#now tell me. how did i not realize until drawing this that scar was wearing his boatem outfit in this scene

[whatsanameanyway]

heyyy look at these people that have no idea what sort of mess theyre getting into

(scene from chapter one of @ari--anon 's i am weary with contending! i love this fic so much its so good. i thought mumbos slight third wheel energy in that scene was funny so this happened)

bonus woo

unblurred scar and ariana because i really like how they came out :D also a little easteregg in there for those who read the fic :DDD

#gtws #grian #ariana griande #mumbo jumbo #now tell me. how did i not realize until drawing this that scar was wearing his boatem outfit in this scene #i saw green vest maroon blazer and dark grey pants but it took me until drawing them to connect the dots #my art #also uh #hermitshipping #not in THIS specific scene but the fic in general so yeah #go read the fic #to be honest not going to lie i do not think i did grians eyes justice #theyre blurred out so i dont think it matters. but i didnt quite get the 'staring directly into your soul' part i dont think

[pagesfromthevoid]

Cowboy Like Me | d.d. | 7

Din Djarin x princess!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Nothing but sweet, sweet romance

Author’s Note: twirling my hair, kicking my feet, and giggling over this. Shoutout to @bookxish for their suggestions (ノ‥)ノ gif from @spilledkauffie

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

The First

“Why?”

She had repositioned herself on the bed, sitting with her knees gently resting against his thigh. Din was distracted by that, but more so by the feel of her hand in his. It had been so long since he’d touched someone so delicately without his gloves on, skin to skin. Her hand was soft, taken care of diligently just as anyone would expect of a princess. When compared to his own hands —calloused, scarred —it was a reflection of opposites. 

He wondered, momentarily, if other parts of her were as soft as her hands. 

“You know why,” he finally said, looking from their hands to her face. 

How did she always find his eyes without trying? So few people knew where to look —most settled on his forehead or closer to his nose. But she always found his gaze with ease. 

“I need to hear you say it,” she pushed, pulling her hand from his. “I need…I need you to tell me, Mando.”

“Din,” he whispered before he could stop himself. He didn’t want her to move away from him. 

“What?” She pulled back, brow furrowing. 

“My name,” he conceded, leaning in closer to her. He had moved himself closer without realizing, invading her side of the bed. “It’s Din.”

“Din,” she repeated, slow and deliberate. 

His name hung from her lips as she said it again, more to herself now. Then, she looked up at him like he held the very stars she admired the night before. She was still waiting for his answer as to why but Din couldn’t bring himself to say it for some reason. And, he thought, she knew that. 

“Can I ask you a different question?”

Din was thankful, nodding now as he reached out to take her hand again. He wished that the touch was enough to tell her what he wanted; but he knew why she needed to hear him say it. 

Her fingers, quick and nimble, intertwined with his as she spoke. “If you could kiss me —would you?”

Din felt his breathing hitch in his throat. More than anything, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to run his hands through her hair and pull her into him. He wanted to taste his name on her lips, and draw it out of her over and over. He wanted to know if her lips were as soft as her hands, and then he wanted to know if every inch of her was too. 

“If I could kiss you, mesh’la, I don’t think I’d ever stop.”

The smile that came over her was blinding; bright and dazzling as she leaned in close to him. Din couldn’t resist, bringing himself closer now as well; just close enough that he could reach up and touch her cheek. She leaned into the touch, closing her eyes. 

“I want to kiss you, Din,” she whispered, head turning just enough to press a kiss to his palm. 

It was the simplest of kisses, but just as he suspected —her lips were soft against his skin there. It didn’t satisfy his desire to feel her mouth on his, but it would hold him over for now. 

“I know,” he murmured, closing the space between them in order to rest his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry.”

“You never apologize for what you believe in,” she corrected, taking the hand that wasn’t held by him and reaching up. Din worried for a moment that she was going to try to take off his helmet —but she simply rested her hand against where his cheek would be. “I’ll find other ways to kiss you.”

“I look forward to your attempts,” Din said, and he hoped she could hear his smile in his voice. “But they’ll have to wait until tomorrow. We need to get some rest tonight.”

She nodded, taking a moment before finally dropping her hand from his helmet. Din watched her as she readjusted, moving to lay down beside him. He wanted to lay with her, but he had to wear the helmet to sleep —and he worried about the beskar being too cold or too hard and disturbing her. 

So Din settled on sleeping sitting up. While it wasn’t ideal, it wouldn’t be the first time and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. She hummed as she settled in, reaching out to him. But when her hand touched his thigh instead of his chest, she sat up. 

“You sleep sitting up?” She asked, head tilted to the side. 

“Not usually,” he replied, hesitantly reaching over to run his hand over her hair. “I can’t remove my helmet; I don’t want to disturb you.”

She closed her eyes at his touch, but only for a moment, before she rolled over and sat up. Din frowned deeply, sitting up further to push her back, but she swatted his hand away and got up. 

“I have an idea,” is all she said as she went through her bag in the corner. 

Din watched her curiously, brow furrowed as she pulled out the scarf she had worn in Nevarro. She held it up to the window, stretched out. She folded it once over, holding it up again then —

She tore it apart. 

“What are you doing?” Din finally conceded, standing up and walking over to her. 

She turned to face him, holding out the folded strip of fabric. “When I was young, I had to sleep with an eye mask on,” she explained, “I had to have complete darkness. If I could see any light, I wouldn’t be able to sleep.” She pushed the fabric into his hands, turning around now. “I couldn’t see anything with it on. My father always made sure of it.”

Din suddenly understood what she meant, staring at the strip in his hands. The offer caused his chest to tighten, and slowly he covered her eyes with the scarf. He was gentle, tying it carefully to avoid pulling her hair into the knot. 

“I’m going to pull it down just a little,” she warned, before doing just that. “I could see the lights on the baby’s pram.”

Slowly, as if waiting for him to stop her, she turned around to face him. Din missed seeing her eyes —how they shined when she looked up at him. But her desire to follow his Creed for him, even if it inconvenienced her to do so, made his heart ache for her so much more. 

“I doubt you can tell, but my eyes are closed under here too, for good measure.”

Din chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. He glanced to Grogu’s pod, ensuring that it was still closed, then took her hands in his. He lifted her touch to his helmet, showing her where to go. There was no need to tell her what to do next —it was an unspoken promise that he was trusting her. 

Cautiously, she lifted the helmet from his head and Din held his breath. It had been years since he last removed his helmet in front of another human —not since he was a child. Grogu was the only one, before he came back to Din. But in such a short amount of time, she gave him too much reason to question his Creed —only to help him follow it without question.

When she held it in her arms, fingers delicately tracing the steel that made it up, Din breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I think you’re handsome,” she stated as he took the helmet from her and set it down beside the bed. 

“What makes you think so?” He asked, his voice no longer hidden behind his modulator. Din took a step closer to her, hesitating for a second before he rested his hands on her hips. 

She brought her hands up to rest on his chest without hesitation, pressing against him softly. 

“Your voice gives you away,” she admitted, tilting her head to blindly look up at him. “Though, I found you handsome even with your helmet on. A knight in shining armor.”

“Saving a princess, no less,” he teased back, relaxing into her touch finally. 

“Do you know what knights get for saving princesses, Din?” 

Looking down at her, with her blindfold covering her eyes, Din suddenly thought that maybe this woman —this life —could be The Way. At least, apart of it. It was an irrational thought, one he knew he shouldn’t entertain. But for tonight, for right now, he would. He had a beautiful woman in his arms, trusting him with her life, and he was going to enjoy it. 

Din leaned down, one hand moving to lift her chin just slightly. She gave him control, allowing him to move her as he thought fit. His eyes scanned over her face, taking in every detail he could memorize before finally leaning in close. She pushed up on her toes, meeting him halfway, as their lips met. 

It was the first time he’d kissed someone, but Maker help him, it wouldn’t be the last. It couldn’t be. She was soft against his mouth, just like he imagined. And when she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, Din swore there was nothing that would ever compare to how sweet she tasted on his tongue. His grip on her tightened, keeping her close as her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He knew if he didn’t stop now, it would escalate. He wouldn’t be able to stop, and now was not the time. This was not the place, with the child in the room and open windows for the village to see or hear. 

No, when it was time, it would be private, and warm, and she would be safe from those who wanted to take her from him. 

*****

In the middle of the night, during what would be the most restful sleep his father has probably ever had, Grogu wakes up. The princess is asleep, one arm wrapped around his dad’s middle and cheek pressed against his shoulder. Grogu can see that his dad has his cheek resting against the top of her head, his arm around her tight. The child is still sleepy, rubbing his face as he climbs out of the pod and waddles his way to the bed. 

It takes a few tries, but Grogu manages to pull himself up the side and into his dad’s other arm. The child looks between the two for a moment, letting out a little sound that causes his father to stir and open his eyes groggily. 

“Come’ere,” he whispers, and Grogu toddles his way into the crook of his arm and blinks slowly, falling back asleep. 

Right as he is about to return to his dreams, Grogu watches as his father presses a kiss to the top of the princess’s head then does the same to him.

———

Taglist (OPEN): @r4iner @sgt-morgan @mingeniee @darling1darling @teriolan-blog @venusfalling @double—take @sunshine96 @demisexuallover @mxtokko @ellesvoid @waddafaknik @c-ms1ut @kokoirne @sl-ut @munsons-queen @intense-sneezing @geekrenaissance

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando x reader

[mythica0]

We’re in this together

Chapter summary: Tello and Raphie are starting to remember their time in the afterlife, and the teens get curious about certain scars. (Not in that order)

A/N: wohoo update time! I’m getting ideas for plot slowly but surely, but mostly this is a slice of life fic incase you couldn’t tell. (Which means minimal angst! :D) any questions about the AU? Ask!

TW: swearing, mention of past self harm and other forms of violence. Discussion of scars(including SH)

Chapter 4: Discussions of Memories long.. future?

After a long cry with his dad, Nardo emerged from the medbay with a newly wrapped stump.

Angelo floated over to the two of them. “Oh thank pizza supreme I don’t have to look at a bare stump anymore.”

Nardo rolled his eyes, but there was still a fondness behind them. “Yeah, yeah, you happy?”

Angelo makes a noise of confirmation and nods.

While the rest of the table talk, Tello looks at Raphie.

“Have you been getting… memories?” He whispers. He doesn’t want to draw attention.

Raphie nods. “Yeah. I don’t know how, we were taken from before we…” he clears his throat. “Yeah.”

Tello furrows his still drawn-on brows in thought. “It is strange… do you think Karai has something to do with it?”

“Gram-Gram? Maybe… hmm. We should discuss this later, you know.. alone.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They stop their whispered conversation just as the attention of the group turns back to the table.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking! of course Mikey wouldn’t-,Tello, Raphie, were you even paying attention?” Angelo calls to them from their loud conversation.

“Oh, uh- yes?” Tello lies, very badly. He never got over his inability to lie well.

Raphie just rolls his eyes. “No, we were talking to eachother, what’s up?”

“I was wondering whether or not Mikey could float yet, cause I learned to at about that age, but then I realized how dumb that was! I was about to tell the story of when I first flew!”

“Wasn’t that the day you got the scar on your arm? The non-burn scar, obviously.” Tello questions, brow raised.

“Mm-hmm. The kids wanted to know about the scars anyways!”

“Alright, we’re coming.”

For the next hour, the four of them told tales of their scars.

Angelo got his big gash in his arm from trying to fly and falling down, scraping his arm on metal. That was so long ago and yet the scar hadn’t faded.

Nardo lost his arm in an incident with a Krang hound. He got bit just above the elbow, and it had to be amputated lest he get infected. He also had several other scars from battle, claw marks, mostly.

Tello had lost his vocal cords in a collapsing building. A piece of debris fell on his windpipe and vocal cords, causing him to have to make himself a technological copy. He had to communicate in entirely sign language until they were done, and also had problems breathing for months.

Raphie’s black eye was a whole…other thing. He didn’t know exactly how it happened, but the Krang did something to him on a mission one day, and then his pupil grew larger until it took up his whole eye. That eye can see in the dark very well, but can’t handle bright light at all, so often during the day Raphie will wear an eyepatch to keep the brightness at bay. He also had a long scar along his tail from where a Krang hound had dragged him, a chip in his shell from a strong impact. And…. Tiny thin scars littered his arms.

Donnie recognized them immediately. “Those are-“

“Self harm scars, yeah.” Raphie spoke and smiled, bittersweet.

“…I started to feel a lot of guilt, anger and sadness about five years into the apocalypse. I felt as though I could never protect my brothers, and all of those negative emotions made me turn to a.. less than healthy coping mechanism.” His words were hesitant, but not sad or fearful .

“I ended up cutting my arms almost every night for two years before Nardo caught me in the act one night. He and the others helped me overcome that obstacle in my life, and now I wear my scars proudly as a way to show how strong I was to overcome it, and as a reminder that even the strongest of people need help sometimes.”

Raph spoke up. “That um- that was very brave of you, bigger me.” His words had some implications that Raphie picked up on. He had some of the thoughts at about Raph’s age, after all. “Hey, don’t worry big man. Your family is here to help you, you will never need to resort to that. Come talk to someone if you need to, okay?”

Raph nods, “t-thanks.”

A tense silence filled the air for a moment, but it wasn’t long before Mikey silently stood, walked over to Raphie and Raph, and pulled them into a huge group hug.

Raphie smiled as him and his younger version were pulled together by Mikey’s tiny form, followed by the rest of the crew gathering around the two snapping turtles.

They stayed like that for a while, then slowly pulled away one by one.

After that, everyone separated off to their own spaces to relax, however, Donnie and Raphie both went into the kitchen to have a private conversation.

“Soooo,” Tello draws out the word, “we have confirmed that both of us are getting memories from the spiritual plane.”

“Yup. I definitely remember looking over our brothers and Casey. And all the emotions I felt during that time.”

“Yeah… I remember seeing you up there, once I joined you.”

Raphie nods again. “It’s… strange. I don’t remember my actual death but I remember everything after it.”

“The main question is still, why. Why are we getting these memories if the Angelo’s portals took us from before our death. Time line shit is just wild.”

“You said it.” A pause, then a smile.

“Do you remember the time when we watched Casey completely wreck Kraang prime.”

Tello breathed out a chuckle, “fuhuckin, yeaha. He was all like: ‘come here you rotten strawberry lookin motherfucker!’”

Raphie smiled more, “and then my response was-“

“Language!” Both turtles replied in sync, before bursting out into laughter.

Through his laughs, Tello tried to speak, “ehe-Ehevehen thohohough yo- yohou knehew he cohohou- cohohouodnt hehear yohou!” Sending them both into further hilarity.

After a minute the two calmed down.

“Woo, man,” Raphie spoke, wiping a forming tear from his eye, “that was a day.”

“You bet.”

Maybe they would be fine. All of them. Together.

—————————————————

Next chapter ->

Prev chapter <-

Chapter one <-<-

#parrotwrites #WITT #WITT AU #we’re in this together #we’re in this together au #TW: discussion of self harm #TW: discussion of scars #ROTTMNT #rottmnt AU #ROTTMNT future AU #peepaw multiverse

[desolationcleo]

some life series martyn design headcanons i've had for a while now

(this originated when i noticed his ears aren't visible in his shadow alliance skin with the hood down, when they are normally, combined with how i generally call attention to jimmy and martyn's ears when drawing them to reflect their listener affiliation, and also some of it is taken from actual cape status. also when i tell you i lost it upon realizing cherri was on the same wavelength as me about having him grow his hair out over the course of a death game)

So, back in Evo, he had short hair, and sometime after first encountering the Listeners but before the dragon fight, he and Jimmy got matching pairs of crawler earrings with pale almost white gems hanging from them. He's also got that cape, with the fire looking design at the bottom.

In Third Life, he still has the earrings, though Jimmy has now lost his, given that it's pretty hard to wear earrings when you now have little canary wings where you'd expect your ears to be as a manifestation of your curse. Martyn's not quite sure where he got these earrings and doesn't know Jimmy used to have a matching pair.

Midway through Third Life, he starts growing out his hair a little. This coincides with him first making contact with the Watchers. Upon going yellow, he takes off his cape to show off the symbol on the back of his coat.

At the start of Last Life, he gets his cape back, but his hair length remains the same as it was at the end of 3l. Over the course of the season, his hair keeps getting longer.

Aside note, Ren begins braiding his hair with a ribbon woven in after devoting himself to Lizzie. This will be relevant later. Now, back to Martyn.

For those not in the know, crawler earrings, despite their appearance, only actually require one piercing. This means they're no harder to accidentally lose than any other earring. During the chase scene with Jimmy for his life back, he loses an earring and doesn't notice. This also results in him matching with Cleo, who also only wears one earring, foreshadowing their being linked in their next lives.

He gets rid of his cape again, this time so the moon kanji on his robe can be visible. After first putting on the Shadow Alliance robe, he now has a permanent shadow over his eyes.

By the time his friends start dying, his hair has grown long enough that his ears are no longer visible. This includes his remaining earring.

After he turns red, he now has scars from his death, and his hair is singed from the lava. It remains this way until his final death.

At the start of Double Life, his hair is still long though no longer visibly burnt, he doesn't have a shadow over his eyes 24/7 anymore, he doesn't get his cape or his earring back, his hopes of escape are dashed, and Mumbo is gone entirely and presumed permadead. He does what one does when bad things happen and cuts his hair. With a wooden sword. And no access to a reflective surface. Predictably, this leaves it rather uneven to say the least.

When he goes to the Nether, he makes a new pair of earrings, and incorporates glowstone. As a result, when he leaves the place, he has glowstone dust all over him for the rest of the episode. He also no longer matches with Cleo. (and yes, he did roll up to her covered in glowstone and with a laughable haircut)

Eventually he does fix his hair. That or it fixes itself when he goes yellow (a death which also leaves a scar).

In Limited Life, he once again has a cape, but as he dies over and over, it's more or less shredded by the end. He also starts growing his hair again and braids it this time, this combined with the streaks in his hair (which are unnaturally dark) makes him resemble Ren in season 2. Right before the final battle, said braid comes undone shortly before he does.

[letterstotheflre]

i'd beg you on my knees

summary: you loved sirius's fingers, but there's something you craved more.

warnings: oral sex (male receiver), daddy kink, a bit of religious imagery (you know how it is), a bit of spitting, mentions of throat training and finger sucking, i think that's it?

word count: 2.5k

a/n: as a celebration for passing my chemistry final and 300 followers, here is the second part to the sirius corrupting you series :)

ps: i know those look like feminine hands, but pretend they are sirius’s okay i spent 2 hours looking for something to use and that’s the best i got

you couldn’t stop staring at his hands.

you had always loved them. they were big, always completely encasing your smaller ones, and full of rings, some of which you made yourself. the skin on his palm and finger pads was a bit rough, a consequence of years of holding a bat to hit the bludgers away from his teammates. but there was still a slight delicate appearance to them, courtesy of the black family genes which, despite years of slight inbreeding, somehow still managed to make some of the most attractive people in the wizarding world.

you loved the way they felt against the small of your back or your waist, always letting some warmth seep through the fabric of your clothes. you loved the way they cupped your cheeks before he leant down to kiss you, slightly squishing your cheeks and puckering your lips for him. but ever since that afternoon a few days ago, you adored the way they felt in your mouth.

you tried to be subtle, you really did, but it was impossible to stop staring at them. you couldn’t forget the weight of his fingers on your tongue nor the way they hit the back of your throat. the feeling of having them in your mouth brought a strange sense of comfort to you, it was like having a piece of him always inside you.

and sirius noticed. of course he did, you were one of the only things he deemed important enough to pay attention to, followed by the phases of the moon and any updates on the 5-year plan james had made to woo lily evans. and because he liked seeing your glazed over eyes and heating cheeks when he caught you staring, he started to show them off on purpose.

he started to talk with more hand movements, followed by always playing with any stray hairs around your face. he started to use his thumb to play with your bottom lip before kissing you, almost giving you what you wanted but then taking it away from you.

he caved in when he saw how truly needy you were for them. the teary eyes and little whines you made every time he pulled them away from your mouth were almost enough to make him hard, so he allowed you to suck on them every now and then. he watched attentively as you slightly hollowed your cheeks when he used both his pointer and middle fingers, sometimes trying to get as much of them inside you as possible.

so he started to push your limits, drawing circles against the back of your tongue before he pushed them further, not warning you before they entered your cavity, yearning to hear what other pretty sounds you could do besides moaning and whining. you had gagged violently the first time he did it, and you looked at him confused at the sudden intrusion, “remember the first time you sucked on them? remember what you wanted them to be?” you nodded slowly, embarrassed that he could recall how much you wanted other parts of him inside you. “I gotta stretch your little throat, bunny. gotta get you all ready for my cock.”

and that was that. the following days were spent with you either on his lap or on your knees in front of him, long and thick fingers prodding the back of your throat constantly until it only took you less than five minutes to get used to the feeling of something residing in it. sirius never let up, even if you had some tears in your eyes caused by the intrusion, always giving you new learning material: breath through your nose, relax your throat, open your mouth wide. his instructions ran through your brain every day, an urgent need to remember them controlling your thoughts.

and that’s how you were now, on your knees in front of him like a repentant while sirius sat on the edge of the mattress, mouth wide open as you waited eagerly for his fingers. you watched, intrigued, as his mandible moved around almost like he was collecting something. your unvoiced question was answered when his face came close to yours, his hand tangling itself in your hair to tilt it upwards, and then his spit was dribbling onto your pink tongue.

the sight of him spitting into your mouth sent a thrum of pleasure to your core. “swallow,” he said, leaving no room for disobedience. You followed his command, letting it fall down your throat as if it were your forbidden fruit, and once you opened your mouth again his fingers went in, immediately pressing on your tongue. you swirled your tongue around them, covering them in your saliva before he started to push them further. you only gagged a little, the previous lessons having already prepared you.

he let you suck on them a bit longer before removing them, watching as your hands scrambled to his wrist to keep them close. he shook his head, chuckling in amusement, “you needy thing.” he patted your head, “I think you are ready for my cock, angel, do you want it?”

you opened your eyes wide, looking like a kid in a candy shop. “yes, please!” your voice was a bit hoarse, “wanna make you feel good like you made me feel the other day, siri.” the smirk he wore on his lips when he heard your eager ‘yes’ fell into an honest smile, “oh I bet you’ll make me feel better than that, bunny.”

you watched from your position on the hardwood floor as he rose to his feet, unbuckling his belt and pulling the zipper down. he let his jeans fall to the floor, now only clad in his underwear that would soon meet the same fate and you wiggled, eager to finally see him. once he was completely naked he sat back on the bed, spreading his legs so you could kneel comfortably between them. he was already a bit hard, courtesy of the image of you suckling on his fingers so needily, but he still needed a little push before he was ready for you.

you were entranced by him, this being the first time you ever saw someone other than yourself completely naked. he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and you could see the slight ripples of muscle on his abdomen and the stray tattoos that adorned his skin here and there. he had a few scars, some of them caused by his parents' punishments and others from a few accidents during the full moon, but he was still absolutely beautiful.

and then your eyes fell lower, down the happy trail of hair that led to what you had been craving since that fateful tuesday afternoon. it was big, even though you had never seen another cock you couldn’t deny its length. there was a vein on one side that stood out a bit, and the tip was a bit red and something shiny was coating it. “can I please touch it, daddy?” you asked sweetly, wanting to remain on his good side.

the name had accidentally left your mouth a few days ago when you were suckling on his fingers. you were just so needy, so desperate for their weight on your tongue that your mind had started to feel fuzzy, and the nickname just slipped out.

your cheeks had resembled the heat of a fire, still sober enough to realize your mistake but when you saw the way his eyes had darkened and his grip on your waist tightened, you repeated it. he had cursed, voice low as his other hand cupped your cheek. “you want daddy’s fingers, hm?” he questioned, forcing you to tell him with your words what you wanted when you merely nodded. and that was a new lesson, ask for what you want and you were to only refer to him as daddy in private.

“go on, angel,” he said with a nod of his head. slowly, you moved one hand closer, still a bit hesitant with your movements. though eager to learn, you were still scared of doing something wrong and stop being his good girl as he had called you multiple times while he watched as you touched yourself for him. he would sit in a chair in front of the bed as he told you what to do and when to cum, and the rush of power he felt was extraordinary.

one finger traced the vein, the soft touch making sirius twitch. the skin was warm and actually pretty smooth, with a couple of ridges here and there. gently, you closed your hand around the base and moved it up and down, and sirius groaned. the soft touch drove him insane, your palm barely gripping him, “close your hand a bit more, puppy,” he instructed. you gripped him more tightly, “it won’t hurt you?” you asked.

sirius just smiled at your thoughtfulness, “no, baby, it’ll feel really good. just don’t add too much pressure as you did with your nipples the other day,” he slightly taunted. you blushed at his teasing, “didn’t mean to do that, daddy,” you grumbled and unknowingly thumbed at the slit of the tip, making him moan in pleasure. the sound was so heavenly in your ears that you did it again and again until one of his hands gripped your hair so you looked up at him.

“you’re teasing me now, bunny?” he said harshly, “that’s not how it works and you know it. d’ya want me to stop you from cumming again like I did yesterday?”

you shook your head quickly, or as much as you could with the grip on your hair, “no no, m’sorry, daddy, didn’t mean to.” but he just chuckled, an empty sound that wasn’t as nice as his previous moans. “oh, you didn’t mean to! like you didn’t mean to tug on your nipples. like you didn’t mean to wear that tiny skirt the other day. like you didn’t mean to cum without my permission three days ago.” he started to list all of your accidents, “is there anything you do mean, angel?” he asked harshly.

your lips slightly quivered at his tone, ashamed at making him angry when all you wanted was to please him. “I want to make you feel good, daddy! m’sorry, I promise I’ll be better. I’ll be your best girl.” you tried to convince him, and you really did mean it. all you wanted was to be good for him.

“well, then put my cock in your mouth and show me y’can be good.” with that, he moved your head closer towards him, and then slackened his grip. you looked at him while giving the tip a little kiss, then using your tongue to collect the pearly white liquid that had collected there. it tasted a bit funny, saltier than you remembered your own cum to taste, but it wasn’t necessarily bad. then, using the flat of your tongue, you moved along the length, using one hand to keep it straight.

sirius was biting his lip as he watched you, his little angel on her pretty knees about to suck him for the first time. after a few more teasing licks, you finally took him into your mouth, and the moan that escaped sirius was incredibly sinful. your mouth was so warm and so wet that the only other place sirius could ever possibly want to be in was your pussy.

you swirled your tongue around the bit that was inside your cavity, your hand still stimulating what you couldn’t fit yet. he was big, too big for your mouth, but you wanted to fit all of him inside, so you took a deep breath through your nose and tried to relax both your mandible and your throat before taking him deeper. you pushed as far as you could, staying there for a couple of seconds before pulling apart, heaving another deep breath before repeating your actions. you gagged and choked at the progressive obstruction, yet you pushed through it, but it sounded so good in sirius’s ears that he thought about just pushing your head down without warning.

sirius threw his head back with a groan when you started to hollow your cheeks, “fuck, angel, you’re so good, taking me so well.” he praised, and it made you shiver in pleasure, the meaning of his words accompanied by his gruff voice a perfect melody. you raised your eyes to look at him. he looked beautiful like this: head thrown back, lips red from biting them, completely exposed for you and one hand gripping the sheets while the other grabbed your head.

you pulled away with a pop, “y’look so pretty, daddy,” you complimented him, and it made the tension in his stomach tighten significantly. it was such an innocent compliment in a completely unholy scenario that he couldn’t help but twitch in your hand. you had just wrapped your lips around him again when he said, “not as pretty as you with m’cock down your throat,” and it made you giggle around him as you shied a bit at his words. the vibrations of your little laugh could’ve sent him over the edge, “shit—” he cursed.

you took him deeper than ever before, your throat now used to the intrusion and barely even gagging. sirius started to raise his hips, almost face fucking you but he held back some of the strength in his thrusts. you kept your eyes on him, and fuck you looked so good with your mouth full and those watery eyes and flushed skin that after a few more thrusts he pulled you away.

you whimpered, not understanding why he stopped your movements. there was still a string of saliva that connected your mouth to him, and he sped up his hand movements as he looked at your sinful image. “daddy,” you groused, tongue out so he could put it back in.

“fuck, angel, m’gonna cum,” he moaned, “n’ I’m gonna paint your little face, d’you want that?” he asked, slightly panting through his exertion. but you shook your head, “m’mouth, want to taste you,” and that did it for him. he cursed and moaned, all at the same time, as that wave of pleasure swallowed him whole. white spurts fell on your tongue, a few others coating your cheeks, and he looked so sinful while working through his orgasm that you had to clench your thighs together.

once he was fully spent, he watched as you eagerly swallowed what he gave you, showing him there was nothing left. his hands went to your cheeks, cleaning his cum from your face and forcing you to clean them, too. it was so dirty that he felt proud of what he made of you, his cock twitching once more before softening.

“was I good, daddy?” you asked him with a slightly raspy voice. you were looking up at him as if he were your god, his opinion of the highest importance to you. he smiled proudly, his fingers now playing with the chain that had a little ‘s’ that rested just between your collarbones. “the best, angel.”

TAGLIST: @gxtitobxby @emmaev @dracosafety @dracoxgeorge @sarcasmismyon1ydefence @remusjlupinisdead @mattefic @zzzfour —if you want to be tagged tap here

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black smut #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black one shot #marauders smut #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine

[nanobyting]

❛ you can kiss me, you know. ❜

Writer’s choice!

you already knOOOOOWWWW

wanting. (NSFW ADLER/BELL) || subtle smut prompts (accepting)

Bell struggles to get her mind back together. She was lost in the sensations, mind so far gone, and it was all because of Adler. She’s vaguely aware that he said something, but it doesn’t register until she comes crashing down into herself - gasping just to get air in her lungs again, not realizing how she was howling just moments prior with how hoarse her throat feels.

“What..? What? Why did you stop?” She whines, arching her back and thrashing a bit under him. It only made him laugh because of course he loved to watch her squirm and struggle, especially when he had her pinned under him like this while he was deep inside her, his strong hands gripping her wrists at her sides. A firm grip. Not enough to bruise, as much as she wants them to. As much as she wants him to leave marks all over her no matter what the others may say. She’d wear them like a badge of honor, to show that he was wholly his and nothing else.

He bucks into her once to make her stop moving and it almost makes her eyes roll into the back of her head as she cries out. She sucks on her bottom lip and looks up at him pleadingly, stares into those blue eyes she loves and could get lost into, and tries to hypnotize and mesmerize him with her own green eyes.

She’s never sure if that actually works on him, especially since he always just tilts his head and gives her a slight amused smirk whenever she tries.

“Whaaaaaaat?” She whines again.

He doesn’t answer right away. Because of course he doesn’t. He always loves to draw things out and make her suffer. Testing her patience. No, he just wanted to see how bad she really had it for him.

Her chest heaves as she tries to even her breathing and she can tell he’s watching the rise and fall of her chest. It always made her embarrassed to have him look at her this way even though he was already inside her.

“Have you come back down to Earth?” He muses.

She huffs and wrinkles her nose at him, straining against his grip to get more comfortable underneath him. “... yes.”

“Good,” he hums, leaning over her again and pressing her wrists further into the mattress. “I said you could kiss me.”

She stares at him, eyes wide in disbelief, incredulous. She’d laugh at his ego if she didn’t want to kiss him so badly right now. He laughs as if he’s just read her mind because she’s like an open book for him and only him.

Bell knows it’s more than just permission now. If he took the time to stop, then it means that he had told her so in the heat of the moment earlier when she was crying from ecstasy and no doubt whining and staring at his lips longingly, and now he was just teasing her because he was downright mean.

Well, it’s not like she doesn’t like it when he teases her like this.

“... Really?” She asks after a moment.

“Mhm.”

She stares at him for another minute and he doesn’t twitch, staying perfectly still between her legs. She could never hope to get the upper hand with him. Any waiting game always backfired for her.

“Go ahead,” he encourages.

She glances down to where he has his hands on her wrists pinned to the bed.

Ah.

His smirk widens and makes the scars on his face grow. It makes her want to kiss him even more, press her lips along the lines and feel every dip and groove.

“What’s wrong, Bell?”

“I can’t kiss you like this.”

“You haven’t even tried.”

She whines, but heat pools in the pit of her stomach, wanting him even more now. She strains to lean up to kiss him and lets out a disappointed shout when he leans back, away from her, and laughs at her.

“Come on, Bell,” he teases, “kiss me.”

She’s breathing heavily now, getting worked up by the second, feeling herself go crazy for him. Wanting him and nothing but him. I’d do anything for you, her eyes say, I’d let you do anything to me. 

He hums and watches impassively as her eyes grow dark, waiting for her to snap. He tightens his grip on her wrists and it’s enough to make her finally move. With a growl, she gets enough strength to lift her arms off the bed, but he doesn’t make it easy for her as he tries to wrestle them down still. She fights him, not to make him let go, no, she’d never want him to let go, but to grab at him. Like wrestling a dog down that wanted to lick inside your mouth. Which is exactly what she wanted to do.

She’d never be stronger than him. Her close quarters combat skills were exceptional, but she relied on the element of surprise and her agility to win fights. The longer it went on, the chances increased in which she’d lose. And well, she was always going to lose when it came to Adler. 

He doesn’t expect her legs, though. The ones that were resting along his thighs just moments ago and bucking up against him as they wrestled. Then suddenly they were wrapped around his waist and he found himself below her with his hands above his head. There’s a brief flash of surprise on his face before amusement comes through again, raising an eyebrow at her as the corner of his lips quirk into a small smile. She gives him a self-satisfied grin before leaning down to claim his lips.

He laughs and lets her slip her tongue into his mouth. His fingers run through her hair when she let go of his hands to cup his cheeks. She’s practically mewling just from kissing him.

“Good girl,” he praises and feels her tremble above him. His hands roam down her sides to grab her hips, squeezing them.

“Let’s continue where we left off and see how long you last this time, huh?”

#efingart #my writing #adlerbell #russell adler #bell #AHEHEEEMMEHMM #minors dni #there be some dicking down in here #risque business #yes adler is a dom daddy #yes he edges #yes he's an asshole #AND IM HERE FOR IT!!!!! #unrelated but every time i see those kink tiktoks about doms going fucking hard i just think about adler #😔 makin me go WHEWWWWWWW and giving me ideas #the ones about pleasure doms giving their subs 20 cummies make me LAUGH #writing adler makes me feel embarrassed so dont perceive me #prompt

[lavenderwhore444]

*cracks knuckles* alright let’s get this started so imagine this toga begs shigaraki to go to the beach but we all know shigaraki will say no but little shiggy here has a HUGE crush on u plus he might get to see u in a swimsuit so he says yes ( not toga trying to hug shigaraki, RIP toga 😔) anyways let’s say you usually wear sweat pants and sweaters like baggy stuff, so shigaraki is excited to see what’s under ur clothes ( pervert shigaraki again 😀) when y’all arrive there shigaraki was basically shaking from excitement he was always interested in u but he was too insecure and was afraid you’ll reject him and find him ugly, and plus u were intimidating as hell your always saying what’s on ur mind even if it destroys someone’s self-esteem anyways shigaraki was wearing some shorts and his sweater ( our baby here is insecure don’t worry we’re gonna fix that😏) as shigaraki was sitting he was disappointed since he didn’t see u yet, *turns on the moto moto song* ur coming out of the water like a sea goddess ur hair is wet u were wearing a Bikini( it can be any swimsuit u do u boo) let’s say shigaraki’s jaw dropped he was drooling as u were coming out u noticed ur boss and ran to him ( do u know those moments were the hot chick runs in slow motion that’s how shigaraki saw u) long story short shigaraki was a stuttering mess and was red as a tomato my dude was starring on ur tits the whole time u were talking ( you had a little crush on ur boss ngl u knew shigaraki liked u back so u were the one who told toga about the beach thing u were planning something 👀) shigaraki accidentally pops a boner home boy wanted to cry from embarrassment of course u noticed it and dragged him a a private place where let’s just fuck his brains out until he’s crying from how good it feels as u were dragging shigaraki was thinking ur going to beat him up or something he was terrified until u pushed him against a wall whispered to him what ur gonna do shigaraki almost fainted, as u trying to take off his sweater he started ti cry he thought u might think he’s ugly and make fun of him ( u were lowkey shocked like 😃what now??) So u decided to kiss every part of his body and tell him how beautiful he and eventually he lets u take it off. I’ll let u take the led now loll

( for kinks now I’ll say a lot of body worship kink and a lot of praise kink, I would say the reader is a super soft dom, shigaraki is a super shy and cute sub maybe the reader gives shigaraki a boob job idk do whatever ur comfortable with babe, btw it’s super fluffy)

-🤡

My Pleasure

COMMISSIONS

My masterlist got a little longer since I updated everything so you can go check it out if you want ig...

If you want to use interactive fics, it's easy and makes reading fics SO much better. First, you download the Google Chrome extension. You'll see it in the top right corner of your screen. Next, you enter your name in the first box. If you want to change something other than y/n, please click on the text that says “want to change something other than y/n?” here, you can change any word you want to a different word. When I talk about your quirk I will use y/q

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Master List

Warnings: Boob job, cunnilingus (oooh fancy word), Shiggy is insecure but dw we fix that, praise kink, use of the nickname “puppy, ” Shigarakis a pervert (not news to us), nipple play ig, body worship, soft dom y/n, sub Shigaraki, he cries :(, I hc that Shigaraki has sh scars on his thighs and they are mentioned

“Beach!” Toga yelled, “we’re going to the beach!”

She ran up to you and hugged you.

“Y/n we’re going to the beach!” she said, grinning up at you.

“We are, ” you nodded, ruffling her hair.

She ran over to Shigaraki, “come to the beach with us, Shiggy, ”

“No, ” he said, looking back at his game.

“Please, everyone is going, ” she pouted, “even y/n is coming, ”

A vision of you in a bathing suit flashed in front of his eyes. He imagined you putting on sunscreen and laying on your stomach on the beach, accidentally spilling water on your chest and your nipples perking up because of how cold you were out of the water.

“Fine, ” he said.

Toga squealed and hugged him.

“Oh- hey, what the hell?” he said, pushing her off, “don’t do that toga,”

She moved on to her next victim, “Dabi, go to the beach with us!”

“Who’s coming?” he asked, lighting a cigarette.

“I got everyone to go, ” she bragged.

“Wow, kid, everyone? Even y/n?” he asked.

Toga nodded frantically, proud of her achievement.

“God job, I’ll go, ” he smirked, “plus i’ll get to see y/n in a bathing suit, ”

You walked by and flicked his forehead, “eyes to yourself, bacon bits, ”

“God, babe, I love your little pet names for me, ” he teased.

Shigaraki glared at him, but you were already halfway up the stairs.

“Don’t look at me like that, ” he said, looking at Shigaraki, “we’re both going for the same reason, ”

“No, ” he denied, “I’m going because it's summer, and when it’s summer, you go to the beach, ”

Dabi rolled his eyes, “whatever you say, boss, ”

“Shiggy!” Toga yelled, “go get ready. We’re leaving, ”

He stood in his room staring at his swim shorts. He knew he’d have to wear them, and he could just put a shirt on too. He didn’t have to swim. He could just leave the shirt on. It would be fine. He really didn’t have a chance with you, but if you saw him without a shirt, you’d be disgusted. He felt disgusting.

You pulled out a bikini Toga forced you to buy and flopped down on the bed. Shigaraki was coming, which meant you were gonna get to see him without a shirt. You blushed and giggled, already daydreaming about him. Even though it was wrong, even though he was your boss, you just couldn't help it. You were one-hundred percent certain you were going to melt when you saw him. Toga had always said he had a crush on you. Maybe he would finally make a move. That was the plan anyways. The whole reason Toga had bugged everyone to go was by your request.

With your bag packed and swimsuit on under your clothes, you were ready to go. Shigaraki wanted to cry when he looked in the mirror. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe he shouldn't go. He heard a knock on his door.

“Hey, we’re about to leave. Are you ready?” You asked, “if not, I'll wait with you, so you dont have to go down by yourself. I hate being the last person ready. I don't want you to go through that pain, ” you laughed.

“No, I'm ready, ” he said, opening the door. No turning back now.

“Alright, let's go, ” you said, already walking downstairs.

He tried to calm himself as he walked down, trying to stop the grin that wanted to spread across his face. Finally, he thought, what was y/n hiding all this time? He was last to go through the warp gate, upset that you had already runoff. He waited around, nearly sweating to death until he heard Dabi yell.

“C’mon y/n, give us a little spin, ” he yelled.

He saw you blast him with sand using your quirk. He chuckled at Dabi’s predicament. You screamed as Dabi jumped in, splashing you with water. He picked you up in his arms only to throw you back in the water. You came up for air and splashed him again. Your splash war continued for some time, providing Tomura with entertainment until, ultimately, you called it a draw. He watched you and Toga play mermaids for a while before he grew bored and continued with his game, that was until Dabi wolf-whistled and he saw you begin to walk out of the water. You used your quirk again, sending a small tidal wave towards him.

“Youre so mean to me y/n, ” he complained.

“Shut it, patchwork, ” you said.

“Stop you're giving me butterflies, ” he smirked, getting splashed again.

You started walking again, the water slowly getting shallower and revealing more of your body. You were glistening, the sun reflecting off the water on your skin. Your cheeks were red from the sun, and he realized you had put sunscreen on in your room. Damn it. You brushed some wet hair out of your face, and your chest was now entirely on display.

“Fuck, ” he whispered.

He tried to be discrete, and the sun shining directly in your eyes certainly helped him. He stared at your stomach, the next part of your body to reveal itself. All he could think about is tracing little designs on it, laying his head on it, and putting a baby in it. Your thighs were an absolute show stopper. He wanted to suffocate between them. He averted his eyes when he realized you were walking over to him.

“Hey, can I sit here?” you asked, wringing out your hair.

“S-sure, ” he said, trying to focus on your face, which was definitely beautiful but...boobs lol.

“Thanks, ” you said, “I’d rather sit with you than all of them. I love Toga, but she’s a handful, and everyone else is staring at me. Bunch of creeps, ”

“Sorry about them, ” he said, unable to stop his wandering eyes.

“It’s ok. Nothing you can do, Shiggy, ” you said, “oh my god, you’re bright red. Did you forget sunscreen? It’s ok. I've got some, but you’re on the paler side, so you've gotta be careful, Shig, or you’ll burn up, ”

The redness on his face was because you were sitting next to him, nearly naked, but he wasn't going to admit that, especially when he saw you bend over to get sunscreen. He was trying desperately to control himself, but part of him had a mind of its own. He nearly died when you leaned in and put sunscreen on his face, laughing as you put a glob on his nose. He let out a genuine laugh that warmed your heart. You started talking, but honestly, he couldn't listen. You were very expressive when you spoke, and all the movement caused your tits to bounce, mesmerizing him.

He could only half listen, nodding and ‘mhm’ing when appropriate. You noticed quickly and gave him a few minutes to redeem himself but he failed. You grabbed his chin and made his eyes meet yours.

“Tomura Shigaraki, we're you staring at my boobs?” you said, feigning disappointment.

“N-no, I wasn't, ” he said.

You sighed, “lying about it only makes it worse, ”

“I'm sorry, ” he whispered, “I know I shouldn't have. I just...”

You let go of his chin and looked down at his lap.

“Really?” you asked, pointing out his obvious boner.

“Shit, I'm sorry y/n I'm so sorry. I know I'm gross and awful, and I'm just so sorry, ” he said, trying to cover it.

You grabbed his arm and dragged him away to the deserted changing rooms. Originally this beach was supposed to be a hot spot for tourists, but the water park a few miles closer to the city shut it down, leaving the beach in good condition. He braced himself for a slap, a punch, a kick, but he never could've prepared himself for a kiss on the cheek.

“I've been thinking about this for a while, Shigaraki, ” you whispered, “thinking about all the things I'd do to you, all the ways I'd make you feel good. Did you know I can block skin-to-skin quirks? You can touch me, baby, ”

“Y-you're not mad?” he whispered.

“No, I'm not mad, ” you shook your head, “I've always had a little crush on you Shiggy, ”

“Tomura, ” he corrected, “call me Tomura, ”

“Tomura, ” you whispered, “I can't wait to touch you. Fuck, I'm gonna kiss you all over. I can't wait to get between your thighs, baby. We've got all day, ”

He kissed you softly, enjoying your lips. They were sweet and soft in contrast to his dry, chapped ones. He felt so lacking, but the way you were kissing him made him feel like he was floating. You pushed him further against the wall, running your hands through his hair. Your arms hung around his neck, and he wrapped his arms tight around your waist. You kissed each other for a while, no teeth or tongue, just your lips pressed together. Eventually, things began to heat up. You let your tongue try and find its way between his lips and into his mouth. He groaned into your mouth. You tugged his hair, trying to get even closer. Your hands traveled up and down his chest, reaching for the bottom of his shirt.

He grabbed your hands and pulled away.

“No, ” he whispered.

You nodded, “that's ok, you don't have to, Tomura. Did I do something wrong?”

He shook his head, “you’ll make fun of me, ”

“Why would I make fun of you?” you asked, stroking his cheek.

“Because I'm not, ” his voice broke, “I don't- I'm ugly y/n. My body is disgusting you-you won't like me anymore, ”

Your eyes widened, “what?”

“You heard me, ” Tomura said, wiping away tears, “I hate myself, and you would too, ”

“That's bullshit, ” you said, “I think you're beautiful, ”

He scoffed, “you've never even seen me in shorts before now. How would you even know?”

“Because I’ll think you're beautiful no matter what, Tomura Shigaraki, ” you said, “and nothing could ever change that, ”

He shook his head and turned to walk away, but you took his hips and pushed him against the wall. You grabbed his face and kissed him harshly. You kissed his forehead next, the scar on his eye, both of his eyelids, his cheeks, the scar on his lips, and the mole under them.

“You have such a pretty face. You have gorgeous eyes, Tomura. I love kissing you, ” you whispered between kisses.

You kissed away a few stray tears that fell and pressed your forehead to his as he cried.

“Please don't look at me, ” he whispered, pressing his face into your neck.

Seeing him like this broke your heart. You held him as tight as you could, kissing the side of his head. You were going to kill whoever did this to him. You lifted his head and kissed him softly this time. You rubbed your hands up and down his sides. You sunk to your knees and kissed his thighs. Every scar was kissed and stroked lovingly even though your heart broke for him. You moved up his body to his stomach, lifting his shirt even though he tried to pull it down again. You kissed his stomach, soft, light kisses.

He started to relax a bit more, petting your hair instead of trying to pull down his shirt. You moved to his hands next, standing once again. You took his right hand and kissed his knuckles, then the top of his hand, and lastly, his palm. You repeated this on his other hand. You started kissing the scars on his neck, sucking softly. He moaned.

“That feels good y/n, ” he said, moving his hands to your hair.

“I'm gonna make you feel good, baby, don’t worry, ” you mumbled against his skin.

You bit the skin at the juncture of his neck, he groaned and whispered, “yes.” You kissed down to his collar bones, hearing his breathing get faster. This time you practically yanked off his shirt before he had time to stop you.

“So fucking beautiful, ” you said, standing back to admire him.

This time he didn't turn away from you but blushed and shut his eyes. You ran your hands up and down his chest and stomach. Shigaraki whimpered when you tweaked his nipple.

“Good boy, ” you whispered.

He nodded, “I wanna be your good boy. Please, ”

You smiled and brought his lips to yours again. You kissed his cheek and bit his ear softly.

“You're doing all the work, ” he said, “that's not fair. Besides shouldn't I be in charge? That's what it's like in...” he trailed off, embarrassed.

“No, ” you said, “I want to do this for you. I want to be in charge. I want to take care of you, baby. You deserve to relax, ”

He kissed you again, holding you tight to his chest.

“Tomura, ” you said, taking his hands in yours, “I have a question for you, ”

He nodded.

You leaned in and whispered, “how would you like to fuck my tits. You were staring at them all day so why don't you have a little fun with them, ”

He nodded frantically.

“Use your words, puppy, ” you said, scratching his head.

He groaned softly, “yes, please y/n, ”

You guided his hands to your still-clothed chest. He squeezed gently, cheeks growing bright red. You giggled and undid the back of your bikini, letting him see your tits without the thin material over them. He was practically drooling over you, wrapping his lips around your nipple. He sucked and licked them, causing you to moan. Every sound you made was a symphony to his ears, the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, and he was desperate for more. He moved upwards to litter your neck with hickeys and coax more moans from your beautiful lips.

His long fingers found their way to the strings on the sides of your bikini bottoms. With one tug at the strings, they were around your ankles. It was your turn to blush at the exposure of your body while Tomura’s eyes gleamed. He was on his knees in mere seconds, admiring your sex. You felt self-conscious as he stared at your most intimate area.

“Please, ” he said, looking up at you, “can I taste?”

“Let me do something for you first, ok?” you said, “sit on the bench, ”

He nodded and did as he was told. You kneeled in front of Tomura and took off his pants before pushing your tits together around his cock. His eyes were as wide as saucers as he watched you. You looked up at him as you bounced, moving him between your breasts. He let out a strangled groan and threw his head back.

“That's my good boy, ” you praised, “that's my baby, feels good, yeah?”

He nodded.

“Use your words, puppy, ” you reminded him.

He bit his lip and blushed, still silent, except for his little noises.

“Aww, is someone feeling shy?” you asked.

He nodded and hid his face in his hands though it did little to hide the shy smile on his lips.

“If you want me to keep going, you're going to have to be a good pet for me, Tomura. Be a good boy and speak up, ” you said, pulling his hands away from his face.

“Feels good, ” he whispered.

You decided that was good enough and continued moving him between your boobs. You watched the head of his dick throb and pulse. He began whimpering as his thighs shook. He got louder, whining and moaning desperately.

“I know, baby, I know, ” you said in response to his beautiful noises.

He cried out whimpering.

“Y/n, ” he cried, “I need to cum, ”

“Hold just a little bit longer for me baby, ” you said.

“Can't, ” he cried out, “can't hold it y/n please lemme cum, ”

“Just a little longer, ” you promised, “be my good boy, ”

He whimpered and tensed up in concentration, trying his hardest. He struggled for a while longer begging and crying to cum.

“Go ahead, cum for me, Tomura, ” you said.

He came hard, splattering your chest with his cum. Tomura was left panting and shaking while drool dripped down his chin. His dick twitched a few times more as you let it free from between your boobs. He whined pathetically. You cleaned the sticky mess up as best you could.

“Shh sweetie, I know, I know, ” you said, sitting next to him and pushing hair out of his face.

You pulled him to your chest, watching and listening to him breathe.

“Now, can I taste?” Tomura whispered.

You kissed his forehead, “of course, puppy. Go ahead, ”

He sunk to his knees, spreading your thighs. He groaned when he saw your sloppy cunt drooling for his mouth. He licked a long stripe up your entire cunt, licking over and over. Focused on taste rather than pleasure, finally indulging himself in the delicious juices of your cunt. He grew needier for your moans, trying to find the right places to lick and suck. He found a little bud at the top of your cunt to suckle on and flick his tongue over. Tomura smiled from ear to ear at the sounds coming out of you. Every moan and whimper, every grunt and groan made his heart swell. His fingers once again found their way down, this time finally entering you.

Unpracticed thrusts turned into brushing your g-spot until he realized that curling his fingers was the way to go. Hearing your moans and lewd squelches was a fantastic prize to collect.

“I'm close, Tomura, keep going sweetie, ” you choked out.

You were close, oh god, yes, you were going to cum in his mouth. He ate you out with a passion, desperate for your gorgeous pussy to drip down his chin. Harder, faster thrusts. Stronger licks and desperate slurping. When you finally tensed, he moaned in premature ecstasy, ready for your delicious cum. The vibrations coaxed a gorgeous moan from you. Cum gushed from your pussy and into his waiting mouth, lapping it up like a starved puppy. You tried to shove him away, overstimulation stabbing your cunt. When he finally pulled away, his face was red and coated in your slimy juices, as well as his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He was panting and absolutely blissed out.

He crawled back to you, clinging to your legs.

“Good puppy, ” you praised him, “you did great, Tomura, ”

He grinned, hiding his face in your thigh and giggling. You pulled him up and onto your lap, kissing him on the nose.

“Do you want me to fuck you properly baby?” you asked.

His face fell, “I can't. I'm...I'm not hard. I'm sorry, ” he whispered, tears of embarrassment welling in his eyes.

“Oh, baby, ” you said, stroking his hair, “it's ok, Tomura. It’s ok. Don't worry baby, ”

He sniffled, “ Please don't be mad at me. ‘m sorry. I'm sorry y/n I-I’m a bad boy, ”

“No baby, no, ” you said, wiping away his tears, “you're not a bad boy. You're my good boy, my special boy, ”

He whimpered, bottom lip quivering. You rubbed his back, praising him.

“My good boy, my sweet boy. You did so well for me. Tomura, you're amazing, you're such a perfect boy Tomu, ” you whispered.

He nodded, trying to compose himself.

“Lets go swimming honey, ” you said, stroking his cheek.

He shook his head frantically, “n-no I don't want them to see me, ”

You looked him in his eyes, “you are beautiful. Now come on, we’re both sweaty. Besides, I think they'll be more focused on all the hickeys you gave me, ” you giggled.

He bit his lip.

“C’mon baby, ” you coaxed him, “can you be my good boy?”

He nodded hesitantly, “I'm...a good boy. But-but what if they make fun of me?”

“Then I’ll kill them, ” you smiled, “if they're going to disrespect you, they don't deserve to be in the league anyways, ”

His eyes widened, and a small smile played on his lips. He nodded and stood up, offering a hand to help you up. You accepted, and he pulled you up and to his chest. He held you there, pressing his face into your hair.

“Thank you, ” he whispered.

You kissed him, “my pleasure, ”

#tomura fluff #tomura smut #tenko smut #tomura x reader #mha tomura #tomura imagine #shigaraki tenko #tomura shiragaki #tomurashigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki fluff #shigaraki smut #mha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader

[kumzume]

glam ft. todoroki shotō [smhub]

wc. 2.8k :3

warnings. ownership, soft-ish!dom reader, edging, v v lowkey pet play (u call him bunny lol), quiet whiny shoto, begging, miss k*nk (?), slight humiliation k*nk, crying, um

an. SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG HOLY S WORD I HOPE ITS OK I DIDNT GET ANYONE TO BETA IT SO IF THERE ARE ISSUES M SO SORRY LOVE YALL TY FOR WAITING

▼・ᴥ・▼

shoto todoroki was so pretty.

it wasn’t like he wasn’t aware — he’d heard the whispers amongst the girls back at U.A. about how attractive he was. that didn’t keep him from believing those words, his insecurities gripping him so tightly that he was unable to even imagine that anyone found him remotely appealing.

that is, until he met you.

when you first transferred into 3-A, the class was thrown into an uproar. you were beautiful, kind, and funny with a powerful quirk to boot! and yet, you never believed that you were better than anyone else, always treating every single person with respect — even bakugou (shoto couldn’t even pretend to understand how you did it but still, the behavior was so undeniably you).

it was all of your remarkable traits that ended up being shoto’s downfall. he believed you were way out of his league — you deserved someone emotionally available and sweet, things that todoroki felt, no knew, he was not. besides, with every single guy in the nearest vicinity falling for you, he knew he didn’t even have a chance.

so, shoto resigned himself to observe you from afar, watching your interactions with his closest friends and classmates, wishing that he could make you smile as wide as kirishima and deku or laugh as hard as sero and denki.

he knew he didn’t measure up and while he tried to make himself okay with that, he felt jealousy bubbling up beneath his skin when he observed shinsou helping you with your homework or bakugou training with you after school.

of course, he realized he didn’t belong to you or you to him and he had no real reason to be envious of whoever you chose to spend your time with but that didn’t stop him from fucking his hand late at night at the thought of you hovering over him, pressing soft kisses to his mangled scar and calling him beautiful.

shoto came embarrassingly quick with that fantasy, the shame and disappointment overwhelming him to the point where he’d purposefully ignored you for days after.

he could tell you were hurt by his behavior — he wasn’t entirely oblivious — but he knew it was for the best. you deserved so much more than him.

the both of you graduated and moved on to your respective agencies, shoto swiftly making his way up to the number 2 spot while you sat comfortably at number 17. neither of you saw each other very often but when you did, conversation was stilted and a bit awkward due to the intense attraction and inability to act on it on shoto’s part.

shoto was willing to go the rest of his life like this; seeing you briefly in passing, stumbling through a discussion with much difficulty, and then returning to his penthouse to hump his pillow and cry out your name.

it was a pretty good system for the most part. shoto had no worries about ever having to face his feelings for you and was content to live out his days suppressing his inner turmoil just for you.

unfortunately, the universe hates him.

at least that’s what he told himself as he stood in the center of a boardroom next to you, clad in your hero outfits and listening to instructions on an upcoming mission that required you and shoto to work together. alone. for days at a time.

what the fuck.

to be honest, shoto completely tuned out the minute he heard “one bedroom,” his mind racing with all the horribly tempting ways his fantasies could play out.

by the time the meeting was over, he was hard in his pants and entirely distracted as you attempted to make friendly small talk about your mission. shoto sort of felt like he should apologize for being an absolute brick wall, giving you curt one word answers until you decided to leave him alone.

he felt bad but what else could he do when you stood there, wearing your obscene hero costume that revealed way too much of your skin?

well, shoto was being a little dramatic but that’s how he felt! your suit was a play on the playboy bunny costume but instead of being black leather (he thinks he would actually die if you wore leather in front of him), it was a white, lightweight fabric that helped with your quirk.

it was entirely too sexy and reminded him a little too much of one of his secret kinks that he was determined to never let see the light of day.

it was going to be ok! he reasoned. all he had to do was do his job, ignore you like he’s done for the past 3 years and everything would be just fine — right?

wrong. so fucking wrong.

the mission had gone well on all accounts. you both had kicked ass, much to your enjoyment, and were able to go back home a day early!

you were so excited to finally be back in your own bed and away from the weird tension that being around todoroki brought. it wasn’t that you didn’t like him — in fact it was quite the opposite.

you found shoto alluring and gorgeous, his awkward yet endearing mannerisms drawing you further into the mystery that was shoto todoroki. regrettably, it didn’t seem like the man in question was on the same page.

every time you tried to speak with him, he would either stutter and blush or refuse to look you in the eye and give you one-word answers. it was actually ridiculously cute but he would always disappear the first chance he got.

it hurt but you weren’t one to push boundaries where you weren’t wanted.

that’s why that night, instead of going back up to the room to watch tv (uncomfortably, might i add) and knocking yourself out, you decided to go down to the bar and celebrate a job well done.

one of the perks of being a relatively unknown hero was that you could enjoy a night in public without anyone approaching you, a luxury you knew not many top 20 heroes could afford.

with that thought — and the memory of the stifling hotel room awaiting you upstairs — in mind, you made your way to the sparsely populated bar, sitting down and immediately requesting a drink (bourbon, on the rocks).

you scanned the area, counting the number of exits and patrons before your eyes landed on the handsome bartender down at the other end of the counter.

with curly brown hair, bright green eyes and a smile that could kill, there was no way you could lie to yourself and say he was unattractive. even as your mind briefly entertained the notion of taking the brunette out into the alley and fucking him within an inch of his life, your heart just wasn’t in it.

your mind just couldn’t stop drifting to the tall, dual-haired, oh so pretty, man who was (inadvertently) waiting for you upstairs. of course, you weren’t even his to wait for but you didn’t know how to keep from imagining that he was.

a deep sigh escaped your parted lips before you downed the rest of your drink, wincing at the burn it left as it went down your throat. it was getting late and you weren’t planning on spending your night alone with the janitor.

you sent the cute bartender a soft smile while pressing a crisp $20 to the counter. he sent you his own grin back as his eyes trailed down your body clad in your tight hero suit, licking his plump lips in arousal.

you were flattered, truly, but you were a little occupied with getting back to your room, changing into some comfortable pajamas and conking the fuck out.

the trip back up to your room was long and arduous to your sore body, the elevators being out of commission leaving you to take the stairs.

by the time you were at your door, you were so worn out that you were ready to collapse but before you could manage placing your key against the lock, something caught your ear.

“p-please miss,” a breathy moan of your name followed by a wet slapping noise rang out through the door. “i’ll be your perfect bunny, just let m-me cum, please-!!”

holy fuck.

shoto todoroki, the man you’d been crushing on since your years at UA was now touching himself to the thought of you doing god know what to him and he was calling you miss?

you felt heat flood your core, your knees buckling under the heavy weight of your lust. now braced against the door, you leaned your ear against the wood, determined to hear exactly what was getting him off.

more wet noises permeated through the walls — did he just spit in his palm??? — before a long whine left his pretty pink lips.

“m-miss, i belong to you, y-you own me,” he gasped, the creaking of the bed just barely audible beneath his wavering voice.

by now, you knew you’d soaked through the crotch of your hero costume, your clit throbbing painfully beneath the fabric of your panties. you also knew you should turn around, head back to the bar and order another drink, leaving shoto to finish himself off but you couldn’t.

your feet were implanted in place, ear glued against the door as you listened to your partner masturbate to the thought of you owning him.

quietly, you lifted the hand gripping your key to the door, allowing the touchpad to register before slowly pushing the door open.

the sight that greeted you was otherworldly.

the blinds were parted allowing a dreamy haze of moonlight to envelop the room, casting the pale man before you in a somehow whimsical light.

he was stripped down to nothing, lying on his back with a hand wrapped around his gorgeous, swollen cock, furiously stroking himself to completion.

the plump lips that you had spent so much time admiring were parted, allowing whines and whimpers to leave them sporadically as his lithe hips bucked up into his hand.

shoto’s eyes were clenched shut so he was unable to see your dumbfounded, painfully aroused face as you crept into the room, leaning against the wall with your hand pressed to your mouth.

it wasn’t as though you’d never seen a man naked before — you’d had your fair share of men naked in your bed begging for you — but this was something else.

this was shoto — somehow more intimidating than anyone else you’d ever brought to bed and yet you’ve never wanted anyone more.

which is why you were almost surprised at yourself when you opened your mouth and whispered, “stop.”

immediately, shoto’s eyes shot open, wide with fear and apprehension as he lied there frozen, his hand still wrapped tightly around his girth.

the both of you stood there staring at one another, neither of you able to move. you let yourself have this moment to look at him, your eyes tracking all over his muscular form before landing on his length, not missing how it twitched under your gaze.

“i-“ shoto started but he was quickly interrupted by your own voice. “s’this what you do when i’m gone? touch yourself to the thought of me? you’re so dirty bunny.”

it was impossible to hide the low groan that echoed out in the hotel room, shoto’s cheeks burning red in humiliation. a grin crept across your face as you made your way towards him, giggling to yourself at the way he moved up and away from you on the bed.

“now you’re trying to hide, bunny? you weren’t hiding when you were moaning out my name.” your hand slid up his thigh until it was resting on his sharp hipbone, an abrupt gasp leaving his chest.

your hand continued its trajectory, fingers trailing across his tummy before coming to wrap around the base of his cock.

“o-oh fuck, miss—“ a thick drop of precum leaked from his slit and onto your awaiting hand as a low moan departed from the dual-haired boy.

one of his hands shot out to hold yours, drawing your attention to his heterochromatic gaze. shoto’s eyes held so much emotion, small tears already littering his lashline while the moonlight illuminated his crimson scar. he was ethereal.

“pretty,” you hummed, giving him a gentle smile while your hand squeezed his in reassurance. you’d had enough experience to know that that kind of comment was guaranteed to get some kind of vulnerability but what you were not expecting was the expletive shoto muttered before leaning forward to press his lips to yours.

immediately, he was over-enthusiastic, his lips and teeth clashing with yours messily, almost painfully, before you took control of the kiss, slowing shoto down before slipping your tongue inside his mouth.

his quiet groan vibrated into the kiss as you deliberately laid him down, resting his back against the pillows. from there, you had more access to his body, your lips trailing down to his neck while your hand took its place back on his length, lazily pumping him up and down.

“m-miss!” shoto choked, his eyes widening yet again, holding you with his stare. you chose not to respond, instead stroking him quicker while pressing kisses to his shoulder.

“miss,” he tried again, this time more deliberately. “p-please tell me i’m yours...”

with him asking so sweetly, a few tears leaking from his gorgeous eyes at the overwhelming moment, how were you supposed to deny him?

“of course bunny,” you purred, leaning down to peck his nose, sending shivers through his body. “you are mine.”

shoto’s reaction was instantaneous. his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth dropped open as he felt his pleasure begin to crest, determined to push him over the edge.

you, of course, noticed his body’s response and quickly pulled your hand off of him, painfully ripping his orgasm from his grasp. a disappointed whimper resonated throughout the room as shoto’s eyes found yours, staring at you with such betrayal that you almost found it funny.

“c’mon bunny,” you moved until you were kneeling between his legs, your hands leaving featherlight touches to his inner thighs. “you can hold out for me, right?”

shoto nodded before he could stop himself, desperate for anything you would give him.

besides, it couldn’t be that hard to hold off, right?

...

wrong. so very wrong.

it had only been 30 minutes but it felt like 2 hours since you started playing with him and keeping him from coming.

shoto was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, both hands tangled in his bi-colored locks, eyes squeezed shut with tear tracks now drying on his cheeks and his cock standing fully at attention.

it was purple, throbbing, and covered in precum as you licked a stripe up the side making shoto sob in pleasure.

he had never been harder in his life and he was certain that he would just die if you didn’t let him cum soon.

“p-please, please, miss, please, let me cum,” he babbled, shaking his head mindlessly while bucking his hips up into the warm heat of your mouth.

you chose to ignore his pleas while you moved your mouth over his tip, sucking hard while your hand pumped what wasn’t in your mouth.

“a-ah-!!” shoto shrieked, his back bowing off the bed, his orgasm coming on so hard and so fast that he felt like he was going to explode. “c-can’t hold back m-miss, i can’t, i can’t!”

your hand continued to pick up speed before you pulled your mouth off of him, toying with his tip while leaning up to breathe into his ear.

“cum for me bunny. you’re mine.”

with a cry of your name, shoto came, thick spurts of cum covering his abs, chest and thighs as his body convulsed under the weight of his bliss.

it was the most all encompassing orgasm he’d ever had and you, his former classmate, current partner, and future lover, was beside him through it all, helping him ride it out.

in the back of his mind, shoto knew he should be at least a little worried about how your relationship was going to change after all of this but he couldn’t bring himself to care. you were here and now, bringing him the most pleasure he’d ever undergone with nothing but kind words and a smile, filling his touchstarved heart with heat and, dare he say it, love.

shoto may not have been the funniest or the most open but you chose him, even if it was just for the night. and now that he unlocked how much he loved you, nothing else mattered — just you and him.

as he collapsed back into the sheets, his head just barely registering the cool rag wiping him down, he took pride in how he finally admitted it to himself; shoto loved you and he would be damned if he let anyone else take him away from you.

now, all he had to do was tell you but that was a conversation for another day.

▼・ᴥ・▼

taglist. if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you!!

@anikazoldeck • @hakunamatatayqueen • @alilsumnsumn • @sukunaslefttesticle • @hawksyoongi • @rivviespens • @kenmas-nintendoswitch • @myumyutie • @unicorngluttony • @bloomyagi • @shantellmcintosh • @queenhxla • @yeyehdom • @persies-main • @yikes-buddy • @nnmesis • @thehandsresisthim • @hinatabokeboke • @joongsite • @amazinghefi • @sarcasticambiguity • @mr-bombastic • @i-am-literally-deranged • @ch0pi • @aonjuh • @www-bubblefish • @meliorist-midoriya • @maizurie • @idkdude776 • @midarislonglostlefteye • @queerloser17 • @franklyrobin • @ravioliplease • @ashsera • @chirumi • @yamashiro888 • @xxjosiexx • @krstnn • @bbsista • @seij6hs • @franklyrobin • @chirumi • @melodysakura

#the taglist is open!!!! #BUT SORRY RHIS TOOK 1 BILLION YEARS #I HOPE ITS WORTH IT #ALSO PLS GIVE ME FEEDBACK I NEED IT LIKE WATER :3 #😽.writing #smhub <3 #shoto <3 #shoto todoroki #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shouto smut #todoroki shoto #shouto smut #todoroki smut #todoroki shouto #todoroki shōto #todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #shouto x reader #shouto x you #shouto x y/n #bnha shoto #mha smut #bnha smut #mha shoto #shoto x reader #shoto x you #shoto x y/n #bnha x reader smut #bnha todoroki

[hobidreams]

november 1869.

to remember what has been lost; to protect what still remains.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama. words: 2.4k contains: descriptions of blood/death, a reckoning.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 26. start from the beginning?

Before Queen Jeonghui’s tomb, you stand with hands bowed in reverence, mind laden with warm memories as sticks of incense burn above your fingertips.

“We all miss you, daebi-mama. I hope you are resting well,” you murmur, letting the smoke mingle with your breath in the air as you bow, deeply. “Happy birthday.”

A little ways away, the single guard that accompanies you is also offering his thoughts to the raised, grassy mound that the queen lies beneath. You’re glad it’s Myungho to come with you today. He’s a good man, one who allows you as much freedom as possible. He understands your need to escape sometimes. Nearby, the horses you rode here are grazing on the field, quietly snorting as their tails swish from side to side.

As you look upon the tomb, you wonder wistfully if mother has found the queen in the spirit world. If they’re playing the game of janggi they so loved in life, when both could find the rare time to continue their decade-long (friendly) rivalry while indulging in cups of strong, dark tea. The thought brings a smile to your face even as fresh tears fall at the remembrance.

In your peripheral vision, you see a swish of fabric, the sign of someone approaching. You give one last bow and slot your incense in the traditional tray, realizing it must be time to leave before it gets too cold and your limbs begin to freeze even under the layers of clothes. You must go back eventually, you know it, but that doesn’t make it easier.

But when you turn, the man that stands beside you wears royal robes — the scarlet fabric and golden dragons unmistakable.

“Jeonha?”

The king’s face holds only sorrow as he holds matching incense in his hands. Staring straight ahead, he bends into a bow, dipping his head repeatedly low, low, lower until he’s almost on the dying, waterlogged grass with it, the lit grey tips flickering in the wind as they are nearly doused from the force of his movements. He bites his lip hard, so hard he draws blood as he punishes his own legs with the bows but he doesn’t stop.

You watch him with emotion clinging to your throat, but you swallow the questions you want to ask as you swipe at your wet cheeks. Why are you here? Why did you change your mind? How are you? Are you okay? All these impertinent questions are for you, to satisfy your own curiosity, and that’s not what he needs right now.

Quietly, steadily, you wait until he has finally stuck in the incense in the memorial ash. You wait until he opens his eyes, red-rimmed as they are, and finds your gaze.

“I… decided at the last moment,” he murmurs. “You… were right. I had to see her.”

You nod. Think you understand everything else he means as well, even if he’s left it unspoken. “Me too.”

“She would have liked that you’re here.”

That simple sentence threatens another wave of nostalgia and longing. You let it pull you under. Sink yourself into it. The mourning, the grief. And the love. The love that was there. The love that still remains, the traces of it held in you both. Your fingers twitch with a sudden, daring want to take his hand. To meet your palms and find the warmth and the life pulse that beats so closely, so resolutely just beneath the surface despite all this pain and all this loss. If you could just reach out. If you could just take another risk…

“Jeonha, run!”

The scream comes from the hill behind you. You both whirl.

The head of the royal guard comes running over with his sword drawn. His teeth are grit, hair blown from the wind that sweeps through the grass, rippling. His blade is already stained with a color that makes your stomach lurch at the implication.

“Hoseok— What’s going on?” The king yells back.

“Rebels! An ambush. We don’t have enough men!”

These few seconds are all the warning you get.

An incredible roar of voices comes exploding up and then you see them. The thick crowd of men that come surging over the hill, fighting their way towards you. The unforgettable clatter of metal on metal desecrates this once-sacred ground. Your legs go soft as you panic, scrambling. You’re trying not to watch as guards and rebels alike are cut down, but the enemies are steadily advancing still. What should you do? Where should you go?

“Myungho, get the horses!” The king barks out. But one look at the steeds tells you that they’re frightened, rearing back as men descend upon them. They’re off, running away on instinct to preserve their own lives while damning yours.

“Jeonha, what are your orders?” Myungho’s grip on his weapon is tight.

“Go. Help Hoseok.”

“Yes, jeonha!”

But as the battle wears on, the dread in you only grows. The king’s men are skilled, but it seems there were only a few to begin with. They are overwhelmed by sheer numbers, yelling for jeonha to escape but he doesn’t move. You don’t know what to do. You are at a complete loss, standing beside him with fingers growing steadily numb. You have to do something. You— You can’t just let it end here, at the hands of these men bellowing with violence and anger and pain.

“Jeonha, w-we have to run,” you stutter, forcing yourself to move, tugging at the fabric of his robes. But when you look back at the opposite side, your only escape route, a throng of rebels come scattering across the grass. Cutting you off; rendering you helpless.

“Myungho, cover the rear!” Hoseok spits out as he takes down another three by himself, the quick whip of his blade reflecting a beam of sun. But even he, with two other guards in front, cannot hold all of them off, though there are less of the rebels now that remain standing.

Caught in the middle, you can only watch your allies strain and sweat. In your heart, you promise desperately that you heal them in the end, if only they will hold on now.

With an awful cry, one of the guards hits the ground and a rebel uses that chance. Breaks through the line of defense and charges right towards you both.

“Fuck the king!” He yells, his face smeared with dirt, his sword raised as his bare feet trip upon the grass but he just keeps coming somehow and you have no weapons and you have no shields but the very first instinct, the most primal one you have is to throw yourself in front of the king and take his pain for him and—

Hoseok dispatches the rebel from behind just as you move a single step forward.

“You…” The king’s voice is hoarse. His eyes are wide with shock as he stares at you, at what you just did. Then he’s shoving you aside and stooping to pick up the abandoned sword from the ground.

You realize what he means when he sweeps up his sleeves, adjusts his grip on the worn handle. “Wait, no, jeonha, you cannot—”

“Stay behind me.”

“I cannot allow you to—”

“Do not argue with me.”

Again, he leaves you with no choice but to watch his back.

Fear pounds away in your body like a thousand drums, thunder booming through the pulse of your clenched heart in your ears as the king takes a first brutal swing at an enemy. Somewhat out of practice against the towering man, he’s shoved back by the sheer force of the clash, feet skidding across the wet grass but he refuses to yield. Stubborn as he always is, he rushes in again only to be pushed back. Again.

The king tilts his blade, slices it quick only to have one sent right back at him, barely missing his shoulder by an inch. He doesn’t even flinch as he stands firm. Adapts in the moment and tries a new strategy, a new tactic that has him spinning, robes fluttering in the winter air as his shuddering breath comes out in a puff of white and ends in a fury of red. And again. And again until finally, finally, only the strongest of the rebels remain standing with the few allies you left, along with your brutal, bloodied king.

Before you, all the men are panting, open mouthed, every last one of them desperate for a victory that spells the doom of the other.

“Come on then,” the king goads, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a show of nonchalance even though he’s obviously fatigued. “Attack.”

“You little shit!”

This man is enormous, easily a head above the king and he’s strong, muscles bulging from his torn tunic as he thrusts the sword ahead with surprising speed. The quick rush of air slices through two layers of robes, splitting the dirtied fabric open as the king narrowly escapes without a new scar. But his return stab doesn’t meet a mark and he’s slow on the rebound, steps lost some of the agility he had at the start.

Please. Please, you beg to whatever god may be listening, don’t let him die. But that rebel seems to have an endless strength as he forces the king back, meets him blow for blow for blow and you are so worried, terrified you’re going to see his last moments like this. Like this you will have been with him until the end just like you once stupidly wished. You’re so caught up you don’t realize what’s going on behind you.

“Su-uinyeo-nim! Watch out!” Myungho’s voice cracks as he cries your name, but you turn too slow. Myungho’s on the ground and the rebel that beat him is sprinting towards you, savagery in his scowl, his crude axe already suspended in mid-swing, just a few more steps, just one more shove to land right across your heart and you, you who has never held a weapon before in her life, you who has lived to heal and mend instead of hurt, what can you do right now but die?

“No!”

The scream is hoarse, a furious sound matched with a rush of robes that whip past your own.

You peel open your eyes in time to watch the king take the axe blow meant for you with his left arm. Despite his bark of pain, he swings with his right in exchange and it’s enough. The rebel falls, his axe plummeting uselessly beside him. Then the king falters too, sword clattering down as he finally drops to his knees.

“Jeonha!” You scramble to him. “Oh god, oh god, jeonha, why did you do that— Jeonha, how could you do such a thing? Jeonha!” You part the stained robes, stomach churning at the raw sight of his sacrifice. “We need to fetch you help. You need medicine, oh god, oh god.” This is panic like you’ve never felt it before as you look around, as if some miracle could occur, as if it hasn’t already occurred by the fact that you’re both still alive.

To one side, Hoseok is alone, gasping hard with the enormous rebel lying prone beside him, evidently having finished him off. Myungho has a gash running down his side, but he’s crawling towards you both still with a hand pressed to his wound for pressure. There is no one else. You have to do this on your own. You have to calm the hell down.

Using the nearby sword, you force yourself to focus and stop shaking as you cut strips of the inner layer of your skirt. You have to save his arm even as nausea swims in your mind, nerves making you want to empty your stomach.

“Hah...” The king’s chest lurches as he struggles for air. His eyes are hazy but he manages to fix them on you, as if to ground himself. “You’re… safe?”

Nodding frantically, you start to wrap the cloth around him, willing your fingers not to slip. “I-It’s deep, jeonha. Your wound is so deep.” You’re quietly sobbing as you tie the makeshift bandage to stop the worst of the bleeding. How could he be thinking of you at a time like this? It must hurt excruciatingly so, yet he is still trying to be strong.

Beside you, Hoseok is carrying Myungho’s weight, using the extra cloth to help his ally with his limited medical training.

“…Hoseok.” The king sucks in another long breath. “They… Those rebels were peasants, weren’t they?”

“Yes, jeonha… I think they were.”

He accepts this knowledge silently as you finish your preliminary treatment, but lack the resources to do anything else. You stare at the fresh red seeping through the flimsy cloth and hope desperately that it will be enough for now, until one of you can return to the palace and gather reinforcements to take you home. Feeling your fingers stop, he immediately tries to move his arm but winces, bites his lip at the sudden jolt.

“Don’t move, please,” you instantly say.

The king huffs a long, exhausted sigh as he sinks into the ground. Lets the tension seep out of him, though likely not by choice. His dark eyes flicker to the tomb briefly before they slide closed, the scar ever slashed startlingly crimson across the right side. Despite his best attempts, he is still winded, depleted. Human, after all. After all of this.

You brush matted strands of light hair away from his forehead, and pat at the drops of sweat that linger and prove how hard he pushed himself to fight. He shifts into your touch like a stray animal, allowing you take care of him for once without argument until his breaths even some, settling only in your arms.

“It seems it’s been a long time,” he says softly after a moment, his eyes remaining shut.

“Since?”

“Since I’ve protected someone.”

Your pulse catches. Blood thrums through you as you whisper, “but you did.” Your voice is viscous with relief, and gratitude. “You did.”

Only now do you dare to reach for his hand, to lend him some of your strength, even though you have seen again just how much of it he already holds in himself.

Wrapped in your warmth, he squeezes back just the once. Lets you know he is here, he is here, he is here with you still.

a/n: because i could never forget the way he wielded that sword in the mv. so... how you feel about our king now?

#ficswithluv #btsghostie #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts angst #yoongi angst #historical au #moonlit throne #rain writes #things only continue to shift don't they?

[thatweeboverthereisthirsty]

Can I call you mine?

A commission from the lovely @carlottastudios who I absolutely adore after only having a few conversations with. These were jealousy scenarios with a bit of spice! I went over my word limit on Jamil’s but that’s just cause I love him so much! Please enjoy! And commissions are open still! This one cost $3

Warnings: slight spice, fem!reader, jealousy, protectiveness, possessive behavior, light light LIGHT angst, marking kink (is that a thing? oh well. Basically a love bite that displays their claim.)

   “In the jungle, the botanical jungle, a lion sleeps all the time~!” you sang out teasingly. Leona huffed and his tail thumped against the ground once in irritation. Giggling, you slid closer and poked said tail, which retracted swiftly, prickling in annoyance.

   “Scram herbivore.” Leona’s tone was mildly annoyed but had no bite to it. Truthfully he hoped you would inch just a bit closer so he could grab you and hold you hostage as his pillow. 

   You hummed and stood, much to his displeasure, and grabbed your school stuff. Quietly you packed everything away and threw out your lunch trash before returning to Leona’s spot one more time.

   “I have class now, Leona. I’ll see you later, kay?” he grunted in agreement and watched you walk away, nose twitching as he inhaled your fresh scent one last time before it began to fade. The down side of the botanical garden was that any smell other than flowers was quickly dispersed by the sickeningly sweet perfume of nectar.

   The lion sighed and stared up at one such flower with distaste. How dare they try to outdo his beloved? He would never appreciate their scent more than hers. He rolled his eyes at the ridiculous thoughts and fell back asleep. He hummed as he did so, mimicking the tune you had sang to him. He missed you already.

----------

   5:48 P.M. You were 18 minutes late. 18 minutes had passed since you were supposed to be in Leona’s bed, curled up next to him, petting his ears, and doting on him like the king he was. 18 minutes where Leona gradually became more worried, as well.

   It wasn’t like you to be late. Especially not late to a night with him. It set his instincts off and he was on high alert, tensed, ready to pounce on anything that dared touch his mate. Finally when the clock turned 5:20 he sprang out of bed and strode down the hall with power that sent the message “don’t mess with me”.

   In the Savanaclaw lounge you were seated next to the decorative pool, chatting amidly with a fellow student. Leona glared and growled when he spotted you, far too close to the other man for his liking. He watched in anger, as the student slid even closer to you so that your hips touched briefly.

   Rage flashed in Leona’s eyes and his expression darkened into something dangerous. He stalked over behind you and the student, who seemingly didn’t notice his presence and hastily picked you up before throwing you over his shoulder. 

   “Hey! Put me down!” you cried out and he snarled at you. “Quiet, herbivore!” Recognizing your boyfriend's voice you stilled and relaxed a bit. At least it wasn’t some stranger. 

   He mentally gave you points for fighting back when you didn’t know who it was. “That’s right, only I get to touch you.”

   Looking down at the student who had been sitting with you, he noticed your homework was on his lap and realized he had just been helping you. He growled and turned walking away, a bit upset that he didn’t have a good reason to turn them to dust. Not that he needed one, but he couldn’t imagine upsetting you by harming one of your classmates, no matter how much he wanted to.

   Soon he reached his room and threw you on the bed. You landed with a gasp and looked up at him in confusion and slight annoyance. “Leona! What was that-MPH!”

   He silenced you quickly by shoving you down on the bed and sliding his tongue into your mouth. Immediately your body relaxed underneath him and he smirked when you brought your hands up to weave into his hair. 

   Only he got to touch you like this. Only he got to kiss you. Only he got to say that you were his. His and his alone! 

   You panted when he pulled back and started to ask why but he kissed you again so you couldn’t. “Jealous. Protective. Possessive. Mine” He said between kisses and soon trailed them along your jaw and down to your neck.

   A breathy moan slipped from your lips as he sucked on the sensitive skin near your collar. He kissed up until he was right over the junction between your neck and shoulders. Then he bit down hard, drawing a loud cry from you. 

   The taste of your blood only just barely appeared before he pulled back and began to kiss the wound. He knew that licking it would irritate it further due to his cat-like tongue, but he still attempted to soothe it as much as possible.

   Finally he pulled back completely and gazed down at you with a smirk. Several different bruises and love bites littered your neck, shoulders, and collar. Only one had been deep enough to break the skin. It would scar he was sure and the thought of you always wearing a symbol of his claim made him purr.

   He stopped though when he realized he could have hurt you. “I’m sorry. Princess, I didn’t mean to get so upset, it’s just instincts.” he sighed. 

   You smiled at him and pulled him down for another kiss. “Don’t worry. I find it super sexy when you get possessive.” His eyes widened in surprise and he took in your mild blush. “Hmmm…” he purred with a smirk. “Well in that case you don’t mind if I mark you up a bit more… and while I’m at it you can use that pretty voice of yours to remind the whole dorm that you’re mine and mine alone!”

   Jamil gritted his teeth and turned away from the lounge. He made his way to the kitchen and immediately began to prepare more horderves. Kalim’s party was going wonderfully, of course all due to his hard work. Although he supposed he appreciated a week's notice and Kalim did help magically with some of the decorations.

    He was still stressed, but not quite as much as he could have been, had Kalim not given him a warning. In fact he was looking forward to actually trying to enjoy one of Kalim’s parties for the first time since he was born. 

   It was a very nice party and since everything was going smoothly, Jamil found time to sit down and sip some juice. Alcohol wasn’t allowed on school premises but grape juice mimicked the taste nicely depending on what brand you bought. Kalim was partial to the sweeter stuff, while Jamil preferred it to be more sour.

   However, he found that the sour taste in his mouth wasn’t from the juice at all when he spotted you dancing joyously with some other student. His smile fell into a frown and he watched angrily as the student pulled you close and said something that made you laugh.

   You had a beautiful laugh, it was the kind that made everyone in the room sigh in content when they heard it. Jamil fell in love with it almost as hard as he had fallen in love with you. Especially because you rarely laughed for anyone but him.

   To hear you generously sharing that sound with some nobody sent flashes of anger through him.  He clenched his fists and dug his nails into his palms a bit. Just remembering it made him pissed.

   Shaking his head to clear it, Jamil got to work cutting up some more vegetables at a fast speed that would intimidate anyone who tried to approach him. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone so he glared darkly at the food in front of him in an attempt to send off silent go away signals.

   Kalim, who entered the room to find Jamil after seeing him storm off, caught sight of the frustrated man and paused to observe his body language. Ever since Jamil’s overblot, Kalim had been trying to read his friend's emotions better. Luckily he caught on quickly and left the room.

    Jamil sighed in relief and set the knife down. Why the hell would you wanna hang out with anyone but him! You were his and his alone! The only thing he had claim over, or ownership of. Mentally he berated himself for thinking that way. You weren’t an object, you were a person and you should be allowed to do whatever you want. He would be a hypocrite if he tried to restrict your choices and behaviors.

   “Jamil?” The man spun around and found you standing behind him with a concerned look on your face. “Kalim told me you looked upset, is everything alright?” Your tone was soft and worried. It eased Jamil’s emotions in the way it always had. You always put him first, a habit he both loved and hated. On one hand he adored being pampered for once, on the other he knew what it was like to ignore your own wants and needs for another person.

   He sighed and put on a smile, taking your hands in his own. “Just tired that’s all.” you frowned and glared up at him in the way you always did when he lied.

   “Now, I know that’s not true. I’m not gonna force you to tell me, but I also want you to know that you can be honest with me. That’s why I’m here.” Jamil bit his lip and turned away, a flush rising on his cheeks.

   “The truth…” he hesitated. “The truth is I don’t want you hanging out with that other student!” The sudden exclamation took you aback and you blinked in surprise. “I don’t want to control you or tell you what to do and who to hang out with, but I also want you all to myself. No one else should be able to touch you or whisper in your ears, or dance with you, or make you laugh and smile. That’s my job, because your mine, not theirs!”

   At this point you were blushing as well, but noticed he was beginning to get upset. “And I’m so sorry for saying that like you’re some object, cause you’re not. You’re a person who deserved to make their own choices and decisions, but goddamnit I can’t help wanting you all to myself. You’re- you’re…” he paused and looked at you. “You’re special… to me. I don’t want anyone taking you away from me. I know i’m being a hypocrite but don’t go back out there. Stay here and be mine-”

   Jamil was cut off by you kissing him passionately on the lips. His eyes widened before they fell closed and he snaked his arms around your waist, tugging you flush against him with a growl. 

   His tongue swiped at your lips and you parted them obediently. He smirked and chuckled lowly before slipping it into your mouth. “Good girl.” You moaned through the kiss and felt your knees weaken. He pulled you around and lifted you effortlessly onto the counter. His kisses moved from your lips to your neck where he simultaneously worshipped and abused your skin.

   Love bites and dark bruises displayed his rough treatment, but the sighs that fell from your lips told him that you were enjoying it greatly. Silently he pulled back to observe his handiwork and smirked at the amount of marks he had left behind. Some would be easy to hide, whereas others he had left strategically in places that would be impossible to cover up. He felt a little guilty, knowing that you would be slightly upset later for making it so hard to hide the fact that he had been kissing you, but seeing something almost like a name tag, or a brand, that signified you were his and his alone, stirred something in him and he was tempted to never let you leave his sight without a mark warning people off about advancing on you.

   “Jamil…” you spoke shakily. He looked at you and how wrecked you were just from some kisses and his gaze darkened with lust. His tongue licked his lips subconsciously and he watched you shiver in reaction. “I have something important to tell you…”

   He raised an eyebrow and moved his head to the other side of your neck, placing kisses and marks there as well. It made it very hard to think so you momentarily pushed him away, making him growl in displeasure. “Don’t feel bad about being possessive over me, okay? Because when you are…” you hesitated, “it’s really freaking hot.”

   His eyes widened and an almost evil smile drew up on his lips. “That so… well, then I guess you don’t mind me leaving a few more marks over here,” he licked a stripe up your neck drawing a gasp from you, “to show the whole world that you belong to me!” He snarled it out before biting lightly at your skin and relishing in the way you tilted your head to the side with a moan. Yeah, he could get used to you hanging out with other boys so long as he got to do this to you before and after.

#twisted wonderland #twst #leona x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #twst leona x reader #twst jamil #Jamil Viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #commision

[raggaraddy]

Idk of I/someone else has already asked this but how would the yanderes react to having a mute s/o

Mute

A/N: Hi Hi. Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy it! 💜💜💜

Trigger warning: Yandere themes, violence, abuse, unhealthy relationships, blood drinking, descriptions of medical care.

Line: Mini-Rap Line (Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin)

Alpha! Namjoon

"How long are you going to keep this up?" Namjoon asks, trying to mask the genuine irritation in his voice.

It's been 8 days and you haven't said a word to him. Now, if you weren't talking at all that would be one thing, but you were specifically not talking to him, and would talk to other people with no problem. Trying to make it as pointedly obvious as possible that you were avoiding him and him alone.

The blatant disrespect of this was driving him mad. But he had never set a rule that directly stated that you have to talk to him or reply to him, and he knew that you would only fight it further if he instituted the edict now.

For you though, you were having the time of your life making him suffer. It was rare for you to have so much control between the two of you, and you were abusing it to the fullest. Especially given the reason this all started.

A week ago you were whining because he wouldn't let you go to the town fair without him. An unreasonable decision he made. Because as you tried to point out, you were going to be surrounded by the pack anyhow, and the excuse he gave for not going was a very unnecessary border run that anyone else could do in his place. While he wants to deny it, you know the real cause for his refusal though. It's because you sounded too excited about seeing your new friend at the fate and he was jealous. Even though she was another girl, for whom you had no romantic feelings, he was still jealous. And petty. You could see it in the way he mentioned her name or his face when you spoke about her.

But even with all that, it was his injustice that really made you snap. The exact words he said to you as you tried to reason your point, were; If you're going pout I don't want to hear another word from you. Basically, he told you to shut up just because he couldn't come up with any valid rebuttals and he didn't want to lose. So fine, if he wanted to be a dick, you were going to simply take his own instruction and hyperbolize it.

And his frustration was worth every moment of silence.

While he was hoping not to further blow this out of proportion, Namjoon was trying to break your silence by being strict towards all your other undesirable behaviour. Disciplining you for each and every rule you broke. Hoping to wear you down, or at the very least provoke you into another argument so that he could claim victory.

He was giving you time outs, taking away your electronics, making you hold quarters to the wall, refusing you junk food and sweets, making you stay by his side the entire day and so on. Fully running through all of his most infuriating and childish punishments. But no matter what he did, you remained defiant. And he was at the end of his rope.

Sitting in the kitchen, you were talking with the Gamma and two other wolves during a patrol break. As Namjoon was putting lunch together, you were happily observing his clenched jaw. However, the aggravation their Alpha was exuding was putting the wolves on edge and they were trying to include him in any way they could. Asking his opinion on topics as trivial as shoes, in the hopes to offset the irreverence you were showing.

When they asked him which of two brands he prefered, you interrupted, sick of their transparent attempts.

"No one cares what he has to say." You snip turning your back to him. For the first time in days, you were referring to him, and all the attitude you had stored up was pouring out in those words. You didn't take a second to think about what you were really saying though.

With an almighty crash, Namjoon smacks his hand into the benchtop, catching the side of the plate causing it to shatter. All three wolves and you jump. Quickly the words replay in your head as you see their wide-eyed gawking. Then the realization hits, you were safe being underspokenly disrespectful, but being outrightly so... he had rules set about that, and now you'd just given him the right to punish you in the way he had been itching to.

Grabbing your arm before you can protest he drags you upstairs to your shared bedroom. With weak shoves and refusals, you stay determined not to utter a single word. But as Namjoon pulls onto the bed, dragging you over his lap, as he lifts up your dress and tears down your underwear, you recognise that it's not time to play anymore.

Ignoring your shouts, your foul language, and eventually your cries for him to stop, he holds you down and smacks your ass raw. After about 20 minutes and once he's reduced you to tears, he finally lets up.

"Apologize," he demands. Still crying, you're too out of breath to reply at once, and that pause costs you. His hand comes down on your bruised ass again making you scream. Your cries turning into whimpered hiccuped apologies as you cling to the tear-soaked duvet.

Satisfied with your change in attitude, Namjoon at last stops. Not letting you run away like you want though, instead he has you straddle his lap, his legs carefully spread so your bruised butt doesn't have to sit on anything.

"Do you understand why I did that Y/n?" He asks softly pulling you into his chest. His hand running over your back.

You know why he did it, but you're too bitter to answer him and can only muster a grunt.

"Still not speaking to me, huh?" He smiles knowing he has already won whether you wanted to admit it or not, "Because if you're going to continue being disrespectful, I don't care if your ass is still glowing, I will bring you back up here."

You can only grunt again. Hating him, while you nevertheless cuddle in closer not wanting him to stop comforting you. He chuckles feeling your energy. Fiddling with your clothes and hair to realign and neaten them.

"Beautiful," he purrs in your ear, "If it really means that much to you, I will have someone cover me this Friday so I can take you to the fair." He consigns, kissing your forehead. You finally look up to him, head tilted and mouth slightly open. "Do you want that?"

Looking down and away, you're pouting a little but you push the word out. "Yes,"

"Okay, I will. But you have to be on your best behaviour from now until then." Namjoon winks.

You lost, but you still got what you wanted in the end. So maybe you can chalk this up to a draw. And at the very least you've found a way to get what you want in the future. So maybe that can be considered a win.

Assassin! Yoongi

Because of your disrespectful outburst, Yoongi had told you that you were not allowed to speak until he says. So far you were 4 weeks into your 5 week deadline.

Initially, it was an unyielding torment to have to be silent. A few times you had slipped up and spoken. Each and every time, Yoongi was quick to respond. He would lock you downstairs for as many days as words you spoke. Luckily, the most you said at one time was 5 words. And he still fed you while you were down there. So while it was horrible, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.

Steadily though, you found it became easier. While you weren't allowed to speak, you still needed to be able to communicate with Yoongi, so he allowed you to nod and shake your head, and smile. It was restrictive, but strangely enough, you found it becoming comfortable. Because you couldn't speak Yoongi expected less from you. You didn't have to search for words when he spoke to you in an attempt to make him happy and overall, it made your interactions less stressful.

With you not speaking, he was speaking less also. So for the past few days, you have been enjoying a wordless dialogue that you and Yoongi were having. And at this point, you were feeling more relaxed and not missing talking at all.

Although waking up this morning you came downstairs to a horrible sight, that made you wish you could scream.

Yoongi was collapsed on the floor. Stretched out on the kitchen tiles in a puddle of his own blood. Covered in bruises and cuts. His torn up T-shirt soaked in blood.

3 nights ago he had left for a job. With the ease between the two of you, Yoongi didn't lock you up when he left, although he didn't downrightly state that as the reason. He must have come home sometime last night, but clearly, you didn't hear him.

Rushing to his side, you're looking down his unconscious battered form with no idea what to do. This is nothing you know how to deal with.

With how long you have been without speaking it feels wrong, unnatural even when you think about doing it now. And you can't bring yourself to release a single word. So you do what you can to try and get his attention, and to wake him up. You shove him, clap over his head. Lastly and desperately smacking his face a few times, sighing in relief as it pulls him back to consciousness.

Groaning, his eyes look to be spinning from light-headedness. Stiffly he tries to get himself upright against the wall. Seeing his intent you help him. Pulling him, you slip a little in the puddle of blood. Your hands and feet are already covered in it. Your limbs trembling as you hold your hands away from your body. Looking down at him with pleading eyes, waiting for him to tell you what to do.

"Medic kit," he breathes, each puff heavy and wheezed.

You nod, spreading a trail of blood through the house to his bedroom. Collecting the duffle bag in his closet that is filled with a surgeries worth of supplies and running back downstairs, you drop the bag at his side, unzipping it for him.

While you were gone he's torn his ripped shirt off. Among the cuts and scars that already litter his pale chest, he has a deep long cut that runs diagonally down his torso. It looks like basic first aid was already applied, blood-drenched gauze stuck on the worst and deepest parts of it.

"I'm gonna talk you through this," he pants, with a struggled smirk, "Maybe wash your hands first, cause if I die of infection, I'll be pissed." His playful banter feels so out of place, not just for the scene but for him. Although, you're not going to question how he wants to deal with a life-threatening injury, and the ridiculousness of you being the one that needs to help him. If he wants to joke to cope, fine.

Nodding and wide-eyed through the whole run-down, it takes everything you have, but you stay calm and stop yourself from crying.

Thankfully time has seemed to stop the bleeding. As you remove the bandages the lacerations have somewhat clotted. Going step by step, you follow Yoongi's every word. First, you clean the area with a bucket of water and a cloth. Then apply an antibiotic ointment, that smells really gross. Washing your hands once again, you lower beside him, and realize you've only just gotten to the worst of it.

While the bleeding has stopped the cuts above his belly button and his hip are deep enough, the fat is exposed.

"You gonna be able to do this?" Yoongi asks as you hold the needle and thread with a tremble in your hands that is painfully obvious.

You nod, taking a deep breath. But even after 3 more of them, your exhales are still coming out shaky. You are in desperate need to calm down and your sure he can't get mad at you in this circumstance, so you're going to try what you've seen on T.V. Standing, you rummage through the cupboards and pull down a bottle of whisky from the top shelf. Watching Yoongi closely as you open the cork, giving him the chance to stop you. But he doesn't so you gulp down a few mouthfuls, shivering as the taste flows down your chest.

You're not sure if it helped your hands, but you feel a little better. So that's enough.

Returning to his side, slowly Yoongi talks you through suturing the openings. A traumatic experience you hope to never repeat. The sensation of the needing pushing through the layers of skin will surely never leave your head though.

During the stitching, you were surprised that Yoongi didn't flinch or react in any way. You're unsure if it was because the area was numb or because he was restraining himself to not freak you out. But in any case, you were grateful.

After everything and nearly 2 hours, you finally move onto bandaging.

Both of you are now able to slump back, thoroughly exhausted. For the longest time after the final step, neither of you move. You're still horrified, leaning against the wall looking over the armature medical aid you've given Yoongi's chest. Almost feeling a sense of pride through the unrelenting urge to vomit.

"You know," Yoongi grunts, shuffling back, lifting only his head to rest against the same wall. "If you wanna finish early and talk now, I think you've earned it." He chortles dryly, with a straight line smile.

Wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist, you laugh uncomfortably. Honestly, after this, you'll be happy to have the next week without speaking.

Vampire! Hoseok

You couldn't take much more of this.

It was endless and he was ruthless.

Night after night Hoseok was coming to you. Drinking from you, hurting you in so many ways, and leaving you. If you were lucky, he'd remember to feed you his blood before he left. If not, he'd let you remain broken, making you suffer through the day.

With everything that you had to endure, you were tired of being tired. Exhausted of being exhausted. Scared and sad all the time, and hating a life from which you had no means of escape. But even with all of this, you were still holding out hope that there had to be some way to lessen your suffering. You had to believe that if you wanted to keep your sanity. You just had to figure out what he wanted.

So far you had seen no depth to him. All you had learnt was that he enjoyed your misery too much. It was like a game to him. Every sound you made, every cry, every time you begged or screamed at him, or fought him, it would only encourage him. He was trying to coax a reaction, to draw out your fear. And with no other form of control, you wanted to see what would happen if you took that away from him.

You theorized that if you did he would get more vicious, but then he would get bored. Best case scenario; he would let you go. Worst case; he would kill you. And somewhere in the middle; he would keep you only for your blood. But any of these were better than the hell you were living in now.

So partly with a plan in mind, and partly out of sheer exhausted terror, you stopped speaking. It was going to be impossible to stop all sounds. There was no way you could stop yourself from screaming or crying or reacting, but you could control the words that came out of your mouth.

And for over 2 weeks now, you haven't uttered a single word.

With the sun high in the sky and being ready to sleep, you come back to your room, jolting as you open the door. Seeing Hoseok sitting on the bed.

In an unnatural flash, he's behind you, goosebumps prickling on the back of your neck. Grabbing a chunk of your hair he jerks and twists you, moving you to face him. His other hand comes up pressing his fingers into your cheeks harshly enough to make your mouth open. Keeping your jaw spread, he moves and tugs your head inspecting inside at all angles.

"Hmm, I was just checking if I cut your tongue out and forgot. But it's there." he uses his hold on your face to throw you back. Crashing you to the floor. "So you're choosing not to speak to me." He chuckles eerily.

As soon as you hit the floor, you scramble to your feet. Struggling to do so with an injured leg, but knowing it's safer to not let yourself remain on the ground or he'll most likely stomp on you.

You croak quickly silence yourself, forcing yourself to not speak and maintain your desperate strategy. Bracing yourself instead like you're facing a wild animal.

He marches forward, grabbing the arm you hold out. You'd rather he break your limbs than your organs. But he uses the arm to yank you forward, his right fist hooking broadly, your head snapping to the side, blood flying from your mouth. "Still not going to speak baby?" He yanks you back, hitting you in the exact same way. And a third time, your mouth gushing blood inside and out. "Are you trying to hurt my feelings?" He laughs switching his target, this time aiming at your torso. Each time dragging you back into place so he can properly hit you again.

Smacking the back of his hand into your head, he lets your fly into the floor this time. Clicking his tongue as he squats, hovering over you. "Baby, it's not as fun when you're not begging me to stop," he says icily. "Maybe I'm not hurting you enough."

Finally, he's giving you the assurance that you were right. Which means just like you thought, he's threatening to become more vicious. So you can endure that, or you can try something extra and see what happens when you outrightly give him everything he already takes.

Gently and so very carefully you lift your arm to his chest, gradually and painfully getting yourself onto your knees. Watching you do so with such difficulty and while you're trying to maintain eye contact with him, Hoseok is too amused to interrupt you.

With the taste of blood flowing from your mouth, you lean in nervously, expecting at any moment to have your body broken in two. Your heart thumps enough to hurt as you lightly kiss him. Leaving a stamp of your blood on his lips. Too scared to even blink as you monitor him. With a curious expression in his eye, he licks lips clean, a trace of a smile raising the corners of his mouth.

Not receiving a negative reaction you continue. Hoisting yourself up again you begin to kiss him slowly, your tongue flicking his lips encouraging him to open his mouth. Deepening the kiss the moment he does. Kissing your blood between the two of you.

Your hands are shaking, your legs are trembling, and you feel sick with fear, but he seems to be stable. And it seems to be working. As tenderly as you kiss him, he is kissing you back the same.

After several minutes and as the pain of holding yourself up gets to be too much, you lower down, terrified that any movement could evoke a change in his response. Keeping your eyes fixed on him, you tie your hair back into a messy bun.

The smirk on Hoseok's face is fully grown as he watches you with complete intrigue. You've never been the one to initiate anything and he is beguiled by your actions.

Coming back to the same height you don't return to kissing him, instead you press your chest to his, clinging one hand into his shirt to keep you balanced, and the other wrapping around his neck to bring his mouth down to your shoulder. It's a wordless invitation that he accepts eagerly, sinking his fangs into the slope of your neck. Too sore and tired to cry out, you can only pant through the bite.

As he drinks, your hands drop and his tighten around you to keep you up. But the second he's done, he releases you and lets you fall to the carpet.

Your eyes open as you hear the bedroom door. However, you see Hoseok stall. Pursing his lips while looking over his shoulder at you. To your surprise, he turns back and in a delicate manner you did not think possible from him, he lifts you up, carrying you to your bed.

Tilting your head up, he presses his lips to yours and your first thought is one of dread. Assuming that he's not finished and he only came back to have sex with you, thinking how much it's going to hurt in your condition.

Pushing his tongue into your mouth you can feel right away that the blood pouring into your mouth is not yours but his. His tongue lapping yours, feeding you his blood the same way you did to him. Healing you in a way he never has before.

Steadily you can feel all your cuts and breaks startling to heal. Clarity returning to your sight and your breath again flowing easily. As your energy returns you begin to reciprocate the kiss. Both out of a feeling of success and clinging on to the taste of his blood, which has come to trigger a feeling of relief within you. Having attached the flavour with the sensation of having your pain taken away.

Abruptly, Hoseok pulls away, getting up without another word or look. Leaving you alone, laying in shock.

It was a reaction unlike any you had expected, but for the very first time, he was damn near humane. So you would have to try that again and see if lightning strikes twice.

Playboy! Jimin

"Ta-da" Jimin bursts into the bedroom with a small black paper bag in his hand and a massive smile on his face. He jumps on the corner of the bed snatching the remote from you and turning the tv off with a click over his shoulder. "Look, Angel." He hands it over, putting the gift in your lap.

Looking down at it, you sigh internally, leaning back you choose to pointedly ignore it. Resting your head against the headboard, you close your eyes.

Lifting the bag by the handles Jimin swings it between his fingers over your head trying to place it in your eye line. "Look, your favourite." He shakes the brand in your face, the joy in his eyes gently fading into guilt.

For 5 days now, you had been stuck in bed. During an argument about your job, Jimin was once again trying to convince you to quit. His points were the same as always. That you didn't need a job because he could pay for you. That you lived with him, and he would buy you heaven and earth. He meant it in a sweet romantic way, but you couldn't help but take it in a 1910 housewife kind of way. You knew that mostly the reason he wanted you out of work was that he was very greedy with you and hated you being around other people. He didn't like that you weren't there to keep him company and entertain him at all times.

Honestly, those 8 hours out of the house, even though you were down to 3 days a week, were so revitalizing. Jimin could be a lot of work. And he was getting more and more controlling about who you saw and when you could see them. Apart from work, it had been 3 months since he last let you go out or see any of your friends by yourself. And you were fighting to hold onto this last little bit of freedom.

However, you will admit in the attempt at making your point solid, you said something incredibly stupid. He said he paid for everything, and you said you needed your own money in case you ever wanted to leave him. And he took that about as well as you'd expect.

"Come on, this isn't fair." Jimin pouts. "I said I'm sorry."

What really wasn't fair was that he hit you, kicked you, and screamed at you. Demanding you apologize and promise to never leave him. But you were coughing up blood, too dazed to even comprehend his words at the time. And when you didn't answer he growled you can't leave if you can't walk as he threw you down the stairs.

It's only by a miracle that you weren't injured as permanently as he intended, but still, he had done plenty of harm. Your ribs and stomach were black and purple. Your face was cut up with your lips split and your jaw swollen. Your arm and hip were also deeply bruised and sore. But with all of this, you truly have no idea the full extent of the damage because Jimin refuses to let you go to the hospital.

So, due to your injuries and your own principles, you hadn't spoken to Jimin since you woke up.

The first day he was remorseful and apologetic. He pleaded and begged for you to forgive him. He tried to hold you and love you and take care of you, but despite the pain and the fact that you really couldn't take care of yourself, you refused him at every turn. On the second day, he was already becoming annoyed that you wouldn't let him near you and kept ignoring him, and on the third day, he yelled at you for being difficult, trying to put the blame for his reaction on you. Yesterday, when he saw that gaslighting you wasn't getting him what he wanted, he went back to being sweet and doting, having had better luck with guilting you in the past.

This means today when his presents don't earn him your forgiveness, he should be right on track to getting pissy again.

He pulls a small box out of the bag, flicking it open. "Ta-da," he smiles. Only to be met once more with your active avoidance. "Look," he whines holding the ring box up but your eyes are closed. "Y/n look!" He barks.

You're not going to, though. He always does this. Buys you something to resolve his guilt. And if for even a moment you express gratitude or pleasure in it, he takes it as complete forgiveness. Then when you haven't actually absolved him, he accuses you of being difficult or a spoiled bitch. Even ignoring him you know he's going to make a problem of that too, but at least this way he will have to keep suffering in his shame.

During the last few days, you've been thinking hard about why you're with Jimin. For a moment, you even thought about packing your things in the middle of the night and leaving him. Moving back in with your old housemate, returning to full-time work and picking up your life where you left it. But thinking that, even with everything bad Jimin can do, it hurt your heart.

He's yours. And out of all of the people in the world, you're his.

Really there weren't too many times that he freaked. And he only did it because he loved you too much, or because you said something cruel like you did this time. No, most of the time he was so sweet. He listened to you, and he really cared about everything you had to say. Even the smallest problems he wanted to help with. He was normally so kind and gentle and he treated you like a princess.

No matter how hard you looked you would never find anyone who treated you like Jimin did.

So even when he lost his temper, you knew you just needed to hold out, because soon everything would return to regular.

This time he just overdid it. And that's why you were punishing him by not speaking to him. Because you knew it was important to stand up for yourself.

There's a flurry of sudden movement and a hefty bang across the room. Your eyes jumping open, Jimin has thrown the ring and the box into the wall. His frustration exploding in a rampage as he attacks your makeup table. Sweeping everything off it, stomping on anything fragile that hits the floor. Throwing the table over he hurls it into the wall, finishing it off by booting his shoe into the mirror over and over until it cracks.

Turning back to you, his hands curled up by his side, it's unnervingly apparent that he is fighting to restrain himself. Even now, as you lay in bed broken, in his rage he is still considering hitting you again.

But you're pretty sure he won't.

Jimin has just never been good at dealing with consequences and he is worse at dealing with the guilt that comes because of his actions. Without you pardoning him, he's going mental. Which is good, because that means he's learning.

"Whatever," he yells, "just fucking forget it." Barging out of the room he slams the door ferociously behind him.

He may be acting harsh, but you know that more than likely he will be going out to replace everything he just damaged. And he'll buy you something even better than a ring to say he's sorry.

And as long as he doesn't hit you again, you'll know that he really is sorry and in a couple more days when your mouth is healed, you will be able to forgive him. Then the two of you can move on from this and it will be as perfect as it can be.

#bts fan fiction #bts reactions #bts fanfic #yandere bts #yandere bangtan #bts #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #yandere #bts yandere #bts jimin #park jimin #kim namjoon #bts namjoon #min yoongi #bts yoongi #jung hoseok #j hope bts #bts hoesok #bts requests #bts scenarios #namjoon #hoseok #yandere jimin #yandere yoongi #yandere namjoon #yandere jhope

[dr3amofagame]

originally i just wanted dream to recover, preferably in the syndicate. but after today's quackity lore? he deserves to fuck shit up for a bit. let him get his revenge. tommy got his revenge on dream, techno got his revenge on l'manberg, dream deserves to get revenge on quackity and sam! then he can recover after that lol

(context: ask was sent on march 16th and i am very. very late.)

but YEAH !! logic brain says revenge bad and cycle of violence will continue BUT emotion brain wants c!dream to go crazy go stupid !! go beat them up honey we’ll be here with juice boxes and fruit snacks when you’re done <3 

i wrote this while looping casino royale by derivakat for (checks time) something like 12 hours straight so uhh,,, yeah LMAO have some of c!dream going apeshit bc honestly he deserves it (/hj)

tw: implied torture, abuse, mentioned injuries, suicide, murder, explosions, death, violence, dark portrayals of c!dream, c!quackity, and c!sam, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault

Sam is uneasy long before he enters Las Nevadas - Quackity’s terse, serious-sounding string of texts he’d woken up to had sent his heart racing before the country even came into sight, and he’s pretty sure the pit in the middle of his gut since Dream escaped a week ago won’t disappear until the prisoner is either jailed or dead at his feet. Still, the city hardly does his anxiety any favors - each step within its limits feels a bit more like walking to his own death, the silent storefronts and looming, boarded up casino seeming to watch his every move, making him pick up his pace to move a little faster and avoid their judging gazes.

Stuck in his head as he is, it’s not until he’s halfway to the meeting place that he realizes how eerily quiet the place is - Las Nevadas has yet to be a particularly busy country with the casino yet to open and their recruits usually doing their own thing in the meantime, but still there’s usually at least one of them lingering on the city grounds, between Fundy’s work on his yacht and Foolish’s construction and whatever Slime does, usually involving an immense amount of following Quackity’s every move. The city as it right now feels much more like when it had been no more than a secret of his and Quackity, months spent with just the two of them working to make Big Q’s vision a reality. There’s something uniquely unnerving about it, like stepping into a ghost town, and Sam’s unease only grows.

“Sam!” Quackity calls from the base of the casino - Sam shades his eyes from the sun as he jogs over. Even from this far, it’s clear Q is displeased - his lips are flat in a small frown, skin taut from where the corner of his mouth is pulling at his scar. His tie is slightly askew and shirt rumpled - he looks disheveled, eyebrows narrowed irritatedly as he taps at something on his communicator. Sam smiles slightly, hollow.

“Hello Quackity,” he responds simply, drawing his trident and bringing it to his side. “You said we needed to meet?”

“Yeah,” Quackity’s voice is distracted, and he mumbles a curse as he jams his finger particularly hard against the communicator screen. “What is up with everyone today? They sent me these- weird fucking messages  and then we get here and nobody’s here-”

“Who?” Sam’s lips press together. “You mean like- Fundy? Or Foolish?” They seem to be the ones that Quackity got messages from most frequently, if he remembers right. He doesn’t know for sure - usually, Quackity handles the social side of managing Las Nevadas.

“Fundy, Purpled, Foolish, Slime-” Quackity makes a vague, affronted noise. “All of them! Where the hell are they?”

Sam pauses.

“Q, when did Slime learn to use a communicator?”

“That’s the green one, right?” Both of them freeze, whirling around to the voice behind them, seeing nothing but the empty, arched doorway of the still-locked casino. “Naïve. Easy to fool.” The voice pauses, barks a sharp, quiet laugh. “Made my job easy, at least.”

The voice is familiar- too familiar. Sam doesn’t think he’ll ever get that cadence out of his head, not after months after months spent in the prison, hearing it in every possible tone and form. Quackity’s shoulders are hunched up to his ears, teeth bared in a snarl.

“Dream- I fucking swear- where the hell are you?”

“Aw, not so brave when the other person can actually fight back, are we?” Dream’s voice is lilting, mocking, and Sam’s hands tighten on the trident. “Fine, I’ll show myself. I’m not like you- no need to extend this game any longer than necessary.”

Dream slinks out from the shadows, wearing all black and covered in netherite armor, seeming fiddling with a small, grey thing in one hand. HIs stance is wide, torso pulled close to the ground - instead of a mask, his outfit includes a hooded black cloak that pulls down over his face, barely offering a glimpse of his eye glaring from underneath it.

“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me why the hell you’re in my country,” Quackity growls, sword forming in his hand, blade still crusted over with old blood, “And I’ll make your death half as painful as it’ll be otherwise.”

Dream laughs, high-pitched and unstable. “Please- what are you gonna do with that thing?” Quackity stalks forward with a low, wordless yell and Sam only barely manages to snag him back by the wrist.

“Watch it, Q,” Sam mutters, looking closer. Sure enough, there’s a faint, reddish haze rising from Dream’s body, only barely visible, interspersed with some lighter blue wisps. Strength and Speed. “He’s got potions.”

“Outmatched, aren’t we?” Dream cocks his head to the side, a tight-lipped smile visible under the hood’s shadow. “What a shame. I was hoping for a good fight.”

Quackity curses at him, loudly, but mullishly stays in place instead of lashing out like earlier, and Sam hisses a small sigh of relief. He looks back over at Dream - under the sun, he looks worse than ever, armor doing little to hide the gaunt edge of his face, limbs skinny and shaking. His hands tremble, wrists kept close together, as he continues to move the thing within them from hand to hand, small and grey and smooth from what he can tell in flashes between scarred and calloused fingers. He’s still favoring his left side slightly, but his eyes are cold and clear as they follow his every movement, clearly lucid and intelligent. Unfortunately for them, Dream is the best of fighters at the worst of times, and he has no doubt that with potions on his side and themselves relatively unprepared for battle, any fight with him won’t go particularly well.

Negotiation it is, then. “Why are you here, Dream?” If they stall long enough, then the rest of the server can come to back them up, and then even Dream won’t be able to fight back for long. He and Quackity can figure out what to do with him once he’s safely back under their control - for now, they have to play things safe. He pulls out his communicator carefully with one hand, trying to avoid drawing attention to his movements. “I doubt you’re here for a housewarming visit.”

Dream waves his hand slightly. “Something like that-” he bares his teeth in a small smile. “How about a housewarming gift, instead?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Quackity bites, aggressive in a way that speaks of how threatened he feels, and the pit in Sam’s stomach only grows. Dream’s eye seems to glow as he turns and presses his hands to the nearby wall; when he pulls them back, there’s a stone button fastened on the quartz.

“Say, Quackity,” Dream’s voice is too light to be anything but forced levity, rolling his shoulders back to try and hide the way his entire body has begun to shake even more violently than before. “How much TNT do you suppose it took for Wilbur to blow up L’manburg?”

Sam gasps, low and harsh through his teeth, a quiet, breathless no falling from his lips. Quackity’s head shakes, eyes widening in fury and denial.

“No- no what the fuck did you do- Dream what the absolute fuck did you do-”

“Eleven stacks of TNT, to blow up that country to kingdom come.” Dream laughs, directing his wild, manic expression to look them in the eye. “The amount of TNT hooked up to this thing is ten times that.”

“You’re a liar-” Quackity rushes forward, sword raised, “I’m going to fucking kill you-”

Sam grabs him, again, ignoring his yells to look at Dream, who’s still standing, seemingly unruffled, one hand hovering over the button that’ll spell doom for them all.

“That’ll kill all of us,” he tries to reason, panic clawing up his lungs, “You’re on your last life. You can’t-”

“And what, Warden, makes you think I give a single goddamn fuck about that?” Dream’s voice cracks, slightly, and for a moment Sam almost thinks he’ll break, that he can press the point until the other backs down - but Dream is nothing if not stubborn, and within seconds he’s composed himself again, looking at them with a determined set to his jaw that Sam recognizes well enough from Quackity’s visits to know that he won’t back down. “Everyone else is far away from here. I made sure of that. It’s just you, and Quackity, and me, and I’m pressing this button if it’s the last thing I do. Call it a parting shot, will you?”

Sam pulls at Quackity, wrist still locked in his grip. “Q, we have to leave.”

“I’m not letting him destroy this place Sam, are you out of your fucking mind? This- Las Nevadas- it’s everything- I’m not letting him take this place from me not again-”

“He’s going to kill us all, Quackity,” he throws a water bucket at his feet, charging up his trident. The sign taunts him at the edges of the city borders, far too far away for any of them to even hope to reach. “We have to go now-”

“Say your goodbyes,” Dream taunts, and there’s a quiet click. Sam smells the faint, smoky smell of redstone being activated, hears a hum growing in volume from the ground beneath him. He looks over to Dream, who has a hand pressing the button to the wall, fever-bright eyes wide and wet as he stares at his own hand before shutting them with a soft, almost serene smile. “And see you in hell.”

The world goes white.

[Dream was blown up by Dream.]

[Quackity was blown up by Dream.]

[awesamdude was blown up by Dream.]

#-> my writing #my writing :D #my asks !! #-> my asks #tw torture #tw abuse #tw injuries #tw suicide #tw murder #tw explosion #tw death #tw violence #tw emotional distress #prison arc #pandora's vault

[ac3id]

The Artist and His Majesty| 18+

𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒿𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓎 0 / 5 | fantasy au. 

chapter i , chapter ii

pairings: yandere! emperor! shigaraki x female! reader.

warnings: [series] dubcon, exhibitionism, size difference, degradation, masturbation, bondage, reader is also kind of delusional, death, violence (not on reader). (there are more but i can’t think right now.]

↪ for chapter 0: none !!

summary: you come to the big city in hopes of starting your career as an artist but things take a shocking turn when you’re recruited as the court painter for the royal palace.

↪ for chapter 0: a strange man approaches you, offering to buy your painting to which you oblige. little do you know that it kicks of a series of unfortunate events ending with you being trapped in shigaraki tomura’s clutches forever.

wordcount. 

a/n: finally !! i started this series. high-key inspired by these two dresses in my wardrobe and @ana-list‘s this  drawing ! seriously it’s literally everything. also thank you once again for proof reading this @the-grimm-writer ! 

taglist: @shigaraki-is-my-master, @deathmemeiverse, @n4dhii, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @mstssister, @nereida19, @prince-zukohere [dm to be added/ removed.]

“That’s a beautiful painting,” a rough, scruffy voice calls out, jerking you away from your daydreams. Your grip around the color canvas resting in your arms tightens as you glance behind your shoulder to see a well-built man standing right behind you. He’s tall and a lot older than you, he has short grey hair which falls right before his eyebrows along beautiful, matching grey eyes. A cigar hangs lazily from his lips as he occasionally huffs on it, blowing clouds of smoke out his mouth. He’s dressed in expensive robes, a choice of style only people better off could afford. You can’t help exachaning a covetous glance between his expensive suit and your sloppy, knee-length, light green dress. “Thank you.” you murmur shoving him an appreciative look, hoping he’d leave you alone. When you come to the city to complete your studies in art, you mother, father, family and friends had warned you about men like these. Rich, snobby men who liked to lure in young, naive girls. Whispering praises of how they are the most unique on the planet so they pull their guard down form them to take advantage of the helpless beings. 

“Can I take a better look? It’s the Emperor, is it not? Your painting. ” You hesitate before turning back to him. Not a lot of people had seen the King to be. He lived humbly in his castle, trying his best to not indulge in the affairs of the common people. “ Yes,” you hold up the slightly small canvas (courtesy of you being broke the entire week and not being able to save up to buy a bigger canvas). To even get an idea of Shigaraki Tomura, you had to go through many people. Not a lot of people had seen his face, he had always kept it hidden under a mask. No one knew why he did so but the many conspiracy throes suggested it was something to do with his personal grief.

 You had heard many stories about him. Some made him look like a spoiled brat with a demeaning, ignorant personality who didn’t care for others and as the rumors said: self destructive habits which lead him to tear the skin of his own neck down whenever he got anxious or frustrated. 

Others portrayed him as a strong, confident man and a reliable leader who cared for his comrades. You did not know which one of the two personas brought him your attention but you couldn’t complain. Tomura had caught you under a spell, and despite never meeting him (and knowing full well you never would), you were still ready to sacrifice your life for him. He was your King even before he had taken his crown, to you he looked like a shining bright light ready to enlighten you. To you, he was a god. And as years passed by, he grew from a caterpillar into a cocoon which was ready to burst open as a butterfly into the beautiful, mysterious world. And it was happening today, Prince Tomura Shigaraki’s Coronation ceremony. After the passing of All For One, it was his turn to take the crown and fulfill his duty as the ruler of the nation

 The entire city was busy, bustling with people. Families, friends and everyone in between gathered around the huge castle walls as they waited for the ceremony to begin. They waited patiently, filled with excitement and joy as they waited to catch a glimpse of the new great King. You were among them. You had come down to the centre of the city with your friends, waiting alongside many to catch a glimpse of the new ruler. The painting which nestled in your hand was something you were hoping to sell today, to a shop or anyone who wants to have it. It was a beautiful painting which had taken you several days to complete, and dare you say it, you were quite proud of it. From all the things you had heard about Tomura, you had managed to sketch him decently. Long white, wavy hair reaching till his shoulder, skin white as snow. He sat proudly on his throne wearing a cape with his vermillion eyes peering through your soul. His face was scarcely detailed as you did not have much idea about it but he still looked ethereal. With little scars running both his eyes and a comparatively larger one on his right. Chapped lips with even more scars running over them wildly, he was not conventionally attractive. No one would call him a pretty boy yet there was something more, something alluring which attracted  you to him. His beauty was rare, not in the grasp of many but if it was grasped and held close to the heart, it was hard to let go off. And you found him attractive, very attractive. 

The man took a good look at your painting, examining it carefully and for a second you really thought he had seen the mysterious Prince. “It’s quite similar to him,” he sends you a friendly grin and you notice a tooth from his front missing, leaving an uncomfortable gap. “Have you seen him before?” he asked and you shake your head, no. He gives you an amused expression, “I must say, you are very talented, miss…?” you complete your name with a nervous smile. “And you are?” you ask. 

You realised that you were getting a little too comfortable with the stranger and it could be a really bad decision but you can’t help but give him the benefit of the doubt as he behaves like a gentleman you can find yourself to trust. “Kagero Okuta but I like to go by Giran,” he says with a lop-sided grin. Giran, you’ve heard the name before but cannot recall where and how. It sounds so familiar but you just can’t grasp it, he looked wealthy so you assumed he was a Noble and that made you even more curious as to why he was speaking to you.

 “What are you planning to do with that painting?” he asks, diving a closer look and admiring its features. “I must say, you’ve got it quite accurate but,” you stiffen, your hands growing cold as your heartbeat picks up. You realized your painting must have some complications, drawing a man you had never seen before purely out of your interpretation was a hard and a bold task to do. But to have someone who had actually seen the King for himself pinpoint your mistakes sent a rush of anxiety through your veins.

 “He’s not that bony.” He completes and you gulp nervously, looking down at your painting in disappointment. Your eyes are filled with disappointment,  all of the time and effort you spent making the piece all for it go in vain just because you missed a small detail. Giran notices your remorse and speaks up, “But that’s quite alright. He looked just like that until a while ago,” he hadn’t meant to offend or hurt you. He still believed your painting was the most beautiful thing he had seen all day.

 “What do you mean?” you ponder, giving him a perplexed look. He leans  in closer to you as if to tell a secret, “let’s say the King has been working out behind closed doors.” you blink in confusion. It was a strange thing to say, exactly how well did this man know the Emperor? Who was it that you were talking? 

“Who are you?” you can’t help but question, bewildered by such a character. Giran says nothing. He just stares at you with his lips curled into a snappy smirk, holding his cigar between his lips. He was not going to tell you anything. Without wasting time, he quickly changes the topic. “What are you going to do with that painting?” he repeats, his voice growing impatient.

 “I am planning to sell it,” you feel a bit taken back. The friendly aura which had Giran had now disappeared for a reason you could not conclude. “Sell it? To whom?” the intruding nature of his tone starts to make you uncomfortable, there’s nothing more you want to do other than get far away from him. Yet you still find yourself answering him, “To anyone who wants it.” he hums at your response, his eyes holding a mocking glint. “Wouldn’t you like to give it to the Emperor himself?” you frown, was he mocking you? 

“That’s well...impossible.” you reply, stretching your neck awkwardly. “To you, maybe.” 

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, this man was really testing your patience. A part of you tells you to ignore him and walk away but as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a bag of coins worth much more than you could ever earn in a month, he has you hooked yet again. 

“Hey, let me buy that painting, would yer’?” 

.

..

..

“What is the problem now?” Giran takes a seat around the round table. It was late after the Coronation ceremony and the Royal palace was already facing problems. Giran was disappointed but definitely not surprised. After all, he was their personal problem solver and broker. “It’s not that big of a deal.” A curt and hard reply cut him off.

 “It actually is, Shigaraki Tomura.” a voice speaks, coming from a man dressed in a black suit with a long, flowy robe covering his entire body. He stands taller than the other two men in the as his head is replaced with a wisp of smoke. He was none other than the trusted and talented magician of the Royal family. With eccentric features and an ability to wield strange magic, nobody knew where he came from. There were many rumors about him; that he was once a normal, handsome man cursed by a witch that turned him into a hideous monster or he simply was a ghost. “What is it, Kurogiri?” Giran rephrases his question, directing it to the other man. “We need a new painter,-” 

“Servant.” Shigaraki corrected. He stood in front of the giant windows glancing over his city as his men talked about hiring a new painter for the castle. He couldn’t care less about such tedious tasks, he had his focus set on greater things like expanding his territory, taking back stolen land. 

“What happened to Mr. Kyo?” Giran asked, Shigaraki rolled his eyes at the mention of the name and clicked his tongue, “His Majesty eliminated him.” Giran stops himself from laughing out loud. He was certain once Shigaraki would take over the throne incidents like so would double the instant. But he was expecting it to happen so soon. “And why was that?” 

“He was breathing too loud, like you are right now.” 

A cold silence broke over the room as Giran counted his breath. Kurogiri looked nervously at Shigaraki who still had his back turned to them. The longer the pause grew, the dreadful the atmosphere became. Shigaraki’s threat strung the air loud and clear and Giran was afraid to speak again. “What we are asking for is that-,” Kurogiri started in a calm, slow tone easing the tension in the room. “-we need a new court painter. Do you have any names?” 

The murderous sent in the air magically disappeared as a grin stretched across Giran’s face. 

“Aren’t you in luck?” He says, running a hand through his hair before taking a puff out of his cigar. “Does that mean you know someone?” Kurogiri questioned. Giran hummed, “You see, I met this beautiful painter today. She’s extremely talented and I know for a fact she will love working for the castle.” 

“What’s the name?” growing impatient, Shigaraki asks. “Oh, it was,” Giran pauses for a moment to recall. 

“Ah yes, Y/N L/N.” 

#shigaraki.🤍 #shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader smut #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere shigaraki x reader smut #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #my hero academia shigaraki #yandere bnha #bnha yandere #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere #bnha x reader #bnha smut #yandere smut #bnha #yandere fics #yandere bnha smut #yandere bnha x reader #yandere lov #yandere x reader #yandere writings #yandere scenarios

[that-was-anticlimactic]

reki with tourette’s headcanons

[ID: it’s reki from sk8 the infinity wearing a yellow sweatshirt with his hands on his hips. he’s wearing a red bracelet on his right wrist and he’s smiling. behind him is a touette’s syndrome awareness flag. end ID.]

so. @zukkaclawthorne got me hooked on reki with ts and now imma post headcanons i wrote oops

okay so first—that little skateboard he plays with??? stim toy, actually.

he likes the sound the wheels make—that whirrrrrr sound. it makes his arms flappy :)

he also finds the rolling motion soothing and relaxing and it always calms him down—it takes his mind to a happy place

he rocks back and forth and shakes his legs a lot. that also contributed to why he was terrible at skateboarding the first few times he tried—because his body would be like “time to rock back and forth!” and it would mess him up

neck twitches for days :)

no but for real—neck twitching is one of his worst tics because sometimes—if he’s in a bad mood or if he’s sad or anxious—it gets harsh and violent and really strains his neck.

so, langa gives him neck / upper back neck massages to help with the pain

he went through this phase for a couple of months where whenever his neck would twitch, he would snap his fingers two times.

he has a lot of hand tics which can be stressful when he makes skateboards because sometimes he’ll be in the groove and then suddenly he’ll mess something up

speaking of messing things up, he has a tendency to dig the bottom of his palm into his forehead whenever he feels like he does something stupid—he doesn’t even realize it until someone points it out.

he feels like even more of a failure of a skater because of his tics because they can hold him back and make the course more dangerous.

if his blinking tic resurfaces, sometimes the blinking gets so intense that he literally cannot see for anywhere between five seconds and a minute depending on how bad it is. that is how he got some of his worst scars.

or sometimes he’ll make a really aggressive hand motion and it throws him off balance on the skateboard due to the intensity

anyways back to hand tics: he points a lot and does symbols like the “rock on” sign or certain numbers (for some reason, the most common number for reki to throw up is four—though sometimes he throws up whatever number he hears) he also grunts a lot as a tic so he sounds angry even when he is’t.

sometimes, his hand tics really hurt and his hands become shaky and his fingers start to feel the way his heart feels when he’s anxious. langa helps in different ways—he holds reki’s hand, he gives him something to fidget with to try to distract him (sometimes it’s his own fingers—he’ll just set them in reki’s palm and be like “let me carry some of the pain”—no, reki didn’t totally cry when he said that what)

sometimes, reki sticks pencils in his ears. his teachers have been trying to stop it since he was young, but he always did it anyways—he couldn’t help it.

his hair is also long enough for him to chew on. yes, he chews on the tips of his hair because i say so. sometimes, to stop him from doing that (and from swallowing his own hair), langa will try to make him laugh so it falls out of his mouth and then he’ll scoot close and tuck the hair behind reki’s ears… once they start dating, he kisses him too. but also that’s one reason why he wears the headband—to try to keep his hair out of his face so he doesn’t chew on it.

reki’s favorite form of stimming (other than his skateboard toy, that is) is stress balls. he’s got a couple of stress balls in his room or backpack—even one with string attached so he can carry it around his wrist. he just really likes the texture of them.

after his second race against adam, cherry and joe were so proud of him and also impressed and worried dads that they bought reki a big stress ball, like, the size of a stuffed animal. it was a blue cat. he uses it all the time.

speaking of fricking adam, we all know he would so use reki’s tics against him during a race. like, when he grabbed his wrist and “danced” with him, he would mock reki’s tics or say creepy things about how his verbal tics are music and his motor tics are him dancing along and it makes him so uncomfortable and like even more shaken

oh and adam purposely does things to trigger his tics, like when i mentioned that number tic??? yeah, adam will purposefully say numbers to make reki do the hand gestures

one time, reki wanted to tell langa that he loved him but got nervous so he signed it in sign language instead. but, since reki’s tics are occasionally hand gestures, langa thought that it was just a tic and mentally was like “i wish that was for me…” and reki is like “i wish he knew it was real…” and joe, cherry, shadow, and miya are all facepalming and groaning at their obliviousness

reki prefers taking hand written notes to electronic notes because he draws / doodles to stim and he can’t really doodle well on a laptop. so, he’ll doodle in class all of the time

sometimes, his pictures / notes turn out pretty bad / illegible depending on how bad his tics are, but that doesn’t phase reki. it used to when he was younger, but it doesn’t bother him at all anymore. in fact, he thinks it adds personality

during class, he’ll draw pictures for langa and slid them on his desk. they’re usually really random things like the teacher or the back of someone’s head or squiggly lines or whatever he sees outside. more often than not, it’s abstract art. langa loves these drawings and he keeps them all on his desk in his room.

reki also started drawing pictures for the rest of the sk8 crew and gives it to them during races. when he gave everyone their first doodle, he was like “i’m not the best artist ever and sometimes my tics mess up the doodle, but i thought of you while i drew it so i want you to have it”

(shadow didn’t shed a couple of unwilling dad tears when he got home that night what)

anyways, they all keep them. every single one. miya puts them in their school binder so they don’t feel as alone / isolated at school.

although shadow and miya give reki a lot of crap / teasing about not being as good as everyone else, the second they hear anyone comment about “the weird red head that makes noises” and comments on his ts in a negative way, oh, they will stop you.

sometimes, reki whispers words he hears under his breath as a tic (echolalia, baby~) and when he overhears people saying stuff about “that redhead that always follows snow around” or about him not being good enough or how he’s an idiot to face adam, he ends up muttering that too. and it’s not a one and done kind of thing—like. he does it for days. it makes him so upset (and i already hc him, with depression so it just makes it worse)

having tics while having injuries is not a good combination—especially if it’s with a broken arm. the crew made sure to keep an eye of reki’s comfort / pain level after adam broke his arm and literally tried to kill him in their final race. joe let reki squeeze his hand whenever he felt the urge to tic and cherry would ask him how much pain he was in after he ticced and depending on how bad it would be, would make joe or shadow fetch a heating pad or an icepack for reki.

joe also taught reki about the magical thing called physical therapy tape and helped him put it on his shoulders, neck, and back one time. it was his idea to use the tape on reki’s fingers when he was injured to make him feel better (because it literally makes my fingers feel better)

also langa kisses each of reki’s fingers and knuckles, slowly and tenderly, soft so he doesn’t hurt him or trigger a tic. a way of showing that he loves him not despite his tics, but even with his tics and that he loves him and his tics.

cherry isn’t always the best at showing he cares, so he’ll wear a ts ribbon sometimes in a way to show support (and it makes reki beam)

shadow once gave reki a flower shaped stress ball because there were “extra at work” (not true—he went looking for one)

miya didn’t really know much about ts at first and asked why reki made those noises and made weird movements all the time and langa explained so then that night when miya got home, they did research on ts so they could understand it better. later, they told reki that whenever they called him a slime, they meant it purely about skateboarding and it had nothing to do with his tics—even that his tics didn’t make him less of a skater

all his life, reki had been the different one: the one no one wanted on the team because sometimes his tics messed him up, the one who was asked to leave classes during tests because his tics were too distracting and made him take the test in the hall, when sometimes he’d get too overwhelmed by how close people were in the halls or at races and would have panic attacks, how he rocked in his chair and adjusted his position seventeen times an hour and sat on his feet while the other kids didn’t, how he shook his legs more aggressively than others, how he couldn’t skate as well as everyone else because of his tics and because he wasn’t good enough

which is probably part of the depression that weighs on his shoulders

the first time reki had a panic attack during a race due to closeness and overstimulating noises (and this is the first one after the sk8 crew happened) langa was racing and wasn’t there to help, so shadow kind of panicked and like picked him up under the armpits and carried him away from the crowd since reki could barely process anything other than panic and the sound and feeling of static and they sat in shadow’s car for the rest of the race and once he felt better, he gave shadow a huge hug and shadow returned it.

one time it happened and cherry was nearby and he saw the signs before it got bad (remembered from the previous time / his own experiences) and helped talk reki down before it got bad (he has a soothing voice)

usually, though, when / if it happens (because reki usually feels safe there), langa is the one who helps

but it got so much worse after skating against adam the first time because he no longer felt safe and suddenly everyone cheering adam’s name even after witnessing what he did to reki was too much but langa was racing adam so langa wasn’t there and this time it was joe who kneeled in front of him and started talking just loud enough for reki to hear and he was like “you’re safe—we won’t let anyone hurt you. we won’t let him hurt langa. you’re safe. i’m here and so is cherry and shadow and miya and langa will be waiting for you at the end of the race…”

it happens again at the next race he goes to—and this time it’s miya who notices and they tug on langa’s sleeve and is like “i think you need to take reki somewhere else” and langa does :)

okay i’ll end on a positive ts note or two—langa asks reki to add the ts ribbon to the design on his skateboard

shadow finds chewelry at the store one day when he’s shopping and buys it for reki (and gets a matching one for langa!)

once reki came back after his mental health break, the first thing joe said to him was, and this is nonnegotiable “reki! i missed you and your tics!”

miya once overheard reki muttering to himself about his annoying tics were, so they intervened and was like “your tics aren’t annoying. they’re you and anyone who think s they’re annoying is an idiot”

and for the first time in his life, reki doesn’t feel alone and isolated and so different from everyone (at least, he’s working on that last one) and he’s finally found a group of people who want him on their team and a boyfriend who always supports him and makes him feel less isolated, tics and all <3

i uhh I have a lot of feelings,,,

#reki with tourette’s #wake up babes a new ts hc just dropped wibejebe #i watched the show in two nights and have So many feelings #specially about reki and renga #i love them all tho (not you adam) #and grace told me that reki had ts even before i started the show and i knew it to be true😌 #he DOES have ts :) #ahhhhh i feel so strongly about this #now I just need to figure out which s.ds character has ts… #anyways #que #because it is 2:09am and i have class at eleven sooooo #if anyone read this far ily #corey rambles:) #corey tics:) #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #reki kyan #reki headcanons #sk8 infinity headcanons

[whythinktoomuch]

stranded in memory

It’s not clear how Lex has managed to pull it off, but he did; he got into Supergirl’s head, and he did it quite literally so as to achieve it quite figuratively, and now Kara Danvers might be lost forever. 

It’s after the second attack—the second time Supergirl storms into the DEO to demand, where are you keeping them?—when they first notice the ugly scar at the base of her neck. 

Red and angry, poorly healed despite living on Kryptonian skin. 

No one manages to get close enough to examine it though, what with Supergirl tearing through metal walls and burning down entire facilities to conduct her frenzied search. 

But whatever it is, the mechanism embedded in her skull has somehow made it so that Supergirl can look Alex Danvers right in the eye and strike her down with heat vision for masquerading as her sister. 

The resulting burns forcibly put Alex on bed rest despite extensive, swear-riddled protest. 

“It appears that Kara’s retained all her memories, but none of ties to reality that would allow her to recognize you,” Brainy concludes to the comfort of absolutely no one. 

“Well, is she even Kara anymore then? Shouldn’t we approach this like we would any other threat?” asks one lone agent, subjecting himself to Alex’s absolute unmitigated fury in the process. 

Lena keeps her distance at first. She’s seen the damage:  

her penthouse somehow upended, 

countless conference rooms and offices at L-Corp torn apart, 

the entirety of National City scrambling for cover as Supergirl makes reckless use of all her superpowers. 

And she knows that Supergirl must be looking for her too. Lex wouldn’t have done any of it, without the guarantee that Lena would end up coerced into direct involvement. It wouldn’t be worth it otherwise. 

And so, she locks herself away in an underground, lead-lined panic room, built for such an occasion. 

Because... well, if it’s true that Supergirl almost killed her own sister, how could Lena ever hope to survive the encounter? She wasn’t even on good terms with the Supergirl that would remember her in the first place.  

But then, things grow darker and even more dire. No one’s died yet, by some unbelievable stroke of luck, but there have been many close calls. So many that the city has started losing faith in their own Girl of Steel. 

And Supergirl has been winding down, slowly but surely, her physical condition unable to keep pace with her inner drive. It won’t be long before some branch of the government or another successfully shoots her down, but there’s only one that will never go for the kill shot. 

So, Lena finally resurfaces and joins forces with what’s left of the DEO, and gets to work on a kryptonite-powered snare. It almost works. 

Supergirl flies right into the trap, immediately twined by thick cords of sickly bright green wrapping around her body. She starts thrashing against her bonds, growling out warnings in a dead language whenever anyone tries to get close. 

"Okay, this isn’t working, guys,” Dreamer says, after her third attempt and subsequent failure to grab hold of the wrists tied behind Supergirl’s back. “She’s still too strong.” 

But at the sound of Dreamer’s voice, the red disappears from Supergirl’s eyes. She sits up, startled, and calls out, “Nia?” 

They’re all overwhelmed with relief then—Supergirl, and maybe even Kara, included—because at last, Lex’s device seems to have worn off.

But when Supergirl turns around to greet Dreamer, finally face to smiling face, a darkness sweeps back over her features. “You,” she says, her tone strangled with bitterness. “Who the hell are you, and what did you do with Nia?” 

Dreamer frowns, utterly baffled. “Kara, what are you talking about? It’s me... Nia.” But she takes a step too close, and Supergirl headbutts her into the ground. 

A brawl ensues, and Supergirl manages to throw everyone off her and escape by way of ungainly, lumbering flight, still bundled in kryptonite laced restraints against all impossibility. 

They find the mangled contraption some miles away in pieces. 

Nia’s head is very bruised and somewhat concussed, but she thankfully emerges from the medical bay relatively unscathed. 

Ultimately, Lena’s the one who figures it out, by repeatedly asking for the play-by-play of the failed capture and then reviewing the body cam footage for further research. There’s no way to know for sure, of course, but time is definitely running out, with Supergirl now facing an entire fleet of military aircraft armed with kryptonite. So, Lena takes her findings and rushes onto the scene. 

Supergirl is making her last stand, forced into a final corner with her back against the wall, eyes still blazing with heat vision. Until she hears a familiar voice crackling in her ear, the DEO comms whirring back to life. 

“Kara?” calls the voice, and Supergirl becomes a statue, breath stuttering, almost unwilling to believe her own ears. “Kara, can you hear me...?” 

“Lena...” Supergirl says her name like a prayer, a slight tremor starting up in her legs and traveling all over. “You’re okay? Oh god, you’re okay...” 

Everyone starts yelling then—Alex and Brainy and Nia, nameless stiff-lipped military men trying to secure a clear shot at the fallen hero—but Lena heeds none of it as she walks onto the battlefield. Supergirl whips her head around, regarding her approach with suspicion. 

“It’s still me,” Lena says through the earpiece. “Right now, I’m just in the lexo-suit for my own safety.” 

“I... I can’t see your face...” 

“I know, Kara. I know.” 

Lena, now firmly in the way of anyone who plans on taking aim at Supergirl, stops just a few short steps away from her. “Okay, I need you to trust me now, Kara.” 

And Kara, the Girl of Steel now fallen to dust, starts to cry. “Something’s wrong, Lena,” she says. “Something is so terribly wrong with me, and I don’t know what to do...” 

“I know, and it’s going to be okay,” Lena says, her own emotions sealed away behind purpose. “But right now, I just need you to trust me. Do you trust me, Kara?” 

Kara nods right away, one hand roughly swiping at her eyes. 

“Close your eyes.”

Kara draws back, shoulders stiffening, a bright red gathering in her gaze. 

“Kara, it’s still me,” Lena tells her gently. “I can come to you, but you just need to close your eyes first.” 

“Why?” Kara demands. 

“Do you trust me?” 

Kara’s eyes run all over the sleek design of the lexo-suit, swallowing hard when her x-ray vision can’t breach the surface. “It’s you?” 

“It’s me, I promise.” 

Kara shuts her eyes, disappearing the threat of heat vision along with the darkened blue of her sunken gaze. Warnings come flooding through Lena’s earpiece from well-meaning almost friends, but she gets out of the suit anyway. The tell-tale hydraulic hiss of the lexo-suit opening brings a low rumble to Kara’s chest, but her eyes still remain shut tight.   

“All right, Kara. I’m right here, okay?” Lena says, and Kara struggles to keep her eyes closed at the sound of her voice, now unfettered by technology or static. “No, you’re okay, Kara. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m right here.” 

Lena repeats the sentiment a few times as she approaches Kara in a careful stride. The closer she gets, the harder Kara breathes, teeth gritted and grinding in frustration. 

“Hey, I’m here,” Lena says once within reach, and Kara’s hand shoots out, catching Lena around the wrist. It’s a painful grasp, but Lena grimaces her way through it. “It’s me. You can tell... right?” 

“... Yes,” comes the trembling, grateful answer. 

“Your mind’s playing tricks on you,” Lena explains to her, still soft, still gentle. “Lex did something to your brain, and... you’re just having some trouble trusting what you see right now. But we’re going to fix it, okay?” 

“Okay.” Kara squeezes her eyes shut even harder, and finally lets her hand slip off Lena’s tender, bruised wrist. 

As Lena starts unwinding the scarf from her neck, she lets her eyes roam all over Kara’s face; she’s never been quite this close before. It looks a little different at the moment, somewhat worse for the wear. Deep creases in her strong brow, lips worried and worn, ash and blood of innocent bystanders smudged across one cheek, and her eyes... fluttering, but firmly shut. 

All it would take is one blink, Lena realizes. One look, and she could very well lose her life in Kara’s arms. 

Kara’s breath hiccoughs when she feels soft cotton wrapping around her head, smelling of Lena’s sweat and perfume, and covering her eyes. And all at once, she’s surrounded by the people she loves. 

Alex embracing her and tugging her to safety, whispering words of regret and forgiveness into her hair. 

Brainy and Nia patting at her shoulders, squeezing her hands, as they offer all sorts of affirmations. 

But Kara reaches out, blindly and yet somehow all too aware, and manages to snag the hem of Lena’s shirt. She gently, desperately tugs Lena closer. “You’ll stay with me?” 

A warm hand carefully undoes Kara’s grip on the shirt, inviting it instead in a tangled grasp, both firm and comforting. 

“Always,” Lena says. 

(next part here)

#yes i've started appropriating plot points from CM for my own intents and purposes #haHA! AHAhaAHAH!!!! #my words.

[forever-rogue]

In Name Only - Part 5

A/N: Hello, my sunshines! Here is the re-write of the original part 5. Hopefully it’s as good as the original, and if it’s your first time reading this, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: language, period typical sexism and misogyny

IN NAME ONLY SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Oberyn groaned as he sat up, rubbing away the bits of sleep that were still clinging on from his tired eyes. It was before first light and his rooms were shrouded in darkness, but he knew he needed to get up in order to prepare for his journey. He needed to leave soon in order to make it out of Sunspear before day broke in order to make the long trek that would consist of several long days. 

He hadn’t slept much the evening before, his head swimming with a mixture of different thoughts, but more anything else, he had been all consumed by you. After he had kissed you, he wasn’t sure he had made the right decision, or if he had possibly ruined everything that was building between the two of you. But when you had kissed him, unsure and hesitant at first, but then melted into his touch, he realized that maybe you had wanted this too. You had looked back at him with the absolute sweetest eyes and took it everything in his power not to grab you and pull you back into his rooms then and there.

But no. This wasn’t going to be like that. This wasn’t going to be anything like that. If you wanted this, as he was beginning to think he might as well, he needed to know for sure. He wanted everything to be crystal clear, and at no point would he want to take advantage of you.

He stood up, letting his feet hit the floor with a dull thud, finding himself reluctant to leave again. Something was calling to him, encouraging him to stay, but he knew he couldn’t. There was a job to be done and he needed to do it before addressing whatever was going on within his heart and his mind. Oberyn’s gait was heavy, a sharp contrast to how light his tread normally was, as he crossed the room to his wardrobe and lazily pulled out some clothes to wear. His morning routine was simple, but today it felt overwhelming, most likely because he was unenthusiastic to leave and would rather have stayed. Stayed and spent the time with you.

But a knock came at his door and told him that everyone was waiting on him to come down so they could all leave. Grumbling his acquiescence, he grabbed the few things he planned on taking before exiting his chambers and leaving his bag in front of his door. When he stepped into the hallway, straightening his tunic with a yawn, his tired gaze fell on your door. He slowly walked over, resting his large hand on the wooden door as he debated whether or not to come in. His curiosity got the better of him and he opened the heavy door, slowly, as to not make a sound and disturb your sleep.

Once there was enough of a gap for him, he slipped inside and walked over to your bed. You were bundled up in your blankets, only your head poking out of them, a peaceful, serene expression on your face. A smile crossed his own face as he leaned down, unable to stop himself, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. A small sound escaped your lips and he worried for a moment that he had woken you, but your eyes remained closed, and you shifted slightly as your hand appeared moved to rest on top of the blankets. He looked at it closely, finding it hard to fight a smile when he saw the wedding band on your finger, the one that matched his.

“I’ll see you soon, sweet girl,” he whispered, gently touching your face, before straightening back up and slowly retreating out of the room and closing your door again. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he grew even more hesitant to leave. This pull, this strange sensation that was washing over and drawing him towards you was getting even stronger. With one last longing look at your door, he started walking down the stairs and out of the palace. He really hoped that this wouldn’t take a whole week and it would be an easy there and back job.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The journey to Yronwood was an interesting one; it required travel from his home through many different parts of Dorne, all varied and different in cultures and customs. One thing that seemed to be ever present however was the warm, welcoming feeling that was ever present wherever he went. People stopped what they were doing, coming out of their homes and shops to see their prince and greet him. Oberyn was beloved by his people and he loved them in turn. 

Many stopped for even a mere glimpse of the handsome prince, waving and shouting well wishes at him. Wishes of good fortune, health, and a long and happy marriage. He had no doubt many had been eager to see a glimpse of his new bride, but that would all come in time. For now, he was happy to keep you safe and at home, while he handled whatever troubles were brewing in Yronwood. 

The various states of Dorne were something to behold; each boasted a different look and atmosphere and yet it was all harmonic and came together beautifully. Despite having traveled the world, this would always be his favorite place to be - his home. He hoped one that day you would consider it yours too. But that was another thought for another day, when he had time to show you more. Now he needed to focus on weeding out the problem, although he was sure he had an inkling of what was going on.

As soon as Yronwood came into view, an odd sensation settled in his stomach. It was still beautiful, in its own way, but a sharp contrast to the rest of the region. Instead of the vibrancy and openness of many Dornish holds and cities, Yronwood more closely resembled the Northern parts of Westeros. A slight shudder ran down his spine at the thought. While people, namely women, retained the same liberties here as they did throughout Dorne, the reality was vastly different. No one said anything, but it was...a known fact. And as it turned out, every once in a while Doran or Oberyn had to remind them of that little detail. 

“Uncle!” Oberyn was pulled back into attention from the sound of the young man’s voice. He turned and saw his nephew, Quentyn running towards him, flanking by a few others from the castle. He was grinning from ear to ear as he stopped in front of Oberyn’s horse and took the reins while Oberyn slid off.

“My boy,” he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around his nephew, clutching him tightly to his chest. The young boy was almost the spitting image of Oberyn at his; tan and lithe, with a mop of dark curls and soft eyes, and a smile that matched his own. He’d always had a soft spot for his nephew, the only boy that was ever-present in his life; in some ways regarded him as a son rather than a nephew. He pressed a kiss to the top of head, “I’ve missed you. Look at you, you’re practically a man grown.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” Quentyn grinned at him; he looked up this father, naturally, but there was no denying that Oberyn was his hero. They’d always shared a special bond, “I am glad to see you again. And what of your new wife? Are you hiding her away?”

“You will meet her soon enough,” Oberyn promised, “she’s remaining in Sunspear for the time being until I can show her more of Dorne. I figured that would be best for now, and that her first introduction to Dorne should not be with Yronwood. She’ll quite like you - and you’ll like her. She’s very kind.”

“I should be glad to meet her as well,” he grinned as the men started heading towards the castle, “perhaps I can come back home soon for a visit - or better yet, for good. I know Papa thinks I should remain here but I’d like to be home with everyone else…”

“I know,” Oberyn offered his shoulder a firm squeeze, “but for now you must remain here. It’s only for a few more years; I know it seems harsh, but your fostering is almost complete. Besides - you are a Martell. You must not bow to them, you must keep them in line too. What are your words, Quentyn?”

“Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken.”

“Exactly,” Oberyn grinned, “never let them take that from you. Have they been treating you well?”

“Yes,” he said as they headed into the dreary keep, “the arms master and maester are kind and knowledgeable. It’s mainly the Yronwoods themselves, Uncle. They’re…”

“Oberyn Martell!” the booming voice was commanding and Oberyn turned on his heel to find its owner.

“Anders Yronwood,” he acknowledged with a slight bow of his head. Anders Yronwood was a tall, portly man with a scarred visage and a receding hairline. He’d seen many battles throughout his lifetime, which left him hardened in looks and personality. Oberyn had always felt there was something off about him, but he never had quite even evidence of anything to prove his claims. Instead he made sure his visits were not too infrequent. The man extended his hand and Oberyn shook it, refusing to be the first to break eye contact, “a pleasure as always. I hope things have been well.”

“Well enough to cause me to wonder why you’ve made your presence known,” he laughed, a loud boisterous thing that caused Oberyn’s skin to crawl, “shouldn’t you be enjoying the company of your new bride?”

“My nephew here informed me that there were some rumors going around,” Oberyn’s hands went to his hips as he made sure to display his trusty dagger, “merchants not getting paid enough and taxes being raised and levied against the poor. All rumors of course, but I just decided to come and make sure everything is in order. There won’t be a problem, will there?”

“Of course not, your highness,” the man’s face pulled into a worried expression for a moment before he laughed and clapped Oberyn on the back, “I’ll have chambers readied for you and your men at once but for now, we’ll get a drink and celebrate the famed Dornish Prince. Now, tell me more about this Northern whore of yours. I know they’re not good for much-”

“I would choose your next words wisely, my lord,” Oberyn’s expression shifted to one of calculated anger as he raised his eyebrows, “I will not hear you refer to my wife as such again.”

“It’s a joke!” Oberyn knew it was anything but a joke, “you know how warm and giving our women are here. The ones from the North just lie there and expect you to do all the work. But I guess it doesn’t matter, does it, as long as you can find release and they can produce a few heirs.”

“I would cease to speak if I were you,” Oberyn stopped dead in tracks as he was almost trembling with anger. Such foul, vile words from a man who called himself fair and just. He was anything but, “I’m not sure if you’re aware that women are people as well? Equal, if not better, no matter where they’re from. They do not exist solely for our pleasure or for the purpose of bearing heirs. Have you forgotten that?”

“I’m just saying,” he held his hands up in mock surrender as Oberyn glared daggers at him, “my second wife was Northern - wasn’t good for much, but managed to give me some sons. Other than that it was-”

“Listen here and listen well,” Oberyn grabbed the lapels of his robe and pulled him close. For once, Anders Yronwood appeared nervous, “you will learn to treat women, and everyone else with some decency and respect, regardless of their station. My nephew will be watching you closely - everything he sees and hears, so do I. Don’t forget where your loyalties lie - House Martell. One word and you will find yourself without a name, a title, or anything you deem so important. I am your Prince, as Quentyn. Remember that.”

His mouth pulled into a thin, tight line as he nodded in silence. He knew better than to tread on the Red Viper; even he wasn’t that foolish. Oberyn let him go before shoving him out of the way; he could feel the eyes of everyone in the hall on him, “of course, your highness.”

“Good,” he stated simply, motioning for Quentyn and a few of his men to follow, “I’ll see you around.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next few days were spent with Oberyn traveling throughout the region, along with some of his most trusted advisors and Quentyn. He'd always tried to instill in him the importance of being there for his people, and taking care of them. Much to his relief, Quentyn had no arguments following in his Uncle's footsteps. 

As it turned out, rumors that the Yronwoods were participating in salacious activities turned out to just be rumors. It didn't mean however, that the people were happy with their rule. Oberyn would make it a point to bring up the peoples' apprehensions; he knew he had to deal with what was going on within the castle walls first and foremost. He noticed more and more that things were off as the days had passed and they had left him with an uneasy feeling. 

More than anything, he'd gotten to the conclusion that he was missing you. It had started off as a slow, underlying feeling, but with more and more time passing, he understood what it was. He still had so much to learn about you, and vice versa, but gods, he already missed your smile and that kind hearted spirit you openly displayed. He couldn't wait to be back in Sunspear.

On this particular evening, the prince had retired to his temporary chambers early, leaving the grand hall before the sun had even set. He was feeling restless and growing listless the longer his stay in Yronwood grew. He'd gone for a walk earlier that day, and spoken with some townspeople, but that had only taken up so much of his time. 

A heavy sigh passed his lips as he stoked the fire in the corner to provide some light and warmth. It was almost laughable; this was the only part of his kingdom that wasn't light and airy.  This was cold and dreary and the lack of light and life made his heart heavy. But it was no matter, he reminded himself, he would be home soon enough.

He settled into the small, uncomfortable and uninviting bed and grabbed his book. If nothing else he'd have something to occupy his mind. 

And for a while, it worked. At first his thoughts had kept drifting back to you and Sunspear. He wondered what you were up to, if you'd had full, happy days. He couldn't imagine you shut away and hidden like he currently was. Maybe you liked to read too - maybe at night he could read to you or you to him. Still so many mysteries that would need answers. He hoped one day that he would get them all.

As he allowed himself to concentrate on his book, a quiet, almost timid knock came at his door. Raising a brow, he decided against answering it, thinking that perhaps it wasn't intended for him after all. But then it came again, but less timid this time, followed by a quiet, "y-your highness?"

A look of confusion crossed his features as he got up from the bed and made his way to the door. He opened it with slight hesitation as he spied a young girl on the other side. She wore a thick, dark robe and a nervous expression as she met his eyes. He stepped to the side as he let her in and cast a glance down the hall.

"What is your name?" he asked, shutting the door as she looked at him with wide doe eyes, "how can I help you?"

"I don't have a name," she answered softly, "and it doesn't matter. I am a gift...from Lord Anders for your pleasure. Whatever you like, My Prince, I will do to you or for you."

"Why would he send you?" Oberyn ran a hand over tired face as he internally groaned. He knew exactly what Yronwood was up to. He shook his head to himself, "did he force you? Threaten you if you didn't come?"

"O-of course not, my prince," her face faltered for a moment as she reached up and ran her hands over his broad chest. She looked young, so young, and despite her assertion that she wanted to be there. He had a feeling that while she might not have been averse to him, she was nervous, "it is an honor and privilege to pleasure the famous Prince of Dorne." 

He sucked in a breath as she pushed his robe off of his shoulders. He couldn't  feel the inner turmoil within him start to rear up. While he wasn’t normally one to pass up such an offer, he couldn’t in good conscience have the young woman. She clearly wasn’t up to this on her own merits and he would never take advantage of another; Oberyn would be in his grave before he did that. He took a step back and shook his head. He wasn’t going to do this anymore; he was, in some odd sense, already committed to you. You’d never even told him that you wanted more than a friendly relationship, but he couldn’t help his mind from wandering back to you. 

“Please do not feel obligated to do anything of the sort,” he insisted, swallowing the lump in his throat. She pushed the woolen robe from her shoulders and let it fall into a small heap on the cold stone. Oberyn couldn’t help but look her over, immediately surprised by the fact that she was bare underneath. He knew it didn’t matter what he did with her, technically, since you’d both agreed that either of you could do whatever you wanted with whomever. She took a step closed and put a delicate hand on his cheek. 

“Please,” she insisted with an odd glint in her eyes. Part of him was conflicted but before knew what was happening, something came over him and his hands found her hips as he pushed her towards the bed. She easily complied and laid on her back as Oberyn loomed over. His hands were on her sides as he bent down and kissed with a deep hunger. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close to her, nervously kissing him back.

Before it could go too far, to the point of no return, Oberyn caught himself and looked down at her. That’s when it hit him - she wasn't you. He stopped immediately and moved off the bed, shaking his head furiously. The young girl was so startled by his sudden actions that a flush of warmth crossed her features as she worried she had committed some wrong.

"My Prince," she stammered nervously, grabbing the blanket and covered herself up, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I-I…"

"No," he held up his hand and picked up the discarded robe, gently handing it back to her, "you've done nothing wrong. I'm afraid the fault is on me."

“Is everything alright?” she made quick work of dressing herself before offering him a timid smile, “I can...send someone else, if I did not please you…”

“No,” he insisted as he gently brushed back her hair, helping her tie the robe, “I won’t take advantage of this situation...besides that, it appears my heart seems to lie with my wife at this time.”

“Your wife,” she smiled slightly at the thought, “she must be very lucky to call you her husband. You’re a good man, my Prince. Much better than the pigs around here-”

As soon as her last words left her lips, a look of surprise crossed her features. Clearly, she hadn’t meant to voice her thoughts out loud. 

“I believe I am the lucky one,” did you feel the same? He hoped you did, “tell me one thing. Did Anders Yronwood threaten you if you did not come here? What did he say?”

“He…” she looked at him, searching his eyes to make sure it was safe to confide in him. He answered with a small nod and encouraged her to go on, “he has several women he favors...women that are not his wife. He considers it a gift to share them with visitors. If we do not...if we do not do as we are told...we can be punished.”

“Punished?” his brows shot straight up.

“I’ve seen it a few times,” she whispered, “they’ll get beaten until they are left a mess. I-I can’t go back, please, don’t let me go back. Not tonight. He’ll hurt me too if he thinks I've displeased you or we haven't done anything."

"Its alright," Oberyn promised her, his blood already boiling with anger. He was glad he came - apparently his little message to Yronwood hadn't quite gotten through to him. Oberyn would make sure that he received it. He must have been extremely stupid or brash in order to think he could get away with sending his gift in such a manner, "go to your chambers, and remain there. I'll make sure you're safe - now and always. If anything ever happens again you or anyone in this castle, you are to let my nephew Quentyn know. He'll get word to me and I'll be here to help however I can. You mustn't be afraid, you've got me as a friend now."

"I don't know how I could ever thank you," her eyes were closed with tears as she couldn't help but her arms around him. He hugged her tightly and offered her a few more well wishes before opening the door to her, "you really are as they say. A good, kind, and just Prince. And handsome at that. Thank you again. I hope our paths again, and that I can meet your wife, preferably under better circumstances."

"As do I," he agreed, "until our paths cross again."

He watched her go, making sure she was safe and out of sight before closing the door and locking it behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed and let out a long, wary sigh. He couldn't help himself from wondering what it would be like to kiss you in such a manner. Would you be receptive? Would you be eager and happy? Or perhaps you wanted to keep him at bay. Whatever life decided to throw at you both, he supposed he would discover your true desires soon enough.

For now, he had more pressing matters to attend. He was going to make sure Anders Yronwood knew exactly who he was dealing with. He grabbed the book he had been reading and tossed it onto the table before sliding back into bed and pulling the covers up and bundling up.

He quickly fell into a deep, restless slumber. He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, all of his thoughts drifting back to you. He wondered if you could feel it, all his warm and tender thoughts all the way back home in Sunspear. It was a comforting thought to know that you were both looking at the same moon and falling asleep under the same stars. It made the world seem that much smaller. It almost felt like you were there with him, at his side where he wished you were.

The thought alone of seeing you again, that sweet smile and lovely face, was enough to finally get him off to sleep. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

If Anders Yronwood was a gruesome and horrible overlord, his son Cletus was his mirror in every worse and still worse. It was a small solace that Cletus was not the heir to Yronwood, but rather that fell to his sister, Gwyneth. Oberyn had only met her on a few occasions, but he knew she was miles above the rest of her family. It was fortunate that Dorne did not follow the traditional customs of the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and only allowed male heirs. 

The Great Hall was bustling and loaded with rowdy people, causing an uneasy feeling to well up in Oberyn's stomach. It might have seemed lively, but once he looked closer, he could see that the only people having any semblance of a good time were the men of the keep. 

He rolled his eyes to himself as he grabbed a quiet seat at the end of the hall, attempting to keep hidden in the shadows. But it was no use - it continually proved to be a challenge when tried to pretend he was not the Prince when he was so easily recognizable. 

"Oberyn Martell," he was starting to hate the sound of his own name as Cletus took a seat next to him. He grimaced slightly as he turned to face the sudden interruption, "a pleasure as always."

"Cletus," he acknowledged, attempting to cut off the situation as quickly as he could. Cletus looked around and quickly flagged down one of the servants, waving her over obnoxiously as a nervous, vacant expression crossed her gestures.

"Go and get the biggest and best plates of food for myself and the Prince," he commanded as she refused to meet his eyes and nodded in understanding, "now."

"Are you always like this with people, Cletus?" 

"Only with people that deserve it," he leaned back in his chair and shrugged, clearly disinterested, "she's a kitchen wench. There's really not much to it."

"She's a person," a frown graced his features as he shook his head internally, "all people deserve to be treated with respect and kindness. What if she'd spoken to you in such a manner?"

"She wouldn't dare. I am her Lord-

"And yet still just a person," Oberyn snapped, "one who can be made to bend the knee with a single word from me."

Cletus remained silent as he stared anywhere but Oberyn's face. The silence was awkward and tense, easily cut with the dullest of knives. The Princes' fingers danced around the hilt of his dagger but he managed to stay his hand. One wrong move and it would cause an uproar. If it wouldn't have been such a risky move, he was half tempted to eradicate the problem then and there.

"Here you are my Lord, my Prince," the young woman had made a nervous return as she put two full plates of food in front of the men. They were overflowing with food that looked dry and sad and bland. There was so much flavor and spice available, yet this looked anything but. Oberyn thanked her gently while Cletus remained silent, "if there's nothing else, I'll attend to my other duties."

Before she could make her escape, Cletus grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to his level. She yelped in surprise as she tried to pull out of his clutches on instinct, "I'll see you in my chambers this evening. Don't be late like the last time or I'll have to punish you again. You don't want that, do you?"

"N-no, my Lord," she stammered nervously as he let go of her and she stumbled backwards from his tight grip. Oberyn's rage flared up when he spotted what appeared to be fading bruises along her shoulders and neck, "I will be there and on time.”

“Good,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand while Oberyn pushed his plate away. His already meager appetite had all but diminished. Cletus took a large bite, ignorantly unaware of the wrath that he had just brought upon himself, “you have to teach them...they’re not good for much else.”

“You’ve laid your hands on her,” it wasn’t so much a question as it was a direct statement. Cletus nodded lightly but kept shoving his mouth full of food, “you require her to warm your bed as well? How many others are there?”

“Maybe a dozen or so,” he shrugged, “we like to rotate through them. The one you were sent last night was one of the newest. A special treat.”

Unable to control himself any longer, Oberyn quickly pulled his dagger out and stabbed into the table between the two men, right near Cletus’ left hand. His mouth hung open at the action as he nervously looked at his Prince. 

“If I ever hear again of you touching any man, woman, or child in this castle, or anywhere, it will be the last time you do anything. You will not harm them, or require them to sleep with you,” he spat out as he grabbed his collar and pulled him close, “you will treat everybody, regardless of their position or station in life with respect. This is the Dornish way - the only way. I will have eyes on you and your family and your entire family. Do you understand me, boy?”

“You wouldn’t dare-”

“Oh,” Oberyn’s lips curled up in a devilish smile, “I would. Do you really want to find out what I will do? They call me the Red Viper for a reason - but I’m not afraid to resort to calling in the Boltons to flay you alive. My word is law around here and it’s time you and your filthy father learned to respect it.”

“You have no power,” he hissed nervously, casting a glance at the dagger that could have easily ended his life. The Great Hall had grown silent as all eyes were trained on the two men, “your brother rules.”

“Aye,” Oberyn nodded, “but it just so happens I rule too. I am the Prince of Dorne, boy, and Doran’s most trusted advisor. But again, if you want to take your chances…”

“Let me go,” he insisted in panic. 

“Remember where your loyalties lie,” Oberyn’s voice was quiet and dangerously low as he leaned in so only Cletus could hear him, “House Martell. We are your power - you will do as well say or your entire family can go off to the North...maybe even the wall. This is Dorne, and you will respect our way of life. A name and a title doesn’t keep you safe; not here. I will personally come and dole out justice if I need to. My nephew will be watching closely - one wrong move and I will hear it. You even think about touching as much as a hair on his head, you will have not just my wrath to fear, but all of Dorne’s. If I ever hear of anything like this again, you will rue the day. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"

"Yes," he whispered quietly as Oberyn grabbed his dagger and held it to the man's throat. Be pressed just enough to make an ident into his skin but not hard enough to draw blood, "crystal clear, your highness."

"Good," he insisted before pulling away and shoving Cletus away. Oberyn sighed  heavily as he got up and started to storm away. Before he left the Hall, he turned around and held up his arms. Every eye in the house was still on him, "and let this be a lesson and warning to everyone here. If I so much hear a whisper or breath of anything happening that goes against the laws set forth by House Martell, you will face our justice. Here in Dorne everyone is equal and will be treated with respect and dignity. If you have a problem with that, feel free to leave or you will personally face my blade."

There was small murmuring of acknowledgement as Oberyn left the hall, standing tall and proud. As much as he hated flaunting rule or power over anyone, sometimes he knew it needed to be done; equality for all was something he was extremely passionate about. They were lucky in some ways, to have him as their Prince. While he could be firm and violent, he was tame compared to some of the other Lords and rulers throughout the Kingdoms. He might have been the Red Viper, deadly and dangerous, but he was also fair and just as long as no one tread on him.

As soon as he reached an empty spot in the hall, he leaned against the wall and let out a long sigh, hiding his tired face in his hands. He’d seen more than enough and was ready to be gone from this foul place. All he could think about was making it back home to Sunspear, back home to you. 

“Uncle!” Quentyn ran up to him, barely able to contain the little smirk on his face, “is everything okay? I heard the last bit of your little speech.”

“This place is dreadful,” he sighed as Quentyn nodded in agreement, “of all the places your father had to choose to sequester you, it had to be here. I understand his reasoning, and yet the idea still makes me ill. We’ll have you home soon, I promise. For now, I want you to be our eyes and ears here. I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you think you can handle it?”

“Of course,” he grinned and nodded eagerly, “I’m always excited to help however I can.”

“Good boy,” he pulled him into a tight hug before kissing the top of his head, “you make us all very proud.”

“My Prince,” one of Oberyn’s men found him, a concerned look on his face, “Anders Yronwood has heard of your little outburst and he’s not happy…”

“I don’t care,” Oberyn insisted, “if he has a problem with our rules, he can leave. My word is law. Now, let us pack up and be rid of this horrid place. I want to get home and back to my wife."

"I can have everyone ready to leave within a few hours," Oberyn gave him a thankful squeeze on his shoulder, "and we'll get you back home to Sunspear as quickly as possible, your highness."

"I am forever in your debt," the idea of you waiting at home for him was enough to cast a warm feeling all over his body. He was more than ready to see you again - to kiss you again - everything. If nothing else, his time in Yronwood had been enough to give him a sense of clarity and peace. He really did want to try with you, he wanted to see you. The revelation was enough to send him in a tale spin.

"Aye," he grinned at his Prince, "we'll get you back to her post haste. Besides, the Lady made us swear to bring you back home safely. She's eager to have you back, no doubt."

"I am eager to be back with her as well," Oberyn's grin threatened to break his face in half, "and back with some decent company. Until later then."

"Unbowed, unbent, unbroken."

"Unbowed, unbent, unbroken." 

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #ino #in name only #part 5 re-write because ya girl is a clown