#honestly how can she kill me like this???? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

just-some-random-blogger · 20 hours ago

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LKAHSFL'H I CANT BELIEVE I HAVENT REBLOGGED THIS YET LAKSFHLKASHFL'HASFHASF ASF YOU MUST FORGIVE ME I DONT WANT TO CLOG THE DASH WITH A REBLOG OF THE SAME CHAPTER YA FEEL ILY ILY

first of all, almost crying during a nail appointment is honestly such iconic behavior HAHAHHAHAHHAH LOLOLOL. im kinda sad you stopped reading ): you should have cried during the nail appointment AHHAHAHAHAHAH LOLOLOL JK

CARGYLL TWIN SCREENTIME GO BRRRRRRRRRR RAHHHH. i would never take erryk or arryk for that matter from you <3 I WISH THEY HAD MORE SCREEN TIME IN THE SHOW FR THEY FUCKING KILLED THEM AND TRAUMATIZED ME AND FOR WHAT???????????

and viserys yeah 😬😬😬 T_T i love making people have sympathy for him even when hes disgusting 😁 because thats the whole point of this story (: i love my barbies. i wish him a very much rot

STARK OBESSION GO BRRR. tumblr notified me you posted something and I RAN COS I THOUGHT IT WAS AN UPDATE but it was just a reblog of your fic 🙄 WHICH IS FINE AND IM NOT PRESSURING YOU AT ALL TO UPDATE. job and robb are hot fr but i wanted benjen THEN THEY FUCKING OFFED HIM 🤬 also HE PROBABLY HAS ONE HAS ME GAGGED.

[...] Older me can now see Ned's appeal too. He probably has one, with how much Catelyn loved having his babies)

I WAS ABOUT TO ASK 'HAS WHAT' then i realized you mean APPEAL T_T he probably has APPEAL T_T CRYINNNGGGGGGGG. i cant help but think about all the boromir memes (cuz you know sean bean) and how his dad would react to this MY SON HAS APPEAL 🤬 HAHAHAHAH LMAO. honestly, i feel catelyn. if i was married to a stark id have 10000 babies too AHHAHA LOL

The scene where she lost the babies hurt me physically. I now get what you said and why you laughed when I hoped the baby was valyrian to spare her the pain, you cruel, cruel woman.

its ok i love you

DAEMON GROVEL ERA IS A NEED. dont worry about spam liking i love it when that happens

[...] making Viserys and Alicent's marriage be all about him [...]

YOU KNOW WHAT YOURE SO RIGHT. HE THINKS HES THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE FR OMLLL UGHHH EWW

HERES TO HIM BEING JEALOUS AND SUFFERING FOREVER FOR LIFE

ALSO MY GEORGE FIC WEEE I THINK IT WAS REALLY CUTE! i was honestly gagged that i struggled to write fluff 💀 all because of this series 😀 BUT THENI GOT MY GROOVE AND IM MAKING A GEORGE ANGST NOW BECAUSE IM INSANE HAHAHHA I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

Tormented Spirit | 12

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i would just like to bring everyone's attention to the fact this fic is called tormented spirit. BTW some of yall might wanna read my weasely twins fluff cuz 😀 yeah you should read some fluff! leave comments/reblogs ok!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Since your sister's wedding, there were two things you no longer did: speak to your sister and go to your father. Everyday, instead of having the Lord Hand accompany you to your maester, you were accompanied by one of your wards.

At first, you were apprehensive with the change. After all, they were your knights, but neither of them were the father to your babe, and even fathers were rarely involved with prenatal care. Though, the patience they extended is not unusual, you were surprised that Erryk and Arryk took time asking the maester additional information concerning things that might need their attention in the future.

Today, you walk to the maester's ward, one hand on your belly the other on Erryk's bicep. As he opens the door, you freeze when you hear the voices in the room.

"Daughter." "Sister."

These words are spoken at the same time. You clench your teeth and turn to Erryk, whose jaw is set. You take a breath and decide to simply come back later.

Alicent stands the cot she sat upon and raises a hand, "please! I'm finished. You can come now."

Finished? Why is she being examined by the maester?

Otto is angered by your persistence to ignore them. He scowls and glares at Erryk, "you remind your princess to practice some humility," he points a finger, "her actions are affecting the queen, who is now carrying an heir."

Your face drops as you turn to her.

She is already staring at you. You watch her pick her nails. You catch the redness of her cuticles.

Erryk is equally shocked. He stutters before nodding in regard, "congratulations, my queen."

Alicent shakes her head, forcing a smile, "t-thank you, ser."

Your father's eyes remain on you. He waits for you to offer the same sentiment, but his anger only intensifies at your continued silence. He scoffs, "will you not even congratulate your sister?"

You clutch your pronounced belly and turn to your maester, "may we please do the examination? I cannot bear to stand for long."

Otto and Alicent watch you move past them. The latter is resigned to your commitment of not speaking to her, the former seethes and laughs dryly. He offers his arm to the queen, "come, daughter. Let us pray that your sister's impertinence is merely as side effect of childbearing."

Your sister spares you a glassy glance before taking Otto's arm and leaving with him. You watch as they leave, feeling yourself grow hard of breathing.

The maester asks you to sit, but before you do, you snatch his arm, "is she truly with child?"

He looks at your teary face. He feels the tremble of your hand as he places his own atop of it. He carefully speaks "it is joyous news, is it not?"

You release a shaky breath as he helps you sit.

"Princess," the maester warily says, "breathe for me. We cannot proceed if you overcome by your affliction."

You place both your hands on your belly and take a couple deep breaths. You close your eyes and resist the sob that threatens to come. A couple of tears wet your cheeks, but you manage to remain intact. You wipe your face and mutter to yourself, "it's barely been a moon since they've wed."

Your maester hears it though and offers, "your sister is blessed with a fertile womb."

You wish he had not tried to comfort you with such an idea.

You try not to think of Alicent as you do your daily examination, but she is all you think of. You think of how frightened she must be. You think of how your father surely told her about your daily visits to the maester. You wonder if he would force her to do the same, just to get you to talk to her. She wouldn't need daily examinations like you; she is perfectly healthy, stronger than you, as she said herself.

You are so deep in thought, you don't even realize the maester was finished with you, up until he says something that demands your full attention.

"What?" you knit your brows at him.

"We will be more certain of it as the moons wax and wane, but considering you are a twin yourself, and, again, because of the rather rapid growth of your belly, chances are my deduction is correct."

He helps you up and Erryk is quick to take your arm. You mutter through a shaky breath, "I'm carrying twins?"

Your maester nods, "highly likely."

You turn to Erryk, who offers you a reassuring smile, "I... congratulate you, my princess."

You stare at him for a moment and blink rapidly.

"You might give birth to a boy and girl who will have the same devotion you and your brother have," Erryk says in an attempt to take away some of the fear written across your face.

It does actually. You recall your visit to Oldtown and find yourself nodding, "I... I must write a letter at once."

Many moons come and go, but across the sea, the sun shines. Daemon's day has just started. His mood is nothing but sour, as it always is. He is loathe to start his day, but he does, and with a grunt, and leaves his tent to break his fast.

We eats with the Velaryons, Corlys, Vaemond, and Laenor, and though he did not hold any particular fondness for them, there was something in the way they all spoke in nothing but High Valyrian that made mornings not completely unbearable.

"My prince," Corlys greets him in their mother tongue. He hands Daemon a plate, "duck."

Daemon raises his brow at it, "with salt?"

"And pepper," Leanor says with a half-amused expression.

"My," Daemon sits down with them, "I am spoiled."

Corlys waits for Daemon to have a few bites before continuing conversation. He clears his throat, "before the day passes, allow me, my brother, and my son-" he looks between the said people, earning furrowed brows from Laenor, "-to greet you, both on behalf of House Velaryon, and as your comrade in battle for you—"

"Oh, yes!" Leanor interjects once he remembers, "congratulations, my prince!"

This earns him a look from his father, and his uncle. Laenor, who had been grinning, slowly raises his brows, "a-... apologies for interrupting, father."

Corlys sighs, "as I was-"

"And have we won the war overnight?" the prince says, rather uninterested, both in small talk and in his duck.

Corlys is confused by this, "I... no." He slowly tilts his head, "does your lady wife not write to you?"

Daemon is immediately on edge at the mention of you, "and what of her?"

Corlys narrows his eyes. He puts him to the test, "... you are aware your brother, the king, has remarried?"

Daemon whips his head his direction.

"And that also he expects an heir to be delivered come spring?"

"Remarried?!" Daemon repeats in offence, "and which scheming cunt managed to tricked him into marriage?"

Corlys turns to Vaemond, who turns to Leanor, who turns back to Corlys. The latter clears his throat, "your bride's sister, my prince."

His eyes widen. He looks between the Velaryons, then scoffs dryly. He begins to laugh, "that roach of a Hand has Viserys's bollocks shoved down his fucking throat."

Their faces contort at the foul language. Vaemond, in particular, is so offended that he cannot help but ask, "doesn't the princess write to you every day?"

Daemon clenches his plate

"And she never mentioned thi—"

"WHAT USE HAVE I TO READ THE WEEPY WRITING OF MY WIFE?!" the prince snaps, coming to a stand as he chucks his plate to the ground.

Corlys understands then Daemon's initial shock. However, he is still confused, "have you not read any letters from your wife?"

"Would you rather I be distracted, Corlys?" he snaps again, hands now clenched into fists.

Corlys is not intimidated by Daemon's anger, but he is also unincited by the idea a fight. He raises his hands in surrender, "most men gladly welcome distractions in the heat of war."

Daemon chuckles dryly, "I am not most men," then storms all the way back to his tent.

"Jiōragon hen ñuha ñuhoso!" he snaps in High Valyrian still, shoving the unwitting soldier aside. Get out of my way!

He returns to his tent. Another unwitting victim is there. "My prince," he bows, "a letter from Lady H-" Daemon snags the letter from him and shoves him away with exceeding anger and force.

He enters his tent and immediately chucks the letter to the floor, as if it was a vase he intended to shatter into a million pieces. It doesn't, of course; the paper remains intact, along with its seal. He crushes it beneath his heel then grabs the sack containing all your unread letters. He empties it on the floor and violently begins to stomp all over them.

You were his. You were meant to be his! Yet here you were, a pawn in someone else's game. His lust and infatuation has blinded him from this truth. You and your sister were mere tools of your cunt father to manipulate the throne.

He continues to trample your letters until they are brown with the dirt. He catches a lone letter that managed to evade his violence. He picks the unscathed object and only now does he realize its red waxen seal had an imprint of a dragon with a long neck that resembled Caraxes. Daemon scoffs, even his dragon you covet.

He breaks the seal. The letter was sent nearly a moon ago.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔴. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤'𝔰 𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔦𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢; ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔫. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢, 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔲𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔒𝔩𝔡𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔬𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔢

A good place to raise children?! He scoffs and crumples the paper away. You fantasize of bearing his seed now? He laughs at the idea, chucking the paper across his tent. His amusement goes dry when he realizes it must be your father's ploy.

He's read enough.

Back in the Keep, you too receive a letter. It is from Gwayne, whose weekly response has finally arrived. You do not mind that he does not write to you daily as you did; you are grateful to receive a response at all.

You were set on reading his response, but as is was, you were experiencing terrible nausea and found yourself unable to sit or lie still. For some reason, the only thing that could combat this was walking around. You instead had your ward read your brother's words aloud for you.

Arryk's eyes trail back and forth you and your letter. He comes to your side when you gag, "princess."

You place a hand on your mouth, walking away from him. He watches as you circle your bed, "perhaps, I-"

"Please," you sigh, "do not make me beg you to read it."

Arryk stiffens and shakes his head, "my apologies, your grace." He turns to the parchment, "my twin."

" Louder," you grunt as you momentarily lean on your bed.

"My twin," Arryk repeats slightly louder, "I pray that your health is good, that you have been eating and sleeping as goodly as you did in the days of your visit here."

You take a deep breath and walk towards nothing in particular.

"While I confess a certain light has been lost in the halls of our Oldtown home since your leave, I..." your ward knits his brows, "disagree with your sentiments to return."

"What?" you gasp softly, turning to Arryk.

He looks at you and hesitates, "I... will not honey my words: you disappoint me with your coldness towards our youngest."

You clench your teeth as you feel another gag coming up, "fucking, Gwayne."

"She has written to me more than once to lament your severed relations since she's wed."

Your scoff makes Arryk pause. You look at him as you walk over, "do not stop."

He looks at you as you walk past him. He clears his throat, "I did not speak of it until now, for I believed you to be wiser than your betrayal."

"Ha!" you scoff, eyes immediately watering, "incorrigible pest," you grunt and rub your belly. You pace faster, "unyielding. Unfeeling."

Arryk watches you pace and takes a few steps back and forth so to remain arms reach of you.

"Continue!"

He stiffens, "I—," he turns back to your brother's words, "you've written you believe it will be better for you both that you away, lest your childbearing interlope with hers. I disagree. Consider me a fool-"

"He is," you scratch your eyes.

"-a man who knows nothing of childbirth, which I am, but I know my sisters— I know you at the very least." Arryk watches you as he says the next words, "leaving Alicent will haunt you, your satisfaction short-lived."

You stop in your tracks. You feel your dress tighten around you.

"Lay down your pride and allow yourself to reach for your sister who understands your struggle unlike anyone in the Seven Realms now more than ever."

You feel sick, sicker.

"Upon doing so, see then if you still wish to come to home."

You heave as you continue walking around.

"I offer many prayers to the Mother for both you and our sister. We are truly grown from the same womb, for I too share in your hope that you give birth to a twin boy and girl."

You rub your belly, as the thought softens you a fraction.

"Mostly, I speak thanks and praise for I am to be doubly an uncle. I pray your births come timely and smoothly, and I pray the Lord Hand has extended nothing but gentleness to you both," he folds the paper, "Your Twin."

"See now," you turn to Arryk, "even my twin betrays me, abandons me," you feel tears run down your cheek.

He slowly walks towards you, "that is not what he's done, my princess."

"Then what?!" you shake your hands, "am I not allowed even my anger now?!"

He is taken off guard when you shove him back.

"Even you are against me!"

Arryk steps back, though you barely mustered enough force for him to need to. You quickly pace around again. He feels the flesh beneath his steel you touched begin to push. His lips part "do not accuse me so harshly."

You whip your head back, glaring at him with red eyes, "SHE COULD HAVE BEEN MARRIED TO A LORD IN THE RIVERLANDS! OR HIGHGARDEN!" You throw your hand out, "ANYWHERE BUT HERE, BUT HERE SHE IS!"

His face falls when your rage makes you crumble. He gasp your name out as he catches you just before you fall.

"And for what?!" you wheeze as you are dragged to your bed. You rip at your collar as your chest tightens and tightens and tightens, "for me?"

"Princess," the knight's voice breaks with worry as he sits you down, "I beg you, ple-"

"Undress me," you mutter as you strugggle for air, "unlace my dress, I-"

He does not wait. He is quick to undo your bodice. He is so frantic, he nearly cuts your ties.

You moan as you feel a pressure leave you. You rip your dress off you, thinking of nothing else but catching your breath. Arryk helps you undress and you find it slightly easier to breath once you are left in nothing but your chemise.

Your ward struggles with himself; he does not wish to take advantage of this moment to ogle you, but he also cannot avert his gaze completely, lest you need his assistance. He clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze to his lap, muttering your name softly.

"Never mind my inadequacies, Arryk," you sigh in between deep breaths, "never mind that I will forever be second best to my father, who even wed me to his greatest enemy... who I am to make grandsire to not one but two Targaryen babes."

"Princess," he shakes his head, "I do not wish to-"

"I am used to his insistence of my dimness," you rub your chest, "of my capacity only for tears and succumbing to my own pain," your lips wobble, "but my sister—"

He stiffens and turns to you as lean into him. Your breath is too short and your head too heavy for you to keep yourself upright. Arryk calls our your name as he shifts, bringing his arm around to pull you upright.

"No," you wince, feeling a sharp pain in your belly, "hold me please."

He is immediately alarmed by how you clutch your side, "princess, are you-"

"Please," you rest your head on his armor, "hold me, even if you do not want to."

His hand twitches before, placing it your bare arm. He leans close, close enough to press his lips on your head, but he does not dare. He rubs your skin and whispers, "I want for nothing else."

You are too distracted by yourself that you do not hear him. Uncomfortable as the feel of his armor was, he lulls you into calmness.

When you feel well enough to realize how compromising it would be if someone were to witness you both, you pull away.

He says nothing, does nothing. He simply sit besides you, taking in your sad face.

You a tear drip from the tip of your nose. You rub it away before mumbling, "I had well-made plans for her... plans to shield her, to prosper her."

His eyes fall. He looks at the hand you had on your lap and dares to take it. It is cold and clammy, which is why he rubs it, eager to spread warmth.

The gesture makes goosebumps form on your arms. It makes your breath hitch, but not in a painful way. His gentleness encourages you to continue, "I once thought she looked up to me," you sniffle, "but when she said she was stronger than I," you lower your head.

He frowns.

"I knew then," you look back at him, "she sees only my weakness, along with the rest of the world."

He cannot help himself. He reaches for your cheek and wipes your tears.

You lean into his touch, "I can be strong, Arryk," you both his hands and squeeze them to prove a point, "can you not feel it?"

The gesture makes his heart break. He squeezes your hands in return, "you need not prove such a thing to me," he rubs your skin with his thumbs, "perhaps she does not want you to be strong... not for her."

You huff, "I am her older si-"

"But for your babe."

You are frozen by his words. You open your mouth but find nothing to say.

"Your brother," he gives you a solemn expression, "he says he prays the Lord Hand extends his gentleness to you, but I wonder if all that remained of his gentleness manifested into his daughters' beings."

The thought brings a tear from your eye, "Arryk."

"My princess."

"Should I speak to my sister come the morrow?"

He squeezes your hand again before slowly nodding.

The next day, you do everything in your power to do just that. You found Alicent breaking her fast, but you did not want to inadvertently ruin her appetite with your sudden appearance, for you knew how fickle it was in these times. Later, you found her in her chambers napping, but you didn't wish to interrupt her then either.

The rest of the day, you started feeling unwell, and you could not find it in you to leave your own chambers. When you finally did, the sun had set and Alicent was nowhere to be found. As a last resort, you ventured to the king's chambers.

Erryk announces you once you reach Viserys's door. You look at your knight with apprehension but he only returns a reassuring nod. There is a rather... sickly smell that assaults your senses when the door opens. The king himself answers, brows quirked in surprise.

"My king," you barely manage a curtsy. Erryk nods, "your grace."

Viserys regards you both then asks, "what brings you to my chambers at this hour?"

"I wanted to know if my sister was here," you absentmindedly rub your belly, "I wish to speak to her."

The king catches your belly, "oh, yes." He places a hand on your shoulder, "you are also with child," he chuckles, "I keep forgetting to congratulate you face to face."

You are taken aback by the half-hug he pulls you into.

Viserys chuckles as he pulls away, "well done, my dear. You have made the realm, and more importantly my brother, all the more richer for this."

You are rigid as he beckons you inside. Viserys motions to Erryk dismissively, and he nods. You wards gives you a silent look, and you know he'll wait for you outside.

Once you enter, you are assaulted by a scent that has clearly been attempted to be masked by fragrances. It makes you gag slightly, but it is not so bad that you cannot comport yourself.

You had expected to be lead to your sister, but instead, the king leads you to a massive diorama of what you could tell to be King's Landing.

"I am unsure where my wife is presently-"

His regard to your sister makes you clench your jaw.

"-but she visits me oft at this time of hour. Might as well show you my miniature figurines whilst waiting," he grins as he motions to the said object.

You feel an uncomfortable twinge in your stomach as you walk over to him.

Viserys immediately beams over his creation, recounting the trouble he had carving out the tower, exclaiming how much he enjoyed shaping the bridge. You have never seen him in such a light and it makes you wonder if this was his true self. Did he regard your husband this way? What were they like as children?

As he handed you two separate failed attempts of carving his fallen dragon, Balerion, you listen to him muse how the beast's skull was preserved in the basement bellow, and how he would gladly bring you there if you wanted to see. You groan and slightly lurch when another painful sensation ripples within you.

Viserys notices this. He quickly takes the figurines from you, "oh, where are my manners," he pulls a chair to your side, "sit, sit."

You gratefully take a seat and take a couple deep breathes as the king continues to drone about his diorama.

"You know, I used to make toy soldiers for Daemon growing up. I was aghast when he came back to me with severed heads."

You chuckle at his words, but instantly regret it when it adds to your pain.

"I still made him new ones, but this time, I put less effort and detail," Viserys speaks before noticing your reaction, "are you alright?"

"Mmm," you shake your head, "I think my babes are moving."

His brows quirk, "ah. That's right. You are expecting twins, are you not?"

You release a sigh when the uncomfortable sensations finally wane. You take a breath and offering a smile, "so says my maester. I hope it to be a boy and girl, like me and Gwayne."

He smiles, "it is quite fortunate that you and your sister are to have children at the same time," he looks over his miniature castle, "don't you think?"

"I think..." you turn to your belly, another groan leaving your lips, "Alicent is not ready to have children."

Viserys turns to you.

You look up at him and purse your lips, "nor am I."

He chuckles softly, "none of us are," he places a hand on your shoulder, "but I assure you, you learn as you go."

You find no comfort in his words.

"You know who has been ready though," he raises a finger, "Daemon."

The thought nearly makes you flinch.

He chuckles, "do not look so averted. There is gentleness in him," he turns back to his diorama, "do you not perceive it?"

You begin to feel sick.

"I tell you, when Rhaenyra was born, his face shone."

Your brows tighten at the smile the king offers you.

"I could tell as he held my child, he thought her the most precious thing in the worlds," Viserys face softens, "I could tell he wanted to have something precious to hold as his own," he absentmindedly examines a chisel, "the gods bless me with a wife who is going to birth me something precious," he turns to you, "and a good-sister who is going to birth my brother something doubly precious."

His words make your heart tinge. You are blindsided by how genuine, how vulnerable your conversation is. You wonder if Alicent saw this amidst the cruelty of the world and decided to settle for it rather than the uncertainty from another man. As he falls deeper into another fond tale of his brother, you feel a dull pain spread across your hips.

"That reminds me," he claps his hands, "do you have any names picked out yet?"

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, "well... I've-" you huff, "gone through some books that held Valyrian names," you inhale, "and found a few names for boys, namely Vaerus,—"

"Ah, Vaerus," Viserys repeats, "meaning genuine."

"Eadan—"

He grins and points, "little fire."

"—and Alaeric," you huff.

"Hmm," he turns to the ceiling in thought, "no, I don't know that one."

You are restless because of your pain. You groan as you stand, "I- mmm- prefer the last one the most because it is similar to my mother's name, and I should like to name my boy and girl after her."

He chuckles, "you seem quite set on a boy and a girl."

"Mmm," you hum uncomfortably, "I- I hope for it." You rub your belly, "I hope they have fondness for each other like me and mine own twin."

He knits his brows at your demeanor, "a son and a daughter would suit you well," he smiles fondly, "what was the name of your late mother again?"

"A-" you groan, "Alyrie."

Viserys finally reaches for you, "are you quite certain you're alright?"

You hum as you take the king's bicep, squeezing him tightly, "mmm, I should like to lie down now."

"Yes, of course," he shakes his head, leading you to the door.

Just before you can reach the entrance, a great pain forces you to lurch forward and yelp. You grip onto Viserys's arm for dear life and he grips you with hands. He thinks to grab the chair he pulled for you again, but as he looks back , his eyes widen at the trail of blood that leads to it. "GUARD! GUARD!"

You are in too much pain to react to the king's screams. You can only screw your eyes shut.

Erryk bursts through the doors, face white, heart racing.

"CALL THE MAESTER AT ONCE! SHE'S BLEEDING!"

Your eyes widen at the word, "bleeding?" You momentarily manage to gather enough wits to see what Viserys was speaking of.

Erryk does not linger in his horror. He bolts out and sprints down the halls, screaming for a maester as if his life depended on it because yours did.

The sight of your blood is mortifying. You lift your skirt as pain continues to seizes and a horrified noise leaves you when you find the red that pools by your foot.

It all happens at once after. An ache so great forces you to the floor. You are burning hot yet shivers run down your spine. You do not know if Viserys is speaking as you slowly crumple your knees but you do know that you are screaming loud.

Then it passes. Serenity ebbs and flows. You manage to sit on your but, but then it's back with a vengeance. You resist the squeal that morphs into to a shriek and then— you gasp, "no."

Viserys watches, the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms watches as you rip your skirt up and tear your ruined undergarments down, powerless.

Your scream makes his stomach curdle.

Your hands tremble as you reach for the two small bodies between your thighs. You bring them into your chest, uncaring of all else, how wet they are, how red stains you, how Viserys speaks your name. Your babes are are small; they are both far, far too small.

Anguish draws more noises from your throat. It doesn't take long until your voice is hoarse. You cannot keep your peace as you take in their tiny faces. You wipe them with your skirt, finding the silver of their brows and lashes. You also find the gods gave you a girl and a boy. You choke on a sob as you wipe the red away from their thin, white locks, "please wake for your mummy."

The words arrest Viserys. He recalls holding Baelon as life left him. He cherishes now more than ever that at least his boy gazed upon him once. He shares in your misery, yet does not know if how he should approach you; he does not know if he should. He does anyway, no matter how haunting the sound of your wails are.

You quiet momentarily as the man crouches beside you. Your lips wobble, "p-perhaps they'll wake up if you speak High Valyrian."

The thought is gutting.

You gently pull at one babe's eyelid, finding a violet eye looking back at you. Except it isn't looking at you at all and the thought makes you squall. You clutch your children tightly into your chest, rocking them back and forth, "forgive me, my loves. Forgive me for birthing you too soon."

Erryk finally arrives with the maesters. He is stunned in his spot whereas the maesters run to your side. He falls to his knees as lift your children up. They do not touch them, but instead look at each other before muttering something that makes you pull your twins back into your chest.

Your ward is ashamed to face you. He has failed you. Erryk comes to a stand and dares to come near you. You do not notice him. You do not care for anything or anyone else in this moment.

Crimson grief trails behind you as you make your way to the maester's ward. Erryk meant to carry you, but you refused, knowing the walk there would be the last time you'd ever get to hold your children. He silently walks beside you, eyeing your every move.

You freeze when you see your sister by the door. Erryk looks between the two of you, ready to give you space.

Alicent is distraught. Her eyes are nearly as red as yours and you can how her hands tremble even as she picks at them, "sister, I-"

"I wanted to talk to you earlier today."

Her face falls and she immediately runs up to you. She reaches for you but stops herself.

You frown at it, thinking it was because you had been cruel to her, "forgive me, sister."

She rapidly shakes her head, "do not even mention it."

A tear fog your vision, "very well," you sniffle as you lower your gaze, "would... would you like to see them?

She wordlessly agrees.

You step closer to her, "this is Alaeric... and Alyrie."

A hand comes to her mouth, "sister."

"They're perfect, are they not?"

She nods rapidly, "yes—" she shudders, "they are."

You sob with her as she brings her arms around you. Erryk cannot bare the sight. Hot tears run into his armor. Both him and Alicent stay with you as the maester's see to your health. They let you hold Alaeric and Alyrie until your examination commences, and then you confess that if they do not take them now, you will never let them be taken from you ever again.

You were exhausted as you lie in bed. Your body yearned for repose, but you could do nothing of the sort. You groggily stand and walk to your door.

Erryk starts. You caught him in the middle of scratching tears away from his eyes. You frown, "forgive me."

"No, princess," he shakes his head and turns to you, "how might I serve."

You bite your lip, hating yourself for what you were about to request, "I know it is terrible..." you sigh deeply, "I know it is inappropriate, and wrong, and an abuse of my power over you," you tremble, "but please you sleep with me."

"My princess, I-"

"Please," you raise a hand, "if it is too horrible, per- perhaps-" you hiccup, "you can drag the set— the settee beside my bed-"

He silences you by taking your raised hand. You continue to sob as he shakes his head, "I would do anything you ask of me."

You sob and throw your arms around him. Erryk embraces you back, though he was afraid his hard uniform might hurt you.

Otto sees this exchange from across the hall. He had not been moved to tears until this moment. He scratches his eyes before they fall and steels himself away as he walks off. He mentally takes note to observe the Cargyll brothers and to sternly remind them of their vows.

Erryk follows you to your bed. You crawl into your bed as he drags the settee from across the room beside you. You offer him a pillow and he gratefully take it. You knit your brows when he lies down. You sniffle, "will you not take your armor off?"

"I..." he start, about to explain it is inappropriate.

"Is it hard to remove by yourself?" you sit up, "I can help."

"I-" but his words go dry when you begin to undo his steel uniform with much ease.

All your years assisting Gwayne in and out of his armor has made the act come easy for you. You think nothing of it, but Erryk's heart races as you undo his chest plate. He sucks in a sharp breath as you put the metal down, then refuses your help, resigning to undo the rest himself.

You sink into your sheets as you watch your knight lay his armor down. It occurs to you in this moment that this was the first time you'd ever seen him without it. Even through his loose dress shirt, you can see his defined arms and torso. You even see a sliver of a scar from where his shirt opened on his chest and it makes you avert your gaze, knowing you've looked where you should not have.

Your lips begin to wobble as you think of Daemon and the scars he had on his skin. You feel pathetic as you begin to sob again.

Erryk hates the sound. He sits down on the settee and sniffles, "would you like me to sing for you?"

You wipe the snot on your philtrum as you look at him.

"I do not think I inherited her voice, but my mother used to sing to my brother and I when we were younger."

The word mother makes you feel sick, but you do not tell him that, and simply nod.

He clears his throat and takes a breath, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head."

A chuckle is drawn amidst your tears as Erryk continues to sing.

"The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

You ask him to repeat this song over and over and he humors you each time.

The day breaks and Arryk comes to your door for his shift. He holds a basket of flowers and a frown. He knocks on your door and announces himself. He is surprised when he hears footsteps approaching. His eyes widen when Erryk opens the door for him. His mouth falls at the messiness of his hair, then it clicks. Arryk nearly drops his basket as he grabs his twin by the collar, "what in seven hells have you done, you fool?"

Erryk is stoic as he responds, "my duty."

"Your-" he looks over his shoulder and pushes his brother into the room, closing the door behind him. Arryk makes sure to keep the silence and spares you a quick glance. The sight of your sleeping form makes him slightly soften, but he still manages to glare at his brother, "did you sleep here?"

Erryk turns to you, "she asked-"

"Did you sleep with her?" Arryk snaps.

The twins glare at each other. Erryk's face contorts in disgust, "I slept on the settee, brother. What do you take me fo-"

"I take you for a fool!" Arryk quips under his breath as he points an accusing finger.

Erryk scoffs, clenching his fist, "and you would have left?"

"I would have waited for her to sleep and resumed my post outsi-"

"Please."

The twins turn, finding you sitting on your bed, rubbing your puffy face. They both instinctively step forward and speak in unison, "princess."

"Please," you repeat, "I asked him to stay."

Arryk turns to Erryk.

"I do not want you to argue because-" you cannot continue because you begin to cry.

Both their faces fall, but Erryk wastes no time in coming to you. He kneels beside your bed and takes your hand, repeating the song he sang to you last night.

Arryk immediately recognizes the tune. His heart tightens as he watches the display. He mutters under his breath, "what have you done?" He walks over to him and watches the way you squeeze his brother's hand. He thinks of how you did the same for him just yesterday and clenches the basket's handle tightly. He begins to sing with his twin.

"The fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red. All the birds sing sweetly for you, so come rest ye darling wee head.

The apples grow up the trees, and flowers rise up from the ground. All the stars shine brightly for you, so come rest ye all safe and sound."

These are the very words you sing to your sister's son.

Alicent was with child again, and you were giving her a much needed reprieve from her energetic boy who was now nearing his second name day. Aegon happily reached for flowers as you carried him through the gardens. He laughs with not a care in the world. It is strange how deeply happy and deeply sad the boy makes you feel.

Through it all, you smile as you sing. You bounce him in your hip once you finish, "right, shall we go back now?"

Aegon blissfully ignores you when his hand brushes against a flower. You pull him away before he can grab it, and push his hand down, "no, my love, we do not pick roses so carelessly."

Aegon cares little for your words and raises his hand again, "flower!"

You push his hand down and look at him, "you want the rose?" You adjust him in your arm, "you want to pick the rose for mummy?"

"Mummy?" Aegon repeats, turning to you to reach for your brown curls.

You chuckle when he tries to eat it and pull your hair away before he manages to, "silly boy. Shall we ask Ser Arryk to pick the flower for us?"

"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.

You bounce him back, making him giggle as you repeat, "flower for mummy!" You flip your hair back, "Ser Arryk, could you-"

Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you.

#arabellasleopardcoat cutie #cristi loml #daemon angst #tormented spirit #dd:dne

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vividiana · 3 days ago

Text

tastes like she might be the one

pairing: Astarion x f!Dark Urge · word count: 5.3k

rating: E for shameless smut (MDNI)

tags: blood drinking, period sex, oral sex, face-sitting, vaginal fingering, masturbation, Astarion being a little feral, porn with (some) plot, idiots in love, post-canon, general Durge spoilers

“Well, all of that’s to say that if you would like to… indulge, this might be your one and only chance to do so.” “Oh. I see.” Astarion’s eyes light up at the idea and Eve’s breath hitches when he takes a couple steps closer, his face just inches away when he says: “Then I suppose we better make it count.”

a/n: I did it, I succumbed to the Urge and wrote a period kink oneshot. hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

tagging some of my lovely moots who were hyping me up as I shared snippets from this fic: @khywren @nerdallwritey @xxnashiraxx @obsessedwhyyes @verbenaa @bby-bel-art @hellethil @arzen9 (thank you so much for getting excited about this with me. tbh it would have still been sitting in my wip doc if it weren’t for you all ❤️)

the title is from "LUNCH" by Billie Eilish

read on ao3 · dividers

As Eve is leaving the market, she feels her lower abdomen clench painfully in a manner she doesn’t recognize. She winces, tightening her grip on the grocery bags and tries to figure out what mundane malady it could be this time as she hurries back to the apartment.

Soon, she reaches the familiar facade, but as she goes for the handle, the door swings open. Eve startles when she sees Astarion, wide-eyed and visibly tense.

“What are you doing?” she yelps when he pulls her inside, standing just inches away from the pool of sunlight spilling onto the hardwood floors. “Get away from the door!”

She kicks it shut behind her, the room safely dim again. But Astarion seems to pay no mind to the obvious danger, as he grabs the bags from her and puts them on the ground, before turning her around and assessing her body as if looking for something.

“What happened? Where is it? Show me.”

“Where is what? Are you okay?”

“The wound!” he shrieks, voice high-pitched from nerves. “Hells, I can smell your blood, I could smell it from blocks away. Did someone attack you? Who do I have to kill?”

Eve freezes as the pieces connect in her mind. The pain. The scent of blood that was imperceptible to her but obvious as alarm bells to Astarion’s senses.

Eve laughs at the absurdity of it, Astarion’s eyes widening even further as he tries to fathom what in the Hells she’s on about. Bhaal hand-sculpted her for one purpose and one purpose only, designed her to carry out his gory vision most efficiently, and yet he still made her bleed like this…?

“Oh, that petty son of a bitch!” Eve says to no one in particular. After a deep breath, she reaches for Astarion’s hands and explains in a calmer tone: “I’m not hurt, Star. I think I just got my period. It’s as novel to me as it is to you, honestly.”

She watches as Astarion’s expression cycles through a series of emotions, so clear and unfiltered. First confusion, then relief, and finally a peculiar mix of glee and dread.

“Oh. Oh. ALRIGHT.” He takes a step back, frantically looking up and down her body. When his mouth opens again, words spill out in a chaotic monologue punctuated by nervous giggles. “Fear not, I am so prepared for this. Well, truth be told, my only knowledge about half-elves and menstruation comes from Shadowheart and I don’t know how reliable that is, she tends to be a tad dramatic, don’t you think? But let’s think hmmm… A bath! Would you like me to draw you a bath? Wait, no, you must be hungry, let’s make you some food first.”

He reaches for the grocery bags and darts upstairs.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Eve asks warily as she follows him up to the kitchenette.

“Oh yes darling, I am doing quite SPLENDID myself, I am just concerned about your comfort!!”

Rather unceremoniously, Astarion turns the grocery bags upside down, produce tumbling in all directions across the counter. He grabs a small knife and begins to peel some potatoes whilst aggressively humming Down by the River.

As Eve watches his frantic movements, her stomach drops in realization.

“Star…” she starts, walking up to him.

“YES, my dearest?”

“Is the blood… distracting?”

Astarion’s nervous, high-pitched giggle is enough of a confirmation.

“OH YES! Incredibly so! But do not worry about me, the concern right now should be YOUR COMFORT.”

“Oh gods,” Eve sighs, massaging her temples. “Is this what the next tenday is going to look like?”

“TENDAY?” Astarion stabs the counter, the tip of the knife wedged into the wooden surface. There is sheer panic in his eyes when he turns around and asks: “You bleed for a tenday?”

“I don’t know, this is a first! But as far as I know, people can bleed for anywhere from three to ten days?”

“THAT’S FINE. We will get through this together!” He yanks the knife out and resumes his task.

Eve stands there for a moment, watching him, unsure of what to do with herself.

“Are you hungry, is that the problem? Would feeding on me help?”

For a moment, Astarion freezes. He turns around, knife in hand, his gaze slipping down Eve’s body for a split second.

“What exactly are you offering?” he asks when he meets her eyes again, and Eve can feel her cheeks grow hotter in an instant.

“GODS, ASTARION.”

“I’M JUST SAYING–”

“YES, I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SAYING–”

“IT COULD HELP WITH YOUR CRAMPS–”

“OKAY, I’M GOING TO TAKE A BATH NOW, BYE.”

“SOUNDS GOOD, I’LL KEEP PEELING–”

“YOU’VE ALREADY PEELED A DOZEN POTATOES, THAT’S TOO MANY POTATOES FOR ONE PERSON.”

“I’M STILL LEARNING, GIVE ME A BREAK.”

“OKAY I’M LEAVING NOW, I LOVE YOU.”

“I LOVE YOU TOO.”

Eve storms off to the bathroom. As she starts pouring water into the tub, she tries to push away the mental image of Astarion’s head between her thighs.

She adds some lavender oil into the water and gets inside, the hot temperature helping soothe her cramps. She leans her head against the edge of the tub, trying to make sense of all this.

Perhaps the reason she doesn’t remember this happening before is because her body put this particular function on hold while she was fighting for her life every day, sleeping on the ground, and eating irregularly. But now in the six months since the Netherbrain fell, she has been able to finally feel safe, giving her organism a chance to settle back into its natural rhythm.

It still doesn’t explain why Bhaal didn’t just skip this part in the design process, but Eve does not even want to begin to understand his sick and twisted ways, so she pushes those thoughts away and tries to relax.

After fifteen minutes or so, there is a light knock on the door.

“Yes?”

The door creaks and Eve opens her eyes to see Astarion with a mug in his hand, looking a tad embarrassed.

“Hello,” he says as he continues to stand awkwardly in the doorway.

“You can come in, I won’t bite.”

He walks up and places the steaming mug on a stool by the tub. Eve can smell the mix of chamomile, ginger, and something else she doesn’t recognize. Astarion kneels beside her, arms propped on the edge of the tub.

“I brewed you some herbs that should help ease the pain. And there’s stew cooking, it will be done in an hour or so.”

“Thank you.” She reaches for his hand and places a kiss on his knuckles, eliciting a soft smile.

“I’m sorry about earlier. It was a lot to process all at once. I thought you might be bleeding out on the street somewhere and I couldn’t do anything about it, I was just stuck inside waiting for you to come back. And then you waltz in here as if nothing happened and once I knew you were safe, the smell of your blood was–” He trails off with an absentminded smile. “Well, let’s just say I’ve gotten somewhat accustomed to it now, but it is still quite distracting.”

“I’m sorry you were so worried, that must have been terrifying.”

“It was. But I also should have known that if anyone was foolish enough to attack you, you could handle it just fine. Anyways, you should drink your tea,” he says, passing her the mug. She takes a sip, the herbal mix blossoming on her tongue, and hands it back to him. “Are you enjoying the bath?”

“Yes, the hot water is helping a lot. But, I’m afraid there is something wrong with our tub.”

“Which is?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.

“It’s missing an elf.”

“Ah, an easy fix,” he says with a smile.

Eve takes another sip of her tea as Astarion slips out of his clothes. She shuffles forward to make space for him, and he slowly lowers himself into the tub behind her, gasping as he touches the hot water. She leans back against his chest, nestling into his open arms.

After a moment of silence, Astarion asks:

“So, we don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want to… But, um… Doesn’t this seem like a design flaw?”

“No, we do have to talk about him, because what in the actual fuck was he thinking? As if my whole life wasn’t bloody enough. And I can’t even justify it in any pragmatic way, because it’s not like I needed to bear more Bhaalspawn. I was supposed to be the last one!”

“Daddy’s special girl.”

“Do not ever say that again.” She elbows him and Astarion laughs behind her.

After her bath and dinner, Eve decides to head downstairs and visit Derryth while the apothecary is still open. She explains the situation and asks for some menstrual cloths and anything that could help ease her cramps. The woman watches her intently as she listens, brows furrowed.

“Okay, so personally this is none of my business of course,” Derryth says, raising her hands defensively. “But as an apothecary, I feel obligated to ask: are you aware that you do not need to bleed every month? There are ways you can stop it.”

“There are?”

“Yes. Well, but first: are you and Astarion trying to conceive?”

Eve just stares blankly ahead as her life flashes before her eyes. It’s not something she ever thought to consider, she just assumed… Well, he is undead, after all.

“Umm… is that even… possible?” she asks weakly. “Given our… situation?”

“Under regular circumstances, no,” Derryth rushes to answer and Eve sighs with barely concealed relief, “but I’ve heard of some rituals… I don’t know, Eve, stranger things have happened. But no, unless you go out of your way to achieve it, you’re safe.”

“Okay. Then no, we are absolutely not trying to conceive. Gods, could you imagine–”

“I’d rather not,” Derryth says curtly. “Now, if that’s the case, then there is absolutely no need for you to suffer every moon. There are different ways you can go about it, the one that seems most popular with my clients is this tonic,” she says as she pulls out a couple of bottles from the drawer behind her and places them on the counter. “It’s fairly easy to use, it comes in these little bottles and you drink one the first night of each tenday. And there you go, problem solved.”

“That sounds… awfully easy,” Eve says as she eyes the medicine before her.

“Well, yes, because it is.”

“Does it have any side effects?”

“Of course it doesn’t. It’s supposed to make your life easier, not harder,” Derryth says with the patience of a parent explaining the most obvious concept to their child.

Eve gets a month’s supply to try out, along with some pain medicine to help carry her over before the tonic starts to work. When she gets back to the apartment, she shows Astarion the bottles and explains how it all works.

“That’s probably for the best,” he says. “I’m glad you won’t have to go through this pain again.”

“Yes, me too, but…” Eve hesitates for a moment, but the memory of Astarion’s frantic energy from this morning is enough to give her the confidence to suggest: “Well, all of that’s to say that if you would like to… indulge, this might be your one and only chance to do so.”

“Oh. I see.” Astarion’s eyes light up at the idea and Eve’s breath hitches when he takes a couple steps closer, his face just inches away when he says: “Then I suppose we better make it count.”

There is a moment of tense silence as they regard each other, Eve’s chest rising and falling heavily at his proximity.

But then the final thread of self-control snaps and Astarion pulls her closer, capturing her mouth in a greedy kiss, swallowing up the gasp that slips past Eve’s lips as she opens up to him. Suddenly, the air around her is all citrus and spice, Astarion’s scent and taste mixing into an intoxicating combination. It could easily sweep her off her feet were it not for his hands digging into her hips, anchoring her against him.

With a firm tug to her lower lip, Astarion breaks away, an undeniable urgency to his movements as his mouth slips down to her neck and he inhales sharply, head nuzzled against her. His voice is low and breathy when he says:

“Hells, you smell divine.”

With bated breath, she awaits the sharp sting of his fangs, wanting nothing more than to give him everything he craves. But instead, Astarion’s hands slip down to the back of her thighs and Eve’s body instinctively follows, like it’s a routine they’ve been rehearsing. She jumps, legs wrapping around his waist as if that’s precisely where they belonged.

Eve sinks her fingers into his soft curls, kissing him with a newfound ferocity. She barely registers the steps Astarion takes until with a loud clatter, he kicks a chair out of his way, and she realizes they’re at the dining table. He lets go of her with one hand to push his notes to the side, pieces of parchment flying to the floor as he seats her on the edge.

Astarion breaks the kiss, pinning her in place under his watchful gaze, the room silent save for the heavy pounding of Eve’s heart.

“Indulge, you say? Don’t mind if I do.”

Astarion sinks down to his knees before her, and the sight of it alone is enough to make Eve’s head spin with need, the overwhelming desire to feel his mouth against her skin, to hear the savory sounds that escape his throat every time he tastes her.

He tugs at her waistband and Eve lifts herself off the table just enough to let him pull her pants down and toss them to the side. Astarion swallows hard when she parts her legs for him and it looks like it’s taking him every ounce of self-determination to not rip off the final barrier between them and devour her right there and then.

His hands reach up to push her back, and she leans away, propped on her elbows, not daring to miss out on a single moment of this hypnotizing spectacle. A low, guttural sound rumbles out of his chest as he presses his lips to her plush thigh and starts kissing up, closer, and closer, and–

Eve winces at a sharp stab of pain that begins to radiate down her thighs and up her spine in a throbbing, dull shiver, the hard wooden surface beneath her doing nothing to soothe her discomfort.

Astarion pauses, leaning away to meet her eyes.

“Are you alright, love?”

“I, um–” she sighs, bemoaning the need to be rational at a moment like this. “I am loving this energy, I really am. But there is no way we’re doing this on a table, my back is killing me.”

“I suppose we can make do with a bed, then.”

He wastes no time as he rises to his feet and scoops her up, and in that moment Eve is convinced that she could get used to being carried like this. Astarion rushes to the bedroom to find Scratch splayed out across the mattress, raising his head curiously as they enter.

“Out,” he orders with poorly concealed desperation.

The dog whines, but darts out of the room obediently, and Astarion kicks the door shut behind him. He lowers her onto the edge of the bed and retrieves some pillows to place under her back.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, I feel quite spoiled, actually. Are you comfortable?” she asks, unconvinced, watching as he once again gets to his knees on the hardwood floor.

“Oh, trust me, I am exactly where I want to be,” he says in a tone that erases any lingering trace of doubt from her mind.

Eve falls silent as Astarion’s hands begin to snake up her thighs, lithe fingers reaching the hem of her underwear, eyes meeting hers for a final confirmation that feels superfluous given their current predicament, and yet he still seeks it. Eve nods slowly, her throat too tight with anticipation to utter a sound, and she watches as Astarion hooks his fingers in and begins to slide the garment off her body with nigh religious reverence.

Once it slips down to her knees, she can finally get a better view and gods damn it, she changed into clean clothes less than an hour ago and already the fabric is ruined, a dark, rust-colored stain blooming along the gusset.

Eve shuffles her legs, helping Astarion slide the underwear completely off her. She expects him to toss it on the floor, but instead she watches, transfixed, as he folds it meticulously before slipping it into his pant pocket.

“Excuse you–”

But her objection dies in her throat at the sight of Astarion parting her thighs with unmatched focus. For a moment he just kneels there completely still, pupils blown wide, watching her like a predator poised to strike. It would be unnerving if it wasn’t him.

He hooks his arms under her thighs and pulls her closer, resting her legs on his shoulders.

Under his scrutinous gaze she becomes utterly aware of the wetness between her thighs, blood and arousal mixing into one. Suddenly, her mind drifts away from her kneeling lover to the softness of the silk bed sheets beneath her, the sheets that they got as a housewarming gift from Shadowheart, the ones that Astarion was so excited about, and however weakly, she whispers:

“Wait– We’re going to ruin the sheets–”

Her words seem to snap Astarion out of his trance and he looks up from the sanguine scene before him to meet her gaze.

“I can live with that.”

And as if to prove his point, he lunges forward, their moans mixing in unison the moment his tongue drags a firm line along her center. His grip on her tightens, surely enough to bruise, but Eve is way past the point of caring. Damn the bruises, damn the sheets, all that matters right now is the inferno raging within her, the ungodly sounds erupting from the depth of Astarion’s chest as he feasts on her like a man starved.

Eve’s elbows give in beneath her and she falls back on the pillows, losing sight of his efforts. Instead she reaches for him, nails scraping against his scalp, legs crossed behind his head and urging him closer. Astarion’s nose presses deliciously against her clit as his tongue enters her time and time again, his groans vibrating through her core.

One of his hands wanders to the hem of her shirt, lifting it up past the soft curve of her stomach. He leans away ever so lightly, lips brushing against her as he pleads:

“I need to see all of you.”

Eve complies, the tempo of Astarion’s tongue hastening the moment the linen slips past her the stiff peaks of her nipples. As she tosses her blouse to the side, she is struck by how completely bare she is before him, all the while Astarion looks as if he might have just come home from work, every button accounted for, every thread in place. A perfect picture of composure, were it not for the state of his curls, dampened with sweat and flattened against the grip of her thighs, nor the blood smeared against every inch of his exposed skin.

His tongue leaves her, but before she can protest this newfound emptiness, his mouth shifts up, lips closing around her clit with a firm suck as a single finger teases her entrance. Astarion slips inside with no resistance, one knuckle deep, tormenting her with how it’s simultaneously overwhelming and not nearly enough.

“Please, Star–”

But before the words fully leave her lips, they blossom into a wanton moan as he sheathes his finger, and beckons her, brushing against the spot that makes her feel weightless, like she is not of this world.

She bucks her hips into him and he moans against her cunt, encouraged by her reaction, and soon enough a second finger follows. He slides in slowly, the stretch combined with the suction of his lips pushing any previous aches and discomfort from her mind, leaving naught but an all-encompassing surrender, delicious pressure rising within her.

Through the haze, she reaches down, fingers teasing the points of his ears, and she knows exactly what she is doing, knows the effect it has on him, how it coaxes the sweetest sounds from his lips she is sure she will never get enough of.

She recalls the first time she did it, over a year ago, back when neither of them knew how to define the curious companionship that has grown between them. It elicited the most unrestrained noise she ever heard from him and Astarion must have been taken aback by it, too, because he tore her hands away from him, pinning them above her head. He told her then that she was playing with fire but she couldn’t help it, couldn’t tear her eyes away from the blaze.

It consumes them both now, eliciting the most obscene sounds from her love, his fingers picking up speed as they dart in and out of her, brushing deep inside with every stroke.

She knows she won’t last long, cannot last long, not with the way he has become fluent in the language of her body, knowing exactly which strings to pull to make her sing.

And sing she does, mouth falling open with praises that get increasingly terser, until the only word she can remember is his name.

She cries it out as she grasps the sheets, the moment the pleasure becomes uncontainable, when it lights up every nerve, every inch of her skin. It’s a trust fall and he is right there to catch her, just as he always is. Just as he always will be.

Astarion’s grip doesn’t soften as she rides out this crest, his mouth and fingers relentless in drawing every last one of her moans, her eyes shut in pure bliss.

But then eventually all of her energy evaporates, her thighs growing slack around him, and Astarion retracts slowly, placing the softest kiss on her clit before getting to his feet.

Eve feels the mattress dip as he crawls towards her and she somehow wills her eyelids to open, only to witness Astarion’s bloodied fingers slip into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as he begins to suck. The display is enough to make her throat go dry, skin flaring up with want that never got the chance to subside.

Finally when he salvages every single drop, he lets go, eyes meeting hers as his fingers leave his mouth. Eve takes in the gory state of him: there is blood on his lips and chin of course, but also some on his nose, and is that…? Yes, somehow a bit of it found its way to his brow line. She can’t help but laugh as she tucks a flattened curl behind his ear.

“You look…”

“Happy?” Astarion offers, making a show of licking his lips in a manner that is surely against some moral law.

“I was going to say insatiable.”

“You would be correct,” he admits as he cups her cheek.

He kisses her deeply, his taste a heady mixture of them both, laced with the metallic tinge of her blood. And suddenly their bodies are flush against one another once more, hands wandering, the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressed against her thigh. Eve’s hand slithers down between them, Astarion’s jaw going slack the moment she palms his still-clothed cock.

Her breath hitches at the feel of him in her hand, but Astarion seems to have a plan of his own because he manages to compose himself, leaning away to ask:

“Can you take more?”

“Try me,” she dares, the attempted edge of her words dulled by how breathless she is.

A wide grin blooms on Astarion’s face, the tips of his fangs glinting in the moonlight when he asks:

“How is your back?”

It takes her a second to register the meaning of his question. Truth be told, she completely forgot about it, the pain pushed out into the far corners of her mind by the overwhelming pleasure.

“It’s better.”

“Excellent. Do you think you can sit up?”

“Yes?” she says, unsure of where he is going with this.

Astarion leans away enough to pull his shirt over his head, and then rests on his back, tapping his shoulders as he says:

“Then sit.”

“What?” she asks, swallowing hard.

“You heard me.”

Slowly, Eve gets to her knees, trying to ignore the way the wetness pooled between her thighs seems to shift with the movement. But the shameless anticipation painted on Astarion’s face is enough to weed out any sprouting insecurities, and so she moves up, caging his head between her thighs and gripping the carved headboard for support.

There is a moment of stillness when she hovers over him, and then Astarion’s gaze travels from her face down to her core and he licks his lips at the sight because of course he does.

Eve rolls her eyes and says:

“You’re ridicul–”

But before she can finish the thought, Astarion grabs her waist and pulls her down, forcing an ungodly gasp out of her and suddenly all she can think about is how overwhelming the feeling of his mouth is in that position. Astarion gives her a slight, encouraging shove, and Eve starts rocking against him, chasing the friction that feeds the tempest brewing within her.

Astarion seems to be completely lost in the feeling, clawing at her thighs and moaning against her cunt in a way that vibrates deliciously up her spine. Eve wants to hear more of those sweet sounds, so she looks back, witnessing the erection straining against his pants and she reaches out to stroke him through the fabric. He groans, the movements of his tongue growing sloppier by the second, as she’s trying to unlace his pants with one hand without losing her balance.

“Need a little– Ah– Help,” she gasps when the task quickly proves beyond her current capabilities.

Astarion lets go of her thighs, nimble fingers moving to unfasten the garment in no time. He pulls his pants and underwear down just enough to free his untouched cock and Eve’s mouth waters as she catches a glimpse of how hard and flushed it is.

She leans back, propping herself with one hand as the other reaches out to spread the bead of precum over the head. As much as she can muster from that position, she starts to stroke him, encouraged by the truly obscene sounds that start erupting from his throat.

But then she feels her side cramp up, her arm giving in beneath her. Astarion’s hands dart to grasp at her waist to keep her from collapsing.

“Bad idea,” she admits as she regains her balance, clutching at the headboard.

Astarion hums a noncommittal ‘mhm’ against her center as he settles back into a rhythm. His tongue is relentless in forcing ragged gasps out of her, but Eve wants to give him more, so in a flash of lust-laced genius, she offers:

“Bite me.”

Astarion’s eyes widen, his pupils dilated to the point where she can barely see the scarlet encircling them. He turns his head to the side and Eve would mourn the loss of his touch, were it not immediately compensated by the deep guttural moan that escapes his mouth the moment his teeth sink into her thigh.

Somehow, in all this time together, they have never done this. The initial sting is much sharper than usual, but as Astarion starts to drink, blood leaving Eve’s body in greedy pulls, she feels the familiar throbbing sensation begin to radiate from the wound, her cunt pulsating with every sip he takes and oh gods–

She watches mesmerized as Astarion reaches down and starts to pump himself and the image alone is enough to push her towards the edge. Her fingers slip down to her center to gather some of her slick before gliding up, tracing circles around her clit, her movements matching the rhythmic groans that Astarion makes with every mouthful of her blood.

Eve knows that he’s close, recognizes it in the timbre of his voice, the furrowed line between his brows, the tension in his muscles as his strokes pick up pace. She swallows hard, wishing for nothing more than to watch him unravel beneath him, to witness–

It sneaks up on her this time, the electrifying shudder that tears through her body. Her mouth falls agape, knuckles white as they grip desperately at the headboard as if it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Through the bliss, she barely registers the final guttural moan coming from somewhere below, the thick, hot rivulets painting her back.

Astarion’s mouth reluctantly leaves her thigh, his tongue cleaning up any remains of blood off her skin. Eve can feel his hands come up to her waist to steady her, but for now all she can do is just sit there, breathing heavily, head spinning with blood loss and afterglow.

After a couple moments she wills her muscles to move, her legs shaky as she shuffles down Astarion’s body before collapsing on top of him. His arms drape softly around her and they lie there in silence, utterly spent.

Eventually, Astarion slips out from underneath her, and Eve would reach out to stop him if she had any energy left. Instead, she burrows her face into the pillow and listens to the soft clicks of Astarion’s heels against the floor (how did he keep his shoes on all this time?) as he rustles through some drawers.

When he returns, she feels his palm nestle in between her shoulder blades, his voice soft and steady when he utters the incantation:

“Te absolvo.”

Healing magic begins to radiate across her body, lifting the heaviness from her muscles and dissipating the fog clouding her mind. And then there is another sensation as what she assumes to be a warm wet cloth runs gently along her back before slipping between her thighs, erasing the evidence of whatever the Hells it was they just experienced.

Suddenly, Eve feels a pang of disappointment and she voices it by mumbling incomprehensibly into the pillow.

“I don’t speak Ghukliak, love,” Astarion says.

Eve groans before turning her face to the side. She meets his amused gaze, spotting the Amulet of Silvanus that adorns his bare chest.

“I said: ‘are you done already?’ You don’t want more blood?”

Astarion laughs heartily as he grabs another cloth to clean his stomach and chest.

“Oh, and I’m the insatiable one? I always want more blood, dear, but you look like you could use a break, you know.”

“Excuse you, I feel excellent.”

And as if to prove it, she props herself up and sits on the edge of the mattress. She takes a sip from the water cup he left for her on the bedside table before getting to her feet.

Astarion watches her intensely as she approaches. Usually, he’s much more relaxed after he feeds, but Eve can see that there is still some tension in his features, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly as she steps into his space.

She knows he’s holding himself back.

And that just won’t do.

Her arms drape around his neck, and she leans in, lips brushing against his ear as she whispers:

“Take as much as you want, Star. It’s a rare treat, after all.”

Eve delights in the strained gasp that leaves his lips, in the caress of his hands that trail down to her waist before pulling her flush against him.

“How awfully selfless of you,” he drawls, leaning in to kiss her.

a/n: aaaaaand with that, I have officially passed 100k words on ao3. what a glorious way to reach that milestone 😅 I would love to hear your thoughts on this one, especially since I rarely write smut so any feedback is super helpful ❤️

#can I offer you some vampire smut to stave off the sunday scaries?#astarion x durge #astarion x the dark urge #durgestarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfiction #astarion smut #my fic

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sunarots · 2 days ago

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taste ━━━ suna rintarou & miya osamu

20. milking a dead cow ♡

cw. x1 snide comment about y/n’s appearance by rubi

For the third time tonight, Rubi makes a snide comment about dating Suna in an attempt to get you to bitch with her. She waits to see if you respond, quickly laughing and lightly hitting his arm. Through her laughs, she says, "I'm kidding!" and taking a sip of her drink. She excuses herself and rises from her seat with her phone gripped tightly in her hands.

You lean back in your seat and let out a heavy sigh, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm just going to say it, boys. This night sucks ass harder than Atsumu." You look between them, catching both agreeing.

"Not that I don't like being in the company of my 'crazy ex', but I'm so close to stabbing myself in the eye with my fork," Suna announces, picking up his fork for emphasis. He taps the bottom against the table and looks towards the toilets to make sure she's gone. "I don't know what her deal is tonight."

You don't mean for your amusement to show on your face, grabbing your glass to try and hide it before Suna sees you.

Osamu clears his throat. "She's uh... She's okay."

"She said we should do this again, 'Samu. If I do this again, I'll kill myself," Suna snaps, dropping his fork and leaning back in his chair.

"You're not exactly fun for me to be around, either." You roll your eyes at him, finishing off your drink. "But I do agree. I may have to do it, Osamu. Tell Kiyoko I miss her. And don't let Kuroo take over my position as manager."

Osamu laughs, resting a hand on your thigh. "Look, we're almost done. No dessert, just the bill. It's Thursday, so there's definitely a party we can crash. Otherwise, we drink at mine until we're paralytic."

"As nice as a party sounds, I just want my bed. I do want more booze, though. Can you flag down the waiter for another round? Maybe shots?"

Nodding his head, Osamu waves at one of the waiters and apologises. "Can we get another round and six shots of Sambuca?"

Simultaneously, you and Suna burst out, "Not Sambuca."

Osamu frowns, apologising once again and correcting himself to vodka. When the waiter leaves, he turns to face you. "Why not Sambuca?"

"Have you not seen y/n after Sambuca? She once almost killed Atsumu for standing on her foot." Suna has to stop himself from laughing at the memory.

"That was you!?" Osamu exclaims, laughing hysterically. "I hear about it but no one knew who it was! I thought it was Sakusa, honestly."

"You know, a lot of people said that." You nod slowly in thought before shrugging your shoulders. "Anyway, no Sambuca if there's a chance of someone getting on my nerves."

"So, never?" Osamu flashes you a smile before laughing, settling back in his seat. "So, Rin, how do you feel about nationals?"

"Pretty good. I'm excited to see how far we go. I need to start going to the gym again, though. Rubi likes to come with me but I hate going with her. How do you feel?"

Osamu shrugs his shoulders. "Yeah, I have high hopes. At least I know I'll be starting since I'm sleeping with the manager."

You return his smile and face him. "If you want to start, you don't need to sleep with me. You need to keep practicing." You shrug your shoulders, smiling as the waiter sets a tray of shots down on the table. "Oh, perfect." You waist no time in grabbing them and taking your first shot, setting it back on the tray. You take the second before either of them have their first, looking between them in disappointment. "Have you never taken shots before?"

"You inhaled those," Osamu scolds, taking his first one. "Give us a chance."

"If you take much longer I'll have them as well." You finish whats left in your glass as the waiter approaches again, taking the tray of empty glasses and shot glasses away.

Rubi appears from behind him, slipping back into her seat. "Ugh, those toilets are disgusting. Why did he have shot glasses?" She flattens her hair against her chest as she watches him walk away.

"They were from another table, he was just collecting our empties." Suna taps on the side of Rubi's fresh cocktail to bring it to her attention. "Should we get the bill and finish these drinks?"

Rubi pouts, looking over her shoulder. "I wanted a dessert menu. I want to try that cheesecake you liked."

"If I eat anything else, I may be sick," you announce, trying to stop her from getting the menus — you will not get stuck here for another hour. The food is good, but it takes too long for your liking when you're stuck on a date like this.

"You don't have to get anything. Besides, probably for the best. Your uniform isn't very flattering." Rubi spots a waiter, frantically waving her hand at him to bring him over,

Your jaw clenches at her statement, turning to Osamu with a fake smile plastered across your face. Without saying anything, you sigh and lean back in your seat.

Before Rubi can talk to the waiter, Suna rests a hand on her shoulder and blocked her from his view. "Can we get the bill? I'm feeling a bit queasy. Not because of the food. Just... Diarrhoea."

A heavy silence falls over the table, Rubi turning her nose up in disgust. She settles into her seat and picks up her phone with the same grimace in place.

You have to press your lips together tight to keep your laughter inside, your hand flying out to grip Osamu's thigh. He returns the action, his fingers digging into you like you're his lifeline. The waiter backs away slowly, watching Suna carefully as though he may shit himself on the spot.

Rubi turns to face Suna again, dropping her phone down on the table. "Can you not act normal for one fucking date? God, trying to do anything with you is like... It's like milking a dead cow!"

"This isn't exactly what I wanted for date night. This reservation was made for two: us. No offence, Osamu. Kind of offence, y/n." He holds up a hand towards you, not catching your dismissive shrug. "Hanging out with an ex never sounds fun. For anyone."

"Don't think of her as a ex, think of her as your best friend's girlfriend," Rubi justifies. "Look, Rin, if you don't start reciprocating my needs, we're over."

Osamu leans in towards you as they continue bickering and whispers, "It's so joever."

# fun fact !

after y/n fought him, atsumu was telling everyone it was some random drunk guy on the street and he did more damage to him

masterlist. previous | next

summary. when your ex starts dating your least favourite person on campus, your ex-best friend from high school, you can’t help but feel a little betrayed. you quickly realise a way to get back at him: his best friend.

taglist (open!). @v3nusplanetofluv @mdmraz @thoughtswithbbg @fireinyoureye @wakashudou @jisookdays @tespho @frootloopscos @gigiiiiislife @walllflowerrrsss @tangerinelovr @datonegaybestfriend @sturnprincess @jpegarchives @justanotherweeb666 @1yeah1 @rrosiitas @yuu-via @zazathezaer @softpia @animenaces-world @loveelylani @punkhazardlaw @to-dino @nanamis-right-tiddie @aboutkiyoomi @arusio @aloore @dailyakira @alexithemiyatic @chemiru @p1nktulip @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @taefanclub @h3xi2g0n3 @rikidaze @mncxbe @luvelyjjk

#taste #haikyuu smau #hq smau #suna rintarou #suna rintarou smau #suna rintarou x fem!reader #suna rintarou x f!reader #suna rintarou x female reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x y/n #suna rintarou x you #miya osamu #miya osamu smau #miya osamu x f!reader #miya osamu x female reader #miya osamu x fem!reader #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x reader

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theclownghoul · 3 days ago

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Gratuitous

Opinion piece & analysis

I really hate how Jinx’s suicidality is portrayed in S2, largely in Act lll but we’ll talk about all of it.

In S1 we have about three moments (by my count) that show Jinx harming herself or trying to end her life. Hitting herself in episode 3, being careless with the staples in episode 7 and pulling the pin on the bridge also in episode 7. There is also a line she says to Vi “You’re the reason I’m still alive” in episode 9 which given other things she says in that moment could be interpreted as other ideations.

What makes these moments different from S2 episode 9? Well none of the three main writers were credited to those episodes other than the dialogue in S1 episode 9. Most of them are communicated through animation only. They also just feel different, they’re vulnerable, other things are the focus and her doing these things is just a reaction to those feelings. There was something to get from the scene besides a showcase of her pain.

Episode 9 of S2 is not that. It’s gratuitous, it’s a spectacle, it’s gory and somehow losing all its impact. There’s the music which is not what I’d call tasteful or subtle. It’s making an impression, wants to force a feeling or reaction. Make you sad or horrified and oh, I was horrified but not the way they wanted.

Even the way she digs her nails into her cuticles in S2 episode 8 isn’t really meant to show us anything about her. It’s meant to affect the audience.

In comparison I almost appreciate how people have read her pulling the pin in S1 episode 7 as trying to manipulate or take Ekko out too instead of being a completely clear cut attempt. Because it at least shows that there is enough going on with the character’s mindset that we can speculate on her motivations and how she’s reacting to all the emotions that came from fighting her old friend. If you look at her face it’s sadness and regret (S1 is also better at story through facial expressions since there was forethought). You’re free to have your own reaction, not the one that’s set out for you.

I have mixed feelings about her fight with Vi now and telling Vi that she’s okay to go out by her hand. It feels closer to the moments in S1 than later in episode 9. There’s more going on, we’re meant to consider multiple layers of both her and Vi’s feelings in the moment. It’s a non explicit parallel to the Bridge and does show a pattern of behaviour. It’s also not credited to any of the main writers.

The scene from the opening of episode 9 as a whole, is it romanticization? Heard differing opinions on this and I honestly don’t know where I stand. One one hand it shows how empty she feels and how everything has come crashing down despite trying and it communicates her emotions through the images and music. On the other the scene is meant to be visually appealing while also showing her detonating the bomb very explicitly, like you see her blood. I’m sorry but this is some 13 reasons shit. None of this is helped by the fact that Isha was killed purposely to get her in this state.

I had way more emotions about the actual story in the scene with Ekko in S1 and the scene with Vi in episode 3. Originally I liked this scene but I just can’t really remember why exactly, especially when compared to the earlier ones. The other scenes aren’t lacking in any way when it comes to showing her despair so I’m lead to believe it’s a stylistic choice in line with S2’s music video focus.

Then there’s Ekko… what did he do to deserve this? I’ve said before that if he had to he would save her but the reason he had to was because this scene sounded like a good idea. Saw someone say why is it his responsibility to save her and yeah why? He’s her romantic interest? Not from her perspective at this point and that’s a terrible reason anyway. Not only are we shown her blowing herself up in detail, being inflicted with it but he also has to see that, multiple times. Please don’t make me think too long about it… then we don’t see what actually changes her mind and actually see their bond. That also doesn’t give me a lot of faith is what they think is important to show.

Then she sacrifices herself at the end to “break the cycle” which no one is actually clear on what is meant by that and the same damn song is playing. It’s weird.

I’d like to compare it to the Poison sequence from Hazbin Hotel since that scene faced backlash for romanticizing abuse specifically in that scene. If I can describe what makes Poison not exploitative and what makes Wasteland so then I can safely say they are different and there is something deeply sinister about Jinx’s scene.

Poison benefits internally, inside the context of the story from being visually appealing and pretty. That tells part of the story in and of itself and eventually it cracks, mirroring how Angel feels in the scene and in his situation.

Wasteland benefits externally, it’s done for the audience as I’ve been saying. There is nothing about Jinx’s mindset or actions that we get a better insight into from the stylistic choices. We know “she loves a spectacle” but that’s the only internal explanation that I could make. Even if they wanted the cutting of her hair and the burning on the last drop but the framing could have easily been different.

Think about the staple scene for contrast, it has no interest in being something other than what it is, brutal and disorienting, just as she is feeling in that moment. Jinx would behave that way whether there were “eyes” on her or not. Poison is the same, Angel “performs” to keep his thoughts at bay regardless of an audience. Wasteland only exists in its current form to entertain.

The final “sacrifice” also falls into this, solely focusing on eliciting a reaction from the audience and making a spectacle of sadness. There is no resolution to Jinx’s earlier conversation with Ekko, we don’t see her reflect, we don’t see a change. We have no reason to believe she’s in any way in a better place. Her decision to give her life for Vi’s isn’t particularly fleshed out and this as a conclusion to her arc is bizarre at best and offensive at worst, suggesting she had to remove herself from her loved ones lives, something she simultaneously feared and was tempted by.

I probably shouldn’t feel the need to make such a caveat but I am aware that the could be a matter of preference when it comes to how scenes like this are portrayed but the way this scene was done continues to strike me as odd. I can’t help but think it maybe intentionally or unintentionally is playing into the “sacrifice” message where, it may be a sad thing but Jinx had to die. And that’s a horrible thing to say.

#arcane critical #jinx arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane season 1 #season 1 my beloved #mental health #I have had this one in the works for a while and I think I’ve finally got it right #hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #disclaimer about using poison I’m only referring to the scene we see in the show and how it comes across #to an average viewer who doesn’t know the bts problems the show uses a music sequence effectively if possible by fluke #Hazbin also suffers from having his recovery be mostly offscreen #And you can bet your ass if they mess up what they do have with him in HHS2 I’ll have something so say #Apparently showing character’s struggles symbolically and considerately is usually a fluke

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avifaunaa · 2 days ago

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Natasha + R rambles [ htwswy ]

Authors Note: I’m a little tired from posting that monster of a chapter for Rio yesterday — so until I regain some brain juice back I’ll share some little cutsie rambles about Nat/R from the htwswy-verse! I know you guys love this fic a lot so if you want to know more about it please know my anons are open!

Masterlist

Summary: N/A | rambles

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Content Warnings: a tiny mention of self-harm, but other than that none! Mostly humor, fluff, the good stuff.

• Natasha and you probably get another cat not long after you guys get super duper serious — Liho was so pissed

• Out of the two of you, believe it or not, Natasha’s likely less likely to start an argument and more likely to find a solution to one.

• It actually took a while for Yelena to warm up to you despite whatever we think we see in chapter 1. Natasha is her sister and nobody is good enough for her sister until she can decide they are. “A while” is actually six months — making the offhand Yelena-like comments even when she agreed to your attempts to reach out for hangouts to watch Studio Ghibli movies.

• When she does decide you’re perfect for Natasha [ “I’m glad you approve,” you told the blonde blandly as you sat across from her at breakfast, oatmeal untouched and eyes uncaring, “but we’ve been dating for a year now.” She pointedly ignored you, as she usually does. ] she goes to Natasha herself and says so.

• Natasha wasn’t amused.

• Natasha who doesn’t seek out cuddling at bedtime immediately due to her fear of what could happen if she’s tangled up with you during a night terror. Short of flinging you into the wall and making Tony pay a hefty repair fee, you weren’t sure there was much.

• She admired the size of your balls, honestly, considering she could kill you.

• You laughed at her despite the severity of the situation she felt — whereas you didn’t. You didn’t think she’d be able to before waking up.

• It turns out you were right — she always ended up awake with you somehow touching her. On top of her chest, curled up against her, spooning her, spooning you.

• When Natasha sat you down and told you the full story about her history — from the Red Room until the defeat of Thanos — you didn’t seem to know how to take it. But you did know how to respond to her opening up: you took care of her. You disappeared only to return with a dangling Liho in your arms and plopped her into Nat’s lap while you gathered various items for a lazy day on the couch.

—> “I need you to say something,” Natasha finally admitted after you hadn’t spoken about it for a few minutes, television murmuring in the background as she stroked Liho’s soft fur. “Just tell me what you’re thinking?”

—> You lifted your head off her shoulder to look directly at her. “I think,” you started slowly, picking at your leggings, “that you’re one of the bravest people I have ever met and the good you do in the world despite the amount of wrong it has done to you is a feat that I will always admire and love you for.”

—> It was a beautiful response — and not an “I’m so sorry” to be found in there either. She kissed you just to tell you how much it meant to her. That her past didn’t change how you in her eyes. As your partner, your fiercest protector, and your best friend.

• Natasha Romanoff who comes home busted up form missions and you hackle like a cat and fuss over her, poking and prodding each wound, demanding to know where they came from and “why the fuck did you come see me before going to Cho?” and only when did she notice you were in near tears did she stop coming to you before going to Cho.

• Natasha who finishes trying the coffee menu at her normal spot and approaches you about how it makes her feel.

—> You bring a list of suggestions for other local places in the city to start going to

—> It’s cute how she worries about never going back — but you make a promise that for every new place you try you always go to the usual spot once a week

• Natasha who notices your ticks and understands when you work as a way to self-soothe or self-harm.

• This causes her to visit more frequently and break the streak of the period you work so you can go to bed, or eat some food, take a shower — whatever it takes to get you away from the lab.

• Natasha who introduces you fully to the team. She looks entirely too proud of herself, eyes so lovely and soft, and you as Thor slams down the hammer and dares you to play the game nobody ( but Steve Rogers, but Thor conveniently leaves that out ) can win but him.

—> Natasha comforts you when you go :( after ten long minutes of attempting to peel that stupid hammer off the table while everyone eggs you on, knowing full well it won’t happen

—> “It was not a game you were excepted to win — none of us can,” she assured you.

I LOVE THESE IDIOTS SO MUCH CHAT

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #htwswy #blurb #PART THREE WILL BE COMING I PROMISE #IF U THINK IT CANT GET SOFTER UR ABSOLUTELY WRONG

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toffeebrews · 6 hours ago

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oooOooOo you want to tell me about her so bad oooOoOooOo she's so cool and awesome that you need to throw scraps my way oooOOoOOo

Like, how does she select those she'll go after? Is it if they've killed in general, or if they've been bland and bad about it? Are there certain kills she'll overlook if it's for the greater good?

Or how about traversing? How does she get across the multiverse? Does she use portals or is she just so cool that she walks through fire and uses it as a means to travel? Similar to how Ink uses, well, ink to traverse. Perhaps Vigil uses fire?

It would be super convenient for her, too. Especially considering if she can feel the fire from the mass destruction of an au and be able to warp through the flames and attempt to save it. Or does she only hunt down villains?

Give me scraps of info on her!!! Love her idea to bits and would adore hearing more about the coolest Queen ever

GOD I LOVE HOW YOU DRAW HER SO MUCH SKJAJSSJK

It's killing in general unless she sees it as complete self-defense, but that can also depend.

Honestly, I hadn't really figured out the travel thing yet?

But...okay...the fire travel is really cool??? CAN I STEAL THAT dsakJJADKEDK

Some scraps? Sorta implied by her design, but technically shes an undead. Here's some other totally unimportant lore...she still bakes and has a pet ladybug.

I'm SO HAPPY YOU LOVE HER SO MUCH. Haha, I love when people ask me about her! I see everyone else, and they seem to have their ocs figured out, and I'm over here like...erm...

I haven't drawn anything of her in a while, so why not doodle her?

i swear she smiles sometimes

#vigil!toriel #ask #if i accidentally contradicted some older ask somehow

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reixtsu · 9 hours ago

Text

⪨༒𓊈𒆜🅞🅤🅡 🅣🅐🅡🅖🅔🅣𒆜𓊉༒⪩ | 𝙶𝚎𝚝𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙶𝚘𝚓𝚘

You were in deep shit, the deepest shit you have ever been in. Two men from rival companies, two men who were hot as fuck, were targeting you? Someone who was known as the best assassin in Japan? Honestly in any other situation you would have been honored to be hunted down by someone. It was a nice challenge, one that you would usually be confident in winning. However this time you were scared shitless.

Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, the golden pair, notably the two strongest and best spies in Japan if not the world. Those two-no, legends-were targeting you. It definitely wasn't helping your carefully crafted composure that you've spent years to perfect.

The bastards were relentless. They moved like ghosts, dismantling every alias, every safe house, and every backup plan you had, as if you were a mouse being chased by some ninja cats. Wherever you went, they weren't far behind. There was no room for you to catch a single breath. Besides, it wasn't just their skill that you-it was how they played the game. Gojo's smug confidence made your skin boil as warm as the spiciest curry, while Geto's quiet, calculating precision left you feeling like a fly caught in a web.

You ducked into a shadowy alleyway, the Tokyo skyline buzzing above, blissfully unaware of the pounding of your heart as you hid as best you could. It was annoying, how you felt them closing in on you, like wolves cornering a rabbit. Except this rabbit wasn't about to roll over. Not yet.

Forcing yourself to steady your breathing, reminding yourself of the boy Toji told you to look after like a shadow. Megumi, Toji's son. His safety came first, even if it risked your own. It was your checking his whereabouts when you accidently ran into Gojo one day, and that was the first piece of information that revealed your occupation. As much as you hated it, Gojo adopted Megumi, so now he is taking care of him. Gojo was keeping him safe, and that would be all that mattered if Gojo and his bestie wasn't plotting to kill you.

Your plush lips curled into a biter smile. How poetic. Two men who could bring the world to its knees, and here I am stuck in between them, scrambling to keep my life intact.

Footsteps echoed in the distance-light, deliberate. Your heart rate spiked. You gripped the blade hidden in your coat, your instincts sharpening.

"You can't hide forever you know." A smooth, arrogant voice cut through the silence, sending chills down your spine. He was here. Gojo.

You grit your teeth, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. That cocky bastard.

"She's smarter than that, Satoru," another voice added, one that was low and velvety. And there was Geto. "Be patient. She's probably trying to plan her next move."

"Trying?" Gojo snorted. "Please. She's desperate by now. You can smell it."

The audacity, really. You couldn't help the scoff that slipped from your lips. A stupid rookie mistake for a pro like you.

"Well, well," Gojo said, his voice practically dripping with smug delight. “There's our little rabbit.”

You stepped out of the shadows, forcing yourself to smirk even as your heart thundered within your chest. They were standing just a few paces away, both of them far too calm for comfort. Gojo had his hands shoved casually in his pockets, his blink round glasses hiding his pair of sparkling blue eyes. Geto stood beside him, arms crossed and his head tilted slightly, showing his Adam's apple, his expression unreadable but no less dangerous.

"Boys," you drawled, feigning confidence you didn't feel, "if you're going to hunt me, at least make it interesting.'

Gojo grinned, one that was wide and toothy. "Oh, sweetheart, you haven't even seen anything yet."

Geto's smirk was much subtler, but it still carried a weight that made your stomach twist in discomfort. "Careful what you wish for."

You huffed, hand on your hip as you glared at them. For the first time in your life, you weren't sure if you'd make it out unscathed. But if this was how it ended, then you were going to make the most out of it.

The game was on, and your life wasn't the only one on the line.

"You always run, sweetheart," Gojo teased, his tone light but nevertheless laced with dripping poison. "When do we get to have some real have fun with you?"

You reached over and twirled the knife in your hand, keeping your stance loose and ready. "You call this fun? Sounds like someone needs a better hobby."

"Maybe you can recommend one," Geto said calmly, stepping closer, his purple eyes sharp enough to cut through you. His movements were deliberate, like a predator closing in. "Though I doubt assassins have much time for hobbies between killing and running."

"Funny," you shot back, eyes flicking between them. "You two seem to have plenty of time for playing fetch with me."

Gojo's grin only widened, but his posture shifted ever so slightly-subtle, but enough to signal that he was ready to move. Your grip on your knife tightened.

"Aw, don't flatter yourself," Gojo said,adjusting his glasses casually. "We're not chasing you because it's fun." He leaned forward ever so slightly, his voice dropping an octave, "We're chasing you because you're special."

That comment threw you off for a second. The words he said just didn't sit right, nor the way he said it. You forced your expression to remain neutral. "Touching. Did you rehearse that?"

"Why would I? I'm naturally charming."

Geto cut in, his voice as smooth as silk. "Let's not drag this out, Satoru. She's in the corner. She knows it."

Your heart pounded, begging to be freed from your chest, but your face remained unreadable. You weren't cornered. Not yet. You just needed to keep them talking, just needed more time.

"Cornered?" You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be amused. "Do you see me begging for mercy? Or are you just hoping I will?"

"You've got guts," Geto said, tilting his head just enough to have his black bang cover part of his eye. "I'll give you that. Most people would've given up by now. But we know you're not like other people."

"Neither are you both," you replied, and in one fluid motion, you threw your knife-not at them, but at the exposed pipe just above their heads.

The knife swiftly struck true, steam hissing violently from the now broken pipe, flooding the narrow alleyway with a thick, blinding fog.

"Shit-!" Gojo cursed, his voice muffled in the chaos of fog.

You didn't risk the chance to wait. You bolted, weaving through the maze of alleyways as your boots pounded against the pavement. The fog bought you a few seconds, maybe less. They were way too good at their job to be distracted for long.

Your mind raced as fast as your legs. You've played their game long enough now to know that they weren't just chasing you for fun, they said it themselves. Your suspicions connected to Megumi started to seem more and more plausible as to how Gojo found you. But with the way he looked at like-like he knew everything about you- it wasn't random.

It terrified you to your core.

As you rounded a corner, a sudden blur of motion forced you to stop short.

"Fast," Geto murmured, stepping out of the shadows as if he'd been waiting for you. His calm demeanor sent a chill down your spine. "But not fast enough."

Your eyes darted around, searching for an opening, any, but he'd chosen his stop well. Narrow alley, no easy exits.

"You're good," he said, almost like he was praising you. You would be lying if his words didn't have an effect on you. "No wonder why you're the best. But even the best slip up eventually."

"I don't slip," you shot back, trying to keep as steady as you could.

"Then you must be tired." He took another step forward, unhurried but deliberate. "You've been running for days. Dodging us, hiding. you're human, no matter how perfect you pretend to be."

"Bold words for someone who needed a partner to keep up with me, huh?" You snapped, trying to mask the unease creeping up your spine with irritation.

A low chuckle echoed behind you, and your stomach sank instantly.

"Oh, she got you there, Suguru," Gojo's voice teased as he emerged from the other end of the alley, effectively leaving you no options for escape.

You were boxed in.

Shit.

"Let's not make this harder than it has to be," Geto said, his tone soft but firm. "You've got a choice. Come with us, or..."

"Or what?" You challenged, staring at him.

Gojo shifted a little, combing his silver hair out of his face only for it to flop back down. "Or we make you."

Your pulse thundered in your ears, much to your displeasure. "You think I'm scared of you?"

Gojo shrugged nonchalantly. "You should be."

You moved before they could. Your hand desperately went to the smoke bomb in your pocket, but Geto was faster. With a flick of his wrist, a thin wire lashed out, tangling around your wrist and pulling tight. You hissed in frustration as he yanked you, rendering you off balance.

"Sloppy," he said quietly, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Persistent," you hissed under your breath, twisting your body to free your other hand. You managed to grab a second knife you had on your belt and threw it at him. He dodged, but the slight movement loosened the wire just enough for you to break free.

Gojo clapped his slender hands slowly, sarcastically. "Damn, you're fun. I almost don't want to turn you in."

Geto frowned, obviously not pleased with his partner. "Satoru-"

"What?" Gojo grinned, tilting his head toward you. "Can you blame me? She's got the whole deadly-and-gorgeous thing going on. Kind of my type, y'know?"

You flinched, Gojo's words fluttering your heart more than you'd care to admit.

"Enough," Geto snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

You took the opportunity to leap for the nearest wall. kicking off it to gain just enough height to grab the fire escape above. Your nimble fingers grazed the cold metal, and you hoisted yourself up just as Gojo lunged for you.

"Catch y'all later," you called over your shoulder, your smirk returning back in place despite the ever pounding of your chest.

Gojo simply laughed, his voice echoing through the dark alley. "You'll have to do better than that, sweetheart!"

Neon signs of Tokyo flickered in the distance, casting an otherworldly glow on the streets below as you leapt from rooftop to rooftop. The cold air bit down on your face, but it didn't stop you from running as fast as you could. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, and the weight of their words echoed in your head like a broken record.

"You've got that deadly-and-gorgeous thing going on."

"You're human, no matter how perfect you pretend to be."

Why did their voices stick to you like that? You shouldn't care, not at all! You hated how Gojo's smugness got under your skin, hated how Geto's quiet intensity lingered like a shadow. Was it because they were handsome? It didn't matter anyways. You had bigger things to worry about than two men who saw you as a challenge-or worse, a toy.

As you made your way across the rooftops, you scanned for the nearest safe house Toji told you about. Your options were dwindling; their reach was extensive, and it felt like every move you made only led you closer to their impending web.

You slowed when you reached the edge of a rooftop, crouching low as your eyes darted across the street below. The sound of footsteps brought your focus to a man walking his dog, the only other soul out at this ungodly hour. His relaxed posture, the cute wag of the dog's tail, it was normal. Normalcy. Something you couldn't afford in the life you lead.

Just as you were about to leap to the next rooftop, your eye caught movement in the reflection of a glass building across the street.

"Clever," you muttered under your breath.

A figure moved in the shadows a few rooftops back. It was Geto-his tall, lean frame unmistakably recognizable even in the dark. You cursed under your breath. How the hell had he kept up with you?

Though something was wrong. Why was he alone? Where was Gojo?

Before you could react, a voice cut through the air behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Looking for me?"

You whipped your head around, knife in hand, but was already there, perched casually on the edge of the rooftop. His glasses were pushed up and resting on his head, revealing those piercing, unnaturally blue eyes that seemed to see through everything, including you.

"Damn it," you hissed, your grip tightening on the knife.

"Damn it?" Gojo repeated, grinning. "I'll take that as a compliment. People don't say that unless someone's really good."

"Don't flatter yourself." You held your tongue, desiring to curse at him.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Oh, but I'm so good at it."

"You're cornered," Geto's voice came from the shadows as he stepped forward, his ever calm demeanor as unearving as ever. "Again."

"Wow. The two of you are excellent at being a pain in the ass," you commented dryily.

"And you're good at running," Gojo countered, leaning back on his hands like he was lounging on the beach instead of hunting you down. "But you're getting predictable, sweetheart."

Predictable... Predictable? The words stung more than it should have. You prided yourself on being untouchable, on being the best, but they were starting to unravel you, but to your dismay.

"Give up," Geto said, his voice quiet yet commanding. "you're wasting energy. You know we'll find you wherever you go."

Your eyes darted between them, searching for a weakness in either of them, a distraction, anything. Though they were right. You were running out of time, and worse, you were running out of options.

"Why me?" you demanded, your voice sharp and impatient. "Why are you so obsessed with chasing me down? I might be your target, but there are others out there."

Gojo tilted his head, his smile softening ever so softly. "You're different, as we said earlier."

"That's not an answer."

Geto stepped closer, his dark purple eyes locking onto yours. "You don't need to know why. All you need to know is that we're not stopping until we get what we want."

What do they want? "And what's that?"

Silence hung in the air for a moment, heavy with tentionn. Geto didn't answer, nor did Gojo, but Gojo's grin returned, not reaching his eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Gojo teased.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You wouldn't give these bastards the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

"Well then," you said, taking a step back. "If you want me that badly, come and get me."

Geto didn't waste another second. He moved first, closing the distance between you with a speed that took your breath away. You barely had any time to react, raising your knife to swiftly block his strike.

The impact sent a jolt up your arm. Gritting your teeth, you pushed back against his strength. Just before you could counter, Gojo was right behind you, his presence like a sadistic ghost at your back.

"Careful," he muttered, his breath warm against your ear. "Wouldn't want you getting hurt, yeah?"

You spun around as fast as you could, lashing out your knife, but he was already gone, his laugh echoing around you.

You were out of breath. The relentless pursuit across the city left you drained. They'd forced you into a corner, their presence closing in on all sides. You crouched low on the rooftop, your knife glinting under the pale moonlight.

They're not playing anymore. You could feel it in the air-the shift in their tactics, the weight of their presence pressing down on you like a vice. They weren't going to let you run this time around.

A faint sound behind you, a sharp intake of breath. You twisted on instinct, launching a knife toward the sound. It sliced through the air, aimed with precision, but Gojo caught it mid-flight, his fingers wrapping around the blade as if it were a child's toy.

"Come onn, sweetheart," Gojo fiend whining, tossing the knie aside like it was nothing. "You're not even trying anymore. Getting tired?"

You didn't answer, deciding to ignore him. Instead, you aimed for his ribs. But as you closed the distance, Geto stepped in a flash.

"No more running," Geto said, his voice firm. "This ends now."

"Didn't know you two were so desperate for attention," you spat, pivoting sharply to avoid geto's strike while aiming another at Gojo. He dodged with ease, leaning back with a grin as your blade passed a hair's breadth from his chest.

"We're desperate for you," Goji said smoothly, words rolling off his tongue with infuriating ease. His blue eyes gleamed with something dangerous "And you love it, don't you?"

"You're delusional as shit," you snapped, blocking a strike from Geto's punch and countering with a high kick aimed at his shoulder. He caught your leg mid-air, forcing you to twist and land in a crouch as he released you.

"I think you're the one who's delusional," Geto replied coldly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "You think you can keep going like this? Fighting us? Outrunning us? It's only a matter of time before you give in?"

"I'd rather die before I give in to either of you, bitch," you growled, pushing off the ground and aiming a flurry of strikes at both of them.

For a moment, it felt like you were holding your own. Knife against fist. They moved with a kind of synchronicity that made them impossible to predict, but you kept pushing, kept fighting, refusing to let them overwhelm you.

But then it happened-a misstep.

You swung your blade a little too wide, and Gojo caught your wrist in a vice-grip. His other hand shot forward, grabbing your shoulder and spinning you around just as Geto's fist struck down in an arc. The blunt force struck the back of your knee, and you crumpled down, forced to the ground with Gojo still holding your wrist like a prisoner.

"Let go!" you snarled, struggling against his grip. But he didn't. He simply knelt beside you, his breath brushing against your ear as he gazed down at you with unreadable eyes.

"Not until you're obedient," he said, his voice softer now, almost coaxing enough to make you fall for him. "You're not getting out of this. So why not make it easy on yourself?"

You glared up at him, craning your neck as best you could, your chest heaving with exertion. "Easy for you, you mean. What the hell do you want from me?"

"Everything," Geto answered, stepping in front of you and crouching so that you were eye level. His eyes were dark and unreadable, his Adam's apple so out, his sharp body a shape that any woman would growl over. "We want to know why you're so damn good at what you do. Who trained you? Why do you keep running? And why are you so hell-bent on protecting that boy?"

Your blood ran cold as soon as the mention of Megumi left his lips, but you didn't let it show. "What boy?" you asked, feigning confusion.

"Come on! Don't play dumb," Gojo, tightening his grip on your wrist. "We've been watching you. You're not just some assassin. You've got connections-dangerous ones. But you seem to have a soft spot. The kid's important to you, isn't he? Is it because of personal reasons or is it because your boss told you so?"

You clenched your teeth, refusing to respond. Every second of silence felt like a battle, their eyes boring down on you as if they could extract the truth by sheer willpower.

"Fine," Gojo said after a moment of silence, his tone light but laced with steel. "Don't want to talk? Then we'll just keep you here until you do."

"You're out of your damn mind if you think I'm staying," you shot back, twisting sharply to free yourself from Gojo's grasp. Though before you could stand, Geto was behind you, his arm locking around your shoulders and pinning you in place.

"Stay down," Geto murmured, his breath warm against your neck. "You've lost."

"I haven't lost shit," you hissed, struggling against him, but his hold was ever so unyielding, and you were exhausted. Every muscle in your body screamed in protest as you fought to break free.

Gojo crouched in front of you, his face so close you could see a faint scar above his brow. He tilted his hair, his pretty eyes scanning yours with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something you couldn't quite pin down.

"You're stubborn," he said, almost fondly. "I like that about you."

"You don't know a damn thing about me."

"Maybe not," Gojo admitted, his grin softening into something more sincere. "But I'd like to. And I think Suguru here would too."

You froze at his words, your mind racing. They weren't just chasing you for answers. This seemed personal, and that scared you more than anything. You clenched your teeth, staring at the two men before you.

"You've got no idea how much trouble you're in, sweetheart," Gojo said with mock sympathy. He tilted his head, silver hair catching the neon lights of the city. "But, hey, if it's any consolation, I think you look great even when you're all out of breath."

Your scowl deepened, and you yanked your arm once again away from his grasp. "You're insufferable."

"Insufferable handsome?" Gojo quipped with a wink, leaning closer. "I get that a lot, thanks."

"Or maybe just insufferably annoying," Geto said, his tone dry but with the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Not that it's anything new."

"Aw, Suguru, don't be jealous," Gojo teased, throwing him a grin. "There's plenty of me to go around."

You groaned, confusion and irritation blooming. "You two are ridiculous. First you chase me down like some sort of mouse, all for a conversation? I don't know how anyone can take you seriously."

"People tend to take us very seriously when we're chasing them across rooftops," Geto countered, his calm, velvety voice laced with amusement. "Though I have to admit, you're making this chase far more interesting than most."

"Ha," you snapped, shifting slightly, testing the tension in your muscles as you calculated your next move. You were tired, but you weren't going down without a fight.

"Oh, don't pretend you haven't been entertained too," Gojo said, his grin widening. "Admit it-you've been having fun." He said in a sing-song tone.

"Fun?" you repeated incredulously, glaring at him in disgust. "You two have been hunting me like some sport. What about that sounds like fun?"

"Because you're the first person who's ever made us work this hard. Most people give up the moment they realize who they're dealing with," Geto replied. "But you... you keep fighting. It's impressive."

"Compliments. Oh, how thrilled I am," you muttered under your breath, earning a chuckle from Gojo. "It's exhausting."

"Poor thing," Gojo cooed mockingly, leaning down close enough that you swear his lips had to be centimeters away from your neck. "All worn out from running? If you surrender, I promise I'll carry you home, bridal style, if you're into that." That infuriating wink.

"Shut," you hissed, trying to pull away from him, but his hand shot out, his fingers grazing your chin to tilt your face toward him.

"Such fire," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. His usual playful tone was now gone, replaced with something softer, intense, something that caused your stomach to flip. "You're cute."

"Satoru," Geto interrupted once again, his voice cutting through the moment. He reached out, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to your feet. You stumbled slightly, but his hand landed on the small of your back, easily keeping you steady. "We've wasted enough time. Let's go."

"Go?" you repeated, bristling like an irritated cat. "Where the hell do you think you're taking me?"

"Our place," Gojo said, standing and dusting off his pants like this was all completely normal. "Don't worry, we've got comfy couches. You can even have a blanket if you're nice."

You narrowed your eyes at him, glaring. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

“Do you really think you’re in a position to argue?” Geto’s voice was soft, almost deceptively calm, but the steel beneath it sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers tightened on your arm, pulling you closer with effortless strength, until the heat of his body radiated against yours. His dark eyes bore into yours, sharp and unyielding, as though daring you to defy him. “You’re out of options, and we both know it.”

The words cut through you like a blade. You hated how true they were. Every fiber of your being screamed to resist, to claw and fight your way out of thisâ€”but your limbs felt heavy, your breath uneven, and they both saw right through the mask of defiance you were struggling to keep intact.

Gojo crouched next to you, impossibly close, his ever-present grin softening into something almost predatory. His crystalline blue eyes sparkled with an unsettling mix of amusement and something deeperâ€”something you couldn’t quite place. “Don’t think of it as giving up,” he purred, his voice low, like a silk ribbon wrapping around your throat. “Think of it asâ€¦ a tactical retreat. Or, if it helps, you can call it a hostage situation. That’s got a nice ring to it, right?”

Your jaw clenched, your glare cutting toward him. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re gorgeous when you’re mad,” Gojo shot back, his grin widening, the playful lilt in his voice sending your pulse racing in frustrationâ€”and something else you didn’t dare acknowledge. “Seriously, has anyone ever told you that anger suits you? It’s cute.”

“Shut up,” you snapped, but the venom in your tone was undermined by the way your voice wavered. You hated how his words crawled under your skin, leaving behind a trail of heat you couldn’t ignore.

Before you could pull away, Geto’s hand shifted, his long fingers catching your chin and tilting your face upward, forcing your gaze to meet his. His touch was firm but surprisingly gentle, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. “Enough games, Satoru,” he said, his deep voice steady but edged with something almost possessive. His eyes locked on yours, darker than the night around you, and for a moment, it felt like he was looking right through youâ€”peeling back every layer, exposing everything you tried to hide.

But he didn’t move away. Instead, his gaze lingered, and in that moment, something in his expression shifted. The sharpness softened, replaced by a flicker of intrigue, of something far more dangerous. It made your breath hitch, your pulse stuttering in your chest as the seconds stretched endlessly.

And then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t what you expectedâ€”not demanding, not harsh. It was barely a kiss at all, just the lightest brush of his lips against the corner of your mouth. But it was enough to leave you stunned, your mind blanking as warmth bloomed where his lips had touched. Enough to leave your heart pounding erratically in your chest.

“Call that motivation,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, his breath ghosting over your skin. There was an almost smug curve to his lips as he pulled back, his dark eyes unreadable. “Now, let’s go.”

You didn’t have time to process the shock flooding your system before Gojo let out a low whistle, his grin downright sinful. “Suguru, you dog. You can’t just kiss her and act like that’s normal.” He stood in one fluid motion, towering over you, and his gaze flicked to you with a teasing glint. “Now I have to do something, or it’ll look like you’re showing me up.”

Before you could snap at himâ€”or even catch your breath-Gojo leaned down, his hand brushing against your cheek as he tilted your face toward him. His grin was still there, but his eyes were sharp now, intense in a way that made your stomach twist.

“Don’t look so nervous,” he whispered, his voice low, almost tender. And then he kissed youâ€“softly, lingering just long enough to leave you reeling. His lips were warm and maddeningly gentle, the faintest trace of something sweet lingering behind.

When he pulled away, his grin returned, but there was a seriousness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. “Now we’re even,” he said lightly, though the weight of his stare told you there was nothing casual about what had just happened.

You sat there, frozen, your mind spinning as the two men straightened and exchanged a glance-something unspoken passing between them. You hated how they seemed to be in perfect sync, how they could take apart your defenses so effortlessly.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Gojo said, offering you his hand, his grin teasing but his tone carrying an edge of finality. “We’re taking you home.”

“Home?” you echoed, your voice faint, barely able to process the word.

“Our home,” Geto corrected, his voice steady and commanding. He stepped behind you, his hand brushing against your lower back, urging you to your feet. “And I’d suggest you don’t try anything stupid. You’re smart enough to know how that’ll end.”

Your legs felt like jelly, but you forced yourself to stand, glaring at both of them even as your resolve wavered. “I hate you both,” you muttered, though you weren’t sure if it was the truth.

Gojo chuckled, slinging an arm around your shoulders like this was all some kind of game. “Aw, you’ll love us soon enough,” he said, his voice dripping with confidence. “Everyone does.”

As they began leading you away, you couldn’t stop the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest-anger, frustration, confusionâ€¦ and something far more dangerous that you weren’t ready to name.

And despite yourself, you couldn’t shake the warmth lingering on your lips, or the terrifying realization that this was far from over.

â€”â€”

The drive to their place was silent, the tension floating in the air was palpable. You sat in the backseat of the sleek black car, sandwiched between the two handsome men. The proximity was stifling, their presence too overwhelming, and the warmth radiating from their bodies only made the situation worse. Gojo was as relaxed as ever, one arm draped lazily along the back of the seat behind you while Geto sat with perfect posture, his sharp eyes occasionally glancing your way. Part of you was curious to know how two polar opposite men could work so well in a team together. Perhaps the saying 'opposites attract' was true.

When they pulled into the driveway of their house, your jaw nearly dropped at the sight. The property was secluded, surrounded by tall trees and hidden away from prying eyes. The house itself was modern and luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a sprawling front yard that screamed wealth and power.

Part of you had an intuition that Gojo owned multiple homes while you were keeping an eye on Megumi, but you never guessed he would own a house this gorgeous.

"You two live here?" you asked, unable to keep the disbelief from your voice. Despite working alongside Toji, you weren't as poor as him since you knew how to manage your money. You were comfortable, but obviously not as comfortable as either of them. Damn.

"Of course," Gojo said, grinning as he slid out of the car and opened your door with an exaggerated bow. "Only the best for the best."

Geto rolled his eyes as he stepped out and gestured for you to follow. "Ignore him. He loves showing off.'

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. Running definitely wasn't one of them, you exhausted that option, so with a resigned sigh, you followed them inside.

The interior was just as impressive as the exterior. The open floor plan showcased sleek furniture, expensive artwork, and a kitchen that looked like it belonged in a high-end restaurant. It was annoyingly perfect, just like Gojo and Geto. How irritating.

Geto led you to the living room and gestured for you to sit on the plush couch with a strong, veiny hand. "You'll be staying here for now," he said, his voice calm and measured. "We have to keep an eye on you as we investigate you for a bit. Know who exactly you are, your motives, and why you are tasked with keeping an eye on the boy Satoru adopted. You'll have everything you need, and no one will find you."

"Generous of you," you muttered, crossing your arms as you sat down with a huff. Perfect. You didn't think to send a help call to Toji while you were fighting them, and now you were going to disappear for a bit. You'll get quite the scolding when you see Toji again.

Geto's lips twitched into a faint smile while he observed your irritation. "It's the least he can do after chasing you halfway across the city."

"Ah, don't listen to him, sweetheart," Gojo interjected, flopping down on the couch beside you, on the same cushion, his long legs sprawled out. "We both know you loved the attention. Admit it-you've never had this much fun before."

You clicked your tongue, shooting him your signature glare. "You're insufferable."

"And you're adorable when you're annoyed," Gojo quipped back, leaning closer. His voice melted into a playful whisper, his breath brushing against your ear, causing a shiver down your spine. "Admit it-you kind of like me, don't you? It wasn't just Megumi who you were keeping an eye on, eh?"

"Satoru," Geto said sharply, his tone a warning.

"What?" Gojo shrugged, pulling back just enough to flash his partner a grin. "I'm just breaking the ice."

Geto's eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might actually snap from his partner's antics. Instead, he turned to you, his expression softening. "I meant what I said earlier. We're sorry for chasing you. It wasn't personal-it was a job."

You blinked, slightly caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. "You have quite the fun of showing it," you muttered, those the venom in your tone had dampened.

Geto's lips curled into a small smile, one that was genuine. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "you're impressive," he said in his deep, velvety tone, his dark eyes locking into yours. "More than I expected. that's why you're still alive, by the way."

Before you could even respond, Gojo let out a low chuckle. "Wow, Suguru, way to charm her. Nothing says 'I'm into you' like, 'You should be dead, but you're not.'"

geto's gaze flicked to Gojo, his smile fading slightly. "And your approach is better?"

Gojo simply grinned, undeterred. "Absolutely. Watch and learn."

Huh?

He turned back to you, his hand suddenly brushing against yours where it rested on your plush thighs. The touch was light, almost accidental, but it sent a jolt through you nevertheless. "We must make a good team, right? I mean, we caught you, Japan's best assassin. That's gotta count for something."

You rolled your eyes, trying your best to ignore the way your pulse quickened at his proximity to your thigh. "Congrats. Do you want a medal?"

"I'd settle for a kiss," Gojo said, winking.

"Don't push your luck," you shot back, though the corners of your mouth betrayed a faint twitch upward.

geto's eyes darkened as he watched the exchange, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He leaned back, his arms draping casually over the back of the couch next to you, but there was nothing casual about the way his gaze lingered on you, capturing every curve your body had to offer.

"So what's it going to be?" Geto asked, his voice low and smooth, just for you to hear. "Are you going to keep pretending you're not enjoying this, or are you finally going to admit that you don't hate us as much as you'd like to?"

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words caught in your throat as Geto shifted closer. His presence was magnetic, and the intensity in his eyes made it hard to look away.

Gojo, never one who wants to be outdone, mirrored his partner's movement, leaning in on your other side. "Careful, Suguru," he said, his tone playful yet carrying a sharp edge to it. "you're starting to sound possessive to the sweetie here."

Geto smirked, his gaze flicking briefly to Gojo before returning to you. "Maybe I am. Who knows?"

The air between the three of you grew heavy, charged with an unspoken challenge. As much as you hated to admit it, the thought of being caught between these two beans was becoming harder and harder to resist with each passing heartbeat.

"So, what now?" you asked, cursing to yourself at how quiet your voice was, waiting in hidden anticipation.

"Now," Geto said, his hand brushing against yours with deliberate slowness, "we make sure you understand just how serious we are."

Gojo's grin turned wicked, and he leaned even closer, his warm breath fanning against your cheek. "And maybe, just maybe, you'll realize you're better off with us than against us, especially when you work for Toji."

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. Of course they knew who you worked for. They were probably feigning ignorance when they pestered you with all of those previous questions.

Gojo's lips were a whisper away from yours, hot breath trickling against your skin. His hand curled under your jaw, tilting your face upward as his thumb brushed along your lower lip. Your body betrayed you, leaning instinctively into his touch, but a dark chuckle from Geto pulled your attention back to him. His hand slid deliberately from your hip to your waist, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt.

"You shouldn't let him have all the fun, you know," Geto said, his voice smooth and velvety, vibrating against your neck as he leaned in just as close as Gojo was. His lips grazed your skin, just below your ear, leaving the faintest of kisses. "He tends to get greedy."

"And you don't?" you managed to whisper, your voice trembling as your heart pounded within your chest.

Geto smirked against your skin, his breath hot against yours. "Maybe, but I've always been better at sharing."

Gojo's grin widened at that, a flash of mischief in his blue eyes. "She's not wrong, Suguru~. You can get pretty greedy-just in quieter ways." The way everything felt, how they touched you, how their gaze lingered a little longer than it should. It made you feel a certain way, a feeling that you couldn't bury even if you tried-not when you were sandwiched between two hot men who captured you.

You want them. No, you need them. holding back and pretending was just too much for you to bear anymore.

Gojo's gaze lingered on your soft lips, admiring them, and a female of lust burned deeply within him. His lips finally claimed yours the second time that night, soft at first, then pressing harder as his confidence grew. His kiss was beautifully dizzying, a mix of passion and playfulness that left you breathless.

Before you could wrap your arms around his neck as he pressed closer to you, before you could lose yourself entirely to him, Geto tugged you back, his fingers brushing along your jawline as he forced you to lock eyes with his sharp gaze. His eyes burned with intensity, darker and more calculated lust than Gojo's wild energy. "Don't forget about me," he muttered before his lips captured yours.

"Hey! Suguru!" came Gojo's whiney voice as he clung onto the dip of your hips, his thumb making soothing circles as your lips were getting devoured by his partner.

Geto's kiss was different-slower, deeper, more deliberate. The way his hand slid up made it clear he wasn't in any sort of rush. his thumb stroked the side of your throat, eliciting a quiet gasp that only turned him on, causing a throaty groan to escape only to be muffled by your lips.

When you pulled back, your lips tingling and your breath uneven, you were beginning to be acutely aware of both men-the way Gojo's slender fingers trailing along the hem of your shirt, Geto's veiny still resting firmly against your throat, squeezing it just enough. Their touches were possessive yet teasing, as if silently daring you to take the lead.

You tried every bit of your fiber to resist them, but you were far too deep in the rabbit hole to back out now. You bit your lip, a soft whimper slipping past as Gojo tugged your shirt a little higher, revealing your bra. With dancing fingers, he unhooked it and let his hand teasingly roam across your boobs, while Geto's mouth pressed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.

"Don't keep us waiting, sweetheart," Gojo murmured, his voice thick with desire as his tongue flicked your already hard nipples. "Tell us what you want.”

Part 2 when??? If you want one, ask in the comments

#jjk x reader #jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu Kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #Geto x reader #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #reixtsu

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