#he casts aside his own desires and wants in the world

[valentinoappreciator]

"Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?"

current mood pictured below

#text #my post #arcane #silco arcane #this ONE LINE is RUINING me #the entire meaning behind it #the way he has fought and killed and maimed to achieve his dream #his entire life #and then #jinx is there #and suddenly ? he sees another meaning with life #another reason to fight and kill and maim #no longer for his own sake or the sake of his people #but for HER #for JINX #he casts aside his own desires and wants in the world #all for her #god fuck damn it #im NOT crying #i am fucking SOBBING #i heard a song (tonight is the night i die) and related it to silco #and now im just.... #this is fine

[anantaru]

DAY 27 — PRAISING

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — neuvillette, dainsleif, xiao, zhongli

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, praise kink, i missed writing lovey dovey stuff, love sick characters, slow sex and very cute, petnames used: love, darling

𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE

the desire emanating out of neuvillette whenever he made love to you never caused this much of an arising storm deep inside of him, it has never been this violent either— because listen closely now, when he took in your hot heaves that lingered over his rosy cheeks, the want for you consumed him in one quick bite, it transformed him.

at this moment in time, when becoming one with you, when feeling your warmth radiate across his skin had created an almost unbearable emotion totally unique and new to him, stubbornly manifested itself innermost his heart and lungs where it cannot, for even a second, be cast aside or the man will simply fall apart.

"ah— you're beautiful," he whispers into your skin, his fingers admiring the curves of your body, "you're incomparable," and it was welcomed, when neuvillette slid his mouth over your jaw and mouths the wet spots, his hips falling in tandem with your core jolting up to meet him halfway, "—you're spectacular, my love, my darling," as he slowly, curves one palm against your cheek, eyes slowly meeting big and bright, looking empty but revealing so much when he held you close.

"you are breathtaking."

his eyes devoured you again, you can feel it, taste it and sense it when his hips increased, and so did the buzzing slaps of skin colliding against skin— while unsurprisingly, eliciting a sweet noise from you when he surges his body against yours more passionately, his hips working in a steady, slow rhythm so that he was sure he could indulge in all of you, his cock snugly pinned inside of your warm body with the mass of muscle in your walls engulfing him entirely as neuvillette groans into your lips in trembling.

your passionate love— it could set the world aflame, burning like an uncontrollable wildfire, consuming everything in its path and whenever he found himself in your innocent embrace, your spine arching up at him when your frame holds onto the twitches of overstimulation, he found solace and a dwelling haven from the entanglement of his past in the purest, most innocent kinds of loves.

𖧡 — DAINSLEIF

"i love you today, tomorrow, and i will love you forever,"

"—and your heart is mine, mine, mine," dainsleif's mind blanks and for the very first time in his life he could say that he had madly fallen in love with another human being— and he flips back and forth between astonishment, nervousness on not knowing on how to tackle those new emotions and then playfulness, before running back to astonishment again.

but the man loved the view in front of him right now, he would love to capture it with a camera or visualize it before storing it into the deepest parts of his brain. dainsleif cannot stop himself from placing pleasure on you, to say the least, and how your spine bend ever so sinfully when he had you on all fours and smoothly guided his length in so you could feel and taste him— with your ass perked up until his fingers roll over the skin to rest against the hot flesh to keep you close.

for a moment, he drapes himself over your body, his tongue warm and slick against your shoulder, "i wish i could look at you right now," he admits, and everything he did felt good on your body, nothing could compare to the sensation whenever he made love to you.

forevermore, it would always overwhelm your body and guide you towards a sweet rhythm of his hips leisurely rocking back and forth against your plush ass.

but he couldn't stop, so he utters, yet not before nibbling on your skin once more, "—watch how your face changes," and granted, dainsleif could fulfill his own wish in the blink of an eye, yet he prefers to stay in this position for now, for some reason he had become utterly obsessed with it, or how well you clenched down on him or your squealing hiccups that fell on deaf ears every time he shoot his dripping erection back inside.

dainsleif just needed it all, yearned for you his entire life, because the love between you had manifested itself into nothing short but eternal tenderness and warmth, even transcending through space and time.

𖧡 — XIAO

"you're welcome to always stay here, if you so wish,"

xiao whispers to you in a frail note that a swirl shudders down your spine, his voice remaining soft and encouraging with his warm kisses all planted on top of your forehead as he slowly grinds himself into your heat— this time, not upraising the tempo but rather focusing on nudging his tip over the smarting segments battered on your walls.

"and when you call my name," he pauses, "it is you and me."

as you saw it, this moment in time seemed to have stopped rotating, entirely held back to a stand still, the dimly lid bedroom adept with hot, shielding air that accompanied every action like that of being trapped inside of a hot summer day inside a loop, with the difference being that the humidity was surprisingly comforting, soul touching and the transition in your traces had become almost unbearable— with xiao taking his good time with you, your palms reaching over to cup his face while his mouth parts, subtle grunts and breathless moans lingering around him.

xiao would always cherish the bittersweet moments with you, his beautiful princess, thinking that your laughs and kisses together were limited, and it frankly wouldn't even matter on how many times you would attempt to make him aware that you'd never leave him in a million years— a darkness had still continuously altered his mind.

regardless of such, in under a dime xiao had you breathless under him, the air feeling stubbornly hot when he gyrates his hips into your cunt with his body pressed tightly against yours, guiding his cock skillfully in and out as he slants forward and breathes in the little sobs and cries that spill from your pouty lips.

𖧡 — ZHONGLI

"speak to me, love,"  zhongli voices his unwavering need against your pouty lips as his warm pants wrap around your skin with ease, "tell me how it feels," and his voice was so unbelievably reassuring that you're instantly convinced to cry out his name with pleading eyes, his warmth heavy and suffocating between your thighs and making you feel so good.

"i love you," you hiccup sweetly, taking his face in your hands as you squeal a little at his obvious, quite sizable shaft reaching in and out of your ribbed walls, the sound of your pussy splitting apart was deafening as his length was beginning to shine with your arousal, the position providing enough relief to leave you vulnerable and speechless.

"my love," zhongli breaks his words over two broken groans, "my heart will always call out your name, you're beautiful," and something about this current situation was so sensual, so personal and erotic that you felt as if someone squeezed your lungs together, your mind solely focused on what was going on where you were lining up together, namely that sweet and punctuated pressure between your legs, how deliciously good it felt the more he filled you up.

your love was so soulful, intertwining your spirits in an unbreakable bond, it's crazy and zhongli cannot even fathom on how lucky he was to experience this after all of his suffering. he went on, nudging his erection around the walls of skin and branding himself on it— your thighs, as a result, closing around him as he fastens his sensual grinds.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif smut #xiao x reader #xiao smut #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut #kinktober #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #neuvillette x you #xiao x you #zhongli x you

[another-lost-mc]

Can you imagine the om! cast flirting with mc and thinking they're mc's only romantic interest when mc already has a booty call at RAD? There are no feelings involved, just intimacy, but still. I think the cast is too arrogant to ever think mc could be interested in anyone else.

(English is not my native language, so please excuse any possible mistakes)

a/n: that’s fair! I mean, mc has needs too, right? maybe trying to hook up with one of the avatars is daunting, but a hot lower-ranking demon lord who promises a good time every once in a while? that could be fun.

➤ when they find out you have a fwb | the demon brothers

0.9k words | nsfw | suggestive | gn!reader

c/w: jealousy and implied dark themes/sketchy behaviour squints at beel and belphie

read more: the dateables | when solomon is your fwb

Lucifer finds it hard to believe at first. Once he knows the demon’s name, he watches you two interact more closely. He picks up on the shared glances and flirtatious touches he somehow missed before. He’s been stewing in his own desires and feelings for you all this time because he wasn’t sure the best way to declare his intentions. He thought subtlety and patience would be best, but perhaps he can admit just this once that he was mistaken. Learning about your dalliances with someone else finally gives him the push to show you what a real demon lover can offer you. Once you have the Avatar of Pride to warm your bed, you'll be satisfied with no one else but him.

Mammon is one part incredulous, one part jealous, and just a teensy bit turned on. He can’t stop staring at the blurry photo Asmo managed to take of you sneaking out of a utility closet at RAD. His cock twitches when he takes in the image of your rumpled clothes and the way your forehead glistens from a light sheen of sweat. He wants to make you look like that, not some random nobody that doesn't deserve you. His mind races when he imagines his own fingers tugging your clothes aside for better access to your naked body. What did you sound like when you tried to muffle your moans so no one would hear you? Mammon would give anything to take that demon’s place. Y’know, both of you have a spare period after lunch—would you follow him into one of the dark corners of RAD for a little fun if he offered? Maybe it’s time for him to find out.

Levi is seething. Mostly he’s angry and jealous and he wants to tear the building to pieces. He’s also ashamed because the fantasy of you dragging him into an empty room at RAD for a midday fuck is hot as hell. He doesn’t think he deserves you, but he knows that the demon you’re fucking doesn’t either. What do they have that he doesn’t? He’s burning with curiosity about your little affair, but he’s incensed by the idea that he might not be good enough for you. Envy can make him a little desperate. He's tempted to beg you for even a morsel of your love and affection. If he's pathetic enough, maybe you'll even take pity on him and oblige.

Satan is furious because he should’ve realized something was going on. The signs are all there and he missed them somehow. It takes all his willpower not to hunt down your little demon friend for daring to touch you that way. Satan is well-versed in human world literature—maybe declaring his intentions with a romantic gesture would convince you to give him a chance instead? Or maybe sweet and romantic love isn’t what you crave. If fast and rough is more to your tastes, all you need to do is mention your friend’s name—you’ll be too fucked out of your mind to remember it by the time he’s finished with you.

Asmo’s reactions are all over the place: he’s giddy that you’re so daring (fucking at RAD of all places!); he’s devastated that you turned to someone else instead of coming to him; and he’s frustrated that he didn’t realize sooner this was even happening. He pays more attention after he catches you the first time, and it seems so obvious when the current of lust between you and your friend flickers with interest throughout the school day. He finds reasons to keep you two from sneaking off together and pretends he’s not jealous every time he interferes. Perhaps when you’re frustrated enough, he can finally entice you to join him for a little pampering session in his room. You seem so frustrated today! But don’t worry—he knows exactly what you need to loosen up.

Beel is one of the few demons that understands what hunger and starvation feels like. Sometimes you need to do whatever it takes to satisfy those cravings, even on a temporary basis. You’re important to him, and he cherishes your friendship. He’s hidden his true desires from you because he doesn’t want to risk losing control if he’s too hasty, too rough, or too demanding before you're ready to embrace being with someone like him. His love is all-consuming and you're a constant strain on his self-control. If you weren’t turning to someone else for affection, maybe he could be patient and satisfy his urges for you elsewhere. Now that he knows someone else has had a taste of you, he wants you even more. When he finally confesses his desire to be with you, he hopes for both your sakes that you feel the same.

Belphie lashes out with barbed insults and backhanded compliments to hide his own hurt and jealousy. You’re not that bad looking for a human, I guess it was only a matter of time before someone wanted to fuck you. Once he learns the truth about that demon you’ve been fooling around with, he’s suddenly glued to your hip like he can’t stand to be parted from you. He’s selfish with your time and clings to you in his bed during naps. He sneaks his way into your dreams because he wants to make sure you’re not dreaming of anyone else. He might even have a private chat with your little friend, but he doesn’t tell you since it’s nothing for you to worry about. It’s a shame that your fuck buddy suddenly decides to call things off between you after that. At least you still have Belphie to comfort you and wipe away your tears. He appreciates you, even if that random asshole doesn’t—the only demon you ever needed has been here for you all along.

#obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader #obey me smut #obey me x reader #x reader #gn!reader

[2smolbeans]

Yandere Diavolo x Innocent reader headcanons

Tags: Mindbreak, corruption, forced marriage, black mail, Mc's partner gets murdered, suicide mention, Mc goes to hell, manipulation, hostage keeping, minor world building mentions, Mc is gender neutral.

Diavolo knows how humans are. He's been there since their very creation. Humans are greedy, vicious, cruel little animals with a mind of their own. They were almost similar to demons- no, if anything - most, if not - all demons were once humans!

So, for being so cruel, so selfish. It was amazing how he stumbled upon a rare soul like you. So pure, innocent, kind..He was sure that you were predestined to go heaven once you had died. You'd make the perfect angel, after all!

Diavolo was enamored by you. How gentle you were to those who were rough with you, the way you would so gracefully own up to your mistakes - something most humans couldn't do! How you would always keep your head high whenever you were ruthlessly bullied by the world. The way you would kindly treat strangers who would be cast aside by society.

For once, he had met a human with diligence and self-control! It made you desirable and interesting - different from most humans. He needed you. You were one of a kind.

Diavolo became more curious about you with each passing day. He just had to see you. So, with a change of attire and appearance, he visited your work as a customer. Falling hard for you when you gifted him with your voice that spoke directly to him - giving him your undivided attention.

He needed more. It had been so long since he's seen such pure kind innocence directed towards him. So, of course, with his devil's charm, he tried to persuade you to be his partner.

But, unsurprisingly, you already had a partner. Of course, that was no problem for Diavolo- such a small obstacle was no path for this ancient demon!

So kindly getting rid of the waste of space that contributed no meaning to your life, Diavolo tried again. Sweetly feeding into your sins. Pride, greed, envy, and lust. Trying to get you to fall for him.

But it never worked since you were now too busy grieving for your previous partner.

He was running thin. He didn't want to force his love and affection onto you. He wanted you to swoon over him, for you to look at him without him having to force you. To have you all prettied up as his royal spouse. To have his innocent kind spouse dote on him so diligently.

So he was left no choice but to haunt you. Whispering in your ears about the unspoken knowledge, taunting you to the point of insanity, breaking you to the point of committing unforgivable sins.

So when you came to your senses, unable to cope with the reality, you ultimately killed yourself out of guilt.

Happily waiting for you in circles of hell, Diavolo came to collect you.

You were so scared, shivering from the torture you had to endure with all the other sinners. Don't worry, he'll take you away from the bad place. Only in one condition. No? That's okay. He'll happily drop you off back from where you came from!

Aww, you're clutching onto him so tightly.. I guess that means you took up his offer!

Sooner or later, you ended up as his royal spouse. Always satisfying his needs, making sure to please him with anything he wants.

You don't want to go back to the circles of hell after all. Not when Devildom is nice and safe, barely far away from limbo!

Diavolo found it admirable whenever he looked at you. Such an innocent and meek demon you were. With your cute little horns protruding out of your head and that slim tail you had from behind.

He was proud to call you his spouse. So proud that he always hosts a party dedicated to celebrating your marriage with him. It's only fair, you must be bored staying inside the castle by yourself waiting for him!

Plus, it's not like you're allowed to go out.. He can't risk his little spouse getting hurt!

Aren't you glad this is how things turned out?

And isn't it better that it'll be like this for all eternity?

.

.

.

________________________

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere prompt #obey me #yandere obey me #yandere headcanons #yandere obey me headcanons #yandere diavolo obeyme #yandere diavolo x reader #yandere diavolo #yandere obey me x reader #obey me x reader

[huicitawrites]

Priestess of The Malevolent Shrine

Yandere! Trueform! Sukuna x Priestess! Reader

tags: @a-tiny-teez @kazusan7yanderekun @eleventhdoctorsangel

warnings: yandere (“slow-burn), violence

Part 0- prologue | Next part

The Jujutsu world is an unforgiving one. While there are folk that are spared of witnessing the true colors of this world, others have the innate talent to see ‘curses’ and manifest ‘cursed energy’.

These people are called ‘shamans’, and they fight curses.

Curses are horrid creatures, born of the negative emotions and the selfish nature of human beings. Some are mindless living creatures, others have the capability to reason and feel just as humans- which makes them all the more dangerous. However, both are driven by bloodlust and a desire to massacre and devour human beings.

Shamans make their day to day by slaying curses in an endless cycle of battle. As long as humans exist, shamans and curses are born to clash.

The Jujutsu world is a complex one. A society of the ‘blessed’ , or better said the ‘cursed’, woven with solid hierarchies and questionable alliances. There is pride and honor, yet dignity is often casted aside. What began as a quest to rid humanity of the plague of curses ended in a survival of the fittest, only a few remain loyal to the initial values of shamans.

The Jujutsu society is composed of many clans and talented individuals. Of course, there are those whose names and families stand out. In fact, there used to be four Great Jujutsu Clans.

The Gojo clan.

The Zenin clan.

The Kamo clan.

and the [L/n] clan.

There used to be. The fourth family has been scraped off the list, none other than by the most infamous and feared name in the Jujutsu World– Ryomen Sukuna.

A powerful sorcerer turned curse user and finally reborn as a curse, a traitor to humanity and a menace to curses alike, Ryomen Sukuna is rightfully feared.

A remorseless fiend with a cunning, dark mind and insatiable bloodlust. Unmatched and unrivaled, even by the now smaller elite of families of sorcerers. Any sorcerers that dare try to exorcize him end up purged in their own pool of blood, flesh and organs. Your family, of all people, would unfortunately know best.

He is the one and only King of Curses, a title he earned of his own murderous deeds, overwhelming cursed energy and exceptional cursed technique and prowess.

As he is feared, he is respected, revered even.

Sacrifices, prayers and offerings have been made in his name, heads bowed before him - a sight he enjoys as they babble their mouths and beg him not to end their miserable and pathetic, insignificant lives. Save for the mad and the strayed, no one worships him true of heart, but Ryomen Sukuna minds not.

Yet tales tell of the Priestess of The Malevolent Shrine. A beautiful young woman that carries herself with apparent grace and diligence, but at her core she is wicked and hellish- loyal in heart and truth to the Cursed King.

You, however, knew better- after all, your heart is your own. Only you would ever know the torture and suffering of being the Priestess of the Malevolent Shrine.

A/n: Here begins a yandere sukuna series I wanted to publish for a long time, enjoy!

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere blog #yandere writing #yandere sukuna #yandere sukuna x reader #yandere jjk #fem reader

[theredofoctober]

RUMPLESTILTSKIN— An Oliver Quick/Reader Saltburn DarkFic

Pairing: Oliver Quick/You, Oliver Quick/Reader (no gender specified, terms like pretty are used though just to mention)

Synopsis: Oliver finds You, the awkward guest at his birthday party, and takes what his dark heart desires.

Trigger Warnings (PLEASE READ): noncon, blood play, Oliver just being evil

Fic under the cut, keep reading

"Who are you, then?"

It was the small man that said it, the one with the slurring Nothern accent and eyes like ice picks, palely sharp.

You'd seen him swaying on the outer edge of the party, seeming both drunk and far too sober, all at once.

His face was odd, flat, and sleek, like a trickster in a German folk story: thief of children, bringer of gold.

You hated the boy in a moment, drawing back from him against a trellis, your hands wrapped fast through the slats. His eyes made you wish you'd drunk rather less than you had done, silver as scissor blades in the swelling night.

"I'm one of Venetia's friends," you said, though you knew Felix more, and Farleigh rather better than you liked to. "You don't know me. Who are you?"

The boy stepped around a plant pot, his balance the measure of sobriety. He wore deer antlers with an open-chested white suit, embroidered with leaves, the dress of a more handsome man. Only the slopes of his cheekbones, the soft mouth were beautiful.

His eyes made an autopsy of you. There was nothing in them but wanting, a starving colour. An absence of it.

You would have turned to run, only there was nothing then to fly from that made sense.

"I'm Oliver," said the young man. "It's my birthday party. Felix's family arranged it all for me."

"Happy birthday," you said, at once, a reflex.

You wished that he'd go away, that he would edge into the maze like a shadow thrown by the sun, and meld with the dark of the leaves beyond. Anything but approach as he did then, his compact form eating of the air between you with carnivorous haste.

He was slight enough that you thought you might push him down or aside with little effort, but the poise of him, as delicate as a barber's blade, gave you pause. He'd cut you if you touched him, you thought. Something would happen, and you would run crying as you had from a dozen birthday celebrations as a child, unwanted.

He brought that old vulnerability up out of you, somehow, though he hadn't yet done much but broach the most innocent of smalltalk.

"How come you're over here, on your own?" asked Oliver, his head at a sympathetic incline. "You're too pretty for that. You know that, don't you?"

His voice was a sing-song croon, then, all silken menace. He was trying to charm you, you knew that, yet you saw as though through the beads of a brothel doorway the hunger in him, the appetite of worlds.

You glanced right and left, realising, with an awful start, how very drunk you were, swaying and stupid with it.

"I needed some fresh air," you said, with a high, braying laugh— Oliver half-smirked at the sound of it, knowing its falseness, knowing your fear. "All that bloody champagne went right to my head."

"You'll need someone to look after you, then," said Oliver, and then he uttered your name, making a baleful ditty of its syllables.

How had he known it? Had he known it all along?

You'd glimpsed him watching you, before, an empty glass in hand, attaching himself to your heels like a stoat after a rabbit, all lithe cunning on the hunt. Likely he'd heard your name then, as Felix had bent down to kiss your cheek, all affable golden looks. Heard it, and slipped it into the pocketbook of his mind to tear free, when it was needed.

Your name was pretty on Oliver's tongue, sugar, and ribbon, and stained glass, as apt to break. Happily you'd have taken the pieces and cast them all out into the riverbed, have gone nameless rather than hear him speak it again.

"You don't know anyone else here, do you?" asked Oliver, and there was the word again, no longer ribbon, but rough as a noose, strangling as he came closer still. "Just the Catton family. Something in common, me and you."

You lurched vaguely to the right, and Oliver's arm came up against the trellis, gently, a tender trap.

"You're lonely," he said. "Haven't you always been, though?"

His face was close enough for you to note the punctuation of a mole on his right cheek, the lines at his brow, the riddled literature of him. What he saw in yours was a portal to the past, all features from the nervous mouth to the twitching eyelids telling of a once bullied child, an outcast brought in through charity from the cold.

"Go away, Oliver," you said, bravely. "I want to be alone. I can't breathe."

That was true enough. You were stifled in your plastic wings and ill-fitting garments, sweating and airless, almost wanting to be sick.

Oliver drew his face nearer, and your throat closed to the breadth of a lock in your dread of him, of those ink spill eyes.

"I don't want you to breathe," he said. "Not right now."

Then he darned his lips to yours, their heat, their softness like the death of summer blooms, and you pressed back into the trellis so hard that you thought the wood might break, so brittle did it seem.

You brought up your hands to battle his shoulders, only for them to be joined with his, your fingers tangling, a torsion of slick skin and bone.

There were no thoughts that survived the cruelty of Oliver's embrace, the insistence of his compact strength, the length of tongue, of arousal under clothing, at your thigh. You wanted to snap free of him like a spell, but he kissed you until your fight withdrew in sight of its fair winner.

No one came close enough to see you, or if they did they thought you drunken lovers, poised to consummate your pash against the fence.

At last Oliver moved back his head, the reflection of the night's obsidian in his mortuary eyes.

"Let me go," you whispered. "I don't want to do this. I don't want you."

"Well, I want you, though," said Oliver, with an authority that frightened you in its unshifting weight. "And since nobody else here does, what's the point in saying no?"

His hands, little and wicked, wore their way under clammy layers of clothes. In all the heat they were almost cold, dragging from you a series of ragged gasps that were lost in the revelling darkness.

You wished the wings at your back were feathered, those of swans; they'd have broken the bones in his arm and you out of this, far lovelier a transportation than the sticky taxi that would bear you home in the hours to come.

Yet had such pretty things hung from your back this beast named Oliver would have bitten them off and flossed their quills through his teeth, you knew it.

He touched you until his findings were of stolen treasure, watching your every tendon solidify to strands of stone through the art of such fell grief.

"You weren't what I came looking for tonight, you know," he said. "But you're mine, anyway."

You didn't answer, imagined any word drowned like a cat in the depths of him.

Oliver stepped into you with a dancing softness and kissed you again, sucking a plum welt into your lower lip, breaking it between his teeth to blood. Again you struck your hands against him, but Oliver, with liquid instinct, pushed your arms back through the apertures in the trellis, caring little for the splinters in your wrists, if at all.

Crucifixion could not be so painful, so martyring as your capture beneath him.

"Oliver," you said, and he smiled.

"That's me. The birthday boy. And what does the birthday boy get?"

He opened your costume with the hook of four fingers, touched the bruised rose of princely lips to your ear.

His breath was smoke, and champagne, and stolen blood.

"I get what I want," he said, and then his cock was an arrow at the heart of your waiting horror, his slight hips a harp played against you, moving in the strum of entry, into the gold he made of your pain.

You screamed, and the sound was devoured by the bacchanal night. Oliver took you slowly, with patient intelligence, feeling each trembling agony of your body and twisting it, by sorcery, into something else. His eyes were a witch's orbs through which he knew you, psychic, solipsistic—

You were ivy about the wand of him, a thing that would poison the man, were he not immune to its effects. He fucked you as though he thought it romantic, somehow, this violence in a friend's pungent garden, the scent of flowers and trodden grass and arousal a perfume to woo.

There was blood on both of your faces, on his bare chest, under the blazer. It frightened you, suddenly, a tarot spread of death in the summer night—

Your panic, the heaviness of lingering champagne, the attack like Zeus upon a swan; all of it made you limp, in Oliver's grip.

He paused in his taking of you to hold you upright, studying your face under the Midas yellow of a nearby lamp.

"Stand up straight for me, now," he said. "And look at me. Look at me."

He tapped your cheek— not a slap, far too soft for that, as though the concern in the vicious gossamer in his voice was real.

"You want me to make you feel good about yourself. Need me. Don't you?"

"No," you said, but as Oliver kissed you again, and a firework shrieked somewhere against your eardrum, you lost what temporary power you'd had to resist him.

Like a spindled sleeper you endured his lovemaking, swallowed his tongue like a precious key. Your body was a pulse in deep water, stirred by hands and cock into a dripping arc.

Oliver moaned against your tattered lips, his arms about you in embrace. The heat of him would follow you, afterwards, the haunting of his lust's smoke from dream to dream.

He moved away from you, aided you in pulling your arms back through the trellis. For a moment he tried to hold you, his murmuring at your hair, its comfort indistinct.

Then, as you ripped him from you like the segment of a rotten apple he wiped himself clean of your blood; the rag he used was something torn from your garments in the fury of his love, a token of it. A thread from the maze.

You sat down in the grass and stared up at Oliver, seeking some answer. Assistance from the breaker of will.

"Go home," he said, at last. "Felix doesn't want you. And now—"

Oliver shook his head, and the peat fire of his eyes was of the underworld, then, of sapphire death gone to ash.

"I don't want you either. Not anymore."

Then he turned from you, and walked away, towards the house, his fey shape a shadow puppet on the wall.

#saltburn fic #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick #saltburn #dead dove do not eat #darkfic #tw noncon #tw assault #tw blood #oliver quick x you

[cece693]

Pain (Lestat de Lioncourt x Male Vamp. Reader)

This small fic came to me while looking through Pinterest. You know those little 'aesthetic' quotes? Well, it came from this one specifically:

'I loved you even when it hurt.'

This fic includes things from both the movie and TV show, so no specific Lestat was used for inspiration. Enjoy.

Summary: On the anniversary of his transformation, m/r can't help but remember his past: one that includes his ex-lover and sire, Lestat de Lioncourt.

M/n was tired. Though his outward appearance betrayed no signs of aging—no wrinkles, no gray hair, no creaking bones—the weight of centuries bore down on him. As he gazed at the midnight sun, a harbinger of his impending retreat to his coffin, m/n decided to indulge himself and spend more time out in the open. After all, this was the only time he could enjoy the new wonders of the world, yet this was not just any ordinary day. Tonight marked the anniversary of m/n's transformation into one of the undead.

Reflecting on the past, m/n reminisced about the persuasive allure of Lestat, the vampire who had sweet-talked his way around rationality, promising a life brimming with pleasure and abundance. In the initial decades, it was a splendid existence.

Lestat had a way of making m/n feel truly special. The once mundane aspects of mortal life were now elevated to extraordinary heights in the vampiric realm, and Lestat made sure m/n felt the full extent of his newfound powers.

There were moonlit strolls through shadowy alleyways, where Lestat shared the secrets of their immortal world. He spoke of the intoxicating thrill of the hunt, the taste of forbidden blood, and the freedom that came with transcending the limitations of mortality. Lestat created a world where every moment felt like an eternity of bliss. However, m/n should've known his novelty would wear off. Lestat was a man driven by desire and ambition, wanting to taste the newest and finest things in life. What would m/n offer to such a monster who had already taken everything? So when Lestat's attention was redirected to another human named Louis, m/n felt pain.

He was angry at Lestat for casting him aside, yet the blame couldn't be placed on him alone—m/n should've known that a creature such as Lestat could never be tied down, despite how much he proclaimed to love you. So, when the ethereally beautiful vampire introduced Louis as his newest creation, a realization dawned on m/n. Lestat wasn't his anymore.

And Louis, the unwitting figure in their love triangle, bore no blame for his and Lestat's fallout. M/n grappled with conflicting emotions, attempting to cultivate hatred towards the vampire who seemed to have stolen Lestat away. Yet, against his own efforts, all he could muster was pity. For as much as Louis and Lestat showcased their 'love' through tender kisses and clandestine touches, m/n saw through the facade.

In the quiet moments when Lestat thought no one was watching, m/n observed the flickers of longing and boredom in the vampire's blue eyes. It became evident that the passion between Louis and him, while palpable, was also marred by perpetual restlessness. Not even months into Louis' stay did the cracks in their relationship begin to manifest themselves.

"Out with Antoinette?" Louis would hiss, the accusatory tone hanging heavy in the air, ensuing another argument between the two. As the discord between Louis and Lestat escalated, M/n found himself unwittingly becoming a refuge for Lestat. The vampire, seeking solace in the familiar, turned to M/n whenever the storms of conflict raged with Louis. In those moments of anger, Lestat was M/n's again, yet it also drove him to the brink of madness and unhappiness.

He had days, if lucky, where things would go back to how they were—a semblance of the love they once shared. But whenever the storms settled between Louis and Lestat, m/n would be relegated to loneliness once more. One day, unable to bear the emotional rollercoaster any longer, he confronted Lestat. The air was thick with tension as they stood facing each other, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between them.

"You can't keep doing this, Lestat." M/n pleaded, the frustration and anguish evident in his voice. "Keep me here when you clearly love Louis. How would you like it if I were to do the same?"

M/n regretted saying anything as Lestat's eyes darkened, and a snarl emerged on the vampire's lips. In a sudden, swift motion, Lestat pinned m/n to the wall, his grip firm and possessive. The room seemed to close in as Lestat hissed, "You belong to me."

"I don't belong to anyone." M/n retorted, anger engulfing his body.

Lestat laughed coldly in his face, grip tightening, he smirked. "That's where you're wrong, love," he taunted, his voice dripping with both amusement and cruelty. "I own you…"

The possessive declaration sent a chill down m/n's spine, his anger giving way to a growing sense of unease. Lestat's dark laughter reverberated in the confined space, echoing the shifting power dynamics between them. Trapped against the wall, m/n felt the weight of Lestat's control, a dominance that left him conflicted and vulnerable.

Lestat's smirk widened, his gaze predatory as he continued, "You're mine to protect, mine to control. I've tasted your blood, felt your heartbeat sync with mine. You're bound to me in ways you can't comprehend."

M/n, trapped against the wall, felt a cold chill run down his spine at Lestat's words. The once cherished intimacy between them now felt like chains, binding M/n to a fate he hadn't fully understood.

In a moment of intense emotion, Lestat, fueled by the strange dance of power and desire, leaned in, capturing m/n's lips in a possessive kiss. The meeting of their mouths was both a declaration of dominance and a desperate attempt of Lestat's to re-establish his control over m/n. Perhaps, in his pursuit of novelty and excitement, he had unknowingly neglected his first creation in favor of the alluring Louis. However, what neither m/n nor Louis knew was that, hidden beneath the layers of Lestat's charismatic exterior, there existed a capacity for love.

As Lestat's lips sought dominance in the heated kiss, there was an intricate play of emotions beneath the surface.

The neglect that m/n had felt wasn't an absence of love but rather a reflection of Lestat's internal struggle to navigate the complexities of immortal relationships. Lestat, a vampire with a history of numerous lovers, had reveled in the pleasures of passion without feeling a deep emotional connection—until m/n entered the picture. Even his intense relationship with Louis didn't compare to the profound connection he shared with m/n.

As the intensity of their heated kiss began to wane, Lestat pulled away, his eyes fixed on m/n with a mixture of possessiveness and intensity. "If you dare to run away," Lestat whispered, "Know that I'll drag you back to my side. And that's a promise."

#interview with the vampire #x male reader #male reader #claudia iwtv #iwtv #vampire #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #the vampire armand #vampire chronicles #anne rice

[feyhunter78]

Among the Sun Ch 12

Description: Miguel has revealed his secrets now it is time to reveal yours. (Also, this is the chapter I mentioned that I half wrote on my bathroom floor, and I'm obsessed with it.) Ch 13

It has all come back to you, every dream, memory, smile, and tear that fell with Miguel at the very center. Those traitorous memories that made a fool of you, all when he uttered such simple words. We are fated.

It was no spell, at least not one born of Miguel’s own abilities. You are uncomfortably familiar with that sensation, with the way his eyes swirl and darken, the crimson color bleeding through. But that is not this. His eyes remain that warm umber color, ever shifting shades of brown, from the intoxicating color of honeyed mead to the deep color of fresh soil, primed and tilled in order for new life to grow. They are the catalyst of his very being, and you, you are ensnared, trapped within a molten pool of warmth, embers flickering as you bury your hands in your skirt.

He looks so different now. Back then he was stumbling, skin ashen, eyes haunted, frame bowed under the weight of some invisible burden you could not fathom. But now, now he is beautiful, divine, and destructive, his skin glows, his eyes, in this moment they burn with anguish but prior…prior they were filled with joy. He stands tall, the weight has seemed to slip from his shoulders, or perhaps he simply became more adept at hiding it.

“I do not know what to say. Y/N…I have longed for you, searched the entirety of the realm—-”

“And yet you had a child with another, you turned me away for another.” You know your words are not fair or even rational, but you are angry, angry, and hurt.

The memories flooding your mind are overwhelming, coming with them is the grief and loneliness you felt during that time, it is a crushing weight, one that nearly takes you to your knees. But you will not fall, not in front of he who abandoned you.

“Do not speak of her.” Miguel says, his voice hard.

It makes you flinch, and you can see his fingers twitch, a need, a desire, coursing through him to take hold and comfort you. He was always so wonderful at that, comforting you.

You remember telling him of how your favorite lady-in-waiting was to be married off to some boorish nobleman who lived far, far, away from the palace, how you sobbed at the uncaringness of the world you lived in. He held you in his arms, hand smoothing up and down your back comfortingly, his voice low as he whispered reassurances in your ear. He never made you feel childish or spoiled for crying so often, and many times, about such small things. In fact, he often believed—and voiced—that you did not give your worries enough attention, that you cast them aside in favor of focusing on the issues of others.

“Mi dulce princesa, eres tan abnegada.” He’d say, as he brushed back the hair from your face, a sad smile gracing his lips.

My sweet princess, you are so self-sacrificing. Was it true? You never thought of yourself in such a way, but perhaps Miguel was right.

You would not do so now, though; you would not relinquish your pain in order to soothe his.

“I cannot speak of the woman you chose over me?” You snap, wanting to dig your fingers into Miguel’s heart and squeeze until he bleeds, as you feel you do.

Miguel gives a short laugh. “If I were to choose her over you, she would be here in your place.”

“Then who may I not speak of?” You raise your chin in defiance. “Am I not to be your empress? Is that not what you called me as you took yourself in hand to my memory?”

A slight shiver passes through him, and you watch as goosebumps cover his exposed skin. “You may not speak of my daughter as if she is to blame, she is a child.”

The fire raging within you begins to falter. It was never your intention to insult his daughter, you held no anger towards her, she had no part to play in this mocking tragedy for which you seemed cast as lead role. “I would never, she is, as you said, a child, there is no blame to place upon her, nor would I ever.”

Miguel deflates slightly. “Do you think that even in my gratefulness, I did not wish the gods had allowed you to be Gabi’s mother? That I did not wish she had your eyes or your smile? She is beautiful, and she is mine, but I wish she was ours .”

You bite the inside of your cheek, his words hitting the center of your chest and reverberating out. “I…”

“I am sorry y/n, that I pushed you away, that I did not recognize you. I have been searching for you in every village, every city, every kingdom, every—”

“Brothel.” You cut in, a thick lump in your throat as you recall the rumors. “I have heard the tales, Your Grace.”

Miguel’s tail unfurls from around your ankle, and you take a step back from him, a flicker of satisfaction sparks to life in your chest when his fingers twitch again.

“I thought you had no use for streetwalkers.” You add, the urge to push, and push, and push until he breaks grows strong.

You know him, you did not before, your mind still clouded, but now your memories have returned, and you know him. You know that if you push, if you tug at certain strings within him, he will fall, crumble before you. Is it cruel? Perhaps, but you consider his actions to be cruel as well.

“I waited for you, gave myself only to you, I know I did not ask you to promise you would do the same but I…” It’s true, you had not asked him, but part of you hoped he would do the same, would keep himself for you. It was a foolish thought, and you knew it. He was a man, a handsome man. Men as handsome as Miguel back home would have dozens of lovers by the time they married. Not that there were any back home as handsome as him.

“It is a flaw in my design.” He says softly, staring at your hands, his own tucked behind his back. “A curse within my nature, left behind from the games, I must expend my energy, or I will go mad.”

“You must fuck, so you do not go mad. Miguel, do you take me for a fool?” You deadpan, raising both eyebrows at him.

He hums in delight. “To hear my name from your lips, even said with scorn, is a gift.”

“One I will revoke if you do not cease toying with me.” You say sternly.

“I would only toy with you if you desired it, querida.” He purrs, emboldened by the sound of his name falling from your lips.

You grab the nearest object, a silver spoon, and throw it at him. It bounces off his toned chest and clatters to the floor. You both stare at it for a moment before you shoot him a withering glare. “Flattery will not save you. I have—had brothers, I am not ignorant to the excuses men give women, I have heard them try their pitiful ploys on my companions.”

He holds out his hands in a pacifying manner. “It is no ploy. My mother wished for me to take the throne, a deal was struck, and now I must purge myself of unholy energy or lust will consume my mind.”

He does not look as though he’s lying.

A curse within his nature. The very nature his mother conceived and conspired to create, seeking out a demon, bargaining with it in order to ensure her son could claim the throne, and in doing so she deemed him to such a fate?

“I see.” You say lamely, unsure of how to process this new revelation.

“Could I have held myself off, waited until I found you? Perhaps, but in doing so the moment I found you I would have become frenzied, like a brute, having only the control to find us a private space before I fell upon you.”

His words, though you know, should strike fear in your heart, instead serve to entice you, your breathing picking up ever so slightly.

Miguel’s eyes flicker down to your chest, then to your eyes. “You do not wish that for yourself. Do not wish to be ravaged by me, gown and undergarments shredded, skin marked, fangs sunk into the crook of your neck as I rut into you as an animal does its mate. You would be powerless to stop me, reduced to a babbling pliant mess, my seed spilling from between your legs. I would not be able to stop, cariño, even if you begged me.”

“That would be quite improper.” There is a throbbing in your core, your breath catching in your throat as he steps forward.

“I imagined they were you, compelled them to forget, it has only ever been you, mi vida.” His hands settle on your shoulders, lightly trailing down your arms.

“But Ava?” You breathe, leaning into his touch.

“A foolish attempt to forget you, thin gauze over a gaping wound.” He tells you, brushing his nose down the curve of your face, down the column of your throat until he settles over the spot, he had bitten the previous night. “It did not work; each encounter only drew me back to you.”

Your body molds against his, eyes fluttering shut at his dulcet tones. “Oh?”

“You have branded me, your form burned into my eyelids, your name imprinted on my tongue, your touch melded into my skin, mi emperatriz, there is no one but you.” He whispers, his breath warm on the sensitive skin of your neck, causing a shiver to run through you. Trsl: My empress

“No one?” You ask, a gasp slipping past your lips when Miguel bites down, fangs digging into the very same spot from before, lightning arcing through your body.

He remains there for a moment, drinking, the sound filling the silence as you scramble to remain upright pleasure zinging through you, your thoughts coming to a standstill.

Then Miguel pulls back, lips crimson, fangs bared, his pupils blown wide. “No one.”

TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @maxi-ride, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch, @ihateuguys, @yuuotosaka3, @queenofroses22, @ray-rook, @lollipopin, @faexsins, @drefear

#meg's writing #ats #among the sun #I fucking love the dialogue in this chapter #emperor!miguel #princess!reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #half demon!miguel #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

[spider-man-2o99]

so, then, what IS up with miguel o’hara’s moral backbone?

lol sorry if y’all’re sick of my 2099 soapboxing. anyways.

while i understand where the reading of “miguel is a morally bankrupt evil scientist and his spider-man is just a violent shitheel” comes from, i just... really can’t ever get behind it, based on what we see in the text of SM2099 v1 (1992-1996) itself.

like, don’t get me wrong-- from our first introduction to the guy, we very quickly learn that he has been a cog in the machine for one of the 2099 imprint’s Big Bads, the ruthless megacorporation in charge of the United States’ East coast: Alchemax.

..but. like.

the whole point of his origin story is changing that. the initial catalyst for his Spidering--getting roofied by Tyler when he tries to quit his job--would not have happened if he had no moral compass to speak of.

narratively, it’s less that miguel himself is changed, after he gets his powers, but that his perception of the world has changed.

just-- just bear with me, yeah?

see, for a lot of his life, miguel was a perfect cog in a shitty machine, and he did everything he was expected to without even thinking to stray from the path set down for him by his biological father and by alchemax overall.

and, then, suddenly, that’s all ripped from him in an instant. and miguel’s left floundering in the water.

he’s no longer on the winning team-- more than that, he realizes that he probably never even was on the right side of things, to begin with.

miguel o’hara’s most-quoted line is his response to the infamous “great power,” bit: Great responsibility? No. With great power comes great guilt.

he’s repressed, and he’s a hypocrite, but a guy can only turn a blind eye so far when something he knows is wrong is happening right in front of his face.

as soon as it’s even suggested to him, he immediately steps out of line and tries to put his foot down on absolutely not using a human test subject for his personal spider-man project. when stone brushes him off and makes them go through with human testing anyways, and then the subject dies, miguel doesn’t hesitate to turn up his nose and walk out right then and there on the spot.

his reward for it, of course, is an ice-cold dose of Reality.

from there, his blinders get pulled harshly off his face, and mig realizes that he really doesn’t want to keep being the person that he has been. his life has been wasted sitting idly by and letting bad things happen because all he knows is helpless compliance, right up until he goes and gets himself The Fly’ed into spider-man.

and once that happens, and he Realizes it, he starts to fight back.

that’s how the run is kick-started, in the very first three issues!

the first ten issues of spider-man 2099 (1992) follow miguel stumbling from a very sheltered life, having been thrust head-first into navigating a world that is not only deeply, deeply unjust, but also wants him very, very dead.

he don’t got a dead uncle to motivate him! all he’s got it his own fear and an inner desire to use his new abilities to try and make the world a better place.

hell, the first time he put on the costume, ol’ miggy boy wasn’t even doing so for the purpose of becoming a superhero in his off-time-- it was just an old spare in his closet that he threw on in a desperate attempt to Not Fucking Die as a bounty hunter tracked him to his home.

it’s only later on, after he’s had time for it all to sink in, that miguel realizes that he can actually meaningfully help the people who had been cast aside by the same society that had previously lifted him up above them.

as much as he whines and bitches and moans about it, he never seriously considers throwing in the towel and hanging up the costume for good. he may hate what has happened to him, but he never once seems to hate what he can now do with his powers, vis-à-vis challenging injustice.

mig’s often stuck between a rock and a hard place, what with the kind of world he lives in. it’s why he don’t work well when he’s stranded away from his dimension. peter can get his villains locked up just fine and dandy, but miguel’s world isn’t like ours like that. it’s brutal and it’s very very much established across the imprint that earth-928 (marvel 2099) is a kill-or-be-killed place to live.

despite how people harp on him not having a no-kill rule, miguel honestly hasn’t even killed enough people to count on one hand; the first was completely by accident, even, and the second told him to his face that if spider-man let him live he’d just keep being a cannibal gang-boss because no one else ever has or would try to oppose him.

is killing people the answer? not if you have any other option. but. mig ain’t a friendly neighborhood superhero. he’s just doing what he thinks is right in the moment while scared absolutely shitless for his life most of the time.

now, i don’t mean to defend his every action--miguel o’hara isn’t a saint, and, good god, but he’s made some questionable choices--but. at the end of the day, he’s still shown throughout the run to be trying to be better.

and, i dunno. maybe i’m just a sentimental little sap, but a story about somebody who finally “wakes up” and struggles to build a life worth being proud of after years of having shut down from heavy early-life trauma? that hits, man.

hits real close to home, to be honest. learning to Live after so long simply Surviving is fuckin’ hard, man.

#spider-man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #meta #my meta #comic analysis #atsv #itsv #spider-man #marvel 2099 #marvel #across the spider-verse #talking tag #yarfs this all up on ur laps and skitters away into the night for ever #all this long long post is to really say is just. yknow. #just because they never said the words ''post-traumatic stress disorder'' until the 2010s it doesn't mean he wasn't Coded back in the 90s #slaps roof of spider-man 2099. you can fit so much goddamn Coding in this guy #call me whatever u will but i gotta underline i'm NOT in love with this man he is simply my dark mirror reflection of self #sm2099's my Special Interest i gotta lotta thoughts abt it #'dude this is super biased and opinionated' well. yeah. why do u think i point that out all the time? im coverin my ass for a Reason #always do your own research and take away from a piece whatever you want to take away from having experienced it etc. etc. etc. #this is My Blog where I natter on and on and on abt what i Wanna in between the metaphorical scrapbook-making experience

[yumeka-sxf]

A chronological analysis on Twilight and Yor - Part 10

*This is part of an ongoing post series. If you missed the Introduction/Part 1, click here*

----------

Before Anya gets her first stella, we get another scene of Twilight pressuring her to study after he sees her poor test scores. While he's still a bit strict here, he catches himself soon after chiding her, realizing that pushing her too hard will only hurt her motivation (meanwhile, Yor is once again the encouraging mother and compliments Anya on her good math test score).

Rather than keep forcing his agenda of making her an academically inclined scholar like he did before, this time Twilight makes noticeable effort to try to understand Anya's side of it, as he and Yor discussed previously. He tries various activities to see which one she naturally excels at, and though she doesn't do well in any of them, he tells himself not to get too worked up, since she is only a first grader and Desmond won't be making his move right away.

Even when Anya continues to screw up when they volunteer at the hospital, he doesn't get mad at her. However, when she does end up getting a stella, he doesn't hide the fact that he feels genuinely proud of her. He pats her head (one of his rare displays of affection) and tells her "nice work," all the while thinking to himself that he felt the same sense of pride when he stopped a terrorist attack during a mission. We get two "softly emphasized" panels of Twilight smiling proudly at Anya, and Anya beaming back at him. The fact that he's allowing himself to feel a genuine emotion for this child that he originally felt no qualms about returning to the orphanage, shows his growth not just from a parenting perspective, but also from an emotional one, as slight as it is.

Of course, Yor has no problem giving Anya a big hug and telling her how happy she is. Looking at Anya's face, Yor is probably still learning how to hold back when hugging Anya and was squeezing her a bit too tight. Thankfully she didn't break anything like she had done with Yuri!

When Anya decides that she wants a dog as her stella reward, Twilight and Yor's initial ideas about dogs are fitting. Since both of their lives have revolved so heavily around their work, they never got to know many "normal" things, including a normal relationship people have with dogs. The ever-paranoid Twilight imagines a burley guard dog trained for security purposes – someone like him could only imagine getting a dog because it would be useful for his missions, not for something "trifling" like emotional support. Yor sees dogs as dangerous, likely because many of the criminals she's sent to assassinate have attack dogs for their protection.

Twilight even goes so far as to have WISE supply their own trained dogs to the pet shop. But much to his dismay, Anya doesn't like any of them, causing Twilight to reluctantly decide to try the adoption fair instead.

When Anya wanders off, Yor panics when she can't find her. More of her naivety about the world shows when she assumes that Anya was kidnapped in order to be some shady character's bride because she had just seen it on TV.

When she finally does find Anya with the terrorists, we once again see her scary "mama bear" mode that's strictly reserved for anyone who threatens her loved ones. Similar to how Twilight is willing to quickly cast aside his "for the mission" philosophy if someone he cares about is in trouble, Yor will quickly cast aside her desire to act "normal" for the same reason. She and Anya then share a sweet moment where Anya apologizes for running off and Yor gives her a hug.

I'd also like to mention that both Twilight and Yor were threatened by the German shepherd, but both of them chose not to actually harm him even though they definitely could have. Instead of giving him one of her deadly kicks like she does to anyone else who's about to harm Anya, Yor chose to instead give him an intimidating glare (which worked).

Twilight could have shot him, but instead he chose to shoot off his vest containing the bomb. Even when the dog was biting him, he chose to trap him in a nearby dumpster instead of shooting him. He even apologized to the dog, both for having to put him in the dumpster and for the more general reason that dogs like him have to suffer for human conflict.

As much as Twilight and Yor see dogs as dangerous creatures, they choose not to harm a dog that was actually a threat to them. Yor even showed concern for Bond (a dog she just met who was supposedly allied with terrorists) when she thought Anya was being too rough with him.

Anyone who shows compassion to animals always gets points in my book! (there was also the time at the Eden interview where Yor chose to subdue the rampaging bull by hitting its pressure points when killing/injuring it would have been easier for her – she even said that she wasn't sure such a thing would work on a bull, but took the risk anyway).

Of course, Twilight and Yor's initial concerns about dogs disappear once they bring Bond into their home and see what a gentle boy he is.

Continue to Part 11 ->

<- Return to Part 9

#twiyor #spyxfamily #spy x family #sxf #spy family #loid forger #loid x yor #loidyor #sxf meta #sxf analysis #yor forger

[snowyh2o]

Every Demon’s Rainbow AU

@redactedtimes

Oh 100000% she’d be horrified. Part of Charlie’s goal and reasoning with the hotel is that redemption should be a choice for the residents, not something that’s forced upon them. And (here’s where I get to talk about world building lol) it’s worse in this AU because the reason the Hotel’s got this influence is due to Charlie herself!

The Hotel’s Redemption Be Upon Thee! Powers come from Charlie’s own deep seated belief that there’s genuine good inside of every demon (hence the name Every Demon’s Rainbow). In this AU, she and Vaggie have been living inside the rundown hotel and working on her redemption plan for a couple of years now. And Charlie’s reality altering magic ends up seeped into every creak and crevice of the hotel. And since this is Charlie’s magic, and also because she isn’t consciously using it to cast a spell, the magic ends up taking a life of its own and latches onto Charlie’s greatest belief/desire. Which would be that every demon is capable of redemption and change and Charlie wants to create a place that can give those demons the opportunity to do so. (The end goal being that redemption means there would be no need for the yearly exterminations or at the very least the ones who ascend to heaven will be safe).

What the hotel actually does is bring out or amplifies the best/good traits in the souls who stay there for an extended period of time. Makes it easier for demons to choose to do good things— suppresses the hang ups someone might have for saying sorry, for example. Nothing the hotel makes people think or do are things that they haven’t thought about doing before. If I had to describe it, it’s like an enabler, but for good or more positive actions/thoughts/traits? And creates an atmosphere/environment that would make said souls more likely to act on their good/positive thoughts.

The effect is actually really subtle (and different for every resident), which is why no one else notices it aside from feeling more at ease and generally happier while staying at the hotel. Which can be explained away as just the hotel being a genuine relief to go back to compared to the rest of hell. And that the people there are also much more pleasant to be around, something that Charlie actively works to cultivate.

Alastor’s just a little bitch stupidly in tune with himself and who he is and when his thoughts and actions are his own that he notices the effect the hotel has (so he gets to deal with intrusive positive thoughts :P). And that’s not until he’s stayed at the hotel for a while (Still working on the timeline). But because he knows himself so well, and also because he’s arguably the worst of the people who’s staying at the hotel/has the most baggage and issues that he actively represses, he feels the Hotel’s magic affecting him all the more keenly. And it grates at him that this is now another part of his life he’s slowly losing control over, and it’s not even because he wouldn’t consider improving the quality of Husk’s bribe booze or put together something to celebrate the hotel’s (minimal) success— but that he’s actively considering it at all that makes him recoil and actively fight against/reject it. Especially when a big part of Alastor’s self image is the reputation he’s crafted for himself, the persona of the Radio Demon, a charming but cold heartless murderer who’s only ever out for himself and couldn’t care less about the people around him aside from the mild entertainment they could bring. Everyone knows who the Radio Demon is. Everyone is scared of the Radio Demon. (Even the Radio Demon’s friends are never sure of when he’ll turn on them <- complete lie that he likes to believe in, all his friends will say he’s actually quite pleasant to be around) He can’t have people thinking, seeing, the Radio Demon has a soft side. That he could care about people, that he is, at the end of the day, just another human soul stuck in hell.

This, however, is also why he’ll never on the threat of death tell Charlie about the Hotel’s magic. Because it’s a weakness and he’ll be damned if he ever reveals something as vulnerable as that about himself. So he just, deals with it as best he can.

If Charlie ever does find out about her inadvertent magical hotel, it’d probably be through Lucifer. And either only after they’ve rebuilt the new hotel, or right after Lucifer’s visit to the hotel. Which would be a whole thing that ends with the two of them undoing the spell on the hotel. And, if I ever get into after finale AU speculation, the new hotel also won’t have any magical compulsions tied to it— not that Alastor would know lol.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel AU #every demon’s rainbow #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #Charlie #charlie hazbin hotel #world building #I think part of the direction I want to take this AU in #is that at the end of the day #even without the influence of the hotel’s magic #that the people who Charlie reached out to and touched #would still choose to stand by her side #and grow #and let themselves become better people

[honey-minded-hivemind]

AHHHHHHHHHH, okayokayokay big brain time, might be a little short.

For the yan parent/s of reader, I thought of either Magneto or The Professor, or the potential of them together maybe, either way I really like the idea of the adult yan being completely side-swiped by the fact that they have a/another child, that they didn't know about.

If Eric was the one related to Reader, He's probably the whole reason the world order changed so fast in the first place, because when he realizes that he not only lost Pietro, but Reader too? He would be so broken, down to a point where he almost completely lost it. I'm in love with the angst that would come with reader not knowing either, I mean i really really like it, whether reader believed their parents were dead, or that they'd abandoned them, it doesn't change that reader craves the affection of a parent, and the lack of that kind of love hurts them in a way they never let anyone (except the notes they left) know about.

And none of that even touches on how Wanda feels.

I have to brainstorm a little more on Charles, but what do you think?

Also, if reader did have a beast/werecreature mutation, the difference in the way they died could have been way worse :)

Lamb Anon

Hooooooly mole and mother of pearl, 🐑 Anon!!!!! That is so intriguing! (Also, if you want, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the different adults being Reader's parent! Be it The Professor, Wolverine, Mystique, Storm, Beast, or Sabretooth, I'm up to explore it with y'all!) Now, if Erik was the dad... well, it's a wonder the world, or at least a good chunk of society, is not dead. His son is dead. So are his ex (friend's, partner's) two children. And Reader... And he found out that Reader was his child. They were his own flesh and blood. They were Wanda's sibling, as well as Pietro's. And they'd never know.

The notes they left behind, not many, but a few, detailed how they felt... and it's so different from everything they've see- did see, from them. How they don't- didn't have a parent. How they looked up to them, possibly several of them. How they feel shame and guilt and self-loathing, for desiring a relationship between them of parent and child. Their envy, then subsequent self-hate over the fact the others seemed closer, had a bond with a parent that they lacked...

In conclusion... Reader was lonely, lonelier than they ever let on or peek through their mask. They craved what they felt they couldn't, or shouldn't, have: Family. Someone to love them. Someone to want to care for them. Someone who wouldn't abandon them or push them aside or hate them, like they'd always known...

It breaks something inside him.

This was how they'd... felt. Was this how they felt in their final moments? Was it worse? And the way they'd died... It was awful... And it had happened to two of his own, and two of Charles'...

But this-

It will not go unpunished.

Perhaps in the past one of them could have talked the others out of what they're about to do, but this time? None of them are opposed in the least. They'd all lost someone, multiple someones. And the only course to take was to avenge them. It would be bloody, violent, deadly... But it will be better, in the long run. No more war. No more blind hatred. No more fear or panic amongst the people. They will either accept this new peace, or be cast from it. There is no other way...

(He wishes it wasn't this price he had to pay to finally achieve this goal... He wishes it hadn't broken Charles, either... But... At least the world will be better. In the end... he wishes it didn't taste so bitter on his tongue, this newfound peace and the price they'd paid for it...)

Wanda...

She'd seen several things that scarred her.

She'd been in many places where she was alone.

She'd known what it was like to suffer for things one couldn't change.

And now her brother was dead over the blind hatred of others. Scared... alone... and suffering in the end. (Not completely alone Yet he was the last one to #>÷, wasn't he?) She was on her own. There was no one waiting for her. No one to crack jokes, or to share sarcasm with, or to enjoy the dawn with a kettle of tea... No.

He was gone.

And so was Reader.

And it was a new sort of pain, with Reader. Because they were their sibling, unknown and distanced, who would never know of their shared blood or parent... Who they'd never be able to hang out with again.. Who'd never sleep over again, or hug them, or bring over foods they knew they all liked...

She can't help when the tears spill out, and it can't be helped when she's helped tear apart the people who'd done this to them, to her father, to their friends, to her.

(She isn't sure, when the new order is brought about, if it's what her siblings or their friends would have wanted. But with the results? With the fact that they've brought about peace, safety, acceptance? She isn't sure they'd be right. She hopes they're resting, wherever they are. She hopes it doesn't hurt anymore. Yet even so... if reincarnation did exist... or her powers were of a different kind...)

She'd want them back.

And this time, she'd find a way so they couldn't be taken away from them, so they wouldn't suffer the same fate...

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere marvel x reader #platonic yandere xmen evolution #yandere platonic xmen #yandere platonic xmen evolution #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #🖤dark au #platonic yandere magneto #platonic yandere erik lehnsherr #platonic yandere scarlet witch #platonic yandere wanda maximoff #platonic yandere charles xavier

[rayan12sworld]

💠💙醉 | drunk; intoxication

By:sweetlolixo

Summary:

Lan Wangji takes shelter at a brothel on a rainy night. Still a long distance away from Gusu, he resigns himself to asking for a room.

“No women,” he makes sure to say to the madam, simply wanting to rest.

When he opens the door to his room, there is a man draped in red silk, waiting for him.

“Xiansheng,” the man croons. “It’s a beautiful rainy night, are you going to stand there all day?"

Chapter:1/1

Words:15,346

Status:completed

(Hu li jing wei ying)

Thank you for the stay,” Lan Wangji says. It’d been beyond his wildest expectations. “Our pleasure,” the madam answers. “We made sure to send no one up, like you asked.” Lan Wangji pauses. “Mn,” he nods, in acknowledgement. Without the smell of water lilies stinking up the air around him, he can think a bit clearer. He leaves the brothel, and sees A-Ying out front, already waiting for him. “Lan er gege!” A-Ying calls. Lan Wangji smiles softly. “A-Ying.” The fragrance is back

~

Lan Wangji says. “A-Ying is a brilliant person.” “Yes, far too brilliant,” Lan Xichen agrees. “For someone raised in a brothel.” Lan Wangji’s eyes dart up to him. He should have guessed. His brother never begins innocent conversations with him. “Xiongzhang.” “You have probably guessed much earlier than me,” Lan Xichen smiles, looking on. “That he has lied about his background. You knew even before you brought him back to Cloud Recesses, didn’t you?” Lan Wangji purses his lip. “It’s not important to me.” “Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Lan Xichen questions. “Why he has lied.” “He must have his reasons,” Lan Wangji says. “Ah, yes, you have also been blinded,” Lan Xichen says. “Just like shufu and me, but even worse. As the main target of his desire, the effect is most potent on you.” Lan Wangji sucks in a breath. “Xiongzhang, you are insinuating—” “Few spiritual creatures can do this,” Lan Xichen says. “And the one that we do know of, has become extremely rare in numbers and do not mingle at all with human civilisation.” Lan Wangji turns his head. “It is not important to me what he is. He does not hold malice.” “If he is marrying into our clan,” Lan Xichen says. “I have a right to be wary. He needs something from us. I will not place our clan in danger, all because you have been seduced—” “Xiongzhang!” Lan Wangji snaps, his irritation crackling through him. Lan Xichen may be his older brother, and the eventual sect leader, but Lan Wangji will not stand for him disrespecting Wei Ying, too. Lan Xichen understands he’s overstepped. “There are a few books that I’ve set aside for you in the library pavilion. I do not disapprove of Wei Ying—I like him—but I think it’d be good of you to read up on what he might be—and what he can do.” Lan Wangji casts his gaze to the side. “Hu li jing.” Lan Xichen’s lips spread wider. “You’ve already guessed.”

~~

It’s just as Lan Wangji had thought. Hu li jing, he caresses the words with his lips. He was sure they’d gone extinct, or into hiding, by now. It’s no wonder they’re so hunted for their mythical fox fur—their tails are said to be magical, with divine healing abilities and immortality-granting properties. For one to be so out in the open, co-existing within the human world, even taking on a human lover to marry… it’s something that’s completely unheard of. Lan Wangji feels blessed, of course. For Wei Ying to choose him, to seek him out, of all people, when he could have easily had anyone else—Lan Wangji cannot fathom not having Wei Ying in his life at this point, and so he’s grateful Wei Ying had picked him, for a lifetime partner. Fox spirits can cultivate into immortality, but so can human cultivators, if they’re very good. Lan Wangji does not think Wei Ying is simply choosing a partner for the sake of having a partner; he has chosen Lan Wangji for life.

#foxxian #wangxian #wangxian recommendations #mdzs #mxtx mdzs #wangxian fanfic #ao3 recs #the untamed #mdzs fanfic rec #gusu lan #yiling laozu #mdzs lwj #lwj #lwj x wwx #mdzs wwx #wwx #wangxian fic rec #💠💙醉 | drunk; intoxication

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

The Beast of The Endness

Summary: Aemond was doomed to death the moment he claimed his birthright. The events that follow define his very identity | Word Count: 960~ | No warnings

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

A/N: I listened to the live version to this song for the first time in ages, and I just really liked the idea of Aemond doomed to his fate the second he claimed Vhagar. And that his actions which killed Luke set into motion the chaos they’re thrust into.  Leviathan is sometimes described as being a dragon, the embodiment of chaos and eating the damned after they’ve died. It’s sometimes associated with the deadly sin, envy.  It’s probably crap, but it’s completely self-fulfilling. I also translated the lyrics myself so they might be crap, oops sorry.

It was inevitable.

That is what the stories would say.

That is what the songs would be sung about.

 Ones that evade, and ones that are chased away.

 Power was taken away, as easily as power was given.

But claiming Vhagar was not easy. There was loss, grief, bloodshed. All in the name of doing what he perceived was his right, as a trueborn Targaryen.

 He was defending himself. That is what his mother told him.

He attacked them and called them bastards. That is what they'd told his father.

And that it had been justification enough, for all his pain. His mutilation.

 Ones that falsify the end, and the ones that announce it.

 Each day reminded that, despite his standing, despite his heritage, that he was somehow below them.

He found it absurd.

And every day he was reminded, his father was not his father. It was as he had said it.

He was only his King.

 He was weak. Refusing to address the situation he'd placed his family and heirs in, as well as the realm.

Would his father face his truth? That he had done as much damage to his family by doing nothing at all?

 Ones that violate in emptiness, and ones that suffer death.

 "Set aside your grievances" he had said, in front of them all, but had dared to cast a glance at him.

 As if his own son had dared to set upon the little bastard in the first place.

 He stared down at the table. Not giving his father his gaze.

What happened had already been done.

The story was written and the ink was dry.

He had set into stone the ending to his fiction the moment he allowed Rhaenyra to leave Driftmark without consequence.

 Ones who take no note of the end, and ones who announce it.

 His sister and her offspring dared not look at him. As if he were a spirit, wandering ceaselessly, only needing the words to make his presence known.

If they poked him, he would surely pounce.

But he watched them. Watched him. Hiding behind his whore sister's skirts like a pissy little child. Terrified.

 He had smirked when the child locked eyes with him.

 The gaze was kept, nurtured by his desire to see how what he had done, had made him the monster he was today.

 To look upon his consequence.

 Even now, we should not call the beast by name

 They have no idea.

The pain. The never-ending agony.

And how he wants to make them know. To feel how broken they made him feel.

 To take away their happiness. With fire and blood.

 With the light on the right side.

 Look at my eye, bastard

 Darkness on the left.

 Look at it.

 No matter which hand is closest, the balance tilts.

 There is a debt to be paid. One that has remained ignored for so long.

The King was dead. And another in its place.

 One that wasn't him.

Forever cast aside. The curse of the second son.

 They will hate and love this place, more than anyone else.

 The dragon he had paid for with his eye. That was power. One which would not be taken from him.

They were both warriors. Vhagar and him. Both with loss. Both too big for this world.

 The Beast of the Endness, its name was Leviathan

When it awakes from the far-flung, the world will face the end

 The monster. The man whose image could cast those down at the sight of him. The One-Eyed Prince was never born.

It was made.

Made the day Lucerys Velaryon took his eye.

Nurtured with time.

 Hard as the bottom stone of a mortar

Seeing bronze is like decaying wood.

Made fearless.

King of all the proud.

 For a little thing, he was craven, bold.

He dared to lust for what it would be like, if the old dog had not allowed the little bastard to leave.

Dreamt of the day where he would be allowed to seek a debt that his mother had once sought to be repaid.

 With the light on the right side. Darkness on the left.

 ‘He was just a child’

Why did all seek to explain the incident as if he was not much older himself? Set upon by four of them.

While all he had was himself, drunk on finding the identity he had craved for years.

  No matter which hand is closest to the hand that draws fate

 I am a man now.

The Blood of Old Valyria.

Fire made flesh.

 They will create and destroy paradise in this place

 There was nothing but the stench of flesh and blood in Vhagar’s teeth. Breath reeked of death.

And the flapping of Arrax’s wings as they hurtled back to the storm below.

 The body of Lucerys Velaryon, was not really a body any longer.

 Was it rain hitting his face? Or blood?

 The Beast of the Endness, its name was Leviathan

When it awakes from the far-flung, the world will face the end

 A darkness settled on his heart. Heavy and oppressive. Something was pushing his insides around, making way for a feeling of intense regret.

 Swallowing up the sea, to the land of destruction

Embraced by flames, time will roar

 And underneath that, was a feeling. The feeling of being wide-eyed awake and aware. Like being woken suddenly, with a hand over your face. And a layer of sweat over your brow, pupils shaking.

 It was the tragedy of who he was. And who he had become. That chill settled into his bones worse than any natural storm ever could.

 Swallowing the darkness into the sky of the end

Falling stars will consume time

 And underneath that is another feeling still.

Something so dark and ancient.

A finality that could not be described in mortal words.

dividers by @firefly-graphics​ 

General Taglist:   @risefallrise @valeskafics @theoneeyedprince @thelittleswanao3 @hb8301  

Aemond Taglist:   @m00n5t0n3 @boofy1998 @merakiaes​ @hanihoney88 @let-love-bleeds-red​ @bellaisasleep​ @watercolorskyy @heavenley1927 @ryswritingrecord @partypoison00 @gaeela-6 @saeselkie @padfooteyes @introverbatim @queenofshinigamis @thatkingofgirl @ryswritingrecord @dahlias-and-marigolds @triscy  

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond stannies #aemond angst #aemond targaryen angst #prince aemond targaryen angst #prince aemond targaryen #aemond #hotd angst #hotd aemond #aemond fic #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond fic

[eboni-napalm]

He shot up to his full height then, taking me with him- and for a split second, that glint of venomous green shone in his eyes again, and I had to fight with every urge in my body to not inhale sharply in anticipation and shock as I felt his warm breath against my face, his mouth just shy of the corner of my lips. “Do you really want this?”

I was in too much of a state of heightened sense to nod, let alone function properly, even though my brain wanted to scream out, “Yes, you absolutely handsome yet idiotic Toa, I want this so badly, I’ve wanted this since we stopped Makuta together and I had to force myself not to do it first, I don’t give a shit that we’re Hordika and that this is probably the so-called “inner beast” taking over our better judgement, I don’t care, kiss me already, please,” and despite me not answering him immediately, he continued.

“If I do this,” he muttered lowly, the hand that was over my heart slowly, agonizingly slowly, trailed up my chest, to my shoulder, my neck, then back down to graze his fingers over the glowing stone again. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.” He looked up at me properly again, pupils dilated, gaze so intense and heavy that I could feel it in my bones. His face was an inch away from mine and he raised his other hand up to cup my cheek, fingers pressing into my skin. “I won’t be able to stop.”

My forehead rested against his own. Less than an inch, now, and with one final push, I grazed my fingers against his shoulder, eyes lidded, and lips parted in waiting.

“...Then don’t.”

And with that, my back was slammed harshly against the wall and Vakama crushed his mouth to mine in a passionate, searing kiss, metallic lips stealing away the remaining air that left my lungs as he dug his fingers into my waist and cast aside any last fears or cares he had- he wanted all of me, and I was his to claim, willingly and whole. The grip I had on his shoulders tightened until my knuckles practically turned white and I kissed him back with such ferocity and hunger that I could feel the air around us, heavy and thick with carnal urges and desires, and it threatened to completely consume me and swallow me whole.

But I didn’t give a single damn in the world. -- I may not be a solely/mainly self-ship blog anymore but that doesn't mean for one second that I won't gush nonstop about Bionicle (and by extension Vakama who is still one of the loves of my fucking life). This comic-style page I got commissioned of one of the pivotal moments from Chapter Two of my fanfic, A Distant Spark, is probably one of my favorite things ever- I absolutely screamed when I got the finished thing back. <3 (Art is by @MadProjectArt on Twitter/X!)

#MIGHT MARK AS MATURE FOR POSSIBLE IMPLICATIONS LATER JUST TO BE ON THE SAFE SIDE #ship name: a distant spark #self ship #self shipper #self shipping #self ship community #self shipping community #fanfic excerpt commission #self ship commission #selfship commission #selfship #selfshipper #selfshipping #bionicle

[dreamgothgirl]

Pic creds to: https://twitter.com/AlexineSkiba

I Wanna Be Yours: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X Fem! Reader

Warnings: degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, slight dacryphilia, praise kink

AN: inspired by the Arctic monkeys song mostly towards the end lol. POC inclusive; reader has no specified race :)

———————————————————————

The gentle thumps of Simon’s heart were you favorite lullaby. It was a peaceful afternoon that was spent on the couch in his arms. A show that was long forgotten and eventually muted played on the TV as you listened intently to the stories of his team’s successes and shenanigans. Simon never told stories about being on the field aside from giving context. Other than that, it was a topic that was never brought up or desired. You hummed in almost a dream state while his endless pits for eyes stared back at you.

Though his face was hidden, you could tell that his face was content. Smiling? You weren’t too sure. He put his finger under your chin and gave gentle strokes to your lip, “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded.

“When I’m gone…do you worry?”

“Yes.”

Simon’s body tensed slightly at your immediate response. He wasn’t quite sure how to process such a quick and simple answer to something he never thought was possible. “That so?”

Softly, you repeated, “Yes, Simon. I do worry…”

He pressed, “Why?”

A scoff. “Because I love you. When you love someone, you worry…that’s why I love your stories so much. I love hearing my best friend tell me that through all this shit, he’s still happy. Even if you don’t show it.”

A deafening silence fell over the room. While Simon’s grip on your smaller frame tightened. He loved that, despite you being above the average height for a female, he was still larger than you. You couldn’t say you didn’t agree. It wasn’t everyday that you met someone who you had to look up at to talk too or to be on the receiving end of bear hugs. Simon’s balaclava was lifted to reveal his mouth as he left a small kiss on your forehead, “You’re too good for me, Y/N. I don’t want you to worry.”

You looked up at him right as he’d pulled his mask back down and held the side of his face, not caring if it was uncovered or not, “I don’t let it consume me, Si. I promise. Deep down I always know you’ll come back to me, as I would you.”

He chuckled, “You a poet now? Can’t say I don’t like the idea.”

A gaggle of giggles rang in Simon’s ears, almost making him feel like he was on another world; a heavenly choir in the church of Notre Dame. Soft thighs straddled his own scarred and muscular ones while plus lips pressed themselves against the fabric of his temple, “Good to know…how’re your dreams?”

Simon nodded, “Less, but still shit of course. When I’m with you they seem to be toned down a touch. I get to slit someone’s throat instead of making their head explode.”

You but the inside of your cheek, holding back a smirk, “Shut the fuck up, Simon.”

Your heart fluttered, a dreamy look overtaking your features at his deep, gravely chuckle. Your favorite vibrator. “I’m glad they’ve lessened. Even if it’s temporary. I like being your distraction.”

The large man shifted in his spot, bending a leg up between your thighs and nodding, “Yeah?”

A sly smirk creased the sides of his eyes a bit at the sight of your chest puffing out a bit and your brows upturning. The grip of your hands on his shoulders made his stomach tighten while you let out a small, “M…Mhm..”

Simon rubbed his thumb against your lip again, whispering as his other started to knead and rub your ass, “You my good girl?”

The heat of your face and excitement of anticipation began to make your brain almost shut down in complete submission. Your hips moved in their own as they ground against his thigh, “Yeah…”

SMACK

You yelped and gasped when he held the bottom of your face tightly, “Yeah? I don’t remember you being so disrespectful, love. Answer me properly. Go on.”

The setting sun casted a perfect sparkle in your eyes and lip gloss as your lip trembled from his stinging spanking. “I’m sorry; ye-“

SMACK

Simon leaned back, opening his legs more to ease the discomfort of a throbbing pressure from his pants, “You’re sorry, what?”

You whimpered at the feel of his hand going lower to your throat while he gripped your hip, “Answer me.”

A shaky whimper, “I-…I’m sorry, sir.”

He nodded, “That’s right. I’ll ask you one last time. Are you my good girl?”

The emphasis on my made a pleasurable, damn near orgasm inducing shiver run up your spine as you breathlessly answered, “Yes, sir. I’m all yours. I…I belong to you.”

Simon chuckled, “Yeah?”

You eagerly nodded, a wave of arousal beginning to drip through the thin center of your panties, “Fuck….yes, sir.”

His head lifted itself as his thumb slid its way into your mouth, “Seems to me like you’re expecting something a little more. Isn’t there?”

No longer having the composure to answer clearly, you nodded. The look in your eyes indicated a lustful high that Simon had no choice but to fulfill as you began to squeeze his thigh with your own. He whispered against your ear, “You’re enjoying this quite a bit, love. Maybe you’re more of a cock hungry whore than a good girl, aye?”

You clenched at his dirty taunting, making you furrow your brow and whine. He began to subtly hump his hard erection against the tight fabric of his pants while his hand pressed against your lower back, urging you to start moving again. Your sweet whimpered pants through your nose mixed with the sight of you giving him a pleading look whilst keeping his thumb in your mouth made his heart melt and his cock throb.

Simon continued, starting to lightly pant, “That’s it. You are a dirty whore, aye, love? I can already feel you leaking through my trousers. Ride my leg harder, come on. I know you can.”

Without hesitation, you began a faster pace. Your nipples rubbing against the fabric of his shirt that covered your body made you drunker off his scent. A rough, teasing friction from your clit rendered you practically stupid from needy desire. You whimpered, “Y-…you’re s-so…hah….so mean…S-Simon.”

He huskily challenged, “Hmph. yeah? Do you like that, you fuckin sket?”

You could only nod, “Fffuck…I-…mmm, I like it…c-can you be worse? Please?”

Simon groaned at your soft hand gently squeezing and massaging his large bulge while your other hand left his shoulder to lift your shirt up and reveal your hardened nipples and heated tits. He was at the edge of treating you nicely, but figured one more tease wouldn’t hurt.

He huffed and tossed you onto the couch before standing and walking into the hallway. You furrowed your brow at the sudden change in atmosphere, “S-Simon…? Simon?! Did I say something?!”

Panicked you’d somehow triggered him, you scrambled up and speed walked to the hallway, “Baby, are you oka-“

Half way into the hallway, you gasped as a hand slapped itself over your mouth while your feet were lifted off the floor. Your heart pounded in excitement while Simon lowly warned in your ear, “I’m doing just fine, love. You won’t be once I’m done with you, though.”

You widened your eyes as he brought you into the bedroom and locked the door. He dropped you on the mattress and forced himself between your legs before you could wiggle into a comfortable position. He held your neck and gave one powerful thrust through his pants, “You think you deserve to be fucked so soon, you fuckin slag?”

A loud moan escaped your mouth before trying to answer him, “Y-yes, sir!!”

He huffed, leaning close to your ear, “Why’s that?”

Overwhelming tears of anticipation and hunger dripped from your eyes as you whimpered, “Because…I’ve waited s-so long for you…sir!”

“Mmm,” he mused as his now cold, bare hand slid under your shirt to pinch and play with your hardening nipples, “good girl. That’s what I like to hear.”

His other hand squeezed your neck, “You like being treated like shit though, don’t you? That’s not what good girls do.”

You furrowed your brow and ground your hips against his bulge, whining out, “Fuck, Simon, please! Please, I want you to use me!!”

“Use you? Hah. You really are a fucking slag. Get on all fours, before I slap you into next year.”

As you hurried onto your knees and elbows, Simon began to rub your bare ass, muttering, “Filthy cunt. I bet when I’m gone this is all your stupid little brain can think about, hm?”

You whimpered, peeking over your shoulder as the jingling from his belt buckle made your walls clench and stomach tighten. The heat in your cheeks rose to the point of dizziness at how he’d read you like a book. You yelped as a loud smack rang through the room, “Answer me.”

“Hah! Y-yes! Yes, I do!”

Simon’s skin burned in arousing agony watching you squirm and beg for him. Your arousal dripped from your cunt and down your thighs making you grip the sheets tightly. You’re embarrassment only made you dumber for his cock and that’s exactly how he loved seeing you.

His jaw clenched while his leaking, throbbing tip ground and prodded at your weeping cunt. You panted, “S-SimAH~!!”

You moaned out as he finally thrusted himself into you, going until his stomach was pressed right up against your stinging ass. He shoved two fingers into your mouth while he gripped your side as you squirmed at the stretch. It felt so good to be so full of him like this, yet it still hurt to adjust. “Don’t you fucking run away from me. You can take it. I know you can.”

He licked your spine all the way up to the side of your neck; peppering your shoulder and neck with sloppy, wet kisses before biting your earlobe and beginning a hard, steady pace. You whimpered and moaned while your tongue danced between the spaces of his fingers, getting wetter at the feel of your warm saliva dripping down your chin and throat.

Simon stared at you, encompassed by the sinfully angelic sight of you succumbing to pure sin and lust. After being gone for so long, the sight of you made him feel like he was a demon who’d stolen a pure angel from heaven. But no punishment was going to come close to stopping him from ravaging and marking you as his and his alone forever.

Your moans and muffled begs for more made him snake his hand around your side to your breasts, kneading and squeezing them like they were his saving grace after a harsh battle. A blissful, beautiful distraction. He panted into your ear as he went faster, feeling his high teasing him as he played with your most vulnerable spot, “I love you. I love you so much, my love. Fuck…fuuckk that’s it, take me in like you always have. That’s fucking it, good girl.”

The wetness of his fingers coated your nipples before wrapping them around your throat, “Say it back, love. Come on, my sweet girl. Do it for me.”

You whimpered and wheezed a bit as he gripped your neck, “I-….Hmmm ffffuuckkk I love you, Simon. I love you so much baby, I love you!! I love you I love you!”

Simon gave a deep groan and whimpered in your ear. Your words made his dick twitch and his own made your walls clench tightly around him, “Sh-…shit. Shit…ugh, say it again. Say my fucking name again, Y/N, say it.”

Your eyes rolled back as you gripped and clawed at his wrist and swallowed, “Fuck me, Simon. I wanna be your fuck toy, Simon! I’m all yours! Mmmm, my sweet husband, I’m all yours. All fucking yours, Simon Riley!”

His moans and groans sent you over the edge as he held you as close to him as he could, making you give a silent scream of pleasure from your orgasm coating his dick and dripping down his balls. While the two of you caught your breath, Simon’s head rang with your words. Specifically the title of ‘my sweet husband’.

The two of you had never talked about marriage as he didn’t want to give any potential threats incentive to hurt you out of spite for him or his team. But fuck, it filled his heart with pure joy, pride, and a primal need to protect you for as long as he stood on this earth.

While the Simon bathed you in a tub full of bubbles and scattered flower petals, you thought of the same comment. It sent butterflies through your stomach and a childish giddiness through your body. While Simon kissed and rinsed your body, you quietly spoke, “About um…that husband comment…I know we haven’t talked about it. I’m sorry if I-“

“That’ll do, my love. Don’t apologize. I didn’t mind it.”

You turned to look at him and gave a hopeful smile with cartoon-like sparkles in your eyes, “Really?”

He stared at you, his thumb and index finger holding your chin, “Really. I’m sorry I can’t marry you right now…but you’ll always be my wife in my eyes.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and a burning sting invaded your nostrils. With a small adjustment to his already lifted mask, he planted a passionate, loving kiss on your lips. Your hands cupped his cheeks, reciprocating his pure love and adoration for you. Your foreheads pressed together while you whispered, “I love you, Simon.”

Simon gave a rare but small grin, “I love you too.”

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