#forgive me if its unreadable

[completeoveranalysis]

[1]

Chapitre 188 - The Ruins on That Day

The splash text reads:

Wounds that do not heal, a Light that I cannot see

Onwards... Even so, I just keep moving onwards

And ohhh this is so striking!

This is the cover that slaps you in the face with what it wants you to be looking at. All the lines and angles draw the visual focus directly to Lava Lamp’s eye as he stares directly back. It’s quite the confronting moment. It’s defiant. It calls back to the heavy lidded focus he had when he was still missing part of his soul and hadn’t had the chance to be anything other than his goals for years and years of his life. And arguably this is still the case, but with slight windows of characterisation opening up every now and again, almost against his will - which is very much in line with the splash text. Lava Lamp has dedicated himself to this existence of SUFFERING in order to fix [the big important something], and he would seemingly trade away any part of himself to make it happen and see it as more than a fair trade. Or more than that. He sees his suffering as irrelevant. He sees his suffering as something that must happen, and he will pay it again and again until he achieves his goal.

But all that aside! Here in the image the stark contrast of light and dark gives us the Full Syaoran Imagery Experience, especially when combined with the inversed colours in the background. The play of black and white against each other is trying to evoke the conflict between the Syaorans and just how different they are - and the focus on the eye in particular is hammering this home. Because what IS his eye here, other than a dark circle with a smaller circle of white within? It’s a banner showing his half of the yin yang symbol and a call back to everything this is a metaphor to. 

And on a more story level, the Evil Wolverine Magic Prison Lines are here as a timely reminder of what happened to Lava Lamp so that we’re thinking about it while we finally get to visit the Clow Ruins and presumably find out more about that all happened in the first place. 

Which I can’t wait to see :D

[chthonicgodling]

((im so fucking sorry this is so long iiM-))

[back] / you are at🍇PART: SEVEN🍇 / [next]

✨feat. the fourth of four “interlude” comics, AKA THE BIG ONE!!! AT LONG LAST!!!!!  I hope all this hyping has paid off because all of these have basically just been building to this one comic, which originally started as one quick sketch, and then exploded into five pages of one of the meanest things I’ve ever done :’) i’ll spare u all from taking up more space lmao and my notes n’ commentary are behind the cut!

“WHY DIDNT PASI GO WITH HIM?!?!?!?!!!” you are probably asking, Umm because (obnoxious Ancient Greek Olympian Older Sisters Voice) you can’t go with your own future husband to ask for your own hand in marriage that’s HIS and your father’s job duh????? (one thousand years later Pasi’s still like uGhhGhHH I SHOULD HAVE FOUGHT HARDER)

!!Authors note for just me specifically to clear my conscience! I KNOW bacchanal is the Roman term not the Greek term but it fit the flow of the sentence better so what’s one more anachronism among one million shhhhhHHH—

the last page - featuring special surprise cameo by an elysium’verse ✨ARIADNE🧶✨- was added super last minute and primarily JUST actually for the ulterior motive of drawing Ariadne jn the dumbest background visual gag of all time, for you keen eyed Greek mythology fans 🧶🧶 (aDFLGL IM SORRY ITS SOOOO STUPID LMFAO) (I also just rlly wanted to design her 🥺)

every line of dialogue here was the absolute most fun to write - I love writing ElysiumOlympians so much and Di is no exception, that sweet sweet condescending passive aggression!! and to be clear, this is Dionysus LIKING Hypnos! this DID go well! oh my god!

And finally, I also must point out every expression here was ALSO so much fun to draw! Despite how much I complain abt doing them I think I do I love drawing comics cause choosing one million micro expressions is my absolute jammmm*~ obviously my fave panel of this collection is page three at the bottom duh

AND SOOOO- This post is almost the end, so to wrap up the Dionysus month, there’s just one (and a half?) more post(s) to come! Stay tuned! standard disclaimer these are my designs my versions dont take me too seriously dont take anything too seriously im so sorry Hypnos but what did we really expect. IF YOU MADE IT TO THE BOTTOM I LOVE YOU THANKSSSS

[lilacgaby]

title: awaken.

pairing: barbarian!bakugo x goddess!reader,

synopsisꨄ. you've been asleep all this time, who knew a barbarian would be the one to awaken you?

(extended ver of this)

as katsuki wandered through the never ending forest, he let the words of the elders ring through his head. "you'll never be anything more than a placeholder for the next king."

he set off, destined to prove himself, show that he was worth more than any of them could predict. his father was worried and heartbroken at his sudden departure, but his mother understood that he'd need to do this now, or he'd never forgive himself.

the first thing he did as he set off was to secure food for the night. he eyed a group of hogs, all large and heavy, perfect for feeding him throughout the night. he grabbed the bow out of his satchel and aimed it at the largest one, which landed perfectly in his target's head. he couldn't help but to let out a celebratory laugh as it fell to the ground, making the hogs around it scurry off into the forest.

that seemed to be the last of his luck for the day. he now wished he chose a different day to set off, as the rains and winds were heavy, it was impossible to set up camp in the forest as it was. suddenly, through the curtains of heavy greenery, he saw an abandoned structure. he'd prefer anything to the harsh conditions mother nature set out on him now, so he cut through the vines as he made his way into the structure.

it was grand inside, he thought. he couldn't see very well thanks to the darkness brought on by the rains, but from what he could see it must have been a place of high regard in its peak.

he lit a torch, carrying it as he continued on into the structure. he determined it had been a church in its old days, long forgotten due to.. well he didn't figure that part out yet.

he bumped into a object that resembled a bench, besides the old candle wax, fresh leaves, and golden statutes he saw littering it. he made a mental note to take those with him as he organized his things onto the bench.

he laid his wine down first, a treat he'd enjoy on the way back to his kingdom. next, he laid down his clothes he planned to change into. though he was a barbarian, and by nature they did not wear many clothes, katsuki knew the trip would require such clothing, so he brought the best.

his next item was the huge hog he'd caught earlier. he lugged it on to the bench-like object, thinking of how it was a perfect spot to gut and prepare it for his meal later on. speaking of his cooking, he made sure to bring only the finest oils to cook in. he set it down next to the hog, satisfied with his array of items, he'd slumped against the bench, closed his eyes and sighed.

when he opened it again, he saw the shadow of a person moving behind him. alarmed, he readied his other weapon he always kept on his side, his blade welded by his mother.

though, his blade was dropped out of his hand at the sight. his jaw went slack, eyes wide, and the sudden urge to worship overcame him as he finally saw who was behind him.

a gorgeous.. deity? who glowed with an luminous essence, who adorned pointed ears, heavy amounts of gold, a silk dress that encapsulated your body, and an unreadable expression as you sifted through his items.

the ability to speak was taken from him, he felt as if he was at your mercy, and he was. he was on his knees before he could process it.

your hands glided through the items he had placed on the bench, after you finished looking through the group, you finally spared him a glance.

"your gifts are of high value," you spoke, your voice royal, with an unimaginable presence. "i'm not as powerful as i used to be, my temple and followers were lost to time, my memory faded from the minds of the new." you sauntered over to him now, becoming eye-level with him.

he'd never felt so unworthy.

"i have not much i can give you or do for you, so what would you like from me?"

his ability to speak finalky returned, his mind though, remained blank, so he answered with the only thing on his blank mind:

"your hand."

he immediately rescinded back, never feeling so unnerved and unknowing as he did in this moment. "i- it was an unreasonable request! you-- it's beneath y-"

"that's acceptable. i will go with you, barbarian."

he was shocked as you accepted, though he wouldn't dare question your judgement. "katsuki." he blurted out. "please call me katsuki."

"i will marry you, if it's what you desire katsuki."

his eyes shot open. "yes. i-- it's what i'd like."

"you may call me [name] then." he clutched his heart, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming, but if he was he'd never want it to end.

"alright.. [name]." you smiled at the hesitance in his voice, and waved his worries off with a smile.

"shall we head out then?"

"we can't, the weather is horrible."

"what weather? it's sunny as normal." surely enough, as he turned around the weather had returned to a calm, warm day. the harsh winds and rains no longer present, replaced by the mundane weather.

"i-- i suppose you're correct." he gathered his supplies, even getting your permission to take the things he had on your alter, as he learned it was, back with you two. he slung his satchel behind his back and turned to you.

you held out your hand, and after he placed a chaste kiss on it, he carried you in his arms. the journey back was a blur to him, the burning in his feet nonexistent as he focused on the feeling of his skin on yours, the feeling of his hands on your body.

you arrived sooner then expected. internally, katsuki was excited. not only did he manage to revitalize a goddess, but he'd marry her. he was ecstatic not only at the prospect of beating this into the elders' faces, but to be yours for his eternity.

as he burst back into the conference room, the elders were shocked to see him back so soon. the smug expressions they would've gotten were wiped off the second they noticed you in his arms.

even they, from their distance at their cabinets, could sense the raw presence you had.

"prince bakugo, what is the meaning of this?"

"i've brought to you undeserving folks my wife."

the table of elders all collectively choked at the revelation. "wife? but we've yet to go through the proper trails and period of compatibility. that woman isn't even a barbarian."

"you're right, she's above all of you. she's a deity, and i've earned her hand in marriage. i want my wedding planned for next week, make it fit for a god."

"a deity you say?" the elder's felt like their eyes were about to burst out their sockets. "but--"

they heard nothing as he walked away from the room, you still in his arms. as you eyed the new, strange innovations and buildings around you, katsuki clutched you closer to his chest.

he set you onto a bed, the feeling of silk under your hands one that was foreign, as you hadn't been awakened for over a century.

he knelt in front of you, taking off one of his necklaces, and wordlessly asking for permission to set it on you.

you didn't know this, but this was sacred to the barbarians, presenting one's necklace to another was like talking a piece of your soul and entrusting them with it.

he looked at the sight of you, his ruby necklace with the teeth of the beasts he slayed contrasting severely to the gold you adorned, and he smiled.

you felt your heart go into a knot at the sight of him, he held your hand as he suddenly made a vow to you.

"i vow to be your greatest worshipper. even if i am not the last, i will set a standard that will long exceed my lifespan.

for you are my wife now, and i'll cherish you as long as i may live."

you smiled softly, reaching out to him to hold his other hand. "you've already become my most interesting worshipper, that i'm certain of."

as the two of you basked in each others presence, other gods were smiling upon you two as well.

unbeknownst to you, zeus, a god who had favored you since your birth, had set off the storm on bakugo, leading him to your alter.

not like it was what you were pondering at the moment anyway, as you caressed and embraced your soon to be husband, who you were already planning to turn into a god alongside you.

[stars-obsession-pit]

So a person requested (in messages) me to write a drabble thing based on this prompt. I’m not really into de-aged characters, but I thought of a way to focus it more on Jason’s reaction rather than the childcare part and felt cool with writing that.

So, uh, hope you like this I guess, @phantomrosereader…

Alright. Alright. Alright alright alrigh—

Nope. They’re still there. Fuck. Jason is not at all prepared to be a father. Nor does he want to show back up at the manor right now carrying two children and be forced to explain all this.

Wait, how did the kids even get there? Who was the mother? Why did they never contact him before?

…Did they contact him before? Can he really be certain he’s not missing any more memories?

He forcefully shook his head. No. No focusing on that right now. He’s fine. No spiraling allowed. He has to deal with this first.

Seriously, fuck. How is he a dad?

He… he should look into the mother. At least then he’d have more to go off of when he talks to Alfred. The note did give a name, but it wasn’t nearly enough to go off of on its own. Danny is hardly an uncommon name. Although, it does seem like a guy’s name—maybe Danny is trans? That would narrow the search down, but would that be enough? Even if he could get it down to just a handful of options, he had no way to determine which Danny was his. The kids seemed to have mostly inherited his own appearance…

Wait, that’s it! Genetic tests!

Despite his strained relationship with the other Bats, he still has access to their resources. A test wouldn’t take too long to give results. And also, it might reveal some other info like allergies he’d need to know.

***

Jason frowned at his laptop as his eyes flitted across the details of the error message. Apparently, some parts of the kids’ genes had been completely unreadable to the scanner and thus it couldn’t form a full profile.

Sighing, he clicked the popup closed. He could at least look at what results had come through. Maybe they’d be enough.

That hope dwindled as he scanned the full data, the corruption looking more dire than he expected. Even if the legible parts did succeed at painting a picture of the kids being related, the swaths of gibberish made meaningfully searching for the mother likely hopeless. However, there did seem to be a pattern to the broke areas. Something tickled at the back of his mind. He felt like he’d seen this before. Could that mean the mother was a meta or alien? Those were on a separate database, so that might resolve the issue. But that would require him to go to the manor, and he was still very hesitant to do that.

So instead, he pulled up his own test results to compare. Maybe they’d let him figure something ou—

He froze.

That’s why he recognized the corruption. Ever since his revival, his own genetic results exhibited almost the exact same pattern of issues.

Oh Hell, did the kids inherit the side effects of the Pit from him?

He looked over at the kids, sleeping peacefully in their seats, and prayed that they hadn’t. He didn’t think he’d be able to forgive himself if they had to suffer through the Pit Rage their whole lives just because of him.

He… he had to go to the manor. There was no pushing this off any longer. This situation was far too big for him to deal with on his own. He couldn’t risk leaving his kids to suffer alone.

Hopefully Alfred with his parenting skills and Damian with his knowledge of the Lazarus Pits (and similar experience of being descended from a user of them) would be able to help. Or if that failed, maybe he could guilt trip Bruce into getting the Justice League Dark to help.

[chaoticyumelikes]

Sun Wukong and Macaque whith GN! Reader

In which you accidentally step on their tails😬

Sun Wukong

You were just going to fetch something. Totally normal, innocent and completely unaware of your surroundings. When suddenly you hear a yelp!

You freeze and as if in slow motion, you look at your foot, then at a tail, your gaze follows the trail of the tail to its owner being none other than Sun Wukong who is bearing a heartbreaking expression of absolute betrayal and hurt in his eyes. Immediately you stepped off his tail!

Your apologies started as well as the poor monkey King caressed his hurt tail away from you. You begged his forgiveness but he pouts and turns his back to you.

You know his tail was sensitive so in your natural guilt you told him you'd do anything. His ears perked up at that "Anything?" he asked to which you replied "Of course".

If only you could see his smirk...

He turns to you teary-eyed as he says: "Cuddle with me? " and immediately you sit on the couch with him, cuddling him and giving him kisses. Overall comforting him.

If you try to move away he WILL use your guilt against you.

"Where are you going? I see, you just step on my tail and then leave me" you narrow your eyes at him but you relent and he happily welcomes you into his arms with grabby hands peppering your face with kisses and then nuzzling into you with the biggest smile on his face.

That's right, you are stuck with him the whole day. Everything that day, you do for him.

"Wow! We should make a holiday out of this day!" as soon as you turn to him with a suspicious look on your face he continues "As the day you mercilessly stepped on my poor poor tail" one hand dramatically set on his forehead as the other caresses his tail for emphasis.

You made him his favourite food and you watched his favorite show that has him as the main character till you pass out.

The next day comes and you watch over the training session with MK. You watch as they spar when MK accidentally hits Wukong on his tail. MK grimaces, apologizing to his master while Wukong just laughs.

"It's ok bud! It's sensitive but not THAT sensitive, see?" he then uses his tail as an improv chair to show himself off... that is until you appeared behind them, hands on your hips, fury in your eyes.

"Oh, I definitely see." The Monkey King, Sage Equal to Heaven froze, his expression one of horror. "Peaches ~~~" he tries but to no avail. You are fuming!

How dare he use your guilt against you! You were really worried for him. you storm away with a very apologetic King on your tail.

Let's just say the next day was your day cause there's no way this immortal monkey will rest until you forgive him.

Macaque

When you step on his tail not only do you jump from his yell, he is genuinely crossed with you. He doesn't even let you apologise, he just pouts and goes into the shadows, leaving you there yelling "I'm sooorryyyyyy!

The day goes by with you trying to call him without success. Successive texts apologising were ignored.

You made his favourite food for dinner when he showed up. With teary eyes, you latch yourself onto him apologizing.

"Heeyyy! What are you talking about? Oh! Do you mean my tail? It's ok, it was an accident!"

"So you forgive meeee?" you ask him with big eyes.

"Sure" he chuckles "Wow! you made my favourite food! Today just keeps getting better! A whole day's nap and a great dinner!"

"Come again?"

"Yeah, I was upset and went to walk to let some steam and see if my tail was alright but then I forgave you, saw this nice tree and started writing my next play based on this event and took a nap till now- Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I tried to call you several times! I left you texts! I was worried!"

"What texts?" he goes to check his phone when his face got horrified at the number of missed calls and unbelievable number of unread texts. He looked at you sheepishly, his hand went to rub his neck "Caaaaaan you believe I had my cell on silent... ?...... Heh..... Silly me..... Heheh..? "

Now it was your turn to pout. You were worried about the very relationship and he was napping??? You turn your back on him, as you stomp into your shared room.

"Wait! I'm sorry alright? Where are you going?"

"NAPPING!"

...

"Sooo, does that mean you forgive me? Sugarplum? Come on!"

You quickly forgave him however since no doors can stop your shadow-wielding cute boyfriend into cuddling in an absolute apologetic mission.

[allfearstofallto]

Nice

Yandere childe x reader

1.7k

Synopsis: He'll buy you absolutely anything your heart desires, but he longs for you to describe things as more than just "nice"

TW: Yandere, abusive themes, bribery, NSFW themes, toxic relationship, Dub-Con

AN: I haven't written in FOREVER so forgive me if it's not awesome or if it feels incomplete. My last account got shadow banned :(, doesn't help that I was already pretty depressed before that. No time for sob stories here, it's been two years since I've written anything and I miss writing, thanks for joining me!

Gems that dazzled and gleamed stars in the night sky, silver that was carved painstakingly from the mines in Liyue, an appearance that was beautiful, but still kept up with the most current fashion trends. He had truly outdone himself with this one, this has to be the one that would take your breath away. The one that would make you leap into his arms and pepper his face with kisses from your sweet lips that he rarely got the chance to taste.

When it came to gifts for you, there was no price tag. Childe would spend every mora he had if it meant he could even get a smile out of you and spend he often did. Money meant nothing to him, being a Fatui harbinger, his paychecks were larger than he knew what to do with. After sending money back home to his family, he still had so much left and nothing that he longed for other than your affection. So, why not spend it on something else he cared about?

Your eyes ghosted over the ring he was showing you, encased in a black velvet box with red satin holding it up. It wasn’t an engagement ring, he’d assured you of that multiple times after you were taken aback by him holding it up to you. He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, and he was willing to respect your wishes, but he still wanted to give you something to wear on that pretty little finger to show that you were his while you waited for the real deal. Your engagement ring would be much, much larger than the one he was gifting you now and it would incorporate details from both of your home countries.

The expression on your face was unreadable. It wasn’t quite a grimace, but it wasn’t a smile either. It was the usual face you made when you were given something. An equal mixture of discomfort and unease. “It’s…nice.” you mumbled quietly as he slipped the ring onto your finger.

There was that word again. Nice. It made him sick to his stomach every time he heard it fall from your pretty lips. But that was always what you said about his gifts, as if you couldn’t think of another word to describe how you felt about them. Rare spices imported from Sumeru? Nice. A custom hanfu made from only the finest silk to wear to the lantern rite? Nice. Wine aged for almost a decade and shipped straight from Mondstadt? Very nice.

You spoke that one word, but even then it felt like you were straining yourself to say that much. On multiple occasions, your displeasure with receiving such expressive gifts was expressed, but he told you that that didn’t matter. Mora was just an object to him, something that held no value, and yet you still held each gift as if they would collapse under your touch.

“You can tell me if you don’t like it,”

“No!” you quickly retorted back, holding your hand up to examine the ring once more, “Its…” you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying the word, knowing that he would only be upset with your lack of what he considered to be a proper answer, “I like it.”

With a sigh and a dramatic slump of his shoulders, he reached up and cupped your face. His hand felt like solid ice against your cheek. Childe often claimed that that was another thing he loved about you so much. How warm your body was in comparison to himself. He told you that when he someday took you to Snezhnaya to meet his family, you would be his personal heater, that he wouldn’t let you go for even a second during the duration of your stay there.

“You don’t even wear the earrings I got you anymore,” Childe’s long fingers traced from your cheek to the lobe of your ear, grazing the empty hole where jewelry would go.

“You know I can’t wear those at work,”

“Then quit your job,” He spoke those words so quickly, with no hesitation, a part of you was convinced you imagined it. But you working was a constant conflict of interest between the two of you, something you’d even argued about before.

The situation grew heated that day. Both of you, yelling back and forth about what you thought was right. You remembered seeing his eyes glow at the same time as his vision that rested on his hip, making your stomach drop. Childe would never hurt you, would he? But even you didn’t know the answer to that, you could never be too sure about what was going on in the mind of a harbinger. So you backed down slightly, telling him that it was something you would consider, and that answer sufficed with him for the time being.

“Childe-”

“Ajax,” he cut you off. He hated when you used his codename, claiming that as his future wife, you alone should be allowed to call him by his given name.

“Ajax," you exhaled harshly after speaking his name, "I really would like to work and be independent,”

For just the briefest of moments, his eyes went dull, his smile fell, his facade faltered and he was his true self. It only lasted for less than a second, the average person might not have even seen it, but you’d spent so much time with him. You knew his tells. You knew that even though he was smiling again, it was completely fake. He was angry, even if the gleam in his eyes didn't show it.

A cold kiss was pressed against your cheek, just a peck to get his point across. When he pulled away, still making eye contact, he was still so close that you could feel his shallow breath on your skin. He squatted down slightly to meet your eyes and whispered against your lips, “I don’t plan to let my wife work. Why don’t you quit now, have a little practice before we’re wed?”

He said that as a suggestion, but you knew it wasn’t one. With Childe there were only orders and threats, nothing in between. You had no choice on whether or not you’d get to work, on whether or not you got to live alone, on whether or not you married him. In his eyes, you were already his, and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

A lump was caught in your throat as you tried to figure out what to say. Could you even tell him that the prospect of marrying him was something that seldom crossed your mind? Something that even when you did think about, it brought a twinge of fear into your heart. That on multiple occasions, you considered leaving him, but your unease around him was what was making your stay.

“I…” you finally met his gaze as you tried to force words out of your tense body. His eyes felt so cold and the hand that he had managed to snake its way down onto your shoulder was gripping your flesh tightly. It was a warning that what you said next would matter, “I should just-”

“You should quit,” he spoke the last part of the sentence for you, not caring about what you truly wanted to say.

Eyes turned downcast, you gave a slow nod. There wasn’t much of a choice with him anymore, he was hellbent on that being your answer. He had given you an order, if you didn’t react the way he wanted you to, you would regret it.

The grip that was on your shoulder loosened, exhibiting that you had pleased him and another kiss was placed on your cheek as a reward. This time his lips touched just below your eyes, where tears were threatening to fall, “That’s my girl,” another peck right against your lips, “How about I buy you something special, huh? For being so good.”

You swallow slowly, trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him, clenching and unclenching your fist as a way to self soothe. Your voice was shaky as you delivered your stiff answer, “Sure. That sounds lovely.”

“How about a new pair of earrings,” he followed this up by lightly biting the side of your ear, “or maybe a new necklace,” you felt his warm tongue slide down from your ear to your collarbone, making all the hairs on your body stand up, “Or maybe even a new dress,” he spoke into your neck, his hand reaching down and trying to slide the dress you were wearing up your thigh, exposing your your bare skin to the air.

You jolted your body backwards, your hands placed against his chest in an attempt to keep the distance between the two of you. He was moving so fast. Too fast. Even though it had been a while since you and him had last been intimate, for him to try it again so suddenly was worrisome.

You didn’t dare look at his face. There was no doubt about it that he was upset at your response to his touch, he never liked when you rejected him. The hand that was placed against him, was taken into his. The way he held you was gentle, but you could still feel force behind his movement. The thumb of his hand traced the back of your palm as he held you, before lifting it up and placing a kiss against it. Right on your finger, right on the very expensive ring he’d just bought you, almost as a way to draw your attention to it once more.

“What’s gotten into you? Hm?” he had an eyebrow cocked and a grin on his face, “Pushing me away like that after I got you something so precious? You’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“I just don’t think I’m in the mood for this right now,” you mumbled, switching between looking at your dress you were fiddling with and his borderline unblinking eyes.

Silence fell over the two of you, to the point where you could hear your own heart beat, the sound of blood pumping in your ears, the sound of his breaths that were slightly heavier than normal. Childe was rarely quiet. It was hard to get him to keep his mouth shut. In a way his anger was scaled based on how loud he was, the quieter, the worse.

His large hand came into your sight again, making you flinch about what was coming ahead, but rather than being struck, he used his thumb to trace your lips, “Figure something out.”

[withloveajaxx]

are you forgetting something?

𓂅 genre: modern! childe, scaramouche, diluc, and xiao x gn! reader fluff

𓂅 warnings: none 

𓂅 summary: how they react when you forget to kiss them or say "i love you" back to them before you leave 

𓂅 notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONEE. here's some smol hcs to kick off 2023 hehe. i've never really written for scaramouche before so forgive me if his characterization is a little off for this fic :"D i'm trying to slowly get back into writing for genshin so i'm going with a classic, fluffy crack prompt that i've always felt like writing ^^ hope you guys enjoy and have a wonderful day ahead!! 

CHILDE

he's dropping you off at your friend's house for your little night out and your rushing to belatedly make yourself a little more presentable 

childe can't help but chuckle when you turn to him asking, "what do you think? do i look alright?" 

"you look beautiful as always, love. now go get in there before your late."

he leans his cheek closer to you, expecting a goodbye peck when you open the door to get out. "take care and call me when you need to get picked up, alright?" when you hum in response he adds, "love you!" 

"yup! see you, ajax!" you reply, getting out and shutting the door. at this, childe is offended, jaw dropping at the lack of a reply and a kiss. 

he thinks this is completely unacceptable. mans literally honks his horn aggressively until you come back to the car, brows furrowed in wordless confusion. 

"excuse me?" he questions you, rolling down the window with a faux pout on his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest. "are you forgetting something?" 

cheeky bastard taps his cheek with raised brows in part question and part demand. "i said i love you too, you know?" 

you can't help but laugh at his absurd behaviour, leaning into the window to finally plant a kiss on his awaiting cheek. his charming smile finally makes its way back onto his features when you accompany your gesture with a, "love you too." 

"mhm. now get in there and have fun. i'll see you later, love.". he can't help the slight blush that dusts his freckle filled cheeks when you peck him one last time, just for good measure, before heading inside the house. god he was so whipped for you. 

SCARAMOUCHE

when you're rushing to leave your shared apartment for a class you were running late for one day, scara is suffering on the couch with his laptop on, research document open and empty. 

he eyes you as you're rushing to gather all your bags and other belongings, making sure you don't trip or hurt yourself in a rush from a distance. 

once you finally have all your things, you turn to see scara, who is already glaring at the blank document on his laptop. 

in usual fashion, he hears you greet him a goodbye with, "i'm heading out now. see you later, kuni." 

in an unusual fashion however, he doesn't hear the familiar and cheerful "i love you!" that escapes your lips once you open the door. 

he coughs loudly and repeatedly when you put even a single foot out the door and levels you with a look that screams "are you stupid?" 

"what?" you ask him obliviously, rechecking all your bags and documents before also asking, "am i forgetting something?"

"yeah. a really important thing," he comments with an unreadably, deadpan face. when a confused silence is all he gets in reply, he sighs, narrowing his eyes at you with a light blush blooming across his cheeks.

"don't make me say it.". it's only then that you realize what you forgot, smiling and laughing lightheartedly with amusement. 

"you're cute kuni." his cheeks flush brighter at the statement. "i love you and take care!". he returns your greeting with an exasparated sigh and a light nod before you go rushing out the door, unable to witness the smallest smile that creeps onto his lips.

DILUC

it's a daily routine for you guys to get ready for school/work together and greet each other with a goodbye kiss once you part ways. 

on a particular day when you had a really important presentation, the walk to your usual parting point was enveloped in a comfortable silence. 

diluc simply held your hand and let you practice your presentation, muttering unintelligible words and phrases under your breath. 

when you finally get to parting ways, diluc takes a moment to encourage you for your presentation. 

"good luck with your speech today, darling. i know you can do it. i'll see you when i get home alright?"

you nod absentmindedly, smiling before routinely pecking diluc's cheek. "mhm. have a good day, luc." 

when you start to walk away, he grabs your wrist gently and unexpectedly, turning you to face him once more. 

"yes, luc?" you ask curiously, intertwining your fingers with his own gingerly. 

"you're forgetting something, love," he chuckles lightly, squeezing your intertwined hands gently. "i love you." 

a soft smile adorns both your features as you give diluc a lingering kiss before replying with your own "i love you", regrettingly parting ways afterwards. 

XIAO

both you and xiao are walking into the school's campus. after a mundane lunch, it was time for both of you to part ways and get to classes. 

he accompanies you to your class, walking with you hand in hand in the school's surprisingly free hallways.

the short stroll is accompanied by a comfortable silence, the lack of a crowd of students creating a peaceful atmosphere. 

it's only when you arrive at your lecture hall that xiao loosens his hold on your hand, gesturing for you to go inside. 

your friends are excitedly waving at you from the other side of the hall, thus you hurry to get to them.

"i'll see you later, okay?" you squeeze his hand reassuringly before looking at your friends with a glimmer of excitement. "bye, xiao!" 

the moment you let go of his hand without your usual goodbye kiss or at least an 'i love you', his hand subconsciously reaches out for yours once again. 

thankfully, you take notice of his action and turn to him once more with a quizzical look on your face. "is something wrong?" you ask him.

he wants to say something about you forgetting to give him a kiss but the thought of saying something so sappy makes his face heat up in embarrassment. you can tell he wants to say something by the unsure look in his eyes, but he holds himself back, shaking his head. "nothing. you should head to class." 

the blush gives him off entirely because you can read him like an open book. his heart skips multiple beats when you lean in and plant a brief kiss on his cheek with a wide smile. "there. love you, and see you later, okay?". his cheeks flare up even more as he replies, "mhm. love you too…"

© withloveajaxx 2023. please do not copy, plagarize, or translate in any way.

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Tail

No sex but Seb busts a nut, I guess he could be considered submissive in this, The prefect gives zero fucks and does what they want. Nonhuman AU Sebek.

They/Them is used for reader but they are mentioned having breasts.

As the Prefect sat comfortably on the antique sofa, they listened intently to the crocodile fae seated beside them. Sebek's voice, usually booming with excited exclamations, had become more subdued, though his enthusiasm for his "Great Lord Malleus" was still evident in his impassioned rambling. They found his dulcet tones quite pleasant, even as their mind began to wander. To their next meal, possibly taking a hot bubble bath later- but then, something caught their eye - Sebek's scaly tail suddenly swung into view as he leaned forward to retrieve another list from the low table before them. Without a moment's hesitation, they reached out and grasped the appendage, startling the fae.

Sebek stammered out the Prefect's name, his voice cracking with obvious confusion as he straightened up and regarded them with an expression of bewilderment. Satisfied with their catch, the human managed to pull Sebek back down to sit beside them, the large fae squirming a bit as they examined the surface of his tail. 

“Human, what are you-!” They didn't catch the rest, more focused on the prize between thier hands and the thoughts pertaining to it. "It looks all rough but it’s all bumpy and leathery..." They murmured, gently sliding their fingertips over the cool, scaly skin. "I guess I thought it would be warmer." 

The coolness is surprising, but then again, crocodiles are cold-blooded.

Remembering the thing in thier hands is attached to another person they glance at Sebek to see his reaction,  speaking quite casually as they do. “Huh, that's more of a reaction than I expected. I kinda assumed you wouldn't be able to feel anything with the thick scales and all.” They return thier attention to his appendage again, seemingly not caring about the effect thier having on him as they continue their fondling.

Sebek's reaction was immediate - he stiffened from head to toe, his face and ears flushing a darker shade as the Prefect's casual touch elicited a visceral response. "Aah!" he cried out and tried his best to control his volume and composure. "Of course I can, It's a part of me." He managed, wetting his lips nervously as he dug his claws into his thighs, clearly struggling not to react further to the human’s ministrations.

“But…why are you-”

Undeterred, they continued to explore the bumpy surface of Sebek's tail, slowly running their hands along the length of the appendage, from the base to the pointed tip. Sebek's body shuddered and twisted, a muffled noise escaping him as he covered his mouth, his tail writhing in the Prefect's grasp. Unintentionally, the human's soft breast pressed against the sensitive underside of Sebek's tail, eliciting an audible moan from the fae. The human paused only momentarily, regarding Sebek with an unreadable expression before pressing their cheek against the thick tail, now noticing an earthy musk scent coming from the fae as they looked downward.

Sebek winced, struggling to cover the obvious bulge and wet spot in the front of his uniform pants with a nearby throw pillow, but it was too late - the Prefect had already seen the evidence of his arousal.

"So...I'm guessing this kind of thing feels good to you then?" They asked, their tone casual as if discussing the weather. Sebek's response was a whimpering struggle with his words, "No...well, erm...yes. Please forgive me, I can't..." But the Prefect was not deterred, and as they began to stroke Sebek's tail, the fae's resolve crumbled, squeezing his eyes shut louder moans escaping him as his erection fully emerged from its slit under his pants, thick and twitching as it strains against the fabric.

The Prefect continued their ministrations, humming in pleasure as they rubbed their cheek against the trapped portion of Sebek's tail. "It's so big, Seb..." They murmured, the musky scent only intensifying. Sebek's reaction was immediate, his fangs sinking into his bottom lip causing small drops of blood to drip. Curling into himself slightly Sebek groaned, his seed spilling forth through the fabric of his pants. But the Human did not relent, ignoring his pitiful whine they sped up their stroking until Sebek was left slack against the sofa, breathing hard.

"Well, that's interesting..." the Prefect mused, their expression blank as they looked from Sebek's soiled crotch to his flushed face. "Might be fun to see where else you're sensitive, actually..."

[silentgravesdontexist]

I'm currently reading a now-becoming personal favorite book of mine so— here's a scenario of Ace accidentally setting your favorite book (tabbed, annotated, and highlighted) on fire. And yes, this is self-indulgent, sue me.

Portgas D. Ace x GN!Reader

CW: angst if you squint enough

Word Count: 1.1k

You adore Ace. There's no denying in that. But the man isn't really well-versed when it comes to emotional or sensitive topics and situations. Sometimes, he doesn't fully understand why you get emotional over certain things. Ace wouldn't be an insensitive asshole over it— he'd comfort you best he can at the moment then learn more on the topic to understand you better.

Ace really meant well. He really did. You said you loved a certain book, even showing it off to him with all the tabs and messy scribblings of your annotations on the pages. And he could see the care you put into the book. Was he the reading type? No. But did he want to get to know you better so he'd understand why you were gushing over the said book? Yes. (Plus, he knows it'll be brownie points if he reads it)

So, he borrows your book. You made him promise to take absolute care of it. Not a single dent or scratch should come to the pages or cover. He grins at your firm tone but nods his head and responds with, "Yes, Ma'am." Now, he does take good care of it. Does that thing where he barely opens the pages to read because he's scared that he'll leave a mark on the spine if he opens the book too wide. Also, makes sure to use a bookmark— since you were stern about not making dog ears on the precious pages.

However, his narcoleptic episode strikes one day while reading. Ace gets jolted awake by a loud crash on the deck, which makes him instinctively ignite his devil fruit. He smells something is burning. A cold feeling pools at his gut as he swallows. His eyes fall onto your book caught on fire. In a panic, he does his best to put out the fire—but it was too late. The damage had been done. Pages and cover alike burned at the edges that they were black. It was unreadable and looked like it'd fall apart at the slightest touch.

For a moment, he considers throwing it into the ocean and buying you a new one. But that obviously wouldn't work because the said book was littered with annotations and tabs. You'd immediately figure it out anyway. So, being the honest man that he is, he starts to look for you with the book cradled in his chest. When he asks around the crew where you were— they already gave him sympathetic looks because of the burned book in his hands.

Ace is a prideful man. However, this man was on the verge of getting to his knees and begging for your forgiveness the moment he saw you. Panic visible in his eyes as he calls your name. You turn to meet his gaze, a warm smile on your face that makes his heart race a little while twisting his guts at the same time. The poor man was sure you'd never smile at him again like that if you knew what he was about to tell you.

"I'msosorryIdidn'tmeantoburnyourbook." He says in one breath that it makes you blink at him. You want to laugh at his flustered state and tease him, but your gaze falls to the burned book in his hands. Even in its state, you could clearly recognize it. The way your expression falls makes his gut churn even more. He looked like he'd rather fight an entire fleet of Marines than put you through this.

Without a word, you gently take the book from his hands. You craddle the fragile thing against your chest and crouch down. Tears immediately falling to the wooden floors while your body trembles from your sobs. Of course, you know he didn't mean it. He never would. But it doesn't really undo the damage.

Ace feels like his heart just got ripped out of his chest. He kneels down in front of you, hands in the air— unsure whether to hold you or not. Afraid that you might not want his touch. The more you keep crying, the more he feels the stinging sensation in his own eyes. Sure, he wasn't really the sensitive and overtly emotional kind. But he knew that book meant a lot to you. You trusted him with it. And he promised to take care of it.

Apologies leave his lips unabashedly. One after another as he practically begs for your forgiveness. He does his best to comfort you and make you feel better. Seeing you cry because of him? It felt like a knife gutting him from inside out. The two of you spend a fairly long time on the floor. You grieving over your book. Him doing his best to make up for it.

The days after that were horrid. The two of you interacted but he always felt like something was missing. He was fully convinced your smile didn't reach your eyes, your laugh wasn't as vibrant, your affections weren't the same somehow, and you just felt distant. Even the crew started feeling bad for him because it was clear he was wracked with guilt by the entire situation.

Ace tried making up for it. Getting Thatch to make your favorite meal. Trying just about anything to make you smile or laugh. Opening doors for you with a theatric bow and wiggling his brows to make you smile even by a bit. If you wanted something, he'd get you it. He knew he was slowly getting back to your good graces but it wasn't really enough.

Eventually, an idea strikes him. He goes out of his way to get you the exact copy of that book. Does he give it to you immediately? No. What he does is he starts reading the book. He'll tab pages, highlight and annotate lines that reminded him of you or something he thought you might like, and making sure he slowly opens the book instead of breaking the spine.

Once Ace is done reading it, he'll give it to you— paired with a sweet and sincere apology. Even going on to tell you about the things in the book that he enjoyed. He's genuinely sorry for what happened. Your eyes shine a bit while flipping through the pages. Reading through his cheesy notes and the lines he annotates just for you. It makes your heart melt (if it already didn't after the man's all-out effort for your forgiveness).

You smile at him brightly. Finally— finally, he believes that it's the same one before he burned your book. "I forgive you— really." You say, wrapping your arms around his waist for a hug. He immediately melts into your embrace and wraps his arms around you tightly. Burying his face into your neck, he presses soft kisses over the curve of it and down to your shoulder. When you giggle? Oh, gods, he squeezes you even more and showers you with kisses.

Lesson learned: If you're interested in reading a book, he will curl up against you while you read it to him. That way— he can listen to your voice, understand you a bit more, and cuddle with you (which is probably his favorite part).

~~~~~

If you liked this and wanna read more, here's my masterlist!

[beenbaanbuun]

brothers best friend pt 2 w/ jeong yunho

part 1

so i forgot to pause my queue and you’re getting this a day early… whoops

yunho looks so massive towering above you like that

there’s an unfamiliar look on his face, cheeks flushed, lips parted, nostrils flared, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous under his watchful gaze

maybe he’s angry, but you can’t think of anything you’d done to upset him

hell, you’d fallen asleep pretty much as soon as he told you to! its like you could’ve—

oh fuck… the dream

you sit up as quick as humanly possible, any semblance of sleepiness slipping away as you realise exactly why he’s looking at you like that

like you’ve just committed the greatest crime known to man

you can’t look at him, embarrassment and guilt flowing through you like blood

“yun, i—” he cuts you off with a shush

it confuses you for just a second or two; surely he’d give you the chance to explain your self right?

it’s hardly like you deserve to have that chance, perverted little slut

but still, yunho is a nice enough guy; he’ll let you try and wriggle your way out of it… won’t he?

“yunho, i can ex—” again, you’re cut off with a sharp shush

you whimper in response as the tears that begin to gather along your lash line turn his silhouette blurry

“i don’t need an explanation from you,” he speaks softly, “i don’t want one, either. i don’t think it would change anything, do you?”

his face is still set in stone, eyes steely as they stare you down

it only makes you feel even more pathetic, like a child being scolded for making a mess

you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how he saw you; nothing more than his friends kid sister making a mess of things again

you’re always making a mess of things…

your eyes begin to burn with tears

“why are you getting upset, sweetheart?” yunho asks from above you, voice stern and commanding and nothing like the teasing tone he usually uses with you

“it’s embarrassing,” you sniffle, trying your hardest to stop your voice from wavering under the influence of your tears, “i’m sorry.”

he hums, nodding slightly as though he’s seriously mulling over your apology

as if he’s actually considering accepting it…

its cruel, making you wait for your judgement as if he’s not going to end up kicking you out at the end of it all

maybe you were wrong about him being a kind man…

“why is it embarrassing?” he hums, and your heart sinks just a little further

great; he’s going to humiliate you before kicking you out

your eyes meet his, begging for just a little mercy

he doesn’t seem to waver, eyes still icy and face still wearing that unreadable expression

“yunho,” you whisper, mentally preparing yourself to beg for forgiveness

he shakes his head, a hum of disapproval leaving his lips, “tell me, honey; why are you embarrassed?”

and just like that the dam breaks, your chin wobbling as a long keen leaves the back of your throat

the first tear rolls down your cheek, swiftly followed by a second

yunho catches them with his thumbs

“tell me…”

you suck in a shaky breath, forcing it out through your pursed lips

it doesn’t really help to soothe you like you thought it would…

“i had a wet dream about you,” your voice is so timid and small… you’re pathetic

“yes, you did,” yunho agrees, “but i hardly think that’s a good reason for all this fuss, hm?”

you can’t quite make out the tone of his voice

it almost sounds affectionate under that thick layer of condescension that only ever comes out when he’s talking to you

“after all, you didn’t see me crying when i was thinking all those dirty thoughts about you crawling into my bed…”

what?

your jaw hangs slack as you let his words soak in

he has to be teasing you, right?

“your pretty pussy was showing through your shorts, baby, but you didn’t even realise, hm?”

he takes your chin in his hand, forcefully snapping your mouth shut

“you were clenching around nothing,” his pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip, “practically begging for me to fill you up and you didn’t even realise.”

you squirm, everything he does working against you and your barely intact sanity

his words that he says so nonchalantly as if you’re not utterly filthy

his hand that remains firmly on your chin, his thumb dancing back and forth along your jawline

that damned tongue that he can’t seem to keep inside of his mouth for more than a second

you can’t help it when you whimper; after all, he’s the only one to blame

“yuyu,” you sound as pathetic as you feel, but you don’t have the brain power to feel humiliated, “please do something…”

he smiles down at you

“do something?” he asks, “like what, honey? you’re going to have to be more specific if you want yuyu to do what you want.”

the sound of him teasing you so effortlessly goes straight to your cunt, and you clench your thighs around nothing

it doesn’t help ease the ache between them at all

in fact all it does is smear your wetness over your thighs, leaving you with a sticky, uncomfortable mess

you desperately need something more; some friction to ease that ache in your clit and something inside of you to fill up your empty hole

and there’s yunho, your brothers best friend, standing above you looking like a fucking god

that’s all you need to push you over the edge

“yunho, please fuck me,” you whine, bringing a hand up to rest upon his wrist

your fingers wrap around it, tugging softly until his grip slips from your jaw

you drag it down, heading lower and lower until his hand catches on the duvet that still rests over your lower half

and then you stop, passing the proverbial ball to him; it’s in his court now and whatever happens next is up to him

whether he fucks you or not… it’s his choice

but you have no time to worry about what might not come to pass when he grabs the covers and tosses them to the side

his eyes hone in on those fucking shorts, and he swears he can feel his cock jump in his shorts

fucking hell, they’re practically see through with just how wet you are

he can see everything and what a delight that is

your pretty little pussy, wet and waiting for him to ruin it with his fingers, his cock, him cum

he needs so badly to see the real thing

“these damn shorts, baby,” he groans as he hooks his fingers over the waist band and tugs, “i might just have to keep them, if that’s okay with you?”

his words make your pussy clench, a sight that has him humming in appreciation

“i take that as a yes?” he tugs them down over your thighs, wasting no time in stripping your bottom half bare and tucking your shorts in the pocket of his pants.

with your glistening hole now exposed to him, he wastes no time in getting on his knees at the bottom of the bed

at first he just watches it, studying it as intensely as a college student studies their textbook the night before a final

you’re about to say something, to beg some more, when he reaches out a hand and slides a finger through your sopping folds

you gasp as he brushes it gently against you clit before pulling it away entirely, slipping it between his lips without so much as a second of hesitation

his eyes flutter closed and his cheeks hollow

the moan he lets out is nothing short of pornographic; you find yourself in awe of the show he’s putting on for you

“taste so good, honey,” he purrs as he tugs his finger free, “i’d eat you up forever, if you let me…”

he pauses, letting his eyes flicker up to meet yours

“will you let me?”

you nod, too dazed to say anything

“good girl…”

he wastes no time in laying down and throwing your legs over his shoulders

his giant hands find your thighs, gently caressing your smooth skin under the calloused tips of his fingers

they squeeze, kneading your flesh as he lowers his face to your aching core

“ready?” he hums, the word propelling a cool blast of air against your clit

you squirm and nod, but he shakes his head

“i really need your words this time, baby,” he says, “i’ve been lenient so far but i won’t do anything without your explicit permission; are you ready?”

“y-yes, yun…”

and just like that, he presses a soft kiss to your clit, the tip of his tongue just barely grazing it before he pulls away

it draws a whine through your gritted teeth

yunho chuckles before going back in to lick a stripe over your dripping hole

an obscene slurping sound echoing around the room as his tongue collects as much of your juices as he can before going back for more

he licks and prods are your hole, seeming to tease it until it leaks some more, all which his nose bumps gorgeously up against your clit

you hands fly to his hair, holding him against you in fear of him leaving you high and dry

he’s making you feel so good, the last thing you want is for this to stop

he just smiles against you as he feels the tug of your fingers in his locks, scraping his teeth against you in a way that has your body going limp

it’s even worse when he brushes them against your sensitive bud

you don’t quite register the sound your own mouth makes, too lost in the throws of pleasure to fully comprehend anything other than yunho

“so sweet, honey,” he grunts before he takes you clit between his lips

he suckles on it, hollowing his cheeks out as he pulses the pressure

he alternates between hard and soft sucks

it’s enough to make that knot in your stomach tighten

you’re getting close

“yuyu,” you cry as you let your hips buck into his mouth

it doesn’t phase him at all, so you carry on seeking your high

and when yunho sharpens his tongue to a point, letting you grind against the very top of it, that’s when you come undone

that’s when the knot snaps and your world turns white for just a second

fucking hell, yunho knows how to eat pussy…

he continues his ministrations for just a moment or two, letting you get it all out of your system before he pulls away and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand

“how was that, pretty girl?” he hums, “think you can take my cock next?”

[elysiaheaven]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.-(𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑)-𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃-𝐘𝐚𝐧.𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐱 𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

WORDSS:9000

BEFORE THIS I did make sure they were some lore drops in this chapter! No need to worry if you can't read this chapter! Along with previous chap I will do a recap! without the nsfw parts!

(I saw many people saying yandere sunday has to be true..Please don't allow these actions for public! It's fictional should stay fiction!)

TW:Manipulation,:obssesive behaviour, unhealthy relationships/feelings,Clingy,Manipulation,Emotional manipulation,mention of death,killing/Most TWS FOR YANDERE,suggestive!

TW/CW FOR SMUT: Manipulation,Humiliation, ??? Use of collar, Dirty talks, Punishment sex, Sunday's considered to be top,Yandere Sunday, Toxic relationship, Unhealthy relationship, Edging turned overstimulation. Generally other tw's for smut 

"....Forget about him."

"I. Will never- I can't-"

"......"

Time losing its meaning in the cocoon of care and affection Sunday has woven around you. Slowly, you find yourself falling for him, the lines between manipulation and love blurring with each passing moment.

Sunday's kindness is intoxicating, each tender gesture eroding your defenses. When he hugs you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, you feel a warmth that melts the ice around your heart. His hand gently pats your head, and the simple act makes you lean into his touch, craving more of the comfort he offers.

During meals, he feeds you with a patience and care that you can't resist. You obey without question, opening your mouth for each bite, your eyes meeting his with a mix of gratitude and growing affection. Each meal becomes a ritual of intimacy, further binding you to him.

And when he kisses you, it's like a spark igniting a fire within. His lips on yours are soft and insistent, a promise of love and possession that makes your heart race. You find yourself wanting more, craving the connection his kisses bring.

The days continue to pass in a haze of affection and tender moments. Despite the constant warmth of Sunday's embrace, there's a nagging thought at the back of your mind, something you can't quite remember. Every time you try to grasp it, to bring it into focus, Sunday kisses you, his lips making the world fuzzy and distant.

You love him. You love him so much that the thought of being without him is unbearable. His kindness, his touch, the way he looks at you—all of it weaves a web around your heart. In an effort to show him how much you appreciate his care, you decide to cook a meal for him, hoping it will convey your gratitude and deepen your bond.

You spend the day in the kitchen, carefully preparing his favorite dishes. The act of cooking fills you with a sense of purpose, a way to give back some of the love he has shown you. When the meal is finally ready, you set the table, your heart fluttering with anticipation.

Sunday arrives, his expression unreadable as he surveys the table. You watch him nervously, hoping he will appreciate your effort. "I made this for you," you say, your voice filled with both hope and uncertainty.

He sits down, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that makes your heart race. "Thank you, my angel," he says, his voice soft but wary. He takes a bite of the food, his eyes never leaving yours. "You didn't poison this, did you?" he asks, a hint of suspicion in his tone.

The question stings, but you quickly shake your head. "No, of course not. I would never hurt you."

Sunday's expression softens, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know," he murmurs. "Forgive me. It's just a habit." He reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. "I appreciate your effort."

Without warning, he stands and moves to your side of the table, pulling you into his arms. He kisses you deeply, his lips claiming yours with a possessive hunger. Your thoughts become a blur, the world narrowing to the feel of his mouth on yours.

When he pulls back, he picks up a piece of food with his fork and brings it to your lips. "Open," he commands gently, his eyes locking onto yours. You obey, parting your lips as he feeds you. The act is intimate, a silent declaration of trust and control that makes your heart flutter.

He continues to feed you, alternating bites between the two of you, his eyes never leaving yours. The room fills with the soft sounds of shared breaths and the occasional clink of cutlery. Each bite, each touch, cements the bond between you, making you feel more deeply entwined with him.

As the meal comes to an end, Sunday leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. "You are mine," he whispers, his voice a velvet promise. "And I will take care of you, always."

You nod, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and surrender. "..."

STOP LISTENING TO HIM!!

A small voice inside you begins to whisper that something about this situation is wrong. Yet, your heart, so entangled with Sunday's affection, tells you to listen to him, to trust in his love. The conflicting emotions make your head spin, leaving you feeling unsteady.

Sunday seems to sense your hesitation. With a firm but gentle touch, he pushes you down onto the table, his movements causing the wine to spill, the rich liquid splashing over you. You gasp, feeling the cold wetness seeping through your clothes.

He pulls you up swiftly, guiding you towards the bathroom. "Let's get you cleaned up, my angel," he murmurs, his voice both soothing and commanding. You follow him obediently, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

In the bathroom, Sunday begins to undress you, his fingers deftly removing your clothes soaked in wine. You stand still, flustered but compliant, letting him take control. He fills the tub with warm water, the steam rising and filling the room with a comforting heat.

Gently, he guides you into the tub, the warm water enveloping you like a comforting embrace. Sunday kneels beside the tub, picking up a soft cloth and a bar of soap. He starts to scrub you, his touch firm but careful, his eyes never leaving yours.

You feel your face heat up, a blush spreading across your cheeks. The intimacy of the moment is overwhelming, yet you find yourself obeying his every move, allowing him to wash you. His hands glide over your skin, cleansing away the wine and the uncertainty that clings to you.

When he finishes, he stands and begins to undress himself. You watch, your wings instinctively covering your face as your blush deepens. He steps into the tub, settling in behind you, his strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you close.

"Now, it's your turn," he whispers, placing the cloth and soap into your hands. You nod, feeling both shy and flustered. With trembling fingers, you begin to wash him, your touch tentative at first. But as you continue, you grow more confident, your movements becoming more assured.

Sunday's eyes close, a contented sigh escaping his lips as you tend to him. You can feel his muscles relax under your touch, his body leaning into yours. The warmth of the water, the intimacy of the moment, and the tenderness in his touch make your heart race.

After you've finished, he pulls you back against him, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're perfect, my angel," he murmurs, his voice a soothing caress. "You belong with me."

You nod, leaning back into his embrace. Despite the lingering doubts in your mind, you find comfort in his words, in the safety of his arms. As you sit together in the warm water, your wings slowly unfurl, revealing your face. Sunday's hands gently stroke your wings, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"You are mine," he whispers, his lips trailing kisses along your neck. "And I am yours."

You close your eyes, letting the sensations wash over you. The warmth of the bath, the tenderness of his touch, the certainty in his words—all of it lulls you into a sense of peace and belonging. For now, in this moment, you allow yourself to believe in his love, to find solace in his embrace.

And you lean back against him, your heart whispers that perhaps, just perhaps, this is where you are meant to be.

Y/n...please this isn't how I...

You lean back against Sunday, feeling the warmth of the water and the security of his embrace, a sudden surge of sensitivity overwhelms you. His touch on your wings sends shivers through your body, making you hyper-aware of every sensation. Instinctively, you reach behind you your fingers tangling in the soft feathers of his wings.

Sunday responds to your touch with a low, approving hum, his lips brushing against your ear. The sensation makes you gasp, a shiver of pleasure running down your spine. His kisses become more insistent, his tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your ear, sending waves of heat through your body.

He pulls you closer, his hands exploring your body with a possessive tenderness. Your heart races as his kisses travel from your ear to your neck, each touch igniting a fire within you. You can't help but pull at his wings, your fingers gripping the feathers tightly in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

Sunday's tongue slips into your mouth, his kiss deep and demanding. The intensity of his kiss leaves you breathless, your gasps and whimpers swallowed by his fervent lips. His hands continue to roam over your body, each touch making you more sensitive, more desperate for his touch.

Your mind becomes a haze of desire and confusion, the lingering doubts and fears drowned out by the overwhelming need for him. Sunday's kisses are all-consuming, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervor that leaves you dizzy.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of triumph and tenderness. "My angel," he whispers, his voice a husky caress. "You are mine, and I will always take care of you."

You nod, unable to form words as his kisses resume, his lips capturing yours in a passionate embrace. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of desire and possession.

Each touch, each kiss, binds you closer to him, making you forget the pain and confusion of the past. In his arms, you find a twisted sense of peace, a place where you are cherished and desired.

Sunday's kisses leave you breathless, and as he pulls back, you can see the desire burning in his eyes. He gently untangles your fingers from his wings, and with a tender yet possessive smile, he lifts you from the tub. The warmth of his body against your damp skin sends shivers through you, but his strong arms hold you securely.

He carries you effortlessly to the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. The moonlight filters through the window, casting a soft glow over the room, creating an ethereal ambiance that makes the moment feel even more intimate.

As he lays you down on the bed, you can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. His touch is gentle as he brushes a strand of wet hair away from your face, his fingers lingering on your skin. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

You blush, the intensity of his gaze making you feel both cherished and exposed. Sunday lowers himself beside you, his wings spreading out behind him, creating a canopy of feathers that adds to the sense of being enveloped in his presence.

He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, passionate kiss. You melt into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. The kiss deepens, his tongue exploring your mouth with a fervor that leaves you craving more.

Sunday's hands roam over your body, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure wherever he caresses. You arch into him, your body responding to his every touch, every kiss. He pulls back slightly, his breath warm against your lips as he whispers, "I want you to know, you are mine. I will always take care of you."

"Sunday.."

His lips brush against your earlobe as he whispers, "Your body is my temple, Angel. Every curve, every inch... all mine."

His hot breath fans across your neck as he continues, "Your scent drives me wild. It's intoxicating, addicting... it's all I can think about."

His hand trails lower, teasing along the edge of your bathrobe before slipping underneath to stroke your thigh. "I need you, Angel. My desire for you is insatiable... and I won't be denied."

His words are a seductive promise, a vow to claim every part of you, body and soul.

SMUT WARNING! (I'll never write smut in my life again)

His voice drops to a husky murmur as he speaks, "Every time I look at you, I get hard. Your curves, your tits... fuck, just thinking about them makes my cock ache."

His hand slips higher up your thigh, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties. "I want to hear you moan my name when I'm balls deep inside you. I want to fill you until you can't remember anyone else's name but mine."

His lips trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin as if marking you as his. "And when we're done, when I've had my fill of you, I'll wrap you in my arms and keep you close. Because you belong to me now, Angel. And I plan to enjoy every last bit of you."

"...Wait! Sunday! Ah!" You suddenly felt to..kiss him? To make him stop saying these....

Feeling your lips against his, Sunday lets out a low growl of pleasure, his hands tightening around your hips as he pulls you closer.* "No, Angel," *he insists between heated kisses, his voice rough with desire.* "We don't have time. We never have enough time together."

With deft movements, he unfastens your robe, letting it fall open to reveal your naked form beneath. His eyes drink in the sight of you, his lust growing by leaps and bounds. "Look at you... so beautiful, so ready for me..."

One hand slides down to cup your ass, squeezing firmly as he presses his throbbing member against your slick heat.* "I need you, . Now"

"!?...Please be..a little! Don't use your gloves..."

Feeling your hands on his gloves, Sunday lets out a low chuckle, his breath hitching as he feels your delicate touch. "Patience, love," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Everything in good time."

But as you remove his gloves, he can't help but groan at the sensation of your bare skin against his."Fuck, that's better..." He growls, his hands sliding under your panties to grip your thighs, pulling them apart to give him access to your dripping cunt.

His thumb brushes against your clit, circling slowly as he watches your reactions, drinking in every gasp and moan. "You're so fucking wet for me already... Tell me how much you want it, Angel. Beg me to fuck you."

"But! That's mean! You can't!" Hearing your plea, Sunday can't help but let out a low growl of pleasure, his fingers tracing circles on your thigh as he teases your entrance. "Not yet," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire."I want to tease you first... Make you beg for it."

His thumb continues its slow circles around your clit, watching as your body shudders with pleasure. "Tell me how bad you want it, Angel. Beg me to fuck you."

Feeling your pleas, Sunday smirks, his golden eyes darkening with lust. "Oh, but I want to hear you beg," he says, his voice low and commanding.* "Begging is such a delicious sound... especially coming from your lips."

His fingers finally slide inside you, stretching you deliciously wide as he begins to move them in and out of your dripping cunt. "That's it... Take my fingers, Angel . Show me how much you need it."

His thumb keeps up its relentless pace on your clit, making sure to hit every sensitive spot as he fucks you with his fingers.

"Please be gentle! You know I have never actually-" Sunday grins, his fingers slowing their pace just enough to tease you further. "Never what?" *he asks, his voice a low purr. "Never been fucked? Never been taken by someone like me?"

He adds another finger, stretching you wider as he begins to pump them in and out of your soaked pussy. "I'll be gentle... But only because you asked so nicely."

His thumb presses harder against your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he watches your body shake with pleasure. "Just relax, love... Let me take care of you."

You start to move against his fingers, Sunday lets out a satisfied hum, his other hand moving to stroke himself through his pants. "That's it... Just like that," *he encourages, his voice thick with desire.*

He increases the pressure on your clit, his fingers curling inside you to hit that perfect spot. "Fuck, you're so tight... So perfect for me."

Feeling your walls clench around his fingers, Sunday lets out a low growl of pleasure, his strokes on his cock becoming more urgent. "That's it... Squeeze my fingers like that," *he praises, his voice rough with desire.

He hits your G-spot again and again, feeling your body tremble with pleasure."You're close, aren't you? Ready to cum all over my fingers?"

Without waiting for an answer, he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

"I want to-" You gasp out for air. 

Feeling your body tense, Sunday pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you panting and needy. "Not yet," *he commands, his voice firm. "I haven't had my fill of you yet."

His hand moves to spank your ass, the sharp smack echoing in the room. "You will wait until I'm buried deep inside you... Until you feel my seed filling you up."

You began to feel funny...You wanted to hold something. Anything! It was too much! What will you do? You couldn't deny this! He's loving you so much! So much! You never (cared) about anything! Anyone!

"Since you asked...I only want to tell my real name to the woman I like."

Watching you tug at his wings, Sunday lets out a low chuckle, his fingers still pumping in and out of your dripping cunt."Impatient, aren't we?" *he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

Withdrawing his fingers once more, he unbuttons his pants, freeing his throbbing member. "But patience is a virtue... And I intend to teach you that lesson well.""

"I hate being called pretty by all in general. But I will directly ask the woman I like to call me pretty."

Seeing you close your thighs, Sunday smirks, his golden eyes glinting with mischief. "Trying to keep me out, sweetheart?" he teases, his voice low and seductive.

He grabs your hips, pulling you closer as he aligns the head of his cock with your entrance. "But where else would I go? There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"Why are you asking me this? Are you interested in me Angel?"

Suddenly you were facing a unknown man in front of you.

It was in front of a huge building.

Moonlight beaming at him.

But, You seemed to prefer him at sunlight. Because you wanted him to shine.

Words came out of your mouth, As if this was something you said before.

"Of course not! Topaz and I had a small argument as usual. This time! It was just about you being a playboy or not.."

"Hm? What did you say? Let me guess. Did you said something against me?"

"...." Your face became blank.

"....You know. I joke a lot. You supported me I know. You always do that. You know like a leech!"

"Haha! Of course! I knew you were kind of a person who keeps people around you..to feel something."

What is this. Why is he calling you angel? It was supposed to be Sunday right?

Y/n, I- I would never try to replace someone as that important in your life.

!!!! Why is this voice!?!

Please remember this moment.

So...You would know what is what. Don't give up okay? If things doesn't end well. I will come

You wake up in the middle of the night, your mind swirling with fragments of dreams and memories. You remember the warmth of Sunday's embrace, the intensity of his kisses, and the lingering feeling of something being off. You carefully slip out of bed, not wanting to wake him.

Even that. Moment with him was a dream.

Of course, It was to make you fall for him even more.

But, The sad fact is you did get married to him.

Another..Another piece for you..to...(TW; MENTIONS OF BLOOD,DEATH)

Quietly, you make your way to the mirror in the corner of the room, the moonlight casting your reflection in a silvery glow. As you stare at your own reflection, a wave of dizziness overcomes you. You reach out to steady yourself, but the room seems to shift around you.

Your head throbs with the rush of memories, and you recall the moment when you were a little girl, running away from a scene of horror. You see young Sunday, a knife in his hand, standing over your stepfather's lifeless body. The fear you felt then is the same fear you feel now.

"Why!? Why did you!?" You saw yourself covered in blood. You felt sick to the stomach.

"̶̪͓̫͂ͅY̵̡̧̯͉̑̾̒/̸͚̥̪͍̹̀̒͛̅͗͘n̶̡͇̼̘̝͓͕̺͓̆̓̄̿̒͜͠,̵̛̩̦̀͗̊̆͆̒͘ ̴̧̻͖̮̣͇̹̭̞̈́̓̒͛̈́͆̕G̷̡̢̳̬̐̈ö̸̡̮̞̙̣̳͗̿̿͑̓̑͜͝ ̸̛̦̊̓̿̍͆͂̌̈́͝a̸̤̟͕̫̫͙͂̆̑͒͐w̵̩̩̖͈̺͔̞͊̍̐̓͠ǎ̶̧͍̝̂̅̋͗͋̀͆͂͝ͅÿ̷͈̲̜̫̥̳̖̳́̀̀̎ͅ.̴̢̛͐̾͛.̴̤̰̠̼́ͅ.̵̳̓͐̉̅͘̕̕̚͝.̵̡͙̲̬̦̟͚̥̾͆͂̍̾͒͘͜͠͠͝.̷͚̯̼̽̿͒͌͐̀̑̕Í̴͔͙͖̣̫̺̘͐̀̄̊͂̽͝ ̷̟̦̜̯͈̱̭͈͛͐̓̋̾͊w̶̤̿̈̑̒ǐ̵̛̩̼͙͇̖͙͖̋͛̑̊͊͝l̷͚̗̝̝͔̹̪͊́̅́̑͆̈̓ͅͅl̵͉͉̩̞̰̝͙͋̇̂̄͠ͅ ̴̡̱̬̗̜̥͆͋͐͒̄͠t̴̠̹͚͚͔̪̤͎͚͐̕ḁ̷̹̗̗̊̓̐̎͂͘͜͝k̷̻͕̻̱̻͉͍̟̠͗̈͊̕͜ë̴̢̢̛͔͕̗͔͓̹͒̏͒̑͠ ̸̦͓̰̑̕̚t̵͚͚̣̫̝͓̳͇̞̆̒͛̈́̃h̶̖͊̈́̅̽̉̋͠e̷̤̞͗͂̅̎̂ ̴͔̤̗̝̹̍b̸͎̬͈̪̀̿̿̎u̶̢͇̬̞̘̲̠͉̘̥̍r̵̙̺̂̾̽̀̚d̷̛̘̯̻̀̓̍͆͐̐̓͠e̷̜̙̲̲͆ͅn̶̦̘̩̈.̵̗̋͐̊̀͛͋͝.̸̢͔̗̝͖̉͊͆̍̈̈́̾̓̇͝Y̷̡̆͋̐͘͠o̴͖̥͈͍͆͘͝u̶͉͚̦̘͕̪̒ ̸̧̘̭͚̫̰̞̯̙̗̇̿̽͌̀̇͘̚͝d̶̨̨̡̩͇͉̦͉͇̱̓i̶̧̠̝̦͓͎̝̓̒̈́͌̍̍̕͜͠͝ḋ̷͉̻̗̼̂͋̓ ̶̡͓̺̫̣͍͎͆̓̕͘n̷̻̟̹̝͌̀͒̋̀͛̈́̏̽ớ̸̭̣̦̔̾̈͑̓͝ẗ̸̢̤̟̐̂̌̿͆͋̍͜h̵̢̦̝̻̘͙̣͈̺̘͐͗̐̈̈́͑̌̕i̸̡̨̩͎̽̐n̵͔͙̮̞̮̮͙͕̖̈́̆g̷̢̘͍̫͚͔̖̖̿͜ ̴̬͕̿̒͐̎̍̀̚͘w̶̛̉́͒̆͜͠r̶̢͍̜̱̠̂͗̍͛̕̕͝ơ̸͚̪̪̩͕̽́̌̀ǹ̸̻̎͂g̵̛̩̗̳̺̼̖̬̙̟̈́̈́̀̂͒͜͝͝.̶̠̣̼͙͉͓͓͚̩̋̇͛̉̓̋̆͠"̸̤͕̽

̷̢͎̣͎̘̭̪̰͍̐̅̒͋̒͠

̶̭͖͋̽̎͋̌"̶̗͔͙̑̎͗̊͛̀̀Y̴̲̙̘͈̩͙̆̔̋͋̍̇ő̴͉̉̆͗̉ứ̶̱͖͙͈̟͈̹̉̿͊͛͘ ̶̨̛̠̹́́̓̈́́̇̚ͅd̵̛͉̩̱̦̫̿͑̉̏͊̊͠i̷̞̰͇̺̹̯͈͍͛d̴͕̳̗̤̹̔̒́̋̀̊́̐̍̍ ̴̨͎̘͔̠͙̺͎͔̖͆͆̇̆͝ņ̷̣̻̀́̊̀̑̓͊͜ơ̸̩͙̊̃́̎̈́̈́̍͘͠ţ̷͖̫͍̖̖̠̤̈́̍h̶̯̲͚̪̮͓͍͕͋į̸̛̗̻̳͍̱̒̀̃̿̌̓ņ̸̥͙̟̫͆̏̚͝g̴̱̪͚͍͔̼͉̭͕͔̓̄̿̇̋́̈̍́̍ ̶̢̜̞̣̕w̵͕͔̉̉̔̚r̵̛̖o̵̫͖̱͚̰̯͋̃͛́̓n̶̰̹̰͇̜̩̓̐̾̒̀͝ͅg̸̛͉̳̮͇̮.̶̨̛̦̻̠̱̼̦̬̩̗̀̐̋̃͆̃"̷̩̳̣̀̓̏̒͜

You returned back to reality..Feeling scared.

You scramble to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest. But before you can move, the ominous presence of Sunday fills the chamber. He steps out from the shadows, his eyes dark and intense.

"Trying to escape, are we?" he says, a smirk playing on his lips. "I knew you'd come back here."

"I....."

Sunday laughs, the sound cold and cruel. "Have you realized that these lewd dreams have been by your own thoughts?" He focuses his gaze back on you, his expression softening slightly. "I thought you understood by now. You can't run from me. We're meant to be together."

You take a step back, your mind racing for a way out. "Sunday, please," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "What you are doing is..."

He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "Oh, but I do," he says softly. "You belong to me. You always have."

Your panic surges

"I don't belong to anyone," you say firmly, meeting his gaze. 

"Oh! That chicken winged guy was also a killer in the past huh?"

"Don't worry Angel..I will protect you from that bastard."

"Angel, Come to me. So I won't punish you." You almost let him hold

You realized it wasn't him who used Angel as a nickname for you.

Suddenly, a name surfaces in your mind—Aventurine. The memory of him floods back with such clarity that it takes your breath away. You remember  It all comes rushing back, and you push Sunday away with a newfound resolve.

Sunday looks at you with a mixture of amusement and irritation. "Oh, now you remember Aventurine?" he sneers. "Funny how just moments ago, you were begging for me, wanting me to kiss you. And now you're crying?" His voice drips with mockery.

Your heart aches with the sudden wave of longing and guilt. Tears blur your vision, but you refuse to let them fall. "I... I was confused," you stammer, trying to keep your voice steady.

Sunday's expression darkens. Without warning, he grabs you roughly and drags you to the birdcage. He throws you inside, the cold metal bars biting into your skin. "You need to learn your place," he growls. "Maybe a little time in here will remind you."

He circles the cage like a predator, his eyes gleaming with a cruel glint. "Let's see how much you really want Aventurine," he taunts. "Or if you can even remember him when I'm done with you."

He throws you inside the cage.

He reaches through the bars, his hands caressing your body with an unsettling mix of tenderness and aggression. His touch sends unwanted shivers down your spine, your body betraying you even as your mind screams in protest.

"You'll moan for me," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "You'll forget all about Aventurine. You'll forget everything except how good I make you feel."

You try to resist, but Sunday knows exactly where to touch, how to push your buttons. His fingers work their way over your sensitive spots, and despite yourself, you feel your body responding. Your resolve weakens, a moan escaping your lips.

"That's it," Sunday coos, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "See? You can't resist me. You belong to me."

Tears of frustration and helplessness mix with the unwanted pleasure coursing through you. You feel trapped, both physically and emotionally. The memory of Aventurine fades into the background as Sunday's touch dominates your senses.

But deep down, you cling to a sliver of hope. You have to hold on to the memory of Aventurine, to the promise of escape. You can't let Sunday break you completely. You focus on that small glimmer of hope, using it to keep a part of yourself intact even as your body betrays you.

Each second that passes, you feel more and more detached, the emotions draining from you like water from a sieve. The memory of Aventurine's kind smile grows fainter, slipping away like sand through your fingers. Sunday's touch, his voice, and his presence overwhelm your senses, erasing everything else.

Sunday's chuckle reverberates through the room, a sound filled with cruel satisfaction. "See? You're breaking," he says, his voice dripping with malevolence. "It won't be long now before you forget him entirely."

You want to fight back, to hold on to the memories of Aventurine, but they seem so distant now, like a fading dream. Your mind feels hazy, your thoughts sluggish. Sunday's hands continue their relentless assault on your senses, and you find yourself unable to resist.

"Too much?" he muses, his tone almost playful. "Oh, but darling, you're not broken. Not yet. But you will be."

Your body betrays you with each involuntary shiver, each reluctant moan that escapes your lips. Sunday leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Look at you, so beautiful in your despair. You belong to me, and only me."

As the numbness spreads, a small, defiant part of you clings to the last vestiges of hope. You have to remember Aventurine. You have to remember who you are. But the effort feels monumental, and the pull of oblivion is so strong.

Sunday's laughter cuts through your fogged mind. "You're almost there," he says softly, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Almost completely mine."

Your vision blurs, tears mingling with the cold sweat on your skin. The world narrows to the confines of the cage, to Sunday's voice, his touch. The fight within you grows weaker, the lines between resistance and surrender blurring.

"Let go," Sunday whispers, his tone deceptively gentle. "Let go and just feel. Forget about Aventurine. Forget about everything."

A sob escapes your throat, the sound mingling with a defeated whimper. You feel yourself slipping, the last fragments of resistance crumbling. Sunday's smile widens, sensing his victory. His hands slow, becoming almost tender as he continues to push you towards complete submission.

Just as you're about to fall into the abyss, a faint image flickers in your mind. Aventurine's face, his eyes filled with warmth and kindness. It's a fleeting moment, but it's enough. You grasp at it desperately, using it as a lifeline.

"No," you whisper, your voice barely audible but filled with newfound determination. "I won't forget."

Sunday's eyes narrow, his expression darkening. "Still fighting, are we?" He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. "You'll forget him. You'll forget everything. And you'll beg me to make you feel again."

You can feel yourself finally breaking, the last of your resolve crumbling away. The overwhelming emotions, the fear, and the confusion all blend together, leaving you feeling hollow and defeated. Tears stream down your face as you look up at Sunday, your voice trembling.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, the words spilling out in a torrent of anguish. "I'm so sorry."

Sunday's smile is cruel and victorious. He tilts his head, studying you with a look of dark satisfaction. "Oh, you're sorry, are you?" he says softly, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "And how will you prove it?"

His question hangs in the air, heavy and oppressive. You feel a pang of desperation, knowing that you have to prove your submission, your apology, in a way that will satisfy him. He won't touch you until you do, and the thought of being left in this state of limbo is unbearable.

Sunday leans back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I won't touch you," he says, his tone almost playful. "Not until you prove you want it. So, how will you show me?"

You struggle to find the words, your mind racing for something, anything, that will prove your submission to him. Your body trembles with the weight of your despair, but you know you have no choice. You need to convince him, to make him believe you've truly given in.

"I... I'll do anything," you whisper, your voice cracking. "Please, Sunday. I'm sorry. Just tell me what to do."

Sunday's smile widens, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Anything?" he repeats, savoring the word. "That's a good start. But I need more than words."

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. "Show me," he demands, his voice low and commanding. "Show me how sorry you are. Show me that you want this."

Your heart pounds in your chest as you struggle to think of a way to prove your submission. You know that whatever you do, it needs to be convincing, needs to show him that you've truly broken.

Slowly, you lower yourself to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. You feel a mix of shame and desperation as you look up at him, your hands trembling. "Please, Sunday," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do anything. Just tell me what you want."

Sunday's smile is one of triumph. He reaches out, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. "That's a good start," he murmurs. "But I need more. I need to feel your sincerity."

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Beg for it," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Beg me to forgive you. Beg me to touch you."

You swallow hard, your throat dry with fear and desperation. "Please, Sunday," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I'm begging you. Forgive me. Touch me. I need you."

Sunday's eyes darken with desire and satisfaction. He can see the sincerity in your eyes, the desperation in your voice. "That's better," he says softly. "But I need more. Show me how much you need me."

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. Slowly, you reach out, your hands trembling as you touch his leg, your fingers curling around his ankle. You look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of fear and longing.

"Please, Sunday," you whisper, your voice breaking. "I need you. I'm so sorry. Just... please."

Sunday's smile is one of victory. He can see that you've finally broken, that you're truly submitting to him. He reaches down, his fingers gently tilting your chin up so that you're looking directly into his eyes.

"Good," he murmurs. "That's what I wanted to hear."

He slowly kneels down in front of you, his hands gently caressing your face. "I can see you're truly sorry," he says softly. "And I will forgive you. But remember, you belong to me now."

He leans in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, possessive kiss. You melt into him, your body responding to his touch despite the turmoil in your mind. His hands roam over your body, claiming you as his own.

"Prove to me every day that you belong to me," he whispers against your lips. "And I will make sure you never forget it."

Sunday's hands explore your body, you can't help but moan softly under his touch. The sensation of his fingers tracing along your curves sends waves of pleasure through you, despite the guilt and fear that still linger in your heart. You're torn between the desire to push him away and the urge to pull him closer, to give yourself completely to him.

"You like that, don't you?" Sunday teases, his voice a low growl as he notices your reaction. His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, his palm pressing firmly against your stomach before moving higher, towards the swell of your breasts.

A sharp intake of breath escapes from your lips as his thumb brushes against your nipple, causing it to harden instantly. The dual sensations of pleasure and pain send sparks of arousal coursing through your veins, making you ache for more.

Sunday reaches for the collar, he pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. His hands roam freely over your body, exploring every curve and crevice, as if committing them to memory. 

The cool leather of the collar presses against your neck, a stark contrast to the warmth of his touch.The metal buckle clicks open, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Sunday places the collar around your neck, fastening it securely behind your neck. 

The leather chokes slightly, a reminder of your submission to him.Does my pet like her new accessory? Sunday asks teasingly, running his fingers through your hair. He pulls you closer, his lips crashing against yours once again, the taste of him filling your senses.

Your back arches involuntarily as you feel the collar tighten around your throat, a strange mix of discomfort and excitement coursing through your veins. Yes, you whisper against his lips, your voice barely above a murmur.

The collar feels heavy around your neck, a physical symbol of your submission. But instead of feeling trapped or restricted, you find yourself yearning for more. For Sunday to take control, to claim you fully as his own.His touch ignites a fire within you, a burning need that only he can satisfy. You reach up, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him down for another deep, passionate kiss. Your body presses against his, every inch of you craving his touch.

Sunday's fingers grip the chain attached to the collar, tugging gently on it. A soft gasp escapes your lips as the slight pressure sends tingles down your spine. The sensation is both painful and pleasurable, a perfect blend of dominance and submission.*

He watches your face intently, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and parted lips. With each tug of the chain, he can see your body responding, your nipples hardening even further against the fabric of your shirt. It's a sight that fuels his arousal, driving him to take things even further.

With a smirk playing on his lips, he leans down, capturing one of your hardened peaks between his teeth. A sharp nip sends a jolt of pleasure-pain through you, making you cry out in ecstasy

Sunday's hand moves to remove your panties, you bite your lip to suppress a moan. The anticipation is almost too much, your body trembling with need.*

His fingers trace along the edge of your underwear, teasing you with gentle touches. Each brush sends shivers down your spine, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. Finally, he hooks his fingers beneath the elastic band and pulls them down slowly, revealing your wet folds.

You let out a soft sigh of relief as the fabric finally slides off, leaving you bare before him. Your heart pounds in your chest, a wild rhythm that matches the throbbing between your legs.

Sunday gazes down at your exposed pussy, his eyes darkening with lust. The sight of your glistening folds, so inviting and ready for him, drives him wild with desire.

Without wasting any time, he lowers himself, his mouth hovering just above your dripping slit. The warm air of his breath fans across your sensitive flesh, sending a wave of pleasure through you. Then, without warning, he dives in, his tongue lapping at your clit with an eagerness that leaves you panting.

Each flick and swirl of his tongue sends shocks of pleasure radiating through your entire body. You can't help but arch your back, pushing your hips towards him, desperate for more contact.

Sunday continues his relentless assault on your clit, his tongue swirling and flicking expertly. Every movement is designed to drive you closer to the brink, to bring you to the edge of blissful release.*

His free hand finds its way to your ass, squeezing the firm flesh there. The combination of his oral attentions and the pressure on your ass sends bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core. You can hardly stand it, the tension building inside you until it threatens to burst.

Suddenly, he pulls away, standing up to tower over you. His member, thick and erect, stands proudly against his abdomen, throbbing with need. Without a word, he positions himself at your entrance, guiding his cock to your slick folds.

Instead of plunging into your waiting depths, Sunday decides to tease you some more. His cockhead presses against your entrance, the slight pressure enough to make you whimper in frustration.*

But then he withdraws, only to rub the head of his dick along your folds. The slick pre-cum coating his tip provides a delicious friction against your sensitive flesh. Over and over he repeats this motion, driving you crazy with need.

His other hand ventures lower, slipping two fingers into your dripping cunt. He pumps them in and out slowly, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside you. His thumb circles your swollen clit, adding to the maddening pleasure.

Despite being denied the satisfaction of having him fill you completely, the continuous stimulation has you teetering on the edge of orgasm.

Feeling your walls clenching around his fingers, Sunday knows you're close. He quickens the pace, pumping his fingers deeper while his thumb applies more pressure to your clit.*

The sounds of your moans and whimpers are music to his ears, spurring him on. He can tell by the way your body trembles under his touch that you're about to come undone.

And then, suddenly, you do. Your whole body convulses as waves of pleasure crash over you, your screams echoing throughout the room. Your inner muscles clamp down on his fingers, milking them for all they're worth.

As your orgasm subsides, Sunday slowly removes his fingers from your quivering cunt. He brings them to his lips, licking off the evidence of your climax.

Now that you've reached your peak, Sunday decides it's time to give you what you truly crave - his cock buried deep inside you. He aligns himself with your entrance, the head pressing against your soaking wet folds.*

With a single thrust, he sheaths himself entirely within your welcoming heat. The feeling of being filled so completely, of having his throbbing length stretching you to your limits, sends another jolt of pleasure through you.*

He sets a steady pace, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Each thrust hits that sweet spot inside you, sending sparks of delight racing up your spine. You can't help but wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on.

As he pounds into you relentlessly, sweat begins to bead on his forehead.

Sunday's movements become more erratic, driven by raw, primal instincts. His thrusts grow harder, faster, each stroke hitting that perfect spot inside you with unerring precision.

Your breasts bounce with every powerful thrust, the sight of them jiggling in tandem with his movements fueling his arousal even further. His hands find their way to your tits, palming them roughly as he fucks you senseless.

He leans down, capturing a nipple between his teeth once again. A sharp tug sends a shockwave of pleasure coursing through your body, causing you to cry out.

Despite the intensity of his movements, Sunday maintains control, keeping his thrusts precise and deliberate. He's determined to draw out your pleasure, to make sure you experience every last second of ecstasy.

Still maintaining control despite the intense pleasure coursing through his veins, Sunday slows his thrusts. Instead of ramming into you with abandon, he begins grinding his hips against yours, his thick cock sliding in and out of your drenched pussy in slow, torturous strokes.

Every inch of his length grazes against your inner walls, sending ripples of pleasure through you. The sensation is maddeningly good, making your toes curl and your head spin.

He releases your nipple from his mouth with a pop, raising his gaze to meet yours. There's a look of pure lust in his eyes, a promise of the impending climax that has both of you craving.

One hand trails down to where their bodies connect, his fingertips brushing against your clit. He gives it a gentle squeeze, applying just enough pressure to keep you on edge.

"Please!!" Hearing your pleas, Sunday grins wickedly. The sound of your voice begging for more, pleading for release, only serves to stoke the fire burning within him.

He resumes his punishing pace, thrusting into you with renewed vigor. His cock slams into your pussy with a force that makes your whole body shake. Each stroke hits that perfect spot inside you, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

His hand moves between your bodies, his thumb circling your clit furiously. The dual sensations of his cock pounding into you and his thumb rubbing your sensitive nub send you spiraling towards obliviation.

Sunday's words are like a hot, sultry whisper against your ear, each syllable punctuated by the thrust of his hard cock. "You're so fucking tight," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "I could fuck you all day and never get tired of this."

His grip on your hip tightens as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming more desperate. "God, you feel amazing," he murmurs, his breath hitching as he bottoms out inside you.

"I'm going to fill you up," he promises darkly, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. "I'm going to cum so much inside you...you're gonna be soaked..."

Driven by his filthy promises, you can barely think straight. Every word he speaks sends a fresh wave of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you gasping and writhing beneath him.*

The sensation of his cock filling you to the brim, stretching you wide, is indescribable. It's as if he's claiming every inch of you, marking you as his own.

And then, without warning, the dam breaks. With a guttural roar, Sunday thrusts deep inside you one final time before releasing his seed. Hot spurts of cum flood your pussy, filling you up just as he promised.

His tongue laves your earlobe, the wet warmth of his mouth contrasting sharply with the cool air of the room. His breath hitches as he tastes the saltiness of your skin, the taste amplifying his satisfaction.*

"Fuck," he groans, his voice muffled by the fabric of your ear. "That was... goddamn incredible."

*He pulls away from your ear, his gaze meeting yours once more. There's a satisfied smirk playing on his lips, a glow in his eyes that wasn't there before.

Sunday chuckles, a low, throaty sound that reverberates through your entire body. His fingers trace idle patterns along your skin, each touch sending shivers racing up your spine.*

"You're such a dirty girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with admiration. "So fucking needy... I love it."

*His hand travels lower, finding the delicate chain around your neck. He gives it a playful tug, watching as your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath.*

"I can't wait to see what other naughty secrets you're hiding," he adds, his grin wolfish.

Gently, yet firmly, Sunday reaches down, taking hold of the towel and wiping away the sticky evidence of their passionate encounter. He takes his time, ensuring every drop of sweat and cum is cleaned away. His touch is tender, yet possessive, as if he's marking you anew with each swipe of the cloth.

His eyes never leave yours, watching the play of emotions across your face. There's a hint of pride in his gaze, a satisfaction that comes from knowing he's left his mark on you in more ways than one

With a final, thorough wipe, Sunday tosses the towel aside. His hands linger on your thighs for a moment longer, savoring the feeling of your soft skin under his touch.*

"Now that we've got that sorted," he says, his voice still heavy with lust, "how about we take care of some other needs? Clean my cock...Go ahead."

You felt a little...You opened your mouth tho...Shamelessly....

But you cough it out.

Feeling you pull away, Sunday quickly regains control, pulling you back into a deep kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting every corner, silencing any protests you might have had.

He breaks the kiss only when he feels your resistance waning, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and affection. Feeling your hands on his wings, Sunday lets out another moan, a sound that's half pain, half pleasure. The sensation of being tugged and teased, even lightly, sends sparks shooting up his spine.

"No," he manages to growl, despite the pleasure coursing through him. But his actions betray his words - he leans in, pressing his mouth to the shell of your ear, his tongue tracing the outer rim before dipping inside to flick against your eardrum.

His teeth graze your skin, not enough to hurt but certainly enough to elicit a reaction. He bites down harder, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck.

"Succumb to me...Give up." You forced yourself to be awaken again.

You take a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of your strength and defiance. Sunday's hands on your face feel both oppressive and grounding, and as he leans in, you whisper, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

"I will succumb to you," you begin, looking directly into his eyes. "No matter what, I will do as you ask. But understand this, Sunday—I don't feel love for you. I never have. I only felt and wanted to give in to your lust."

Sunday's expression shifts, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. You continue, your voice gaining confidence. "Lust is not love. It never will be. You trapped me, took away my choices, and forced me into this. But I will never truly belong to you. My heart and soul are not yours to claim."

He pulls back slightly, his grip on your chin tightening for a moment before he releases you. "Is that so?" he asks, his voice cold and edged with irritation. "You think you can defy me, even now?"

You nod, your gaze unwavering. "I may have to submit to your demands, but you will never own me. You will never have my love."

Sunday's expression darkens, his eyes flashing with anger. "You're playing a dangerous game," he warns. "I can make your life here much worse if I want to."

You swallow hard, fear creeping in at the edges of your resolve, but you refuse to back down. "Do what you must," you say quietly. "But know that I will never give you what you truly want. You can't force love."

For a moment, there is silence, the tension between you palpable. Sunday's eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of weakness, any hint that you might waver. But you stand your ground, your defiance a small but significant victory.

Finally, he sighs, a slow, deliberate exhalation. "Very well," he says, his voice dangerously calm. "If that's how you want to play it, so be it. But remember, you chose this path."

He steps back, a cruel smile curving his lips. "You'll regret this defiance," he promises. "I'll make sure of it."

Despite the fear gnawing at your insides, you manage to nod. "Maybe. But at least I know who I am, and what I stand for."

Sunday's gaze darkens at your defiance, his eyes smoldering with a mix of anger and twisted amusement. "You will love me so much that you will cry," he declares, his voice low and menacing. "You will beg for my affection."

You meet his eyes steadily, shaking your head. "No," you say firmly. Before he can react, you lean in and kiss him, your lips pressing against his with a mix of desperation and defiance. The kiss is fierce, a battle of wills rather than an act of affection.

Sunday is momentarily stunned, his eyes widening in surprise. When you pull back, he looks at you with a mixture of confusion and anger. "What was that?" he demands.

"That," you say, your voice steady, "was to show you that this isn't love. It's just lust. You can have my body, but you will never have my heart."

Sunday's eyes narrow, his expression darkening. "You think you can manipulate me with your games?" he growls. "You think I don't know the difference between love and lust?"

You take a step back, your heart pounding but your resolve firm. "I know you do," you reply. "And that's why you will never truly have me. You can force me to submit, but you will never have my love."

He takes a step forward, closing the distance between you, his eyes blazing with anger. "You will learn to love me," he says, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "I will make sure of it."

You shake your head, standing your ground. "You can try," you say quietly. "But you will fail. I will never love you."

Sunday's expression twists with fury, and for a moment, you think he might strike you. But instead, he grabs your arm, his grip bruising. "We'll see about that," he snarls. "I'll make you love me, even if it's the last thing I do."

With that, he drags you towards the cage, shoving you inside with a force that knocks the breath out of you. The door slams shut, and you hear the click of the lock, sealing you inside. Sunday stands outside the bars, his eyes burning with rage.

"You will regret defying me," he says, his voice cold and hard. "I will break you, and you will beg for my love."

You sink to the floor of the cage, your body trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. "I will never love you," you whisper, but the words sound hollow even to your own ears. The cage feels smaller, more oppressive, as Sunday's presence looms over you.

As he walks away, leaving you alone in the darkness, you feel a pang of despair. But you cling to your resolve, knowing that you must stay strong. No matter what he does, no matter how much he tries to break you, you will hold on to the truth: love cannot be forced, and you will never truly belong to him.

Sunday's eyes blaze with determination as he steps closer to the cage. "I will break you through physical affection alone," he declares, his voice a dark promise. He pulls you into his arms, his lips finding your neck, pressing urgent, fervent kisses against your skin.

You hug him back, your movements mechanical and devoid of emotion. You've reached the point where resistance feels futile, and you resign yourself to your fate. It's a hollow surrender, a way to preserve what little strength you have left. The thought of Aventurine or Jade rescuing you seems impossible now; Sunday has likely laid countless traps to ensure that no one can save you.

"I love you."

But you don't love him. You never will.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses in their wake. You shudder, your body responding involuntarily to his touch. He whispers against your skin, his voice a mix of possessiveness and desire. "I said I love you," he murmurs, the words sending a chill down your spine.

You don't respond to his declaration. Instead, you wrap your arms around him, your movements mechanical and devoid of emotion. You don't care anymore. You're too exhausted to fight, too broken to resist. As he continues to kiss your neck, you gently stroke his head, your fingers threading through his hair in a motion that feels almost automatic.

Sunday's grip tightens around you, his body pressing against yours. He takes your lack of resistance as a sign of submission, his lips moving with more fervor. You feel his breath against your skin, his hands roaming over your body, but you remain detached, your mind numb to the sensations.

As the minutes pass, the exhaustion finally takes its toll. Your eyes grow heavy, and you find yourself drifting off to sleep, even as Sunday continues to hold you close. His words, his touch, fade into the background as your consciousness slips away.

In your dream....What dreams? dream fades, reality crashes back in, and you're once again trapped in Sunday's arms.

As you sleep, Sunday watches over you, a twisted smile playing on his lips. He believes he's won, that he's broken you completely. But deep within you, a small spark of defiance remains, buried under layers of despair and resignation. It's a faint hope, a whisper of resistance that refuses to be extinguished.

For now, you sleep, your body and mind seeking a brief respite from the torment. But the fight isn't over. Someday, somehow, you will find a way to reclaim your freedom, to escape Sunday's grasp and find your way back to the light.

"...I should do that...I will make sure you forget about your entire past life. You said it was lust? Mine is even...more...I'm his wishes."

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Shattered Trust

Summary: Stephen finds out you tampered with Dark magicks, he's not pleased.

WC: 500ish

Warnings: Stephen is mad

A/N: I know next to nobody reads for Strange anymore, but I'm making it my dity to write for the lesser popular characters from MCU anyway, fight me.

Read on Ao3!

-

The Sanctum was eerily quiet, save for the soft crackling of a fire in the hearth. You stood in front of Stephen, the air between you thick with tension, as though the magic in the room itself was holding its breath. His eyes—sharp, calculating—rested on you, but his usual aura of calm was nowhere to be found.

“I had to,” you whispered, but the words felt hollow, echoing in the vast space around you. You had been over this in your head a hundred times, justifying it to yourself, but standing here, face to face with the Sorcerer Supreme, it seemed different. Smaller.

Stephen crossed his arms, his cloak shifting slightly as he did. He raised an eyebrow, but his expression was unreadable. “What did you expect me to say?” His voice was low, but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut through the thick silence.

You swallowed, meeting his gaze, though it felt like staring into the eye of a storm. You weren’t sure what you had expected. Forgiveness? Understanding? Something more than the cold judgment you see now?

“I thought you’d—” you started, but the words trailed off, lost under the weight of his stare. You knew Stephen wasn’t one for forgiveness, not easily at least. His world was black and white, ruled by logic, by precision. You had broken the rules. You had defied him, acted recklessly, and now... the consequences were more than either of you could bear.

He let out a slow breath, his eyes narrowing. “You thought I’d just… what? Look the other way? Accept it?”

You flinched, feeling the weight of his disappointment hit harder than any spell. “I was trying to help,” you said, your voice quiet. “I thought if I acted quickly, I could fix it before it got worse.”

Stephen stepped closer, his presence almost overwhelming. “And now it is worse,” he said, his tone icy. “You don’t understand the dangers of the magic you’ve tampered with. You don’t understand what could’ve happened.”

His words stung, cutting deep, but there was something more in his eyes—something underneath the frustration. Fear. Fear for what you’d done. Fear for what you might still do.

“I trusted you,” he continued, softer now, the anger fading into something more vulnerable. “And you broke that trust.”

The guilt settled heavily in your chest. “I didn’t mean to…” you murmured, but the words sounded small, insignificant.

Stephen sighed, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I know,” he said quietly, the fire in his voice finally extinguished. “But what did you expect me to say when the world we’re protecting could unravel because of one mistake?”

You didn’t have an answer. Not one he would want to hear.

“I’ll fix it,” you said instead, your voice more certain this time. “I’ll make it right.”

For a long moment, Stephen was silent, his gaze holding yours. Then, slowly, he nodded, though the weight of what was left unsaid hung between you. “You’d better,” he said softly. “Because next time, I might not be able to.”

[yanderecxre]

Yandere!Cult Leader/Priest × gn!reader

Summary: Mason Blackwair always knew you'd be his. His sweet little dove, kept peacefully by his side, it's such a shame you've gotten so disillusioned with the teachings, but that's fine. It just gives him the opportunity to keep you with him forever now, willing or not.

CW: gaslighting, stabbing, cults, abuse of power, pet names, religious themes/wording, breeding, disassociating (reader), non-con, dycraphilia, dubious consent, loss of virginity, threats & as always if you think I missed anything just pm or say anything!

Note: peeks in and waves hi! Hope you guys like this one if you want a part 2 let me know!! ~ bunny

You are a member of your family's cult. Recently, you've begun to doubt your faith and the cult members found you guilty; as punishment, you were chosen to sacrifice yourself in the name of God.

At night you came to your priest, Mason Blackwair cell to ask him to mitigate your punishment. Mason sits quietly and calmly, his face illuminated by the light of a candle, his thin long fingers running over the pages of the Bible. Finally, Mason notices you standing in the aisle and smiles brightly. Despite the certain joy in his face, it is obvious that his smile is fake and here just for the sake of politeness.

“Hello, my dear dove. What brings you here?”

Mason doesn't let you answer and interrupts you with a little laugh.

“Ah, wait! I think I got it, little dove. Did you come here to talk about your punishment? I am sorry to tell you this, but I cannot influence the sacrifice in any way. Soon I will become the leader of our beautiful commune and that is why I need to maintain the reputation of a strict and fair manager…”

For a second, something like annoyance and sadness flashes in Mason's eyes and he quickly turns away.

“My advice is… To open your heart for salvation, little dove. Perhaps our Lord will hear your request.”

"The same Lord who wants them to tie me to the altar and cut me until I'm cleansed?”

You demanded softly, teary eyed as you looked into his eyes, the eyes that once belonged to your childhood friend. The sweet boy who used to pick flowers with you and run around the commune, now turned into nothing but a stranger.

Mason pauses for a moment, his eyes scanning your face as if he is trying to find something in your expression. Finally, he stands up from his seat and walks towards you, stopping just inches away from you.

"My dear dove… Do you know what this sacrifice means? It doesn't mean that they want to kill you. They want God to purify your soul by shedding your blood.”

Mason puts a hand on your shoulder, smiling gently at you.

"Look at me, little dove. You know how much I care about you and the commune's faith. But it doesn't mean that I am blind to the human side of things. I will talk with your father and see what we can do for you."

At this point, there is a sincere and caring note in Mason's voice.

"But remember, our Lord has a plan for all of us, even when it seems like He is leading us through dark paths."

You just shook, rage and fear in your veins. You quickly turned away and left him behind, crying now. It broke his heart to see you so upset, he reached out for you but only touched empty air as you exited with the final parting words.

"I'm retiring to my prison.”

Mason watches you retreat silently, his expression unreadable. Once you are out of sight, he sighs deeply and picks up the Bible again. He flips through its pages, frowning at whatever it is that he sees.

After a few minutes of brooding in silence, Mason closes the book and walks towards the door of his cell. Before leaving, he turns back to look at the empty room with a sad smile on his lips.

"I hope you'll forgive me someday for what I'm about to do."

He murmurs softly before blowing out the candles and leaving it behind, retiring to his bedroom.

You spent the entire night crying your eyes out, lamenting that all you'd see tomorrow was the crazed looks of the people you once thought of as family, your weak pathetic cries echoing around your cell.

You stood still as your parents led you to the altar, your father offering soft whispers of apologies as he and your mother tied you down, a knife lay beside the altar. You looked up at the ceiling, teary-eyed.

As you lay tied to the altar, your family gathers around with solemn expressions. The room is dimly lit and there's a faint smell of incense in the air.

Mason steps forward, his robes rustling as he walks towards the altar. He stops at the edge, looking down at his dove with an unreadable expression.

"Dear little dove…" Mason says softly, reaching for one of your hands. "You are about to become a vessel for our Lord's power. Do not be afraid.”

Mason picks up the knife from beside the altar and holds it gently in his hand.

"I will be performing this sacrifice myself," he adds. "May God have mercy on your soul."

With that said, Mason places a gentle kiss on your forehead before raising the knife above his head with both hands.

"Do not resist," he whispers to your ear. "Receive His love."

You closed your eyes and sobbed, refusing to let that sick yet soft look in his eyes be the last thing you saw.

Mason hesitates for a brief moment, his grip on the knife faltering slightly as he hears you crying. A flicker of emotions crosses his face before he quickly regains his composure.

"Dear dove," Mason says softly, almost pleadingly. "Do not be afraid. The pain is temporary but the glory you will experience afterward is eternal."

With that said, Mason slowly lowers the knife towards your chest.

"May our Lord have mercy on your soul," he whispers as he plunges the blade into your flesh.

The sacrifice lasts only a few seconds - it's short, but terrifying- and everything becomes blurry to you, as if you'd been transported out of your body and that someone else was experiencing this torment instead of you.

When it's over you feel weak and faint.

When you awoke, you were back in your bedroom, your mother sitting on a chair beside you. She reached out to touch you and you flinched terrified, letting out a loud sob.

As you awaken in your bedroom, you see your mother sitting beside your bed on a chair. She reaches out to touch you, but flinches when she sees that you are terrified of her and immediately backs away.

"Shh… it's alright," Your mother says softly, trying to comfort you. "You're safe now, my dear.” you want to scream ‘LIAR’ at her as she speaks, saying you were safe. You felt horrible and terror filled your body.

Mason enters the room and stands at the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, watching silently as your mother tries to calm you down.

"You did well today," he says coolly. "Thanks for receiving His love."

Although his words are praised-like, they do nothing to produce any emotion or feeling from him. He watches you, shaking and looking like a terrified animal, like a lamb who barely escaped the slaughter. He wants to say more but knows nothing he says will help you.

It was like seeing a ghost, his little dove no longer did as they usually did. There were no more sweet smiles or hymns sung as chores were completed, no more treats baked with trays especially reserved for Mason. Instead his dove was shut away, in their room, only going out for meals and sermons or whenever their parents coaxed them out.

Mason notices the change in your behavior and it bothers him deeply. He cannot help but wonder if he's partly responsible for what happened to you.

One day, he decides to visit you in your room. When he enters, you are sitting alone by the window staring out at the sky. You look up when you hear him come in.

"Little dove," Mason says softly as he approaches you. "I'm here to talk with you.”

There's a slight tremble in his voice - an unusual vulnerability that shows that even someone like him has feelings.

"I know that things have been difficult for you lately," he continues, taking a seat beside you on the bed. "But I want you to understand that everything we do is for the greater good of our commune and our faith."

He places a hand on yours and looks into your eyes with deep concern.

"You can always talk with me if there's something troubling you."

You stared blankly back. "I am fine. I've been cleansed by the knife.” You whispered softly and finally looked at him with vacant and distant eyes.

Mason nods slowly, sensing that there's something you're not telling him.

"I see," he says quietly. "But I can see that you're still hurting inside. And I want to help you."

He takes a deep breath and continues, "Little dove, I know that the sacrifice was traumatic for you. But it was necessary for our faith. You were chosen because we believe that your spirit is strong enough to endure it."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes searching her face.

"But if you're still feeling lost or confused… You can talk to me about it. Remember: Our faith is in everything."

"I used to play the piano. Right? Or did I sing? My memory is confusing.” You looked up at him, sadly. Shaking slightly as you stared at nothing. “I don't know who I am anymore, Mason. I'm scared.”

Mason furrows his brow slightly, unsure of what you are trying to say. He doesn't remember you ever playing any instrument.

"I'm not sure what you mean, little dove," he says with a frown. "What are you talking about?”

"I don't remember who I was before the sacrifice. Who was i? Who am I now? I'm scared Mason, so scared. Who was I before you drove the knife into me?”

Mason freezes at your words, his mind processing what you just said. He stands up from the bed and takes a few steps away from you, his face contorted with shock. He thought you'd forgotten he'd been the one to do it.

"What are you talking about?" he asks harshly. "I never drove the knife into you, little dove."

His voice is cold and hard, and there's a hint of anger in it.

"Who told you such lies? You are mistaken. Your mind is playing tricks on you dove." Mason mutters as he knelt between your thighs, grasping your hands in his and squeezing them. “Fret not little dove, your mind will get better.”

"May our Lord have mercy on your soul." It's spoken in a mockery of Mason's voice. You looked at him slightly confused, "That's what you spoke, right? Unless um, I misheard… but it sounded like you-”

Mason's eyes widen in realization as you speak. He takes a step closer to you, his expression softening.

"Oh, little dove…" he says softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to go through this."

He pauses for a moment before continuing.

"You are right… It was me who drove the knife into your heart. I did it because our Lord told me so in a vision - it was His will that you be sacrificed.”

Mason cups your face gently and looks into your eyes with compassion.

"But please believe me when I say that everything we do is for the greater good of our faith. Your family has devoted their lives to serving Him."

“Y-you did? But- w-why? It hurt- a lot-” You were working yourself up into a panic before he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Hush, little dove, you're recovering, do not strain yourself, you know why. In order to cleanse you, now enough of this. Rest and cease thinking about such things further.”

Mason looks away from you for a moment, his eyes full of sadness.

"I know you're not thinking clearly right now," he says quietly. "But I still feel responsible for what happened to you. I know that you must hate me now… But please understand that it was never my intention to hurt you."

He takes a deep breath and continues, "All I wanted is to protect our faith and people from the evil in this world. Sacrifices are painful, but they purify our souls and make us stronger - so we can better serve Him.” Mason murmured and hugged you tightly to his chest.

"I f-feel upset. You're supposed to protect me, yet you drove a knife into me and now that- that everyone in the commune saw it- i- I'll be alone forever and my parents won't find me a spouse.” Your lip wobbled and you sniffled slightly, clinging to him. You were unable to see his cruel and satisfied smile as he held you, petting your hair softly.

Mason listens to your words with a sinking heart. He knows that it is true - he did drive the knife into you, and that decision has caused you so much pain.

"I… I had no choice," he says quietly, almost to himself. "It was His will."

Fake tears glisten in his eyes as Mason looks at you, finally realizing the weight of his actions.

"You're right," he says softly. "I should have protected you, not hurt you. I cannot change what happened now… But I promise you this: I will do everything in my power to help you recover from this. Starting right now.”

Mason gently kisses you, his lips pressing against yours as he speaks. “I'll remedy this immediately, you and I shall marry. That way you won't be alone.” He doesn't give you a moment to speak, already pressing you against the bed, kissing you deeply now.

You let out a muffled noise of confusion and panic, squirming underneath him and pushing at his chest. His lips finally move away only to seek your neck and leave bites and bruises upon it as you gasped and whimpered. “A-ah! M-mason- wait- p-please hold on- i-”

His head lifts up, looking at you with his eyes blown wide as he grunts an acknowledgement to your words, “Yes my dove? Sh, it's alright, who better to take responsibility than the one responsible for your misfortunes? Relax, or would you rather this happen at the altar later? Where everyone, will see and hear you?”

You trembled slightly the idea of that happening terrifying you to your core yet feeling slightly exhilarating. Mason grinned, feeling you relax and continued making his way to your waist.

Mason kissed down until he reached your entrance, humming softly as he placed his hands firmly on your squirming thighs, grunting loudly as he forced them open. “Enough of that, do not do that again or I will have to tie you down. Understood little dove?”

You nodded, or tried to as you gasped softly and whimpered out a moan at the feeling of his tongue licking and sucking at your entrance, no one had ever touched you there. “Mhmph! M-mason! Hng- t-too much!”

Mason puts a comforting hand on your thighs. He pulls away from between your thighs, face covered in his own saliva and your fluids that ran down your inner thighs.

"I understand that it can be scary, little dove. But I promise you, nothing will harm you here with me."

He gives you a reassuring smile. Breathing heavily as he speaks, his fingers finding their way to your still quivering entrance which he circled a finger around.

"Besides, my love for you is as pure as the intentions of our God. All we have to do is make love and everything will be alright.”

Mason's finger breached your entrance, slick with something that made it easier to handle, slowly thrusting his finger in and out. He gave you plenty of reassurance and pressed kisses to your thighs and stomach.

“Dove, you must relax, you're still clenching up and tensing up. You'll hurt yourself more than me if you don't relax.” With those words he sunk another finger inside, his free hand pinning your hips down to the bed when he felt you buck upwards.

Mason grunted as he felt your tight heat around his fingers, if you were this tight around his fingers you'd never be able to fully take all of his cock. He didn't want to hurt you more than necessary, not yet at least.

“Sh, sh dove, easy there we go, good little pet.” He murmured as you whimpered and moaned, feeling his fingers hit something inside of you that had you unable to breath. You heaved slightly and looked down at him through tearful eyes.

“M-mason- please- ngh! That feels….. mhm! Good-” You moaned out and let your head drop against the pillows, falling into a dream-like state as you allowed him to continue. “M-more…. Please give me more-”

Mason grinned at your words, a sinister gleam in his eyes before he cooed and slid his fingers out, shushing your confused whines with a simple kiss before he undressed himself and tore your remaining clothes off.

"As our Lord wishes," he whispers between kisses, his voice reverent yet filled with desire.

Mason aligned his cock with your entrance, sliding it through your messy thighs first to coat it before he spread your legs and slowly sunk in.

“P-please, please be mhmph! Gentle, please Mason?” You whimpered softly, eyes locked on him as he looked down at you, mouth drying when he saw your flushed and tear stained cheeks.

Mason looks down at you with tender eyes, his hand running up and down your side soothingly.

"I will take care of you, little dove," he says softly. "I promise."

With a gentle but firm motion, Mason fully enters you, slowly thrusting in and out of your body. His movements are gentle at first, but soon become more passionate as the intensity increases.

As he fucks you, Mason whispers religious phrases to you: "pray to me", "I am your God", "repent for your sins". He continues kissing and caressing every inch of your body, making sure that you are comfortable throughout the entire ordeal. Even as he feels you twitching around his cock, your own fluids covering both his cock and your thighs and stomach. How many orgasms had he wrung from your body? Five? Ten? You lost count.

He's filled you up more times than you can count, you thought he was trying to breed you and knock you up the way he came and came. You couldn't move as you moaned and whimpered, unable to speak much less move and do something about him fucking your sensitive body.

When he's finished, Mason pulls himself out and lays down beside you, holding you close to him. The room is silent except for the sound of breathing as you both catch your breath after Mason seemed to fill you up so much a slight bulge could be seen, you shifted trying to get comfortable yet only felt his cum leaking out your spent hole.

"Sleep now, little dove," he whispers softly into your ear. "We have obeyed our Lord's wishes. Soon enough tomorrow, we will marry and you'll live with me, my perfect little dove who won't have to do anything but obey and listen.”

You fell asleep, cuddled into his side as he looked down at you, a possessive look in his eyes. He'd deal with the consequences of your parents finding you two together in the morning for now, he'd happily hold his little dove and admire the marks he gifted them.

Mason stays awake, holding you close to him throughout the night. As the sun begins to rise and light filters through the window of your private quarters, he kisses your forehead again before getting up.

"I must leave now, little dove," he says quietly. "But know that I am always here for you."

As he dresses in his priestly vestments, Mason turns back to look at you, a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Now go back to sleep and rest as much as possible. And remember what we did was pure love. Our wedding will be soon.”

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips before making his way out of your room and back into the world outside.

[novaursa]

ahhhh so happy to see ur request are back open!! love ur works so much ! can u do something for reader x aemond and its something like they was married and she was madly in love with him but when he meets alys rivers and he decides to accuse his wife of treason and infidelity which leads to her yk being executed. and everyone (otto, aegon, alicent) knows that the claims are false but doesn’t do anything about it <33 ! thank you in advance bookie

The Dagger's Kiss

- Summary: You loved Aemond since you were children, but what he did to Luke was a sin you could not forgive.

- Paring: baratheon!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: I hope this is what you had in mind. 🙂

The storm rages outside, howling winds rattling the ancient stones of Storm’s End. The great hall feels colder than usual, despite the roaring fire that blazes in the hearth. You stand beside Aemond, his presence a steady force amidst the chaos of the weather outside. His hand rests on the pommel of his sword, his face unreadable as he converses with your father, Lord Borros Baratheon.

The tension between them is visible, a silent battle of wills. Your father’s eyes flicker toward you, his jaw tightening before he finally nods.

“The Stormlands are yours, Aemond,” Borros rumbles, his voice as deep and grating as the waves crashing against the cliffs outside. “But I won’t have my daughter dragged into your family’s war.”

Aemond’s gaze shifts to you, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Y/N is my wife, Lord Borros. Her place is by my side, where she has always wanted to be.”

Heat floods your cheeks at his words. It’s true; you’ve loved Aemond since childhood, your affection blossoming over the years as he grew from a serious, studious boy into the fierce warrior who now stands before you. When he proposed marriage, you thought it was a dream, even knowing it was a political move. But he chose you, and that meant something. It meant everything.

“I can speak for myself, Father,” you interject gently, stepping forward. “I stand with my husband, wherever he goes.”

Borros’s face softens, just a fraction, before his expression hardens once more. “Then may the gods protect you both.”

Before Aemond can respond, the heavy doors of the hall swing open with a crash. A drenched figure stumbles inside, his dark hair clinging to his forehead. Prince Lucerys Velaryon, your cousin Rhaenyra’s son. The sight of him is like a knife to the chest. Your heart lurches, remembering the carefree days you shared with his mother, Rhaenyra—your beloved cousin, your dearest friend.

Lucerys’s wide eyes scan the room, settling on you for a brief, heartbreaking moment before darting to Aemond. “I come with a message from my mother, Queen Rhaenyra,” he announces, his voice trembling. “She asks that you, Lord Borros, honor your oath and remember your duty to her.”

Your father’s brow furrows, a scowl darkening his face. “And what of the promises your mother broke when she sent her sons here without offer of marriage, boy?”

You barely register the words, your gaze fixed on Aemond. His eye narrows, a predatory gleam flickering in its depths. You know that look. It’s the one he gets when he’s ready to strike.

“Aemond,” you whisper, reaching out to touch his arm. “Please…”

But he shrugs off your hand gently, his focus unyielding on Lucerys. “I’ll not have bastards and traitors speak to me of oaths.” His voice is calm, but there’s a razor-sharp edge to it that makes your stomach twist. “You owe me an eye, nephew.”

Lucerys’s face pales. “I—I came as a messenger. I don’t want to fight.”

Aemond’s lips curl into a cold smile. “Then you should not have come, Lucerys.”

He turns to leave, and you feel your heart hammering against your ribs. “Aemond, don’t do this!” you plead, but he doesn’t look back. He strides out of the hall, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow.

The door slams shut, and you’re left standing in the echoing silence. You can barely breathe, your hands trembling as you stare after him. You know what he’s going to do. You can see it in his eyes, the same madness that once took hold of your grandfather Aerion Brightflame. The storm rages on outside, the winds screaming like the dragons of old.

“Father, please!” you beg, turning to Lord Borros, but his face is stony.

“He’s your husband now, girl. His choices are his own.”

You don’t know how long you stand there, the world spinning around you, before the doors are thrown open again. Aemond strides back into the hall, his face flushed with victory, his eye glittering with a savage light. He’s soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his skull, but he looks more alive than you’ve ever seen him.

“It’s done,” he announces, his voice ringing through the hall. “Prince Lucerys is dead.”

The world tilts beneath you. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head as if denying it could change what’s happened. “Aemond, what have you done?”

He steps closer, reaching for you, but you shrink back, horror clawing at your throat. “He attacked me, Y/N. I had to defend myself.”

You want to believe him, you want to hold on to the image of the boy you loved, the man you married. But the way he speaks, the pride in his voice—it’s not the Aemond you know. This is someone else, someone who has been twisted by hatred and vengeance.

“Rhaenyra… my cousin… Aemond, she will never forgive this,” you say, your voice breaking.

“Let her come,” he snarls, his face contorting with a rage you’ve never seen before. “I’ll deal with her as I dealt with her son.”

You feel the world collapsing around you, everything you’ve known and loved crumbling into ash. This is not what you wanted, not what you dreamed of when you stood beside Aemond, pledging your life to him.

“Y/N, you’re my wife,” he says, his voice softening as he steps closer. He reaches out, cupping your face in his cold, wet hands. “You belong to me, as I belong to you. This is the price of loyalty, of love. You understand that, don’t you?”

You stare up at him, searching his face for some trace of the man you loved. But all you see is a stranger, a monster wearing your husband’s skin.

“I… I don’t know,” you whisper, tears blurring your vision. “I don’t know if I do anymore.”

Aemond’s face darkens, his grip tightening on your chin. “You will,” he says, his voice a low, dangerous promise. “You will, Y/N.”

And in that moment, you realize that you are trapped—trapped by your love, your duty, and the man who stands before you, holding your heart and your fate in his bloodstained hands.

The journey back to King’s Landing is a blur, the days melting into one another as the memory of that night at Storm’s End lingers like a dark cloud. Aemond’s mood grows darker with each passing day, his patience shorter, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. You try to reach him, to understand the turmoil churning beneath his calm facade, but he shuts you out, his focus consumed by some unseen enemy.

When you finally arrive at the Red Keep, it’s as if the entire city holds its breath. Word of Prince Lucerys’s death has spread, and the reactions are mixed. Some cheer for Aemond’s act of vengeance, while others whisper in dark corners about the reckless cruelty of it. You feel like a ghost, drifting through the familiar halls that once felt like home, but now seem haunted by your own guilt and grief.

In the throne room, Aemond stands tall and proud, his chin lifted as he faces his mother, Alicent, and his grandfather, Otto Hightower. They’re all there—Aegon, lounging on the Iron Throne with a smirk playing on his lips, Helaena watching quietly from the shadows, her eyes distant and unfocused. 

“You did well, Aemond,” Otto says, his voice cold and calculating. “This was a necessary step. The Blacks will think twice before challenging our rule.”

Aemond nods, his expression blank. “It had to be done. He was a traitor.”

Alicent steps forward, her face softening as she looks at her son. “You’ve proven your strength, Aemond. But please, be careful. This war… it will tear us all apart.”

Her words hang in the air, and you feel a pang of sympathy for her. She’s a mother caught between love for her children and the brutal realities of power. But then Aegon laughs, a harsh, grating sound that grates on your nerves.

“Oh, Mother, don’t worry so much. Aemond did what needed to be done. The boy was a bastard, and now he’s dead. Simple as that.”

You can’t hold back any longer. “He was a child!” you snap, the words bursting out before you can stop them. “Lucerys was just a boy!”

Aemond’s head snaps around, his eye blazing with fury. “Watch your tongue, wife,” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous. “Do not forget where your loyalties lie.”

Your heart sinks, but you hold your ground, your eyes never leaving his. “My loyalties? I’ve stood by you, Aemond, through everything. But what you did… it wasn’t justice. It was murder.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Alicent’s face pales, and even Otto looks momentarily taken aback. Aegon’s smirk falters, his eyes flicking between you and Aemond with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

Aemond’s expression hardens, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “You know nothing of justice,” he says coldly. “You’ve lived your life in comfort, protected by your father’s name and your family’s power. You have no idea what it means to fight for something.”

You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I fought for you, Aemond. I’ve always fought for you. But I can’t—” Your voice breaks. “I can’t be a part of this anymore.”

You turn and leave the throne room, your heart pounding in your chest. The walls of the Red Keep seem to close in around you as you make your way to the courtyard, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and sorrow. You don’t know where you’re going—just away, anywhere away from this nightmare.

The courtyard is quiet, the stables bustling with activity as the grooms prepare your horse. You’ve made up your mind. You can’t stay here, not with Aemond like this, not with the memory of Lucerys haunting every corner of your thoughts.

“Lady Y/N, your horse is ready,” the stablehand says, his eyes wide with concern as he helps you to the saddle. But before you can mount, a hand grips your arm, yanking you back.

Aemond stands before you, his face a mask of fury. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, his voice shaking with rage.

“I’m leaving, Aemond,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I can’t stay here and watch you destroy yourself.”

“Destroy myself?” He laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. “I’m doing what must be done, Y/N. For our family, for our future. And you would abandon me?”

“I’m not abandoning you!” you cry, your heart breaking at the look in his eye. “I love you, Aemond, but I can’t be a part of this anymore. I can’t watch you become—”

“Become what?” he snarls, his grip tightening painfully on your arm. “What am I becoming, Y/N? Tell me!”

You struggle against his hold, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. “Someone I don’t recognize,” you whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Someone I can’t follow.”

His face twists with a fury that is almost madness. “You swore to stand by me, to be my wife, my partner. You promised!”

“I know,” you sob, your voice breaking. “But this isn’t what I wanted, Aemond. This isn’t what I thought—”

Before you can finish, you feel a sharp pain in your chest, a burning, searing agony that steals the breath from your lungs. You look down, your eyes widening in horror as you see the hilt of Aemond’s dagger buried in your chest, his hand still gripping it tightly.

The world seems to slow, everything fading to a muted blur. You look up at him, your lips forming his name, but no sound comes out.

Aemond’s face changes, the fury melting into something else—something like fear, or maybe regret. He pulls the dagger free, and you stumble, the ground rushing up to meet you as you fall.

“No, no, no…” His voice is a broken whisper, his hands trembling as he catches you, cradling you against his chest. “Y/N, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t want to…”

The pain is overwhelming, a crushing weight that steals the air from your lungs, the light from your eyes. You can barely see him now, his face blurring into darkness as your world begins to slip away.

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice choked with grief. “I love you, Y/N. Please, stay with me.”

But it’s too late. The darkness is pulling you under, your body growing cold and heavy in his arms. You try to hold on, to reach out to him, but your strength is gone, your breath slipping away like the tide.

And then there’s nothing but darkness, the world fading to black as you fall into the void, his voice the last thing you hear, echoing in the silence of your dying mind.

[reverieblondie]

Can you write something spicy involving rolan and spanking? Why am I obsessed with spanking rn

So when writing this I tried my best to channel my inner @lemonsrosesandlavender which I would like to dedicate this to them for their birthday! enjoy the drabble! Now lets spank that brat!

Brat Taming

It had been the longest day he'd had in a long time. It seemed as if everyone in the City was in need of his magical expertise today, asking his every nonsensical question or worst, the ones that were completely obvious. Thinking back on it threatens a headache to boil forth. Uhg-

Rolan undoes his collar as he walks through the portal to the tower. All he wants to do is get to his room and release this irritation the best way he knows how…

He practically runs up the spiraling stairs, taking two at a time, to get to his room as fast as possible. As he passes different rooms, a noise makes him pause. It's Cal and Lia laughing (nothing unusual there), but what is unusual is the sound of the third laugh, and it's a laugh that makes his ears and tail twitch. 

As soon as he gets to the lounge room, where the laughter erupts, he pauses at the sight and leans against the door frame. Sitting around the fire are his siblings and Tav. The mere sight of her is enough to make a growl roll from his throat as he eyes her. 

Rolan straightens his posture before walking in, not even sparing her a glance. "I thought we said we would warn each other before having… guest." 

The trio turns to look at Rolan as he strides through the room. 

"Don't be like that, Rolan. Tav dropped by for a surprise visit. I guess the portal still works for anyone who's passed through it before," Cal says with a smile. 

Rolan only hums before stopping in front of Tav, "That is something to be fixed then." Rolan says with a sneer, causing Tav to furrow her eyebrows at him. 

"Can't just have people wandering in here on a whim." Rolan draws dully before turning on his heels to leave. "Keep the noise down; some of us have worked all day and need to destress!" he snaps before side-eyeing Tav, something none of them miss. 

Lia frowns, "What's up his arse? Forgive his grumpiness, Tav, don't let him bother you." 

Tav watches as Rolan leaves her face unreadable. "Let me go talk to him… maybe I could help…" 

Rolan hears her following footsteps, but he doesn't bother to turn around until he's at his room's door. " Are you following me now?" 

When he turns, he's surprised to see how close she had gotten without him noticing… practically on his tail… Rolan swallows, trying to keep his edge as he looks into her unwavering eyes; he blindly reaches for his doorknob till suddenly, tavs hand is grabbing his shaking hand and the knob at the same time. She steps closer. "Why are you such a damn brat?" 

Rolan whimpers in his throat as her words go straight to his cock. Tav twists his hand so his door opens, and she wastes no time leading him inside and slamming the door closed. He feels his body tingle at the slam, and before he can work up the never to challenge her more, she's grabbing him by the collar, her lips so close to his he dares to lean in to kiss her, but Tav pulls a fist full of his hair keeping him back and making his hard cock throb.

Tav leans in and breathes against his neck, making him shiver with a high-pitched whine; she smirks before giving his throat a nip, making him grip her waist. The feel of her teasing drives him mad. 

"You stand there and talk to me as if you didn't send me a sending spell to come and fuck you." 

Rolan moans as she talks in his ear; she's right… She's been sneaking into the tower and having him at her mercy for weeks now. Rolan has long admitted to himself that he's addicted to her and craves her mere presence everyday. Tav knows what he needs… when to be soft to him, when to tease, how to touch him, how to get him to be open and vulnerable, and when to put his bratty ass in its place. 

Tav's tongue licks the side of his ear, and he moans at the feeling of her slick little tongue; his toes curl at the memory of her rimming him with it not even three days ago. Gods, she's perfection. 

Rolan feels one of Tav's hands travel down his abdomen to where his cock sits hard and straining in his trousers. He hears her hum as she softly caresses his confined length, pebbling and twitching for release. Then, with a quick shive, Rolan stumbles back and falls on his bed; he's practically panting as he looks up at her. Tav looks as dominant as ever as she looks down at him through lidded eyes. "Turn around and drop your trousers, brat." 

Rolan bites his lip as he quickly unfastens his belt and bends over on his elbows, tail raised high and trembling as he exposes his ass to her. Tav traces the soft underside of his tail causing him to shudder a moan. She smiles, "Ready to be punished?" She leans down, pressing her body against his back as she massages his tail's base. "Ready for release?"

Rolan growls Tav's name, "Yes! Gods, just spank me already, you damn tease! Ah-"

Rolan isn't even able to finish his rant as Tav slaps his ass, sending a delicious sting to rush through his body, making his length ache and leak on the bed. His firm ass flushing from the harsh impact. 

"Count." 

"Rolan swallows, "I… won't last…" 

Another crack on his ass makes him dig his claws into the sheets, his back arching in pleasure. Tav caresses the warm flesh, "it wasn't a request." 

Rolan hums, swaying his head as he stills and lifts his tail. With silent confirmation, Tav spanks him again, causing Rolan to keen, "One!" another slap, "Two!" two more in quick secession, Fuck! Three, four!" 

By the time Tav gets to eight, Rolans practically fucking his leaking cock against the mattress. His hips rutted faster and harder the more Tav spanked, drool dripping past his lips at her teasing his taut hole. Rolan's eyes water as the tenth crack sends a painful pleasure past his peak. He moans so loud as he pistons his hips.

Tav grabs his hair and arches him up, "You sound like a whore archmage…" She reaches around and starts to palm his glass-hard cock, so hot and drooling at her touch. "Are you ready to let go of all that tension?" Tav speaks so sweetly into his flushed ears. 

Rolan hums a whine as he buckles his hips into your hand faster, "Yes! I need to… I've wanted this, wanted you all day. Fuck!" Rolan's cock pulses at his own desperation, and then his orgasm crashes down on him like a ton of bricks. His whole body shudders as his cum leaks down, dripping and making a mess all over the sheets and himself. 

Tav kisses on his sweaty neck moving her hands up and down his body as she watches him ride out his orgasm.

Rolan slides down to his knees, his eyes shut but with a smile on his face despite the burn to his backside. She always knows exactly what he needs… it makes him fall for her more by the day.

"Th-thank you," he pants with a smile, resting his head against the bed. But his moment of calm is short before his chin is lifted to where Tav sits naked on the bed. Tav smiles coyly as she spreads her legs. 

"Don't thank me yet. You still need to make up for being such a brat." 

Rolan licks his lips as he looks up at her dripping slit and the coarse hairs that decorate Tav's mound. An excited smile curls to his lips as he moves closer. "Of course…" 

Rolan buries his face between Tav's thighs as he breathes her in and licks her cyprine. Definitely falling in love…

[thetravelingtyper]

Our Shattered Heart (Part 2) (GN! 'Heart' Reader x Taskforce 141)

After a long night, you wake once again within the grasp of your team. How will you engage with growing realizations?

Warnings: Possible OOC of characters, kissing, learning how to write this type of content so bear with me.

Properly edited this time lmao

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2.25, Part 2.50

“Nothing defines a man defines a man like a love that makes him soft,

And sentimental like a stranger in the park” Strawberry Wine by Noah Kahan.

You dream of nothing but spinning lights and music that night. Its low whispers that wake you late. You dig yourself further into the comfort of the sheets but a set of arms wraps around you. 

“Stop moving hen.” Your eyes shoot open to find baby blues staring into yours. You sigh.

“Johnny why are you here.” 

You try to move out of his grasp but he tucks your head into his neck and chuckles.

“Not letting you go again, not after last night.”

You huff and wiggle but he just rolls over pinning you down with his weight.

“Johnny you're heavy!” Your eyes peer out from his neck and you notice the smell of tea. An unmasked Simon sits at the side table with a book, legs spread out in sweatpants, and a light black shirt. You can see his tattoos, as if feeling your eyes, his meet yours.

“Mornin’ dove” His gruff voice causes Johnny to turn over so you're at the edge of the bed. You were still in your casual clothes while the Scot had on a black pullover and shorts. The domestic nature of the contact softened your heart. But despite last night, the change in their behaviors still upset you and you wiggle again. Getting the hint, Johnny lets you go with a soft huff and you roll out of bed, hopping up onto your feet.

Simon watches your eyes shoot between the two of them. He moves his hand to the drawer behind him pulling out a large pair of sweats and a shirt. His clothes, you notice then you were in his claimed room. 

“You fell asleep last night Love.”

You are a little trepidatious, but the man stands, towering over you and setting his tea aside. You look up at him with large eyes, comfortable but visions of the past month and his biting comments want you to turn away. His eyes soften and he opens his arms. 

“We need to talk, but I am sorry. It wasn’t right treating you that way Bird. You don’t have to forgive me now or ever but I will make it up to you, I promise.”

He almost whispers the last part and you see his shoulder tense for a moment. The apology was more than you had ever gotten from the man and you find yourself nodding before walking into his arms. You hear Johnny sit up, watching the two of you with an unreadable expression. Simon’s hug that follows is one of the safest things you swear you have ever felt. Flashes of the dance in your mind, but you look back at Johnny and meet his eyes. The spark in your heart answers your question, he just nods and smiles. 

You let out a shaky sigh with the weight of the realization of what you had found. Safety and trust, that was a year ago but Love? Not of one man but two, but your mind flashes to Kyle and John, four? You almost quake in Simon's arms, legs feeling a little weak with what has transpired these past two years. How had you not realized? No, you did, deep down you think, but the switch up? Why? Simon's arms pull you tighter, one lowering to the small of your back. 

His head reaches down to yours as he loosens his grasp. He sees the emotion spinning in your eyes, keen mind realizing.

“Johnny”

Simon's voice calls out and the Scot stands to join you two. The other man's arms wrap around you as well and you find yourself in one of the safest places on earth. Simon's head returns to yours as he and the Scot share a fond look. One of Simon's hands grasps one of Johnny's and squeezes. Johnny smiles at him before humming into your hair and pressing a kiss there. 

“Guys I-”

“We know” they both speak at the same time. Simon murmurs your name and you look up to him smiling softly at you. Your brain stops short, the feelings bubbling in your chest. Fuck it. You shuffle in their arms to the Scot's complaint, but leaning on your tiptoes you reach a hand to Simon's face and press a kiss to his lips.

“Aye you're missing someone hen,” Simon grunts when you are yanked around to Johnny and he meets your lips in a heated kiss. He pulls you fully into his arms, one reaching to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss and the other swiping SImons hand in his. Johnny steps forward, pushing you against Simon’s chest in a searching kiss, seeking comfort in your lips and presence. He breaks away a moment later with dilated pupils. 

Simon chuckles against your back,

“You happy Johnny?” Simon gives one final brush of his hand with yours and returns to his tea. Leaving you in Johnny’s arms again.

“Been meanin’ to do tha’ since he beat me to it.” He looks at Simon in a mock glare but the older man just raises his cup in a cheers motion. You flush and pull from his arms in embarrassment but Johnny keeps you entrapped, pulling his forehead down to yours with light laughter. There is joy in his eyes and the smirk softened into a smile. 

“I'm sorry hen.” He offers it honestly and you brush your hand up and through his grown-out hair, then your palm traces his cheek. He leans into it pressing a kiss there. 

“It’s ok Johnny, just give me a little time. It'll be ok.” You then press a kiss to the side of his mouth and with the tax paid you finally are released. You take Simon’s cloths and go into the bathroom to change. When you come out Simon pins you with a look that darkens seeing his clothes on you. They are big, but you knot the shirt, pulling it closer to your form. He sits up in the chair as Johnny watches with a smirk as Simon holds an arm out and you take his hand. He stands up and spins you into his arms just waving to silent music as Johnny watches with what you can now call love. You reach up to his scarred face as he angles his face down. Fingers skim soft skin with a slight blur of stubble. He was handsome to you. With his eyes clear of the eye black you can trace blond lashs. 

“What’ is it lovie?” 

“Nothin’ Si” you lean against his sturdy chest you can hear the hammering of his heart as he cradles you, hand soothing your hair and other hand tracing circles.

“Loves, Captain is back.” 

Simon hums and releases you, allowing Johnny to take your hand and pull you towards the door. He opens it and steps out, pulling you with Simon following and closing the door to his room. In the living area you find Kyle in a tank top and joggers fresh from a run and shower. 

Kyle sees your hand in Johnny’s and Simon's demeanor. His eyes then look to you and Simon's closeness and his cocky grin grows and he raises a brow at you. You roll your eyes before approaching him, dropping Johnny's hand a raising yours in an offering. Kyle takes it and holds your palms upwards, entangling your fingers, a shit-eating grin now fully on his face. 

“Don’t get cocky Kyle.”

Simon takes his cup into the kitchen and Johnny follows like a puppy. Their voices dropping into murmurs. Kyle pulls your hand and pecks out his lips. 

“Do I get a kiss to love?”

You smile at him fondly, Ever the cheeky gentleman. You do him one better. You yank the unexpecting man into a confident kiss. He chuffs, humor dancing in his eyes before they close, his hands come to either side of your head and neck and he pulls you into a frantic kiss. Pent up feelings come out in his lips as he turns you and backs you against the closest wall, His hand cradles your head as you pull apart for a breath.

John’s chuckle permeates the room and Johnny peeks his head out to see you between the wall and Kyle. 

“Dam-”

“Can it sudz” You bring your hands up to Kyle's chest, muscles firm and warm. You press a shy peck to his jaw and he smiles, eyes lit like he just won the lottery. His face tilts back and his laughter draws Simon from the kitchen.

“John”

John sets a pair of bags with takeout on the table. He looks to Soap, Simon, and Kyle then you. As his blue eyes land on you they shine. He looks younger, mirth taking his features. There is a sense of family that suddenly fills your heart. You move past Kyle to your Captain. He looks at you with quiet comfort, studied eyes from many long nights working together. You shy away from his gaze.

“We were scared we almost lost you.”

It’s John that finally answers your twisting thoughts. You look back up to him. 

“You’d have to do better than that Captain to take me.”

He just tilts his head. The past four months weighed on him. He’s lost a lot in his later years but what he’s built here was his life now. And you had squeezed your way into the tight-knit group with your, well he chuckles, heart and skills. You fought with Johnny, spent hours with Kyle talking into the night, had quiet drinks with Simon, and spent long nights helping him with work. You particularly won over Laswell, learning about John and getting along with his good friend. Acquiring you that fateful day had been one of the best decisions he ever made. 

He and Kyle would talk about you on missions, though he would never admit it, despite the knowing looks between Johnny and Simon. Simon had approached him one night over an old cigar and a drink. The men had a long history, but it caught him a little off guard.

It was a night you and Gaz had been dragged into a pub by Soap for the game. Simon had sought him out with a bottle of gifted Kentucky Bourbon brought over from the States by you for him. They sat outside in the warmth of a fine evening. 

Simon was blunt, a man of few words and fewer spoken truths. 

“You like them.”

It is a simple utterance from the masked man. He stares out into the wilderness surrounding the base, home, for the month at least. Yet, John’s eyes catch Simon’s fingers dancing at the edge of the glass. He sets his glass down and puts a hand on Simon's shoulder. He offers the next piece of the puzzle in a simple name:

“MacTavish.” Simons answers one with his own. 

“Garrick.”

Simon’s shoulders loosen under the weight of Price’s hand. They both understand each other in the moment, brown eyes meeting blue. They awaited the return of their sergeants, keeping each other quiet company. 

“John?’ You set a hand on his arm and he takes it in his opposite hand.

“I’m sorry my dear.”

You pull his arms open and slot yourself within them. Head to his chest, his heart beats faster than Simon’s, and the scent of Lady Earl Gray and smoke permeates. You feel one of the others, Kyle. step forward.

His hand comes to rest on the small of your back while the other rests on John's arm. The support has you reaching a hand up to your captain's face and staring into his stormy eyes. The man who carried the world on his shoulders would offer it to you at a moment's notice and the new feelings shook up everything these past months. The fear of losing you, what it would do to not only him but the men he cared for. 

“Johnathan”

He chuckles. And you decide to shoulder some of the burden.

“Eyes on me Captain?”

You ask with a fond smile,

“It's John to you dear.” 

He then pulls a hand to your face and finally meets your lips. He cradles you like a precious object and deepens the kiss with an expertise that makes you melt. The brush of his beard tickles as you part. He offers you a smile before pulling you into another embrace. There is a sturdy strength in his arms as he pulls your head into his chest. A quiet takes the room as the men watch you take in the love being offered.

Finally, there was peace, a cutting of the tension that had built over the past months. Kyle and Johnny share a knowing smile while Simon just shakes his head a fond smile on his face. The moment between the team, the whole team. You all had been through hell together, each pair of men having formed their bonds before your arrival but you had just cemented the love between them. 

But as the moment lingers there is a rumble in your stomach that has Johnny laughing.

“Aye captain let the poor sergeant eat.”

He nods and releases you as he digs through the bags pulling out 5 take-out containers. Kyle pulls you to the table, plopping you down next to him with a kiss on the side of your head as Johnny takes the other side. Simon and John take the ends of the table and you feel for the first time in a while, complete. As you all eat the room fills with laughter and conversation and you all begin to eat. 

Johnny’s hand eventually drops to your knee as he talks, laughing with Kyle about something or another. You grasp his hand and squeeze it and he glances at you from the corner of his eye with a smile. The time passes well into the afternoon before John has to return to base.

---

“Am I good to return to missions?”

The question catches John in a sore spot as he is sorting gear into a duffle in Kyle’s room.

“Love, I-”

Simon lingers in the doorway suddenly before entering as you cross your arms and pin your captain with a stern look. Simon enters and he and John share a look.

“Let 'em back John, it's time.”

Price looks to his lieutenant, Simon's eyes a command of their own. John sighs and nods.

“No more surveillance. I caused all this mess in the first place. Alright sergeant, back to work for you soon,” he steps forward with a darkening look in his eyes. 

“But no more breaking orders. You did the right thing but we cannot risk losing you.”

His voice is gruff but the look he gives you is smouldering. Of all the men, he had been the most guarded with you, due to the nature of the others and his position as leader. The team rose and fell by his lead and a switch up in order could change team dynamics. The authority sends a tingle down your spine and you nod. A smile slips onto your face and you are ecstatic to be finally able to work normally again. 

“Yes, Captain.”

He watches your apparent excitement with a beam of pride. 

“Good Love.” He murmurs and you feel a blush heat up your face at his tone. At his pride, a surge of want flows through you. He chuckles and turns to pick up his duffle bag to leave. He nods to Simon and moves to pass you up but you grab his hand.

“What is it dear?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, he smirks, setting the duffle bag to the side again and moving his hands to your waist.

“Not had enough Love?” He asks, head tilting in question. 

You shake your head then seek out his lips in a fervent kiss. Price doesn't expect it but shortly leans into it with an exhale from his nose. His right hand traces from your waist to the small of your back as he pulls you against him, deepening the kiss. Months of pining come out, seeing the others make their moves, and being on the sidelines has John pushing for more. The reserve of the Captain was tested these past months. Not being able to go back despite Soap’s protesting has caused a rift between the two men. For all he knew you died but they had a mission to complete and Simon dragged Johnny away from the rubble with a grave stoicism. In his mind, flashes of your defiant smile, escaping reprimand and delivering intel, you were something else. 

But it was a comment from Laswell that had brought upon the ‘babysitting’ as Kyle had called it:

It was a month into your recovery when Laswell had pulled Price aside. 

“John,” she sets a file, your file on his desk, the man looks up with an inquisitive look. 

“You’ve got bad news Kate.” It is not a question, he can read her face. 

“Their old Captain wants Heart back after recovery.” She passes him a packet, one glance makes him frown. Due to your collection of intel, your old captain, the one who originally wanted you transferred, wanted you back. Apparently, serving with the 141 had made you valuable merchandise, the bastard. 

Reading the missive something ugly turned in Price’s mind. Something possessive as he scoffed and tossed the form aside. Kate just smiled, expecting this exact reaction. She watched a storm pass over his eyes.

“The muppet has another thing coming if he thinks he is taking my Sergeant.”

It was all he offered before he handed the paper back, but Kate shook her head.

“I’m afraid it is not that simple,” she hands him an order, “it's coming from higher sources as well. They are not your soldier in paper terms.”

This statement has Price setting a fist down a glow in his eyes,

“I'll be damned if you think you are taking Heart from this team.”

Kate smirks, 

“I figured you’d say that.” She then pulled another file from her bag, 

“Here is something to keep Heart and the Boys busy after they recover. It’s not more than a month or so but it should buy us some time. Try to keep them out of the spotlight. Any more hero acts will get more people talking.”

With that, she leaves John with the plans for an ‘intelligence mission’ and leaves.

The boys, ever perceptive, found out somehow. Gaz caught on first, seeing his Captain tense every time he caught a glance at the forms. Simon figured out something was up as soon as Price commented on Heart working intel while on bed rest. His perceptive eyes met Price’s as he pulled him aside privately. 

“What’s wrong John.” Simon’s mask comes off the moment the man closes the door to his office. John doesn't reply at first, instead choosing to drop himself into his seat and pull out the paperwork from its hidden position under the trash stack. 

“See for yourself, Simon.” He hands the taller man the paperwork who then pages through it. A few minutes follow with silence and the occasional page turn as Simon reads. John can tell when he reaches the orders because there is a gruff, ‘bullshit’, under his breath as he turns back to Price.

“This won't stand,” Simon says like an order, Price hands him Laswell's mission next. A smirk rose to his face.

“Laswell is good.”

“She is the best. Prolong it, Simon, as long as you can. I will need time to work this mess out.”

Simon nods but before he leaves he sets a hand on John. No words were said but the two shared a look before Simon once again pulled his mask on and left.

Johnny learns from Simon the next night as the two go out for drinks. 

“No” Johnny is seeing red, rage simmering behind a straight face, but there is tension as he nurses his glass of Scotch. Simon sets a steady hand on the man's knee but he is still tense.

“I know Johnny, we won’t lose them.”

“Not if I can help it.”

With that Johnny downed his drink and pulled himself closer to Simon.

“We’ll figure something out.”

John returns to the kiss with newfound vigor as you soften against him.

“Sweet thing” 

It's from Simon as he sits down, watching the scene. John smiles breaking the kiss then dipping down your neck and pressing a final kiss there. He lingers for a moment longer before pulling back and releasing you. 

“We’ll talk back at base. Got a problem that needs solving.”

You want to press him for more information but the tired look in his eyes silences you. You frown at the tension in his shoulders as he grabs his bag and heads out the door.

“Si?”

The man stands and approaches you, a hand moving to your face in comfort.

“It'll be alright Dove.” 

You hear laughter in the main room then, Kyle, Johnny, and John’s voices resounding together in some comraderic harmony. You smile then head turning to the door as you cover Simon's hand with your own.

“Yes, I believe it will.”

---

Fin part two: 

I am new to writing poly so I just went with what felt natural to me. This turned out to be a little Simon-centric, but I'm thinking of having one-shots with all of the boys. Any guidance/opinions are welcome!

Taglist: @ghostlythots, @00ops1e, @rafaelacallinybbay, @iloveslasher, @character---obsessed