#it’s like the only thing about herself that isn’t in her control

[nickeverdeen]

Hey, could I request a yandere alphabet for Abby from TLOU? I was thinking for fem!reader specifically, but I'm not sure if gender would make a difference in your headcanons? Anyways, I just thought it'd be interesting too see how you think the trope would fit into Abby's story? (also because- the main reason i'm requesting ahaha- i have a big crush on abby and i'm a fan of the yandere trope. sue me)

Abby Anderson yandere alphabet

A - Affection

Abby shows love through overwhelming protection and acts of service, often without considering how her darling feels about it. She’s fiercely attentive, going to great lengths to ensure they’re cared for—even if her methods come across as suffocating. Her affection is intense, and she struggles to express it softly.

B - Blood

Abby has no problem getting her hands dirty—she’s a survivor in a brutal world, and nothing will stop her from protecting or claiming her darling. She’s willing to kill or maim without hesitation, rationalizing it as necessary to keep them safe.

C - Cruelty

If Abby abducts her darling, she wouldn’t mock them outright, but she’d be brutally straightforward about their situation. She’d explain that this is “for their own good” and that any resistance is futile. Her cruelty would manifest in her lack of empathy for their struggles, not seeing their distress as valid.

D - Darling

Abby would absolutely do things against her darling’s will, particularly when she thinks she knows better. Whether it’s isolating them from others, controlling their movements, or physically restraining them, she justifies it all as keeping them out of harm’s way.

E - Exposed

Abby isn’t one to bare her soul easily, but she might open up to her darling in moments of vulnerability, using her trauma as a way to bond with them. She’d reveal her fears of loss and abandonment, hoping it creates a sense of understanding—even if it’s manipulative.

F - Fight

If her darling fought back, Abby would react with a mix of frustration and determination. She’d likely overpower them, using her strength to reassert control while trying not to hurt them too much. However, their defiance would sting, and she might take it as a personal failure.

G - Game

To Abby, this isn’t a game. She takes her obsession seriously, seeing it as a matter of survival and emotional necessity. Watching her darling try to escape wouldn’t amuse her—it would anger and hurt her, fueling her need to tighten her grip.

H - Hell

The worst experience her darling would endure might be Abby’s explosive temper. If they pushed her too far, she could lash out physically—not enough to cause serious harm, but enough to remind them of her dominance. The emotional aftermath would be just as harrowing, as she alternates between guilt and justification.

I - Ideals

Abby envisions a future where her darling is entirely dependent on her. She dreams of a partnership where they rely on her for protection, care, and love, seeing herself as the only one capable of providing what they need in a dangerous world.

J - Jealousy

Abby’s jealousy is intense and immediate. She lashes out at perceived threats, whether it’s a person, an idea, or even her darling showing too much independence. Her response is usually physical—she’ll eliminate the threat directly or enforce stricter control over her darling.

K - Kisses

Abby’s kisses are firm, possessive, and often unexpected. She uses physical affection as a way to assert her claim, sometimes overwhelming her darling with sudden displays of dominance and intensity.

L - Love letters

Her “courting” style is blunt and straightforward. Abby isn’t one for subtlety; she’d make her feelings clear with gestures that are protective but also intimidating, like following her darling or intervening aggressively in their life to “prove” her love.

M - Mask

Abby’s yandere tendencies don’t differ much from her usual personality, but they amplify her protective instincts and controlling nature. Around others, she might appear composed, but with her darling, she’s much more intense and emotionally volatile.

N - Naughty

Abby’s punishments would be physically imposing. If her darling disobeys or defies her, she might restrain them, isolate them, or use her strength to intimidate. Her punishments are never excessively cruel, but they’re always a stark reminder of her power.

O - Oppression

Abby would take away most of her darling’s autonomy, limiting their ability to leave or interact with others. She’d justify every restriction as necessary for their safety, refusing to acknowledge the harm she’s causing.

P - Patience

Abby is patient up to a point. She’s willing to wait for her darling to “come around,” but her temper flares if she feels disrespected or if progress takes too long. Her patience is heavily dependent on her emotional state.

Q - Quit

If her darling were to escape or die, Abby would be devastated but not entirely broken. She’d throw herself into physical activity or survival work to cope, but the loss would haunt her for the rest of her life. If she thought her darling could be found, she’d never stop looking.

R - Regret

Abby would feel moments of guilt, especially if she hurt her darling or pushed them too far. However, she’d rationalize it as necessary in the grand scheme of things, convincing herself that it’s all for their benefit.

S - Stigma

Her obsession stems from her deep-seated fear of loss and abandonment, likely a result of her traumatic experiences. Having lost so much, Abby latches onto her darling as the one thing she can control and protect.

T - Tears

Seeing her darling cry or scream would unnerve Abby, but she wouldn’t stop. She’d frame it as proof that they need her guidance and protection, using their distress to reinforce her own importance in their life.

U - Unique

Abby’s uniqueness lies in her physicality. Unlike many classic yanderes who rely on manipulation, Abby uses her sheer strength and survival skills to dominate and control. Her obsession feels more grounded in practicality than in fantasy.

V - Vice

Abby’s biggest weakness is her guilt and desire for validation. If her darling played on these emotions, showing signs of acceptance or manipulating her into believing she’s “won,” they might be able to buy themselves an opportunity to escape.

W - Wit’s end

Abby is unlikely to intentionally hurt her darling severely, but if pushed to her breaking point, she might lash out in a moment of rage. However, her remorse would kick in immediately, leading to desperate attempts to “fix” the damage.

X - Xoanon

Abby doesn’t revere her darling in a traditional sense. She sees them as a partner, someone she’s bound to protect and control. Her worship manifests more as possessiveness than adoration, focusing on their survival and dependence on her.

Y - Yearn

Abby wouldn’t pine for long before acting on her feelings. Once she fixates on someone, she moves quickly, believing that taking action is the only way to ensure they’re safe and hers.

Z - Zenith

Abby wouldn’t intentionally break her darling, but her controlling and intense nature might wear them down over time. She doesn’t want to destroy their spirit—she wants them to willingly accept her love, even if it takes years of manipulation to get there.

[isak-dot-gov]

Accidental Reveal - Part Two: Under Pressure

Pairing: Inȇs Bettencourt

Word count: 1393

My Masterlist :)

..............................................................................

It had been a few days since the accidental slip-up on KK Arnold’s livestream, and the buzz around Inȇs’ relationship had only intensified. What had started as a handful of curious comments had snowballed into a full-on internet frenzy. Social media was ablaze with speculation about who Ines's mysterious "girlfriend" could be. While Ines had been hoping the storm would pass, it seemed that every new post or video only fueled the fire.

Worse, many fans had started connecting dots that led straight to you. You, the rising singer whose tour was lighting up stages across the country. Your fans were rabid, and every move you made was closely monitored by the media and dedicated stans. The coincidence of your performance that same night, paired with Inȇs’ comment about watching her "girlfriend’s tour," had everyone buzzing. Your names were suddenly being thrown around together in forums, TikTok breakdowns, and Twitter threads. There were fan theories, edits, and endless speculation—all centred on the idea that you and Ines were secretly dating.

At first, Inȇs tried to stay calm. She told herself it would blow over. After all, no one had definitive proof, and neither of you had made a public statement. But the pressure was mounting. Every time she opened her phone, there were hundreds of notifications—DMs from strangers, comments on her photos, even private messages from people she barely knew, asking if the rumours were true. 

And it was wearing her down.

She was barely sleeping, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. What if the media hounded you? What if the extra attention hurts your career? What if all of this stress started affecting her performance on the court? Ines felt like she was spiralling, the weight of it all pressing down on her chest every second of the day.

It didn’t take long for her teammates to notice.

“Yo, you good?” Paige asked, nudging Inȇs gently with her elbow as they walked to practise one morning. Paige had a way of reading people, and Ines had been off for days now.

Inȇs forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

But Paige wasn’t buying it. Neither was Azz, who was walking alongside them, watching Inȇs with a concerned frown.

“You haven’t been yourself lately,” Azzi said softly. “Is it all the stuff online?”

Inȇs’ stomach twisted, her hands tightening around her phone. She had been trying so hard to act like it wasn’t getting to her, but the truth was, she felt like she was drowning. Every time she scrolled through social media, there was another wave of speculation, another surge of people guessing that it was you.

“It’s just…” she swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s a lot.”

“You need to stop looking at your phone,” Nika chimed in, joining the conversation as they reached the locker room. “That stuff will drive you crazy.”

“I know,” Inȇs muttered, but she couldn’t help it. It was like a car crash—she couldn’t look away. She was so anxious about what people were saying, about how it was all spiralling out of control.

KK, who had been silent for most of the walk, finally spoke up as they sat down to change into their practice gear. “This is my fault,” she said, her voice full of guilt. “If I hadn’t gone live…”

Inȇs shook her head quickly. “No, KK, this isn’t your fault. I’m the one who slipped up. I just… I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Paige, ever the leader, exchanged a look with Azzi, Nika, and KK. “Maybe it’s time we step in,” Paige said, her voice firm. She turned to Ines, her expression serious but kind. “Give us your phone.”

“What?” Inȇs blinked, startled.

“Give us your phone,” Azzi repeated, holding out her hand. “You’re obsessing over it, and it’s making things worse. Let us handle it for a bit.”

Inȇs hesitated. Her phone was her lifeline to you, and part of her felt like if she could just keep checking, she could somehow control the situation. But the other part of her—the part that was tired, stressed, and overwhelmed—knew her friends were right.

Reluctantly, she handed her phone over.

Nika immediately took it and began scrolling through the messages and comments. “This is nuts,” she muttered. “These people have way too much time on their hands.”

Paige sighed. “Welcome to the internet.”

KK, feeling guilty and responsible for the whole thing, took a deep breath. “We should call her.”

Inȇs blinked. “Call who?”

“You know who,” KK said, raising her eyebrows. “Her. You’re not dealing with this alone anymore. We’re going to figure this out together. Maybe it’s time for her to come out here and be with you for a bit. You need her.”

Inȇs felt her heart race at the thought. You hadn’t seen each other in weeks, and she desperately missed you. But with everything going on, would it really help? Or would it make things worse?

“Just trust us, okay?” Azzi said gently, as KK hit the call button on your contact.

---

You had just wrapped up a meeting with your team when your phone buzzed. Seeing KK’s name pop up was a surprise, especially since you hadn’t expected her to call you directly. You quickly excused yourself and answered the call.

“Hey, KK? What’s up?” you asked, wondering if something had happened.

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” KK said, her voice a little hesitant. “We’ve got a situation here with Inȇs, and, well… we think you should come visit.”

There was a shuffle on the other end, and suddenly Paige’s voice came through. “She’s not doing great. The whole internet thing—it’s getting to her, and she’s stressed out of her mind. It’s affecting her, and we don’t know what else to do, so we thought maybe you could help.”

Your heart sank. You had sensed something was off in Ines’s recent texts and calls, but you didn’t realise how bad it had gotten. “She didn’t tell me it was this bad.”

“She didn’t want to worry you,” Nika chimed in. “But it’s affecting her—big time.”

Azzi’s voice was calm but insistent. “She misses you. And honestly, I think having you here, even for a day, would make a huge difference. You don’t have to do anything—just be here.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I’ll make it work. I can fly to Connecticut during her next off day.”

KK sighed in relief. “Perfect. We’ll figure out the details and surprise her. I think she really needs this.”

You nodded, even though they couldn’t see you. “Thank you, guys. I’ll text you my schedule, and we can plan it out.”

The call ended, and you quickly started rearranging your plans. Inȇs needed you, and that was all that mattered.

---

A few days later, it was a rare off day for the team. Inȇs had spent most of the morning in her dorm room, trying to relax, but her mind was still buzzing with anxiety. She had barely touched her phone, following her teammates' advice to disconnect, but it wasn’t helping as much as she’d hoped.

She didn’t expect the knock on her door.

When she opened it, there you were—standing in front of her with a soft smile, your eyes filled with love and concern. For a moment, Ines just stared, frozen in shock.

“Surprise,” you said gently, stepping forward to wrap your arms around her.

The second your arms were around her, the dam broke. Ines buried her face in your shoulder, the weight of everything finally crashing down on her. Tears spilled from her eyes, and she clung to you as though you were her lifeline.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” you soothed, rubbing her back. “You don’t have to apologise. I’m here now. We’ll get through this together.”

Inȇs nodded, her tears slowly subsiding as she leaned into your warmth. For the first time in days, she felt a sense of calm wash over her.

From down the hall, Paige, Azzi, KK, and Nika watched with satisfied smiles.

“I knew this would help,” KK whispered.

Paige grinned. “She’s going to be okay now.”

With you by her side, Inȇs knew that no matter what the internet threw at her, she’d be okay too. Together, you’d face the world—one step at a time.

..................................................

[g4ymer4rtist]

ok heres your dinner

warning: cutting mention and swears. also the end part was copy and pasted from tvtropes

In the first moniyuri sidestory monika basically told yuri she leks reading freaky books im fuckin sobbinggg LMAOAOAOA

MONIKA SAID SHE HEARD THE VOICES OF HER DEAD FRIENDS WHAT??? She might just mean she can ehar the spare lines of code but then again if she could say things she wasn’t meant to say so could the other like wtf are they saying to you? Not to mention a cry for help form natsuki wouldn’t have been coded in the first place.  Like deadass WHAT ARE THEY SAYING TO YOU

Monika would probably have longer hair then yuri if she undid her ponytail tbh

In some official art with yuris arms revealed she is shown to have no cuts. But in act one only after monika began to alter files yuri had been hinted to cut herself. But even before the file altering the racoon poem basically also hinted at it so like??

Monika often retracting her control at the last moment. Like yuri saying she needs to puke. Alternitivley sayori trying to save herself from the rope however monika also said she didn’t have anything to to with sayori changing her mind.

Natsuki canonically has hentai as shown in the first sayosuki sidestory AND ITS ALSO IN THE CLUBROOM CLOSET LMAAOOO

NATSUKI USED TO WRITE SMUTTY FANFICTION (Nat is a canon freakazoid I guess)

Monika isn’t a perfect student that woman started a literature club because SHE WAS LONELY ( in terms of people that also like books ) this girl was not perfect before her epiphany aswell

SAYORI AND NATSUKI CANON SELFSHIPPERS! ( as shown at the end of the second sayosuki sidestory )

the special blood poem was likely written by monika

Lotsa things here

Sayori playes knots and crosses with yuri and won

Sayori  played trash baskets with natsuki and lost

SAYORI DREW THE COOL S SHES SO SILLY

She drew lil stick figures of her club members too AWWWW

Quote – “don’t forget (ask monika about this)” IM SCREAMING

A few more things

Covid is canon

Monika is a plant girlie

Natsuki canonically has cat gamer headphones guys

One of the only looks at the portrait of Markov cover

Mr cow is in a loving household

NAT KINDA LOOKS LIKE SHES SHOWING THEM HER MANGA AWWW

This  implies they canon all went trick or treating together

BONUS POINTS BECAUSE THEY PROBABLY ALL CARVED THAT PUMPKIN TOGETHER AND USED IT AS A SHARED CANDYBAG

NAT IS A COSPLAYER CANON

Theres a eye next to the candle????

And candy corn so either they fell out nats mouth or she don’t like em

THERE IS A FULLY WRAPPED CANDY FALLING OUT NATS MOUTH IMPLYING SHE ALMOST ATE A FULLY WRAPPED CANDY BWHAHAHA

NATS CHIBI COULDVE HAD CUTE LIL CROSSED ARMS GRRR >:(

ONCE AGAIN NAT WAS ABSOLOUTLEY SERVING TOO MUCH AND THEY CHANGED THE POSE

LIKE OK STRUT THAT STUFF??

 In Doki Doki Literature Club Plus, an e-mail from one of the developers who created the Doki Doki universe reveals the side stories that took place in a separate control universe that they also created. It also reveals that the Main Character doesn't exist at all in the side stories' universe, as they never created him in either one. Someone else created him in the main universe. That developer suspects Monika did after she became self-aware, as an attempt to get in touch with the "user" (presumably the player). Sayori, in the first side story, does briefly reference him by mentioning a friend who likes anime, but perhaps a reference doesn't count as an actual character given the nature of things taking place in a pre-programmed artificial universe.

HELLO WHAT????

ddlc things i think about reguarly

natsuki

natsuki grabbed yuris ass

monika is the most athletic

in like 3 or four sketches natsuki was serving too much and the poses got changed

natsuki was eating fully wrapped candy in official art

natsuki might not be in project libatina

bendy in campus crush was basically a bendy and ddlc fusion

i have a whole ass rant of lil details on my pc i might post them

bonus: i forgot that the outfit had pockets and kept picturing jokes about yuri pulling the knife out her ass in act two bc where did that come from girl????

[toocabaret]

I’ve been having some Thoughts™️ about the weird meta paradox of gerri kellman’s sexuality. as basically The Older Woman on the executive floor she’s trying as much as is possible to blend in with her male colleagues while also not being perceived to be doing so. muted colours and understated makeup. a competent filing cabinet. her husband is dead and her daughters are nameless. she was sexual once but that’s out of sight out of mind and now it’s just the work. it must be a relief in some ways to become finally unfuckable because you’re over 40. she can finally be taken seriously, but only if she toes the line between being too female and not female enough. trying but not too hard. desirable in the past tense only. an honorary man but still in a skirt. and while the men around her can fuck their much younger assistants and get sports massages and run a sex trafficking ring on a cruise ship, she is the job and only the job and that keeps her safe. for a bit anyway.

the irony of gerri saving the company from the full legal extent of a sex scandal by dating someone from the DOJ??? like i’ll never be over it. even filing cabinets have to flatter and please and fuck when called upon. i genuinely don’t believe any of the other execs could have swung it because they’re not women. she dated laurie (generally unseen unless framed from another man’s possessive perspective) to save the men from going to jail for covering up rape allegations. the irony is delicious. and even though she did that, she’s discarded once she’s framed sexually. Dick Pic Gate was out of her control and yet when confronted with any element of gerri’s sexuality (even her PASSIVE sexuality, even after using it to save his company), logan dismisses her as weak or impractical or failing or whatever other excuse he uses to justify his disgust.

i would argue that roman’s interest in gerri is not in spite of but BECAUSE of her asexual framing. it’s a challenge that he’s never going to win which is ideal for his impotency issues; he can push and push and get the thrill out of it, out of the fucked up power dynamic, but he knows he’ll never have to actually fuck her. it’s all hypothetical: down a phone, through a door, half-joking, covered in sensible skirt suits. gerri’s deliberate lack of sexualizing is counterintuitively a turn-on for roman. and i bet the game of chicken they play is freeing for her too because the fact that she has to be professional and cannot be sensual is part of the fun of it. “roman is weird about gerri”. “it’s fucking disgusting”. not because of their family history, or their professional positions, but because she’s old. because the absence of her sexuality is enough of a presence to be off-putting. shiv patronising her about it as a power play is so weird because she’s talking to her simultaneously like a child and like an old woman, and gerri, agency-less, just has to keep reassuring her “i can cope”.

BUT it’s worse than that because it’s so meta. Because gerri is hot. her actor is attractive and like roman, many people watching find her sexless, no-nonsense framing to be titillating. me included. what if roman likes gerri not because of oedipal issues but just because she’s hot and god forbid we find a woman over 50 hot? but whether or not gerri is hot in the context of the show shouldn’t be a big deal, she should have been able to escape this by now!!! she’s in her 60s she’s a widow she’s tired stop sexualizing her!!! but don’t NOT sexualize her either because that’s problematic too and old women can be hot and old women shouldn’t have to be hot and suddenly i’m making gerri do what waystar does and exist as something sexual and non-sexual at the same time. she has a huge plotline in which she’s essentially a sex object. whether or not gerri is fuckable is talked about as much in the show with mildly-disgusted fascination as it is in the real world!!! she can’t win she’s hot she’s old she’s sexually framed she’s deliberately trying not to be she wants sex she doesn’t want sex she’s covering sex with sex and she’s telling roman to leave her alone so she can just do her damn job because she knows that this is what will bring her down!!! sex scandals historically don’t get men fired but an unsolicited dick pic knocks gerri off her podium in logan’s head forever. even now i’m talking about it at such length because i’ve given it so much thought!!! she’s the only woman in the old guard and she’s one of the most sexualized characters in succession. but only as a joke. in the abstract. never actually. because that would be weird. right?

[makotonaegiunderstander]

do you ever go do autism crazy for something you can feel it in ur chest. like it’s hard to breathe almost it’s making you gasp for breath and jump around physically. got an adrenaline rush thinking abt Kirigiri.

[krbkss]

mha 395

has anyone brought this up yet </3

[lamiadrowned]

*:･ﾟ✧ sweet like sugar venom

jinx x fem!reader | nsfw

there are many unexpectedly rewarding things about going out with a girl who is mostly seen as nothing but an enemy of the public– a menace to everybody that she doesn’t feel deserves her kindness.

of course, there are ways she expresses her fondness and respect for those who she deems deserving, like silco and sevika (and sometimes thieram, if he can talk to her long enough without becoming visibly uncomfortable by some of the things she says).

but, it seems you’ve been granted the most special treatment by jinx as she learns the ropes of affection and becomes acquainted with the idea of being loved, and showing love in return.

you’ve gotten used to finding trinkets made of scrap metal marked with a signature paint that is unmistakably done by her, or small music boxes that play an off-key rendition of a song she’d overheard you listening to. sometimes, you get to keep them. other times, they explode into a plume of colorful smoke with a reverberating bang.

you’ve also gotten used to her odd compliments. she may not be the best with her words, but one thing is for certain– she’s never been hesitant to say what’s on her mind, even if her idea of a compliment often leaves you bewildered more than anything.

regardless of how she shows her love, you’re often discovering new depths to how sweet she can be.

how sweet she is when she hugs you, as if it’s the last time she’ll ever see you every time she gets her arms around you.

how sweet she is when she kisses you, feeling the giddy smile on her lips as they intertwine with yours.

how sweet she tastes, melting like chocolate under your tongue, one hand gripping the sheets of your bed while the other holds a fistful of your hair.

if it were your choice, you’d stay like this forever– kneeling between her trembling thighs that fight against the tough grip your hands have on them, struggling to keep her legs spread for you while you work your magic. it’s a luxury that’s reserved especially for you, a rare showcase of vulnerability that nobody else gets to see.

it makes you feel worthy, and oddly possessive.

“just like that!” she cries out, fingers gripping your hair hard enough to make you groan. you love how vocal she is. how controlling she tries to be, even when you’re the one in control. “fuck, i’m– i’m gonna–”

you wrap your lips around her clit and snake one of your hands down her stomach, brushing over the goosebumps that follow, and slowly ease your middle finger inside of her. with a single curl upwards into that spot that makes her see stars every time, your hear her let out a long gasp, see her legs tense up as her back arches impossibly high off the bed, and wince at the feeling of her nearly pulling the hair out of your head with how hard she tugs it.

when she finally eases up, jinx’s body goes visibly limp, left in the silent bliss of a post-orgasmic daze. that is, until she gasps when you going back for more– ducking down further to lick up some of the sticky mess she made and moaning at the taste. the vibration makes her choke out a quiet whimper, throat awfully sore from all the screams you’d pulled from the depths of her bare chest.

you don’t let up until she uses a much more gentle, yet firm grip on your hair to pull you away. it isn’t surprising for her to see that signature look on your face; a mix between smugness and pure adoration.

you prop yourself up on your hands and lean down to press your lips to hers, ensuring she can taste herself, only because you know the effect it has on her. she uses the last bit of her otherwise endless stamina to grab your shoulders and flip you onto your back, quickly shuffling to lay herself on top of you with a low growl.

“don’t get overzealous on me, now,” you joke, looking up at her mischievous grin with a skeptical expression. “if you start something, you have to finish it.”

“finish you, you mean?” she tilts her head, frizzy blue hair falling like curtains around your face. one of her hands trails up to your throat, gently wrapping around it and applying enough pressure for you to go pliant beneath her. “you know i don’t like it when you underestimate me.”

you reach up and place your hand over hers, squeezing it as a notion for her to tighten her grip, and she gives you a toothy smile, her eyes wide and observant. so sweet. “i know.”

[sweemmy]

⋆｡ﾟIn their love, they bloom like a dark rose, its thorns only striking those who try to escape. ﾟ｡⋆

— Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, and Jinx.

VI.

Vi would do anything to protect you, but her obsession consumes her, driving her to see threats in every corner, even where none exist. In her mind, danger lurks in the shadows, always watching, and you are the only one who can escape this threat... even if it isn’t real.

Her irritable nature compels her to act impulsively, before her mind has the chance to halt the torrent of emotions. She doesn’t hesitate to confront anyone, even if they are just a stranger who has approached you out of curiosity, convincing herself that anyone who crosses your path is a danger, no matter how harmless they seem.

Vi clings to her justification, arguing that her control is merely an expression of love, that everything she does is for your own good. But beneath those words lies a dark echo, as if she cannot fathom a world where you don’t need her, where her influence is not vital to your survival.

Her gestures of affection, far from being tender, are invasive and violent. Her hugs, excessive and tight, feel as if she could crush you. The words she whispers in your ear, filled with intensity, steal the air between you, with a fervor bordering on obsession, as if she’s marking you, immortalizing you in her world, only for herself.

Though her exterior is one of hardness, beneath that mask beats a deep fear: the fear of losing you. She knows that without you, her world would crumble, empty, incomplete. “If you don’t want me near, just tell me… but don’t expect me to stand idly by while someone tries to take away the only thing that gives my life meaning.”

CAITLYN.

Caitlyn becomes ensnared in her own whirlwind of thoughts, convinced that her obsessive love is the only thing capable of offering you the care you deserve. She sees herself as the only one who can truly understand and protect you, regardless of the boundaries she must cross to keep you by her side.

With a sharp, calculating mind, Caitlyn weaves invisible threads around your life, orchestrating every detail so subtly that you're barely aware of her control. From the people you allow into your circle to the places you step foot in, everything is meticulously designed to keep you under her sway.

Using her charm, Caitlyn spins a web of carefully chosen words, manipulating your perception with a smile that conceals the darkness lurking inside her. She has no qualms about distorting the truth, lying, and creating parallel realities, all to ensure you remain bound to her, oblivious to the trap you've fallen into.

Her control over you goes beyond the physical; Caitlyn becomes an emotional necessity, feeding your dependency with gestures that seem loving but are, in reality, invisible chains. She makes you feel as though you cannot breathe without her presence, turning herself into an irreplaceable part of your life, a constant shadow you cannot escape.

Anyone who dares to get close is seen as an immediate threat, and Caitlyn doesn’t need to resort to open violence. Her deadliest weapon is her influence, capable of destroying slowly, without anyone suspecting a thing. "Why waste time with them, darling? I’ll handle everything. It’s much better if you follow my suggestions; I promise everything will be fine."

SEVIKA.

Sevika sees you as hers—like a treasure no one else deserves to touch. Her obsession is a dangerous blend of control and overbearing protection. Should anyone dare to put you in harm's way, she will become the shadow that eliminates any threat, without remorse and with brutal precision.

Any intruder who gets too close will be stopped by her mere presence. The intensity of her gaze and the unyielding strength of her stance instill terror in even the bravest hearts. She needs no words: her silence is a warning, and her actions, the verdict.

Believing the world is a deadly trap for you, she begins to build a cage of isolation. Every argument she makes is wrapped in false sweetness: "It’s for your own good, trust me," while the chains of her obsession tighten a little more with each passing day.

Flowers and sweet words are not her style, but her actions speak louder than anything. The moment she senses you’re in danger, she will unleash an inhuman fury, showing just how far she’s willing to go to protect you.

Her emotions are a storm hidden beneath a mask of cold serenity. Every action is calculated, every decision made with precision. "I don’t need to shout to show you how much I love you. You see it in what I do, don't you?" she murmurs, her voice calm yet carrying a weight that leaves no doubt about the intensity of her devotion.

JINX.

Jinx would always watch you with eyes filled with obsession, as if you were her precious toy, meant only for her. Her love is no simple feeling: it’s a wild, unpredictable whirlwind, packed with emotional explosions and flashes of madness. She cannot stand anyone else getting your attention, and her “jokes” toward those who dare to come close often end in a macabre, lethal spectacle of destruction.

Within her chaos lies a desperate search for stability, and you are her anchor, but always on her terms. Trying to pull away or challenge her twisted world only triggers a collapse in her mind and a violent need to reaffirm her control over you.

Her love manifests in disturbingly creative forms: bombs adorned with hearts, explosive devices bearing your name, or "trophies" taken from those she deems rivals. Each one is a sickening declaration of how deep and dangerous her affection runs.

Her greatest fear is abandonment, trapped in the loneliness that haunts her. If she senses even the slightest hint that you might leave, she’ll do the unthinkable to make sure you stay by her side. It doesn’t matter if she has to chain you—literally or figuratively; in her mind, the end always justifies the means.

Jinx won’t hesitate to destroy—even herself—to keep you close. Her desperation drives her to dark extremes, hurting others or putting her own body at risk. “Do you see this? I did it for you. Now you can’t deny how much I care. You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

[coryndoll]

what would you do for love?

exboyfriend!rafe cameron x obsessed!exgirlfriend!reader

— in which y/n spirals into a possessive obsession over her ex-boyfriend rafe. she quietly pulls the strings from the shadows, creating accidents, bribing others, and doing whatever it takes to maintain control—believing she is the only one truly capable of loving him.

warnings: y/n acting like a subtle joe goldberg asf😭, drinking, smoking, y/n missing rafe

authors note: potential series??? THIS COULD BE ITS PROLOGUE. idk much about sofias background so i cant write out a full length “dive” on her like joe would in you, but ill do what i can!! im not abandoning “waking up to you” though, just trying to figure out ideas for how to play out the rest of the week ‘til the end LMFAOOO

if u are interested in being part of the tag list, please let me know through replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !! notifications are always on <33

next

you’re rummaging through your drawers, tossing clothes to the side in a desperate search for something that feels right. it’s one of those nights—some random party you’re not really excited for but can’t help going to because, well, everyone’s going. the young adults of the island, at least.

another night of sloppy, underage drinking, messy hookups, and pointless fights breaking out over nothing, the kind of chaos that seems to thrive in a place like this. you don’t even know whose party it is, but that hardly matters.

you’ve already pulled out a pile of tops, but none of them feel like the one. too tight, too loose, too boring, not the vibe. they’re scattered across your bed now as you dig deeper, hoping that the perfect top is somehow hiding at the very bottom. and that’s when your fingers brush against something familiar, soft yet slightly worn—his hoodie.

you freeze for a second, your hand gripping the fabric, and a wave of something bittersweet washes over you. you didn’t even remember it was still there, shoved in the farthest corner of the drawer like you were trying to forget about it. but now it’s right in front of you, and just holding it feels like opening an old wound.

it’s rafe’s hoodie. as in your ex-boyfriend’s hoodie. the one he never asked for after you broke up. it’s stupid, probably, keeping it like this, but a part of you always thought that meant something.

back then, you’d convinced yourself that him not asking for it back was a sign. like he was telling you, in some unspoken way, that it wasn’t really over. that he still wanted you to hold on, just for a little longer. you’d held onto that hope longer than you should’ve.

because now, things are different. you’ve seen him around the island, his arm draped around another girl, a pogue, of all people. the whole thing feels like a bad joke, doesn’t it? rafe cameron, the toxic kook from figure eight, running around with some girl from the cut.

you wonder what her deal is. maybe she’s living out some kind of romeo and juliet fantasy. is that it, rafe? is that what you’ve become—her tragic love story? maybe she’s the kind of girl who romanticizes the idea of being with someone she isn’t supposed to, thinking she’s special because she got him.

the thought makes you frown, a bitter taste rising in the back of your throat. she doesn’t even know him like you do. she doesn’t know the way his mind works, doesn’t know what he’s like when the charm fades, when he’s spiraling, when everything he tries to hold together starts to fall apart.

without thinking, you pull the hoodie closer, burying your face in it. his scent still lingers faintly in the fabric—his cologne. that familiar, warm smell that used to make you feel safe, even when things between you were anything but. it’s been a while since you broke up, but the cologne is still there, still clinging to the material like it’s holding on, just like you are.

you wonder if he still wears it. maybe he sprays it on for his new girl now. maybe she pulls his hoodies around herself the way you used to, breathing him in, thinking she’s the only one who gets to do that now. the thought actually makes your chest ache.

you blink a few times, your throat tight, and gently lower the hoodie back down to your lap. i miss you, you think, but the words never make it past your lips. they just hang there, heavy and silent, as you stare down at the hoodie, wishing things had ended differently.

eventually, you pull the drawer all the way open and spot a shirt hiding beneath where the hoodie had been—it’s perfect for tonight. you pick it up, placing it on the edge of the drawer, but your fingers linger on the hoodie for a moment longer. then, with a quiet sigh, you fold it back up, tucking it away into the corner of the drawer once more. out of sight but never really out of mind.

you shove everything else back in, trying to get rid of the clutter, both in your room and in your head. it’s just another party, another night to pretend everything’s fine. but the hoodie still sits there, waiting, like it always has.

you’re waiting as your friend pours you a drink, eyes drifting over the skatepark around you. the party is in full swing—some are crowded around ramps, a few on their boards showing off, others slouched on graffiti-covered benches, their laughter mixing with the pounding bass.

when your friend hands you the cup, you take it with a nod, cruising through the crowds as you chat. your gaze flicks from group to group—people are either dancing, downing drinks, or getting a little too close in the shadows. you’re only half-focused on the conversation as you weave between the bodies.

you end up hanging by a ramp, watching as a few people race to shotgun their drinks. it’s messy and ridiculous, the kind of thing you can’t help but get pulled into. someone challenges you, and before you know it, you’re joining in. you win—barely—but not without nearly choking yourself in the process, coughing and laughing at the same time. sure, you won, but at what cost? still, it’s funny enough to have you and your friends laughing about it after.

while your friends mess around, you drift away from the noise, leaning back against the railing near the top of the ramp. your phone dangles loosely in your hand, and you’re resting your head on one of your friend’s backs as they chatter on. you don’t really need to be involved in the conversation—it’s comfortable just being there.

you find yourself staring at your phone screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard as you type out a quick message: hey.

it’s to rafe. of course, it is. and you know it’s dumb, you know you shouldn’t send it, but for some reason, everything in you wants to. even though it won’t do anything, even though he’s probably not even thinking about you right now.

you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip, hesitating for a beat longer before closing the app. you’re not gonna send it. you know you wouldn’t have anyway, you were just seeing if you’re drunk enough to go through with it. not this time. maybe another. maybe never. with a sigh, you turn your phone off and shove it into your pocket, trying to push the thought away.

but just then, there’s a commotion at the edge of the park, some people turning to look. a new car’s pulled up, headlights cutting through the dark, and as the doors open, your stomach drops.

yeah, of course, it’s him. rafe steps out, and your eyes lock onto him immediately. he’s got his girl by his side, and the sight alone makes you want to tilt your head back and groan. but instead, you just watch, waiting, seeing what they’ll do.

rafe moves through the crowd easily, that infamous smile on his face, flashing it at anyone who bothers to look. he looks . . . happy, which is great for him, really. it’s nice, or whatever. but as your gaze follows him, watching the way he’s moving with her, there’s a part of you that’s almost relieved. because no matter how content he looks, he doesn’t look happier. not happier than he did when he was with you. and somehow, that’s enough.

“don’t look now,” one of your girl friends mutters as she approaches, her voice low and careful. her back is to the rest of the party, which includes rafe and sofia, not that they’d even glance your way.

“you’re too late,” you say, leaning back against the railing, gripping it with a small smile. normally, you’d be dropping dead right about now, but if you did that, your friend would worry. and really, you’re not bothered. or at least, not too bothered.

“they look good together,” you add casually, waving a hand toward the crowd where rafe and sofia stand. you’re trying to sell it, trying to convince your friend that this is all good with you.

your friend gives you a skeptical look, her brow raised, and you nod, like you’re insisting she believe you. “i’m serious,” you tell her. “they’re perfect for each other.”

she rolls her eyes and glances over her shoulder to check them out herself, hand on her hip as she grimaces. “yeah, she’s perfect if he’s into . . .” she trails off, eyeing sofia's outfit—one of those looks where it’s obvious rafe bought the clothes for her, but none of it quite fits her style. “knock-off country club chic?”

it’s not that funny, but the resemblance is a little accurate. “stop,” you murmur, nudging her. you can’t help the faint smile that pulls at the corner of your lips as you lift your cup, pretending to hide it by taking a sip.

your friend's not wrong, and she catches the smirk you’re trying to hide. “told you,” she teases, a grin spreading across her face as you take the joint from her hand.

inhaling deeply, you let the smoke linger in your lungs before you exhale it in a slow, straight line. as the haze clears, your eyes fix on rafe and sofia, standing together in the middle of the skatepark. your face softens, the humor from earlier fading like something inside you has switched off. no more laughing, no more games.

just them.

just her.

you take sofia in for what she is—pretty. sure, you can give her that. you understand why rafe might’ve been drawn to her at first. she’s the kind of girl who stays close to him, like she’s tethered, like she can’t stand alone unless rafe has to excuse himself. and when he leaves, she fades into the background. disappears.

you watch her now, standing awkwardly off to the side while rafe talks to someone, looking small, unimportant. oh. interesting.

she must like attention. no, not attention, rafe’s attention. she clings to it like it’s the only thing that makes her visible. and yeah, she’s done up nice—dressed in new clothes, no doubt bought with rafe’s money. she cleans up well for a pogue.

but there’s something about the way she fidgets, like her skin doesn’t quite fit right in the fabric. you can tell she’s not used to it, this life. it’s too big for her. she’s nervous, uncomfortable, trying to blend in with the kind of people who were born into this world.

and her smile. you can see it from here, that ‘just to be kind’ smile. practiced, polite. probably something her parents taught her. good for her, really. that’s good.

she works at the pelican yacht club, doesn’t she? you live right by it. the idea that she works so close to your home, that rafe goes by your house just to see her . . . it makes your stomach twist.

she’s short, shorter than most. short hair, short bangs, and so this relationship will be short too.

just a phase. it has to be. or you’ll make it.

whatever it takes.

early tags: @iissza @lotuslovers @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @yootvi @skyslowalking @ariiwritess @beebeerockknot

[roseychains]

How these women fuck (or get fucked) by you

A/n: in a messy situation with some guy rn, my mental health is deteriorating and I have a lot to manage. Idk, except a lot of female oriented content for a little while cuz rn I’m. Yea

C/w: written by a minor!, fem!reader, both sub and dom reader, and all of these warnings go both ways. strap on, oral, fingering, sex toys, lingerie, bondage, marking, scissoring, degradation, exhibitionism, praise, sensory deprivation, temperature play, overstim and edging, role play, hand kink

Featuring: shoko, utahime, and yuki from jjk. Pakunoda, shizuku, and machi from hxh. Misturi and shinobu from demon slayer, and honorable mention yor briar.

Jjk women

Shoko

Purple strap energy. Shoko is a switch but prefers being dom. The only way she’d ever let you take control is if you really want to, but that’s not to say that she takes on a particularly controlling roll either. For her, sex isn’t about labels it’s about making her girlfriend feel good, and herself. The thing that makes her a dom most of the time is the way that she is often the giver, and when you are she still maintains control over the situation.

Definitely smokes while she’s hitting it from the back if you let her. She’d be balls deep in your cunt and have one hand pressed on your back and the other holding a cigar between her lips, turning away to puff out the smoke.

When she goes down on you, she fingers you while she sucks on your clit. She loves watching you get close and your thighs threaten to close around her head.

Speaking of, she needs you to sit on her face. Please. She doesn’t care how heavy you think you are. She will die happily between your thighs, pull her hair too, she will moan.

Double ended dildos are defiantly her favorite toy with you. Throw in a vibrator as well, so your scissoring each other while being penetrated by the same toy and a vibrator between? That’s her favorite thing to do.

Utahime

She’s a switch as well, but she leans to being a sub, a bratty sub. I feel like she’s also a big pillow princess as well, so she prefers to lay back and be at your mercy, not to mention it gets her really turned on when you tell her all the things your going to do to her. She will act bratty to get your attention, to attempt to rile you up in hopes of getting a reaction, getting punished(overstimulated till she cry’s). On the chance she is a dom, I imagine her being a cocky dom now that the tables have finally turned, you’ll be sore for a while.

She looks so good in lingerie, she likes it when you fuck her in it, while you’re wearing some as well. She will constantly talk about it when valentines is coming up, “I sure hope my hot sexy girlfriend doesn’t buy us matching lingerie, that would be so bad I hope that doesn’t happen” (she is a master of reverse psychology)

Being a pillow princess, you’re often the one going down on her. She’s super vocal while you’re eating her out, pulls your hair super hard.

She loves shibari bondage, with silky red ropes gently laced around her body. She doesn’t like normal rope, handcuffs, or tape. Only gentle, pretty silk. To be honest, sex with her is very ascetically pleasing

Yuki

She’s a dom all the way. She is controlling every aspect of your bedroom activity’s, and flawlessly at that. She knows what you want, she knows how you like to be touched, where you’re sensetive, and how to abuse all of that knowledge. Depending on what you prefer, she can either be a mean dom, or a slow romantic lover, or both. She lives to please you, so don’t you move a finger. If you weren’t a pillow princess, you are now.

Dirty talk with her is so good. She says the right things at all the right times, and her smug sexy voice never fails to make you leak through whatever panties you’re wearing.

She will probably at some point bring up the idea of you wearing a vibrator in public and she has the remote. Honestly, she loves seeing you flustered and embarrassed, all the better knowing it’s all her fault.

Wants you to leave marks on her when she fucks you. She wants you to scratch her back, leave red marks that will show in her back-less swim suit the next day, she wears those marks like a badge of honor.

Hxh women

Pakunoda

Service dom vibes. I feel like sex with with her is equally as romantic as it is almost formal. She’s a giver, and dedicated everything she does to your pleasure. With that being said, she is also a brat tamer. So if you act up, except to be bent over her lap and counting each hit. She will give you everything you want, sexually, and expects submission in return.

She’s definitely possessive, and when you go out wearing something revealing she’s making sure she has given you a hickey somewhere on your skin, for when she can’t be with you. But when she can, she has her hand around your waist at all times.

Loves to eat you out slowly so you get needy and start begging for her to finish you off. She will draw it out as long as she can, savoring your taste and reactions, but after a while she will let you cum.

She prefers to fuck you with her fingers as opposed to a strap. She feels like it’s too far away from being her, so she’s rather fuck you with something she has, reminding you that you don’t need any man, or anyone else for that matter.

Shizuku

She’s a sub, but definitely a power bottom. She cannot sit still, and will constantly have her hands on you. Be that pulling your hair while you eat her out, gripping you thighs while she’s going down on you, scratching your back when your fingering her and grabbing your face when you kiss her. Please don’t tie her down. That would make her sad. She just needs something to hold onto.

One of her all time favorite things is riding your strap. Bonus points if you hold her hands, even more if you hold her hips and thrust into her at her same pace, she will literally ride you till she’s crying, panting, and exhausted.

She’s extremely vocal. Even when you’re gently teasing or prepping her, she will let out the most loud pornographic moans, it’s almost like she wants someone else to hear.

She would find it exciting to do risky things, like fucking while the troupe is in the other room. Your have to cover her mouth with your hand or they really will hear.

Machi

She’s a switch because she can do it all. I imagine her being a rough dom, tying you up with her nen stitches and fucking you with her fingers hard and fast. She’s so strong, and can easily manhandle you to her will. She will also choke you. When she’s a sub, I imagine her being kinda shy, she who has always had control of the situation, that control taken away. At the same time though she really loves it, it’s a nice change of place.

Humiliation/degradation with her is soooo good. Her voice is commanding and strict, her holding you down with one hand and fingering you with the other, all while whispering in your ear how slutty you are makes you cum in no time.

When she’s the sub, please praise and encourage her. I imagine her being shy and nervous, Esspecially if it’s her first time being this way. She definitely has to get used to it, learning to let go for a bit but it’s worth it in the end with how good you make her feel.

Sensory deprivation and temperature play both ways are thrilling for her. Either you, tied up and blindfolded, not knowing what she’s going to next, dripping hot wax on your body then rubbing ice over it the next, or her in that same place, she likes it all.

Demon slayer women

Misturi

A shy sub. She doesn’t want to have any control, she just wants to feel good and for you to as well. Probably one of the less kinky people on this list, but she’s open to try anything. But I imagine her mostly enjoying simple stuff, just touching you and you touching her is enough. I feel like she also likes being tied up, nothing crazy just wrist binds, she likes the element of suprise from being restrained.

Sex with her is always soft and gentle. She doesn’t like anything rough or mean, so everything you do is filled with praise and adoration. So even when tears prick in the corners of her eyes, they are pleasure tears.

Kissing 24/7 during sex. She thinks she will die if her lips aren’t on yours at any given moment. She will literally make out with you until you’re both panting and gasping for air, but after one breath she’s going back in for more.

She is super sensitive, and cums from even the lightest touches. She secretly wants you to take advantage of this, please, make her see stars from being between her lush thighs. She just loves it when you go down on her.

Shinobu

She’s a switch but leaning dom. I get the feeling that she lacks experience, but unlike others that doesn’t make her not want to take the lead. I imagine her to be somewhat condescending in bed, with the names she calls you and how she touched you, like you’re just a dumb little girl that she can do with whatever she pleases. However, if she were to be a sub it would be for your pleasure, and she probably would be pretty quiet and shy.

Roleplay with her is big. It doesn’t matter what, she’s down for anything. Predator prey, doctor patient, criminal officer, you’ve done em all. She really gets in character and in her opinion it’s a fun addition to your already more than satisfying sex. She likes watching how you react to different things.

She’s super possessive but she won’t ever act on it in public, she won’t fight or yell, but the second your undressed her mouth is all over your neck, biting, sucking, and kissing. She will probably also have you wear her perfume and clothes, she wants to leave her mark but steadily.

She has a massive hand fetish, yours and her own, but she esspecially likes it when you choke her. No matter who is what role, she likes the pressure that is gentle enough to make her breathing slow down with no real harm, it gets her excited.

Honorable mention

Yor briar

I’m really conflicted on this one. Cuz on one hand, I imagine her being a super shy sub (exhibit A, when loid tried to kiss her) but on the other hand, she’s an assassin and super scary and intimidating so she would maintain that demeanor in bed. Overall, I think she’s just happy to do whatever you want. She doesn’t have much experience so if you’re happy so is she.

When she’s the dom, I can imagine her getting into bondage and roleplay. With enough convincing you could probably even get her to pretend she’s on a mission to apprehend you and get information out of you… a different way.

On the contrary, when you’re on top of her she’s extremely flustered and covering her face. She squirms a lot and is super sensetive to your touch, so even the smallest things get a reaction out of her. That being said, she fucking loves it when you use your strap on her, and hold her hips down.

[xazse]

Hello! I LOVE and ADORE your work, it's simply fascinating, surely my favorite writer.

But you know what would be better? More parts of puppygirlhybrid reader and wolfhybrid Satoru, I would devour it all, down to the last word. So if you have time can you write more of this? Have a nice night 💖

Warnings: Wolf!HybridSatoru + Puppygirl!Hybrid reader + smut + not proofread + pliant!reader + short!reader (not really short only because Satoru is bigg compared to you so don’t worry too much) + licking + drooling + blowjob + overprotective!Satoru

“Satoru for the last time…”

“She’s fully capable of showering by herself, she doesn’t need you to also do that ontop of spoon-feeding her.” Suguru continues: “which she also knows how to do by herself, you’re treating her like she’s dumb.”

But Satoru thinks you are dumb! You don’t retaliate when he does any of those things, you just sit politely and smile at him, the warmest smile ever.

The huge wolf needs to be with you at all times, he feels the need to get you clean himself and always make sure you’re fully taken care of, so why is Suguru riding his back about his mate? He loves you so much so why isn’t he allowed to pin you down and fuck you right in the middle of the living room? It’s distasteful as Suguru puts it.

He has to! Sometimes you’ll give him lip about something and the only way to correct that behavior is to put you in your place, he doesn’t enjoy hearing you whine (he does) but how else are you going to learn that Satoru is your protector?

With all this Satoru does like to be dotted on sometimes, he loves when you rub his bushy tail and pointy ears, he even loves when you take the time to lick him, it makes his cock stir in pants at the thought of you running that same tongue on his cock. He isn’t known for his patience so within five minutes he’s guiding you to his thick length.

He doesn’t mind the drooling mess you make whilst sucking him, it makes it all the better, you get so lost in sucking him it’s adorable how your eyes close and you control your breathing through your nose because he’s just that thick.

Satoru loves how much bigger he is than you, it’s so easy to overtake you during your play fights. He loves to envelop you in his arms and hold you there, even grinding you down against his erection so you can see what something as simple as having fun does to him. Speaking of size difference it takes a lot for you to take his cock, he loves pressing it against your cunt just to look at how much bigger he is than you.

He has to get you really wet for you to take even half of him, using your ass is off the table, he’s tried that and the entire time you were a crybaby- he doesn’t like to see you cry so he quickly backed off and went to just humping each other.

Satoru loves messing with your tail in a ploy to get you angry so you can yell at him just for him to discipline you, every single time he does it you still haven’t realized what he wants, you’re just too dumb for that. He’ll have you cumming on his cock for hours while you spew out apologies and how much you love your Toru.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Doom of Ghis (Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You decide to trick a Queen. It doesn’t quite go according to plan.

Warnings: Smut. Corruption kink. Twisting of religious rituals. Dubious consent? Fingering. Playing doctor.

A/N: I am tired of writing older man x younger woman. Meet older woman x younger woman. Palate cleanser in the middle of writing a new character. Also, I miss writing girls.

“THIS IS NOT a task fit for a Queen.” Rhaenyra looks at Corlys with narrowed eyes. Her annoyance at her own council has begun to build like a sore, and threatens to explode at any given moment.

Presently, it can’t. It would be in poor taste to do during dinner. Lord Corlys has asked her if they could sup in her quarters, to discuss a private matter. She had been expecting war preparations, not this.

“Yet it is a task we require of you.” Her Hand answers, unintimidated by her glare. Rhaenyra reminds herself it is a good thing, not to be feared. She wishes to be a wise Queen, one who is remembered as a champion of peace and not as the next Maegor the Cruel. She wants to be exactly like her father. Viserys the Peaceful.

Viserys the Peaceful never throttled his Hand. And his was much more irritating than hers.

“Why can’t we just… Forgone the custom?” She asks him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The House of Pahl is already offended by the offer we made them. Marrying one of their daughters, even if it is one of the ones from the second son, to a bastard is an insult. Not having Graces present for the ritual is, too. We cannot afford to offend them any further.”

“Can’t Baela do it?” It sounds childish even to her ears. Rhaenyra isn’t quite sure why she feels so awkward about the ritual, it’s hardly as if she will see something she is unfamiliar with herself. She bets the girl will be more awkward than her, and the thought of having to soothe her seems unappealing. “Or Lady Mysaria?”

“Both of them are quite busy with their duties.” Lord Corlys takes a second to drink from his goblet. It stings, the unspoken fact that Rhaenyra is not. “The Lady Mysaria would provide greater offense, considering her… Previous occupation and lack of relationship to me. As for Baela, I do not feel prudent to recall her from her patrols.”

“My own kinship to you is fairly removed.” Rhaenyra cuts a piece of venison and takes her time chewing. When a Queen wishes to speak, men wait. And it is important to remember her Hand of that fact, especially since he is asking favors. “I am, what? Your second niece? And only through marriage.”

“They feel honored that a Queen will perform the ritual for their daughter. And we need their coin.”

“Slaver’s coin.”

“Coin that will win us the war.” Lord Corlys interjects. “That will buy men. Armor. Weapons. Food.”

Rhaenyra doesn’t answer. She simply cuts another piece of venison.

YOU SIT ON the table, legs hanging off the edge. A fire is lit, and a tea set is already prepared on another low table, along with cushions. A small, dragonglass dome, covers the cakes the Queen and you will share. The message is clear. Your family expects the ritual to go without a hitch.

You aren’t too sure. This Queen you will meet, who will take the place of your elder because your betrothed has no suitable relative to do so, isn’t Ghiscari like you. She is Valyrian. You hate Valyrians.

Cloaked in your pink veil, and wearing your simplest white shift, you await her arrival. You remember your mother’s words. Befriend her. Let her use you and touch you as she pleases. Do not try to instruct her to perform the ritual the right way.

What your mother suggests, simply put, is to see if she can be seduced while being convinced she is the one doing the seducing. Her friendship could give House of Pahl an even greater advantage that you will be getting after you become Lady of the Tides.

Not only control over a fleet that can block trade routes by marrying a Valyrian bastard. Friendship to a Queen. Lover to one. A whispered word in her ear and your wishes shall be law if you play your cards right.

There is no shame in it, your father had said, when they had instructed you as to how to behave. The Red Graces and White Graces do the same and their blood is as noble as yours. They serve the Gods of Old Ghis by providing pleasure to many men. What is asked of you is to only pleasure a single woman.

A single woman who is Valyrian. Whose ancestors burned Old Ghis, and forced yours to flee to Mereen.

It’s not that you object to the fact that it is a woman. You object to Valyrians. They are ugly little things, with queer facial features and skin and hair too pale.

But the woman who enters the room is anything but. She is beautiful, dressed in a black gown that makes her look regal. She has a sweet face, and her distasteful colorless hair is pulled back. It looks less offensive that way, you suppose.

“Your radiance.” You address, lowering yourself from the table you sit in and curtsying. The title has never felt more apt. Her face is beautiful despite her age, and her body shapely.

“Good morrow.” The Queen says. Her voice is delightful too, strong and commanding, with a feminine quality to it. Seducing her now doesn’t seem like much of a chore. “We use the title of Your Grace here.”

“Your Grace.” You rectify, and give her another curtsy. Underneath your veil, you are giving her an apologetic smile. She cannot see it.

You wonder what she thinks of you, cloaked in a soft pink veil that covers both your hair and face. Thanks to the artfully draped pleats, she cannot see you, but you can see her.

She probably thinks you look like a strawberry dipped in clotted cream. You cannot wait to marry and use the Velaryon colors. They look much more dignified than yours.

“I was explained by your Lord Father that I will become your elder after this ritual.” She says, voice full of gravitas. “So there is no need for you to curtsy so much. I hope to become a mother to you.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” You are thankful she cannot see your face, or you would burst out laughing. It’s what is supposed to happen, yet you are not counting on it. “I am sure you are a busy woman. We should begin soon.”

You sit yourself on the table again, feet dangling. The table is the perfect height for bending you over it, but you do not comment on it.

“…I… Of course.” The Queen seems taken aback by how straightforward you are, which makes you smile.

You wait for her to come to you. She hesitates, as if unsure of herself, before coming to stand between your parted legs.

Slowly, her hands pull your veil back. You school your expression into one of quiet dutifulness.

Rhaenyra gasps slightly when she sees your face. You do not allow your face to change, but internally, you are dancing a gig. The veil had been a stroke of brilliance on your father’s part. He always said the best part of worshiping a Red Grace was the reveal.

“You are a beautiful young woman.” She says, starting to map out your features with her fingertips. Her touch is soft, as if scared of hurting you. You play the part of the blushing maiden, letting out a gasp of your own when she traces your lips. Her eyes darken. “Alyn is a very lucky man.”

This Alyn is an accomplished sailor, you hear, and on the fast track to become a Captain. His recent acknowledging by Lord Corlys only propels him higher. You have heard the men admired him from starting from below, unlike other Lord’s bastards.

It’s not a bad prospect. Any man can give you children, you know. It’s not a difficult task. Not every man can give you a fleet.

“And I am very lucky to be marrying him.” You say, after a while. Rhaenyra’s hands have stayed where they are, lingering on your jaw. She doesn’t dare move further down. Her eyes are focused on your lips, as if noticing how intimate the embrace the two of you are in.

Her hands, holding your jaw. Her hips, nestled in the space made by your spread legs.

She goes back to tracing your lips with her thumb, a storm brewing in her eyes. She is confused, this Queen of yours. The intimacy is getting to her, but her morals are holding her back. Rhaenyra is not supposed to take advantage of a maiden she is supposed to welcome as her daughter.

You decide to push her a bit. You take her thumb inside your mouth, cradling it softly in your tongue. Her eyes dart to yours, but you close them, as if delighted by what you are savoring.

Rhaenyra pulls back.

“What are you doing?” She snaps at you. Your eyes open, but your lips remain tantalizingly parted still.

“You are meant to inspect me wholly.” You try your best to sound shy. “Even inside. My mother said…”

Guilt passes once again over her features. You are a poor naive girl, who doesn’t feel anything like arousal. She is the one getting a sick satisfaction over a sacred ritual.

It’s not the truth, of course. But it is what she believes.

She slips her thumb inside your mouth again. You close your eyes, scrunching them tightly. Feigning embarrassment once more. Her thumb presses down on your tongue, drawing a line. It makes drool begin to gather at the corners of your mouth.

As Rhaenyra checks your molars with a careful press of her fingers, warmth begins to accumulate in your core. You open your eyes, looking at her.

She seems absorbed by the task. The Queen barely notices you are holding her gaze, fascinated by your warm mouth. She removes her thumb, wiping it on your chin.

Her hands trail lower. Down your jaw, and to your neck. She keeps her touch light, making you squirm. Everywhere she touches, a trail of goosebumps follows.

“Shh, sweet girl. You are doing so well.” She rubs your shoulder, probably thinking you shake from nervousness and not from pure, sheer want. “So well for your Queen.”

You feel your flower growing slick with her words. You worry if that will give you away when she reaches that part of the examination. Rhaenyra might yet discover that you are not as innocent as you pretend to be. It only makes you wetter.

Would she punish you if she found out? Pinch your little pearl until you cried? Spank your rear?

Her hands slip the straps of your shift down your shoulders. You are left bare in front of her.

Your nipples are pebbled. They have been since she started touching you.

The Queen doesn’t touch you there at first. Not where you need her the most. Instead, her hands trail over your shoulders, teasing you with promises of what is to come. She traces imaginary patterns, all the way to your forearms.

You fight the urge to whine. You just sit there, eyes on your lap, not attempting to cover yourself nor to help her, the picture of dutifulness.

She runs one of her fingers over a taut nipple. You hiss. She gives it a pinch, carefully observing your face. Perhaps wondering how far you will let her go.

You say nothing. She pinches the other one, gently. Then, she cups your breasts in her hands.

“A pretty pair, these.” Rhaenyra licks her lips. You wish she would wrap them around your nipples instead. She continues to give your breast soft caresses, squeezing from time to time. An amused smile appears on her face, when she sees how you twitch when she accidentally brushes your nipples.

“Lay down, love.” She orders you, pushing your stomach. You obey her, laying flat on the table. A feast spread for a dragon.

Her hand lowers your shift even more, exposing your belly button. She touches under it, over your womb. She presses down on it, and you gasp.

The pressure feels odd. It feels good, too. It’s not something you would have thought to do to yourself when playing on your own, but her hand feels scorching hot over your skin.

“Hurts?” She asks you, softly.

“Feels strange.” You reply. “Good.”

Rhaenyra hums. Her hands pull your shift down fully, and take it from you. You close your legs tightly, embarrassed at how wet you are. Your father had ordered you to remove all your body hair before the ritual, so you are bare for her to observe. Completely.

“Spread your legs, sweet girl.” It’s said with a frown. Her hand grazes your bare mound, puzzled by it.

You spread your legs. Your folds unstick with the motion, slick shining between your legs.

“It’s customary. To facilitate the checking of the womanly parts.” You offer her, suddenly embarrassed.

“I see.” Rhaenyra says, spreading your folds. It only makes your cunt leak more. She presses on your pearl with her thumb, almost playing with it. Her face is dark, eyes almost all pupils. No longer a queen, but a dragon.

She doesn’t comment on your wetness, but swirls one of her fingers on it, before dragging it all the way to your pearl. Then, she presses a finger into your hole, checking your maidenhead.

You barely muffle your squeal.

“Tell me.” She says, tone almost conversational, starting to rub circles on your pearl. “Is this customary, too?”

Your mind blanks. Your famous ability to talk your way out of almost everything fails you. She keeps rubbing maddening circles on your pearl, and when you do not answer, she slaps your flower.

You yowl like a kitten.

“Answer your Queen.” She orders.

“No, Your Grace. It’s not.” You have your answer, you suppose. What would she do? Spank your flower. She does so again, making you tense. The pain feels strangely good, forcing blood to rush to the area, warming it. When Rhaenyra runs her fingers over your hole after, everything feels much more heightened.

“Naughty girl.” She scolds. “Get down from the table, and bend over it.”

You obey her, a bit breathless. Rhaenyra remains fully dressed, with a stern look in her face that makes you tremble. Your naked body is now on display, but under her heated gaze, you feel no shame.

You let your upper body hover slightly over the table, hips bent, your backside and flower on display. She pushes down on your shoulder, until your face and chest are squashed against the rough wood of the table.

The wood grains feel interesting against your nipples, making you squirm. You are not sure if the rough scrape is pleasant or not.

“Don’t move.” Rhaenyra says, and spreads your cheeks open. You can feel your other hole winking at her, and she makes a pleased sound. She pushes a finger inside, and quickly retreats it when you tense.

“You have such a sloppy cunt, sweet girl.” She says, voice almost impressed. “It betrays your intentions so easily.”

She begins to torture your pearl once more. She presses inside, rubbing at something that makes your cunt gush.

Rhaenyra is relentless. You try to squirm, but her other hand is firm between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned down and spread for her. Her motions get faster, touching you in the way you like best. Your peak comes fast and unannounced, making you let out a muffled yelp.

“I think I have to examine you again.” She says, coyly. “Only to make sure.”

You cannot wait.

[shorthaltsjester]

so, so many thoughts about ashton’s words and position re the gods but nothing really struck me as much as “i’d like to see them pray to us.” (or whatever the exact wording is) because yeah, that’s extremely ashton, that’s the same attitude of a person who has been hurt and broken by life in an unfair manner and tried to absorb a shard because they thought it would fix it, ignoring all warnings that it would make it worse, and then insisting it wasn’t about power, despite the fact that it explicitly was about power — the power to render their life fair. it becomes increasingly clear every time that ashton opens his mouth that, along with being an incisive translation of certain kinds of punk politics to exandria, ashton is more set on vengeance than justice, even if he insists his motivation is that the gods are a source of injustice, it seems more like what he admitted after the shard: he’s spent his life looking for someone to blame, and while he’s happy to hate himself, it took a while for them to realize they were an agent in their own story, culpable for the life they’ve lived. ashton looks at the gods and sees a metaphorical vehicle of all the harm and hurt and pain that’s befallen him due to people in positions of power and cannot (or refuses) to see that a) the gods position isn’t actually all that powerful without the mortals who choose over and over to fulfil divine will for good or evil or in between and b) the gods already have a relationship to mortals that is akin to prayer.

and this is all extremely in character, as much as a lot of ashton’s comments echo many a political stance that makes me roll my eyes, it’s always with an attitude of yes of course ashton would say that. what is mildly more irritating (or perhaps concerning) is the readiness with which aspects of the audience concur with ashton’s assessment, when we have seen countless interactions of gods with mortals that shows us that the gods, though not actual prayer, have a very similar kind of belief in mortals that they ask of those who believe in them. like, vox machina had two episodes dedicated to talking to the gods, where it was revealed that the everlight didn’t just know pike but has beholden to her as the one who brought her back into import. where vex proved herself to pelor not just through completing his challenge but by having long been an imperfect but true source of good for the family she’s chosen that they convinced pelor that vex was a suitable champion by pointing out that she has earned several of their belief, she protects the same city pelor blessed with the sun tree, she’s protective and protected, and her heart and her intelligence are equally sound when it comes to her ability to make judgements, (all things we’ve learned since c1 are important to pelor) resulting in pelor deciding he would also believe in her. where ioun pointed out that while she keeps all stories, scanlan is a storyteller, and what could she possibly cherish more than that.

each god when vox machina spoke to them was quick to correct them when vox machina suggested things like their paths being determined or their lives being beyond their control or the world being down to the will of the gods. vex apologizes to the everlight for not realizing that the gods were really beings and she tells vox machina that she doesn’t ask for the belief of all, only those who wish to give it, as the gods chose to give mortals the ability to choose as they wish upon anything, including their faith in the deities. when vox machina asks pelor to whether they should do something with vecna’s eye, he insists that they make the decision whether they’d like to destroy it or use it — he will help however they decide, but he insists it’s on them to choose the outcome. they speak with ioun, who knows their and every story, and she tells them that the gods do not choose the individual fates of mortals, it is up to every person to choose who they will and will not be, and sometimes that guides them to places the gods have predicted, but never without the choices a mortal makes to arrive there.

the concept of belief throughout the three campaigns has been an complex and ever shifting one — as it deserves. in campaign 1, it’s largely in the context of coming to understand what it means to believe in gods when they obviously do exist, but what are you believing in, and why might you choose not to. in campaign 2, jester’s presence complicated things by pointing out that it isn’t just the divinity of the gods that earns them their power but that belief itself is a kind of divinity and with yasha, caduceus and fjord we see that the role of the gods isn’t just power-granting, it comes to be an essential part of many of those who follow the gods. and in campaign 3, we’ve seen both of those explorations come up but the difficulty is we have none of the perspective of someone who actually believes — even fcg was new to worship couldn’t offer much insight on what the loss of the gods might do to people who believe in the gods not because they grant power but because like jester they were lonely and the found a friend in one, or if like yasha they were lost and were saved by one, or if like fjord the asked for help and were aided by one. to be clear i don’t think this a weakness of the story being told — i think it’s a particularly interesting aspect of bh’s position, but i do think it weakens the perspectives of thinkers like ashton who haven’t even heard what a god means to some people, let alone taken seriously the pain that losing the gods would constitute for countless people.

so, ashton might be particularly charged against the gods — even to the point of being the only one to outright make a noise of disagreement when it’s brought up that while bells hells disagree on specifics, they all agree on saving the gods — and he has plenty of reasons to have that position that can easily result in the audience going, yeah, i understand why he’s made that judgement. but that is not the same as hearing what ashton has said and going (with all the knowledge we the audience have that ashton does not) “he’s right, actually” when there are two campaigns telling you, explicitly, “he’s not.” and this isn’t me saying things can’t be revealed that complicate or recontextualize knowledge from previous campaigns, i’m just saying that, thus far, if anything, campaign 3 (especially downfall) has only cemented the degree to which the prime deities have to believe in mortals.

truly the first thought i had when i heard ashton say his line about the gods praying to mortals instead was the fact that several of his party members received a vision from the raven queen asking for help, that fcg asked the changebringer if she was scared and she said yes, that earthbreaker groon looked at imogen and saw her self-doubt And the belief that bells hells has in her anyway and kord reached through him to tell imogen that she had the potential for greatness and that the gods are counting on her. the prime deities have long been praying to mortals, they believe in the power of mortals (for good and ill) — that’s exactly what downfall was about. the power that gods still have is entirely mediated by the mortals who believe in them, who choose to believe in them. the power of mortals does not have those bounds, and while that doesn’t mean they get to sling 9th level spells at will and multiply their damage by 10, it does mean that, in this particular moment in exandria, ludinus’ power is a much more likely (and, historically and contextually proven) source of injustice than the prime deities.

beyond the magic limitations and considering the ill-fitting metaphor of the gods as being a position of power in a sociopolitical sense, the distance of the gods means that if they want to manipulate people into maintaining their position, it’s quite difficult to do. in comparison with ludinus “cult tactics” da’leth, it strikes me as odd when the parts of the cr audience react to the prime deities doing things like . allowing mortals agency (which, as every existentialist writer ever has correctly pointed, out is both a burden and gift) as if it is actually a long-con manipulation or something.

anyway, TL:DR, ashton is an a interesting character whose beliefs and ideas make sense given his placement in the story and their experiences, but an audience who has seen campaigns 1-3 and says they agree with him with their whole chest should definitely consider either a) rewatching or b) taking a critical thinking or media literacy class

[wandaslittlebird]

Far From a Monster

Wanda x Reader

After a particularly intense session, Wanda has some conflicting feelings about what it means to be your dom.

CW: Dom Drop, Blood, Mommy Kink, Guilt, Sexual Shame

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: As someone is who isn’t a dom, I don’t know how accurate a depiction this is of dom drop. This is just what I’ve heard from other people. But I hardly ever see it written about so I wanted to give it a shot.

A/N: I KNOW, I said in the poll it was going to be more stepmom!Wanda next, but that fic is going to take longer than expected. Also in my defense this one was in the lead until almost the very end.

She had you just where she liked you.

You were face down on the bed, a sobbing mess in her hands. You had started on your hands and knees, but had long since collapsed forward. She had her hands drilled into your hips, which was the only thing that kept you up on your knees. She used her grip on you to force you to keep her brutal pace, cruelly dragging you back on to her each time she slammed her hips into you.

“Mommy please! Mommy it’s too much! Please mommy it hurts!” You cried. Your arms were wrapped around a pillow you were pathetically crying into.

“Aww sweetheart,” she cooed with faux sympathy. “You can give me one more, I know you can. Can you do that for mommy?”

You whimpered and squeaked into your pillow, but nodded nonetheless.

She reached down to pet your hair, but inadvertently drove your head further into the pillow. You moaned as her hand gripped your hair. “Oh you like that? Do you like it when mommy hurts you and pulls your hair?”

You nodded, but she pulled harder, pulling you up off the bed a little bit. “Words, princess.”

“Yes mommy! Yes I love it when you hurt me a-and pull my hair!” You cried. “Please mommy, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Is it starting to feel good again, baby? See I told you mommy’s cock wasn’t too big for you. You said it wouldn’t fit, but it’s made you cum, what, three times now?”

“You were right! You were right!” You conceded. “Please let me cum on your cock. Please mommy please.”

“Hmm,” She pretended to consider the request. “Tell mommy about how you're her cockslut and you can cum.”

“Yes mommy, I’m your cockslut. I’m your little toy you can use however you want,” you pleaded. “Fuck I’m gonna cum. Mommy I’m gonna cum for you.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you came so hard the strap fell out of you and hit your leg. Wanda smirked, satisfied with herself as you collapsed onto the bed.

Until she looked down.

There was blood.

And not an insignificant amount of it either. She swallowed. It couldn’t have been your period, could it? No you had been on birth control for years and hadn’t had a period since she’d known you. Besides, this was too bright and fresh to be period blood.

“Honey?” She asked, voice shaking slightly. “You don’t have a period anymore do you?”

“Hmm?” You asked, not immediately registering her question in your fuzzy haze. “No. Why?”

You looked down, seeing the blood that covered both your inner thighs and Wanda’s. “Oh. I must’ve torn a little bit. Sorry.”

Her brows knitted in concern. Her heart was racing. It felt like it might beat out of her chest. “I-I’m gonna go get a towel. Stay right here, baby. I’ll be right back.”

You couldn’t tell through your haze how panicked she truly was. You missed the way her voice broke when she spoke. You didn’t see the tears that pricked the corner of her eyes. You didn’t notice the frantic way she scurried into the bathroom. You simply laid on the bed, blissfully nuzzling a pillow.

Wanda closed the bathroom door, taking off the strap and running it under the sink. A cry broke through her lip when she watched the water run red.

How did she not notice you were bleeding? Were you telling her to stop when you said it too much? Did she push you too far? Had you torn at the beginning and just been in pain the whole time? Did you forget your safe word? Fuck did you say the safe word and she just hadn’t heard it? Did she genuinely hurt you? Were you going to be mad at her?

All the worst case scenarios ran through her mind. She felt a monstrous guilt rise up in her chest. She hurt you. She hurt you and she didn’t even realize it.

Why was she like this? Why did she even like to hurt you in the first place? Why did she like it when you cried for her? What kind of monster enjoys hurting the person they love?

“Wanda?” She was pulled from her thoughts by your gentle voice at the bathroom door. “Is everything all right, honey?”

She was bent over the bathroom counter, bracing herself against the granite. Tears were running down her cheeks causing her hair to stick to her face. You took a couple steps towards her, cupping her cheek. She pulled away.

“Wanda, baby, please tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something?” You asked.

Wanda shook her head. “No, love. No you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what is it?” You asked softly, reaching out for her again.

Her teary green eyes finally met yours. Her bottom lip trembled. “I hurt you,” she admitted softly, in almost a whisper.

You took a sigh of relief. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just a little tear. I’ll wear a pantyliner, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” she cried, “I hurt you! You were bleeding and I didn’t even notice! You were telling me it hurt and I didn’t listen!”

You pulled her into a tight hug, cradling her head into her chest. “Wanda, it's okay. We were just playing, just like we always do. I was having fun. I would’ve used my safe word if I wanted to stop. You did everything right, love.”

Wanda wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “I feel like a monster,” she cried softly.

You rubbed her back, kissing her temple. “You’re not a monster, love. You’re nothing of the sort,” you reassured. “You are so so far from a monster.”

She clutched you harder, pulling you impossibly close. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, honey,” you said, taking a moment to rub her back before proposing: “How about we get cleaned up and have a nice soft snuggle night, huh?”

Wanda nodded into your chest. “Is it alright if I take a shower up here and you take one downstairs? I think I just need a minute to myself.”

You pulled her out of the hug, holding her face in your hands. “Of course, honey. Just no more spiraling into thoughts of being a monster, okay?”

She smiled, turning her head to kiss the palm of your hand. “No more spiraling,” she agreed.

You pressed a long kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Wanda. And I think you’re a wonderful person. And I think you did everything perfectly.”

She giggled. “I love you too, darling. Now go take a shower downstairs. I’ll be ready for you when you come back up.”

—————

You finished up your shower, returning to your room in some soft pajamas pants and one of Wanda’s sweatshirts. You limped up the stairs a little awkwardly. The tear hurt a little bit more than you expected after the adrenaline wore off, but it was nothing a Tylenol couldn’t fix.

You walked into Wanda nervously fluffing the pillows in a little nest she’d made for the two of you. She turned around when you opened the door, still looking a little anxious. “Oh, hi I um, I got this for you. And some Tylenol.”

She held out what looked like a pad, but was cold to the touch. “What’s this?”

“It’s just a pad with some chilled witch hazel. It’ll help with tear,” she explained.

You looked down at the pad with a hint of disgust. Pads always made you feel so uncomfortable. But when you looked back up at Wanda’s anxious frown, you simply smiled and said “thank you, love. I’ll put it on now.”

You tucked the cool pad into your underwear. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it felt better almost immediately afterwards. The cooling sensation did wonders for the burning of the tear. Wanda smiled for a moment when you sighed in relief, but quickly went back to nervously playing with her hands. “C-can I ask you something?”

You took her fidgety hands into your own. “Of course love, anything.”

She tilted her head up to briefly look you in the eyes. “Do you think you could call me mommy for tonight?” She asked. The words came fast and jumbled, like she had to force them out of her mouth before she changed her mind. “I mean I know we only use it while we’re playing and I’m being rough with you and that’s fine if you just want to stick to that and you’re under no obligation to say yes or anything I just thought that maybe I could be mommy and be sweet and take care of you just so it’s clear that I still love you when I’m mommy and I’d never do anything to try to hurt you on purpose even though mommy Wanda seems super cruel and sadistic…”

You interrupted her nervous rambling with kisses to each of her knuckles. “Of course, mommy.”

She stopped speaking for a moment, looking at you with all the love a gaze could possibly hold. She looked like she might cry again, but she simply reached up and touched your cheek. You melted easily into her touch and it made her heart sing.

She loved you, and you knew she loved you. You didn’t flinch or shy away from her. You didn’t wince like she was going to hit you. You trusted her. Even as mommy, she was going to take care of you.

“Okay, my love,” she whispered. “Let’s get you to bed.”

—————

You spent the rest of the night cocooned in a variety of soft blankets. She had you sat between her legs, arms wrapped around your waist while she repeatedly kissed the top of your head.

She had her laptop open on your lap. The two of you giggled over a game of Firegirl and Waterboy. She even let you play as Firegirl even though the Waterboy keys were much harder for her to reach around you. For a kids game, the two of you were doing exceptionally poorly, not even making it past the first few levels before your eyes started to droop and you yawned.

She gently closed the laptop, moving it to the bedside table. “Alright princess, I think it’s about time for bed.”

“We’re already in bed,” you teased through a yawn, curling up on your side into her chest.

“Cheeky girl,” she chuckled, kissing your head and turning off the bedside lamp. She pulled you close, swaddling you against her chest with a blanket.

You rubbed your face into her neck and sleepily mumbled, “I love you, mommy.”

She smiled giddily, glad you couldn’t see her in the dark room. She gently rubbed the back of your head. “Mommy loves you too, princess. Sweet dreams.”

[d1stalker]

Second Nature [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In the freezing cold of the wild, you are saved by a man with many secrets. He takes you in, and soon you learn that you’d follow him anywhere. Takes place during The Wolverine (2013)

Warnings: does not accurately follow the events of the movie, hairy logan (heart eyes), misunderstandings

WC: 4.2k - MASTERLIST

----

Northern Canada was just as unforgiving as it was beautiful. The chilled air bit at your skin, and the vast wilderness stretched out endlessly, it was a place where few dare to venture.

It had been days since you’ve seen another soul, your only company being the towering trees and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the brush. You weren't not entirely defenceless as a mutant, though your powers were something you keep close to your chest.

The day started like any other—cold, silent, and solitary. You were making your way through the dense forest when you heard it: the deep, guttural growls of a pack of wolves. Your senses went on high alert as you froze, but before you could react, they were upon you. 

There were too many of them. You fought as best you could, using your powers in quick, controlled bursts, but the wolves were relentless, and violent. Just as you thought you might not make it out, a figure burst through the trees. He moved with immense speed, claws extended from his hands—no, not quite claws, but something far more lethal. He tore through the wolves with an ease that spoke of years of experience, and within moments, the threat was gone.

You were left standing in the snow, gaping at the man who had just saved your life. He was wild-looking, with long, tangled hair and a thick beard, his eyes fierce and sharp. He didn’t speak at first, just looked you over, assessing mutely, before finally grunting out a rough, “You alright?”

You nodded, though your heart was still pounding from the encounter. “Yeah, thanks to you.”

“Shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said gruffly. “This place isn’t safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied, though you knew full well how close you had come to an early demise. You didn’t offer any explanation for why you were out here, and he didn’t ask. Instead, he simply turned and started walking away, as if saving your life was just another day for him.

You hesitated for a moment before following him. He didn’t seem to mind, and you were curious about the man who had appeared out of nowhere. He led you back to a small, rough cabin hidden deep in the woods. It was clear he had been living here for a while—there was a worn, lived-in look to the place.

Over the next few days, you found yourself staying in that cabin. The man, who you learned was named Logan, didn’t talk much, but he didn’t seem to mind your presence either. You kept your powers hidden, mainly out of habit, but a part of you was unsure of how he would react if he knew the truth. You knew he was some sort of mutant too, but he had an air of someone who had seen too much, who carried a heavy burden, and you weren’t ready to add to that.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, a quiet companionship developed between you. Logan was still rough around the edges, but there were moments when you caught glimpses of something softer beneath the surface. He was a man who had been through hell and survived, but the scars were still there, etched into his soul.

You weren’t sure when you started to think of him as a friend, but it happened slowly, in the small, unspoken ways you helped each other. He taught you things about the wilderness, how to track and hunt, while you offered a quiet presence that seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders.

Then, one day, everything changed. A woman appeared at the cabin, her hair bright red and her demeanour as sharp as a blade. Yukio, she called herself. She had come to find Logan, to tell him that his old friend Yashida was dying and wanted to see him one last time in Japan. Logan was reluctant at first, but Yukio was persistent, and eventually, he agreed.

You hadn’t expected him to invite you along, but when he turned to you with a serious look in his eyes and said, “Come with me,” you found yourself nodding before you could think about it.

----

When you arrived at the estate in Japan, Yukio immediately declared that a cleanup was in order. Logan resisted, of course, but she insisted. You were too tired to argue and knew she was right. You hadn’t had a proper bath in weeks if not months. The little tub in the cabin did barely enough to make you feel freshened up, and the idea of finally being clean was too tempting to pass up.

She led you to your separate rooms, where hot baths and fresh clothes awaited. The water was blissfully warm, and as you soaked, you felt the tension slowly ebb away. You scrubbed your skin clean, washed your hair until it felt soft and light again, and when you finally stepped out of the bath, you almost didn’t recognize yourself. The fresh clothes Yukio provided were simple yet elegant, a far cry from the rough, dirty outfit you’d been wearing for days.

After dressing, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. For the first time in a long while, you felt... pretty. It was a strange sensation after everything that had happened, and you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Logan already waiting for you when you saw him. Your breath caught in your throat. His long beard was nowhere to be seen, a uniquely styled facial hair left in it’s wake. His hair was trimmed as well. His usual gruff demeanor was still there, but he looked... different. Handsome, in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

He was staring at you too, a look of surprise flickering across his face before he quickly masked it. "You clean up nice," he said lowly.

"Thanks," you replied, trying to sound casual, though you were acutely aware of the way his eyes lingered on you.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, taking in the sight of each other. You had always thought Logan was attractive in a natural, untamed way, but seeing him like this, it made your heart stir in your chest.

Yukio interrupted your thoughts, her voice cutting through the silence. “Good. Now that you two don’t look like wild animals, we can get to work.”

----

Yukio led you and Logan through the estate’s winding paths, the sound of your footsteps muted by the soft ground. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the garden, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to admire the beauty of the place.

Finally, you reached a large, open room where an elderly man sat in a wheelchair, his frail form dwarfed by the spaciousness of the room. Yashida’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and labored, but there was a sense of peace about him, as if he had come to terms with his impending death.

“Logan,” Yukio said softly, her tone respectful as she gestured for him to approach.

Logan stepped forward, his usual confidence tempered by something more subdued. He stopped a few feet from Yashida, his hands clenched at his sides as he struggled to find the right words.

“Yashida,” he eventually said, addressing the man before him. “It’s been a long time.”

Yashida’s eyes slowly opened, and when they focused on Logan, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Logan,” he rasped, his voice weak but filled with warmth. “You came.”

“Yeah,” Logan replied, his tone softening. “I came.”

Yashida’s gaze shifted to you, and you felt a strange mix of emotions as his eyes, still sharp despite his age, studied you intently. “And who is this?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

“I’m just a friend,” you said, offering him a small, respectful bow. “I’m here to support Logan.”

Yashida’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Thank you for coming,” he said, his tone sincere. “It means a great deal to me.”

Then, another figure entered the room, a young woman with delicate features and a quiet grace that immediately drew your attention. She moved with the fluidity of someone who was used to being in control, but there was a sadness in her eyes that mirrored Yashida’s.

“Mariko,” Yashida said, his voice softening as he spoke her name. “Come, meet Logan.”

Mariko stepped forward, her gaze flicking to Logan with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “Logan,” she said quietly, her voice as soft as the rustling leaves outside. “It’s an honour.”

Logan inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before he looked away. “Likewise.”

There was an awkward silence as you stood there, feeling like an outsider in this reunion. You watched the way Mariko looked at Logan, her gaze filled with something you couldn’t quite place—respect, maybe, or perhaps a cautious admiration. Whatever it was, it made your chest tighten with an emotion you weren’t ready to examine.

“Please, sit,” Yashida said, gesturing to the cushions on the floor. “We have much to discuss.”

You sat down beside Logan, feeling the tension in the room build as Yashida began to speak, his words measured and deliberate. He spoke of his time with Logan, of the bond they had shared during the war, and of the gratitude he felt for the life Logan had given him. But there was something else in the way Yashida spoke—an underlying desperation that made you uneasy.

“I have a gift for you, Logan,” Yashida said, his eyes locking onto Logan’s with an intensity that belied his frail appearance. “A gift that will free you from your suffering.”

Logan stiffened beside you, his expression darkening. “I don’t need anything from you, Yashida,” he announced.

“But you do,” Yashida insisted, his tone growing more urgent. “You’ve lived long enough to see the world change, to see those you care about die. I can give you what you’ve always wanted—mortality.”

The room fell silent as Yashida’s words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on you like a physical force. You glanced at Logan, searching his face for any sign of what he was thinking, but his expression was unreadable.

“I didn’t come here for this,” Logan said after a long pause. “I came because you asked.”

Yashida’s expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he nodded slowly. “Very well,” he said. “But the offer stands. Should you change your mind...”

Logan didn’t respond, his jaw clenched as he stared at the floor. You could feel the tension radiating off him, and it took everything in you not to reach out and touch his arm, to offer some kind of comfort.

----

The air was thick with the scent of incense and the soft murmur of prayers as you stood at Yashida’s funeral, surrounded by mourners dressed in black. The solemnity of the occasion hung heavy, but there was an undercurrent of tension that you couldn’t ignore. Logan was beside you, his expression unreadable, though you knew him well enough by now to sense the unease in his posture.

In that moment, your mind wandered to the days you’d spent in the Yukon, the solitude that had once been your only companion. You hadn’t ended up there by choice. No, you had been running—from a world that feared what it didn’t understand, from people who saw you as a threat. The fact that you were a mutant had always set you apart, but it was also the reason you had been hunted, feared, and ultimately driven into the wild. 

You still hadn’t told Logan about your powers, not out of a lack of trust—hiding them had simply become second nature to you. But as you stood at the funeral, watching the proceedings with a growing sense of dread, you realized that your secret was about to come crashing down around you.

It happened so quickly that you barely had time to react. One moment, the funeral was proceeding as expected, and the next, the mourners were scattering in panic as a group of Yakuza thugs stormed the ceremony, their eyes locked on Mariko, Yashida’s granddaughter.

“Mariko!” Logan’s voice was a deep growl as he pushed through the crowd, his adamantium claws shooting out. You sprang into action right behind him, your heart pounding as you watched the Yakuza close in on Mariko. You knew that even though he was fast, Logan wouldn’t make it in to her in time. 

Suddenly, the world seemed to slow down, and your instincts took over. Thrusting your hands out, you called for your powers and the air around you responded, swirling with a sudden, powerful gust that sent the Yakuza stumbling back. Logan's head whipped over to you, his eyes widening in shock, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

Fire erupted from your fingertips, a controlled burst that seared the ground between Mariko and the attackers, creating a barrier they couldn’t cross. But the attackers didn’t yield, and they regrouped quickly, readying themselves for another assault.

Logan was at your side in an instant. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—” you faltered, the words catching in your throat as you continued to fend off the enemy. The earth beneath you trembled as you called on your powers again, sending a wave of stone and dirt crashing into the Yakuza, knocking them off their feet.

“I didn’t know how,” you finally admitted tightly, from the strain of maintaining control over the elements. 

Logan’s expression was a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper. But he didn’t have time to respond before the Yakuza pressed their attack, forcing both of you to focus on the immediate threat.

Together, you and Logan fought them off, your powers weaving through the chaos as Logan’s claws tore through the ranks of the attackers. It was over in minutes, but it felt like an eternity. When the last of the Yakuza fell, you stood there, breathing hard, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Mariko was safe, but the damage was done. Logan turned to you, his gaze intense. “You didn’t trust me,” he said, the hurt clear in his voice.

“It wasn’t about trust,” you said quietly, lowering your hands as the last remnants of your power faded into the air. “I’ve spent my whole life hiding who I am, Logan. It’s not something I can just turn off.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “I get that,” he finally said, his voice softer now. “But you knew about me––my mutation. I thought—”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” you interrupted, your voice breaking slightly. “It’s just… I didn’t want to bring attention to it. I wanted to leave it in the past.”

Logan’s expression softened, the anger fading as he listened to your words. “You don’t owe me an explanation,” he said after a moment, surprising you. “But I want you to know… I would’ve understood.”

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. It was strange, how this man who had saved you, who had become your friend, could look at you with such understanding, after you had hid something so important from him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words heavy with the weight of everything you hadn’t said before.

He didn’t say much after, just turning and heading toward Mariko, going to check on her. 

----

In the days following the incident at Yashida’s funeral, something between you and Logan shifted. It was subtle at first—an awkwardness that hadn’t been there before, a hesitation in his eyes whenever he looked at you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed, and not for the better.

Logan had started pulling away from you. At first, you thought it was because of Mariko, and his new mission—that he had simply found something else to focus on. But as the days went by, you realized that it was more than that. Logan wasn’t just distant—he was hurt. And it wouldn't take a genius to know why.

He had been wounded by your secret, by the fact that he thought you hadn’t trusted him enough to reveal your powers. You had tried to explain, to make him understand that it wasn’t about him, but the damage was done.

The distance between you pained you. You had grown to care for him deeply. It had started as friendship, a bond forged in Canada, but somewhere along the way, you knew your feelings had begun to change. You hadn’t meant to fall for him, but it happened all the same, creeping up on you like the first rays of dawn after a long, cold night.

But as you watched him pull away from you, and towards Mariko, those feelings felt like a mistake.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Logan to be happy—far from it. You cared about him too much to wish anything but the best for him. Still, seeing the way he looked at her, the way he seemed drawn to her despite the mayhem surrounding them, made something inside you ache. You had thought that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between you and Logan, but it was clear now that whatever you had shared was truly just a friendship. Nothing more.

And that realization hurt more than you cared to admit.

You tried to push those feelings aside, to focus on the task at hand. There was still so much to do, and Japan was far from safe. The Yakuza were remained a threat, and Yashida’s legacy was more tangled than you had ever imagined. But no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on the helping, your mind kept drifting back to Logan and Mariko.

So, you did the only thing you could—you pulled away. You gave Logan and Mariko space, leaving them to each other whenever possible. It hurt to do it, to step back when all you wanted was to be by Logan’s side, like you’d for months, but you convinced yourself it was for the best. If this was what Logan wanted, if she was who he needed, then who were you to stand in the way?

Even as you distanced yourself, you continued to help them in whatever ways you could. You were still in Japan, still part of the mission Logan got roped into, but you became a shadow, always there but never too close. You helped Mariko when she needed it, fought alongside Logan when necessary, but you never lingered, never gave him a reason to think you wanted anything more.

----

When the trip was over, and the two of you returned back to Canada, things were different. The easy companionship you had shared was strained, the unspoken tension between you making every moment feel heavy with uncertainty. You weren’t sure where you stood with Logan anymore, and it was driving you mad.

He had been quiet since your return, keeping to himself, and you had done the same, unsure of how to bridge the growing distance between you. It hurt, more than you wanted to admit, but you weren’t sure what to do about it.

You had spent the day wandering the snowy landscape, trying to clear your head, but no amount of fresh air could chase away the doubts that had settled in your mind. By the time you returned to the cabin, the sun was beginning to set. You hesitated at the door, your hand hovering over the handle as you debated whether to go inside or keep walking.

Before you could decide, the door swung open, and Logan stood there, his expression unreadable. “You’ve been gone a while,” he said, his voice rough from disuse.

“Just needed some air,” you replied quietly as you stepped inside.

Logan closed the door behind you, his eyes lingering on you for a moment. Then, “We need to talk.”

You nodded, your stomach twisting with anxiety as you followed him to the small living area. You sat on the edge of the worn couch, your hands clasped tightly in your lap as you waited for him to start.

Logan remained standing, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’ve been thinking… about everything that happened in Japan.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “So have I.”

He looked up at you then, “I don’t know how to do this,” is all he could get out.

“I know."

“I’ve been thinking about why things got so messed up between us,” Logan continued, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “And I think… I think it’s because I was hurt that you didn’t tell me about your powers, that you’re a mutant too. I took it personally, and that was wrong.”

You shook your head, “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Logan. I just… I didn’t know how to stop. I didn’t want to lose you.”

Logan stepped closer, his hand resting on the back of the couch as he looked down at you. “You didn’t lose me,” he said quietly. “But I think I almost lost you because I didn’t know how to deal with it. That’s why I pulled away. I didn’t want to get hurt, so I put up walls.”

“And Mariko? I mean, it's not like you need to justify anything to me, but--fuck--I...” You started, letting your words drift off. You didn't know where you were going with this, but Logan would have to be a real idiot to not catch on.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and it scared you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

“When we were in Japan… I was hurt. Not just by everything that was happening, but by what I thought was going on between us. I felt like you didn’t trust me, like you were keeping me at arm’s length, and I didn’t know how to handle that. And then there was Mariko… she was there, and I turned to her because… I don’t know, I guess I was looking for something to distract me from what I was feeling.”

You stayed silent, letting him speak.

“But it wasn’t what you think,” he affirmed. “It wasn’t about feelings, or love, or anything like that. Mariko was just… there. I was in a bad place, and she was someone who didn’t expect anything from me, who didn’t know me the way you do. We got physical, but it wasn’t real."

You blinked, trying to make sense of his words. “So, it didn’t mean anything?”

Logan shook his head. “Not the way you’re thinking. I won’t lie to you—it happened, and I’m sorry for that. But it wasn’t because I didn’t care about you,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “It was because I did, and I didn’t know how to deal with my own emotions. I made a mistake, and it hurt you, and I hate that.”

You could see the regret in his eyes, the way he was struggling to find the right words. “I thought you wanted to be with her,” you admitted, “That I was just… in the way.”

He swallowed, “You were never in the way. I pushed you away, and I’m sorry for that.”

You looked up at him. “Where does that leave us then, Logan? Should I… should I stay here? With you?”

Logan’s eyes softened, and he reached out to gently cup your face in his hand. “I want you to stay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But only if that’s what you want too.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch as a wave of relief washed over you. “I want to stay,” you whispered back, your heart pounding in your chest. “I need to know that we’re on the same page though, that this is more than just… friendship.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek. “It is,” he confirmed, “I care about you, more than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. And I want to figure this out, whatever it is between us.”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him with a small, trembling smile. “I want that too.”

Logan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He leaned down, nuzzling his nose with yours as he spoke, an action that nearly had your heart bursting in your chest. “Then let’s do this. No more hiding, no more running. Just us.”

“Just us,” you echoed, happy.

------

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Queen Step Sister

She wasn’t always a queen 

Like every queen before she was a princess

But before she was a princess she was a count from a low-class duchy

Her mother had found your father

Old, ill, and enticed by the countess willing to entertain him

The countess herself wasn’t awful

She was civil, for the most part the only problem with her was her daughter

“And this is your new sister—Harley! Say hello!”

“Hmph just because your Dad’s the King doesn’t mean I have to like you!”

“Harley!”

Harley was a menace

Snooty and rude

Every time she spoke to you it was like liquid acid spraying specifically at you

She was typically spoiled but she never mistreated the servants 

She was decent to your father 

But to you, it was like she hated your guts from the very beginning

“I’m glad I spilled all that cranberry juice on you! The little outfit you were wearing before matched your ugliness a bit too well.”

“That was a gift from my late mother!”

“Hm figures.”

Of course in turn you hate her too

And you don’t bother hiding it from your father when he weakly asks you to hang out with her

“Did you hear what she said to me? I honestly couldn’t care less if that horse she spooked stomped her flat.”

“(Y/n)! Hold your tongue, she’s your new sister.”

“She might be your daughter but that thing is not my sister.”

He doesn’t seem convinced as he continues putting you together with her in hopes it will strengthen your bond

It does not

And it will never be as your father succumbs to his illness

Naturally, you prepare to take on the throne despite your young age

But alas nothing goes the way it should since she’s been forced into your life

“As the former partner of the King, I gladly will take up the role until our child is ready.”

It’s infuriating as the advisor reads a part in his newly written will about this

How he ordained that his second wife have you in her care and the kingdom in her control

And of course decency dwindles as she becomes drunk on the social power

Fueling her gremlin of a daughter

“Mother’s forbidden you from leaving your room. So I figured I’d give you some of my company! You're welcome.”

“Go jump out the window.”

“How dare–MOM!”

It just gets worse and worse

You do think for a moment things will get better as The substitute Queen keels over her wine at a banquet

Thanking the heavens for whoever poisoned her, you’re prepared to take the throne

“I am so sorry (Y/n) but the council has ruled that for your safety as the kingdom’s only true heir, it’d be dangerous to let you take the throne. So we’ll give the role of Queen to Harley.”

It takes you everything not to stab the brat as she puffs her chest and flips her hair

“Won’t you congratulate me on my coronation!”

It’s agony that ripples under your skin as you have no choice but to flee the castle grounds to escape her stabbing presence and that only works for a day at most

With her mother no longer ruling she isn’t forced to take etiquette lessons away from you

Now she can demand your attendance for any minor meeting

“I don’t think we should mobilize our militia on that border. It’s far too much of an overreaction.”

“What about the villages that have been burned there? The people who need medical attention?”

“Hush (Y/n) I didn’t say you could talk in this meeting.”

It's all so frustrating feeling trapped

But you’re not the only one 

Harley is incredibly frustrated because of what keeps her trapped

And that’s her inability to say anything that she truly means

Especially with manners of the heart

Underneath layers of cruel insults, stifling rules, and personal jabs 

Is a step-sister who adores your very being but is stuck with her thorny exterior

She is forced to stick her nose up and sneer at you when you look her direction

When she’ll say “You look like death with the new family brooch. You might do better to just leave it off.”

What she means “I think you look even more gorgeous than usual with the family brooch, don’t ever take it off.”

If she wasn’t as backward demented as she was it probably wouldn’t be so hard to try being nice

To switch her compliments to insults for just a day to give you a kind compliment

But she hates actually making it so that

Naturally, this is why she killed her mother

She’d gotten in the way of her free time with you 

On top of looking down on you which she absolutely hates the most

Granted she’s certain you hate her with how much time she spends attempting to bring you down expressing her affection the only way she can

Sometimes she’s tempted to put it in writing 

just explain her condition so that she can jump into your arms as you connect the dots

But every time she’d written something out, she couldn’t help but confess how obsessed she was with you 

How happy she was that her whole job now was protecting you

She wasn’t exactly fond of the kingdom other than it being an inheritance for you

She hopes you’ll forgive her as she’ll  prioritize you and your safety above all else

No one but your father’s trusted advisor may see past her biting personality

Convinced with the council that it’s best to have her temporarily rule

If only until they get to the bottom of both the King and the Queen’s deaths

Should any council member question her or her motives 

she’d be quick to shut that down

She can’t have these old nobles get in the way of her dominion over you

“I hope you enjoy the joys of being accused of fraud. It’ll be nice to look back on your time when on the council when you’re rotting in jail.”

She has no mercy for anyone but you