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enkvyu · 9 months

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7:02pm — gojo satoru ; part two to this imagine

"gojo, your hair is in my mouth."

"you're lucky i washed it a few days ago."

you peer up at him over your phone. "a few days? how many? gojo, tell me."

gojo hums to himself and you hate that it might be serious consideration that he's under. "like maybe seven?"

you gag, flailing at your mouth and spitting out the few strands. you faintly hear gojo complain but it's overridden as you deal with your dilemma.

the two of you were curled inside the stomach of one of getou's curses as it flew across the ocean to arrive back at jujutsu high. the cramped space and gooey flesh makes you shiver, effectively increasing your poor mood, but perhaps the biggest detriment was the person you were stuck with.

sure, public transport was a viable option but yaga had specifically emphasised on the "top-secret" and "classified" written in big bold red letters on the mission file. this meant no one was to know, not ordinary people, not curses and not even other sorcerers.

granted, the school had access to one private jet which they were willing to offer, but that jet only had space for one.

the three of you had sat down and played a game of scissors paper rock to determine who takes it, and while you were lucky to win it for the trip forward, getou ends up victorious for the way back.

and now, you were stuck in close proximity with gojo inside the gut of a flying dragon.

"why are you in such a bad mood anyway?" gojo has the audacity to ask, as if he wasn't the sole reason why you were uncomfortable. you keep your mouth shut though, nothing good will come out of admitting your undying, and unfortunately unrequited, love for him.

"i'm in a perfectly fine mood."

"why do you look like that then, all constipated and everything? did you not go to the bathroom before we left?"

you curl your fingers into a fist and punch him in the chest. it hits his uniform, smearing some of the curses' stomach juice. "of course i did! i'm not a newbie sorcerer."

"ouch!"

"that didn't hurt you."

"how are you going to tell me how i feel?" gojo jabs back. "because it did hurt, it hurt my feelings."

"oh boohoo."

"so you are mad."

you bite your lip and turn away, finding the abdominal wall of the beast easier on the eyes than your own friend. "i'm not."

"you're sulking."

"i'm not." you hiss before taking in a deep breath. "look gojo, can we just stay quiet until we get there?"

gojo keeps staring at you through his glasses and his face fails to give his thoughts away. the suspense is killing you, but before you can relent and ask what he has to say, he clears his throat.

"i have something to tell you."

you sigh, rubbing at your head. "what is it?"

"wait, don't turn around and keeping looking at the wall. hey, what did i just say?"

"gojo, the view isn't really the best to sightsee. why can't i look at you?"

"because if you do, i don't think i can tell you after all."

you close your mouth. "is it that serious?"

"yeah." he clears his throat again, adjusting the collar of his uniform. "look, i know you've been weird around me the past few days and i don’t think it’s because i stretched out your uniform when i wore it last weekend. i don't know why you’re being mean to me, and shoko and getou won't tell me either."

you resist the urge to look at him. "you're having this kind of talk with me now? here? seriously?"

"you won't even stay in the same room as me for more than a few minutes! getou may call this curse his bad-luck curse but for me right now it's the only way to get you to listen to me." he stays quiet for a few seconds. "this is really serious, okay, so don't make any comments. i know you're practically brimming with them."

it was true you had a lot to say, but gojo's serious attitude was putting you off. still, having him call you out made you more aggravated and you let one slip. "well, this is really bad-luck for me."

gojo clicks his tongue and you can see the irritation on his face before his words are even coloured with it. "i'm not telling you this so you can feel the same way but—"

the curse suddenly tilts to the side, throwing you into gojo as the four walls of its stomach becomes a wheel, rotating you around. you yelp as your forehead hits him hard in the chest, tears springing to your eyes at the pain.

“what’s going on?”

the two of you spin round and round, and you can't distinguish your screams from gojo's as gravity plays you like a toy, throwing you around.

the movement makes you sick. "gojo, do something! blast it!"

"getou'll get mad if i kill another one of his curses!"

"are you kidding, we're going to die!"

gojo swears, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into his chest. with his other arm, he holds out his hand and presses it on the flesh.

you tuck your chin in, squeezing your eyes shut when you realise he hadn't started chanting his technique. "what are you doing?" you look up at him and find him staring at the exit of the stomach through all the goo and chaos.

with a trembling finger, he points to it. you stare into the abyss, squinting your eyes to make out its indistinct shapes. what was that pulsing thing, attached to the side? and was it just you, but was it getting bigger?

with a start, you realise that the curse was about to throw up. and coincidentally, so were you.

"it's going to throw us up!" you share your realisation with gojo but the look on his face tells you he already arrived at the same thought.

he opens his mouth to say something, or scream you're not too sure as the walls of the stomach contracts. distantly, you feel gojo slide his other arm around you and his infinity takes over, shielding the two of you as you're forcefully ejected from the curse's mouth.

a scream escapes your throat as you escape the curse's, wind rushing through your ears. gojo swears again, bringing his arm up to protect your head.

you only know you're safe when you feel air again, the real kind, not the gas built up in the curse's stomach. a thud tells you gojo has landed on solid ground again and you've never felt more grateful to be alive, your entire body relaxing as your soul leaves.

gojo sighs with you, his hold slightly loosening.

getou watches as you're spat out, stepping out of the private jet with a big smile on his face. "you guys look rough."

you feel gojo tense his jaw rather than see it. "what was that for?"

getou shrugs, throwing a bag over his shoulder. he starts digging through it. "i told you that curse is some serious bad-luck. at least you both arrived in one piece.” he looks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “literally in one piece, are you guys going to stay like that forever?"

your mind slowly pieces together your position, still curled up in gojo's arms as he is sat on the pavement, before you leapt out. gojo makes no move to stop you, though you think he might have tsked.

"here, this is for you." getou finally pulls out what he was searching for from his bag and throws it at the two of you.

you catch it instinctively, studying the object in your hand. "a can of soda?"

"for surviving."

"that curse of yours is a safety hazard." you mutter, but accept the can. you crack open the lid and tilt your head back, taking a long, cool sip.

gojo stares down at the drink. "i told you i don't like this flavour!" he complains and you roll your eyes at his antics.

"then don't drink it."

"no. give me your one instead."

getou pauses, halfway to opening his own iced coffee. "huh? i got this for me. and you don't even like coffee! you should be glad i even got one for you in the first place."

"let's play a game of rock paper scissors to decide who gets it."

"no. i just told you i got this for me."

gojo stands up, taking a step forward menacingly. "huh? after what you put me through, you think i'm just going to take no for an answer?"

getou's eyes flicker to yours before he takes up gojo's challenge, activating his cursed technique. black liquid opens up the air beside him, a peering red eye on the other side. "can't handle rejection, gojo? because you better get used to it."

you take another sip as you watch the boys, absentmindedly wiping at a stain on your sleeve. you remember the feeling of gojo's arm around your body and you blush despite yourself.

"are you feeling sick?"

you look up to see that gojo had stopped fighting with getou, his entire attention on you.

"huh?"

"you're red in the face. you look like a tomato."

ignoring the last part, you hide your face behind your drink. "i'm fine."

getou looks between the two of you and there's a glint in his eyes that you've seen before, one that you've grown to dread.

he throws back the rest of his coffee, grimacing as it gives him a slight brain freeze, before crushing the can in his hand. gojo mutters a quick, "show off" that he ignores, instead chucking the can into a bin a few metres away.

"what a time." he starts saying, the words static. "that was great. well, now that i've finished my drink, i should head back inside."

“i should head in too. i smell real bad.” you sigh and give gojo a glare when he agrees.

“actually, can the two of you stay here? i think my curse isn’t feeling too well after eating you two. just until i come back, okay?”

you think there might be an ulterior motive but glancing over at the curse, you find that it did look greener than before.

"where are you going, and for how long?" you ask and hope the look in your eyes will make him stay.

"i need to tell yaga we finished the mission. you guys can just stay here, i've got it." then to you, he says, clenching his fist in support, "you got this."

you want to break his arm.

getou hurries away despite your silent plea, leaving you in an awkward silence with the one person you wanted to avoid most. you take multiple quick sips to busy yourself, but you can’t ignore the person standing by your side.

gojo shifts his balance to his other foot and the sound of his shoe against the pavement breaks the silence. "so."

"so."

"it's really bright, huh."

"you're wearing sunglasses."

"and do they completely cover my eyes? no they don't. i can still complain about the sun."

"just push your glasses up then."

"no." gojo huffs. "i look cooler this way."

"who told you that? because i know for a fact it wasn't anyone whose opinion actually matters." you jab back.

"your mum said that, actually."

"are you a child?"

"what, are you too cool for old jokes? they're iconic for a reason."

"and there's a reason why 'your mum jokes' died and should stay that way."

the natural way in which you banter with gojo gives you confidence. maybe it didn't matter that you liked him, or that he didn't like you back. it was enough that he was here with you now, joking around. perhaps you could even live with knowing that your unrequited love had come to an end, perhaps you could even pair them up yourself without a sense of bitter jealousy.

"i know you like getou." gojo says in one breath.

the peace you had come to, shatters.

"what?" you say in an inhale, and it comes out sounding weird.

gojo pouts, crossing his arms. "i'm right, aren't i? you like getou. i heard what you were saying to shoko that one time."

"don't eavesdrop on other people's conversations!"

"you were saying it pretty loudly, what was i meant to do? shut my ears?"

you wave away his whining. "stop, hold on. you think i like getou?"

gojo nods. "i don't think you do, i know. you said you like people like him."

"when did i ever say that? also, i'm not the one who likes getou, you are!"

"what?"

"what, what? you do, don't you? you told me yesterday that you liked getou."

"i never said that!"

"then who were you talking about?"

"who were you thinking about?" gojo shoots back. "because you didn't even hesitate when you explained your type to shoko. you were thinking of someone, weren't you?"

you gulp. "i asked first."

he looks at you long and hard and you stare back at your reflection through his glasses. his mouth opens and there's a mixed sense of dread and anticipation brewing in your stomach.

"tch."

"did you just click your tongue at me?"

gojo faces away. his jaw is tense as he blatantly ignores your question. "you're really annoying."

"huh? speak for yourself!"

"you have a problem with me?"

"i have a problem with your stupid attitude."

when gojo closes the distance between the two of you, you take a step back out of instinct. it doesn't matter though because gojo steps forward again, pushing you up against the curse getou had left behind. he slams a hand into the flesh of the curse and it makes a startled sound. the both of you ignore it. "it's you, idiot, i like—"

the force behind his slam is frightening, but the thought is torn from you when the sound of regurgitation grabs your attention. with a start, you turn around at the curse and find your phone on the ground at the entrance of the curse's mouth, covered in goo.

"my phone!" you exclaim, bending down to pick it up.

gojo backs up and groans loudly, but you don't care, wincing instead when the item is sticky.

"i didn't even know i lost this! thanks gojo, i think." your voice trails off wearily, holding up the phone and watching as viscous liquid slowly drips off it.

gojo rubs his face with his palm and you wonder why he looks so distressed. "that curse is seriously bad luck." meeting your eye, he points a finger at you. "listen to what i have to say!"

you raise your eyebrow at him. "damn okay, gojo's arrived." you mutter, wiping down the phone and pocketing it.

the clouds overhead parts, sunlight shining down in rays. the trees whistle in the summer breeze and light filters through the gaps in the leaves and branches. it hits gojo perfectly, adorning him in a golden light and you've never seen him so beautiful. guilt fills you at the thought and you hold your soda tighter.

he breathes in one more time. "i don't care that you like getou." he says. "because it doesn't matter to me. it just means i have to work harder to change your mind and get you to notice me instead."

"it's kind of hard to not notice you." you say. "i mean, look at what you're wearing."

gojo hisses. "don't ruin the mood, you're throwing me off. like i was saying, it's not your fault you like getou but i had to tell you this anyway, because it's been making my heart feel all prickly and stuff. so shut up and just stand there looking pretty, or whatever." his last few words trail off uncertainly, as if he never intended to say them at all.

"what are you even saying?" your heart picks up. was he about to confess?

"i'm saying that i think i like—"

"there you guys are!"

your head whips around at the voice, scanning the familiar landscape before settling on a single person. shoko stands metres away, waving a hand to grab your attention. "over here!"

"shoko!" a grin splits across your face. "i haven't seen you all day!"

"am i interrupting something?" she yells to get her voice across the distance.

you don't even look over at gojo as you shake your head. you had a feeling he was just going to tell you something you already knew, that he liked getou, anyway. “no! hold on, i'm coming over."

before you can run up to her, gojo grabs your arm, a deep frown etched on his face. "wait, you still haven't—!"

without another thought, you hand him your half-finished can of soda and wriggle out of his hold. "you can have the rest of that. i'll hear you out later, okay?"

"but the mood was so right!"

"look after the curse until getou’s back, later!"

gojo stands there in front of the bad-luck curse, one arm limp by his side and the other holding a can of blue soda. he watches as you fling yourself into shoko's arm, already listing all the things you've been saving up to tell her.

there's that prickly feeling again, gojo realises, noting the way the sun lightens the shade of your hair, the way your eyes curve up as you smile, and the way you hold onto shoko's hand, wishing that he had enough courage to hold yours.

defeated, battered and drained, gojo looks down at the can in his hand, and notes the slight lipstick stain on the rim.

with a red on his cheeks that didn't come from the sun, he presses the aluminium to his lips and takes a sip. it tastes sweet.

gojo decides that he'll just have to settle for this.

i hope this was okay considering i had no intentions of writing a part two. sorry for all the descriptions of stomachs and throw up, i was studying the digestive system 👎 if this isn’t what u guys expected feel free to leave a request !!

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #gojo drabble #getou suguru #ieiri shoko #gojo satoru x you

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inupibaldspot · 4 months

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So It Matches Your Eyes.

Characters: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : Highschool!Gojo has a crush on you, idk mane.

To Yaga, this was a sight of fresh air which almost acted a light reminder that his students being so strong and special affiliated with cursed energies where still children.

His four second year students were all under detention after forgetting to make a veil when they carried out a mission. Dealing with the after math which consisted of explains to the elders and finding excuses on how to twist the media had led him to not sleeping for three days! Now he was making all of them write an descriptive essay on why veils are such importance to jujutsu sorcerers . Shoko’s seat was empty though , she was summoned in the infirmary after a third year student was severely injured from a mission, Yaga hoped Shoko didn’t miss out too much of her school days.

Despite, Yaga having a book in his hands as he read through got distracted my a certain trouble maker student, Gojo Satoru. A strong young man born into the esteemed Gojo Clan, blessed with infinity and six eyes was currently looking a certain someone sitting next to him.

You who was always diligent was working on your essay, occasionally closing your eyes with a small pout and when you felt you finally got a point worth writing down,tongue slightly jutting out from the corner of your lips which would make Gojo’s lips curl up as his eyes soften. Ahh young love.

Yaga had noticed how Gojo’s seat would be much closer to yours as compared to the regular seating arrangements, and if anyone Yaga himself would come in early and make changes to the seating, Gojo would always nonchalantly, without fail shift it closer to yours.

“Yaga Sensei, I’m done!” You shouted up from your seat which made both Yaga and Gojo, jump as you rush quickly up to your teacher with your paper which you had your essay written on. “ I’m done so I’ll be leaving. Drama of Haruma Miura will be coming out and I haveeee to watch it live.”

“Wai-!” Ignoring Yaga’s shout you quickly made your way out of the door leaving a trail of dust behind with how quick you were which made Geto laugh at your antics.

Yaga quickly scans through you essay and sighs. It’s well written so I have no place to complain. “Sensei, I’m also done!” Gojo quickly rushes to his teacher and places his paper on his table about to rush away, in a rush to follow you.

Before Gojo could take another step, he felt a tug on his collar as his turns his head to look at his teacher who had a scrowl on his face. “Satoru,I asked for a descriptive essay!”

“Not only did you write me an argumentative essay, your essay completely sided with not putting up a veil because that’s a drag and ordinary people should just suck it up.” Geto sits completely amused, as Yaga never lets go of Gojo’s collar as he continues to shout at him, the way you’ve got Gojo completely following you everywhere with his puppy love was funny as fuck.

You flinch as the door to your slams open which makes you turn your head to find a scrolling Satoru Gojo walk in with his hands in pocket. “ Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

“Beats me.” Despite entering the room like an uncivilized person would gently close the door behind him, he didn’t want more scolding from you. His eyes trails to you who sat on your bed with a small table on your bed, your hand was extended with nail polish es sets on the table. “Weren’t you gonna watch a drama or something?”

You huff as you made sure your left hand was staying still,making sure the mail polish dries properly. “He kisses the female lead so I don’t wanna watch the drama no more…”

Gojo’s smiles, a condescending one in fact as he walks and slowly sits on your bed making sure your nail polishes don’t fall over. “Sucks to be you~” He purrs out his words.

“Hmp! I hope Inuoe Waka gets exposed for having a husband.” You say with Gojo going ‘blah blah’ in the background, smile still plastered on his face. Your eyes look over to his, sharing an eye contact as you smile. “Want to put on some nail polish?”

Gojo peers over. “You gonna apply for me right?” And smiles when you have a nod of confirmation as he hurriedly out-stretched his hand towards you.

“Really? I thought you’d be against it,saying something like this ain’t what men do?” Gojo have no shit to that thought, as long as the girl he had a big fat crush on, holds his hand, a win is a win.

You look over you collection. “What color do you want?.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Maybe blue…a blue which would look similar to your eyes.”

“Beautiful…” Gojo slightly melts as you peer over your collection, your hair slightly covering your face as the evening light from the sun gives your face a heavenly look. “I meant of course! My eyes are a beautiful blue!” He stammers through his sentences as he fights back the heat on his face.

You looked at him with a scowl, what an egotistical brat! Was written all over your fave but then you didn’t say a word as you picked up a color and held his hand, bringing it closer to yours as you start applying the nail polish.

Gojo felt as if the part of his hands which were held were extremely warm, he hoped he doesn’t start sweating. But as he continues to look at you and your eyes which was focused on his fingers, he felt very light, as if this was how it was always meant to be with him being with you and you who looked simply so beautiful as the room was engulfed in a comfortable silence.

“Done!” You smiled as you looked at the nail polish on Gojo’s fingers before your lips curled upwards turned into a pout. “You’re so unfair, Satoru…”

Gojo tilted his head in confusion. “What did I do?”

“Even your hand is so pretty.” You huff as you brought your hands next to his. Gojo’s hands were big yet it was so slim with proper trimmed nails , you had no doubt if he were to become a nail model he’d be booked and busy.

Gojo felt heat rush into his face as he tried to keep his heart from beating too fast as his brain starts to make unconfirmed scenario but in which all of them contained you. “What do you mean ‘even’?”

You looked into his eyes for a brief second as you slowly look away, your cheeks had a beautiful flush to it. “I mean… you’re born into the Gojo clan so you’re already freaking rich… you have such cool cursed techniques, you’re already a special grade sorcerer.”

Gojo bites the inside of his cheeks In disappointment from your answer. As he opened his mouth, about to make a snarky remark you beat him to it.

“You’re tall, your hair always looks good no matter how you style it, your eyes are so beautiful which looked like the limitless skies , you’re also good looking…” you finally look into his eyes, Gojo thought that it was his day to die for a second at how adorable you looked with a shy look into your face. “So it’s unfair that you even got pretty hands.. you literally got everything.”

“…you.” Gojo muttered in a low, quiet voice which you couldn’t understand properly so you titled you head as you have him a confused look, blush still dusted on your cheeks from your confession.

“I don’t have you…” He repeated. “If you were mine then only can I say I have everything.” Gojo had always made many scenarios which was about him confessing to you as he attended class, in his showers, before he slept but this, this wasn’t part of his scenario. This wasn’t how he thought he’d be confessing to you but then the moment now seemed just right.

“I see… I guess that really means you’ve got everything.” You break into a smile as you then put out your hand towards him. “Do you mind coloring this hand of mine?”

Gojo smiles as his heart soars, he tries to control his lips from curling into a smile but then despite being the strongest sorcerer of his generation he is unable to; he was simply that happy, so happy that you reciprocated his feelings. “What color?”

“Blue like yours…So we can show everyone that I belong to you,Satoru.”

Guys I’m kinda proud of this cus even I was giggling, twirling my hair and swinging my legs writing this

#gojo imagine #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo saturo #gojo satoru imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #gojo fluff

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tojipie · 1 year

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prison bf series linked here !

hii ! not rly phone sex, but sex nonetheless. i’m rly loving this series <33 prison toji unboxing fic coming someday in the distant future.

content: nsfw + phone sex

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the sudden vibrations of your phone’s ringer rips you from the boundary between sleep and awareness. you groggily reach for the device from it’s place under your pillow, clicking the off button twice to end the call.

the number rings again, then a third time before you finally pick up, ready to tear into the poor soul on the other line. it’s a facetime call from an area code you don’t recognize, probably just a misdial if you’re lucky.

you hesitantly accept and tilt the camera towards the ceiling, shielding your face from the stranger.

“hello..?” you mumble sleepily, trying to get a good look at your phone without revealing too much of yourself. the person’s screen is grainy from the lack of light, probably calling you on an older model.

the stranger’s camera pans down, revealing familiar tufts of straight raven hair. toji stares up at you from his bunk, shirtless with the sheets bunched up to his chest.

“you too good to pick up the phone now?” he asks, clearly teasing. the inmate’s voice is quiet, coming out in choppy rivets as his dated microphone picks up what it can.

“toji!?” you whisper scream, sitting up to turn your beside lamp on. the additional light helps illuminate your figure better, you notice his eyes perk up at the clearer sight of you.

“mmmh, happy to see you babydoll.” he grins, leaning closer to get a good look at you. your eyes are puffy with the promise of rest, giving you that extra bought of softness he loves so much.

“oh shit, were you sleeping? m’ sorry.”

he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“nono i’m awake.” you reassure the older man, taking in the sight of him laid out on the narrow cot. your boyfriend had aged since the beginning of his sentence, though you figure that’s not out of the ordinary for someone serving time. “how’d you even get a phone?”

“s’ a secret.” he muses, clearly finding the situation amusing. “i get to talk to my baby though, isn’t that nice?” he states plainly, shifting to prop his head up with his hand.

“it is, actually.” you mumble apologetically, feeling bad at your initial lack of a greeting. “m’ happy you called me.”

you pause, choosing your next words carefully “don’t you have bunkmates?” you wonder, searching the background for any signs of other men in the dark cell. the promise of being ratted out by a cell mate was one that wouldn’t end well for either of you.

“nah, lawyers said i’m too dangerous to be staying in D-block with everyone.” he states boredly, shifting again to lie on his back with a grunt.

“wh— are you serious?” you whine, already mulling over the countless conversations you’ve had with him regarding his nasty fighting habit.

“pfttt, no?” the inmate chuckles, throwing his head back with a hearty laugh. “last guy in the cell got out on wednesday, ‘s just me in here till’ my sentence is up.”

he stills, looking you up and down quickly.

"fuck." he grumbles, you look real pretty right now."

you sigh in relief, ignoring the compliment to continue grilling him. “so you’ve been getting along with people?” you ask, skill skeptical.

“you know—hah- how i am.” he tells you, clearing his throat before continuing. the screen begins to wobble a little, blurring his figure for a moment. “when have i —fuck- ever been out of line, huh? ”

“i think you were pretty out of line when you went to fucking jail.” you tease, pausing to analyze his hurried breaths on the other line.

“toji? do you feel ok?” you ask, wishing you were there to check up on him.

“yeah—mmgh- why? his camera starts to pan up shakily, phone slipping from his hand. the last of his facade shatters as a pleased groan rings out in the tiny cell.

“fuck.” he whines, “fuck— oh my god. you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

“show me.” you command, finally piecing everything together.

the older man flips the camera and brings it right up to his hard cock, stroking it from the base up with vigor.

his tip is an angry pink, weeping milky precum down his shaft to glaze his knuckles. the sounds coming from your phone are absolutely filthy, a hot mix of pants, groans and expletives .

“oh my god.” you giggle, propping your phone up to watch better. “is that all for me?” the dips and hills of his abs jolt as he laughs.

“all for you.” he pants, bucking his hips up every time his fist meets his tip.

“is this why you called me?” you tease, watching his cock bob back and forth in his hand. the older man stops to thumb his slit, massaging milky pre into the tip before starting up again. “you just wanted to get off? didn’t wanna talk to me or nothing?”

“no—hah. i mean—.” he groans, clearly too out of it to answer. “fuck. fuck i’m close.”

you squeeze your legs together to quell the ache between your thighs, content to just watch him enjoy himself.

sharing a room with 4 other people means little to no time alone, that much you knew from your visits. it wasn’t rare for him to pitch a tent during your supervised phone calls, squeezing his cock behind a glass barrier while you gushed about your day.

a hearty groan knocks your train of thought loose as ropes of cum stream down his knuckles and onto the sheets. you watch in awe as he milks his dick, slapping it onto his stomach for the added simulation.

you wait until his breaths even out to speak, watching him grab a towel from off camera to clean himself up.

“feel better?” you ask, so badly wishing you were there to kiss him in the midst of his afterglow.

“so much better.” he sighs, shifting to lay on his side again.

“they definitely heard you. i mean those rooms don’t have doors right?”

“of course they fucking have doors.” he grumbles, clearly embarrassed at the thought of getting caught dick-in-hand.

“did you..” he trails off, rubbing his eyes with a soft yawn.

“too tired.” you state plainly, shifting the focus from your pleasure to his.

“i don’t deserve you.” he mumbles, dark eyes barely open.

“course you do baby.” you whisper. “you wanna head to bed? i’m coming up on thursday to visit.”

“you are?” the excitement in his voice is adorable.

“mhm, might even bring you a charger for that piece of shit burner you swiped.”

the jab earns you a booming laugh, lulling you back to the precipice of sleep.

────────────────────────

tag list ! <3 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa

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yandere-kokeshi · 6 months

Note

Ello Danny may I ask for more werewolf 141 this one of yours https://www.tumblr.com/yandere-kokeshi/729302362571882496/saw-an-idea-from-frogchiro-and-decided-to-write got me hooked it's okay if not just thought I'd ask 🫡

A/N: Sure <3. Honestly, werewolves and Buffy men? My favorite. Feel free to send more :)!

Warnings: yandere behavior, werewolf AU, and headcanons, talks about smothering (affectionately). If I missed anything, lmk <3

Within your poly-possessive relationship, it’s likely all of you live in the forest, in a large half-built cabin that they can call home. With this said, a lot of outdoor activities are present. All of them, including Johnny, love to adventure within the deep forest; especially when they’ve changed the night before.

Gaz and Johnny love playing in the water, both of them playfully growling at you to join him; Price looking from afar as if both of them lost his mind. Both Gaz and Soap are always occupied with water, standing rocks, and trails that are far, whilst the two older ones (Ghost and Price) stay by your side, gently nipping at your legs for warning.

All of them are guard dogs — standing hugely on their hind legs as they scowl around your front yard, awaiting danger. They follow you 24/7, especially if you just came home from work or from hanging out with someone else. They quickly smother you, dropping their entire weight on you to get rid of that other person’s horrible smells. You’re theirs.

During the spring and fall, fur is littered everywhere around your home. Anywhere you go, there’s a trail of it — in the bathroom, in the kitchen, somehow in your underwear, and deep within the cushions. Even if they haven’t shifted, expect a lot of it.

You will get licked. Most of the time, it’s not even sexual. It’s a form of gentle affection, as they don’t have lips, and their teeth are rather sharp. They’d hate to nick your precious skin. Plus, the salt on your skin or the leftover food on your lips is also nice.

Price is the leader within the pack — which isn’t surprising. He often bites or growls when any of the others mess with you too much, and tries to put them in their place when they’ve been bad. But he also puts you in place when you’ve been bad.

However, he’s the cuddliest out of everyone, and somehow outrunning Johnny. You know how Great Danes love laying on your lap even though they’re huge? Yeah, John wants to do the same thing. He just wants to flop on top of you and trap you within ‘his’ nest. It’s great in the winter when it’s cold. Price is so warm and fluffy. But in the heat, you’ll be begging for him to get off as you’re dying of sweat and dehydration.

Speaking of nests, sleeping with all of them is chaos. At night, all of them get incredibly cuddly — always want to be near, or quite literally on top of you. This said, only two or three (if they really want to push it) will sleep with you and take turns every night. Also, there are a bunch of large dog beds everywhere; including the bathroom.

When waking you up for either affection, extra food, or the rare chance where they’ll remind you for work, all of them enjoy licking your cheek. The sudden wetness is plenty to wake someone up. And it tickles as one of them, mostly Gaz, nibbles behind your ears, especially with his cold, twitching nose. The more reluctant you are to wake up, the more tongues prod from everywhere. Don’t make their claws join in too.

All of them communicate through growls, which isn’t far from their bloodline. That being said, all of them let out ‘dog’ noises, more than they’d like to admit.

If Price hears an out-of-the-ordinary creek in the house, he lets out a deep, rumbling, warning growl before finding out that noise.

If the door opens when Ghost wasn’t expecting it, barks and snarls fly out, especially if you’re home.

Accidentally stepped on Soap’s tail from behind? He snarls, showing his teeth, before realizing it’s you. He apologizes with many head nudges and licks to the face.

Gaz lets out gentle chuffs, almost like a Hyena, when you call the others bad boys; but quickly whines when you snap at him to watch it. And lastly, if any of them are uncomfortable or hurt, a so-tiny-no-one-will-hear-it yap slips out. They also let out gentle growls when frustrated or anxious.

Their noses are incredibly sensitive. Any perfume/cologne, lotions, or anything that you used are now thrown away; scentless shampoos are your thing from now on. They’ve asked you to tone it down, as they not only love your natural, musky smell but hate the loathing, overpowering fake one. They really can’t enjoy their time together when all of them are wincing and sneezing because of your cover-up smell.

Their appetite is through the fucking roof — all of them, including Price, are an endless bottom-pit; especially if it’s the next day after they’ve transformed. The instant you step through the dining-room, carrying the 4th batch of breakfast burritos which are stuffed with eggs, ham, bacon, sausage, salsa, and a plethora of vegetables, all of them gobble them down within seconds.

Simon, or what you might consider Michael Myers, always follows you. Whilst you’re occupied with the others, either showing them affection or in the kitchen with your back turned, Ghost is behind you, narrowing his golden irises, and sitting on his bum, silently. You always see him when you least expect it, literally giving you a heart attack. Of course, he makes it up with soft nudging in your lower stomach.

Weirdly enough, Johnny has a toe fetish — not in an uncanny, worshiping way. But more in an affectionate, compulsive dog-licking way. His affection can be quite odd. When you don’t have socks on, you can bet your ass, Soap is right beside you, side-eyeing your form before lovingly licking your entire foot wet.

Out of everyone, Simon is rather the most aggressive — Soap being the second. Ghost hates being touched after a day or two of transforming. Not that he doesn’t trust you, he just fears he’ll hurt you.

The last time you touched him, his whining and hurtful sounds of bone cracking concerning you, you gently took off the mouth cuff. He accidentally bit your hand, leaving a huge, bleeding bite mark that left a deep scar. Whenever he lays his head in your lap, he gently laps at your hand – his pleading eyes still apologizing for his mistake.

Gaz is usually calm, usually in the back watching but sometimes joining Johnny; to which, he can sometimes have little shit moments. Especially with stealing things… which comes with your clothes and underwear.

By the time you find him in your closet, sniffing your underwear, with the crotch being chewed out, Kyle has his ears down and avoids eye contact — knowing you’ll yell at him. But how can you deny his cute, puppy face? His eyes are practically begging for you to accept his apology.

—

Masterlist || Please support me as a writer by reblogging or commenting. It helps a bunch!

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milksnake-tea · 7 months

Note

hello my favorite star rail writer i am back bc i saw you reached 1k followers (CONGRATS BTW I DIDNT SEE EARLIER BC I STARTED CLASSES) and im a sucker for mutual pining its sickening to see two ppl so in love and blade, so blade + fluff prompt 10 would be amazing :D

extra points if mc isnt a fellow stellaron hunter, like in my head reader is sighing dreamily while march 7th is all "thats a wanted criminal"

❀ ˎˊ- prompts: You two have been pining over each other for God knows how long, and your friends are sick of it. ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: blade ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: none! just fluff :D ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: IM SORRY THE LAST PART MADE ME LAUGH SO BAD GOODBYE I LOVE THAT !!! also..... IT GOT KINDA CRACK IM SORRY GOODBYE IT'S LESS PINING MORE DAN HENG BEING DISAPPOINTED IN YOU

It wasn't often that Blade strayed outside the mission.

Just as the sword he wielded, Blade cut through his missions with precise cuts, following Elio's script like law. While Kafka and Silver Wolf would take liberties with their scripts, going off to shop or to fight, Blade stayed at his designated spot, staring blankly at the clock until he was called upon once more. He never did more, never did less.

So to see him gazing off into the distance, a hint of a smile on his face, was definitely out of the ordinary.

"What's on your mind, Bladie?" Kafka asked, her pupil-less eyes peering at her partner from behind her drink. "It's rare to see you so... restless. Has the mara been bothering you?"

Blade shook his head, a disgruntled sigh escaping him. His gaze reached past Kafka, focusing on the silhouette of your person as you chatted away with Dan Heng.

Kafka hummed, tilting her head as she played with her straw, mindlessly stirring her beverage. "Hm... Then is it them?"

Blade's fingers stilled. Kafka smiled, knowing she had hit the spot.

"So it is," she mused, stifling a giggle as Blade shot her an annoyed look.

"They're talking to him," Blade muttered, laying his hand flat against the table. Surprisingly, the mara did not strike, nor did Blade become irritated. His voice was gentle, soft like the breeze.

"Indeed they are," Kafka took a sip, licking her lips at the burn of alcohol. "Do you wish that was you, Bladie?"

Her teasing wasn't lost on the man, but he didn't bother with a reply.

"No," Blade murmured, resting his head in the palm of his hand. The artificial sunlight of the Xianzhou bathed you in a heavenly glow, your carefree laughter a sweet symphony. "I wouldn't dare disturb such beauty."

And yet, it seemed as though fate had glanced his way, just as you had. Your eyes met with his, and you smiled, waving at him. Blade's heart thudded in his chest, and for a moment, life returned to him.

His hand twitched, wanting to return your greetings, but the rough drag of his bandages stopped him. Blade averted his gaze, hiding his slowly flushing skin behind his palm.

Kafka snickered at his predicament, quickly snapping a photo of his flustered state and sending it to the other Stellaron Hunters. Instantaneously, Silver Wolf sent back a vomiting emoji, while Sam excitedly congratulated Blade on his newfound emotions. Elio didn't reply, he never does.

"Aren't you adorable," she cooed, turning her phone off and tucking it away. "You know, I doubt they'll mind if you just walked up to them."

Yes, you certainly wouldn't mind. However, your very disturbed friends would.

"What are you doing?" Dan Heng hissed as you waved to the Hunter, grabbing your wrist and snatching it down. "You know how dangerous that man is."

"But isn't he so cute?" you chuckled, the tips of your ears flushed. "Besides, he hasn't done anything to hurt me yet."

"Yet being the operative word," Dan Heng sighed in exasperation. "I hope you didn't forget how he threw a sword through me."

"I try not to think about it." You stretched back your arms. "Don't get your tail in a twist, Dan Heng. I'm just being friendly."

"That's not what your face says," Dan Heng commented, poking your cheek. "I can still see you mooning over him."

"I am not- mooning over him!" you objected, swatting his finger away. "I was just... thinking."

"Of course you are. Thinking of the man who stabbed me, that is."

"And he looked good doing it- Dan Heng!" you yelped as Dan Heng elbowed you. Your friend only crossed his arms, raising a brow at you as you glared at him. "Alright, alright, fine. I just- I know I shouldn't like him, but..."

"There's a but in this?"

"His arms are really toned, okay? Have you seen his muscles?"

Dan Heng gagged, pretending to throw up over the railing. "Far closer than I'd like to admit- Point being, he's a wanted criminal."

You stared blankly at him. "So?"

Dan Heng stared back. "What do you mean, 'so'?"

"I can fix him."

The only words you could use to describe Dan Heng's face was pure disappointment. Swiftly, he turned on his heel, and promptly walked away from you, quickening his steps as you chased after him.

"Hey! Where're you going so quickly-"

Dan Heng stopped for only a moment, his expression unreadable as he glanced back at you. "I don't talk to people who kiss wanted criminals."

You held up a finger. "To be fair, I haven't kissed him yet-"

"I'm leaving."

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai blade #hsr blade #blade x reader #honkai blade x reader #hsr blade x reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #archives 🏵️#event 🏵️

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white-sinner · 11 months

Text

Yandere mafia boss son

x male ice skater reader

Warning: threats, sex, mafia, rudely reader

☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☾☾☾☾☾☾

Alex. the son and heir of one of the leading figures in the mafia underworld enters a high school full of talented people what happens when he meets m / n the rising star of the gold medal at the ice skating world championships? Alex has achieved and will achieve everything he desires. Will he try to be a gentleman or will he be more abrupt with our dear ice skater?

yandere mafia boss: who was not at all happy to go to a school all his life and studied at home instill how he could learn the ways of drug and underworld in a normal school ?but now things have changed he knows how to defend himself with weapons and how to pretend flawlessly but still going to school will give him the opportunity to interact with "ordinary" people

yandere mafia boss son: that even though you two were in the same biology class he never noticed you until he was looking for an after school class because it was compulsory and he stumbles upon the skating rink and there he sees your figure skating with it your hair E / c moving, your uniform that matched your bright eyes. to say that he was enchanted was an understatement

yandere son mafia boss: that he feel his cheeks blush when you had finished your choreography you turned to look at him and with fox eyes you asked him

"did you like the show?"

at that moment he froze and after a few seconds he replied that you were very good and introduced himself as Alex Adonis and invent a fake job for his parents obviously he couldn't tell what job they really did so he made up that they were bank owners throughout America, China and Italy and you replied

"hmm.. interesting I'm Y/n L/n rising star of ice skating i could say it was a pleasure to meet you but I'd be lying you seem full of yourself but who knows maybe we'll see ecoters around the school bye”

yandere son of the mafia boss: that say he remained infatuated was little. not even a thank you? such an abrupt answer? no one had ever answered him so rudely before but this only made him fall in love even more. good looks, personality, talent what more could he ask for from his prince now he had a mission to make you hers be it with good manners or with bad at the top of his family he was like this. Your first love is the one that will stay by your side forever all life was like this for his father, grandfather, great grandfather it was like this for generations and it was always correct

yandere mafia boss son: that towards the evening he summons the whole family to announce that he had found his other half obviously bringing all your personal information taken with some “research” his mother and father gave him their approval saying you were admirable perfect for the family but they warning Alex that you two had to give birth to at least one heir but he could easily rent a bitch to stay pregnant and then after the baby was born he would kill her

yandere mafia boss son: who went on for months courting you by giving you your favorite flowers, jewels, he was always present in your ice skating competitions, when you fell asleep in class he would come over to cuddle you. what is this feeling you had? were you perhaps falling in love?

yandere mafia boss son: that during his confession he reveal that he is the heir of a mafia clan and if you had not accepted his proposal he would have hurt the people you care about and locked you up in his giant house. to which you replied

“okokok! but don't hurt the people I care about!!”

at which a tear fell from you

“don't cry puppy as long as you're with me and you don't try to run away everything will be fine you just remain my snow prince now sign this is later i'll take you to meet the family don't worry I've already contacted your parents you'll stay with me for the whole weekend”

and Alex let you into the limousine

yandere mafia boss son: that after dinner he picked you up and took you to his room which was full of roses and candles. he puts you on the bed and slowly undresses you you knew very well what he was about to do and yet you didn't stop him he was crazy sick but he was your crazy

“w-wait! I'm not ready i-I can't- AAh~” “you're so tight m/n this is your first time? it's not so puppy~”

he smirked

“what's up aren't you being presumptuous anymore? Do you remember the first time you told me my prince? well I think it's time you take your punishment “

“ i'm s-sorwy aaa~ too much too much I c-ant aaaah~”

“mmh…look a bit you're already praying for forgiveness you're so delicate”

he starts to going faster than it already wasn't going

" but you know when you act like a bad boy you take the consequences puppy maybe you forgot who you have to obey"

"A-Alex aaa~ Alex "

"don't worry my name will be soon the only thing you will know”

his cock was too big for you and he liked it a lot

The reader in the morning=♿️

☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☾☾☾☾☾☾ ☾☾☾☾☾☾

#male reader #sub male reader #sub reader #x male y/n #male y/n #yandere oc #my ocs <3 #yandere male #male x male #male x reader #yandere x reader #x male smut #bottom male reader #yandere smut #yandere x male reader #yandere mafia #mafia oc #yandere mlm

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kairiscorner · 8 months

Note

Okay okay, hear me out. Miguel trying to figure out your secret identity because you're the only spider person who hasn't shared their backstory and Lyla can't find anything about you besides your spidersona, so he breaks his own rule and sneaks into your dimension in disguise, searches the city for you and is ready to go home with a failed personal mission, till (thanks to his super hearing) he hears you singing in your apartment and sees your open window with all your plants and a stray happily sunning itself while you tend to them all, and he's just mesmerized on the street cause like, woah. 🌷🌷🌷

oH MY GOD–I LOVE THIS !!! bc i recently also watched rocketman, i'm making y/n sing an elton john song favorite of mine 💖

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

hold me closer, tiny dancer. – miguel o'hara x reader

as night fell in the city, cicadas and crickets hummed their songs in the bright, moonlit evening of tonight in the humble boulevard of the dimension you belonged to. you didn't live in the most well-off or best town in the city, but it was your home; your home that nobody else in HQ ever knew was even yours. you were a complete enigma to the rest of the multiverse, and you preferred to stay that way. it didn't bother you one bit that you only had your little rooftop garden to tend to and greet when you get home from a long mission. you made yourself a warm cup of tea and sat down by your little wooden table by your rooftop, your outdoor plants hung up by the macrame hangers you made for them all. you looked off at the yellow and white studded distance beyond your balcony and smiled slightly to yourself, enjoying the silence and solace of being alone, in your own home, in your own space. though little did you know... someone was searching for you, trying to figure out just who you were; it was no adoring fan of yours from this dimension, it was instead a coworker, your colleague back in earth-928: miguel o'hara.

"this is hypo and critical, mig." lyla warned miguel as he lifted up his gray jacket's hoodie up on his head as he scanned his surroundings. "would you kindly shut up and let me do my job?" he snapped at the AI assistant as she raised an eyebrow at him, shrugging. "one, i do all the scanning and difficult processing stuff for you in the nanoseconds, stand back and let me do my job. two, not my fault my servers don't have anything on them. just turn back now, miguel, it isn't worth finding out who they are—these are your principles, by the way." she reminded miguel as he sighed and covered the watch she was being projected from with his hand as he hid behind an apartment building. the surroundings were pretty clear, nobody else roamed these streets at night, except for a few night crawling critters that sung about in the night. though these creatures weren't the only singers of the night, for as miguel was about to head off in the opposite direction to begin searching for the person behind the spider person mask he had been so used to seeing—yearning to see the lovely face hidden underneath it—he had heard the opening notes of a classic melody being played on a piano. the melody sounded as though it were recorded, its sound was being carried out from a couple of speakers that didn't sound modern in the slightest.

"what is that?" miguel asked aloud to nobody in particular. "they're the opening notes to the elton john song, 'tiny dancer'. it's cute as hell." lyla said with a grin as miguel stepped out of the shadow of the big building and followed the sounds. the song reverberating from the speakers was fainter, but a new symphonic sound rang in his ears. a voice? a voice rang out in the depths of the otherwise silent, unbothered evening in this quiet, ordinary boulevard in your quiet, ordinary dimension—for the most part. as the song progressed, miguel had finally pulled himself out of the shadows and seen the lit up home you had. he took in the full view of the balcony of yours that was adorned with macrame hangers, potted plants of all different sizes and colors, and... you, there, looking off into the distance, smiling as that sonorous voice came from you.

"pretty-eyed... pirate smile... you'll marry a music man." you sang along as the song went on, taking a spray bottle from near the railing and humming the rest of the song's lyrics, spraying water on the plants' leaves all carefully and gently murmuring to the plants how big and healthy they've gotten. you smiled and continued singing the song as it got closer and closer to your favorite part of the song. "looking on... she sings the songs... the words she knows, the tune she hums..." you continued as you set the spray bottle down finally and sat down on your chair by the balcony, with miguel peering his head up ever so slightly to catch a better glimpse of you. "i know that voice..." he muttered as he almost accidentally slipped and landed in the light emitting from your home. "but, oh, how it feels so real—lying here, with no one near; only you, and you can hear me. when i say softly... slowly..." you sang in a gentle voice as you got up slowly and put one foot over the other, as if in a ballerina position and raised your arms slightly, not caring who would see... not knowing miguel was watching you perform for yourself in full view. "hold me closer, tiny dancer... count the headlights on the highway..." you sang as you twirled yourself around gracefully, with the skills of a poised ballet dancer. your gentle, elegant movements made miguel pause and open his mouth slightly ajar in amazement. "they're... wow." he whispered to himself as you put your arms down and sighed, re-entering your home and sliding the windows closed, disappearing into your home for the night. miguel had known you were a sophisticated fighter that always carried honor in their hearts and poise in their movements—but he never witnessed you perform, let alone so freely, happily and... alive.

"y'done?" lyla asked miguel, snapping him out of his trance. "a-ah, right, um... okay. we... can go home now." "something tells me you don't wanna just yet." lyla pointed out as miguel darted his eyes back up to your unit and quickly tore his gaze away with a sigh as he put in the coordinates back to HQ, opening a portal and stepping foot in it, casting one last glance back up at your humble little apartment, the apartment where the tiny dancer who has his heart performed for the very first evening when his life felt like it really started now. "...it doesn't matter what i want. i got what i came here for, let's go." he whispered as he moved his gaze away from your home and wordlessly bid your dimension a goodbye, or rather... a see-you soon.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @ophanimgold @fictarian @yuridopted0 @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok

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raitonsfw · 4 months

Text

𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚛𝚒 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 | 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚘𝚔𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚢𝚞𝚞

synopsis: You thanked the deities above you that you had noticed the rope that hung from Tomioka’s sleeves, eyeing you with compulsion. You knew it was only for missions, like if he had to tie someone up if they weren’t cooperating, but your mind went elsewhere and who could blame you? That’s why he’s laid out like this now, the shibari technique threaded down his chest, against his thighs... he was the perfect art form waiting to be painted with watercolors.

warnings: 18+ mdni, fem!reader, hashira!reader, shibari (or bondage), grinding (against one of the rope knots), teasing, dirty talk, slight dom!reader, slight sub!giyuu, begging, rope markings, gagging with rope, a quick mention about edging, p in v intercourse, riding, creampie, giyuu and reader are a couple, naive giyuu who just doesnt know how to socialize, shinobu outs the reader’s crush, alludes to giyuu being able to tear rope likes its fucking paper, (no idea how to put this as a warning but cbt?? reader presses her knee to giyuu’s cock a little too hard, but he’s a slut for it), pet names (princess, baby), use of honorifics in the beginning part.

a/n: so you guys can thank the inosuke scene and a random person on reddit for this. Like you know what, why does giyuu carry rope on him, idk but here’s food for thought. wc: 1.3k. m.list

divider credit: @benkeibear

It wrapped around him with intricate lines and tight knots adorning the middle of his chest. You were proud of your art, of your boy, laying against the sheets with nothing but the best shibari work entwined against him. You made sure you secured the knots, even double checking them, there was no way he would be able to get out of the soft embrace of the ropes.

Days prior, you found out he carried rope with him on his missions and you were more than intrigued, for all the wrong (right) reasons of course. You knew he was quiet and well kept, nothing out of the ordinary ever really piqued your interest to bother him on dangerous missions until you saw the rope hanging from one of his haori sleeves. You swore at first you saw a thread loose, but upon further inspection you realized.

“Tomioka-kun, you carry rope on you?” You asked, an innocence veiling your voice.

“And you don’t?” He didn’t snap at you, it was more of a question answering yours as he kept his hand still on the hilt of his katana.

You stepped over a rock, humming to yourself whilst following him down the forest path. “I don’t believe I would ever have to tie someone up.”

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered as he stuffed the rope back into his haori sleeve, the rest of it flowing with him as he sensed danger at the edge of the trees. “Stay close to me, princess.”

You genuinely loved Tomioka, though you knew he didn’t pick up on it during the first few months he knew you. He seemed oblivious to a lot of social norms and tended to isolate him away from the Hashira group when everyone trained together. But you tried to stay as close as possible, offering him traditional gifts and food every chance you got. He took it with an aloof thanks, still so seemingly confused about why you cared so much about him.

Until Kocho told him flat out at one of the meetings in front of everyone. You covered your face within your haori as the other Hashira muttered little sayings amongst each other. And there was Tomioka, blushing like an idiot and trying to apologize for being so naive. He stumbled over every word and chased after you as you ran towards the bridge that cascaded the water.

“Y/N-san!” He caught up to you, his breath wavering as he slipped his fingers around your wrist. “I apologize for Kocho, she’s quite crude, isn’t she?”

“I’m used to it.” You wiped the tears from your eyes as you looked over to him and you swore you saw his heart break in two.

“So am I.”

And here you were a few months later, learning shibari techniques as Giyuu laid out his entire body to you. He was naked from the waist up, the rope denting his skin and his boxers bunched against them except for the sleek waistband that crowded against his waist.

“I can tear these easily, baby.” Giyuu said, looking at you with a straight face. You frowned at your partner, smacking him on his bare thigh and he jerked it away with a silent chuckle. His hair came to lay against his back, out of the ponytail he normally wore and you tangled your fingers in it for a moment, reveling in the way he gasped as you suddenly pulled it.

“Well, don’t. I tried really hard to make you look pretty underneath me.” You pouted, leaning over his face. He yearned for your kiss, but he knew he wasn’t going to get your soft lips on his anytime soon. Not when your hands held extra rope that was pushed into the crook of his mouth, his teeth baring down onto it. He groaned around it and you tutted at him sharply.

“Stay still or I won’t ride you.” You said plainly, kissing at the flesh of his thigh as you looped a part of the rope around it. Your fingers then ghosted over the swell of his cock and he breathed out a light sigh, relief about flooding through him; but they moved past to pull another knot against his thigh.

“Please, it’s enough...” He said slowly, trying to enunciate properly but failing as a tiny groan escaped him from you pinching his inner thigh. “I want you on top of me.”

“What’d you say, couldn’t hear you properly?” You finished the knot and sat against it, grinding onto the knot on his thigh with a purposeful smirk. You let out a moan as the knot knocked directly against your clit as you rolled your hips onto it. “C’mon baby, use your words.”

Giyuu watched you with wide eyes and he threw his head back against the pillows as your knee pushed up against his cock, pleasure shooting up his spine. He panted out around the rope as you continued, pressing your shin into him harshly. His eyes squeezed shut and he trembled, wishing to so desperately touch you and get you to sit on him already but his hands had been bound by his back.

“Oh you’re really enjoying yourself, aren't you?” You cooed, trailing your finger down the knots on his chest; some had been adorned within a heart while others were a typical knot. You smiled at the redness that laid beneath it, digging into his skin and you knew they’d leave marks only you could see afterwards. He practically writhed against you know, so fucking desperate, you knew once you sank down on his cock he wasn’t going to last very long. You’ve been edging him for hours prior whilst you tied the knots after all.

You pulled down his boxers, letting his cock spring out onto the flat of his tummy and you noticed how much precum had leaked out of him during your teasing and rope knots. You kinda felt bad for him and you crawled over him, pulling your lace aside to take him into your entrance. “Fuck, I’m sorry Giyuu.”

“Please, please, fuck me already.” He pleaded around the rope, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth and you sank down in earnest. A long moan was drawn out from him and he thrusted up into your tight heat, nearly knocking you off of him. You steadied yourself on his chest, looking at him as he twitched inside you. His blue eyes were half-lidded, lust clouding them over and you rolled against him slowly so as to not overwhelm him too much.

He bucked up in time with your hips and you clenched around him each time, hurtling towards your own orgasm as you picked up the pace. Whimpers and pleads slurred from his mouth the best he could and you were so grateful that the boy underneath you had been kind to your advances, once Kocho told him.

You were absolutely in love with him.

You felt his hips falter underneath you and you watched as Giyuu arched into his orgasm with a loud whine, his mouth open and the rope falling from it. You followed right after, bouncing on his cock at a fast pace as he whimpered at the oversensitivity. A few moments later, you moved off of him and his cum dripped out of you, down your leg and you cursed quietly.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He apologized, his hair disheveled and there was a shine to his skin, as if he had been sweating. “I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s okay.” You smiled at him, moving to start untying the ropes that littered his body. “I think we’re done for tonight, okay?”

You kissed him gently and Giyuu nodded into it, love intertwining your tongue with his. Yeah, thank God for Kocho Shinobu. And thank God for the rope that fell from his haori, threaded with dirty thoughts.

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

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lunarw0rks · 9 months

Note

Can I get a Drabble about ghost / konig pining after reader whos bf is an asshole and they confess that they love her and she deserves better? W a happy ending ?? Tyyy

☾𓂃❛🍰❜┊ right person, right time

warning(s): fem!reader, toxic relationship, angst to fluff, mild language, hurt/comfort ♡ masterlist // requests // ask box

ghost;

normally, simon would spend little time comforting anyone. he felt he wasn't good at it, that he was incapable of aiding the person's worries. but when you, a dear friend of his, finds herself in need of it, he breaks his code.

you called him, which wasn't out of the ordinary... until he heard your attempts at masking tears. ❝stay where you are, can you do that for me?❞

when he saw you; distraught and shivering outside a restaurant, it pained him to feel very little shock. your boyfriend, a thorn in his side for months. he couldn't do this here, not in this busy area. ❝come sit with me. c'mon.❞ he didn't grab your hand until the both of you were out of view - but then he wouldn't let go.

❝he's a prick,❞ he speaks bluntly, though it was the biggest understatement of the century. there was so much more he could say about him, things you didn't need to hear. ❝listen, love. you are—❞ his thumb caresses your knuckle as he shifts awkwardly on the bench.

simon's gaze softens entirely when he finally decides to spit his words out. ❝you are going to find someone one day—someone who won't leave you a mess on date night.❞ it was him, he wanted to be that someone. there was no going back now.

if he didn't do it now, he never would. ❝you mean... everything to me. more than i'd care to admit. please just... let me help you.❞ his fingers find your cheek, the closest to physical affection you had gotten from him. it was obvious this wasn't platonic comfort, even in your disoriented heartbreak. it was in his nature for his eyes to dart around for unwanted attention, but right now he couldn't. he needed you to understand what he meant, otherwise he would continue his silent suffering.

könig;

könig's protective instincts were off the charts. once he latched onto someone, the thread connecting the two of them would never be cut or snapped; whether frayed or strained by the end of it.

his observance was even more persistent; how dreadful you felt around your boyfriend, the way he talked about you, seeing you in tears—it made his blood boil. and you, more concerned about crying in front of him? könig was fighting every urge to break his silence. but it was in his nature; a bleeding heart on his sleeve once his uniform was taken off.

❝schatz, bitte...❞ his towering frame is lowered, knelt in front of you as you sob at his kitchen table. ❝don't do this to yourself any longer, no more tears.❞ könig's palm finds your thigh, rubbing soothing circles as you express your heartache. he can't just sit back and watch, then let you walk out of his house upset again like many nights previously. he had to say it; tonight.

his other hand finds your chin, forcing you to meet his stern and tender gaze. ❝if you could see yourself through my eyes, you would see how good you truly are, meine liebling. better than that fool, better than me, hm?❞

his parting words before he let you speak again, they were more of a plea than a confession. his last effort for you to recognize the better half for you; ❝du bedeutest mir alles, you know that? there's nothing i wouldn't do for you.❞

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deaddovedecadence · 5 months

Text

Title: The Beginning (sunshine verse)

Warning(s): threats of violence, manipulation, possessive and obsessive behavior

Summery: Jason has finally been brought home, only to meet his newest sibling. They have a talk

Jason wakes up in a familiar room. It's a perfectly tidy room, no specks of dust anywhere, a perfectly ordinary room, but it feels dangerous anyways. He isn’t cuffed down but it feels dangerous anyways. He takes a look around the room, noting the unbarred windows (probably electrified) and a door he knows leads to the bathroom. The room to leave the room is perpendicular to his bed so he shifts, moving so that he can see who comes in and face all threats directly. For a long while there is absolutely no movement, and eventually his body relaxes itself, even with his mind screaming danger.

He’s been here before, escaped from here before, been (loved) hated here before, and he is foolish enough to think that escape will be an option for a long while. Security will be up for sure as well as it’s six incredibly well trained people (Dick, Cass, Tim, Damian, Bruce, Alfie) against him, and he’s been out of the game for a while. For a moment, he’s reminded of Dick, who’s rebellion is still the stuff of legends in the crime community, and the cops that try ever hard to catch them.He wonders what this will be considered, a rebellion or a temper tantrum. He was there when Bruce and Dick finally fought it out. Both of them still carry the scars. Will it be like that for him, or will they trap him in a golden cage?

There’s a knock on the door, and he’s more surprised than anything else. The knock, while polite, is unfamiliar, not matching the cadence of any of the others. Dick’s knock, twice in a row before a pause, is bright and cheerful, Cass climbs through the window, Tim’s, thrice, rapid and soft, Damain’s, continuous, loud and quick, Bruce’s, four times, slow and thudding, and Alfie’s once, a gentle warning. This knock is thrice, rapid and not too loud. The knock comes again, unchanging. He has no choice and he knows that, but at least his damnation can be on his terms. “Come in,” he snaps, and the door opens. He’s unsurprised when the figure is unfamiliar. The figure is on the taller side, with dark brown skin and a warm smile. “Hey Jason,” the figure says, “I’m Duke, I use they/them pronouns.” Duke’s accent is all gotham, thick and weaving into his words, like taffy getting caught on its stretcher.

“Why’d they send you? Testin’ the new meat on me?” Duke’s smile stays warm even though their dark brown eyes flare a bright vivid yellow, and the light levels in the room drop for a second. Jason can’t help but startling because he’s facing a fucking meta. “I’m his newest adoptie, and if you must know, I’ve already completed testing and my time as new meat.” The implications of that remain unspoken. Bruce went and adopted a fucking meta while Jason was gone, huh? That’s a thing he doesn't have words for.

“May I sit on the bed with you?” Duke says politely, gesturing to the bed. What the fuck is going on here? There is no one in this family that asks for anything so why is the newbie doing it? Jason ends up just shrugging which Duke takes as a yes because suddenly there’s another person on the bed, arranging into a sort of criss-cross that reminds Jason of Dick.

“Why are you here?” he demands, sharp. Duke shrugs, “family thought you’d do better with someone that hasn’t met you ‘stead of someone you know ‘cause I’m more like to be neutral and calmer with you.” It’s not a bad way of thinking about it and the kid ain’t even wrong. If Bruce or Dick or anyone else was in here it’d probably be a screaming match already. Duke arranges more on the bed, and fixes Jason with a look that reminds him exactly of Alfred. “There are three things that I’m here to go over with you but I figured you might wanna know we got your friend in the next room over.” he pales, thinking of everything his family would do to his friend, the person that dragged him away from crime and gave him a way to bring them down. Because of his carelessness, his friend is in the next room over, the perfect leverage to keep him complaint, to keep him here, all because he was stupid.

“This can go two ways,” Duke says calmly, “I give Dames the go ahead to do what he wants with your little friend or you and I make a deal.” It’s a good offer, especially considering how his family is, actually it’s almost too good. He narrows his eyes at Duke, who sits serenely on the bed. “Okay, cut the bullshit. Why are you offering me anything?” he snaps, and Duke smiles. “It’s pretty simple actually. You are a member of my family, and that means that I want to help you. Plus helping you and your friend benefits me in the long run.” Simply put, but still, it feels like there’s something that Duke isn’t saying. “What’s going to happen to them?” he says, referring to his friend. Duke pulls out a phone instead of answering, scrolling through something before looking up at him. “They woke up asking for you. I gave you your options. Do with them as you will.”

Jason doesn’t like this. “If I made a deal with you,” he says carefully, “they stay safe.” Duke nods. He steadies himself, and says the damning words. “I want to make a deal,”

And Duke smiles.

The second that Duke leaves Jason’s room, Dick is all over them. “How is he?” Dick asks, bouncing absently on the balls of his feet. Duke gestures to the door, signing ‘Jason hear us. Kitchen now.’ Dick nods and follows after them, humming something to himself, and chewing on his nails. Duke doesn’t sit down when they get to the kitchen, bustling around and prepping something, probably tea, for themelf.

Out of all of them, it’s Duke who’s taken to Alfred’s lessons the best, learning everything from new ways to cook to the best ways to hide poison in a drink. Like most of his siblings, being subtle does not come naturally to Duke and Alfie has taught them the more subtle nuances of things, ranging from soup spoons and good manners to the proper spoon and/or fork for taking out someone’s eye.

At Duke’s raised eyebrow, Dick sits, leg bouncing under the table. Duke sits down after their tea finishes, holding a steaming mug. “What did he say?” Dick demands. Duke takes a sip of tea and begins, “first of all, you owe me. I was right about Jason reacting better to me than you.” Dick settles a little bit, laughs, “okay, okay petit, we’ll head to the beach this weekend. Tell me about our brother.”

Duke frowns, “He agreed to make a deal with me to keep his friend safe.” There’s a but there and he knows it. “What’s wrong?” Duke shrugs, “He’s planning an escape already, I can see it in his eyes.” For all of Jason’s abilities, his eyes have always been very obvious.

“What are you planning to do?” “I already laid the groundwork.”

“What do you want for their safety?” Jason demands, all cornered prey animal, obvious in the slant of his teeth, in the way that he tenses. In contrast Duke is the predator, aware that it’s prey is cornered. “Let’s play a game. I’m going to flip a coin, you’re going to call it midair, and for every one you get right, you get to ask me a question. If you get it wrong I get to ask you a question.” Jason takes it in, trying to see if there’s a way that he can get out of it before he nods.

Duke flips the coin after showing him both sides. They flip it in midair, and Jason calls heads, “Tails.” Duke says evenly, not gloating or teasing like Damian or Tim would. “What’s your question?”

It’s a small, calm smile given to him and yet this is the first time that Duke has ever felt like a threat. “Where did you spend your time?” It’s an oddly easy question to answer, not prodding or pushing like someone else would. He shrugs, “I went pretty much everywhere that Bruce doesn’t have business in. I wanted to see the world on my own terms,” without Bruce’s influence, he doesn't say. Duke nods, and gives him a little smile. “Okay, let's go again.”

Again he’s shown both sides of the coin before Duke flips it, and he calls, “Heads,” midair. It comes back down and when Duke shows it to him, it releases as tails. “Fuck,” Jason snaps, and Duke’s serene smile does not waver. “Why the police?” Duke asks. Another easy one, “I wanted to make sure that even if I went missing, they’d know, they’d do something.” Duke snorts, and then looks almost soberly at him. “Your entire police force answered to Nightwing.” He can’’t help the horror that courses through his body at the idea that he was never safe, that he never had a chance to get free.

“Why are you telling me this?” He snarls, and Duke, doing something that seems to have become a trend, smiles serenely. “Because you deserve to know, and the others didn't want me telling you.”

“Did he really believe that?” Dick snorts. Duke nods. “I’m almost disappointed in him. He seems to have forgotten all of his training.” See Duke excels in several things but most of all they fuck with the truth in a way that almost no one else in the family does. Even Cass sometimes has problems understanding if they’re telling the truth because Duke bends it just enough that his body language reflects the idea of truth when that isn’t the full story.

“Last time, “Duke says cheerfully, showing him both sides of the coin once again. “Pick your poison.” It’s thrown up into midair and Jason pays careful attention the to amount of flips and calls, “tails,” right as it’s coming down. Duke gives him a steady grins and opens his palm to revel, “heads.” It takes everything in Jason not to start swearing.

He feels watched, like his skin’s been pulled back for Duke to see all the scars as the meta considers his final question. “Why are you so afraid of being considered bad?” Not fucking easy. “You tense up when I mentioned our siblings, and from what I know you left bruce because of your morals.” He stops, and tries to put into words something that Duke will never be able to understand.

“Have you ever been so happy that you’d do anything to continue that happiness?” Duke nods, “I have, yes.” Jason snorts, “well that was my life before I realized that my happiness comes from the suffering of other people, that I’m only good in bruce’s eyes and to everyone else I’m a monster. I didn’t want to be a monster so I left.”

To his surprise, Duke does not make a noise or call his reasons stupid like Tim or Damian would. They just nod, and say quietly, “Thank you for sharing. Your friend will be safe until you attempt to escape.”

As Duke leaves, Jason realizes that Duke says until, and not if.

“Our brother is fucking stupid,” Dick says, “he fucking left because he thought that he was bad, just ugh. I want to stab him for that.” Duke, calm as always, reminds him, “Jase was older when Bruce took him in. Don’t you remember how much trouble you had with me?” It’s enough that Dick stops holding his knife like he’s going to go upstairs and hurt something (or someone). “You were trouble but at least you were logical about your protesting. Jason is just being stupid.”

That gets a soft laugh from his younger sibling. “Well perhaps changing our guest will help Jason change too.”

A feral smile, “you might just be right about that petit.”

#yandere writing prompts #yandere #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #jason todd #dick grayson #duke thomas #yandere batman #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #my voices and hands; are all i have (original work)#batboy tag #the sunshine verse

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heeseung-min · 10 months

Note

Hey! I have an idea you can try out like a drabble or thought or a full fic when the s/o act like they got the sherlock syndrome but they do not and that was their plan to escape but did they escape or not it up to you decide it it just a thought of mine i think you will able to write. i think this idea would suit more on enhypen sunghoon or jay but i think it can also be for txt.

Hi hi thanks for the request🤗 I hope you enjoy this

[21:39]

"If you listen to me, you will never be like this."

"I don't like hurting you. So, you better be good before I killed your sister in front of you."

"You asked for it, y/n."

Those were the words you would hear everytime you cause a trouble. Everytime you try to run from the house, he eventually caught you before you can even go far. Each time that happened, he will punished you badly. Whether it is physical or mental, he will make sure you learn the lesson.

And that's why you decided to stop doing it. Stop trying to find a way. Stop causing a trouble. At first, your sick husband being skeptical thinking that you tried to fool him. However, it's been months you acted like that. You listened to him and being affection towards him and that made him believed that you finally submit to him.

"Y/n, what do you want to eat for dinner?"

"Can we get Chinese foods, Hoonie?"

"Sure, my angel. Come here. We can watch movie while waiting for it to arrive."

"You know, I'm glad that you finally listen."

You stared at Sunghoon who was eating his meal. He gulped the food before talking again.

"I'm happy that you finally understand me."

Your boyfriend looked really happy. His expression reminded you from the first year you guys being in relationship. You wondered how can he changed to this personality.

"I realized you are right. About the world is more dangerous and I could get hurt if I go outside. I'm sorry for not listening to you earlier."

Sunghoon's heart couldn't be more happier when you said that. He watched you smiled fondly at him and continue enjoying your food.

"I will leave and be back before dinner. Do you want me to buy anything?"

"Nope, I'm good. Be safe."

"I will and you be good. Okay?"

"Yes, my love."

Sunghoon kissed you before he went out of the house. You smirked when he finally left the house. You will use this opportunity to run away from him.

Before this when Sunghoon goes out, you will go out from the house and search a way for you to run without easily get caught. Then, you will be back immediately before Sunghoon back to make sure he didn't feel any suspicious. You had planned this for months and now finally you can use the route.

You changed your clothes to more casual so you can move easily since the area you need to go is the forest.

You started your journey with some snacks and water for your energy. The walk was a bit dangerous since there might be some wild animals and you still aren't familiar with the area. You keep walking for hours and rest for few minutes in between before you saw an inn meters away from you. You ran immediately to the place thinking that you finally escape from Sunghoon.

The inn looked empty since you didn't see any cars or travelers around. You walked closer to a young man that just came out from a room. He looked attractive even though his attire just ordinary. His sharp jaw made him more handsome.

"Um, excuse me?"

He turned to you. Looking confusely. Probably because he didn't expect anyone at this time.

"Yeah, how can I help you?"

"Well, I have a problem and I need a ride to town. Can you please send me there?"

"Hmm, I don't have any vehicle that can be used now. How about this, you stay at my inn for a night and tomorrow you can share ride with one of my customers. He often send home essentials every morning so I can ask for him to send you."

Well, it's not really bad even though you hope you can go to the town now. You agreed with his suggestion before following him to your room.

"Can I borrow your phone too?"

"You...don't have a phone?"

"Ye-yeah. It's broken before I came here."

He stared weirdly at you before shrugging. He showed the old phone that was located inside your room.

"You can use that phone."

"But...it looks old."

"So? It still can be used. Don't worry."

You sighed and just went inside. The room is not big but good for staying for a while. You rested your body on the floor. You can't wait to finally out from this place and Sunghoon. You have been waiting for this to happen. Before you completely sleep, you tried to call your sister. You felt awkward using the old phone at first but you got it eventually.

You groaned after the you failed to connect with her few times. You tried to think positive maybe the line here is not really good so that's why it's hard for you to reach her.

You sleep peacefully that night thinking you finally can be free.

You woke up when you felt someone was caressing your hair. Your eyes slowly opened up as you still felt sleepy. You saw someone sitting beside you. You blinked once again before started to see the clear picture.

When you recognized the person was Sunghoon, you shockingly woke up and backed away from him until your back touched the wall.

"Ho-how..."

"You really make me angry, Y/n."

Sunghoon just stared at you. There was no expression showing on his face. But, you knew better that he will not let this matter down just like that. Since you betrayed his trust, you will face harder punishment than before.

"Sunghoon- oh, you finally woke up."

You turned to the inn owner. He looked at you with bright smile.

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you yesterday. When Sunghoon called and asked me, I finally remember who you are so I called him here."

You wanted to throw up. Panic started to increase and you felt suffocating. You can't move since you were still in daze so Sunghoon pulled you up and brought you out from the room. His hold on you was very tight that you could felt it started to bruise.

"Thanks for taking care of her, Jay."

"You are welcome. Make sure she will not run away this time."

"Oh, I am sure she can't go anywhere anymore."

_____

Sunghoon brought you to the basement. You smell a very strong smell when you entered the place. He didn't say anything from the time both of you were in the car until now and that's really scared you. You rather he shouted at you than being silent.

He stopped moving when both of you reached in front of punchbag. Two punchbags to be exact. You glancing confusely at Sunghoon before watching him took something from a drawer. A knife. He took out a knife and put your hand on the handle.

"I want you to choose between these bags."

"What...what do you mean?"

"Choose Y/n. Don't make me more angry at you."

He left you stood alone between the punchbags and went to sit on the couch near you. You still stood clueless and you looked to Sunghoon demanded details.

"Choose one of the bags and I want you to stab on it."

You didn't like where is this going. This is not how he usually do when he wanted to punish you. Why...why he looked so calm? You didn't like this situation.

"Hoon....I still don't understand."

Sunghoon sighed and decided to go behind you and hugged your body while his hands holding yours at the same time. You can felt his breath behind your ear.

"Let me help you then. Now, choose y/n. Left or right?"

"Hoon, I- I can't do this. You can hit me or do anything like what you used to. Please."

"Choose. I'm serious this time, y/n. Choose."

You were already in sobbing state but your boyfriend ignored it and still waiting for you to speak. You calm yourself down before staring at the punchbags in front of you. Why would he made you do this? Did he asked you to choose what type of punishment you will get? You gulped down your nervous and stated what have you decided.

"The...the right one."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You made a good choice then."

Without saying more, he jerked forward your right hand to stab the punchbag that you chose. However, as you focused more you saw liquid dripping from inside. You dropped the knife when you realized the liquid was blood. When Sunghoon took his hands off, you fell down to the floor with your hands shaking badly. Your boyfriend smirked and whispered to you.

"Should we take a look what's inside, Y/n?"

You wanted to say no but all the courage inside you has gone. You watched Sunghoon took the knife and sliced the punchbag until something or more to someone fell on top of you. You screamed and closed your eyes when the blood hit your face.

"Open your eyes baby. See it."

Slowly, you opened your eyes and saw a pair of very familiar eyes staring at you. You screamed again and threw the body to the floor beside you when you recognized it was your sister. Your dead sister was in front of you right now. You suddenly threw up and felt the tightness on your chest. You crawled to your sister and sat beside her body while holding her head.

"Unnie. Please, wake up. I'm sorry I didn't mean it. Unnie, please. WAKE UP PLEASE AAARGHHH"

You tapped her cheeks few times trying to help regain her concsciousness back. Even though you knew, there was no pulse nor slow breath from her.

"WAKE UP!!! I'm- I'm sorry I didn't mean to do it. I don't want to do this."

You turned to Sunghoon with full of rage. He didn't react and just waited for you to do or say something.

"You...you asshole. How dare you? HOW DARE YOU KILL MY SISTER!!!"

"I killed her? Are you forgot that you were the one who chose it. You made the choice, Y/n. You killed your own sister with your hands"

"NO! I DID NOT! YOU MADE ME KILLED HER."

"Look at your hands now, baby. It's your sister's blood and look at me, it's clean unlike you."

Once again, you started to hyperventilate and started to hit your head and chest trying to get rid of the tightness. You suddenly heard voices talking.

'You killed her'

'You shouldn't betray Sunghoon'

'This is your fault'

'Now suffer the consequence'

"Ahhh stop talking!! I didn't kill her!"

You hit yourself many times to protect yourself from the voices. You screamed and sobbing when it became worse. You moved to Sunghoon while still on your knee and hugged his leg begging for help.

"Make it...make it stop Hoon..I- I can't hold it. Please."

Within few seconds, you passed out after Sunghoon jabbed the needle he was holding on your neck. He called someone to clean the mess and carried you upstairs.

_____

You woke up from the sleep after few hours. You felt like you just had a worst nightmare ever. But then, when you looked on your clothes and hands you realized it's not a dream. The blood stain is still there and you felt like shitty remembering what happened back in the basement.

You sat on the bed quietly until you saw Sunghoon came in with small towel and bowl of water. He didn't say anything and just clean your face and hands from the blood. He also changed your dirty clothes to a new one and sat in front of you after finished doing it.

Both of you didn't talk. You looked down to your fiddling fingers and Sunghoon just stared at you. As like he knew you wanted to say something but you are afraid to do so. At last, you lifted your head and looked at him.

"What...what do you do to my sister?"

Oh, how soft your voice. Sunghoon melted at the sound of it. He caressed your face and leaned closer to you so he can kissed you.

"Bury her, of course. I would not keep corpse in this house, y/n."

It was a dumb question but you somehow really need assurance from Sunghoon that your sister finally not suffering anymore. You hope that he at least bury her at good place.

Sunghoon finally stood up. Before he walked away, he tied a cloth on your mouth and your hands to the bed. Again, you felt confuse with the act. He went to the front bed and facing you. He stared at you or more to your legs.

"You will run away again."

He tapped on your left leg.

"I don't want that to happen."

He tapped on your right leg.

"So, I should prevent you from moving."

You screamed out loud when you felt your bone on the right foot broken. You were trashing on the bed trying to let yourself off from the rope. It hurts so much and you started to cry because of the pain.

"Now, you can't run away anymore."

-----

Wow, did i wrote that😱😲 i hope you guys enjoy tho😁😁😁

Taglist: @stacey-stonem @duolingofanaccount @cyberpinkx

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drvnkd4zed · 3 months

Text

Breaking up with Enhypen

heeseung; Heeseung would love to keep you as his friend. Even if you two aren't together anymore, he'd still want to keep in touch. Heeseung would take you out just like he used to do with your dates back then, he would make the break up easier as he wouldn't disappear. "Do you remember that time we..." he would start every time, reminiscing the time you two were together. He misses you and it feels like hell whenever he has that instinct to kiss your lips but he can't do it anymore. You broke up with him but... how comes he looks hotter now that he isn't yours anymore?

jay; He respects your decision and he's helping you with everything you need to heal from the break up. He would become colder, he's hurt too but doesn't want to look weak in front of you. "I miss her so fucking much, I would do anything to get her back" he would text his friends. He'd buy you your favorite chocolate, a warm pajama, some flowers and some copies of the new books from your favorite author leaving a little message in it like:"In case you miss me (call me or text me whenever you need)". You and Jay would stay on good terms and his family would still have you for dinner from time to time as they always liked you.

jake; Jake would need some time alone to realize, you are so important to him that losing you is his biggest fear. You'd feel guilty but that's your decision and you won't take it back. "We're still friends, right?" he would ask you. He'd do silly (but cute) things such as sending you letters "anonymously" with short messages like "You always make me smile" (to make sure you remember someone likes you). Don't ever stop telling him about the little details of your day, of the things that make you happy: even if you two are just friends now, seeing your eyes shine while you talk about the things you like is his biggest joy.

sunghoon; Sunghoon would try to have a quarrel to make the breakup less painful to him. He would complain about the littlest things just to look annoying so you wouldn't miss him as your boyfriend. You notice that and reassure him, saying you both will be fine. He will always support you in your decisions but he still thinks he's better than your new boyfriend.

sunoo; No one will notice you two aren't together anymore. The way he smiles at you - friendly - won't ever change. Obviously, Sunoo wasn't happy about breaking up but all he wants is you being happy, with or without him. You two are still good friends, you go shopping together, go to the cinema and have fun just like two normal best friends. If you ever happen to have a new crush, he won't hesitate on giving you help and advices to get close to him/her.

jungwon; At first, it might feel awkward for you to see each others and communicate because of the recent breakup. You decided to be friends, but it will take some times before everything eventually goes back to the ordinary. There's just this one thing, whenever you touch him or smile at him, he'd be panicking because he's still a big simp for you (and not gonna lie, you kinda like it). Being his girlfriend was the best thing that happened to you and even though you realize that now it's over, he's still your favorite person.

niki; Niki would probably need some time alone, so he'd disappear for a few days or weeks healing. He'll come back acting as nothing happened, as he's starting to know you and like you again. He's going from princess treatment to "the little sister I like to annoy" treatment. Pinching your cheeks instead of kissing them, he'll find new ways to be close to you yet being distant.

#enhypen #kpop #heeseung #jay #jake #sunghoon #sunoo #jungwon #niki #enhypen reactions #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction

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atimeofyourlife · 4 months

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I love you though you hurt me so (I'm gonna pack my things and go)

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: proposal | rated: t | wc: 921 | tags: failed proposal, break up, angst, hurt/no comfort Steve had never wanted anything to do with the public eye, but Eddie kept pushing him further and further. The proposal was the breaking point. title from tainted love by soft cell

The proposal was the breaking point. After years together, it was the final nail in the coffin, the end of the relationship.

Steve had always been uncomfortable with the thought of having any of his life displayed for the public to see. He just wanted a calm life working as a teacher, or about as calm as working with kids could be. It was part of the reason that made him unsure of the relationship when Eddie first started talking about trying to break into the music scene, to try to make it big. He didn't want to be hounded because of who he interacted with, he didn't want his every move to be plastered all over every gossip magazine. Eddie convinced him to stay together by promising that he would be kept out of the public eye, out of public knowledge. That he would be protected in every way.

But that didn't last. As the band got bigger and bigger, Eddie started pushing for Steve to do more and more alongside him. To be at more gigs, to attend events and red carpets. He didn't keep the promise of total anonymity, instead gushing to interviewers about Steve. Talking about how they met, Steve being a teacher, Steve's hobbies and past. All things he wanted to keep private. He would get kids and their parents asking him questions about the band, trying to use him for access to the band, for tickets, merch, meet and greets. It made him feel like his life was spinning out of control, all because Eddie couldn't keep Steve private.

The proposal was Steve's worst nightmare. He'd brought up to Eddie multiple times that he wanted to be less in the public eye, he wanted his privacy back. Eddie would agree, and it would get better for a while, but then it would slowly return to the same thing. And they hadn't even talked about the possibility of marriage, Steve not feeling ready for it, knowing that it would be a big affair. That there would be photographers at every point, all details being recorded for the world to see, and the guest list would be far out of his control. The closest they'd gotten to talking about it was Steve telling Eddie that he hated the idea of a public proposal, wanting something small and private and personal instead.

Eddie went overboard. It was one of the few times Steve was attending a gig, watching from the side of the stage. It was going fairly normally, playing the set list, pausing at times to chat with the crowd. But then Eddie went off script, and the band all seemed in on it.

"Now, I'm going to do something a bit out of the ordinary. I've spoken so many times about the love of my life, my wonderful Stevie. He's here tonight, and I want him to join us on stage for a moment."

Steve froze, not sure how to avoid this. It was something he'd never agreed to, not that Eddie had paid attention to anything Steve didn't agree to. Before he could react, the other members of the band had grabbed him and dragged him on stage. He felt massively overwhelmed by the bright lights and the amount of people staring at him.

"Steve, you are the most important person in my life, I have never met anyone who gets me the way you do. I'm so in love with you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Steven Harrington, will you marry me?" Eddie got down on one knee, and pulled out an extravagant ring.

Steve was stunned, unable to take anything in. He was vaguely aware of a microphone being shoved in his face. He opened and closed his mouth several times, feeling totally speechless. This was the worst possible way Eddie could have done this, absolutely against everything he could have wanted.

"No." Steve managed to get out, his voice projected through the speakers. There was a moment of silence, able to hear a pin drop. Then everyone started murmuring. Eddie looked confused, as did the rest of the band.

"Stevie-" Eddie whispered, away from the mic.

"Eddie, I can't. This isn't what I want. This isn't me." Steve replied quietly, before fleeing the stage. Everything felt mixed up, and he knew it was over.

He did hang around, waiting for Eddie and the band to get off stage. Wanting to clear everything up. To deal with it in private. Most of the band just filed away when they saw him, leaving him and Eddie alone.

"What the hell was that about?" Eddie burst out.

"That's exactly what I wanted to ask you." Steve shot back. "You know I want to keep things private. I keep trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. But then you go and do that."

"Well excuse me for wanting to share how much I love you with the world."

"Do you really love me? Because if you did you wouldn't keep forcing me into positions I don't want to be in. You would have respected my wish of being anonymous. But you didn't. You never have." Steve replied, trying to fight back the emotion.

"Sorry for wanting to show off my love."

"It's not enough, Eddie. I. It's over. I'll be out of the apartment by the time you're done with this tour." Steve said, turning and walking away, heading to the parking lot for the cab he'd called.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie angst #steddie breakup #failed proposal au #steddie hurt/comfort #steddie hurt/no comfort #steddieholidaydrabbles #atimeofyourwrites

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witchmoon · 1 year

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by our red string of fate.

Part 1

Pairing: Prince Aemond Targaryen x fem! Reader

Summary: Aemond returns to King’s Landing for Aegon’s name day celebration during the midst of war. Immediately he regrets his decision to join the festivities, threatening an existential crisis, but then a mysterious beauty catches his attention - intriguing his jaded heart. It’s an unlikely place and the most inconvenient of times, but somehow he's renewed by the prospect that he could finally have a love he’s never known.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author’s Note: Third person perspective, reader/she (Y/N) is from an unspecified house with limited knowledge of the Targaryens. Some deviation of timelines and of HOTD canon/ details. Multi-part wip / slow burn, angst, eventual NSFW (lots!), language, soft feels.

I just want to write about Aemond falling in love, so the story is hyper-focused on the two mains-only without a lot of scene setting and background regarding the dance. Hope you stick around and enjoy! Comments/asks welcomed. LMK if you want to be tagged.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

don’t stop trying to find me here amidst the chaos. though i know it’s blinding, there’s a way out. say out loud, we will not give up on love now.

Sometimes Aemond wonders why he still shows up for shit like this, especially when the attendance is so insufferable. Not that he doesn’t occasionally enjoy hearing his name mentioned in mixed tones of reverence and fear when he returns home.

Admittedly, he does find the soft whispers amongst the crowd of highborn families that his mother insists on periodically inviting to court dryly amusing, but only just.

The attention can also prove a nice stroke to his ego every once in awhile, but it isn’t important to him the way it might have been before the war started. The pointed compliments and overt side-glances his way seem particularly insincere, holding no significance, as every person in the room fails to override his growing boredom.

Heavens save me.

Aemond begins to seethe at the fuckery of it all, and the night continues to progress with no clear end in sight. Time passes and with every moment that it does, his interest in remaining present depletes.

It’s unsurprising in consideration of how the conversations stay surface-level, lacking quality as the topics float weightless and repeating, forever removed from reality. Even with so many moon turns passed, everything still seems to remain relatively ordinary. No- dull as shit, he internally counters. Its personally stifling within the confines of the Red Keep.

He hates it here. The lack of evolution disappoints Aemond, even despite his expectation already residing at an all-time low. But what could be expected? Certainly nothing more from the self-indulgent snobs so far up their own asses as they regale in false self-importance, and definitely not when they maintain this guise for their foolish king’s name day celebration. What a farce.

His train of thought compels him to consider the raised dais where his idiot brother currently sits, already several cups deep into his spirits. Aemond can’t help but roll his eye, a habit he’s no longer keen to conceal. He’s grown tired of putting on fronts, especially for his family, wearing his emotions more easily on his sleeve so to speak.

Disdain and bitterness reignite at the sight of Aegon, selfish prick that he is, weaving back into Aemond’s marrow as he reflects on the many sacrifices he continues to make in the name of honor, loyalty and duty. And for fucking what?

i don't feel guilt at being unsociable, though i may sometimes regret it because my loneliness is painful…

The wine is weak, the food is tasteless and the music - abhorrent. He swears he’s going to gut the damn jester that keeps circling the main floor if he sees him again, envisioning the crimson pool that would undoubtedly ruin his newly polished boots in his mind’s eye, were he to act on the impulse.

It wouldn’t be worth it and Mother would be none too pleased…

Convincing himself of this, it’s actually not lost on him that he’s spent his entire life actually living within and throughout this ever-growing debacle. So many nights just like this, and the irony of such staggering a truth becomes too fucking rich. He blames his father most of all for this, but there are other factors too, ideas less congruent, but convincing all the same- he’s been cursed since birth.

His aversion to remain in this hall, in the entirety of this damnable Keep, only builds. The mood of Aemond is a transformative black and he’s past annoyance when more people fill the space, to the point it feels like everything probably should implode on itself. And he can’t say he wouldn’t welcome this, even if it meant his own demise, because at this point who fucking cares?

but when i move into the world, it feels like a moral fall- like seeking love in a whorehouse.

Alas, it does not. But the cynicism within him just keeps expanding. He can only blame himself. Just lay in it then, and try to be civilized.

Truth be told, the appeal for him to do anything these days that didn’t include partaking in the plotting for destruction and so many endless deaths during war meetings, or patrolling for visible threats from the sky on Vhagar had been strong. He’s convinced it must have been in a moment of weakness, during one of his deep bouts of loneliness, that the invitation bearing raven had conveniently arrived to him.

Aemond can’t justify any other reason than this, for he’d made haste to King’s Landing without any true forethought upon receipt of his mother’s handwritten request. Why had he been so easily swayed? Was it because life of late felt reduced to boring days, an unknown future, an irregular sleep, repeat? Yes, likely. But these were weaknesses better kept under wraps.

He smirks at such an unmerciful fate, but mostly to himself when he turns again to the main table, witnessing in real time as his only living parent bestows Aegon with a small surreptitious slap at something mouthy he’s just said towards her. In all these years, nothing ever changes.

Their grandsire holds Aegon in a death glare full of contempt by her side, utterly disapproving as well, which is something Aemond finds satiric. After all, wasn’t this what The Hand had always wanted for The Greens? Irreverent power and glory, Aegon upon the throne…such folly.

i can hardly breathe, and now you're right above me and your shadow suffocates.

The Keep had momentarily seemed a welcoming concept, but the present is too sobering a contradiction, impossible to ignore now. Sadly, the notion that he’d feel differently for this homecoming was once more proving false.

He can’t deflect responsibility, knowing his decision in actuality has been swayed by the growing weariness of violence - how tired he is of constantly being on the defense; forever at odds with his heart, his soul. It all feels heavy, a burdensome weight that will not hold much longer. What is my purpose? Although he will never admit this to anyone, he’s begun to lose sight of what he’s even fighting for anymore.

He needs something else to focus on for a while. A spark of interest would be nice, anything might do, as long as it could keep him from lashing out in anger - mostly at himself. Or worse, he could go spiraling downwards, back into the deep abyss of his emotions for a long-term residence. Just wither away into nothingness, and he has half a mind to let it happen. Fuck it all.

The actuality of all this flits across his mind, leaving the room suddenly muted to his ears. He shuts out the conversation he’s been involved in for an undisputed amount of time. Interestingly, the group surrounding him is littered with several lords and ladies that used to scoff and shirk at him a mere handful of solar cycles previously.

Hypocrites, cowards, utter cunts - the lot of them.

It doesn’t really matter to him though, these fools from a bitter and harrowing past, nor their opinions. Instead he inwardly returns to a more pressing matter up for his contemplation - the emptiness he’s been feeling for awhile, how internalized and damaging it still is.

He thinks of the way it all stacks up against him, how it’s reduced him to a man underwhelmed, unfulfilled… and the greatest issue of all, unloved. This is something Aemond is forever conscious of, and it’s like he’s suddenly experiencing the same oppressive state he’d lived in for so much of his youth, a time in which he was not in control whatsoever.

Once upon a time, he had been soft - a dreamer with a lot of heart to give. Unfortunately, by no fault of his own, his sensitive nature had proven detrimental, swiftly making him the target of many immature, albeit cruel intentions. Even despite being a Targaryen son, he’d constantly found himself the brunt of jests amongst his eldest brother and younger kin alike.

It had been a callous awakening, one that both fed his deep-seated feelings of inadequacy and expanded his burgeoning anger, turning him more spiteful with age.

What the fuck?

He wonders why these memories are suddenly seeking their re-emergence, particularly when it feels like he’s already spent a lifetime making painstaking efforts to finally move beyond such devastating haunts.

But it never really leaves him.

In defiance of persistence, self preservation and all he’s mastered, everything he’s proven of himself through accomplishment and challenge, some things still refuse to detach themselves from him. They are core memories that shall remain forever tied to the very matter of which he’s made, and because of this, he’s tried to make peace with their aggravation.

Even still, it’s a nuisance for him when he considers his own personal defects, how ingrained they seem, like a sustained poison in his blood. Inescapable fallacies that others have convinced him of, no matter his renowned skills as a swordsman, his impressive mount on the biggest dragon in the world, all his knowledge - the rarity of an education that is vast, uncommon… the notoriety of his crimes.

Am I not more than this?

He’s flawed - yes, as painfully aware of this truth as he is of his demons, so many well-acquainted old foes that have been around his entire life, lurking endlessly. They’re more repressed than before, but Aemond doesn’t think they’ll ever truly leave him, and he’s inclined to accept this damnation too.

But try as he might to tamper it, he feels primarily defined by his navigation and survival through neglect and bullying, at being physically maimed and sexually taken advantage of at a young age, none the wiser at the time. It’s all very tragic, even still, and yet he’s tired of being married to the victimization of it all.

He often wonders what’s so terribly wrong with him that every day, it feels like Westeros is trying to strangle him. As if she’s been trying to do this for his entire life - kill him slowly. And this plausibility doesn’t seem out of the realm of possibility as he sardonically considers his existence, how shit it’s been, that the bitch might actually be succeeding in the endeavor.

It's an ever-present thorn in his side, and it feels deeper tonight, the stab somehow greater. He feels like disappearing or giving up, and the decision to give in only persists in the absence of an anchor - one he’s been in dire need of for some time.

If only there was a new strength from which he could draw, something powerful that he might feel inclined to cling to. His mind reels at what could possibly keep him grounded, give his life meaning, keep him sane enough to remain in this living hell.

But hope is a foreign concept, a dangerous entertainment that Aemond doesn’t make a practice of, and happiness is even more evasive. For him, there’s no miracle waiting in the wings for the perfect moment to unveil itself and show him kindness. There’s no fortress from which to seek refuge within, no bastion or brave defender to come to his aid, no salve to erase all the hurt in his torn heart. It’s a lost cause.

He knows that coming here tonight has been a grave mistake.

no dawn, no day, i’m always in this twilight.

He wants to move, but the will to do so momentarily abandons him, leaving him to remain trapped within himself. His singular vision loses focus as his stare shifts to the intricate flooring before him, a distracting pattern of which he really isn’t seeing. It’s not promising, but he’s somehow hoping the ground might miraculously deign mercy upon him by opening up and just swallowing him fucking whole.

He holds his breath, willing this occurrence, but of course it's all for naught. Then, as if from the end of a dark tunnel, he hears the familiarity of his name, spoken and echoing, drawing him back to the present. He begins to anticipate the confused stares from the group he’s been standing with, though no genuine conversing has taken place thus far.

When his mobility reinstates of its own accord, he shifts his weight to buy some time before looking up to consider the lord who’s asked him... something. He knows not what, nor does he care, but upon Aemond’s vision refocusing, he’s not seeing them or anyone - only her.

in this light, i swear you’re mine.

It's a mysterious occurrence, the way time works - how the stars seem to have finally conspired to align with opportunity and chance. And for the first time tonight, perhaps ever, he finds himself captivated.

The crowd has split, forming a clear path from where he’s standing to the opposite end of the room. He swears his traveling gaze has been moved by some greater force, something he cannot name, beckoning him. It must be true, he’s convinced as the connection he’s feeling with the nameless woman increases.

The air becomes charged with renewed energy, a unique heat that seems untainted by pretense. And it’s heat that flourishes within him now - inexplicable, drugging when he realizes all at once that she’s staring back at him. Only him.

There’s a curiosity to their exchange, the way it goes on in silence, in secret. It’s everything but fleeting, what they’re sharing from afar. And although it's from a great distance, he knows this could be something of substance, worth pursuing. Something unnamed within him spurs this idea, urging him into action to seize this unexpected opportunity, but then she looks away and he’s completely startled.

Suddenly, Aemond cannot breathe. She is fucking beautiful. From his remote observation, this is clear, but he’s also sensing something else about her. Aside from the obvious, that she’s literally the most stunning person in the room, that he has probably ever seen, her energy is not supporting this fact.

It perplexes him.

Amid the many exquisite objects within this opulent hall, she outshines them all, easily taking center stage. But what’s drawing Aemond the most, putting him on the highest of alerts, is the unease he senses emulating from her. She looks about ready to dart from the stale festivities, as if she’s simply gathering her nerve while mapping out her next move in order to see this realized.

Take me with you.

Actually, she looks exactly the way he feels, and intuitively he knows that she is someone he needs to have in his life. He’s still staring when she unexpectedly looks at him again, and with this second glance - a feeling of pure elation begins to take root within him. The air rushes to enter his lungs once more.

Suddenly he feels alive again, awakened from the dead at long last.

i looked at him with unexplainable recognition, i stared at him with a burning throat and teary eyes.

It’s time to panic.

Truth be told, she hadn’t meant to stare for as long as she had, and then again. It's definitely not something she’s prone to do - fixate on strangers, especially considering how uncomfortable it’s always made her when on the receiving end of such attentions.

But in her defense, dear cousin had recently disappeared, leaving her to her own devices without any formal introductions. Thus, voiding any and all potential attempts at social interactions on her own, should she have chosen to pursue them.

She had not, and it wasn’t a great loss for her either, as the night so far had proven rather stale - falling flat despite its nauseating frivolity. And yet, as a first-time visitor to the capital with limited knowledge of court customs, being put out like this felt like a blow, like abandonment.

It did not bode well with her to feel less than, misplaced, unwelcome. And these were all issues she’d been struggling with since arriving, trying desperately to maintain a sense of calm confidence that she did not actually feel an iota of.

In honesty, she could have anticipated this if only she’d removed the figurative rose colored lenses from which she’d been trying to experience tonight through.

It wasn’t fated to be ideal though, as she had immediately sensed something malignant from the moment she’d walked through the entry door earlier. Bittersweet, but unsurprisingly, it left her longing for the solitude of home with its rolling lands, the beauty evergreen.

She maintains vexation over recent decisions, once more finding herself in a situation that’s left her ill at ease - hellbent on forfeiting any and all of the night’s eventualities. If I could just get out of here. Yet, something holds her back.

Perhaps it’s the perceived lack of decorum in disappearing that stays her. Hardly - but the watchful eyes throughout the room do give her pause. Aware of the scornful judgement being passed about, in constant motion from one fiend to the next, she can’t say she’s trying to draw more attention.

She’s not senseless either, having been told numerous times of the weight this invite held - one of generosity and privilege and opportunity. In theory, it had seemed plausible, so she hadn’t dismissed the importance of impression that kept being pressed upon her every day leading up to now.

And now, there’s contradiction at every turn - the night proving to be little more than a pitiful show of extravagance. A colossal inconvenience to celebrate and placate an unworthy man-child.

As if I really give a shit about this Aegon twat.

He apparently IS the king, but she really fails to comprehend this as fact. From her personal observation, he appears more juvenile than ruler, all tired eyes and messy hair. He’s wearing a permanent scowl of disinterest too, as he begins making his rounds amongst his guests. It’s plain to see he’s intoxicated, struggling at times to stay upright on his two feet.

Even the heavy crown atop his head fails to stay centered, impossible to maintain its position with the continuous sway of its wearer. Such a mess.

Though she finds herself wondering why she left home for this, she can’t deny the inherent need within her to be pushed - really move out of established comforts for the sake of growth. Admittedly, life had become dull enough for her to consider travel, even despite perceived dark times in the more well-known parts of the world.

The risk had been taken, and tonight was accomplishing her misguided notion to experience something new, something she’d never had before. It was definitely not a place of comfort either, but neither was it engaging as she had hoped it might be.

Perhaps a little intrigue would do some good in this social wasteland, but there is nothing, nobody.

While she wasn’t a stranger to taking inherent leaps of faith, having a rather optimistic outlook most days, nothing was presently inspiring the spark within her. Likewise, nothing was pulling her to put some faith into this night, relinquish any benefits of doubt. There was nothing compelling, nobody convincing her that this particular setting was anything other than cold and callous.

More than that though, it felt undeniably toxic, laced with the unmistaken undercurrent of condescension. And for the first time in her life she yearns to be invisible.

These are not my people and I don’t belong here.

The realization of this hits hard, at a very inopportune moment, and it's causing her cool facade to deplete significantly. It feels like she’s breaking down, on the brink of a total collapse. She could crumble and it would be so easy, but still, she hangs on.

She sips her wine and it’s disgusting, aware that any further indulgence in it won’t be worth tomorrow’s ache in the head. However, the heavy cup remains a functional prop to keep her semi-occupied with intended movement. She thinks at the very least, it's helping her blend in more with the rest of this cunty crowd, appearing like less of an outsider, less...delicate.

The thought of taking another walk around the hall seems a viable option - an attempt to kill more of this rotten evening. She finds more appeal in the notion, rather than standing still and pretending she’s agreeable with her surroundings.

Everything continues to fall away, and it’s getting harder to crawl out of her melancholic mood. Though, on a very specific level of self-awareness, she knows she’s being too critical of the situation and too hard on herself. It’s a deep flaw for her, to be constantly plagued by one’s own high expectations, equipped with the unfortunate knack of also being dramatic.

It’s a curse in many ways - limiting, exhausting, upsetting. She hates that she feels so much, so deeply. She hates the way she always ends up let down in the end. She hates the way she wants more from life, yet always comes up short.

What did you actually expect… to fall in love with a prince?

The thought is enough to get her angsty, exasperated that she could still have the capacity to be this naive, to think that such wonders might exist. Fairytales, her personal kingdom of dreams recognized, come to life. She could romanticize the idea for the rest of her days, but they’re simply that, dreams. And only dreams they will remain. Intangible.

When she considers this, and she’s done so often throughout her life, it always leaves her reeling with the harshest of realities in the end. She wonders why she puts herself through it, time and again - dreaming up a life and a love that will never belong to her.

The outcome will never change, you’re destined to be alone.

She’s too much in her head at this point and it weights her, but she’s done pretending, over the tolerance. She realizes she has to get out of here, that it doesn’t even matter where to. Just away. And suddenly there’s no more argument left within her of what she should do by staying. There’s no room left for lingering guilt either.

It’s simply time to go.

Scanning the space, she finds her exit route in record time. But beyond these four walls, she has no idea where she’s going. It doesn’t matter, I don’t care.

Although it momentarily deters her from taking action, she decides to chance one more look across the room in an attempt to locate her kin. At the very least, it would be wise to give notice of her leave for the evening, but the effort is fruitless and she’s quick to abandon the search.

That's when her eyes land on him.

are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?

Who is he?

She has no idea, though she could draw some conclusions and seven hells, he is stunning! There’s an enigma about him, a danger and acuteness to his character that exudes a well-steeped confidence. She can tell all this just by the way he holds himself, at least that’s the impression she’s receiving by his body language, the semi-defensive stance.

He intrigues her, radiant yet darkly masculine as well, and he physically stands out with his impressive height and athletic build - everything she’s attracted to. He looks important, but displaced. It’s also clear he’s disinterested with those around him, perhaps jaded by the same shortcomings in his life as she is with hers. She wonders, thinking it could be true.

The energy from him draws her the same way his appearance does, all black leather and belts, a dagger, a donned eye-patch, gorgeous long hair that is pale, glorious. Even in the dim light, it shines as if illuminated - a most mysterious beacon, working to draw out her withering heart with a renewed vibrant curiosity.

Fuck, that is lovely. She thought she was leaving, but now her feet feel heavy and she can’t look away.

A Targaryen, obviously. But who the fuck is he, which dragonlord is this? She MUST know.

He’s striking, it's undeniable, even despite looking forlorn in this current setting. Or maybe it’s just a blasé air that he keeps. It could be a front. Again, she wonders. Either way, she picks this up right away, deliberating how it isn’t obvious to the imbeciles he’s standing amongst, of how very little he cares.

Its a strange concept, like tragic art, as she spectates the scene. It's like he’s invisible, such as she, or he wants to be, such as she. He’s completely withdrawn from the conversation… and he is beautiful.

Unbeknownst to him, he’s also outwardly manifesting everything she’s been internalizing - its just something she feels, senses. The silent energy emanating from him becomes a fucking madness, moving unseen across the space, weaving through faceless bodies. And suddenly it’s crashing into her with subtle violence, summoning her in a manner that’s arcane, unintentional.

It transmits nonetheless, in a demand to feel something, anything.

She thinks she might, knowing he would be the reason, and she casts a silent wish then: look at me, escape with me. She expects nothing. And yet, it seems he has somehow received her unspoken plea with perfect aim, because almost immediately he looks up, finding her without pause, effortlessly.

It takes her breath, taken aback by the depth of his stare, even from afar. But it’s not merely the meeting of their eyes that's causing her panic to grow now.

It's the way the most beautiful man she’s ever seen maintains his stare, subtly tilting his head in acknowledgement of her existence. It’s the way he’s just excused himself from the small group he’s been standing with as she watches him finally break loose from them.

It’s the way he's walking directly towards her now with unmistaken interest.

the sadness you carry, it hangs like a ghost.

Aemond’s need to go to her is instantaneous, his mind quickly made up, surrendering to her unspoken beckoning. What he’s feeling can’t be described, but it puts him in motion with assured steps towards her, intent to maintain their connection.

The last thing he wants now is a deterrent, some dumb bastard interrupting his advancement with meaningless words and insincere praise. He can’t be fucked, especially since the exuberance of others often exhausts and bores him.

Besides, he’s not that infamous and he thinks his appearance should emit a genuine aloofness, at least enough to mark him as unapproachable.

In this moment, he hopes for it to be true.

As he continues, his boots on the stone floor leave an echoing sound - the faintest of cadences to his ears. Even the soft music that’s been playing, sounds he’d previously drowned out, return to fill his senses. He’s aware of how the room comes alive once more and how his attention hones into the finer details - the beautiful things that matter enough to hold some of his appreciation. But nothing is shining as bright, as gorgeous as her.

i’ll just tear it down, and i’ll wear it like a ribbon - give it.

His perspective is altered, biased. He’s ever grateful for the reprieve in detaching from the aimless buzz of verbal interaction. He carries on as the swooning strings from instruments and all the paintings and flickering candles in the room act as a backdrop for the dream he’s finally found himself in.

There’s a grandeur to the moment, and it doesn’t even seem like he’s in the same place as before. It's a subtle shift with great impact and to Aemond, it’s like a slow awakening of his spirit. His heart feels lighter, his chest less constricted somehow. Breathing comes more easily as he realizes he’s no longer holding everything in.

For him, tonight finally makes sense - he sees with so much clarity and with it, an aspiration to unearth something extraordinary. I am here because she is here. And she’s his focus, it can’t be misinterpreted.

This is intense, he knows it is, because he can be intense - in looks, in demeanor, in speech. For example, the effect of his set jaw and determined eye are apparent just based on the way she looks away again, like she needs a moment for herself. Like maybe she’s alarmed by him and his imminent approach…

Regardless, he can tell she’s ready to go simply by her nervous shifting of weight from one foot to the next and the way her hand grips her wine cup. It’s so obvious, but he silently demands for her to stay put, at least until he can reach her, join her.

Don’t you dare move!

As he draws closer, he realizes he hasn’t actually formulated an introduction, though. He’s been fixated on priority one - getting to her, but now that he’s almost within her sphere, it's possible he’s going to come on too strong.

It really isn’t in his nature to be aggressive, at least not towards women. But there's a fine line between that and being resolute, and he can only hope she won’t confuse the two. It gets him stressed either way, just the anticipation. And its abrupt, how the air circulating now feels to have stopped altogether.

The urge for something clean in his lungs grows more intense. In fact, it's been too many lapsed hours since he last stepped outside, so he thinks maybe this is the angle he will use with her.

He sees her look down at the drink in her hand, then back at him with a ghost of a smile, and then away again. All these nervous habits miraculously enchanting him, though he’s aware it’s all stemmed from a discomfort and he could sympathize. He does - this brave girl.

Aemond needs to get to her, knowing this setting has become too intolerable for them both. It leads him to mull through all the potential areas he could take her to - more private areas within the Keep. He’s trying hard not to envision her on his bed though, laid out before him, but it’s a challenge not to go there…

His thoughts come up short, interrupted and replaced by disbelief in an instant. And he can see the shock on her face too, witnessing the scene in horror the moment Aegon, of all people, drunkenly clashes into her with unabashed force.

It happens quickly, the unexpected contact of his body propelling the cup she’s been holding towards herself, effectively spilling its dark contents onto her bodice and sleeve. His fiend of a brother remains unsteady, loud and obnoxious as he begins to inappropriately grope her figure with slurred and insincere apologies.

But it gets worse when he sobers just enough to focus his vision, and fully consider the beauty of the woman he’s currently offending - the one that he still holds fast within his clutches. He voices his immediate thoughts, loud enough to be heard by many.

“Heavens, what a pretty present you are! I think I shall wait to unwrap you in my chambers.”

Aemond sees fire, he walks faster.

i can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the hunger of my heart; i am trying to bribe you with uncertainty, with danger.

The familiar sting of tears begin to surface in a rush, threatening to fall although she wills them not to. It would be so easy to cry now, and it’s something she tends to do when she’s at her limit. The frustration becomes unbearable, but she simply cannot allow this weakness to display.

Aside from the fact that everyone appears to be looking at her, the music has also stopped and the only sound filling her ears now is the seething laughter from the king. His prodding fingers are still at her waist, her lower back and his breath is hot on her ear, repulsing her just as much as his verbal filth has.

This little blond bitch, I could kill him.

She wants to scream, fueled by so much repressed anger, thinking she might act out soon if she doesn’t escape the predicament. Above all things, slapping the fool touching her is of the highest priority, but she also wants to cut out the eyes of every person currently gawking at her as if she were the problem.

She wants to combust into flames, she wants to cease to exist altogether.

Even her free hand has formed into a fist so tight that her knuckles ache, and although it's of little consequence to her, she can vaguely feel the shallow cuts her nails have begun to make into the delicate skin of her palm. Time halts and she’s burning from within, her vision clouding with rage as her arm begins to raise as if by its own accord.

She intends to lay one into Aegon’s jaw. At the very least, he deserves a slap, although the consequences will be dire. Even with this knowledge, she can’t seem to tamper the physical urge to do some harm to him. It’s the least he deserves.

How dare this fucker be so blatantly disrespectful.

Her mind is made up, he’s getting slapped and she’s determined to see this through. But suddenly her movement is blocked, stilled by a gentle pressure of long fingers wrapping securely around her forearm. A deep breath is drawn and she’s still trembling in her animosity, her embarrassment, when she turns to consider the disrupter.

To her relief and amazement, she’s met with a welcomed face, a beautiful one. It’s him, the only one she wants to see, to know.

The good Targaryen - finally, he is here.

And he is so close to her when he leans in, offering a verbal warning with a solemn tone for only her to hear.

“Don’t.”

His touch is reassuring, sending bursts of warmth throughout her at the tenderness being exhibited. His expression however, betrays a significant degree of anger and it hardens his features further, in an impossible way. Oh gods!

She’s seeing a lot of sharp lines and hard angles, an immaculate bone structure and the most impressive scar that runs a great length down one side of his face. It hadn’t been noticeable from a distance, not really, but now it draws her. Truthfully, it’s devastating how devilishly handsome he is and how weak she’s begun to feel just being near him.

He almost doesn’t seem real, but the obvious irritation emulating from him is substantial. Even still, there's a compassion in his touch and it’s his touch alone that she feels upon her body now. It compels her to be soft again and then she is, loosening and moved by his thoughtfulness to come to her aid, offer her stability in both body and mind.

His actions ground her, and he’s respectful as he takes the emptied cup from her with his free hand, discreetly handing it to a passing servant without a word.

She’s aware of how she turns into him then, drawn to his body heat, the most natural attraction. And with Aegon now gone, a relief in itself, she feels safe - protected. The urge to throw her arms around him in gratitude is strong, but she abstains.

He continues looking at her, his face otherworldly, and he’s saying something that she cannot comprehend as her world goes quiet. She can’t capture a thought or formulate a word, feeling her mind draw a blank, abandon her while he looks on.

Her mouth turns dry and her clothes become too warm as she gets lost in the intensity of his eye, the riveting color of it. From afar she couldn’t decipher, but up close she can clearly see that it’s a glorious azure blue, rimmed by a darker hue - indicating something of further mystery, an enigma. It isn’t typical, and therefore stunning, moving her in an inexplicable way.

A soft moan escapes her lips, ever so telling of the effect he’s having, as his brow lifts with some amusement. He’s clearly heard the sound, providing some inclination to him of her desire and he can’t help but pull a small half-smirk, satisfied by this revelation. But he’s still waiting for a response, impatient once more, and he demonstrates this by reinstating his firm grip on her arm to give a slight squeeze.

She wonders if he’s always like this, communicative with gestures and touches of varying pressures. It takes her mind somewhere it shouldn’t - to a place that involves just them, their bodies and very little clothing.

Does she want to know? She isn’t certain, but he seems physically overbearing suddenly, as if he’d moved further into her unnoticed. And he might have accomplished this while she lost herself to a budding desire, envisioning what he might look like fully unclothed…what he might feel like against her, from within her.

Fuck!

His close proximity isn’t helping reel in her thoughts, as the sensual scent encapsulating him climbs to meet her senses. It's fresh, something divine, and she finds herself wanting to chase and consume. It brings a new type of fire to their shared space as she imagines her lips pressed to the exposed skin on his neck, breathing him in.

The visual finally releases her from her mind trap, and she refocuses to stare at his face, placing her hand blindly on his own without thought. She shakes her head apologetically, helplessly, needing him to repeat the question - it’s really all she can do.

He obliges her, knowing she can hear him, that she’s listening now.

“Come away with me.”

come home to my heart.

It really isn’t a question and she finds herself silently nodding in acquiesce to his demand, feeling the adrenaline begin to flourish. The only audible response from him is a deep “hmm” as they take their leave. It intrigues her, but not nearly as much as the way he walks in equal measures of grace and arrogance or how his silken hair begins to move illustrious over his back with each step taken.

To her, he is an exquisite creation, surely made from the gods and he walks as one amongst ineffectual men as he leads them through the mass of people. It’s a quickened pace that she matches, noticing the way he calls off a small group of approaching knights, the Kingsguard, with a flick of his wrist to still their advances.

Although they’re amid many watchful eyes, the music has begun again, reinstating many dancers back to the middle of the floor following the scene with the king. It offers some relief, but what she’s finding to be the greatest comfort is the contact he maintains on her elbow, at the small of her back while he guides her out of the hall.

The heat infiltrates from his hands, runs along her spine and she doesn’t mind the mild possession of his touch. It thrills, and her spirits continue lifting as something akin to hope seeks to re-enter her heart.

i promise you, i was here. i felt things that made death so large it was indistinguishable from air, and i went on destroying inside it like wind in a storm.

It’s a well kept secret that Aemond considers himself a lover, not a fighter (at least in theory), though he doubts anyone would believe this if he were ever to admit it aloud. In fact, he feels that he’s improved in reining in his more violent impulses when they arise, attempting to adopt a more critical stance on whether to act on said impulses or not.

He reflects on this now as he navigates through the Red Keep with familiarity, thinking perhaps this banal approach is prominently wrought from Lucerys’ death. He knows it is… but this is different.

Despite the beautiful woman with him, casting a curious glance his way, he’s silently fuming with a sudden need for vengeance. And the center just won’t hold, he can’t call this off now that he’s in action - moving, intentional.

As such, his steps are calculated, the direction mapped as they ascend a set of stairs together in record time. She follows willingly, half-dragged by his hand at a certain point, though she doesn’t complain. He’s grateful for it, and without a word, they turn down a dark corridor that takes them further through the never-ending maze of apartments and bedchambers.

His heart is pounding, the most violent of slams from within his rib cage, as his long legs carry him closer to his oldest nemesis.

you go on by finding a channel for your love…

Aegon’s behavior is always unacceptable, but tonight it’s inexcusable as well.

Tonight, it feels more personal.

In fairness, Aemond’s tolerance had already waned substantially throughout the course of the day. Though not uncommon, his brother had been acting an absolute wretch from the moment he’d risen and begun interacting - effectively wearing most everyone thin.

Still, recent events simply won’t release from his brain. His brother’s actions, specifically the ever-occurring heinous mistreatment of women, continues to spread like a plague. It’s bothersome, but whats worse is the fact that such behavior remains unchecked, tolerated, as everyone turns a blind eye time and again.

Aegon, the perpetrator that knows nothing of consequence, who could care less who he offends and hurts. Aegon, who never learns.

The loathing for his sibling is prominent more now than ever, the rage significant in power as it burns at the very core of Aemond. It threatens to spread like wildfire as he recalls the image of Aegon colliding into her, touching her, taunting her - the one whose hand he’s now holding. This exquisite darling that’s with me.

It leaves him seeing red once more, and he’s resolute to make right this gross wrongdoing, finding the catharsis absolute when at last, he does.

…and another for your rage.

There’s justification in the way Aemond storms Aegon’s bedchambers, startling the room’s occupants as he dismisses a handful of ladies already in various stages of undress.

There’s satisfaction when he knocks the wine from his brother’s hand, spilling it across the regal bedding before advancing to lay waste to every last spirit within sight, all crashing bottles and broken glass.

There's an absolution when his fist meets Aegon’s mocking face, disrupting his cavalier smile with brute force. The delivered blow drops his brother to the littered floor as so many shards seek to break the skin of his hands, his knees.

It’s an absolute agony for the king, but he continues in a deranged manner with uncontrolled manic laughter filling the luxurious space. In High Valyrian, Aemond speaks departing words of revulsion and fury and threats.

Then he’s back outside the room, the splintered door now unable to properly close as guards rush to Aegon’s aid with trepidation and no small degree of bewilderment at what’s just transpired between the siblings.

He grabs his awaiting companion’s hand then, his own showing the faint beginnings of a bruise as it takes form, darkening just beneath the surface. It’s inconsequential for Aemond, for he’s more surprised that she’s remained to wait for him despite whats just been witnessed firsthand.

He sincerely wonders how he hasn’t managed to scare her away with such a wrathful display. Yet, he’s finding a great relief in knowing he hasn’t managed to achieve this after all. In fact, he’s in a bit of awe that she’s remained. It means more to him than he could have imagined, and certainly more than she will ever know…

At present, his knuckles sting, but he doesn’t care. His heart is thunderous, but he doesn’t care.

An incredible amount of relief is washing over him at what’s just transpired through words and actions, honest emotion pent up for so long, finally released. It’s palpable, this foreign elation being felt as they retreat, backtracking so many of their steps. Even servants rush to either side of the halls so as not to remain in their wake, potentially interrupting their progress.

And he’s so certain of his menacing appearance now, just by their reactions, though he half-wishes his brother had put up a fight and tried to roughen him up. But it matters naught. At this point, his immediate intention is strictly to get himself and her to a place of privacy - as far as possible from Aegon’s blasted existence too.

Aemond huffs in spite of himself on reflection, feeling a bit bitchy over the circumstances, for this wasn’t the first impression he had wanted to make.

Too late now.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond targaryen

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yoimix · 2 years

Text

genshin men + love letters

ft. zhongli, ayato, childe

✽ zhongli knows a thing or two about encasing letters and designing wax stamps, at least enough to send you beautifully intricate ones on your business trips away from the stone harbor. the stamps are lined with tiny, glistening gemstones, in patterns of glaze lilies or violetgrass, sometimes even starconches. you know for a fact, it takes the most skilled of craftsmen to create what he sends you weekly. there is undoubtedly magic in his hands, hands warm with love. he often asks questions in his letters, like he’s trying to commit every little mundane day of yours to his memory. what did you have for lunch? do you miss liyue’s restaurants? sometimes it’s about your health and habits. despite so far from me, i hope you’ve overcome your... deplorable sleeping habits. oh, if you were here, i’d tell you a story. every neat cursive word of his makes you miss him more. perhaps that was his intention; he’s quite cheeky at times, albeit in a subtle way.

“and when the dragon that slumbers beneath the... are you listening, (name)?”

“huh? oh! i’m so sorry, honey.” you snap out of your thoughts to face the familiar attentive eyes of your lover. to be honest, there’s too much on your mind to focus on the all too comforting lull of zhongli’s voice.

“still thinking about your travels?”

“hah... there’s no escaping your eyes, is there?” you slump into the chair. “i just- i just wish i handled that situation better.”

“with the craftsman from qingce village? i believe you did the right thing.”

“i could’ve helped him!” you sigh, biting your lower lip as though it’ll keep the regret at bay.

a glove hand hooks under your chin to lift your face up. you’re forced to meet his eyes, eyes ever forgiving but only when they gaze at you. “not without overextending yourself. you did the best you could.”

you sigh once more, leaning forward till your forehead rests against his stomach. crossing your legs on the chair, you wrap your arms around his waist and let out a whimper. at times, you feel as though defeat lines every step you take. steps without which you wouldn’t be here, zhongli reminds often, but it is a feeling of loss nonetheless.

with a soul as ordinary as yours, nothing you do will ever be extraordinary.

despite that, you come home to eyes that shine like freshly printed mora, a smile that surpasses the worth of archaic stones and a kiss rarer than glaze honey. how is an ordinary person in possession of treasure like that?

“i don’t...” i don’t deserve you. that’s what you want to say. but a frown on his handsome face would make you feel worse.

“in all my years, dear, i have never met a soul who resonated quite as much with mine,” he says quietly. “do you still refuse to believe you were made for me? and i, for you?”

“fate is fickle, zhongli.” you shake your head. “i must pave what i want.”

“haven’t you?”

“i should be doing more,” you sigh, the low drumming of his blood keeping you from spiralling. “i always... i always feel like i should be doing more. for you, at least.”

“i ask nothing more from you, my love,” he speaks gently, “than nothing itself. stay with me a while longer.”

you finally cave, letting the weight of your body settle on your lover. you know he’s strong, hands calloused with millenia of experience. but your burdens are your own to bear. aren’t they?

“you’re not on your own,” he whispers into your hair, arm snug around your waist and a hand petting the back of your head. “and you’re certainly in charge of your fate. i’m just glad you chose me.”

you hear it in his voice. love. love you never believed in, for you thought you didn’t deserve it. and all you must do, you realize, is give love back.

✽ ayato ensures the envelope is intricately lined with thick blue ink and stamped with the kamisato crest, glimmering so painfully obvious they’d take him for a fool. there comes many a night the letter is intercepted by an enemy agent with the content: fell for my prank, did you? oh, there’s no grave a mistake as taking kamisato ayato for a fool. ayato’s letters to you are secret, the process to unfurling them far more arcane than anyone other than you can achieve. it’s like a sweet little game, the rules to which only two old friends know. sometimes, he will even send you silly letters full of word puzzles that spell out a cheesy line he picked up from overhearing the gossiping crowd. other times, he speaks of yearning but never explicitly. i grow tired of my retainers’ blabbering every day. not everyone has a melody as pleasant as yours. he never speaks of inazuman affairs, but of the seasons and their effects on the islands, as though political schemes might tear you away from him. he might not be able to defeat gods with his swordmanship but he will do anything in his power to keep the two of you together, no matter how dirty the trick.

“is it really so comfortable this way?” he muses, fingers combing through your hair idly.

“are you going to comment on how inappropriate it is for me to visit you in your bedchambers?”

“you’re in my bed, darling, that hardly matters now.” he chuckles. “if anything, i’d prefer you here than anywhere else past midnight.”

for this midnight and every single one to come.

you snuggle closer, burying your face in his chest and he sighs, a wash of warmth relaxing his stiff body. it’s difficult for the someone in his position to make time for idle chatter, to the point this feels surreal. but it’s like you weave the thread of time itself, weaving yourself into his schedule effortlessly. a moment to breathe, that’s what you are. morning dare not overstep into this bound.

ayato shifts his lavender gaze to your form, lips twitching up at how blissful you look. if this were unrequited, he would have been a very different man.

“thank you for entertaining my boredom, (name),” he sighs with satisfaction.

“boredom? does the oh-so-busy yashiro commissioner feel boredom?”

“you’d be surprised how empty my heart grows without you.”

you smack his chest, eliciting a pained ‘oof’ from him. “that’s hideously cheesy. gosh. are you reading the yae novels again?”

“my dear, there’s no need to resort to violence.” he rubs the part of his chest you hit. it would’ve been less painful were he to have worn anything but an open chest kimono.

“oh please, i’ve hardly delved my blade into as many bodies as you have.”

“it’s just me then? how comforting.”

you roll your eyes. ayato’s deep chuckle follows and the two of you share a laugh.

“say, dear, do you dream of leaving?”

“hm?”

“do you dislike inazuma in any way? do you yearn for more?”

a heavy silence follows. however, you’re stronger than you were at nineteen. you know how to lift the burden of words. you pull away to sit up, a frown settling on ayato at your action.

“my love,” you begin, cupping his face as his arm pulls you closer. “i am a traveler. but... well, i can journey to a thousand lands, feel the thrill of adventure countless times. yet... i will still have only one home.”

and with the press of your lips to his, with pinky fingers intertwined as you used to have, the promise is sealed.

✽ childe always makes sure to slip a photograph in the envelope, stamped blue in the shape of a narwhal. his skill with a kamera might not be professional but it is good enough to capture his daily observations of the cities he visits, the food he wishes he could buy you and a sneak peek to the souvenirs he bought for you. the writing itself is long, a bit of jargon if you actually read it, but every word from him reeks of affection. i want to show you my favorite liyue restaurant. you smile at the photo of the black back perch stew. did you know inazuma’s cherry blossoms never really wither? you shake your head at his attempt to collect the sakura blooms. i’ll be home soon. and true to his word, ajax will be at your doorstep at midnight with a myriad of souvenirs, kisses and complaints about being away from you for far too long. distance makes him uncontrollably affectionate and you best bet he’ll drench his path in blood if it means getting home to you.

“sometimes i think you only look forward to the gifts i bring, love,” he leans his face onto his palm while you sift through the presents scattered across your bed.

“ooh,” you respond, not looking up. “how did you find me out?”

“hey now.”

you hear him get off the chair though your eyes are trained on the little carved beetle that was so obviously born from someone with an inability to follow tutorials.

“did you make the- ajax?”

childe sits cross-legged beside you on the bed, a small smile on his face as he traces your movement with his eyes. you love the hue so much, you’ve preserved the starconches he picked for you as precious reminders to his eventual returns. he promised, after all.

“you’re unnaturally quiet,” you remark, chuckling at his languid expression. “what happened to complaining?”

as a response, he collapses his entire body weight on you, toppling over the both of you and eliciting a yelp out of your mouth, while he sighs loudly.

“you’re not even paying attention to me while i complain.” he pouts into your neck. “what’s the point of that? six months i haven’t held you. show some remorse.”

you breathe out, your arms slowly wrapping around his torso as you try to make the position more comfortable.

“did you miss me?” he asks, softer this time and muffled against your collarbone.

“so much,” you respond, your arms tightening. “so much that i could almost hear you breathe beside me every night.”

childe exhales, a lighthearted note to it. isn’t it strange how you can get so used to a person? even if they’ve miles away, months away. no matter how many missions he goes on, the way he looks at you is unchanging. of course, he’s grown more protective over you through the years but he feels the same as ever. and you promised him. no matter how soaked his sleeves are with blood, you will stay. he props himself up on his forearms, hovering over you with a wistful grin.

“the one thing they can’t take away, (name),” he whispers, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “lord have mercy if they do.”

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