoy and takes mental notes of any of your preferences. there are pads stocked beneath his bathroom counter and an extra towel in the closet in case you decide to stay for the night

━━ boyfriend!nanami who cherishes coming home to you. the best part of his day is taking a hot shower and sharing takeout in your living room as you talk about everything you can think of

━━ boyfriend!nanami who expects you to take care of yourself. any bruises or cuts must be checked over and treated by shoko at his insistence. in return, he also begins taking his health more seriously, watching curses more carefully and retreating if needed

━━ boyfriend!nanami who swears he’ll take you to the beach when he retires. you spend free time on the weekends scouring the internet for flight and hotel prices. he assists you in creating spreadsheets filled with information of the best places to visit for tourists and the various activities you can try. “we’ll travel the world together one day,” he says one night over a few glasses of whiskey. “i promise”

━━ boyfriend!choso who stumbles over his words when you confess. he stares at you with wide eyes, anxiously waiting for the right moment to ask why your hands are so shaky and why you seem so nervous

━━ boyfriend!choso who learns about love from you. he furrows his eyebrows in confusion when he takes a step closer. he cocks his head to the side when he admits he also feels nervous around you too

━━ boyfriend!choso who calls you corny nicknames with a sweet smile on his face. he overhears pet names from tv shows and movies and says them to you, making note of which ones make you laugh extra hard and which ones make your smile just a little bit bigger

━━ boyfriend!choso who tries his best to learn to cook for you. he asks yuuji for help, repeating each action in an almost robotic way. he watches you with wide eyes when you finally try the dish, repeatedly asking if it tastes alright and if he needs to make any changes

━━ boyfriend!choso who becomes part of your daily routine almost overnight. curses don’t need to do many of the things humans do, so he begins following your actions to feel closer to you. his teeth will never rot or develop calories, but he takes pride in brushing them nonetheless

━━ boyfriend!choso who feels at peace by your side. the constant questioning from higher ups and judgement from others doesn’t matter when you’re there, cupping his face in your hands and leaving chaste kisses against his cheeks

━━ boyfriend!choso who lets you play with his hair. the strands feel coarse between your fingers but you enjoy styling them nonetheless. he sighs as he leans into your touch, allowing you to gently massage your nails against his scalp. through a soft whisper, he admits that it’s the closest he ever thinks he’ll get to the relaxation of sleep

━━ boyfriend!choso who still gets nervous around you. blood rushes to his face embarrassingly quickly, tainting his curse mark a light shade of red. his heartbeat only quickens when you chuckle softly, wiping away the stray droplets with a sweet smile

━━ boyfriend!choso who uses his cursed technique to treat your injuries. it’s the only time he pushes shoko away, threatening the others around the two of you as he rushes to your side. he follows you into danger with reckless abandon, ignoring everything and everyone around him in the process. when questioned he admits it openly: he would do anything to protect you

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @ffinnamon @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or reblogging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Cult Leader! Headcanons

Warnings: Toxic Behaviour, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Delusions of Grandeur, Narcissism, Manipulation, Indoctrination, Implications of Smut, Implications of Sexual Coercion, Kidnapping, False Imprisonment, Implication of Murder, Implications of Torture, Implication of Sexual Punishment/Reward, Implications of Pregnancy (Not of Reader), Poisoning, Stockholm Syndrome, Religious Themes, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when he sees you for the first time, a quiver in your walk and your voice as you explain to him that your car just swerved into a tree, seemingly of its own accord, leaving you with no means of transportation, knows there is something different about you. Almost whimsical.

♡ Something that makes his stone heart stammer.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when you shamble up to his front doorstep and plead for help, welcomes you with open arms into his house – the only one for miles – and tells you to “Take a seat. Please, make yourself comfortable !”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, after finding out that you’re unfamiliar with the area, that you’re not privy to where anything or anyone is, hence you didn’t see whatever caused your car to swerve, can’t help but feel something hidden, dark, light up in the back of his mind.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who insists you “Stay the night; we’d be more than happy to have you !” And actively resists your declination, your promise that you’ll “Be fine if I can get to a hospital.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader whose only elaboration on who “we” are comes in the form of taking you out the back of the house, which now you see is more like a manor, the front of the architecture being deceptively small and mousy, where, as far as the eye could see, a town slept. One filled with people – hundreds, it seemed – dressed in clothing so similar to one another that they formed a moving pattern.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, despite knowing there are always vacant houses available for any ‘late comers’ to his Association, tells you otherwise – that you will be “Staying with me.” Just until you’re better. Or the next morning, at the very least.

♡ With no phone signal and a growing headache, throupled with your limp, you feel you have little chance of survival out on the open road; especially at night.

♡ And, with what you suspect to be a concussion and no room to argue given how far from anything and everything you were, you accepted what you thought was a gracious offer.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader knows he has to act fast – while you’re still vulnerable and malleable.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when he has one of his associates draw you a bath, takes your clothes and puts them somewhere only he knows, providing you with clothes of the same material and disposition as everyone else at the compound town.

♡ “For your comfort,” he says, smiling vaguely. “Those city garments looked awfully dirty and uncomfortable – especially since you’ve just had a nasty accident.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when you ask for an ambulance, does one better, bringing you the ‘in-house doctor’ who tells him exactly what he wants to hear. That you’ll “Need to rest for the next week or so, just to be safe.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who thanks whatever deity aside from himself exists who has gifted him such a lenient timeframe to grant you ascension into his Family.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, standing just outside your guest bedroom, can’t help but smile, knowing that a week alone with you will be a cakewalk. He’s converted people in a single night before now. Albeit through practices he just can’t bring himself to use on you. Not in isolation, anyway.

♡ Despite the unfamiliar sense of urgency that twists his heart in directions it has never known.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who wastes no time in spinning a frivolous, magnificent story for you, proclaiming himself the mayor of this small, humble town, made up of hard-working folk – farmers, labourers, clothes makers; people who were driven from the city after industrialisation made it impossible for them to financially support themselves.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who revels in the way your eyes glimmer when he divulges his accolades to you, though does so with the modesty of one who sees it as their everyday life. Yet, he knows he has not captured your adoration yet. Another idol lives in your heart; a pop star, a film actor, a god of some description. Not him.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who promises to stamp this out of you. In time.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, in the couple of days after you arrived, commits every ounce of his free time to getting to know you, to understanding what makes you tick, what makes you submissive.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, being the only one in the Compound to understand your culture references outside of this town, having access to sources his Family does not, uses all his knowledge to create an image of himself as a relatable, well-adjusted member of society. Both yours, and his.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader can see you’re becoming more comfortable with him the longer he spends in your presence. And he picks up on your body language to know when you want to be left alone, when you want to speak with him, when you’re starting to feel uncomfortable for one reason or another, and acts accordingly.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when you start to ask if you’ll be able to leave soon, knows what must be done.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader understands that, to create the perfect disciple, one must first give them the illusion of choice, and the illusion that, when given the chance to leave, they are making the right choice by deciding to stay.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader no longer accosts you when you go to leave the house anymore, instead feeding into your little fantasy that “You’re looking a lot healthier now ! I think you’re almost fully healed.” Even getting the doctor to confirm his false pleasantry musings.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, from the top floor of his sprawling manor, watches you interact with his Family. You’re so easy to track even without his assigned Protectors following you. You stick out with your mannerisms, your smile fresh and not derived from worship of him, but a million other things running through your mind.

♡ You’re a challenge. Oddly resilient to his attempts to charm you as not to want to spend every waking second in his presence as his disciples do. Then again, you’re much more strong-willed than them. Have something to live for.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, despite his goal of initiating as many people into his Family as he can, can’t deny that the more he knows about you – what little information you divulge to this perfect stranger – he feels…drawn to you. In the same way his disciples are to him.

♡ This, he cannot allow. Though he does humour this schoolboy feeling of his interest piquing, his heart fluttering whenever you laugh at his jokes, or relay something to him he never knew before.

♡ Sure, maybe he’s only known you for about a week at this point, but he knows potential when he sees it.

♡ And he’s seen it in you.

♡ Now it’s just a case of getting you – and it – to conform to his will.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, just like whenever he’s feeling overwhelmed or needs to dispel energy of a most nefarious nature, beds his willing disciples – those he knows will not say no, who will gladly take his seed, those who will bear him the fruits of his labour.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader lives for validation, and he’s essentially created his own serotonin farm to stroke his ego whenever he feels it deflating.

♡ And nothing makes Yandere Cult Leader’s ego swell more than seeing the women of his town with his children, knowing that they shall be his successors, the ones to continue his legacy, or fall into his personal army if they are too weak in the mind to take up his mantle.

♡ And that, he knows, is the root of all power. His power, at least.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when he realises that people will start looking for you soon, decides to take matters into his own hands. He won’t let anyone take you from him. Not when there’s still so much he has to show you – to teach you.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who fabricates your demise – an unfortunate car accident – sacrificing one of his family collective to take your place in the car, similar to you in every aspect in your physicality; your hair colour, your height, your eyes. And the parts that can’t be faked – moles, tattoos, patches – he has his associates cover up with a fire sparked when the oil leaked into the car engine.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, in the meantime, starts thinking of ways to keep you inside – to stop you from seeing anyone else besides him, from potentially escaping.

♡ That, and he underestimated your likeability, noticing his disciples beginning to take to you with something akin to haste. Something akin to that which he felt for you.

♡ Attraction.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who sees this liking displayed when everyone is gathered in the hall for his talks, wherein he sees the odd person or two talking with you during his speeches. Something unheard of – straight-up forbidden – until now.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader decides not to punish you for this transgression. After all, you’re new ! You don’t know how everything works here (he’s made sure of that). But the initiator…

♡ Yandere Cult Leader makes sure they learn their lesson – a little etiquette in obedience. And you won’t be seeing them again for a while.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader doesn’t just see you as a distraction for himself anymore, but a potential weapon against his power.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader isn’t stupid. On the contrary, he’s entirely lucid and knows exactly what you’d call his little establishment. A cult. A blasphemy of heretics.

♡ And he can’t have you blabbing your mouth – as much as he loves hearing you tell him stories – to the wrong people. Or realising what you’ve been roped into.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader takes your health into his hands and begins adding a secret ingredient to your meals. One which is tasteless, scentless, yet weakens you with each passing day.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, now having the excuse to do so, rarely lets you out of the house (not that you can leave, anyway) insisting that you aren’t well enough to do so.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader makes sure he’s your main source of care and entertainment during your time of declining health.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader uses your weakened, bed-ridden state to feed you more glorious tales of his philanthropy and godliness. And you, with little else to do – little else you can do – listen. And believe.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, as the weeks go on, can see that the defiance in your eyes, the initial hesitation and wariness you displayed in your first days here, is starting to fade, along with any fight or hope you have of ever leaving this place.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader feels his heart clamour when you request his presence, an associate of his coming to retrieve him from his office on the rare day he isn’t there to care for you himself.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, when he can see you’re particularly pained, looks over his shoulder and, as if he’s letting you in on a secret, flashes you a smile.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader calls you his “Special little Lamb. My Saint,” and gets up, locking the bedroom door, returning to your bedside.

♡ His hand slips beneath the bed sheets, finding your thigh. First, with reassurance. Then, with something else. Hunger. Promise.

♡ And you, in your state of delirium, either cannot or choose not to resist as his hand travels further beneath your night shirt, creeping ever closer to your epicentre. All the while, he’s crawling on top of you, an archway to another world. A cage.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader tells you to “Keep quiet. We don’t want the others getting jealous now.”

♡ And all the while, as he’s taking care of you, making you gasp, too feeble to even make a sound, he tells you how he thinks “The Gods will heal you, if only you acknowledged them.” His gaze turns hard. There is no humour, no levity, within him. “Join them.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, one evening, when he’s at your bedside, after months of his attempts to break you, feels his heart soar when you tell him you “Want to become part of the Family.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader can’t tell if he’s eventually gotten through to you, either with his promises of restoration or his nights of gratification, but he sees your conformity as loyalty. Finally.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, seeing that he has you in his iron grip, ceases his poisoning and begins work on your ascension. Immediately.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, as your condition begins to improve, tells you that you are to become his ‘special assistant’ – an occupation everyone in his town would kill and die for.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader whose articulation of what ‘special assistant’ means comes in the form of a collar.

♡ And not just any collar. A shock collar. 

♡ Not that you know this. Yet.

♡ yandere Cult Leader who, when you’re able to stand, move, and even participate in everyday activities, has your ‘coronation’ organised. A celebration (and display of ownership_ of you and all that you will be bringing to the Family.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who watches everyone’s reactions carefully, picking out those who showed doubt, even a sliver, and those who seemed overly-accepting of your presence.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, that night, as you went to go to your room, pulled you into his, locking the door behind him.

♡ “An assistant as special as yourself can’t be expected to sleep all by their lonesome,” he tells you, his hand on yours. Iron.

♡ “Not when it’s my job to serve you.”

♡ Yandere Cult Leader is a master manipulator. A lucid one at that. Though, his narcissism clouds his sense of self.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who, that night, takes you for the first time, deeming it to be the claiming ceremony’ – one which has been a tradition since the inception of the Association.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader convinces you that this is the right thing to do, regardless of how much you want to do it.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader who doesn’t stop until he sees every ounce of resistance leave your eyes, and not just towards his advances. Extending far beyond tonight – into the rest of your life as you come to accept that this is your fate, one spent with a demon in a  god’s clothing.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader uses sexual gratification as a motivator (or punishment) depending on your behaviour.

♡ If you do something that displeases him, that risks making him lose face if only for a second, he can be vile. Promising the most promiscuously torturous and painful outcomes should you defy his word again.

♡ Such motivators of these punishments can be as simple as wanting to take a walk outside the Compound, asking him a question about the Uncaring Outside, or not doing what he asks of you immediately after he’s told you what he wants.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader is most unkind when he is displeased. And he’ll let you know how easily replaceable you are, how quickly he can find a willing body to take your place in his bed at a moment’s notice.

♡ And you know he’s right. That’s why you obey like you do, why you take the slings and arrows your existence is heir to now, why you plead and beg and cry that you’d “Do better next time ! Please, I���m sorry, I’m so sorry–”

♡ However, if you have displayed good behaviour, he’ll call you by any name you want to hear – “Sweetheart”, “Darling”, “Angel” – anything that reinforces your perceived importance to the Cult Leader.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader has you glued to his side forevermore. Anyone who tries tot ake you from him is deftly dealt with. Which is why you never see the people who’ve come searching for you, who stumbled upon the leader’s human enclosure as you had. Albeit with less guidance from the Leader.

♡ Yandere Cult Leader promises you that “Nobody out There loves you as much as I do. If they did, they’d have come to join you, wouldn’t they ?”

♡ God forbid if you disagree. The Leader didn’t groom you to be opinionated; he tamed you into his pet.

♡ And if you ever want a fighting chance of escaping this place alive, you have to make him believe that you’re dedicated to nothing but him.

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Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: all those words hidden in the silence

pairing: kitt azer x (first person reader)

synopsis: you break into the castle for a mission where you may have to assassinate the king but you fancy teasing him a little first… given your history

warnings: swearing, intense-ness

a/n: don’t ask me how or why this idea came to me but it was super fun to write :)) btw the crossed out parts are to represent her ‘forbidden’ thoughts

taglist: @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @whatsamongus @zaraaaabear @lovethornes @emelia07 @sweetreveriee @userxs-blog @anintellectualintellectual @off-to-the-r4ces @hermesenthusiast

“Pretty night for a murder don’t you think,” I grin, swinging my dagger between my fingers nonchalantly.

The king turns around. The look of shock on his face leaves me satisfied but like any addiction, a part of me craves more. I watch as he slowly pales when he meets my eyes. I wasn’t sure he could pale any more, he looks like he hasn’t eaten in days. The king is weak. Perfect.

“Very pretty,” he muses, keeping on the diplomatic mask he’s crafted for himself, “the blood will match your new outfit.”

“Taking notes about what I wear now?” I raise an eyebrow, approaching him slowly. My steps long and swift, almost a glide. I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his neck as he swallows and wonder if he’s nervous.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he sighs with a blank stare, “it’s just a change from seeing you in rags, did that little seamstress friend of our silver saviour sew it for you?”

He hits a nerve and he knows it as the corner of his mouth turn up to form malicious smirk. I want to rip it off of his cruelly beautiful face and tear each part into a million pieces of nothingness. So he can finally be the nothing he made her.

“You murdered Adena,” I growl, not bothering to hide my burning rage. Unlike the king, I’m not a fan of wearing a mask. I don’t play pretend, I don’t mess about, I’m real.

He dares to take a step closer to me, “she was collateral damage.”

“Why don’t I make you collateral damage?” I snarl, gripping tighter to my dagger. My knuckles turn white.

“It’s my talent sweetheart,” he tells me, “I’d be careful if I were you.”

His green eyes blaze with a synthetic fierceness. I laugh, throwing my head back and holding my stomach. He’s taken off guard and stares at me in bewilderment.

“Oh sorry,” I snort, trying to pull myself together, “it’s just hilarious to me that you think you’ll be doing the killing tonight.”

“I wouldn’t get so giggly sweetheart,” he murmurs, getting closer still, looming over me to cast his cowardly shadow, “you know I could if I wanted to.”

“No I don’t actually, you’ve had countless opportunities to do it,” I scoff, “so tell me, brave king, noble king, why haven’t you killed me yet?”

He paralyses for a second and I have the golden opportunity to end him right there. Lunge forwards and impale him with my handmade dagger. Watch the blood leak from his lifeless body. See as the last flicker of light leaves those hypnotising emerald eyes. But I don’t. I don’t do it and I don’t know why.

“You know why,” he whispered, sending a shiver down my spine. It’s like he’s answering both the question in my head and the one I had said aloud.

I quirk my eyebrow upwards and fold my arms, I won’t let him do this to me, he can’t play the vulnerable card before I do, “do I?” I ask.

“Are you going to make me say it?” he murmurs so quietly I can hear my heart thumping my chest, “is that what you want from me?”

So it’s true. He still loves me like I love him. And he won’t kill me because of it. Good. I have an advantage.

“Are you brave enough to say it?” I mumbled, tilting my face upwards to really look at him.

He’s still my Kitt. I can see past his pretence, far past it. I always have been able to. And even with his tired eyes and hollowed cheeks, colder gaze and harsher tone, beneath all of that he’s the boy I used to know. The boy I fell for in too many ways. The boy who was vulnerable with me. The boy who I was vulnerable with.

“I have guards posted on every door,” he diverts the conversation, “how did you get past them?”

I get the answer to my previous question. He is not brave enough to admit it. He’s still a coward then.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” my lips draw into a thin smile.

“You know I could have you killed in an instant,” he muses, “my guards will obey my every wish, it wouldn’t be me to do it.”

He won’t call them. I already know it. But I’ll play his game, as tedious as manipulation is it serves well in the end.

“Too bad you won’t be able to reach them,” I shrug softly.

His face hardens, “what did you do?”

I don’t reply, staring at my nails to prove my disinterest. He tries calling for them, for help, for anyone. I yawn and roll my eyes. They won’t come. They don’t come. I see a flicker of rage in his eyes, a furious spark ignites somewhere inside of him. At least he looks less like a dead man walking when angry, at least now he had passion about something.

“What did you do!” he yells, his booming voice remaining me of his father, making me feel a little queasy.

“Demanding me isn’t going to make me tell you,” I say fiercely, “I’m not one of your subject Kitty.”

He flinches at the nickname. It’s like a reflex he has no control over. The mask cracks slightly. Whoops.

He glares at me, regaining his pathetic royal composure, the facade that is everything but him, “where’s my brother?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“Yes you do,” he insists.

“No I don’t,” I exclaimed.

“TELL ME!” he screams, madly clawing at my arms, pinning me to the wall behind us.

My back hits it with an awkward thump. Pain rolls across my body and I bite my lip. He has me at the wrists, forcing me to drop my beloved dagger. Our faces are so close they nearly touch. I wonder if he can see the scar on my left eyebrow, the one he gave me. I don’t tear my gaze from his and for what feels like hours he stare at each other panting like exhausted dogs. His hands slowly drop my wrists and trail gently down my face. I’ve missed his touch. They reach my neck and in a sudden jerky movement he clasps his hands around it. I gasp, he smiles something blazing in his eyes. He’s hungry to witness my pain. Shame he’ll have to starve tonight.

“Go on,” I murmur, “strangle me, do it, I dare you.”

He breathes heavily, looking into my eyes like he used to after all those times we’d kissed. A mix of emotions rise into my chest, a bittersweet mixture of all I want to forgot. Part of me thinks it might be worth dying, if it’s at his hands.

“You can’t,” I whisper, “can you?”

“What do you want?” he asks hoarsely, dropping his arms and taking a step back. Disappointment hits my stomach. I didn’t want him to let go.

“Oh honey,” I say, strutting past him, “there’s a long list.”

“Tell me what you want,” he walks infront of me, stopping my tracks, “and I will let you walk out of here alive.”

“You won’t kill me either away,” I say, “what good is that promise?”

“Don’t be so sure,” Kitt says, “I might not do it myself but there are others who will. So what do you want?”

“At this current moment,” I ask, taking a step closer to him so I can feel him breathe.

He nods, “name it.”

“I want your blood,” I whisper, pushing him down harshly onto a chair, “on my dagger, your cold lifeless body in my arms,” I say, your lips on my lips I don’t.

A ghost of a smile haunts his empty features, as he grabs my chin, “you’re a pretty liar, but not a good enough one.”

“Do you want to test me?” I ask, straddling him so I’m sat on his lap. For the plan to work I need to be a distraction, that’s all this is, I reassure myself. I ignore the fact that I want to be in this position.

“Tell me this makes you feel nothing,” he says in a low voice, running his soft hands up my thighs and then up to the small of my back where he holds me like I’m weightless, like I’m a dancer.

I gasp sharply. All my oxygen stolen by a thief with emerald eyes. The same theif who stole my heart.

“Look me in the eye and tell me this makes you feel nothing,” he repeats again.

I can’t do it. And he knows it. This makes me feel more than I’ve felt in a long time. I open my mouth to reply but two rough unfamiliar sets of hands grab my arms. I look behind to see two guards on me.

Kitt grins, something cruel in his smirk make my heart ache, “two can play at the manipulation game sweetheart,” he says.

Sweetheart. My toes curl at the thought of being his sweetheart. I want to kick myself and then sob in a heap. I’d let my guard down again. I’d been vulnerable again. I’d let myself take it all as one big joke again. He wasn’t my Kitt anymore and I was naive to think he could be. I’d failed the mission, I’d failed to kill him, I’d failed to manipulate him, I’d failed to play it smart.

He just stands there, over me, crown looking too heavy for his head. I hate that look he’s giving me. I attempt to lunge at him but the guards’ grip is too strong and I’m held back. He’s still smirking at me. I spit in his face.

“Aren’t you beautiful when you’re angry,” he taunts, unbothered by my undignified behaviour.

I’d been so cocky before. How stupid did I look now?

“Fuck you Kitt,” I shout, a rawness in my voice that I didn’t recognise.

He chuckles, “not so sarcastic now are we?”

“I’m going to kill you,” I look at him, a dead seriousness set in my expression.

“That’s what you came here to do though and as it happens I’m not dead,” he shrugs at me. I wish his eyes weren’t so pretty to stare at.

“They’ll end you Kitt,” I tell him, “they’re planning to end you.”

Am I threatening him or am I warning him? I can’t tell anymore. My mind is too conflicted to decide.

“And I will destroy every last one until there’s just you and I,” he murmurs, before standing up and issuing his kingly orders, “take her to a holding cell boys.”

a/n: thanks for reading 🤍🤍 I promise more of my req fic will be posted soon

powerless masterlist

[tarot-readingz]

band-aids

Bill Cipher x Reader oneshot || fluff, hurt/comfort ⊹₊⟡⋆ warnings: self harm injuries/relapse in self harm, brief negative self-talk and low self-esteem ⊹₊⟡⋆ summary: Bill helps bandage up your wounds and provides some awkward comfort. 💭 i needed some comfort recently, and i thought i'd maybe share what i wrote in case anyone else needs it too . bill might be a bit 'ooc', but that doesn't matter here lol . and to whoever's reading, remember that you are loved, and you matter very much . please be gentle with yourself, and stay safe, friend <3

Rrrip.

The sound of another band-aid being opened fills the otherwise tense silence. That’s the third one, and you’ll probably need another. You watch as Bill carefully lines it up across your arm, making sure it doesn’t bubble up when you move, then presses down so it sticks. It’s… oddly sweet, almost unnervingly so. You’d never have thought he’d be capable of this much care; this tenderness.

Neither of you speak for what feels like hours in your small bathroom. You’ve just finished crying, and now a headache lingers. You’re not even sure what to say, anyway. Luckily, though, he beats you to it.

“What made you do this?”

…maybe not so lucky.

You chew on your lip, pointedly keeping your gaze away from his. How do you even answer that? It’s too much to begin explaining, you don’t know where to start, and with your thoughts currently moving at the speed of molasses, all you can do is sigh. “I just…” a pause, you try again. “I…”

God, the words just aren’t going to come out easily, are they?

Thankfully (but surprisingly), Bill says nothing— no teasing, no prodding— instead going still as he actually waits for you to answer. Why is he acting so… so…

Your face scrunches up in mild frustration, then falls into something more dismayed with another huff. “I just… spiralled. I was angry, and I felt that I deserved it. And… I wanted it, I guess.” It was much more complicated than that, but it’s a start.

He’s eerily quiet, and when it stretches on for too long, it feels like it’s suffocating you— you have to say something else. 

“I thought you’d be more amused. Don’t you find pain hilarious and all that?” It’s a weak attempt at banter, and you only muster a breath of a laugh, but he doesn’t joke back. Rather, his grip on your arm tightens slightly, and his gaze remains on the cuts now hidden away under the protective band-aids. He mutters something so softly and you almost miss what he says. “Not when it’s yours.”

His words make your chest do… something. It tightens and flutters at the same time. He doesn’t admit any vulnerability out loud, it’s always indirect. Implied. You’re touched, confused, and all-around emotional. You pray that you don’t start crying again. 

“If you start thinking like that again, you’ll tell me. Got it?” Bill breaks the silence again, and his tone leaves no room for argument, but underneath it…. He’s oddly affected by this, and you really didn’t think he would be, considering what kind of person (er, triangle?) he is. You’ve seen exactly what he’s like, evil and manipulative and uncaring towards others— and for whatever reason, he makes exceptions with you. Sometimes.

Mulling over his statement, you finally nod silently in agreement, but he still doesn’t move. “Promise me.”

Now that makes your insides twinge, and as much as you want to, you don’t dare to look up at him. There’s no way Bill would demand a promise. There’s no way he’d ask, or plead for something.

But that’s exactly what he’s doing.

You don’t know how to process it.

“…Okay.”

“Say it.”

“I— okay, I promise.”

Finally satisfied, he resumes covering the tiny stripes of lacerations with another band-aid, the ripping of the paper cuts sharply through the already fragile atmosphere. He repeats the same steps, using the same level of care that makes your heart ache. You don’t realize you’re crying until you watch his hand reach up to brush against your cheek, the contact making your breath hitch and your face to heat up. 

“Hey, stop that. You’ve done enough gross leaking for the night.” He sounds awkward and mildly annoyed, and you can’t help the laugh that slips out, nor the tired smile that forms on your face, and finally, you glance up. Bill’s gaze is already on you, and you swear you can feel him brighten a little bit at your reaction. “There you go, that’s better! Besides, you gotta keep yourself together for me. Can’t have my future puppet falling apart so soon, y’know.”

You shove him, but there’s no force behind it. His hand falls away from your cheek as he laughs, and you find yourself wishing it had stayed a little longer. “Oh shush, you know that’s not happening.”

“Not yet,”

“I will drop-kick you out the window.”

“Ha! Good luck trying while all of your motor functions are inverted!”

All the while, his other hand hasn’t moved from your arm, even when he’s done tending to your wounds.

[celestoria]

aaa congratulations on your milestone!!!

can i req 7, 18 and 20 with al-haitham?

Tags: somnophilia, jealous sex, creampie, video editor!alhaitham x idol!reader

A/n: this was longer than expected lol.

Do not interact if you are 17 or below (17+)

Alhaitham was never a man who enjoyed the limelight since he found it extremely overbearing. Even if he isn’t willing to relish the fame with you on stage, he’s always willing to support you on the sidelines and watch you shine.

Though people found him to be a genius, yet stubborn editor who never does anything above the bare minimum in the music industry, he hasn’t caught pulling extra hours to get a video finished earlier before you two got together. Some people called it a miracle, but he just calls it doing what was in his job description.

It was normal for him to rewatch scenes of you dancing from different angles over and over again just to pick the best one. He enjoyed seeing you passionately do what you loved.

However, your recent video, a collaboration with an arguably handsome man, made his teeth grit and his blood boil whenever he saw you two in the same frame. Alhaitham deemed it illogical to fret over professional matters, so he pushed his rash emotions aside to get it over with.

But later that night, his mind played scenes of you and that man in his mind. Seeing how close he was to you while you wear clothes far too revealing than he’s comfortable to admit made his jaw clench.

It was uncharacteristic for him to feel this way, letting such irrationalities get the best of him while you lay asleep next to him, his arms wrapping around your waist in the middle of the night, symbolizing your trust in his protection during your vulnerability.

That wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to have your undying loyalty, whether you are awake or not.

His hips grind against the thin fabric of your panties, hidden under a shirt far that’s too big for you. His forehead rested on the crook of your neck, a place where it was usually loud enough for you to hear his needy sighs but now you had your eyes shut like nothing was happening.

Logic, something he always abides by, told him that his actions are a risky take, but his emotions, one he rarely follows, said his greed will only consume him if he doesn’t do something about it.

Alhaitham grunted, the tight constraints of his crotch freed his hardened member. He spreads your cheeks to make room for him as he slips himself in you, trying not to nudge you awake during the process. The warmth of your pussy tightly wrapped around his aching cock. Even when you’re asleep, you still take him so well.

His buff arm hugged you from your shoulder, acting as an anchor to keep you still. A heavy weight burdened his chest, mixing in with pleasure that travels throughout his body as his girthy cock bullies your cunt.

He could just claim you here and now by spilling his seed inside of you. How pretty would it look once it seeps out.

Your eyelids fluttered open, dazed from a dream you can barely remember. Processing what was going on, the first thing you noticed was the heat of your core and the fast-paced friction between your legs.

“Ngh~ '' your hand traveled to clasp Alhaitham’s grip on your body, almost letting a chill run down his spine if he wasn’t so caught in the moment. “Alhaitham, what happened- ah,” you moaned, the moment he went faster in and out of you.

His hand caressed your body before it traveled to your pussy so his rough fingers could circle your puffy hub. Overstimulated, you tried to pull his arm away but his defiance gave him the strength to stay where he is.

He knew full well you’re incredibly sensitive when you just woke up, and he’ll gladly take advantage of that knowledge if it ensured you’ll never think of other men even just for a millisecond.

“You know you’re mine, right? Tell me,” he growled, envy and desperation coating every word spilling out of his mouth.

“Yes,” you swallowed as you nodded, feeling the knot in your stomach growing tighter as he rearranged your insides with how balls deep he is.

Despite your answers, his fingers pressed deeper into your clit, his digits fiddling with you faster than he ever did before. Something tells you he isn’t stopping until he’s satisfied with your answer.

Typical Alhaitham. Never saying more than he needs to.

“Yes. I’m yours. You’re the only man for me, Alhaitham. No one else,” you screamed, your head rolling back.

He loved the way you cried his name, thick with submission and the loyalty he expects from you. The jealousy that conquered his logic turned into possessiveness. He feels reassured he’s the only one who can make you melt like putty from fucking you that hard even in your sleep.

Alhaitham’s lips curved upwards, smirking with satisfaction. His movements began to be sloppy, ready to leak out at any moment. Your walls pulsate around him, yearning for sweet release. With a final stroke, he buried his member deep inside you, unexpectedly filling you to the brim. As he pulled out, his cum oozed out and trailed to the sides of your lips.

You barely came down from the high when Alhaitham flipped you over, rose from where he laid, and knelt behind you. Your soaking wet panties pulled down close to your knees, allowing the cold air to brush against you.

He had your head buried against the pillow and your ass up ate an angle where his dick could slide in so easily. He brought his body forward, his biceps lighting brushing your back and his lips close to your ear. “We’re not stopping until I fuck a smart girl like you dumb.”

[causeimhappinesss]

His baby mama, part 2 (Corey Cunningham x reader)

PART 1

Pairing: Corey Cunningham x reader Warning: kidnapping Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language (I’m french), so you can correct me if you spot some mistakes :) + it’s gonna be a short story, so don’t seek a full development as you would in a novel

---

When you open your eyes, a thick veil of unconsciousness dissipates, revealing a dark room. Your head spins and your limbs feel numb with a strange sensation that sends shivers through your whole body, amplified by the coolness of the surroundings. Suddenly, you realize you’re in your basement. You try to move, but your movements are hindered by tight restraints that hold you to a dusty old mattress in a sea of forgotten boxes. Your hands are tied with a thick rope. Actually, it’s not tight enough, you can move a little, but it’s still reassuring.

What happened...?

Memories of yesterday come flooding back. Terror wells up inside you, a venomous snake wrapping itself around your heart and choking you. Why are you here? Where’s your baby? Panic overtakes you as you frantically search for answers, your eyes feverishly searching the dark corners of the cellar for a clue, a way out.

And then, like lightning in a storm, you see it. Your daughter, your precious treasure, sleeping peacefully in her crib beside you, oblivious to the threat in the air. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, though your anguish continues to clench your throat and twist your stomach. You lean over her and slide a hand over her soft tummy. She seems to be doing just fine. He hasn’t hurt her. More surprisingly, he didn’t kill you... That’s not Michael Myers modus operandi. So… why are you here? What does he want with you? The questions swirl around in your head and gnaw at your insides, without you understanding what’s going on.

Your trembling fingers slowly move up to touch the soft skin of her little hand. A shiver runs down your spine as you realize how vulnerable she is, how you’re both at the mercy of the surrounding darkness... At the mercy of a madman. You’re not stupid enough to believe that if you open the basement door, it will open and you’ll get on with your life as before. As if reading your mind, the creak of the sinister door pierces the silence. Your hair stands on end. Your heart misses a beat. The door opens slowly, revealing a menacing shadow. Your breath freezes in your throat and acid reflux surges up your throat, burning your windpipe.

And there, in the doorway, you see him. Michael Myers. His empty, dark gaze pierces you. He represents a silent threat that chills you to the bone. Fear paralyzes you and your limbs are refusing to answer to your desperate orders to flee.

You’re a prisoner in your own home, at the mercy of a faceless monster bent on your destruction. You feel your strength ebbing away, hope flickering in the darkness as you realize that you’re alone, powerless against the unspeakable horror befalling you.

The flickering light from the basement illuminates a strange figure, a man in a boogeyman mask standing there motionless, like a specter straight out of your darkest nightmares. You don’t understand, none of this makes sense. Your heart pounds in your chest as you instinctively step back, your baby in the crib next to you, a fragile barrier between you and this terrifying intruder.

"What do you want?" Your voice slightly shakes and you’re certain he can sense your fear... Like the wild animal he is.

The man doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze hidden behind the inexpressive mask of a boogeyman. He slowly moves in your direction, as his footsteps sinisterly echo in the room. You stand over the cradle, protective, ready to do anything to defend your child from this unspeakable threat... If you have to be stabbed 15 or 16 times like he did Judith to save her, you’ll do it. She’s the most precious thing in the world to you.

"What do you want?" you asked again, in a sharper tone.

Silence.

Annoyed, you grab the first thing that comes to hand – a box of condoms forgotten on a dusty shelf – and throw it at the masked man. He barely catches it before it hits his latex mask. He drops the condoms to the floor and slowly removes the serial killer’s mask. Your eyes widen. You think you’re dreaming. It’s impossible, isn’t it? You almost choke on your saliva. You’ve never been so disturbed in your life, so much so that your whole being is shaking like a leaf.

Corey.

Your ex, the father of your daughter.

The man you loved and still love.

"Corey?" you whisper, stunned, as if you were in a bad dream.

He looks at you with his dark eyes, reflecting a pain you can’t understand, beyond anything you could imagine. For the first time, you perceive something different… As if he’s not quite the nice guy you used to date.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs at last, his voice little more than a whisper.

You stand there, petrified, unable to move as the pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place in your jumbled mind. Why is he there? Why is he covered in blood? Could it be that he’s usurped the notorious serial killer’s name for revenge…? Revenge on whom? So many questions loop in your mind.

"Corey, what happened?"

Your words are barely audible, a desperate plea in the oppressive darkness. He looks away, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his invisible burden.

"I need to talk to you…"

In the suffocating atmosphere, the echo of your breaths intermingles, in a song of fear and confusion. Corey stands before you, still in a menacingly silhouette, his piercing gaze on you… the gaze of a killer.

"We’re together now and no one can separate us," he declares in a deep voice, each syllable falling like a stab into your already wounded heart.

You stare at him, incredulous, unable to understand how events could have taken such a turn. Allyson, his girlfriend, a mere puppet in a game with rules you didn’t catch. Confusion fills you, mixed with a hint of dread, as you desperately try to make sense of it all.

“Corey, what are you talking about?" you gasp, your voice trembling.

He sneers, a cold sound devoid of any humanity.

"Allyson has been nothing but a pawn," he repeats, a touch of disdain tinting his words.

Your eyebrows furrow, your thoughts intertwining in a swirl of confusion and distrust.

"What do you mean?" you ask, anxiety tightening your throat like a vise.

Suddenly, Corey comes closer, his gaze anchored in yours. His hand firmly grasps your chin, forcing you to keep your gaze in his. A flush of panic rises in you, aware that a completely different man is standing in front of you right now… If only you could bring back the old Corey. Now he’s looking at you, as if he’s trying to read your soul, as if he likes to see the fear on your face.

"I hated the idea of you separating me from our daughter," he whispers. "You never gave me a chance."

You hold your breath, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic tumult as his words echo in your mind.

"You didn’t want to assume your paternity and you told me to get an abortion…" you retort, in a tone full of bitterness.

He glances down at the cradle where your daughter rests peacefully, her little arms waving in the air as she chirps, a sign that she’s just woken up to the sounds of your discussion. With a surprising delicacy, Corey takes her in his arms, and presses her against his chest, without hurting her, all of this with a gleam of tenderness in his eyes. One of his hands strokes your daughter’s curls, so similar to his own, then he presses a kiss to her forehead.

Something tells you that a new chapter is opening, charged with mystery and danger, but also with a glimmer of hope... Not forgetting the element of uncertainty.

However, the basement seems to shrink around you, its walls becoming oppressive, threatening to crush you. Corey is still standing in front of you, but he’s putting the baby back in the cradle. On the other hand, your struggle against the bonds holding you captive, icy anguish gripping your heart with its claws.

"Untie me, please," you beg in a trembling voice.

Corey shakes his head, a shadow of distrust hovering in his dark eyes.

"You’ll run," he declares in a calm but resolute voice, each word weighing like a silent condemnation.

You frown, your frustration mixed with a hint of anger.

"Why would I run away? I don’t understand you," you protest, a note of incredulity piercing your fragile voice. A beautiful lie you hope to serve him on a gold platter, but you both know very well why. You suspect he killed people that Halloween night. Something dangerous has awakened in him.

He scrutinizes you with his inscrutable gaze. Then, in a voice devoid of any empathy, he lets slip the brutal truth behind his mask of apparent calm.

"I killed my mother", he reveals coldly, his words reverberating in the heavy cellar air like echoes of doom. "She got what she deserved. And Ronald… Ronald was killed by some kids I wanted to eliminate. They threw me off a bridge a few days ago. Fortunately, I got them all, one by one… Their deaths were equivalent to their degree of involvement in my torment."

He smirks, then snicker. A shiver of fear rips through your spine and you wince as best you can. How can he announce such a thing so lightly? A wave of horror washes over you, a deadly embrace that compresses your chest and suffocates every part of your being. Your breath catches in your throat and your eyes mist with tears. This isn’t your Corey, this isn’t the man you loved. It’s a monster, a predator lurking in the shadows, ready to strike without mercy.

You feel trapped, imprisoned in a hell you can barely understand. Fear seeps into every fiber of your being, a throbbing pain that twists your insides. What are you going to do now that you know the truth? How can you escape this unspeakable horror that threatens you from all sides?

He slowly comes nearer, his face so close to yours so you can feel his warm breath skimming your skin. Your heart pounds in your chest. A wave of panic rises inside you and that same suffocating sensation threatens to engulf you.

"You’re gonna love me again like you used to," he whispers, in a voice as soft as it is tinged with madness.

Terrorized, you nod weakly, your eyes fixed on his, a flicker of despair in your gaze. He smiles, a smile devoid of warmth, a smile that chills you to the bone.

Then, in a dark, sinister voice, he breathes the words that echo like a warning in the tension-filled air: "You belong to me".

A shiver of horror runs down your spine as you realize the magnitude of the threat b You’re a prisoner in your own basement, at the mercy of a man you no longer recognize, a man who seems to have lost most of his humanity… He’s the darkness.

You’re trapped.

---

[Author’s notes] Should I write another part? Do you have ideas for another part? Again, sorry if it’s not developed enough. I would totally do it if I was writing one of my novels.

My Ko-fi: betrayedwriter My AO3: BetrayedWriter My Instagram: carolinemertz_

Want to read my novel if you know some french? Find them in my bio 😉

[koalaflower]

Effleurer

pair. choso kamo x fem!reader

genre. angst, fluff, smut in that order

warnings. explicit, cunnilingus, squirting, body worship, praise, no penetration, choso is a service dom

synopsis. choso broke up with you in order to protect you. he just didn’t realize how much he’d regret it

a/n. mostly fluff to atone for the mass sins i’m about to commit in the next post :)

word count. 2.4k

Someone is knocking at your door. There are tissues littered around you, teetering over the edge when you sit up, the bed dipping beneath your weight. You rub your eyes groggily, barely open from the irritation of last night and the nights before.

Sunlight pours in through a slip in the blinds, casting a shadow over your wrinkled sheets. Another morning you’ve missed; another pounding headache.

You wonder who would visit you so early in the morning and without warning. You wish you could tune them out and return to your sweet slumber, but they don’t seem to leave.

Static envelops your vision when you stand, taking slow steps as you lug yourself to the front door. Even breathing hurt with such a heavy heart.

You twist the door open and a familiar figure paralyzes you, your throat drying in an instant. It’s Choso, his clothes stained with a deep rouge seeping from his skin. He looks weak, chest heaving as he stares back at you, longing.

Your mind spirals, wondering if this is a hallucination, a cruel trick of the light, but there is no sunlight in your apartment complex. Your breathing is rapid, and you take a step back, almost slamming the door shut on him when his hand stops you.

His jaded eyes attempt to find you under the dark eye bags and pale face, a reflection of himself. A silence consumes you, picking away at your skin as the seconds stretch on for an eternity.

“Y/n,” he says, and a wave of agony washes over you, threatening to knock you off your feet. The way he calls your name brims with tenderness, like a belligerent man holding a delicate doll. You want to crash into his arms like you always have; no words, just comforting touches.

His name lingers on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t bring yourself to say it, afraid he might disappear if you do.

“Can I come in?” he asks, half-expecting you to say no. You come close but realize he has already witnessed your vulnerability, and there is no escaping a man consumed by darkness. You nod, too shaken to reject him as your body steps aside and invites him in.

Choso looks around, tracing the familiarities of your apartment with his eyes; a place he’s visited countless times in his memories. He can still picture himself holding you, listening to your qualms about the future with his fingers running through your hair.

Your welcoming and kind self is hidden by a colder exterior, and seeing you deprived of yourself breaks him, making his stomach tighten in sorrow.

He inches towards you again, unsure of where he stands or if he can reach out and brush his fingers against your skin. Not after the pain he’s caused you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words tumbling from his lips, rushed. It sounds insincere and pathetic, the lines he rehearsed for weeks jumbling together on his tongue. “I’m so sorry.”

You look up at him with reddened eyes, your lips quivering. He ignores the rational part that tells him you’re better off alone and pulls you close, wrapping you into a warm embrace. He holds you tight, afraid you’ll slip away again, your head burrowing into his chest as you faintly cry.

He lifts your chin tentatively to look into your eyes, puffy from god knows how many hours of crying, and feels himself shatter. He should have been there for you, should’ve held you at your lowest. His thumb runs along your under-eye, brushing the tears away as your head leans into his touch.

You still look beautiful, the darkness in your apartment contrasting with the light fluttering in through the windows. He’s danced with you here, in the living room, laughing and kissing your hand. Time doesn’t age you; his heart still flutters when you look at him, past remnants of being a love-struck teenage boy.

“I hate you,” you whisper, fingers clutching onto his shirt, crinkling the tear-stained fabric. He gives you a sad smile, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know.”

He doesn’t know where to begin or how to begin. His head is throbbing, and the blood on the sides of his head and forearms is beginning to dry. You notice him wince when your fingers brief his arm, briskly sitting him down on the couch.

He doesn’t expect forgiveness, doesn’t even expect you to speak. He just wants you: your kindness, your soul. His eyes close as he inhales your scent, relaxing into the couch. He could die a thousand times and a hundred more if it meant saving you, but an afterlife without you is no life at all.

When you return with a first aid kit, he can feel his eyes sting, a foreign sensation in all 150 years of his lifetime. He’s always been protective as the eldest brother, but for you? You’re irreplaceable, a godsend and divine threshold, tainted by his bloodied fingers.

No one needed another Choso Kamo, but you, you could live a meaningful life in the ways he could never.

He startles when you dab the alcohol on his wounds with significant pressure, searing pain making him yelp when he sees you smile a little. He guesses he deserved that, his heart fluttering a little.

You wrap up his arms and place a patch on his head, hand deliberately lingering on his cheek before pulling away. he tried to chase after the warmth, needing your touch engrained into his skin. you’re about to stand when he pulls you back down.

“Can we talk? Please,” he says desperately.

You exhale slowly, turning your body to face him, the notion weirdly intimate. You haven’t seen him in months, haven’t felt loved since he left you broken in your own home.

He takes your silence as confirmation, recollecting himself before he says, “I regret leaving you.”

The words sting, but you can hear the sincerity pouring from his lips. It isn’t venomous, just a harsh truth, one he failed to tell you the night he left.

“I was trying to push you away,” he continues, fidgeting with his fingers as he bares his heart to you, the only person capable of bearing it. “You’ve never wasted my time. I wanted to hurt you, to protect you. From me and from my job.”

You knew this. You knew your relationship wasn’t one-sided because you knew he loved you. It made your heart ache more because you knew, and because he didn’t think you could handle the truth.

“But yesterday there was a mission, and I almost died and… I wanted to, but I could only imagine you. I only wanted to see you.”

“I’m sorry. I know I have no right to be, but I can’t think of anything other than—” You grab his shoulders and pull him into you, your lips meeting in a frenzy. You feel him groan against your mouth, tangling his fingers deeper into your hair as he tilts your head for easier access.

The kiss is passionate, gentle, intimate; a million stars bursting in his lungs as he breathes you in, his heart filled with stardust.

“I hate you. I hate you so much,” you say between kisses, holding his head firmly between your hands. “Do you think I care for your protection? Do you think you’re the only one allowed to be self-righteous?”

Your words confuse him, lips parting in awe as you continue to tell him off.

“I just want to be next to you. I’m not as strong or perceptive as you, but I want to love you. You can’t decide that for me.”

He can’t breathe, chest constricting as your words absorb into him. He’s so grateful to have you, leaning his forehead against yours and smiling.

“I love you,” he says, the words flowing from him effortlessly, a phrase he didn’t have to rehearse with you.

“Then show me,” you reply, smirking as you straddle him, the months of pent-up frustration building between your legs. His eyes widen, but only for a moment before he pulls you in again and kisses you with fervor. Months of dreaming about you, fantasizing about your skin pressed against his, wondering if his thoughts would remain thoughts. He kisses you like never before, desire in every action as his teeth graze your lips. The reality is better than anything he could imagine.

You part them for him, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth. Your moans are muffled by his lips, icy hands trailing up and down your body.

You shift your weight on his lap, feeling his bulge from beneath his pants. Your hand ghosts over it, stopping when his fingers are around your wrists, holding them behind your back.

“You told me to show you. Let me show you,” he whispers into your ear, seductive as his teeth nibble your collarbone, trailing up to the flesh on your neck. You shudder, arousal dripping as you close your eyes and let the sensations guide you. His lips are everywhere, your skin igniting with sparks of fire as he leaves behind burning kisses.

When you shift again, he groans, his pants getting tight as he picks you up gently and carries you into the bedroom. He notices the tissues, his heart shattering again as you sheepishly avoid his eyes. He places you gently on the bed, removing the used tissues from the sheets.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, kissing your forehead. He apologizes over and over, kissing different parts of your body until he’s showered you with them. And even then, it isn’t enough.

“It’s okay,” you say between quiet breaths. “Just don’t leave again.”

He nods, intertwining his pinky with yours and planting a last kiss on the back of your hand. “I promise.”

His fingers begin to tug at your shirt, your hands above your head to aid him. You wriggle out of your shorts, leaving only your underwear. He sighs at the sight of you, taking in your body and your chest before kneeling before you next to the bed.

His hands cup your breasts, teasing the buds with his thumbs as he watches your reaction, enthralled. He’s blinded by your beauty, your figure, your voice. He wonders what he thought all those months before when he closed the door behind him, vowing to never see you again.

“Beautiful,” he mutters, fascinated as he continues to tease you without meaning to, making you writhe beneath his fingertips. He traces over your mounds and lower down your belly, hovering right above the hem of your panties.

There’s a wet patch on your underwear, growing increasingly soaked. You move your hips to open your legs wider, wanting him to touch you, make love to you, devour you.

He pulls your panties off, pressing his fingers against the fabric to feel your slick. Your cheeks are growing red, your core dripping and glistening with every passing moment.

His attention returns to your heat, spreading your folds open to ingrain the image into his mind. You gasp, never seeing him behave like this; so enchanted and aroused.

“I want you,” he says suddenly, breaking the tension with his deep voice. “Every part of you.”

His mouth is on your pussy, tongue flattening and sliding along your lips as you throw your head back. He rubs your clit with his thumb; the only objective on his mind is to make you cum, make you scream. He ignores his own desires and thoughts to pump you full of his seed. The only thing that matters tonight is you, so sweet and angelic for him.

“Cho—so,” you moan, arching your back when your hips buck to meet his tongue. He groans, sending vibrations through you. Your sounds are so lewd, so perfect for him. He needs more.

He pushes your legs farther apart, sucking harder and increasing pressure on your clit. Your legs tremble, fingers splayed in his hair, and it only spurs him on more.

You tug him closer as you ride his face, feeling your climax near. He’s relentless, eating you out like you’re a delicacy, lapping at all the juices dribbling down your legs.

“You taste amazing,” he groans, adding a finger with his other hand, your eyes flying open as you see stars enter your vision. Another digit and you could enter a coma with the way your eyes roll, body spasming.

You scream, tightening your hold on his hair when you orgasm, squirting all over his face. He’s astonished, movements halting as he tries to process what you just did. You’re panting, looking down at him with a panicked expression.

“Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry,” you blurt, half-recovering from your blissful state to see his face wet, covered in your essence. You’re about to apologize again when you see the wet spot on his pants, making you smirk.

“Did you cum from eating me out?” you ask, snide as you watch him wipe the slick from his mouth, breathing heavily. His face is glistening, covered in both sweat and your slick.

He nods, lowering his voice in shame. “That was hot.”

You let out a short laugh, watching him retreat to the bathroom and return with a small towel to clean you up. His hand moves tenderly, patting your skin and inner thighs dry, still worshipping you breathlessly. His touches linger, a feeling you will never get used to as he relishes in your proximity.

You both change into more comfortable clothes, throwing the last batch into the washing machine as he falls back into a rhythm with you. He scoops you up into his arms, laying you down on the bed with his arm beneath your neck as he pulls you snugly into his chest.

“I love you so much,” he says, nuzzling his chin into the top of your head. Your heart is full, overflowing with love as your fingers clutch his shirt, the scene surreal.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice wavering as tears pool in your eyes. The sheets rustle as he pulls back, looking at you with a soft expression. He plants a kiss on your forehead, stroking your cheek.

It’s silent as he listens to you sniffle, breaths uneven and eyes closed. He traces circles on your back in a soothing motion, whispering a last promise before you drift into a deep slumber.

“I’m not going anywhere this time.”

[jadeshifting]

🫀 SHIFTMAS

day 2. HOW DOES YOUR DR PERSON/PEOPLE SURPRISE YOU FOR CHRISTMAS? do they whisk you away on a magical trip? give you a gift that’s so perfect, you never saw it coming? or do something small but meaningful that makes your heart ache with happiness? 

🫀 TO THE FORGOTTEN ANTECHAMBER

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

I was brought to the room, the antechamber forgotten behind a tapestry in the dungeons, by a note slipped into my Potions’ textbook earlier that day.

“Tonight. After the feast. You’ll know where.”

Mattheo’s sharp, deliberate handwriting was something I recognized immediately.

🫀 The destination was a forgotten antechamber hidden behind an ancient tapestry near the Slytherin common room (Mattheo had discovered it in their third year, but only now, with her, did it feel worth using)

🫀 The room, once barren and abandoned, had been transformed

🫀 Stone walls shimmer faintly under the light of dozens of floating candles, their golden flames flickering gently

🫀 A thick, emerald-green rug covers the cold stone floor, which Mattheo has set up a low table on top of

🫀 Beside the table, an enchanted music box plays a soft, lilting melody—something haunting and sweet, that reminds me of the old wizard ballads my parents listen to

🫀 Miniature fir tree stands in the center of the room, its branches adorned with silver ribbons and tiny ornaments: crescent moons, stars, serpents that wind around the branches

🫀 Mattheo stands leaned against the mantel casually when I walk in, giving me his usual half-smirk when our eyes meet. Still, he seems more… vulnerable, tonight

🫀 “I know we’ve got Christmas dinner plans with everyone else already, and it’ll probably be a lot nicer than this.” He falters a little bit, shockingly, “but I figured we deserved something. Just for us.”

🫀 I tell him it’s perfect, because it is, and my fingers brush against his dark sleeve as I move closer to him

🫀 He nods, swallowing hard and looking down, brushing his fingers against mine. “You’ve always really seen me- even when I didn’t deserve it. I just wanted to show you… I see you too, you know?”

🫀 I don’t say anything, I just touch his cheek, and his face is unbelievably warm

🫀 While the table was a lovely formality, we’re both far more comfortable sitting on the plush rug, our legs pressed against eachother. We’re too far away from eachother at the table

🫀 He attempts to charm the ornaments on the tree into singing. It goes wildly wrong, and their high-pitched wailing force him to silence them with an immediate Silencio and an embarrassed scowl, though it gives way to laughter almost immediately and I cackle with him, leaning into his chest

🫀 My head bobs up and our faces are an inch apart, and he presses his lips to mine. He tastes of spiced wine and cinnamon apples, his hair is impossibly soft when I tangle my fingers in it, and I think I could stay in this room forever

🫀 The clock sings to announce midnight and it catches Mattheo’s attention, prompting him to pull away. I sigh quietly at the absence of his lips and he chuckles

🫀 He produces a small, intricately carved wooden box from his pocket, that looks handmade

🫀 Mattheo takes a breath and steadies himself before he opens it it to reveal a delicate silver bracelet, adorned with tiny charms: a serpent, a crescent moon, and a single red garnet that sparkles like firelight. The silver glints in the candlelight, and the other charms seem to move and shimmer on their own

🫀 He tugs on my wrist, and I let him take it. He moves deftly, fastening the bracelet around my wrist, and his fingers brush against my arm gently

🫀 “I wanted you to have something. Something to remind you that, even when we’re not saying it… you know.”

🫀 “I know.”

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧──❅•

[greenbubblefactory]

Matchup for 🎱

Congratulations! You have a match with..

Idia Shroud !

★Idia would truly understand your quiet, introspective nature. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t mind the silence and actually finds comfort in it. He wouldn’t push you to be more social or outgoing than you’re comfortable with. Instead, he’d appreciate the peaceful moments you both share, whether it’s quietly sitting together, playing a game, or just reading in the same space. Idia is used to being alone and doesn’t find the need for constant conversation. In fact, his calm demeanor would make you feel completely at ease, and you wouldn’t have to worry about filling the silence with small talk. It’s the kind of relationship where just being in each other’s presence feels enough.

★At first, Idia might come off as shy, especially when he’s gauging how comfortable you are around him. He can be a bit awkward when meeting new people, and he’s careful not to overstep any boundaries. His tendency to retreat into his own shell might make it seem like he’s distant, but the truth is, he’s just cautious, trying not to make you feel overwhelmed. But over time, as you both get closer, you’ll notice that beneath his socially awkward and introverted exterior, there’s this hidden charm and warmth. When he’s confident about something like his gaming skills or his tech projects that’s when his cocky side comes out a little. He won’t be loud about it, but he’ll definitely carry himself with a little more swagger when he’s showing off his expertise. There’s something endearing about how he might say, “Well, I guess I am pretty good at this,” with a small, almost smug smile. But he doesn’t mean to brag he’s just genuinely proud of what he’s accomplished, even if he’s a little shy about admitting it.

★Idia’s gentle and shy side would also show in how he admires your talents. Even if you don’t draw or sing often, he’d still find ways to encourage you. His compliments would be soft and quiet, like, “That’s… um, really cool. Way cooler than anything I could do…” and you’d see how much he respects your skills. He might be a bit embarrassed about being so open, but he’d still push himself to express his admiration in his own shy, understated way. Sometimes, he might ask for your help with something maybe he’d want you to help him design something artistic for a project or suggest making a playlist together. His quiet encouragement would feel like a gentle nudge, always leaving you feeling appreciated without him overwhelming you.

★When it comes to affection, Idia is a little hesitant at first. He’s introverted, so physical touch can feel like a big step for him. But once he’s sure you’re comfortable with him, he’d start expressing his affection in small, subtle ways. Maybe he’ll casually brush his hand against yours or inch a little closer to you during a movie or while you’re gaming together. If he feels like you’re okay with it, he might even rest his head on your shoulder, or wrap his arm around you during a quiet moment, but there’s always a little hesitation, like he’s not sure if he’s doing too much. You’d notice how self-aware he is about these gestures, and it’s that vulnerability that makes it even more endearing. When he feels comfortable enough, he’d let his cocky side sneak in, downplaying the affection in the most Idia way possible acting like it’s no big deal, when deep down, it means a lot to him.

★Your shared interests in puzzles and collecting would be another area where Idia would thrive. He’d love diving into jigsaw puzzles together, discussing rare collectibles, or picking up new projects that catch both of your interests. Although he’s not the most vocal about it, Idia would quietly admire your passion for these hobbies, and he’d enjoy seeing your excitement when you work on something you care about. He’d even get excited himself, suggesting new puzzles to solve together or hunting for strange collectibles to add to your collections. Though he might be shy about complimenting you, you’d catch little glimpses of how much he appreciates your enthusiasm and creativity.

★Idia’s sense of humor is also something you’d really vibe with. His humor revolves around internet memes, random jokes, and chaotic humor, so it would line up perfectly with your love for dad jokes and absurd humor. He’d be the one sending you memes all the time, trying to make you laugh with the latest viral joke or meme he found. Even if he tries to play it cool, you’d notice how happy he gets when he makes you laugh or when you toss a ridiculous joke back his way. His shyness might prevent him from admitting it outright, but he’d definitely feel a little proud of himself when he sees you genuinely enjoy the humor he shares.

★Your relationship with Idia would be one of balance between quiet moments and laughter, introversion and a bit of playful cockiness. He’d make sure there’s never a dull moment between you two, even if it’s just a shared, comfortable silence. He’d help you step out of your shell, encouraging you to embrace things you both enjoy, like gaming or trying out new hobbies together. Every now and then, his cocky side would peek through, especially when he’s feeling confident about something, but it would always be balanced out by his gentle, shy nature. He’d tease you in the sweetest ways, but you’d never feel pressured or uncomfortable. His cocky moments would feel more playful than anything, and you’d look forward to how he’d keep things lighthearted and fun between you.

★When things get more serious, Idia’s deeper, thoughtful side would shine through. Beneath the occasional cocky remarks and his introverted quirks, he truly cares deeply for you. He might not show it in grand gestures or declarations, but you’d know how much you mean to him by the small, consistent ways he shows he cares,whether it’s offering you quiet compliments, being patient with you when you’re feeling down, or sharing his favorite games and hobbies with you.

English is not my first language so I'm sorry if there are any spelling mistakes!

[tumbleweed-run]

Gale x Reader x Astarion anyone?

2600 words of pure unadulterated smut. NSFW below the cut

You step back and admire your work, pleased. 

Gale is on the bed, very specifically he’s naked and blindfolded on the bed. He got one hand resting across his stomach fingers fidgeting anxiously, the other arm his curled up above his head - hidden beneath his hair. If you had to guess those fingers are also moving.  

You breathe out a chuckle and gently squeeze his ankle in reassurance that you’re there, that you wouldn’t just leave him in such a vulnerable position. His legs aren’t bound but they’re spread as if they were, he’s large enough that both heels are resting at the bottom corners of the mattress. 

His cock is in stark contrast to his anxious hands. It’s full and heavy, arched up towards his navel. It’s already dripping precum into the full thatch of hair that trails down to its base. Whatever is going on in his mind, his body is already fully on board with your plans. 

You’re busy admiring the sight, making notes that you must do this over again but with much more silk next time, that when a hand comes to rest gently on your lower back - you jump. 

You turn your head to look at the true source of Gale’s anxiety. Astarion leans towards you, his eyes focused on Gale. 

“What a lovely sight,” he murmurs. 

Gale must have heard him because his head turns in an attempt to look in the direction he had last known Asarion to be. He realizes belatedly that there is no seeing for him currently. He reaches up instead to the headboard with the hand that had been previously tangled in his hair. The two of you watch as he rubs his fingers against the wood. It’s his own bed, one that predates you and the ilithids. 

He’s grounding himself but you realize you’ll need to start moving or he’ll lose his nerve and back out of this. Even though he’d been the one to initiate this whole thing. 

“As much as I’d like to think I’m adventurous, I must admit it is a bit unnerving not quiet knowing precisely where you both are right now. Perhaps-”

“Perhaps,” Astarion interrupts Gale, “we should consider a gag next time as well.” Despite the bite in his words, the vampire similarly wraps his fingers around Gale’s ankle. Letting him know his exact location. Gale jumps at the sensation. 

Your gaze goes unfocus as you imagine just that. It would certainly be a sight indeed. 

“Naughty thing,” Astarion teases no doubt reading your thoughts. 

You flash him an unashamed smile before kneeling on the bed between Gale’s legs. You place both hands on his thighs now, letting him know your exact intentions. 

“Is this still okay?” You ask as you begin kneading softly into the muscle of his thighs. 

He swallows before slowly nodding. “Just a bit… uncomfortable at the moment. But temporary, I’m sure,” he’s eager to assure you. 

“Well, let us… remedy that.” Astarion purrs behind you. 

You move first, blocking out the vampire behind you. The two of you had been intimate once a long time ago and while you’d rather not dwell on the circumstances of that time you aren’t as nervous around him as Gale is currently. 

Gale gasps as you finally grab his cock, it trails off into a sigh. Gently you begin to stroke him, too soft for his liking but it immediately works as a distraction. You work him like that for a moment, free hand wandering up and down his thigh. 

Once his gasps have returned, and his hips are pressing up towards your hand in an attempt to make you touch him more firmly, you lean down and take him into your mouth.

A deep groan reverberates through his chest and his hips still, but it won't last for long. You know this after months of these kinds of intimacies with Gale. The man is near incapable of being still during sex. 

Astarion’s hand has returned to your back slowly slipping lower to grab at your ass. You arch your back, pressing into him. You try and keep your focus on Gale and taking as much of him into your mouth as you can. He’s touching the back of your throat already it seems. 

The elf takes this moment to dip his hand lower, slipping two fingers between your folds. It’s a quick movement, his cold fingers brushing towards your clit and then almost instantly away. 

You moan almost gagging on Gale, your hips pressing down chasing firmer contact. Gale’s hand smacks into the wood above his head in response to the vibrations around his shaft. 

Your hand comes back up to grip him, you stroke Gale, this time the way he likes. You look over your shoulder to ineffectually glare at Astarion. He’s not at all intimidated and smirks at you boldly. His red eyes are blown wide, he’s not unaffected despite his cool demeanor. 

Still pumping Gale, who’s hips are again thrusting up into your hand, you take a moment and scan Astarion’s face and eyes. You’re searching for any signs that he’s retreated, that he’s burying himself again. 

He realizes what you’re doing and his smile softens. You only see the beginning of the nod as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips. It’s a world of difference from the last one you two shared.

You break from the kiss and without warning take Gale back into your mouth. The sound that rips from him is near enough a shout that you feel Astarion’s chuckle at your back. 

“So responsive,” he purrs loud enough for Gale to hear. You don’t have to look up to see that Gale is, without a doubt, blushing now.

You’re take Gale particularly deep again when you feel Astarion’s hand thread up into your hair at the back of your neck. You hesitate wondering if he’s going to push you down further, you find you’re not opposed to the idea. While Gale has no problem now grabbing at your hair he would never consider shoving you down on him. 

And this time, neither does Astarion. 

He does the opposite in fact. He tugs you gently upwards and you pull off of Gale with an obscene pop causing he wizard to moan loudly. 

Astarion grabs the wrist and leads it back to Gale’s cock, his other hand still pulling you away from Gale. You shift, allowing him room to lean in beside you. He’s very carefully not to touch Gale anywhere right up to the moment when it’s his mouth replacing yours. 

“A-a-astarion,” Gale stutters, the hand that was still on his stomach flutters in the air. For a second you think he might reach up for the blindfold with it but instead it drops with an audible smack onto his stomach again. 

“All good?” You ask releasing Gale and shuffling back off the edge of the bed. Astarion wastes no time settling in. 

“Better than,” Gale sighs out as Astarion begins to work him earnestly. 

It’s damn near incomprehensible, the sight before you. In spite of the issues Astarion has with his past he has no issues using that knowledge to play Gale like an instrument. Gale, it appears, has forgotten how to breathe under Astarion’s skillful mouth. 

Sure, he’s always been this reactive to you, but getting to just watch is a treat.

You’re behind Astarion now, he’s mimicked your previous position exactly. Down to his bracing his knees against Gale’s thighs to keep the man from pulling his legs shut. You continue to admire the view in front of you, suffocating the wave of rage when your eyes skate along the scars on Astarion’s back. So you focus on the curve of his spine instead, fingers delicately tracing the bones beneath the skin downward to the curve of his ass. 

Astarion ignores you for the most part but he cannot control the ripple of muscles as your fingers push slightly between. You withdraw them. You might be crazy but you’re certainly not mean. Just a bit of magic and your digits are coated in oil. 

You slip them back down, one finger presses against the tight ring as a warning. Astarion tilts his hips backwards in invitation and you slip the finger into him. You gently work your way to the goal and find the little bundle of nerves that elicits Astarion’s first unguarded moan of the night. 

“My my my,” He can’t help but tease even as he rocking back onto your finger, “what surprising knowledge this is.” He breathes these word’s directly onto the tip of Gale’s cock which is weeping freely. 

You’re amazed he’s not come already. New experiences always leave Gale feeling embarrassed about how quickly he finishes, though he’s ever the gentleman and ensures you find your own release. 

You leave your hand still, letting Astarion control the movement. “You should talk to Gale about that,” you mean to be teasing but the words come out breathlessly. 

Gale’s entire body flushes but his currently unattended cock leaps. 

You simultaneously take two chances. The first being you carefully add a second finger to press inside Astarion. The second is a mock whisper into the elf’s ear. 

“He’s so close,” you tell him. “In fact,” its an effort to keep your tone teasing, “he’s holding back right now. I’m impressed he didn’t come down your throat minutes ago.”

Gale’s mouth drops open, he’s clearly not sure how to respond. But every muscle in his body is drawn impossibly tight betraying whatever attempt at indignation he’s trying to screw up. 

Astarion see’s this too and interestingly chooses to pull Gale back into his mouth. He swallows the wizard down to his base with an ease you almost envy. He’s still rocking back onto your fingers moaning each time your fingers brush into the sensitive spot but there is no urgency there. He’s not chasing his own release with the same fervor he’s trying to guide Gale to his. 

You reach beside Astarion’s knees and drag your nails down Gale’s thighs, deeply enough the red lines raise to the surface of his skin immediately. 

It’s enough.

Gale’s back bows up off the bed as he comes. Astarion hold his hips tightly enough to keep him from causing damage to his throat but he doesn’t pull off. Instead he drinks Gale down long after you know he’s spent. He also seems to have forgotten about your fingers inside of him, his body still except for his mouth. 

Only once Gale has begun squirming away from Astarion does the vampire finally release him. He also pulls away from your fingers but the little moan as he does doesn’t escape you. 

Gale’s hands go to the blindfold but he doesn’t yet pull it off. You take pity on him and walk around the side of the bed and rest your non-oiled fingertips lightly on the silk. 

“Close your eyes,” you tell him softly. He doesn’t respond but you feel his eyelids flutter shut under your fingers and you lean over him and slide the ribbon off. He blinks lazily at you, eyes still clouded with bliss. 

Without warning Astarion grabs either side of your hips, pinning your legs to the mattress with his own. “Stay, just like that,” he orders, his normally silk voice still rough from the abuse. 

You freeze on instinct rather than any conscious desire to listen. 

His cock presses against your entrance. “Astarion,” you whine. You’d meant it as a warning. You’re already soaked from the performance you’d witnessed but you’re still apprehensive of him pressing into you. 

“Hmm,” he hums in amusement, “I do so like it when you say my name like that, both of you.” 

He moves a hand and rests his wrist on your shoulder, fingers wiggling in the air asking for something. 

It’s Gale voice that mutter’s the incantation that coat’s the elf’s fingers. You’re almost surprised that his grasp on magic has returned already. When you glance up at him again you see his eyes are sharp and watching the two of you with undivided attention. 

Astarion doesn’t press his fingers into you instead he nosily slicks his own cock. He’s doing it that way on purpose, you’re sure of it. It’s working, you feel your knees tremble as you unconsciously push your hips backwards in a shameless attempt to seek him out. 

The tip of his cock resting against your entrance for just a moment is all the warning you get before he presses into you. 

“Ahh,” you cry out as he does. 

He presses in firmly, unceasingly, until he’s bottomed out inside you. It’s uncomfortable, the stretch of him, but it’s so much more too. You find yourself pressing back again, chasing that almost butnotquiet painful feeling. He doesn’t let you, the hand that’s still on your hip is firm with a strength that only begins to betray his vampiric abilities. 

With the same steady and undeterred pace he pulls back out until he’s almost slipped from inside of you. 

And back in. And back out.

You’re head’s dropped down, forehead resting on Gale’s chest. Whimpers are punched out of you each time Astarion presses inside completely and again when he’s almost completely out. Each pass gets easier, you meet him with less resistance. You try sliding your legs apart slightly to gain ground where you can thrust back onto him, but he doesn’t let you.  It’s only when he’s slipping easily in and out of you does he let you move. The noises your bodies are making cannot be just from the oil alone you realize with a moan. You’re so wet its obscene. 

Astarion’s still slightly oiled fingers reach around to to where your still trapped against the edge of the bed. He expertly finds your clit and begins circling it with a similarly maddening pace as his thrusts. 

There’s a hand in your hair, you dimly realize it must be Gale’s because you can feel both of Astarion’s. Gale’s stroking your hair, your neck, soothingly. 

The slapping of skin on skin gets louder than the slick wet sounds of Astarion sliding in and out of you. His thrusts have gotten hard enough that your head is bouncing into Gale’s chest with each push. 

You feel more than hear Gale say something, a deep rumble through his chest. 

“She can take it,” Astarion assures him voice nearly as low as Gale’s, “can’t you?” He’s speaking to you now. 

“Yes,” you whimper thrusting your hips back into Astarion’s.

He rewards you by switching his fingers now rubbing you with intention. Your single yes becomes a mantra, you repeat the word until it no longer sounds real. 

You come with a high-pitched whine and without thought you bite Gale, sinking your teeth into the flesh of the muscle beneath your head. If he protests you don’t hear him, you don’t hear anything but the blood rushing around your body at breakneck speeds. 

You feel Astarion’s release inside you more than anything else. His cock buried to the hilt as he spills, his fingertips will certainly bruise your hips now if they didn’t before. 

Astarion is unexpectedly gentle as he slips from inside you. The touch of his hands now featherlight as he ensure you’re stable before he all but throws himself onto the bed at your side. 

You’re all still for a while, long enough that your breathing evens out. When you finally open your eyes you find that Astarion had laid so that his head is on Gale’s other arm, his eyes are closed. And Gale, Gale is softly stroking the curls that have fallen out of place around Astarion’s face. 

[demonskiss]

how would they react to a very sleepy darling? like if you just constantly fell asleep everywhere

- 🪽

too much sleep

cw: noncon, somno, creampie, cnc, oral (reader receiving), fingering

WARNING: VIOLETTA’S SECTION IS COMPLETELY PLATONIC

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

falling asleep in front of emory is one of the worst things you can do to yourself. they think you’re absolutely foolish for it, even if you can’t control it. and they’d be right, when they snake their hand further up your thigh, a emitting a quiet, but malicious laugh. you’ll be stripped naked by their deft hands, fucked silly on their cock, and they don’t even care if you wake up, in fact, they want you to wake up. they’ll make sure to time your awakenings to when they cum inside you, grinning when they see your horrified expression, and if you don’t wake up? oh well, they’ll make sure to leave a rude awakening for you, covered with dried cum on your violated body. you should really find better locations to sleep yknow?

blythe is taken aback at your sleeping form. yes, the urges tell him to ravage your body, to wake you up in the throughs of passion. but they couldn’t do that to you, not when you are so vulnerable. he brings this up to you the next time you’re awake, and when you tell him that it’s okay, he can touch your body, they can take you in your sleep and you don’t mind if you get waken up, this changes him completely, and every night, you’re awakened to him groping your body with passion in his grey blue eyes. he mumbles a half hearted apology, squeezing the meat of your thighs before diving back down between your legs once more. you’re afraid you won’t have much time to sleep anymore, they’re completely insatiable.

violetta drops her pencil on the ground when she feels your head drop to her shoulder. she can’t help but blush, her muse, her closest friend is so close to her! she can see every small detail on your lovely face, and she’s amazed every single time. she can’t wake you, there’s no way she can when you’re sleeping so soundly right next to her. a prepared artist always has more than one pencil, and she sketches your lovely features, snarling at anyone who dares try to disturb your slumber. she simply laughs it off when you’re embarrassed about falling asleep on her, it just means you trust her after all! and that’s super important between friends!

ambrose sees this daily, when he was hidden when you first moved in, to now, when you’re fully aware of him and his peculiar mannerisms. but he still cannot get over how stunning you look, the way your chest rises and falls like a steady beat, the way your face looks so calm and still, reminding the man of his body back when he died. he can’t control himself, grazing your body with the pads of his freezing fingers, slipping his hands past your clothes, watching you moan softly in your sleep. it gets him so aroused hearing your sweet voice, egging him to slip his fingers down to between your legs, coaxing his fingers further into your hole. he then takes out his fingers, and quickly removes his spectral clothing, pushing himself where he truly belongs. and he wraps his arms around your warmer body, thrusting slowly and shallowly, taking his time. he’s truly sweet, and he’ll make sure he won’t wake you up, even though you’re half freezing to death because of him.

you cannot expect to send me this and me to not write somno? enjoy the food my pretties >:3

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Fluffvember Day 20 - Coming of Age / "I'm so proud of you"

Sonia stood in the center of the circular room, murals and stained glass narrating the history of her land all around her. Goddesses, demons, kings and queens, heroes and villains... it all seemed so fantastical in comparison to her own life.

Turning seventeen shouldn't feel as daunting as it did. Her mother was still the reigning Queen of Hyrule. Her father and siblings would still be there to love her and support her every day. But she would see less of Orik and Missa, less of her father, and more of the politics and people.

Sonia loved seeing her subjects, and she truly enjoyed spending time with her mother. But the addition of being of age made everything far more intimidating.

Would there be a mural dedicated to her? Would she get a stained glass window, a painting, a story of her own? What if they depicted something horrible, what if she messed everything up?

The crown princess of Hyrule sighed, blue eyes roaming around the room, and then she shivered.

"Sonia?"

Turning, she saw her father approaching the center of the room where she stood. He was dressed in something slightly more formal since the first of many banquets celebrating her birthday was tonight, hair mostly hidden in a green hat with two braids spilling over his shoulders. His tunic matched in the same green, reaching his knees, gold and red embroidery lacing along the hems and collar, long sleeves covering tanned skin to the wrists. He wore brown trousers and black boots, and a white cloak that mostly rested over one shoulder. His skin paint on his face, typically white, was emerald green.

Sonia herself was dressed in similar layers, with a white underdress and a light pink overdress, large open sleeves draped over the tight ones of the underlayer. Her own skin paint was gold. Beads lined the trim, alongside jewels and blue embroidery. Their warmer attire would drastically differ from the ceremonial clothes both would have to wear in two days, on her birthday, when the ceremony was to occur.

The princess smiled a little at her father, trying to be inviting. Link saw right through it, brow furrowing as he gently asked, “What’s wrong?”

Sonia bit her lip a little. She’d never been very good at hiding her feelings from her beloved father. She hugged herself a little, looking at the ground. “I’m just… trying to prepare. To… accept everything that comes with this.”

The king walked towards her, footsteps quiet as ever, and cupped her face with both hands, making her look at him. His gaze was soft and tender, eyes gentle. “My little sundelion… you know your mother and I love you very much and will always protect you. Coming of age is… a great moment in your life, but it won’t change the fact that we’re still here for you.”

Sonia swallowed thickly, trying to keep it together, but she leaned in and her father immediately pulled her to his chest. She let herself be held, let herself be afraid and vulnerable.

“I’m so proud of you,” her father said softly, breath warm in her curly hair. “You will be an excellent queen someday, Sonia.”

The princess sniffled a little, burying her face in her father’s tunic. “How do you know?”

Link huffed a little, as if it were silly that she even asked. “You’ve been my guiding light since you were little. Your heart is pure and kind, and you have your mother’s intelligence and wisdom. And you’ll have us to guide you as well.”

The thought of being queen someday loomed over the princess like a storm cloud. The day she would be queen would also be the day her mother died. She didn’t want to think about that either.

But there were so many other things that were opening up now that she was coming of age. Marriage, duties and responsibilities where she wasn’t just assisting but in charge. She didn’t feel ready for any of it.

“Were you scared when you came of age?” She asked.

Her father was quiet for a long time, and then, softly, he said, “Yes. I was.”

He kissed her head, whispering, “I’ll always be here for you, Sonia. Please know that. No matter how old you are, or what duties you have, I will always be there for you.”

Sonia squeezed her father more tightly, her voice wobbling as she said, “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, my child.”

Everything was still daunting and overwhelming, but Sonia held on to her father’s words like a lifeline, and she found she could breathe a little easier. She said a prayer of thanks to the goddesses, eternally grateful for her family, and she breathed out the anxiety as best she could, letting her father’s love fill her instead.

[hanzhen0506]

Hey! Whats up? Zhan, you can do a kyungmin imagine, where him console YN (they are just friends) after breakup w her bf, and some months ago kyungmin reveal to her him fall for her in this small time? Please, im so grateful if you can do! <3

of course! I hope this is exactly what you mean though 😅 Just a reminder for everybody my requests are open!

~’Ive Always Been Here’~

Kyungmin sat quietly beside YN, the soft hum of the rain tapping against the window filling the silence between them. She had been staring at her phone screen for what felt like an eternity, though her eyes weren’t seeing anything anymore. Her breakup had been a mess, a painful ending that had left her heart shattered in ways she hadn’t expected.

He watched her, wanting to say something, anything, to make her feel better, but words had never seemed so insufficient. He shifted slightly, his knee brushing against hers, and her gaze flickered over to him for just a moment before she looked away, trying to blink away the tears that still lingered in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from all the tears she’d already cried. “I didn’t mean for everything to go this way.”

Kyungmin’s heart clenched at her words, but he didn’t hesitate. Reaching out, he placed his hand gently on hers, offering a quiet comfort. He had always been there for her, even when she didn’t realize how much he needed to be. His touch was warm, steady, a reminder that despite everything else, she wasn’t alone in this moment.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said softly, his voice low, as if afraid his words might shatter the fragile moment. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

YN took a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping as she leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. The familiarity of his presence calmed her, but there was something else in his touch, a silent connection that both reassured and confused her.

“Kyungmin,” she whispered after a long pause. “Why are you still here? After everything... You’ve been so kind to me, but I don’t know how to deal with all of this.”

His fingers lightly traced the back of her hand before he gently squeezed it. His heart raced, knowing this moment was the hardest one he’d ever had with her. He had told her once, months ago, how he felt—how he had fallen for her, all this time, and how much he had hidden those feelings. But now, seeing her so vulnerable, all those words felt like they might fall flat.

“I’ve always been here,” Kyungmin said softly, his voice holding a quiet determination. “And I’m not going anywhere. Even when it gets hard, even when you’re hurting, I’m not leaving you.”

YN looked up at him, her eyes red and still wet with tears, but there was something else in them now—a flicker of something she hadn’t noticed before. Something that made her heart beat a little faster, something that made her question what had been hiding between them all along.

“I... Kyungmin, I don’t understand...” Her voice faltered. “You’ve been there for me through everything. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He smiled gently, a bittersweet look in his eyes. “I was afraid. Afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way. Afraid it would make things harder for you, especially now. But the truth is, I’ve always cared for you. More than you’ll ever know.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a long moment, YN didn’t know what to say. But she didn’t need to. The sincerity in his eyes, the softness in his voice, and the way he held her hand spoke louder than any words could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Please do not steal my works!)

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 17: Distance

In which Din and Doll try to figure out how to navigate feelings in their own, emotionally stunted ways. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-16 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: None! Whole fic is violent and smutty, minors DNI 18+ only. No use of Y/N

Length: 6.3k

Your body was still pleasantly loose when you woke up, a sweet soreness between your thighs as you more drifted back into consciousness instead of shocking into it as you usually did. You were wrapped in the Mandalorian’s cloak and the sun was fully up. It took you a moment to remember just what had happened the night before as you slowly blinked against the brightness and you found yourself alone in the grass.

“Fuck,” you groaned quietly. You’d made a damn fool of yourself, acting like an out of control teenager as Din touched you. And then you’d passed out before returning the favor. And you think you even cried a little. “Dammit.” 

You sat up, feeling almost hungover despite the fact that you could tell that you’d slept well. Your whole body was relaxed and you didn’t feel worn or tired. But the knot that was settling in your stomach was sour. What had you done? What if you’d ruined it all again? 

But he’s the one who started it. He’d touched you, controlled your body, gave you commands you’d been happy to bow to as he expertly pulled pleasure from you over and over. Why would he have done that if he hadn’t wanted to? Maybe just to prove that he could? And where the hell was he, anyway? 

You ran your fingers through your tangled hair, trying to tame the knots as you tightened the cloak around yourself. You pressed your face into it. It smelled a little like him, though not as much as you’d have hoped. But then, the armor was always there, keeping the most intimate things about him hidden away, even his smell. Meanwhile, it felt like you were always exposed and he knew exactly where to look and how to read you. 

You got up slowly, cracking your neck and you looked around, about to call out to try to find him when he came down the ramp to the Razor Crest, the child in hand. 

“Well if I could trust you to stay out of trouble,” he was saying, the kid gazing up at him adoringly. He stopped when he saw you standing there, his cloak drawn tightly around you. 

“Hey,” you said, trying to stand up straight and not look vulnerable or embarrassed. You weren’t sure if you were pulling it off. You unwound the cloak and held it out to him. “Thanks. For this.” 

“Sure,” he said, closing the distance between you and setting the baby in the grass before taking it from you. “I hope you slept well.” 

“Yeah,” you said, part of you wishing the ground would just open and swallow you whole because it would be better than feeling this uncomfortably exposed. “You?” 

“You’re the one who’s starting training today,” he replied, putting the cloak on and crossing his arms. “How I slept doesn’t really matter. Eat something, we’ll get going.” 

“We?” You frowned. He started for the part of the Razor Crest he’d been working on the day before and you followed. 

“Yes,” he replied, not looking at you, just pulling a panel off the side of the ship. “You’re still recovering. You can train but I’m supervising. You’ll push yourself too hard and fry the cybernetics if someone doesn’t rein you in.” 

“I know how to train, Mando,” you narrowed your eyes at him. “I did it for years.” 

“Not starting from scratch you didn’t,” he replied. “And not after recovering from an injury like that. You almost died, Doll, almost lost the use of most of your body. You need help. Accept it.” 

“No.” 

“That’s unfortunate,” he replied, reaching into the panel. “Because you can either accept me helping you or try to train while watching your back because I’ll be tracking you the whole time to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. Those are your options, pick one.” 

“Do you try to be infuriating or does that happen on accident?” 

He shrugged. 

“Fine,” you snapped. “It can be ‘we.’ But you have to keep your mouth shut about how incapable I am right now.” 

“I’m not going to make fun of you, Doll.” 

He said it earnestly, an openness to his tone you weren’t really used to. 

“Good,” you said, your voice not quite as sharp. “I’ll just… go get ready then.” 

You took a few steps and turned back to him. 

“Are we just not going to talk about…” 

“Yeah,” he cut you off. You nodded once. 

“OK.” 

You went into the ship and grabbed some of the meat from the night before and a handful of berries. At least this time hadn’t seemed to break everything. It was just going to return to business as usual. Honestly, a slightly nicer version of business as usual. You could live with that. It’d be hard to pretend like the Mandalorian hadn’t just made you cum until your body was basically a pile of plasma and you couldn’t move but you could do that. You were willing to do quite a bit, you realized, to have him tolerate you. 

“Well that bodes well,” you muttered to yourself, chugging some water before braiding your hair tightly against your skull and getting changed, happy the clothes you’d bought on Garqi were made for physical work. It wasn’t as good as the few things you had left from Naboo, they didn’t move with you the same way, but they fit and were a lot better than the alternatives. 

When you came down the ramp again, carrying water and your knife tucked in your pocket, the Mandalorian had closed the panel on the ship again and strapped the kid to his back with the backpack. The baby squealed happily when he saw you, clapping his little hands together in glee. 

“Well hi there,” you smiled, coming up and poking his little nose. He was level with your head from his spot on the Mandalorian’s back and he frowned a little, inspecting your hair. You drew his eyes to yours. He was confused. 

“It’s all still there,” you said, turning your head to show him the rest. “It’s just back.” 

“What are you two doing back there?” Mando asked, looking over his shoulder. 

“He doesn’t understand how hair works,” you replied, still smiling at the kid. You pulled your braid forward and held the end of it out to him. He took it, his fingers exploring the end of it before putting it in his mouth. You tried to not laugh when he frowned and took it out again. “He’s around you too much. I don’t think he understands that it can change shape and size quite a bit, he’s puzzling it out.” 

Din snorted and you smiled. The kid’s eyes met yours. Still curious but more satisfied and content now. You gave his little forehead a kiss before going to stand next to the Mandalorian. 

“So,” you glanced up at him, arms crossed. “You’re the drill sergeant. Do you want to tell me what to do or am I allowed to decide for myself?” 

“What do you usually start with?” He asked, looking down at you. 

“When I was at my peak condition?” You asked. He nodded. “I’d run at least five clicks a day to start, sometimes up to 15, do some strength training, some hand-to-hand with someone if I could or at the very least do some staff or knife work. Target shoot a few times a week. Regular obstacle work.” 

He nodded once. 

“Why don’t we see how you do running one click,” he said. “We can go from there.” 

You nodded once, an anxious ball settling in you. You were out of practice and your body was  still recovering. This could easily be a shit show. You stretched a bit and jumped in place, warming up your limbs. 

“Ready?” He asked. Actually asked. That was disorienting. You nodded. “Let’s go. You set the pace.” 

You started off, heading toward the woods, taking it at a pace that felt almost exceedingly slow but you could already feel in your body. Your lungs were working harder than they had in a while. You could feel the blood in your limbs, the rush of it through your veins as your heart picked up. The woods were cool, morning dew still on the air where it had been protected by the shade of the trees. It smelled clean, a bit like home on Naboo or the woods on Alderaan where you’d played as a girl, the feeling of racing through trees and running for the sake of moving your body instead of out of fear or necessity comforting. It had been a long time since you’d moved like this but it was like coming home. 

“How are you feeling?” The Mandalorian didn’t even sound winded. Show off. 

“Good,” you said over your shoulder, panting a bit. 

“OK,” he said, “Let’s go for two.” 

You smiled. You hadn’t realized you’d gone one click already. Maybe this wasn’t going to be a total loss then. You picked up the pace a bit, pushing yourself a bit harder, watching for roots along the forest floor. It didn’t feel like you’d been going for very long, your lungs burning, when he spoke again. 

“Turn back, Doll,” he said. “Don’t push it.” 

You considered fighting with him - you felt like you could go further - but decided against it. He was being uncommonly nice. Why spoil it? 

You found a tree that looked like it made sense to loop around and you did, the beskar-clad man following close behind. The baby caught a glimpse of you as you went past and he smiled, his arms up, his eyes meeting yours. Pure joy. You smiled. 

You decided to push yourself harder the second half, your heart thudding in your chest, lungs filling almost painfully with every breath. You centered yourself for a moment before digging in and launching yourself forward, going faster, your legs burning. 

“Doll,” he cautioned behind you. You ignored him, pumping your legs and arms faster and harder, racing along the ground, the scent of the forest filling you, the sound of your blood in your ears and the life of the planet around you. Trees whipped past you, the forest blurring fiercely, the brightness of the field ahead breaking through the trees. 

You burst into the sunlight, squinting against it as you focused and pushed your body to sprint to the Razor Crest, the ground flying away beneath your feet. It felt reckless, a bit out of control, like you knew if you tripped you’d go flying with no hope of slowing yourself down first but you didn’t care. It felt too good to slow down. You almost skidded to a stop at the Crest before flopping on the ground, arms spread wide in the cool, soft grass. Din came to a stop beside you, looking down with his head cocked to the side. He was breathing heavily and you couldn’t help but smile a bit. At least you’d gotten his heart rate up. 

“Have fun?” He asked, hands on his hips.

“Yeah,” you panted. 

“Good,” he said. “Ready to strength train?” 

You nodded and he held a hand out to you and you took it, pulling you to your feet. He turned you around in front of him and you frowned. 

“I need to check your implants first,” he said. Your face got hot, remembering the night before. You shook your head once, sharply. You were pretending that hadn’t happened. His hand appeared over your shoulder, bare, holding a glove. You stared at it for a moment, trying to not gape at his naked skin. Golden tan, smooth, you wanted to run your fingers over him, lace them with his, press your lips into his palm. 

“Hold that,” he said. You obeyed, taking the glove and using the opportunity to have your fingers brush his. It was like you’d been hit with the damn electrostaff again, a shock running through you where you skin touched. He didn’t seem to notice. 

He raised your shirt and ran his fingers up your spine, stopping in the middle and pressing in further. 

“Does that hurt?” He asked. His voice was dark, heavy. 

“No,” you swallowed. His fingers ran further up your back, between your shoulder blades and back down before he took his hand back. 

“Good,” he said, tone more normal. “The implants are a bit warm but nothing alarming. If it starts to hurt, Doll, stop.” 

“OK,” you said. You didn’t sound as normal as him. His hand appeared over your shoulder again. You remember how it had felt on your breasts, your mouth, your hair… you swallowed hard and gave him the glove. You turned back to face him, crossing your arms over your chest as though that would make a damn difference. “Anything off limits on the strength training? Or are you just going to snap at me if I cross an imaginary line?” 

He pulled the glove back on, shaking his head a bit at you. 

“Do what you think will work for you,” he said. His voice was totally normal. How could he just act normal after last night? Why were you the only one stuck hauling feelings around? “I’ll check in periodically but stay out if your way.” 

You stretched a bit, trying to pretend six-something-feet of armor wasn’t watching you like you were a quarry he was hunting, and tried to fall into a lighter version of what you used to do. You had to cut almost everything short, not able to do as many push ups or pull ups as you remembered doing before, eventually collapsing on the ground, dripping in sweat. You stayed there for a minute, panting for breath, when the Mandalorian appeared over you, blotting out the sun. 

“I feel like you’re enjoying this,” you glared at him. He shrugged. “Is it because you want something to hold against me or because you like saying ‘I told you so.’” 

“More the latter.” 

“Great.” 

“We’ll skip the fighting today,” he said, offering you a hand up. You took it, not bothering to protest the change in plans. You’d lose to Din in seconds in your current state. “But you can still shoot.” 

He pulled you up and you nodded. 

“That I can.” 

***

He had to hand it to you, he was impressed. He’d never had a chance to see you work like this before - though he had an idea that you practiced when he wasn’t around when you’d been aboard the Razor Crest years earlier. You were still stronger than you looked - though you got progressively more frustrated the longer you worked - and you were clearly comfortable pushing your body. He suggested shooting almost as much to slow you down and keep you from getting hurt without upsetting you as it was because he wanted you to learn. 

He left you leaning against the ship, drinking water while he put the kid in the pod and slung his rifle on his arm. He managed to make it down the ramp without catching your attention, your eyes closed as you leaned your head back against the ship, breathing deeply. His eyes drifted to your breasts, remembering how the felt in his hands as your back arched into him. He ground his teeth. He needed to stop this. 

“Come on,” he said. “We’re going up.” 

You followed obediently behind him - still odd, having you actually listen - to the ladder to the top of the Crest. 

“You first,” he said, jerking his head up. He waited to need to boost you to grab the first rung of the ladder, but you jumped and caught it, smoothly pulling yourself up and climbing easily to the top of the ship. He followed, trying to not look up to see just how well your pants cupped you on the way up. 

On top of the ship, he left the kid in the pod and handed him the silver ball he’d become so obsessed with, his little face lighting up. He watched him play with it for a moment, totally absorbed, before going to the edge of the ship that faced the forest. You were standing there, your face turned to the sun, smiling in it. Looked like you still liked to be up high. You sensed him beside you, opening your eyes and looking at him. 

“Know anything about distance shooting?” He asked. 

“No,” you shook your head. “250 meters is about my limit.” 

He slung the rifle down and held it up. 

“With the right tools, it’ll be better,” he said. “This is an Amban sniper rifle.”

You frowned. 

“Aren’t disrupters illegal?” 

He shrugged. 

“It works so I don’t really care,” he said. “We’ll get you a more acceptable one if you handle this one well. One that doesn’t disintegrate.” 

“Appreciate that.” 

“Since you’re already good with a blaster, you’re a step ahead,” he said. “Your fundamentals have to be solid when you’re shooting 1000 meters away. Small errors that wouldn’t do much at close range will ruin your shot here. You need to be still when shooting, your breathing has to be right and you have to be in the right firing position otherwise your shot will be fucked.” 

He nodded to the ship. 

“Get on your stomach.” 

You obeyed and he got down next to you, rifle in hand. 

“When you line up, your back needs to be straight out behind the rifle,” he said. You frowned at him. “What?” 

“Am I going to have time to think about all this if I need to be shooting this far out?” Your eyebrows scrunched together. “I’m kind of a ‘shoot the biggest threat and keep going’ kind of person, I’ve never been able to set anything up like that…” 

“If you’re giving me long distance cover, it will be part of a plan, Doll,” he said. “You’ll have plenty of time to get set.” You looked skeptical but you were back to listening. “You’re small, having the right position is good. This rifle has some kick, if you’re squared up it will exit your legs equally and your movement will be minimal.” 

You adjusted how you were laying and he looked down at you before nodding once. 

“This rifle is mine, so it won’t fit you well,” he said, handing it over to you. “But it will work for now. Set it so you can pull the trigger without disturbing the sights.” 

You took it, lining it up with your body, testing it out. He liked watching you with his rifle. It was obvious that you knew your way around a weapon, already treating it like an extension of yourself, feeling how it fit into your body.

“I think I have it,” you said, glancing over to him. 

“Nearly,” he said, moving in closer to you, his body pressing lightly into yours. He gently nudged your head until your cheek was pressed against the rifle. “You’ll need to be that close to it.” 

“OK,” you said, sounding a little breathless. 

“Take a few deep breaths,” he said, trying to ignore just how close you were to him and failing. “Find your natural point of aim. Then set your sights. At this distance, there will be some bolt drop, too much for you to eyeball. The scope will help. Aim for that tree, the shorter one, at the tree line straight out.” 

You nodded once, cautiously making adjustments to the scope. 

“Got it?” 

“Yeah.” 

He adjusted his helmet, sighting the tree. 

“When you’re ready.” 

You took a deep breath in and slowly let it out before pulling the trigger. He watched as the bolt glanced off the side of the tree, charring the edge. 

“Shit,” you muttered. 

“No, you did well,” he said, switching back to regular sights to watch you. “Try it again.” 

You nodded once before breathing in and out a few times and pulling the trigger. You hit the tree this time, but far from at its center. 

“You’re not at your natural point of aim,” he said. “You’re moving a bit, just before you fire. Close your eyes, breathe deep and relax. Then open them and resight.” 

You nodded slightly before obeying. He watched you, your eyes closed, your jaw tight at first, but you gradually relaxed. It spread through your body, your shoulders dropping a bit, your face softening. He resisted the urge to touch you. You opened your eyes and adjusted the sight before taking the shot. It hit, dead center. 

“Hell yeah,” you smiled. 

“Good,” he said. “Now do it again. Another shot, within an inch.” 

You repeated the process and hit in the same spot. 

“Again.” 

You obeyed, even faster this time. 

“Tree to the left.” 

You adjusted the rifle and shot, hitting the target just off center. 

“Hit it right, Doll.” 

You shot him a glare before you adjusted and fired again. Dead center this time. 

“Next tree left.” 

You adjusted and hit it right in the middle.

“Again.” 

You got the shot off in record time this time, clustering it right beside the last one. Din nodded once. 

“Tree to the right of the first.” 

You threw him another glare but adjusted the rifle quickly, hitting to the side again. 

“Dank farrik,” you muttered. Din was about to tell you to try again but you cut him off. “Again, I know.” 

You adjusted your shot quickly, hitting dead on this time. 

“Next right.” 

He put you through your paces. He’d been right. You were an incredibly quick study, the fact that you’d been training almost your entire life obvious. 

You were more like him than he really wanted to admit. You’d both dedicated your lives to something as children, studied and worked and fought for things you’d been dropped into believing. He’d been brought up to be a warrior, you’d spent your life expecting to die for someone else. But war was over, his people were decimated and you had survived. What were either of you supposed to do now. 

After hitting another tree dead center on the first try, he looked over at you. 

“Good work,” he said. You gave him an almost smug half smile. “What?” 

“You were impressed,” you said, sitting up and handing him his rifle.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied. 

“But you were.” 

He sighed. “I was.” 

You smirked. 

“Knew it.” 

He shook his head, getting up and slinging the rifle over his back and heading for the ladder down, looking back to you. 

“I’m going to stay up here for a bit,” you shrugged. “I haven’t been able to climb in a while… I’ve missed it.” 

Din hesitated for a moment before giving you a nod and descending the ladder, the kid’s pod floating beside him. He was strangely anxious, leaving you where he couldn’t easily see you. Not that there was much trouble to be found on this planet and he knew exactly where you were, but he had a nervous energy all the same. 

He was still trying to figure out what the hell to do with you. He decided to clean his weapons, give himself something to do with his hands, to distract him. For a long time, he thought that, if he ever saw you again, it would be easier. 

There was a space you occupied in his mind that would get better if you were close, he’d thought. That, as it turned out, wasn’t the case. Yes, he wasn’t wondering where you were or what you were doing anymore, that was true. But instead of focusing on something - anything - besides you, he shifted to trying to read you. Understand you, learn you, untangle your concerns. Truly, really know you. And there was the part of him that seemed to want to do nothing but picture you naked. 

The kid tapped the ball on his pod, making Din look up from his work. He squeaked, looking up, pouting a bit. 

“We’re giving her space,” he said. He tapped the ball again, looking frustrated. Din sighed. “No.” Tap, tap, tap. “Kid, she’s not going to be with us forever. She can’t be. Don’t get too attached.” 

His ears drooped and he flopped back in his pod. Din sighed again. He needed to take his own damn advice. He straightened himself, almost subconsciously, like it would strengthen his resolve. He was not going to touch you again. He was going to find some distance, break out of your orbit. He had to. 

To your credit, you picked up on it quickly. He hated watching it happen, seeing you retreat into yourself. He made a point to not be cruel, just cold. It only took the rest of the day for you to pull back, too. You slept inside the ship that night. 

The next day, you told him you were going to train, waiting only a second to see if he would stop you or try to come. He shrugged, continuing work on the Razor Crest. But he noted your path to the forest with his helmet, ready to track you if you weren’t back when he expected. You borrowed his rifle in the afternoon to practice shooting. He watched from the ground as you hit almost every target, your speed and accuracy increasing. 

After a few days of near silence, you approached him after your run. 

“I need combat practice,” you said bluntly. You were still breathing heavily and his eyes kept drifting to your breasts, remembering how you felt. “Spar with me.” 

He was silent for a moment. 

“No.” 

“What?” You demanded. “Why not?” 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he replied, going back to working on the ship. You scoffed. 

“You should be more worried about me hurting you.” 

“Trust me, Doll,” he looked back to you. “That’s the least of my concerns.” 

“Well, I know you won’t hurt me,” you crossed your arms and planted your feet. “So let’s go. I’ve never fought a Mandalorian. I’m curious.” 

“I’m not going to throw a punch at you,” he replied. 

“Trust me, you’d miss,” you rolled your eyes. He glared at you and he could tell you felt it. “Look, I want to be ready for when we leave here, OK? I can either practice with you or end up in a fight when I haven’t done much in years and find out then how little I still know. What sounds better to you.” 

He sighed, dropping his tools. 

“Fine,” he said. “No weapons. And if I say stop, we stop. Immediately.” 

“If you’re that worried I’m going to kick your ass…” 

“I’m serious, Doll,” he snapped. 

“Fine,” you held your hands up in mock surrender and rolled your eyes. 

“Tonight,” he said. “After the kid’s in bed.” 

You frowned. 

“Why?” 

“Because,” he said. “He sees us fighting, he might not understand it’s fake. I don’t want him hurting you.” You raised your eyebrows. “It’s happened before.” 

You sighed. 

“Fine. Tonight, once the kid is down.” 

He went back to work, feeling your eyes on him for another moment before you stalked off again. He hated letting you leave. But he had to get used to it. 

The kid fell asleep on you after the sun set, something he’d been doing more often than not it seemed. You seemed happy to keep a hand on his back, your thumb lightly stroking the back of his head until he passed out against you. 

“You owe me a brawl, Mando,” you said, looking over to him, your hand still on the baby. 

“You’re sure,” he said, hoping that stalling would have given you time to change your mind. You just nodded. He sighed. “Fine, let me put him inside. I meant what I said…” 

“I know,” you cut him off. “If you say stop, we stop.” 

He carefully lifted the kid off of you and put him in his pod before bringing him aboard the ship. You were stretching when he came back out, still hoping you’d have given up on the idea. But you were stuck on it. He sighed and started removing his beskar. 

“What are you doing?” You were frowning, frozen mid stretch. 

“If you hit the armor, you’re going to hurt yourself,” he replied. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you dropped your arm and put your hands on your hips. “Put the damn armor back on, Din.” 

“No,” he said, removing it piece by piece. “I can take a punch, Doll. You’re not breaking your fingers on my beskar.” 

You ground your teeth. 

“You can always back out,” he shrugged, setting a pauldron on the ground. 

“Stop trying to talk me out of it,” you snapped. “I need to get better and I’m asking for your help. I’d ask someone else but my options here are limited. So please, Mando, let me practice fighting you so I don’t get my ass kicked by some bail jumper, OK?” 

He set the last piece of beskar on the ground, leaving him in just the flight suit and helmet. Your eyes ran over him, up and down, slowly. It somehow made him feel more exposed than taking off the armor had, your gaze more dangerous than anything hitting him could be. 

Din stepped away from the fire and the ship, into more open space and you followed, watching him cautiously. He set himself into a fighting stance, his fists raised. 

“If I hurt you,” he said. “Say something. Don’t try to tough it out.” 

“I can take a hit, Mando,” you rolled your eyes, stopping a few feet away from him and raising your hands, too. 

“You’re the one who wants to spar, Doll,” he said. “So you have to start this.” 

You narrowed your eyes and your stance changed ever so slightly, analyzing him for a moment before you came for him. You were smart, feigning going for his head. When he moved to block you, you side stepped it, going low and ducking below his arm, bringing your body into his and slamming your knee into his stomach. He grabbed your torso but you’d wrapped your arm around his side already, ramming into him with your elbow before bringing the leg you’d hit his stomach with down and around his ankle, yanking it out from below him and using your weight to knock him off balance, sending him down onto his back, forcing him into the ground with a grunt. 

“You have to actually try, Mando,” you griped, pushing off the ground and getting to your feet. 

“I don’t think you need to worry about bail jumpers, Doll,” he said. 

“I will need to worry about people who will actually try to hit me,” you said, positioning yourself again. “So do it.” 

He looked you up and down, trying to look at you like he would an opponent. It felt unnatural, looking for where you were weakest. Your size would be the first thing he should leverage. You were smaller and weaker, overpowering you should be simple. You didn’t have the muscle he did to protect your kidneys or liver, hits there would do solid damage. 

He considered asking if you were ready but decided against it, just coming for you. He swung for you and you sidestepped him, grabbing his fist and trying to twist his arm. It was a move he imagined had worked for you in the past, but you didn’t have the strength or the weight to pull it off now. Instead, it exposed your torso and he swung, landing a pulled punch at your side with his other hand, just below your ribs. You grunted at the hit, some of the air getting knocked out of you. But instead of stopping or slowing, you used the hold you had on his arm to swing yourself down and back, going behind him. He spun to follow you but not before you landed a hit to his kidney at his back. He caught your next punch, twisting your arm back and you head butted him in the stomach, just below his rib cage. Din caught your head with his other arm, holding your face to his chest and knocking your feet out from under you, bringing you down to the ground on your stomach, leaving you panting for breath. 

Watching you fight was oddly beautiful. He wanted to just admire it, admire you. The confidence and knowledge in the way you moved, the way your mind and body worked in perfect harmony to do what was necessary. It was art, especially to a Mandalorian. If he wasn’t perpetually worried about your safety, he’d want to watch you work, see what you would do with an enemy as your canvas.

“You OK?” He asked, his hands still on you. 

“Fine,” you said. He released you and you rolled onto your back before he helped you up. “Let’s go again.” 

“No,” he shook his head, walking back toward the ship. 

“You said you would,” you protested, following close behind him, still breathing heavily. “I’ve had way worse than that, come on Mando, let’s go again. 

“I know you have,” he snapped, turning to face you. “And I don’t want to hit you, so we’re done.” 

“I need to know that I can protect your kid, Din,” you said, voice calm. “He’s vulnerable. Imps are after him. Even if I were just watching him on the ship, I need to know I can keep him safe. He’s too important.” 

He searched your face, the cool detachment you usually wore missing. You were afraid. Of not being able to keep up, to save someone who needed saving. 

“Please,” you said again, voice so soft he could barely hear it over the crackle of the fire. 

“Fine,” he said, stalking back to the open space. You followed. 

“Don’t pull your punches this time,” you said, raising your fists. “Push as fast and hard as you would if I were a quarry. It’s OK if it hurts.” 

“Doll…” 

“I fucking mean it, Mando,” you snapped. “Hit me.” 

He ground his teeth before going for you. 

You’d started to learn his movements, could read what was coming next. You dodged him, his blows glancing off you instead of fully catching, your counter punches finding their targets at first before he learned your movements, too. Things devolved, just blocking each other’s shots, adjusting, trying moves that were dirtier to see what would land. 

Eventually, he caught you just enough off guard to knock you down. Before he had the chance to ask if you were OK, you swept his legs out from underneath him, sending him down, his helmet smacking into the ground. 

“You’re good,” you were panting for breath, your head turned to face him. “If you were armored, I wouldn’t stand a chance.” 

“You did well, Doll,” he said, letting himself relax into the ground for a moment. “The kid will be in good hands with you.” 

“Good,” you smiled a little, the movement changing the light on your face just enough that the firelight caught the glistening scrape on your cheek. Din rolled onto his side, yanking his glove off and reaching for your face, touching your cheek delicately.

“I hurt you,” he said softly, his thumb stroking your cheek. 

“It’s just a scratch,” you rolled your eyes. “Nothing to worry about.”  

It took him a moment to realize what he’d done. He’d hurt you and there was proof of it. And he was touching you. His skin was against yours, you were warm and soft beneath him, so close he could pull you against him in a second. His armor was gone, he’d be able to feel you more this way… 

You picked up his hand from your face, setting it back against him. 

“I can’t do this with you Din,” you said softly.

“Doll,” he breathed, but you cut him off. 

“I can’t,” you said. “I don’t think you understand what the last five years - hell, the last few months - has been for me. I survived a war I never thought I’d live through but I lost everything. I’m trying to navigate a life I never planned to have. I lost my home, my brothers, my friends, my identity, my purpose - all to the Empire. I tried to start over and I lost that, too. I lost my parents. I tried to start over again and the only person I knew there, the person who was supposed to help me survive it tried to kill me and now he’s dead, too. 

“There is one person in this entire fucking galaxy who knows who I am, that I’m alive at all, and he can’t seem to decide if he wants to fuck me or keep me as far away as he possibly can. I can’t do it, I can’t handle you touching me and holding me and making me feel something one minute and ignoring me the next. I’d rather you hate me, Din, because that’s something. I can’t handle the indifference from you. I can’t be invisible, not to you. Please don’t make me.” 

It was like there was something screaming inside him, something fighting to burst out of him, to tell you everything, to pull you against him and hold you there, touch you, feel you. 

He didn’t do any of those things. 

“Thanks for the practice,” you smiled tightly, sadly. “I’m going to bed.” 

You got up and went to the ship and Din rolled onto his back as the firelight dimmed, trying to convince himself that he was doing the right thing.

[murder-cookie-dust393]

I saw the options for yandere drawings so I'll bite. What would a Yandere Lord Oyster be like? for either a Mermaid Y/N or Cookie Y/N

SCREAMING. IM NOT GONNA LIE- HIS JP VA MADE ME LOVE THIS MF MORE THAN I PROBABLY SHOULD

Tw: kidnapping, small mention of drugging, perhaps some gaslighting too?

Mer-Cookie(?) MC but make it not a fish…Like a smaller-sized whale. I’m gonna go with Beluga bcs I love Belugas.

I’m gonna guess because how colorful everything is the Mermaid Kingdom [Gem mermaids] are from like a warmer area of water. Maybe not tropical, but like Mediterranean-ish water.

Belugas can live in warmer waters, but they tend to live more up north. Let’s say MC was traveling with the rest of their pod, but due to a sudden attack by land-cookies, got separated.

Poor MC, not knowing where their family and friends are decides to swim along, trying to find a home. Even if it’s completely new.

They find themselves at a port where there’s lots of land cookies. Of course, MC is scared or angered, but with how exhausted they are from traveling, decides to find a resting place just under the docks. Very close to the land cookies, yet hidden enough.

Guess who dropped his prized pearl? That’s right, Lord Oyster.

Despite not wanting to get soggy, he had no choice but to dive in and try to find it within the shallow water. He spots it right under the dock, and he picks it up.

But what did he also see? A whale cookie of some sort. They’re fast asleep, with their clothes a bit tattered, and their tail sustaining a few injuries.

Lord Oyster doesn’t know why, but he just stares at them for a long while [given he won’t get soggy cuz of the pearl]. They seemed a bit hopeless, similar to how he was before he obtained the pearl.

He wanted to help them.

So he quickly ordered a few of his servants to make a small pool within his home, whilst he stood guard of the sleeping whale. He wouldn’t let them leave without his help.

After managing to haul MC into a tank on top of a cart, he quickly takes them to his mansion.

If MC is a light sleeper, let’s just say he put a little powder in the water to make them sleepy.

From there, he gets medics to take care of their wounds, while he nurses them back to health.

Initially, MC despised him, but slowly trusts him enough to be in the pool.

Lord Oyster is absolutely thrilled to hear their stories, and asks about their life. They reminded him of himself: so lost and lonely.

When MC is back and ready to continue on their travels, they ask Lord Oyster to let them out to sea…

But of course, he wouldn’t.

Instead he would pet their head, and hug them tight. Shushing them as if they’re a scared, defenseless cookie. “No, no, my sweet. You mustn’t leave yet. You are still vulnerable to the dangers. I will take care of you, I promise.”

He ignores every protest, pecking their head. “Don’t worry, I’ve commissioned a very spacious Aquarium to be built for you. You’ll love it, I promise.”

…

No wonder he never returned to White Pearl. It seemed his eyes have been blinded for someone else.