#a place he cant return to — only in dreams… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sttoru · 7 months

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𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 .

⟣ sypnosis. a nightmare of your lover’s disappearance wakes you from your sleep.

⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. angst, comfort, fluff. takes place after gojo’s unsealed but before dec 24th, bits of spoilers jjk leaks 236 at the end. mentions of death, blood.

⟣ note. based on it’s happening again by agnes obel. coping rn dhmu . . . not proofread bcs i cant read through my tears anyways hope u enjoy im gonna cry myself to sleep now

everyone has to die at one point — not even the strongest of all could avoid that tragical fate. not even the strongest sorcerer you call your lover.

no, not even him. the universe couldn’t spare him. you thought that maybe, it would. maybe fate wouldn’t apply to him. oh, how wrong you were.

blood splatter—a stream of red liquid. right at your feet. right in front of your eyes. a man in half. and not just any regular man;

“satoru !”

your dark surroundings become blurry with tears, your body jolts out of its current dreaming state. you could feel your heart in your chest—in your throat. your brain shut itself off for a few seconds as your eyes try to make out shapes and figures in the room you’re in. your bedroom.

you only then realises that it was all just a gruesome nightmare. a hyperrealistic one at that; one that will haunt you for years.

“hmmh.. ‘m right here, baby.” a groggy voice next to you replies to your yell in agony. the yell that was the shape of your lover’s name leaving your lips—

you instantly turn your head to the right and there he was; the man whom just met death in your dreams. gojo satoru, all alive and well. in your bed, in your presence, in your life.

satoru’s hand aimlessly pats the space next to him in search of your body whilst he rubbed his eyes with the other, trying to adjust his sight to the dark so he could find you. you seemed to be in complete distress. which he does not like.

“it’s okay, shh, shh,” your lover hums, hand finally finding your arm. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you on top of him—your head laying on his chest.

his body was warm. his heartbeat was there. loud and clear in your right ear.

“satoru. . .” a river of tears flows down your cheeks like a dam that has been broken into. your body trembles, lungs feeling like they couldn’t get any air in them from how hard you were sobbing. the pain of losing your loved one; it all came flowing back to you.

satoru frowns, “hey, hey. look at me — sweetheart, c’mon.”

he instantly sits up and pulls you along with him. his hands find your cheeks, tilting your head up. this time it was his turn to feel his heart break in pieces. you looked absolutely distraught. as if you just went through a traumatic experience of some kind. he hated it.

“shit,” satoru mutters under his breath before pulling you into his embrace again, arms circling your waist with his head buried in the crook of your neck, “it’s okay, i’m here now. you’re safe.”

it wasn’t the first time you had nightmares when he was with you. you had them regularly after satoru had gotten sealed in the prison realm for nineteen days—nineteen days of dread for you. of an empty bed, an empty house and an empty life.

when satoru had finally been released from the prison realm it was like a dream come true. a happy dream, that is. not those repetitive, bad ones you have every now and then. you still get those nightmares of your lover being either taken away from you by force or by death itself. your brain couldn’t give you a break — even after his return.

“take a deep breath in,” satoru instructs and sets an example by doing the breathing exercise with you, “hold it for three seconds . . . breathe out for six. mhmm, good—jus’ like that.”

you repeat it a couple more times, sobbing and shaking throughout the entirety of the exercise, but eventually manage to calm down a little. satoru sighs in relief at this;

“you okay, baby?”

you nod weakly and sniff, wanting nothing more than to be held by the man you thought had vanished from your life forever. you had that scare once, when he was sealed, and you never want to go back to those dark times. ever.

“it’s— i, just—“ you hiccup once, unable to complete entire sentences, “i thought you w-were gone. i thought you had died.”

it was silent after that (except for the sound your silent sobs and sniffles). satoru had guessed by now that you saw him die in your dream — that much was pretty obvious. but, the thought that you were this distressed because of it makes him. . . happy in a way.

happy that someone would mourn over him at least.

“well,” satoru pensively replies, hands rubbing your back up and down soothingly, “everyone has to meet their end one day, you know?”

that sentence was one that was meant to lighten up the grim mood somehow. one of his many lighthearted remarks that were supposed distract you from your tears. it would work during other moments like these — were you’d be too baffled by the things satoru says to care about what you were crying for — yet today it only worsens your misery.

“shut up.” you weakly punch his chest to which the white haired male chuckles softly, his slender fingers instantly interlocking with yours. satoru’s thumb brushes against your wrist before pulling it up to his lips, placing ticklish kisses among your skin.

another silence hangs in the air.

“seriously though. . . if i were to somehow die, i’d want you to live and move on, yeah?” your lover whispers in such a quiet tone that it was almost inaudible. satoru had looked death right in the eye before — he didn’t care back then if it were actually his end.

he does now. he has the world to lose — his world — his everything. you.

satoru wants to live a happy life with you. he doesn’t want to die now that he has you. the love of his life which he wants to grow old with. maybe have kids with. start an own family away from the busy streets, away from the swarming curses in the city and away from all that sorcerer stuff. it was a nice dream.

“shut it!” you huff and satoru takes another weak punch to the chest. his gaze lands upon your tear struck face and he instantly drops the serious ‘act’.

the sorcerer laughs, his usual boyish laugh that makes you feel better, and he flips you both over so that he has you pinned underneath him. satoru grins before kissing your tummy all over, making you giggle from the ticklish feeling;

“i’m playin’, baby! i’m not going anywhereeee!” he promises through wet pecks against your skin, the smile on his evident even if you couldn’t see it — you could hear it in his voice.

satoru leaves your tummy and moves on to your neck and face. he was smothering you in affection in hopes you’d cheer up some way. he just wants you to forget about anything bad happening to him. you didn’t deserve to think about all that stuff — you deserve to be happy and full of joy.

even without him one day.

“i’d never leave my princess all alone.” satoru shakes his head and pouts dramatically, “who else is gonna spoil you? or kiss and cuddle you to bed, huh?”

you finally show an ounce of joy. a tiny smile. that was all satoru had needed to see. he wasn’t going to stop there, however. his goal was to turn that small smile into a full blown fit of laughter.

“i’m one of a kind, baby. you’re never gonna meet a man like me.” he continues with a proud grin, putting all of his body weight on top of you which causes you to groan and grumble a lighthearted complain.

satoru knows you like it whenever he clings to you and thus he uses that piece of knowledge to help you feel better. his head was buried into your shoulder, limbs enveloping your body like a koala.

“whatever.” you roll your eyes and snuggle up to your lover, closing your eyes as the tiredness hits your body after all that crying.

“whatever !” satoru mocks you in a high-pitched tone, followed by a pair of giggles from the two of you. a third and final punch to the chest finally shuts him up for the rest of the night.

the sorcerer made sure you had fallen asleep first before he whispered the next words in your ear, hoping they’d calm your mind and body so that no nightmares would ever bother you again;

“don’t you worry, sweets. i’m not leaving you. ever.”

. . .

those were the same exact words satoru wished he could utter to you one last time before the current date — 24th of december.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fic #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo angst #jjk comfort #jjk spoilers

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yasminebahng · 2 months

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skz and how they give you physical affection

notes: some fluff for yall after the angst of my last post ;) was waiting for my lecture to start and suddenly started thinking... how do the boys love to show their affection physically? then started day dreaming and yeah.. enjoy! cw: reader x ot8, mentions of kissing, mentions of showering/bathing together, gn reader

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡

Chan: Resting on you

God knows this man needs a break. When he's exhausted after dance practice or doing interviews all day, the only comfort he can find is in you. He'll trudge over to you, head bowed down, his eyes droopy with sleep and just collapse into your open arms. This happens very frequently actually. When he's working on music, he'll bring his laptop with him while he lays on your chest. He knows he cant be around all the time, and when he is around he's usually busy, so he's grateful that you embrace him while working (I mean, he needs some lovin too.) He'll let you know its time for bed by kissing your arm that's usually resting on his chest or playing with his curls. The rest of the night is spent with cuddles and giggles.

Lee Know: Tracing his fingers on your skin

Lee Know is notorious for avoiding skinship. Out of respect for him, you allow him to initiate it most of the time. Whether it be kisses, hugs, or cuddles, you let him take the reigns. Except for when you ask when you're feeling needy, most of the time he will oblige. So whenever he doesn't really want to kiss or hug, he will draw figures or words on any exposed skin. You find that he does it subconsciously when you both watch movies on the couch or are falling asleep in bed. That's actually the way he told you he loves you the first time. He traced the words on your arm while you spoke, thinking you wouldn't catch it. But you did. You always paid attention when he did that. So you picked up his palm, making eye contact with him the whole time, and traced the words back. The whole day was spent with kisses and arm doodles.

Changbin: Bear hugs

Binnie is so touchy in general but his personal favorite in his artillery, are huge hugs. Whenever you guys go out on a date, he'll wrap his arms around your shoulders and waddle behind you. Even when you watch him at dance practice, during breaks he'll chase you around and hug you (much to your dismay, since he's all sweaty.) He loves encasing you and knowing you're safe with him as much as you love the warmth of his embrace. He'll squeeze you so tightly, honestly to the point of suffocating. Whenever you return the favor, he melts. Feeling your arms around him is the greatest comfort, especially when he's had a really hard day.

Hyunjin: Hand worship

Having hands on the larger side, Hyunjin loves looking and feeling your smaller ones in his own. He'll make fun of you sometimes, calling them baby hands even though they're a normal size but I digress. Sometimes when he paints, he'll turn to you and ask for your hand to hold. You smile at him and give it to him and he'll bring it to his lips before intertwining his fingers with your own. If he's feeling especially playful, he will start to paint on it. Landscapes, flowers, even Jiniret. It feels so intimate when your fingers dance around together, exploring each other.

Han: Kisses

This man has some juicy lips and he is not afraid to use them. He will find any excuse to kiss you. ANY. "Aw, you had a bad day? Here, my lips will cure you." "Oh! You had an amazing day? Let's make it a better one." Before he showers your face and neck and shoulders with kisses. His personal favorite place to kiss you is your forehead. He'll rest his head against yours and find your lips, slowly molding them together. Then, after a dizzying and heart melting kiss, he'll leave a trail of them until he finds his lips on your head. You'll close your eyes, savoring the warmth of his body pressed against yours. One time, his kissed your head for so long it left a hickey on there. When he pulled away and saw the angry purple mark, he collapsed on the floor laughing and you looked at him like he was crazy. Until you found a mirror. And you became the crazy one. He did not kiss your head for a while after that.

Felix: Massages

After a long, exhausting day at work, all you want to do is go home, shower, and cry. Thankfully, your caring boyfriend has better plans. Felix loves doing acts of service. If he knows you're not in high spirits he will take your bags at the door, help you take your shoes off, and run a bath for you while you grab yourself something to drink. You'll walk into the bathroom that's thick with steam and see that the candles on the tub are lit and Felix is hunched over, checking the temperature of the water. He'll help you change out of your clothes and lower you into the tub. He has bought several lotions and oils because he loves massaging you so much. He'll spread it over your shoulders and squeeze softly but firmly. You melt. He will hear your words of approval and feel so giddy that he's helping you and relieving some of your stress. Eventually he will move down to your arms, your legs, your feet. Any part of you he can massage he will. It's as enjoyable for him as it is for you and he loves that he can show his love for you this way.

Seungmin: Spooning

This man is a fiend for cuddles. He will jump at any opportunity to cuddle with you. Whenever he wraps up singing at the recording studio, he will get out of the booth and run to your spot on the couch and pull you into his arms. You try to scold him sometimes, since one or two of the members are usually there, but they don't seem to mind at all. You don't really either. You love feeling his arms around your stomach and your legs tangled together. He will fall asleep sometimes and whenever you'd attempt to get up, his grip tightens and you admit defeat. Don't tell anyone this, but whenever you guys are alone, most of the time he's the little spoon. He loves how you hitch your leg over his hip and have your arm under him (it falls asleep most of the time but you never move or tell him.) He feels safest in your arms.

I.N: Playing with your hair

He discovered how much he loved playing with your hair when you guys were on a picnic date in a field. Your head was in his lap and you were nearly asleep. He was staring down at you and began to stroke your hair and scratch at your scalp. You hummed in approval and it was lights out. After seeing how much peace it brought you, he would always be playing with it. Twirling it between his fingers, asking if he can help apply products, even washing it for you when you guys would shower. He did it for you initially, but then it became his favorite thing in the world. Some days you'd let him tie it into weird styles and with weird hair ties. Some with bows, or beads, or wonky colors. He'd find himself kissing it before bed every night and you could cry at how loved you felt in those moments.

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mari-the-bimbo · 1 year

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hi! could you please do something related w/ rich!geto please? idk like being childhood besties with him and how their relationship (meaning from bff to lovers) would blossom after he becomes heir of the company,, have a nice one i love your writing <3

Rich bf! Geto

A/N: STOPPPP this is such a cute idea I love it! 😮‍💨💗 also this finally pushed me out my comfort zone since I’m always writing 20 chapter long slow burns instead of writing it in one 🤣

You guys became friends when you were 13-14. Awkward teens who spotted each other on the way to school. Geto saw you shoving 2-3 chicken nuggets in your mouth while running to school. It was hilarious in his eyes. To satisfy his curiosity of you, he offered you a ride on his bike, which you easily agreed to, but in return the raven haired boy started to call you ‘chicken nugget’. And since then you were attached to the hip.

You were Geto’s sweetheart, his dearest friend. The slightly strange but sweet girl who he didn’t miss a chance to hang out with, whether it was sneaking your cowardly ass out of class, or giving you a ride home.

And even as you both grew up, and hit puberty, the affection only grew stronger. But now there were butterflies that would grow when your eyes would meet. Or when he’d catch a glimpse of your cute smile, or when your eyes would land on his broad chest when he pulled you for a hug.

Geto always knew he had feelings for his favourite chicken nugget girl, but he didn’t believe he deserves you.

“Bro what do you mean you don’t deserve her? She wants you too bro, trust me” Gojo would reassure him, but that’s because he didn’t understand. Nobody understood how perfect you were, and how he didn’t want to fall short of being perfect for you.

And so at night, while staring at a picture he took with you from a tacky photo booth, he’d promise to make you his girlfriend that day he graduates and takes over his dad’s company. The day he is rich and powerful enough to give you the world.

And so the raven haired man continued life, knowing his ulterior motive. Mastering his degree, shadowing his father at the firm, making connections.

But he’d also watch you continue life too, slightly different to his. He’d scroll through your Instagram, watching your average life with some average nameless men.

It didn’t affect him though, you could post with as many of these basic, nameless men, but he already knew you were each other’s endgame. Till fate brings you back to him, he’ll wait through your phases.

And one day, fate was delivered.

Geto: hey, sorry to hear about your breakup nugget

Your eyes widened like saucers. It’d been a while since you spoke to your first love, Geto. Sometimes you’d imagine if life would be different if you were brave enough to confess to him. You wish you didn’t simply hold hope to the words he uttered the day he moved away for uni.

‘One day, I’ll come back for you’

His voice was so soft, and his smile so sweet, yet it seemed like a distant dream now.

You cant help but laugh at the nickname he kept for you dearly ever since you were kids.

‘Thanks’ you reply casually. Not expecting his following text.

Geto: I’m back in town soon. You free to meet up doll?

At a rooftop cafe, as the sun set, the newly appointed CEO held your hands dearly, whispered sweet nothings and made confessions of love.

And the rest was history.

It wasn’t long until Geto convinced you to move into his penthouse. Holding your hand is he guided you through the luxurious place.

Placing his chin on your shoulder, “this is your home now doll” he says.

Being the girlfriend of the rich heir Geto was peaceful. You’re his pretty angel that he loves to spoil, he never wants you to be sad or deprived of anything, especially since he’s now a millionaire.

He loves taking you to buy luxurious dresses, but he always wants you to wear it again once you’re home. With a tilt of his head and a sly smile, he’ll shamelessly encourage you to change in front of him, eyes like a hawk as he seats himself on a chair watching you undress, softly muttering dirty thoughts, making you flustered as you change.

Even as he completes paperwork at night, you’re seated on his lap. His large hand caressing your thigh, sometimes slipping his hand underneath your silk night dress to make you blush.

He’ll also occasionally look away from the work to appreciate your sleepy face, smiling before encouraging you to sleep on his lap, nudging your head onto his shoulder, kissing and cooing you enough to fall asleep in his warm muscular arms.

“Goodnight angel”

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hazerun3 · 1 month

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I just saw your post about the difference between passive and swan. I'd like to ask the difference between young swad and dream?

shittier doodle this time cuz Im getting tired but the ramblings are probably more unhinged

I dont have particularly strong feelings on dream so this is gonna be mostly younger swad and comparisons to dream when needed

-Views social interaction as inherently transactional and as a game that he can learn to play (he doesnt realise that in the village he was never going to be a player on equal ground, this is why after his ascension his persona is more deity ified rather than a king or smth like nm cuz he wants to be Above it all and in control.)

-Been obsessed with swan even as passives (His Duty to help people got drilled into him, the village feels entitled to his help and swad slowly grows tired of them, but his little brother is always kind to him and doing things for him feels so much more rewarding [tho eventually the village tries to stifle any attempts swad does to get something nice for his brother which frustrates swad so much and swan not asking for anything and just being happy to see him and trying so hard just to make swad happy, even as hes hurt fuels this.] so the mix of the sense of duty, him being the older brother so self imposing a sense of responsibility and swan being nice to him leads him to adopt a mentality where Swan is the only one whos special and actually cares about him not just what he can do for him, but with the way hes raised by the village he tries desperately to try and do something for swan in return cuz he still feels like hes failing in his part of the social bargain)

-Also the cult village placed sooooo much value on stuff like never being angry, always being happy :), youre not allowed to be mean, you Must be hardworking all the time, visibly showing that youre sad is Evil. And swad seethes constantly cuz no one in this fucking village follows that and the one person who embodies all these values the most is swan (who everyone still hates for reasons inexplicable to swad, who believes theres still a way to get swan out of his outcast status if the village just realises that swan is the kindest soul in this rotten place.)

-Dream maintains a more "child" status in the village even as hes older than when swad fights to "adult" status, seeing it as a way to get more social power cuz he picked up that Adults have more power than Children but lol not for him, he just gets to have more responsibilites, the expectation to cut off swan and no money OR gifts for his work cuz gifts are for children doing chores not working adults and since its both swads duty and the fact that he doesnt have anything to spend it on that wouldnt be spending it unwisely they just dont pay him at all! and also hes an object not an adult to them so rushing to try and be an adult backfired miserably

-Swad loves listening to swan read stories to him, reallly wants to be the Prince who saves the damsel and sets his enemies on fire and he projects that persona

-Both he and dream were taken hunting I think, but dream didnt take to it (he had a knack for archery but as soon as he was told to turn that arrow on an innocent bunny he couldnt do it, his more "child" status helps him get out of it) swad was also aprehensive at first but since he places a lot of importance in being the Older Brother and being responsible (also he wants to kill people) so he shoots the bunny, he feels bad and cries about it to swan but he cant let go of the feeling, the smell of blood, the idea of that being someone who hurt swan

-in my head he killed people already lol (used the hunting trips as cover but his hit list is soooooo long and he gets less and less opportunity...)

-he loves shiny things so much but being materialistic and greedy is one of the sins, swan cant get him anything but he does press little flower ornaments for his brother and so much flower jewlery so that swad can roleplay being a prince.

-he hates everyone soooooooo much <3

#hazes drawings #utmv #swapdream #hazes swapdream #swap dreamtale #swad sd #haze rambles #dream sans

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hanafubukki · 4 months

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Diasomnia’s Self-loathing/Hatred

While re-reading chapter 2 of book 7 and thinking of all the events that took place upto chapter 6, I can’t help but think that for such a prideful and confident dorm, they are filled with self-hatred.

Silver and his view of himself. How he hasn’t done enough for Lilia. How he can’t do something as simply as smile as Lilia wished before his departure. How he never returned the love that his father gave him. As if love is a transaction? How 17 years to Lilia might mean nothing, but we know how wrong that is, don’t we?

Additionally, we saw how angry Silver was at his baby self. How he told his baby self he didn’t deserve to cry. The frustration his heritage caused him because of the pain it caused his loved ones. Even though the ring showed Silver all the happy moments Lilia had with him, Silver just felt more depressed. Thinking he doesn’t deserve the love.

But Lilia loves Silver. He raised him, taught him to fight, stayed with him all night when he was sick and so much more. Always spoke of his love in his actions. And Silver realized that at the end of chapter 5, how these actions are confirmation of Lilia’s love for him.

Then we have Malleus, and you can tell from his actions how frustrated and angry he is. He can’t tell Lilia how he truly feels because it was Lilia’s wish to leave. He can’t express himself because of his status as a Prince. For so much power he has at his disposal, he literally says he’s useless. His emotions only shown through the weather change that only Silvee noticed.

And then we have the egg hatching incident, Malleus instead of acknowledging that despite all the pain Lilia went through his happiest moment was still Malleus’ birth, focused on the pain that his birth caused. He offered to give Lilia a happier dream with his parents or with Silver. To acknowledge such would mean he has to accept what he couldn’t have.

(I cant help but wonder if this also means that Lilia wasn’t treated well at the castle and that’s why Malleus visited the cottage instead. Why he grew up isolated because he didn’t want to cause Lilia more trouble because of the senate)

We have seen how much Lilia loves Malleus as well and again it is through actions. Constantly checking up on the egg and giving it compliments, telling the egg how much he’ll take care and love him, giving his life and magic to Malleus, singing him a lullaby, all the gifts he would bring back, and we have seen Lilia learn to love eating and cooking more because of Malleus because Malleus would be happy, and so much more.

And then we have Lilia and his self hatred, how he felt he failed Meleanor and Levan, how he was desperate to find a way to hatch malleus and cure silver, he went through exile, and he was insulted for “tainting” the heir.

And yet, he learned to adapt and learned to love. He heard the cries of his sons from afar. He cradled them in his arms and loves them, but his insecurity is still there. He doesn’t want to be vulnerable to them nor have them waste their time on him. And you can’t help but think, has he truly healed? Or does a part of him still have that self-hatred?

We have seen how loved Lilia is as well, how much Silver loves his father greatly and wants to be there for him, how much Malleus loves him and Silver and visits them at their cottage and help raises Silver, the pain they both felt at Lilia’s departure, how they always think of bringing back gifts because it makes everyone happy, and how they both wanted Lilia to always be happy.

With Sebek, it’s an identity issue because of his background and because of his struggle with magic. But also, I can also see it be a struggle of the expectations laid on him. He’s a half human and fae. Not only does he have to manage himself in two worlds but now he also represents the peace between two races. His actions and demeanor will always be a reflection of this bridge. So he has to work hard and meet both sides, but it isn’t easy and he’s always training to be better. But at least, Sebek knows what he has and how privileged he is to have it unlike the other three. Whom his ultimate wish was for them to be happy.

There’s a saying about learned habits of love, but it’s also surprising how Diasomnia also has learned habits of self-hate.

In a book about love, it’s ultimately sad to see these characters always giving others their all but do not accept it themselves nor do they believe they deserve it.

#queues #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #twst book 7 #diasomnia #twisted wonderland #silver vanrouge #twst analysis #twst character analysis #disney twisted wonderland #twst lilia vanrouge #twst malleus draconia #twst sebek zigvolt

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quimichi · 7 months

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can u write about itto crying for u and you tugging on his horns..? just needy, like he missed you and was so so upset after having a bad nightmare that you left

: ̗̀➛ ITTO BEING NEEDY AND WHINY AFTER A NIGHTMARE OF YOU CAUSE HE MISSES YOU

Itto x Creator!Reader

Itto is missing you terribly.

His heart aches with his thoughts of you— your smile, your laugh, your presence. He misses the way that you look at him, the way that he could gaze into your eyes and feel like everything would be alright. The nightmare he had of you, leaving him forever, for good, felt way to real.

Without you, Itto feels like his heart is about to be torn from his chest, and he cannot imagine life without you by his side. The thought of never hearing your laughter again is one that leaves him shaking. He knows you're only gone for a night, maybe two.

Though he knows intellectually that you are only gone for a short while, Itto's heart doesn't care. His body aches in your absence, and he feels lost without your presence. Each night without you leaves him trembling, wishing for the moment that he could press his head into your shoulder again.

Itto sobs like a child alone in the dark who is afraid and wants nothing but for your warmth to comfort him. He feels nothing besides your absence, and without you, he could not even imagine wanting to live. He's needy, he's aware. But he cant help it.

Itto's sobs quiet to a whimper. He feels so pathetic for crying in your absence, but nothing can stop him. All he wants right now is to feel your touch. A simple hug from you is all he desires, if only to comfort him.He closes his eyes, hoping that he can somehow teleport just to be with you. He waits, willing and hoping that you might reach out to him through his dreams. Even in the most desperate of hopes, he wants you to hear him.

"Please..." he whispers silently.

"It's okay now Itto" Itto's eyes open instantly.

Was that your voice talking to him? Was it really you? Or was he just hearing things?

He looks around in his desperation to see you, but he only sees the void of the darkness surround him.He gulps as he wipes his eyes.

"Your Grace, d-did you call me? Are you here?" He asks, his hopes still high. Perhaps you'd heard his pleas, and had come to him after all? "Yes"

Itto's eyes light up like the brightest of fires.He can't waste a moment more, and so he moves with a speed that he hardly knew he could achieve. He launches himself into your arms, his hair falling over your chest. He trembles as he presses his cheeks against your chest, desperate for your touch to calm him.

He clings to you for life itself. Your hug is like a balm for his wounded heart. He could have your embrace every moment of his life if it would ease the empty ache without you. He is at peace only when you hold him, and now he is free of his pain and anxiety. He leans into you, and he is finally himself again.

With a gentle yet firm touch you pull him closer by his horns to press a kiss to his forehead. Itto can't help but melt as you press your lips to his forehead. He feels loved, and cherished, and valued— he feels as if he's returned home after so long. It's a warmness that fills him, which he has never felt before you.

And even though his skin heats as your lips touch him, He doesn't move or pull away. He could stay in this place for the rest of his life.

"There you go..." softly you wipe his tears away, letting your thumbs rest on his watery cheeks, "is my needy boy all better now?" Itto gulps and nods. He takes a deep breath in, and out once again

"Y-Yes," he whispers, his voice still trembling. "M-My need has been sated."

Now he smiles to you, his face relaxed, despite having been crying so much. He is with you again, and he is at peace. His cheeks flush with color as the warm touch of your hand caresses his face. For all his strength of body and will, there is something vulnerable about the way you hold him. He feels so safe, and he doesn't want your hand to ever leave his face.

He loves when you touch him. He feels so soft and gentle, and it makes his breath hitch in this chest.

The way your fingers trace his face as you hold him feels so tender and loving. Even though he tries not to seem like it, it is something he loves and craves. He craves your touch.

He craves your affection.

Most of all, he craves you.

#arataki itto #genshin itto #itto #itto x reader #Genshin itto #genshin impact itto #sagau x reader #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin cult au #Sagau itto #Sagau itto x reader #arataki itto x reader

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stevie-petey · 9 days

Note

If you have time and you're in the mood to write a lil blurb I have a thought. Steve getting used to bugs affection, now that Jonathan and Nancy are together she can't really be as touchy as she used to and she's subconsciously started to give that affection to Steve. He'd be star struck, remember how he was about their first hug? Or finding out about bug never being kissed? He'd lose his mind.

this blurb request is DELICIOUS !!! been itchin to write her <3

enjoy !

"i'll be back in a sec!" you press a quick kiss to steves cheek before you run off towards your room to retrieve whatever youre looking for. steve doenst really know. he hadnt been listening. he had been too busy admiring the way you look in the cardigan he bought you.

its all you wear now these days.

the sight makes something warm seep into steves bones, and your kiss to his cheek ignites the warmth into a steady, smooth burn.

youve been doing this a lot more lately. the kisses to cheeks, hands intertwining fingers, fingers intertwining through hair, and breaths against his ear as you lay against him.

its intoxicating, really.

when you return, now holding a comic in your hands, steve remembers now that you wanted to show him a new spider-man suit. your arm loops through his as you sit next to him on the couch and you sit so close to him that your thighs press against his and the heat makes him dizzy. "see, look! im not sure if i like the new red, honestly."

you hook your chin over steves shoulder as you hold the comic over his lap and steve struggles to stay focused. he looks down at the panel youre pointing at and swallows. "y-yeah. its, uh. its definitely a different shade."

steve cant see any difference.

hes not even sure if he knows what red is right now because your perfume is all around him and your body heat seeps from your skin into his and your soft hair grazes his face.

its torture. its a hell so sweet that steve wonders why sinners are sent there in the first place.

"youre looking at the wrong panel, honey." you tease, nudging your nose against steves cheek as you giggle.

honey.

"how do you know i wasnt looking at the right one?" steve tries to find his voice again, but hes scared that if he turns to look into your eyes, the proximity of your lips close to his will only end in disaster.

(an addicting, all encompassing disaster that steve has dreamed about).

you nudge your nose against his cheek again and move even closer to him. youre practically in his lap, and yet you still dont feel close enough. "your pretty brown eyes gave you away."

youre everywhere and yet nowhere close to where steve wants you to be.

he isnt sure when it happened, but your physical touch has become such a constant in steves life, and he clings to it like a lifeline. hes never had someone openly show this much affection to him, hes never had a pretty girl hold his hand just because she wanted to. hes never had someone kiss his cheek as a goodbye and as a gentle command to stay safe while apart.

"you think my eyes are pretty?" steve cant think of anything else to say. hes still too scared to face you. he can practically smell the strawberry lip balm you like to wear, this close to your lips.

"mhm," you move your face and rest your head against steves shoulder now, and he practically sags with relief at the distance yet fills with immediately regret after. he already misses the way your nose fits perfectly between his jawline and ear. "a very pretty brown, warm in the sun like honey."

you say things that make steve want to kiss you breathless.

"youre extra affectionate today, angel."

"its winter and im cold and youre cozy." you say. lazily flicking through more of your comic.

steve laughs and throws an arm over you to pull you closer. the heat from earlier has lessened. the fire simmers back down to the familiar warmth, one hes more comfortable with, and he feels like he can breathe again. then, because he can, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, which you hum at. "who can argue with that logic?"

"no one, and thats why im always right."

"atta girl."

steve is still getting used to this, and yet he feels like hes done this his entire life.

#ask #anon #m speaks #m's writing #come home blurb #set in between seasons 2 and 3 !#theyre so in love #cant believe it takes steve like six months after this night to ask bug out LMAO

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saintmagx · 9 months

Text

✨ Cruel Summer ✨

pairing: Solo Sikoa x reader, Jey Uso x reader (briefly)

AN: Literally making this for myself, so if I do ever end up publishing - enjoy I guess? 🤪

w/c: 1198

⚠️ Warnings: 18+ , swearing, violence (this is the WWE after all) slight smut, infidelity(if you squint), jealous Jey, toxic behaviour, bad/embarrassing writing ⚠️

doesn’t follow a specific timeline however it is more recent, total divas making a return.

✨ I love you ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard - he looks up grinning like the devil ✨

• ❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

“I dunno Trin, the thought of being recorded for 12 hours of the day, like, I enjoy my privacy”.

“Think about it as an opportunity, having the fans see a different side of you. Showing them how hard you work your ass off.”

Trinity is my best friend, she helped me out so much when I joined the WWE 6 years ago. She and her husband Jon took me into their family and helped me adapt into the crazy world of being a WWE superstar.

“Just think about it is all I’m saying. It’ll be fun” trin says nudging me.

Ever since I moved here, we have had a weekly tradition of Wednesday Girls Night, its just snacks, Chinese takeout, and movies, it’s just time for us to catch up and wind down from the gruelling travel schedule.

Right on queue at exactly 11:30pm Jon walks in the door.

“Times up ladies” he says, which is swiftly followed by two pillows being thrown at his head.

“Come on uce, you know better than to interrupt gIrLs NiGhT”

The couch beside me dipped and once again I felt the heat from the body of Josh Fatu, my one weakness. His hand falls to his side and creeps closer to me caressing the side of my bare thigh. You see what people don’t know is Josh and I have an ‘agreement’ - no feelings, just sex and friendship, and it was going great until it wasn’t, feeling were caught, specifically by me and I’m stuck between a rock and hard place as I’m falling hard for him, but I cant let this agreement end because I would rather have him this way than not have him at all.

“Spoke with Joe today, Hunter is bringing him up to the main roster, can’t wait to have my other younger brother fighting by my side”. A third pillow is thrown at Jon from the direction of Josh.

“We are twins, and you are only older by 8 minutes”.

Never a dull moment where the Fatu boys are concerned.

• ❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

First day of filming (TD Interview Segment)

Okay, so lets start with a basic intro okay? Ready, go!

The room falls silent the light shines bright on me, I have at least 6 pair of eyes on me, goading me into starting. Gosh why did I sign up to do this!!!

Hi there, my names yn, I am currently on the Smackdown roster and I am the current WWE Women’s Champion.

I’ve been with the WWE for 6 years now and I wouldn’t have survived if it wasn’t for my adoptive sister Trinity, she took me under her wing and I’ve been there ever since. As you guys know – and if you didn't know, the accent should be a huge giveaway, I’m originally from the United Kingdom, I came to the states with a dream in hand and no one there to help me through this bumpy ride. I can never repay her or Jon for the way they have accepted and welcomed me into their little dynamic. Although, travelling the world with Jon and Josh is hard work, they boys are chaotic, I don't know how Trin managed to do it herself for so long!

• ❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

Friday Night Smackdown, Atlanta Georgia, 8 weeks before Survivor Series

Walking into the arena for Smackdown I get a message from Hunter asking to meet him in his office. A mixture of anxiety and curiosity fill in the pit of my stomach. In his office I’m met with the familiar faces of Jon, Josh, and Joseph, smiling I look over to Hunter who invites me to sit.

“I got your message, what’s up?

“We have been toying with the idea of a cross brand rivalry - for Survivor Series. Now that Joe has come up to the main roster, we think the Usos and Solo v The Judgement Day would pique interest from the WWE universe.”

“So why am I here?”

“Demi is the Women’s World Champion and part of Judgment Day; it would only seem right that she faces the Women’s Champion”.

Without hesitation I accept. Hunter debriefs us on how it’s going to play out over the next few weeks. We will have to be on both RAW and Smackdown over the next few weeks, so looks like it will be me and the brothers travelling together since Trin is exclusive to Smackdown!

Gorilla, few hours later (TD segment)

Tonight, I have a singles match, however Demi has to interfere and cost me the match – thus starting our road to Survivor Series.

I see Hunter in his usual place over at the screens with his headset on talking to Randy Orton, Randy spots me and immediately comes over to me.

“There’s my favourite girl.”

“I wouldn’t let your wife hear you say that Randy”.

Randy Orton, he is exactly how you would imagine him to be, a cocky little shit, flirtatious as hell, a menace but he has a heart of gold. Many nights we would hit the gym together and training with him before his injury really improved my in-ring ability. He is another one I would call my family away from family.

A familiar scent fills my nostrils, Josh. He stands next to me wrapping his arm around me pulling me closer, as if to stake his claim in me.

“I’ve been looking for you, come on let’s go”.

I smile apologetically at Randy, he just waves me off laughing, as much as I say people don’t know anything about me and Josh, it’s not to say there isn’t rumours flying around, people have their own take on it, and that’s okay, we just laugh it off.

Trin and Jon (TD Interview segment)

“You see yn and josh think they are so slick hiding their little late-night rendezvous” says Jon

Trin sighing, “I just wish they would bang their heads together and realise they are meant to be. Think of the double dates we could finally have Jon.”

Jon’s laugh fills the small interview room, “yeah it would be sweet, and yn is already like family, it would be an easy transition.”

Away from the cameras

“What were you talking to Randy about?” Josh quizzes

“Nothing, you came in and ushered me away before I could say anything.”

“Good, I don’t like it when you get attention from other guys, just me, okay?”

“I think you’ll find Josh that I can speak to who I like”. I say frustrated with his behaviour.

You see as much as I love Josh, this, this right here the way he wants to have his cake and eat it too drives me insane. I so much as look at another guy and he is right there to remind me I’m his, yet he can look at and speak to as many girls and I can’t say shit.

“I’ve got a match to get to, I’ll see you later J.”

“Goodluck out there baby girl, not that you need it.” Before he can come any closer to me, I slip out the room and let my frustrated sigh out. How much longer am I going to keep torturing myself.

• ❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃•

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smoshyourheadin · 29 days

Text

Sunshine and Soda Cans

Part 1 - Fizzes

you’d joined smosh in summer last year, just after anthony’s return. you’d watched smosh with your brother as a kid, so getting this editing job was a dream come true. although you hadn't watched their stuff in years, you quickly adapted to the quick thinking environment.

you got the job from your roommate angela, who was a cast member. you guys are super close, so when she mentioned that they had an editing vacancy, you jumped at the opportunity to leave your job at a marketing company to go work woth her. living with angela proved useful, because after your first day, you asked her about spencer, and oh did she have stuff to tell you.

“hey hey, whats the deal with the uh, spencer guy at work?” you said to her at dinner.

“(Y/N) ITS THE FIRST DAY AND YOU ALREADY HAVE THE HOTS FOR SPENCER?? I MEAN I’D UNDERSTAND IF IT WAS SOMEONE LIKE-” she began shouting, laughing at your face as you blushed

“jelly i- please, just- okay yeah, he’s cute but i don't want to make a move, he’s basically my boss!”

“this is also true. okay so…” she begins to ramble to this spencer guy you, as you eat your spaghetti. he’s so totally your type, but would you make a move? you can't decide.

the days passed, and soon enough you’d been at smosh for a month now. angela, being angela, had one day let slip to amanda of your small crush on spencer

“(y/n)!! get your butt over here!” she beamed at you, so you obliged, because who wouldn't listen to amanda? she's 6 feet of pure love, you listen to everything she says

“a little birdie, who cant keep her mouth shut after two glasses of wine, told me that you like spencer?” she looks at you, a certain glint in her eye

“okay, maybe, JUST maybe, i have a teeny, tiny crush on him. BUT i don't think im going to make a move.” you looked into her eyes, feeling dejected, because you felt he would never like you back.

the events that ensued, you couldn't even keep up with. every day on set, amanda would rake you into a conversation she was having with spencer, or angela would ask you to go to his desk give him something off her. you weren't nescaserily complaining, but it was less than ideal, because you became a stuttering mess around him.

“hey spence, um- angela wanted me to give you this, i mean i dont know why she didnt bring it herself, its kind of lazy, she is, i mean- she isnt but she has me running around for her, but thats friendship right? i mean i’d make her do that, but not if-”

he gazes up into your eyes and gently places a hand on your arm, sending small jolts through your body.

“dude, it’s just me, relax!” he smiles at you, as you give him the mt dew kickstart angela sent you over to give him.

“tell angela thanks by the way!” he said, as you walked over to angela, who was trying not to break out into a big smirk

“oh spencer! angela is making me do things for her! oh woe is me! hold me incase i fall!” she placed the back of her palm to her forehead, dramatically falling into amanda’s arms

“hey! thats not what i sounded like! right? i didn't. right.” you said, becoming increasingly concerned if it was that obvious. courtney, erin d, and arasha walked over to you guys

“hey dudes,” courtney began “whats up with you guys?”

“oh, i bet theyre taking about how (y/n) is totally into spencer” arasha said, stifling a giggle.

you stood with your mouth slightly agape, gawking at her remark.

“is it really that obvious!?” you whined, slumping into a chair.

“i mean,” erin looked at you, as you tried folding into the air to disappear, “we’re the only ones who’ve noticed so far, but i don't think the boys have caught on! i think you're good”

“maybe minus josh,” courtney added, “i was sat with him and he asked me about why (y/n) was ‘oogling at spencer’ on that board af video. but he wont tell, he’s too nice”

a few days pass, and your crush on spencer had become slightly bigger. taking advantage of this, courtney decided to make you, angela, and spencer (the ‘golden trio’ as the fans called you) do an episode of who meme'd it.

“hello and welcome everyone to a brand spankin’ new episode of who memed it!” shayne began, earning a small round of applause from the crew.

“today, we have everyone’s favourite roommates and spencer!”

you were leant on angela’s shoulder, but perked up to smile at the camera

“hi guys!” angela grins at the camera, waving aggressively

“dude!” spencer yelled at shayne “why cant i be the favourite roommate!” he looked dejected

“spencer, we lived together and i have never slept worse, the only thing in our apartment was mt dew and granola bars!!”

“okay, you got me”

you look over at him and giggle, feeling your cheeks begin to warm up

as the rounds go on, angela is on 5 points, you’re on 4, and spencer is on 8.

“okay, next meme!” shayne boasts

the next thing on screen made everyone cackle.

immediately, shayne starts giggling, and puts his fists against the wall, not being able to look at any of you. angela is crying with laughter, and even spencer is giggling. you just stare into the camera in shock.

through tears, shayne manages “oh my- all- alright who memed it, was it tommy, josh, was it courtney, or was it erin, our lovely producer”

you each place your guesses, and its revealed to be a secret shayne meme. you swear you could burn holes through him.

after wrap, you went off with angela giggling about some of the things, your mind still racing from being so close to spencer. for so long. it was cringey, yes, but you felt so exited when you were around him, you couldn't help it!

but little did anyone know, spencer was just as infatuated with you, and he was waiting for the day be mustered up the courage to ask you out

#smosh #spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #courtney miller #amanda lehan canto #arasha lalani #angela giarratana #shayne topp #smoshyourheadin

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majorproblems77 · 3 months

Text

ITS LU UPDATE TIME!!!

AND IT IS ALL ABOUT SKY AND IM SO EXCITED :DDDDD

You know what that means! It means a long post by me! :D

Cant wait to be excited about my blorbo for like 30 minutes, so sit get some popcorn and like some earplugs cause i will try to contain my screaming but I've been waiting for more Sky stuff and I'm so excited!!!!

For point, and because I keep forgetting, all the panels I'll be talking about belong to JoJo and @linkeduniverse

Let's do this!

Alright lets get this out of the way first, I love some parallels right, So as per usual, if I need a panel from anything prior I'll let you know where it's from!

So what do you think he asked him.

Hey sir! Have you seen a guy with a big flag on his back going way to fast come through there?

Man is just like, oh yeah he went that way past the forge that your other weird fellows were at earlier.

He run, Then he hero stop. Power pose activated, target acquired. Then he run some more

Run my blorbo run!

Genuinely interested in what exactly this is, Is it a map? Is it a list of places? Is it a paper with time shift shenanigans in it?

I'm not versed in the postman, Is this normal, or did he do this cause he heard Sky and wanted him to think he was waiting?

This face has be dead. (/pos) I love him so much my dear blorbo its been too long since we saw you last.

Putting this together for 1 reason

Postman is a dick, Sky was so close, That can't be more than 10 or so metres at most. Poor man ran across Town out of town to catch up to you for you to go sprinting off into the woods, and my man is full on Olympic sprinting to deliver this mail geesus.

Also, the compulsory return of the king 🧍, Sky is the king of this pose and will not be beaten. Although Legend comes pretty close.

God the expressions in this update are top tier, Sky is just so expressive. Right now, Man is thinking why he does this to himself.

I'm fucking cackling, this art is amazing and Jojo's sister did an amazing job. Like I feel like I can hear this picture with that teasing tone that my siblings would use on me when we were younger. God I love it.

So even though Sky is looking towards Legend here, so I'm totally under the impression that Legend said Wahhhh, and Hyrule said I cant run. As Hyrule was with wars When they got split up initally. Poor Sky, man has become the butt of jokes. Im glad Four is giving them a look, He doesn't look impressed. Its okay Sky, you've got a friend in Four behind you. :D

War's is the real MVP of this arc in my opinion, Man has been in charge of the ragtag chain while Time has been out of action looking over Twilight. He's at the end of his tether.

Part of me wonders if this is going to impact his fighting going forward? Maybe he'll slip up because he's so stressed. He knows not all of them are knighted. These heroes he is with are NOT soldiers and he can't treat them as such.

And this sentence. Don't Interrupt! sounds like he is scolding rowdy recruits, rather than fellow heroes.

Which if you think about it, Sky is giving essentially a scouting report here, He scouted ahead and has returned to speak about his findings. War's is a captain, in his era he's a commanding officer. He's taken reports of this kind before.

Having a panel with Time, Wild and Twilight in Gives me more life than i think i give it credit for. (I am in the crowd that there's a family connection between these three.)

It's also nice to see Wild, like genuinely smiling.

Moving on

Hero pose again! :D

I love this man

These panels are very important to me so give me a moment while I explain.

Sky probably has her words engrained in his mind. You can see the questioning look, and thinking. "Is this going to work?"

That eternal dream That he's talking about, he knows her power is faded, but he's going to try anyway. I just didn't think he would use it to track what I can only assume is the postman.

It's really nice to have Sky's relationship with the master sword put on display. It means a lot to me and has brought me great Joy through this update.

He cares about her. And even if she can't talk to him anymore. He still trusts her to lead him true.

And this panel breaks my heart! Something inside of him probably really hoped Fi would speak to him or give him more of an indication. Sky looks so sad.

I just wanna hug him, and tell him it'll be alright. He's probably thinking about turning around at this point. Maybe he's thinking about how some members of the chain perceive Fi.

A soulless weapon.

(Or maybe im thinking too much into this)

The way his faith is restored!

Fi did lead him! She did! She's still there somewhere, and his shock! Oh my boy. My sweet blorbo,

And having used like super zoom on that last panel, MY BOY IS SMILING! :D

RUN BLORBO RUN I BELIEVE IN YOU!

(Also appreciation for the full body shot's we've got of Sky from this update, I love it so much I love him so much.)

Did I go hunting for the references, Yes I Did.

I think the following area is the area where they pull Twilight too, rather than the battle field and he then moved on from here to get to the battle field.

From sunset pt4

The pillar behind Sky has the only slant I can think of. It looks to be the same angle, but that could just be me.

If it is that location, it might be closer to that battlefield than we originally (Or at least I originally) assumed.

(If you've got any other places let me know!)

God i love him

Blorbo beloved! Is about as shocked as i am with the whole Mailman thing.

The confidence of this man is unreal. He's ready, he's moving he's going. He's going and ain't going to stop.

Me absolutely yelling at how this portal looks, it so ANGRY, But we know the Shadow is pissed right now. And if the shadow is making these portals and he's angry. I think the chain might be in for a surprise as they move on to the next location.

Which if I have to be honest. I think is going to be Skyloft. I think we are moving into a Sky arch, having had a Twilight Arc. (I also really want to see Skyloft in this universe, and there's an opportunity here. We've had more master sword things. We've had Sky content. who knows where Jojo will take this next, but I'm excited either way.)

Finally back to the chain! :D

The gremlins return :D

Wind's little 3:< face as he's thinking is giving the energy of an upcoming detective arch, He is thinking and he is thinking HARD okay.

Poor Sky. Man has been running around doing all the hard work while the rest of them just enjoy themselves. Hyrule especially is kinda like 'Ohhh... our bad...'

It's actually a kinda guilty look, maybe he feels a little bad about the teasing from earlier?

Now i gotta mention the potion thing, cause its just so damn funny not too. Sky my blorbo slow down you are gonna choke on the stamina potion.

But.

I want to focus on War's here.

And Wild too.

These two. These two are important.

Wild has gone from happy and chill vibes to Oh shit real quick.

After everything he put into the Shadow, while the shadow was injured and watched as the thing exploded. It just decided to come back or something. And Wild, here I imagine is thinking, "How was that not enough..."

Now Wars.

War's is Stood not looking at anything, In fact, I think he's looking past Time. The last thing he said was a two word scolding but apart from that he's been awfully quiet. Now he looks like he's thinking. He's closed off, protective.

The only time I can see where he does this is when he's in what I'm going to call, 'Captain mode.' So, When he's flicked something in his head that tells him he has to be a knight.

He dosent do it often, in fact from what I can see he does it 4 other times.

In order

Devine dark reflections pt 8 - when he's talking about knighthood with Sky and Hyrule

Sunset pt11 - When talking about Wild, and the fact that he's left

Sunset pt13 - When speaking to Twilight about pulling his own weight

Dawn pt 2 - when Twilight is talking about the team they are.

And now here in Dawn 7 - Where they are discussing the fact that an enemy they fought escaped or survived.

All conversations I would assume a captain would have to have with his men at one point or another. I wonder what He's thinking here. It's got me thinking.

Woah, So this took me longer than I thought. I am on the 4-hour mark now. Lmaoooo

Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for listening to me ramble for like 20 minutes.

And just remember

Sky is the sweet bestest blorbo beloved and I love him. :D

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 1 year

Note

We've imagiend an AU where rhaenyea and daemon cheat on babey BUT what about an AU where daemon cheats on nyra with her?!? emotionally, in his dreams, in his fantasiessss becaue she would NEVER.

i imagine when daemon returns she is maybe away with her tutor on a rare opportunity to live with a dothraki tribe for a few months to lesrn their customs and the language. perhaps the dothraki were flattered by her interest and respect.

when she returns, the castle is a full of celebration and daemon is so curious to see the young girl behind all the sweet rumors and the remember the neice he coddled when he was younger. he's all but forgotten her in his years of drinking and living off repeats of his memories of nyra.when nyra goes rushing past him to hug her does he smacked in the face of all those memories he made with his little neice.

buying her her first pair of riding boots, her first dragon ride, braiding her hair because hes the only one who doesnt do it too tight or too loose. scolding her tutor for being too hard on her. sneaking her away from her septa to play hide and seek. being dragged by her and nyra to play 'house' hahah thats bound to be so on the nose. Ofcourse hes the husband! he enjoys those, being fretted over and serve with wooden toy teacups. he remembers being her only visitor as a babe when nyra was bawling for hours in her room and his brother was mourning over the loss of his wife. he remembers holding her at the funeral and its was near impossible them to tear her away. he remembers thinking how he could fathom the babe in his arm ever being in that enevlope of fire. dead and still. how the young him swore it would never happen and he's always protect her. he also remembers hearing wisps of her name during his banishment and realises now why it was whispered so covetously. not loud and bold adoration like nyra.rhaenyra was the delight of the kingdom, she was the coveted secret. and now he learns what it means to long and covet after her too.

ofcourse, daemon overtime has instances forgets his place as nyras husband as he gets consumed by her. chasing after her across the kingdom and struggling to control himself. he starts lashing out at her admirers. Nyra is becoming furious, jealous and possesive. meanwhile reader is caught in a storm of her own emotions. she wants to love him but cant. needs to cut it off but wont. AAAH my imagination has run too far! hahah anyways please dont feel pressured with this ask. im just work vommiting! your work is amazing and i cant believe i get to read it just for free liek this??? u deserve everything good!

OOOOOOooooOoOooooH. So, um, I want to write a dark continuation of this, badly. PLZ.

innocence (a 'terms of endearment' au)

GIF by @yenvengerberg.

You are visited by an unwanted guest.

Triggers: WARNING - NON-CONSENSUAL SMUT, incest, age gap, purity culture.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, heart pounding.

You feel sick, as though your stomach will turn inside out within your belly, a rush of dizziness spotting your vision at the sight of him. "You - you-"

"Me," your uncle taunts, stepping through the open archway from the balcony into your chambers. Daemon is drenched from the rain, wild-eyed and eyes blazing, shaking the waterlogged strands from his face. He looks about the room disdainfully, taking in the plainer fare of the accommodations your mother's House had provided you. "I expected you to run, but this? Here? How... dull."

You cannot help the tears that well, and you cast around in panic for an escape. The door has been barred. You curse yourself for requesting rooms so far removed from the others, for now there is no one to hear you scream.

"Please," you beg, backing away even as he advances toward you, clutching onto the meagre layers of your shift in the vain hope of concealing your form from him. He eyes you like a wolf does its prey - like a dragon devouring its kill. "Go home, Uncle - there is nothing for you here!"

"Oh, I think not," he replies, smirking as you grab for the door handle, a futile attempt at retreat.

He knows it's futile; he makes his way leisurely toward you, strolling forward like a man with all the time in the world to waste. You turn your head away and whimper as the hard line of his body settles against you, chilled and soaking through your nightrail, his nose carving a trail along your neck and inhaling.

"Mm," he moans, smiling against you when you sob, "so sweet, little niece. You were waiting for me, weren't you?"

You shake your head, cringing as he divests himself of his shirt, the fabric slapping damply against the stone floor. You squinch your eyes shut. Perhaps if I keep them closed, he will go away and this will stop. To no avail; you hear the sound of boots being discarded, the squelch of breeches hitting the ground, and you know when he returns to you that he is - he is -

"No!" you squeak, striking out aimlessly.

He groans as you make contact, though you do not know if you have struck him in the gut or the groin, and push past him, taking advantage of the moment. There is nowhere to run. Only one entry which he stands before, and you know you will not unlatch the door in time to make your exit; you briefly consider accepting death by plunging from the edge of the balcony, but he cannot win this way. You will not let him. You hear footsteps - you dart to the hearth - spinning around, you brandish the poker at him.

"Go home to Rhaenyra, uncle," you speak, though the words come out tremulously. You steadfastly avoid looking below his waist, not wishing to see the appendage with which he desires to violate you. "I have told you that I will not become your whore. You are wed in the eyes of the gods, and my virtue belongs to my husband alone."

"Your husband," he sneers, batting your makeshift weapon from your hand with little effort, grasping you by the throat in a punitive hold. "What common man could ever be good enough for the blood of Old Valyria? You're mine, Princess - and I will have you."

"Why are you doing this?" you gasp, clutching at his arm. He does not let up on his grip; his countenance is dangerous, eyes dark beneath the stern ridge of his brow, and for a moment you are worried he means to murder you. Then, sighing, he readjusts, loosening his grasp, keeping you still with the threat of renewed asphyxiation. You try to appeal to him. "I have been naught but your family, Uncle," you whisper beseechingly. "You used to play with me as a child!"

"And now it is time for you to perform as a woman must," he responds, grabbing you by the hip, and his face seems almost regretful at the statement.

You can feel the steel firmness of his - endowment - at your belly, and you gulp. His expression turns softer, his thumb rubbing circles into the flesh of your throat.

"I'll be gentle, sweetling," he says, "but you have no choice now. I'll take your maidenhead as my own, for it belongs to me. You'll bleed, though that cannot be helped. And, finally, I'll spill in you, because that is my right as your husband."

"Hus - husband?"

"Yes, my love," he croons, scruffing you by the neck to stop you recoiling as he leans in to kiss the tears from your cheeks. "I'll bed you, then wed you - out of order, perhaps, but you'll get your wish. Your virtue will belong to your husband. I'm sure 'Nyra will learn to share. Aegon's wives did, and so shall mine."

"I don't-"

"Enough," he barks, dragging you by the waist. You try to pull against him, but it is pointless - he is a battle-hardened warrior, built to make war against men far bigger and stronger than you. He tosses you upon your bed, dragging you down by the ankle when you turn to your belly and attempt to crawl away. "I tried to be nice, little girl, but I won't waste my time if you're going to be naughty."

He holds you down by the neck, shoving your face into the covers as he rucks up the back of your shift. You weep uncontrollably, kicking out your legs when he jerks them apart to settle in the space he has made. His fingers quest along your most secret places, coating your flesh in something slimy and warm - his saliva, you realise with disgust - digging uncomfortably into a crevice you have never dared to touch. It is replaced by the feeling of something much larger, hotter, more frightening. And then you are -

scored

in two

- and you shriek at the blistering iron of it, this invasion that rips you and annihilates everything that was bright and innocent and good. He holds you there, wailing, and kisses your shoulder even as he forces himself further.

"There, there, my love," he hushes you, stroking your hair as you bawl your defeat. You sink into the mattress, holding onto the sensation of fingers on your scalp, a babe new to the world and screaming at the red-hot tumult of it. It takes you away, locking you within the cage of your mind. You let it. "You're mine now."

He moves, and it is agony, a knife he uses to slice through your skin over and over again. You lay there, taking it, waiting for him to finish doing as he will, knowing there is nothing left to do now but keep still, keep quiet, and allow him to break you apart. His breath comes hot against the back of your neck, his lips marking maps across the flesh there, his hands seemingly multiplying in their quest to map the expanse of you within his reach. But this is all under water for you, muffled and distorted and strange. You are no longer encased in your body, a vestal spirit floating somewhere high above.

Let me be Athfiezar, wild and savage and free upon the wind.

Let me be Syrax, soaring as high as she might above the cities of Westeros.

Let me be Vhagar, traveller to shores far, far from here.

Anywhere but here.

"Fuck," he is moaning atop you, rutting away between your thighs, huffing and panting. "You've got the tightest little cunt, precious. I'll enjoy getting you with child."

You say nothing - it is not you he is after, but a facsimile of you, a doll-shaped figure with your face and your form that does nothing but lay there and gather dust.

When he spills, it is warm within you, and it reminds you of how cold you are, leached of all vigour and life. He withdraws, and you can feel the mess of fluids spilling from the part of you that is ruined now. Surely it is fractured beyond repair, you think, crying silently at the throb and sting of it.

"Good girl," Daemon soothes, pulling you into his embrace.

And how awful it is that your uncle's comfort is suddenly all that you desire - you cling to him, unable to connect the monster who has destroyed you with the very same man who had once carried you about your childhood home, loudly proclaiming 'make way for the Fairy Princess!'. You long for those days again.

"Shh," he murmurs, pressing tender-soft kisses to your cheeks, your nose, your mouth. "It's over now. Well done, niece."

It will never be over, you think hollowly, laying in his arms a broken shell of a girl. Never.

I am sorry for this. 'TIS AN AU BLURB, NO MORE!

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #terms of endearment au #terms of endearment blurbs #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x you #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfiction #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #matt smith #targaryen #fire and blood #game of thrones

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madds-is-ace-trash · 1 year

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Ok hear me out!

So um I had a fic idea and the brain worms took over ima be posting it here and if all goes well to ao3 Chapter 1 of the fic is below

Summary: After an accident kills everyone the boy has ever known and injured the god of time, clockwork rushes to the only place he’s knows will take the now boy king. Gotham takes the now 6 year old Danny in to her arms, her child of the stars. And she’s going to ensure he gets the life he always deserved.

Mother of the storm and her star child

Chapter 1: In which a ward is gained

Clockwork clutches his side, the toxic green substance that makes up his being spilling on to his purple robes. As he flies over a city with a sky set dark over the horizon. Despite his very core feeling like it's about to split at the seams, he dare not falter. For in his arms is a bundle of blankets he holds his king. Much smaller than he was just an hour ago as his body rebuilds itself.

All he can do is pray that his old friend cand lend him a hand. That she’ll take in the only thing he has left to live for. The young boy has nowhere else to go and clock work has his own wounds to address. As he lands at last falling to his knees, wincing as his wound lets out another puff of its toxic excision. He sets the boy down in the alley and knows that she'll find him soon.

As thunder roles over the dark city, from the shadows a figure steps out into the dim light. Her skin is a dark purple, her hair seems to be made of the very storm that follows her wherever she gose. Her eyes a yellow like lighting breaking from the dark sky, dressed in black dress with a shawl made of stars. “ Gotham, you look well old friend,” CW manages to spit out threw pain with a weak smile on his face.

——————————————————

“Clockwork?” her voice booms as the thunder rolls, her eyes narrow at the bundle in his arms.

“Let me explain, Pleas old friend I need your help,” he begs weakly, his form shifting yet shaking. He takes his hand off his side to move the blanket, in his arms a child no older than six(6). He's skin and bones, he's so small, smaller than he has any right to be. His raven hair is messy and his clothes 5 sizes too big. “ Please old friend, he has nowhere left to go, no kin to return to,” clock work says as his form shifts to that of an old man sending another green stain against the pavement. “ I am all that remains yet i'm afraid I must lick my own wounds if I wish to live to see him threw”

Gothem eyes her old acquaintance barely holding himself together, then her eyes drift to the small boy that lay in his arms. Her expression softens, she leans down and takes the wad from the ghost. And then like a wave of ice that chills her to the bone she realizes what she is holding. “ The boy king? Who? WHY!” her eyes slit and the thunder grows stronger. The wind begins to wip as she eyes the small bae that lay in her arms.

“His parents they…… they found him,” he snarls, “ They Hurt him….. The lab is no more it…. It took everyone, all I could do was save him but” he takes a heaving breath,” I could only do so much.”

Gotham seemed to understand what he ment, she looked at the boy still asleep with sorrow in her eyes, “ Please dear friend” clockwork begged once more, “ give him the life he always deserved, I cant keep him, not like this.” His throat felt tight as his eye stung, he can't cry not now.

“With everything I am, the boy will be safe,” The thunder low and distant like a spring storm, “ go now heal and so you may return to him once more” She smiles as she sees a peak of the boy's eyes as he dreams, blue, a beautiful vibrant blue. “ I know someone who will love him as his own'' Clock work fades his form relaxing as he disappears into the night.

The sky begins to cry but not in sorrow but joy, the prince has a new home and Gotham will insure he’ll grow, to be the king that the realm deserves. As she turns him to shield him from the rain a ring of light washes over the boy, his hair is white as snow, freckles make the stars, and a crown rest upon his brow. “ Rest now, my child of the stars, here you'll find you belong.” With that they boy renters to his human state. Now she just has to figure out how to induce him to her other children.

If y’all like it I’ll keep going also thinking about sketching what I envision my version of Gotham looks like. I like the idea of her being a storm spirit and that’s why Gotham always rains.

I did it [part 2]

#dpxdc #dc x dp #ghost king danny #danny fenton #danny phantom #i write some times #fanfic #I love Gotham calling Danny her star child #also I love Gotham being a giant yet gentle yet intimidating mother figure #de aged #baby danny #phandom

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korpuskat · 7 months

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Eleven Years - Chapter 3

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (Gender Neutral) Rating: T (this chapter, Explicit future chapters) WC: 4.5k Warnings: Kidnapping; Stockholm Syndrome, imprisonment, isolation, manipulation, mind break, & future extreme dubcon

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2]

Orange cutting through a multicolor tide, dark cords floating atop the waves. He’s leaving. Down, down cobbled streets, crowds parting softly as he passes by. He’s going, traveling- not a pilgrimage to another temple, not just to find more lost souls. Leaving.

Your mouth moves, but no sound escapes. Caught in the void you reach forward, take a step. You can’t move, stuck in place. Something cool wraps around your throat. It pulls you back, further from him- The metal is like ice, and you flinch, taking your eyes off his sunlight robes for only a moment. You look again, and he’s gone- and the arms wrap around you, pull you in closer, squeezing, crushing-

The door opens with a hiss- and your dream evaporates. There’s a moment you’re in your bed, groggily wondering why your alarm sounds so strange. But there’s no sunlight, the sheets are wrong.

You jolt awake, stumbling to your feet and blinking rapidly. Blurred with fitful sleep and your difficult rise into consciousness, Ramattra’s image before you is hazy, but the adrenaline soon clears him up.

“I am sorry, I did not mean to wake you.” He says- and as far as you can tell he means it. Ramattra even has the courtesy of tipping his head downwards, though you’re sure his optics are still locked on you. At least, until something else catches his attention. He turns slightly- and his focus centers completely on the empty mug on the table.

You bristle before he even moves. He reaches out, cradles the mug so delicately in his big hands. “I can bring you more, if you would like?”

You don’t answer, wrapping your hands around yourself and pursing your lips in defiance. You needed water and had indulged in a momentary whim- that’s what you tell yourself. You won’t do that when he’s here, won’t let him have any more victories like this.

Your silence still stings, but this is a high Ramattra won’t soon forget. He had expected to return to shattered glass and screaming- or worse. He knows you’re so angry with him- and it makes him ache- but… he’s elated to even have you drink the tea he made.

Instead, he tries his luck again. “We don’t have much by way of food prepared, but I can get you anything you want.” He pauses, burns your face into his optics. There’s fear and distrust in your eyes, but you’re still so beautiful and he wants so badly- “You only need to ask.”

You don’t answer.

He brings you tarkari and more tea. The curry is under-seasoned, but it does its job: making you stare at the plate with watery eyes long after Ramattra has left. Part of you is sickened. It’s a recipe you’d saved- made it once for a group of pilgrims who couldn’t make it up the mountain in a storm. It was warm. It is warm. He’s dredging up those same memories- of better times, of before.

It sickens you that it works- makes you think of nice things.

And it makes you hurt deep inside because he remembers. All the time you’ve spent thinking about him, he’s been doing the same. How long has he been parsing that recipe, that night, the memory itself? Does it repeat endlessly in his mind like he does for you?

You eat if only to silence the grumbling in your belly. When you’re done you lay down, face away from the door, and cry.

At first, you loathed his visits. With no expression, there’s still something in the way he looks at you- the soft cant of his head when he asks a question, the way his fingers twitch as he lingers, aching to do more than stand there. He may be providing food- and leaving menus to encourage your participation in your own confinement- and wishing for more, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction beyond your continued existence.

But the time between quickly became… long. You prowl the room like a captive tiger. Circling, inspecting the drawers in the vanity, the mirror, the bathroom- the perfectly neutral, inoffensive soaps he’s chosen for you (did he not remember the ones you had in Nepal? Can he not find them?). Then on again- the mostly empty drawers beneath the sink- out into the room, opening the drawers of the little tables. Simple clothes, deeply impersonal. He didn’t know what you would like, wasn’t confident enough in your tastes.

But soon you’re back where you started. No windows. No books, no screens. Trapped not only in Ramattra’s ship, but in your own head. Alone with the memory of him.

This continues on for what you think may be a few days. With no clocks or sky, you can’t judge the passage of time. Was he feeding you every eight hours? You can’t be sure. It feels timed, evenly spaced- or was that just the isolation of sitting in the room for hours at a time with nothing to do?

Each time you shuffle away from the door, refuse to meet his gaze. He asks some nice little questions, leaves something for you- some kind of plea for your attention. You refuse. You’ll eat and drink-- partially because you think he’ll make you eat, if you refuse, but partially just to spite him. You’ll live and you’ll make him know how you feel with every one-sided conversation.

He hides it, but you know every time you reject his bids for affection must hurt. It’s a thread to hang on to: the truth of it despite his warped kindness. He’s kidnapped you, wrought destruction on the very place you called him. You have to spite him. Whatever good in him has to be gone.

And when he enters your room off-schedule, you cover your surprise with a sneer. Immediately, you know something is wrong. The timing is incorrect, but worse- Ramattra wanders further in than normal. He usually keeps a respectful distance, this is… new. You draw your feet up, tuck your knees to your chest, squishing into a protective little ball and keep your eyes carefully trained on him.

He doesn’t try to sit on the bed with you. Instead he drops himself onto the vanity’s seat, giving you plenty of space. You blink back surprise. Ramattra doesn’t look at you. He always does, giving you expressionless pleading glances, watching your every movement in futile hope. Today, his faceplate is locked to the floor, his shoulders sagging, his vents almost simulating a sigh.

This is… different. He hasn’t sat with you since-

“When I made it to Europe, I spent most of the time walking.” You stare at him as he speaks. It’s no longer fear that drives you attention because he sounds exhausted. Every time before he’s been saccharine-sweet and longing and now he’s… “Very few offered assistance. They had not seen a Ravager in years… at least, not a functional one.” He lays his hands in his lap, lowers his gaze to look at them.

“Germany was just as receptive. I had gone there to follow rumors of a slave trading ring using unrecovered battlefields as their cover. They posed as scrap collectors and smuggled sentient omnics under pieces of their kin. I could not take the main roads in; I found out quickly that distressed humans tend to shoot their hostages. So I looked for slavers, walking through the forests of Germany.” He pauses, modulates an awkward noise, “Have you ever seen them?”

He does not look at you, but he does wait. The question is so unexpected you could not answer even if you wanted to. You were not ignorant about the treatment of omnics. If they were not safe in the shadow of a monastery, they were not safe anywhere... but somehow you did not expect Ramattra’s quest for omnic salvation to be so… blunt.

When you do not answer, he continues on.

“The paths I took were densely lined. Humans had replanted trees a century earlier and left them to grow together, unsupervised… It was quiet, green, full of life- and the spaces between were full of discarded and destroyed omnics. Mostly war units, E-54s and OR-14s. Enough were civilian models. From before the Awakening. Gone before they had a chance to live. Given why I was there at all, I wondered if perhaps they were more fortunate.”

Anger loosens your resolve. The words slip from you. “You think never having lived at all is better?”

For the first time in the whole encounter, Ramattra’s faceplate snaps to you. “For some of us.”

You sit with that and meet the black slits of his optics. The helmets he’s putting on omnics… Ramattra doesn’t get to decide that for them.. but you can’t decide it for him, either.

“There was a fox.” He finally looks away, tips his head back, the white of his faceplate slimming down to a thin slit on the sharp purple angles of his jaw. “I had been so focused on avoiding humans, I had ignored all other readings until it was in front of me. It was sleeker than the foxes at Shambali and its paws were so dark they blended into the shadows. But I could still tell one was bloodied, trapped in steel wire.

“It was caught in a snare. A barbaric one, meant to maim as much as confine so that if it freed itself, it would be too injured to hunt. It was… frantic. It knew I was no hunter, that I had not set the trap, yet it bared its teeth and hissed at me. Injured as it was, everything was a threat and it could only focus on escape. It pulled its paw futilely against the trap, then began biting at the limb.”

Ramattra trails off, the memory brought into his HUD. Blood, crimson and fresh, drips over black fur, over the brown, dried blood from previous attempts at freedom.

“Did you free it?”

“Should I have?” He asks- and you cringe away from him. He wouldn’t have… but then, you barely knew him anymore. “I had the same debate with myself. If I free the fox, it may only have a few hours of life before its wound gets infected, perhaps days before it starves. Is that freedom or suffering?”

“It might’ve recovered. You killed it and stole that chance.” You spit the words, but Ramattra does not flinch at the accusation.

Instead, he hums, tips his head as he observes you, weighs your answer. “You needn’t worry. I let it go.” You let the confusion wash over your face. It brings him some satisfaction because he explains: “Some of the omnics I found in those hidden dungeons have been locked away since the Awakening. They had hardly seen the world, barely lived. They’re wounded, or worse, naive to the many other ways they could be taken advantage of. But they may never have the chance to live if I did not help them.”

Ramattra leans forward, reaches out- fingers just barely touching the end of the bed. He’s nowhere near you, but you draw your limbs in closer anyway. “That’s why it has to be this way. To open every trap at once.”

It very quickly becomes a chore to remind yourself, a mantra you repeat in your head over and over when he’s not around. He’s killing people. He’s hurting omnics. He kidnapped you.

It’s hard. Talking with someone, with him, gives you something to do. A few days without anything to do but ruminate has left you itching for scraps of stimulation. He avoids the topics of his invasion and the state of the world. If you get too aggressive or remind him you won’t be swayed, he leaves- if it’s to punish you or to mitigate his own frustration, you aren’t entirely sure. It feels like a punishment… which only hurts more when he delivers food in silence.

Isolation becomes nightmarish after only a few hours- at least you think it’s hours. Trying to sleep through it leaves you waking at unfamiliar intervals, unsure how much time you’ve lost, if you’ve even slept at all. Then, he takes your dream. Unconscious fantasies of the outside world begin dwindling. More and more it’s him in this little pale room- saying things in garbled dialogue you can't follow, don’t want to even if you could.. And in some of them he does more than talk. Sometimes he’s the killing machine he was built to be with efficient, merciless hands- and sometimes he isn’t. You’d wake shaken, confused, angry- but with him or yourself you aren’t sure.

So you let him avoid the nastiness and you keep your composure, a small price to pay to have something more than the same blank walls that chip at your mind.

“It was… impactful seeing how the location of one’s awakening affected their life.” He muses one day, in better spirits than usual. “I knew this, even before I found the Shambali, but seeing for myself the… wide range of survival tactics some omnics employ was particularly enlightening. Some banded together, formed whole communities of omnics, adapting to the harsh environments around them. Some assimilated, as best they could. Took very human names, bought into their values.”

He quiets and looks at you. The implied barb about human desires never comes.

“I thought about you often,” He says quietly. As he speaks his voice rises, tenses: “A few of the omnics I met had human partners. At first, I couldn’t understand it after everything I had seen. How humans treat omnics- even in places they claim are equal…” His ventilation increases, a rush of air leaving him as he looks to you. “but then I would think of you. Of us.”

You can’t meet his gaze. Not when the conversation veers so close to vulnerability. He’s hurting people. He kidnapped you. But the admission still makes your chest tight, your eyes water. You thought of him too; with every couple you saw, every time a friend celebrated their anniversary you’d think of what year you’d be on now if you hadn’t…

Ramattra shifts, aware he’s said too much. Your silence adds to his discomfort, makes him sit up straighter- any longer and he’ll feel the need to leave. The threat of an empty room, of pacing and fitful naps pushes fear through your veins.

“Did you give them your blessing?” You settle on.

Ramattra visibly relaxes, leans towards you, openly basking in your voice. “Some asked for it. They worried I would perceive it as a conflict of interest.” Behind his faceplate his optics are settled on you, biometrics outlined in his HUD. “It would be hypocritical of me to deny them. Even if I doubted their human partners were as sublime as you.” He sees when your breath hitches, as much as you try to keep it quiet.

Sublime.

The praise shouldn’t make your belly flip, shouldn’t make you wish that things were different. He’s killing people. He kidnapped you. He kidnapped you. But it does. It makes you curl up into a little ball and bury your face in your knees. You don’t let yourself cry until Ramattra murmurs quiet apologies and makes his escape.

You are alone again.

Sleep doesn’t come for several hours- you think. How long did you cry? You can’t be sure- you only stop when your temples are pounding and you drag yourself to the bathroom to stick your head under the faucet. The cool water feels nice, washes tears and snot from your face- you lose yourself to the sensation of it, allow yourself to drift away.

In your mind it’s a cold mountain stream. You’re out hiking or venturing off near- near the monastery. Water is almost freezing on your face, on your hands, dripping down your neck. The walls of the monastery rise high on the mountain, floating statues of monks in prayer, of Aurora decorating the facade. You cup your hands, bring the water to your lips and drink.

Ramattra had always found the act of consumption strange.

He watches, almost motionless in the corner of your eye while you kneel at the riverbank. You smile at him as he comes closer. He speaks- the syllables are blurred together, tied up in the humming of his synth. In a way you know he’s scolding you- his annoyance is a thin veil for his worry- for getting your hands wet, it’s much too cold for this. He offers you his scarf with another terse reprimand. You’ll get sick.

You wake in your bed, unsure how you got there, unsure how long it’s been.

You sleep and wake and sleep and wake, a fitful cycle that makes you toss and turn. Any rest comes and goes with the imprint of nine red lights burning at the corners of your mind when you close your eyes.

His hands twitch at his sides as he stares at the door. Every day has gotten harder, requiring more and more convincing before he can enter your room. Because each day it’s worse.

I must do this. He reminds himself and pings the door to open.

And inside- inside you’re already sitting up on your bed. The blankets are rolled up, rumpled, spilling in brown and gold waves to the floor. You don’t look up when he enters. It’s not the angry, avoidant way you had been. No, that had hurt him so badly he had to dismiss warnings of potential damage.

But this? Your gaze is vacant, unmoving as he approaches, even when he speaks your name. This makes him afraid. Archived memories replay, human soldiers left behind- hearts still beating, but minds too worn down to fight any longer. Is that what he’s done to you?

Ramattra doesn’t know what to do. For weeks now you’ve slinked away from him any time he got close to you, so shaking you from this state would likely only scare you. Was it better for you to be conscious and afraid of him or- or whatever you are now?

Ramattra reaches for you- his fingertips nearly ghosting your cheek…

And his arm drops again. He can’t do it, can’t bring himself to be so close when that realization of disgust and hatred dawns on your features. He’s endured it too many times.

Instead, he drops to a knee before you- even the heavy clank of his knee on the tile does nothing to rouse you. He says you name again, first softly. Then louder- louder-

You blink, eyes coming into focus. Were you asleep? Were you…? Ramattra kneels hardly a breath away. But you’re so tired you can’t even bring yourself to scramble back, to scowl, to do anything more than whisper a hoarse, empty “Sorry,”

Ramattra doesn’t know what to do with sorry either. You haven’t apologized to him the entire time you’ve been here. You- you have nothing to apologize for. His fists clench at his sides. This isn’t your fault, even if you can’t understand his methods- he’s the one keeping you here, letting you waste away and-

Your eyes begin to drift away again. He never wanted to hurt you- that’s what all this was for, to avoid that.

“Are you all right?” He says, as kindly as he can manage.

All right? You fight to focus on him, to force the words through your fogged mind. You’re so tired. Physically, mentally- there’s so little left to give, can’t even find the energy to be angry. “Yeah,” You say, falling into autopilot, into routine. Empty excuses you’d make to anyone who asked. “I’m just.. tired. Sore. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Sore?” Ramattra’s head tips, optics observing your frame. The fatigue that weighs on you is written plainly on your face, but he can find no injuries.

“Yeah. Everywhere, I think. My back… and shoulders.” You mumble, reaching up to rub idly at your neck as you think about it, taking inventory of your aches.

Ramattara pauses, merely observes you as you blink slowly, wavering as you do- you hand stilling with the effort to open your eyes again. He doesn’t want to scare you off, doesn’t like that you’re still so disoriented. But he isn’t sure what else to do, other than to find a doctor. For now… “Would you… want me to rub them?

The thought is nice. Your hands hurt too, every knuckle complaining with even the most gentle kneads of your own shoulders. It’d been so long since he’d done that. His hand is firmer than your own, a benefit of steel fingers that force knots to unwind under his touch. Even as hesitant as he was to touch you at all, it had felt nice. Never once was it too much and-

and-

Awareness returns to you. He’s so close, perched so carefully in front of you, a cautious distance away. You aren’t sure what expression comes over your face, but whatever it is makes him draw back, begin to stand-

and you want to tell him no, you want to tell him to come back and you want so, so badly for him to rub your shoulders like he used to and he’s hurting people and you can’t find it in you to care about that anymore.

You’re so tired, so sore, so exhausted from days? weeks? months? of bad sleep and isolation and nobody in the world existing other than him in your little sterile room. You’re so fucked up for even considering it- ruined, broken for still loving him.

It all crumbles at once; your lower lip trembles as your vision blurs. Again Ramattra reels back, no longer in trepidation, but in shock as your mouth falls open in a silent, voiceless sob. The raw expression of your pain etched forever into his memory banks before you bring trembling hands up to cover your face. Then, and only then, do you gasp and cry out.

Before, he saw your crying in his security systems. The agony it caused him then is nothing compared to this. All the time spent talking himself into self-control is gone, any thought of your reaction is washed away in miserable tears.

“Oh, my dearest,” Ramattra sighs- and leans forward. His arms are huge, engulfing you in the scent of plastics and electricity and freshly spent flux. You don’t even fight him- just close your eyes and bawl.. Solder, too- he repaired something recently. The scent is familiar, comforting. He’s cool to the touch, no orange robes between his metal body and your skin- but you can’t complain as he lays one hand to the curve of your back, the only at the base of your neck.

“It’s all right,” He shushes you-- which only sets you off again. Receiving affection, comfort from him? It’s disgusting, wrong, traitorous- and yet you’re leaning into him. So carefully he pets your hair- and any chance of resistance is shattered, burned from you. You bury your face in his scarf, muffling your broken sobs in the fabric while you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer.

Ramattra’s clock skips, background processes hang at the warmth of your touch- of your embrace. It’s not just that he’s holding you- but you’re clutching at him in desperate handfuls, tugging him closer and closer until he’s nearly on top of you, his chest flush with yours.

Eleven years on and his shape is still what you remember, the same chassis you’d imagined holding over and over in the darkness of your room at night. The loneliness ate you alive, gnawing at every corner of your existence, wishing, wanting, aching to go back- and now you’re here. In his arms, crying into his scarf like nothing has changed at all. Your mantra is lost, forgotten in the comforting weight of him.

Something inside him shatters to hear you cry so pitifully. He holds you tighter, murmurs soothing words to you. He’s spent years crafting speeches to the image of you in his mind, but in this moment none of them feel right. So he whispers It’s alright, I’m here, I have you. and hopes that is enough to quiet the swells of whatever storm has broken in you.

It is, eventually.

Your tears slow into hiccups and sniffles. The white knuckle grasp you have on him loosens until you’re limp in his arms, leaning all your weight onto him. Ramattra takes it; his joints don’t ache, has no muscles to strain- merely supports you as the tension drains from your body.

Ramattra doesn’t know what to do with any of this- if you’ll still be willing to let him touch you tomorrow- but at least he can try to make you more comfortable. When he adjusts, picking you up entirely and sitting with you in his lap, your only reaction is to press your face deeper into his cowl. He sits and waits and wonders if you’ll wake up again and realize. Dread and guilt weigh on him- that he’s driven you to this sort of outburst, that he hopes, begs, pleads to anything that can hear him that this is real, that you mean this, that you won’t recoil from him tomorrow, that he hasn’t broken you entirely.

You don’t know how long you lay there- for once your mind is quiet, no thoughts racing in your head at all. All you think about is the humming of Ramattra’s fans, the warmth of his vents, the weight of his hands on you. Pleasant things. Things you’ve wanted for so long.

Ramattra knows. He holds you for exactly one hour and sixteen minutes. He knows that you began sleeping four times before you woke again. Each time he prepares himself for your sudden rejection- but it never comes.

And after an hour in his arms, wordless and pliant, you finally sit up. Ramattra’s optics focus hard on the red rims of your eyes and nose- and your lips when you say so quietly there’s hardly any voice to it at all- “I’m tired.” You lean away, almost falling sideways into your bed. It’s a struggle to move your limbs at all- knees aching from so long spent bent- but Ramattra kindly stands and helps adjust the blankets. He’s a little hurt when you settle in with your back to him, but he stands beside the bed and waits until your pulse drops to a calm, even pace.

Ramattra watches you, confused and enamored and so painfully hopeful. He hasn’t felt hope- true, honest hope- in so long. It’s foreign, unexpected. As he leaves your room he counts the time between the rise and fall of your chest, saves the memory over and over, dedicates a whole sector to it.

Regardless if you hate him again tomorrow, he’ll remember how it felt to hold you again.

#ramattra #ramattra x reader #overwatch #overwatch x reader #ramattra x you #overwatch x you #ramattra kidnapping au #yandere -#kidnapping -#mind break -

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1-800-ye0sangspr1ncess · 6 months

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I have been having this thot for a while

just imagine hoshi having a crush on cheol's gf, keeping it a secret from everyone, being hurt whenever he sees them together acting all lovey dovey with each other.

he knows that they love eachother but he cant help but think that if, what if it was him insted of cheol, loving u, kissing u, taking care of u, making love to u.

he didnt realize when his soft pure feelings for u turned into this intense passionate lust to make u his and his only.

having wet dreams about u two having this almost animalistic sex, he cant help but jerk off in the middle of the night.

oh....oh my.. the more i read on, the messier this got and yet i can't help but wish i found myself in a situation like this.... let me write you all the closest we'll get to this. and anon pairing: soonyoung x reader (indirectly) warnings: soonyoung is downright delulu for oc, shit ton of jealousy, fantasies of infidelity (fucking another man's girl), use of the nickname (sooyoo) and pet names (baby, sweetie, honey) NUMEROUS times, oc has size kink(loves how big sooyoo is, with that said...), dig bick soonyoung, "oblivious" cheol, lowkey not so humble bragger (loves letting everybody know 'you're his' type shit) cheol, jihoon & jeonghan feature, alcohol consumption, sorta subspace soonyoung??? (not proof read)

Open Arms - Kwon Soonyoung

soonyoung lazily turned the front door knob to his dark and cold apartment. The silence that enclosed him in the space made it all the more apparent that for yet another night, he was lonely and you were far from being his. the smell of his spirit-tainted clothes and mouth, clinging to him the way he'd hoped your body would've by the end of the night.

it's not that soonyoung wasn't happy for his friend seungcheol... actually, that's exactly what it was. he himself was taken aback by just how sincere-sounding his laughing along with everyone throughout dinner was, as you recalled how seungcheol had forgotten to transfer yours and his photos of your recent vacation from the disposable camera before he absent-mindedly threw it away this morning.

"well, excuse me, miss 'let's get a disposable camera to embody a true traveller's lifestyle' tsk" he pitched his voice a few octaves higher to mimic your statement from two weeks back. "ok bitch, first of all, I don't sound like that," you pinched seungcheol's cheek, leaving him scrunching his face in what the rest of the group members couldn't help but laugh off and interpret as pure agony "ow! damn what'd you pinch me for?" soonyoung rolled his eyes, "sickening..." he murmured to himself, dragging out a sip of his chilled bourbon, "and secondly, it's not my fault they haven't figured out a way to make 'em automatically transfer to your phone?! you'd know if what you had bothered to read the instructions token, mister" you playfully huffed.

"yeah, well, that'll teach us to never buy a two-dollar camera again. besides, I've got all those pretty pictures of you engraved in my mind" he chuckled, coming teasingly close to you, soonyoung with a frown less than containable, paying careful attention to the hand that danced its way around your waist from above the table. the hold on his glass visibly tightening, "ehem..." jeonghan pulled him from the boiler room of his thoughts. "you know, I never took you for the jealous kind." he jeered. "oh yeah? that obvious is it?" he placed his glass down on the table, the ice having burned his hand from how long it cupped it. "well, we've changed the conversation about three times and you've been staring at the...lack of a gap between cheol and y/n's waists for the past three minutes or so" his eyes now back to momentarily facing the place of general conversation, returning to see a ticked-off soonyoung. "c'mon aren't you of all people even a little grossed out by the excessive amount of pda right now?" he gestured his hand to the direction of yourself and seungcheol, who currently were giggling to yourselves about whatever seungcheol fucked up this time around. "I dunno, I think they're kinda cute" jeonghan teasingly knocked his shoulder against soonyoung's. he lived for the sole purpose of annoying his friends, and soonyoung was no exception. "I'm gonna go get some fresh air." he abruptly stood up from the table, all eyes now on him, a mix of unphased and all-the-more apparent confusion splashed across the table's faces. "everything alright, sooyoo?" your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, glossy pillowy lips turned down all just the same. oh, how his heart ached and his ears perked all at once at the nickname. expression softening at your concern "just peachy!" a wide grin making its way unknowingly across his face, "let us know if you need anything bud." your boyfriend just couldn't help himself could he. always feeling the need to butt in and ruin things. the sweet gaze you'd bestowed him, he'd quickly tattooed in his mind, now turned bitter by cheol's genuine remark of concern. "will do." soonyoung thumbed up, not even turning to face cheol as he walked out the door.

"what was that about?" jihoon now sat adjacent to jeonghan, filling soonyoung's seat, "mmhhm," he shrugged, "something about bitter and sweet..." it had only occurred to him now as he replayed the night's events that he'd never actually turned back and had gotten all the way home. "fuck..." he muttered. too drained physically and emotionally to turn back and apologize for taking long, even though the bar was across the street. "what's that asshole have that I don't?" he thought, taking his shoes off before placing them on their spotlit shelf before hurriedly moving to the primary bathroom. now disrobing himself and hopping into the shower, the tension leaving his body as the steam fogged up the glass of the box and mirrors. he thought the anxiety had fully rid itself from him, only for it to creep back once he'd made his way out of the shower to see two notifications from you, one being a missed call. his mind raced, thinking of how upset or hurt you must've been for him to have walked out, judging by the time, he was almost certain dinner was long over by now. he hesitantly played the voice note, only to be pleasantly surprised with your honey-coated voice and the soft humming of the car. "hey sooyoo, you left your coat on your seat and you weren't back by the time dinner wrapped up so cheollie and I took your coat for you." a humph of satisfaction erupting from him but your boyfriend's nickname left a bitter taste in his mouth. "hey bud,' the male's voice interjected, blaring through the phone's speaker, turning the volume down in annoyance he continued to listen "y/n thought about dropping it off for you but we'll swing by tomorrow. i told her, knowing your rowdy ass, you're probably not even home yet so we figured we wouldn't bother you." he chuckled, to which soonyoung involuntarily rolled his eyes in distaste. "anyways sooyoo, drink some water and get some rest. we'll see you tomorrow around noon-ish... if you ever need anybody to talk to...I'm here." he was in agony. oh, how badly he wished you wouldn't speak to him as a mere friend, how he craved for there to be space to drop the formalities, so desperate for you that he'd let you speak to him wherever and however you wanted. he loved your cute voice, how it deepened a bit in your fits of rage, how raspy and raw he'd imagine it to be if you had chosen to spend the night with him. in all the apparentness of his loneliness, the closest he had to physical consolement being his silk pjs and his weighted blanket. their respective embraces only prompting him to shift deep into thought.

how he wished it were him instead of seungcheol whose arms you found solace in. how he wished you'd laugh at his jokes with nearly as much relish as you did your boyfriend's. how he wished you wouldn't have to enlighten him of your support of him, how if it was you and him, you'd be there with open arms, and without the exchange of a single word, he'd fall into them as you encasing him tightly with your plush arms. he yearned for your kisses peppering his face as tears rolled down his soft cheeks. he ached for your words of comfort.

"it's ok baby, i'm right here." you rubbed his head, pampering him with soft pats and rubs along his back. "I'm all yours, I promise." you spoke softly to him, not wanting to break the intimate bubble encasing the two of you. "mine?" he sniffled staring into your eyes, the eyes that only softened when they saw him. the eyes he got lost in frequently upon your encounters. wanting nothing more but to drown in your pupils. "mhm." you agreed with a soft smile which only ever melted his heart. you found yourselves in his bedroom, standing at the foot of the bed, angling your head to close the gap between the two of you "but what about seungcheol?" the feeling of jealousy now replaced with genuine concern "like I said baby, I'm all yours." hesitance soon forgotten as he leaned in, your lips even softer than that of what he imagined, hints of cocoa now smothered on his top lip from your gloss, not that he minded.

he was in ecstasy, the one person he ached for most in this world, was right in front of him. he'd long forgotten seungcheol whose obliviousness he chuckled at, as he replayed your words in his head "yours..."

soon after, your figure was sandwiched between his thighs. his towel licking a long stripe up his length, your doe eyes staring up into his through your B9 false lashes, too lazy from the night's festivities to remove your makeup, you summoned the remainder of your energy to make him feel special and feel special he did, the maintenance of eye contact sending a shudder along his spine. "you're so nice and big honey, " you tease, leaving a kiss on his tip, staining it with your lip gloss "can barely fit you in my hands, let alone my mouth." soonyoung's chest heaving in desperation at this point. you'd teased him for what had only been a mere 45-second interval but to him, resembled a century. "please baby, don't tease." the sight of his own tip flushed an angry pink tone, precum threatening to leak and splotches of your glittery lip gloss had him ready to explode.

"so impatient..." you slapped his thigh lightly, his abs flexing upon the sting post-contact. before he could get another word in, you sunk your mouth onto his length for the first time that evening. "oh fuck," the sight of you so eager to please him, and so abruptly too had him in a frenzy. "I knew your pretty mouth was good for more than just talking" the globs of spit that remained on the sides of his cock each time you glided up soon forming a pool at its base. you collected some and used it as lube to tug at the parts of him you couldn't fit. "just like that, sweetie" he praised you as your hand and mouth worked rhythmically in unison. the pet name had your pussy drooling. you were so cock-hungry, the portion of him you already had filling your mouth wasn't enough. you took it upon yourself to push yourself all the way down on him, nose touching his pelvic bone and his tip reaching the far back of your throat "fuck that's it, baby, fuck-, just like that sweetie" soonyoung was nothing short of a gentleman, he wasn't one to be a pusher but he couldn't help but to be eager. especially when you sucked him off so good.

tears welled in your eyes as you repeated the motion, you wanted your baby to feel good, judging by how his hitched breathing and whines got more audible, you were doing a great job. "fuck sweetie, I love you so much" the rambling mess he'd become was a clear indication he was close, a few more tugs of his cock and you had him cumming all over your pretty face. the sight made his cock twitch. being the freak he was, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, creamy white goodness and all.

the only thing stopping him was the sudden knock on the front door. pulling him into a void of post-nut clarity, allowing him to open his eyes to the pathetic sight of his empty, now un-fitted sticky bed sheet, with the only token of gratitude, he imagines you to have left him being a new stain on his favourite ivory satin sheet.

"well shit..."

AN: AHHHHHHH my first full length fic, fucking hell i'm so excited for you all to read this. like WHAT? I ACTUALLY LIKE MY WORK FOR ONCE (I'll definitely come back to proof-read my work in the morning and be like "what the fuck?"). to the person who mad this request. thank you so much my love, you;ve helped me regain my confidence and I'm so very sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you, I know you asked me in the early parts of this year and I just couldn't pull myself out of this slump. thank you and I hope you like it. much love to you all and keep requesting! xoxo, gossip girl... just kidding 1-800-ye0sangspr1ncess.

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