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cheapshrimpysheep · 2 years ago

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You... Cheater? - Demon Brothers

SUMMARY: They saw you making out with some random demon. But only after talking to you will they find out that it wasn't you after all. It was a demon impersonating you. But how did they feel before realizing this and how did they react to the relief that it wasn't really you they saw?

(This takes place before the events of Nightbringer.)

CHARACTERS: Demon Brothers (Lucifer; Mammon; Leviathan; Satan; Asmodeus; Beelzebub & Belphegor)

TAGS: Fluf; GN Reader; Comfort; Kiss, Tears, a little Angst (I think)

WORD COUNT: An average of 470 words per character.

👉 You… Cheater? - Side Characters

COMMENTS: I was looking for prompts and saw something like “cheating” or “How would they react to being cheated on?” But I don't like cheaters, this would be to sad. However, they thinking they were cheated on, but in fact they were deceived and you comfort them, that looked like a better option to me.

I hope you enjoy ;)

CONTEXT: He was walking the streets of Devildom, maybe out shopping for dinner. And he saw you! Or at least someone he thought was you. The appearance was exactly like yours! And you were making out with some random lower demon, that was unmistakable. That he could see clearly without a doubt.

This takes place before the events of Nightbringer.

Lucifer decided to walk up to “you” and have a conversation with “you” right there. But when “you” and the other demon saw him, both ran away. He didn't follow them. He stopped right there and it only took a few seconds for him to realize that something was wrong. That couldn't be you. It does not make sense. You wouldn't cheat on him. Who would?

Part of him doesn't believe it was you because he knows you and your character. But the other part that doesn't believe it was you is his Pride. Cheat on Lucifer? With someone like Diavolo he could understand, but a lower demon? No, that wasn't you, you're not that stupid! However, he can't help but have a very small fear that it really was you. But that one is irrational, it can't be right.

He asks you to go talk to him in his office and, of course, you have no idea what he saw. So, you don't know what he wants to talk to you about.

“Where were you while I was away?” is the first thing he asks after telling you that you can come in. You are confused, but the truth is, you've been playing with Levi in his room. Then some of the other brothers also showed up to play, so you have a lot of alibis.

“Did Solomon ever teach you how to duplicate yourself?” If you respond with "Is that possible?!" and an obvious face of surprise, he will burst out laughing. “I wouldn't be surprised if it was.” he continues and tells you about what he saw on the street.

Your reaction tells him everything he needs to know and confirms his suspicions. “Don't worry, I knew it wasn't you. I just wanted to confirm with you.” he lifts your chin and kisses your lips “I would never fall in love with a cheater.”

And then, he hugs you. It starts out like a normal hug, but after his arms are around you, you feel them tighten slightly. As if that little irrational side of him that worried him was showing how relieved he was that it really wasn't you. As if that little irrational part of him, that told him what he'd seen could be real, was showing you how relieved he was wrong.

“I don't know who those demons were.” He says, slowly breaking the hug and looking at you. “Yet.” You see his eyes, a look very similar to the one he usually has when he wants to punish his brothers. But this one was worse. “I will find out who they were. They need to be reminded why they shouldn't deceive us. Of course you are more than welcome to join me, after all they had the audacity to impersonate you.”

We all know Mammon is the emotional type not the rational one. So... he’s completely desolate, devastated, he’s heart shattered in pieces. It didn't even cross his mind that it might not be you, despite the number of times he said to himself "No, no, no, no, no, no..." He didn't have the courage to face “you”. He even dropped the purchases he made. One of the items he bought was a gift for you. And he run away.

He didn't come home. After all, you were there and seeing you would be too painful. But nobody knew about it. But nobody knew about it. Well, actually he went home, without the groceries and without listening to anyone. He just went straight to his room and left again, but this time on his car. You haven't seen him.

It's when everyone else goes to talk to you about not knowing where he is and being his turn to make dinner that you decide to go to his room and summon him. I mean, you have no idea where he is either. He doesn't respond to your messages. Summoning him will bring him straight to you, straight to home.

He appears and falls on his butt. “OI! WHAT THE-?!” he looks at you. His eyes were reddish and his cheeks wet. You ask what happened, worried. “You... I... You know what happened!” But you don’t. “Yes you do! I saw you! I saw... you two...”

“Us two? You mean Asmo and I? Of course you saw us. You came with us.” You remind him that the three of you went shopping together, but Asmo wanted to buy a new perfume and wanted you to go with him. So Mammon went to buy the rest of the stuff.

He is clearly embarrassed. “W-wait, s-so you were with Asmo the whole time?” Yes, you still even smelled like the perfume he bought. “S-so... you weren't sneaking kissing another demon on the street?” What the heck was he talking about?! Of course not! Does he really thought you would be kissing a random demon on the street when you could be making out with him? Your first?! And you tell him that. He's such a dummy!

He hugs you desperately. And he starts to cry again, but this time with relief. His face on your shoulder, he can't even speak, just sob. As if you just woke him up from a nightmare. You hug him back and kiss him on the forehead.

He really needs some time with you now. He's not really the vindictive type. He just wants you, your love and affection, although it took him a while to admit it. So you two cuddle for a while on his sofa. Until he remembered his car was parked somewhere.

Levi is also a very emotional person but worse: he is the Avatar of Envy. Just like any other sin can blind you, this one is the worst for what he saw. And even even worse, we know he doesn't have a good self-esteem. Put it all together and he never felt worse in his life. He won't talk to "you", he will run back home and lock himself in his room.

You had agreed that when he arrived you would go to his room to play the new game he had gone out to buy. But he didn't tell you he was back. It was one of the brothers who told you that he had seen him arrive and enter the room.

You go to his room, knock on the door, but he doesn't answer. You try as many times as it takes until he says he wants to be alone and doesn't want to talk to anyone. Messages don't work either. Only when you threaten to break down the door does he let you in.

The lights are off and he's hiding under the covers in the bathtub. You ask what's going on and again he takes a long time to answer you. He’s more the type of avoiding talk and/or see you. Listening to you is painful enough already. Worried, you slowly approach and ask again, in your sweetest voice, what was going on.

“I SAW IT, OK!?” he exploded, without coming out from under the covers, his voice cracking. “I... saw it... I saw you... on the street...” He saw you on the street? Was he talking about seeing you and Satan on the book store? “WHAT? No!” He got up, uncovering himself from the blankets. His eyes were reddish and a few tears were still falling down his cheeks. “I saw you kissing that demon on the street.” he calms down a bit and starts talking about that shouldn't surprise him. Even a lower demon was better than him. Of course he would never be enough for you. Someone like him? Of course not. You deserved better. You would even deserve the crown of Devildom...

Well, you don't remember kissing Satan on the street, so you have no idea what he's talking about. You tell him you went out with Satan to the bookstore and you were with him the whole time until you got back home. Levi could ask him. Whoever he saw wasn't you.

It takes a while for him to process that and realize that who he saw really wasn't you. And for him to throw himself into your arms. He's not afraid to cry in front of you, and on your shoulder. His hug is tight, desperately and lovingly tight.

He tells you again about his fear of losing you, of you leaving him. You end up getting in the bathtub with him. Cuddling with and reassuring him. Saying you would never leave him, how much you love him. He needs you now, he needs to recover from the shock that luckily wasn't real.

What have those two demons just done? Envy is a very bad sin to be the avatar of in a situation like that. But even worse is Wrath! Satan instantly assumed his demon form, throws the groceries to who knows where, and walked towards the two. They noticed him approach by the heavy and determined steps and fled. He stopped. “You” looked at him with such fear in “your”eyes, it shocked him.

He didn't mean to hurt “you”, he never would! But “you” hurt him. How could this be happening? You weren't like that, you were so kind and lovable... Wait, you're not like this. Something is wrong. And he only realizes this after stopping and calming down a bit. Something he learned from you. No! You wouldn't do this. Something was really wrong and he needed to talk to you now!

As soon as he gets home, he asks the first brother of his he sees if you are there. And after hearing a yes he runs to your room. Ignoring the "Why? What's going on?" after that yes.

He knocks at your door while calling your name. You open the door and he rushes into the room, closing the door behind you and practically "Kabedon" you against the door. “Have you been here the whole time?” he seems to contain some kind of anger. It worries you a little, but at these times you know you need to be the calm person. And yes, you were home that whole time. In fact, you spent a lot of time helping Mammon with his studies. He practically begged for your help to avoid another punishment from Lucifer.

You seemed sincere, but still: “So, you never left the house? Not even to go shopping?” You think for a moment. But no, pretty sure you never left the House of Lamentation. And the hours of study were very long. You both know what a bad student Mammon is.

He sighs, lowers his head for a moment and then drops down to hug you. It is a tender and relieved hug. “I’m sorry.” he whispers in your ear. “I just... wanted to make sure..." you hug him back and finally feel like it's the right time to ask what's going on.

He tells you what he saw on the street. The shock on your face is further proof to him that it wasn't really you he saw. As he thinks about what that could have been, his expression change. The expression of the true Avatar of Wrath.

“The only explanation is that someone impersonated you. I don't know who they were but I'll find out. And I couldn't care less if there were any reason for them to do that. Nobody tarnishes your name! I will find them, and when I do I'll make them regret even the air they breathe today.”

Asmo doesn't think you are cheating on him. After all he’s the Avatar of Lust, he better than anyone understands the concept of One-night stand. But he can't help but get a sour feeling in his stomach. He used to do one-night stands, but that was before he meet you. After that he couldn't do it anymore, he just wanted you. And he thought you only wanted him. What was happening to him?

He thought of going to you. Ask if he could join. That would look like him, but no, he can't, that's not what he wants to do. It's nothing related to his sin that he wants to do. He felt more like... Levi? Could it be jealousy? Him?! He needed to go home. ASAP!

He does his best to pretend that nothing is wrong, that he just came back from shopping and didn't see anything special. Maybe he'll come up with some story about a purse he saw, just to keep up the facade that everything was fine.

He'll avoid you for awhile, flashing you a smile you knew was fake. It was at dinner time, after he sent a message to the brothers' group saying he didn't feel well and therefore wouldn't have dinner that you decided to go to his room and check on him.

He is reluctant to let you in, but he still wants to show you that everything is fine, so he gives in at the second or third knock. He is sitting on the bed. And not even all the make-up he could put on his face would manage to hide from you the sadness that was really in his eyes. Despite his smile. He tells you not to worry, but it's when you insist that you can tell something is wrong that he decides to tell you the truth.

“I... I wanted to ask you.” he puts back on his everything is fine mask “Who was that new demon friend of yours?” You look confused at him. “I wasn't snooping, I promise. I just ended up seeing you two. You know, even if you try to hide yourself well there is still a possibility that someone will see you making out on the street.” he was forcing a smile, as if wanting to look like he was giving you genuine advice. But you got even more confused. What the heck was he talking about?

“Aww, don't worry hon, I'm not mad. I... think...” he mutters to himself and then goes back to talking to you. “You don't need to hide it from me. I saw it with my own eyes, you know?” you see his eyes water slightly. He's trying so hard not to cry.

But you weren't on that street today. “What?!” he widens his eyes, as if seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. You tell him you've been with Lucifer at RAD most of the day, helping him with paperwork. And even when you came home, you came back with him. And that was it. That and you wouldn't making out with a random demon on the streets. You have standards. and they only skyrocketed after you met Asmo.

He believes in you, he always believed in you and you really seemed to be telling the truth. He finally breaks down in tears and jumps out of bed to hug you desperately. He is so happy to know that that wasn't you! But he's still confused about what he felt. He really needs to talk to you about this. But after dinner. His appetite has returned and he is starving.

Beel doesn't know what to do. Should he pretend he didn't see anything? Should he go talk to you? He was so confused. You're not like this. what was happening? He... shouldn't interrupt, should he? He just grabs the groceries and heads home.

None of the groceries survived the trip. He ate up his feelings along the way. Or at least he tried. Lucifer was about to scold him, until he saw the look on his face and he just decided to let him go to his room and talk later. But the truth is, he would ask you to talk to him. And that's because even Belphie couldn't.

Belphie went to the attic to let you two talk alone in their bedroom. You knocked on the door, but Beel didn't answer. He didn't tell you to come in, but he didn't say you couldn't either. You walk in and see him lying on his bed with his back to you.

You slowly walk up to him and ask what's going on. He still doesn't respond. You sit on the bed and when you touch him, he flinches a little. Ok, now you're really worried. You ask him to please tell you what's going on, in your sweet, understanding voice.

He takes a deep breath and then slowly gets up to sit on the bed beside you. He still can't look at you. He doesn't look upset, just sad and confused. “I saw you on the street.” he calmly explains, with a sadness in the voice that breaks your heart “With that demon.”

What demon? What street? You haven't even left the house today. “What?!” he finally looks at you. He hadn't cried yet, but he was close to it. You tell him you didn't leave the house. You were even in the Planetarium with Belphie while Beel went shopping.

He believes in you, he always did and he never had any reason not to. And the same goes for Belphie. “So it wasn't you I saw on the street kissing another demon?” What? Of course not! What was he talking about?

He doesn't explain, he just smiles hugely and gives you one of his bear hugs. He tells you what he saw while hugging you. He doesn't care what he saw. He doesn't want to know who did it. The only thing that matters is that it wasn't really you. The real you was there, with him, hugging him back and letting him kiss you and kissing him back.

Then you hear his stomach rumble like a beast. His appetite had returned, and with a vengeance.

What the F*ck was going on?! Did that filthy lower demon make you do that? Were you under some spell? Belphie was going to put an end to it NOW! He assumed his demon form, throws the groceries away and rushed towards “you”. But when “you” two see him, “you” run away. He runs after the two, but unfortunately for him, the demon manages to outrun him.

He comes back home looking for you and without the groceries. When Lucifer sees him and prepares to lecture him for not bringing the groceries, Belphie stops him and asks if you are at home. It’s important! Something might have happened to you. Lucifer says you're in your room and lets Belphie run to your door.

You hear him knocking urgently at your door. You open the door, and seeing the seriousness on his face you ask what happened. He stands still in silence for a moment, looking at you, analysing. Then he comes in and lets you close the door.

“Did you leave the house today?” he asks calmly. You say yes. “Where did you go?” That was weird, he wasn't the stalking type, he was too lazy for that. That and he was never like that, much less with Beel. You went with Beel to a new pastry shop that opened to try their drinks and sweets. Needless to say, you spent a lot of time there. You had to drag Beel back home because it was getting late. You two had only arrived home shortly before Belphie himself.

“You never left his side?” No. Why would you? You love hanging out with Beel. By the way you speak and your confused expression, he knows you're telling the truth. And his straight face instantly turns into a reassured, lazy laugh. “Ha ha ha. I knew that was weird. It wasn't even you.” And now that his good mood was back, you could safely ask what the heck was going on.

“Ummmmm... I'm too tired to tell. At least standing. You know, I saw something that made me worry about you, so I ran back to see if you were all right. I'm so sleepy right now. What if I told you while we cuddle in your bed?” That sly bastard, taking advantage of a subject like that for cuddles.

He tells you what happened while the two of you are in bed. But even though he's relaxed in your arms he doesn't fall asleep. “That was probably some demon impersonating you with some shapeshifting spell.” he says “If they had done that to me, I wouldn't care. But since you were the one they did this to, I'll make sure to find them and break their neck.” he said with a cute smile and already half asleep, which only made the threat worse. And then finally fell asleep in your arms.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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daycourtofficial · 8 months ago

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Gingerfucker - Eris x Rhys’s Sister!reader Masterlist

Banner by @milswrites | Note: these are in chronological order by content, not by posting date. This is an ongoing series and will be updated.

Summary: no one is more surprised than Eris Vanserra to find that he is capable of much more than just political ambition

Some art of the babies: (Nyx and Atlas) (All the gingersnaps) (Atlas and Leif) (Atlas) (the family)

Art by @dawneternal: Eris during the events of Cold was the steel of my axe to grind, portraits of the gingersnaps, art of Eris and Atlas

Gingerfucker week 2024 blurbs

Moodboard

It’s just to satiate the bond - an agreement to have sex just to satiate a mating bond neither party wants is a great idea. Surely no one will get hurt, right?

One single thread of gold tied me to you* - Eris accepts the mating bond and is incredibly touched by the effort you put into cooking him the meal from scratch

All’s well that ends well to end up with you - fears and doubts cause you and Eris to do your first irrational act together: a secret mating bond ceremony

I am ash from your fire - Surprising Eris one evening, you’ve turned up in the dead of night to let him know that your brother had figured out your secret relationship, offering you an ultimatum.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind - centuries of plotting and scheming come to a head when his mate unexpectedly arrives in Autumn and Eris is desperate to set his plans in motion, least she become a piece for Beron to use against him

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons - Eris leaves his mate alone in the Forest House, telling her to trust no one but his mother. The two women are ill-equipped to provide frontline fighting, but surely they can help Eris in their own way. *companion piece to ‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind’

Hell was the journey but it brought me Heaven - in the immediate aftermath of Beron’s death and the thrum of power in his veins, Eris’s mate forces him to, at the bare minimum, bathe

Secret exchanges - a few weeks after the aftermath of Rhys’s banishment, your mate, the new High Lord of the Autumn Court, has a secret meeting with someone from your family.

Blood moon in Autumn - fae cycles are no joke, but your mate is always there to provide you comfort in the best way possible: by being your personal heating pad

Have I found you, flightless bird? - a reflection of a life of secrets and expectations and how, despite it all, a flightless bird found home in an unlikely place

Ferocious beasts with soft bellies - Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Starfall in Autumn - based on the prompt for Starfall week “characters a and b realize they won’t make it to Starfall. They make the most of what they have to celebrate”

Laborious anxieties - Eris is riddled with anxiety leading up to your labor, but what happens when some of his worst fears come to fruition?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed - your relationship with Rhysand had been icy at best, but your attempts to reconcile are quick to be shot down. A rash decision leads you to endangering your life - can Eris find you in time? Can he save your infant son?

Amber eyes, looking into mine - Eris finds something in his study that triggers him into a frozen state of panic. Who better suited to pulling Eris from his past than his future?

We started alone, in the end we’re okay - on a rare night alone, Eris reflects on his long life and the lonely nights that haunted his youth. And how he’s a long way from the person he was and the person he had to be.

Fireling - every father’s dream is to be there the day his son first uses his powers. Luckily for Eris, he gets just that.

How the kingdom lights shine just for me and you - Eris tells his sons a story, letting them know how a strong knight defeated an evil dragon and saved the kingdom.

Loving parents, harmless fun - Modern!Gingerfucker - slice of life where Eris takes his family on a roadtrip and is only slightly annoyed at his son’s choice of car game

* = smut

#gingerfucker #acotar fanfiction #acotar writing #eris vanserra fanfic

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pomefioredove · 6 months ago

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Hiii!! I was wondering if you could “I can’t stop thinking about you” with Jade? If ur prompt things are still open of course! If not that’s totally okay too!!

o7 anon

summary: "I can’t stop thinking about you" type of post: short fic characters: jade additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, not proofread and maybe a little ooc a part of this event

"And don't forget to lock the doors when you leave,"

Azul sighs, hovering in the doorway of the Mostro Lounge with his hands on his hips.

"Luckily, nothing was stolen last time I let Floyd take the closing shift, but luck is fickle,"

He pauses, turning to you. "I'm sure you, at least, will be able to handle something so simple."

You salute the tired-looking merman before the soft swoosh of the kitchen door interrupts the conversation.

"My, you have such little faith in me, Azul. I'm wounded," a smoother, much less tense, presence follows it.

You'd always wondered how Jade is able to sound imposing without ever actually raising his voice.

Azul huffs. "I clearly was not addressing you. Good evening to the both of you... Don't stay up too late,"

And with that, he's gone.

As soon as the door is closed and Azul's inky silhouette has vanished, you turn to look at the gentleman behind you.

"I didn't even know you were here,"

"I'm not supposed to be," Jade smiles, offering little explanation.

By now, you're sure he does that on purpose.

You don't feel like being baited into a conversation, but when your only other option is silence with Jade...

"So?"

"I was taking stock," he says. "Both metaphorically and literally. We're short on limes."

His strangeness radiates off of him like a mist. You narrow your eyes at him; he's hiding something, you're sure. But what are you supposed to do- interrogate him?

"I'll leave a note," you mutter, turning your attention back to sweeping.

This is your very first closing shift at the lounge; no customers, no Azul, no sounds except for your own breathing.

And Jade's.

He smiles again. "Shall I help? You'll be done faster with another set of hands,"

He could just leave. He's not even on the clock... if this is him looping you into some ploy to get overtime, you swear...

"If you would like,"

"Excellent,"

Jade disappears into the kitchen, taking that strange air of tension with him, and returns with a rag and cleaning solution.

He's completely silent, perusing the lounge as if it were an art museum, admiring the specks and stains on each table before wiping them down.

"You seem nervous," he says merrily, not even looking at you. "Are you afraid of the dark?"

"No," a half-truth. "I'm just tired." a lie.

"I've read that many human children develop a fear of the dark. What's more, is that it's not considered irrational. How fascinating,"

You focus on the bristles of the broom in front of you. The Mostro Lounge does get rather dark at night... all of Octavinelle does.

"It's not irrational," you mutter.

"Perhaps for you. But in the sea, a child being afraid of the dark would be as silly to us as a child being afraid of sunlight would be to you,"

You pause to look out one of the windows in the lounge, the thick pane of glass separating you from the inky depths. It's almost pitch black at this hour.

Ugh. You're letting him get in your head.

You hum. "Is that why you're here, then? Protecting me from the dark?"

Jade smiles, watching you out of the corner of his eyes. "No. I was only making conversation. You seemed uncomfortable with my presence,"

"I just was expecting to be alone,"

"So was I,"

You pause, turning to him with a questioning glance.

As vague an answer as ever, you think, though there's a certain gleam in his eye that's daring you to find out for yourself.

He meets your gaze. "You interest me,"

Jade says it plainly, his tone soft, as if he thinks he might scare you away with any sudden movements.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he hums. "And I hope you understand my meaning... I do not seek to make you uncomfortable."

You set the broom against the wall. "You're not,"

He mimics you, setting the rag and bottle aside. If you didn't know any better, you could've sworn you caught a look of relief on him.

"Good. I have no malicious intentions... This time,"

You take that as a joke. It's not very funny.

Jade chuckles. "Ah, don't roll your eyes at me. I'm only lightening the mood... I would like to get to know you better, after all," he pauses. "As a confidante."

There's something oddly genuine about this.

He's as calm as ever, but you can tell there's a current of vulnerability hiding beneath the surface.

You can't help a smile at the thought.

"Not an informant, then?"

He smiles back. "Not with you, no,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader

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yinyuedijun · 1 month ago

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CORRUPTIVE | ratiorine x masc reader

Ratio has been running himself ragged on a project. His blood pressure has been catastrophic, and his mood even worse. Aventurine offers a convenient outlet for his stress. (Or: You new boyfriend is a corrupting influence on you.)

3.2k words. written for @ficsforgaza's kinktober — prompt was double penetration (2 holes). reader is masc + afab (no surgery, explicit terms used), addressed as "boyfriend", "good boy", "baby". soft degradation, praise, 1 instance of name calling. pre-established romantic relationships with aventurine and dr ratio. divider by @/cafekitsune!

Ratio doesn't know why or how you ended up so besotted with Aventurine.

It isn't a matter of your intellect (of which you have in spades) nor your good-hearted nature (which is vastly different from the disposition of the gambler), though both make it puzzling that you would be so interested in the Stoneheart. It is simply that Ratio has never met a man as shy as you, and to this day he can’t fathom how you ever manage to entertain the gambler’s overt degeneracy both in and out of bed. When you’d first asked Ratio whether he would be comfortable with sharing you with the man, Aventurine’s arm hanging off your shoulder and a wicked smile on his face, he had been hardly able to believe it. Ratio even wondered if his synesthesia beacon was malfunctioning, and if by ‘sharing with’ you actually meant ‘rescuing from’.

“Don't worry, Doctor,” Aventurine had purred. “If you ever get jealous, you're free to join in on the fun.”

Ratio had bristled. Jealousy, at the time, implied to Ratio that he was irrational enough to fear that Aventurine might somehow steal you away from him if he did not choose to mutually participate in the relationship. But looking at the facts and at your behavioural history, it was simply inconceivable that Aventurine would be capable of ruining your bond. Logic dictated that your relationship with Ratio was too secure for it to dissolve simply because you were separately engaging in romantic relations with another man.

“Do what you want,” Ratio had said dispassionately and without hesitation. “It doesn't change anything between us. Do try your best to survive that insufferable attitude of his, though. You are free to come to me if you ever need a break from the gambler.”

Since you’ve begun seeing Aventurine, though, Ratio has begun to suspect that Aventurine had meant something else by jealousy. Something less related to the emotional dimension of sharing you and more to do with the physicality of it. Something about seeing you in the mornings-after and noticing the marks that Aventurine likes to litter across your neck. Something about how you seem more and more shameless every time you sleep with Ratio—how you seem able to take him deeper into your throat each time, how you seem to moan louder every time Ratio slides into you, how you now openly whine and beg to be filled by Ratio even though your cheeks are always hot with the embarrassment of doing so.

Something about how Aventurine seems to be training you to become unrepentantly needy for cock.

You are, again, a shy person. Your sex life with Ratio is largely reserved, fairly vanilla, and—and as far as he can tell—so satisfying that you never ask for anything else when he suggests it. I’m not very adventurous, you’d once laughed at him, more than a little sheepish. But dating Aventurine has clearly had a corruptive influence on you, and it had only become fully clear to Ratio the other day when he had moved to gently prep you, only for you to shake your head and reach between your legs, spreading yourself open for him.

“I-it's okay,” you’d panted, barely able to talk through the haze of your lust. “Aventurine already stretched me out earlier—see?”

When Ratio saw that your hole was not only gaping, but still dripping with Aventurine’s cum—he’d nearly passed out.

And now, as Ratio sits in his office, trying desperately to focus on revising the latest RFP from the Intelligentsia Guild while he listens to the rhythmic creak of your bed in the other room, the obscene noise of Aventurine’s hips slapping against your own as he pounds into you—

Well. Ratio admits that it should not have taken him so long to understand the meaning of ‘Join in on the fun’. He supposes he should acknowledge his own idiocy when he is guilty of it.

He would rather die than acknowledge that he does want to join the two of you, though.

Ratio is, for the millionth time, revisiting the blasted black hole information paradox: his least favourite problem in the entire field of quantum mechanics. He has an unquenchable thirst for knowledge, but he does sometimes wish to have less knowledge about this specific problem. Despite the fact that humanity has now colonised countless planets, asteroid belts, and moons, the exact properties of black holes remain an unknown that Ratio intends to eventually characterise. It's only a matter of time and effort—a great deal of which he's already spent, to no avail. Irritating, as it is a roadblock for a critical and time-sensitive project at the moment.

“Veritas,” you say, bringing him a bowl of hearty goulash that Aventurine had leisurely cooked during the time that Ratio had been slaving over these blasted equations, “you should take a break. You’ve hardly gotten any sleep for the past week.”

“Sleep can wait,” Ratio replies. His back aches, his wrists hurt, and his head is throbbing. His jaw aches from how much he's been grinding his teeth. “I am on the verge of a breakthrough—I will not rest until I’ve solved this.”

“But I'm worried about you,” you argue.

“I have no need for your worry,” he dismisses—snaps—and he knows he’s gone too far when he sees your brow furrow.

Aventurine, of course, manages to somehow be there. Why he's emerged from the kitchen to spectate on the two of you is a mystery to Ratio, but the Stoneheart appears to be openly and genuinely displeased at the interaction. It is a rarity for him, as Ratio has observed a trend in which Aventurine is least likely to show distress when he's actually hurt, and most likely to feign hurt when he's in control. A negative correlation, so to speak. The man does not like to reveal his emotions. But Ratio can generally get a good read on the Stoneheart, and he can tell that Aventurine’s current frown is genuine.

The concern on his expression fades when you roll your eyes at Ratio. “Okay, you should sleep and eat. Someone’s hangry.”

Ratio clears his throat. Always quick to own his errors as soon as he recognises them, he says, “My apologies. That was beneath me.”

“It's fine.” You stand behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders. As soon as you begin to knead your hands, Ratio becomes acutely aware of a knot at the base of his neck that your fingers are quickly undoing. “I know you're just stressed. You’ve run yourself ragged, Veritas—you’re going to get sick at this rate. Can I help you relax?”

Ratio closes his eyes, tries not to melt at your touch. You aren't wrong, he thinks. Prolonged stress compromises the immune system, and falling ill would hardly do anything for his overtaxed mind. He should do something to relax. He thinks about stepping away from the desk for the first time in hours, sinking into a warm bath… with you there, obviously—so he may wash your back, run his hands along your hot skin, kiss your shoulder amidst all the steam and fragra—

“I have an idea of what may fix the Doctor’s worsening health,” Aventurine says, his sly voice shattering Ratio's pleasant fantasy. The academician scowls.

“I have no need for your ideas,” Ratio snipes in revenge.

“Are you sure, Doctor? Because it seems you're running short on them.” Aventurine’s neon gaze roves over the several monitors in front of Ratio, all of which display his failed models. Ratio is startled.

“You understand the work here?”

“Not at all,” Aventurine replies breezily. “It was just a lucky guess. Or maybe an obvious one.” He slinks closer, wearing a grin that is both familiar and gratingly handsome. Ratio might have even found it charming if he didn't have such an outrageous headache. “Either way, it's clear to me that you need a break, plus a way to work off some of that stress.”

“Neither of which require your assistance.”

“Perhaps not mine,” Aventurine agrees. He's smiling when he adds, “But maybe our boyfriend’s?”

Ratio’s eyes narrow. He decides that he doesn’t like the cunning in his voice. “What do you mean?”

Aventurine’s mouth curls in a wicked, wicked way. He gives you a quick glance, as if asking you for permission, but you don't say anything to stop him—even though you can't look at either of them in the eye.

“Well,” the gambler says, “the two of us have been talking, and it turns out that your boyfriend’s been having some very interesting daydreams involving you…”

Ratio can't believe that this is happening.

In the first place, he'd hardly been able to process Aventurine’s suggestion. Ratio has long deduced that that you’re now much more open in bed, more transparent in your lust, but a fantasy like this one is still unprecedented based on his prior experiences with you. He hangs onto his disbelief right until the moment that you’re nude in front of him, face pressed into his pillows, ass up while you present yourself to both men. Aventurine has expertly teased your holes, so both of them are clenching and pulsing, needing to be filled. You're keeping yourself spread for them both obediently, so Ratio can see perfectly the way your cunt begins to drool when Aventurine eases his fingers into your other hole.

“Did you know, Doctor,” Aventurine drawled, “how much your boyfriend enjoys having both of his holes fucked at the same time?”

Ratio swallows. Can't take his eyes away from your glistening cunt, the way it twitches each time Aventurine moves his fingers inside you. “We—we have never tried.”

“Huh. Guess I can't blame you—it took a while for us to get him there.” His eyes almost gleam, the strange violet of his irises filled with cunning. “We had to go real slow with the toys, you know. I trained him pretty well, but”—Aventurine’s gaze flicks down to where Ratio is hard and throbbing—“he’s still never taken something as big as you. Not while I'm already inside him, anyway.”

You let out a whimper at the observation. “Are you excited?” Aventurine coos. You squirm, as if trying to push your hips toward them, and Aventurine laughs. “So needy. I’ve turned you into quite the cockslut, haven't I? But don't worry, baby. We’ll give you what you need soon enough—right, Doctor?”

Ratio struggles with a reply. He’s not talkative during sex beyond reassurances and encouragement, and perhaps the occasional curse. He doesn’t have a disposition for theatrics, and he certainly doesn’t have any inclination toward degrading ones. But Aventurine performs sex and decadence easily, his tongue silver and deft around his filthy words, his expressions nearly made for it. Ratio’s gut tightens when the gambler smirks at him, his cock twitching in his hand. I know what I'm doing to you, his face seems to say, and it leaves Ratio feeling at once irritated, out of his depth, and alarmingly horny.

For the sake of his blood pressure, Ratio turns his attention to you. The state that Aventurine has you in is obscene, panting and writhing as he eases a third finger into the tight ring of muscle that he’s trying to tease open. You moan a little, then whimper when Aventurine’s other hand finds your cunt. Ratio’s cock throbs at the noise that your pussy makes when Aventurine begins to tease it, dripping wet and embarrassing.

This is when you start to beg: “Please. Please, I'm ready, I promise. You don’t need to go slow, Aventurine, I promise, I can take—”

Your voice cuts out as Aventurine removes his fingers. Your holes are left empty, and Ratio can tell how badly you need them to be filled from the frustrated noise you make. Aventurine guides you into sitting, takes the opportunity to kiss you. “Since you asked so nicely,” Aventurine accedes, his lips moving against yours. He glances at Ratio after pulling away. “Well, then, Doctor—which of his holes would you prefer?”

Ratio swallows. He glances at your pleading expression, then at the space between your legs. At his hesitation, the corner of Aventurine’s mouth lifts. “Wait,” he says, “don’t tell me you’ve never tried anal?”

“Of course we have,” Ratio says curtly, almost defensive. Then he hesitates. “But we usually have… trouble.”

Ratio is large. It isn't a boast, but a factual statement, at least according to the statistics you once rattled off at him. It's challenging enough to make himself fit into your pussy; it’s an even longer process with your ass. He isn't sure from the way that you're begging that you can wait so long—and frankly, he isn't sure if he can either.

But gods, seeing Aventurine work you open for him like that…

Ratio’s concerns seem to have the opposite effect on Aventurine. He looks almost gleeful when he says, “Trouble? Oh, well, that settles it.” He cups your cheek, looks fond. “What do you think, baby? Can I use your cunt while Ratio fucks you from behind?”

You look deeply flustered, but you nod anyway. “Y-yes.” Your voice is trembling with excitement.

“Good boy,” Aventurine replies. He gives Ratio an appraising look, his eyes as hungry on him as they were on you. His gaze hardly strays from Ratio’s, even as he sits back and prompts you into straddling him. The position gives Ratio a maddening view of Aventurine’s length between your slick thighs. “Wanna give us a hand, Doctor?”

“You may run your mouth the whole night if I don't,” Ratio says dryly, and Aventurine laughs as the larger man places his hands on your hips. Aventurine pumps his length, lines himself up with your entrance. Ratio hears it when he nudges himself between your dripping folds, teasing you with the head of his cock.

“What, you don’t like my banter? Will you find other uses for my mouth later?” Aventurine teases, and Ratio is suddenly torn between thoughts of shoving his cock deep into Aventurine’s throat or making you ride Aventurine’s face. Both make for tantalizing images, and he decides he’ll revisit them later. He can already tell that the Stoneheart would find them equally appealing.

“We’ll see. For now”—Ratio begins to guide your hips down—“I’m sure there are other ways to get you quiet.”

Any witty retort dies on Aventurine’s tongue. He throws his head back as you sink onto his cock, overwhelmed, and Ratio can hardly blame him—he knows firsthand how good your cunt feels, always so tight and welcoming. You take Aventurine with more ease than you do Ratio, but not by much: it’s still an agonisingly slow and sweet process, getting your cunt to swallow the whole of him. Given complete control of your motions, Ratio guides your hips up and down, forcing you to take more of Aventurine’s length with each motion. He’s rewarded with the mesmerizing view of your pussy stretching out around the other man’s cock, leaving it glistening and creamy white with slick and pre.

When Ratio finally has you bottom out, Aventurine’s balls dripping with your arousal and pressed flush against you, the both of you let out strangled, broken groans. He lets you catch your breath before pulling you back so that Aventurine is pressed against your front walls, then pushes your belly for good measure. From the gasp you let out, Ratio can tell he's just forced the other man’s cock against your g-spot.

Aventurine’s eyes rove up and down your body, drinking in the sight of you. “Very good,” he purrs. “Are you ready to take Ratio now?”

“I—I think so,” you pant.

“I'll go slowly,” Ratio promises, and Aventurine watches carefully as he reaches for the lube.

“Don’t feel bad if you can't last,” he drawls, and Ratio tries not to scowl. How juvenile. The gambler must sense his disdain, because he shows his teeth in an almost-smile. “I'm being serious, Doctor. It feels very different from fucking someone by yourself, you know.”

“I’m certain I'll survive it,” Ratio says flatly. He pumps his cock once, twice, and Aventurine grabs your ass to spread you for him. Ratio starts pushing into you, begins stretching your tight hole around his girth. It has you shifting and squirming on Aventurine’s cock until Aventurine is forced to still you with his hands, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Be good now,” he says. “Stay still until we’re both inside you.”

“O-okay,” you say, voice watery, and Ratio almost feels bad at the whimper you let out when he pushes another inch inside you. Almost.

He can't help but mentally curse the other man as he slides into you. He hadn’t been lying. On a normal day, you're barely able to accommodate Ratio, but with Aventurine’s cock already deep in your cunt, sliding into you is even more difficult than usual. You feel almost unbearably tight and hot around him, and every time Aventurine moves inside you, Ratio can feel it—every twitch and press of the other man’s cock, barely separated by your walls. It's maddening.

It must be overwhelming for you, too. From the noises you're making, Ratio can tell you feel nearly at your limit. You’re choking by the time that Ratio is halfway inside you, your face thrown into Aventurine’s neck.

“I—I’m so full,” you gasp, and Aventurine hums soothingly as he kisses your nape.

“You can do it.” His eyes flicker to Ratio, who nods and keeps pushing. In a bid to help you relax, Ratio reaches between your legs and finds your sex. Your clit is swollen, neglected, and your hips jolt as soon as he starts rubbing it. Unwittingly grinding against Aventurine’s hips, you make the gambler groan at the motion, and the noise goes straight to Ratio's aching cock. He can hardly believe it when he finally manages to bottom out—leaking and twitching inside you, his balls heavy and tight against Aventurine’s.

“There,” Aventurine says, sounding fully in control even while breathless, “such a good boy, taking us both… we’re going to use your holes now, okay?”

Ratio knows that it's probably the praise that does it. As soon as you hear the words, you let out a familiar kind of whimper—pitched, frantic. “O-oh fuck,” you choke out, and suddenly Ratio feels your walls clenching hard around him, pulsing as your body tries to milk them both. He hisses and manages to hold back from his climax, but Aventurine is shameless about letting you drag him over the edge with you—Ratio can feel him twitching and spurting ropes of cum inside you, the pump of his cock as he begins to fuck you through your orgasm. Ratio can't tell if it's Aventurine’s cum or your squirt that's dripping onto him right now, only that the mess is making him throb inside you, and—

“Fuck,” he snarls, and he pulls out of you so that he can grab the base of his cock. He needs to cum so bad that it nearly hurts, but he doesn't allow himself to finish. Not yet.

You're incoherent with pleasure for a long while, your body a wanton mess between them, but Aventurine—never one to stay quiet for long—quickly recovers and regains control. He pulls out with ease, and Ratio is treated to the obscene sight of your empty holes, both gaping and leaking into their thighs, a mess of cum and pre and lube.

“See?” he pants, grinning at Ratio. “Hard not to cum, isn't it?”

Ratio has to breathe deeply to calm himself. “It did feel… different from usual,” he acknowledges.

“I'm sure,” Aventurine purrs. He glances at you, smiles fondly. “How do you feel?”

You make a euphoric, exhausted noise, and both of your partners understand it to mean that you’ve enjoyed yourself.

“Was that too much?” Ratio asks.

You make a noise that sounds like a No. Aventurine’s grin is sly; he glances at Ratio’s cock, still swollen and aching, and he kisses your forehead.

“Good,” he murmurs. Ratio can hardly believe it, but he can see Aventurine starting to stroke himself, already hardening again. “It looks like the good doctor is still in need of release. You won't mind helping him out for a little longer, will you?”

end

thanks for reading! <3 please do let me know if you enjoyed this, and remember to check out @ficsforgaza's fantastic writers and donate to the cause if you can!

#aventurine x reader #dr ratio x reader #ratiorine x reader #aventio x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #mdni divider by @/cafekitsune

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eyelambspider · 2 months ago

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𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧! — 𝐂𝐎𝐃/𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

Day 18 can you believe it? Here is a list of my prompts & event terms!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : gn!doctor!reader x doctor!gaz, security!price + horangi, psychotic!soap + könig + ghost 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : you and a group of mount massive personnel have holed up in the security room as chaos erupts around the building. Then, your beloved patients find you, they decide its better that they keep you 'safe' instead. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.3 k 𝐚/𝐧 : i based this on my fking favorite game series outlast so-! 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : blood/gore/death, swearing, yandere/possessive traits

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐃. The sirens had blared for over an hour, each smashed to pieces by howling patients or they had simply died out...

No one was coming. No one should have been coming.

You and Doctor Garrick stared in pale horror at the panel of security cameras.

Every screen was filled with scenes straight out of a horror movie. In the halls, doctors in white coats tripped over themselves fleeing in terror as patients roared in fear, smashing in the skulls of the people who had hurt them. The common rooms were filled with more docile patients, the television screen tuned to nothing but static. A few patients wheezed in pain, bandages covering their disfigured faces, while others cried quietly into themselves, simply staring off into the static. All sitting together motionlessly, seemingly immune to the horrors now ravaging Mount Massive Asylum.

The sight was enough to make you heave and turn away. Dr. Garrick quickly caught you, rubbing your back in a soothing manner as Price and Horangi stepped up to the monitors. "Fucking hell," the brit muttered, his blue eyes roving over the screens with a grimace.

With the two officers busy, you turned your head towards Gaz, eyes wide with terror, trying so hard not to tremble under his touch. "They won't send anyone! Gaz!" you whispered frantically, trying not to draw the attention of the two security guards who had pulled you two into the safety of the locked security room.

No one knew except the doctors.

The Murkoff Corporation, the company that employed everyone here had been conducting unethical experiments on the patients here... They would never allow a leak this substantial to ever get out to the public.

You and Gaz both knew it too. They wouldn't send anyone but an army of men to 'clean' up this mess.

Another wave of nausea hit you at the thought.

"Shhh, I know, I know," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder towards the two security officers, making sure they didn't overhear.

Both were equipped to handle patients, guns in their belts, the same blue shirt, black pants, badge and hat...

What would they do when they found out the truth? Would they throw the two of you out if they found out you both had no power over what happened next? Had no idea what to fucking do in this situation?

All you and Gaz knew, was that wearing a white doctors coat right now, was a death sentence.

As far as irrational thought went, it felt like the only person you could truly trust right now was the man rubbing your back.

"So what's the plan?" Price interrupted, making both you and Gaz nearly jump.

From the horrified looks on both your faces, the security officer's both got an inkling of the reality of the situation.

"We... We-we could," Gaz stumbled, trying to blurt out anything that came to mind before Price got up in his face, angry like the you had both suspected.

"You know what's happening outside those doors?!" Price's voice boomed, grabbing ahold of Gaz's collar to bring him up to his face. Although you tried to stop it, Price was strong, and forced Gaz's face to the monitors. "Those fucking lunatics will kill all of us if we don't get the fuck out of here-!"

"Wait!" You yelped, trying to calm the already deteriorating situation. "We have clearance to all floors! There's got to be a way out!" You reasoned, digging through your coat pocket to retrieve your keycard and hold it up for him to see.

Everyone seemed to stop for a moment, the tension buzzing like electricity before Horangi placed a firm hand on Price's shoulder, silently urging him to drop the doctor. "The front doors down the hall are locked," he started, the black face mask he always wore muffling his voice some.

Price finally let go of Gaz, and you protectively helped him straighten out, a nervous look on both of your faces.

"Before we got the two of you in here, there was a man in the halls," Horangi recalled eerily, taking his hand off Price to hold the straps of his belt instead. "Big fucking guy, had no nose," he muttered, "We can't go through the front doors with him there."

The front doors were on this floor, only a few halls away... but who knows what had happened in the past hour to stop the exit from being so... clear.

"That's Chris," you whispered, immediately recognizing the description of the man Price and Horangi had seen.

Chris Walker, a violent man, standing at six foot nine... He wasn't your patient, but he was infamous among the doctors here... And now, he was standing between you and potentially getting out of this hellhole.

What the hell were you all going to do?

You took a minute to think, covering your mouth in shock while the three men stood quietly, each considering that look on your face.

It looked like a plan was forming in that sharp mind of yours, and none wanted to interrupt it. Holding their breaths for what they hoped was a miracle.

"Keys," you muttered to yourself, blankly staring at the screens in front of your face whilst you held subconsciously onto Gaz's shoulder.

"They took the keys," Price tried to explain, remembering the crushed body of the guard who was supposed to have them.

"No, they always have spares," you nodded to yourself, the flimsy idea stitching itself together more coherently in your mind.

As you spiraled further into thought, more screams and violence took place outside on the screens. Each eye watching as crude traps went up, bookshelves fell over in the halls, windows broke as men pounded their bloodied hands against it...

"They always have spare keys in the subbasement," you huffed breathlessly, feeling your blood run cold at the idea.

That's where Walrider had broken out. Where this whole asylum riot had started, and now the four of you, or at least one of you had to go down there with the very keycard you held tightly in your hand.

Gaz whispered your name almost inaudibly, hand slowly slithering around your waist and pulling you behind him.

Slowly, you followed his eyes and felt cold horror run through your veins.

"Hey Doc."

"Maus."

"It's you."

There, at the bulletproof window of the security office, stood three of your patients, each doused in blood splatters and maniac grins.

John "Soap" MacTavish. His blue eyes wide with madness glared at you, standing so close to the window that his breath fogged up the glass. "Doc, I could really use your help out here..." he grinned, tapping on the window before he quickly got more infuriated by the barrier. "Open up this fucking door you bitch!" he roared, smashing his fists onto the window until a bloodied puddle had formed... and he wouldn't fucking stop.

König stood behind him, his usual black hood, the one he always felt more safe under was dripping with gore onto his bare chest. The giant of a man tilted his head acutely, his icy blue eyes flickering from your face with a softness, before they turned hard and cold when he realized there were others in the room with you. The tension apparent in the way his fists suddenly balled up into a white knuckle grip.

And Mr. Simon "Ghost" Riley stood closest to the edge of the window, watching curiously as Soap spit a mix of soft pleas for you to come out, to vulgar swears and threats if you didn't. An idea was forming in his head. Those dark orbs of his now considering the door that separated you from him. He would find a way in, or through.

To their deranged minds, their beloved doctor needed their help.

And the men in the room with you needed you alive to get out of this damned asylum.

p.s. is cross over the right word for this? what'd you think of this guys? lmk! because i honestly loved writing this!

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ashabsynthe · 2 years ago

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Shadow Work Prompts

With my last post being about shadow work, I thought I’d give y’all some prompts to use.

How does the feeling of envy show up in your life?

What do you need more of in your life?

What do you love most about yourself?

If you could get rid of one bad memory, what would it be and why?

In what ways are you inauthentic?

What irrational fears do you have and how do they hold you back?

Do you hold grudges against others that could be let go? What's your motive for holding onto them?

What do you hate about others? Why? What might that say about yourself?

What do you need to stop running away from?

What do you need to let go of?

What should you attract into your life?

How do you feel about "love"?

Why do you think you don't deserve love?

What do you minimize about yourself? What do you flaunt?

How do you deal with criticism?

How do you perceive pain?

Why haven't you dealt with your past before?

What don't you like about your life? Why? How can you change it?

How often do you lie to yourself and what about?

What emotion(s) do you try to avoid? Why don't you want to feel those ways?

Write a letter to someone who hurt you and then burn it.

How does your inner child see you?

How are you deceiving yourself?

What does success mean to you? How are you standing in your own way?

What is going on in your life that you are actively ignoring?

What keeps you motivated?

What inspires you?

Who or what is making your life difficult? How can you deal with it constructively?

How have you been betrayed in your life? What did it teach you?

How has your voice been stifled in the past?

What areas of your life do you excel in?

What are the most important/integral things you have learned over the past few years?

In what ways are you too defensive? Why?

How are you pessimistic in your own life?

Why do you not trust others?

What hardships have you overcome? How has it changed you?

What are you doing to pursue your dreams?

What do you still need to forgive yourself for?

What did that relationship teach you? (you know the one... that one)

How can you maintain your individuality?

In what ways can you be more true to yourself?

In what ways are you lying to yourself? Why?

How can you lead with your heart in your life?

How have your dreams fallen short of reality?

What is your relationship with your mother like?

What is your relationship with your father like?

Write a letter to your inner child. Maybe apologize for what has happened to them and that you couldn't protect them, tell them how far you have come and how much you have done. Say whatever comes to mind.

How have you been a martyr/victim in your own life?

I’ll keep this post updated with more prompts when I find them

#witch #witchblr #witchcraft #witches of tumblr #witchcraft 101 #witch community #witchythings #witch aesthetic #shadow work #shadow work prompts

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readychilledwine · 4 months ago

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5 Steps Forward, 2 Steps Back

Rhysand Week Day 5 - Survivor

Summary - 50 years without your mate and husband seems almost easy now that you two are facing his recovery

Warnings - implied Rhysand power surge causing a similar situation, mental health, depression, recovery, angst, training, the power of choice coming into play

A/N - Happy Day 5 of @officialrhysandweek! This one was rough to write. Mental health is such a huge under discussed topic, and Rhysand, I feel, would be a huge advocate for it. Becoming a survivor is something many will say is process and choice. Rhysand definitely made the choice to recover and fight, and I imagine he leaned heavily on the IC to do so. I think that's so powerful. This was my favorite prompt for this week.

✨️Rhysand Week Masterlist✨️Rhys Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

The wine bottle and plates shattered on the floor were a clear sign that things weren't actually okay.

You released a breath from the chair you sat in, unsure of what had even happened. You and Rhysand had been talking. He'd been having a great day. But now? Now, the dinner you had spent hours making for your mate was all over the floor, ruined as you sat there shaking in fear.

“I didn't mean to do that,” he gasped out as if he was trying to breathe again. “I don't know what happened. I-” Rhysand's powers had been what happened. He had zoned out while eating, he had let himself relax, let himself be vulnerable.

“It's okay.”

“You're fucking terrified. It's not okay!”

He was angry with himself, with his inability to control his mind and emotions. You had to move to separate rooms to sleep. You had to use magic to change the flowers in the garden. You had to remove all dresses that reminded him of her from your closet. He knew you were doing this because you love him. Because you were his mate. Because you hoped he would heal.

But he didn't see that light most days. He was trapped in an ocean of emotion. Drowning as he so desperately tried to reach the surface where light was reflecting, mocking him. Happiness was just out of his reach, laughing in his face as he struggled.

Your hands were folded in your laps as your enchantments on the Riverhouse cleaned the mess, “We can go to Rita's or somewhere quiet.”

“We can go to Rita's or somewhere quiet,” he repeated back sarcastically. “Maybe you should go and I'll just stay here.”

It was a punch to the gut. You released another shaking breath, “Rhys-”

“We should consider separation. I am not who you need me to be anymore and I don't know if I ever will be again,” with lethal grace he stood, leaving you alone at the table. Your appetite was gone. How could you want food when your heart was fairly sure it had just stopped?

Seconds were minutes. Minutes were hours. Hours passed like days.

You sat there waiting, crying, hoping he'd come back, hoping this was just an irrational statement that you two could talk about. But his face. His tone. Everything made you pause, holding a tight breath in your chest before releasing a loud sob.

Rhys had been home from the mountain for a month. His trauma had only been healing for a month. You had not expected progress. You had only wished to be a source of light for him, a tether of brightness as he sat in the dark. For 50 years you had prayed for him. You'd pray for 50 more if that's what it took, but you were lying to yourself if you tried to pretend it didn't bother you when you denied your kisses. Pretended it didn't bother you when he wouldn't touch you. Wouldn't look at you.

Your husband and mate was gone. Deep in his mourning, his heartache, his pain. You stood and walked to your room, not even taking a moment to glance at the lavish walls and plush furniture. Collapsing onto your bed, you laid there. The heels you wore ached, the dress you were wearing felt too right, everything felt wrong in this room.

The wrong soft silk sheets. The wrong scent. The wrong temperature. It wasn't the bed you two shared. It wasn't Rhysand's scent cocooning you. It wasn't the warmth of his wings sitting across you like a weighted blanket. It was empty.

Rhysand was in the same place in the marriage bed you should have been in. He had his head resting in his hands, eyes shut as he took deep stilling breaths. Hurting you was his biggest fear these days. 50 years being powerless, of being abused and used, of her. Your love for him, the way you had not even screamed, the way you'd only held him, it almost was too much.

He'd prepared for anger, for yelling, for anything besides you falling to your knees and begging to help him. What had happened to him felt like ash sitting in his stomach. A poison just waiting to kill.

But even ash had a cure.

Even his darkest moments could have light if we just continued to fight.

And so the next morning, he did. He forced himself out of his cold bed at 5am, throwing in training leathers before entering the chambers across from his that you slept in. “I'm going to go train,” he whispered into your ear. It was a sense of normalcy, a pattern you two held every day before those long dreaded year.

He'd whisper to you every morning, telling you where he was going, how long he'd be gone, and most importantly, the words he said next, “I love you, darling.”

The ghost of a smile came to your face, the bond subconsciously responding to him. “I love you and I'm going to fight for me. For us,” his hushed tone still rang through your sleeping soul, his voice so low and sure. “Don't give up on me.”

“Never,” you responded in your sleep. “Never give up.”

Rhysand fought harder that morning with Cassian. Hands striking true and hard as they practiced hand to hand, body moving in a pattern and rhythm he thought he'd long forgotten.

You walked out to grunts and Azriel yelling encouragement. To the sound of wings fluttering and flaring. To sand moving with the force of the powerful males before you. This was him, this was Rhysand. This was his mind, throwing his anger and his frustration right where he needed. This was him finally taking the offer of his brothers to be his target.

“Left side,” Azriel yelled. “Left!”

You flinched for Cassian as Rhysand pounded that opening, the rookie mistake handing Rhysand an advantage. “Come on, Rhys,” Azriel shouted again.

You continued to watch, tray with waters in your hands as Rhysand made the choice and fought so much more than just his brother today.

A leg sweep. A basic move Rhysand had spent hours teaching you. That's what it took for him to take down Cassian. Azriel was the first to react, running to Rhysand and picking him up to celebrate the General's back meeting the sand pit they picked to train in. Cassian's deep laughter tore through the air next, joy shaking the trees and your bones as he realized Rhys had won. You set the water down before being the one to help pull Cass up, barely staying steady as you did.

Rhysand and Azriel were still celebrating his hand to hand win against Cassian as you leaned against said male. “You left your side open on purpose,” you stated under a steady breath.

Warm eyes met yours, “And if I did?”

“Why? He's never going to let this go.”

Cassian only kissed your hair before answering in a hushed, deep tone, “Because he said once when we were little that the day he beats me hand to hand is the day he learns he can beat anything. It's time for him to learn he can beat anything, especially when he makes the choice to.”

"It will not be an easy fight," you held Cassian's eyes.

The General gave you his signature smirk, "Then I guess it's good all of us are here to fight with him."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

#elizabeths.updates #acotar #acotar x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #high lord rhysand #high lord of the night court #rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhys x you #rhys x reader #rhys x y/n #rhysandweek2024 #rhysandweek2024 day 5 #prompt : survivor

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1-800-local-slut · 9 months ago

Text

Back and Forth

Franklin Saint x Black! Fem! ex-gf! Reader

Franklin is that toxic ex that won't leave you alone, you're no better. Franklin and the reader are on again off again but for some reason they just don't work every time.

This is for all the girlies who bounce on business, I would fold for Franklin instantly. This man could be my favorite evil ex, idc. Stand on business tho y'all, Franklin is my favorite fictional liar but best believe I stand ten toes down.

Warnings: allusions to smut, drinking, drug dealing, typical Snowfall violence, season 3 Franklin, smoking weed (stay off that booga suga y'all), mentions of death, toxic relationship, Franklin is also pretty possessive, both of y'all are really jealous, reader is described as a crazy bitch, reader was caught in a drive by in the past, mentioned kidnapping

Request are open <3

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A cloud of smoke streamed from my parted lips, the smell of weed blanketing the car. Tasha and Latisha both scoffed at me after my last statement, their disappointment in me as thick as the smoke filling the car.

"You know he's gonna be right back in yo draws come tomorrow after church, stop playing." My eyes rolled before I could stop them. My brain felt fuzzy and the world seemed peaceful in the dead of night. Passing the blunt to Latisha, she took a deep inhale and held her breath.

'Between the Sheets' blared from the cars radio, adding comfort to my addled brain. Comfort and a slight hint of anger. This was one of our songs, that played while we were under the blanket in his back seat.

The car steamed up that night, similar to the smoke filling the car right now. I had an irrational fear that night that we would shake the car so much that it would roll off the hill we were parked on.

That was before he fucked it all up again.

Latisha was wrong. I was done with his bitch ass this time. This time, I was done playing with him, all his bullshit, his hypnotic eyes, the mountain of lies.

"Girl it's okay, no one blames you for giving into Franklin. Brother's fine." Tasha stuck her tongue out teasingly, which prompted a laugh from me.

Perched on the edge of the back seat with Latisha and Tasha sitting in front, I pulled my sweatshirt over my legs and pressed my head against the window. Latisha gave her a playful smack.

"Oh girl watch out before she do you like how she did Ki and them. Remember how she kicked through that bitch screen door?" Latisha laughed and Tasha cackled. I still remembered how hot it was last summer, when I put my foot through Kira's screen door and ran in swinging. Bitch shoulda closed her front door too but her broke ass couldn't afford air conditioning.

Sure, Franklin and I were technically broken up at the time but what does that matter? Especially after Leon rolled up on Delroy, my 'special friend', and Delroy told me to get to stepping the next time I saw his ass. I know Franklin told Leon to do it too. I don't think I gave Leon any reason to purposely make my life harder.

"Hey now that bitch deserved the ass whopping she got, she could fuck with that nigga all she wanted but how you gonna talk shit about me knowing you can't fight? Let's be serious y'all." It was funny, how she swore that Franklin wanted her over me. After I put my foot through Kira's door and caught her by her tracks, Franklin was at my bedroom window that night.

He was in my desk chair ten minutes later, handing me a box of chocolates that he knew were my favorites. Then he was in my bed giving me some deep, slow strokes that should be illegal. Looking deep into my eyes, pressing soft kisses down my neck and whispering apologies in my ear. Promising me that things would be better this time, that he would be better this time.

He hadn't even looked at her ass since.

Maybe he was over there right now. It had been six hours since he told me it was over, that he couldn't deal with my 'controlling self' and I told him to go ahead and kiss my ass.

Controlling, like he didn't have Peaches following me around all day because he had the slightest suspicion that I might've been considering cheating on him. He wouldn't have that problem if he wasn't ducking me out of nowhere and then when I pressed him he thought it was cute to lash out on me and tell me to get the fuck on.

"Look at her ass. Dick has her stuck." Latisha snickered and I snapped my head towards her. A lazy smile spread across my lips. The smoke stung my red eyes, it was a beautiful summer night and I was planning on getting so high I could shake hands with God, I was with my friends just having a great time. Fuck Franklin, fuck everything.

"If you don't leave me alone." I giggled and stretched back. I could feel it now, and wanted nothing more then to enjoy the feel of the seats under my skin.

It was like I was sinking into a wave of comfort and sleep. And before I knew it, I was floating through my dreams.

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"So y'all are over?" Franklin's eyes were burning into the house phone, his eyes willing it to ring. His long arms stretched over the back of the couch, head facing away from the TV the minute something interesting stopped happening. Leon, as always, had doubts, but as long as he stood ten toes behind Franklin, he didn't really care.

The moonlight casted in on Franklin, his eyes lit by the moon and the TV. Jerome and Louie were cuddled on the couch, while Burst City played from the TV.

"Yeah. She was all over me, I couldn't take it." Finally he turned his head back to the TV and stopped trying to force the phone to ring. A loud noise from the movie, amplifies by Jerome's speakers

"You the only nigga I know who'd be mad about a bitch that fine being all over him." With a chuckle, Leon took a drag of his cigarette. Jerome chuckled and Louie rolled her eyes before she smiled. The way she always smiled when she was with Jerome. The way Franklin's girl ex-girl used to grin uncontrollably when she was snuggled into his side.

"Shit, you fuck with her then." Franklin grumbled bitterly, taking an annoyed sip from his coke. He hated knowing that others could see how fine she was. If it were up to him, she'd wear a potato sack and stay in the house. He'd stay in the house with her too, the two of them together forever. But that just wasn't how things worked.

Why the fuck were they talking about her anyways? Franklin broke up with her, Franklin told her to get lost, Franklin was telling himself that it was over this time. Not just for his sake, but for hers.

Would you believe that she brought out the worst in him? Not his fucked up job, not his dad abandoning him and coming back now that he's grown, no. His ex-girlfriend.

She made him jealous, possessive, down right nasty. Nasty in a way that was different from when he would be pushing into her and could feel her nails dragging down from the nape of his neck. Nasty in a way that was just mean.

Yes, they had their highs. When they were the happiest people on Earth, but when they had their lows they were so low that it might have been in Hell.

"Aye man, I ain't mean that. All I'm saying is you two do this every week." The tension now palpable while they all sat in silence.

That wasn't even true. It wasn't every week, more like every three weeks! Usually Franklin fucked things up, usually by getting annoyed at something (work, her, they hadn't been having sex, he was arguing with his mom or Jerome or Louie or Leon, someone hit on her, she wore something sexy and he knew other niggas would like it just as much, he was hangry) and taking it out on her.

But not this time! This time, they had she started the argument when he came by her house late and she asked him where he'd been. When she came at him with the evidence that he let a stripper toss her ass in his face (which he put a stop to quickly) and refused to tell him who told her, then he got mad. Then she was like 'okay but why did you lie' and obviously he couldn't tell her he went to the club for business purposes because then she'd demand to know why it needed to be a strip club.

According to her, it was just about him lying to her. Which made sense or whatever. He even tried explaining she was the only girl for him and that he only wanted her ass in his face. He even tried cupping her chin and making her look him in the eyes, which usually made her weak in the knees. Franklin just wanted to come over, fuck, have a meal and spend some time with his girl but of course he can't just get what he wants.

So naturally Franklin felt caged and decided to tell her it was over.

"Whatever man, I said it's done."

"Alright then, damn." Easing back into the silence, they both sat and watched the TV. Franklin more so stared, his brain focusing instead her.

Inside he felt shaky, weird. Kinda like how he imagined the addicts he sold too felt without his rock.

She got jealous, but it was kinda sexy how mad she got. How crazy she was over him. Mostly she was only mad because he lied. He could go without lying. He never met to hurt her, just avoid the stress of her knowing he was around strippers and having to answer all her questions. But if he told her earlier that he was going and explained to her that it was for work then he could've avoided all of that all together.

Whatever, it was done now.

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"WHOSE AT MY GOD DAMN DOOR?!" It was 7:00 PM, Saturday night and there was a jumping party that needed me on the dance floor. Yet as I slipped in my earrings, my shorts rubbing against my thighs, someone was repeatedly knocking at my front door. Rather loud too.

As I stormed through my apartment the banging got louder. My apartment was filled with warm colors and the radio I picked up from Jerome's ages ago was humming 'Turn Off The Lights' and it put me in the mood to maybe someone over tonight. Fuck someone who wasn't Franklin.

More banging at the door, it wasn't Latisha or Tasha, they'd just use their keys. A sense of dread hit me suddenly like a car hitting a pedestrian. Being Franklin Saint's girlfriend had put me in two drive byes and one almost kidnapping and now there was someone beating down my door.

My hands found the knife I'd used earlier to rip open a package I'd gotten earlier, small remnants of the cut up box scattered on my carpet right under the coffee table in front of my couch.

Slowly I stepped to the door with my heart thudding around in my chest and the music fading away around me and now I just had to open the door. The knocking continued and suddenly my thoughts cut off by my foot thudding into a box.

A box full of shit. A box filled with Franklin's shit that I intended to drive by his place and fling out the window before never seeing him again. The sweatshirt I stole from him last winter, some cash he left here, changes of clothes, some socks, a bracelet he got me and a bunch of other jewelry wrapped carefully to avoid damage, plus some framed pictures of us. I could only hope he took the same care with my stuff.

The way the box smelt of him made me want to just run back to his arms. It was weird, being without him. But I knew it was for the better, my refusal to go back to him unwavering. As long as I stayed far from him.

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Well damn.

There he was standing in her door way towering over her small form. A bunch of flowers, foxgloves and oleander (my favorites he knew that), held in his hand in contrast to her knife which she now knew she could never bring herself to use on him.

He smelt so good that she had to fight the urge to jump in his arms.

Girl don't do it, send him on his way, her brain told her but her heart, like always, wanted to ditch the party and just spend the night laid up with him. Without any of the bullshit, the way things used to be when they could just be happy together.

Her legs on the other hand wanted to split open on their own. His eyes had that effect on her. He could just control her body with a look. What even was it about this nigga, was she that vulnerable to seduction?

Was it his smell? The rich cologne he bought with his new earnings with the slight smell of cigarettes and the night air. Plus the smell of his mommas house. Maybe.

Was it his strong jaw, the dark eyes that tore right through me like the sky being torn open by a gust of wind.

Fuck how the nigga smells, tell him to go. Do NOT let yourself get hypnotized

"You gon let me inside or keep pointing that at me?" That smirk crossed his lips. Damn. I wondered if I had this affect on him? Did I make him weak? Did he miss the sex so bad he was pathetically trying to get himself off every night thinking of that thing I do with my tongue that he likes? Was he damn near humping his mattress without even realizing it? No matter if he was, as sexy as it was to imagine Franklin touching himself to me. He had to go.

With a kiss of my teeth, I extended my arm to block the door way. This nigga could not pass.

"What you want nigga?"

"You."

"You came here to tell jokes? Take your shit and get the fuck on, I got somewhere to be?" A deep chuckle was his response. He had the nerve to laugh, teeth and all?

You can do this, you can do this, tell him to get to stepping

"Yeah I see you going outside looking real good. I just wanted to talk, see if we could get some closure. I promise I'm not gon take all night." He stepped closer, knowing my body would drive me back. Instead I dug myself into the ground, I stepped back then he'd be in my house.

I had to scan him up and down, find some way to even the playing field. Or make him think his seduction skills weren't working but damn they were working.

Remember how he acted, remember the lies, you wanted out

He smiled and looked like the guy I grew up with. The nice mammas boy who would never try to hurt anyone. I knew better, but he looked so...non threatening.

He was standing there, all washed up wearing a black jacket that he knew I loved him in. He held the flowers up in his right hand and knowing that he probably had a gun on him turned me on some how. The danger of being with Franklin always turned me on. Watching him get aggressive with others and knowing in a few hours he'd be taking it out on me.

The music I had playing wasn't helping me not get weak.

I don't know when he got so close that his chest was pressed to mine. He could hear my breathing and probably my heart beat.

Fuck his closure, send him packing

"Take your shit and go." It slipped out as a whisper, a breathless sound.

His face was right in front of mine and I couldn't do anything to stop myself. I should push him out my way and get to that party. Go find some other nigga who couldn't be as fine as Franklin but he would do for now.

"I'm sorry." He whispered against my lips. I could feel basically every part of him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry for getting mad. Baby, please. Take me back. I'll do better. I'll stop lying to you. I'm sorry." He was inside now. Pushed through the door, his body against mine and my head spinning.

"What do I have to do to make it up to you baby?"

"I don't believe you. You always do this, you know your not going to change." I whimpered, my eyes shutting. My brain was fogging, an effect Franklin always had on me. But I would be stronger than this. I had too.

"I swear I will." He planted a soft kiss on my neck and I jumped. He was so warm. He tossed the flowers on to the little table I usually throw my keys on when I come in. Both hands ran up and down my arms.

"I promise I'll change. You don't have to pretend you don't want to come back baby, I'll do better this time. Just let me treat you right tonight, I'll start changing right now." More kisses undid me. I needed to tell him off. But the funny thing was, whenever Franklin and I broke up it was like I could only remember the best parts of him.

Not the lashing out, the screaming, the controlling, the random lies, the secrets. Only the gentle moments, where he held my face and gave me soft kisses that chipped away at me. The gifts that would adorn me when we went out, the way he proudly showed me off, the shopping sprees and little weekend trips, even the normal nights we would just sit around with our friends.

Sitting on his lap where I belonged, on whoevers porch as we just talked (and disturbed the peace of the neighborhood) and passed a blunt around and drank. He always made sure I got home safe afterward, my designated driver.

It was weird. Maybe it was feeling him kissing down my neck and him gently caressing me, but the good memories were just rushing to me. Like water smashing into a wall, slowly chipping away from it.

"I'm sorry I got mad at you. I'm sorry for lying, I just didn't want you to worry. I understand that I hurt you by lashing out and I'm gonna work on that. And you know I'm not perfect, just like you not and we both gon have to work on that. But I want to work on us, and I'm going too do whatever it takes. I'm building an empire and I want you to be right there with me when we make it to the top. It wouldn't be right without you." He was staring into my eyes, staring into my soul and heart and making his way back into both.

"Just one more chance. I promise this time I'll be better." I was never gonna hear the end of it this time. Another kiss, another piece of my self control.

"And if I'm not, I'll never bother you again. You have my word." It wasn't like he was all bad all the time. Standing trapped right next to my doorway, the city howling outside I felt the chill of the Summer night air blowing in from my open living room window. Somehow I was able to find it in me to push him off of me, stepping away into the living room putting more distance between us.

"I'm sick of going back and forth with you Franklin. It's constant with you, you lie for no reason and expect me to just forgive you. Why can't you just be straight with me?" He glanced at his feet, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. He looked guilty but I knew no matter how beaten up he looked I knew the next thing out of his mouth would probably be a lie.

"When my dad started coming back around, I couldn't tell my mom the truth. That I was the one who bailed him out that time. And I have to hide shit from people all the time, because I feel like I know better than they do and how news will effect them." He sighed, coming in and placing the flowers on the little side table next to my door. He ran a hand down his face, and I took another cautionary step back.

"You can't decide for me how things will make me feel. It isn't fair. You demand I tell you everything but it just isn't fair." That's bullshit! Yeah, Franklin had it tough growing up. His dad ran out and what not, but that has nothing to do with me!

He stepped closer in two large steps and took my hands in his. He ran his thumbs over my hands and I found myself admiring how big and perfect his hands were holding mine. Franklin really was beautiful and our everything just went together with pure perfection. If only he stopped keeping things from me. My eyes met his and he looked so..sad.

Sympathy overcame me even though I knew his ass didn't deserve it.

"I know. I know and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you. But I'm gonna try and do better this time. Imma give you everything you deserve this time. No more back and forth." Crouching, his forehead touched mine and I saw his eyes closed. He always did this, it was like a hug for him. I closed my eyes too.

"You promise?" It came out a soft whisper, and I could feel relief washing over him in waves.

"Promise."

#black reader #x reader #x black reader #fem reader #franklin saint #snowfall #franklin saint x reader #franklin saint fanfic #multifandom account #pls send requests #my man <3 #toxic relationship #leon simmons

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fairy-writes · 2 months ago

Note

Hello ^-^ Congrats got 1.6k you deserve it!

Can i please request prompt 8 with Soshiro from kaiju no 8

BREATHE WITH ME

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Prompt: “You know, they say crying has all these health benefits.”

Fandom(s): Kaiju No. 8

Pairing(s): Hoshina Soshiro x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Established Relationships, Panic Attacks, Mentions of Blood, Hemophobia (an irrational fear of blood), Sweetheart as a Nickname

Notes: We’re ignoring the fact that I wrote something similar with Morbius a while back.

Also, fun fact, I have a Hoshina phone charm on my phone!

TRIGGER WARNING FOR PANIC ATTACKS

__________________________________________________________________________

You should’ve known you weren’t cut out for kaiju extermination. In fact, you probably knew already. You just didn’t want to admit it.

It was evident even in the beginning. To say you were squeamish around blood would be an understatement. Even the sight of a slightly pink paper cut would send you spiraling into a mess of vomiting and tears and snot and panic.

But through it all, Soshiro was by your side.

You weren’t sure why he put up with you. He was… Amazing? Phenomenal? Completely out of your league? To say it simply, it was no wonder he was a vice-captain and you simply… weren’t.

The sirens awoke you in the middle of the night, sending you bolting out of bed and into your suit in record time. The cadets were bleary-eyed and fresh-faced, still learning the ropes, and it was your job as a senior officer to show them.

But they didn’t know about your… Issue? Phobia? Minor hiccup?

Who were you kidding? This was way more than a minor hiccup. But you could deal with it later. Right now, you have a kaiju to exterminate.

Things went south really quickly on what should have been a routine mission.

Well… Not at first. In fact, you were celebrating to yourself the fact that you hadn’t seen any blood yet other than kaiju ichor, but that hardly counted. It was strange, you could deal with the purplish ick that all kaiju had running through their veins. But the regular red stuff you had in yours? That was a huge no-no. Everyone in the platoon knew this and kept their bleeding injuries faaar away from you.

Everyone except for the cadets, that is.

The sound of someone calling your last name caught your attention. You were in the locker rooms, back to the door, cleaning your weapon with a clean cloth. Unlike Soshiro, you used guns. You were no good with knives or swords. Not as bad as Captain Ashiro, but still, your cooking skills were subpar, and your fiancé handled all the cooking in your home.

“Yes?” You ask and turn, not hearing a harsh “stop!” until it was too late.

Almost immediately, your eyes zeroed in and locked on the problem. A gash, nothing too major, but it might still scar. Blood seeped through the hastily applied bandages around Furuhashi Iharu's left arm.

But that was enough to trigger the panic.

Murky.

Red.

Pain.

Choking.

Everything was a swirl of colors, like a messed-up sort of carnival. You vaguely heard someone panting and crying on the edge of your hearing. But you could barely hear anything over the sound of your own thundering heartbeat.

“—et the vice-captain!”

What?

What was happening?

The overwhelming, cloying scent of iron was thick in your nostrils. It sucked the life out of you and made your knees and hands shake. Suddenly, something was cold against your back, and you realized you must’ve fallen against the lockers. There was a hand against your shoulder, and you flinched violently, jerking away. Your head cracked against the corner of the locker room bench, and you saw stars.

The hands didn’t stop. They kept trying to pull you up, pull you away, pull you toward the blood.

Distantly, you heard someone scream. It took you a few seconds to realize that it was you screaming. It was you panting and crying. It was all you.

A gentle hand.

A soothing voice.

“—eetheart, you gotta breathe. Breathe with me.”

Soshiro.

It was like slipping into a cool bath after being outside in sweltering hot weather, like coming inside to a crackling fire after being out in a blizzard. You let out a little gasp, and suddenly, it was like your vision cleared. The violet blob turned into your fiancé's face, and you could feel his calloused fingers gently cupping your face.

He was here.

He was real.

The blood was gone.

A grin cracked the corners of his mouth when he saw your gaze refocus on him.

“There we go. Good job, sweetheart. Welcome back.” He said, and although his voice was a whisper, you still flinched. His grin faltered lightly, but he pressed on.

“Can I help you up?” He whispered, even quieter now, and you nodded hesitantly.

“That would be nice.” You whimpered. Worry was evident in his eyes as he got to his feet and helped you up slowly.

“You took a pretty nasty hit t’ the noggin. Let’s get you to the infirmary.” He said, and you froze. Was Furuhashi still out there? He had been in the doorway when… Everything happened.

Soshiro caught on immediately, and he hummed lightly,

“He’s gone. He was the one who got me.” He said, and you nodded again.

“Okay.” You said softly and could still feel your heart racing in your chest. Soshiro kept a hand at your back and another at your elbow as he maneuvered you toward the infirmary.

The infirmary was empty save for the doctor. He had obviously dismissed everyone who could be dismissed by the time you arrived.

You were checked quickly, and other than a slight bump on the back of your head, you were given a clean bill of health. There wasn’t a concussion, so you were told to go home and rest. Soshiro drove you both home. His hand was on your thigh the entire time, his other hand on the steering wheel. You leaned your head on the cold passenger side window.

The ride home was silent.

“Why do you put up with me?” You asked as he unlocked the door to your shared apartment. He paused while fiddling with the door.

“Because I love you.” He said simply, and your teeth ground together.

“But why?” You demanded, and he sighed, turning to look at you.

“Because you make me better. I love you, all of you.” He said earnestly, and you felt tears in your already puffy eyes.

“I love you too, Soshiro.” You whisper, and your heart flutters at the sight of his grin.

“I know.” He says cheekily, and you thump him on the arm.

He doesn’t even flinch.

As tears fall down your face, you can’t help but laugh.

“You know, they say crying has all these health benefits.” You blubber, and his smile just gets warm, wrinkling the corners of his eyes as he leans in to give you a watery kiss.

#hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro x you #soshiro hoshina x reader #soshiro hoshina x you #kn8 x reader #kn8 x you #kn8 x y/n #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 x you #fairy writes #fairy1.6kfollowers

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shesjustanothergeek · 1 month ago

Text

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Thirty-Five

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Hello everyone! There's nothing like an update six months later... I appreciate everyone's kind words and patience regarding the writer's block I was dealing with. I tried many things to help me get out of that funk, but nothing worked. Until one day, I was like, "You know what? I'm just going to write," and here we are! I hope you enjoy this chapter. We're slowly inching closer to the grand finale!

A sense of weightiness hung within the Tower of the Hand. Queen Alicent, her loyal protector, and the Lord Hand were seated in the softly illuminated chamber as the afternoon sun filtered through the leaded glass windows. The Queen absentmindedly picked at her fingers, her restless body betraying her unease, while her eyes flitted anxiously around the room. An unexpected sound finally shattered the oppressive silence, prompting all present to turn their gaze towards the speaker.

"This is but a temporary visit. We must encourage Prince Daemon to take the Princess back to Dragonstone as soon as possible," Otto Hightower said, two sets of brown eyes focused on him as he stroked his course beard. "You have done well, Alicent, but you must know this solution is not long-term. Fear and respect go far until there is someone who inspires more."

His daughter responded with a silent nod, her full lips forming a slight frown as her attention shifted back to her fingers.

"He must not discover her relations with Aegon nor the fruit of it. Not only would it be an insult to our House but to the realm, duty, and the Gods," Otto declared, the metal lapel of the Hand shining in the daylight.

"I understand," the Queen answered as Ser Criston followed suit, offering his services to guard your chambers and lend another helpful eye.

Daemon would find himself in a predicament where he had no choice but to yield to their demands, as refusing would paint him as a traitor. The group was committed to ensuring Daemon was nowhere near them should the Stranger decide to claim a soul. If it meant casting the Rogue Prince in the light of an overly protective, perhaps irrational, father, they believed it to be justified by the divine will of the Seven.

After your father's tears had long dried and you were in the deepest depths of sleep, he stood on numb limbs. He no longer desired to be alone with his thoughts, feeling weak for having broken down in the presence of another man. He did not know when you would awake as your snores carried off into mid-day, so sound asleep that not even the mournful songs of your dragon woke you.

Daemon's eyes never left the cut on your temple nor the bruise beside it that bloomed. It stirred an uneasy feeling in his gut, mind reeling into conclusions and connections to things as Ser Criston Cole posted at the exit, his presence an ever-watchful eye for his Queen. The knight irked Daemon from when he was forced to yield against the Dornish man all those decades ago at a tourney for the deceased Prince Baelon. He had let things go seeing as Criston was Rhaenyra's protector and that he knew his niece's genuine desire was her uncle, but as the years went by, the man grew more insufferable, practically sucking on the Queen's teats wherever he went.

It was no coincidence that the White Cloak was here now instead of Ser Arryk, the man you chose to be your sworn shield. As Daemon studied the contents of your room, the dust on your bookshelves, the mended garments thrown on your chairs, and the overflowing ash lying in the fireplace, he could guarantee that none of your servants, whether it be knight or maid, had been allowed to do their duty for quite some time. The only people Daemon had seen in your chambers since he arrived were Maester Orwyle and Cole.

"May I ask, Ser Criston?" Daemon announced, breaking the silence as his violet eyes left your listless form and strolled away from the bed, "where is my daughter's knight?"

Criston straightened his posture, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as his dark eyes bore into light ones. "He's been punished for failure of duty. Ser Arryk allowed the Princess to be maimed under his watch and must suffer the consequences of such an offense."

"I see," your father hummed, leaning his hip to the side as he examined the unforgiving nature of this man. "And that of her maids? Jeyne and Fiora, if I remember correctly."

Ser Criston's face was impassive, leaving nothing but a stone slate as he swallowed. "The Hand deemed those of highest suspicion to be kept away from her Highness," he answered.

"Is that so?" Daemon sneered, brows raised in disbelief. "Bedmaids and knights are the only suspects?" Criston gave no reply, silver armor glinting in the daylight peeking from your curtains. "Otto Hightower is as useless as he's always been. Where are her maids now, then? In the cells being interrogated, I presume."

"No, my Prince," Criston answered without emotion. It seemed as if the knight did not care whether a member of the royal family died so long as it was not one of Alicent's. This infuriated Daemon beyond measure. The impulse to commit violence that haunted him itched to be free, and his fingers curled into fists to keep it at bay.

If he so wished, he could bash Criston's face as he did to the squire friend of Laenor Velaryon the night of his wedding feast. No consequences were divided out then, so what was stopping your father from doing the same now? He heard your quiet moan then, a soft sound of one in a dreamy sleep they could not wake from, and reminded himself of the cost.

Daemon was more pragmatic than people allowed themselves to believe. He did not always desire bloodshed, though the lust for it existed. He recalled your letter then, remembering how he clung to every scrawl of ink as if it were to be the last you would write. The previous correspondence you had echoed in his head. The prose was much more upbeat, as if you were speaking to Daemon in person instead of through parchment. It mentioned the bright outlook for the future and how you could feel that Rhaenyra's succession would not be as troublesome as your father worried it would be. If Daemon had put your trust in him and your faith, all would be well.

Several lines echoed in his mind, seeing the High Valyrian as if it were in front of him again atop his writing desk illuminated by the glow of melting candles.

"Aegon has no desire to rule, nor does he think he is fit. He loves his mother and is sympathetic to the path ahead of her, but one can never be sure. However, I believe that Aegon is, at the very least, more sympathetic to me."

Daemon felt a smirk stretching his thin pink lips. Perhaps he should visit the drunken Prince.

"Let us round the maids up then, question them, and if they do not cooperate, leave them to the Lord Confessor," the Prince demanded, leaving no room for counterarguments.

Criston visibly balked at the idea, his stony visage turning white as snow, but he swiftly recovered. He bowed his head and whispered, "As you wish." Then he stalked off to inform the Queen and the Hand of the new progression.

Daemon would not be played a fool in his own home. He knew your maids would never try such a thing. They were chosen by the Rogue Prince himself before you arrived at the Red Keep. He could not allow just any person into a place where valuable information would be provided, so he tasked his previous mistress, Lady Misery, as she was now called, to find the most trustworthy servants for your service, to care and protect where he could not.

But even then, that was not enough. Daemon pulled strings, whispered honeyed words into people's ears, and made handsome payments, but still, it did nothing. He had never felt so powerless, inadequate, or inept as a new wave of shame washed over him.

He decided he would speak to Aegon, though he felt conversing with such a wastrel was below his worth. Daemon would stop at nothing. He would walk through the trenches in the Stepstones, bribe and steal, even marry his Bronze Bitch again, so long as it meant that you were safe and well back in his arms.

The castle's corridors were dimly lit in the early dawn, shadows stretching long and thin as Prince Daemon Targaryen paced outside his daughter's chamber. The scent of bitter herbs and smoke wafted from within, where the maester worked to keep the girl from slipping further into a restless sleep. A near-silent rage simmered within Daemon. His daughter's pallid face and the shallow rise and fall of her chest were enough to make him thirst for blood. But vengeance required clarity, and he needed answers first.

He turned sharply toward the two maids whom his guard had summoned. They stood quietly, trying to mask their worry under the Prince's intense scrutiny. These two had attended her, he thought, his gaze narrowing. He suspected them both, or at least wanted to, for they were the last to have touched his daughter's food, and every fiber in him sought to lash out.

Jeyne, with her silver-streaked hair, moldered her chin high as she looked back at Daemon with an unwavering gaze. Years of service to House Targaryen hardened her demeanor, giving her the poise of a knight facing a charging army. Fiora was pale and trembling, her fingers fumbling with the edge of her yellowed apron as she sniffled. Daemon's stare pierced her, and she seemed ready to bolt had Jeyne not placed a steadying hand on her arm.

"Who did this?" Daemon demanded, his voice a blade of cold steel slicing through the silence. He did not flout around words or purposes in favor of courtly manners.

Jeyne's expression remained resolute. "Not us, my Prince. We have served the young Princess faithfully. We would have warned someone if we thought her drink was tainted."

Daemon took a step closer, his tone dark. "And yet she is lying there, fighting for her life. She did not miraculously become ill. She was poisoned." Fiora flinched at Daemon's cold stare, hands clasped at his waist. Jeyne tightened her hand on Fiora's crimson sleeve.

"My prince," Jeyne said carefully. "We would never harm her. Young Fiora brought her fresh water and some fruits before she dismissed us that evening, nothing more."

He studied them both, searching for a flicker of guilt, the shift of eyes, but there was only worry and steadfast resolve. He could tell the older woman was offended by his accusation, but she held her tongue, deferring to him without wavering from her conviction.

"Why should I believe you?" Daemon asked, softer this time but no less menacing. "These Green cunts have placed staff sympathetic to their ambitions."

Jeyne's voice flowed calmly through the air, a soothing melody amidst the charged silence surrounding them. She leaned slightly closer to her fellow maid, her expression softening with empathy. "Because we love her too, my prince," she said, her words imbued with a deep sincerity. "She holds a place in my heart as dear as family."

Her gaze shifted toward Fiora, whose face streaked with tears that glistened like crystal in the dim light, revealing a raw vulnerability beneath her frightened exterior. Each gentle quiver of Fiora's lips betrayed her fear, and Jeyne couldn't help but feel a pang of protective instinct rise within her.

"And I know this girl," Jeyne added, her voice still steady but now laced with urgency, "is far too terrified to lie to you." She took a breath, feeling the weight of the moment. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she witnessed Fiora's anguish. The air felt thick with emotion, and Jeyne hoped her conviction would reach him, bridging the divide between fear and trust.

"Her Highness has a kind soul that is rare to find. I would gladly have my life taken instead of hers," Fiora expressed with a tremble, yet an unwavering conviction laced her tone.

Daemon narrowed his purple eyes, his anger dimming as his tactical mind began to turn. They spoke plainly, unafraid to meet his gaze when the time came. The poison was efficient, the kind that took mere moments to weaken a body and soul. No maid would have easy access to something deadly, nor the knowledge. His suspicion was confirmed without a doubt that the assailant was those with means, resources, and motives.

Jeyne inclined her head, inhaling an offensive breath as she prepared for Daemon's wrath at her following words. "My prince, we would never harm her. I swear it on my honor. But... there is something you should know." She glanced at Fiora, silently urging her to speak.

Fiora flinched under Daemon's scrutiny but nodded, her voice trembling as she began. "It-it was the Queen, my prince. Queen Alicent herself. She ordered the Maester to keep the Princess on the Milk of the Poppy."

Daemon's grip tightened on his sword, the veins in his hand standing out starkly against his pale skin. "Why?" he demanded, his tone like the low growl of an approaching storm.

Jeyne's expression was resolute, but a flicker of regret crossed her face as she answered. "To keep her quiet, my prince. The Princess was... accusing her majesty. Speaking of things that might have implicated the Queen. That this is what her grace wanted because she had ordered her to leave King's Landing."

Fiora sniffled, tears spilling down her freckled cheeks. "I didn't understand at first, my prince, but now I do. The Queen didn't want her to speak. That's why they gave her the milk."

Daemon's gaze darkened, his fury palpable as he stepped closer, looming over the maids like a dragon preparing to strike. "And yet you said nothing. You let them silence her under my House's roof."

Jeyne held her ground though the faintest hint of guilt shadowed her features. "We did not know the full extent until now, my prince. We are but servants. To speak against the Queen without proof..." She shook her head. "It would have been our heads."

Fiora sobbed softly, her voice breaking. "I only wanted to help her, my prince. I swear. I... I didn't know."

Daemon exhaled slowly, a heavy cloud of tension escaping his lips. The fury within him ignited like embers in a dying fire yet restrained from erupting. He scrutinized the two before him, his piercing gaze probing for any hint of betrayal, only to find a stark absence of dishonesty in their expressions. The fear etched on their faces was palpable, mingling with a deep, sincere remorse that hung like a thick fog.

"Jeyne," he said, his voice low and menacing, "if you value your life, you will do as I command. From this moment forward, you will watch the Queen. Every word she speaks, every order she gives. I want to know what she plans before she does."

Jeyne nodded solemnly, her expression unwavering as she searched Fiora's eyes for reassurance. The weight of her decision pressed heavily on her shoulders, but determination ignited within her. "You have my unwavering loyalty, my prince," she declared, her voice steady and resolute. "We will carry out whatever must be done."

"And you," Daemon said, glaring at Fiora, "stop sniveling. You will do the same if you wish to atone for your cowardice. Serve her, but serve me first."

Fiora pressed the rough fabric of her apron against her eyes, desperately trying to stem the tears that blurred her vision. Her heart raced as she nodded vigorously, her voice trembling with emotion. "Y-yes, my prince. I would do anything for the Princess," she declared, determination shining through her sorrow.

Daemon's lips curled into a grim smile, stiff shoulders slightly relaxing. "Good. If either of you falters, I will ensure you pay the price."

The maids nodded in unison, their faces pale but determined. As Daemon turned back to his daughter, his expression softened, though his fury simmered beneath the surface. He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, his heart aching at your vulnerability.

"Rest, little dragon," he murmured. "They will not harm you again."

Behind him, Jeyne and Fiora exchanged glances, understanding the weight of the task ahead. As Daemon exited the room, his steps purposeful and deadly, they knew the storm was far from over. The Queen's court would soon feel the wrath of a father scorned. In the coming days, Jeyne and Fiora would do their duties with quiet diligence, and their loyalty was divided between the Queen and Prince. Jeyne's sharp eyes would note every whispered conversation and carefully hidden glance. The more the maids observed that day, the more they noticed Queen Alicent's face, so often painted with politeness, seemed to crack at the edges whenever he looked at their Princess lying in her sickbed, nails bit down to the quick.

The servants' vigilance would become Daemon's advantage. They would watch the shadows where betrayers might lurk while he stood ready to bring the fight to those who dared threaten his blood.

Aegon stood within the hallowed confines of the Sept of Baelor, the weight of uncertainty pressing heavily upon him. His back leaned against the cold, wax-covered altar, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. The air was thick with the aromatic blend of frankincense and myrrh, a bittersweet scent that wrapped around him like a shroud, stirring cherished and painful memories. In this sacred space, he often sought refuge in times of turmoil, a jug of rich Arbor Red clutched tightly in his hand, its crimson hue reflecting his troubled thoughts.

The familiar embrace of the Sept's walls surrounded him as he felt an emptiness beyond physical solitude. He wasn't searching for solace from the deities said to dwell in these ancient stones. Instead, he pondered the lingering influence of his mother, whose shadow seemed to loom more prominent with each passing moment.

The Prince's sworn protector had left him to his own devices as he often did, yet keeping a close eye on things should the need for Erryk's presence arise. There was no point in shepherding Aegon, that much the knight knew after years of service.

Aegon was alone with his thoughts as the hours ticked and the sun lowered over the horizon.

Was his life not built on foundations that would surely crumble? Living a life of poorly planned architecture built by arrogance next to a rising tide that would sweep it away should the sea decide to do so. Often, Aegon wished that the waves would swallow him whole, take him out into the vast ocean, and let him sink deeper and deeper into the depths until he felt the brine on his tongue and salt burning his lungs. And just when he felt the urge to swim, to not succumb to the cold and murky waters below, the same people who sculpted his being called the waves to rise.

Numbing the relentless ache that gnawed at him was his sole refuge, the only path to liberating himself from the suffocating weight of his despair. Whether it provided a fleeting respite or the promise of eternal silence, it was a desperate grasp at freedom from the torment that consumed him.

Aegon remained blissfully ignorant of the muted echoes of finely tailored boots trudging through the wet sand, his senses dulled by the relentless tide that filled his water-logged ears. Towering above him was Daemon, his posture exuding a quiet authority, an arched brow hinting at both curiosity and disdain as he surveyed the disheveled state of the drunken Prince sprawled carelessly on the shore.

"Get up," the Rogue Prince commanded, kicking his leather shoe into Aegon's thigh.

The Prince groaned in response but refused to move, slightly adjusting his reclined position.

Daemon heaved a sigh, the weight of nostalgia pressing down on him. He reminisced about countless nights lost in a haze of drunkenness, where the world around him faded away like the flickering candlelight in a dimly lit tavern. Memories of his days spent lurking in the shadowy presence of Otto Hightower and the haunting specters of deceased children lingered sharp in his mind, a constant reminder of his perceived failings. The sting of being overlooked by his niece gnawed at him, a wound that never truly healed. In his search for solace, he turned to the embrace of women and the warm allure of fine wine, crutches passed down through the generations, a familiar way of coping with the burdens that weighed so heavily on his soul.

The Rogue Prince had little patience for the feeble-minded and cowardly. In a moment of reckless inspiration, he seized one of the flickering candles from the altar, its flame dancing wildly in the dim light. With a deliberate tilt, he allowed the molten wax to spill forth, a glistening stream of warmth cascading down onto Aegon's forehead.

The Prince's body reacted instinctively and jolted, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as the searing liquid made contact. Swiftly, he raised a hand, frantically wiping away the viscous substance before it could burn him further, leaving behind a shimmering wax glistening in the muted glow of the altar.

"Wha-" he stammered, violet eyes bleary.

"Get up."

Aegon continued to stutter, his head filled with cotton as he swatted at his imaginary foe. Daemon thought it amusing yet pathetic to see his brother's eldest son, whom everyone whispered about becoming king, reduced to a blubbering mess.

"Get up, you wastrel," the Rogue Prince commanded, his voice a mix of irritation and authority.

He did not give his nephew a chance to respond or make an attempt to rise. Instead, with a swift motion, he seized the collar of the young man's tunic, yanking him upward with a firm grip that betrayed both frustration and resolve.

Groaning in discomfort and annoyance, Aegon stood on unsteady legs, using his uncle's weight to stay upright. "What? Have you got more wine for me?"

Daemon rolled his iridescent purple eyes, a gesture filled with disdain as he forcefully shoved Aegon against the cold, stone altar. The impact sent a few flickering candles toppling over, their flames sputtering and extinguishing in a puff of smoke.

"You're utterly pathetic," Daemon declared, his voice dripping with contempt as he released his grip, leaving Aegon gasping for breath. "I cannot fathom why my daughter would ever find fondness in someone like you."

Aegon's swirling mind focused on his uncle's words, tilting his head to clear his blurry vision at the notion of you. He blinked, the words slow to make sense in his clouded mind. He was still drunk, still floating in a haze of self-loathing and wine, but there was something about Daemon's tone that cut through the fog. The mention of you... It lingered in the air like a physical presence, a sharp, biting reminder of the past days.

Aegon's hand went instinctively to his forehead, wiping away the remnants of hot wax that had burned him just moments before. He could feel the sting, but it was nothing compared to the sensation in his chest—the twisting, gnawing ache that had settled there since he had last seen you, injured and silent.

"Your daughter?" Aegon repeated, his voice slurred but with a strange acerbity beneath it. He forced himself to stand straighter despite his swaying body. "Why do you care? You left her in the viper's den to get bit, and now she has."

Daemon's lips curled into a sneer, eyes narrowing with that sharp, calculating look that had made him both feared and revered. "You know who did this?" he shot back, his voice low and venomous. The Prince was silent, a brief war of loyalty and honor raging inside his mind. "Do not fool yourself into thinking you can hide behind your wine and self-pity, Aegon. If you truly cared about her, you wouldn't be here, drunk and useless. You'd be at her side, ensuring she's safe and her assailants are brought the sword."

Aegon's heart skipped a beat, the words slicing through him like a dagger, sharper than the pain of the wax on his skin. He tried to swallow the bitter lump in his throat, but it stuck there, choking him.

"I didn't know," Aegon muttered, almost pleading as if he needed to convince himself as much as Daemon. "I didn't know what happened... I didn't know she was in danger." He winced at the admission, though his voice was thick with guilt. "How could I have known? How could I-"

"You should have known." Daemon's voice was as cold as the stone beneath their feet, his words brutally cutting off Aegon's excuses. "You're the one who's supposed to protect her, aren't you? You love her, after all. Yet you failed her when she needed you most."

Aegon's chest tightened at the notion that you had told Daemon of your secret vows, his throat constricting with the weight of his uncle's words. The guilt that had always gnawed at the back of his mind, the feeling of being a deficient imitation of the strong eldest son, a poor excuse for a man, overwhelmed him, threatening to drown him in its suffocating grip.

Daemon observed him, his gaze unwavering. "You think I do not know what it's like to be trapped in a world of expectations and failure?" he continued, his voice softer now but still edged with a quiet fury. "I have walked that path. I've suffered for it but never let it weaken me. And neither should you."

Aegon's hands tightened into fists, the tips of his nails pressing painfully into his palms, each pulse of agony sending a jolt through his senses. He stood there, frozen, grappling with the weight of his thoughts, unable to articulate the turmoil inside him. Every misstep, every moment of indecision chained him to this place, facing Daemon, the man who was meant to be family, yet felt like an unsettling specter from a distant past. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, a stark reminder of the chasm that grew between family.

"Tell me what I'm supposed to do," Aegon finally whispered, the words hanging between them like a fragile plea. "Tell me how to fix this... before it's too late."

For a long moment, Daemon said nothing. He studied Aegon with that piercing gaze of his, the kind that made even the bravest men falter. Then, with a soft snort of derision, he stepped back, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"There's no simple answer, Aegon," Daemon said, his voice laced with a bitter edge. "You can't undo the past and erase your mistakes with a few words. But you can do something. You can be something more than a drunken waste of space hiding behind the throne your mother wants you on."

Aegon felt a lump rise in his throat, the enormity of Daemon's words bearing down on him as if he were trapped beneath a heavy weight.

"But I'm not like you," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a flicker of resentment that colored his tone. A shadow crossed his face as he struggled to articulate the profound loss, tears glistening on his porcelain cheeks. "I don't possess your force." He paused, his gaze drifting to the ground as the memory surged. "She was carrying our child," Aegon added, pain lacing his words, "but it... it didn't survive," Aegon's voice faltered, and he grasped for the courage that seemed to elude him.

Daemon's heart plummeted like a stone at the weight of the revelation, each word cutting through him with a searing clarity that left him breathless. Anger bubbled within him at the thought of you and Aegon, reckless in your union, seemingly unaware of the consequences that loomed over such a decision. Yet, alongside that rage, a deeper, more profound sorrow enveloped him, tugging at his very soul as he thought of his child. The anguish of your loss struck him hard; the pain of a mother who had endured the shadows of childbirth only to mourn a child stolen away too soon—a tragedy that claimed the lives of many women who faced such grief.

This took him back through the corridors of his mind to the haunting memories of his late wife and mother, lives extinguished too early. An unsettling question gnawed at his heart, one that had plagued his mind for decades. Was it his fate, cursed and unyielding, for the women he loved to endure suffering and despair in the birthing bed? The thought twisted like a dagger in his chest, leaving him to grapple with the weight of his legacy and the maternal heartache that seemed inextricably woven into it.

"No one is born with strength, Aegon," Daemon declared, his voice sharp. "Strength is something you earn by facing the things you're afraid of, by doing the things no one else will do. I did not get where I was by sitting around waiting to follow orders. And neither will you."

Aegon looked at his uncle, the silence stretching between them, filled with an uncomfortable tension. His uncle's eyes were colder now, harder, like the steel of his sword.

"I don't have the luxury of time, and neither does she," Daemon continued, his voice quieter but no less intense. "So listen well, Aegon. You may not be ready to defy your family, but you will if you love her like she claims."

Aegon swallowed, the weight of Daemon's words sinking in, pressing down on his chest until it felt like he could hardly breathe. But there was something else there, too, something more profound than anger or resentment. There was a strange, unspoken understanding, an acknowledgment that neither was truly free from their past and mistakes.

And in that silence, Daemon's voice softened, though still edged with a hard truth. "You want to fix this?" he asked. "Then start by bringing those to justice."

Aegon felt the weight of those words, of the expectation in his uncle's gaze. He didn't have the answers and didn't know what would come next, but one thing was clear: if he were to ensure your future together, he would have to start now.

For the first time in the Prince's life, Aegon felt the faint stirrings of a purpose. Something outside of himself. Something worth fighting for.

"I will," he said, his voice firm despite lingering uncertainty. "This was my mother's doing, but I cannot prove it with her hounds and my grandfather so diligently by her side."

Daemon nodded once, satisfied for the moment. While he could not prove the Hightowers were the cause, he understood that having their kin loyal to him and his daughter would serve greater justice when Viserys met the Stranger. "Good. Then, prove it when the time comes, and she will be by your side again."

With that, the Rogue Prince turned, his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the Sept as Aegon remained behind, staring at the flickering candles, his mind already moving forward. He wasn't sure how he would fix everything, undo the damage, and make things right, but Daemon had given him something more than just words.

He had given him a chance. Now, it was up to Aegon to take it.

The heavy, oppressive silence of the dungeons seemed to wrap around Ser Arryk Cargyll like a shroud. His once-pristine white cloak, the proud symbol of his service as a Kingsguard, was now dirtied and torn, a reflection of the disgrace he now carried. Shackled to the cold stone wall of his cell, he sat hunched in the corner, his mind a labyrinth of guilt, regret, and anger. His failure still burned through him like a wound that wouldn't heal—the inability to protect the Princess due to his hubris.

He could hear the whispers of the guards in the corridors, the occasional clink of keys or boots on stone, but none stopped. No one came to offer him solace. He had betrayed his vows, and now he was paying the price.

There was no doubt in Arryk's mind about what awaited him. The Rogue Prince would not be merciful. He would die here, alone in this dark cell. Or worse, he would be forced to suffer before his inevitable death—a public disgrace, a mark on his and Erryk's name that would never be erased.

The sound of footsteps approaching snapped Arryk out of his thoughts. His heart sank, but not out of fear. He knew who it was before the man appeared in the dim light of the dungeon corridor.

Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince, the shadow that hung over the Targaryen family.

Arryk didn't rise from his sitting position. There was no need for any formalities. His failure had already stripped him of his dignity.

Daemon didn't say a word at first. He stopped before the cell, his violet eyes glinting in the dim torchlight as he studied the disgraced knight. He gave Arryk a long, pointed look of disgust and amusement.

"Ser Arryk," Daemon's voice was low, dripping with disdain. "You've fallen far, haven't you?" He stepped forward, his boots echoing in the cold, cavernous hallway.

Arryk didn't respond. What was there to say? The facts were clear. He failed in his sacred duty. No words could change that.

Daemon studied him for a moment longer before he smirked, the cruel twist of his lips never reaching his eyes. "You were meant to protect the blood of the King, Ser, and yet, the very Princess you were sworn to guard was nearly killed right under your nose. Tell me, how does that feel?"

Arryk's chest tightened, his hands clenching in the chains that bound him. He didn't have the strength to defend himself anymore. He didn't deserve to. "I failed," he whispered, voice rough from days of silent anguish. "I failed my oaths."

Daemon's smirk widened as if pleased by the admission. "Yes, you did. And now, the question is, what happens next?"

Arryk's head jerked up, his eyes locking with Daemon's. He saw no pity in those eyes. No mercy. Just the cold, calculating gaze of a man who had long since discarded any pretense of kindness. "What happens to me?" Arryk's voice was hoarse.

Daemon's lips parted in a faint, humorless chuckle. He pulled a dagger from his belt—simple, sharp, and deadly, the hilt made of dark iron. He dangled it in front of the bars, allowing the torchlight to catch the gleam of the blade. "You'll pay for your failure, of course. I will ensure that much." Daemon's tone was almost light, as though speaking about a matter of no importance. "But my punishment won't be death at the hands of another."

Arryk's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't speak. The weight of his fate seemed to settle in his chest.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, watching the knight's reaction. "You see, I am not as quick to kill as the people of your ilk might expect. No, I'll have you suffer. Perhaps I shall keep you locked away for the rest of your miserable life, a reminder to every knight in the Keep that failure is not tolerated." Daemon paused, allowing the words to sink in.

The pain of the thought was almost unbearable. Arryk had never thought of a fate worse than death, but now he could see it—an eternity of being nothing but a stain on the honor of his House.

A shadow.

Forgotten.

Daemon's voice lowered again, and there was now a weight to his words, a deliberate finality. "But that is not what I have come to offer you, Ser."

The dagger was placed on the cold stone floor beyond Arryk's reach. Daemon gave him one final look—measuring, unblinking. "The honorable thing, Ser Arryk, would be to take this dagger and end it yourself." He let the words linger in the air, heavy as iron. "That way, at least, you'll die with some dignity. You'll not be remembered as a coward too weak to take responsibility for his failure."

Arryk's eyes flicked to the blade, and his breath hitched in his throat. The thought of it, the sharpness of the steel, and the cold weight of the hilt in his hand comforted him in the depths of his despair. Death was swift, easy. And in some ways, it would be a release.

Daemon studied him for a long while before he spoke again. "If you choose to live, it will be a life spent in humiliation. I will never allow you to forget what you've done. You will be a shell of what you once were, and your name will be erased from the annals of honor. You will have nothing left."

Arryk's heart hammered in his chest as his eyes remained on the dagger. His failure had broken him. His soul felt heavy, burdened with the shame that would haunt him for the rest of his days. But could he end it? Could he choose death over a life of misery?

Daemon didn't move as he let the silence stretch on. "It's the honorable thing to do, Ser," he said quietly, almost as a command. "You know it as well as I do."

Arryk swallowed hard, his mind a whirlwind. He had failed so completely that nothing left for him was shame or death. He reached out a shaking hand, and his fingers brushed the cold steel of the dagger, the reality of the decision settling in his bones.

Daemon stood, watching, his arms crossed over his chest. There was no sympathy in his eyes, only the cold certainty that Arryk had already made his choice, whether or not he realized it yet.

"Make it quick, Ser Arryk. I won't grant you such a mercy again," Daemon added, his voice low and final.

And with that, the Rogue Prince turned and left the dungeons, leaving the dagger behind as the only reminder of the honor that had once been and the shame that would now define him.

The air in your bed chamber was thick with the pungent scent of incense. The faint orange glow from the setting sun filtered weakly through the heavy velvet curtains, casting a dim, feverish light over the room. The dim glow of the hearth cast wavering shadows across the opulent green decor, the only light rivaling the room's heavy tension. Daemon Targaryen stood at the foot of his daughter's bed, his jaw set like granite, his lilac eyes aflame as they bore into the two figures before him. Queen Alicent Hightower, clad in a gown of deep emerald, held her composure, her hands clasped before her as though she were at prayer. Beside her, Lord Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, straightened his posture, his sharp features betraying only a hint of disdain.

On the bed, the pale and fragile form of Daemon's youngest daughter lay motionless, her breath shallow and her lips tinged with an unnatural stillness. A half-empty vial of milk of the poppy rested on the bedside table, its glass catching the flicker of the firelight.

He could see your face now, pale and drawn, your lips dry and cracked, and your breathing shallow. Your hair clung to your forehead, damp with sweat. You had barely roused since he returned to the Red Keep. The wound on your temple, the poison that still coursed through your veins, all of it seemed to pull you deeper into the shadows.

Daemon broke the silence first, his voice low and venomous. "How long?" he demanded, his hand clenching the hilt of Dark Sister. "How long has my daughter been your prisoner in her skin?"

Alicent raised her chin, her voice measured but with an edge of exasperation. "Daemon, your accusations are baseless. She is not a prisoner. The maester prescribed milk from the poppy for her comfort."

"Do not dare!" Daemon snarled, taking a step forward. "Do not dare speak to me of comfort while my daughter lies here, drugged into silence. Fragile, you say? What lies beneath your 'comfort,' Alicent? What truth were you so afraid she would speak?"

Otto stepped in, his tone dripping with authority. "Prince Daemon, you insult Her Grace and the King's council with this madness. Your grief clouds your reason. Do you hear yourself? These are the ravings of a man desperate to find enemies where none exist."

Daemon's laughter was cold and mirthless. "Oh, there are enemies aplenty, Lord Hightower, and none closer to my family than you." He pointed a finger toward Alicent. "Do not think I am blind to your schemes. Drugging my child, is that not desperation enough? Or would you rather have me believe that poison is beyond your reach?"

Alicent flinched, but only slightly, her calm demeanor hardening. "You think us capable of such atrocity? We seek only peace in the realm. Your daughter's well-being has always been our priority."

"Peace?" Daemon hissed, circling them like a dragon sizing up its prey. "Peace through silencing the truth, you mean. And what truth terrifies you so, Alicent? That your precious Greens are losing their grip on the throne? That your Targaryen children will not be your puppets?"

Otto's voice cut through the air, sharper now. "Enough! You speak treason, Prince Daemon. Were you not her father and brother to the King, I would have you dragged from this room in chains for such slander."

Daemon's grip on Dark Sister tightened, his knuckles whitening. He leaned in closer, his voice a deadly whisper. "And were she, not my daughter, I would have your head for daring to lay a finger upon her fate. Tell me, Otto, if the Greens are desperate enough to keep her tongue tied, are they desperate enough to steal her life?"

Alicent stepped forward, her expression resolute. "Daemon, this is your grief speaking. You imagine plots where none exist. Please, for her sake, do not let your paranoia destroy what remains of your family."

"My family?" Daemon barked, his eyes narrowing. "You have no claim to speak of my family, Alicent. The blood of the dragon burns brighter than the shadows you and your father cast. But be warned, if I uncover a single thread of truth behind this betrayal, I will burn every last one of your schemes to ash."

The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and the faint, shallow breathing of the girl on the bed. Alicent and Otto exchanged glances, their faces masks of composure but their eyes betraying unease.

Daemon stood firm, a tempest barely restrained, his gaze never leaving them. He spoke once more, quieter now but no less dangerous.

"Leave this room. Leave her side. And pray, for your sakes, that the truth never comes to light."

Alicent hesitated, but Otto placed a firm hand on her arm, guiding her toward the door. They exited without another word, the heavy oaken door closing behind them with an ominous thud.

Daemon walked silently toward your bedside. His strong hands, so accustomed to wielding swords and bending the wills of others, now trembled as they reached for your delicate, limp fingers. The quiet vulnerability of this moment struck him more than any battlefield ever had. His daughter, the one he had sworn to protect, was broken, and he was powerless to do anything but watch. He gently curled his fingers around yours as if holding on to whatever little remained of the angry girl he had raised.

The Rogue Prince turned back to his daughter, kneeling beside her bed, his hand brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "They'll pay for this, little one," he murmured. "I swear it on my blood."

You shifted slightly, just enough to draw his gaze as your lips parted gently. Your eyes fluttered open briefly, sparkling with a soft, dreamy awareness that hinted at the depths of your thoughts.

"Father?" Your voice emerged as a fragile whisper, barely lifting above the air around you. The sound seemed to fracture something deep within Daemon, a tiny shard of his once-impenetrable heart splintering into pieces in his chest.

"Shh, don't try to speak," he murmured, brushing your damp hair back from your forehead with a tenderness he didn't often show. His eyes were wet with the tears he hadn't allowed himself to shed until now.

In return, you weakly squeezed his hand, your gaze struggling to focus through the Milk of the Poppy. "I... failed, didn't I?" you whispered, voice cracking. "I couldn't stop it... Couldn't stop the Greens."

Daemon's heart clenched. He could feel the depth of your regret, the weight of your self-doubt in those simple words. His mind flashed back to the fateful days that brought you to this point.

Sending you to King's Landing was the plan you had agreed upon, knowing it was dangerous. You would infiltrate the very heart of the enemy and make a place for yourself at court. You would seduce Aegon, the eldest son of Queen Alicent, a man with no taste for power and no ambition beyond the pleasures of the flesh. You would make him fall for you, win his favor, manipulate him, and stop the usurpation. You would ensure Rhaenyra's crown was secured and that Aegon would never take what was rightfully hers.

But everything had gone wrong. Daemon underestimated the treacherous nature of the court, the depths to which the Hightowers would go to secure the throne for their own and your young, bleeding heart. He had failed as a father, as a man. And now, his daughter, his precious girl, was paying the price.

Daemon swallowed the lump in his throat. He took a slow breath, trying to steady the fury that threatened to consume him. "You did what you could," he whispered, his voice breaking on the words. "You were brave. You were everything I asked of you and more."

You stirred again, your brows furrowing as if in pain, and lips parted to speak, but the words faltered.

"Father, if I fail... if Aegon becomes king..." you whispered hoarsely, struggling to stay conscious. "Leave me to die in the forests of the North. A pack of hungry wolves would be kinder than what he will do to me."

Daemon's hand clenched around yours, and his heart shattered at the words. He knew what you meant. Aegon, a man who would become consumed by the luxuries that power had brought, could never be a better man. He would use his newfound strength to break his enemies and your family, bend them to his will, and crush them beneath the weight of his crown.

Aegon would not cease until you were by his side, even if it meant the destruction of House Targaryen and the kingdom. If he were to ascend to the throne, it would be the end of you.

You closed your eyes again, your body sagging slightly as the feverish haze claimed you again.

Daemon sat beside you on the mattress as it dipped with his weight, holding your hand in both. The stench of a floral musk that reminded Daemon of Viserys wafted through his nose as a sudden realization came to mind. His breath came fast, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, but it was all drowned in his overwhelming rage and helplessness at the world's cruelty.

His daughter, his favorite daughter, was so close to death, and there was nothing he could do to save her. His mind began to work, to churn with decisions that could shape their future.

He will not let you die here.

"No," Daemon whispered to your sleeping form, his voice thick with emotion. "I will not let them do this to you. Not while I live." His hand trembled as he stroked your hair, his heart shattering again as he looked at your pale, suffering face.

He stood slowly, but his movements were sharp and purposeful now. The anger and sorrow had merged into a singular driving force as he turned to the window, glancing out at the fading light of the day. There was only one place he could take you, one where you might have a chance to heal and one where you would be safe, but at the potential cost of the throne.

"Prepare a ship," Daemon ordered to the guards outside the door, his voice hardening as he straightened, the weight of his promise pressing down on him. "Get it ready. We leave for Dragonstone tonight."

Turning back to the bed, he gently lifted you into his arms, carefully cradling you as though you were the most precious thing in the world. You were frail, but still his daughter—the fire from his blood, the only legacy worth fighting for. He kissed your forehead, the promise in his heart now fully formed.

"Do not fear," he whispered, more to himself than you. "You will be free. You have not failed. I will ensure you are never hurt again once we return to Dragonstone."

The ship would be ready by the hour of the owl, and Daemon would take you and leave the city behind. The politics, selfish intrigue, and Hightowers were all irrelevant now. The only thing that mattered was his daughter's life. The rest of the realm could burn for all he cared so long as you lived.

Masterlist of Series

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We all want heads to roll, but we must let them have their moments. Otto, Alicent, and Larys will eventually get what's coming. I have about ten or eleven more chapters to go!

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte , @silverslive , @prettykinkysoul , @duesobabe, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid , @dd122004dd , @ladybug0095 , @millies0bsimp , @kalfild , @sheislonelyalways , @tempt-ress , @minttea07 , @trikigirl271 , @esposadomd , @prettywhenicry4 , @justarandomflowerchildofthenight , @partypoison00 , @please-buckme , @pastelorangeskies , @existential-echo , @priyajoyy , @valaenatargaryensdragon , @merovingianprincess , @candy12110 , @w3ird11 , @ruhjkie , @somemydayy , @marikkjj , @zillahvathek , @sunfyresrider , @heavenly1927 , @hjgdhghoe , @im-sidney , @aurorathi , @marihoneywk , @xitsemm , @justbelljust , @qardasngan , @shari-berri , @tomgcmrs

Bold means I couldn't tag you •́⁠ ⁠ ⁠‿⁠ ⁠,⁠•̀

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unboundprompts · 11 months ago

Note

Thank you so much for your blog! It's so neatly organized, it's lovely to read. It takes a lot of commitment to do detail every post and still constantly update, and I'm very grateful for you <3

I was wondering if you could write tips+prompts for a paranoid character?

Thank you again 😺

Thank you for the kind words!! That means a lot :)

How to Write a Paranoid Character

-> sources: mind.org , betterhealth.vic.gov

Paranoia is the irrational and persistent feeling that people are "out to get you."

Things that Make Paranoia More Likely:

Having confusing or unsettling experiences or feelings that you can't easily explain.

If you are anxious or worried a lot or have low self-esteem and expect others to criticize or reject you.

If you tend to come to conclusions quickly, believe things very strongly, and don't easily change your mind.

If you are isolated.

If you have experienced trauma in the past.

Things that may Contribute to Paranoid Thoughts:

Life experiences. You are more likely to experience paranoid thoughts when you are in vulnerable, isolated or stressful situations that could lead to you feeling negative about yourself.

Experiences in your childhood may lead you to believe that the world is unsafe or make you mistrustful and suspicious of others. These experiences may also affect your self-esteem and the way you think as an adult.

If you experience anxiety, depression, or low self-esteem, you may be more likely to experience paranoid thoughts.

Paranoia is sometimes a symptom of certain physical illnesses such as Huntington's disease, Parkinson's disease, strokes, Alzheimer's disease and other forms of dementia. Hearing loss can also trigger paranoid thoughts in some people.

Lack of sleep can trigger feelings of insecurity and even unsettling feelings and hallucinations. Fears and worries may develop late at night.

Recreational drugs may trigger paranoia, such as cocaine, cannabis, alcohol, ecstasy, LSD, and amphetamines. This may happen particularly if you're already feeling low, anxious or experiencing other mental health problems.

Research has suggested that genes may affect whether you are more likely to develop paranoia.

Symptoms of Paranoia:

being easily offended

finding it difficult to trust others

not coping with any type of criticism

assigning harmful meanings to other people's remarks

being always on the defensive

being hostile, aggressive, and argumentative

not being able to compromise

finding it difficult (or impossible) to "forgive and forget"

assuming that people are talking ill of them behind their back

being overly suspicious

not being able to confide in anyone

finding relationships difficult

considering the world to be a place of constant threat

feeling persecuted by the world at large

believing in unfounded conspiracy theories

Writing Prompts for a Paranoid Person

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

Everyone was against him. No one liked to see him succeed and so they were doing everything in their power to stop him.

People were talking about her behind her back. They would whisper as she walked by, and their laughter would echo in her ears as she got further from them.

"You never believe me!" They wailed, pointing an accusing finger at their friend. "You wouldn't get it! You don't know what it's like to be hated by everyone!"

He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and wide awake. It was a nightly routine, at this point. He could never bring himself to close his eyes. There were too many things going on his head, too many things that only made him dread when morning came.

Everything was about to go so wrong so fast, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The impending doom beat down on her shoulders, reminding her that she was not okay. She was not safe.

They couldn't stop fidgeting with their hands. It used to offer some form of comfort, but not anymore. How could it when the whole world is against you?

They were looking at him. They were watching his every move. He was being tracked. Studied. Something was going to happen. Something bad. Something he wasn't prepared for. What could he do to be prepared?

"You think I'm crazy, but I'm not! You'll see."

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

#writing prompts #dialogue prompt #creative writing #writeblr #prompt list #ask box prompts #paranoia #how to write a paranoid character #how to write #writing tip #writing characters #writing help #writing advice

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thegoldencontracts · 9 months ago

Note

I can make a request for Azul x Reader who confesses to him, but asks him to reject their feelings because they thinks he doesn't return their feelings and thinks he wouldn't date someone like them? Make it have a fluffy ending please!!!

Of course! Thank you for requestingg <3

Irrationality, Love

Summary: Azul never could help the irrational way he acted around you. An unexpected confession helps him sort himself out.

Notes: A dash of angst(?), I'm soo sorry to you anon I think I got a bit too self-indulgent with the prompt

You were an odd person. You weren't meant to be, that was the problem. You were average. No particularly remarkable talents or privileges to set you apart- at least, not when compared to the highly eccentric students of Night Raven.

And yet, you made Azul act in an infuriatingly irrational way. His heart raced, his face flushed, his head rushed. Seeing you in the hallways, he couldn't help but stare.

Your eyes, your hair, your lips- they were all tantalizing. Were they really, though? Or was that merely a part of the odd curse you'd set upon him, for him to be doomed to admire you no matter what?

It was an odd, addicting feeling. Why was it addicting? Why did he so crave the sight of your visage? He didn't even know.

He still remembered the first time he'd met you. Well, 'met' was a generous way to put it.

You'd been dining at the Lounge one day, and he'd been observing to make sure things were running smoothly.

But the moment he saw you, that turned into observing your face.

For quite a while. You seemed to sparkle, to shine. He couldn't look away.

Then, you met his gaze.

"Uh- is something the matter?" You asked, tilting your head in a confused manner that looked positively adorable. Wait, no, he wasn't supposed to think that.

"I don't understand what you're asking," Azul said, plastering his face with a condescending grin, before feigning a look of shock. "Oh, did you believe I was looking at you? Odd. I assure you, that wasn't the case. Apologies for souring your experience."

He had to save face. He was Azul Ashengrotto, the mercantile housewarden of Octavinelle. His ruthless yet elegant demeanor had garnered him fear and reverence alike throughout the school. He couldn't just throw that away over- this!

You seemed to accept that answer. Azul hastily left, only letting himself let out his long suppressed sigh of frustration after entering his room.

From next to him, Jade grinned.

"You seem out of sorts," he said, with the look of a predator analysing every weakness in their prey. Azul loathed having that look directed at him; he'd much rather Jade save it fort the clients.

"Shut it."

Jade merely laughed.

"I'm going to handle this- illness of mine, I assure you," Azul said, and Jade actually seemed confused at that. No matter. Azul wouldn't let himself be made a fool of. He couldn't.

Since then, he'd attempted to avoid you, though he'd failed quite a few times. More than quite a few times, in fact. Against his wishes and yet in compliance with them at the same time, you two'd grown closer, and the pounding of his heart around you only seemed to increase.

"Can't believe you're doing this for free, Azul," you said during one of your joint study-sessions, an impish grin on your face. "Is big bad Azul trying to make friends with someone? How shocking!"

Azul didn't know why, but the thought of you two being friends made him upset in a way that signalled that he wanted something more. What more could he possibly want? And why were you implying he was acting out of sentiment?

"P-Preposterous," he said, though his face was flushed. "I don't have friends, only business partners. A-and this is a mutually beneficial business exchange."

You just laughed.

"I never knew you could be so cute, Azul."

What was that supposed to mean? He wasn't cute, he was a businessman! A highly intimidating, refined businessman!

"F-Focus," he said. Why did he keep stuttering? This was all so odd. He only did this around you. He'd tried to get away, and yet he couldn't bring himself to? Why?

"Of course," you said, and that was it for your teasing. Well, for that study session, at least. It seemed like you'd never stop teasing him.

One day, however, you approached him in private, an uncharacteristically somber expression on your face. He wanted to wipe it off, to bring that impish grin back.

"I, uh, have something to tell you," you said, gaze downcast.

"What is it?"

"I love you," you said, as if it was nothing, as if you hadn't just brought a thousand questions to the forefront of his mind. You spoke once more after a few seconds. "...You can reject me now."

You'd been expecting rejection? Could he even reject you, when your confession had brought an answer to the question he'd had for ages?

Love. Was that the odd emotion you'd made him feel all along? It made sense.

"I assure you, you mustn't -"

"Don't try that customer service crap on me. I know you too well." A laugh and a choked sob, all at once. "I know that you're smart, hard-working, adorable and handsome at the same time, ambitious, strong, and just about a hundred other positive adjectives. And look-"

A tear fell from your right eye. It wasn't dramatic or even noticeable at a glance, but it was more heartbreaking than any cinematic breakdown.

"Look at me." Your words were naught but a cracked whisper. "I never stood a chance."

You'd expected rejection, but that wasn't what he was going to give. Azul had repressed his emotions, and that had hurt you. He couldn't let that happen. Not anymore.

Azul steeled himself.

"You're being much too hard on yourself," he chided. "And much too kind about me. If you think I don't return your feelings, then you're mistaken."

You looked at him, eyes wide with shock.

"You're joking, you've gotta be-"

In a fit of what he could only give the shameful label of primal instinct, Azul pulled you in by the tie of your uniform for a kiss.

Long, passionate, and greedy - though he was disappointed at the lack of internal fireworks that Idia's visual novels had promised him, it was lovely.

Azul pulled back after a while, leaving both of you breathless.

"Does that make my stance on the matter clear?" He said, and you nodded shakily. He was thankful for that, because he couldn't imagine having to say the words 'I love you' aloud.

"We're dating, then?" You said, a hopeful shine in your eyes.

He grinned.

"I'd love that."

Bonus:

"You've finally managed to overcome your emotional waterlogging, Azul? I couldn't be more proud."

"Yeah, little Azul's all~ grown up!"

"Hush, you," Azul said, before he realized.

"How long have you known?"

"Since you two first met," Jade said as if they were nothing.

Eh?

They'd known for- for that long? He'd been that obvious? How had he not noticed earlier? This was insane! He was slipping, and-

"Is something the matter, Azul?"

"I think you broke him."

#azul ashengrotto #twst azul #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #azul ashengrotto x you #azul x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x you #fluff #twst #light angst #hurt/comfort

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 4 months ago

Text

500 Followers = 500 Words Event: Hyunjin

Hellevator

-> Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Staff!Reader

-> Requested by: Anon

-> Prompt: Prompt 11 - Stuck in an elevator together.

-> Warnings: Reader has a fear of elevators. panic attack.

-> Word Count: 767

-> Request: Closed.

500 followers = 500 words Masterlist | Main Masterlist

a/n: I'm giving them proper titles from now on.

Y/N steps into the elevator, her heart racing as she bows slightly to the person already inside, thanking him holding the door open for her. The man also bows in acknowledgment, and she can’t help but feel a little comfort that she isn’t alone in what she calls a death trap. Despite her seemingly irrational fear of elevators, she braves herself, determined to face her fear head on. After all, she’s running late for work, and the last thing she wants is to be late on her first day of working at JYPE.

As the doors slide shut with a soft thud, she takes a deep breath, focusing on the man beside her. He’s calm, engrossed in his phone, and she tries to mirror his calmness as the elevator begins its ascent smoothly. For a moment, she allows herself to relax, the rhythmic hum of the machinery lulling her into a false sense of security.

But then, without warning, the elevator jolts and the lights flicker, plunging the metal box into darkness and sending her heart into her throat.

“No, no, no, no,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper as panic courses through her body. She reaches for the button to her floor and presses it frantically, but nothing happens. The only sound that fills the air is the unsettling silence and the faint sound of the emergency lights flickering on, casting a dim glow in the cramped space.

“This can’t be happening,” she exclaims, her voice rising in pitch as her chest tightens, the air feeling thick as it becomes harder to breathe. "Not today," she gasps, her mind racing.

She takes a step back, pressing herself against the cool metal wall of the elevator, trying to ground herself. She closes her eyes for a moment, focusing on her breathing, counting slowly to five and back down again.

It isn’t until she feels someone grasping her arm and turning her to face him that she remembers there is someone else in the elevator with her.

“Just breathe,” she hears him say. As she opens her eyes, she meets the gaze of a man who looks genuinely concerned. "Look at me," he says in a calming tone, his eyes warm and inviting. "The elevator should start up again soon. I’m here with you. You’re safe."

His gentle words begin to melt away the tension in her shoulders. Taking another deep breath, she focuses on the way his thumb softly caresses her arm, a quiet promise that he’s there for her.

"I’m Hyunjin," he introduces himself, trying to engage her in conversation, hoping it will distract her. “What’s your name?"

"Y/N," she replies, as her breathing starts to steady.

"I haven’t seen you here before," he observes, taking a moment to look her over.

"It’s my first day," she responds with a hint of a smile. “I usually take the stairs but I was scared it was going to make me late,” she breathes, her heart still pounding against her chest. “Big mistake.”

Hyunjin laughs softly, a sound that resonates in the small space of the elevator. “Well, now they can’t be upset with you for being late,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief. The lightness of his tone makes her want to laugh along with him.

But just as she begins to relax, the elevator suddenly jolts back into motion. The sudden movement catches her off guard, and she instinctively leans into him, her heart racing again but not just from fright.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s just the elevator starting again,” he comforts her, his tone calm and reassuring. She can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her, and it grounds her in a way she doesn’t expect.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes pulling away from him, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as the elevator reaches her floor.

She feels a rush of cool air hit her as the doors slide open with a soft ding. She steps away from him, her cheeks still aflame, acutely aware of the proximity they had just shared and that a total stranger had just witnessed one of her panic attacks.

“Thank you,” she thanks him with a nod, trying to avoid eye contact as she gathers her belongings, her fingers fumble slightly, betraying her flustered state and leaves the elevator before the doors close and he can say something else. A part of her hopes she won’t run into him any time soon, being too embarrassed to face him.

Little did she know she would be seeing him again and a lot sooner than she expected.

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wrathofrats · 2 months ago

Text

Kinktober day 23: double penetration

Prompts by @kroas-adtam

Keep Quiet, Nothing Comes As Easy As You

Alpha/omega/rain

3.6k, explicit, warnings for: trans rain, tentacles, dubious consent, double penetration, objectification, shame, floor licking, water ghouls are wet, anatomy discovery??? Idk rain has no clue he has a tentacle,

“All the other water ghouls have one, where’s his?” Omega sounded borderline concerned, practically grabbing at his folds and furrowing his brow as he looked at alpha. He was a medical professional, someone that rain trusted even in a position like this, so why shouldn’t he also be a little scared. It’s embarrassing, he doesn’t know what’s normal or not but all he can do is squirm while alpha rubs and inspects along his pussy to try and coax it out.

“My- my what?” Rain managed to get out before he prodded somewhere that made his knees buckle.

Rain tried to haphazardly shove his sheet music back into his bag as he walked out of the practice building and down the concrete steps. He still wasn’t used to the mask yet, it was slightly hard to breath through the balaclava meant to obscure his identity, even though he thought it was futile, he was a ghoul and all the sibling knew that by now. He chocked it up to a religious thing, like a nun habit. Whatever the reason, it was annoying, he was tired of the condensation that kept gathering in the metal.

The sun was starting to set on the abbey, the pathways beneath the trees and between buildings being cast with a dark shadow. Rain tried to walk briskly even if he believed his fear of the dark was irrational. Less of a fear, more of an eerie feeling when the ministry was dark and empty.

Something whispered from inside the shadows between the chapel and the building that the new papa had been given to stay in. Rain stopped dead in his tracks on the sidewalk, squinting to see if he could see anything moving in the dark.

Rain stepped closer, toeing the line of the edge of the sidewalk before a large hand grabbed at his arm and pulled him into the dark. Someone wrapped their hand around his mouth, whispering into his ear as they held him to their chest.

“Don’t worry guppy, it’s just us” rain looked up to see alpha stepping from the dark and into the small area where the sun still was. He stopped fighting, relaxing in what must have been omegas arms. He trusted the two, not having much interaction with either but knowing that they were here to watch over the ministry, the ghouls included.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing walking alone at night?” Omega whispered into his ear, taking his palm off his mouth but keeping him held tight to his chest.

“Band practice?” Rains tone was questioning, like he wasn’t sure if he had the right answer or not. Alpha had a look in his eyes like he wanted to just tear into him while omega rubbed at rains waist with his thumb.

“Oh dear alpha, papa should know better. Who can imagine what lurks in the alleys at night?”

“Glad we got to him first then, would be a shame if something else did”

Alpha stepped closer to the pair, practically sandwiching rain between their two bodies. Alpha was a good couple inches taller than him, enough to be able to look down properly, almost menacing. Omega was even taller, and wider, his embrace almost swallowed rain whole.

“Will you walk me back to my room then?” Rain looked up and behind him to see omega smiling. Alpha grabbed at his waist, placing his hand over omega. Their hands could probably wrap all the way around rains waist and still touch. Alpha couldn’t stop admiring his body, how the new tight uniforms hugged him deliciously, bordering on slutty if alpha was being honest with himself.

“What’s your rush baby?” Alpha chuckled, moving his hands to rains ass to give a proper squeeze, “who picked out this uniform for you?”

“Practically asking for someone to feel you up in this thing” omega gave a small kiss to the side of rains neck, smiling against his skin.

“Oh you don’t think we could, right omega?” Alpha got close enough to be able to almost speak directly into omegas mouth. “Do you think he would let us?”

“Ask it permission first, doesn’t seem like he’s fighting much though”

Rain gave a small gasp as alphas thigh found its way between his legs.

“Can we touch you rainy? We haven’t had our turn yet, it’s all omegas been able to talk about” alpha put more pressure between rain thighs, leaning into him even more to watch as he jutted his hips forward. They felt impossible close, impossibly warm against rain.

“Please-“ rain tried not to straight up moan, settling somewhere between a whimper and a gasp from alphas thigh.

“There you go alpha, go ahead, know you’ve been dying to get your hand in his pants”

Alpha slipped his fingers past rains waistband and down his navel, feeling soft, tight cotton on the back of his hand. His fingers toyed with the neat patch of hair for a second before dipping down and pressing his fingers inside.

“Oh-“ alpha bent his fingers upwards before sliding them through his folds and just past rains clit. “Isn’t that nice?”

Rains pants were forced to his ankles by alpha as omega snaked his hand to toy with rains cunt as well. Sliding thick fingers through his folds to feel how wet he was starting to get. He spread him wide as alpha pushed two fingers in, earning a groan from rain. The true state of their predicament escaped rain as they continued to both play with his cunt. Standing in some dark corner where anyone could find them.

“Oh he’s tight megs…..”

“Think we’ll fit?”

Alpha crooked his fingers up in rain hole, buried knuckle deep as rain squeezed, clenching down from their words. He already sounded slick and wet, hoping the sounds wouldn't echo in the small space.

“Could just use both of his holes,” alpha started a small rhythm, pumping in and out of rain slowly as he writhed. “Or we could make it fit”

“You would think aether and mountain would’ve loosened him up by now”

Rain was a mess between them. He tried to keep the embarrassing sounds down, biting his lip and taking heavy breaths. Small whimpers and plea’s still escaped him as he begged alpha to touch his clit.

“Wonder if he’s taken anything at all yet” alpha spread his fingers, stretching rain even more.

“Hoping to ruin the packs new plaything are we?”

“Oh you know me too well dear”

Rain squirmed in omegas grip. The idea is almost terrifying, sure he’s taken aether and mountain before, both ghouls who seem massive compared to his smaller frame. But alpha and omega? At the same time? It was almost unfathomable.

“No- w- wait-“ rain feebly protested even as his hips still canted into alphas hand. He just needed a second, air to clear his foggy brain as the combined warmth of the two melted his senses. Part of him felt dirt beneath all of it, letting the two treat him like some fleshlight they found on the ground instead of a sentient being. He dripped down alphas wrist all the same.

“Think I found his off button” alpha chuckled as he rubbed along rains clit and watched as the words completely died in his throat. Omega skated his free hand under his shirt to lift it above his chest and expose his pretty little tits right in alphas face. The other hand met alphas to stroke at his silky walls as well. Both hands fighting in the small space as omega got a finger in rain beside alpha. He gave an experimental pinch to his nipple just to feel him clench down with a groan.

“Wait, alpha” omega gave another prodding stroke to rains cunt, “I don’t feel a tentacle”

“My- my what?” Rain managed to get out before he prodded somewhere that made his knees buckle. Rain let out a small sound as omega cooed.

“Oh alpha I don’t think he knows!”

“Do we get to teach him? Be the first ones to feel him up like this?” Alpha and omega talked about rain like he was simply not even there. A toy to play with without any concern for him listening in.

“Would be an honor since someone got to dewdrop before us last time”

“I think you found it, right there” omegas hand moved to feel where alpha was touching. Something wiggled beneath their touch, right under his clit, a smooth patch of skin to conceal the thing.

Alpha gave a low chuckle as he continued to pet over the area until rain started to jump as he felt an odd pressure.

“No stop wait-“ rains voice was shaky, trying to pry himself away from whatever it was even if their hands on his clit had him feeling like he was floating.

Rain nearly shrieked but omega slapped his palm over his mouth to try and muffle the surprised sounds. Something slithered from his cunt, wet and immediately searching for stimulation from alphas fingers.

Drool escaped rains lips and pooled into omegas hand as alpha started to stroke the tentacle. It was pretty, a flushed dark blue and purple, not super long but definitely fairly thick, thicker than the other water ghouls they had seen. It made rain lightheaded to look down and watch the thing squirm between his legs.

“Please not here ….” Rain mumbled against omega, coming out muffled and pitched. He knows he won’t last long, having enough experience to know he’s about to make a mess all over himself and the concrete. Omega just gave a small pet to his cheek, throwing a smile over his shoulder at alpha.

“Hear that? He wants to go somewhere a little more private darling”

“Oh? Doesn’t want anyone to see him like this? Don’t tell me the things shy.”

They won’t give him the dignity, not yet anyways. In alpha and omegas mind it’s much for fun to ruin him in the open air than to put him behind a closed door, even if they’re dying to see how bad he can really get with some privacy. He asked for this, begged alpha to touch him, and they won’t give him a lick of decency until he squirts for them all over the ground.

Slick ran down the back of alphas hand as he continued to toy with rains tentacle. A bit followed the path of the prominent vein on his wrist and if omega wasn’t so caught up in how rain whines against his hand he would’ve grabbed alphas arm to lick him completely clean. Rain can protest all he wants but if he’s this wet it’s hard to really believe him.

Rain gets off on the fear, being manhandled and exposed while he can’t do anything about it is too arousing to admit. He clinged to omegas arm as alpha started to stroke his tentacle in earnest like he’s jerking him off. Rains hips twitched into his rough hand, almost uncomfortably hot.

“Think he’s ready omega,” Alpha shoved three fingers in rain and spread him wide with ease, wet and loose from being played with for so long. He grabbed at rains thigh and maneuvered his legs to his waist so he could wrap them around as omega still held him tight against his torso.

“Gonna take it like a good boy? Gotta be real quiet, wouldn’t want anyone to find us huh guppy?” Omega unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants as rain gave another muffled sound from behind his palm. Alpha was already lined up with his holed teasing between his folds with the head of his cock.

Alpha pushed in slowly, feeling rain arch against omegas chest. He was still tight, even after the prep. Slick and hot as alpha groaned with the sensation. Rains eyes crossed, breathing heavily to adjust to the new feeling, even as he knew more was coming.

Omegas finger prodded at his hole and attempted to nudge itself right next to alphas cock. It was almost too much, it struggled to wiggle its way in there but tears escaped rain's eyes as he felt it pop into him. It slid in and out, in time with alphas shallow thrusts, simply trying to get him prepared enough to not be painful once omega got his turn to be inside him too.

“What a sweet thing, isn’t even fighting anymore” omega cooed at him, sickly sweet in tone. “Knew once you got a cock in you that you’d settle down”

“More” rain moaned. Drool was falling from the corner of his lip and down his neck. It left a shiny trail in its wake that shined in the moonlight, along with the wetness that coated his inner thighs.

Another finger slipped in and out of him along with alpha. Every thrust made his vision hazy, barely able to keep his eyes focused on alpha in front of him who was still practically grinning from ear to ear.

“Think he’s ready?” Omega asked with a loving look.

“Be gentle, he’s been sweet so far, right rainy?”

Omega nudged the head of his cock right next to alphas, slowly working it to stretch rain enough to take him. It was borderline overwhelming, rains never been this full before. He could feel them both in his abdomen, a little bump forming on his stomach from how they pushed against his small frame. He looked completely wrecked.

Rains tentacle slithered to wrap around alphas cock, small suckers attaching themselves to his shaft as he thrusted harder into rain alongside omega. Rain was being held like a limp doll, tentacle jerking both of them off as they left him completely gaping around them.

“Close- need it-“ rain choked out.

“Cum for us pretty boy, cum right here and we’ll give you your dignity back until we get behind closed doors”

Rains body spasmed as he gushed around their cocks. It dripped down, splashing onto alphas pants and the ground. It was filthy, they didn’t think they’ve ever seen a water ghoul cum so much. A thick heady sea salt smell filled the air as rain cried and tried to calm himself down from the high, still unbelievably full.

“Unholy shit rain” alpha looked down to see how he soaked the both of them. He was sure some had gotten on rains discarded pants as well, still dripping off of his thigh and onto the concrete. His tentacle retreated back to where it had come from while the blue flush on rains body started to recede while omega slipped out of him.

“Dew wasn’t this messy” omega gave a click of his tongue, tucking himself back into his pants, “better learn to control yourself sweetheart, I’ll forgive it this time but next time you’ll have to clean it up”

Alpha slowly pulled himself out, watching rains face so as to not scramble his brain any further. He untangled his legs from around his waist and hesitantly set him back down on his two feet, the two bigger ghouls still holding onto him to make sure he wouldn’t collapse under his own shaky legs.

“There we go, just hold onto my arm guppy” omega reached to grab rains pants from off the ground and attempted to have him step back into them. He promised him modesty after he came, the semblance of some dignity before they got him any privacy.

“It’s a shame though, we can’t just leave this here can we?” Omega gestured to the puddle in front of them. Rain hid his face, embarrassed to see the mess he made on the dirty ground. He still felt absolutely filthy from the ordeal, ashamed of how easy he was to be warmed up and pliant between the two.

“Omega …..” alpha gave him a low look as he zipped his jeans back up.

“Go ahead alpha, clean it up for me baby” omega practically purred as he got rain redressed.

“You can’t be serious right?”

“Don’t act up in front of the little siren, you’re the one who wanted to ruin him. So you can clean up the mess”

Alpha looked unbelievably flustered as he hesitantly got down onto his knees, giving another glance up at omega to ask if he was truly serious. Omega just smiled and held rain closer, giving him a sly nod.

The ground tasted like dirt and musk, making alpha cringe. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he lapped up the pool of slick off of the concrete. It was gross, the taste alone being embarrassing enough to make alphas head spin.

“Isn’t he such a good boy?” Omega whispered into rains ear, just barely loud enough for alpha to hear. Rain shook like a leaf against omegas chest as he also watched alpha pressed his tongue to the dirty ground, “such a sweet thing aren’t you? You were so good for us rainy, proud of you for taking all of that”

Rain relaxed a bit into omegas body, still hanging onto his arm. His head was still full of static and the abundant praises spilling from omegas lips only furthered the feeling. Alpha was much less terrifying like this, the once menacing ghoul now a mess at his feet licking up his cum like a dog. It was hard to be scared of him anymore.

But omega? It only made him more nervous. From everything he’s seen and heard rain was certain this scenario would have been switched. Omega being sweet and friendly, a trusted figure in the ministry while alpha was known for being aloof and stoic, if not at times somewhat cruel. Sharper features, a deeper growl, harsher grip, rain was warned not to fuck with him. But omega simply just commanded, and alpha obeyed without argument.

It sent shivers down rains spine to think of what omega could have done to alpha to get so obedient for him. Surely it can’t be just that alpha is willing, right? Maybe he’s naive, maybe it’s one of those things like aether where he rarely waits for someone to be obedient and simply prefers to take it without a fight. Maybe omegas simply forced it out of him so many times that alpha knows better than to fight. The idea is more than arousing to ponder as alpha finishes up on the ground and moves to stand. The idea of omega forcing the obedience out of him, especially after he’s seen how praiseful he can be.

“Don’t think we are exactly done with you yet tadpole” omega turned him around to assess his state. He still looked pathetic, wide eyes and messy hair but he was still desperate, needy, the new found information of his tentacle running rampant through his mind as he needed to know more. It was alphas turn to grab at him, pull him close into his side as if rain didn’t just watch him suck his cum out of the concrete. It reminded him that he truly had no leverage here, simply strung along for alpha and omega to use in exchange for the sweet praise alpha and omega were so generously pouring out.

Alpha tugged him along down the sidewalk and to the large building rain recognized as primos ghouls quarters. The old door creaked as omega pulled it open. The high ceilings echoed every noise off of them as their shoes clicked on the tile. He heard a familiar voice echo off the walls, another pair of clicking footsteps coming towards the trio.

Mountain rounded the corner and gave a small pause as he saw rain. His face fell, turned into something displeased as alpha and omega couldn’t help but give a cocky smirk at the earth ghoul. He was probably there to see earth, get some small pointers on his element while rain had his head down like he was a cheap prostitute the two were bringing back to ravage.

It’s clear what they’re doing, mountain isn’t stupid. He can’t do fuck all to stop them either. He’s heard of the two bringing new summons back to their room with a promise of showing them around their new vessel. Dew was easily bedded before mountain could get to him, a sick jealously bubbling inside of him. Rain just keeps his gaze fixated on the floor as they walk past him like his life depended on it.

He felt ashamed, he still was barely cleaned up and he could feel his cunt soak through his underwear as they walked. Mountain gave a low growl while alpha flashed him a toothy smile, as if he was telling him should’ve moved faster!

Rains tentacle is restless, needing more stimulation even after rain already came. It’s like it knew that there was something more, finally being coaxed out and now it was insatiable. It cant move much, rains tight pants left no room for anything but the new sort of ache is killing him. He wants it to go away, to shove his hand down his pants and feel every inch of it for himself. All he could do is burn in shame as he continued to walk.

Alpha and omega probably know much more than him. Omega was a doctor after all, had inspected every inch of the other water ghouls. It made rain feel weird, a partial fear in him of what they could expose about him without him knowing a single thing about it.

Omega kept a steady hand on his back, rain was flustered and tunnel visioned staring at the tile, could barely walk straight with that thick tentacle writhing between his legs, rainy just hoped it wouldn’t get too relentless before alpha and omega can get him into their bed.

#happy Halloween #have this #what the fuck even is this man #cw tentacles #cw dubcon #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #alpha ghoul #omega ghoul #rain ghoul #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #wrath writes

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