#tw; restricted movement

[shiroi---kumo]

"Think hard before you do something you'll come to regret." || from [ x ]

[sluttish-armchair]

Ok but thinking back to how I was in elementary and middle school: I had such disdain for other kids who broke the rules, that I irrationally hated a whole bunch of kids — kids I would have made good friends with — all because I couldn’t stand the fact that they engaged in conflicts with, and affronts to authority figures or standards.

It even went as far as internally mocking a kid my age — calling him “Mama’s Boy” in my head — over the fact that his mother whispered comments into his ear, which he mumbled unintelligibly into the mic, and then would fall asleep as if dead on her arm. I perceived his inability to give comments on his own, and his sleeping, as moral failings of both mother and child; because I wasn’t raised like that. And maybe, those feelings also came from jealousy. I was expected to fight off sleep all the time because I could read at a college level in third grade, and could theoretically understand the material presented at the meetings despite it still being inappropriate for my age group.

I was so far deep into the “bad associations spoil useful habits” mindset that it made me hate my fellow neurodivergents — kids I would have been friends with — who maybe couldn’t hide it as well as I could. That is beyond fucked up. Now, I work with those very kids I disliked so much as a child, and guess what? They are my absolute favorite people to be around; and many of them remind me of myself.

[axon1111]

i just weighed myself since this morning & the water weight etc. disappeared… i hit my 2nd gw i’m under 135 i could cry oh my god ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧��˚

i don’t think i’ve been at this weight since i was in middle school which is really saying something about my big back activities for the last several years aughhhhhhhh joyous freaking days

[shiroi---kumo]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ The sensation he waited for never comes. There is no point of contact and there is not source of injury. He waits and he braces himself for a strike to the face or some form of punishment to backlash upon him for the insolence he dares show with such words. He waits for his Master to make his position clear over him but the strike never comes. No instead the beast just moves back into talking.

He's almost positive that somehow the audio on this live feed cut out just long enough for his final words to have been stripped from Wonderlandian ears. He's sure that from the beast's parading that he only allowed his people to ear what the little demon thought was needed and nothing more. Obviously nothing to smudge out Ch- Entropy's good name. As good of a name as one could have when the things they deal in are turmoil and destruction.

It's causing the smallest of twitches to appear just above the right side of the cloud's mouth as jade moons narrow down and glare as he begins to growl. A deep rumbling from the pit of his stomach as his he watches every move this little monster wearing the skin of someone that doesn't belong to it proceeds to carry itself about the space.

And then it speaks. Then in a twisted voice that is not quite Chaos and not quite Yu, it speaks and calls upon one pink haired girl that still holds his heart in a death grip. Growling becomes louder as chains jingle. There is a chaotic concerto building from the source of one singular cloud as the king turner prisoner starts to shift and fight in place once more.

He doesn't care what the beast is saying. He doesn't want Chaos near her or Yu ever again. Yu was right in believing that he failed them. He did. He put his goals ahead of all else and he allowed himself to razor focus in on assuming rule of Wonderland - putting this before anything and everyone else that could have come ahead of it. He failed them. He should have kept them in his sights. He should have held them closer. He should have held them tighter; when in reality he hadn't even been holding them at all.

What Wonderland thought of him be damned, his life's work was already thrown in the fire but he would not let that beast get near Ai.

And he hears the words.

He hears the command to come and hold him still. He hears the order for the girl he adores so to come and hold him fast so Chaos can strike the killing blow. It's coming. This life will soon end. He's already aware that this is a fact he cannot stop so that means he can at the very least put it to use before the air is stripped from his lungs.

It's been so long. It's been so long since he's last died and he had fancied to keep it that way. The closest he's come in recent years was the battle with Anarchy all those years ago. When his soul was shattering and he feared that it might be for good this time.

It might be for good this time.

He can't say he's not scared to die anymore. He can't say that death doesn't scare him as it once failed to. He doesn't know what will happen should he die again. He doesn't know how many more lives Black Wind's binding seal on his soul will allow to him.

How many more times will Lord Bahamut grant him immortal breath?

He can't say he wants to die anymore. He can't say he's a wandering Ghost of Wonderland's plane. He can't say any of these things because those two children saw fit to breath life back into his crumbling form and give the very beat that drums in his chest back to him.

He is alive because of them.

And Chaos - that beast wants Ai to hold him still so it can take that all away. This beast wants -

"I won't do it."

His blood runs cold when she dares to defy. He doesn't want her to. He doesn't want her any where in the vicinity when that blow comes. He doesn't want her to hold him. He doesn't want her to see. He doesn't want her to see the life drain from his face as his complexation runs out. He doesn't want her to see the blood rush out of his body and he doesn't want her to see the way his form will go slack when there is nothing there to power it's motions.

He just doesn't want her to see him die but at the same time, he doesn't want her to have to deal with the backlash that comes with defying that beast - so two voices start sounding in his mind. One screaming for Ai to simply run and forget about him even being here. One begging the girl to think of herself and flee and another much quieter voice telling him to sooth her wounded heart. A much softer voice in the back of his mind saying that it's all okay and he won't hate her if she does this. He'll keep loving her no matter what path she chooses... until she sounds again -

"I said I won't do it!"

Louder and bolder he can hear her barking the beast wearing her brother's face down and the chains continue to sing as the cloud fights harder. He needs to get to her before that beast can act. He's screaming again as he strains. He doesn't care what he sounds like or about proper composure. He doesn't care how royalty is supposed to appear. He doesn't care that he's only in this situation because she drug him in here in the first place.

He swore to himself when he met these children that he would never let anything happen to them and he would be damned if he went back on that without ever trying. He has years to make up for. Grown by human standards, yet still children in his eyes. Forever children in his eyes. His children. So the cloud twists and pulls and strains at the chains binding him in place to this metal stake in the ground made just for him. Why did Chaos even need her to hold him still in the first place? He was stuck here.

And then he hears it.

The echoing sound of skin meeting skin when a hand strikes the girl directly across the face.

Nose wrinkling, eyes narrowing and teeth grit together, the lunar royalty releases his voice for all it's worth. His own life be damned. He'll die soon and he knows this but that is no reason to strike Ai.

The chains jingle and strain until metal starts to creak and pop when the links holding his arms in place begin to squeak and buckle. He needs more strength behind it and whatever hell awaits him be damned. If this should be his last life, he cares little. In this moment the only thing that matters to him is getting to Ai and protecting her for the monster that has possessed her brother.

He won't let it lay another hand on her.

"I SAID DON'T TOUCH HER!! GET AWAY FROM HER!! GET AWAY FROM AI!!"

White consumes where jade once was as the king continues to pull with every ounce of strength he owns and the metal links binding him starts to pop and bend. He doesn't care if she drug him in here. He doesn't care about whatever Chaos has planned for him. He just doesn't care about himself anymore.

Ai and Yu are all that matters and if he has to reach inside the boy and tear the beast out then he'll find a way to do just that.

"GET OUT!" his voice growls. "GET OUT OF THAT BODY!! IT ISN'T YOURS! IT'S YU'S! NOT YOURS!!"

He's screaming all over again as he strains, working as hard as he can to get the chain to finally give. His shoulders feel like they're on fire and his arms ache. His wrists can feel the metal cuffs digging into his skin and he's sure the sharp metal has drawn blood by now but it doesn't matter if he can just get to Ai.

"I'm sorry."

They're the next words that leave him as pale glowing vision focuses in on the floor just below his feet. He's still straining. He's still struggling to pull his arms apart - one metal link than another buckling and popping until the seam splits.

"I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for not being there. I'm sorry for being too self absorbed to check in on you both. I'm sorry for all of it but I'll fix it right now. I'll fix it. Rakastan Sinua. Aina. Rakastan sinua niin paljon. Minulla on aina ollut. I'll do whatever it takes to fix this. Ai, I won't let you get hurt anymore. I'll protect you. Yu, I'll save you. I'll save you, I promise. Both of you, so please just trust me, one more time."

There's a part of the vessel that feels disquieted by the laughter that echoes. Not for its own sake, however. The beast had prepared for many eventualities, and this was just one in the line. With a single flick of the wrist as a signal, as the guilt first leaves his mouth, one of those working in the back rooms knows to cut the audio. Truly, for someone who had evaded him for so long, he certainly thought that this would be made easy. He could act as horrifyingly gauche as he wanted, the whole of Wonderland wouldn't be hearing it. Such a truth... Ah, what the citizens of Gaudium didn't know certainly wouldn't hurt them.

Stop stop please we don't need to do this. I can't keep watching this please.

Ah, there it is, its vessel trying so deeply to know better. However, such things were much too petty, and Chaos knew that there wasn't anything it could do to stop this. It's attempts were feeble, nothing to worry about in the long run. It would continue until this rebellion was squashed. Never fear little one, this is what he deserves...

The creature only half listens to his little tirade forward. It's amusing, the word of monster. Funny that those before it were considered good and wonderful for their creation, but when another tries, they're deemed monster. How hypocritical it seemed. But neither would ever admit to fault, and so that war of ideals continued. And then, he's finished talking, so it's Chaos' turn to continue, time to finally end this as the Cloud so desperately wanted.

A breath is taken, as if to signal that Chaos is ready to speak again. Such was the letter this planning was taken to. Even gestures needed to be practiced, and thankfully years of planning had made such things easy to execute. Maybe it was too much, for how well everything was going, and yet the beast couldn't care less. Accounting for everything, that was how a true leader needed to act, was it not?

"You certainly heard him, didn't you? Guilty to all charges! Not a single word in his defense!" Chaos' tone is filled with glee at the sounds of it. For now, it can get to the fun part, the most interesting part of the deal. The execution. For those few who might still be holding out hope that the man before them was their shining beacon of light, this would quickly snuff it out.

The trial should be over quickly, because it's the sentence that's really the fun!

Speaking of fun, the sight of another soon fills its eyes, which quickly gives it another part of its plan. The General... She'd been acting out of turn about this one, hadn't she? It's former servant had gotten to her. Certainly, it was to be expected. Through it's memories, it could see that she had felt closer to him than the boy. For this, it would remove any doubts in her mind. At least, that was the aim. And it's sure that having her act this out would make the rift between the two deep enough that it wouldn't be a problem...

To that point, the beast takes its attention off the prisoner to speak with the girl, while the camera continues to focus on the Cloud. This wouldn't take long. "My Dear Soldier..." it states, it's words coated with a sickeningly sweet honey. She needed to do as it said, and the gentle hand was the best to start with. Then, when the voice needs to be raised, it can justify such an outburst. "Be a dear and hold him still, would you?"

And at such a point, the General was at a crossroads.

For one, she had this anger that she was holding on to, that she was keeping in her being that wanted to be released toward him. That would be enough to take care of it. Be the reason the life drained from him for those few precious minutes. Maybe then he would listen. Maybe then he'd stop treating her like some unknowing child and give her the respect that she'd earned. Once she sealed his fate, there would be no going back.

And that was the problem, that crossing between the child she was and the creature she was trying to become. There were still parts of herself that she looked back to. Still parts of the past she didn't wish to forget. So many of them began to resurface and she looked to the other. The wish to be cared for, protected. To not have to fight and kill and bleed for something wearing the skin of her brother, just for the faint promise that maybe he still fought to keep himself. Was it her responsibility? Her cross to bear?

And she thinks to White Cloud once more. What he had earlier done. Yelled out for her protection when in reality, there was nothing she had exhibited thus far to even warrant it. Since they had met again, all she'd done was snap at him for wrongdoings she may not even understand the full scope of. She'd never listened to his side, all because of that burbling anger.

Such anger had never steered her right in the past, not really.

She recalls then, how deeply he'd shown care in the past. All those times he had mentioned, coming to the surface. Where they could merely exist together, without worry of the falling kingdoms or their possible roles in all of this. He was one of the few people who treated them like the children they were... The child that deep down, Ai Hayakawa still wished to be.

She had fought in the past not because she wanted to, but because she felt that burden on her shoulders. For the sake of her brother, to keep him from violence. However, what stood before her right now was not her brother. There was a lot she'd do, even without him being the focus. But that decision came to her clearly and in the moment.

That beast could do whatever it pleased with him, there wasn't anything in the world that she could do to stop it.

But she refused to be a part of it.

"I won't do it." Her words are quiet and shaking, as if she'd never spoken before this point. And in that moment, both forms are still as stone. Operators and guards alike stare at the two, as no one could believe just what they were hearing.

"Excuse me? I don't think I heard you properly." It's tone is quiet as it moves closer to the girl, staring at her with an unparalleled intensity. She had one last chance. Turn it around and you won't face the consequences. But despite the way her legs shake with fear and the choking feeling left inside her throat she remains firm.

"I said I won't do it!" Louder this time. Another beat of silence between them. One could cut the tension around them with a knife if they so desired. The waiting is worse than any punishment that the beast could give her, but this was her resolve. She had signed his death warrant already, was that not enough to prove herself? Her loyalty? Perhaps not.

The silence is broken by the girl being slapped square across the face.

[superchat]

Seeing you be such a big masochist on main... does make me want to bully you a bit.

I gotta be honest, like. while i am a complete sub, and theres a good half of it at least thats tied to sexual feelings.

most of my masochism isnt sexual at all, i just like the pain and adore seeing my body get damaged and hurt and want to experience someone else doing that to me, like. not in a sexual way at all, i just want the intimacy of getting beaten by someone until i cant get up and then have some aftercare or something, i fawn over my bruises and scars and would like someone else to do that while i fawn over them instead or something. (tangent but when im feeling more self-hating id want similar treatment but with no aftercare, ive kinda had that before tho and it genuinely does feel awful which ig is the point but :u tangent over)

Kind of fucked up ig so its not like id ever expect that to become a reality or seek that out, especially not anytime soon. i cannot handle intimate relationships rn and i know that for a fact, i can barely handle friendships where ppl are nice to me, i just feel guilty and like i need to do something to make up for it. what is "it" when i say "make up for it" ? i do not know.

[all-i-do-is-try1]

It’s crazy how things like forced feeding are considered tourture under international law. But it’s perfectly acceptable to hold down people with an illness and do this to them.

And yes I do realize this can be a life threatening illness, but there’s always other methods that aren’t things that would be considered torture in any other context.

[rebirthgarments]

TW: Chemical w-rfare, Ab-rtion

Urgent Ask to evacuate Nara, a 🍉 disabled woman with MS who also has pancreatic cancer due to chemical w-rfare.

Support by financially contributing to her @FedUp4Palestine vetted funhnd-raizer (that I personally vetted): givebutter.com/NaraMedicalAid

+ resharing/ reposting this post!

I, Sky Cubacub- a Fed up 4 Palestine team member, have been in direct contact with Nara to get to know her and her story more over the past few days. We have become fast friends due to so many overlapping symptoms of our disabilities. Nara’s story caught my eye because I have post-viral ME/CFS which many times is a precursor to MS. I really want my disability community to show up for her to get this campaign funded that is so close to my heart so that she can continue medical treatment.

We have chatted extensively! During our chats, I found out from Nara that she had not previously had health issues until she was exposed in the white phosphorus attack in 2008. The long lasting damage and effects of phosphorus continue to compound and become more and more disabling to this day, even after 16 years.

Here is her story in her own words (edited for clarity):

“Hi I'm Nara,

I'm a cancer and multiple sclerosis patient. I need treatment, examinations, and follow-up on a regular basis, but the hospitals in which I used to follow up were bombed and the other one was turned into military barracks. All I need now is to leave Gaza for treatment, preserve my life, and live with my family in peace.

We're a family of 4, including my 12 and 7 year old children.

I had been diagnosed with a tumor in the pancreas as a result of inhaling phosphorus in a previous war. A couple years after being exposed to phosphorus, I became pregnant, and the fetus was pressing on the tumor, which drew the doctor’s attention to the cancer. My fetus was emergency aborted, and the spleen, 80% of the pancreas, and part of the small intestine were removed. I complained every now and then of a lot of pain as a result of the removal of part of the pancreas. I was having follow up care in the Turkish Friendship Hospital for hematology and tumors. But since the beginning of October, I have not been able to follow up because the hospital has turned into a military barracks.

The remaining part is talking about multiple sclerosis:

In 2018, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I had many complications, such as inflammation of the seventh nerve in the eye, the inability to walk with balance, movement with difficulty, and many symptoms. I was then required to take 12 injections every month and many medications and vitamins. I was following up at the Nasser Medical Complex in Khan Yunis, but unfortunately the hospital was out of service due to the war. So for a long time I have not received any injections. MS is truly difficult and it controls my life completely, and the attacks occur in many and varied ways.”

A note about her breathing apparatus:

Because people in displacement have to wait in long queues and pay to use the bathroom, Nara had started to restrict her water intake because of a UTI she never has been able to heal from. This has created a problem with raised levels of potassium, so doctors have placed her on oxygen for fear of the potassium affecting her heart.

Goals

she needs at least $15,000 to evacuate

2 adults at $5,000 each

2 children at $2,500 each

this price is subject to increase due to the cost of registration for evacuation continuing to go up

The other money will go to the cost of treatment and living costs.

Nara chooses to stay anonymous because she has had to mask her disabilities so much that only her family knows about her MS and Cancer, so we have not linked her instagram, but we are in direct contact with her and can verify that she is who she says she is! Because of this, she cannot promote her own fundraiser, so it is our job to collectively do it for her!

[Image Description: a digital illustration by @k8deciccio of Nara, a Pal-eh-stienian woman wearing a black hijab/outfit with purple highlights. She has a breathing apparatus that is bulbous that goes in her nose. Text Reads: Help Narawith Cancer and MS Treatment, She Must Evacuate with her family of 4. $30k goal givebutter.com/NaraMedicalAid . There is a QR code in the bottom right corner that goes to her support link. The @FedUp4Palestine logo is in the top left corner.]

[shiroi---kumo]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ There are plenty of things about Chaos that scare the wits out of him but this beast's tone isn't it. Declarations of ownership aren't either. He needed to keep his wits about him and play the game better than he's ever played it before and there are two voices in his head discussing what needs to be done.

'You know what our options are here.' The first would say.

'Yes but that's disgusting and I would rather not.' The second would follow.

'I really don't think the level of disgust you're feeling over this carries any precedence if you want to keep breathing.'

It was a warning and he was very well aware of this. He knew what he had to do. He just felt his stomach turn at the thought. Whether it would work or not would only be seen if he did it but he can feel the bile rising in the back of his throat as he contemplates how he wants to go about it, because for as much as he can work his way through death - he really doesn't want to.

He's already died too many times and he isn't much in the mood to add any more numbers to the already abysmal score card he keeps in his possession. It makes him wonder how he's going to negotiate his way out his debt without having to pay it in full or have anyone else pay it for him. No one else should be paying what he owes. Not the innocents. Not the Comodeen. Not Wonderland and certainly not Black Wind.

No one else needed to pay for the debts on his head. That was his burden to bear. His and his alone. So how he was going to get out of doing so himself was a mystery to him. This could only go one of two ways - shining beautiful success or screaming dramatic failure. He would either be handsomely rewarded or pay dearly for this so the first thing he does once the overly loud laughter dies down- the first thing he does once he is finally alone with this beast is the only thing he thinks he can allow himself to do in such a situation and that's cry.

He doesn't hold back the urge. He doesn't fight the sensation. It's probably better for both of them if he doesn't fight this. It'll probably have a better outcome if he doesn't try to hide his emotions or steel his heart to once more become as cold as ice.

This monster is looking him over like a viper ready to devour it's freshly caught meal and if this beast wanted a feast then by Celestial Mother's will he was going to give it one. So the White Prince doesn't try to wriggle free when the coils tighten. The White Prince doesn't thrash when the word negotiate makes it into the air and he doesn't flinch when Black Wind's is name spoken with such blatant disrespect.

The most convincing lies there are, are the ones that weren't lies at all. Half truths and dark secrets that have lived in the back recesses of his mind. Things he's only contemplated and never dare speak aloud. Things his heart honestly believed to be truthful and fact. The beast couldn't call him out for a charade, if the tale he was weaving held fact laced into it's fictitious content.

"I didn't know how to find you." He sobs. "It's awful with Black Wind. He does not love me at all." He continues refusing to voice anything related to the other half of that emotion and instead choosing to focus on the deep anguish being unloved by his Other of all people has caused him.

"He keeps too close of an eye on me. I wasn't even allowed to fly. He threatened to shoot me down if I tried. I couldn't get away from him. I'm not a person to him, just a tool to be used. I hated it. I hated it so much."

And unfortunately everything he was speaking to light was nothing short of the truth. Anarchy turned sounding board for all the Cloud's frustrations whether they had intentions of becoming one or not.

"He does not love me. He'll never love me. There's no love in that man's heart so he cannot love me the way you do. I didn't know how to find you. I couldn't get away."

It's almost like the sniveling child has come out of hiding now that their audience as disappeared. A face he was hiding because he was reserving it for none other than his Master. Master would listen. Master would hear his cries and listen to his pleas. Master would listen to his woes about how wretched the outside world is and has treated him and as such he lets his heart sink and tighten all at the same time as he whines.

He lets his stomach twist and he lets his body become ill with disgust but at what one wouldn't know. There are too many things on the Cloud's plate to sort through them all. This man of snow surely has been living in a whirlwind of repressed emotion, hasn't he?

"I lost it on him. Exploded. It was very unlike myself. I said such awful things to him but he pushed me so this is his fault. I never would had gone that far if he never shoved me in the first place." The anger is palpable and even if he has other emotions on the subject, none of them are good and he's not speaking them aloud.

The beast wants to feed, so be it then. He will give this monster more than it ever dreamed of. He will provide banquet of misery unlike it's ever tasted in it's life.

Willingly does the Cloud bow his horns. Dropping his head down so it can hang low before this beast of putrid pink as if to signal that he knows exactly where he belongs and he is well aware of his position in this game of cat and mouse. He knows exactly how to dance this Diabladas and he knows full well that he is never ever to lead a single step. He need only follow the footwork while he remained in his partner's embrace.

There was nothing else for him to do.

Would this get him a reprieve? Even a short one? Only time could tell. Perhaps. Maybe. He could only hold his breath and hope. It could only blow up in his face so spectacularly because he knew Chaos was banking on a rebellion. He knew that Anarchy was looking for any excuse to squeeze him until his lungs burst, but he'd like to avoid that if he could.

If this is what it took, so be it.

He had his fair share of problem with Black Wind and he would vent whatever it took to keep him alive. Keep him alive and a proper food source. He would do exactly what Black Wind had urged him to do from the very beginning of it all. He would stop shoving his emotions down and feel them in full. He would let the beast feed - let this monster feed until it choked.

Anarchy had to have some kind of limit, and he would find it. He had plenty to get out while he still continued to play his real issues close to the chest.

He just needed to buy time. He just needed to keep this thing happy long enough for Black Wind to figure out that there was something very very wrong. He was fed up with his Other. He wanted to shake the man and scream at him for being a complete idiot. He wanted to yell at him for being an insensitive moron but that didn't mean he didn't trust him. That didn't mean he didn't love him desperately. If one of them had to be stuck in this position, he was thankful it was him instead of his beloved Sun, but those emotions would remain drown out by the frustrations. Those emotions would get pushed low and buried deep.

Black Wind... I'm sorry for everything I said, I love you, so please just hear me and hurry up. Please. Lord Bahamut I'm begging you.

Pale eyes watched the fire fade from ones of jade with each word, the White Devil himself reduced to naught but a feeble pup in the care of his Master. Yes, the presence in front of them, the Unlimited of Light, was but a flickering candle in the face of a brilliant, burning star. That was all those infidels ever were. Torchwood for their flame.

As the knight struggled to stutter out his conqueror’s new title before giving up and using the alternative, Anarchy’s head cocked to the side in playful, childlike curiosity. Their brows angled in mock surprise. “Oh would you look at that. How polite. And here I was, thinking you had forgotten your manners completely.”

A soft giggle resounded from the back of the chamber, a gaze of sanguine crimson ogling the Misterican’s strangled form. The Verdanian woman dared not approach nor speak - interrupting Chaos was a dangerous game, after all - but it was more than clear she was taking sick pleasure in watching everything unfold. It was her creations that allowed such a smooth capture, after all.

Sadistic eyes narrowed as she quietly blew a kiss, wordless and yet taking every opportunity to tease and rub salt in the wound.

Even Oscha behind her showed no movement nor emotion, a faceless guard standing watch in the shadows. The man in green attire likewise did not speak, but an orb of cyan gleam shot a particularly hateful look before his head turned. The animal laying in the far corner of the room was best not described in words.

As the visage of Chaos continued to caress the Maken, they took a sick pleasure in the way disgust shook each fibre of the Cloud’s being - jade orbs tracking the movements of gloved fingers with seething hatred. “That’s right. You belong to me, darling sweetheart. I am glad we were finally able to see face to face on that subject.” And with these words, Anarchy’s tendril released the swordsman’s chin, allowing a head of snow to turn away if it should so desire. The point had been proven, and that was what ultimately mattered the most.

As if on cue, wild laughter erupted among Chaos’ lackeys, the shadow circus finally enjoying a show for themselves. There was someone else, peeking into the room from the darkness - a pair of glowing emerald pupils. They did not make a sound, and neither did they linger, nervously retreating after only a brief glance.

Anarchy allowed the fun to continue for some time before clapping their hands, commanding silence once more. The tip of a tongue traced painted lips as Chaos’ new avatar savored every single flavor of terror that poured forth in radiant waves. Ah..! How the beast had missed its beloved doll - a lantern in the night, setting itself ablaze time and time again for the sake of a foolish mission. To think this creature of Salvation would gladly burn alive if only to warm others. Cast himself onto a smoldering pile of his own corpses if it only meant those imbeciles, those insignificant mortals could live another day.

What poetry! It made for such fine dining.

A self-satisfied giggle left the magician as they paced excitedly around in front of the knight. Even Chaos’ own coils seemed to quiver in delight, crimson flesh and gilded spines almost aglow with the energy gained from its feeding. But it was not enough. No, the beast had gone starved for so long - starved of the taste of its favourite meal. The cat was not through with the mouse quite yet.

No, the show had to go on. The feast was far, far from over.

“I can sense the conflict in your heart, you know.” Anarchy cooed, golden claws flexing as though in warning. A predatory glint in galactic orbs, smile stretching in a warped manner. Like a laceration upon morgue-cold skin. “Aww… Did you have a… disagreement with the Black Wind? That monster cannot ever treat you right, hm? And so, your heart drove you whimpering back to my heel, even if your mind did not know quite yet.”

The venomous grin seemed to stretch ever wider. “Truly… this fills me with such joy. And yet, as much as my heart breaks to say these words… We still have a score to settle, no?”

“Leave us while we negotiate.” All pretense of kindness was gone as the demon’s voice cooled into a wintry chill. The Shadow Troupe promptly left the room, draping the curtains closed as they did.

The serpent’s grip could no longer be escaped, and there was hell to pay.

[seredelgi]

How do they take you? / AOT x fem!reader

featuring: Eren Jaeger, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Reiner Braun, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman

tw: smut, sex, explicit sex, kissing, teasing, mild bondage, orgasms, oral sex, fem! receiving, mild dom/sub, praising, 18+

There’s nothing that Eren enjoys more in life than taking you doggy style. He loves the perfect view of your ass slapping back to meet his hips with every thrust he grants you. He seriously can't get enough of how your delicious sobs of pleasure fill his room as he reaches that sweet spot that makes you blab his name incoherently. He likes to pull your hair back to kiss your neck and suck on it, blowing out dirty praises on its feverish skin.

Armin loves to see you ride his dick from behind. It’s just a view he never gets tired of, the one of your ass teasingly shaping circles on his lap and sensually leading him into a euphoric state of arousal. When you get closer to your orgasm and your movements become sloppier, he comes to rest his hands on your hips, guiding you steadily into him, knowing by heart the right amount of pressure you need, making you roll your eyes and surrender to his touch.

Sex with Jean usually escalates from cuddling with him, most often in a spooning position. It’s sweet and growing in intensity as his hand slips past the fabric of your oversized t-shirt and looks for your breasts. He plays with them, kissing your neck passionately while he drives into you from behind. He’s panting in between the strands of your hair as you feel him sinking deep into you, your wet heat clenching around his pulsing shaft with every smack of your ass against his pelvis. When he comes it’s usually with a strangled moan, and as you shiver you can feel every last spring of his warm seed filling you up.

Connie takes you wherever he feels like it, and he feels like it frequently. Lately, he’s grown fond of doing it while holding you up against a wall. You thought it would be hard for him to keep you up for that long- since he usually likes to take his time, but he’s proven to be surprisingly strong. It shows in the effortless pace he keeps, burying himself into you and hissing quietly about how wet you are for him, how hot and tight. It just drives you wild in a way that brings heat to your cheeks. A thin line of drool streams down your chin with the amount of pleasure this particular position arises in you, and he loves seeing you like this: your legs trembling against his hips, your lips mumbling his name as he brings you over the edge.

Reiner loves to restrict you. Whether with blindfolds or handcuffs, you don’t care, you love it, too. It’s so thrilling, the feeling of giving up control, of never knowing what to expect, or when to expect it. And as per usual, he takes his sweet time with you, teasing you endlessly with his hands and lips, with his tongue even, circling it skillfully around your already swollen clit, then driving it into your wetness to taste your juices. It takes a while before he finally sinks into you with his dick, and he usually does so while kissing you sloppily. He tastes like you.

You love straddling Erwin’s lap when he sits on the chair of his office after a hard day. You can’t help smiling as he stares in awe at the way his shaft disappears into your wet cunt, the sound of you milking him one that has no comparison. You thrust into him with a desperate demand for release, so needy that he often has to slow you down with sweet kisses and quiet praises of how beautiful you look taking him like that. He likes to pin your wrists behind your back and guide your movements with caution, delighting in the way you wiggle and beg for him to just let you come and ruin you instead.

Any position is fine by Levi, but he has a weakness for those that have you facing him while he’s on top. Doesn’t matter where. Whether in bed, on the floor, or on the kitchen counter it’s not important. He just loves to have you spread beneath him, and mostly, to have easy access to your neck at all times. He burns for the way you moan shamelessly when he kisses it and closes his hand around it, for the way you gasp and clench around him as he rails into you mercilessly. His hold remains firm around your throat as the sound of your juices mixing and the ones of his pants fill your ears and lead you into ecstasy.

So what about the way they kiss you?

How do they take compliments, then?

What gets them going?

What's their love language?

Do they get jealous?

And what pet names do they use the most?

What names do they like being called in bed?

[shiroi---kumo]

.: Song of Servitude :.

The feeling of the tendril that is wrapped about his form is crushing but really what's worse is the small hand that has twisted itself into white locks and is pulling backwards hard.

Words: 3.6k  Pages: 8 Trigger Warnings:  Abuse, Objectification, Possession, Gaslighting , Manipulation, Threats, torture, Nausea, dizziness,  death, murder, ultimatums, hair pulling, love bombing, restricted movement, begging, submission, injury, suffocation, strangling, choking,

It's all he can do to not release his voice in a meek melody of misery. No, instead all that manages to escape is the weak whimpering of a breaking doll. It hurts and he hates it when he does this. Of all this torture his body has been subjected to in the past three years there is just something about the feeling of fingers in his hair that sends his mind into overdrive when it comes to pain. 

It's a pain that is far too personal and far too degrading. It's the song of his soliloquy of servitude and a grim reminder of his place in the world. Nothing makes him feel so small as this dismal display of degradation does. Truly it would bring him to his knees if only he was allowed to drop. 

"Thought you could get away from me, did you? Thought you got the better of me and that I wouldn't find you? I will always find you, Little Cloud. No matter where you go or how far you run I will always find you. You belong to me, Makenshi and it would do you well if you finally got that through your thick skull." 

Those fingers are so small but he feels like they could tear snow from his scalp at any moment. Those fingers are so small but they're so very strong and he'll never understand it. This beast could have taken any form it desired but it settled in that of a child and that is what makes this all the more degrading. 

Those fingers are digging into his skull and it's all he can do to keep his mask fastened tightly over the lower half of his face. It's all he can do to hold his breath and keep his Mist locked tightly in his lungs. They're burning. They're burning and they feel like they might burst. This is what he gets for running away again. This is what he gets for trying to sneak out and run away. To find some place better. Some place out there in this Wonderland where he didn't need to fear for his life on the daily. 

He wants to scream but at the same time his voice is stuck in his throat. Any sound that he could be making stripped from him like the air he seems incapable of swallowing at the moment. How does he even get himself in these situations in the first place? How is it that no matter how fast he moves, this beast always seems to snatch him up like a viper ripping a bird from the sky? That's all this monster was; a twisted serpent and it was ready to feed. 

It'd been a few weeks since he'd been last tied up like this so this putrid pink pit of despair was very obviously starving. What a better entrée than it's absolutely favorite snack? This lone lost Misterican would do nicely. He always did. 

And he can tell as much from the look on the monster’s face. He can tell when he attempts to open his eyes only to jerk them closed again as the devil pulls back and he has to fight himself to not let out even a single note of his pain.  However this beast’s grip is releasing ever so slightly as fingers ease their twist in his hair when the sound a monitor flickers on.  He’s finally able to open his eyes but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to because he knows how this works. He knows if he opens his eyes he’s bound to be forced to witness some atrocity and he’s about to be asked if he would trade up his life for the poor souls of Wonderland who have never done anything all the same. 

And he would.  Of course he would. That’s why he’s twisted up in this serpent's coils with a hand buried in his hair.  That’s why his hands are pinned behind his back and the Maken has been stripped away from him. That’s why his legs have been firmly secured and even if he could thrash it wouldn’t make that much difference. The only thing he can do now is hang there and turn his head as commanded when the picture flickers on and he’s met with the sight of that damable plant witch. 

She’s waving into the screen with wicked intentions used as her latest lipstick shade. There is nothing ever good about the smile she’s wearing and he’s holding his breath still as she explains that she is where His Excellency asked her to go and she’ll be adjusting the camera soon for the show. Whatever that meant. Their versions of shows are never good. So he does the only thing he can think to do - the only show of defiance he has left and he closes his eyes just as tightly as he can manage. He doesn't want to watch. He doesn't want to see another massacre.

"Pay attention, Makenshi, this is all for you." The small emperor of pink explains. The hand clenches down in his hair and turns his head towards the screen a little more than it had been before. 

 "Open your eyes." He demands. "Watch the results of what your disobedience brings." 

It's a low growl and the hand in his hair is pulling so tightly it's hard to obey the command given to him but he forces jade open nonetheless. Crystal burns his waterline from the pain but he refuses to let it fall. 

It's a small village that she's entering. It looks quaint and tucked away in a back corner of Wonderland where a lost traveler could find a warm bed to sleep in and perhaps a glass of water after a long hike. It looks pleasant and like its streets could be filled with such beautiful song during the day and the night. 

There are children there, not that has ever stopped any of them before. Not Herba and she's normally the one to be sent out to do this sort of thing - not just because Oscha doesn't seem to want to get his hands dirty but because this witch of a woman seems to enjoy doing so all too much. 

"Don't." The Cloud sounds as he squirms as best he can within his bonds and attempts to pull his head away from the small Lord's that is buried deep in white locks.. "Your Excellency don't. Please. There are children in that village." 

"There are children in every village, Little Cloud, but you've never thought twice about that when you decide that your own goals are more important than that of Wonderland again. So what will you do then, Little Cloud? Will you die again? Will you give me your life in their stead? Will you give me your agony?"

His head falls as he allows his mask to finally slide back in his defeat only to let out the smallest puff of white as he sighs. He'll relent himself to this. He'll die. If only save the lives of those chil- 

"I'm afraid that's not an option this time."

And the coils around him wrap tighter only to squeeze him hard enough to force his arms to start digging into his sides. There is a yelped gasp that escapes him but the swordsman is pulling air back into his lungs just as quickly as he can to swallow the sounds of pain that he dare not release.

"You've ran off too many times and it's about time you learned a hard lesson for your transgressions. You killed these people, Makenshi. Their blood is on your hands. You've made me go this far and now you have to learn why you shouldn't push me like this, child." 

And it's as if that damn woman can read this beast's mind because in time with that moment - the carnage starts. There are monstrous plants and the witch's pollen spreading through the space as the sounds of screaming echo from the speakers in the room and blood splatters over cobblestone streets. 

He can't watch. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to see this kind of carnage again and it feels like it carries on for a century until it happens and he feels his heart tense in his chest when it does. The town's streets fill again but with something else. Something he would know anywhere and could tell you the scent of it even if he is practically worlds away from the events unfolding before his eyes. 

The town is overcome with the color blue. Blue Mist and it's such a friendly color; a familiar color and it makes his heart ache at the sight of it. He would know that color blue anywhere. There's no possible way that - 

"Oooh what's this? Did one of those pesky little rats get away from me? Are you not the only lost little bird, my precious Little Cloud?" 

The monster doesn't have to tell Herba to investigate further and he isn’t about to tell either of them that if she inhales that bright blue cloud her body will slow to near halt. Let her. Let her damn herself with the unknown and know the might of the Misterican people - 

Everyone else had to breathe that in too. No one had masks to protect them and why would they? Mist was not customary to the Soil Souls. They would not think of the dangers it could carry for the unprepared. 

Opettaja what are you thinking? It is you, isn't it, Opettaja? 

He doesn’t know why but he can feel his heart swelling up for a moment. Swelling up with an emotion he had long since forgotten the feeling of and quite frankly he thought he didn’t even know how to feel really at all. 

Hope. 

There is hope bubbling in his chest and suddenly there is shifting of the coils and a crushing pressure squeezing tightly against his neck while the creature snarls. 

"Quiet." He pauses as a pale blue gaze shifts over to its prey only to shift back to the screen just as fast despite the fact that the Cloud has said nothing for hours. "I don't like that feeling. I don't like all that hope. You know something. You know who that Mist belongs to, don't you?"

But no words come. They can't. He can't allow himself to break and he can't get Opettaja in trouble if that's who this Mist truly belongs to, so he can only watch in horror as the screaming stops and soon he's watching that damn witch of a woman to send her vibes deep within the aqua cloud only to drag out it's owner and his eyes go wide when sure enough he sees Aqua Sielu himself. 

His breath hitches in his throat and he has to stifle any noise he could possibly make. It is Opettaja. He's alive. He could escape here and get to him. He could escape and they could run away together. He could escape and - for the first time in years the Cloud is squirming. Even for as tightly as he's bound, he's squirming and thrashing and trying his hardest to get free. 

Where they go, he goes. They are bound by soul and that is his Oath. They are his soul binds and even if only one still lives, he will fight until his dying breath to get to them. That is his family and he will be damned before he allows them to come to harm. So he will fight. He will fight with every ounce of life he posse- 

That tendril that wraps him is squeezing him as hard as it can in seconds and the only thing he can do is gasp in pain as mist rolls off his lips in suffocating plumes. It seems that the beast is no longer just starving but this predator is now also angry and if he's come to learn anything within this twisted world of the lost and hopeless, it's that starving and angry are never a good combination for anything - let alone the predator that holds you tight within its grasp. 

He can hear screaming but it's not his own. He didn't see what happened because his eyes screwed shut the moment that damn tendril started crushing his throat and he can feel himself getting pulled back in, closer to the beast as that small hand finds its way back into snowy locks and pulls.

"Who is that man?!" The small emperor demands. "You know him, don't you?!" 

His eyes are clenched shut tightly because of the pain. This is the kind of pain that blurs out all the rest. Even if that tendril is threatening to crush his entire form and smash his bones into dust there is something so intimate and humiliating as having his hair pulled that makes his mind hyper-sensitive to the taunt sensation of every single fine lock of snow threatening to be stripped from him right down to the root. 

"Look at him and tell me who he is! He's not a poor lost bird, is he Little Cloud?! He means something to you. Don't lie to me I can taste your fear for him. Your whole body is trembling. Don't lie to me. This is not your usual flavor of terror so tell me who he is and I just might make her spare his life." 

And it's then that he forces his eyes open at the attempt at a bargain. He can't say his name. He refuses to give this monster something so sacred as his Opettaja's name… 

That would work. It's not lying but it's almost not giving too much information. 

"Opettajani." 

The single word rips itself from his throat as he starts to feel the tendril back off the appendage and give his body a chance to attempt to catch up on all the air he's missing.  To try to get the dizzying sensation to calm itself as he finally finds it within him to look once more at the screen only to see Herba's turn to take Opettaja Sielu by the throat with her vibes and squeeze. 

No. 

No she wouldn't stop and he couldn't breathe. Opettaja was dying. She was going to kill him. She was going to - 

"Please." He sounds in urgency. "Your Excellency, I'll do anything. Please don't kill him."

But pink brows only raise slightly as pale eyes never leave the screen. It's like he's not even listening. It's like he's not hearing him. It's like….

"I beg of you please…." If he needs him to hear him now more than any other time in his life it's now, so Pilvi do what you must to protect your family. "....please Master. I beg you." 

And he feels the disgust washing over his body as the words leave his mouth. He never wants to speak to this little monster in such a way ever again. 

"Ooooh ho?" Is a near purred chime as the little beast turns his head to look at his prey. "So you do know how beg. What have you ever done to make you think you deserve such kindness?" 

And he knows the answer to that question and he doesn't like it. He knows because he's in this fix because he just ran off the night before. He's in this mess and Opettaja Sielu is hurt because he is too stubborn to just drop his head and obey this monster as he should. His pride refuses to allow him to submit but his pride about to get his family - 

He feels like his heart stops when the speakers go silent. He's too scared to look at the screen but he can't stop his head from turning to do so anyway. He's just hanging there, limp in her grasp as she doesn't even give him the dignity of lowering him to the ground before she drops him and he sees his form disappear into the mist that is filling the space all around them. 

He's gone. Opettaja Sielu is gone. He's dead and they took him away from him. One of his Soul Binds yet lived and he couldn't save his life. He damned him to this and he couldn't do anything but hang there and watch his family die. He was all alone again. He was all alone and there is a pleased little chipper sounding noise leaving the beast as the coils around him start to loosen but never release. 

He seems to be pleased with himself as if a proper lesson has finally been taught but the prince feels his stomach turn at the next question that leaves the beast's lips. 

"What did he teach you? You said he was your teacher. What did he teach?"

As if this monster actually holds interest in his life now…or ever did at all. Opettaja Sielu is gone so he only hangs his head and mumbles. 

"Musiikkia."

"I see. I see. So then, Little Cloud, can you sing?"

Why did this become a casual conversation when his teacher just died and he has to do everything in his power to hold himself back from crying? He can't cry. Not even over this. The blade does not weep, the blade does not weep.

'But you don't need to be anyone but yourself in my classroom, Maamuna.'

Celestial Mother he forgot. How could he ever forget Maamuna? Why can't he be him again? Would it be too much to ask? Just one more time. One more day. Let him be Maamuna again. He wants to be his Maamuna but he watched him fade. He watched him die and the screen has long since shut down leaving him trapped here in this castle with no one but this small demonic toddler all over again. 

"I asked you a question." The boy demands and still the words don't come. “Can you sing?” 

He doesn't want to answer and he doesn't want to think about it, because of course he can. He can still see that goofy face as Opettaja grinned when he walked into his classroom only to be handed a metal straw. Of course he can because he can still remember the sensation of being asked to make silly sounds in said straw only to finally have it pulled away from him after a good round of vocal exercises and he can hear Opettaja Sielu’s voice ordering him to simply.

“Sing.”

It was how he learned to stretch his vocal chords. It was how he learned how to stop cracking notes. Of course he does. Of course he knows but he doesn’t want to have this conversation with a monster that could hardly care. Hardly understand the way his soul ignites when he’s allowed to release his inner passions through the tune his heart plays. The world is a rhythm and he longs to dance to it. He longs to pluck his Mist along to the Universe’s pulse and to sing with a voice unburdened by the invisible links in the chain of servitude that is fastened so tightly around his neck. 

“I’m going to say this in a way I know you can understand, and I expect an answer this time.  Osaatko laulaa?” 

“Osaan.”   

If only to get that beast to leave him alone. If only to get that beast to finally be silent and to let him mourn in peace. Just kill him already. Just strip the life from him so he doesn’t have to worry about anything or think for the next few days. Let him mourn in - 

“Then let’s hear it.”   Celestial Mother no.  “Sing for him. You at least owe him that don’t you? Don’t you little birds sing for your lost ones? Sing for him.”

And he feels the coils loosen further as if to allow his chest the room it needs to expand and take it the required air. He’s still stuck in these bonds and he’s still not going anywhere but he’s at least no longer struggling to breathe. So he’s taking this moment to allow air to flood his system and for his lungs to refill before his lips finally part again after several long quiet moments. 

And it is soft. There are no words. Only sounds and pitch. He doesn’t need words to sing. He can craft emotion without them. He was taught by the best after all.  It is sorrowful and slow. His depression made plain in his voice, and for once the beast can only listen.  Not even a comment of how his grief must taste. Voice full of unshed tears, he sings. 

Even if he doesn’t want to. Even if his mind is begging him to stop. Even if his heart is urging that Opettaja Sielu deserved better than this. 

There’s not a chance to finish. There’s no air to complete the tune as the tendril that had been hovering his neck clenches down without warning and all he can do is gasp and gag in that moment his soft song of sorrow turning to low begs of suffocation. 

“What an awful tune that was.”  Comes the commentary he was dreading as his throat is released so his body can trade for the torment - coils gripping him tightly until he screams at the top of his lungs. 

“Ah, this is so much better. You’re absolutely right, you can sing, and this by far is my favorite melody.” 

[animeyanderelover]

Yandere Gojo Satoru Prompts with a civilian petite reader

234. “Isn’t just the thought of a mini version of us unbelievably cute?”

133. “I know the restraints must hurt you. Don’t worry, I’ll untie you as soon as I’m sure you won’t run away again from me.”

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, toxic relationship, obsession, clinginess, delusional behavior, abduction, ropes, Nsfw, non-con, baby trapping, female reader, petite reader (very specific body type)

Words: 1.9k

Prompt 133 + 234

The taste of salty tears burnt on your tongue, involuntary moans and groans tumbling from your lips like a broken record as your small body was dwarfed even more by Satoru's taller frame. Rough and large hands squeezed the flesh of your thighs, your legs aching as they were pressed towards your body, restricting your movements and leaving you to helplessly lay there as the white-haired man kept on thrusting inside of you.

Your pussy was soaked, leaking with your own juices as well as his previous loads that he had spilled inside of you, his member coated in the mixed fluid of your releases as his hips slammed against your own. The air felt too hot and suffocating, beads of sweat dripping down your temples as your whole body twitched and quivered in overstimulation. Every shift on your body made the skin on your wrists spark in burning pain, scraping against the restraints that kept your arms pinned above your head.

You could feel your heart drumming against your ribcage, could hear its sound pounding inside your head. You could even detect the rhythm of Satoru's frantic heartbeat whenever he pressed his bodyweight against you, his chiseled chest smushed against your breasts as you could feel his own heart jumping against his ribcage.

His heartbeat could even be sensed in his hard shaft that glided in and out of you in a fast pace that almost bordered on desperation, rubbing against every sensitive spot inside of you that forced constant sparks of pleasure to tighten the coil inside of your stomach, threatening to push you over the edge once again. You could feel him reaching deep inside of you, his length completely disappearing inside of your hot and sensitive hole before pulling out until only his tip was kissing your insides before ramming himself back entirely. If you were to glance down, you could have even seen the bulge on your tummy that appeared whenever he thrust inside of you yet you only squeezed your eyes to cut out at least one of your senses from the constant overstimulation.

A string of curses left Satoru as he felt his balls throbbing and tightening up, the tension growing within him as his muscles started tensing up. You were tired, he could tell from your lack of protests and cries as you had been reduced to a whimpering mess beneath him.

"One last time...O-One last time, I promise..." he panted out, his lips pressing against your burning skin as his hips picked up speed whilst rutting against you, "I-I'll let you rest afterwards...f-fuck..."

His hips stuttered as he felt a tingling spreading from his balls to his groin to his spine, his grip on your thighs faltering as his limbs lost their strength and his mind went shortly blank. A familiar thick and hot load of sticky semen coated your soiled insides, the sensation triggering your final orgasm. A fresh set of tears fell down your eyes as a high-pitched scream left your mouth, your body convulsing as every thought in your head was silenced for a few seconds, your mind submerged into waves of euphoria. Your legs were flailing around and your wrists were twisting around as your body tried to handle the mind-numbing pleasure you had just entered.

You slumped into the mattress beneath you as soon as you were pulled out of the bright sensation, a new wave of tiredness washing over you as the pleasure slowly left your muscles. There was a fresh trail of drool that had dripped out of your mouth, one that you wished you could wipe away if your hands weren't tied. You dared to open your eyes again only to be met with half-lidded orbs of brilliant blue staring right back at you.

A post-orgasmic smile of bliss appeared on his face when you looked at him, staring at you with hazy eyes as he rocked his hips against you for a few more moments, letting your tight walls embrace his cock and take in everything he had to give before he slowly pulled his softened member out of you.

His hands finally released their hold on your thighs fully, the sore limbs instantly dropping down and sinking into the mattress, the occasional twitch still going through them. Strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you against his body as he laid down next to you, his face nuzzling against the crook of your neck. Neither of you spoke up for the next few minutes, only the sound of soft pants audible as both of you recovered for a while from the last-what was it-two hours?

You swallowed dryly when you felt his lips pressing tiny kisses against your neck and your shoulder, your eyes landing on his white hair before you decided to speak up.

"Satoru," you called out his name carefully, earning a hum from him as he shifted his face so that his blue eyes could look up at your face, "Can you untie me, please?"

Your wrists turned slightly within the restraints, the material squeezing tightly against your skin as a result as you continued looking at him. Bright eyes darted to your wrists when you moved them around to emphasise your request before landing on your face again. He shook his head softly, his eyes only holding some mild pity.

“I know the restraints must hurt you," he spoke in a soothing tone, one of his hands easily reaching up to your pinned hands and rubbing your palm with his thumb gently, "Don’t worry, I’ll untie you as soon as I’m sure you won’t run away again from me.”

You pursed your lips, biting the inside of your cheeks with the last bit of frustration you could summon up in your exhausted state.

"Can I at least have a sip of water then?" you opted to ask for instead, your throat tightening as you swallowed again, your mouth dry. This was a request he seemed to be willing to fulfill you instantly as he grabbed a bottle of water he had kept on the nightstand.

"Here ya go..." he uttered in a hushed tone as he guided the bottle to your lips. Fewer times could you remember enjoying the taste of bland water more than in that moment, taking big gulps to quench your thirst and to soothe your pounding headache. Blue eyes never left your face, the adoration in this gaze something you were quite familiar with by now which was precisely why you could spot the new something that had been part of every look he had given you ever since that day. You still did not know what it was but it had been the single reason why you had been stuck in this predicament ever since. You didn't know if that something would ever subside, you could only hope it did.

"Feeling any better?" he asked as soon as you had practically emptied the bottle, one of his hands going up to caress your head. You nodded weakly, the headache still prevalent though at least it felt like the hydration had partially weakened the pounding ache. You shut your eyes for a moment as you took a few breaths, noticing all the different aches your body was making you aware of now that the last bit of ecstasy had left your body to deal with the consequences.

"M'sorry. I should have been a bit more careful." you heard him whisper against your skin as his fingers traced over your sore and used body though you didn't believe his words. He'd told you the same thing yesterday and the day before that yet nothing really changed.

You stiffled a pained groan when he shifted positions, crawling on top of you before laying down carefully, his forehead pressed against your stomach. Remaining in that position for a while, you couldn't help but watch him with growing dread. There were still so many things you didn't understand yet you knew that those blue eyes of his could perceive far more than you or anyone else in this city could ever hope to detect.

"If it doesn't work, we'll try again tomorrow..."

His words brought you brief relief yet it was as short-lived as a flash of lightning when your mind reminded you that Satoru would try as long as it took until it finally took. Until you were pregnant with his child.

His intentions were obvious to you, they had been since the very first night after your attempt to escape had gone so horribly wrong. The words had just tumbled out of his mouth on that day, chaotic and desperate as the betrayal and paranoia had been just freshly engraved on his mind. Baby trapping you was by far one of the most messed up things Gojo Satoru was currently doing yet you knew best that he was too deluded to ever realise this.

"I wonder if they'll resemble me or will take more after you... Perhaps a mix of the both of us," he mused to himself, his lips showering your flat stomach with light kisses, "Isn’t just the thought of a mini version of us unbelievably cute?”

You could pick up on the giddiness in his tone, the obvious joy that the thought of having a baby with you brought him. In another situation you would have perhaps been able to reciprocate the excitement but this wasn't another situation. You could only remain silent, the lack of an answer from your side breaking him out of his happy thoughts as he looked up. His adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed as if your face stained with drying tears and snot as well as the silent yet grieving look in your eyes threatened to confront him with the reality.

"I-I understand that the thought of having a baby may be a bit overwhelming," he started, his eyes pinning your gaze, "But I promise that you'll change your mind once you'll feel those first kicks or at the latest when it'll be born and you'll hold our baby for the first time. He or she will be the sweetest thing you'll ever lay your eyes on."

You did not believe his words. How could you when it sounded like he was making excuses to uphold his own images he was breeding inside his head.

There were words crawling up your throat, words you desperately wished to speak. Satoru sensed it too and almost seemed to brace himself for what you were about to possibly say to him. You could taste the scorching words on your tongue, their bitter taste spreading inside your mouth only for you to hesitate for too long, causing everything to collapse.

"Am I supposed to believe that? I don't even know who you really are..." you muttered, your voice quiet yet tinged with bitterness.

"That's not true, "Satoru quickly answered back, crawling closer to you until he could cup your face and hover his face right above yours, "You're the only one who knows me. The real me..."

There was pain in his voice as well as his eyes and you wished that you could understand why it was stuck in his heart in the first place instead of constantly being left in the dark.

"Then why are you not telling me anything?"

For a brief moment you could see the agony taking over, a glazed look appearing in his eyes as his mind took him to a place only he could see before his gaze cleared up.

"You don't need to know. Not for now at least," he whispered, his voice heavy with regret and fear, "You only need to know that nothing will happen to you or our future child because both of you are mine."

[bumblesimagines]

The Sky's Empty

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers, F!Reader

Summary: Nobody understands Queen Helaena, absolutely nobody. She's always been the odd little girl who whispers senseless things. Nobody understands her. Nobody heeds her warnings. Nobody comforts her.... except for her loyal lady in waiting.

CW/TW: Spoilers for S2, death of a child, a mother in grief, Criston Cole, could be read as platonic or romantic written with a secret romance in mind tho

Heyyyy I promise I'll do a fluffy Helaena thing soon! This is for my beautiful girl kissers who love angst.

~~~

Another prince was dead. 

(Y/N) could hardly comprehend it, could hardly believe the news she'd woken up to earlier than usual when the castle had abruptly come to life in swift panic before the sun had even begun to rise. Her maids had flocked to her bedchambers as quickly as their nimble feet could take them and woken her up with pale faces and wide eyes. 

"They killed the prince," One told her, spinning around to retrieve the clothes (Y/N) would be wearing for the day while the woman in question stared groggily after her, left to sleepily turn to the other maid and furrow her brows in question. The other one sniffled, hardly containing the tears before they spilled from her eyes. "The Queen's son, My Lady! Prince Jaehaerys!"

At her words, (Y/N) had gone rigid with shock, mouth falling open and a wave of dread crashing into her like a cold wave eager to drown her in its depths. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes widening until they were no doubt almost bulging from her head. Helaena... Helaena. She'd thrown the covers from her body and flew out of bed, her maids quickly springing into action to dress her and pull her hair back into a regal style befitting of a lady. 

Access to the floor where the royal family slept had been restricted until the guards managed to capture one of the men involved but Dowager Queen Alicent and Otto had granted her permission to pass. 

So, there she went, the front of her dress lifted slightly so she could speed through the halls and staircases in the direction of Helaena's bedchambers. Servants and guards stepped swiftly out of her way and dipped their heads in respect as she flew past them until she reached the doorway leading into the twin's bedchambers and stepped inside.

"Oh, Gods," She exhaled shakily and pressed a hand to her chest at the sight of the bloodstained sheets. Decapitated, she'd heard. Decapitated in front of his mother. Little troublemaking Jaehaerys who loved laughing and playing and getting up to no good with his father. (Y/N) inhaled deeply and squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her body to calm itself and her heart to slow back down to a regular pace.

She swallowed and opened her eyes again, scanning the room until they landed on Helaena. "Oh, my dear Helaena." (Y/N) whispered, placing her fingers over her lips, refusing to let the tears fall yet. Helaena needed her. She needed her. (Y/N) swallowed down the bile threatening to rise and looked back toward the servants stripping the bed and mattress. 

"I need you to move quicker." She told them icily and their movements quickened, hands fumbling and eyes frantically glancing in her direction. She watched them through narrowed eyes until they stumbled out of the bedroom and disappeared down the hall, forcing her attention to the guard standing by the door. Cole. Her shoulders squared and she strode toward him. 

"My Lady," Ser Criston greeted forcibly, his eyes dancing between the partly taken apart bed and her face. 

"Get out." 

"I-"

"Get out." (Y/N) hissed, her hand flying out to grasp the collar of his chest plate and tug him closer to her. His eyes flashed with surprise and a hint of fear, his body going rigid beneath his armor. She leaned in to angrily whisper without Helaena hearing, "Do not pretend to be doing your job when you're simply here to rid yourself of guilt, Cole. A child died because of your failure. If it were up to me, you'd be stripped of your position and cloak, now, go. Nobody wishes to lay eyes on your face today, Ser." 

Releasing him with a forceful shove, (Y/N) watched him stagger back and out of the doorway before she grasped the door and closed it in his face. She summoned all her anger and annoyance and forced it out in a long exhale, her fingers reaching down to grasp the skirt of her dress and raise it as she turned back around and approached the sorrowful mother. 

"My darling," She cooed softly. Helaena barely looked like herself anymore. Her hair remained messy and unattended, her eyes red and marked with lack of sleep, her lips cracked and bitten from anxious nibbling. (Y/N)'s heart twisted at the sight of it. 

"My boy... they wanted the boy... it was always going to be the boy... my boy," Helaena whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears and cheeks stained with the ones she'd already shed. She sobbed and gasped, nearly collapsing over the table containing the children's toys. (Y/N) quickly stepped toward her and wrapped a delicate arm around her, the other one nudging Helaena's face into the crook of her neck. "They took him... they took him, they took my boy, my only boy."

"I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm here now, Helaena. I'm here. I will not leave your side, sweet darling, I will not. I promise." (Y/N) reassured, feeling Helaena's full weight lean into her as the mother slumped in her arms and sobbed into her shoulder. (Y/N) carefully lowered herself onto the floor, taking Helaena with her and cradling the weeping girl. She carefully began rocking side to side, whispering comforts and reassuring sentiments. 

Helaena sniffled. "They... they wish to show his body to everyone..." She hiccuped and buried her face further in (Y/N)'s shoulder, staining the fabric of her dress with tears. Her arms wrapped loosely around her, seeking out every bit of comfort she could find through her crying. (Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut again, running her fingertips along Helaena's hair and scalp. Heartless fools the lot of them; too caught up in a war they began to care for anything else. 

"I'm so sorry, Helaena. I'm sorry, my darling." (Y/N) continued to stroke her hair until her weeping subsided for the moment, leaving Helaena to nuzzle her cheek into (Y/N) shoulder and sigh shakily, occasional sniffles leaving her. (Y/N) stared at the bedframe of Jaehaerys bed, all too fond memories of helping Helaena get the twins down for the night flickering through her mind. Poor, sweet boy. A child brutally killed and for what? Revenge? Coin? 

The door creaked open and a maid peeked in, her lips parting to speak but the scathing glare (Y/N) sent her way had her shutting the door again. (Y/N) slid her hand down to Helaena's hair to gently take her shoulders, carefully pushing her back slightly and cupping her wet cheek. "Come, my dear. We must get you dressed. I will attend to you, alright?" 

Managing to coax Helaena onto her feet, she led the girl to her bedchamber and dismissed the maids. She helped Helaena dress in a gown fitting for a funeral and combed her hair, ensuring to give her encouragement and words of comfort throughout while her experienced fingers braided strands back into a bun. Helaena stared blankly at her lap so (Y/N) carefully took her hands and brought her attention up to her face. 

"Helaena," She began, "You are no longer a princess bound to do whatever your mother and grandsire wish of you. You are the Queen of Westeros. You must speak with your husband. Aegon may be... volatile and unpredictable but I highly doubt this is how he wishes your boy to be remembered. You must tell him. His word is final. Not your mother's or Otto's or anyone on the council. His. You are his wife. Speak to him. Do not allow them to parade Prince Jaehaerys to be gawked by those who never knew nor cared for him."

[kurokawaia]

❛ Deep ❜

Hatake Kakashi X Fem!Reader

NSFW -> image/drabbly | WC; 600+┊MDNI!┊

TW; just thinking about Kakashi pounding us 😵‍💫 Just straight up smut of kakashi manhandling you into prone bone bc its a need. smut no plot. Established relationship, praise, slight creampie, no protection (wrap before u tap irl pls, there are diseases), slight manhandling, piv, fabr, implied cervix kissing, size kink, slight cockwarming + more.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list

He came home tired, and annoyed. I knew that his students irked him today and tired him out. I previously was asleep but then the weight of his body had warmed me up. Kakashis weight was pressing me hard to the softness of the mattress.

My breasts squished tightly against the futon as I felt Kakashi's abs press flush against my back, which was considerably bigger than my own. His hands gripped the backs of my hands, pressing them into the bed, ensuring that I wouldn't move out of his iron grip.

Kakashi's breath tickled my ear, the hot air causing my body to tremble further against his. His cock was nudged so deep in my gummy walls it caused me to mewl out in pleasure, but Kakashi wasn't moving, he was keeping himself snug inside my soaked walls, relishing in the pleasure I was giving him.

Hot and heavy kisses trail down from my ear down to the dip from my neck to shoulder and a breathless sigh escaped my parted lips before Kakashi rolled his hips into mine, his thick length scraping all the sensitive parts of my warm insides causing a moan roll from my tongue.

Kakashi's legs kept my own spread apart so I couldn't move from his trapping embrace as his movements became faster, his cock slipping in and out of my needy hole. Kakashi is groaning and panting into my ear.

He was filling me up to the hilt, his tip prodding every hit against that spot that made me moan loud with pleasure. Repetitive moans left my mouth while he pounds and grinds into my heat. I had the instinctive urge to press myself into his length, but I couldn't, his weight was too heavy for me to move against him, I was utterly hopeless as his thrusts became faster.

"Ha, y-you're so big," I mewled out, as my body trembled beneath him and he moved one of his hands of mine and his bicep wrapped around my throat, not tightly but to lift my head from the futon and pillows beneath us. He was pulled me closer to him and he turned my head and our mouths connected in a sloppy, wet kiss he pushes his tongue inside and groans deeply at the intensity rising.

Kakashi pulled away with following his thrust hitting my perfect spot harder. "Making you feel so good, aren't I?" He rasped against my ear as despairing moans continued to leave my mouth.

Tears streamed down my heated cheeks in pleasure as I nodded within his movement restricting hold. "Such a good girl," He mumbled in my ear chased with a deep moan and my insides clenched at his praised and his hips stuttered in their movements.

I spasmed around his length as my high washed over me, my legs shaking as his weight pressed down even more than it was. His thrusts didn't slow causing me to whimper in overstimulation, but Kakashi helps it, his hips continuing to rut into mine, helping me with riding out my orgasm as he chased his own.

With a groan, his lips planted against mine once again as his hips slammed into mine, hard, his cum spilling inside me causing me to moan into his kiss.

"'M love you so much," I whimper into the kiss.

"I love you, more," Kakashi groaned.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | naruto/boruto m.list

[thewulf]

Hidden Away || Rhysand

Summary: Request -hi if ur reqs are open, could you maybe write a fic with rhys where feyre is not his mate but reader? can r also be tamlins sister so when he locked feyre up in the manor, he also locked r with her? then r is just trying to break the barrier but shes draining her powers in the process so when mor and rhys arrive, r is just on the brink of passing out. thank you so so much! hope u have a good day!!

A/N: Rhys is challenging! Let me know how you like it below :) As always thank you for the requests!

Pairing: Rhysand x Female Reader (Spring Court Reader/Tamlin's Sister)

Word Count: 8.4k +

TW: Talks of abuse, use of magic

As Tamlin's nearly unknown sister your life within the Spring Court is shrouded in secrecy. Tucked away from the public eye, you roam the silent corridors of the manor with your presence barely acknowledged. The manor's ancient stones, cool under your fingertips, are the closest companions in your secluded existence. Each day bleeds into the next marked only by your secret practice of magic in the hidden corners of the lush gardens where the wildflowers refuse to be tamed.

Tamlin had his reasons for keeping you a secret though they were rooted in a misguided sense of protection and control rather than genuine care. From the moment you were born your existence was cloaked in secrecy. Tamlin was always wary of political machinations and potential threats from rival courts. He believed that hiding your presence would keep you safe from those who might seek to leverage you against him. As you grew older this excuse became a method to maintain control by suppressing any threat your emerging powers might pose to his authority.

Whenever important guests visited the Spring Court Tamlin would go to great lengths to conceal your existence. Often you were confined to the secluded parts of the manor. Your movements restricted. Your voice silenced. These actions weren't just physically isolating. They were deeply wounding, reinforcing a sense of imprisonment. Over time you learned that resistance was futile. After a century of struggling against Tamlin’s overpowering magic, a magic that you could never hope to match due to your suppressed knowledge and training, you ceased fighting back. Your spirit, dimmed by isolation and the relentless dampening of your will, began to fade.

Despite all this you’ve learned to cloak your discontent with a veneer of obedience by teaching yourself the subtle arts of magic from fragments of ancient texts and whispers of the wind. Each spell you cast is a silent rebellion against the isolation imposed upon you. It wasn’t much but it certainly was something.

Meanwhile, Rhysand had always felt an inexplicable pull towards the Spring Court. This sensation was particularly strong whenever he visited Tamlin's lands. Each step within its borders intensified a feeling of latent connection. A thread of destiny that seemed to tug at his very soul. For years he couldn't decipher this feeling instead attributing it to political tensions or his natural distrust of Tamlin. However, he knew the sensation was far deeper. He just didn’t know he was connected to the bond that lay dormant between him and you waiting for the right moment to awaken.

This mysterious pull was part of the mating bond that neither of you were aware of yet. Rhysand’s visits to the Spring Court were unknowingly steps towards his destiny, towards you. His soul recognized what his mind could not yet understand. That his mate was hidden within the very walls of the Spring Court suppressed under Tamlin’s rule. It was a bond that defied explanation, woven by the threads of fate, magic, and a longing that transcended Rhysand's conscious understanding.

The monotony of your hidden life breaks when Feyre returns from Under the Mountain, changed. No longer the mortal girl who once crossed into the fae lands she now carries the weight of her new immortal form along with the haunting shadows of her trials. Initially your interactions are tentative. The air between you charged with the unsaid. However, as time weaves its slow dance you find in her a kindred spirit. Another soul chafing against the constraints of Tamlin’s overprotective nature.

Under the cover of night where the moon casts silver slivers through the windowpanes you and Feyre meet quietly. There in the tranquility of darkness, you share fragments of your lives. Your years spent hidden within these walls and her days under the mountain and the heavy price of her return. Each story shared tightens the thread of understanding between you.

In these stolen moments you reveal to Feyre the secret magic you’ve nurtured. Her eyes, reflecting the glow of your spells, flicker with a mix of surprise and a burgeoning sense of solidarity. Encouraged by her interest you find the courage to dream of more than just secretive practices. Together you whisper of freedom and plot beneath the starry sky. Your magic mingling with her newfound strength.

Tamlin had cast a powerful and intricate spell around the manor. Not just as a means of protection from external threats but also as a method of control over those within its walls. This spell was multi-layered, designed to enforce Tamlin's rule and suppress any dissent. For you it was a tangible manifestation of your confinement. An ever-present force that limited your movements and dampened your inherent magical abilities.

The spell was woven into the very foundations of the manor. Invisible yet oppressively palpable. It acted as a barrier not just against physical entry but against magical influence from outside. And crucially it curbed the magical potential of those it enclosed. For someone like you whose powers had been stifled and knowledge kept minimal the spell represented a severe handicap. A chain around the very essence of your being.

On a stormy night, you and Feyre found yourselves poring over ancient texts and forbidden scrolls. These documents were hidden away in the darkest corners of the library and contained arcane knowledge that Tamlin had likely never intended for you to find. They spoke of old magic, powerful and untamed, the kind that could potentially unravel the complex web of spells Tamlin had cast.

The air in the library was heavy with the scent of old parchment and an undercurrent of desperation. Each incantation you attempted, every ritual you performed to try and dismantle Tamlin’s barriers, drained you more profoundly than the last. The magical exertion pulled at the very essence of your being. Proof to the spell's strength and your own nascent powers trying to break free.

Feyre who was transformed and strengthened by her ordeal under the mountain was exactly what you needed beside you. She lent her newfound powers to your cause. Yet, as the night unfolded and the storm outside mirrored the tumult within her concern for you deepened. She saw the physical and magical toll the efforts took on you. The color draining from your face. Your hands trembling with the strain. But still, you wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up.

Despite the risk the need to break free from the suffocating constraints of Tamlin’s spell pushed you both forward. It wasn't just about escape. It was about reclaiming your right to autonomy, to magic, to life itself. The friendship that grew between you and Feyre was cemented not just by shared secrets but by this mutual struggle for liberation. A struggle against the literal and figurative walls that Tamlin had erected around you.

As dawn approached with the storm still raging outside you and Feyre reached a critical point in your efforts. A breakthrough seemed tantalizingly within reach. The words on the ancient scrolls beginning to resonate with the energy you both channeled. The walls of the manor groaned under the pressure of your combined powers. A sure sign that Tamlin's spell was finally beginning to falter.

Determined to break the oppressive chains once and for all you both head into the heart of the storm where the barrier's energy pulses strongest. The rain beats down mercilessly mingling with the energy of your combined spell. A desperate, powerful incantation aimed at shattering the bonds. The backlash is swift and fierce. A surge of raw, antagonistic energy from the barrier meets your spell head-on. The impact is like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs and sending sharp tendrils of pain coursing through your veins. The world tilts dangerously with your vision narrowing.

Feyre grips your hands as her own powers flared around you both in a protective embrace. "We can do this, Y/N, just a bit more—"

But her encouragement turns to a scream of horror as your legs give out completely. Your strength finally failing. As you collapse into her arms, your consciousness fading, her fear peaks. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The raw panic in her voice is palpable. Her plea filled with a primal terror that she cannot contain. Her scream is not just vocal. It's a surge of emotional energy that travels through the bargain she shares with Rhysand.

At that moment, in the distant Night Court, Rhysand feels a jolt. A sharp, unbidden intrusion into his thoughts. Feyre’s voice was distorted by panic and edged with despair, echoes in his mind. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The words hit him with the force of a physical blow. His heart races. His instincts scream. Without a second thought he’s on his feet. The protective and commanding part of him taking over. Mor sensed the urgency. She looks up from her work with alarm spreading across her face.

"We need to go to the Spring Court. We must go now." Rhysand barks out. His voice brooking no argument. He can't explain how he knows only that the terror in Feyre's voice has triggered something primal in him. Something fiercely protective. As he and Mor prepare to leave Rhysand's mind races with possibilities. His worry mounting with each passing second. The bargain was not one of mates but has acted as a lifeline in this critical moment. He is driven by a deep-seated need to respond, to protect, to arrive in time.

In the dim light of the storm-lashed evening back in the confines of the Spring Court, Feyre cradled you against her as her arms forming a protective barrier against the unrelenting winds and rain that battered the walls of the manor. The spells that Tamlin had woven around the estate groaned under the strain, resonating with the fury of the storm.

As you lay there nearly depleted by your attempts to break through Tamlin’s magical barriers you found every breath to be a battle. Feyre leaned close. Her voice barely audible above the howl of the wind. "Help is coming, Y/N. Just hold on. Please, hold on." Her words were infused with a mixture of determination and desperation. A fervent plea cast into the chaos of the night.

Despite her assurances you knew that Feyre had no way of knowing if help would truly come. She wasn't versed in the intricacies of the bargain she made, nor did she understand the silent, unseen forces that might be at play beyond the reach of Tamlin’s spells. Her faith was not based on certainty but on hope. A hope that Rhysand was somehow attuned to the peril you faced and would sense your need and find a way to breach the seemingly impenetrable defenses of the Spring Court.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the storm outside seemed to mirror the tumult of your emotions. With every gust of wind, with every crack of thunder, you felt the edges of your resolve fray. Yet with Feyre’s presence and her unwavering support it fortified you. Together you were wrapped in the scant warmth her body provided against the chill of the rain. You waited silently hoping.

Feyre continued to whisper into the storm. Words of encouragement and silent prayers mingled with the rain reaching out into the night as if the very force of her will could summon the help you so desperately needed.

As Rhysand and Mor race through the turbulent night sky the urgency of Feyre's distress call pulses within Rhysand. However, the formidable magical barrier erected by Tamlin at the Spring Court looms as a daunting obstacle. As they approach the boundary Rhysand's expression turns contemplative knowing they must penetrate the shield without triggering a violent magical backlash that could harm those inside.

"We can't just break through. It could harm them," Rhysand says. His thoughts on Feyre and the unknown others who might be caught in Tamlin’s protective snare. He suspects there are more secrets hidden within the Spring Court than Feyre alone.

Mor nods before pointing towards a section of the barrier shimmering less steadily than the rest—a weak point. "Here, let me," she offers, her hands glowing with a soft, probing light.

Together, they carefully manipulate the energies. Mor’s magic coaxing the threads of the barrier apart while Rhysand supports and stabilizes the surrounding spells to prevent a sudden collapse. The barrier relents under their skilled hands. Parting just enough to allow them a silent passage.

Once inside they quickly make their way towards the garden guided by the unerring pull of Rhysand's intuition, which grows stronger with each step. The night air is heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the lingering traces of magic.

There, under an ancient oak, they find you lying in Feyre's protective embrace. Your appearance is startling to Rhysand. You were someone he's heard of but never met. A whispered secret of the Spring Court. Feyre’s eyes were wide with fear and relief. She meets their stares as they approach.

Rhysand’s initial intent to aid Feyre shifts as he catches your gaze. Something profound stirs within him as your eyes lock. There’s an unexpected jolt. A powerful surge of protectiveness that grips him. His knees nearly buckle under the sudden intensity of the emotion. His breath catching in his throat. The connection is unexpected, overwhelming, and in that moment, the significance of your presence begins to dawn on him.

"We will get you both out of here," Rhysand finds himself saying, the words carrying a weight he hadn't anticipated. His voice is gentle. Meant to reassure as he reaches out to steady you. His own magic instinctively flaring to envelop you in a warm, healing glow.

The touch confirms what his heart has already started to suspect. The mating bond, still new and unexplored, thrums with a rightness that transcends his understanding. It’s only when he helps lift you, his arms secure around you, that the realization fully settles in… his fate is irrevocably tied to yours.

With Mor and Feyre's assistance they carefully navigate back through the garden. Rhysand carrying you with an ease that belies the turmoil brewing within him. Each step back through the breach in the barrier is a step towards a new unknown, a journey he hadn't planned but now cannot imagine avoiding. As they slip back into the night heading towards the sanctuary of the Night Court Rhysand is quiet. His thoughts a whirl of possibilities and new realities. Beside him Mor watches thoughtfully. She was acutely aware that the High Lord of the Night Court was about to embark on a profoundly personal journey.

-

The night was deep and still when Rhysand was abruptly torn from his sleep. A sharp, jarring pulse of panic surged through the bond—a connection still new and startling in its intensity. It was you, finally waking from your long, enforced slumber, and the raw fear that washed over him from your end of the bond had him on his feet before he fully registered moving.

His heart raced as he crossed the space between his private chambers and the room where you rested. The halls of his residence silent save for the quiet thud of his bare feet on the cool marble floor. The bond pulsed with each heartbeat guiding him directly to you underscoring the urgency of your distress with every step he took.

As Rhysand approached the door to your room, he paused, taking a deep breath to calm the storm of his emotions. He needed to be a presence of peace for you not one of turmoil. Gently pushing the door open he stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusting to the low light that bathed the room in gentle silvers and blues.

There you were attempting to sit up, your movements clumsy with weakness and disorientation. The room's luxuriousness that meant to comfort seemed only to add to your confusion. You grasped at the sheets. Your breathing quick and shallow as if the soft fabrics were the only things tethering you to reality.

Rhysand’s heart clenched at the sight. It was one thing to feel your panic through the bond, but quite another to see it etched so clearly across your features. He approached slowly. His presence commanding yet gentle, stopping a respectful distance away to not overwhelm you. His deep-set eyes, usually a striking shade of violet were clouded with concern.

"It’s okay, you’re safe here," Rhysand said. His voice a soft yet firm anchor in the swirling uncertainty you felt. His relief at seeing you awake, even in such a state, was palpable in his tone. Despite the fear there was an underlying gratitude that you were finally conscious. That there was a beginning of recovery however fraught it might be. "You're in Velaris, the heart of the Night Court." He adds hopping to provide you some comfort.

"Velaris?" you repeat. The name unfamiliar and puzzling. You squint at him trying to place the city that sounds more like a myth than reality.

"Yes, Velaris," he continues noting your confusion. "It's a city unlike any in the fae realms, hidden and protected by powerful spells. It's a place of peace and freedom. It is far from the reach of those who would impose their will unjustly." His voice holds a note of pride when he speaks of the city, and his explanation paints a picture of a safe haven. A contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the Spring Court.

Seeing your slightly eased expression he decided to introduce himself, "I'm Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." He keeps his tone even giving you space to process the flood of new information. "You were very ill, so we brought you here to recover. Tamlin cannot reach you here. Our city's protections are strong."

His explanation about Tamlin brings a different kind of tightness to your chest—the fear of pursuit and retribution. Feeling and seeing your growing anxiety, Rhysand adds, "Tamlin has no power here. You and Feyre are both safe and you will always have a place in Velaris."

As Rhysand speaks of Velaris and its protections you find yourself momentarily comforted by his description of the city as a safe haven. Yet, another concern quickly surfaces, tugging at your thoughts with earnest sincerity.

"And Feyre?" you ask. Your voice carrying the weight of genuine worry. "Is she okay?" Your expression reveals the depth of your concern not just for your own situation but also for Feyre who had been entangled in your fate by association.

Rhysand’s expression softens further at your question. His smile tinged with a mix of admiration and surprise. He steps closer, his presence comforting rather than overwhelming. "She is doing well," he assures you, leaning down slightly to meet your gaze more directly. "Are you going to ask about everyone but yourself?" His tone is light and teasing yet it carries an undercurrent of deep respect for your altruism.

He finds it endearing how your first thoughts are for others even in your own time of uncertainty and recovery. It’s a trait he notes is incredibly sweet. Almost too kind for someone who grew up under Tamlin's strict and often harsh rule as his sister, no less.

A faint smile flickers across your face at Rhysand’s light teasing before it quickly fades. You glance away looking out over the vista that the Night Court offers feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. "I... it's just easier to worry about others," you murmur. Your voice barely above a whisper. The unfamiliar concern in his eyes makes you unexpectedly uncomfortable. A reminder of how long you've had to rely solely on yourself. You shift away slightly putting a small distance between you and Rhysand as if the space could help you regain some control. "I'm not used to being someone's concern," you add while keeping your gaze averted. "It feels strange I guess. Not having to fend for myself."

Your words hang in the air showing the walls you've built from years under Tamlin's rule. The Spring Court was a place where self-reliance wasn't just a trait but a necessity for survival. The vulnerability of relying on someone else, even someone as seemingly gentle as Rhysand, feels as foreign as the magical landscape of Velaris itself.

Rhysand senses a subtle shift in your emotions through the bond. A twinge of discomfort, a whisper of withdrawal. He understands too well the complexities of adjusting to new dynamics of care and concern. As you glance away he gives you a moment. He respects your need for space before responding himself.

With a slight adjustment in his stance, Rhysand maintains his gentle smile, hoping to ease the tension. "Feyre visits often," he begins, his voice soft, an attempt to gently steer the conversation towards a more comfortable topic. "She's taken quite well to her roles here. She worries about you too, you know," he adds trying to build a connection through your shared concern for Feyre.

His words bring a small comfort, and you nod to him feeling a thread of relief woven through the lingering disquiet. "That's good to hear," you murmur giving yourself a moment to absorb the reassurances about Feyre's well-being.

Rhysand watches you with a thoughtful expression appreciating the selflessness displayed in your first waking moments. "Now, let’s focus a bit on you," he suggests kindly. "You’ve been through a lot and while Velaris is safe… I imagine it's quite a lot to take in."

Rhysand's words wash over you and you pause to absorb them feeling both comforted and overwhelmed by his understanding. "It is a lot," you agree softly, your gaze drifting around the unfamiliar yet beautiful room. "Everything here is so different. So overwhelming but not in a bad way."

You take a deep breath making sure to gather your thoughts before continuing. "I appreciate the safety and the peace here, Rhysand. It's just... I'm still figuring out where I fit into all of this." Your voice is tentative, reflecting your uncertainty about the future.

Rhysand nods. His expression empathetic. "And that's perfectly okay," he reassures you gently. "Take all the time you need to feel comfortable. There’s no pressure for you to decide anything right now."

Feeling a mix of reassurance and nascent courage from his support you decide to push yourself a bit. Attempting to rise from the bed, your movements are unsteady. A reminder of the physical and emotional tolls from your past. You pause, placing a hand on the mattress to steady yourself.

Rhysand notices your struggle immediately. His sharp gaze softening with concern. "You shouldn't be on your feet just yet," he cautions with his voice gentle yet firm.

You steady yourself with a hand against the soft bedding and look up at him. Your eyes were wide and earnest, silently pleading for understanding before you voice your deep-seated longing. "Please, I've... I’ve never left the Spring Court. I wish to see what other courts look like."

The raw honesty in your words strikes Rhysand deeply. He hesitates aware of the physical contact you might need to stand and walk, yet also conscious of the trauma you’ve likely endured under Tamlin's watch. His heart clenches at the thought of your centuries-long confinement. A life that wasn’t meant to be spent caged within a single court's borders.

As you continue to gaze at him with a mix of hope and vulnerability in your eyes Rhysand's resolve softens. "Alright," he murmurs. His expression a mix of encouragement and a hint of sadness for your past suffering. He steps forward offering his arm for support being careful to let you decide the level of contact you're comfortable with.

When you gratefully accept his help you leant slightly into his strength. Rhysand carefully supports you, mindful of your frailty. As he guides you slowly around the room his mind races. He was appalled by the reality that you, centuries old, have been essentially a prisoner for just as long.

"We’ll start with Velaris," Rhysand says as you take tentative steps towards the balcony. "It’s beautiful this time of year. The city is alive with lights and the people are free. You'll see, it’s a world away from what you've known."

Your curiosity brightens your features as each small detail of the room you now notice seeming to intrigue you. Rhysand watches this small transformation with a protective fierceness settling in his chest. He makes a silent vow then, to not only show you the beauty of the Night Court but to gradually introduce you to the freedoms and wonders of each of the courts ensuring you experience everything you've been denied.

With each step you take leaning on Rhysand a surprising sense of security begins to wash over you. There’s an inexplicable comfort in his presence. A safety that seems to emanate from him directly. You can't quite pinpoint why he feels so safe, why every instinct isn’t screaming for you to run from the unknown. But as you lean more heavily against him while navigating through the unfamiliar room it felt right.

Rhysand notices the subtle shift in your demeanor. The slight relaxation in your posture as you trust him more with each tentative step. It’s a trust he doesn’t take lightly as he was acutely aware of the preciousness of it given your past. He guides you gently, ensuring each movement is steady and unhurried.

“Just a little further,” he encourages softly as you approach the grand doors leading to the balcony. As he pushes the doors open a gentle breeze wafts in carrying with it the unique scents of Velaris. The crisp, clean air mingled with distant sea salt and the vibrant aroma of night-blooming flowers.

You step onto the balcony and the view that unfolds before you steals your breath away. The city of Velaris stretches out beneath a sky littered with stars. Its buildings adorned with luminescent glyphs and streets alive with softly glowing lanterns. The Sidra River reflects the lights creating a sparkling path that leads to the heart of the city. Your eyes dart from spot to spot taking in the sight of sprawling bridges. From the artistic sculptures that line the walkways to the fae moving about with an ease and freedom so alien to what you’ve known. Everything is so vibrant, so vividly alive. It's like stepping into a dream.

Rhysand watches you. His expression a mix of pride and gentle amusement. “It’s a lot to take in,” he say as his voice is barely above a whisper not wanting to break the enchantment of the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe out as your voice was filled with wonder. "I never imagined..." Your words trail off as you continue to soak in the sight, the reality of Velaris surpassing any tale or description of the Night Court you had ever heard in the Spring Court.

As you stand there, awestruck, Rhysand stands close. He was ready to offer support if needed but giving you space to experience this revelation on your own terms. There’s a warmth in his gaze. A certain softness when he looks at you, moved by your reaction, understanding just how transformative this moment is for you. “This is only a part of what the world has to offer,” Rhysand finally says, his voice low and encouraging. “And you’re free to explore all of it at your own pace. You’re not confined here, or anywhere anymore.”

As his words wash over you a new fear prickles at the edges of your newfound sense of wonder. "But Tamlin..." you start. His name a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the bright promise of freedom.

Rhysand’s reaction is immediate though. He shakes his head, cutting off your spiraling worry with a firmness that is both surprising and comforting. "Tamlin will never touch another hair on your head, darling. I will ensure it." His voice is resolute as it leaves no room for doubt. The sincerity in his tone and the warmth of his smile are reassuring, conveying a depth of commitment that makes you believe him. He’s telling the truth. You can feel it not just in his words but in the protective energy that seems to radiate from him.

As you stand there on the balcony looking out over the luminous city a confusion mingles with your gratitude. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. A figure of immense power and responsibility. Why would he extend such kindness, such personal assurance, to you? His station alone would suggest a detachment from individual affairs, yet here he is, offering not just his protection but his personal attention.

"Why?" The question escapes you before you can think better of it. Your gaze turning from the cityscape to meet his eyes. "Why would you do this for me? You're the High Lord, and yet..."

Rhysand’s expression softens understanding the root of your bewilderment. "Because everyone deserves freedom and safety," he begins, his gaze steady and earnest. "And because, despite my title I see no one as beneath my care. Especially not someone who has suffered as you have under such tyranny."

His words hint at a broader philosophy. One that governs his rule, a complete difference to the oppressive leadership of Tamlin. "Here in Velaris we protect our own and now that includes you. You’re not just under my protection because of duty but because I believe in a world where everyone has the right to choose their own path, free from fear."

His explanation resonates with you. The sincerity and conviction in his voice weaving a stronger thread of trust between you. The High Lord of the Night Court you realize is not just a ruler but a protector. He was guided by a compassion that perhaps defines his reign more than his power. As you absorb his words the city of Velaris seems to glow a little brighter. Its lights a hope of the promise Rhysand offers. A promise not just of shelter but of a life reclaimed and respected.

As Rhysand's words and the gentle sincerity behind them settle over you something shifts inside you. The fear that had been a constant companion starts to ebb away instead replaced by a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a very long time. Standing beside him, overlooking the luminous city of Velaris, you allow yourself a moment to truly take in his presence. A protector not just in title but in spirit.

The tension that had knotted your shoulders begins to unwind and without fully realizing it a small smile curves your lips. It's slight but it's the first genuine smile you’ve allowed yourself in what feels like centuries. "You know, my brother made you seem terrifying," you confess as the smile growing a bit as you speak. "You're anything but that though."

Rhysand catches the change in your expression and his eyes light up with amusement. In response he flashes you a devastatingly handsome smirk, one that's known to both unsettle and charm. "Did he now?" he says lowly. His voice laced with mock severity before it softens into warmth. "Perhaps I should be offended but coming from Tamlin I'll take it as a compliment."

His response was light and teasing. Spoken to ease the atmosphere, to let you know that it's okay to relax, to laugh, to feel safe. "Tamlin has always had a flair for the dramatic," Rhysand continues. His tone playful now. "But I hope that here in Velaris you’ll see me as I am. And perhaps find that the 'terrifying' High Lord of the Night Court can also be a friend." His words were spoken with a gentle candor and encourage a lighter heart. The warmth in his voice, the open invitation to view him as more than just a lord but as a person, deepens the budding trust and comfort you feel in his presence.

As the night air swirls around you carrying with it the vibrant energies of Velaris you find yourself more receptive to the idea of a new start. Rhysand with his easy charm and sincere protection seems not just a guardian but a companion on this journey of rediscovery. His ability to blend strength with kindness, authority with empathy, makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, you can truly start anew here.

"You make it sound almost easy," you reply. The smile now firmly in place, feeling more natural than it has for ages.

Rhysand's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "I'll do my best to make it feel that way," he assures you. "You’ve had enough of the hard path. It’s time for you to experience the peace you deserve."

-

In the weeks following your awakening Rhys had been a constant, reassuring presence by your side as you navigated the complexities of the Night Court. The city of Velaris had begun to feel less like a foreign land and more like a potential home. Rhys had carefully gauged when you might be ready to meet more people. He was intentionally keeping even his closest friends, Cassian and Azriel, at a distance to allow you time to adjust. He mentioned plans to introduce them soon ensuring that you felt comfortable with each new step.

During this time your days were filled with activities that gradually stitched you into the fabric of this new life. Rhys guided you through physical training sessions aiming to strengthen both your body and spirit. But it wasn’t all rigorous. You spent serene afternoons with Feyre, dabbling in painting. Despite your initial lack of skill Feyre was a patient teacher, encouraging every brushstroke. In exchange you helped her continue learning to read turning each session into a mutual exchange of growth and laughter.

It was a clear, crisp day in Velaris. The kind of day that made the light seem to dance off every surface, imbuing the world with a vivid sharpness. You were in the middle of a training session with Rhysand in one of the secluded gardens of the Night Court practicing your swordplay. The metal felt cool and heavy in your hands as it slowly became more familiar with each controlled swing and parry.

Rhys was ever the patient instructor. He watched and guided you, his instructions both precise and encouraging. As you moved to execute a particularly complex maneuver, something unexpected happened. Amidst the focus on your movements and the rhythm of the blades, a sudden surge of warmth blossomed deep within your chest radiating outwards like the morning sun cresting the horizon.

It was an intense, engulfing wave that seemed to momentarily still the world around you. The sensation was as if a veil had been lifted, connecting you to Rhysand in an indescribably profound way. It felt as though your very souls had reached out and intertwined creating a bond that pulsed with life and energy.

"What... what was that?" you gasped, lowering your sword as you looked up at Rhysand, your heart pounding not from exertion but from the shock of the unexpected connection. The air between you seemed charged, heavy with a significance that you struggled to comprehend.

Rhysand’s eyes met yours with a spark of recognition and perhaps something akin to relief flashing across his features. His stance softened, and the world seemed to resume its usual pace, but the atmosphere remained changed. It was thick with the newfound awareness between you.

"That," Rhysand said softly. His voice steady yet filled with a warmth that echoed the sensation in your chest, "was the mating bond. It's rare, profound. A connection of souls that can occur between two individuals. It seems it has chosen to manifest between us now."

His words sank in, each one laden with meaning as you tried to process the enormity of what had just occurred. The bond, this deep and intrinsic link, had unveiled itself without warning. It aligned you with Rhysand in a way that went beyond mere physical presence or shared goals. It was as if a part of you had known him, deeply and irrevocably, for much longer than you physically had.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. Heavy with the realization of how deeply the bond affected him from the very beginning. “You mean, we’re..." you started, the reality of his words slowly sinking in.

"Mates," Rhysand confirmed gently. "Yes. And while that might mean many things, know this—you're not bound by it against your will. We can explore what it means together, at your pace." The reassurance in his words allowed you to smile, feeling a genuine connection to the path unfolding before you. The bond was no longer just an abstract force. It was a tangible link between your present recovery and a future filled with possibilities.

Rhysand watched you with something akin to awe as you carefully practiced the sword techniques he had shown you. "We have all the time in the world," he said softly. His eyes never leaving yours. "There's no rush. You’re safe here, with me, with us, in Velaris."

His words seemed to only deepen the stir of emotions within you. Pausing, the sword momentarily forgotten in your hand, you met his gaze, vulnerability shadowing your features. "And... are you okay with that? A bond with me of all people?" Your voice was tinged with disbelief as though the very idea of someone like Rhysand being tied to you was something unfathomable.

The sadness that flickered across Rhysand’s face was swift, a passing cloud on a sunny day, but it was enough to reveal the depth of his feelings. He set aside his own weapon and stepped closer with his expression turning earnest. "I can't think of anything I'd want more," he said quietly while reaching for your hand to provide a tangible reassurance. "These past few weeks of getting to know you, seeing your strength and your kindness. It's not just the bond that makes me feel this way. I... I already care about you, deeply."

His confession hung in the air between you, sincere and heartfelt. The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes filled with a gentle intensity, made it clear that his words were not merely spoken out of obligation or a sense of duty that the bond might impose. They were rooted in genuine affection and respect for the person you were.

Rhysand gently squeezed your hand, his touch warm and encouraging. "I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have this bond with you," he continued with a soft smile touching his lips as he tried to alleviate the heavy atmosphere. "You're remarkable darling. And yes, I am more than okay with it. I’m grateful."

His reassurance was spoken with such candor and helped ease some of the uncertainty that weighed on you. The bond was once a source of confusion and a reminder of your past constraints but began to feel more like a gift. An unexpected but precious connection to someone who not only promised safety but offered understanding and companionship.

As Rhysand released your hand and stepped back, giving you the space to process his heartfelt words, a sense of warmth unfurled within you. The weight of uncertainties began to lift replaced by a burgeoning sense of connection to this man who was both your protector and, unexpectedly, your confidant.

Mirroring the soft smile that graced Rhysand's lips you found the courage to voice your own budding feelings, simple yet profound. "I like you too, Rhysand," you said. Your voice carrying a tender sincerity that made his smile widen. "More than I thought I would." The admission was shy, sweet. A genuine acknowledgment of the bond growing between you both not just magically but emotionally.

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. The atmosphere around you charged with a gentle, joyful energy. The training session resumed but now there was a lightness to your movements. A reflection of the ease settling in your heart. The conversation with Rhysand, though brief, lingered in your mind like a cherished melody. It was a powerful reminder of the new beginnings and genuine connections now possible in your life with Rhysand and the Night Court. A life that was slowly but surely becoming your own.

As you navigated through each day your confidence grew and the tapestry of your new life in Velaris began to weave itself more vividly. Each encounter, each lesson with Rhysand, and every quiet moment spent under the stars of the Night Court fortified your sense of belonging. These experiences were threads in a vibrant, ever-expanding fabric, each one adding strength and color to your life.

One evening as you stood beside Rhysand on the quiet sanctuary of your favorite balcony overlooking Velaris, you felt a calm certainty settle over you. Below, the city sparkled. A tapestry of light and life that seemed to pulse with the same vibrant energy that now flowed through your veins. Rhysand's gaze was fixed on the horizon, the soft glow of the city lights casting shadows across his strong features when you turned to him ready to voice the thoughts that had been crystallizing in your mind.

"You know," you began. Your voice steady and clear, "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what all of this means. The mating bond, this new life, everything."

Rhysand turned to you with his expression open and attentive. The bond between you hummed softly. It was a growing and comforting presence at the back of your mind.

"I've realized that this bond... it's not just a tie to you. It's a connection to myself. To a life I didn't think was possible," you continued. The words flowing more freely than you expected. "I accept it, Rhysand. Not just accept it… I'm grateful for it. For you."

A slow smile spread across Rhysand's face. That beautiful smile you were slowly coming to cherish. "I can't tell you what it means to hear you say that," he said as his voice was thick with emotion. "You've become a part of this world. A part of my world in a way I always hoped but never dared to expect."

Encouraged by your acceptance and the growth you had shown Rhys felt that the time was right for a significant next step. As the days progressed and you continued to integrate more deeply into the fabric of the Night Court he planned an upcoming evening that would mark a new chapter in your life. The occasion was chosen with care. Not rushed but timed perfectly to coincide with your readiness to meet new faces and embrace the wider community of the Night Court. It was a testament to your journey thus far and a celebration of the future you were building together.

With the day finally set, a gentle breeze whispering promises through the halls, the stars above Velaris began to unveil themselves in the twilight sky. The air was charged with a sense of anticipation. Rhysand who was usually the epitome of composure carried a subtle excitement mixed with nerves as he prepared to introduce you to Cassian, Azriel, and the rest of the Inner Circle. This evening was not just another night. It was a milestone, a true celebration of your integration into his world and the bonds you would soon form with those closest to him.

You had spent the afternoon with Feyre who had helped you select a gown for the evening. The dress was a deep shade of midnight blue and adorned with silver threads that mimicked the starlit sky of Velaris. It perfectly embodied the essence of the Night Court. As you descended the grand staircase the gown flowed around you like a night shadow brought to life.

At the base of the steps Rhysand waited. His usual composure shaken as he caught sight of you. The world seemed to pause, his breath caught in his throat, his heart raced rapidly. There, in the soft glow of the House of Wind you looked not just a part of the Night Court but as if you were its very spirit. The realization that you were his mate, utterly beautiful and resplendent in the regalia of his court, struck him with renewed force.

Rhysand who was ever mindful of the boundaries and comfort of those around him had been particularly cautious about not overwhelming you with the intimate connection that mind-speaking entails. Despite this, the sight of you this evening descending the grand staircase dressed for the event was simply too much for him to resist. The gown you wore reflected the starlit sky of Velaris and accentuated your presence. It made you seem as ethereal as the city itself. Overcome with admiration, he reached out with his mind. "You look breathtaking, darling," his voice echoed in your thoughts for the first time in a while, startling you slightly with its warmth and closeness.

The mental whisper drew a surprised laugh from you. A sound that delighted him to no end. Rhysand's smile broadened. His eyes twinkling with mischief as he observed your reaction. "I see we still need to work on your shields, won't we?" he added playfully. His tone warm and teasing. It was moments like these he cherished deeply. Ones that always kept you on your toes. A trait you’d come to love about him.

Blushing slightly at the intimacy of his mental caress you couldn't help but respond in kind. Your newfound boldness surprising even yourself. "Perhaps I left them down on purpose Rhysand," you flirted back. Your mental voice a soft murmur that only he could hear.

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in amused surprise. A rich laugh escaping him that resonated deeply in the space around you. "Is that so? Well, in that case, I might have to keep complimenting you just to see what else you intentionally leave unguarded," he teased back, the affection in his voice unmistakable.

His impulsive act, born from a burst of admiration, turned into a playful exchange that highlighted the growing ease and affection between you. Rhysand quickly added sensing your enjoyment yet still cautious of overstepping, "Apologies if that was too much, but seeing you tonight, I couldn't help myself."

This flirty banter, interwoven with moments of laughter and shared glances, underscored the deepening connection between you both. Even as Rhys continued to respect your boundaries. He also found joy in these light-hearted exchanges, each one building upon the last. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth from his words. This gentle mental whisper was another sign of how your relationship with Rhysand was deepening, weaving together both profound moments and light-hearted banter.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs Rhysand gently took your hand helping you to navigate the last step. His presence was comforting and his proximity a reminder of how much had changed between you. The grandeur of the staircase faded into the background as you focused solely on him.

You couldn't help the smile that danced across your lips, nor the lightness in your heart from his words. "No need to apologize, Rhys," you responded. Your voice a blend of amusement and reassurance. "I quite liked it. It's... nice, hearing your thoughts sometimes."

"We’ll make quite the team, you and I," Rhysand said, his voice now audible. A soft yet clear tone that carried through the grand space. "With or without your shields up, darling."

The playful banter that had begun in the privacy of your minds seamlessly flowed into the verbal exchange adding layers to your communication and highlighting the ease and comfort developing between you both. As you looked up into his eyes, still sparkling with that same affectionate mischief, you felt that profound connection. The bond was not just magical but deeply personal, spanning the quiet thoughts shared in whispers and the words spoken in the open.

This moment, under the soft lights and the eyes of the Night Court, solidified something essential between you and Rhysand. A partnership built on mutual respect, affection, and a delightful undercurrent of flirtation that promised many more such exchanges in the days to come.

Rhysand led you through the lush, starlit gardens of the Night Court where Cassian, Azriel, and others from the Inner Circle awaited. As you approached the atmosphere was charged with an understated anticipation. Both Cassian and Azriel rose to greet you both their expressions blending curiosity and respect.

Cassian's greeting was robust yet heartfelt. "Rhys didn't prepare us for someone quite so captivating," he remarked with a friendly nod. His tone genuine and devoid of any overstatement. His smile was infectious. He quickly added in a more casual tone, "And I hear you're as quick-witted as you are graceful. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Azriel who Rhys described as more reserved offered a calm nod. His deep-set eyes thoughtful as he assessed you with a discerning gaze. "Welcome to the Night Court," he said. His voice soft yet carrying a warmth that invited trust. During the evening as you engaged in a discussion about the strategic intricacies of the court’s defenses Azriel's respect visibly deepened. Later, he quietly shared with Rhysand, "She has a keen sense for the nuances of strategy. You've chosen well. She’s not just impressive in demeanor but in intellect."

Throughout the evening laughter and substantive conversations filled the garden. Cassian's heartier chuckles complemented your more measured humor. While Azriel engaged you with discussions that tested your insight into the court’s history and its future.

Rhysand watched these exchanges with a sense of deep satisfaction. The way you engaged with his friends. Not just with politeness but with a genuine interest and understanding solidified your place among them. Cassian’s easy camaraderie and Azriel’s quiet approval spoke volumes of their acceptance.

As the night progressed under the expansive, star-filled sky of Velaris your initial sense of being an outsider slowly dissipated. You found yourself woven into the evening’s tapestry as seamlessly as the shadows melded into the night. Each shared story, each moment of laughter, helped stitch you further into the fabric of this vibrant community.

Standing there among new friends you experienced yet another profound shift within. With Rhysand at your side and the bond between you growing stronger by the day you realized you had discovered much more than a haven. You had found a new family, a purpose, and a place where you truly belonged. The night ended not just with a feeling of contentment but with a renewed sense of anticipation for the future.

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[konigsblog]

not sure about you guys, but this screams rapist-simon riley to me.

tw/cw; rape, non-con/dub-con, kidnapping, bondage, afab!f!reader, intoxication, dark fiction. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. MDNI 18+

simon riley refuses any form of help or medication for his worsening mental health. he deals with his anger and aggression in unhealthy ways and doesn't see any issue with it. he takes what he believes belongs to him, and to simon, you were in serious need for a lesson.

you shouldn't have been walking around drunk and all alone after your friends had abandoned you. it's quiet aside from the heavy rain and whistling wind, with raindrops splashing against the cold and dirty concrete. simon believes that it's your own fault for walking around in such a short dress while being drunk and alone, in the middle of october in manchester. you look freezing, goosebumps spreading across your skin and your eyes widening with horror as simon towers above you intimidatingly.

you don't speak much now that you're locked away and in simon's apartment, it's not as if you could if you wanted to, with a piece of duct tape silencing your cries for mercy and restricting your movements. simon believes that all women have a purpose, and that purpose is to serve men. he bounces his broad and muscular hips, forcing you to slide up and down on his weeping, lengthy cock. his stiff dick aches inside of your swollen folds, leaking his shaft coated in a mix of your blood and arousal. deep down, you want nothing, but your body doesn't do a good job at portraying the emotions you're currently feeling right now.

simon will hiss at you, beat you for talking back. you can't be so loud, not when he lives in an apartment where his next-door neighbours could easily overhear the corrupted and sadistic things happening in the other room.

don't blame simon, it's not his fault. boys will be boys, lovie, and you'll just have to deal with it.

[wh0rrorb4by]

size difference - ushijima

tw: noncon, size kink, strength kink, tummy bulge, mean ushi 💔, wrote in like 5 mins i’m srry

ushijima knows it would only take one hand to hold you down. you’re no match for his strength, of course, and your trembling fear alone is enough to keep you pliant and still for him. you both know it, but it doesn’t stop him from absolutely crushing you under his weight, pinning you down and completely restricting your movement so you can feel the difference between the two of you.

he knows he’s too big for you regardless of the prep he gives you. stuffing three thick fingers into you while his tongue laps at your clit doesn’t do anything but make you cry harder as your body shakes from the orgasm you don’t want. the burning stretch that comes with his huge cock sinking into you is the same regardless of how wet you are — the only purpose of making you cum on his tongue and fingers first being to keep you overstimulated, or to humiliate you, maybe.

and it is humiliating when you can’t keep your desperate whines and cries to yourself. when you’re trying desperately to claw at his chest, or grip his hair, or rake your nails down his back, but you can’t. not with the way he flattens you, crushing you with his strength and rendering your limbs useless because he gets off on it. he gets off on the size difference, knowing that every single part of him is just too big to fit in any part of you. his hands and legs and arms crushing you with so little effort it’s sad. his cock making your belly bulge where he reaches deep inside you, and his heavy balls holding so much cum that it leaks out of you when he finally gives you his load — only after fucking a couple more orgasms into you. he likes you nice and dumb when he spills his hot cum into you, watching the way you go almost cross-eyed as you feel yourself get even more full.

because you are dumb. did you really think you were any match for a guy like him? that you’d be safe, or even be able to put up a fight if he decided he got sick of watching you walk around in your tiny little skirts? that he’d hold himself back when the constant teasing became too much? he didn’t think you could be that stupid, but since you were, you really had it coming to you.