#or that because of his weak heart that it would be wrong to form a serious relationship

[chastiefoul]

jjk men coming home and finding you crying

ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji fluff and comfort

gojo satoru

you wiped your eyes quickly as you heard the door opened. you took a deep breath, making sure your voice didn’t come as shaky as you said, “welcome home, toru.” with a big grin and the usual paper bag filled with sweets on his right hand he planted a kiss on your head. “i’m home baby.”

you were just about to let out a sigh of relief when satoru suddenly knelt in front of you who’s on the couch, blindfold off as his blue eyes stared as if seeing right through you. “what’s wrong?” he said softly, his knuckles brushing over your cheek with such a careful gesture. “what do you mean?” you tilted your head, cringing inside at the bad feign. “you can’t fool my six eyes, baby. also what kind of boyfriend i’ll be if i can’t even notice when my girl is sad?”

you tried to form a sentence to say as an excuse but the kisses he peppered across your face wasn’t really helping. you chuckled as you whine softly, “toruu.” the white-haired man cupped your face, a gorgeous smile on his face. “my favorite sound, baby,” he said, kissing your lips. “tell me? pleaseeee.” you laughed once more at his emphasis at the last word. “it’s really nothing, toru.”

“i love listening to nothing. we even have some sweets here as snacks,” he said, opening the paper bag excitedly. “i think you just want an excuse to eat it at 8 pm,” you raised an eyebrow, as he grinned. “nonsense, baby. now c’mere, let me hold you while you tell your story.” he put you between his legs, your back resting on his broad chest comfortably. you sighed out of wonderment, thinking how you could be so lucky, being this loved by the man.

“here, pick whatever. this one is my favorite,” he rummaged through the bag that’s on your lap. you looked at him with fondness as his face leaned in beside you to see better. “yeah? you’ll give me your favorite?”

“there’s nothing in the world that you can’t get, baby.” he kissed the side of your face. “now start from the very beginning.”

geto suguru

“if you thought you were doing a great job hiding those tears i have some news for you sweet girl,” geto’s voice was gentle on your ear as he wipe the wet residue underneath your eyes with the inner sleeve of his robe. “i wasn’t really hiding it,” you frowned, somehow not liking the fact that he noticed your little moment of weakness. “yeah? so you were just rubbing your eyes all rough like that for no reason?” he gave you a little smile.

yeah, it was a battle you had lost from start.

he put his arms around you, rubbing your back in a soothing pattern. “what’s wrong baby, everything okay?” you melted right into his touch, resting your head on his chest right on the calming beating of his heart. “yeah, it’s not really a big deal,” you mumbled, your low spirit was really affecting him more than he would ever let you know. his hand kept moving as he once again kissed the side of your head, a low chuckled escaped him. “you’re cute when you think you have a choice on telling me what had upset you.”

you laughed softly at his playfulness, knowing full well to you’ll end up telling your boyfriend everything. “you’re right. but can i tell you later?” you asked, wanting just this peaceful moment to last just a little longer as you held him tight.

“’course baby, got all the time in the world for you.”

nanami kento

nanami already knew that something was off when the house felt a little quiet as he arrived. and then he found you hunched over as you stood behind the kitchen counter. “honey?” you wiped your eyes with what you thought was the speed of sound but it was clear to both of you that you had been crying. “hi ken, how was work?” you replied with a small voice, a smile nanami didn’t particularly like plastered on your face; only because it seemed forced.

“oh no, we’re not breezing past it. come here my love.” and his embrace enveloped you like a dream, all warm and perfect. he stroke your hair ever so softly as he whispered sweet nothings. when you calmed down a little he sneaked a hand under your jaw, rubbing his thumb on your cheek gently, a gesture with amount of love you could only guess. “what’s wrong, hm?” he questioned you, his eyes shone with adoration; there’s only you in that moment.

“i’m okay, ken. more importantly aren’t you tired from work?” there’s a deep crease between the blond’s man eyebrows he heard you say this, as if that was the most offensive thing he had ever heard from you. “’more importantly?’ there could be nothing that’s more important than you, dear,” he said, knowing that concern was from a good place, like he was worrying over you, of course you would fuss over him who just came home from work.

“still…” you hesitated, but he kissed it out of you quickly. “want me to prepare you a bath, love? you know i can get the perfect temperature for you,” he whispered, coaxing you. and he was right, even sometimes he would get it right more often than you. before you could even mumble out another excuse he continued. “and while you do that i’ll prepare dinner, okay? i’m sure there’re still some ingredients left to make that nice meal you like.”

“no, i couldn’t possibly let you do all the work ken-“

“love, i’m here. you can relax, okay? you always do so much for me, let me do this for you,” he reassured you, cupping your face as he trailed your cheeks with soft kisses. you’re still not convinced, as he smiled over your great concern. “do this for me, please?” he tried once more and there’s no way you could refuse that. you nodded, feeling another wave of tears coming out of gratitude for your boyfriend., “thank you ken, i love you so much.”

“i love you too. and when you’re ready to talk, i’m here okay? always.”

toji fushiguro

he lifted you up, your leg instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist as he grabbed both of your thighs to support you. you tighten the hold of your arms around his neck, resting your head on your shoulder, nuzzling closer to his neck; not wanting him to see your post-crying face.

he sat you on the kitchen counter, putting both of his hands on the hard surface, on either side of your body practically refraining you to run away. “what’s wrong pretty girl?” he asked you who’s currently staring at the fingers on your lap as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. he kissed your shoulder blade, intentionally lingering a little long to hopefully calm your nerves. “nothing, i guess,” you answered nonchalantly, like detaching yourself. “you’re shit at lying babe, you know that right? look at the frown that you’re wearing right now, it’s almost touching the floor,” he said as he kissed your neck next. “mean,” you meant to frown, and you realized you were already doing that for the past hour. fine, maybe he had a point, so what?

“nah, what’s mean is when my girl won’t even tell me what made her upset,” he said, tilting his head confidently, his big hand on your waist as he rubbed your side. the look on his face was enough to make you relent. “fine… you’ll force it out of me sooner or later anyways,” you mumbled as he smiled, knowing that you needed a little push is all to sound your worries. “atta girl.”

“tell me all ‘bout it yeah? don’t leave out a single detail. then maybe if you’re up for it, i can show you that i got many ways to cheer you up,”

[flamedraco]

I want to rant about them. Buckle in, this is a long rant.

I want to just say that I love TNT Duo. Just as a whole. In whatever form they take. These stupid little men and their stupid little rivalries and tension.

I am not a "DSMP" fan in most senses of the term. I never really got into the story all that much (though the lore was cool and more well thought out than most people give it credit for) and there wasn't much to really keep me interested. But these two characters. These two.

shakes them

I love them. I love how Wilbur is emotionally unstable even on his best days and his entire arc of going from a leader that others looked up to slowly devolved into a man driven mad by his own legacy. Writing Arsonist's Waltz made me really take a long look at his character and how I wanted to write him in that fic and it really made me think about how young the character must've been when he died and how tragic that is. I think about him a lot. He's my favorite blorbo to torture for a reason he's the perfect character for tormenting really. And it's so easy to write him with a strained relationship with his family, seeing how Phil did the bare minimum for him and his mother is either a Fridge or The Goddess of Death depending on how you interpret the lore because personally I don't see either as being wrong. Or him being married to a fish (Sally go brrrrr). Or canonically being the one to give birth to Fundy. And the idea that he was usually such a doting father but the second Fundy needed him most he was just gone and the complications that brings to their relationship. I love him and how it's so easy to either make him just a guy or some eldritch FUCK. I can make him BIRD. I can make him FREAKY and INHUMAN and I love to torment him.

And then Quackity. Fuck let me talk about Quackity. This is the BEST EXAMPLE of a FALLEN HERO character I have EVER SEEN in my LIFE. And if you know me you know I am WEAK for Fallen Hero shit.

C'mere shrike bitch we're talking about you now!

(just picture me grabbing him by the back of his stupid little button up and holding him like that, I've scruffed his dumbass)

This FUCKER went from being one of the most goofy, joking, just fucking around and having a good time person, to one of the most well thought out and interesting character arcs in the ENTIRE SMP if you ask me. This man went VILLAIN no matter how you want to slice it and that idea of someone who GENIUNELY tried to see the BEST in others deciding "fuck it, I've had enough of this" is just. The best kind of Fallen Hero to me. I love his entire casino theme. Gambling is one of my favorite aesthetics, and I love how when I came into this fandom despite the overwhelming amount of Duck Q stuff I found I managed to find ONE PERSON who made SHRIKE QUACKITY and it was SO PERFECT FOR HIM! Like there's nothing wrong with Duck Q and I recognize why that's the most common thing in the fandom because obviously the fucker's name is QUACKity and he has his whole thing with ducks but like. Shrike Q tho. The leader of the Butcher Army being a Butcher Bird. One of the most violent songbird species known for brutal kill methods and eating other birds being reflected in the man who ATE THE FUCKING HEART OF HIS EX. Like C'MON. (Yes other birds will eat other birds all the time but I'd like you to point me at another songbird species that has the absolute BALLS to attack something so much bigger than them) ((seen a video of what I think was a loggerhead shrike attacking a duck once)) (((though if you can find more aggressive songbirds like this I would LOVE to see them and learn about them))) ((((FUCK I LOVE BIRDS)))) It's perfect. I don't care. I love him. I love him and his Loggerhead/Northern Tendencies.

I love him for all the ways he didn't START violent and cruel but BECAME that way because he felt like he HAD TO. His arc is SO GOOD. The way he manipulated others he perceived as being "forgotten" like him to try and join him. I just. This man. This man. I'm going to shake him. I'm going to put him in a jar in the /affectionate way.

And then THEM TOGETHER. There is so much APPEAL to this ship in how you can write their dynamic in any way you want. From the more playful early days of the SMP where they were clearly friends and enjoyed each other's company to those stolen tense moments of Pogtopia to the eventual EVERYTHING that was LAS NEVADAS. You can write them on some of the best kind of healing arcs, with the idea that no matter what you did or who you were that you can still find love and forgiveness with the right person. You can have them heal together and learn to love again after so much tragedy. Or you can go down the route of making them ABSOLUTELY tearing each other APART and making each other WORSE. They can be absolute BASTARDS to each other but keep coming back to each other because they are the only two people on the server that have seen SO MUCH of the other person and the paths they went down.

These two characters just. Scream a level of UNDERSTANDING with each other that they wouldn't GET with other CHARACTERS.

And can I talk about how flexible they both are when it comes to AUs? I'm going to talk about them in AUs. They are FASCINATING TO ME in AUs. HEAR ME OUT OKAY!

So as someone who's been in a lot of fandoms there's a keen difference between being into a fandom for the content itself of the world, and being there for a specific character or groups of characters. I was into BNHA because of the lore of the world, not really an attachment to the characters themselves even if I did love them. Persona 5 was driven, again, by a love for the world and also the aesthetic of the game itself (and also a bit of the characters, I'll admit they changed my brain chemistry a little). Danganronpa, in contrast, was something I got into for the driving force of the characters and the murder mystery aspects. Assassination Classroom, obviously more character driven. Fairytail, also more character driven than anything else.

I got into DSMP specifically because of TNT Duo and my friend introducing me to them. But I've discovered something interesting about TNT Duo and why my hyperfixation over them has been lasting for so much longer.

Because they're easier to pry out of their world than other characters are. Which is why I was so surprised when I found so much more Canon Divergence AUs and less AUs in the sense of other universes. Like when I came to this fandom there was: No flower shop AUs, maybe a single coffee shop AU or two, not a single dragon or naga AU, and maybe one Siren AU. And the rest of it was mostly canon divergence! Which felt weird to me because these two feel so adaptive to other AUs you put them in!

While other characters feel, in some regards, tied to their original universe, these two don't feel as heavily weaved into their world. When I try to take them out it doesn't feel like I'm ripping them out and damaging them as I do. I don't feel tearing seams or fabric ripping, they just kinda...pop out. Which let's me take them and throw them into any roles I want, any AUs I want, and what I've noticed is that people do this a LOT with SBI and that they don't feel tied to the universe they originated from either. And I feel like that's in some part due to how the characters have lore from previous SMPs, previous worlds, previous experiences, and even future ones where the characters flow and adapt to fit whatever situation they're put into.

Some people might argue that I'm misrepresenting the characters in my fics or characterize them differently from the original source material, but that's because these are characters heavily formed around their experiences! Which makes them SO COOL for AUs! Because obviously the experiences are going to be different in an AU versus the source material! Making them a superhero or supervillain isn't the same experience as starting a country from the ground up! Making them a prince or king is different from elections and surviving from the land. Or dying and getting revived. Or overcorrecting into becoming a villain so nobody can ever hurt you again. AUs bring different experiences and that's why the characters are so fascinating to put in different AUs. And obviously some characteristics will carry over, but it's up to an author to decide what they carry over from the source material. Usually I carry over Wilbur being related to Phil, Techno, Tommy, Kristin, and sometimes I'll carry over Phil and Kristin's divinity which sometimes makes Wilbur an angel or demigod. Some authors usually carry over his mental instability, I like carrying over his sense of individuality. I like that he's stubborn, good at leading but not always enjoying it, yet always having the qualities for it. For Q? I like to carry over his general gambling aesthetic because I write mostly Las Nevadas Q since that's kinda who I know best out of all of Quackity's characterizations in the DSMP. Which means I write him as a manipulative little shit most of the time, who sometimes has second thoughts but usually pushes through for what he sees as the best outcome. And for their relationship usually what I carry over is this sense of tension or opposition between them. Hero/Villain, Angel/Demon, Human/Fae, Hunter/Vampire. This sense that they are on opposite sides, but not so different from each other when they look deeper than surface levels and titles.

They are such interesting characters. And I love them so much. They give me so much brainrot. So many ideas because they can just. Go anywhere I throw them!

I think I'll write more about them later. How I like to characterize them based on what I know about them from DSMP. Maybe rant more about why I think Q is definitely a shrike and that Magpie Wilbur is the only correct option. I feel like talking about them. I want to talk about them more.

Talk to me about them. I like hearing other people's thoughts about these fuckers.

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #24

[bambiimutt]

He makes you cry during an Argument.

Arguments with these boys? What could possibly go wrong..

ೃ࿔*:･

Headcannons and short stories under the cut!

ೃ࿔*:･

TW!! talk of Hoodie stalking, but not major! I think that’s it!!

Jeffrey Hodex:

- you’d think an argument with your boyfriend who loves you oh so dearly would hopefully end in him apologizing. Wanting to make sure he didn’t say anything to you to hurt you.. but you sometimes forget he’s not the normal person.

-Jeff has anger issues and it’s not a surprise to anyone when it’s brought up. So typically with any argument he has, his anger tends to get the better of him.

-which means if the argument is small it’s bound to be blown out of proportion, if it’s a pretty bad argument it’s about to be even worse.

-he doesn’t like to listen. To him he’s always right. He’s never wrong even if deep down he knows he actually fucked up he doesn’t want to admit it because he doesn’t want to look “weak” or too “soft”

-he typically doesn’t feel bad if you end up getting hurt emotionally, you’ll get a good ol scoff and roll of the eyes while he tells you “it’s not that big of a fucking deal, you don’t need to be so emotional.” Along the lines of that.

-but… you might just tug a few heart strings when he realized he’s made you cry. It’s when he sees that he’s scared you that he breaks a little. He’s got a habit of punching walls, breaking shit around the house when you both argue, screaming in your face.. and if it all leads to you finally breaking down and shaking that’s where he finally draws his line.

-he didn’t mean to scare you.. not like that at least. The last thing he wants is for you to be scared of him. He loves you.. even if he shows it in odd ways. He’s an asshole yes but he’s your asshole.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Would you just fucking Listen!” Jeff screamed out. His hands were immediately gripping onto his pants, trying his damned hardest to not punch the closest thing to him. But he can’t help himself the moment you cross your arms and give him that fucking look. “Jeffrey. Cut it out, I’ve listened to you for the past 40 fucking minutes.. you need to listen to me-“ you’re cut off quickly hearing his hand collide with the wall and a loud grunt leaving his lips. He’s slightly heaving, breathing heavily and hair a bit messy in front of his face. You jumped a bit, backing up quickly when he immediately whipped around to trudge towards you, black combat boots making him taller then he already was. His large hand was quick to grab your jaw and squish your cheeks together just slightly. “No you fucking listen to me. Stop being a fucking bitch. Why do you have to pick at everything I fucking do, huh?! Huh?!” If he was a scrawny guy you’d say you’d be able to at least get free but no.. no he was a big guy, tall. Muscular, broad shoulders.. built chest. His biceps twitched slightly as his grip grew harder. There was no way you were escaping this. Not with him. Your small hands pushed at his arm and your eyes watered, a tear falling onto his fingers. Oh.. Jeff’s grip softened as he slowly let go. His form lowering himself so he was at your level. “Oh baby.. oh..” his hands hesitated before cupping your cheeks and his lips are kissing at the corners of your lips, trailing towards your ear. “I didn’t mean it..” his voice is deep, gruff and low in your ear as you immediately wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry..” really it’s the only time you’ll get a sorry out of him, a genuine one at that.

Tobias Rogers

- he’s one of the ones who’s a bit more understanding. He can’t exactly understand physical pain or frustration but he can completely understand emotional pain and anger.. and how fucking awful it can be to handle. So when he’s stood, tall and lanky in front of you, hands swinging in the air and his voice raising he can suddenly feel the room shift to a hurt.. deep cut feeling.

- he tries not to yell he tries to hear you out when you both have an argument, but having BPD can be an issue when it comes to that.. you say one thing in a slight tone and he’s set off. Oh? So this is his fault suddenly? Why did you have to say it like that? You could have said it this way. Why do you have to be such a fucking asshole?

-when in reality that’s not how you meant it at all.. and yes Toby does feel bad for it afterwards he shouldn’t have lashed out that way, he should have sat and listened and maybe asked why you said it that way.. but sometimes things get the better of us.

-he’s not always the one to apologize afterwards but he does when he knows he really fucked up. He can’t lose you not to something so fucking stupid. “I-I’m sorry.. you didn’t deserve to hear that.. to e-endure any of that..” with a sniffle you look up at him teary eyed. Oh that really hurts. “It’s okay Toby” he’s immediately at your side, hands brushing your hair back and placing gentle kisses to your jaw. It kills him when you cry.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I don’t know Toby I’m just tired..” this is what set him off. The way you said it. You were tired? of this? Of him? Of this relationship? “Are you fucking serious?” He speaks with his teeth clenched together, his head resting in his hands before he’s looking up at your slowly. His body slightly twitches from time to time, though when he was angry it usually became an issue for him, twitching far too often, clearing his throat more aggressively. His tics would normally become more violent in some ways. “Are we just d-done then? That’s it just b-because you’re tired yo-you can’t fucking walk away-“ his arm flys up in the air as he stands, his hands coming to rub at his face and the patch of hair on his chin. His tired droopy eyes dart towards you. You didn’t necessarily start crying because he scared you it was more of the the stress of the situation. “Toby please that’s not what I meant.” He still hasn’t noticed as his tall figure is rambling on, tics making his occasional grip and smack to his leg but he of course can’t feel it. When he finally looks at you he realizes you’ve been crying and it stops. The room becomes quiet and he twitches a few more times before softly kneeling on the floor where you sat. “I shouldn’t have assumed like that.. I’m sorry..” he’s softly laying you down on the floor as his lips trail your neck, his hands placing your arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry.” He mumbles against your neck.

-Ben Lawman/drowned

- to be honest he’s probably not the one who started it. He’s usually pretty calm, and quiet…. Except for when he wants to act like a child and become ignorant and downright inappropriate.

-he can be perverted.. gross and this is usually where the arguments start, not that you don’t like him nor the way he acts it’s more when he says things he shouldn’t be saying. So you typically end up yelling at him and he will normally sit embarrassed and feeling a bit guilty.. he didn’t think you’d get so upset.

- on occasion if the argument isn’t about that and about something else he still is usually the one to just take it but there are rare moments where he snaps back. And when he does. Oh boy.

-constant pacing back and forth, hands in his hair, sharp glares at you and laughing in disbelief. He’ll sometimes say things he doesn’t mean. He’s usually not one to yell but when he does you aren’t really expecting it. So it scares you.. and the tears finally break.

- ben only stares for a moment. “Shit.” Yeah he fucked up big time. He immediately feels guilty and he immediately rushes towards you to pull you into a tight embrace. He didn’t mean to take it that far.. he really didn’t, knowing it was him who made you cry makes him want to break down himself.

ೃ࿔*:･

“You can hate me yknow, I won’t blame you, or be angry..” Ben mumbled against your hair, your sniffling shattering his dead heart even further. You look up at the blonde, your fingers lacing their way into his hair as you force a bit of a smile “I just.. I hate when we argue like that..” your voice breaks causing Ben to swallow. Oh no. There’s that lump in his throat. His hands rub at your back before feeling his way towards your lower half, squeezing gently. “I know babe. Don’t listen to me when I get like that yeah?” You give a gentle smile as he softly lifts you up, bringing you closer as he grabs his controller, getting ready to play his game and have you relax against him. Occasionally he’ll presses kisses to your forehead. He doesn’t like to talk about the arguments, maybe because he doesn’t know how to handle his emotions and yours at the same time or maybe he’s just scared it’ll lead to another argument, but he apologized like he always does and makes sure your comfy against him while he games. As long as you’re content with it, he’s content.

-Masky/ Tim Wright

- a bit like Jeff I just think he’s a bit more mellow, he won’t ever apologize unless he knows he’s actually in the wrong. Which ends up being majority of the time. You know he has his episodes, where he blacks out and doesn’t remember a lot of the things he ends up doing.

- he will sometimes black out during an argument. It’s not often but when he does it’s like arguing with a brick wall. Like Jeff he won’t listen. He refuses to listen to anything you say because In the moment he’s the one who’s right. But he’ll never go as far to say mean things like Jeff does. No Tim tends to stop himself before he does.

-he storms off frequently. I think he more or so hates the emotions that comes with this. He hates the yelling, the way you look at him with disbelief and anger.. Its more so he doesn’t feel like fucking shit up for being an asshole to someone who genuinely cares about him. So he leaves you to your emotions to figure out, and if they aren’t figured out by the time he gets back he tries his best to help. Even if he does seem annoyed.

- typically your arguments are more him being snarky, sarcastic and being too logical, he can raise his voice from time to time but he’s only ever yelled at you once, and he still beats him self up for it to this day. Seeing you cry at how angry he got, how you still reached out for him in your meltdown caused by him.. and you still reached for him.

ೃ࿔*:･

“They’re pills y/n, prescription pills. I’ll be fine you know I need to take them. Why do I need to keep telling you thi-“ you cut him off quickly your voice already laced with concern as it shook. “Because you take more then you should be taking Tim. I don’t like it I don’t want you to hurt yourself..” he understood where you came from yes but what you needed to do was stop it. Just stop worrying about him. “Please for the love of god, I’m fine! I’m fucking fine! I’ll be fine! Please just stop it. I hate how much you worry and stress yourself over me. They’re fucking pills, I take them when needed. So just stop!” Now he didn’t scream super loud, but it was loud enough for you to feel the lumpy tingly feeling in your throat bubble, your hands softly twisting together “s-sorry..” you squeaked out. Tears brimmed your eyes as your bottom lip quivered. He watched you carefully for a moment, grimacing a bit as he watched your face twist with sadness.. and you slowly making your way towards him. Tim opens his arms and quietly pulls you in, one hand rubbing at the back of your head and the other gripping your back. “I’m an asshole. I know you’re just worried.” He mumbled quietly, lips pressed to your forehead as you hide your face in his chest. “You’re okay..” he continues to mumble, awkwardly trying to find a way to comfort you further.

Hoodie/ Brian Thomas

-he’s quiet. Very quiet. I think he’s the most gentle when it comes to arguments with his S/O. He’s scared to hurt you, always in any circumstances. He’s more observant, he knows when the argument gets too much for you just by a single movement.

-though he does have his moments where he does get angry back, he can normally control his temper. Usually the argument starts by something he’s done so he can handle it, he can deal with it. He tells you “I promise I’ll change, just give me some time” and you believe him because he does change but then he falls back into his habits, leaving for weeks on end, taking too many pills, his stalker tendencies.

-the argument this time is unclear, you probably don’t even remember by the Time Brian starts yelling back at you. His hair is messy from running his hands through it one too many times, he’s clenching his fists and trying to breathe as he shakily keeps his voice down.

-even in moments like this he still thinks of you. Not wanting to hurt you nor scare you.. he just lets you have your outburst and then you both move on. But tonight was different.

-he tends to ignore you when he gets worked up in an argument. If he’s not yelling back then majority of the time he’s just silent. His back towards you. But only when he’s angry right back at you. He’ll give you that silent treatment for hours.

-but this time. He made you cry. And he’s stopped dead in his tracks, eyes softening, getting down on his knees and resting his head against your stomach,his hands holding onto your waist. Sigh… he just had to fuck shit up again didn’t he.

ೃ࿔*:･

“Brian you can’t just leave me for weeks on end.. you can’t just.. disappear then show up like nothings happened. Where do you go..? Is there someone else” at this point he’s just been listening to you, letting you vent out but when you suddenly accuse him of cheating on you.. he snaps. You really think HE would cheat on you?! It’s not like he didn’t spend months watching you, becoming so infatuated with you to the point that it would make anybody so fucking sick to their stomach. But he couldn’t tell you that he couldn’t tell you he’s loved you far longer. So he stands, looks at you with anger in his eyes, a hint of sadness flashing on his face “don’t fucking accuse me of cheating on you.” He points a shaky finger in your face “don’t you ever. You don’t understand the shit I’d do for you, the shit I DO for you.” He’s close now, watching as you look up at him shakily. “This S-still doesn’t explain where you go Brian.. you-“ he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you close “no listen to me. I want to tell you I want to tell you so badly but I can’t. I can’t. I just can’t.” His eyes are averting he’s becoming shaky himself, he’s panicking. Trust him. Is what he wants to tell you, that It’ll all be okay, he’ll be okay in a couple of days, he’ll change just give him time.. but he can’t lie to you.. not now. It would only make shit worse for you in this moment. When he finally looks back at you he sees you staring up at him, not a word spoken but tears streaming down your face, and your wrists still held tight in his large hands. “I..” he softly brings your hand down, lowering himself to the ground as he watches you still stare straight ahead. He scared you. Brian goes silent and lets himself sit on his knees, his hands running up under your shirt to hold onto your waist and burying his head into your stomach. “I’m sorry” he whispered gently, shivering when he feels your hands curl into his hair and finally look down at him. You know he feels guilty. He’s only trying to protect you.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

a let my demons get a little silly with it here

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Synopsis: Ryomen always got what he wanted, it was a simple rule of life. And ever since he caught your scent, you were all that he wanted- your previous bond mark be damned. And you must have wanted him too. Why else would your window be open in the middle of your heat? Kinks: Omegaverse, Breeding, Marking, Knotting, Scent, Dub-Con, Non/Con, Somnophilia, and Infidelity. Reader Discretion is Advised.

Sukuna was going to fuck you. He was going to have you on your back, legs spread as he filled you to the brim, breeding you like a bitch while covering you in his bite marks and scent. Sukuna was sure of this fact from the first time he caught your smell in the air, light and warm and made for him. You were made for him. It was only a matter of time until he took what was rightfully his.

The only problem was you were marked, and sadly, it wasn’t by him. Worse yet, it was by some weak asshole who barely even had the ability to mark someone. Some feeble excuse of a man who probably didn't know what to do once he got your panties around your ankles, much less what to do when you were in your heat. The only thing worse than you being bonded to that douche canoe, was knowing it only happened so you wouldn’t be bonded to him. 

Okay, so “bonded” wasn’t really the right word there. “Sacrifice” was closer to the actuality of the situation, but still! You were literally destined to be his, and one asshole wants to play hero and fuck it all up? It drove him fucking mad, what right did that limp dick think he had to interfere? He caught himself clenching his fist and jaw. He needed to calm down before he hurt someone, especially since the only person nearby was you. 

Sukuna watched from a distance as you lounged under your tree, finding comfort in the forest instead of the inherent danger you should feel. He had suppressed his scent enough he was sure you hadn’t noticed, your calm demeanor conveying that fact. He could have you right now, release his scent and take you where you sat. But, that wouldn’t have done anything about your bond mark. No, to take care of that Sukuna had to be patient. Which, was a real fucking drag because if there was anything Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t it was a patient man.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

He remembered the first time he encountered you. Almost a month ago now, while he was taking his regular walk through the woods. He could still feel the full body reset that happened when he caught your aroma, the smell of apple and clove working its way through his nervous system and grabbing his cock his heart in a chokehold. Suddenly, his lazy stroll through the woods was a hunt to find out what decadent creature had made such a perfume. 

And that’s where he found you. Sitting contently in a floral field, making a fucking flower crown of all things, and surly waiting for him. He saw your hands falter and your eyes widen as he approached, no doubt because you finally picked up on his pheromones. He could feel the smirk forming on his lips. 

“Well, what a nice surprise,” He hummed as he approached you, “I wasn’t expecting to find anyone else out here.” You immediately fell into a low bow before him. Good, you knew your place. 

“I’m sorry my lord,” You apologize, though you weren’t sure why. You knew of the warlord Ryomen Sukuna. You knew he owned your village, as well as the villages surrounding it. But to your knowledge he didn’t police who was allowed in the woods. Still, you’d rather not risk upsetting him. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here, all alone?” He asked, eyes tracing the way your back curved into the bow.

“My mate and I moved closer to the forest recently, I was exp-”

“Your mate?” The vitriol in his tone made your stomach revolt and ignited your fight or flight system. You didn’t even know what you had done wrong. 

“Y-yes?”

“Stand up, look at me.” He demanded. You did so without hesitation, your omega body naturally inclined to follow the alphas commands. When you did, you were hit with a fresh wave of his aura, the smell of whiskey and cinnamon filling your senses and making your joints feel weak. You were caught between your need to honor your bond mark, and the need to fall to your knees for the man in front of you. You whimpered softly as he grabbed your chin and shoved your head to the side.

Sure enough, right there on your scent gland were faint teeth shaped scars. If he wasn’t specifically looking for them, he wouldn’t have seen them at all. Still, the fact it hadn't been refreshed didn’t negate the fact that it was there. You were unequivocally spoken for. 

“You don’t smell marked.” He scoffed as he released your head, taking a step back.

“It’s new…” You muttered. He may not have been able to smell your mate, but the stench of a lie was familiar to him. Especially one as piss poor as that.

“If it’s new then you should reek of him, Wench, don’t lie to me.” He growled. You looked down as your shame rolled over you.

“He’s a beta.” HE’S A BETA?! Sukuna had felt rage a lot in his life. Some may even say it was his default setting. But the rage he felt at being cucked by a beta was unlike anything that he had felt before. He felt his fingers twitch with the need to wrap around someone's neck, and the urge to burn down this entire forest was a hard one to fight. He choked back his molting hot fury with a simple reminder: Beta bond marks don’t mean shit. He could easily still have you. He just had to wait for your next heat cycle to do it, when your hormones were high and looking for something more…substantial, then a betas nub. 

“How cute, being mated to a beta. I’m sure you’re crazy for each other.” He sneered. You wished. Leaving every heat cycle woefully unsatisfied and frustrated might have been worth it if you had actually loved the man. If your union to him wasn’t purely survival. 

“He provides.” You settled on a half truth to keep from lying, one Sukuna definitely picked up on. 

“What’s your name Omega?” He demanded.

You told him your name in a soft whisper. Cute name. He’d be sure to have his servants look into you and your records. 

“Well Omega,” He said, making a point not to use the title given to him. To remind you what you were. “You should probably get back to your beta. It’s not safe for a pretty little thing like you to be out in these woods alone.” It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that was a warning and a threat, the edge in his words making that much clear. You nodded to the warlord, before making your way home. You fought the urge to sprint with everything you had in you, knowing better than to activate his prey drive. 

He watched as you did, noting your refusal to run. Smart girl. He could feel his mouth watering as he watched your hips sway, and his body buzzed with the need to have you under him. He took a deep breath to recollect himself before making the walk home. He’d have you soon enough.

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

He kept a close eye on you in the weeks that followed. Learning about how your marriage was arranged through his servants, and how your marriage was failing from watching you. To your credit, you did try in earnest to make it work. You were the perfect mate. You kept a tidy home, always had dinner ready, and were always happy to get on your back for your husband. 

And yet it did nothing. That asshole still acted as if he was gods fucking gift for “saving” your life, and as if you didn’t do enough. Dinner was never right, there was always an issue with the house, and every morning Sukuna could smell your dissatisfaction from the night before- still rolling off you in waves.  It was pathetic that a creature as divine as you was wasted on swine like him. The good news was that your scent was evolving. As the leaves changed colors your fragrance got thicker, and sweeter in some aspects. You clung to your beta even if he was woefully unequipped. Your heat was coming.

A fact you were all too aware of. You could feel it pooling in your stomach and feverish on your skin. The effects were already starting, and you knew this one was going to be hell. Your mate thrashed in between your legs, chasing his high in you. You felt close, so close. Your body was trembling with anticipation, electricity buzzing under your skin. All you needed was his knot and-

He pulled out of your quivering cunt, cumming on your stomach with a guttural moan. Oh, right. He didn’t have a knot. You whined as he painted you white, wanting to snap at him for wasting his load. You held back though, knowing that, in reality, the last thing you wanted was his pups. You watched as he rolled off the bed and grabbed his pants.

“W-wait, but Naoya-” You panted, “I’m so close, please-”

“You’re gonna have to finish yourself, I’m gonna be late for my train.” Your “mate” groaned as if you were an inconvenience. 

“But…” You whimpered, then let it go. You knew better than to argue, and besides. Your climax was already fleeting. “Do you have to go?” You asked softly. You understood that, as a beta, Naoya couldn’t sense when your heat was coming like an alpha could. You accepted that. What you found hard to accept was that he still planned a business trip during your heat cycle, despite you explicitly telling him that you would need him. 

“Yes, Sweetie,” He said it with so much ire and hate, you would have rather he called you a bitch. “This is my job. It doesn’t stop because you’re horny.” He snapped, tired of having this conversation again. His venom shut you up. You watched as he quickly got dressed, then grabbed his bags and rushed for the train station. You fought tears as you went to clean yourself up. Were you really so unloveable?

You often wondered what the worse fate was, being sacrificed to Ryomen Sukuna or being trapped in a loveless pair bond. For years you knew without doubt it was being sacrificed to the warlord. You were always grateful to your father for selling you to the beta, saving you from what would no doubt have been a cruel and untimely death. Naoya may have been cold at times, but surely he wasn’t as bad as Sukuna.

Or at least, that’s what you used to think. Before you had actually met the man, and felt the way your body reacted to his presence alone. Suddenly, the so-called king of curses invaded your every thought, and life trapped in a passionless marriage felt like a prison sentence. You thought about Sukuna constantly, especially in the days leading up to your heat. You chased his faint scent on the wind, traced his markings in your dreams, and envisioned him to endure your husband's advances. 

It left you a wreck. Especially now, as night fell and your body temperature rose. Your fingers were doing absolutely nothing for you, and wouldn’t for at least the next week. Which, was rather conveniently when your husband was due to return home. You knew your heat bothered him, but you never knew it bothered him this much. Resentment grew in you the more you thought about it. If he didn’t want a fucking omega, then why the fuck did he pay for one? 

You tried not to think about it as you opened your window, hoping the cool night air would do something to help cool down your feverish skin. You lived far enough away from the other villagers you didn’t really have to worry about a wayward alpha finding you. And at this point, you weren’t sure you would care if one of them did. 

You settled into your nest, albeit a bit reluctantly. The faint smell of your mate clung to it, and despite your bond mark it brought you little comfort. More just frustration. It didn’t smell right anymore. You quickly took off your sleep pants, finding them unbearably hot, leaving you in just a tank top and soaked panties as you drifted off to sleep.

Sukuna could try and say that he was just out on a stroll to enjoy the moonlight. That he enjoyed the peace that the dark brought with it, and was only out to clear his mind. He would be lying. The truth of the matter was Sukuna had been keeping tabs on you. And while your bitch of a mate may have been inflicted with brain worms, Sukuna was not. He knew you were alone, and in heat. And he fully planned to take care of you, in ways your beta couldn’t dream of doing.

Walking to your little shack at the edge of the woods felt like wading into a warm lake, your trail becoming thicker and thicker in the air as he made his way to you. It was intoxicating, and he couldn’t stop the visions of you whimpering underneath him from entering his mind. Needy and alone, fuck. He could feel his blood rushing in his veins as your scent laced into his senses and his psyche, and his cock ached for you.

He wasn’t shocked to find your window open. Of course your window was open. You were waiting for him, your true mate. That fucking beta be damned, you wanted him, why else would the window be open? He crawled into your room on instinct more than much else, your body calling to him like a siren's song. The reality of your heat hit him like a train as he took in your visage. Sleeping not-so-peacefully in your marital bed, mindlessly rutting into a pillow drenched with your slick. He fucking hated that you were reduced to fucking pillows.

He was right here, you just needed to let your proper alpha take care of you. Let him protect you, let him fuck you until you can’t walk, let him fill you to the brim- until you’re overflowing, let him fix the fucking stench of your nest. He was on your bed and spreading your legs before he even fully realized what he was doing, ripping your slick drenched panties off of you. On a normal night, he would have touched you and known you were burning alive with a fever. But tonight? He was molting lava with his own forced rut, and he didn’t even notice yet. 

Mates don’t need to ask before taking care of their mate in heat, so he doesn't even bother waking you up before shoving two fingers into your weeping pussy to get you ready for him. You whine out softly, back curling off of the bed as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you sharply. He smirked as he curled his fingers up, listening to your breath catch in your throat.

“Fuck, Sukuna..” You whimpered in your sleep. Of course you called out his name, you were his omega. You chose him, you were meant to be with him. Soon, there would be no doubt about that. After he covered you with his scent, after he marked you as his and only his, and when your stomach was swollen with his pups- pink haired, four eyed and undeniably his.

He shrugged off his robe, his rock hard cock burning with need and dripping pre-cum. He ran his dick up your slit, gathering your divine slick on his angry red tip. He felt the tension in his shoulders finally dissolve as he pushed into you, finally at home where he was supposed to be. He growled as he sunk in to his base in one swoop. 

You jolt awake with the sudden intrusion, your cunt torn between pushing the intruder out and sucking him in deeper. “Wh-wha…?” You were given no time to try and catch up to the situation before the assault on your g-spot started, leaving you a moaning mess. Sukuna lifted your hips, holding your body with just his forearms as he changed the angle he fucked you in to fuck you deeper, harder. He needed it to take.

You looked up and saw a shock of pink hair and sharp tattoos through bleary eyes. On the surface your body revolted, knowing this wasn’t your mate and he was not meant to be touching you. But something deeper, more primal rejoiced at feeling the alphas fat cock. “Fuck, fuck, more..” You whimpered, bucking your hips in time with his thrusts. You could feel his knot swelling inside you and all you wanted was him. Nothing had ever felt more right. 

Sukuna had fucked a lot of omegas during his ruts. He ran through whores like they were nothing. But none of them had ever felt like this. Your pussy was made for him, so perfect as it milked his cock. Your body reacted to him perfectly. You were made to be his. You were his. Every inch of your skin, every breath you took, every smile you gave you were his. He’d prove it. He grabbed you in a bruising grip as he bent over you, capturing you in a demanding kiss and taking what little breath you had away in a clash of teeth and tongues. You belonged to him.

He growled lowly, as he pulled back, throwing your ankles over his shoulders as he pressed his body weight into you, folding you in half. “Fuck, you’re so good,” He groaned, “So fucking tight for me Baby Girl. Gonna knot you, fill you with my pups,” You didn’t know if he was talking to you or himself but it didn’t matter. A thought that should have been deeply revolting to you as a marked woman had never sounded more euphoric.

“Yes, please,” You begged into his ear, “Fuck me, it’s s’ good. Fill me, I- I need you.” you slurred together whatever words you could grapple with. You felt drunk on the feeling of euphoria, you almost forgot sex could feel so good. Your words, albeit a bit jumbled, electrified the part of Sukuna’s brain that had already decided he was your mate. You didn’t just want him, you needed him. You needed him. Of course you needed him, you belonged to him. You were his and his alone. 

His his his his-

Then he smelled it. In the sea of apple, clove and cinnamon whiskey a sharp mildew scent hit his nose. The fucking mold of your “bond mark.” Sukuna saw fucking red, his body seething with rage as he remembered you weren’t truly his. No matter how deep he fucked his seed into you, or how much of his skin touched yours, you weren’t his. 

Not yet anyway. 

He plunged his teeth into your scent glands, right over your previous bond mark. You howled as he did, a wave of ecstasy rocking its way through your heated body and decimating your shocked nervous system as you came all over him. Aftershocks of your orgasm pulsed through your cunt in time with his thrusts, sending static electricity through your needy body. You instinctively dug your fangs into Sukunas scent glands, an act you were never able to perform on your (former) beta mate.

The relief that washed over him as you completed the bond mark was unlike anything he had ever felt before, and it left him in ruins. Cumming deep inside you, painting your womb white. The warm feeling he filled you with actually worked to (somehow) cool the raging inferno in your bloodstream, and you finally found relief from the hell you had been in. 

You stayed connected, him holding you close while he waited for his knot to deflate. You thought about Naoya. You had never been able to properly mark him because he didn’t have scent glands for you to mark. It met you were never really bonded, not like how you were bonded to Sukuna now. But, he was technically still your husband. This was his house and his bed you were getting fucked by a perfect stranger in. How would he react when he found you here with the warlord that owned the land? Would he find you here?

Would you regret it? 

You didn’t have time to really consider the ramifications of your actions before Ryomen was moving inside you again, and the last thing you wanted to think about was the boy that abandoned you. You whined underneath him, bringing your hands to tangle in his hair. He pressed his forehead to yours in response.

“Still with me Omega?” He asked as he started to pick up the pace, making you whine underneath him.

“I’m here my lord,” You mumbled softly.

“Good,” He punctuated the word with a sharp kiss before straightening up, “Cause it’s gonna take more than just that to knock you up.” He chuckled as his hips started to piston into yours, setting a punishing pace. The natural curve of his cock was seemingly designed to bully your hypersensitive g-spot, stimulating your body back to life as you gripped the sheets under you.

“Aww, look at my pretty little omega,” Sukuna cooed mockingly as he fucked his cum back into you, “All fucked out and full. Feels good to actually cum after spending so much time with a limp dick, doesn’t it slut?” Apparently, all it took was him getting to cum once for him to find his voice.

“So good, so fucking good.” You whimpered, “So big, so full…” And you had no problem feeding into it. His claws dug into your hips, leaving bruises defined enough you could take his fingerprints off of them. He watched the way your tits bounced as you tried to feebly hold onto the sheet, attempting to ground yourself however you could. He watched his bulge appear and reappear in your stomach with every thrust. He watched the way your skin glistened in the moonlight, begging him to mark it. He watched the way your eyes fluttered and glazed over with dazed pleasure. 

But the real show was happening where the two of you were connected. Where your slick coated his cock, creating a foamy ring around the base. Where your natural lube mixed with his load, making the most vulgar sounds as he fucked your quivering cunt. God, he couldn’t have asked for a better mate.

Your warm pussy hugged him perfectly, begging him for more and pulling him even deeper into you with every thrust. Every movement of your hips sent a wave of euphoria through him, and he desperately chased both of your highs. He wanted to see you cum. He didn’t get to the first time.

 He wouldn’t make that mistake again. You were finally finally his after months of coveting you. Of watching you, of needing you wanting you, of imagining you, you finally belonged to him. He was going to see what you looked like when you came for him god damn it!

“You gonna cream for me again Sweetheart?” He growled, “Squirt all over my dick like a good girl? I know you are, I can feel it, fuck-” His words fell apart on his tongue as you clenched around him. Stars blotted out your vision as your second climax started to creep up on you, slowly tingling up your spine and taking over your body. You bucked your hips into his erratically, chasing the high only he could give you. Sparks of bliss exploded under your skin as you felt him start to swell again.

And suddenly he felt way too far away. You needed him closer. You needed his scent, his skin, him. You ripped one of your hands away from the bedsheets and reached out, trying to communicate what you wanted. His head tilted to the side and he scoffed as he looked at your outstretched hand.

“Words slut, what do you want?” He growled.

“My mate.” You whimpered. He was immediately leaning down to you, pressing his chest to yours and letting your fingers intertwine with his. How could he deny you your mate? Your body exploded into a thousand sparks of ecstasy where his skin ment yours. His scent wrapped around your senses like an old blanket, cozy and familiar and safe. You whined softly and closed your eyes to embrace for impact.

“No.” He growled, using his free hand to pull your hair and force your eyes open, “Look at me.” He demanded. Your watery eyes held his fiery ones as you moaned pathetically under him.

“I’m so close..”

“Then cum for me.” The floodgates opened and you were suddenly drowning in a sea of ecstasy and dopamine. Your hips thrashed against your will and your legs shook like the last leaves on autumn trees. You swore you saw entire galaxies be born before your eyes as you were hit with one of the hardest climaxes of your life. Your eyes watered as they looked into his, your skin felt flushed against his touch, and your grip on his hand tightened.

“Fuck, Ryomen…” He hadn’t heard his first name spoken in years. His body slammed into yours as his own climax hit him with a brick. He fucked you as best as he could through his knot, riding out both of your highs as he filled you to the point of overflowing and then some. His entire body was racked with euphoria as he came harder than he even thought possible. 

He collapsed on top of you, rolling you both to the side so he didn’t crush you with his body weight. For a while, the only sound was of the two of you trying to catch your breath. You felt his arms wrap around you and calloused hands rub your back gently to sooth you. He kissed your neck almost sweetly.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart,” He praised in a whisper, one soft enough the wind threatened to take it away, “So good for me.” It made your stomach flutter. His presence was instantly calming, much more so than your ex’s. You might have even fallen asleep, if you didn’t feel him start to move again, still rock solid inside of you. 

🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘

Your body was sore the next morning when you woke up, but the fever had subsided for now, finally giving you room to breathe and think about literally anything other than lust. The first thing you noticed was that you were not at home. You jolted up in bed, a soft whimper leaving your throat. 

“Silence, woman.” That was when you registered the body next to you in the bed. You looked over to see Ryomen, fully annoyed at being woken up. “You’re safe. I’m here.” He grumbled as he pulled you back into his side. You weren’t sure what was more impressive, that he managed to return to (what you assumed was) his home after last night, or that he managed to carry you with him. 

“Sukuna-”

“Ryomen.” He corrected you with a dangerous growl. You paused, a bit taken back.

“Ryomen,” You accepted the correction, “what happens now?”

“Hopefully you go back to sleep.” He sighed, irritated to have been woken up at the ungodly hour of 12 pm. While he was still in rut no less! He didn’t get a lot of chances to sleep during this time, and neither did you. You needed the rest.

“No, I mean with…with,” You didn’t know how to put it.

“What, you mean your cuck ex? Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t hide that he was irritated with you for bringing him up first thing in the morning. 

“....Is he going to be hurt?” You asked softly. Sukuna felt his lip twitch.

“If I have it my way, yes.” He didn’t mince words. Why the fuck did you care so much about that loser anyway? You thought about your mates words, then nodded. 

“Good.” You said, finally settling back into Ryomens arms and relaxing into him. He didn’t hide the smile that tugged on his lips. He knew he loved you. 

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ Taglist ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

thank you lovlies, for supporting my work! @sk8ttles, @blkkizzat,@littyasatittyyy,@ketchupsush1 and @risuola

If you wanna get on the tag list, comment: here!

And if you wanna read week One, you can find it: Here!

[jymwahuwu]

Wrote some pointless thirst. I know this is OOC because nothing official has been released😚 He's so hot... I can't control myself...

cw: dub-con, yandere

Capitano is super cool!!! He has his face covered 24/7. I would hazard a guess that there is a long and deep scar from the war on Capitano's face, or that there are many healed scars on his tightly wrapped chest and abdominal muscles. He held his chin as he relaxed, his long hair hanging down his back. Wrapped in dark fabric were thick muscles and thin nipples.

Capitano has the concept of "absolute righteousness". He requires you to comply with HIS norms, and he requires himself to comply with the ethics of the strong. "No, this is wrong." You murmured. And he argued with you in a commanding tone. He respects your right to express your opinion, but he doesn't want to see you siding with the enemy. In fact, he did not appreciate some of Fatui's actions in various countries. He'll appreciate it if you stop fighting him. While fighting for the Queen and Gnosis, he hopes he can protect you at the same time. He felt a crack in his stoic heart once he thought that you were too weak for the entire jungle and might be destroyed in the unconscious night.

Capitano's palms have some calluses over the years, and he is used to grabbing weapons and condensing ice and snow. He faced many enemies without even using weapons. His palms cupped the soft flesh of your buttocks, and his fingers dug slightly between your thighs through the fabric. Lift your whole body up and place it on his arms. (No matter what size you are,) it's as easy for him as picking up a piece of paper or lifting a kitten. Your eyes widened and you had to put your hands on his neck for balance. This is his way of moving you anywhere quickly. As your hands caressed his chest and applied ointment, he looked at you through the mask, then closed his eyes. He felt sorry for his thoughts that gave rise to indulgence and immorality.

Once Capitano returns from a fight, he lays you on the bed. gently. He pulled the soft fabric of your lower body and spread your legs, staring at the private part between your thighs. No matter how much you try to close your legs and change the subject, it doesn't work until you say a frustrated "…yes." His body will cover you, the long night will cover you, and that monster cock rubs you for a long time until you are so wet that it becomes a puddle and mud. He drove forward, controlling the lightest intensity.

"Too-too big…!! This is impossible!!" As he gradually advances and expands, the panic chases the pleasure and entangles your heart. Capitano doesn't understand. He felt that he was of normal size and nothing "impossible" would happen. Are you making too much of a fuss? He gritted his teeth and explored the deepest area more slowly but surely. Your eyes reflected "❤", and the sound of water responded to his desire, followed by a slow and deep push in and out. Gradually increase the speed until your waist bounces and your toes curl, forming an orgasm.

After you were too tired and fell asleep on the pillow, Capitano took off his gloves and caressed your cheek with the back of his hand. The sound of your sleeping breath and chest rising and falling. With his other hand, he tried to remove the mask, but stopped. The kiss was too soft and intimate for him now. He needs to complete his mission of taking away Gnosis from the gods and protecting the world from Heavenly principles first.

Capitano <3<3

[okwonyo]

THE LOOK OF LOVE, 或 𓈒𓈒 the moment they knew.

𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 1OOO fluff angst if you squint established relationship ── kissing skinship crying not proofread ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀i hope this will make you all feel loved and appreciated ! ^^

rblgs♥︎fdbcks & C𝑙𝑖CK

HEESEUNG

it would hit him without any sort of warning, right there in the guts, with no aftercare. 

would have taken you to a dinner during a rather cool summer night. the restaurant would be delicious, the conversations would be enthusiastic and smooth, you would hold onto his arm as you would  both walk side to side.

the breeze would make you end up on a beach. 

the visual of the waves coming back to their original form, the beautiful sight of the sun going back to sleep, the birds flying above your head would be nothing compared to you.

and lister, he is just a man. a weak, simple, rational man who wouldn’t be able to contain his heart at the sight of his woman looking so beautiful. and it would be stupid, as if he was seeing you for the first time. 

it would be love, just simple, dizzying love. 

JAY

when the beginnings of sunlight would peek through the gaps in the blinds, casting thin golden ribbons over the bed to frame your form and his. when his eyes would flutter open and your warmth welcoming him would be the first thing he feels.

when, despite being tired, the thought of getting up and cooking breakfast for the both of you alone would make his fatigue disappear. when his fingers would stroke a hair strand of your sleepyself behind your ear.

when he would smile to himself the entire time he cooks, just because: wow, he woke up next to you! isn’t that enough?

especially when you would hug him from behind as a greeting and rest your cheek on his back. would say it, immediately, raw and sincere, with his lips against your forehead. 

JAKE

you would laugh at one of his very stupid jokes once and he would fall in love with you immediately.

he would feel the literal sensation of falling and falling and falling without any chance of landing.

your laugh would ring like a dulcet lullaby, the electricity that would run through his whole body when you hit his shoulder and tell him to ‘please, shut up’ would be the object of all his dreams.

it would be like his heart would start to get tighter and tiger, a knot would form in his throat with all the words he would wish to say.

would grip onto his shirt, the side where his most important organ is. the blood would rush to it so quickly. ‘i love you, i love you, i love you’ it would scream.

SUNGHOON

the only thing that could ever bring him to his knees, would be you. and everything that comes from you as well.

so, yes, when he would come back home to a thin, invisible, melancholic hue in the air of the shared home you both made for each other and tears escaping from your eyes, he would crumble.

 as hard as he can, would try to make them stop. by cupping your face and wiping them off your face sweetly, by asking you what is wrong with tears starting to form in his eyes, by holding your hands tightly. 

would not even have time to feel the realization or hear the words he just spoke. with his knees on the floor as he brings your knuckles to his forehead, “i love you,” he would croak, “please don’t cry,”

and it would make you cry even more. 

SUNOO

there would be a fondness in his eyes whenever he sees or, even just, thinks about you that would be far too obvious to ever deny.

it would always be obvious, to everyone around the two of you— except to the two of you— that there was always love. no matter how young your relationship was, it was always there.

maybe the realization should come at a more significant and amazing moment. like your first date or the time you watched the fireworks together. but it would be significant, to him, and it is all that matters. 

“sunoo,” you would tease, dragging the sound of the double letters at the end of his name. you would bring your hands around your mouth so the sound would be louder, “wah~ you are so pretty, so cute,”

the attempt of making him flustered while he films himself would succeed. and when he would rewatch the video a while after, the moment where he would tell himself ‘she is lucky i am in love with her’ would be obvious.

(as much as the ‘wait, what?’)

JUNWGON

“are you still mad?” he would ask in a soft whisper after you pushed his hand away and took his tie into your own hands. his fingertips would softly touch your upper arms.

you would not even look up at him when responding, “i am not mad,” and he would get a bit sad, as he should. you would look at him with a look in your eyes and smile he would want to kiss away, “you are just very annoying.”

he would hum, watching your fingers work on the tissue around his neck. your gaze would focus on it fully and he would start to feel a bit neglected, craving for your eyes on him again. his, however, would fall on your lips. 

he would slowly lean in. a smirk would draw on his face when you tilt your chin up. your lips would brush and then you would tighten the tie around his neck, making him almost choke.

you would give him a grin after patting his chest. his head would fall back when you leave the room and he would bite his lower lip, “god, i love her so much,”

RIKI

would only realize saying it and hearing you saying it back. a little bit silly, right?

it is just that, loving you would come to him as naturally as breathing. 

from the very first time he met you, love would already be in his stomach. it would already be growing roots of roses, stems would wrap around his beating heart and they would only wait to finally bloom. 

the roses would bloom on a quiet night. a sleepover where you would both sit on the enormous sofa and he would still manage to find a way to corner you between armchairs and his body. 

he would be playing with your fingers, having you trapped in his arms, “i love you,” he would breathe out. 

you would look at him with a smile before saying, “i love you too.”

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.

[aennasan]

There is a reason why Kenji Sato stays hole up in his room whenever he is sick.

It wasn't because he is too sick to move around and take care of himself. If that happens, Mina would have taken care of him in a pod, where he could rest for the whole day, and feel better the next day.

It wasn't because he hates being seen as weak either. The idea of being seen at his most vulnerable may have brought a pink hue on his cheeks but it didn't bother him as much. He is sick after all. There is nothing wrong with that.

What bothers him is the fact that he could be a bit….er….. clingy. When he is feeling under the weather, the constant warmth of someone is very comforting to him.

Actually, a bit clingy may be an understatement.

When Mina informed you that Kenji cannot meet you for the day because he is not feeling well, it worried you so much, especially, when Mina insisted that he would be alright and she would take care of him.

Although Mina is an amazing help, how could you just sit back, and wait for him to get better without checking up on him, or lending a hand to take care of your own boyfriend.

Mina was insistent that you shouldn't. But you refused to back down, so against her better judgment, she let you in, with a reminder and an ominous warning; “I wish you goodluck.”

The moment you stepped foot out of work, you made your way to his house, and it broke your heart to see him bundled up, and sleeping under the covers. His shivers were so intense, that even if he is hiding beneath a bunch of fluff, you can see the tremors above.

“Kenji, I am here. Do you need anything?” You softly called out to him, and patted the area, where you thought he would have his head.

After hearing your voice, his tremors stopped… for a moment. He whipped his head out of the covers with renewed vigor, eyes wide, nose red, his whole face is pale with sickness.

You almost fell backwards when he suddenly hugged your torso and nestled his head on your stomach. You shivered at the sudden shift of temperature, feeling the heat boiling out of his skin, goosebumps forming on the part of your body he touched.

“How are you? Feeling better?” You asked. Voice laced with concern and worry. He didn't reply, instead he just shook his head like a kid. You put your hand on his forehead to check his fever, and you don't need a thermometer to know that even if it was midday now, his fever hasn't gone down.

“I’ve brought some porridge. Let me put them in a bowl so you could eat. Mina told me that you refused to eat anything. That is not good, you need food to have energy, and for the medicine to work.”

Removing his arms tightly hugging you, you scold him softly, and leave a kiss on his forehead before putting a plaster of kool fever, to help with his high temperature. You heard him cooed at the coolness, and watch as he closes his eyes, as you help him tucked back on his bed. His head resting comfortably on his pillows. You left his room, and made sure to close his door softly, before heading towards his kitchen, and put the food you bought in the microwave to heat it up.

Even outside his room, the air is thickened with the heady smell of sickness. Usually, Kenji would play even if he was sick. However, with the gloomy atmosphere of his house, and the minimal lights opened. You are sure that he never even set foot out of his room, for anything. You tapped your finger on the counter, as you watched the red blinking number countdown. You were in deep thought worrying over Kenji, that you didn't see the shadow looming behind you, the quiet steps he took as he approached you.

You let out a scream of bloody murders when an army suddenly snaked around your waist. His face resting at the crook of your neck. His arms tighten up, whenever you try to move or do anything, refusing to let you go.

“Kenji? Oh god! You scared me! What are you doing here?

“You're taking too long.” He replied. Voice muffled because he still refuses to remove his face, nestling on your neck.

“Too long? I'm just heating up your food for five minutes. I will be back soon.” You convince him, as you try to remove his arms around you. Feeling uncomfortable with his high body heat, racked with fever. He is still way too strong for someone who is sick.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” He repeated. And you admit a bunch of question marks were forming on your head.

What exactly is going on? Also…Where is Mina? She is awfully quiet. She didn't even inform you about Kenji walking towards you.

Kenji Sato. Your boyfriend. Refuses to leave or move or let go of you, no matter how much you begged him too. He would even tsk or let out noises of disapproval whenever you try to do something to outsmart him.

So in the end, you just make yourself comfortable while he snuggle and hug your arm. His head resting on your chest.

“Kenji, what if I get sick too because you are way too close to me.”

“I’ll take care of you. And snuggle with you too.”

You are trying your best not to let out an exasperated sigh. No one told you that Kenji could be so clingy whenever he feels sick and vulnerable.

It got to the point that even if you excuse yourself going to the bathroom, he would throw a tantrum and cry, if you don't allow him in and allow him to hold your hand to do your business. The second time he refuses to let you go, you scolded him for a bit, which made him let you go alone, although reluctantly. You watch as he just sits there by the door, looking so sad and lonely, that guilt gnaws in your chest.

He looks like a kicked puppy, more than his usual wolfish demeanor and persona, which seeks to be always on the top.

After some time, Kenji finally slept like a log. The fever finally went down. You let out a sigh of relief and did your best not to make a sound so as to not wake him up.

You have learned your lesson when you woke him up earlier. You were greeted by a disgruntled Kenji, scowling, and full of distrust. He would close his eyes but the moment he realizes he did, he will shoot awake and scowl at you with a pout. Asking if you moved. Even if you say no, he will just glare at you.

It was like playing a game you will never ever win so you just sat there, holding his hand tightly, patting his side, humming a melody, to make him feel relaxed and finally sleep.

You thank all the gods when you pull your hand from his hold, and all he does is grumbles a bit before turning, and continues sleeping.

You tiptoed walking towards outside his room, making sure that you will not make any noise, as you slowly close his door. You were in bated breath as you carefully walked backwards away from his door, counted to ten, and cried tears of joy when no angry Kenji went out to lash out at your disappearance.

You almost had a heart attack when the moment you turned, Mina was in front of you.

“Mina, you-”

“I wished you good luck. I even told you not to go.” The AI replied with a sound followed by a shrug.

You're probably just so tired and drained that you have no energy to argue, and you even thanked her for preparing a meal and a hot bath for you as an apology.

Although, a sick Kenji is a pain in the ass, you admit he looks kind of cute and adorable, pouting and clingy like that. You just hope that when he does that next time, it wasn't because he was sick.

You can't take cute photos of a sick Kenji Sato, right?

[6esiree]

Teasing Alastor Into Submission

Summary: You bet Alastor that you could make him submit to you and he takes you up on the offer, confident that you’ll fail.

Warnings: Cursing, AFAB Reader, Usage of good girl/silly girl, Hair pulling, Biting, Alastor gets tied to a chair, The tentacles come out (but I call them tendrils), Oral (M!Receiving), Penetration, Slight breeding kink, Smut with some feelings. Erm, there’s some fluff at the end <3 MINORS DNI!

What an utterly humiliating experience it was to surrender himself to somebody as insignificant as you—but Alastor managed to hide his true sentiments regarding the situation by focusing on your nimble fingers, an amused smile gracing his sharp features as he watched them dutifully fasten his wrists and ankles alike to an old, wooden chair. You’d found it rotting away in a random storage room within the Hazbin Hotel, but now you were putting it to good use.

“Tell me, dear, is this really necessary?” Alastor asked, experimentally tugging against the makeshift bindings. “When it comes to you, yes,” You hummed, his body stiffening as you leaned in, your hand coming down to cradle his jaw. “Pardon me?” He narrowed his eyes at you, the room slightly darkening in his state of irritation.

All of this started with a silly little bet, one Alastor wholeheartedly believed he’d walk away from triumphantly. It only made sense, given the fact that you were young, weak, and recently manifested in Hell, everything opposed to the powerful and intimidating overlord fastened to the chair before you. Still, you were determined to prove him wrong, your thumb purposely traveling across his face at a leisure pace, his cold skin igniting beneath your touch and the room eventually lighting back up.

“I bet I can make you submit to me,” Your sweet, innocent voice echoed in the back of Alastor’s mind, a phrase he initially chuckled at now taunting him as he fought against the natural urge to shiver at your touch. “Perhaps even squirm and writhe underneath me, too.”

He vividly recalled the way he had approached you: the tips of your shoes kissing each other as he towered over you, leaning down far enough so that his face was only a few meager centimeters away from yours, all while his hot breath teasingly caressed you. You tried to turn your head away, flustered over your close proximity, but he firmly grabbed your chin and made you look at him, his thumb and his forefinger gradually applying pressure.

“You can do whatever your foolish little heart desires, my dear,” Alastor had practically whispered against your lips, and oh, how he wished he would have chosen his words more carefully, especially with your hand teasingly feeling up his thigh now. “Why? Because you’re destined to fail.”

The worst part was that Alastor’s control was quickly slipping away from his claws, feeling utterly betrayed by his body as you pressed your lips to his jaw, peppering him in feather-like kisses. You squeezed at his inner thigh, too, barely grazing the tent that was steadily forming in his pants. His ears fell back and his nostrils flared, and you almost felt guilty for putting him in such a vulnerable position…until he craned his neck to give you better access.

“I am merely trying to avoid your wretched lips,” Alastor weakly defended himself, even though he hardly protested when you went to remove his bowtie, or his dress shirt, or his pinstriped coat. “This means nothing,” He continued, his exposed chest heaving, and even more so at your curious touches.

You hummed in acknowledgment, the hand on his thigh unbuttoning his pants, all while you carded your fingers through his scarred yet pleasantly soft chest. Alastor stared right at you, and he would have had an unsavory word or two for you if you hadn’t trailed your hand down his stomach and past his briefs, your thumb gingerly caressing the head of his weeping cock and generously lathering it in his precum. You didn’t miss the way his throat bobbed in anticipation.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to say it,” You practically sung, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, giving it a teasing squeeze before actually pumping him. “Ha! I can easily free myself and make you submit to me,” Alastor hissed defiantly, throbbing in your palm.

“Come on, Al, nobody else but you and I will know,” You said, resorting to sinking down onto your knees when he slowly blinked at you, unamused. “I won’t tell,” You tried again, but that didn’t work either. So, you introduced his cock to your watering mouth, staring up at him through your lashes.

No, Alastor would never submit to you, despite whatever filthy, whorish advances you made towards him; but he also couldn’t help but entertain you, tilting his head and tauntingly arching a brow down at you. You rolled your eyes before parting your lips, your tongue darting out to sensually lap at the precum thickly decorating the head of his cock. The old chair creaked as you leaned in and slowly swallowed him, your eyes fluttering shut, trying not to gag at his thickness.

“I hope you know that just because I am tethered to this chair with your poorly-made knots,” Alastor started, pausing at the feeling of you hollowing your cheeks and sucking, stifling his pleasured groan by harshly gritting his teeth. “That you’re the one submitting to me…like a harlot.”

You paused mid-suck, the head of his cock peeking through your cheek. A harlot? Your eyes flitted up to the man, a wicked smile playing on his lips as your stares met, your cheeks flushed in what he could only assume was anger—but that was far from the truth. You were actually aroused, especially considering that he admitted that he could easily free himself; but there he sat, the corner of his mouth twitching downwards in confusion as you resumed sucking him.

“And yet here you are, allowing me to worship you like a common man soliciting carnal pleasures,” You said after you brought your head back with a ‘Pop!’, a scowl overtaking his features. “You’re a goddamn hypocrite,” You added, placing your hands on his thighs, straddling his lap.

Alastor would have let your words slide if you hadn’t called him out, his ego slightly aching at your quick-wittedness. He also hated that you were right, and that he found himself enjoying the sight of you hovering above his weeping cock, your dainty fingers simultaneously pulling aside the thin fabric of your skirt and your underwear. Your wet, puffy cunt simply served as a testament about how much you were enjoying being in control, and oh, did that irk him.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Alastor spat, his tendrils suddenly manifesting and wrapping around your thighs, their grip tight as they split you onto his cock. “Fuck!” You cried out, your hole burning at the stretch, panic settling in your stomach as he effortlessly tore through the makeshift bindings.

“Either you’ve lost sight of the power imbalance between us,” Alastor leaned in and hissed into your ear, his claws seizing your hips and tearing into your shirt. “Or you’ve become too familiar with me—regardless of which is the case, you need to be put in your place, my naive little doe.”

You shook your head, shakily saying ‘Wait!’, but he hoisted you up into his arms, the tendrils around your thighs vanishing as he stood up. Alastor pushed you up against the wall with a ‘Thud!’ the cheap wooden paneling almost splintering behind you at the forcefulness of the act. But all you could focus on was the thick cock throbbing deep within your warm, wet, gummy walls, raking your nails down his back, whimpering in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Ah, well, look at who’s writhing and squirming now,” Alastor’s words caressed your temple, a groan quickly following afterwards as he readjusted your position, planting his palms against the wall, hooking the crook of his arms into the back of your knees. “I told you that you’d fail, didn’t I?”

He pulled out of you, a trail of your slick connecting your fluttering hole and the head of his cock. You were so, so relieved, and he knew that, watching your mouth fall open with a sigh. Despite how far you had pushed Alastor, ever the gentleman, he allowed you to adjust to his size before he fucked you properly. ‘Does that feel better?’ His static-like voice penetrated your ears, his tone harsh as opposed to the delicate movement of his hips, but how could you complain?

“Oh, yes,” You tossed your head back onto the wall, your eyes shut and brows knitted together in pleasure as his cock parted your folds, your cunt slowly enveloping him in a warm, wet, tight embrace. “You’re fortunate that I’m quite fond of you; otherwise, I would have never entertained your silly little bet.”

You let out a long, filthy whine, clenching around Alastor as he started to move against you, his pelvis massaging your swollen clit with every thrust. While he was treating you quite well—for now—the head of his cock hitting up into that velvety spot inside of you, you mostly derived pleasure out of his little admission. He was fond of you—the man sinking his sharp teeth into your shoulder, dropping one of your legs to snake a hand under your shirt and fondle a breast, and picking up the pace of his thrusts was fond of you.

“Fuck, Al, that hurts!” You hissed, carding your fingers through his hair and gripping it tightly, tugging, your bedroom filled with an incessant ‘Pat! Pat! Pat!’ as he punishingly fucked into your poor cunt. You were certain that you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. “I get it, okay?” You cried out, “I was wrong, I was so, so wrong!”

Fortunately, he withdrew from your shoulder, a shiver traveling down your spine at the way his tongue swiped across his teeth, savoring the taste of you. You thought that was the end of it, but then he pulled out of you and turned you around, slamming your front against the wall. ‘Al?’ You asked, wincing as he pushed his cock back into you, one hand still on your breast, the other traveling up your nape and threading into your hair, eliciting a yelp from you as he yanked your head back.

“Tell me, dear,” Alastor whispered, dipping his head to meet you at his chest, your uneven breaths tickling his face. He placed his lips against your plush ones, but he didn’t kiss you, no. “Do you submit to me?” He wickedly asked, your eyes widening in shock at the question.

When you didn’t answer right away, he pinched your hardened nipple in warning. However, it was the static he constantly surrounded himself with growing stronger in his state of irritation, the popping and crackling overwhelming your senses, that had you vigorously nodding your head with a gasped ‘Yes, yes! I submit to you—please, just make the noise stop.’ He soothingly tweaked your aching bud with his thumb and his forefinger, the static disappearing almost instantaneously.

“That’s a good girl,” Alastor hummed, gingerly grabbing your chin and tilting your head sideways, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You moaned into his mouth at the term, the hand on your breast slithering down the delicate swell of your stomach and locating your clit, his thrusts picking up once more.

As much as you had wanted to dissolve the powerful and intimidating overlord into a submissive mess, the portraits hung up on your bedroom wall shaking with every snap of his hips, you accepted that it had been nothing more than wishful thinking from your part. But you were content to clench down around Alastor’s cock, the pads of his fingers swiftly moving back and forth against your clit. You moaned in ecstasy as your cunt spasmed around him, coating him in your juices, but he didn’t let up on you.

“Say it,” Alastor groaned into your shoulder, overstimulating you as he chased his peak, the head of his cock bruising your spasming walls with his desperate thrusts. “S-Say what?” You panted, reaching down to pull his hand away from your clit, but it was no use. Tears pricked at your eyes, feeling helpless. “That you’re mine, silly girl.”

You clenched your thighs together and braced yourself on his forearms, craning your neck to whisper into his ear. ‘I’m yours, Alastor, I’m all yours!’ You said between every thrust, your words making his cock stiffen inside of you. ‘You like that?’ You continued, ‘Yeah, I’m your naive little doe, all yours to breed whenever you’d like—‘ He suddenly shut you up with a kiss, his hips stuttering and his hand stilling, painting your gummy walls with thick, hot ropes of cum.

Alastor knew that he couldn’t breed you, but in his passion-addled haze, that was enough to finally have him emptying himself deep into your cunt. He clutched your waist, claws piercing you as he held you against him, making sure that every spurt of his cum didn’t go to waste. Even when he pulled out of you and had you two dressed with a quick snap of his fingers, you still felt him pooling uncomfortably in your underwear. Nothing could compare to the next morning, though.

“My, my, is everything alright with you, my dear?” Alastor’s voice penetrated your ears as you descended the stairs with trembling knees, holding onto the railing to steady yourself. He manifested in front of you with a shit-eating grin, eyes glinting with amusement. “You look awful!”

An embarrassed flush crept up your neck as you mumbled, ‘Oh, go fuck yourself,’ eliciting a chuckle from Alastor. You arched a brow at him. He usually didn’t appreciate being cursed at, but apparently the man made an exception for you—or so that’s what you thought as he bent down at your level and offered you his hand, his claws anxiously flexing, urging you to accept the gentlemanly gesture. You sighed, muttering, ‘Fine,’ with a straight face.

“Ha! Now, why would I do that when I have you?” Alastor said as you placed your smaller hand in his, briefly twirling you before bringing you into his arms. “I was only jesting,” He lowered his voice, your heart thumping in your chest. “You look absolutely ravishing, my naive little doe.”

Taglist:

@cosmiiwrites @pumppkinlynn @spookieroz @gxstiess @polyo-nym-y @cosmiccandydreamer @vvzhyxx @shinynewboots @leonotlara @bimu2ndo2 @reachthestars @eris-norwega @alastorthirsty @wood-ow1 @freakyfrye

[jellyfishsthings]

WARNINGS: stlll angry reader because i am a petty and grudgy (is that a word? I am not sure) queen, death, funny internal monolgue (i am getting good at them) um not exactly smut but suggestive content ... oh and my terrible writing because it has been a while... also how cool is this collage like 🤯

part 1, part 2

The hotel they had been stayed was a little bit dusty and not overcrowded but his family hoarded him like crazy. They were talking his ear of nonstop demanding answers he didn't have once again. His shoulders felt too heavy and he just wanted to sleep. His lovely wife was avoiding him and when she wasn't avoiding him, she glared at him. His heart ached at her presence. How had he screwed up this one lovely thing fate threw in his way?

His family was a calming presence sure. But he didn't crave them the way he needed her, his chosen family. Don't get him wrong he loved his annoying siblings to bits, those little shots were everything he had. But he didn't seek them out the way he did her. He was infuriated with her from day one. He was a trained assassin, a ruthless killer, yet one simple smile from her, as lightly mean teasing comment turned him soft, weak to his knees, ready to do her every bidding. It wasn't healthy ... right?

He was glad she was getting along with his family and overjoyed when she fought by their side in the Sparrow Academy proving to be a valuable asset. He told her as such which resulted in more yelling from her and a fond smirk on his face formed on his lips as he heard his brothers snickering behind his back.

"Asset? You have the nerve to call me an asset?" Her voice could be heard from miles away but his heart flattered at her sight. Her cheeks were read from the fight and a new cut was adorning her right cheekbone and Five couldn't bring himself to care for the scene they were making because she was finally here, next to him, alive and partially unhurt. He would take her anger over her absence. His mind was calmer and he was more rational, less reckless. All he wanted was to grab her angry face and kiss the anger out of her. Was it toxic? Perhaps. Did he need her desperately? Definitely.

The days have gone by with the blink of an eye and as their impending doom approached them he could she her resolve crumbling, she became less harsh with him, tangling their fingers in show of silent support and Five at that moment felt invincible, there was nothing he couldn't do. If he was going to die he was going to die in her arms, he was going to feel her lips against his one last time and he was going to feel her around him again.

The opportunity arised in Luther's crazy wedding. He could understand the sentiment. He had done the same but he thought his marriage was more beautiful than his. His dark green eyes were constantly scanning the room as he consumed one drink after the other. He was going to be hammered beyond recognition and his wife seemed to have the same idea as she mixed drinks and swayed on her feet. She had never looked more beautiful. She had put on a bit weight, yet not enough and all he wanted was to staff her face with her favorite foods to make sure she would stay healthy.

Somehow they had ended up on the dance floor, stumbling over each other's feet as they giggled lightly underneath their breaths. They were watching them closely from the balcony of the room, yet he was so far gone in her that his brain was stuck in that thought as it repeated her name in an endless circle. His fingers ghosted patters in her lower back and he could feel the goosebumps rising at her exposed back. She had been wearing a beautiful dress, the one that resembled THE dress, the one she wore when their relationship started.

Their last night on Earth.

They were going to spend it together.

With a bottle of the strongest whiskey in hand and pulling her by the waist they ended up in an abandoned room as they stumbled and fell on each other. They flopped down on the bed, bouncing on the mattress and the springs groaned from the sudden weight. His jacket had been discarded in a matter of minutes as he pounced on her like an animal would to its prey and kissed her hungrily.

In a matter of minutes their clothes were resting on the carpeted floor and he was inside her moving at a lazy pace, gathering the other in their arms as soft chuckles and moans filled the air between them. For a moment they were back to their weeding night, were they had drunk once again more than it was humanly possible and they recited their vows while they made love. Five had always craved the softeness, the intimacy of this act were you could still be coherent to treasure and worship your other half with receiving and giving pleasure.

"I take you as mine, knowing and loving all of your strengths and faults, just as I offer myself to you as yours with all of my strengths and faults. I will be there for you in your times of need, just as I know I can turn to you when I need a guiding hand."

Tears were slipping past his eyes as he repeated his oath over and over. He had to make her remember just how much he loved her, because if they were going to die, she had to know that she was loved and treasured, and that he would do anything to make thing right once again.

The angry red sky was what greeted them and found them in each other's arms with pounding headaches and disturbed groans. His face was buried in her neck, drawing in her familiar scent, waiting for her wrath to unveil and kick him out. He had stepped over the line last night, they had both been drunk and not clear headed as things went too far. Yet her fingertips drew shaped in his spine and a chill raced in his bones.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was so soft it could have been lost in the mayhem that surrounded them. Five unfurled himself from around her and leaned in his arms staying on top of her, keeping his weight off of her.

"No. Don't do that. I am the one who should be apologizing."

"No... I- look I do not want us to die and still be angry with each other."

"I could never stay angry with you... not for too long at least." He let her startled laugh wash over him and he softly smiled at her as she nuzzled her face on his chest and hugged him close.

"You don't hate me?" She whispered in a defeated voice.

"I could never hate you my love"

words: 1.237

TAGLIST: @js-favnanadoongi @loca4moony @inkedeye2345 @baguettehead @stvrlitsky

[fandoms-x-reader]

Overdramatic! MC

Requested By: @yeosanityyyy

Headcannons

Summary: The brothers and an overdramatic MC. The Seven Demon Brothers x Reader (separately) Word Count: 2,268

Lucifer always did his best to do his job properly.

Whether that was maintaining order at the House of Lamentation or serving as the right-hand man to Lord Diavolo, he always put one hundred percent effort into his work.

And while you both admired and respected him for that, sometimes it got in the way of your relationship with him.

And, whenever that was the case, you made sure your feelings were known in the most dramatic way possible. 

You and Lucifer were supposed to spend the night together when he had gotten a phone call from Lord Diavolo.

You were sitting on his bed as he paced around his room, speaking in a monotone voice while he conversed with the future King of the Devildom.

“I’ll be right there,” Lucifer told Diavolo before hanging up the phone.

You had a frown on your face before he even turned around to face you.

“Lucifer, tonight is supposed to be our night,” you stated, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be quick, I promise,” Lucifer replied, gently stroking your cheek before moving to leave.

That’s when you dramatically threw yourself onto your back in his bed, your arms crossed as you stated, “Oh how I wished you loved me more than Lord Diavolo.”

Lucifer froze in his spot as your words hit his ears. Did you just say what he thought you said?

If you were trying to be cute, it didn’t come across. If anything, Lucifer took your statement as a challenge.

In a flash, he had called Lord Diavolo back and told him that something had come up and that he would have to drop by tomorrow.

Get ready for him to spend the entire night showing you exactly who he loves.

“Mammon!” you shouted as you burst through the door to his bedroom causing him to jump and let out a small shout of surprise.

“What are ya’ thinkin’ barging in like that?” he asked, his hand over his heart as it raced.

He was sitting on his couch, surrounded by Grimm that he had been counting as he looked over at you.

“You have to help me,” you stated, walking further into the room. 

Mammon didn’t see anything noticeably wrong with you, so he decided to drag this conversation on a bit.

“Sorry, I’m busy right now,” Mammon replied, continuing to count his Grimm.

That’s when you moved in front of him, sitting on your knees as the two of you locked eyes.

“Mammon, this is an emergency,” you pleaded, your eyes holding a sparkle that he was so weak to.

And now Mammon was starting to worry a bit. “What happened?” he asked, his brows furrowed as he began to run through all the possibilities in his head.

“Come on,” you stated, taking his hand in yours. He willingly left his seat and followed you as you dragged him to your room.

As soon as you entered your room, you closed the door behind the two of you. “What is it?’ Mammon questioned, turning to face you.

That’s when you suddenly rushed forward and wrapped your arms tightly around him, embracing him in a hug.

A blush rose to his cheeks as he suddenly realized what your “emergency” was. You wanted his attention.

But, in true tsundere fashion, he couldn’t let you know that he was enjoying this hug. So, he told you, “H-Hey, I was doin’ some real important stuff, ya’ know?”

And that’s what triggered such a dramatic reaction from you.

You pulled away from him, looking at his chest as you said, “Oh - so you would rather spend your time with Grimm than with me.”

Mammon’s eyes widened as you looked up at him, tears forming in your eyes.

“Wha? No! That’s not what I meant!” Mamon tried to protest.

But you were already pulling away from him as you told him, “It’s okay, I get it.”

Mammon was now pulling you back into his arms as he told you, “No, really! I’d rather be here with you!”

That’s how Mammon ended up spending the night in your room.

Levi was not good when it came to you acting overdramatic.

This was mostly because he wasn’t the best at picking up on social cues, so he couldn’t tell if you were genuinely upset or just being overdramatic.

You were the only person who made him feel like more than a yucky otaku, so he always strived to make sure you were happy.

He had been playing some video games and asked if you wanted to keep him company.

You had come over expecting to play games with him.

But, when you got there, you found him on comms with a rando. They were filling your coveted spot as his number two player.

You hadn’t played the game before, but that didn’t matter. You could learn!

He was excited to show you the game, not even thinking twice about the fact that he was playing with someone other than you.

But, you were ready to ensure that he knew exactly how you felt about the situation. 

You were watching him play when your lips turned to a frown and you told him, “I guess I wasn’t a good enough player two for you.”

Levi immediately froze, his character losing health points as his mind raced with thoughts. 

When his character finally died, he turned to you. He couldn’t believe he made you feel this way!

“O-Of course you’re good enough! Here, let me connect a controller! I’ll teach you how to play! Please don’t be mad at me!” he pleaded, scrambling to grab another controller.

You grabbed the controller he handed you and started playing the game with him.

Part of you felt bad for the rando he abandoned, but he was your Levi.

He would make sure to never ask someone else to play with him before he asked you.

Satan wasn’t normally one for theatrics. He tended to be straightforward and honest when speaking. 

So, it was a bit of an adjustment for him when he realized how overdramatic you could be at times. 

That side of you especially came out when the two of you were alone together.

He was reading a book peacefully when you decided that you wanted some attention.

You started out slow, gently resting your head on his shoulder and looking up at him, but he didn’t pay you any attention.

You let out a small sigh, moving in front of Satan to peer at him over his book. Your eyes were staring intensely at him.

So intensely that you thought he would have for sure noticed your presence.

But, he just kept reading, his eyes not missing a single word.

What did you have to do to get this demon’s attention?

After that attempt was unsuccessful, you dramatically collapsed in Satan’s lap, your arm over your forehead. 

The action startled him and he finally tore his eyes away from his book, moving it to the side to look down at you.

You complained to him about how boring you must be that he couldn’t even look away from his book to give you two seconds of his time.

Satan wanted to roll his eyes at your words, but you noticed the small smirk that rested on his lips. 

He pulled you further up, adjusting you so that you were fully sitting in his lap and he wrapped his arms around you.

If attention was what you were seeking, he would give it to you. He placed a small kiss on your forehead before pulling his book back up to read. 

He didn’t say how much attention he would give you.

Asmo and you were unstoppable when it came to being overdramatic because you both had a knack for it. 

He would fight you for the title of “Drama Queen/King”.

He loved when you would come to him and dramatically complain about something that happened that day.

It could be something completely mundane and you would come to him and act as if your entire world was ending.

And you better believe he’s matching your energy, fake tears threatening to fall from his eyes as he holds you close.

The other brothers tended to stay away from the two of you when you were having one of these moments because they knew it was a situation that had been blown out of proportion and they didn’t want any part of it.

But when you decided to act overdramatic towards Asmo, it threw him for a loop.

He had been doing a makeup tutorial on a livestream for his fans and you had been trying to pull him away for the last thirty minutes.

You needed Asmo time too.

When you realized that he wasn’t going to stop what he was doing, you hopped into his livestream and left comment after comment.

Some of them were about you missing him, and some of them were you telling him that you wanted to spend time with him.

But when he didn’t respond to a single one, you snapped and sent one final comment that stated, “You don’t love me.” Which was of course followed by multiple crying emojis.

Asmo immediately panicked but before he could respond, you left the livestream. “No, I do love you!” he shouted before ending the livestream.

He immediately ran to your room and found you lying on your back in the bed, your eyes closed and face motionless. As if you had died from lack of attention.

Asmo immediately rushed to the bed, tears streaming down his cheeks as he stroked your cheek.

“Please, don’t leave me,” he cried over you, placing kisses all over your face until you finally broke, your lips curving the slightest bit upwards.

He invented being overdramatic. 

Beel was an absolute sweetheart. There was no doubt about it.

But, he was a bit slow when it came to picking up on when you were being overdramatic.

You would say something over the top or complain in a way that was definitely over-exaggerated and Beel would act as if the world was ending.

He would immediately try and fix whatever was causing you so much distress.

Based on previous experiences, you should know better than to act overdramatic in front of Beel. 

But, sometimes you didn’t think about it and it just happened. Today was one of those days.

Beel tried not to let his hunger get in between the two of you, but sometimes, it was unavoidable.

He hadn’t gotten the chance to eat nearly enough so you offered to take him out to dinner for a date.

He was so eager to go so that he could not only eat but also spend time with you.

But, it seemed that his mind was only focused on the former of those two options.

You had tried to make conversation with him on a couple of different occasions, but he was so absorbed in his food that he either didn’t hear you or simply didn’t respond.

You let out a loud sigh as he once again ignored you and that sigh at least caught Beel’s ears as he focused on listening to you.

“If only you looked at me the way you looked at food,” you stated with a frown and Beel’s attention immediately snapped up at you.

He is immediately panicking. “I’m sorry!” he stated, moving his chair closer to you and pulling you into his arms. He never wanted you to think you were less important to him than food.

You’ll have to reassure him you were only playing or he’ll go down a spiral on how he can prove his love to you. 

Theatrical and sarcastic didn’t always pair together in the best of ways. Especially when it came to Belphie.

He loved to tease you whenever you were acting particularly overdramatic.

Belphie was not nice in his teasing either, often calling you a crybaby or something along those lines. 

And that would always elicit a frown and/or pout from you.

But occasionally you could do this when he was in a good mood. And, on that note, occasionally you would get a good reaction from him.

You were lying in bed next to Belphie and you weren’t having it.

He always laid on top of you, so why he decided his pillow would be a better option for tonight was beyond your comprehension.

And you made your feelings known.

“I guess I’m not a good enough pillow for you,” you huffed out and Belphie opened one eye to look at you.

You looked so adorable as you pouted beside him. So adorable that he didn’t want to give in. He just wanted to watch as you made that face.

That was until you started getting out of bed and said, “Maybe I’ll go and see if Mammon or Asmo think I’m a good pillow.”

Belphie’s arms are immediately around you, pulling you back into the bed and laying on top of you.

He’ll 100% call you out on your theatrics. “Don’t be overdramatic,” he stated, knowing that he could bring a pout to your lips one more time.

Then he added, “You’re the only pillow I would ever want.”

It was sweet in his own way and a smirk rested on his lips as he saw you smile.

He may not always give in to you being overdramatic, but at least he knew how to bring a smile to your face.

[blueicequeen19]

The Nanny

Warnings: Rafe cheating on his wife with the nanny 🔥

I’d been a nanny for the Cameron’s since their oldest was a baby. They moved me into the guest house, paid for my college, and paid me more than I ever dreamed. I was extremely grateful for the opportunity even when I’d catch Mr Cameron staring at me for long periods of time.

I won’t lie by saying I didn’t enjoy the attention and living in OBX gave me the perfect opportunity to run around in bikini or crop tops or dresses. I’d feel his eyes on my skin like a warm caress, making me burn hotter and hotter until I had no choice but to leave the room.

I made sure to never catch myself in a room alone with him out of fear of what he’d do. What I’d let him do.

I wasn’t worried about his wife because more often than not, I’d spot a blonde, shaggy haired Pogue slipping out the back door on weekends that Mr Cameron was working despite her being pregnant with his fourth child. I wasn’t sure if Mr Cameron was entirely faithful either.

They fought so much that I was constantly trying to keep their children busy. Then when I’d check to make sure it was safe to come back inside, I’d find Mr Cameron taking his wife against the counter or on top of the kitchen table. On the stairs. In the middle of the floor.

She was always facing away from him and he’d always lock eyes with me while he pounded into her. Id ache between my thighs for days. No amount of touching myself would help. I’d seen his thick cock countless times in five years and I craved it. Something had to be wrong with me. I couldn’t risk losing everything.

I was deep in thought as I made my way back to the pool house where I lived that I didn’t even notice the door being unlocked as I stepped inside or the spicy scent of expensive cologne until it was too late.

“Mr Cameron.” I breathed, a lump forming in my throat as I watched him turn the side lamp on.

“It’s been five years, Y/N, I think we’re past the formalities.” His lips tip up into an arrogant smirk, “Plus you’ve seen my cock on more than one occasion so please, call me Rafe.” I couldn’t speak as his eyes raked over me, making me clench my thighs.

“W-what can I do for you?” I breathe. His wife and kids were asleep not far from here, just across the yard. He couldn’t be here. What if she came looking for him? Why was it suddenly so hot in here?

“I want you to fuck me. Whenever I want. However I want.” Mr Cameron said with confidence, lighting my blood on fire as my eyes widen.

“Your wife— your kids—what—.”

He suddenly stands, crossing the room quicker than I can back away.

“My wife is fucking a Pogue in my bed when I’m not here. I’m pretty sure one or two of my children aren’t even mine.” I gasp as my back hits the wall and his large hand finds the back of my neck. Our bodies are suddenly flush and I can’t breathe.

“Mr Cameron—.”

“It’s Rafe or sir, Y/N. Mr Cameron is my father and I won’t have you reminding me of him when I’m inside you.” Heat pools in my belly and I can’t stop from whimpering.

“I know you feel me watching you. I know you want me as much as I want you. It’s written all over your face.” His thumb swipes over my bottom lip, prying it free from my teeth.

“If your wife finds out I could lose everything.” I whisper, my hands fisted at my sides.

“You work for me. You belong to me.” My heart races in my chest, his possessiveness making my knees weak.

“You’ll take care of my kids during the day and you’ll take care of me at night. I’ll double your salary and fuck you so hard you’ll see stars. Do we understand each other?” I find myself nodding before I can fully grasp what he’s saying.

“Good. Show me to your room.” I blink a few times before realizing he’s stepped away from me, letting me pass. I can’t take in a full breath as I lead him up the stairs and to my bedroom. My knees are weak and when he locks the door behind him, they nearly give out.

“Face me.”

I do.

“Strip.”

I do that too.

I’m so wet between my thighs that they’re practically stuck together. I’d never been more turned on in my life. A stiff wind could make me cum right now. The ache only intensifies as he devours me with his eyes as he strips off his clothes, draping them over the chair before making his way towards me.

“This first time is going to be quick.” He pushes me down on the bed, the heat of his body making me gasp as he kneels between my legs.

“I’m so hard that it hurts.” He shoves my legs wider apart before taking the thick head of his cock and running it along my slit.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Making a fucking mess for me, baby.” He groans. I whimper, unable to form words as we both watch his movements.

“Next time I’m going to take my time with you and savor this.” The head slips in and I gasp, my nails biting into his biceps.

“I just can’t control myself right now. I need you too badly.” When he pushes in further, a deep sexy groan escapes him and I clench around the head, making him hiss between his teeth as he comes down on top of me. We’re both shaking as he sinks deeper and deeper until I’m so full that it hurts.

“Fuck, you feel good. Fucking made for me.” I resist the urge to kiss him as we come chest to chest and he rolls his hips, stealing another moan from me.

“So hold on. Because this time I’m going to fuck you within an inch of your life.”

[deadsetobsessions]

Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

-

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

-

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

-

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

-

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

-

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

[gauloiseblue]

[TW: rape, non-con, dark]

There's something about stray dog's behavior that speaks König to me.

He'd been kicked around, ridiculed, and left on the cold pavement alone. He had no real house, and had to beg even for a scrap of food. Those were the factors that forced him to grow teeth way earlier—and sharper—than he's supposed to.

He'd held the bitterness in his heart, causing him to despise the weak, the poor who couldn't stand up for themselves. The perfect replica of his past self.

He hated seeing them, he'd even go as far as 'taking care' of them. Letting them know that no one would help them, no one would come to the rescue. Just like what people did to him back then.

He recognizes his contribution to the vicious circle, yet he finds himself helpless as he's unable to break free from it.

Perhaps that's when God decided to punish him for it.

There's a mission that required him to work together with the other team, and met with the reprisal for his bad deed, in the form of a medic.

He didn't spare a glance at her, didn't acknowledge her existence, until she defended her patients in front of him.

One of the missions went wrong, causing the soldiers to be injured by gunshots and a grenade. It was theirs to blame, because they didn't pay attention enough, but she shouted at him, telling him if he'd given them a deserved break, it would've been avoided.

He, of course, was angry at her.

He told her she didn't know anything, that she's hindering the mission. But she didn't flinch, even when he growled at her.

It frustrated him, because even his glare would send his soldiers running. Yet it didn't work on her. The people who's not afraid of him are usually those in power, but she isn't one of them. She's just a mere medic.

He tried to kick her out of the team, but the higher ups told him that there's no one available for her replacement. He also tried to make her quit, but what he did came back around to him, as he received a penalty.

It stresses him out, to the point that he'd overwork himself to distract him from his thoughts.

One day, a bullet passes through his heart and lungs, causing him to collapse on the spot.

In daze, when his consciousness slips in and out, he thinks how he could've easily avoided it. But his body wasn't listening to him, delaying his feet to move back.

In what feels like months, he opens his eyes for the first time after the incident.

What he sees, is a pale light on the ceiling, and a blurry figure by the bed.

And there she stands, just like the angel of mercy.

She doesn't say much, except for telling him to rest, and that he's lucky he survived.

She tells him the same thing for days, before he can muster two words out of his mouth.

Shut up.

And strangely, she smiles.

"Seems like you've recovered well." She responded, "Welcome back."

She continues to nurse him, despite his snarky remarks that she easily deflects. She takes care of him with patience that should've withered away from the moment she joined the army.

It shouldn't have bloomed in front of him.

For the first time in his life, he feels the weight of his guilt on his chest. He could've been kinder, could've been softer, and he would've broken the cycle just like she did. But he chose to nurture his anger—just like his father, and his father's father.

Then again, she could've gotten it easy from the start. Though in his heart, he knew it's just an excuse for his behavior.

The day he's permitted to work again, he left without saying thank you.

At night, he wonders if she'd come to hate him as well. No one would blame her if she does, but deep in his heart, he hopes she doesn't.

Since that day, he has followed her like a lost dog. But he would turn his head away whenever she looked at him.

Sometimes he scoffs at himself for thinking about injuring himself, just so he could receive her care. Yet he couldn't help but panting at her feet, lapping up every little conversation they made. He wants to surrender himself to her, letting her put a collar around him and call him hers.

And it's all because she showed just a little kindness to him.

On lonely missions, or lonely nights, he often imagines what they could be. Living in the suburbs, white fences, and kids. The picture perfect of the marriage.

Until it all shatters on the ground.

It's not his intention to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help but lean in when he hears her voice. She sounds happier, as she shows her friend the ring on her finger.

So he bares his teeth,

And bites.

(One time, his uncle had to put down their dog

Because he bit his children for no reason—

Other than jealousy

He heard the dog whined

on the cold table,

alone, and scared

As the vet slowly pushed the poison

Into his bloodstream

And God, how cruel is it

To put a heart inside of a beast

When all his life

He only knew

How to bite?)

He pants as he presses himself into her, causing her to whimper, as her voice is long gone from screaming and crying.

She must've had no idea of what's coming to her when he called her to his office. The scratches and bruises on his body were enough proof of her gullibility, that she came to him, unassumingly, and trusting.

He had her bent over his desk, smothering her easily with his body as he forced himself into her. She was a fighter, but not strong enough to defeat him.

He had lost his inhibitions, as his back arched for the eighth time, spilling his seeds into her.

And she's lost as well, as her eyes were unfocused, and all her energy had been zapped from her body.

"Leave him." He said, as he drove himself into her once again.

She lets out a high-pitched moan when his cock stretches her open again, filling the room with sticky sounds.

"Leave him and love me instead." He said for the second time, and she cried in pain when he buried himself too deep.

"Love me," He sobbed as he pulled the ring out of her finger, knowing fully well he couldn't replace it without twisting her arm. "Please love me."

Her tears flood her cheeks as she watches him discard the ring from her, before latching his mouth onto her shoulder. Marking her with another bite, drawing yet another blood with his teeth.

He knew she had closed her heart the moment he slammed her on the table. He knew she wouldn't come to love him. But if he's not loved by her, then no one should.

[sleyu]

thinking abt an sfw thing for mean bf!remus and mean bf! sirius rn (separately). hes a loving boyfriend and ofc his gf is the apple of his eyes but he was in the worst mood when the poor girl walked in on him one day just sweetly inquiring whats wrong with his mood and if she can help but when hes in a bad mood...hes just soooo much meaner and poor girl glares at him, tearing up and before he can even process his guilt storms off, ignoring him calling her name and oh now hes grovelling like hell

remus in particular fits this concept so well.

i think this is predictable, but this happens once every few months, particularly at the end of the month when the full moon is approaching and what remus considers his worst, most menacing traits manifest and reveal themselves.

before dating you, remus was consumed with foreboding and anger. of course, his friends helped and even school took his mind off of his transformations. however, remus never had a release—someone in particular that he knew he could rely on—someone he was certain would adore him unconditionally. since dating you, remus found a sense of normality in his life.

despite this, as the full moon crept, so did reality. this damned remus with not only his transformations but also with his most haunting, reoccurring insecurities. it was inevitable and as his mood and disposition heightened, he became increasingly sensitive, triggering sinister, petrifying fears in his mind that pertain to his biggest weakness: you.

in actuality, remus is terrified that one day, “you’ll come to your senses” and leave him. he’s afraid because he knows that he would easily let you. he is conscious of the fact that he’ll accept it despite the crushing, torturous pang in his chest that yearns for you.

with these rising, uncontrollable, and inevitable emotions and oversensitivity, remus is prone to hideous, gut-wrenching jealousy. of course, remus is possessive and territorial already, but its toxicity is never directed at you. however, near the full moon, his corrupted mind deludes him into believing that you take interest in the endeavours and offers of the people that flirt with you—that you reciprocate and feel fondness for the subtle touches, teasing whispers, and longing eyes that you receive from everyone else but him.

you begin noticing his peculiar behaviour in class when he didn’t greet you as you slid next to him on the desk bench. anyone could tell that it wasn’t remus lupin’s day and that they’ll receive the worst end of his behaviour at any attempt to interact with him, but usually, you’re not included as another target of his anger.

his hostile behaviour and refusal to talk to you continued the entire and it wasn’t until you kindly asked him what was wrong that he finally broke, speaking to you as if you were foreign to him.

‘just can’t ever fucking leave me alone, can you? y’know, y/n, why the fuck don’t you go on and talk to someone else? been smiling and eye-fucking tremblay all day and now you remember me? fuck off.’ he all but spits bitterly.

his heart immediately drops when your frightened look twists into one of hatred, bitter tears filling your narrowed eyes. his hand twitches as your voice shakes, attempting to fight back any sobs to prevent him from gaining any satisfaction from your sadness.

‘you’re a right foul delusional git, lupin. you should fuck off. come back and talk to me once you’ve come back to your senses, fuck.’ despite your shaking voice, you maintained a scarily calm demeanour before storming off, ensuring to slam the door behind you, the loud sound reverberating throughout the room of his dorm.

he was so stunned that all he could utter was an apologetic, disbelieving, ‘y/n,’ that you rightfully ignored before you left. it was only then that remus groaned and slammed his fist on his desk in frustration, feeling far worse than he’s felt all day.

tears of frustration would sting his eyes, an aching lump in his throat would form, and all he can do is sigh shakily, feeling his hatred for himself only grow more. he hates himself, knowing that he constantly sabotages what he feels is the one thing he breathes for—the one thing that calms his heart and alters his view of the world.

remus would take his time in attempting to give a sincere, deep apology. the full moon was approaching and after the turmoil he’s gotten himself into, he’s lost all his energy to provide you with the sincerity he knows you deserve. all he can do to cope is unleash his sharp tongue on everyone else. in between his threats to his desk mate, his heart would twinge and his cheeks would flush when he catches your distant stare.

all he can do is clench his jaw and let his heart ache in yearning, watching you from afar, looking as though you’ve already moved on from the fight whereas your awfully mean glare haunts him day and night.

all he craves is for you to pet his head and coo at him, assuring him that you’ll always be there to take care of him no matter what. all he pines for are the tender, sweet kisses you press to his temple and his cheekbones. he tries to replace the feeling of your chest by lying on and embracing his pillow but he can only kick it off the bed and groan at the unfamiliar, unpleasant feeling that isn’t you.

remus becomes ridden with anxiety while imagining his apology, fearing that when he does beg on his knees for forgiveness and takes accountability, you are indifferent. he’s terrified that you’ll shake your head, and instead of cradling him in your arms, you would tell him that you’ve had enough and that you can’t possibly deal with him anymore. it’s these thoughts that have tears streaming down his eyes in the shower, that have him breathing heavily in the middle of studying, that break his heart into pieces.

before he has enough energy to verbally communicate his regret, no one has ever seen remus lupin as pliant and obedient since he stepped foot into hogwarts. as soon as slughorn would declare the materials necessary for the potion, remus would be bouncing his knee anxiously, waiting for his professor's approval before he jumps out of his seat and races to the cabinet, carefully studying which material was flawless and polished enough to present to you.

you’d take it with silence but he would inwardly beam. this is a step in the right direction, he thinks. the marauders would be gawking at him, watching him say a quiet ‘here you go,’ with a tight-lipped smile and soft eyes.

he couldn’t care less if he was left with a tarnished cauldron or rusty textbook. what mattered more was that he gave you the best one and he was slowly redeeming himself.

before class would end, remus would hurry to the door, holding it open for every single person in the class and holding it especially wider for when you walk through. every other person that walked out of the door was shocked and hesitant to take advantage of his kind gesture—remus, however, didn’t spare them a glance, his stare intensely focused on you, studying your reactions to his unusually chivalrous demeanour.

he has to charm you with this. but there you go, laughing happily with one of your friends, completely ignoring your miserable boyfriend’s existence and walking straight toward the great hall.

‘fucks sake,’ he mutters before racing there, determined to fix a plate full of your favourite food himself.

once the full moon passes, remus decides to make a move, heading straight toward the library where he knows he’ll find you studying away.

you’re so focused on your parchment. his heart swells at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and the slight pout on your lips. he’s so in love with you. that softness is quickly interrupted when he realizes your eyes don’t even look up when he walks towards you, quietly whispering your name. fuck, he thinks.

remus walks behind you and bends down near your ear, slowly and carefully brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. you didn’t flinch. you didn’t move away either. you didn’t reject him.

‘oh, darling, i’m sorry.’ he would mumble despairingly, reaching down to gently take your hand in his. ‘i didn’t mean to, you know that, right?’

between every tender kiss to your head and the gentle, soothing stroke of his thumb on your hand and shoulder, his sweet words only continued. ‘i’ll lend you my books, sweaters, anything you want, baby. everything of mines is yours—i’m yours.’

suddenly, you immediately snatched your hand out of his grasp and continued writing, concentrated on the piece of parchment in front of you as if remus wasn’t even there. his eyes widened and his stomach dropped, churning unpleasantly.

remus tries to squeeze your shoulder as gently as he can to remind you that he’s there and that he would wait as long as it takes. he remains calm, taking deep breaths, all the while inwardly panicking, unknowing of how long he can keep up with your silence and lack of concern.

after a couple of long, tedious minutes of standing, remus quickly pulls a chair beside you, eliciting a sharp scratch against the hardwood floor that the librarian narrows her eyes at. remus rolls his eyes before settling annoyingly close to you, hesitantly resting his chin on your shoulder after pressing a soft kiss there as well.

‘i could help you with the test, i got an outstanding on the last one.’ he says quietly, smiling weakly, attempting to mask the desperation he knows is laced in his tone.

still, nothing from you. not even a glance, not even a hum of acknowledgement. he hasn’t even gotten your eyes to meet his and he begins feeling a wave of nausea at this realization and his lack of success.

‘please, love, just say anything. take me outside and yell at me if you must—please do. just anything. i just wanna hear your voice. i’m sorry—i’m so, so sorry.’ he takes away his seemingly calm, indifferent facade, voice wavering pleadingly, and you inwardly smirk at the difference in his tone.

remus takes your head in his hand and presses a firm kiss to your temple in an attempt to coax you out of your indifference.

‘i’m so fucking sorry, baby. i was a git, right foul one, yeah?’ he laughs forcefully, miserably attempting to soften the tension in the air to which he failed. ‘you could do anything to punish me. yell at me, hit me even, do anything but this, please. do whatever you want to me—just not this.’

again, you do nothing. he desperately wants you to push him away, to yell at him and tell him to leave you alone. any form of eye contact, any sound of his name—acknowledgment is all he needs.

‘i’m not leaving—i hope you know that. i’ll follow you right back to the common room and i’ll steal you away so that you end up in my dorm. i’ll even get on my fucking knees for you and beg you to forgive me. i’m staying here.’

[twistedchatterbox]

“Even in madness we are meant to be”

Summary: Even in overblot they long for you, please, love them.

ft. Riddle, Leona, [Azul, Jamil in part 2] [Vil, Idia, in part 3] [Malleus in part 4] 

Tags. Romantic, not angst, Reader is NOT Yuu/MC, Lovesick Boys, GN-ish reader, Queen is a gender neutral term, established relationships, overblot, yandere-esq vibes, spoilers for literally everything and every single chapter can be expected here

wordcount: 1600+ | Masterlist & Taglist

A trial, they said, it can’t go too bad, they said. Now this shell of your sweet crush smells like gasoline ink and danger; except he burns everything other than you, including himself if the blot is anything to go by, and you wish you could have intervened but.. oh well. From his eyes, Riddle saw red one second, blot next. And from your eyes, you couldn’t even say whatever you saw was your Riddle; not with such a crazed and sadistic look in his eyes, somewhere between amused and furious by the sight of his prior dormmates attempts to escape. No, not this one. Yet even now you find yourself wavering when he looks back at you. You can’t bring yourself to say looks tend to be deceiving, not now.With trembling hands he reached out to you, deceptively weak only to pull you against his twisted form with all his might and hold you there, his left combed through your hair as he let out a feigned sigh of innocence. “Of course,” Riddle laughed –it sounded so wrong– “I knew you’d never disobey me, my trust~ You’ve always been so sensible” you wondered, was this what he was told? Not that you could keep yourself wondering for too long, as you felt him nudge something against your ear; a thornless rose, unlike himself. “We were meant to be, weren’t we?” He asked with a wicked, playful tone, it sounded poisonous yet sincere, it made your head and heart hurt. “If I am the queen of hearts, then aren’t you my king? Or would you rather be the queen of my heart instead?” Riddle said, knowing neither of the questions were wholly questions, or at all. Yet he demanded answers, silently, tilting your chin up to meet his blot induced gaze, he was so close- Yet it was the way he was whispering against your lips that made your heart stop “Well?” Riddle mumbled, close enough to touch the tips of your lips, close enough to make you feel his words on your skin, fanning his soft breath against your own. You barely held it together enough to nod, trying to ignore the way his amused expression softened all the while his grip on you tightened. Leading you somewhere, deep into the maze where the ‘troublemakers’ will not harm you when he goes back to deal them their punishments. Something about you felt off, guilty when you admired his form, maybe it was the way he securely re-tucked the thornless rose in place every few minutes, or maybe it was the way he smiled into your hair; despite the overflowing blot, or because of it, you couldn’t help the dizziness that clogged up your head- or heart. Shaking off the dizziness upon hearing his voice, you tried to meet his gaze; feeling his hand gentlemanly curl against yours, Riddle led you to the canopy in the middle of the maze where you saw two thrones that did not belong there. “For me, and the queen of my heart” he whispered, and for a moment, had it not been for the withering surroundings, you could mistake it– this blot-driven shell– for your Riddle, not a twisted cognition made out of his mind. As if you could blame him for it all- you felt as though some of it was on you, and so much of it on the woman he had to call mother. You bit your tongue, it wouldn’t do you any good to lose it, or your head. Even if it’s too late for your heart. And when his voice, deceptively soft and convincingly sweet, asked you to “Follow me, my Rose”, you complied. Not even in black roses and cracked marble could you resist the tug on your hand nor heart. Following him, and sitting on the throne next to his; unaware of his lovestruck eyes. Soon, thorns and roses encapsulated the canopy and Riddle took it as his cue to stand, only to lean down to meet your gaze and place a gentlemanly kiss on your wrist followed by one on your ring finger. Ink. it hurt your head and heart, looking at his signature sign of showing affection now covered in an impulsive rush of blot and tears. A trial, they said, it cannot be that bad, they said; yet here you sit on a rose throne, with a kiss on your wrist and ring finger. A trial over red roses is history, but what can the king of hearts, or the queen of his, do when the roses have been painted black instead? You huffed, softly to yourself as if the wilting garden had ears, “I’ll just have to see it through” you whisper to yourself, cradling the kiss-marked wrist and hand on your other. No matter how the tale was spun; the king and queen of hearts stayed together, with a newfound soft smile rising on your face, you decided that you’d take this page out of their book. “And I’ll stay here to see it through with him, through everything” and you knew you could recite this by heart.

Sand. One second it was blue, a clear day where everything the light touched looked so close, now covered by the fury of a storm.  The sand storm’s lashing swings reached far as you can see, the storm reigned over the stadium and possibly beyond; nothing was touched by light at this point, it had gotten intense enough to completely obscure everything. Yet you could never for the life of your own mistake the feeling of the culprit’s eyes burning on the back of your neck, that ever familiar feeling of Leona’s eyes scaling you up in an attempt to calculate or guess how you might react if he simply approached you now. As if you could escape. You weren’t even sure where things began or ended, unable to pinpoint anything, including at what point did this relentless storm start raging in his head. How long had he kept it from you? For too long, if it wasn’t obvious by the circumstances. You found yourself so.. frustrated. In a way, angry. Angry that he kept you in the dark as his irrationality- or more accurately, his desperation- boiled over the limit. But you knew you couldn’t do much, not now at least. You didn’t have the means to pull something reckless, not when he was so.. poorly balanced on this fragile line of danger. Sitting on the shattered pieces of his self control in the way a king would on a throne, one he would never have; a mocking reminder. Instead, what you had was the touch of a coarse hand on the back of your shoulder blades to see your unsurprising company you’d expected, now obscured in a flurry of emotions bursting at the seams with blot as its physical body. Leona. He felt cold to the touch with whatever was encasing him entirely, you wouldn’t be shocked if he was not in his own body; the ink, it smelt like gasoline. And you weren’t sure whether or not you were the flame. Physically, that was the only part of Leona present in this space next to you. You doubted that his mind was with him- Even as his cold, coarse hand rubbed circles on your hand gingerly to kindly request your attention, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that this was the boy who made a promise to you that you’d marry each other when you two grew up. The boy who promised you he’d be king. Barely hearing the ‘can I’, you decided to flip a coin mentally and nod, aware of how much sand would get in if you even tried to speak. And just like that, you were pressed against the jet black fur painted by the same thing that drove him to extremes, hoisted up for an ideal bridal carry; had it not been for everything else, you swear the hand guarding your eyes from the storm would make your heart throb so much more. Soon, maybe far too soon, you felt him shift his hold so that he could hold you securely and tight as he sat down on what felt like a makeshift throne on the hoops. Though it puzzled you when you felt rumbling in the cage of his ribs, knowing that tune somewhere in the back of your head, yet shocking nonetheless. The lyrics and melody were strumming onto the cage of his heart, his idle hand combing through your hair with ease, getting the sand out slowly and as much as he could. “I’ve always wondered,” Leona murmured, and you listened, finally freed of the sounds of storm whipping, “just why you stayed.”, and you wondered which direction he was going, despite your hunch. “I thought it was foolish at first.” He confessed, the crack of his now-smokey voice revealing a fragment of something so.. genuine. Vulnerable. His clawed hands busied themselves, the tip of his nails traced the side of your face and tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear; leaning down, planting a kiss on the end of your brow. The gentle feeling of his breathing and heartbeat was the opposite of this cage made from blot and you couldn’t help but focus on the way he held onto you in the midst of falling apart. Thoroughly enjoying the way a shiver moved up your spine, Leona’s palm cupped the underside of your chin; face to face and barely apart from your lips as he whispered to emphasise his point- “But I think I’ve changed my mind. I want to keep you here, by my side.” getting closer, now whispering directly against your lips- “Let me prove myself as a king worthy of you.” -and if you happened to be the flame to set this alight- “Me and my heart- bared for your taking.”  -you might just find out that the gasoline feels too fine.