#or any corruption effects for that matter

[antirepurp]

nooo not a 2015 ps vita game having cool real-time corruption textures on its characters when sonic frontiers (2022) didn't nooooo

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - AFRAID

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ dark!boyfriend!rafe cameron ⋆ reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe hatches a plan to ensure you stay by his side, by making you dependent on him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language noncon/dubcon, smut, rafe drugs reader, substance abuse, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, baby trapping/forced pregnancy, possessiveness, controlling behaviors, threats of violence, loss of virginity, corruption, breeding kink, dirty talk (like a lot), abandonment issues, manipulation, rough sex, hairpulling, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, powerplay, choking, semi public sex, car sex, creampie (please dni if your sensitive to these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 8,960

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ is there a plot not really, it may seem long but 80% of this is smut. this is unrelated but i think his season 1 & 2 rafe hair were elite to me but I just hate buzz cuts on everyone so my opinion doesn't matter here. The ‘Lila’ is now edited I use it as a placeholder (because for some reason I hate putting y/n while writing) before I replace it with y/n but of course my dumbass forgot to do that when I published this.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･Afraid･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lana del rey)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sits across from you at your usual table in the country club, his jaw clenching rhythmically as he watches you flip through the college applications. His fingers drum against the polished wooden table, creating a nervous pattern that matches his increasing anxiety. The sight of all those prestigious university names makes his stomach turn - Harvard, Yale, Princeton - each one threatening to take you further away from Outer Banks, from him. He barely touches his plate of steak, too preoccupied with the growing unease in his chest.

"Why the fuck are you even looking at schools that far?" He snaps suddenly, his voice carrying a sharp edge as he reaches across to snatch one of your fries, popping it into his mouth with more force than necessary. His blue eyes darken with barely contained irritation, especially when he catches Topper's wave from across the room. He returns it with a curt nod, his attention immediately returning to you. "You know there's perfectly good schools right here in North Carolina. UNC's got a decent program."

You glance up from your binder, your eyes meeting Rafe's intense blue ones. You set down your fork carefully on your half-eaten Caesar salad, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The sunlight streaming through the country club's windows catches on your hair, creating a halo effect around your skin. "Baby, we've talked about this," you say gently, "These schools have amazing programs for what I want to study. And it's not like I'm making any decisions yet - I'm just looking at options."

The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on his rings as he reaches up to run a hand through his disheveled hair, a telltale sign of his growing agitation. The country club bustles around them with the usual crowd of Kooks - women in tennis whites gossiping over martinis, men in polo shirts discussing their latest yacht purchases. But Rafe's focus remains fixed on those damned college applications, his jaw working overtime as he grinds his teeth.

The cocaine from earlier isn't helping his paranoia, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them. The idea of you leaving, of losing control over this one good thing in his life, sends a fresh wave of anxiety through his system. His free hand unconsciously reaches up to rub at his chest, a nervous tick he's developed. The country club suddenly feels too small, too confined, and he can feel his breathing getting slightly erratic. "Just... just put those away for now," he demands, trying to maintain his composure despite the rising panic in his chest. "We're supposed to be having lunch, not planning your fucking escape route."

You reach across the table with your free hand, your fingers brushing against his chest where he's rubbing anxiously. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper - probably remnants of whatever he'd been doing before lunch - fills your nostrils as you lean closer. "Rafe, you're spiraling again," you observe quietly, mindful of the other diners around them. Your eyes flick briefly to Topper and his mother as they pass, offering a polite smile before returning your attention to your increasingly agitated boyfriend. "And you know that's not fair. I'm not trying to escape anything, especially not you."

"Besides," he continues, his tone taking on that manipulative edge he's so good at, "You really want to leave all this behind? The island, the parties, me?" He leans forward, lowering his voice to that dangerous whisper he uses when he's trying to get his way. "You know I can't follow you out there. I've got responsibilities here, the family business..." His hand shoots out to grab your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make his point. "And what about us? You're going to throw away what we have for some fancy degree you could get right here?"

The weight of his intense stare makes you shift in your seat, your sundress rustling against the plush cushions. You can see the telltale signs of his growing panic - the clenched jaw, the rapid breathing, the way his fingers keep twitching against the table. Part of you wants to close the binder, to give in like you usually do when he gets like this. But another part, the part that's been dreaming about life beyond the island since you were little, keeps your hand steady on the applications. "What about a compromise?" you suggest, your voice taking on that soothing tone you learned to use when he's on edge. "What if I apply to both - some schools here in North Carolina and some out of state? That way we have options to discuss later?"

Your free hand moves from his chest to his face, your thumb gently stroking along his clenched jaw. You can feel the tension there, the way he's grinding his teeth. The chatter of the country club fades into background noise as you focus solely on him, knowing how quickly his mood can shift when he feels cornered. "And hey," you add, your voice dropping to a whisper as you lean even closer, your lips quirking into a small smile, "No matter where I end up going, you know you're the only one I want, right? These other Kook boys could never compare to my Rafe Cameron."

The familiar weight of the promise ring he gave you three months ago sits heavy on your finger, catching the light as you move. You learned over your time together that sometimes Rafe needs this - needs to be reminded that he's your choice, that you're his. Even if the possessiveness sometimes scares you, even if his mood swings leave you walking on eggshells, you can't deny the way your heart still races when he looks at you like he is now - like you're something precious he's terrified of losing. "Can we at least look through them together? You might see something you like too."

Rafe lets go of your wrist his hand shooting out to slam your binder shut with enough force to make nearby diners jump. "Don't fucking patronize me," he growls, his voice low and threatening despite their public setting. The gentle stroke of your thumb against his jaw only heightens his agitation, like a match to gasoline. "You think I don't see what this is?" He leans forward, invading your space across the table, his blue eyes wild with a mixture of possessiveness and barely contained rage. "First it's just 'looking at options,' then suddenly you're gone, probably fucking some ivy league asshole who doesn't know you like I do." His breathing becomes more erratic, the hand on his chest pressing harder as anxiety mingles with his growing anger. The familiar scent of your perfume - usually calming - now seems to mock him with its potential absence.

"You're trying to leave me, just like everyone else. Just like my mom, just like Sarah..." His voice cracks slightly on his sister's name before hardening again. "Well, I won't fucking let you."

You tense at the sudden shift in Rafe's demeanor, your heart rate picking up as you watch him slam your binder shut. The warmth drains from your eyes, replaced by a flicker of fear you try desperately to hide. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as he invades your space, his paranoia rolling off him in waves. You’ve seen him like this before, but never quite this intense, never quite this threatening in such a public place.

"Rafe, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you glance around at the other diners who are now openly staring at them. Your sundress suddenly feels too thin, too exposed under his wild-eyed gaze. You can smell the mixture of his cologne and sweat, and see the way his pupils are dilated - clear signs he's high again. "You're making a scene. Can we please just discuss this somewhere private?" 

A laugh escapes his throat at your suggestion of talking, the sound drawing more concerned glances from nearby tables. "Discuss? There's nothing to fucking discuss." His voice takes on that manipulative tone he knows works so well, mixing threat with vulnerability. "You belong here, with me. Do you think any of those places are gonna love you like I do? Understand you like I do?" His eyes flick to the promise ring on your finger, a visible reminder of his claim on you. "Or maybe that's what you want - to get away from the crazy boyfriend, right? Is that what this is about?"

The cocaine-fueled paranoia reaches a crescendo as he suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He towers over you, his presence intimidating despite the public setting. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans down close to your ear. "And if you try, I'll make sure every single one of those fancy schools loses your application. Don't test me, baby." His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, a twisted mixture of threat and affection that's purely him. "Now get your shit. We're leaving." His hand moves to grip your upper arm, ready to pull you up from your chair, his entire body vibrating with barely contained violence and possessive need.

The promise ring feels like it's burning on your finger as tears start to well up in your eyes. "I'm not trying to leave you," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. I'm not trying to leave you, I love you, Rafe. You know I do. But you're hurting me right now." You can feel your body starting to shake, whether from fear or adrenaline, you're not sure anymore.

You let him pull you to your feet, knowing resistance will only make things worse. Your college applications lay forgotten on the table as you stumble slightly, your legs weak from the sudden movement. "Okay," you concede, your voice small and defeated. "Okay, we can go. Just... please calm down. Please." Your free hand comes up to rest on his chest again, feeling his racing heartbeat under your palm. "Let's go to your family's place and talk about this properly. Just you and me, baby. Like we always do."

Rafe feels you trembling beneath his grip, and something in your tear-filled eyes pierces through his cocaine-addled rage. His breathing is still erratic, but the feel of your hand against his racing heart starts to ground him. The familiar scent of your perfume begins to cut through the paranoid haze, reminding him of lazy mornings in his bed, of your soft sighs against his neck. His grip on your arm loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go completely.

"Fuck," he mutters, running his free hand through his disheveled hair as reality starts seeping back in. The stares of the other country club patrons finally register, and he can feel his father's disapproval even in his absence. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he struggles to regain control. "Yeah... yeah, okay. Let's go home." His voice is still rough, but the dangerous edge has dulled somewhat. He reaches past you to grab your binder, shoving it under his arm - he's not leaving it here for you to come back to later.

The walk to his truck is tense, his hand moving from your arm to the small of your back - still possessive, but less aggressive. The cocaine is making him jittery, his thoughts racing between paranoia and guilt. Once you're inside his truck, he slams his palms against the steering wheel, making you jump. "I just..." he starts, his voice cracking slightly. "I can't lose you too, baby. I can't." His blue eyes, when they meet yours, are still wild but now tinged with desperation rather than rage. "Everyone leaves. Everyone always fucking leaves."

He reaches across the center console to pull you closer, burying his face in your neck. His breathing is still uneven, but slower now as he inhales your scent. "Stay," he whispers against your skin, his voice taking on that vulnerable quality that only you get to hear. "Just... stay with me. Please." His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. It's the closest thing to an apology you’re likely to get from him, this moment of raw vulnerability between the storms of his temper.

Rafe paces anxiously across Topper's home gym, his footsteps echoing against the polished hardwood floors as sweat drips down his bare chest from their workout session. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the expensive exercise equipment. His muscles are tense not just from lifting weights, but from the constant anxiety gnawing at his insides about your potential departure. The cocaine from earlier is still coursing through his system, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them.

"I'm telling you guys, she's fucking leaving me," he complains, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he continues his relentless pacing. The familiar panic starts rising in his chest again, making him rub at it absently. "All these fucking college applications... Harvard, Yale, Princeton. She's planning her escape and I can't... I can't fucking let that happen." His blue eyes are wild as they dart between Kelce and Topper, sprawled across the leather bench press seats, watching their friend's mounting distress.

Kelce exchanges a knowing look with Topper before speaking up, his voice careful as he watches Rafe's increasingly agitated movements. "Man, you need to chill. Maybe if you weren't so fucking intense about it-" Rafe's sharp laugh cuts him off, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls. "Intense? You think I'm being intense?" Rafe's voice rises as he spins to face them, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My girl's trying to leave the fucking state, and you're telling me to chill?"

"Well," Topper drawls, wiping his face with a monogrammed towel, "you could always do what my cousin did when his girlfriend tried to leave for college." He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk playing on his lips. "Got her knocked up. Can't exactly go to Yale with a baby on the way, can you?" He's clearly joking, but something in Rafe's expression shifts, his eyes taking on that dangerous gleam that appears when he's formulating a plan.

"That's..." Rafe stops pacing, his mind racing with possibilities. His jaw clenches rhythmically as he processes the idea. "That's fucking perfect." He starts pacing again, but this time with purpose, his movements predatory rather than anxious. "She'd have to stay. She'd be tied to me forever." His voice takes on that obsessive quality that appears when he's fixating on something. "No more fucking college applications, no more threats of leaving. She'd be mine, completely mine."

"Dude," Kelce sits up straighter, realizing Rafe's actually considering it. "I don't think that's what Topper meant-" But Rafe's already lost in his world, his cocaine-fueled paranoia latching onto this new solution like a lifeline. "She's still a virgin too," he continues, more to himself than his friends, his rings catching the light as he gestures animatedly. "Waiting for the 'right moment' or some shit. Well, guess that moment's coming sooner than she thought."

"No, no, this could work," Rafe continues, his voice taking on that edge that suggests he's spiraling into one of his episodes. "Her parents are traditional as fuck, they'd make her keep it. And Ward's always going on about wanting grandkids to carry on the Cameron name..." He's fully pacing now, his movements jerky and aggressive as the plan solidifies in his mind. "She's been hinting about wanting to do it soon anyway. Valentine's Day is coming up..."

The gym falls silent except for the sound of Rafe's footsteps and heavy breathing. Neither Kelce nor Topper dare speak, knowing from experience that trying to talk Rafe down when he's like this - especially when he's high - is pointless and potentially dangerous. They watch as their friend works himself into a frenzy, plotting the permanent capture of his girlfriend with the same intense focus he applies to everything he wants to possess.

"It's perfect," Rafe finally declares, stopping his pacing to face his friends. His chest heaves with excited breaths, sweat making his skin shine in the fading sunlight. "She'll never leave me then. She'll have to stay here, raise our kid, be the perfect fucking family." 

The thought of you, permanently his, unable to leave him, sends a rush of possessive pleasure through his system. "You guys didn't hear any of this," he suddenly stops, fixing both Kelce and Topper with a threatening stare. "Not a fucking word to anyone, got it?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that reminds them why people are scared of him, why even other Kooks think twice before crossing him.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe," Topper mutters, running a hand through his hair as he watches his friend's descent into this new obsession. "This is fucked up, even for you." But he knows that look in Rafe's eyes. Once Rafe sets his mind to something, especially when he's high, there's no talking him out of it. The gym feels smaller suddenly, charged with the energy of Rafe's newfound determination.

Rafe stands at the door of the l/n estate, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in his tailored black suit. His blue eyes are slightly dilated from the line of cocaine he did in his truck to calm his nerves, but he's made sure to eye drop and cologne himself thoroughly. The velvet box containing the surprise he has planned for later weighs heavy in his pocket as he shifts anxiously, his rings catching the light as he reaches up to adjust his tie.

When Paul opens the door, Rafe immediately straightens his posture, forcing his most charming smile - the one he uses when he needs to impress. "Good evening, Mr. L/N," he greets, his voice steady despite the cocaine making his heart race. The older man's scrutinizing gaze reminds him uncomfortably of his own father's disapproving stares. The foyer behind Paul gleams with old money - crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and family portraits that speak of generations of Kook legacy.

"Rafe," Paul acknowledges with a slight nod, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the young man's appearance. There's something about Ward Cameron's son that has always set him on edge, though he can't quite put his finger on what. Maybe it's the occasional wild look in his eyes or the way his daughter seems to walk on eggshells around him sometimes. "Y/N is still getting ready. Come in." He steps aside, allowing Rafe into the pristine foyer.

The sound of Rafe's expensive dress shoes echoes against the marble as he enters, his hands sliding into his pockets to hide their slight tremor - partly from the drugs, partly from anticipation of what he has planned for tonight. The house smells of old money and fresh flowers, much like his own family's estate, but somehow more sterile, fitting for a plastic surgeon's home. His fingers brush against the small packet of powder in his pocket, next to the ring box - just enough to keep him steady through dinner.

"I trust you'll have her home at a reasonable hour," Paul's voice cuts through Rafe's thoughts, making him turn to face the older man. "Of course, sir," Rafe responds, that practiced smile still in place even as his jaw clenches slightly. "We just have reservations at Le Rivage, then maybe a walk on the beach." What he doesn't mention is the rest of his plans for the evening - the champagne waiting in his truck, the blankets he's laid out at his secret spot on the beach, the pills dissolved in one of the champagne glasses that will make sure everything goes according to plan.

The sound of heels on marble draws both men's attention to the grand staircase, and Rafe's breath catches in his throat. You descend like something out of a dream, your skin glowing against the deep red of your dress making his hands itch with the need to touch you. His blue eyes darken as they track your movement, his mind already racing ahead to later in the evening, to all the ways he plans to claim you completely.

"You look fucking perfect," he breathes out when you reach the bottom of the stairs, catching himself too late to censor his language in front of your father. But he can't help it - the cocaine making him more impulsive than usual, and the sight of you making his blood run hot. He steps forward to meet you, one hand reaching out to brush against your waist, proprietary and possessive even under your father's watchful gaze. The scent of your perfume mingles with the lingering chemical taste in the back of his throat, making him dizzy with want and anticipation.

Tonight's the night, he thinks, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as Paul insists on taking pictures. Tonight you become his completely, permanently. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. The thought makes him pull you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Ready for your Valentine's surprise, baby?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that anyone else would recognize as a warning, but he knows his sweet, innocent Y/N won't catch it. Not until it's too late.

Rafe helps you into his truck, his hand lingering possessively on your lower back as you climb in. The interior smells of expensive leather and his cologne, mixed with something chemical that makes you wrinkle your nose slightly. He slides into the driver's seat, his movements are precise despite the cocaine coursing through his system. The engine purrs to life, and he immediately reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away from your family's estate.

"You really do look fucking incredible tonight," he murmurs, his blue eyes flickering between you and the road. His thumb traces circles on your palm, a gesture that would seem sweet if not for the slight tremor in his hand. "That dress is driving me crazy." His rings catch the streetlights as you drive through Figure 8, passing other massive estates and perfectly manicured lawns.

"Thank you, baby," You respond softly, your free hand smoothing down the red fabric of your dress. "You clean up pretty nice yourself." You glance at him, admiring how the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp jawline. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner? You've been so secretive about tonight."

Rafe's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "It's a surprise, remember?" His voice carries that edge of control he can never quite hide. "But first..." He reaches behind your seat with his free hand, pulling out a small gift bag. "I got you something to wear at dinner." Inside is a delicate diamond necklace, the stones catching the light like tiny stars.

"Oh, Rafe," You breathe, reaching for the necklace. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to-" You are cut off by his laugh, that sharp sound that always makes your stomach flip. "Of course I did. Only the best for my girl." He pulls into a secluded spot overlooking the water, putting the truck in park. "Here, let me put it on you."

His hands are slightly unsteady as he fastens the necklace around your throat, his breath hot against your neck. "Perfect," he whispers, his fingers trailing down your spine. "Just like you'll be after tonight." There's something in his voice that makes you shiver, though you can't quite place why. "What do you mean?" you ask, turning to face him.

Rafe's eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. "Just that I've got big plans for us, baby." His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Tonight's gonna change everything." He leans in closer, his other hand sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do," You whisper, even as something in your gut tells you something's off. You can feel his heart racing where your bodies are pressed together and you can smell something sharp and chemical on his breath beneath the mint. "Rafe, are you okay? You seem...different tonight."

"Never better," he responds, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Just excited to give you all your surprises." His hand moves higher up your thigh, possessive and demanding. "Now, how about we have a little drink before dinner? To celebrate Valentine's Day?" He reaches behind the seat again, pulling out an expensive bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Rafe pours the champagne with calculated precision, his hands steadier now as he hands you your specially prepared glass. The moonlight filtering through the truck's windows catches the diamond necklace at your throat, reminding him of how perfectly it marks you as his. His blue eyes track your every movement as you accept the glass, noting how the red fabric of your dress has ridden up slightly from your position.

"To us," he proposes, raising his glass with that dangerous smile playing at his lips. The cocaine makes everything feel more intense - the way your perfume fills the confined space of his truck, the soft sound of your breathing, the sight of your lips touching the rim of the glass. He watches intently as you take a sip, something predatory flickering in his eyes. "And to all the surprises tonight has in store."

"Mmm, this is really good," You comment, taking another sip. You don’t notice how Rafe barely touches his glass, too focused on watching your drink. "But shouldn't we head to dinner? We don't want to lose our reservation." You move to check the time on your phone, but Rafe's hand shoots out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with practiced possessiveness.

"We've got time," he assures you, his voice dropping lower as he leans closer. His free hand comes up to trace the line of the necklace, fingers ghosting over your collarbone. "Besides, I want to enjoy this moment. Just you and me." He can feel your pulse racing under his fingers where they press against your wrist. "Finish your drink, baby. Then we can talk about dinner."

He watches as you obediently take another sip, then another. "You know what I love about you, Y/N?" His voice is rough now, heavy with want and something darker. "How fucking perfect you are. How innocent." His fingers trace patterns on your inner thigh, making you shiver. "How you trust me completely."

"Rafe," you breathe, and he notices your words are slightly slurred now. Your eyes are starting to look unfocused as you blink slowly at him. "I feel... strange." The champagne glass slips from your fingers, but he catches it smoothly, setting it aside. His heart is racing with a mixture of cocaine-fueled excitement and dark anticipation.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, pulling you closer as you start to sway slightly. "I've got you. Always got you." His lips brush against your neck, just above the diamond necklace. "And after tonight, you'll always be mine. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving." His voice takes on that possessive edge that would normally frighten you, but the drugs in your system are making everything feel distant and hazy.

"What did you..." you try to ask, your head falling back against the seat as your limbs grow heavy. Rafe's hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the drugs take effect. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making his expression look almost demonic as he smiles down at you.

"Just making sure tonight goes exactly as planned," he whispers, his other hand already reaching for the blankets he has stashed behind the seats. "Don't fight it, baby. Just let go. Let me take care of everything." His lips crash against yours, swallowing any protest you might have made as the drugs pull you deeper under their influence.

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your movements become increasingly sluggish, your normally bright eyes growing heavy-lidded and unfocused. He shifts in his seat, reaching to recline both of your seats back to create more space in the truck's cabin. The moonlight streaming through the windows casts ethereal shadows across your skin as he positions your body how he wants.

"Rafe..." you mumble, your voice thick and confused as he spreads the blankets beneath you. "What's happening? I feel so..." Your word trails off as he captures your lips in another possessive kiss, his hands already working at the zipper of your red dress.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers against your mouth, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. "Let me take care of you." His fingers trace the newly exposed skin of your back, savoring how you shiver under his touch despite your drugged state. "You look so fucking perfect like this. So helpless. So mine."

Rafe's hands slide possessively over your body as he peels the red dress from your drugged form, revealing the black underwear underneath. His blue eyes darken with predatory hunger as he drinks in the sight of you laid out beneath him in his truck, the diamond necklace glinting at your throat like a collar. The softness of your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, the little whimpers that escape your lips as you try to fight through the fog in your mind.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, his voice rough with desire as his hands roam over your exposed flesh. "Just let it happen. You know you want this." His fingers trace the edge of your lacy bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the delicate fabric. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment. To make you completely mine."

"Rafe, please," You slurred, weakly trying to push at his chest. "Something's wrong... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth crashing against yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips as his hand slides between your thighs. He groans when he feels how wet you are through your panties, his cock straining against his suit pants.

"Look how ready you are for me," he rubs circles against your clit through the lace. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind's trying to fight it." He pulls back to admire his handiwork - your lips swollen from his kisses, your pupils blown wide from the drugs, your chest heaving as you struggle to focus. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna put my baby in you tonight."

Rafe’s fingers hook into your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs as you weakly try to squeeze your thighs together. The moonlight catches on the wetness between your legs, making him groan. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he breathes, his fingers spreading you open. "All perfect and untouched. Not for long though." 

Rafe's fingers work methodically between your thighs, spreading your wetness as he watches your face contort with unwilling pleasure. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his rings cold against your feverish skin. The truck's windows are starting to fog up from your heavy breathing, creating a private cocoon around you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, sliding two fingers into you, feeling how tight you are around them. "Gonna stretch you out nice and slow before I fuck a baby into you." His cock throbs painfully in his pants as he watches you arch beneath him, the drugs making you more responsive even as you try to resist.

"No... Rafe... please," You whimper, your head thrashing weakly against the leather seat. But your body betrays you, hips rocking against his skilled fingers as he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as you gasp, reminding him of his ownership.

"Look at you, taking my fingers so well," he praises darkly, adding a third finger to stretch you further. "Can't wait to feel this tight little cunt around my cock." His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that make your whole body tremble. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Make sure my cum stays deep inside you until it takes."

The way your walls clench around his fingers, the little sounds you make as he works your body, the perfect arch of your back as you fight between pleasure and resistance. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out.

"Please," you beg, though whether you're begging him to stop or continue, even you don’t know anymore. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing from his touch as the drugs make everything feel more intense. "Rafe... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, curling his fingers inside you as his thumb speeds up on your clit. "Come on my fingers like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cock." His blue eyes are wild with possession as he watches you fall apart beneath him, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never be able to leave him. 

Rafe’s fingers work relentlessly between your thighs. His free hand moves from your wrists to grip your throat, right above the diamond necklace, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my fingers."

Your body betrays you even as your mind tries to resist, waves of unwilling pleasure building under his skilled touch. The drugs make everything feel heightened - the stretch of his fingers inside you, the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the heat of his breath against your neck. Your legs start to tremble as you approach your peak.

"That's it, baby," He watches your face contort with pleasure and confusion. His cock strains painfully against his suit pants, demanding attention. But he forces himself to wait, to savor this moment of taking your innocence piece by piece. "Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel."

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the truck's cabin, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working between your legs. Rafe's eyes are dark with possession as he watches you fight against the inevitable, knowing that each moment brings him closer to his ultimate goal. The moonlight catches on the sweat beading on your skin, making you glow ethereally.

"I... I can't..." You whimper, your back arching off the seat as pleasure builds to an unbearable level. The drugs make everything feel like too much and not enough all at once. "Rafe, please..." Your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders. "You can, and you will," he commands, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that brooks no argument. His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars while his thumb circles your clit with practiced precision. "Come for me now. Let me feel it."

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your body trembles beneath him, your back arching off the leather seat as pleasure builds. His fingers work relentlessly inside your pussy, stretching and preparing you for what's to come. The way your walls clench around his digits, the little gasps and moans you can't hold back, the perfect arch of your spine as you fight between resistance and ecstasy.

"That's my good girl," his free hand moving from your throat to grip your hair, forcing you to look at him. "Watch me while you come. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you fall apart." His thumb continues its relentless assault on your clit as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed with drugs and unwilling pleasure. The moonlight catches the tears gathering in your lashes as you stare up at him, unable to look away from his intense blue gaze. Your lips part in a silent scream as the pressure builds to an unbearable level, your body tightening around his fingers.

"Please," Her hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, leaving crescent marks through his expensive shirt. "Rafe, I can't... it's too much..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, his voice rough with desire and dominance. "Come for me now, baby. Show me how good I make you feel." His fingers speed up inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the truck's cabin. "Let go. Let me see you fall apart before I fuck you properly."

The combination of his skilled fingers, the drugs in your system, and his commanding voice finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body goes rigid as pleasure crashes through you, walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you come with a broken cry of his name. 

"Beautiful," he breathes, working you through the aftershocks as you tremble beneath him. "But we're not done yet, baby. Not even close." His free hand moves to his belt, the sound of the buckle loud in the confined space. "Now it's time for the main event. Time to make you completely mine."

Rafe takes his time unbuckling his belt, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space of his truck. His blue eyes never leave your face as he watches you come down from your high, your body still trembling with aftershocks. Your chest heaves with each breath, the glisten of sweat on your skin, the slight quiver of your thighs as they remain spread for him.

"Look at you," he grunts, finally freeing his throbbing cock from his pants. "All fucked out from just my fingers, and we haven't even gotten to the best part yet." His hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly as he positions himself between your legs. The head of his cock brushes against your sensitive folds, making you whimper. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment."

"Rafe," You slur, your drugged mind struggling to focus as you feel his size pressing against your entrance. "Wait... I'm not ready..." Your weak protests only serve to fuel his desire, his grip tightening on your hip as he holds you in place. The diamond necklace at your throat catches the moonlight as you try to shift away.

"You're more than ready, baby," he counters, using his free hand to spread your wetness along his length. "Your body's begging for it. Been begging for it all night." He leans down, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss as he starts to push inside your entrance. The stretch is intense, making you gasp against his mouth. "Gonna make you take every fucking inch."

His cock inches forward slowly, savoring the way your walls resist his invasion. The truck's windows are completely fogged now, creating a private world for just the two of you. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he feels your tight heat enveloping him, his control starting to slip. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises. "Taking my cock so well, just like I knew you would."

Tears stream down your cheeks as he stretches you open, the mixture of pain and drugged pleasure making your head spin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. "Almost there, baby," he pants against your neck, his hips still pushing forward relentlessly. "Just a little more and you'll have all of me." His free hand slides between them to rub your clit, knowing the added stimulation will help your body accept him. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum, make sure it takes. Make sure you can never leave me."

Rafe's hips finally meet yours as he bottoms out inside you, a groan of satisfaction rumbling deep in his chest. Your walls flutter around his length as you adjust to being completely filled for the first time. The truck's cabin is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the leather seats creaking beneath them with each subtle movement.

"There we go," he pants against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands grip your hips possessively as he holds himself still, savoring the moment. "Been dreaming about this for so fucking long, baby. About claiming you completely." You whimper beneath him, your mind is hazy from the drugs as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks, your fingers clutch weakly at his shoulders as you feel him throb inside you.

"Please," you manage to gasp, though your drugged state makes it hard to form coherent thoughts. "It's too much... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth capturing yours in a demanding kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as his cock has invaded your body.

"Yes, you can," his hips starting to move in shallow thrusts. "And you will. Gonna fuck a baby into you tonight, make sure you can never leave me." His movements gradually become deeper, and more purposeful, as he establishes a rhythm. "Watch me while I do it. Want to see those pretty eyes when I breed you." One hand slides from your hip to grip your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. "That's it," he praises darkly as your body starts to respond despite your protests. "Take it like a good girl. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Rafe's movements become more intense, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force as he chases his release. The truck rocks with your movements, his hands grip your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into you, watching with dark satisfaction as pleasure and pain war across your drugged features.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," he groans, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat just above the diamond necklace. "So fucking tight around my cock. Like you were made for this." His thumb traces your bottom lip as he continues his relentless pace. "Made to take my cum, to carry my baby."

Your head thrashes weakly against the leather seat, your body overwhelmed by the mix of drugs and unwilling pleasure. Your walls clench around him involuntarily as another orgasm builds, making him grunt with satisfaction. "That's it, baby," he praises darkly. "Squeeze my cock just like that. Show me how much your body wants this." His free hand moves between them to rub your clit, determined to make you come around his cock. "Gonna fill you up so good," he pants, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he nears his release. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it takes. Make sure everyone knows you belong to me." His fingers speed up on your clit as he feels your walls starting to flutter. "Come for me now, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy milk my cock."

Rafe's grip tightens on your hips as he feels his release building, his thrusts becoming more desperate and erratic. "That's it, baby," feeling your walls clench around him as another orgasm builds in your drugged body. "Come on my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cum." Your back arches off the seat as pleasure crashes through you against your will, your walls squeezing his length rhythmically. The sight of you coming undone beneath him finally pushes Rafe over the edge. With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your pussy. "Fuck," he pants against your neck, grinding his hips to ensure his cum stays deep inside. "All mine now."

He collapses on top of you for a moment, both of you catching your breath in the steamy confines of his truck. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as he finally pulls out, watching with dark satisfaction as his release drips from your used pussy. "No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. You're stuck with me now, baby." Without a word, he starts fixing his clothes, already planning your next encounter in his mind. 

"Let's get you home, baby," he says, his voice rough as he helps you dress on shaky legs. "Don't want your daddy getting suspicious." His hand rests possessively on your thigh as he starts the truck, knowing that after tonight, everything has changed. The drive back is silent except for your occasional whimpers, the drugs still making your head fuzzy as she processes what just happened.

A week later,  

Rafe lounges against his truck at the Boneyard, The beach is relatively empty at this hour, just a few surfers catching the last waves of the day. His blue eyes track your movement, noting how pale you look, and how your usual confident stride seems shakier. A smirk plays at his lips, though he keeps his expression carefully neutral.

"Hey baby," he calls out, pushing off the truck to meet you. His hands immediately find your waist, pulling you close as he studies your face. "You sounded weird on the phone. Everything okay?" The concern in his voice is perfectly crafted, masking the satisfaction he feels as he takes in your distressed state.

Your hands tremble as you pull away from his embrace, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. "Rafe, I... I need to tell you something." Your voice cracks slightly as you speak, tears already gathering in your eyes. "I went to the doctor today..."

"What's wrong?" Rafe steps closer, his hand coming up to cup your face with practiced gentleness. Inside, his heart races with anticipation, but his expression remains one of innocent concern. "You've been sick all week. Did they figure out what's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper, the words carried away by the ocean breeze. Your eyes search his face desperately for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembers your Valentine's night. "But I don't... I can't remember... The last thing I clearly remember is having champagne in your truck..."

Rafe's eyes widen in perfectly feigned shock, his hand dropping from your face as he takes a step back. "You're... what?" He runs a hand through his hair, the picture of a young man receiving unexpected news. "But we've never... I mean, I thought you wanted to wait?" His voice carries just the right amount of confusion and disbelief.

"That's just it," Your voice rises slightly, panic evident in your tone. "I don't remember! Valentine's Day is just... fuzzy. But the doctor said I'm about a week along, and you're the only one I've been with..." you trail off, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

Rafe pulls you into his arms, hiding his triumphant smile in your hair. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, one hand moving to rest possessively over your still-flat stomach. "We'll figure this out together. I'm here for you, baby. Always." His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge you're too distraught to notice. "Guess those college applications won't be necessary anymore, huh?"

His hand tightens possessively around your waist as you tremble against him, his other hand still resting on your stomach where his child is growing. The setting sun casts long shadows across the beach, the sound of waves providing a backdrop to your quiet sobs. His blue eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he feels you collapse further into his embrace, exactly where he wants you.

"What am I going to tell my parents?" You whisper against his chest, your voice breaking. "My dad... he's going to kill me. And all my college plans..." You pull back slightly to look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks. "Rafe, I can't remember anything from that night. How did this happen?"

Rafe's jaw clenches as he maintains his facade of confusion and concern. "Hey, look at me," he demands softly, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Your parents love you. And my family... well, Ward's always talking about wanting grandkids." His thumb wipes away your tears as he studies your face. "Maybe this is a good thing, you know? You and me, starting our own family."

"But I had plans," you protest weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. "Harvard, Yale... I was supposed to get out of Outer Banks..." You don’t even notice how his grip tightens painfully at your words or the flash of possessive anger in his eyes.

"Fuck those plans," he growls, before quickly softening his tone. "I mean, things change, right? Sometimes for the better." His hand slides up to cup your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "You've got me now. Got us. Isn't that better than some fancy college where you don't know anyone?" He’s super hyper-focused on every detail - the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, how your body fits perfectly against his, the slight swell of your breasts that's already becoming noticeable. His other hand remains possessively on your stomach, imagining how it will grow with his child.

"I'm scared," You admit, your voice small against the sound of crashing waves. "Everything's happening so fast, and I can't remember... that night is just blank, Rafe. Doesn't that bother you?" You search his face for any sign of recognition, any hint of guilt.

But Rafe's expression remains carefully crafted a mixture of concern and determination. "What bothers me is seeing you upset," he lies smoothly, pulling you closer. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You and me and our baby. "No more talk about leaving, though. You belong here, with me. Got it?"

"We should tell our parents soon," he says, his voice carrying that edge of control he can never quite hide. "Get everything out in the open. But first, promise me something, baby. Promise me you'll stop looking at those college applications."

Your eyes widen with fresh tears as you stare up at him. "But Rafe, I can't just give up everything I've worked for..." Your voice trails off as his grip tightens slightly on your chin, his blue eyes darkening with barely contained possession.

"Those dreams were for the old Y/N," he states firmly, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "The one who didn't have a family to think about. Things are different now." His other hand presses harder against your stomach, a reminder of what's growing inside of you. "You've got bigger responsibilities. To me. To our baby."

The waves crash against the shore behind them as silence stretches between them. Rafe can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers where they rest against your throat and can see the moment you start to break under the weight of reality. His plan is working perfectly - soon you’ll be completely his, tied to him forever through your child.

"I... I need time to think," You finally whisper, trying to step back from his embrace. But Rafe's grip remains firm, keeping you close as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. His expression shifts into something darker, more possessive.

"No more thinking," One of his hands slid up to tangle in your hair. "No more plans that don't include me. You're mine now, Y/N. The sooner you accept that, the better." His voice carries a threat wrapped in velvet as he stares down at you. "Or should we talk about how convenient it is that you can't remember Valentine's Day?"

Rafe's threat hangs heavy in the air as your face drains of color. His fingers tighten in your hair, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. The darkened beach feels suddenly oppressive as he towers over your trembling form.

"What... what do you mean?" You whisper, your voice is small and frightened as you search his face. The familiar warmth in his blue eyes has been replaced by something cold and calculating that makes your stomach turn.

"You really want to know what happened that night?" he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His hand slides from your stomach to your hip possessively. "Want me to tell you exactly how I made sure you'd never leave me? How I watched you drink that champagne, knowing what was in it?"

You try to pull away, but his grip is iron-tight as realization dawns on your face. "No," she breathes, shaking her head in denial. "You wouldn't... you couldn't..." But the predatory smile spreading across his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I did," he confirms, pulling you closer until your faces are inches apart. "And now you're carrying my baby. No more college applications. No more dreams of leaving. You're mine forever now, baby." His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek with mock tenderness. "And if you ever think about telling anyone... well, who's going to believe the girl who can't remember her own Valentine's Day?"

The waves crash behind them as your world crumbles around you. You can feel the weight of the promise ring on your finger - once a symbol of love, now feeling more like a shackle. Rafe watches you process everything with dark satisfaction, knowing he's won completely.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask through your tears, your voice breaking on the single word. The hand in your hair tightens as Rafe's expression turns almost tender, though his eyes remain cold.

"Because you're mine," he states simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I take care of what's mine. You'll see, baby. This is better than any fancy college could ever be." His hand moves to rest on your stomach again, possessive and threatening all at once. "Our little family, together forever in Outer Banks. Just like it should be."

[surgepricing]

I think about Azula shooters often and their common refrain of "if Azula hadn't had a mental breakdown, she would've won" and I'm here to tell you that no, she wouldn't have.

There is no universe in which Azula was winning that fight with Zuko (or Katara, for that matter).

Azula spent so much of Book 2 being built up as this deadly terrifying force against whom the heroes are badly outmatched that it can be difficult to catch exactly how quickly Zuko is advancing.

Back up a bit to Book One. For the fearsome exiled crown prince of the Fire Nation, Zuko's not that impressive a firebender. He's not bad by any stretch, and he's able to lay the untrained Sokka and Katara flat pretty easily. Then he gets in the ring with Aang, who is an airbending master, and the difference between a regular bender and a master becomes apparent when Aang literally puts his ass to bed:

People have attributed this to the fact that no one's fought an airbender in 100 years, but I think it's also worth noting that Aang (a 12 year old from a pacifist nation) has probably never fought anyone before. Like, ever. And yet the second Aang thinks "okay, I'll attack back", the fight's over.

Zuko's got the same genetic predisposition for firebending talent that Azula does, yet it never seems to manifest because of his mental blocks. At the beginning of the series, he's already so beat down that all he really has is conviction, pride, and anger, so even with training from Iroh (the firebending master, thank you very much), he struggles. Yet throughout Book 2, when he has no time to train because he's on the run, he actually seems to advance faster. The fact that his bending is literally tied to his character arc (as his morals become tangled and he has to fight off aforementioned mental blocks) is pretty brilliant. Like, by the time of the Crossroads of Destiny, Zuko getting his ass handed to him by Aang is a pretty consistent feature of the show--he just can't match wits with him.

Hell, at the beginning of the series, he and Iroh (again: the actual firebending master) launch a combined power surface-to-air attack...which Aang casually swats away into a nearby ice wall. Come the Crossroads of Destiny, however, and Zuko by himself launches this bigass fireball that blows through Aang's defenses.

Zuko advances so quickly that it's scary. That prodigious talent is in him even if it doesn't come through as cleanly as with Azula. Who, by the way, was busy about to get flattened by Katara some few dozen feet away, until Zuko took over and then effectively stalemated her himself.

All of this in retrospect makes it abundantly clear why Zuko's firebending seemed to skyrocket so much when he learned true firebending from the Sun Warriors: it was really the only thing left. He's hard a hard road learning how to fight waterbenders, earthbenders, and airbenders, and even if unconsciously, he's applying the philosophy Iroh taught him about augmenting his bending style with aspects of other styles (see also, the waterbending-like fire whips he uses in the above gif). Once he actually understands fire and how it works, he's got it mastered. Hence why any gap between him and Azula effectively disappears as soon as their next fight--before her friends have betrayed her and her stability goes out the window. There's no real sense of urgency to their fight at the Boiling Rock prison. True, Sokka's presence with the sword helps, but Zuko doesn't look remotely worried and he counters Azula's every attack perfectly.

All her life, Azula only ever learned fire. She was taught by the best people the fire nation can employ, so she knows all the cool tricks, but she's still poisoned by the corrupted firebending practiced in the modern ATLA timeline. Unlike Zuko, who managed to get the basics if nothing else from Iroh (fire comes from the breath, and can be used to survive as much as to kill), Azula has always used fire as a weapon and a means to hurt others. She has no true knowledge of the craft, meaning she's got the same weaknesses as Zhao, she's just better disciplined to the point she can make up for it.

Zuko's victory was a given considering Azula's complete loss of control by the time of Sozin's comet, but even had she been in a perfect mental state, she'd have lost, because in many ways Zuko is simply the better firebender.

And that's the truth of it.

[thecharacterchronicler]

Bloodline (Part 1) || Ominis Gaunt x Reader || Smut

Outline: Your family arranged for you to marry Marvolo Gaunt. Fortunately, your best friend Ominis steps up and makes sure to save you from such a fate.

Word count: 4’515

Warnings: English isn’t my first language so possible misspelled or misplaced words, arranged marriage, abusive families (mentioned), first time s*x, friends to lovers and explicit smut.

(( Part 2 - Please )) - (( Part 3 - Heirloom )) - (( Masterlist ))

The familiar flip-flap of owls entering the great hall through the windows resounded in Ominis’ ears, excited chatter rising from the students sitting at the tables as, one by one, they received their mail. The sound of paper falling on a wooden surface nearby piqued his curiosity, he didn’t receive letters often, nor did you or Sebastian but an envelope had unmistakably landed in front of one of you.

Your clothes rustled as you moved to take the paper in your hand, tearing apart the top of the envelope as your owl took flight again, its wings almost grazing Ominis’s hair on its way back to the owlery.

Despite the noise of other students all around, Ominis distinctly heard you take a sharp inhale of air, your silence as you read the letter addressed to you feeling somewhat tense.

“Is everything alright ?” He asked you, but you didn’t reply right away, too focused on whatever you were reading.

He waited a few more minutes, noticing the way your legs grew restless and your movements became agitated. You were sitting at the opposite side of the table from him and your foot bumped into his a few times as you nervously readjusted your posture.

He was too polite to insist and didn’t want to push you to share something you might want to keep for yourself, so even though he was dying to question you about the mysterious letter you had received and why its content seemed to upset you, he simply cleared his throat to remind you that he was waiting for an answer to his question.

“It’s a letter from my family.” You explained, with a slight tremble in your voice. “They say that they arranged a partnership for me, effective immediately after graduation.”

“A partnership ? You mean some kind of professional training ?” Sebastian asked, before biting into an apple.

“That would be an internship.” Ominis corrected him, shaking his head. “I think she meant something more intimate than that.”

“Like… A relationship ?” Sebastian inquired, still munching on his fruit.

“A marriage.” You stated, defeated.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“I am not.”

“It’s common for wealthy and powerful families such as hers to arrange weddings, especially if it’s a matter of keeping their bloodline alive and pure.” Ominis explained, a shiver running down his spine. That was something his family did too, they were obsessed with maintaining the quality of their bloodline, suitable matches were carefully chosen, sometimes within their own family members.

“It’s more of a business contract than a marriage.” You added, with a sigh. “And my parents are making it very clear that I don’t have any say in the matter.”

“Do you know who’s the lucky fiancé, though ?” Sebastian asked, seemingly taking such terrible news lightly. Way too lightly. It was a tragedy, really. You deserved better than to be forced into a loveless marriage under the pretense of keeping a bloodline going, securing the pride and superiority of the worst kind of wizards to exist. Maybe Sebastian couldn’t quite grasp the gravity of what you had been asked to do but Ominis knew all too well how you must feel, being robbed of your free will and freedom by a controlling and corrupted family.

“It’s Marvolo Gaunt.” You answered, bluntly, before getting up from your seat on the bench and leaving the great hall in a rush. Although Ominis couldn’t see, he felt the intensity of your gaze piercing right through him, until you were no longer in the room.

His chest tightened and his body tensed at the sound of his older brother’s name. Marvolo probably was the most cruel wizard he knew, aside from their father. Although they shared the same blood, the same family and the same education, Ominis wasn’t afraid to say that his brother was immensely deranged and should have been locked up in Azkaban a long time ago, like the rest of his family actually. The only reason rules didn’t apply to them and they were free to commit the most vile and cruel crimes without facing punishment was because they were Gaunts, descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and held more power and wealth than any other family of wizards in the country.

And now you were going to be one of them.

He couldn’t imagine you, taking part in the cruel acts his family committed for fun. And if you didn’t, they would find a way to punish you for it, just like they had punished him in the past. The Gaunts were dangerous, and you needed to stay away from them, no matter what.

Ominis stood up, reaching for his wand to guide his steps through the corridors and halls of the castle. He needed to find you and he knew his wand would know exactly where to take him. He was racking his brain, trying to find a solution to save you from such a doomed fate as he followed mindlessly the path his wand indicated. Eventually, he found himself outside, in a narrow courtyard. Wind rustled through the leaves of a nearby tree and caressed his face, sending a cold shiver through his body. He couldn’t feel any rays of sunshine warming his skin, meaning it must be a rather cloudy afternoon. He could hear the sound of water moving in the fountain at the center of the courtyard, birds singing in the sky… And soft muffled sobs. His wand twitched, tugging him in your direction.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.” Ominis told you, once he was standing in front of you. He could hear the sobs shaking your body as clear as day but still felt compelled to bring his hand to your face, wiping the warm teardrops away from your cheeks with his thumb. “Marvolo really isn’t a suitable match for you.”

“It’s alright, I knew this day would come eventually. I was just hoping my parents wouldn’t force me into this as soon as I was done with school.” You replied, another teardrop falling from your lashes and rolling down your cheek..

“There must be something we can do about it.” Ominis said, instinctively brushing off the fresh tear from your face. “What if you were engaged to someone else ?”

You laughed although you didn’t find anything amusing about the situation.

“During my seven years here, no one ever courted me, no one attempted to ask me on a date, I have no other prospects. And you know as well as I do that my parents shouldn’t risk angering the Gaunts.”

Ominis furrowed his brows. You were right, if your parents broke their promise to marry you off to one of his siblings, they might not make it out alive. If his parents had arranged for you to be wed to Marvolo, it meant they considered your blood pure enough to perpetuate their dignified bloodline. It was a rare occurrence, usually no one was deemed worthy enough so chances were that they’d do everything in their power to ensure that you’d become a Gaunt now that they had approved of you.

If you broke the arrangement to be with someone else, a wizard of lower class and reputation, his father would take it as an offense and you’d have to pay for such a daring act. If you married Marvolo, then surely he would take advantage of you and of your obligation to satisfy your family and his, he’d be cruel and violent, he wouldn’t care about you and would never treat you with the respect you deserved… There was only one option left.

“Marry me.” Ominis stated, determined.

“What ? What are you saying ?” You spoke, dumbstruck by the sudden suggestion.

“My parents want you to ensure the purity of our bloodline, your parents want you to earn the status and power that come with my last name… So marry me instead.”

“Ominis, you don’t have to. I can’t ask you to do that for me, that’s…” You argued, shaking your head.

“It’s a matter of time before my parents arrange a wedding for me too. I think I’d much rather be married to someone I consider a friend than a stranger they would have picked for me. So really, you’d be the one doing me a favor.” Ominis continued, his heart beating faster as he spoke. He knew it was a good idea, it would save you from Marvolo, from his family and, despite being a Gaunt himself, he would do his best to treat you well. He would never hurt you, never mock you, never give you any reason to regret choosing him instead of his brother…

So please, say yes.

His mother adjusted his tie. She told him that the all black suit she had gotten tailored made for him suited him better than anything he ever wore. She said it brought his blue eyes out, and that everyone would be able to tell that he was one of the heirs of the Gaunt name. Ominis wasn’t sure what was meant to be a compliment and what was meant as a jab, but he simply nodded at everything she said.

By the time he walked down to the garden of the imposing manor, his mother’s arm looped in his, he felt dizzy with anxiety. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst out at any minute. His ribcage felt so tight around his lungs that he could barely breathe correctly, and the more time went by, the more sweaty his hands became.

He could hear the chatter of the numerous guests his parents had invited as they took place around the lectern that had been placed at the very center of the garden. The familiar smell of roses tickled his nose, meaning the white rose bushes must be in full bloom in this season. He could feel the sunshine on his face and the warm summer air on his skin. It was a beautiful day on the gloomy manor.

His mother let go of his arm, leaving him standing on his own in front of what he imagined was an impressive audience of grumpy wizards. He still couldn’t quite catch his breath and, the moment the ambient chatter died down, his throat instantly felt constricted and his body tensed up.

He heard the whispers among the crowd and the footsteps approaching in his direction. It was unmistakably the way of walking of a man, confident and determined while the lighter steps next to his were more hesitant. In the past seven years, Ominis had memorized the sound of your steps. He also could recognize your smell in a crowd and knew exactly how soft your skin felt under his fingers. He could tell if your hair was up or let down from the way you touched and played with it and he knew that the quiet, almost imperceptible breaths you let out meant that you felt nervous. He knew all of this and more yet, he had no idea what it felt like to kiss your lips or hold you in his arms and that felt awfully wrong, considering what you both were about to do.

The man that had accompanied you walked away, leaving you standing with Ominis in front of prying, curious eyes. You didn’t say anything to each other, too busy trying to not pass out from how anxious you both felt. The contract was written and placed on the pupil in front of you, its tricky clauses oozing with dark magic.

It wasn’t just any contract. It was a cursed one, meant to bind you together forever. The words til death do us part took a different meaning as you signed your name at the bottom of the page, knowing that if you ever tried to leave him, you’d most likely be instantly killed by some kind of dark spell that probably was forbidden to cast. The promises you made by signing this contract were definitive and the consequences if you failed to hold them were deadly. At the very least, you both could feel thankful that you weren’t making such vows to a complete stranger.

Ominis signed the parchment too, the ink dripping from the quill dark red like blood. The contract was sealed with applause and illegal magic, making you his wife. For the rest of your lives.

The dinner that followed the ceremony was dull and mostly boring, a display of Mister Gaunt’s power and a lecture on his narrow views about muggles and mudblood wizards, as the guests listened quietly to his speech, nodding in agreement every once in a while. Eventually, Ominis took his leave, pretending that he was exhausted from the events of the day. You excused yourself too, glad to find him waiting for you in the hallway.

He knew the manor he grew up in in details and could navigate it without the help of his wand. He guided you upstairs, through the dark corridor that led to his bedroom. He opened the door for you, letting you step inside first before following you in and shutting the door behind him. He had never had any guest in his bedroom before and that realization made him feel uneasy. He knew that the servants kept his room neat and tidy - just how he liked it - but he wasn’t sure of what you were going to think about the ancient desk he sat at to write his letters to Sebastian, or the books that lined the shelves of bookcases that reached the ceiling. And what about the four poster bed he slept in, he had always found it large and comfortable but suddenly he worried it might be too small to share with you.

“Once we move into our own home we’ll be able to sleep in separate rooms. But for now, I think it’s better if we share mine.” He said, hoping that you wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable here until then.

To convince his parents to let him marry you instead of his brother, he had pretended he was madly, irredeemably in love with you. At first, they didn’t like it, saying that love made men foolish and pushed them to their demise but, eventually, they came to the realization that him wanting you so badly would serve the purpose of continuing their bloodline. Many heirs could be born from such desires.

Now that you were here, in the intimacy of his bedroom, he couldn’t help but think about it. How amazing it would be to kiss you, touch you, make you his as everybody expected him to. But he wouldn’t do it. Mainly because he was a gentleman and had promised himself that he would never, ever, disrespect you. And also because he was determined to not give his parents the satisfaction of having any heirs from him. The Gaunt bloodline was poison, corrupted with dark practices and immorality. Sooner or later, one of them would cause unforgivable chaos in the world, so he was determined to prevent it from happening anyway he could.

“I’m sorry that you had to do this.” You told him, taking a closer look at the books on his nightstand. You sounded sincere, as if you felt guilty that he now had the privilege of calling you his wife. “You should have been able to marry someone you love.”

Ominis had never felt anything remotely close to what was described in the books he read for someone, nor did he experience the crushes Sebastian so often had on a random person every once in a while. The only woman that had somehow interested him was you. He cared about you. And maybe it was an acceptable foundation for a marriage.

“You should have been able to do that too.” You sat on his bed, your wedding dress crunching up above your legs. He approached, heart hammering in his chest. “But for what it’s worth, I consider myself lucky to call you my wife.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand in yours. His palms were sweaty, as per usual when you were around, but you didn’t seem bothered by that, pulling him so that he’d sit on the bed next to you.

“Do you mind if I try something ?” You asked him, a bit hesitantly. He took a sharp inhale of air, his body straightening up with sudden tension. In appearance, he seemed quite uncomfortable to be sitting so close to you, and even more now that you had asked him such a question, but he nodded despite hating being unsure of what to expect.

You moved closer, slowly. Your scent tickled his nose, he knew it by heart, he had fell asleep more than once to the faint perfume you left on the common room’s couch pillows, usually prompting him to dream of you. He felt your soft, warm breath caress his skin, indicating that your face was inching impossibly close towards his. He held his breath as you pressed your delicate lips to his, giving him a chaste kiss to seal your union, far from prying eyes.

He kept his eyes closed when you moved away, conflicted emotions passing on his face. He wasn’t expecting to feel so many tingles in his stomach after such a light and short kiss, yet even now that you had moved away, he still felt millions of butterflies tingling under his skin. He left out the breath he had been holding, taking just enough air to say your name, softly.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You apologized, and he knew from the sound of your voice that you must be blushing.

He had wondered what it would feel like to kiss you too, more than he’d like to admit. A friend shouldn’t be curious about such things, it felt wrong to him, like he was betraying you by having such intimate thoughts about you. He hated how conflicted he felt whenever he woke up with an erection because he had spent the night dreaming of you touching him, and he hated how his primal instinct sometimes took over and he’d end up brushing against your chest or your back under the pretense that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He shouldn’t feel so desperate for his friend to kiss him again, and surely he shouldn’t want to be given permission to explore the body of his friend in details… But perhaps, if such desires weren’t acceptable between friends, they could be considered reasonable ones to have for his wife…

“Don’t apologize, we’re married now after all.” He gulped, feeling the temperature of his body rising. “Kissing is one of the many things that will be expected from us.”

You moved, suddenly growing agitated next to him. He could hear the rustle of the fabric of your wedding dress, the sound of clasps being opened and knots getting untied. He didn’t dare to move, not even breathe, as he carefully listened for a clue as to what you were up to. Then, he felt your hands on his chest, slowly undoing the buttons of his vest, one by one.

“What are you doing ?” He asked, his breath catching in his throat when his hands, resting on his lap, brushed against your bare thighs.

“Another thing that is expected of us.” You simply replied, now dragging his vest down his shoulders, before repeating the same actions to remove his shirt. He heard your surprised, yet quiet, gasp and the way your breathing became labored at the sight of his chest. He felt your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, brushing against the blond hair under his navel and grazing the elastic of his pants.

He said your name in a whisper, wanting it to be a warning but coming out like a desperate plea. You shouldn’t be touching him like this, not because it was what your families required of you. You should only do it because you wanted to. So he knew he had to stop you before it went too far, before he wouldn’t be able to refuse, before his body was set ablaze by his repressed lust for yours otherwise, there would be no way of stopping him anymore. He would consume you. Worship you. Devour you. And his promise to never disrespect you would be just a distant memory already, because none of the things he wanted to do to you were respectable.

But you weren’t making it easy for him to keep his word. Your hand was still tracing the lines of his chest like he was some kind of sculpture you were admiring, taking in every detail like he would. And when you moved to sit on his lap, straddling him and trapping him between you and the bed, he tensed up and groaned.

He brought his hands to your hips, telling himself that he’d gently guide you off of him so that he’d be able to remain a gentleman and not take advantage of the admirable loyalty you had for your family with your determination to complete your marital duties right away, but when he felt nothing but your warm skin under his fingers, when you leaned forward to press your naked chest against his and plant another soft kiss on his lips, the remaining of his will power to resist you dissolved.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, we’re friends.” He said, because that was what he usually told himself whenever he thought about you while rubbing himself in the shower. Except he wasn’t the one gripping on his erection this time. You had easily opened up his pants and now the evidence of his desire for you was held tightly in your hand. Your thumb stroked the tip of his erection, spreading the clear drop of precum that had escaped from it over the sensitive pink skin.

“We’re not friends anymore, Ominis. We’re married.” You corrected him, your words destroying the only argument he had to convince himself to not behave like some kind of wild animal as he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from exploring your naked body. “I wasn’t allowed to organize my wedding, chose my dress or invite my friends… Don’t rob me from having a beautiful wedding night. Please.”

His erection twitched in your hand. You were asking so nicely, so politely, for something so intense and passionate, it made him even harder. He put his arm around your waist, securely holding you as he removed you from his lap and laid you down on his bed with a strength you never expected him to have.

“Are you sure this is what you want ?” He inquired, holding himself above you with his hands gripping the headboard, his pants and underwear down to his knees.

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, with a shudder of excitement.

“Very well.” His voice was low, revealing just how badly he wanted this too. He placed a hand on your knee and followed the path all the way up to your core. He could feel the wetness and warmth coming from your center, begging for his attention. He traced the slit between your legs a few times, making you gasp with anticipation. Then, he pushed a finger passed your entrance, your whimper resounding in his ears. He moved his hand in a back and forth motion, not really aiming to pleasure you this way but trying to memorize a path he couldn’t see.

He took his finger out, bringing his hand back to his impatient cock. He wiped your wetness over his tip, mixing it with the fresh drops of precum that coated his skin. Once most of his hard length was slick and sticky, he brought his tip exactly where his finger had been, rubbing it between your wet folds to gather even more moisture before finally pushing it inside you. He heard you gasp loudly and he did too, the tightness of your cunt taking him by surprise.

He easlily managed to slide even deeper, burying his entire length inside of you with a satisfied sigh. He could hear your panting breaths, your soft cries in reaction to his movements inside you and the way you moaned his name, encouraging him to rock his hips against yours a few times.

It was nothing like he had thought it would be. His hand had never made him feel as good as you did, your warmth, wetness and tightness around him were intoxicating. The most wonderful thing he had ever experienced.

He slowly pulled himself almost all the way out, only to shove himself back in with more force. He could feel his tip hitting deep inside you, pleasure building in his abdomen with each of his quick pushes.

The sounds you made were music to his ears, the way you reacted to each of his thrusts was delightful, better than what he had imagined in his most vivid fantasies. He never expected you to be so loud, perfectly showing him how good he was making you feel. He increased his speed and you moaned even louder, practically crying out his name.

He felt your legs closing around his waist, keeping him close while your nails dug into his back, the whole bed shaking in rythym with his movements. Was he too rough ? How could he not be ? It was impossible to be more gentle when the pleasure he felt with each thrust kept intensifying, he was going to lose his mind, chasing the feeling, building it up until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You cried out one more time and your body tensed up, tightening around him so viciously that he finally reached his climax, instantly filling you up with his release. You kept your legs around him, your body spasming with intense pleasure as he struggled to catch his breath for a moment, his thoughts slowly coming back into order.

He waited until your body stopped twitching to remove himself, feeling your shudder as he pulled his spent erection out of you. You still were softly panting, your chest rising and falling under his hand while the other still clasped tightly the headboard. He leaned over, easily finding your lips from which breathless gasps still escaped. He kissed you, gently, as a way to apologize for losing control of himself and felt relieved when you returned his kiss even more fervently.

He moved to his side, lying down next to you to give you enough space to catch your breath but you inched closer, nuzzling your naked body against his in a cuddle that felt even more intimate than what he had just did to you.

“Thank you.” You said softly, sounding truly happy. Ominis smiled, his fingers absently caressing your back, playing with strands of your now messy hair. “I’m glad to have you as my husband.”

Husband. The word turned in his head, reminding him that you now were officially a couple. Mrs Ominis Gaunt; his best friend, his wife, his lover… His.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

Next in this series;

[hifugoro]

thinking sooooo hard about the removed akechi mementos request. not only because we got to see him Ace Detective-ing (peak!) but because the moral of it all is so. Akechi. very long rant incoming

one of the major things that I think sets him apart from the rest of the thieves is that he doesn’t believe that circumstances lessen the effects of actions. like at all. there are multiple examples of this but the cutscene during marukis fight where he’s the only one to keep attacking (and him being the only one to show outright disdain towards maruki in general) + the thieves den conversation with yusuke about shido / madarame (Y: “Perhaps there was a certain misstep in his life that eventually led him so astray.” A: “So you’re saying he may not have been truly evil? Your drivel’s as outlandish as always…”) are ones that stand out to me most. he doesn’t care about what causes bad people to be the way they are, and he doesn’t care what otherwise good people’s intentions are when they do bad things. the act itself is what matters

it goes without saying that this extends to himself, I mean he outright states that he cant comprehend the phantom thieves not just killing him after the engine room fight. he didn’t mean that as a “wow... I can’t believe you’re being so nice to little old me….” moment. it was him being genuinely confused as to why they’re still trying to get him on their side. because he didn’t say anything he said to gain pity points with them, nor does he think the things he said deserve enough pity points to spare his life

and then you have this mementos request. in which a corrupt diet member has a son with his mistress, who subsequently commits suicide, and then falsely accuses the son of a crime many years down the line. “you all want to help that poor victim, don’t you?” akechi says. the poor victim, who was enacting a revenge plot on his criminal father that made him into a criminal as well. huh.

again, this is all coming from the guy who like a month ago, got a heartfelt speech about how he can still come back from what he’s done because the thieves can understand where he’s coming from. this happens at (arguably) his emotional lowest, where it probably hits harder than it could at any other time. and this is his direct response to that. this is him saying, in essence, that their kind words at the end were nonsensical, because his circumstances Don’t Matter

after he sends these texts, morgana goes “But akechi is just like him…” because it’s true, but that’s the Point. It makes no difference that akechi can empathize, and place himself directly in toji’s shoes. he had a hunch about the truth the entire time, and he still aided in making toji’s act of extortion exposed. understanding the viewpoint of someone who does bad things Does Not Matter to him

and that, to me, is what his sense of justice is at it’s core. which is why in the end, he doesn’t have that same sympathy for himself that everyone else does. he killed people. end of story. no other notes

and my god! I really wish they kept this in because it really hammers in that extra layer he has to him. atlus do you hate me

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion & Scratch: Compromising for Tav Affection

This idea is entirely from @nairil-daeris and it's so cute!

~

Despite what some may have believed, Astarion wasn't that against associating with animals. He was actually a fan of a few of them, cats mainly considering their penance for cleanliness and independence. Not to mention they were admittedly adorable. And stood as the one type of beast that Astarion never feasted upon.

So no, he didn't hate animals in principle. He only hated a select few, with reason. Like the type that could rip him apart with their claws and fangs. Or the ones that thought that rolling around in their own filth was a worthwhile pastime. All and all, creatures that Astarion didn't have to deal with on the regular. Or at least not until now.

But here he was, stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere, with his ragtag group of merry weirdos. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his own acceptance into your little group. He did, immensely. By the look of things out here in this hellscape, he probably would have been murdered ten times over if he had remained alone. Or gods forbid, become a goblin's chew toy.

So while he had no intentions of leaving, he was still frustrated. Especially with the pretty little druid that quickly became their de facto leader. Astarion had been vaguely aware that druids had an intense love for nature and all of its creatures. But that hadn't prepared him for how unreasonable that love could be. It felt as though you would take literally every opportunity you had to speak to any lowly pest on the side of the road.

Not to mention your insistence on taking care of a damned owlbear cub, which was an objectively stupid thing to do. Something that he should have fought you on harder but... he wasn't made of stone. The thing was objectively adorable. Even if it was almost certainly destined to grow up and try to kill you all, Astarion kept his mouth mostly shut.

But then came the dog. That god-damned dog. How a singular mutt could make his life so damn difficult, Astarion wasn't sure. But he did know that he was trying to enact a well-thought out plan. Seduce you, foster a protective affection that was strong enough for you to always want him alive, perhaps use you to defeat Cazador if the parasites proved strong enough, and then effectively abandon you for a new life of freedom.

It was all very simple, and he had gotten a great head start. You had spent the last few weeks flirting with each other, always staying close. You gravitated towards each other, a fact that felt more natural than Astarion would have liked. But... he had found himself enjoying his time with you, genuinely. Not that it mattered, but it was definitely a plus for his plan. Being with you was far from unbearable. You were attractive, sweet, a little angel just begging to be corrupted. A job that Astarion was growing excited to start.

He had been so, so close to fully propositioning you, completely confident that you would agree. And then Scratch happened. He hadn't thought much of it when you came across the little mutt. Maybe it would stay with the corpse of its owner or it would be another hanger-on like the owl bear. He hadn't had a horse in the race either way.

But then he did show up to the camp, looking so sad and dejected that even Astarion couldn't be bothered that his arrival completely interrupted his first attempt at asking you to bed. He had watched you pet and whisper to him for the rest of the night, providing a comfort that only a druid could.

Which was fine. Or at least it had been for that one night. That one night that kept repeating. Because suddenly, that damned dog was everywhere. The quiet nights the two of you had together by the fire, talking about anything and everything with your thighs pressed together now included Scratch squeezing himself into the middle.

The orchestrated moves he would do to make you blush, like removing a non-existent speck from your cheek with his thumb or leaning in close to remove a leaf from your hair, were getting harder and harder to pull off. The damned mongrel was always there, and any attempts Astarion took to get close to you Scratch used as an invitation to jump all over him. If he had it to wash his face of dog slobber one more time from the crime of trying to hold your hand, he was going to go ballistic.

And there was zero reprieve. The thing went with you everywhere, even in the most perilous of situations. Worst of all, it actually proved to be useful. Astarion had no idea where the thing was trained, but it was incredibly smart. Smart enough to serve as a perfect distraction when needed, while being clever and fast enough to never get himself killed. He could even function as a spy, considering how you could make sense of all of his whining and barking. And worst of all, the little beast was amazing at thievery, with nothing more than his mouth. No one suspected the adorable dog to be the one stealing your coin purse right off of your belt. He was completely inconspicuous, perhaps even more so than Astarion. A fact that... was not sitting well.

How on earth was he being outclassed by a fucking dog? One that he had no valid arguments to leave behind at camp.

And to top it all off, you even slept with it. You slept with both animals, usually huddled up in a pile beneath the stars. How you managed to not stink of dog breath and owlbear saliva in the morning, Astarion would never know.

How was he supposed to make you fall for him like this? In the past two weeks since you'd attached yourself completely to the thing, doting on him constantly. He had only managed to sleep with you once. The night of the celebration over the goblin slaughter, and what a lovely night it had been. But that was only because Scratch and the cub had been sufficiently distracted by all of the enamored tiefling children. The next night it was back to the same.

And Astarion was not willing to let the night you had together go as a one night stand. Maybe it wasn't necessary. It had become clear that you cared for him, you cared for all of them. Enough to put yourself in danger for every party member's protection. A strong friendship would probably do him just as good as a romance. But... that didn't feel like enough. He didn't want it to be enough. For reasons that he was not going to start examining now.

No, for now he was just focused on getting past your slobbery bodyguard. But he knew better than to bring it up to you directly. You were far too infatuated with the pup to see his side of things.

Gale had made a singular comment on a slight frustration over having to wait around for Scratch to sniff nearly everything he came into contact with, and that had ended in you giving him a half-hour lecture on the importance of understanding one's surroundings. Shadowheart had mentioned, once, just once, that perhaps it was time to start looking for a more appropriate family for the dog, and that had led to you giving her the cold shoulder for days.

No, if he was going to get more time alone with you Astarion would have to try other means. Which had led him here, swinging back a Potion of Animal Speaking with a grimace. It tasted oddly grassy, like he had just swallowed blended up lawn shavings. But he didn't have time to grouse over the taste, not when you were thoroughly distracted with talking about druid mythology with Halsin, Scratch left conveniently alone to dig holes in the back of camp.

And that was where Astarion was going. Because if he couldn't reason with you, perhaps he could reason with the mutt itself.

Part of him could not quite believe that he had to resort to speaking with a dog to further this relationship, but here he was.

Astarion stopped in front of him, swallowing back a grimace at how the thing was digging dirt directly on his shoes. Instead, he smiled down at it, his voice only slightly strained when he asked, "Can you understand me?"

Scratch stopped his digging, opting to sit and stare up at him, an oddly humanoid voice answering, "Yes."

Huh, so that's how this spell worked. It was a little disconcerting to hear a human voice from a dog's mouth, but he would make do. Astarion cautiously sat next to him, perching on a nearby log as he tried to keep a pleasant smile on his face, "Good. How are you?"

Scratch stared at him, his head cocked, "The dirt tastes good here. I like that."

That was... Astarion didn't know. It was his own fault for trying to make small talk with an animal. He cut straight to the point, "That's great to hear. Now, would you mind doing me a favor tonight?"

Astarion had never had a dog narrow its eyes at him before, but that's exactly what Scratch did, "What is it?"

"Nothing serious," Astarion tried to reassure, "I was just hoping that perhaps you and the cub could sneak off for a night so Tav and I could spend some time together-"

"No," Scratch interrupted circling the ground three times before laying down, his eyes still on Astarion.

"Excuse me?" Astarion shot back, his true annoyance shining straight through his voice, "It's not exactly much to ask for! It's one night-"

"I don't trust you around them," The dog said simply, "I think you're going to hurt them."

Well that was just offensive. Ever since this little brat's arrival Astarion had barely had a chance to drink from you. And the times he did he was perfectly in control. Not including the first time of course.

"I'll have you know that not every vampire is some hellish demon with no self-control," Astarion bit out, only the slightest bit amused at himself for being reduced to defending his own disgusting kind, "And why pray tell, would I hurt one of the only reasons I'm still alive."

Scratch shook his head, one eye closed like this conversation was boring him, "Not that kind of hurt. The inside kind, that makes people cry. I don't want them to cry."

That was-Astarion didn't-how in the hells could a dog see through him that easily?

"I have no intention of hurting them," Astarion lied. Or at least he thought it was a lie. It felt... uncomfortably true when spoken allowed, "I just want to have a little fun, that's all. Don't you think they've earned that?"

"Not with you. You don't like them enough," Scratch sighed, "I like Gale more. Or Wyll. Karlach too. They can have fun with them instead."

That was it. Astarion was going to wring this little shit's neck. But before he could give into his more violent impulses, he could hear your voice, calling out to the current root of all of his problems.

Scratch bounded up, his tail already wagging as he started to trot over. But before he fully did he turned around, giving Astarion a once over, "If you can prove you like them, then I'll consider it."

And just like that he was off, running to your side while leaving a stunned Astarion in his wake. Did... did he just get verbally annihilated by a damn dog? How was he supposed to go on after this? Not to mention he was actually thinking about what the creature said. It sounded like a challenge, one that Astarion was suddenly pissed enough to take up.

If the little shithead wanted sincerity, then he would get it. And that's how Astarion found himself willingly opening up more. Even if it had to be in front of the damn dog. He told you more about Cazador, the horrors and tribulations he had endured through centuries. He told you of his regrets, the things he missed the most about being a mortal. He even told you the truth about that first night that you let him drink from your neck. That... that you were the first. How good it had felt to have what he had been denied for so long. And he was rewarded with his honesty. He got to learn more and more about you in turn. Your family, your home, where you incessant love for nature derived from. He was starting to slowly become a Tav-expert, suddenly hungry for every bit of information that he could procure.

They were long conversations, long enough to last well into the night. And for Astarion to be exhausted enough to just... fall asleep in the first available location. Which just so happened to always be in the pile of creatures you liked to sleep with. Though, Astarion had to admit after experiencing it himself, it was oddly pleasant to be surrounded by the warm, furry little headaches.

As for the two of you, things were slowly progressing in regards to his plan. A plan that he continually kept conveniently forgetting about. You were together now at the least, even if Scratch hardly ever let you have a night alone. But you cuddled and kissed, called each other pet names and the like. And... it was nice. Perhaps even too nice. Because Astarion was starting to... feel things that he'd prefer to not.

He was getting too attached, too close. The idea of sex didn't even seem to matter anymore, let alone the idiocy of trying to convince a dog to help him in that department. He was knowing too much of you, and the fact that he seemed to adore everything he saw only made it worse. And then the two of you managed to kill that demon, getting more and more information about Cazador. You risked so much for him, and were willing to risk so much more. He couldn't take it anymore.

He had told you the next night, everything. His plan, his past, how easy it was to revert back into new tricks. But he didn't want that with you. Maybe he never did. He wanted something real, and by the gods above you wanted the same thing. He had half expected you to dump him completely after that little speech. But... you didn't. Instead you hugged him, comforted him for trying and failing to betray your trust. It was a kindness he didn't deserve, but one that he would gladly accept.

Everything felt easier after that. Yes there were still countless horrors hanging over your heads but... he had you. And with you he was starting to think he could get through anything.

Even Halsin's insistent flirting. He was watching you both now as you helped him nurse a dying sapling to health, his eyes tracking Halsin's every move as he pretended to read. While he trusted you more than anything, fully aware that you would never stray, it didn't stop the paranoia. Just one other aspect of being in a real relationship that he hadn't seen coming. Turns out, it involved being terrified of losing it all. Especially to handsome, bulky elf druids.

But before he could fret over it any longer, he felt a tugging on his pant leg. He glanced down, his brow furrowing when he saw Scratch there, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling out.

"What the hell do you want?" Astarion asked, his words completely unmatching his actions as he scratched him behind the ears. Don't get him wrong, he still at least semi-loathed the creature but... he's also not quite sure he would have gotten to this point without his intervention. So a reluctant appreciation for his existence it was.

Scratch continued to paw at his leg, a low whine in his throat as he cocked his head to the right. Astarion followed the motion, only getting more confused when he realized he was trying to point to another potion.

Astarion sighed as he picked it up, “What? You want me to understand a new dressing down speech?”

Scratch continued to wag his tail, letting out a happy bark as a confirmation. As much as Astarion would prefer to not spend an evening getting lectured by a dog, he was more than a little curious to see what he had to say. 

He swallowed it down, grimacing at the taste as he wiped his mouth, “Okay, out with it. What do you want?”

"I like you now," Scratch said excitedly, prancing back and forth in front of him, "And they like you too. Do you like them?"

In moments like this, Astarion really did wish he had the heart of stone that he pretended to carry. Because the unexpected approval from a random pup was suddenly making him feel almost teary eyed. Or it was the bitter taste of the potion, but either way the innocent words were making his heart ache pleasantly. 

Astarion swallowed, smiling down at him, “I like them very much. More than anyone before. And I’m starting to think you might not be so bad either.”

Scratch sat in front of him, resting his head in his lap as his tail wagged, a goofy smile on his adorable face, “It’s because I’m a good boy. They tell me so all the time. Are we friends now? We are right?”

“Yeah,” Astarion smiled as he ran a hand through his white coat, his eyes drifting over to you. You were watching them, grinning ear to ear with a hand over your heart, nearly moments away from swooning. He looked back down at the dog, his smile only widening, “We’re going to be great friends.”

[brittle-doughie]

This can be a situation of 'what if' since the five beast were the first ones then what if they would be the first who began with this whole yandere chaos like- they are the ultimates obsessive over y/n cookie the fallen heroes have the first and high level O_O

-🧁 anon

What If: The First.

Something has to start somewhere. Y/N Cookie is a figure beloved by all, sometimes even a little too much from certain, no wait, a large majority of the cookie population on Earthbread.

They’ve seen a lot from what levels of obsession could offer from simple clinginess to the alters and shrines many create amidst their sickly love.

Y/N Cookie was surprisingly no stranger to these gestures. After all, they’ve seen these similar types of obsessive love elsewhere.

Long ago, many years back….you were a Primordial Cookie alongside your long lasting companions, the Five Beast Cookies.

You remembered all the times you’ve had with them.

The times you laughed. Shadow Milk Cookie would tell you many things about this world, but he also liked to sprinkle in some humor too. He’d even do a sort of jester act by using a puppet show, it never failed to make you chuckle at least once…

The times you chose to help others that made Mystic Flour Cookie warm with you. Your choices to make decisions that befitted your Virtue of Compassion was something of a spectacle for her. She adored that you did not question anything about showing compassion for others, some things don’t always have to come down to choice.

The times you felt safe. Red Spice and Silent Salt Cookie were your protectors. You were a cookie of compassion, but that shouldn’t mean that cookies should push you around. It made the two cookies unhappy and advise the perpetrator to back off. Red Spice was all show while Silent Salt was all quiet, but both make sure that you wouldn’t get harmed under their watch.

The times you loved. Eternal Sugar Cookie was always happy to see you. Compassion and Happiness always worked well together, so it only made sense that you were the closest to her. She’d let you join her on her cloud as you two talked the day away, Eternal Sugar being happy that she got to spend time with you in any form.

Oh, how things went south when power corrupts.

One by one, their will crumbled under the weight of their own strength. The Five became twisted apostles of evil and brought forth darkness and devastation.

This corruption had also brought upon unfortunate side effects to their love for you, twisting and change until it’s nothing but sickly and dark.

Shadow Milk Cookie embraced deceit into his heart, controlling and manipulating the cookies around you. His plan to make you belong to him would be to drive everyone you knew away from you whether it be by his twisted mind tricks or more lethal methods. You’d have no one left but him…

Red Spice Cookie only brought nothing but destruction to whoever dared to challenge his sick obsession with you. No cookie could ever survive an encounter with him, only reduced to smoldering crumbs on the ground. No cookie has ever loved you like he has, because there’d be no one left that could…

Silent Salt Cookie’s protectiveness reached insane levels you’d never expect from them. Cookies that so much as raise a hand in your presence are swiftly cut down by Silent Salt. Cookies can’t even look at you without Silent Salt putting an end to their existence. Their worry for you, and you overall, was worth the lives they stomped on.

No other cookie mattered to Mystic Flour Cookie anymore that wasn’t you. She just didn’t see why you should care for any of these insignificant specks of grain as she casually waves her arm, reducing the whole landscape around her into nothing. No longer did choice matter to her, the decisions she once valued mean little to her if it didn’t help you or her out.

What was once happiness has now turned into a deadly and sickly obsession with you. Eternal Sugar Cookie’s mind hazed with nothing but thoughts of you, unable to get you out of her mind. NEVER wanting to get you out of her mind. Only you could get her off her cloud, she’ll simply yawn and turn away anyone else. She believes her love for you triumphs above anyone else, gleefully obliterating anyone who thinks could challenge her…

You can still hear their screams and shocked gasps when the Creators locked them away, their pained cries and shouts all becoming static in your head.

The Ancient Heroes…

They’ve done well in resisting the temptation of power unlike your former comrades, their affection remaining moderate as a result.

Though, one of them have your doubts..

[jymwahuwu]

Um…how about Sunday with virginity reader? 😌🫣💖

cw: yandere, manipulation, gaslighting, orgasm control, non-con, corruption kink, some inappropriate views on virginity

Sunday has been carefully protecting you… from the contamination of the mortal world. As an adult, you followed a friend's introduction and joined The Family. After several religious gatherings, including praising Aeon Xipe, singing songs, and confessing your hearts and past stories, Mr. Sunday noticed you. You are so…pure, innocent, and need to be protected.

He invites you to those parties and singing. No matter what your singing ability is, praise your sincere heart on Sunday. The Lord Xipe needs believers like you. He showed you how much he appreciated you…and you were so flattered. Sunday is the leader of Oak Family and attracts much attention. And you are just a little believer…how could he notice you?

He emphasized that the Family is such a selfless organization and there will be no difference in status. It's not hard to get your information. After spending some time together and drinking SoulGlad, you sheepishly admit that you have never had any sexual experience. Never…never. So you are still a virgin. His smile widened a little as he listened to your admission to him. He said that you need to keep your purity uncontaminated so that the notes you sing are free from noise. (Even though you've heard, The Family has no limits when it comes to sex…)

So, you cannot have any spouse. Nor can you surrender to filth just because of the pleasure of temporary joy. But of course, Sunday is the exception! He has the responsibility to supervise and protect you. That gloved touch on your private parts and. Your nipples and butt must be checked regularly. Lift up your clothes. Let his hands gently squeeze and rub your breasts. See, you're sensitive. If you reach orgasm so quickly, it means you are not resistant to sex and need more testing and training.

He ordered a chastity belt for you. do not worry. That was customized with technology. There is usually no pain or side effects unless you are so eager to be penetrated that it hurts. That will be your own problem. No insertion…at least not for the first few months. After you resist orgasm, Sunday will hug you and compliment you on how well you did. You maintain your virginity while training your ability to withstand adversity and temptation. Of course, if you convulse and moan during orgasm, there will be a round of punishment. This is the rule.

Also love drama - so think about how he would react if you lost your virginity and Sunday wasn't the one to take it. This message may be found in a broken virginity lock, or some sign. You start avoiding him and use the device to giggle and chat with others, or stay up all night. Once this happens, Sunday will stare at you for more than a few minutes. He's not going to be brutally violent or anything like that.

"Who is that?" Sunday asked calmly. And you answer a name in harmonious tones. He chewed the name calmly and repeatedly, like chewing up some bitter food. Sunday will express disappointment in your disobedience and resistance. Didn't he already emphasize that you can't look for any partner?

The Family has accepted you. Why would you want to find another place of hypocrisy? You will be locked up in a particularly luxurious room, and The Family will fulfill any reasonable request you want, but you will be forced to listen to music with Xipe's blessing for a long time in order to forget those unimportant people and things. If you behave yourself, you won't be on his knee that day receiving those daily slaps. And Sunday will keep penetrating you at least once a day. Since you totally don't care about his lead and are desperate for sex <3

[erosology]

There’s just something so attractive about listening to someone talk about a topic that they’re knowledgeable in, and history professor John Price is as dangerously handsome as they come

❀ cw/tw: AFAB reader (femme anatomy, femme pet names), Professor!John Price, age gap, barely proofread, corruption kink, Price masturbates to the thought of Reader teehee

History is normally such a monotonous subject, all just memorization of dates and events that have the same general plot but different casting. But Professor John Price has a way of capturing attention. And no, it has nothing to do with just how devastatingly good he looks with a pair of thin-wire glasses on the bridge of his nose, cerulean eyes peeking over the frames as his muscular motions to the board full of dates behind him. Nor does it have anything to do with his penchant for wearing white button up shirts that are always just a little on the small side, fabric stretching across a broad chest and a few dark hairs poking up from the unbuttoned collar; slacks that hug his thighs in a way that leave very little to the imagination. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he has a mesmerizing voice—strong, easily carries over the lecture hall and captures the attention of even the most disinterested student, smoky like the cigars you can sometimes smell on your papers after he’s handed them back to you with a neat red A in the corner.

Okay, so maybe all of that contributes a little to your newly found passion for history.

Price’s class is one of the more popular ones on campus for a reason, after all, and everyone is interested in the enigmatic professor. His ring finger is always bare, and though that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single by any means, most take that as a green light to send some flirtatious looks and remarks his way after class in an attempt to get a better grade. His love of military and war history is apparent with just how deep his knowledge goes in those particular parts of the subject, and especially with the socioeconomic effects of whatever war is the current topic.

“Truth is the first casualty of war, after all,” he said one day during a lecture that made you think there’s so much more to his love of military history than a degree and paycheck.

Which is exactly how you end up hanging around his desk one day after class, leaning on the wood, eyes never leaving his face as he continues on talking about the ripple effect that had to line up perfectly to kick off the events of the first World War. You aren’t dumb, you’re a straight-A student after all, and even worse is that Professor Price knows you aren’t dumb, but if he keeps getting the perfect view of your innocent face gazing up at him as if he’s reciting Edward Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire from memory then he’ll treat you as the dumb little bimbo you’re trying to desperately to play.

It takes every bit of self-control to keep his large, experienced hands to himself, no matter how much your eyes scream “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” because you play the role too fucking well. Elbows pushed together so the low cut t-shirt you’ve conveniently decided to wear today barely covers the swell of your breasts; cardigan hanging loosely around your shoulders, and Price has to fight the urge to pull the sides up to properly cover you; skirt swaying around your legs so temptingly; mary jane high heels bringing showing off your calves in a way that makes Price want to kiss them as he throws your legs over his broad shoulders; glossy lips wrapped around your pen as you nod along to his words, eyes so big and sweet lined with the perfect amount of eyeliner and framed with mascara. You’re sin and temptation wrapped up in a heart-wrenchingly gorgeous package, complete with a bow atop your head. He wants to corrupt you, wants to see how pretty you look with your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he splits you open on his cock, wants to feel how soft and plush your thighs are as he bounces you on his lap, needs to see you covered in his marks and begging for more. Fucking god, he needs you so cock-drunk and hungry off of him that no one else can satiate your appetite. You wouldn’t even be tempted by anyone else. He could take care of you, fulfill all of your needs. A pretty little thing like you deserves to be bed and wed and spoiled rotten so the only muscles you’d be moving is your—

Your cellphone ringing brings both of you back to reality, and it dawns on you on close your bodies are, as if discussing the political history of war is fucking foreplay for you two. It might as well be with how Price is looking at you with hungry eyes, pupils blown so wide that there’s only a cerulean ring around blackholes, tongue flicking out at his lip and his chest inflating as he takes in a calming breath.

“Right then, on you go,” he all but out right growls as you pull your phone out of your pocket. “We’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

“But, sir—” (he tries his best to ignore the way his neglected cock throbs at the title) “I don’t have your class again until Thursday.”

“I’m aware.”

Later that night, his hand and the thought of those fucking tempting eyes of your gazing up at him can’t even get him off, no matter how tightly he fists his cock, how much he moans your name, how desperately he moves his hand up and down himself. It’s not enough. He needs you, even if his attraction to you is morally questionable at best.

[supercrazyangel4]

The thing I've always loved most about aa4 is how much darker the tone is than the rest of the series in a way that isn't just edgy for the sake of it, but subverts your expectations from the original 3 games in a really interesting way. The trilogy was built upon the trust Phoenix had in others, and it was something we as players could almost always feel certain in. AA4 flips this on its head and makes it so Apollo effectively can't trust anyone but himself.

Your mentor, who the in the trilogy was a paragon of wisdom you could always turn to no matter what, gets revealed to be the culprit and sent to jail in the first trial and by the end of the game his list of crimes has stacked high but you still have so few answers on why he did any of it.

Your boss, the goofy protagonist of the trilogy, is now inexplicably a washed-up, disgraced, cheating poker player with an implied drinking problem who seemingly found a new hobby in evidence forgery and jury rigging.

He has a codependent relationship with his daughter, your assistant, who usually is a completely innocent and hapless victim of circumstance. She sees herself as the provider for the house and will help her father cheat at poker, or forge evidence, or guilt trip the poor attorney they knowingly screwed of out of a job into working for them for dirt cheap.

The detective, the only other returning main character, a previous assistant, is completely changed since we last saw her. In the trilogy she was chipper and bright despite the hardships she faced, and now she's unfriendly and burned out, turned bitter by the world. The scene we're first properly introduced to her in Apollo genuinely spends several minutes thinking his boss is making him bribe her with cocaine.

Every single defendant is a criminal guilty of something other than what they're charged for. Each case centers around an underground black-market poker ring, a mafia family and medical malpractice, a smuggling ring, and a family of forgers and an incredibly shady troupe of magicians. The one thing all of these people have in common is that none of them will tell you literally anything about what's happening, half of them clearly reveling in being as big of cryptic assholes as possible.

The only person who doesn't fit this description is, for once, the prosecutor. Usually your biggest obstacle and the most morally corrupt of the main cast, he's the only person who's both 100% on the side of truth and on the same page as you for the entire game. He's just as clueless as you, being used nothing more than a chess piece just like you are.

But the truly masterful thing about AA4 is how morally grey it is. These characters aren't just one note villains. They're not even villains at all. Most of them aren't even malicious.

Your boss, for all the low levels he stoops to, is underneath it all the same guy he's always been, doing everything he can to bring a criminal to justice and protect his family. Your assistant is a sweet girl who truly cares about you, she's just prioritizing herself and her fathers safety before anything else. The detective is the same passionate and kind woman under everything else. The rest of the defendants are genuinely well-meaning young people who got involved in shady stuff they didn't fully understand.

The game is filled with good people trying to make the best of bad circumstances. The game has just as many fun moments as the original trilogy. For all it's rough appearance, the game has a similar heart. For every unanswered question or unrighted wrong, there's a smile or a hope for a better future. For every bad action, there's usually someone trying their best behind it. The game is melancholic and dark, but isn't afraid to let good shine through. It knows there's no shadows without the light.

[rivatar]

“You’re Mine Now”

Pairing: Aged!Up!Lo’ak x fem!omatikayan!reader

W/c: 2.5k (oops)

Warnings/content: MDNI, heavy smut, non-con, dacryphilia, innocence/corruption kink, possessive & rough Lo’ak, reader is a virgin, cream pie, (lmk if I missed any!)

A/n: this is for prompt 4 of Pandora’s Bloody Moon. I know Bia’s acc is deleted but @hidden-snow asked that we continue the event. So here ya go, ya filthy sluts 💖

Also credit to @sugarsong78 for creating the idea of the Blood Moon! ❤️

P.S. if any of you have watched the movie Fear with Mark Wahlberg and Reese Witherspoon— it’s kinda giving that whole psychopath vibe 🤭👀

Lo’ak had always had eyes for you. Sure, he got around and had his fair share of girls, but you made him unbelievably curious and he came to the conclusion that he needed to corrupt you before anyone else did, or he would never be satisfied.

Maybe it was because you were so untouchable. He was certain you were a virgin because he knew almost all the other guys have tried to sweet talk you and always end up failing, just like he did. He had thought he would have an advantage as the Olo’eyktan’s son but you still turned him down, much to his frustration.

It wasn’t that he was desperate for sex, he could easily hook up with many of the other omatikaya girls. But something about you always intrigued him and drew in his attention. Maybe it was the chase that he liked so much, the fact that you wouldn’t give into him made him want you more, like a challenge. He spent far too much time thinking about you and wanting to know more about you. He would talk to you and joke with you whenever he could, constantly trying to just earn a spot with you. There was even times he thought of you when he was fucking another girl so that he could finish. He was infatuated and wanted to have you and ruin you. He wanted to show you how good he can make you feel and watch you crumble over and over again though multiple orgasms until you were shaking from being overstimulated. He wanted to be the first. But how could he if you wouldn’t even give him the slightest chance?

Tonight was the night the Blood Moon would make its appearance; all Na’vi knew and many prepared themselves the best they could. A lot of families essentially locked themselves inside their houses and took sleeping medicine so that they wouldn’t be awake and outside roaming in their demon form.

On the other hand, a lot of Na’vi embraced this phenomenon. They thought of it as a natural way of life and it should be able to take its course through them for just one night of the year. Eywa made no mistakes to them, so surely there was a reason for this too.

Lo’ak was aware this was tonight and he made up his mind and had a plan in order. He was going to find you and have you, no matter what. And the scheming bastard was so clever that he already knew he was going to blame his shameful behavior on the Blood Moon’s effect on him, so that hopefully you would forgive him afterwards.

…

You on the other hand, were one who didn’t want to participate in this and you were going to take all the precautions to avoid everyone and the consequences. This wasn’t your first rodeo, you’ve done this before on this night each year and have been fine. Your process was to close off your entrance so one would come in and so the moonlight wouldn’t touch you and make you possessed. Once the Blood moonlight hit the Na’vi skin, it was game over.

To trap yourself in, years ago you had made a woven covering supported with wooden beams that covers where your opening to your hut is. It was still evening but you would rather be safe then sorry so you put it up and tied it securely to the sides of your hut to keep it in place.

Then you sat and waited and ate your dinner alone. Praying to Eywa nothing would happen to you tonight.

…

You lifted the covers on your cot to tuck yourself in, deciding to try and go ahead and go to sleep.

Your ear twitches as you hear a sound outside your living space, as if someone was walking up to your blocked-off entrance.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

Your heart dropped as you stared fearfully at your makeshift door being banged on repeatedly.

“YAWNEEEE!! ITS LOAKKK!!” He shouted loudly while still banging the door.

What in Eywa’s name? Lo’ak?? Yawne???

You were so shocked you didn’t speak, not knowing what to say and hoping maybe he’d go away. He wouldn’t be in his right mind right now.

The banging continued. “You gonna let me in??? Or do I have to break in myself??” He yelled while obnoxiously laughing.

“L-Lo’ak, please go away! I’m trying to sleep,” you tried to deny his request politely.

“Nahhh baby, why would I leave when I need you so bad?? Think I’ll dieee if I don’t get you!”

What the hell? This cannot be happening. Your heart was pounding and your hands were clammy in fear. He was literally insane right now.

Then he used all his strength which was heightened right now to shake and break your barrier down, snapping the ties loose and it fell forward with a thud in front of him.

Standing at the door, he instantly made eye contact with you sitting on your bed.

The sight of him was enough to make you nearly piss yourself. His skin was grey and his freckles were bright red, a much different look from his normal vibrant blue. But his eyes were the most horrific part; replacing the normal yellow tint, they were now red orbs glowing in the dark of the night. He smiled devilishly from ear to ear, flashing his even larger fangs and ran his tongue over his teeth like you were his delicious prey. He looked deranged, like a psycho.

“Hi, yawne,” he whispered eerily, still smiling and staring deep into your soul. It seemed to make him smile bigger seeing how terrified you looked trying to cower back onto the bed. You noticed the tent in his loincloth and tears started forming in your eyes. You knew another effect of the Blood Moon was heightened sexual urges.

“Lo’ak please!! Don’t do this!!” You begged.

He quietly stalked closer to you until he could kneel next to your bed. He was even scarier up close.

“Why not? I don’t think I can wait a second longer, baby,” he rubbed your leg and you jumped at the contact.

“I don’t want to!” You cried, warm tears cascading down your cheeks.

You looked into those eyes and didn’t see the Lo’ak you normally knew. No, he was possessed right now, of course it wasn’t really him.

He ran his calloused hand up your leg to cup your pussy through your cloth. You barely whimpered in both terror and sudden pleasure shooting up your spine as you continued crying.

He grinned more. He thought you looked so pretty when you cried.

He then moved your loincloth to the side to touch your bare cunt.

“You’re wet already. You may not want this but your pretty pussy is crying out for me,” he tried convincing you; and subconsciously himself.

He slid a finger inside you swiftly and watched your face intently for a reaction. You were trying so hard not to give him any reaction but you have never felt this before so the pleasure was an unknown feeling for you that you couldn’t control.

All you could do was stare at him as your chest heaved up and down, adjusting to the new stretch his long finger provided.

He pulled it back and slammed back in. A gasp slipped out of your mouth as your pussy fluttered, gripping him perfectly.

“Fuck, that little virgin pussy is sucking me in so tight. Don’t worry, I’ll stretch you out a bit before you have to take my cock,” Lo’ak said.

“Please stop,” you begged again and shook your head ‘no’, yet feeling betrayed by your body succumbing to the pleasure.

Your unwillingness seemed to only make him want you more. He was determined to make you take it and make you cum and feel good. By the end of it you were gonna like it, he promised himself in his mind.

“But you’re doing so good. I gotta claim you as mine now,” he stated plainly, as if that wasn’t a big deal nor required your consent.

He pumped his finger into you and you felt an unfamiliar tightening and gooey feeling in your lower stomach. It felt so good after the initial stretch. You tried to not moan but you couldn’t help it, so you threw your head back so you at least wouldn’t have to look at him. You spread your legs more without even thinking. He didn’t want to wait any longer to ravish you, and ruin you and your innocence.

He suddenly yanked your loincloth off and decided your top needed to go too so he ripped it off as well, leaving you on display for him.

He nearly drooled at the sight, you were like a fresh meal set out and prepared for him, all for his taking.

“Gonna make you cum first before I fuck you,” he told you.

He lowered his head to lick at your clit and continued pumping his single digit. The feeling of his rough tongue was something else, it was entirely foreign and nothing like you could’ve ever imagined. It was heavenly.

He then added another finger, assuming you were ready for it by the way your wetness coated his fingers and knuckles. Your sounds of pleasure tumbled from your lips and he savored every one of them like the sweetest song to his ears.

“Feels good, right?” He asked sensually.

You nodded your head and gave a whiny, pathetic “mhmm”

“Yeah I know it fucking does. Should’ve done this to you a long time ago”

Your brain didn’t register that he wanted to do this before now, too. Your adrenaline coursed through your veins and all your senses were heightened. So many unfamiliar feelings all at once and you had no choice but to lay and take it.

“I-It feels weird,” you panted “like I’m about to pee” your eyebrows scrunched up.

He laughed at your pure innocence, it filled him with so much pride and his ego swelled.

“That means you’re gonna cum. Poor girls never felt an orgasm before, huh?”

Your heart sped up faster and the pleasure increased more and more, rushing you towards the climax.

“You never even touched yourself? Really?”

You shook your head no, barely processing his words.

He made a noise almost like a growl. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy. So fucking sweet and innocent, all for me to corrupt”

And just like that, you felt a release rush through you and taking over your body. You shook uncontrollably and yelled loudly, conquering your first ever orgasm. He kept licking and pumping to prolong it. It then turned into oversensitivity and you pushing his head away the best you could. He decided to be nice and let off you.

You panted and tried to come back down from it, exhausted already. He chuckled and smiled at you as he licked up all your mess off his face and hand. Your eyebrows were still crunched, but right now it was in confusion and horror at how nasty he was— that just seemed so dirty.

Without saying another word, he pulled down his loincloth to let his cock spring out. You looked at it in curiosity and fear.

“Never seen one of these before, have you?”

You weakly shook your head no, wondering how in the world that was supposed to go inside you?

He started jerking himself slowly and you watched him, frozen in your place. He didn’t take his eyes off you, those red eyes boring into your soul.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he roughly commanded, pointing at the floor in front of him.

You knew you had no choice but to obey, so you slowly and hesitantly did so.

“Good. Now arch that pretty back some”

You again did as he said, poking your ass out more for him.

“Mmmm. What a beautiful sight,” he spoke in awe and approval. He was checking out every part of you like this, staring mainly at your glistening, puffy cunt all eager and ready to be taken.

You were scared of him in his current state and trying to get this over with. You were sure he was gonna hurt you with his cock, judging by the size of him.

You heard him lower himself to his knees behind you and then felt his hand grab onto your hip. He lined himself up and you gasped when you felt his tip make contact with your hole.

“Gonna make you mine now. Your mind, body, and soul will be connected to me now. You never forget your first. And don’t worry, you’re gonna love this cock,” he said.

You weakly turned your head towards him and nodded, not wanting to anger him while he was like this. He could kill you right now if he wanted to.

“Beg for it”

“W-What?”

“I said fucking beg for it. Act like you want it.” He demanded harshly. “Good girls say please”

“Please, Lo’ak” you whimpered weakly.

He spanked your ass hard. “Say it like you mean it!”

“Please! Please! I need it!”

“Good girl,” he finally praised.

Shifting his hips forward, he pressed inside you. The stretch due to his thick girth was even better than he imagined. You were so warm and wet and tight for him.

You winced in pain at the stretch but honestly took it like a champ. You didn’t want to sound pathetically in pain because of him and let him win this.

“You feel so good,” he groaned deeply.

He started thrusting, setting a brutal pace. He was lost in the feeling, he had never felt a pussy this good.

You moaned and tried to cover your noise with your hand. You felt so full and his dick was reaching to where his fingers couldn’t get to. He pressed his back over you and grabbed under your jaw to bring your face next to his. This caused your back to arch more, your flesh smacking and getting louder and louder

“Taking it so well. Be a good girl and cum on my cock, will you?” He asked while tilting his head to look at your face, sloppily kissing your cheek.

You hummed and moaned, not really answering him. Your face was scrunched up and your eyes occasionally opened to look at the ceiling. You were caught up in your pleasure too and were losing all your thoughts.

Before you could register, the feeling came again and your orgasm ripped through you. You made a mess on his dick as your juices flowed out while you convulsed on his length.

“Fuck! That’s so hot,” Lo’ak grunted, watching your pussy cream on his cock. It was more than enough to make him finish too.

“Gonna fill you up now so you’ll smell like me and all the guys will know I claimed you for myself before they could”

His cum spurted inside you and painted your walls pearly white. You felt the warmness and the way everything got even more slippery as his dick was still fucking you, getting every last drop of cum out.

He finally slowed down and you slumped to the floor, absolutely exhausted.

“Good job yawne, I’m so proud of you,” he praised sweetly, quite contrary to the way he appeared— looking like a demon from a nightmare.

He rose up to go over and grab the boundary he broke through earlier. Your ears perked up and wondered what he was doing.

“Gotta make sure no one else wonders in here with us,” he answered your unspoken question.

“You’re mine now.”

Taglist/moots: @neteyamssyulang @bambithewriter @professional-yapper @ikeyniofthetayrangi @loakstahni @inolaphoenix @property-of-neteyam @loak-te-suli @nonamevenus (if you don’t wanna be tagged just lmk!!)

[konigsblog]

more rapist-simon riley THOTS™️ are plaguing me tonight... :3

tw/cw: rape/non-con, intoxication, kidnapping, torture, recording, smut. dead dove: do not eat. MDNI 18+

; kidnapper-simon who finds a sick form of pleasure in torturing you.

it's beyond sickening. any normal and moral person would be disturbed and mortified by simon's desires for control. he's in dire need of having power over someone, to control them like a puppet on strings, putting on a show for the corrupted, debauched men watching.

you went out drinking with your friends, having a little too much to drink, and stumbling out of the bar drunkenly. you're too intoxicated to notice the sound of footsteps flowing behind you, and by the time you realise it, it's all too late before you're captured by a masked man, a balaclava covering his face.

you're awoken to the excruciating and extreme sensation between your soft thighs. your eyes are half-lidded with exhaustion, and the drugs are still having their side effects. simon gazes down at you through the balaclava, the sight of his eyes through the mask intimidating you. he's threatening, and his large and strong build leaves you shaken up as you finally come to the realisation of what's happening. you watch as he slides and fucks his swollen, bulbous cock into your raw and bloody pussy, crimson and ruby smeared across your soft thighs.

you thrash at the burning agony—how merciless simon is with you. the sight of him leaves you whimpering, his black t-shirt sticking to his sweaty, burly body and his eyes piercing through the mask, gazing into yours as you squirm and wriggle, attempting to free yourself. your attempts are laughable; you're bound to a metal table in his basement, cuffs around your wrists holding you down and restraining you. it doesn't matter how loudly you scream and wail; your attempts at freeing and escaping are fruitless. they are used as motivation and encouragement for simon to be harsher on you, with the hope that you'll listen and obey his demands.

he curses you out through breathless grunts and deep growls for screaming and weeping so loudly, his gloved hands pushing your thighs down against the table, fucking your puffy, pretty cunt ‘til it's coated in his pearly creaminess, mixed with the redness of your blood. he shows you no mercy, not sparing you from anything. he's unforgiving, as he uses you for his only gratification and delectation, for profit and gain.

you're a slave to simon, like a puppet on strings, he controls everything you do. he doesn't view you as human, as you're not equal to him. you belong on the ground underneath the dining table, eating whatever scraps simon offers you.

soon enough, you'll finally come to terms with the fact that this is your life now, obeying his every order as he records you for the disgusting men and women watching and getting off to your pain.

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 10 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

You paced around your domain, anxious thoughts swirling in your mind. Despite your butterflies�� best efforts to calm you, the mounting concern for what lay ahead in the Demon Castle wouldn’t ease. Jinwoo was strong—very strong—but the risk of becoming a burden weighed heavily on you.

Your mana stones were a reliable aid, but they wouldn't be enough to match the challenges ahead. The image of the castle lingered in your mind, pulling at fragmented memories of the manhwa. Something about it… contaminated mana. Yes, that was it. Inhabitants brimming with corrupted energy—but if mana was plentiful, maybe you could use that to your advantage.

A thought began to take shape: you needed a system that could function as a self-sustaining cycle, requiring minimal upkeep from your own reserves. Contaminated or not, the mana saturating the castle’s demons and undeads could potentially fuel a process to debuff them, slowing their movement and stamina so that your butterflies could use and drain them more easily.

A medium, you thought. Then, a cool breeze shifted your attention toward the garden outside your window, where flowers bloomed in quiet elegance. Plants were efficient—absorbing carbon dioxide, converting it to oxygen—a near-perfect cycle. Perhaps you could craft something similar, a way to absorb the ambient mana and use it to sustain a field spell. If you could channel contaminated mana into a converting field, your butterflies would be able to drain the demons’ energy at a manageable rate and use them after. It would also mean that they could function without constant energy input from you.

Yet, this method came with challenges. It would take time for your butterflies to fully drain each demon. The Demon Castle’s floors were likely to hold innumerable enemies, which meant progress would be slower and more methodical.

The enchanted field also would require high maintenance. As long as you focused on supporting Jinwoo and his shadows, you’d be able to manage the upkeep; but any direct offense from you would divide your attention, weakening the field’s effect. You could already feel the strain it might put on your mana reserves, especially considering the higher floors.

The real concern, however, was the contamination itself. Without a beast or specimen to experiment on, you were left to speculate. The effect of corrupted mana could potentially be as dangerous as a poison spreading through the flowers’ roots, disrupting the delicate balance of energy that made your powers work. You made a mental note to craft a few protective charms in case things turned toxic.

Your butterflies circled back around you, their light flitting movements a quiet reminder of what you had to prepare. The risks were there, yes, but with proper caution, this plan could help Jinwoo conserve his energy for the battles that mattered most.

You stilled your pacing at last, glancing toward the enchanted blooms. “It’s a gamble,” you murmured, brushing a fingertip over a petal. They’d form the basis of your spell, a network that could repurpose the demon’s energy.

Placing a hand over one bloom, you murmured an incantation, feeling mana pulse from your fingertips into the petals. The flower’s color lightened, and you sensed a faint but steady flow of power within it, pulsing in a rhythm that matched your own heartbeat.

“But with this, maybe we’ll stand a better chance.”

---

The sound of your knuckles tapping against Jinwoo’s apartment door echoed faintly in the quiet hallway. You shifted from foot to foot, mentally running through the negotiation tactics you planned to use. The stakes were high; you knew that the system would pull every trick in its arsenal to complicate your upcoming mission in the Demon Castle. A single week wasn’t going to cut it, no matter how confident Jinwoo was.

The door opened, revealing Jinwoo’s familiar figure. He leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow at you. “(Name)? This is unexpected.”

“Got a minute?” you asked with a casual smile, slipping past him into the apartment before he could refuse. Jinwoo sighed but didn’t protest, closing the door behind you.

“Alright,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, “what’s this about?”

You turned to face him, your expression serious. You needed to convince him, no matter what. “We need more time for the Demon Castle raid. One week isn’t enough. I’m thinking… a week and a half, at least. Maybe two.”

Jinwoo blinked, his brows furrowing. “Two weeks? Are you trying to turn this into a vacation?” His tone was light, but his eyes remained cautious. He clearly wasn’t on board with your suggestion yet. “That’s overkill. I’m confident we can clear it in less.”

“Hey, if I wanted a vacation, I’d pick somewhere with sunshine and no murderous demons,” you quipped. In fact, locking yourself in your domain for a few weeks sounded like the perfect vacation actually. Jinwoo had been dragging you to his supposedly solo raids almost daily recently.

Your expression sobered. “I don’t doubt your strength, Jinwoo. But the system’s not going to make it that simple. You know it loves to pull unexpected stunts. A little extra time gives us room to adjust our strategies.”

His eyes searched yours, looking for the hidden meaning behind your words. You could tell he was trying to figure out why you were so insistent. “And what are you not telling me?” he asked softly, his voice losing its edge. “You know something, don’t you?”

“…”

He sighed. “I’ve handled everything it’s thrown at me so far. Why would this be any different?”

Ah, you were prepared for that. Time to employ the sub-skill you'd honed through your many encounters with stubborn enemies while trying to test out your <Language> skill. Your <Communication> was maxed out, after all—if you couldn’t haggle a bit of extra time out of Jinwoo, what good was it? You sighed dramatically, putting on your best negotiating face.

“Alright, let’s break it down,” you said, raising four fingers to count off your points. “One: we don’t know how deep the dungeon goes. Two: if the system decides to change the conditions mid-quest, we’re screwed if we’re on a tight schedule. And three: wouldn’t you rather be over-prepared than scrambling at the last minute?”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed. “And what’s point four?”

“Point four,” you said with a sly smile, leaning in closer, “is that I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Jinwoo let out a reluctant chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“I’m persistent,” you corrected, your smile widening. “So, are we good with extending the trip to a week and a half?”

After a long, tense pause, Jinwoo’s posture relaxed slightly, his sigh one of reluctant acceptance. “Fine. A week and a half, but that’s it. No more extensions,” he agreed, though there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re hiding, but I’ll trust you—for now.”

“—And if we end up with too much downtime, you owe me.”

“Deal,” you replied, your eyes twinkling. The system might have its tricks, but you had your own ways of leveling the playing field—like charming one particularly stubborn Hunter into giving you more time.

---

Jinah popped her head around the corner, watching the negotiation unfold while still staying hidden enough. Though she’d been quietly ‘eavesdropping’, she couldn’t catch all the exact words of the conversation, only murmurs. She really wanted to get closer, but it was hard when your brother’s senses recently amped up, it was like he gained eyes in the back of his head or something.

Despite being exempt from the details, she was thoroughly entertained by the seemingly back-and-forth and the faces Jinwoo made throughout. In fact, she felt like she’d be missing out if she didn’t witness firsthand how easily you could sway her usually stubborn brother.

If she were any less polite, she might have grabbed a bowl of popcorn.

Her curiosity only grew once she found out Jinwoo would be spending the next week and a half with you. Her mind buzzed with questions she planned to bombard him with once you left, and she was already grinning at the thought. But she stayed quiet, content for now with the food and books you'd brought her—a thoughtful mix tailored to her interest in medicine, showing how considerate of a person you were. That alone sealed you in Jinah’s good graces.

The food was heavenly too, and a bit familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Where had she tasted something like this before?

You even promised to bring her a souvenir as you said your goodbyes.

When you finally departed, Jinwoo saw a bright-eyed Jinah looking up at him with a smirk that spelled trouble. The glint in her eyes that told Jinwoo he was in for another barrage.

In her mind, you were flawless. Her brother, however, was a prime candidate for interrogation.

---

If Jinwoo had a nickel every time he ended up in this situation because of his recent plans with you, he’d have… well, not a fortune. But two nickels was still enough to be memorable and bizarre, especially considering how it had happened back-to-back.

First, there was Jinho. Jinho was on his third glass of soju, and the flush in his cheeks was evidence enough that he was already tipsy. As Jinwoo mentioned he’d be out of contact for a while—and that you'd be going with him—Jinho’s reaction was instant. His eyes widened dramatically, the implications of the words clearly firing off into a direction Jinwoo had not anticipated.

“Hyung, you and Noona… are you two… eloping?”

Jinwoo nearly choked on his drink, coughing as he tried to process the absurdity of Jinho’s statement. “You’re really something else, you know that?”

He tried to wave Jinho off, chalking it up to too much soju or an overactive imagination. But Jinho wasn’t having it. “Oh, come on, Hyung. Don’t be shy! If you’ve made up your mind, I’ll support you. Just let me be your best man, alright?” Jinwoo had to practically pry himself away from his friend, stars were practically dancing in Jinho’s eyes.

Jinwoo sighed, rubbing his temples. “Jinho, it’s not like that at all,” he insisted, but it was no use. Jinho had already convinced himself otherwise and was now too invested in his new theory. And after another round of drinks, Jinwoo gave up trying to explain, hoping Jinho would pass out before he could push further.

And that was just the beginning.

Jinah was the next obstacle. As soon as you left his apartment, Jinwoo turned back, only to find her waiting in the hallway with an expression that said she’d been planning her line of questioning since the moment you arrived. She crossed her arms, a knowing glint in her eye, and Jinwoo had the uncomfortable realization that his sister had inherited their mother’s tenacity when it came to digging for details.

“So,” she started, voice heavy with implication, “a week and a half, alone, with (Name), huh?”

Jinwoo groaned inwardly. “We need the extra time. It’s just to be safe.”

Jinah wasn’t buying it. “Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m the Queen of England,” she replied with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “You’re taking her on a long trip, away from everyone else. You’re basically taking her on a getaway, right?”

He sighed, knowing his sister well enough to recognize that trying to brush this off would only invite more questions. “Jinah, it’s… it’s a dungeon raid. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

But his sister was relentless. “Oh, really? A whole week and a half, though?” Her eyebrow lifted, her smirk only growing wider. “I mean, it’s not every day that you disappear off-grid with someone. Have you… told her how you feel yet?”

Jinwoo, ever patient, felt his patience tested. “There’s nothing to tell, Jinah.”

Jinwoo tried to dodge it, giving her vague, simple answers. But Jinah, ever the sharp one, was unrelenting. She started throwing pointed questions his way, and each one felt like another barrier crumbling under her tenacity. She asked him everything. Every. Single. Damn. Thing. Her smirk grew with every evasion and half-answer Jinwoo gave, as if each word was confirming all her suspicions.

“Alright, alright,” she said in a tone that clearly indicated she wasn’t done. “But should I be prepping a maid-of-honor speech? Or maybe I should look into flower arrangements. Ooh, would it be butterflies or roses? Maybe both?”

By the time her questioning tapered off, Jinwoo felt as though he’d waded through a mental dungeon, one even his high stats couldn’t have prepared him for. Jinah’s grin was wide and smug as he escaped to his room, but he knew it wasn’t over. She'd keep this interrogation up the minute he returned.

But in true Jinah fashion, her smile softened at the end, clearly pleased with Jinwoo’s flustered state, an answer she didn’t need to hear but could now safely assume for herself.

---

Yet that wasn't the strangest part. Because now, Jinwoo was left alone with his own thoughts... and for once, they were nearly as relentless as Jinho and Jinah combined.

As he was going through his inventory to ensure they had all the supplies they would need before the dungeon, he was hit with a vision so vivid it stopped him in his tracks.

You were standing in a grand hall, under soft candlelight, wearing a wedding dress, though it wasn't quite the traditional white. In his mind's eye, the gown was two-toned, an elegant mix of black and white. While the white gleamed like moonlight filtering through mist, the black somehow mirroring the shifting tendrils of his shadows.

Jinwoo could see it all too clearly: the way the shadows would curl protectively around you, as if even they had accepted you.

Butterflies, your butterflies, danced around you, forming a veil that draped over your shoulders. Their delicate wings catching the light, creating a mystical aura around you that contrasted beautifully with the darkness of the gown.

In your hands, you held a bouquet of red spider lilies. The sight of the crimson flowers sent a pang through Jinwoo’s chest, evoking memories of his countless near-death experiences. The spider lilies symbolized his rebirth, the way he had clawed his way back from the brink time and time again. He’d been “reborn” when he received the system, and because of that—

Jinwoo’s heart skipped a beat as he watched the scene unfold in his mind. So clear, so tangible, that it left him breathless.

—he was able to meet you.

His face flush hot, and he rubbed the back of his neck, frustrated. How had his mind gotten there of all places?

And as he forced himself to refocus, he decided to treat the image as nothing more than a momentary lapse.

But when he finally met you on the day of the mission, the scene in his mind surged back as soon as he saw you. It didn’t help that you looked so composed and determined, your butterflies floating around you in their usual silent watchfulness. One of them—one of the red ones, the ones that somehow seemed to reflect your calmest self—drifted down and landed delicately on your eyelashes.

Your eyes closed softly at the butterfly’s touch, a serene look spreading across your face as if in meditation, and for a second, Jinwoo could almost see the veil around you, framing your face in soft lace. The entire image from his mind threatened to come to life, and he felt the flush rising to his neck and ears.

You noticed his silence, your brows drawing together as you asked, “Are you all right? You look a little… flushed?”

Jinwoo cleared his throat, looking anywhere but directly at you. “It’s nothing,” he managed, though even he knew how unconvincing he sounded. But you only tilted your head, curiosity lingering in your eyes, genuine.

Not for the first time, he was thankful you couldn’t exactly read his thoughts, despite how you seemingly know him too well.

 “Let’s just… focus on the dungeon.”

---

You knew the system would pull something like this the moment it let you into the Demon Castle without a barrier. Still, a vein practically popped as you glared at the quest interface floating before you.

‘Jinwoo was supposed to collect 10,000 demon souls, not 20,000!’ Your gaze narrowed, watching Jinwoo swiftly clearing out the first waves of demons. His level was clearly way above the demons on these early floors, but that didn’t mean you weren’t annoyed.

Of course, the system had doubled the soul requirement. And just when your powers were at a disadvantage, too, thanks to the demon-and-undead-ridden environment. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. Now wasn’t the time to get too frustrated. ‘At least I prepared for this... It’s a good thing I had Jinwoo agree to extend this run to a week and a half instead of one.’

With a thought, you brought up your inventory, mentally ticking off your supplies: plenty of food, and lots of mana gems you’d crafted in advance. If the system counted any kills you made as Jinwoo’s, you might as well help thin out the weaker hordes so he could save his strength for the higher floors. With a flick of your finger, you dispatched a sneaky demon behind you, your butterflies swooping in to devour its remnants.

You stepped forward, catching Jinwoo’s attention. “Save your energy for the tougher enemies on the higher floors,” you advised. “I want to try something.”

With that, you began to chant, letting your power seep into the ground. Glowing flowers bloomed in your wake, their petals pulsating in unison, creating rippling shockwaves that staggered the demons nearby. Your butterflies took the cue, flitting from demon to flower and back, draining each one with methodical precision.

Your powers thrived on life force, sure—but they didn’t stop there. Demons and undead were reservoirs of condensed mana, enough to fuel your abilities even in this dark domain.

“I figure the lower floors’ demons should be weak enough for me to handle with my own powers,” you explained, keeping your focus on sustaining the field. “It might be slower, but my butterflies can still devour them, even if they’re undead.”

You offered Jinwoo a graceful curtsy, a fond smile playing on your lips. “So, I’ll be in your care for now, Jinwoo. Shall we ascend?”

Jinwoo was just about to extend a hand to help you up onto the ice bear he’d summoned—ready to barrel through the demons like a living tank—but found you already floating beside him, butterflies swirling around you like a graceful aura.

“Try to keep up,” you teased, zooming past with a grin.

The ice bear, as if inspired by your daring, charged into the horde with Jinwoo on its back. He blinked in surprise before breaking into a determined grin, chuckling under his breath.

“Alright, Tank,” he murmured, naming the bear on the spot, “let’s catch up.”

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [25/10/2024] -

Alright, this is the last decent draft I can post for now. This might seem rushed because it is the latest draft, you've been warned.

I'm not gonna post chapters like this for few months now. Though, I'll still answer short asks and comments. <3

Last Edited: [14/11/2024]

Okay, I was exaggerating when I wrote those end notes. I am taking a break, but not for months. I'll still update drafts and or post something with few days of rest in between. I just don't have a fixed schedule.

[kaledya]

Constantine's character introduction:

Description: Constantine is the first child of Lilith and Lucifer, 6 years older than Charlie and the crown prince of Hell

-Constantine is rational as a person, he doesn't approach anything with emotions, he sees everything as a plus or minus or as moves on a chessboard.

-Constantine would probably tell you the perfect way out of your problems if you went crying to him for advice, but he wouldn't try to console you emotionally.

-Constantine has the philosophy that everything is fair game for victory, if victory is the result it doesn't matter how much of a monster he is on the road, for example if it means protecting Charlie he will gladly do things to make Charlie hate him and not regret it, after all his sister will be safe even if she hates him.

-He's calm and patient and proud and egoistic, and his pride and ego comes from the intelligence and power that he has in general. 

-Constantine is one of hell's foremost intellectually and is seen as having great potential even by his family. Even as a child he was able to grasp very difficult spells with ease and never had a problem memorizing spells due to his photographic memory.

-But this intelligence has a side effect Constantine can't feel emotions very well, he can't comprehend them very well, he can't empathize with someone, sometimes he even thought that Charlie inherited the angelic and humanoid parts of his parents (it could be said that Charlie has enough empathy for both of them). 

-And since he knew what hell was like, he knew that if he was powerless he would not be able to protect his sister or himself in the future, so for a period after his 20s he devoted himself only to his education and self-development. 

-As Constantine became more interested in politics, he taught himself how to be a snake with snakes, which again began to corrupt his own personality.

-It is really hard to get him angry, even when he is angry he keeps his poker face and never shows his emotions.

-He doesn't tolerate disrespect in any form and doesn't hesitate to punish anyone (except his family members and the people at the hotel (he knows that if he hurts Charlie's friends, it won't end well).

-As genius and calm as Constantine is, there's a mad genius underneath, sometimes spending weeks in his workshop and library researching and Charlie has to drag him out of there, or he can be brilliant at the hardest things and terrible at the simplest.

-Constantine is a really great wizard, often inventing his own spells and combining what he has (he may have blown up parts of the palace a couple of times, but on the bright side he created a repair spell).

----

Constantine is heterosexual, but he has never been in love, nor has he ever had a lover (he has the same capacity to understand love as a tree. He doesn't have) Lust has never been something that attracts him. For Constantine, it doesn't matter how attractive someone is, if that person can surprise him with her intelligence and see her as his equal, he will consider having a relationship with her, but lust is just salt on the dish.

in fact when Asmodeus asked him if he ever planned to make a lover he said "Lust is not something that interests me, my dear uncle, if one day I meet a woman who can surprise me with her intelligence and who I can consider my equal, I may love her. end of story''

-----

After the disappearance of lilith, Lucifer didn't want to be so involved in royal affairs anymore, he needed a break, so Constantine started to take care of most of the royal affairs and this increased his authority a lot over the years and now all the nobles look at the prince as a king instead of a prince.

Speaking style: 

Constantine's voice is cold, he speaks like an British aristocrat from the 1800s, he chooses his words very well, he is a sweet-tongued snake, and he likes to analyze the other party and reveal their weaknesses in his speech.

Fun facts:

Since his eating habits have been transferred to his own palace, he usually eats cereal, fried chicken and dessert-like things, except for royal gatherings (I mean, he's half Angel, so he knows his health won't be affected by his diet, so he doesn't care)

Constantine has owl features, walks very quietly and can easily turn his head in the opposite direction. He has feathers on some parts of his body. His hands are like bird claws and he has great vision.

Since he and Charlie are half Angel, 4 hours of sleep is equivalent to 8 hours of sleep for them, but despite this, Constantine sometimes stays awake for days and tries to fulfill his need for sleep by sleeping for 2 days in a row (this does not exist at the moment, Charlie disturbed him and helped him to establish his sleep pattern)

Relationships:

Lucifer: Constantine had a close relationship with his father as a child, he saw him as a role model and loved spending time with him, constantly following him around the palace like a duckling. And he did his best to make his father proud, asking him to teach him new spells and enjoying their time together. But as the years went by, they started to have differences of opinion and so on. Now, especially after what happened between Lucifer and Charlie, they had a fight and never spoke again. Lucifer is upset about this, but Constantine doesn't feel much because he thinks it's the right thing to do, even though he loves his father to the core.

Later in the series, when Lucifer overcomes his pride and apologizes to Charlie, Constantine forgives him and the ice between them slowly begins to melt.

Lilith: Constantine was always closer to his mother and developed many of his personality traits after her example, and Lilith was very interested in her son's upbringing, taking care to raise him in a strict manner, teaching him everything she knew and showing him what kind of king he should be in the future.

Charlie: Constantine loves his little sister so much that he would burn every ring of hell seven times for her. And although he doesn't have much empathy etc., when Charlie is sad he is always there to support her as much as he can, he always treats his sister with respect.

When they were little the two of them were mischievous enough to do things to destroy the palace, so Constantine's most fun memories are the times she spends with her sister and as much as they love each other, like all siblings they sometimes fight or bicker, when they were little it was normal sibling bickering, when they grew up it was usually about Constantine's inability to take care of himself properly, but now, even though they don't see each other much, they often call each other and they have a really healthy relationship and even though their opinions may be divided at times, they both respect and value each other.

Serenity: Constantine describes Serenity as an interesting case. As an overlord, Serenity was the only one Constantine noticed because she was someone who tried to gain power through sweet talk and knowledge, not brutality, a woman who built her empire through mind games, and she did something surprising for a sinner: she spread her power not only to the guru ring but also to other rings, which is why Constantine found her intriguing.

When they first met at the hotel, they naturally got along well, but as time went on and they were both in the same areas because of Charlie, Constantine got to know Serenity better and realized that he liked spending time with this sinner, even though even he was surprised by it. Serenity was smart and cunning, Constantine rarely found someone who could keep up with him in conversation, and he and Serenity shared many hobbies, so over time their enmity turned into friendship and even months after they met Constantine invited Serenity to his palace. He really liked listening to Serenity's comments on his books or projects and they both really enjoyed those days but of course there is no real trust between them, one is a prince of hell and the other is an overlord but they still like each other's presence. 

Hotel residents: Constantine is neutral towards them.

Alastor: Constantine and Alastor have a relationship of respect, as long as Alastor respects Constantine, Constantine is neutral around him, he doesn't get into dogfights with Alastor like Lucifer did. And Alastor knows Constantine's authority, so he doesn't do anything out of line, but Constantine doesn't like Alastor, he knows he's not in the hotel for fun, and he finds it annoying that he's trying to get close to Charlie, but he doesn't see him as a threat, he just sees him as a fly that makes a noise, and he's waiting for him to do something out of line. But of course they have a lot in common in terms of personality and hobbies, if you don't include their positions etc, they could get along well in that way.

The relationship with sins:

Bee: Constantine loves his Aunt Bee very much, even when he was little he remembers like it was yesterday when he used to stay with Charlie and his Aunt Bee always did her best to keep them both happy and she was always kind to them and when they are with her he likes to forget all the royal stuff and have fun. Now Bee is one of the few people who can run up and hug Constantine at royal meetings.

Satan: Constantine grew up closest to Satan, who saw the potential for destruction in Constantine from the time he was young and wanted to guide him, and succeeded. Constantine's perception of power often comes from Satan.

Belphegor: Constantine likes to spend time with her. Belphegor is a women who studies medicine and science, so Constantine really likes to discuss these things with her.

Mammon: he doesn't like him, he thinks he's a clown.

Asmodeus: Constantine is not very close to Asmodeus, but he likes his uncle.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

We Agree to Your Terms (part 23)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

TW: descriptions of violence

They talked about Danny's conditions for helping, he had an idea what they were going to be already. But he wanted and needed Jason behind him every step of the way here so Danny talked out as much of his thought process as he could.

As they talked they watched videos as they came out, livestreams and news clips talking about the destruction being caused by the new, unidentified threat. The videos were grainy and corrupted, as most videos of ghosts were, but most of them were clear enough to see what was happening, especially the ones that were taken from a bit of a distance. Those ones were less likely to come to an abrupt bloody end.  

They watched as heroes arrived on scene, and along with them the drone that Danny had infused with ecto so they hacked into its stream instead. Danny was amused to see that it was occasionally ignoring directions, apparently it had developed a little bit of a mind of its own but it was still doing its job.  

The heroes quickly realize most of their attacks had no effect at all on Pariah Dark. The only ones who seemed like they could touch him were Raven, John Constantine, and of course, Phantasm. But all they could do was slow him down and try to buy a little more time for the other heroes to evacuate as many civilians as they could. Danny tensed every time Ellie had a close call, but he couldn’t rush off to save her. Not yet.

The destruction was hard for him to watch, people were dying, and not just a few. The skeleton army and Pariah himself were ruthless and entirely without remorse. Danny saw more than one truly impressive spray of blood, limp bodies falling to the ground and after the first couple he watched with dissociative disinterest. More lives were ruined then just those who were ended, homes were being destroyed, one town was already all but levelled and those who had been evacuated in time would have little to nothing to go back to, it was a major humanitarian disaster in progress. 

They watched an interview as one of the GIW agents arrived on scene, at first they were barely able to disguise their glee as they explained that this was a ghost. Ghosts were dangerous and unfeeling blah blah blah, all their usual talking points. But not to worry! The GIW had the weapons and knowhow to deal with this threat! 

This was what they had wanted the entire time after all, a ghostly rampage to prove their worth to the world. Or at least this was what they thought they wanted, if only it weren’t a matter of minutes before it was completely obvious they were outgunned and untested. All they were good for was meat shields to get the civilians out, and at least Danny could find some joy in that. Watching those all too familiar white suits get ripped up and stained red with blood soothed deep, angry aches imprinted on Danny’s core. He couldn’t help but laugh at their futile fight, some got a few lucky shots off, but at best they took out a handful of skeletons, and Pariah could always summon more of those.

 Then the GIW weren’t even good as meat shields. They had barely bought a few minutes of time for the evacuation efforts before half of them broke and ran! Booking it as soon as it was obvious this was a real threat, and not something they could deal with with their stolen and half baked weapons. The selfish cowardly little cringelings! 

Danny snarled and curled his fingers into claws, barely resisting digging them into Jason’s arms as he held Danny close and made soothing noises. He had never felt so much disdain for another creature as these wannabe heroes who weren’t actually interested in anything besides their own glorification. 

“It won’t be much longer,” Jason soothed Danny, “They’re running out of ideas I’m sure, they’ll call soon. I’ve already declined three calls from Batman.” They had decided not to answer Bruce, he’d probably want them to do the ‘right thing’ with no guarantee of any change and that wasn’t something they were interested in. Danny was waiting to hear from Diana, or maybe one of the leaders themselves.

It was Diana who called, which made sense since Deadman probably didn't have a phone. Jason picked up her call after the first ring which was sure would annoy the hell out of Bruce knowing that his calls were being purposefully screened. 

“Hello, thank you for answering, Red Hood. I wouldn’t have blamed you and your Lover for leaving this world to its fate,” She said with bitter rage. “But I believe these ninnyhammers are ready to see sense. Will you come back and give them a second chance?” She asked patiently. Danny wondered if Themyscira would be alright even if the rest of the world fell, most Gods had to be some sort of neverborn and they protected the island of the Amazons right? Maybe Wonder Woman’s people would be okay.

“We’ll come, but we’re no longer willing to compromise,” Jason growled into the fun.

“Understood,” Diana said in a clipped tone and Jason hung up.

“Are you ready Danny,” Jason asked softly as he pocketed his phone again. 

“As I’ll ever be,” Danny sighed. “Let's just get this over with before anyone else gets hurt.” He straightened and dipped down to re-enter the meeting hall, through the ceiling this time. Danny’s makeshift throne was still there so Danny went straight back to it and sunk down into it, Jason standing at his shoulder again. He couldn’t really help with this other than supporting Danny, and being proud of him for taking charge like this. It was a far cry from how subservient he had been early on. 

Danny had grown so much, and so had Jason. When he was newly back in Gotham so full of rage and so much to prove he wouldn’t have been able to stand behind anyone in silent support. Hell he probably would have shot this place up for talking to Danny the way they had before he’d been in therapy. This was a bitter thing, having to stand in front of this meeting, but it felt like a culmination of their growth. 

“So, you called me back,” Danny said as he leaned back in his icey throne, making it look far more comfortable than it truly must be. 

“You have to do something about this,” Someone demanded, Danny didn’t bother to seek out who it was since he didn’t recognize the voice. 

“Do I?” Danny laughed. “Because I thought you just finished saying it was your job to protect your people.”

“But this is a ghost, this is one of yours!”

“Technically, No he’s not,” Danny grimaced. “That’s the previous king so he currently outranks me. Besides I could defeat him, but he’s not a threat to my people right now. So no, I will not help. I will, however, accept your surrender.” 

“What?” Agent W yelped, why she was still present Danny had no idea. 

“You heard me. He will keep going, he's obsessed with expanding the ranks of the dead he rules. He's attacked the earth before, and I'm sure you remember who it was who defeated him then,” Danny said, turning his gaze to agent W.

“Well it was a couple of our correspondents, the Dr's. Fenton. They-” She blustered.

Danny made an incorrect buzzer noise. “Wrong, some of their tech was used but who was wielding that tech?” He demanded, staring her down. “You're under oath, don't even think about lying.” 

She didn’t answer, but the lemon bitten expression on her face was answer enough really.

“That's right! Last time he broke through I saved the world from him, and my thanks was being captured and tortured. I don't plan to make that mistake again. This time if you want my help you will agree to my terms before I take care of the problem.” 

“And what are your terms?” Diana asked, despite everything she sounded patient and calm, bless her. 

Danny nodded to her gratefully and braced himself before he started talking. He needed to sound confident and reasonable, he didn’t want to sound angry but he also couldn’t leave any doubt he was serious. He did not want to waste any time debating. 

“One; I want the anti-ecto acts repealed and ghosts added to the meta protection acts. Two; I want any active portals to be handed over to the combined control of the Justice League, myself, and my court. Three; I want to be the one called if there are any future issues with ghosts so they can be dealt with through our justice system. Four; I want diplomatic immunity for me and my betrothed. Finally; I want all high ranking members of the GIW handed over to my court so I can be sure they see appropriate consequences for their actions.” 

“You can’t expect us to hand over our-” The American representative started.

“I don’t care what you’re about to say,” Danny interrupted, holding up his hand to stop them. “And I’m not interested in negotiating. If you’re not ready to agree to my terms I’ll wait. But you better not make me wait too long, because casualties are stacking up and before I agree to help I’ll need a signed surrender, and agreement to my terms.”

“Esteemed leaders, there is one more thing that we can try,” Agent W spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention to her. At least she had the good sense to look nervous, but it seemed like the GIW wasn’t ready to give up, annoyingly enough.

“What is it?” Batman was the one to ask, this time he wasn’t even trying to hide his suspicion. 

“We have another weapon, developed by Fentons and further refined by us. We didn’t want it to come to that because it’s a more destructive weapon, hard to wield, and expensive to produce. But we have developed an ecto-missile that-”

“No!” Danny interrupted glaring at her. “You built that missile to try and destroy the ghost zone itself. It’s not safe to-”

“It’s an ectoplasmic weapon it’s not dangerous to-”

“Ectoplasm is clearly still dangerous to humans! Otherwise ghosts wouldn’t be the threat you clearly think they are. Besides to increase the destructive energy and fallout I Know you tried to add nuclear energy. If you fire that thing you will cause more harm to civilians then to the enemy you’re trying to destroy! I don’t know how big you made that thing, but given that you wanted it to destroy an entire dimension, how much of North America are you willing to sacrifice in the hopes it might take out Pariah Dark?”

“What other options are you giving them!?” She snapped at Danny, but he could see the desperation on her face. She knew if they did agree she would be handed over to his justice so he could hardly blame her for grasping at straws.

“To agree to my terms. As soon as the documents are signed I will go fight him. I have a good track record of keeping civilian casualties to an absolute minimum once I’m involved. How many people from the GIW will you have to hand over? A couple dozen? To save thousands of civilian lives, rather than sacrificing hundreds of civilian lives to maybe stop the threat. I think I’m offering a very good deal,” Danny said. He was trying not to sound desperate, but he didn’t want to see any more people hurt then necessary and he was scared they were about to make a terrible mistake.

“You expect us to surrender-”

“He’s not even asking for the reparations he would almost certainly be due!” Wonder Woman snapped, her tone generally startling Danny with how furious she sounded. “His terms are downright kind. You should agree to them.” 

“I have sent the requirements to a friend of mine who is drawing up the contact,” Batman growled. “When you come to your senses the surrender will be ready to print and sign.” 

Danny felt a little tension bleed out of his shoulders at the tacet agreement from Batman. He had been worried that he wouldn’t, and he had been worried that if the leaders or their lawyers wrote the document they would put in some sort of trick or trap that he wouldn’t be educated enough to catch. He didn’t think that Batman would pull something like that. He might have been smart enough to do something like that, but he was fair and he didn’t like those sort of sneaky tricks. Not with them, not if he wanted any of his kids to keep talking to him anyway.

“Good, should we leave again so all of you can consider?” Red hood asked, standing straight with his hands loose at his sides. “I don’t want to see you have to watch you weigh these people’s lives against your pride,” He spat contemptuously.

Danny nodded and pressed his palms against the arms of his throne, ready to push himself up. He didn’t want to see that either, he could feel the mounting death toll churning in his gut with every passing minute spent here deliberating. He hoped he would be a better leader than these people at least, more decisive and willing to make the hard choices even when it scared him.

“There’s no need for that,” Someone spoke up and when Danny looked up their mouth was set into a firm line. “The decision is obvious isn’t it? We would have to be mad to prefer wanton destruction over a reasonable compromise to gain a new ally. That is what it means that we’d call you for future ghost problems, correct?” 

“Yes that is what I meant,” Danny said, settling back in his seat. “I don’t think there will be many issues, especially once we have joint control of existing portals, but if there are, call me as soon as you can. I will make sure they are dealt with quickly and with minimal damage," he assured.

Not everyone looked happy about the solution, but Danny didn’t care. If they dragged their feet signing the paper damages would be on their heads, not Danny’s. A staff member came running in with a piece of paper and Batman got up to meet them, it was two pages but it looked like the second was basically just lines for signatures. 

“Do you want to have a look at it first?” He asked Danny, in a surprisingly gentle voice walking over and offering him the paper. 

Jason was the one who leaned forward and took it before Danny could. Batman seemed a bit surprised but relinquished it to Jason with a barely perceptible nod and stood by, waiting to take it back when they were done. Red Hood glanced over it and then handed it to Danny, who gave him a small smile and a nod before taking his time to read the document. Yes they were in a rush but it was only one page and he wanted to make doubly sure it covered everything he needed it to cover. And it did, it had Danny’s list of terms of surrender reworded into formal language and asserted that by signing the document they were agreeing to the Ghost King’s terms.

He handed it back to Batman with a nod of approval. Batman nodded back and went back to his seat, handing it to Diana who read the terms of surrender aloud to the room. She signed it without hesitation once she finished reading it, and passed it to the leader next to her. It was at that point that Agent W started to have a meltdown, a sight that really amused Danny as she started screaming they couldn’t do this, they couldn’t hand her over to those monsters. She was quickly escorted out of the room and he just hoped that she was going to be held in custody or she might make a break for it. It was going to take a bit to round up all the members of the GIW he wanted he was sure, oh well, he could be patient. 

Around the room it went, some hesitated to sign more than others, but no one completely refused to sign it. As time went on and new death tolls came in and got higher and higher those who hesitated too long were booed down quickly. The urgency was starting to set in as it finally processed that this was really happening. This wasn’t exactly the begging Danny had hoped for, but given how stupidly proud a lot of human’s were, this was good enough.

Finally all of the leaders had agreed to the terms. An attendant was sent out of the room at a run to copy the document so that Danny could have a copy and so could the Justice League. Danny couldn’t help starting to fidget at that point, he was itching to Go! Both to end the suffering of the people in the path of destruction and to finally end this once and for all. The threat of Pariah Dark and his eventual crowning had been hanging over his head for years, it was time to face his demons and beat the shit out of them. 

As soon as he got the paper and had glanced it over he stood and handed the signed surrender off to Jason. “Great! I’ll be going to deal with Pariah now, the rest of you can make yourself useful and start rounding up the GIW.”

“We will,” Diana assured, looking determined and angry. 

“Great,” Danny said and grabbed Jason before flying out of the building through the ceiling again and back towards the US as quickly as he could without damaging Jason. 

“You had better not be planning to drop me off somewhere away from the fight,” Jason shouted over the sound of the wind. “I’m coming with you, both my brother and your little sister are there! I want to try and make sure Robin and Nightwing don’t get hurt.” 

Well, at least he wasn’t talking about trying to protect Danny. “I won’t,” Danny agreed with a resigned sigh. “I have a feeling that trying to leave you somewhere would just piss you off and you’d find a way to get in trouble anyway.”

“You’re damn right I would,” Jason promised, and Danny both hated him and loved him for how damn smug he sounded.

Once they were close enough for a running drop off far enough away that Pariah wouldn’t spot them and try to shoot them out of the sky. An experience which could barely inconvenience Danny and completely destroy Jason. Once Jason was safely on the ground Danny was face to face with Pariah Dark in seconds. 

“Aha! The little king finally shows himself,” Pariah sneered mockingly. “I assume this means you’re ready to be destroyed.”

Danny expected to be scared, to feel impending doom and anger. But he looked at this specter of his childhood and he felt… nothing. After everything that he had been through, Pariah didn’t scare him anymore, and he certainly didn’t hate him like Danny did the GIW. He was just an irritation, a barrier to the life that he wanted. 

“Shut up and let’s get this over with,” Danny snarled and sent a blast of energy toward Pariah that he barely managed to dodge by flying up to meet Danny in mid air. 

Danny was ready for him.

[evidence-based-activism]

what are your thoughts on the whole situation with the women’s Olympic boxing competitors Andrea Carini and Imane Khelif? I don’t know why feminists are so mad about it, Imane is a cis woman or has an intersex condition, either way she’s not a man.. I thought feminists were supposed to support women winning

https://www.reddit.com/r/Fauxmoi/s/taXu5IeFZc

Hello!

I expect you also sent the ask with the following link: https://www.tumblr.com/assignedmale/757629682153897984?

So, my short answer is that the situation is complex and I don't believe we have enough information to come to a definitive conclusion. In addition, the current cultural context about "trans athletes" is only exacerbating the already complex issue.

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My long answer:

My understanding of the situation is that Khelif is a biologically male individual (i.e., "of the sex" that produces the small gamete/sperm) with a difference/disorder of sexual development (DSD, commonly referred to as "intersex") and was, as a result of this DSD, assigned the female sex at birth.

I want to take a moment here to point out that this is the exact sort of situation the AFAB/AMAB labels were created for. The vast majority of individuals are not "assigned" a sex, they are observed to be a particular sex (OFAB/OMAB?). It is in this sort of situation, where the sex is ambiguous or incorrectly determined that the “assignment” comes into play. Further, I will be referring to all AFAB individuals as "she", given the sociocultural context in which biologically male, AFAB individuals are raised and treated as women.

That being said, the participation of people with DSDs in competitive sports is an ongoing, contentious debate that is both separate from and related to the debate about the inclusion of transwomen in women's sports.

In reference to Khelif, it appears as though the original regulatory agency for boxing (IBA) disqualified her on the basis of her DSD. However, they have lost their position due to (either claims of or actual) corruption. The IOC defaulted to determining eligibility based the sex listed on the athlete's passport, which for Khelif is female (as she is AFAB).

The issue here is we do not know what her DSD is. The IBA claims she has XY chromosomes, but there are multiple conditions this can occur with. For example, as described in [1]:

Individuals with 5ARD2 are "genetic males and exhibit phenotypic male features at puberty and during adulthood". They are "raised as girls during childhood" but "usually develop a near-normal male phenotype" after puberty.

Individuals with complete androgen insensitivity syndrome (CAIS) have "no tissue response to testosterone and no masculinization" even at puberty where they can develop a "near-normal female phenotype". This is despite them having testosterone in the "normal adult male range".

Individuals with partial androgen insensitivity syndrome (PAIS) "show a range of phenotypes with progressive masculinization depending on the degree of androgen insensitivity".

Just based on this, the best solution for each of these may be different. For example, it likely would be unfair for someone with 5ARD2 to compete in the female category, although it would be reasonable for them to compete in the male category. On the other hand, it would likely be unfair to prevent someone with CAIS from competing with other women, even with their male-typical testosterone levels.

And speaking of testosterone:

The same article [1] describes how men's testosterone level is substantially greater than women's levels, even in women with PCOS. (If you look at the article, make sure to take note of the log-scale. It highlights that the mean/median level in any male subgroup is more than 5 times the mean/median level in any female subgroup.) But again ... does the amount of testosterone really matter if the tissues don't respond to it (as in CAIS)?

In contrast, this study [2] also takes note that "testosterone exposure at puberty had unique effects such as changing skeletal structure and limb length which estrogen exposure to later in life cannot suppress" in males without a DSD. So, it's unlikely that artificially lowering the testosterone in individuals with 5ARD2 or PAIS (or males without a DSD, as in transwomen) would resolve the advantage.

So ... there are clear and significant differences in testosterone between men and women, even when they have a DSD. But in some cases (e.g., CAIS) the difference may not be relevant, and in other cases (e.g., artificial hormone suppression) a lack of difference may not be relevant.

I mention all of this to highlight how the situation is nuanced, and why I don't think we can make any judgements about Khelif. But I also want to explain how this situation is, in fact, connected to the "trans athlete" debate. It's a matter of public trust —specifically public trust in the athletic regulatory agencies.

Currently, there are regulatory boards that are making decisions that are neither consistent with biological realities [1, 2] or public opinion [3-5]. These decisions allow unambiguously biologically male individuals to compete with women.

Now to be clear, this particular case (Khelif) does not fall into this category. The problem here is one of trust: how can the public (or the other athletes) trust these regulatory agencies to make sound and fair decisions on complex cases involving DSDs if they can't adhere to scientific consensus on far clearer situations?

This is important, because athletes also deserve medical privacy. I am aware that public figures are often expected to give up a degree of their personal privacy rights (although I disagree with the extent of this). However, I expect most people will agree it's unreasonable to expect an athlete with a DSD (or any other medical condition) to release the extensive amounts of personal medical information needed to prove it is fair for them to compete with women. This is why we need trustworthy regulatory agencies, so that the public and other athletes can know that this information was provided and appropriately assessed without it having to be made public.

(And none of this touches on how the current disregard for clarity of language (e.g., claiming transwomen are "biologically female") has created so much confusion that many people seem to believe Khelif was AMAB.)

---

In addition to all of that, the harassment and vitriol being directed at both women in this situation is excessive, unhelpful, and harmful. I've seen racist and misogynistic comments that black women are "more masculine". I've also seen misogynistic comments that Carini is "weak" for exiting the fight. Slurs are being directed at both women, and in neither case is that acceptable.

I understand why the tone of this debate is so hostile, but I do not support the behavior.

For the comic: the claim that "science and experience shows trans athletes on H.R.T are at a disadvantage" is false (see [2]). The rest of the comic neglects to consider the nuance of the situations and the current cultural context. That being said, most people arguing that Khelif shouldn't compete in women's sports are also ignoring the nuance of the situation.

---

All in all, I do not think we currently have enough information to draw any conclusion or make any decisions about this specific situation. That being said, the current sociocultural context has inflamed this debate, created confusion, and eroded public trust in the parties responsible for making the aforementioned decisions. I personally consider that to be the more relevant issue.

References under the cut:

Clark, Richard V., et al. “Large Divergence in Testosterone Concentrations between Men and Women: Frame of Reference for Elite Athletes in Sex‐specific Competition in Sports, a Narrative Review.” Clinical Endocrinology, vol. 90, no. 1, Jan. 2019, pp. 15–22. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1111/cen.13840.

Luu, Tyler. “Should Transgender Athletes Be Allowed to Compete with Cisgender Athletes?” University of Toronto’s Journal of Scientific Innovation, Feb. 2022, pp. 59–65. jps.library.utoronto.ca, https://jps.library.utoronto.ca/index.php/jsi/article/view/38091.

Brown, Kim Parker, Juliana Menasce Horowitz and Anna. “Americans’ Complex Views on Gender Identity and Transgender Issues.” Pew Research Center, 28 June 2022, https://www.pewresearch.org/social-trends/2022/06/28/americans-complex-views-on-gender-identity-and-transgender-issues/.

Where Does the British Public Stand on Transgender Rights in 2022? | YouGov. https://yougov.co.uk/society/articles/43194-where-does-british-public-stand-transgender-rights-1

Where Americans Stand on 20 Transgender Policy Issues | YouGov. https://today.yougov.com/politics/articles/48685-where-americans-stand-on-20-transgender-policy-issues.